#its normal to be taking your first steps with art and interpretation at that age

[daphnaea]

im tiiiiired im so tired of this recent belief or idea or whatever that to like a song means you must relate to it (and therefore if there's anything even slightly taboo you need to defend yourself as a moral person) and vice versa that if a song is relatable to many people it is therefore high art and above criticism. have you bitches ever interacted with art made by people you dont understand? have you perhaps thought that interacting with it is precisely the first step to seeing their point of view???? basically what im saying is,

I Need To Delete TikTok

[teawaffles]

It Happened One Night: Chapter 4

Sure enough, the ground in front of the shed had not dried out just yet — it had been trampled into a right mess, probably by all the people who had rushed to the crime scene. In this state, it was impossible to distinguish a single person’s footprints. On top of that, their own footprints had already been left behind, their shoes smeared with mud.

For now, Sherlock gave up on examining the ground, and entered the shed.

One might’ve thought the interior would be covered in heaps of reference materials and discarded artworks, but the shed itself was tidy. There were several candles and a candlestick on the floor near the entrance. As Daldry had testified, there was an easel with a half-finished painting on it, and another easel that was empty. Other than that, the interior was bare. Another door stood in a corner of the room.

Unfortunately, the floor of the shed was also covered in muddy footprints, although it was to a smaller extent than the ground outside.

“It’s the same here too, huh. If no one else had come in, then any footprints would probably belong to the culprit — dammit, why’d they have to walk around as they pleased?”

“Sorry; if I’d been quicker to stop them from entering the crime scene…”

“Don’t worry about it, John. You did your best. Anyhow, what we should be looking at is this.”

Sherlock walked further into the room, stopping before the other door. It seemed like no one else had ventured this far in — there were no muddy footprints. Even so, John could see that there was a bit of dirt stuck to the floorboard before the door.

When they turned the doorknob, the door opened without a hitch. It led to the back of the shed: in any case, there wasn’t any reason for it to lead to another room.

From behind Sherlock, John spoke up.

“So it’s the back door. Then this shed has two entrances: one in front, and another at the back.”

Sherlock looked around outside the door.

“What’s more, this entrance is in a blind spot when seen from the inn. Also…… here, John, look.”

Sherlock took a step outside to make way for him.

There was also a patch of exposed ground behind the shed, and on the opposite side of it was a well-maintained cobblestone path. But what was surprising was that, leading from the path to the shed, was a single set of distinct footprints.

“Sherlock. These were clearly made after the ground turned soft from the rain. So this shows that during the party, someone broke into the shed from outside — it’s an important piece of evidence, isn’t it?”

John went on excitedly, but in contrast, Sherlock remained silent as he pondered over something.

John cocked his head in confusion.

“……What’s wrong? Unless, someone intentionally went around to the back once the theft was discovered?”

Sherlock dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

“That’s not it. John, can you see what’s strange about these footprints?”

“Huh?”

Hearing that, John scrutinised the footprints that continued up to the stone path. Then, he realised what Sherlock was referring to.

“These tracks…… They lead into the shed, but there are no tracks leading out.”

Sherlock chewed his lip slightly, as if ruminating over John’s analysis.

The footprints went in a single direction, towards the shed. If one were to consider this straightforwardly, the intruder probably entered the shed via the back door, but didn’t leave via the same route.

“Maybe the thief entered from the back, stole the painting, then left through the front door?”

“A break-in wouldn’t necessarily correspond with the art theft, but…… even so, if the thief entered from the back door to stay out of sight, it doesn’t make sense for them to leave from the front, since they would be visible from the inn.”

“Maybe something happened, and they couldn’t leave from the back?”

“That’s one possibility…… hmm?”

Sherlock suddenly paused and crouched down, staring intently at the ground.

“What happened? Did you find something new?”

“Yeah, here.”

Sherlock pointed at the wet earth as he replied. Although it was faint, there was a set of footprints that indicated a round trip from the stone path to the shed and back.

“This is definitely another set of prints, and it indicates someone has entered and left. But it seems to have been washed out by the rain.”

John voiced his interpretation, and Sherlock agreed.

“Quite right: these were made before the party started.”

The painting had been stolen during the celebration at the inn, and it had been raining at the time. Therefore, these footprints, which appeared to have been left before the rain started, were not made by the thief when they stole the painting.

Possibly, that artist had used the back entrance on some other business. That was what John reckoned, but Sherlock sank deep into thought as he looked at the ground and the inside of the shed in turn.

Apart from the problem of identifying the suspect, there was also the mystery of the footprints at the back door. However, they still didn’t have enough information to solve the case.

After giving the shed a once-over, and confirming that there was no other useful evidence, the two men had resolved to head back to the inn, when they realised that Daldry had walked over to the shed as well.

“Mr Holmes, Dr Watson: the police have arrived.”

“I see,” replied Sherlock. “So, what have they been doing?”

“They started interviewing the people who remained in the building. Also, it seems they’re visiting the guests who had returned home, and are conducting voluntary house searches.”

When he heard that, Sherlock made a somewhat troubled expression.

“That saves us some trouble, but…… house searches, huh. I hope the police here don’t jump to conclusions.”

“It’ll surely be alright. And if push comes to shove, you could always just leave.”

John had placed his full trust in Sherlock, and the detective smiled wryly at that as they returned to the inn with Daldry.

Inside, several police officers had already split up to question the party guests.

Sherlock took a seat at the counter, and tried to casually eavesdrop on a nearby conversation, but its contents were no different from what they had heard earlier.

Then, after he’d finished giving the police his statement, Rheos jogged over to the two men.

“H-How was it, Mr Detective? Have you found the location of the painting?”

Sherlock shook his head.

“I’m afraid not — we haven’t found any decisive clues. It seems it’ll take a while longer.”

The young artist hung his head with a jolt.

Suddenly, something they saw earlier surfaced in Sherlock’s mind: the candles at his feet.

“Hey, can I ask you something? That shed — how do you illuminate it?”

Rheos looked up as he replied.

“When I’m there at night, I use candles.”

“I see. But candlelight alone wouldn’t be able to light up the whole room, now would it?”

As the detective predicted, the young man narrowed his eyes.

“……That’s true. But it’s enough for me to paint by.”

“That makes sense. Then of course, when Daldry entered the shed back then, it must’ve been lit with candles as well. And when you’d walked halfway to the shed, you realised that the painting was missing.”

“Pretty much, that’s what happened.”

“Right? But, if that was the case, then……”

The detective became absorbed into his own thoughts. The abrupt end to their conversation left Rheos understandably confused, and John gave him an awkward bow in apology. After which, clearly unsatisfied, Rheos walked away.

“Oi, Sherlock. What were you doing, abandoning the victim like that?”

“Mmm, ah, sorry. Something was bugging me…… I just can’t work out the mystery of those footprints.”

“The ‘one-way’ footprints, huh. About that, I have a few theories.”

“Hmm, let’s hear it then.”

Sherlock shot him an inviting smile, and John lowered his voice.

“Firstly, the culprit left those footprints as they entered the shed. Then after they stole the painting, they walked backwards, stepping into their original footprints to leave the scene.”

“Nope. First off, there’s no reason to do that. Moreover, if they walked backwards over their tracks, the way their weight shifted would've be different from if they walked forwards normally. As far as I could tell, those footprints were made by someone walking from the path to the shed, in that direction.”

Sherlock immediately shot down his idea, but John was undaunted.

“If so, then maybe they used a rope or something when they left the shed, so they wouldn’t leave any tracks.”

“That’s not it either. If the culprit had a way to leave the shed without leaving any footprints, then they would’ve used the same method when they entered it. Why would they purposely leave footprints only when they went in?”

Yet again, Sherlock had immediately countered his argument, and now John’s expression clouded over.

“Well then, the culprit entered the shed and stole the painting. Then when they were about to open the door and leave, Mr Daldry appeared at the front entrance, so they temporarily hid in a corner of the shed. You said earlier that the candlelight couldn’t have lit up the whole room, right? And after Mr Daldry left, they tried to flee from the front entrance…… but because other people might come through the front door, they must have left via the back. Sorry, just forget this one.”

Realising the flaw in his reasoning halfway through, John retracted what he’d said, and began to anguish.

“Aargh, is this a dead end?”

“Don’t do that, John. Your ideas were pretty good.”

“But, didn’t I reach a deadlock in my argument?”

“True; why did they only leave footprints when entering the shed……?”

They agonised over the culprit’s intent, unable to get to the bottom of the case as of yet. Then, after a while, a police officer entered the inn.

“Excuse me, I have an important report……”

He spoke to a middle-aged man who looked to be his superior. Sherlock and John stood up from their seats, and casually moved closer.

“In one of the guests’ homes, we’ve discovered what appears to be the stolen painting.”

[quellgame]

Prolegomena 1 - Nietzsche's Legacy

a. Cringe Culture as Philistinism

In his book Anti-Nietzsche, Malcolm Bull provides a thorough critique of Nietzschean aesthetic thought. “Philistine,” Bull claims, is the insult of contemporary times. A philistine is somebody who refuses to appreciate high culture, or fine art; one who denies aesthetic value. Yet, for all the vitriol, nobody seems to have taken on the mantle of philistinism. If there are no philistines, what explains the endless accusations?

If philistines were to have a theory, argues Bull, it must take shape as the transience of all values. We know from Nietzsche that nihilism approaches the devaluation of all value - but that this very devaluation requires a re-evaluation. For Nietzsche, evaluation ultimately takes the form of aesthetic valuation. It is easy to deny specific values, but it is not so easy to be rid of value altogether. Nietzsche argues that it is impossible to completely remove valuation. Once all other values have been removed, nothing is left but pure preference. This is the role of the superman: as taste-maker - the creator of value. But if there is no base on which value rests, why not re-evaluate these newly created values?

Thus, although value may be ineradicable, it may also be fragile, and its existence in any one area a contingent historical fact dependent on local conditions. [...] With this in mind, it is worth asking whether the fact that philistinism is a form of negation that is universally condemned but nowhere visible may be [...] a historically significant indication of the nature and location of positive value in contemporary society. (Bull, 6)

Nowhere can a challenge to aesthetic norms be seen more clearly in contemporary culture than in the based/cringe debate. “Based” refers to content that is aesthetically appealing in some undefined but culturally understood sense, while “cringe” refers to content that makes one “cringe” - is unappealing both aesthetically and morally. If Bull’s method is correct, it would do us well to take a look at based culture in an attempt to understand where its values lie. We’ll argue that based culture is oppressive. As based culture’s aesthetic opposite, we have a moral imperative to examine cringe culture so as to discover and replicate its value framework.

Bull’s genius lies in his method of deconstructing Nietzche: instead of reading Nietzsche as intended - on the side of the oppressor, or against the oppressor - Bull decides to read Nietzsche like a loser - as the one to whom all the fiery rhetoric is spoken. In this way, Bull discovers Nietzsche as a groomer, and positions himself as a rejected candidate. He examines Nietzsche’s rhetoric and theoretical framework to understand how and why Nietzsche is so capable of pulling in an audience and making them believe him. I’ll argue that Nietzsche’s abusive rhetoric is directly mirrored in both fascism and in based culture.

b. Nietzsche as Groomer

Nietzsche intends his books to be read for victory. He calls to an audience like himself, those who “belong to a time that has not yet come to pass;” in other words, people who might transcend the “idiotic,” “subhuman,” “slave-like” nature of contemporary society. Clearly, this is cruelty, but it is

[n]o wonder Nitezsche can so confidently identify his readers with the Supermen. It is not just flattery. If Nietzsche’s readers have mastered his text, they have demonstrated just those qualities of ruthlessness and ambition that qualify them to be ‘masters of the earth’. (Bull, 35)

One might recognize this as the first step in any grooming process: flatter your target, make them feel safe and loved. Fulfil for them a need: in this case, the need for power. Once the indoctrination has begun, those in power can begin to ostracize and criminalize the group they have othered. In Nietzsche’s case, few are left unscathed: only those powerful enough to say “yes” to the void will find within themselves the power to create value - and only they can survive the onslaught of nihilism. The rest will perish - and to Nietzsche, that is a good thing.

This is clearly mirrored in grooming tactics used by white supremacists and pedophiles. I will use my own experience as an example.

// CW: pedophilia, white supremacy //

As a child I spent a lot of time on a forum dedicated to the Super Mario Bros. franchise. The forum was not age-appropriate - several members talked openly about their time on 4chan; about pornography and subculture. Naturally I was curious. I wanted to consider myself grown, so I could talk about my interests. So I emulated the adults’ behavior. Eventually I started consuming pornography and visiting 4chan’s /b/ board. That’s where I was first exposed to Nazism and to child pornography. I recall having conversations about loli and shota when I was fairly young. I thought this was all quite normal - or at the very least, that I was strong enough to overcome whatever may happen to me as long as I could satisfy the need to see bodies like mine in a sexual context. In many cases, child pornography would be packaged alongside pornography featuring trans actors, as both were considered equally “alternative.” This is how I first discovered trans women - and this is not an uncommon narrative.

I was made comfortable: welcomed into a community where I could talk about my interests to a sympathetic audience. I was told I was special. I found myself trusting this community more than my local culture - they gave me an outlet to explore my queer identity from a young age. Then they showed me content that was actively harmful to my psyche - and I was threatened with jail time and social ostracization should I be caught. This is the grooming pattern.

Nietzsche makes his audience comfortable: he fulfils the need to obtain power through his writing style. He tells his audience they are special - literally superhuman. Then he launches abuse at every opportunity. He creates his sense of power through relating to the master race, the blonde beast; by actively deriding others and openly calling for the extermination of all “slave-like races.” And he says: we are unlike the others, you and I; and should you tell them this, you will be ostracized. So stay with me. Let’s conquer the world together.

This is directly echoed in the fascist grooming pipeline. Gamergate is an exceptional example: gamers were made to feel oppressed; they were made to be othered, then used the rage at their so-called oppression to be swayed into fascist beliefs. And should they leave, they too would be exterminated. You must be based. Kill the cringe. We see now the slogan “6MWE.” We see open genocide and warmongering in the American government (which, frankly, is nothing new). America has become a proudly fascist state - and much of this is with Nietzsche’s influence.

// CW //

If Nietzsche’s core project is abusive, how do we overcome it? Bull’s method is to reject the core hermeneutic: instead of reading for victory, we’ll read like losers. Whenever Nietzsche fires abuse at some subhuman thing, we will take the position of the abused. “Rather than reading for victory with Nietzsche, or even reading for victory against Nietzsche by identifying with the slave morality, we read for victory against ourselves, making ourselves the victims of the text. [...] Reading like losers will make us feel powerless and vulnerable” (Bull, 37). We can see this displayed quite clearly in cringe culture - it is an entire aesthetic created from the feeling of being worthless and small; of being less-than, plentiful, disposable - and embracing it. What does it mean to be one of these herd-creatures, so deprived of power? What could our values be?

c. Levelling

To understand what the losers of the nihilistic future believe in, we need to take a quick look at the history of Nietzsche’s interpreters, and how our understanding of the history of nihilism has developed over the years. This is the same history as the history of Being, the history of Nothingness. Bull spends much of the text discussing this, and it is well worth the read, but we’ll have to suffice for a brief synopsis here.

Bull brings us from the superman down to the lowest form, travelling from subhuman to animal to inanimate. He does so by continuing to read like a loser: examining Nietzsche himself, then Heidegger, then contemporary scholars Vatimo, Nancy, and Agamben. In each of these scholars Bull finds a target: for Nietzsche, the subhuman; for Heidegger, the animal; and for our contemporary scholars, the inanimate. In each case we must consider ourselves the loser of the exchange - we must consider ourselves as one with the subhuman, the animal, and the inanimate. We must become a mirror, reflecting on mu - absolute nothingness.

In essence: We must bring ourselves down to the lowest level of the un-valued if we are to escape the extremities of prejudice which Nietzsche’s lessons, so embedded in our culture, have taught us. This is levelling. Its essence is radical empathy. Nietzsche’s earlier works were focused on overcoming nihilism; he later gave up and decided that he must himself be a nihilist, one who destroys. Yet, in declaring himself a nihilist I think he was grasping at a concept that Hegel explains best: non-nihilating contradiction. To overcome nihilism is the same as to become a nihilist: to become dynamite - self-nihilating. If we are to reevaluate all values, we must obliterate ourselves. We must re-evaluate the concept of self, the concept of reality.

[chuchiotaku]

Ok, first of all

HOW DARE YOU MAKING ME THINK I HAD TO WAIT UNTIL JANUARY FOR THE NEW CHAPTER!? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA OF THE HEART ATTACK I HAD THIS MORNING WHEN I SAW THE UPDATE!?!?

Ok, now that, ehm... I'm calmed down, let me gush on your art piece once again.

I loved everything. I said last time that I wanted some shocking dose of angst, but I didn't knew how heart clenching would have been seeing Ron saying goodbye to... his friends, again, and for the last time. How many things not said, how many plans that will never see the light, how many... apologies, never to be make...

I'm happy that the mirror made him see (and hear) what his loved one truly thought of him, but I'm still bitter for the fact that he had to DIE before he actually got some vocal recognition.

But moving on from depressing topics, I loved seeing the sibling so tight with each other and Harry! I felt almost as if you anticipated Harry's second year summer, and now they get to see Sirius too? Original Harry would be terribly proud of his Ron and terribly jealous of that little Harry...

I really liked Pettigrew's breakdown at the end of the process. And I loved (and hated too, of course) his threats: making 'regret to be born' the same guy that fought and gained the upper hand on Bellatrix? Twice!? Ok buddy, whatever makes you feel better... But if in order to hurt Ron you target one of his brothers or Ginny... well, it has never been a pleasure meet you.

And it's also good seeing Pandora alive! Another Truespartan's Fateverse character added in the rooster, I can't wait to see her in action!

And at least this time Albus is actually ackwnoledging Ron, wonder if he's already planning a role for him in his chessplay againts Tom. I hope he will grow to love him as he'll love Harry.

And I know tastes are subjective but... I think the anon was just short sighted, Ron is totally the person that for his loved ones is ready to move mountains and seas (Buckbeak's trial proved it. How he started searching for past trials in his free time is proof how much is ready to invest himself if it means to help his friend) and I don't expect that everything is going to be all fine and dandy the whole time. Peter's threats scream 'FORESHADOWING' for an ipotetical plot in the third year (way less traumatazing regarding what happened with him in Fate... brrr). Ron is just... trying to sow the best he can, and only at the reaping time we'll see what he did right or wrong.

Keep it going! You are an increadible writer! See you next time, and happy new year!

(And give me some Daphne showtime damn it!!)

First off, anon, happy New Year! 🎉🎉🎉

Ahaha, sorry about the mini-heart attack.  I was aiming to post chapters 14 and 15 relatively close together because they’re initially planned to be one chapter but I hit some snags so yeah, chapter 15 got delayed.  But at least it’s up now, right?  :)

[Warning: Long response ahead. ]

I said last time that I wanted some shocking dose of angst, but I didn't knew how heart clenching would have been seeing Ron saying goodbye to... his friends, again, and for the last time. 

That part at the mirror was very relatable, I think.  There are things we will always want, but deep down, we know they can never be.  In order for Ron to move forward, he had to acknowledge that and let go, something he learned he had to do after that Owlery scene with Harry.  

Not that he entirely has, mind you.  But it’s a good step forward.

I'm happy that the mirror made him see (and hear) what his loved one truly thought of him

It’s a comforting interpretation, but I feel the need to remind my readers that the Mirror of Erised shows only the deepest desires of its viewer. The scene where the new life versions of Ron’s loved ones take over the older ones, telling Ron that they accept and love him, is Ron’s true deepest desire now that he time travelled. Not that it is what’s real.  That’s why Ron broke down, because he knows deep down it’s just a fantasy.  Weell, we know that’s not entirely true, but to him it is.  

(The Deluminator souvenir from Death and its visions, on the other hand...)

but I'm still bitter for the fact that he had to DIE before he actually got some vocal recognition.

You know what they say: you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.  :shrugs: Honestly, Ron is such a taken-for-granted character both in the books and in the fandom, it’s so frustrating...

Anyway, getting off the angst train!

I loved seeing the sibling so tight with each other and Harry! I felt almost as if you anticipated Harry's second year summer, and now they get to see Sirius too? 

I wanted to show the tight knit Weasley dynamic JK claims they have but never really showed because we are limited to Harry’s narrative (which is understandable).  And as what I have planned for second year summer: safe to say, it will start off like what happened in the books before it veers off canon course.  Because Sirius and Remus are there, and Ron knows it. :)

Original Harry would be terribly proud of his Ron and terribly jealous of that little Harry... 

But of course!  I’d like to think that Ron is one of the, if not THE, characters in his age group that Harry holds such high regard for.  

And who’s to say jealous Harry won’t make an appearance? When Ron’s making more friends outside the Gryffindor house, and a certain someone may get close enough to threaten the best friend position?  😉😉😉

I really liked Pettigrew's breakdown at the end of the process. And I loved (and hated too, of course) his threats: making 'regret to be born' the same guy that fought and gained the upper hand on Bellatrix? Twice!? Ok buddy, whatever makes you feel better... 

Pettigrew doesn’t know who he’s messing with, but Ron too is underestimating the rat a little too much.  Good thing that won’t cause him any problems in the future. 😒

But if in order to hurt Ron you target one of his brothers or Ginny... well, it has never been a pleasure meet you. 

Now that would make Pettigrew wish he was never born.  Haha!

And it's also good seeing Pandora alive! Another Truespartan's Fateverse character added in the rooster, I can't wait to see her in action!

Pandora is Luna’s mother’s canon name, but yes I did get the inspiration from Fate, as well as The Red Knight.  But she won’t be around until Book 2.  Don’t worry, it will come.  I hope.  :sweatdrop:

And at least this time Albus is actually ackwnoledging Ron, wonder if he's already planning a role for him in his chessplay againts Tom. 

Of course Albus will notice a smart and wise beyond his years eleven year old who became best friends with Harry Potter, managed to take on a troll then get involved in the reveal and arrest of a mass murderer who may have something more in common with him than he originally thought (coughmirroroferisedcough).  How Ron will benefit from this attention (if he ever will) or how he’ll deal with this new complication will be part of the story’s fun.  And we’re just getting started.

I hope he will grow to love him as he'll love Harry.

I think many can already tell where I’m planning to go with Albus and Ron’s relationship.  The specifics, however, are the ones I can leave you guys guessing.  It will be good!  Hopefully! 🤞

And I know tastes are subjective but... I think the anon was just short sighted, Ron is totally the person that for his loved ones is ready to move mountains and seas (Buckbeak's trial proved it. How he started searching for past trials in his free time is proof how much is ready to invest himself if it means to help his friend)

I saw it as Guest being too fixated at what happened in the books that they didn’t take into account that the second I changed something in the fic, the butterfly effect is bound to occur.  In fact, Ron’s very presence in a world that isn’t what he left behind is already creating many ripples.  I honestly also saw it as them underestimating Ron a bit.  He’s a typical boy during most of the books: lazy with his studies because he is unmotivated.  Give him purpose and you’ll get to see him really shine, exactly like what you said about the Buckbeak thing.

It’s canon that Ron is smarter than he appears.  I mean, can a normal eleven year old remember the exact names of the laws on dragons, even if their brother is a dragon tamer?  

(It’s also another good basis on how much Ron admires Charlie that he can remember that much! Sorry, Solstice Muse turned me into a Charlie/Ron bro fluff fangirl after Ickle Ronniekins)

I don't expect that everything is going to be all fine and dandy the whole time. Peter's threats scream 'FORESHADOWING' for an ipotetical plot in the third year (way less traumatazing regarding what happened with him in Fate... brrr). 

Fate is a very heavy read, combining some of my favorite Ron-centric tropes while taking their fic to a newer, darker spin.  Truespartan has done a wonderful with it so far (I haven’t finished it yet,).  But as most of you can already tell, my story will be fart different from theirs.

That doesn’t mean there won’t be some dark moments in TBA.  And I’m so thrilled that you got the idea behind Pettigrew’s threats.  They ARE foreshadowing what is to come starting Year 3.  But what exactly?  Care to take a guess?  

Ron is just... trying to sow the best he can, and only at the reaping time we'll see what he did right or wrong.

Very true.  Although to me, it’s not a matter of whether it’s just “right or wrong”, and more of “can Ron deal with the consequences of the changes he made, and whether those consequences are worth the changes?”

Example: from a strictly moral standpoint, revealing Pettigrew and clearing Sirius’ name is the best good and what Ron should do from that thematic perspective.  However, these actions will cause some events to change from what he knew, and even cause entirely new ones (i.e. the plot of Year 3).  Is it worth the possibility of rendering Ron’s future knowledge almost useless?  Who knows? 

Keep it going! You are an increadible writer! See you next time, and happy new year!

Thank you so much for your kind words!  You guys are the reason TBA is still running even after all these years and me taking long breaks.  I hope to finish TBA Year 1 within 2021 so please be patient with me.  I’ll do my best!

(And give me some Daphne showtime damn it!!)

Oh, trust me, I have big plans for Daphne and Astoria.  Might get flak for it in the future, but for this, I’ll have to stick with my guns.  Oh dear...

💖 Happy New Year to you too, anon! And thanks for the ask. 💖

[wrestlingwithhistory]

Muhammad Ali vs Antonio Inoki

For many people, they see the birth of Ultimate Fighting in companies like Pancrase which was founded in 1993 by Masakatsu Funaki and Minoru Suzuki. They embraced the method of mixed martial arts and gave an arena for those who wanted to pit style against style. But some people also reflect back to a time, far before Pancrase, where a meeting of two worlds lit a fire behind those who later went on to created modern Mixed Martial Arts.

In 1975, Muhammad Ali boasted in a meeting with amateur Japanese Wrestling association President Ichiro Hatta “Isn’t there any oriental fighter who will challenge me? I will give him one million dollars if he wins!”. This question hit the headlines of every major newspaper and sports magazine in Japan and was eventually answered by Antonio Inoki, who was the founder of New Japan Pro Wrestling established just 3 years earlier.

Muhammed Ali was coming off the back of a fight with Richard Dunn on 24th May 1976 which he won by knockout and was coming towards the end of his boxing career at the time of the proposed fight having fought in the famous ‘The Thriller in Manila’ on October 1st, 1975. His final fight would be only 6 years later against Trevor Berbick.

Antonio Inoki was, at the time, one of the biggest names in Japanese Professional Wrestling. As well as creating NJPW in 1972, he began his professional wrestling journey as a disciple of Rikidozan at aged 17 as part of the JWA (Japanese Wrestling Alliance). Following the murder of RIkidozan by the Yakuza in 1963, Inoki went on an excursion to the United States in 1964, where he continued training under the legendary Karl Gotch. With Gotch, he learned the Catch style that is now synonymous with the Gotch name. Gotch to this very day is still held in high regard and to many fans and players of Japanese pro wrestling is known as ‘The God of Wrestling’.

Following the return from his excursion in 1966, Inoki working with Tokyo Pro Wrestling and quickly climbed the ranks to become its biggest star, before the company folded in 1967. He then returned to JWA, where he stayed for roughly 4 years, becoming a dominant tag team with his future promotional rival Giant Baba of All Japan Pro Wrestling. Inoki was then fired in 1971 due to JWA officials finding out that Inoki was planning a takeover the company. The following year, New Japan was founded and is one of the biggest wrestling promotions today.

So, in March 1976, an agreement was made between Ali and Inoki to fight at Tokyo’s Nippon Budokan, scheduled for June 26th, 1976. It is believed that the financial backers of the fight had to part with $6 million to convince Ali to take the exhibition fight and then began the press conferences to build the hype for this one-off spectacle between pugilist and grappler.

Ali, in his usual manner, would make fun of Inoki’s appearance, giving him the nickname ‘The Pelican’ due to his prominent lower jaw and chin. Inoki would then reply via an interpreter “When your fist connects with my chin, take care that your fist is not damaged”. Inoki also went as far as to present Ali with a crutch at a following conference ‘to use after he has been thrown from the ring’.

Ali’s demeanour during this time appeared jovial and not that he was not taking the fight very seriously. This angered Inoki who began to make more threatening statements to try and make Ali realise how serious the exhibition was to him and many around the world. Inoki said in one Conference “I don’t know how seriously Muhammad Ali is taking the fight, but if he doesn’t take it seriously, he could suffer damage. I’m going in there fighting. I may even break his arm”.

These statements from Inoki caused tension within Ali’s team, many of whom were concerned that going ahead with the fight was still a good thing to do. Ali however, continued with his boxing training but also worked with Pro wrestlers in the US to try and gain experience against a wrestler. He worked with The Sheik and sparred with wrestlers Kenny Jay and Buddy Wolf in televised exhibition matches, defeating both.

Due to the growing concerns within Ali’s team, they began creating a list of rules for this unique match-up. The original concept for the match was agreed to be a worked match, common in pro wrestling, but Ali never agreed to determine the winner before the fight had started. It has been speculated by Boxing Journalist Jim Murphy that the original plan for the match was for Ali to accidentally punch the referee and knock him out and while Ali tended to the referee, Inoki would hit him from behind with an enzuiguri (step up kick) or a roundhouse kick to the back of the head. The Referee would then come to and give a ten-count to the incapacitated Ali.

The result was carried out with the intention of both men looking strong, Inoki in front of his countrymen and Ali only losing as he was kicked from behind following the incident with the Referee.

After hearing that he would lose, Ali point blank refused this result and decided that they have a real one-on-one fight.

In the days building up to the fight, Ali’s team attended one of Inoki’s training sessions and were shocked to him using real kicks and grapples on sparring partners. This did little to quell the concerns of his entourage. Inoki has alleged in in interviews that after the training session, his team reported back to him and he asked Inoki “OK, so when do we do the rehearsal?” and Inoki replied “This isn’t an exhibition, it’s a real fight!”

The ever-nervous entourage then scrambled to change the rules once more. Representatives from both sides were called to negotiate the rules of the fight with less than a week before the fight. The list of rules were effectively things that Inoki was not allowed to do to Ali. He was not allowed to use throws, not allowed to grapple or tackle Ali and was not able to land any kicks unless one knee was touching the mat during the kick being performed. They also placed a stipulation that none of the rules were made public before the fight, likely to try and save Ali’s credibility.

Years after the fight, many have disputed the rules that were in place. Referee Gene LeBell denied there were any limitations on grappling or kicking, however Bret Hart, who at the time of the fight was an employee of NJPW, stated that the team working with Ali had said that ‘if Inoki laid a finger on their champ, they would kill him’. This statement was also backed up by former New Japan referee Mr. Takahashi who also said that all of the changes came from Ali’s entourage and not Ali himself.

Many professional fighters became discouraged with how credible the fight could look given all of the imposed restrictions, with notable correspondent John Roderick stating “…what is called by some the world’s first Martial Arts Championship – and others a multi-million-dollar sham”.

Ali arrived in Japan the day of the fight, swarmed by a mass of Japanese journalists all looking to get a soundbite from the Greatest of All Time. They were not disappointed as the ever-humble Ali made his way through the Airport proclaiming “There will be no Pearl harbour! Muhammad Ali has returned! There will be no Pearl Harbour!”. The fight was highly anticipated, by sports fans for the sheer spectacle of seeing 2 sports come together and for professionals and sceptics curious how the fight would be able to function with the level of suspected restrictions that were imposed.

It was estimated that the fight was viewed by 1.4 Billion people worldwide, broadcast to 34 countries. In New York, Vince McMahon Sr. Sold tickets for the fight to watch on a large screen inside Shea Stadium which drew a crowd of 32,897. The Budokan in Tokyo sold out with the most expensive seat selling for 300,000 Yen.

The Fight

Antonio Inoki was the first competitor to make his entrance. He was wearing his now signature purple robe accompanied by Karl Gotch, Olympic Judoka Seiji Sakaguchi, wrestling trainer Kotetsu Yamamoto and pro wrestler Kantaro Hoshino.

Muhammad Ali then followed to the ring, in a red and white robe, followed by his manager Herbert Muhammad, Trainers Angelo Dundee and Wali Muhammad, Cornerman Drew Bundini Brown, Dr. Ferdie Pachecho, pro wrestler ‘Classy’ Freddie Blassie, Taekwondo master Jhoon Goo Rhee and promoter Butch Lewis.

After the first bell rang, the whole arena was taken by surprise as Inoki ran and leapt across the ring towards Ali’s legs. Ali managed to sidestep this attack but Inoki stayed on his back, spending the round sweeping and kicking at Ali’s legs. This was within the confines of the rules and one of Inoki’s knees were always touching the ground at said time. Inoki did stand up momentarily to try and lure in Ali but quickly returned to the mat, throwing kick after kick towards Ali. Ali taunted the wrestler to stand up but Inoki refused taking the fight to Ali’s legs.

This continued on throughout the 2nd and 3rd rounds with Inoki furiously kicking at Ali’s legs with great volume and power. The tactic was seemingly paying off as Ali was not able to throw punches in his normal way meaning that Inoki was able to avoid many of them during the start of the contest. Ali would take to pining himself in the corner of the ring and lifting himself up out of the way of Inoki’s kicks and stamping downwards, which was deemed against the rules and quickly stopped by referee LeBell. A large wound opened up on Ali’s left knee during the third round and the crowd quickly began to boo due to the lack of action going on in the ring. Ali began to taunt Inoki shouting at him “Coward Inoki! Inoki No Fight!” and “One Punch, I want One Punch!”

By round four, Inoki had frustrated both Ali and the crowd within the arena. Ali would continue with shouting at Inoki “Inoki Girl” and “I thought Inoki could Wrestle”. At one point, Inoki got Ali trapped in the corner using his ground kicking technique and wildly hit a flurry of kicks towards Ali’s thighs, Ali trying to avoid by lifting his legs off the canvas while holding onto the ropes again.

In the fifth round, the same pattern continued by Inoki adopting the ground kick strikes to Ali, which paid off somewhat in this round as he managed to knock Ali off his feet with one of the strikes. Ali danced off the stumble in his inimitable fashion while simultaneously avoiding more kicks from Inoki. Despite the frustrations of what Inoki was doing, Ali was nothing less than himself, doing more than enough to keep the crowd entertained. During the same round Ali managed to grab Inoki’s foot after a failed kick attempt and dragged him across the ring but before Ali could do anything with this small advantage, the bell sounded and both men went off to their corners. The crowd were starting to warm up and appreciate the match for what it was, a clash of styles. They could see blood and bruising starting to appear around Ali’s legs due to the sheer amount and power of the kicks that Inoki was hitting Ali with.

During the 6th Round, Inoki continued with his game plan. One of his initial kicks of this round caught Ali in the groin. Referee Lebell stopped the fight momentarily and gave Inoki a warning about the placement of his kicks before returning to the action. He followed up with 2 more kicks before Ali adopted the same approach as the previous round. He grabbed the foot of Inoki with a view to immobilise him and launch an attack of his own, but Inoki being the proficient grappler of the two was able to grab Ali’s left shoe, wrap his right leg around Ali’s right calf and bring him to the mat. Inoki sat on Ali and attempted a leglock but Ali managed to kick his legs to the rope to force a break. Inoki was then issued with a further warning for throwing a back elbow towards Ali’s face during the rope break stoppage. He was deducted as point for this but as the fight restarted Ali was reprimanded for kicking out while holding the ropes.

To start the 7th round, Inoki became the intimidator. He tried to persuade Ali to meet him on the ground, but Ali refused. Ali threw a few missed kicks but then finally threw a long jab but Inoki was quick to knock him down with a sweeping kick which erupted the Tokyo crowd, but more so in favour of Ali. After the round ended, Ali’s doctor treated the wounds on his legs and Ali’s trainer Angelo Dundee approached Karl Gotch to make them aware that Inoki’s leather boots were damaged, and a brass eyelet was causing the cuts to Ali’s legs. The boots were taped up to try and prevent any further cuts from taking place. They also taped the ends of Inoki’s shoelaces as they were tipped with brass.

The 8th Round. Ali had braggadociosly stated that he would end Inoki in the round during the press conferences, however the pattern of the previous rounds continued. LeBell gave Inoki another low blow warning after mistakenly believing a knock down was a result of another misplaced kick by the wrestler. One of the more uneventful rounds of the fight ended in Ali shouting ‘Inoki Nothing’ to his opponent.

Ali attempted to make progress during the 9th round of the contest, he tried to circle Inoki, looking for an opening to try and hit him with only his second successful punch of the fight. Inoki stuck to strategy and landed a huge kick which stumbled Ali into his corner. Ali was waning and his legs were showing the signs of the repeated damage caused by Inoki.

In the 10th round, Ali finally hit his second punch of the match, a jab which caught Inoki in the face. A good punch, but left Ali open to another leg kick. The crowd began to bellow for Inoki to fight standing and he graced them by charging at Ali who grabbed onto the ring ropes. The crowd were now Ali’s. Inoki’s tactics, although working well for him had not endeared him to his countrymen and they continued to chant Ali’s name as he spoke worryingly with his corner about the next 5 rounds.

After conferring with his cornermen, Ali adopted a different approach to save his beaten legs. It was suggested by Rhee, the Taekwondo expert, to block the leg blows using his arms to avoid further damage to his legs. This was successful but Ali was unable to capitalise on opportunities where he grabbed Inoki’s foot.

Before the 12th Round, Karl Gotch instructed Inoki to try and take down Ali and finish the match by pin or submission. A few have suggested that this was imparted due to Ali’s cornermen being obviously concerned for the Boxing champion. But after the last round, Ali came into the contest more confident after blocking many of Inoki’s blows with his arms. During this round, Inoki finally stood up and hit Ali with a low kick, although clean it was against the rules as one knee was not on the canvas. Ali’s corner tried to convince him to use this opportunity to attack the now standing Inoki, but he quickly went back to the ground. Towards the end of the round, people who were ringside had commented on how Ali’s left leg looked to be ‘double the size of the right’.

Ali took the centre of the ring in the 13th round, trying to push Inoki into the corner. Inoki would fake a takedown attempt, trying to force Ali into the ropes. Ali blocked him with his glove anticipating another kick, but Inoki charged at Ali grabbing a waist lock to attempt a suplex. Ali hurriedly grabbed the ropes, and the referee broke the hold and returned to the centre of the ring. During this clinch, Ali put all his weight onto Inoki which prompted Inoki to hit him with an illegal knee strike – which would also be Inoki’s 3rd warning for as low blow. After this instance, it looked as if Ali was going to leave the ring but was convinced by the referee to continue on. On the restart of the round, Inoki threw a kick but Ali responded by throwing 2 jabs which connected forcing Inoki back to the canvas as per the previous rounds.

By the 14th round, the crowd were expecting Inoki to follow suit with his tactics, but he came out throwing some bare-fisted jabs and faking a takedown before switching back to his ground kicks. Without any attempt of attack, Ali held onto the ropes which annoyed Inoki and both men exchanged taunts. Ali managed to land a jab before the end of this round, leading into the 15th and final round.

Both men shook hands at the start of this round which drew a huge ovation from the crowd. While many were optimistic about how the fight may end, they were seemingly disappointed that Inoki retreated to his familiar style for this matchup. Inoki managed to land a few kicks, Ali a final jab and the fight was over. The crowd were mixed at the ending of this match, knowing that it wasn’t the fight they were expecting and also being more vocal for Ali during the fight.

Both men shook hands after the fight and Ali declared himself the winner of the bout, claiming that Inoki’s ‘Cowardice’ lost him the fight. 2 judges, one a wrestler who scored in favour of Ali 74-72 and one a boxer who scored in favour of Inoki 72-68 left the decision down to referee Lebell, who given the points deducted from Inoki scored the fight 71-71 so a draw result was declared.

The fans were outraged and rioted within the Budokan, chanting ‘Money Back’. Janitorial staff for the arena took a full day to clean the areas due to the unhappy crown throwing items.

Ali’s leg was so severely swollen and bleeding that it led to two blood clots in his legs after an infection and amputation was discussed at one point though Ali himself downplayed this to the press saying it was nothing serious.

Inoki stated in the press sometime after the fight “I was handicapped by the rules that said no tackling, no karate chops, no punching on the mat. I kept my distance to stay away from Ali’s punches”

The fight grossed $20 million in closed circuit television in the US alone after 2 million or more PPV buys at $10 each, 54 million people watched in Japan as the day was declared a holiday for everyone to be able to watch the fight.

Years on from the fight, even though those involved had been divided over the fights legacy, but the impact that it has given to companies to learn from and engineer their own form of MMA has led to Pancrase, Pride, UFC becoming the giants within Mixed Martial arts during the 90’s. Only one of them now stand at present but the groundwork was laid by 2 legends in their respective sports.

Antonio Inoki went on to continue wrestling with New Japan Pro Wrestling, until he officially retired on April 4th, 1998. He did take breaks away from Wrestling to focus on Politics between 1989-1995 and 2013-2019. He successfully negotiated with Saddam Hussein the release of Japanese hostages before the start of the Gulf War in 1990. He was inducted into the WWE Hall of Fame in 2010.

Muhammad Ali continued with his boxing career having 7 more fights before his final fight with Trevor Berbick. His is still regarded as arguably the greatest boxer of all time, his influence on boxing is still evident not only in performance but also, in the press conferences building to the events. He passed away on June 3rd, 2016 aged 74.

Both men, despite their in-ring differences on that day, they became friends later in life. Inoki started using Ali’s entrance music ‘The Greatest’ and in 1998, Ali flew out to watch Inoki’s retirement match against Don Frye. After Inoki’s victory, Ali climbed into the ring and hugged Inoki. Ali asked for a message to be read out to the Japanese fans.

‘It was 1976 when I fought Antonio Inoki at the Budokan. In the ring, we were tough opponents. After that, we built love and friendship with mutual respect. So, I feel a little less lonely now that Antonio has retired. It is my honour to be standing on the ring with my good friend after 22 years. Our future is bright and has a clear vision. Antonio Inoki and I put our best efforts into making world peace through sports, to prove there is only one mankind beyond the sexual, ethnical or cultural differences. It is my pleasure to come here today.’

[dreamsofthescreen]

The Debate On Life in La Grand Bellezza (The Great Beauty) - Analysis and Review

“Traveling is very useful: it makes your imagination work. Everything else is just disappointment and trouble. Our journey is entirely imaginary, which is its strength.”

Toni Servillo in ‘La Grande Bellezza’

Nominated for the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival, Paolo Sorrentino’s ‘La Grande Bellezza’ (The Great Beauty) can be seen as a stroke of real cinematic magic. Though blunt and simple it’s premise may appear, the Italian art-drama film mostly flourishes in it’s ability to communicate a profoundly deep and educational message on humanity today. And however much of a visual spectacle that it is, it is the change in one man’s lifestyle from decadently hedonistic to lavishly inspiring sweeps us off our feet, the romance of Rome following close behind. Direction by Sorrentino and cinematography by Luca Bigazzi, this work is seeped in richness and pure emotion, leaving many critics weak at the knees. Sprinkled with history and following a poetic undertone, the opening scene quotes Celine, stating “Traveling is very useful: it makes your imagination work. Everything else is just disappointment and trouble. Our journey is entirely imaginary, which is its strength.”

Set amongst the grandeur of the eternal city, Rome, we follow Jep Gambardella - a 65 year old acclaimed former writer and socialite who lives and breathes the superficial high life. It isn’t until after his lavishly outrageous 65th birthday party that he looks past the nightclubs to look inwards and find true meaning or ‘the great beauty’. Amongst all the frivolous glory that sex, drugs and rock & roll seem to provide, Jep is searching for truth. No doubt a shockingly stunning film that can be compared to the likes of European classics, Federico Fellini or Jean-Luc Godard, Bigazzi’s cinematography tends to focus on architectural pieces, bodies and classical art, thus following the culture of Rome closely. Appearing as though audiences follow the camera themselves, some of Jep’s closest friends are seen through freely moving shots, sometimes frantically following the beat of the pulsing club music. Flowing with history, operatic passion and grand emotion, some claim that it is the visual spectacle that creates the meaning of the film, rather than the meaning itself being striking. Yet, it is the mix of visuals, plot and the great characterisation of Jep as a person, as well as his change that creates the grand interest. From technicolour rooftop nightclubs to the silent streets of the eternal city, we get differing perspectives on modern Rome, and how it blends in with it’s ancient history. Sorrentino summed up the location in all it’s grandeur by stating ‘Rome has a beauty so large that one could die from looking at it for too long’. And Sorrentino seems to even portray Jep as the human embodiment of Rome, as he lives through the city’s highs and lows. I will say that, however much Jep seeks to find ‘the great beauty’, he is still surrounded by luxurious interiors and grand Roman palaces, not exactly aligning with his growing ideals and change in attitude. As if to make a point of his attempted normality and stripping of decadence, he still walks among it many times. Yet these environments do turn into something simple like a local coffee shop or a siesta in his apartment, thus showing his change.

Often compared to Fellini’s ‘La Dolce Vita’ because of it’s similar plot, Sorrentino’s film certainly seems inspired by that, but is not just a carbon copy of it. It does stand strongly on it’s own. ‘La Grande Bellezza’ seems to be a deeper character study of Jep. There is analysis in the plot, and there is the contrast between life and death, as well as the grandeur of simplicity & nostalgia. Where Jep fits in as a real socialite, mingling with other members of high Roman society, he is the standalone character who really looks within himself, rather than only around. And the film captures a generation caught up in facades, who do refuse to look inward. Struck by the death of a lover from the past, where Jep was once running around in fame and nightlife, he is motivated to look back on simplicity, rather than the excessive. This simplicity comes in appreciating the natural beauty and culture of Rome, swapping a strip club for a quiet afternoon in a historic vineyard or museum, reminiscing on his childhood. As someone asks Jep “what is it that you love the most?”, he responds with, “the smell of old people’s houses”, commenting on something so simplistic, but still beautiful in it’s age and nostalgia. This nostalgia beckons Jep following the death of Elisa, his first and only love. However romantic this may seem, it is more so philosophical in it’s approach. Searching for more meaning, having now reached 65, he however does at times seem more pessimistic as he looks into himself, stating ‘what’s wrong with feeling nostalgic? It’s the only distraction left for those who’ve no faith in the future’. Us as an audience can view this as either something quite pretentious and negative, or interpret it as a step towards appreciating what he once had, and can work towards.  

And the film itself is at times quite pretentious, but it is floating around in philosophy, and still for sure packs a punch. The philosophy is in the ever-changing time and focus on nostalgia. In a scene where Jep ends up in a plastic surgeons office, he is surrounded by old hopefuls who long for their past & get it through pricey facelifts. A scene focusing on nostalgia, the surgeon asks the woman, ‘want to go back 30 years, to when it always rained in late August?’ The bell rings, calling customers again and again, this showing the repetitive and lifeless nature of these creatures desperate for the past, with no regard for their own happiness, but have decided to instead conform. Jep often has these moments of recognising and looking past this fakery, once the curtain of his lavish lifestyle drops. In terms of Jep’s change, there is the contrast between life and death, and having reached the age of 65, some cynicism is there, but it is all a grand reflection upon his own changing desires. The change from being the king of high society to settling down as he goes through life could be seen as just an exaggerated view on what happens as we grow older, but 'La Grande Bellezza’ strategically claims it to be more than that. Set in the eternal city, Jep sees the ephemeral nature of most things. Where there is celebration of life in parties, there is also tragic death, having those festivities seem pointless. He states, ‘this is how it always ends. With death. But first there was life.’ Pointing in the direction of existentialism, this is a fairly simple statement in the blunt writing of Sorrentino, but sums up Jep’s perspective quite successfully. Where death happens every day, the eternal city that is Rome continues to go on, it being a playground for those in it during their time.

Like exchanging a stack of cash for a chocolate gelato, the debate about what is most beautiful in life is subjective, but mostly easy to answer. This being love, family, cherished moments and happiness. Sorrentino’s film creates such a contrast between two great beauty’s, focusing on the lightheartedness and meaninglessness of life as something so grand, as opposed to the glamorous and superficial. This fairly simple point is communicated with wonderful execution, gripping audiences onto every moment and person that Jep encounters. The writing style and expression of the film itself is quite blunt, yet I so appreciated this & found that it only kept it more realistic. Seemingly straightforward in it’s approach, this bluntness did mean that emotions don’t flow as freely you’d expect and are not visibly fluctuating or dramatised.

Something important to note is that Sorrentino’s film is not only a comment on one mans story, but of course society today. He may have been trying to paint a picture of the differing perspectives of modern Italians, a take on modernity that anyone abroad can relate to and understand. Though to say that Italians are either loudly materialistic or quietly philosophical is an exaggerated view of the two extremes, rather than a summation of all Italian culture. Sorrentino too so cleverly comments on the history of Rome in a beautiful way, as he shows the change in and disregard for Rome’s epic culture. For someone like Jep who writes about the light and life that Rome offers, he hadn’t written a single thing in 40 years, pleading ignorance to these cultural writings, as he got caught up in the generic party scene. Rome seems to be the perfect place and most definitely not just a pretty setting, but a backdrop to represent the need for Jep to find himself again.

As modernity and the party scene greatly contrasts the beautiful history of Rome, Jep, though the ‘king of the highlife’, finds himself and ‘the great beauty’ whilst focusing on the historical beauty of the city. This could be as though to say that he went back to what was always there, after decades of relishing in the fakery of high society. This is a point familiar to many, that money or fame cannot buy happiness or love, and that the novelty of it does wear away for good reason. And this is a popular debate, as we as an audience can comment on what we find most beautiful, challenging us to question our place in the world & whether or not we should rely so much on ephemeral materialism. Following his revelation of change within himself following his birthday, he states that ‘the most important thing I discovered a few days after turning 65 is that I can’t waste any more time doing things I don’t want to do.’ Whilst he sits down to drinks with members of Italian aristocracy and engages in meaningless affairs over the years, none of that was what he wanted to do.

Jep’s mission to find the ‘great beauty’ stems from not only the shock of the death of his only love, but the fact that he has an unfulfilled career goal. He had wanted to make a film about ‘happiness & how difficult it is facing the passing of time’. To which, whilst at another seating with Italy’s cream of society, friend Gustave Flaubert comments, ‘the finest works are those that contain the least matter; the closer expression comes to thought’. Again, Jep is searching for meaning and passion, but this focus on nothing is greatly existential.

And the film itself is a bit pretentious at times, as much as critics do drool over it, as it could be noted as a European wonder, as it’s expression is quite different to any classic British or American feature. Sorrentino seems to attempt to make a big point about the fragility and fleeting nature of life, yet it is hard to ravel. Maybe tedious, it does still make an excellent point and, marking what makes a terrific film, it does still have us audiences in deep thought. Is the poetic and philosophical nature of Sorrentino’s writing provoking, or just confusing? As Jep is surrounded by hopeful authors, brooding thoughts tossed around in an attempt to create some depth. Yet these statements that seek to inspire can be deemed as only artsy and somewhat overblown. Though it is absolutely not without it’s great moments of reflection. As Jep visits a friends’ wedding, he tries to engage in a meaningful conversation with a priest, who instead fobs him off as he becomes distracted with the gossip and scene around him. This is a moment that is impactful, as it presents the grand change in society and even how established figures, such as a priest, have become caught up in the popular bustle of daily life, rather than their deep-seated faith or thoughtful meaning.

Sorrentino’s master work that is ‘La Grande Bellezza’ (The Great Beauty), is critically acclaimed for good reason, as within it’s gorgeous colour, life and grand visual spectacle, there is still a beautifully resonant message. A film or piece of art’s interest can be defined by it’s discussion, as Sorrentino does successfully get this ball rolling. The film so successfully does capture a society who refused to collectively look inward, to which audiences are vastly inspired in all it’s philosophical questioning. Though it can be deemed as a grandiose piece of work, it is still nothing short of exceptional, and does deserve the majority of the praise it has received over the years. As travel is an aspect in life that educates and changes us, Sorrentino’s ‘La Grand Bellezza’ is like a walk through Rome that has the potential to immeasurably shape us, making it one for the books.

Stars Out Of Five: 3.5/5

visit at: dreamsofthescreen.com

[alarawriting]

Inktober 2020 #30: Ominous

A sharp and bitter autumn day, the kind that made you glad of the classroom's warmth.  Danielle Corbeau and Belle Resone walked down the street to the Okusanya house, with a bookbag floating behind Resone, trailing her like a patient pet.  Ayumi had stayed home today, ostensibly due to illness, but they both knew better. Ayumi couldn't get sick.  Most likely her father had kept her home to help him with something.

"He could have asked us," Danielle groused.  "I'd have been glad to stay home."

"So'd Ayumi.  And Dr. Okusanya's not our father, much as we might like."  Resone was uncharacteristically cheerful-- not that she was normally depressed; normally Resone was an emotional cipher, showing about as much emotion as your typical android.  Today she walked with a spring in her step and a faint, almost imperceptible smile on her lips, which for Resone was what skipping down the street singing would have been for anyone else.

"I wish," Danielle muttered.  "What are you so happy about?"

"Am I?" Resone frowned slightly. "I suppose so.  Look, Danielle."  She turned and gestured at the patiently floating bookbag.  "I can control it."

"Wow." Danielle was not impressed.  "You've been able to control the teek ever since I met you.  You just need to be in the right mood."

"No, I--" Resone stopped in some confusion.  "This is the first time, isn't it?"

"You don't remember?"

"Oh, right." She had lost the faint smile, though, her face reverting to its usual expressionlessness. The only way Danielle and Ayumi knew she wasn't an android was the few times the floodgates had opened, and Resone had gotten violently emotional. Andys did have emotions, but they didn’t have hormones, so that kind of behavior was not a thing they’d do. She never admitted to these episodes afterward, but they were enough to prove that she wasn't an andy.  That, and the fact that andys didn't have psi, according to Dr. Okusanya, and he was the world's top cyberneticist, so he'd know.

They turned a corner and passed a group of guys.  "Woo-oh!" Danielle turned her head to watch them as they passed, leering. "Check out the buns on the blond there!"

"Danielle, you're almost as obnoxious when you do that as the guys are when they do it."

"Come off it, Resone. Either I'm every bit as obnoxious or no one is.  Hidden sexism, you know. Oh, wow!"  Resone followed Danielle's gaze to a stunning redheaded girl.  "Excuse me."

"She's got a boyfriend," offered Resone as advice.  "And she doesn't like you."

"Who asked you?" Danielle slid into an alleyway and transformed, taking male form. Resone had seen this scene before-- she didn't need her precog to tell her how it would come out.  Daniel, now, would attempt to charm the girl, and either get into her pants or get hit.  Most likely get hit.  Resone had already divined the girl's opinion of Daniel.  She didn't need to watch.

//don't you?//

Resone lifted her head slightly.  Someone had spoken.

Who's there?

No answer.

Something was happening. Resone tried to analyze it, but it was no more yet than a prickling at the edge of consciousness.  She'd have to wait for it to come.  Perhaps it had something to do with Ayumi.  She continued on a path for the Okusanya house.

Once there, she paused at the threshold.  She's not here.

`Something was happening. An electric current in the air. Something she hadn't seen, yet. From somewhere inside, Resone felt the first faint uneasy stirrings of fear.  She liked things predictable.  If she saw it ahead of time, she could compensate.  Predictable and safe.  The other way was nightmare.

mommy please don't i'm sorry

No.  The fear went away, like that.  Like a circuit breaker in her mind, shutting off emotion.  She pushed open the door-- and turned, startled, as with a thud her bookbag fell to the porch.

Wasn't controlling.  I must be more careful.  Resone picked it up, brushed it off and went into the Okusanya house.

Dr. Seye Okusanya was working on something.  Resone waited patiently outside his door for ten minutes before realizing that he was far too distracted to notice her when her whole field projected a don't-notice-me aura.  "Excuse me.  Dr. Okusanya?"

He turned his head. "Ah, Resone.  Is Ayumi in detention again?"

"No..." Resone was esper.  More than simply meaning she had psi, it meant she had perceptions outside the sensory realms, and she integrated faster than most.  It occurred to her, now, that Dr. Okusanya had not kept Ayumi home. Therefore, something else had kept her from school.  Due to Ayumi's desire to be a Peacekeeper, that something was more than likely trouble.

"I think she's in danger," Resone said.  "She and Danielle both."

"What?" Dr. Okusanya turned all the way around.  "Why do you say that?"  He then remembered that "why" was a nonsensical question when dealing with Resone. "What sort of danger?"

"When did you last see Ayumi?"

"Why... last night. She said good night to me."

"She was abducted between here last night and the school this morning," Resone said. "Or perhaps enticed.  It's hard to say.  I left Danielle behind on the way here, but I shouldn't have.  I didn't sense the danger."

"What's the danger?"

"I don't know."

"Well, let's have you do a psychometric location, see if you can find her.  And Danielle.  Does the danger know what the three of you are?  Is it targeting you three in particular, or is it going after the population in general?"

"I don't know." The fear was beginning to stir again.  That wasn't right.  Resone was never afraid, not of anything.  But then, she always knew how it would come out.

Ayumi's scarf, from her bedroom.  Ayumi loved that scarf, wore it whenever they were going on a job.  It had to be something with emotional resonances. Resone picked it up and wound it around her tiny hands, picturing Ayumi.

Ayumi Okusanya-- tall, with deep brown skin, the flawless body of an African goddess, Japanese features that might have been delicately beautiful if they weren't pulled into a scowl all the time, and frizzy pink hair.  Everything about her screamed "attitude."  Teachers hated her, and she returned the favor with interest-- unless they were that rare breed of teacher that could see through the tough-girl pose to the wounded child inside.  Ayumi was a full-body cyborg, made so at the age of 5 by an accident that had killed her mother, and now very little of her was still organic, as of course she'd had to transfer bodies every two or three years to accomodate her growth.  The body she wore now was a state-of-the-art android with an interface to her human brain and actual hormonal glands to enable a full range of emotional experience, since unlike an andy Ayumi had a brain that could interpret emotional inputs. It looked, felt, and smelled fully human, and had been designed by her father to Ayumi's own specifications.  

But it was the first body she'd had that couldn't be pegged as a cybe.  The first body she'd had, as a small child, had been crude and robotlike, matching the then-current android technology, and though each new body had been cutting edge, the edge hadn't reached humaniform until now.  

In fact it could be argued that Ayumi's pain at being a freak had been part of what had driven android bodies to improve so rapidly, as her father was the leader in the field and was probably so because he'd been personally driven to make his daughter the best bodies possible.  But having a fully humaniform body now didn't erase ten years of being a freak.  Ayumi couldn't quite believe that people were no longer laughing at her clumsy metal body, and it made her lash out.

At the same time, despite her reputation as a JD, Ayumi was truly committed to helping people.  She wasn't a school nark or a monitor, because she couldn't handle toadying to the Establishment.  But she had, for the past schoolyear and change, used her rep to get the lowdown on the gangs and the deals, and reported to her father, who reported to the police.  Tifaret High was a lot cleaner now than it'd been this time last year.  Ayumi wanted to be a Peacekeeper, and she didn't want to wait the three years until she'd be 18 and it'd be legal, she wanted it now.  She wanted to prove that teens could be effective Peacekeepers too.

When Resone had first detected the dimension warp and recruited Ayumi and Danielle against it, it had been Ayumi who gave the group its strength.  Resone was the brains and Danielle was the guile, but Ayumi was the heart of the three, her passion driving the other two.  Since that time, the three had actually become best friends, despite their differences.  It would hurt, if Ayumi was suffering.  It would hurt, and Resone pulled back, not wanting to see what she would see.

But of course, she saw it. The ice came down, freezing her in perfect control, blocking away the pain, as she saw Ayumi trapped in a genie bottle, shouting curses.  Resone couldn't see Ayumi's body, but could tell where it was likely to be-- hooked into a virtual reality simulator.  Ayumi was inside a computer, and didn't know it.  She was no linerider like Danielle-- she would be totally unable to alter her surroundings, even if she knew it wasn't real.

Resone couldn't see Danielle, even when she held Danielle's mojo stone, but that wasn't surprising. Danielle was quicksilver, a water elemental, flowing and changing shape, with little constant enough to make a firm psychometric imprint.  She did, however, get a very distinct impression from touching the stone. Words, symbols, resolving into a phrase.

OUR LADY OF MERCY HOSPITAL.

"The hospital," Resone said.  "Mercy Hospital.  A virtual reality, and a hospital..."

"What's happened to them?" Dr. Okusanya asked.

"They were lured. Tricked into going to the hospital, separated from the rest of us.  Each of us, one by one.  Dani, they used sex, of course.  Ayumi, they presented with one in need of rescue."

"And you?  How will they go after you?"

"Oh, they already have. Obligation and loyalty.  I'm going in after them."

Dr. Okusanya considered. "They'll be prepared for you, if they're luring you.  I think you need some kind of equalizer."

Resone stood behind ice, insulated, and watched herself say, "Don't worry, Dr. Okusanya.  They don't know me well enough to prepare for me."

***

Resone was a tiny, albino female of fifteen, still not quite 5 feet tall, with a mane of fluffy white hair, watery blue eyes she generally concealed behind extremely dark prescription sunglasses, and a girlish, undeveloped body.  One would think she would be very difficult to disguise.

One would think.

With hair braided and hidden under a short, dark blonde wig in a boy's cut, with dark contacts replacing dark glasses and makeup to make eyelashes and eyebrows look brownish-blond and not white, with tape wrapped around her tiny breasts and a boy's school uniform on, she felt very masculine in a boyish way.  Not Resone anymore.  This was Jason.  Jason turned this way and that, surveying his appearance in the mirror.  He wasn't very objective, of course-- he always saw himself as male, since that was what he was-- but Resone could be objective, and objectively she looked like Jason.  So let it be.  She let herself be Jason, and strode off purposefully, heading for the hospital.

//Something's happening, and you don't know what it is, do you, Belle Resone?//

Nobody here by that name. Sorry.

He walked to the hospital, sensing dimly a gathering storm.  The warp was active.  This was another stage of the strange war the intruders waged.  The hospital was not the hospital.  The street was not the street.  Like traveling between air and water, he stepped onto the street and everything was different.  Yet he couldn't tell exactly how it had changed.  Everything looked the same.  Change of refractory index-- inside, it was the same. It was the outside that was different.

Jason was afraid.

He wanted to be Resone again.  Resone was sheltered under ice, cold and insulated from fear.  But Resone couldn't do this.  They were looking for Resone, so she could never walk in directly under the eyes of the receptionist.

"Young man, where are you going?"

The receptionist was a pinched and dusty old lady with piercing glasses and the smell of moldy fish, not quite drowned by antiseptic chemicals.  "I'm visiting someone," he said.

"It's not visiting hours," the turtle-mouth snapped.

A stained clockface on the wall read a dreary four o'clock.  "When are visiting hours?"

"Not until five."

Hands of the clock spun, aged and rusty things responding to Jason's will.  He was dominating, not like passive Resone.  He was free to act, to control.  "But it is five," he said.

"It's only--" The receptionist glanced up.  Jason worked the same alchemy on her watch as she looked away, so it confirmed the lie. "That's strange.  Where does the time go?"

"The time eaters get it," a tall black man said, and laughed at his own joke.

"Who are you here to see?" the receptionist asked.

The lobby was filled with people, loud and chaotic.  Old smelly women with bulging black handbags as weapons against the world.  Young women in loose t-shirts with huge breasts and screaming dirty children clinging to them.  Snot-nosed brats of 11 or so flinging slingshot spitballs at each other. Dirty unshaven men in undershirts with beer bellies.  And the black man with the spiked dreadlocks, the mishmash mismatched clothing that covered plaid, solids, spots, in bright and loud colors, a ridiculous leisure suit and a ridiculous bowtie, askew, over a Day-Glo yellow shirt.  The man with the piercing grin.

//Something is happening, but you don't know what it is-- do you, Belle Resone?//

Jason pulled a name and a number out of the air.  "Room 23B," he said.  "Rachel Buscaglia.  I'm her brother."

"You have to be over 14."

"I'm 15.  I'm short."

//You're also a girl, girl-child.//

Shut up.  I'm a boy.  "Can I see her?"

Unable to find another reason to prevent him, the receptionist muttered, "I suppose so. Elevators are back that way."  She gestured vaguely.

Jason lost it as he left the waiting room.  The man in the mismatched clothes was following him, and a surge of fear swamped him. Be Resone, cold, controlled. Resone turned to face the man, safe behind a thin but strong layer of ice.  "Excuse me, why are you following me?"

"We're going to the same place," the man said cheerily.  "I'm Rachel's brother, too."

Resone frowned. "Rachel who?"

"Rachel Buscaglia. You remember, girl-- or maybe you don't, oh well.  But we're going to the same place.  You're gonna need help."

"I don't need help. I don't know you."

"I'm the March Hare."  He grinned broadly.  "Also known as the Cat Who Walks Through Walls.  That was a book by Heinlein, long time ago.  Good book."

"Who are you?"

"Who are you?"

"Resone.  I'm Resone."

"I like your first name better."

"What?"

"Belle. Bella.  Beautiful.  Vous erez La Belle Dame Sans Merci, n'est-ce pas?  The Beautiful Lady Without Mercy.  Ah, Bella."

Resone stiffened. "Don't call me Belle.  I don't go by it."

"Somebody does."

"What?"

"For someone who's supposed to be such a hot esper and have so much on the ball, you can be dense, chère Belle."

"Don't call me that! I'm Resone!"

A white heat threatening to crack the ice.

my belle my beautiful belle come to daddy belle

The ice engulfed.  The anger drained out into the encroaching dark. Why should I care what he calls me?  "I have things to do."

"So do I.  By some strange trick of fate, many of them are the exact same thing as yours.  How's that for coincidence?"

"Hmm.  You're an esper, I take it."

"You know all about me, Bella.  All you have to do is think."

"Perhaps I don't care to."

She headed for the staircase.  Danielle should be found first, because she could hook into the line and find Ayumi. Resone might be esper, but she wasn't a linerider.

"Perhaps not. Where to?"

"Find Danielle."

"Could be rough. I think our friends are about to find you."

"Really." Resone didn't sense any danger-- but then, her senses seemed to be somewhat dulled here. “What am I expected to do about that?”

“Well. You in the mood for a fight, or you wanna hide and keep your powder dry?”

“I think I should hide,” Resone said, looking around. The elevators were coming. 6, 5, 4, on one elevator. 5, 4, 3 on the other. Her eyes fell on a set of double doors that she wasn’t supposed to go through. There.

The March Hare, or the Cat Who Walks Through Walls, or whatever his name was, followed her. “Interesting choice.”

As soon as she was through the doors, she whispered to him. “You are too distinctive. There’s no way I can not be here with you beside me. Go away.”

“Mm, no.” The Hare opened the nearest door. It was an empty examination room, darkened. “I don’t see any reason why we can’t join forces. Hide in here.”

Resone raised an eyebrow. “A fifteen year old girl hides in an empty hospital room with a grown adult, probably in his forties at least, that she doesn’t know. What’s wrong with this picture?”

He sighed explosively. “Bella. Such a correct and careful girl you are. Do it or don’t, but I can’t help you if I can’t talk to you, and we can hardly talk while you’re not here.”

“I think you can talk to me when I’m not here,” Resone said. “I think you’ve done that a few times today.”

A broad grin split his face. “Guilty as charged, but there’s can do the thing, and then there’s can do the thing and still have the juice left to run a mile or jump a fence. C’mon, Belle, I gotta save it for the parkour.”

Resone was used to knowing everything she needed to know. Remain passive, remain quiet, but look at everything. She was legally blind, and her mother couldn’t afford to get her cybeyes – Dr. Okusanya had offered, but for some strange reason her mother hadn’t been willing to entrust the father of a random school friend of Resone’s with doing surgery on her child, even if he was well regarded in a field she knew absolutely nothing about. Imagine that. But she watched everything, and she listened to everything, and if she held still, knowledge just came to her.

This man was an incomprehensible black hole. He was a singularity where knowledge went to die. Resone wouldn’t tolerate that.

With the faintest sag of her shoulders that on anyone else would be an explosive sigh, perhaps with eye roll, Resone went into the hospital room and let the March Hare shut the door.

“I’m going to begin by saying you’re an asshole,” Resone said. “And extremely creepy.”

“Oh, now ‘asshole’ I’ll own to, but when you say ‘creepy’ it sounds less eldritch horror and more Uncle Grabbyhands. If that’s what you’re picturing there then you got it all wrong.”

“You keep calling me by a name that’s not mine. You’ve referred to me as ‘beautiful’ and ‘the beautiful lady without mercy.’”

“A man can’t make a play on words about your name? I was joking, child. Have I touched you? Looked at you anyplace below the chin? But I’ll admit, I’m not used to dealing with kids, and I’ve been around a long time. Was a time they’d have strung me up for talking to you, white girl… if they could catch me. I’m gonna talk the way I know how, but I don’t mean nothing creepy about it. Unless you mean creepy like Slenderman or the man hook door hand story. In which case I absolutely mean it.” He grinned.

“Are you going to call me by my name?”

He sighed. “I suppose. You know, a fellow has as many names as I do, he doesn’t get so hung up on them. And you’ve got a lot of names, too, but then again… I’m guessing you don’t. Can’t read you as well as I’d like, to tell the truth.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” Indefinable pressure. Time, pushing at her, and a sense that space was congealing around her. If she didn’t move soon she never would. “Who are the enemy?”

“Well, chère, thereby hangs a tale.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is all I have on a story called “Welcome to the House of Fun”. It’s quite old; I had to revise a good bit, mostly for cultural reasons (Ayumi’s dad, for instance, originally had a name that was African, but it was an African woman’s first name and the last name is a word but not a name, mostly because in the 90′s and early 00′s we did not have the resources for research that we do now.)

The time stamp on the file before I started working on it claimed I started this in 2001. I’m pretty sure it’s older. Ayumi, Danielle and Resone are a trio of teenage heroes (do not call them magical girls) who are essentially a mishmosh of elements from other stories. In Ayumi I’m counting Asamiya Saki from Sukeban Deka, Cyborg from Teen Titans and The Major from Ghost in the Shell, at least.

There is some stuff in here that is very, very 90′s, DC Vertigo-inspired, that I am likely to pull back on. I may rethink what’s going on with Resone, or maybe not. 

[charliejrogers]

I’m Thinking of Ending Things (Or, What Many Will Think About Midway Through This Movie)

You may be expecting a long review for this movie. I mean, let’s be honest, I dissected the shit out of Birds of Prey, to the point that it was almost inappropriate for the kind of movie it was. But this movie? The arthouse classic-to-be from the much-revered Charlie Kaufman (both writer and director here), I’m Thinking of Ending Things? A movie filled to the brim with symbolism and which refuses to commut itself to any one point of view or plane or reality? This guy’s gonna write about it for fucking eternity.

Well, no. It won’t be the case. Why? Because I don’t think I really got it. Sure, I could try to wax poetic about my thoughts on aging, time, whether there’s meaning in relationships, meaning to our lives (all themes the film raises and which serve as its central core) But it would just kinda sound bullshit coming from me.

So, yeah, this isn’t much of a plot movie. It starts with a young woman (Jessie Buckley) waiting in the street of a snowy quiet country town’s downtown for her boyfriend, Jake, (Jesse Plemons) of one month (or longer?) so that the two can join Jake’s parents for dinner. Despite taking this proverbial big step in her relationship, she’s wondering (evoking the film’s title) whether she should end things. Or is that really what the title is about. Like everything in this movie, every piece of dialogue every character, every suggestion of a chronology, things are laden with a second meaning. Part of your enjoyment from the film will derive from whether or not you enjoy being strung along for 135 minutes without ever really understanding what’s going on, what’s really being said, who these characters really are, or when/where the hell are we in the world?

Despite those tantalizing and exciting questions, I’m here to warn you now, nothing big or exciting happens in this film, at least by conventional movie standards. We watch the couple drive to the Jake’s parents’ house and that takes about 25 minutes of film time. We’re in the house with his parents for probably about 45 minutes. Then the drive home takes another 20-25 minutes. The scenes about driving are just that: two people in a car talking to one another without much event. It’s like the car ride scenes from your favorite buddy/road trip movie but with all the fun adventures taken out. Instead what we get are long, confusing conversations more akin to Matthew McConaughey’s time spent in a car on True Detective.

But one thing becomes exceedingly clear when we finally get to Jake’s parents’ house: the film’s banal settings (a country road, a farmhouse, a rural high school) belie a truth about the film. It is not set in our reality. Jake and the woman’s conversation on the car ride is full of reflections on the nature of time, aging, depression, and life. Jake is a slightly insufferable intellectual. He’s the kind of guy who says he doesn’t know a whole lot about musical theater and then proceed to list 15-20 musicals of various fame and obscurity. The whole scene feels as quirky and just-shy of overwritten, i.e. par for the course of a pretentious art house film such as this. But the mannerisms of Jake’s parents are more than can be attributed to a quirky film. His mother is a jealous, possessive neurotic played by Toni Collette in a way only she could and a twitchy, and his father is a lecherous rival obsessed with his girlfriend played by David Thewlis (a favorite actor of mine). And throughout the meal, the confident, know-it-all we knew from the drive regresses into the behavior of a weak, embarrassed child. These are caricatures taken word from word from a textbook on Freudian psychology more than they are believable humans. The film admits and confirms the Freudian aping rather explicitly.

But just when you think you understand what the film’s up to, it switches course. After dinner, the woman starts to explore their house and starts a journey through time (but, again, with none of the excitement that sentence would normally imply.) It’s my second favorite sequence in the film (the first being an interpretive dance that occurs towards the film’s end… yes, it’s THAT kind of film). It’s filmed and framed in the trappings of a horror movie, but there’s no jump scares or horrible truth to be found. It’s how I imagine someone would adapt the tone of the superb video game Gone Home (yes, I’m one of THOSE people). But yeah, there’s no horrible truth… except if you consider the inevitability of human decay and disease to be a terrible truth. Every room the woman stumbles upon finds Jake’s parents appear to be a different age and health than when she first got to the house, ranging from a mother decked out in 50s/60s apparel to old, feeble gentleman. From there the movie continues to refuse to stay in one place and becomes odder and odder. It’s then I realized to think of this movie of a totally abstract piece of art, like the dream sequences of The Sopranos or Buffy.

So what do I think is going on? Obviously spoilers for here on out. Despite getting the majority of the screen time, this is NOT a movie about the young woman. At the very beginning of the film we are introduced, briefly, to an older, portly gentleman in his late 70s, looking out a window. The film cuts back to that exact same room and window 30 seconds later, but in the old man’s place is Jesse Plemons’ Jake. From that I take it to mean the two are the same person, with Plemons representing the older Jake younger self (or imagined younger self). Alongside the main plot, we occasionally get images and short scenes of the older Jake, a janitor at a rural high school who lives alone. The intellect (or perhaps false sense of intellect) of his younger self is clearly not meeting its potential. He is mocked by students for his age and fragility. What I think we’re watching is this older Jake trying to make sense of what it means to be old and who is currently on the verge of suicide unable to see its meaning. Although I compared the film to a dream sequence, I don’t think it’s fair to reduce the whole thing to Jake’s dream. More I feel like we are seeing a manifestation of Jake’s subconscious thoughts on screen play out.

Who is the young woman then? I’m not sure. I doubt she represents any actual woman – she’s given a variety of names. She almost plays the part of our (and his) guide into Jake’s subconscious like Virgil to Dante, but she’s more than a void. I think she represents what Jake would want in a woman in his life, a confident woman who can see through Jake’s faults (but notably sees them and sees them clearly). She’s not overtly sexual like the women at the ice cream who clearly make Jake uncomfortable. But yet, it’s telling that even in his deepest, most private thoughts that I think we’re seeing, he cannot imagine that even his ideal woman would want to be with him.

We get lots of reasons for why Jake thinks things are like this. Clearly he holds resentment for his parents, even if he feels like it’s cliché to do so. But time is his true nemesis. For me the most telling scenes for my understanding of the movie comes at the end with the interpretive dance, which shows Jake and the young woman (or, at least, stand-ins for those two) engage in a beautiful display of courtship, love, and marriage, only for the young Jake stand-in to be violently by a representation of the older janitor Jake. Clearly Jake thinks of his current self as something wholly distinct from his younger self, and that the creature he is now, a creature created by time, has destroyed who he once was. Like many of us (or as many of us think), he peaked in high school, the last place where people gave him awards for being who he is. This detail adds a sadness to the fact that he works as a janitor at one now. And it is notable that the film’s journey ends there, at a high school, where inexplicably he is being awarded a lifetime achievement award. Achievement in what? It’s unclear. What is clear that the person receiving the award is not the janitor Jake, but the younger Jake (Jesse Plemons) with old-age make-up on. With his dying breath he is able to see the self he loves, his younger self, grow up and live the life he wanted. There’s no sense at all of his present circumstances or person. Then we cut to a shot of janitor Jake’s truck buried in snow, presumably (on my interpretation) with janitor Jake frozen inside, dead.

So ultimately whether or not you like this movie depends on your tolerance for head-up-its-butt dialogue about the grand questions of life combined with its purposefully obtuse presentation. As one of the biggest douchebags I know, I liked it, but didn’t fall head over heels for it. The only other associated Kaufmann production I’ve seen is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, but from what I understand, this movie is Kaufmann at its Kaufmann-iest. I have a great respect for the planning and thought behind every second of the film and I can honestly say I was never not entertained. I loved the film’s mood and atmosphere and that I was always on my toes. It’s a movie that truly has gotten better as I’ve continued to think about it over the last three days. But still, I don’t think I always understood what was going on and it’s a little too obtuse/abstract for it to be an all-time classic. I respect that for some people this may be their favorite movie of all time, and for others it may be a crock of shit. I’m somewhere in the middle, and cautiously recommend this film to those of you who are open to some abstract art in film. If you are, definitely try it out, you won’t forget it. If you are not open to it, skip it; you will have no qualms about endings things early.

***1/4 (Three and one-fourth stars out of four)

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Chairman Graham, Ranking Member Feinstein, and Members of the Committee: I am honored and humbled to appear before you as a nominee for Associate Justice of the Supreme Court. I thank the President for entrusting me with this profound responsibility, as well as for the graciousness that he and the First Lady have shown my family throughout this process. I thank Senator Young for introducing me, as he did at my hearing to serve on the Seventh Circuit. I thank Senator Braun for his generous support. And I am especially grateful to former Dean Patty O'Hara of Notre Dame Law School. She hired me as a professor nearly 20 years ago and has been a mentor, colleague, and friend ever since. I thank the Members of this Committee—and your other colleagues in the Senate—who have taken the time to meet with me since my nomination. It has been a privilege to meet you.

As I said when I was nominated to serve as a Justice, I am used to being in a group of nine—my family. Nothing is more important to me, and I am so proud to have them behind me. My husband Jesse and I have been married for 21 years. He has been a selfless and wonderful partner at every step along the way. I once asked my sister, "Why do people say marriage is hard? I think it's easy." She said, "Maybe you should ask Jesse if he agrees." I decided not to take her advice. I know that I am far luckier in love than I deserve. Jesse and I are parents to seven wonderful children. Emma is a sophomore in college who just might follow her parents into a career in the law. Vivian came to us from Haiti. When she arrived, she was so weak that we were told she might never walk or talk normally. She now deadlifts as much as the male athletes at our gym, and I assure you that she has no trouble talking. Tess is 16, and while she shares her parents' love for the liberal arts, she also has a math gene that seems to have skipped her parents' generation. John Peter joined us shortly after the devastating earthquake in Haiti, and Jesse, who brought him home, still describes the shock on JP's face when he got off the plane in wintertime Chicago. Once that shock wore off, JP assumed the happy-go-lucky attitude that is still his signature trait. Liam is smart, strong, and kind, and to our delight, he still loves watching movies with Mom and Dad. Ten-year-old Juliet is already pursuing her goal of becoming an author by writing multiple essays and short stories, including one she recently submitted for publication. And our youngest—Benjamin, who has Down Syndrome—is the unanimous favorite of the family. My own siblings are here, some in the hearing room and some nearby. Carrie, Megan, Eileen, Amanda, Vivian, and Michael are my oldest and dearest friends. We've seen each other through both the happy and hard parts of life, and I am so grateful that they are with me now. My parents, Mike and Linda Coney, are watching from their New Orleans home. My father was a lawyer and my mother was a teacher, which explains how I ended up as a law professor. More important, my parents modeled for me and my six siblings a life of service, principle, faith, and love. I remember preparing for a grade-school spelling bee against a boy in my class. To boost my confidence, Dad sang, "Anything boys can do, girls can do better." At least as I remember it, I spelled my way to victory.

I received similar encouragement from the devoted teachers at St. Mary's Dominican, my all-girls high school in New Orleans. When I went to college, it never occurred to me that anyone would consider girls to be less capable than boys. My freshman year, I took a literature class filled with upperclassmen English majors. When I did my first presentation—on Breakfast at Tiffany's—I feared I had failed. But my professor filled me with confidence, became a mentor, and—when I graduated with a degree in English—gave me Truman Capote's collected works. Although I considered graduate studies in English, I decided my passion for words was better suited to deciphering statutes than novels. I was fortunate to have wonderful legal mentors—in particular, the judges for whom I clerked. The legendary Judge Laurence Silberman of the D.C. Circuit gave me my first job in the law and continues to teach me today. He was by my side during my Seventh Circuit hearing and investiture, and he is cheering me on from his living room now.

I also clerked for Justice Scalia, and like many law students, I felt like I knew the justice before I ever met him, because I had read so many of his colorful, accessible opinions. More than the style of his writing, though, it was the content of Justice Scalia's reasoning that shaped me. His judicial philosophy was straightforward: A judge must apply the law as written, not as the judge wishes it were. Sometimes that approach meant reaching results that he did not like. But as he put it in one of his best known opinions, that is what it means to say we have a government of laws, not of men. Justice Scalia taught me more than just law. He was devoted to his family, resolute in his beliefs, and fearless of criticism. And as I embarked on my own legal career, I resolved to maintain that same perspective. There is a tendency in our profession to treat the practice of law as all-consuming, while losing sight of everything else. But that makes for a shallow and unfulfilling life. I worked hard as a lawyer and a professor; I owed that to my clients, my students, and myself. But I never let the law define my identity or crowd out the rest of my life.

A similar principle applies to the role of courts. Courts have a vital responsibility to enforce the rule of law, which is critical to a free society. But courts are not designed to solve every problem or right every wrong in our public life. The policy decisions and value judgments of government must be made by the political branches elected by and accountable to the People. The public should not expect courts to do so, and courts should not try. That is the approach I have strived to follow as a judge on the Seventh Circuit. In every case, I have carefully considered the arguments presented by the parties, discussed the issues with my colleagues on the court, and done my utmost to reach the result required by the law, whatever my own preferences might be. I try to remain mindful that, while my court decides thousands of cases a year, each case is the most important one to the parties involved. After all, cases are not like statutes, which are often named for their authors. Cases are named for the parties who stand to gain or lose in the real world, often through their liberty or livelihood. When I write an opinion resolving a case, I read every word from the perspective of the losing party. I ask myself how would I view the decision if one of my children was the party I was ruling against: Even though I would not like the result, would I understand that the decision was fairly reasoned and grounded in the law? That is the standard I set for myself in every case, and it is the standard I will follow as long as I am a judge on any court.

When the President offered this nomination, I was deeply honored. But it was not a position I had sought out, and I thought carefully before accepting. The confirmation process—and the work of serving on the Court if I am confirmed— requires sacrifices, particularly from my family. I chose to accept the nomination because I believe deeply in the rule of law and the place of the Supreme Court in our Nation. I believe Americans of all backgrounds deserve an independent Supreme Court that interprets our Constitution and laws as they are written. And I believe I can serve my country by playing that role. I come before this Committee with humility about the responsibility I have been asked to undertake, and with appreciation for those who came before me. I was nine years old when Sandra Day O'Connor became the first woman to sit in this seat. She was a model of grace and dignity throughout her distinguished tenure on the Court. When I was 21 years old and just beginning my career, Ruth Bader Ginsburg sat in this seat. She told the Committee, "What has become of me could only happen in America." I have been nominated to fill Justice Ginsburg's seat, but no one will ever take her place. I will be forever grateful for the path she marked and the life she led. If confirmed, it would be the honor of a lifetime to serve alongside the Chief Justice and seven Associate Justices. I admire them all and would consider each a valued colleague. And I might bring a few new perspectives to the bench. As the President noted when he announced my nomination, I would be the first mother of school-age children to serve on the Court. I would be the first Justice to join the Court from the Seventh Circuit in 45 years. And I would be the only sitting Justice who didn't attend law school at Harvard or Yale. I am confident that Notre Dame will hold its own, and maybe I could even teach them a thing or two about football.

As a final note, Mr. Chairman, I would like to thank the many Americans from all walks of life who have reached out with messages of support over the course of my nomination. I believe in the power of prayer, and it has been uplifting to hear that so many people are praying for me. I look forward to answering the Committee's questions over the coming days. And if I am fortunate enough to be confirmed, I pledge to faithfully and impartially discharge my duties to the American people as an Associate Justice of the Supreme Court. Thank you.

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (137/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[15 November, 233 Before Age. Nagaoka.]

Less then six hours ago, King Rehval III Trismegistus had prevailed against all of his enemies and united the Saiyan race under his rule. An invasion fleet led by the Super Saiyan Luffa had tried and failed to destroy his stronghold on Nagaoka, and he boldly commanded them to choose surrender or death. The Federation ships withdrew, while those of the Saiyan Free Company landed on Nagaoka to join him. For Rehval's followers in the Jindan Cult, this was cause for a great celebration. The festivities were carefully regulated by the priesthood, but the mood was still very joyful within the subterranean compound where they all lived.

Treekul was the only sapient being on the planet who wasn't a Saiyan, and so she didn't understand the importance of this victory until someone else explained it to her. The Saiyans were all very powerful, but their population was small, with current estimates at less than fifty thousand. There were some neutrals scattered throughout the galaxy, but the bulk of their species had been divided between Rehval's cult and Seltiss' Saiyan Free Company. With Seltiss' capitulation, King Rehval could rule the Saiyan people unopposed. And once the Free Companions were formally initiated into the cult, the Jindan potion would bind them to Rehval, body and soul, for all time.

"What about the Super Saiyan?" Treekul had asked. "Did she surrender too?"

"Hah! The minute she saw her fleet break apart, she turned and fled!" That was the way one of the acolytes had explained it. Treekul had asked others, and they all interpreted it the same way: Luffa was no longer a threat. Her power was no match for Rehval's alchemical bond with Planet Nagaoka, and he held too many other planets hostage for her to oppose him anywhere else. In time, he would brand Luffa an outlaw, and it would be a crime for any civilization to assist her in any way. Luffa would have no choice but to roam the stars as an exile until her ship ran out of fuel. Or she could settle down on some uncharted world. Or she could return to Nagaoka and beg to be admitted into the cult, but no one seemed to take that possibility very seriously.

Treekul saw it differently, since she had never intended to join the cult. She had only accompanied a group of Saiyans as a consultant, but Rehval had taken a liking to her and made her an official priestess, and his apprentice in the alchemical arts. Despite these lofty titles, and the privileges that came with them, she knew she was little more than a plaything to him. She had managed to avoid his romantic advances so far, but this was becoming increasingly difficult, and now, it was beginning to seem like there was no point to resisting him. Before, his claims of becoming an invincible ruler of the universe sounded like the ravings of a madman, but now it looked like he had been right all along. She hadn't learned much alchemy from him, but he had shared enough of his secrets to prove that he knew what he was doing. He had real power, and he seemed willing to share a portion of it with her.

Since arriving on Nagaoka, Treekul's only objective had been to escape, but she was finding it harder to want to leave. Where could she go? And even if escape from the cult was possible, what would be waiting for her on the outside? In Rehval's new dominion, all power would flow from the ranks of his followers. As a civilian, she was nothing but a minor archaeologist, roaming the stars for academic glory. Here, she was respected and feared. She had the ear of the most powerful man in the universe, and maybe a little more than just his ear, if she wanted. Would it be worth running away from all of that, just to try to go back to her normal life? A life that might not even be possible under Rehval's New Order?

Despite her dilemma, Treekul still searched for ways to leave the planet. It gave her something to do in her downtime, and knowing more about her surroundings gave her a feeling of control over her predicament. The ongoing celebrations allowed her to trespass into places she normally wouldn't have dared to explore. An overeager cultist actually took her to the surface for the first time. They all wanted to watch the SFC ships that flew in from high orbit, and Treekul was able to sweet talk one of them into bringing her along. Then she excused herself, and scouted around for a while on her own.

Treekul had learned about "the junkyard" some time ago, but never had a chance to visit it until today. Access to the cult's shipyard was nearly impossible for her, but the junkyard was less secure. None of the ships here were spaceworthy. Freighters without engines, shuttles with broken hulls, cruisers without life support. For a time, Treekul had considered the possibility of cobbling something together from these pieces, but she needed a technician from the cult to do the work, and the one she had been grooming for the job had been sent off to die in Rehval's war with the Federation. At least now, she could see the wreckage for herself, even if she wasn't sure what to do with it.

The thought had occurred to her that she might not need a life support system. In recent lessons, Rehval had mentioned ways of keeping a living subject in tact through otherwise fatal conditions. If she could learn those techniques and apply them to her own body, then it might be possible to travel to another planet without air or water. But how long would that take? And if she was willing to wait that long, was it even worth trying to escape at all?

On some level, she had to admit, she liked the challenge of it. When she first met Rehval, she wrote him off as a madman with an inferiority complex. But now that she had seen his plans come to fruition, she began to respect his sanity more. Matching wits with him seemed more like a friendly game than a struggle for survival. As she climbed into the cockpit of the damaged shuttle to study its controls, she considered that the real appeal of her scheme wasn't the escape itself, but the thrill of imagining how Rehval would respond. He wouldn't just let her go. He was far too possessive for that. She pictured a desperate chase, with her trying to stay one step ahead of his minions, only to be recaptured and brought back before him. And then he would lecture her on the futility of escape and order her back to his laboratory to resume her lessons.

A year ago, she would have thought such a game would be terrifying, but now it seemed almost romantic to her. Treekul knew that this should bother her, that it was a sign that life among the cultists had taken a toll on her mental health. But she couldn't find it in herself to care. Too many things made sense on Nagaoka now, and even the longing to escape seemed to be just one more parlor game in Rehval's menagerie.

Satisfied with today's outing, Treekul left the yard and started back. Even the grey clouds in the sky seemed cheerful somehow. Knowing that Rehval had merged his consciousness with the planet had given her a new perspective on it. She wondered if he could see her now, or if he could feel her feet treading across the fields that surrounded the compound. And if he couldn't sense her, how long would it be before he could...?

*******

Much of Rehval's settlement on Nagaoka was a network of underground carvers, some natural, with artificial tunnels branching off from these. This living space resembled a vast catacomb, and the cultists accepted this gloomy dwelling as part of the price for their enhanced power. There were, however, more technologically advanced parts of the complex. The command center overlooking the shipyard looked as though it had been transplanted from some bustling metropolis on a major hubworld. Rehval himself spent little time here, preferring the sanctity of his bedchamber and laboratory, but he occasionally paid visits to the command center, if only to check on things and to remind the crew what they were fighting for. Today, he was giving his daughter a tour.

"Endive is one of my finest Executants," he said, careful to qualify his praise. She stood at attention while he presented her to his guests, and he noticed the slightest wince in her expression when he used the words "one of my finest."

"Right, I'm sure she is," Seltiss said without even looking at her. He didn't need mystic powers or alchemical wisdom to sense the bitterness in her voice. Days earlier, she had believed herself to be a successful leader, commanding a free company of Saiyans, and a reasonably strong warrior in her own right. Now, she had submitted to the inevitability of his rule, and she was surrounded by his followers, whose powers dwarfed her own.

"You can learn a lot from women like Endive," he said. "She resisted me once, too, much like your 'free companions'. But she's turned away from her wickedness, and now she prospers under my new order."

"As if. She looks terrified, dad," Seltiss said to him. Then to Endive, she asked: "When's the last time you got any sleep?"

"Two days ago, my lady," Endive replied, but only after glancing to Rehval first for approval to speak. This was not lost on Seltiss, who snorted with contempt.

"Is this what I'm supposed to learn?" Seltiss asked. "To know my place?"

"That's right," Rehval said. "I know this is a difficult time for you, Seltiss. You grew up believing you would inherit my throne. And now that I've... evolved, I no longer need a successor. Hm. I've never tried to put it into words before. Somehow, 'evolved' seems like too small a term."

Physically, he looked no different than before. Since completing the ritual that connected him to the planet, he decided to dispense with the flowing red robes, and walked around in simple cotton pajamas. No physical connection to the planet's surface was necessary. He only had to stay within its atmosphere to make it work, though he did enjoy the peculiar sensation he felt when he walked barefoot through the caverns. Even the artificial tile of the command center interior was pleasing, as the facility was rooted to the ground, and the geomantic energies conducted through it. Rehval had privately decided that he would never wear shoes again. There was nothing that could hurt him here. He was the planet, and everything and everyone on it belong to him. Even his daughter's insolence seemed cozy and soothing somehow.

Seltiss groaned with embarrassment as he put his hand on her shoulder.

"The point I'm trying to make," Rehval continued, "is that I still need my daughter, even if I don't need an heir. There's a lot you can do for my reign, Seltiss. You and your children, and your children's children..."

She reached for his hand and removed it from her shoulder like it was a dead rat. "That's all you want from me, isn't it?" she asked. "Xibuyas and I are nothing but breeding stock to you. Just like your 'finest Executant' over there, I'll bet."

"Don't be ridiculous," Rehval said. "Your pedigree puts you on a higher level than any Saiyan on this planet. Far above Endive or anyone else. Your offspring will be the provincial governors of my eternal empire."

Seltiss didn't understand, and perhaps she never would, but she had already been extremely useful to him by assembling the Saiyan Free Company in the first place. As his enemy, she had assembled and delivered to him thousands of Saiayans who would have been his fiercest opponents. As he led her on the tour, his priests were processing her followers as they arrived. The ones who still had their tails would need to remove them as a show of loyalty, and then later they would receive the Jindan potion and be formally inducted into the cult. It would have taken decades to gather these loose ends, and Rehval had been willing to spend those decades, but his daughter had completed the task for him in less than a year. And that was Seltiss being his foe. How much more she could do for him as an ally! He could only imagine the sort of wonders her great-grandchildren would be performing for him in a century or two.

"A puppet is still a puppet, dad," Seltiss said. "No matter how many crowns you put on its head. That's what you used to tell me."

"You still think of me as mortal," he said with a laugh. "It's true, you'll forever be second to my glory, but that's how it is for every temporal king. Even the grandest of rulers know better than to envy the heavens."

"Like you, dad?" Seltiss asked.

He laughed again. "It's good to have you back at my side, Seltiss. I look forward to many more of these spirited debates. What about you, Xibuyas? Don't tell me you're going to be a sore loser about all this."

The young Saiyan had remained quietly by Seltiss' side from the moment she disembarked from her command ship. Rehval had considered Luffa's son to be a useful catspaw, until the boy's failure at Pflaume City. Meeting Rehval again seemed to remind the boy of his shortcomings, and so he had been very pensive during the tour.

"I only want to know when Luffa dies," Xibuyas said. "You say you have the power. Why did allow her to leave the system?"

"Because I'm in no particular hurry with her," Rehval said. "Not anymore. With your group now added to my own, I can afford to take my time. The galaxy will surrender to me whether she interferes or not. Eventually, she'll die in isolation, or she'll make some mad attempt to go down in a blaze of glory. Personally, I hope she comes back groveling for my forgiveness, but it doesn't make much difference anymore. Now then, I think we've seen enough of the command center, so let's move on to the aqueducts, where--"

"Master!" cried one of the cultists sitting at a tactical station. "There's a ship entering the system! It's headed for the planet!"

"Hm? That's odd. Maybe they were part of the Federation fleet and got lost," Rehval said. "Oh well."

"You aren't going to scramble your fighters to intercept it?" Xibuyas asked.

"Whatever for?" Rehval asked. "Or did you already forget how easily I repelled the last attack on this planet? Dozens of warships, including your own, Xibuyas. They couldn't scratch Nagaoka. What can one cruiser possibly do?"

"Even so," Seltiss said, "it would be foolish to, like, ignore it--"

He sighed. "I get it. I really do. You were both always so stubborn, even as children. You still haven't accepted what I've become, so you probe for weaknesses, vulnerabilities that you can exploit later. 'Did you notice that? He doesn't intercept ships that stray into his system. We can use that somehow...' Is that what this is? Fine."

He turned to Endive, who somehow stood even more rigidly at attention than before. "Go," he said. "Handle this."

"At once!" Endive said with an eager smile. She turned to the tactical station and asked for a full report. Rehval spared a moment to admire the fit of Endive's Executant armor. He almost regretted poisoning her father all those years ago. How it would have pained him to see her like this, a devoted soldier of the Saiyan King.

"I'm picking up only one life sign on board," the soldier announced. "It's a Saiyan."

"There, you see?" Rehval said to his guests. "Another lost soul seeking to join my fellowship. You thought he was a threat, but once he's initiated in our fellowship, he'll only make me stronger. Now that Guwar has told the outside universe where to find me, I guess I'll just have to get used to Saiyans seeking me out directly from now on--"

"Master," Endive said. "The ship isn't slowing down! If it hits the field at this speed, the pilot will be killed!"

"Curious," Rehval said. "Now what could be the point of such a stunt? My power shields the planet from any bombardment, whether by conventional arms or ki blasts."

"That energy," Xibuyas suddenly said. "Do you sense it? That's no Saiyan... it's her."

"What are you talking about?" Rehval said, more annoyed than concerned.

"The ship has collided with the Jindan field surrounding the planet, Master," Endive announced. By now she had simply shoved the soldier away from the tactical station and had taken his seat for herself.

"Yes, I just felt the collision," Rehval said. "Let's not forget whose field it is, after all."

"Forgive me, Blessed One," Endive said, "but... I show something has broken through!"

Rehval was about to ask what it was, and then the ground shook beneath their feet.

"It's Luffa," Xibuyas said in a low voice. "She's returned."

He was right. Rehval could sense the ki now. Earlier, when the fleet's attack had failed, Luffa had managed to penetrate the clouds of Nagaoka with a focused ki blast. Her attack had done no damage, and in theory a vessel could have slipped through the hole she had briefly opened up, but there was no point in sending a single ship to attack the planet, so he hadn't worried about it.

Rehval still wasn't worried, though he was perplexed.

"It doesn't make any sense," Seltiss said, apparently reaching the same conclusion. "She couldn't put a dent in that field when she had the whole alliance at her back, so why come alone?"

"She knew she couldn't disrupt the entire field, so she passed through it," Rehval said. "The ship was just to get her close enough to it so she could force her way through. Interesting."

He could feel the impact Luffa had made. Miles away, a grassy field had been reduced to a large crater. The damage would have been much worse than that, but Rehval's power over Nagaoka had absorbed the brunt of the attack. At best, an enemy could only hope to damage the biosphere of Nagaoka, but nothing below the surface.

"Why would she come here? It's insane!" Seltiss said. "She can't fight all of us at once, and with her ship destroyed, she's given up her only means of escape!"

"She didn't come here to escape," Rehval said. "No, I think young Luffa came here to die. How very noble. She's so humiliated by the last defeat that she's chosen to end her life in a hopeless battle rather than live with the shame. Endive, let's do what we can to grant Luffa's wish."

"Yes, Master," Endive said. "A hundred of our warriors should be more than enough to defeat her."

"I agree," Rehval said. "Well? Does this satisfy you, Xibuyas?"

"Let me go with them, Your Majesty" he pleaded. "I want to see her death with my own eyes!"

"Ah-ah!" Rehval said. "You already had your chance on Planet Pflaume, remember? I think denying you here would be good for your character, Xibuyas. Besides, you need to learn the importance of delegation. You're going to be a very important provincial governor for me some day, and it would be inefficient for you to handle all the busywork personally."

The boy fell silent, and Rehval decided to pause their tour while they waited for the hundred to report in. He ordered a meal to be served in the main conference room, so his family and the S.F.C. generals could watch the crew of the command center as they followed the battle. They were barely into the main course when Endive relayed the report from the field.

"I sent my troops to the impact site as ordered," she said. "They searched, but found no one... dead or alive."

"What?" Rehval gasped.

"Hah!" Xibuyas laughed. "Just like a woman! The coward ran away!"

"Be quiet," Rehval snapped. He hadn't been taking this seriously, but Luffa had his attention now. "She didn't maroon herself behind enemy lines just to hide. She's up to something, but what? She can't be planning to attack our stronghold. She'd be walking into tens of thousands of cultists instead of a mere hundred. And there's no other strategic objectives on the planet."

He couldn't sense Luffa's ki either. His bond with the planet had enabled him to sense things all over Nagaoka, but the footsteps of a single woman were too subtle. It was like expecting to notice motes of dust landing on one's skin. His ki senses had increased dramatically, however. And yet, he found nothing, until suddenly, for only a moment...!

A split second later, they heard an explosion outside. One of the other crewmen reported the damage. "It's the spaceport," he called out. Someone's taken one of the ships!"

They could all sense her now. Earlier, Luffa's ki had seemed to vanish, but now she was acting with her full strength. This time, Rehval was provoked enough to want to see for himself what was going on. He rushed to the door, and levitated himself to an altitude that offered a view of the shipyard. For a moment, he saw the hijacked cruiser floating over the the other ships, firing its guns as it circled the yard.

And then, just as his followers began to converge on the location, the cruiser exploded in a ball of yellow fire. Even at this distance, he could hear laughter. That maddening laugh.

Luffa only attacked once, firing a thin crimson beam into the mass of warriors that converged on her position. Then, with blinding speed, she turned and fled, retreating into the thick grey clouds like a bolt of golden lightning.

Rehval made his way to the shipyard, where he bade his followers to stand down. Soon enough, Endive, Seltiss, and Xibuyas joined them. The entire hardstand was in flames, with secondary explosions going off as the heat ruptured volatile components in the wreckage.

"Only one casualty," Endive reported. "Her beam went right through his heart."

"What is she doing?" Xibuyas asked. "First she destroys her own ship, and now all of these! What good does it do her?"

"Look!" Seltiss called out. She was pointing at a section of the hardstand that hadn't been burned. "She left... a message."

Rehval had already spotted it as he descended, but he let the others see it for themselves. It looked like Luffa had carved it out of the pavement by hand.

NO ONE LEAVES

"She means to destroy us all," Rehval said.

"But she can't destroy the planet," Seltiss said. "You already proved that. Your power makes it impervious to that sort of damage."

"Yes," Rehval said. "But I lack the speed and offensive power to catch her. She's seems to think she can pick us off, one by one if she has to."

"Impossible," Endive said. "She may be powerful, but she can't possibly hold out long enough to win a war of attrition."

"I agree," Rehval said. "Either way, it looks like we're going to find out. But it's brilliant, in a way. By infiltrating this planet, she's removed my earthen avatars from the equation. I placed them on planets all over the galaxy, so that if she dared to interfere with my plans, I could destroy a few billion people to punish her. Only now, I don't dare carry out that threat, because I need to focus my energies here. I could use my avatars here, of course. Summoning a few dozen on Nagaokan soil would be child's play for me now, but they're much too slow. She can simply outrun them, and attack me where I'm vulnerable. So, if nothing else, she's saved the galaxy... for the time being, at least."

"I can send out search teams," Endive suggested. "We can track her down--"

"No, my dear, spreading out our forces will only play into her hands," he said. "We need to approach this very carefully. Luffa's brilliant, yes, but this still smacks of desperation. She has nowhere else to go, and I have already proven myself as the conqueror of the universe. This planet and its people are all extensions of my power. She won't last long. For all her power, she's just one woman."

NEXT: One Against All

[needhamglobalgroupmeditation]

Meditation's Beneficial Magic

Meditation in the Mind

More and more these days we see countless recommendations to practice the age old art and science of meditation. Most, if not all, extol its seemingly magical power on the human psyche through its purported benefits. These recommendations and claims have stood the test of time- they are universally accepted and well justified. For eons past those who came before us have spoken volumes regarding this great gift we all posses but today sometimes, we neglect to use. Why now are we again reminded of this?

All of us are participating either aware or unaware. in a quantum shift bringing at times, tumultuous changes in all areas of our society and world structures. No one is exempt from the effects these rapid changes bring. While universally experienced, these trans-formative energies are individually unique and processed differently depending on a person's outlook. With a little discipline and practice we can apply this gift of meditation to help balance stress levels, reduce mind-movies which seem to play nonstop to bring increasing levels of joy, clarity and purpose into life.

While it's true that meditative practices are known by many names in virtually all cultures each with various forms of practice, finding one that will work for you is quite easy. Best of all, this gently leads us ultimately to a special place we often desire and want- greater understanding and acceptance to life's mysteries.

So, let's briefly explore the subject for the sole purpose of learning how to reap many beneficial rewards available through meditation. Besides, it is true, the best things in life are free. So let us begin to clear our minds of useless, wayward abstract thoughts having no justification to control or dictate our life's direction. We will find meditation allows you in the purest sense, to create your own life's experiences. (More discussion about that possibility a bit later). For now, consider that during meditation you can replace, and clear out unwanted thoughts with life affirming versions gaining- a true, lasting peace of mind, body and soul. Meditation is your gateway offering all that and more...you can even create some magic in your life through this simple process!

As you may have heard or if you are already a dedicated practitioner, individuals report profound psychological, physical and spiritual well-being as they practice meditation daily. What then is meditation really all about? For beginners, how can one start? And how far can I go with sincere dedication? In this article are going to examine a few areas- some historical background, benefits, science of the mind and advanced possibilities.

History to Date

According to many archeologists, meditation pre dates written records. It could be easily envisioned a person entering an altered state of consciousness by simply gazing in the mind-stilling flicker of fire while taking no thought. The earliest documented record of meditation comes from India in their Hindu scriptures called tantras. These records date back over 5,000 years coming from the Indus valley and were combined with what is referred to today as yoga. Along with expanding trade, cultural exchange was also carried westward and meditation practice was soon embedded in eastern thought and spiritual practices.

With the advent of Buddha around 500 AD, many diverse cultures began to develop their own interpretations and specialized meditative techniques. Some techniques still in use to this day are said to deliver incredible mind-over-matter powers and supernormal skills that transformed the practitioner. Today, these are devout individuals and are not necessarily monks living in some remote mountain monastery. They are everyday people like you and I. Of course advancing through time, the long history of meditation is no longer only attributed to the Hindus and Buddhists. Not to be left out, Christianity, Islam and Judaism also participate in the perpetuation of meditation each with its own take on the practice.

However, historically these religious faiths do not dominate in their teachings and practices a culture of meditation when compared to the Asian traditions. Meditation finds its place here in our Western culture in the early 1960's into the '70's. This was a time when much of our culture was being tested, demanding to be redefined. Meditation found fertile ground in which to flourish and expand. Some could say it was the "hippie" revolution which inspired to embrace acceptance of foreign ideas but only ones that possessed real substantive value. It was not long after that when the Western medical and scientific community began to conduct research and studies on meditation. And what did most studies if not all, to varying degrees find?

You guessed it- significant health benefits. One of the most important aspects of meditation is how it releases stress from our bodies. This is achieved by bridging the gap between our conscious and un-conscious selves, situations or non-justified thoughts that ferment stress become less significant and actually lose their power. Through meditation, it does not take long before you feel more peaceful and relaxed about everything. What happened to cause this nearly miraculous change? Studies have proven that meditation raises serotonin levels which directly affect our behavior and emotional temperament. Conversely, low levels of serotonin lead to depression, headaches even insomnia. All symptoms associated with stress.

Today, our western civilization with all our "advanced" knowledge has re-affirmed the ancient knowledge and understanding of meditation's therapeutic power to help alleviate mental and physical ailments. And this was just the infancy of discovery or shall we say re-discovery of unlimited powers available inside each of us. Today, mediation without question is a universally medically accepted form of holistic healing used worldwide. Meditation could be summed up as a natural mechanism within each of us that enables the spirit within, the higher, true self to bridge the communication gap into our physical aspects grounding us in unconditional love.

Rebirth through Breath

Beyond all the medical community assertions lies a vast segment of the population seeking additional benefits when practicing meditation. How can what appears initially only to be a physical act, effect our true inner being so profoundly by simply clearing our conscious thoughts and focusing on our breath? Well the secret really is in our breath. When you first start a meditative practice at face value, it appears really easy. Yet, early on many are easily frustrated because they have really never truly attempted to quiet their thoughts while awake. Successfully navigating the mental mind field of what apparently appears to be non-stop streams of thoughts popping up can at first be a daunting task. Be forewarned this is a common occurrence and quite normal and there is a solution. It's funny actually once realization sets in that you really are like two individuals within a single physical body. And that is not far from the truth.

I, like many who meditate found out early on one key to successfully get beyond this mental speed bump is to acknowledge the thought. Proceed to then dismiss it entirely or agree to revisit the thought after the meditation session and return the mind's focus to your breathing. I have used this method to great success getting past the egos gate keeper role which it often plays.

You may find this method helpful as well if not, find what brings your focus back without distracting thoughts. Again, breathing's role is of utmost importance in this whole process because it is the gateway bridging the physical body with the spiritual body. The goal here is what I refer to as the death of thoughts through focusing on your breath. Becoming more sensitive of taking no thought along with staying present in the moment by the simple act being consciously aware of your breathing, an amazing inner rebirth begins. Next, we define some good basic steps for all meditation practices.

Meditation 101

Chances are in your life you have unknowingly experienced moments in a purely meditative state. The odds are that when this occurred, you found yourself outside in nature. In nature we more easily find resonance with a deeper more real aspect of ourselves which often comes alive in the natural environment.

Perhaps it occurred while relaxing on a beach watching the hypnotic like waves repetitively washing ashore or possibly noticing the invisible wind rustle leaves on a tree as warming sunlight bathed your face. If you recall during these moments, you found a completely relaxed feeling immerse your entire being because you were free of distracting thoughts. This is what being in "the moment" is all about. It is as if your mind tunes into the higher natural frequencies of life which for the most part, are virtually non-existent inside buildings and such. Yet, with focus, proper intentions and processes we can escape these limitations imposed in man-made environments. Of course meditation can be greatly enhanced when it is practical in natural surroundings.

The whole concept of meditation takes on various identities depending what an individual's intention is while performing a chosen meditation. Some may want physical or mental relief, others, answers or directions for a better life. Either way, choices are clearly individualized. Find yours since this goes a long way in helping you along the path aided with a unique, personalized purpose. Define it for you! To begin a meditation, a few simple rules are universally accepted. These generally are-

1) Break away from distractions. Turn off the outside electrical/technological intrusions like phones, computers, TV's etc. A quiet, calm peaceful place is preferred. At first, commit 10 minutes or more with no interruption.

2) Posture is important in that you must be comfortable. Preferably this is with your back upright and your spine to you head straight. Normally a seated position on the ground is preferred with hands in your lap; it can also be done in a chair. Lying down initially is not suggested as you body can assume a sleep mode.

3) Close your eyes gently, relax your jaw and facial muscles. Do a "body scan" looking for any muscle tension that may exist releasing any found. Continue relaxing now for a few moments allowing your body to become comfortable. Be observant of bodily tension arising. The key is to physically relax.

4) Slowly evacuate your lungs completely. Gently inhale and exhale through your nostrils with a deep (from the belly) rhythmic cycle filling your lungs to capacity and expelling the air completely. Slow, long in and out breaths are ideal. Pausing momentarily at the end of each in and out breath. Focus on the feeling and sounds during the entire cycle.

5) Activate the heart-mind connection which provides an initial thought-clearing mode. Do not attempt to suppress these thoughts. Acknowledge them. Briefly as thoughts arise, dismiss them by surrounding any with the six heart virtues of: appreciation, compassion, forgiveness, humility, valor, and understanding. Another very powerful technique is to apply unconditional love (without a judgment position) to any thoughts that may arise, release them and return focus to your breathing.

6) Steadily and incrementally increase the time duration spent in your practice. As the moments of time lengthen between arising thoughts, you are now well on the way to higher levels of meditation. Remind yourself to notice and appreciate the beneficial by-products you have regained.

[theparanormalperiodical]

17 Ways To Predict The Future That You Can Do For FREE (#8 Will Have You Shook - And I Should Know, I Totally Saw It Via Augury)

It was 8.57pm on a Wednesday night. I was sitting on my bed, waiting for the microwave to let me know my lasagne is ready, and that’s when I first heard it.

Silence.

Day 2 of UK lockdown was nearly over, but the tidal wave of boredom - and the consequential existential crises - was set to hit the nation at any moment if it hadn’t already.

Amazon orders of ‘watercolour kits for beginners’ had surged, YouTube workouts I’m pretty sure were filmed in some murderer’s basement were clogging up YouTube's trending page, and returning to the dark side of Duolingo was filling the days of my fellow countrymen.

Whether it’s not being able to work, losing your job, or being sick with the virus yourself, people across the globe are on the hunt for new skills, hobbies, and how-to’s on filling the 24 hours.

The thing is, your next hobby (the one you will inevitably ditch once you realise you have the artistic ability of a dented tin of tuna) will probably require items you can’t scavenge in the home you’re currently self-isolating in.

And God forbid the skill you decide to take up includes making self-expressive sculptures about your childhood with toilet paper.

Why not take up a skill that doesn’t require paint pots you will inevitably spill on the carpet and lie to your landlord about? Why not occupy your time with the occult, instead?

Of course - you should become a fortune-teller!

With 44 methods of predicting the future available and most of them requiring, well, nothing - or, at the very least, a handful of beans and maybe the odd animal sacrifice - trying and testing methods of seeing need not use up your time, nor the scraps left in your cupboards.

And once you’ve fulfilled your destiny as a prophet, why not let us know when this pandemic will be over?

But before you’ve even learnt to read palms, and before you’ve even considered how Mercury’s retrograde will affect the heaviness of your next period, you should probably find out what the methods are, and which ones you can do with half a tin of bins and the protein powder from last year when Love Island shamed you into thinking you weren’t good enough.

(Bro, you totally are.)

That’s why I’ve decided to guide you in the next step your spiritual journey. Or at least keep you busy for the next 79 minutes. And given the current state of the world, the latter is far more precious.

But before I launch into the 17 different ways you can trace out your future in self-isolation, I thought we should actually know what fortune tellers are.

A Brief And Totally Ironic History Of Predicting The Future

*pushes glasses up nose*

Fortune telling is defined as the principle of predicting the future events of someone’s life. There are many different types of the practice and the people that predict the future, from those that practice divination (which involves rituals to see into the future), to fortune telling (which takes place in a less formal setting and is far more symbol based).

The latter found its feet in the Renaissance era, and was firmly planted in Romani culture, explaining why gypsy fortune tellers are the most prevalent image representing the art. In fact, it was ol’ Nostradamus that made his name in this period.

Michel de Nostrodame was a typical 16th century Frenchman.

Only he spent his time working in apothecaries, predicting the future, and writing down what he claimed would happen. In total, he made 6338 prophecies and 11 annual calendars, and it’s one of these prophecies which has become rather relevant to 2020.

That is, it predicts the end of the world. And it’s kind of coming true.

Nevertheless, the once forbidden art of predicting the future has been founded in our cultures since ancient times.

Astrology was the OG, setting the trend that would spark the uncountable practices currently in practice. Those that could predict the future - whether from their own abilities as prophets, or using systems as clairvoyants - had a strong political stance as prominent advisors.

Obviously, the role has lost respect over the years.  

However, the practice faced their greatest amount of opposition during the Enlightenment era as reason began to prevail, ditching superstition. Once it had become, like, so uncool, it became cool again in the 19th century alongside the rise of Spiritualism - AKA dead people can talk to us, k - which tied the capabilities of mediums with those that could see the future.

This was the root of popular culture’s current approach to today’s soothsayers, a relationship sealed with the New Age culture of the 1960s.

Getting your palm read, or having a flick through some tarot cards became a tradable commodity during this decade. And an odd 30 years later, the term ‘psychic’ officially hit the scene.

Psychics were people that utilised ESP (Extra Sensory Perception) to identify extra sensory information we normal mortals can’t quite detect. Often, this involves telepathy or clairvoyance to assist in their predictive skills.

So - are you ready to join the ranks?

*Throws sticks onto floor to find answer*

Here Are The 17 Ways You Can Predict The Future Even If You’re In Lockdow

Aeromancy 

Divination that uses the weather to predict the future

Go outside. Look up. Look for symbols in the sky.

Boom - you’ve just practiced one of the oldest forms of divination to man.

In less stuttered terms, aeromancy is the practice of seeing symbols in the weather that point you to what’s happening in your life right now, and what will happen in the future. Most of these practices rely on this symbolism, and thus have a few explanations for certain types of weather-based events.

Not only is this one of the simplest - and least costly - ways to predict when the lockdown will end, it also makes you a bad bitch. And that’s because it was one of the forbidden arts in the Renaissance period.

Once you’ve discovered your inner rebel when getting your daily quota of vitamin D, you might wish to specialise in one of the sub-types of this art: you can investigate storms, peruse wind patterns, stare at the stars or keep it simple with clouds.

Astrology 

Divination by the movements of celestial bodies.

Okay - this one’s gonna take some reading.

Finding out your horoscope these days is as easy as mispelling ‘Gemini’ in google and hoping you don’t end up on a website dodgier than that kebab you consumed 3 days ago.

(Just hasn’t quite settled in my stomach, yet.)

Astrology is a pseudoscience - that is, it mixes sciences and the supernatural - which studies how the position of the celestial bodies impact events here on Earth. It might be mocked within an inch of its life, but it's figured prominently throughout history.

Going back to 2BC, this has designed the basis of our calendars and our seasons. Historically, cultures have assigned vital importance to astronomical events of note. And now you can too!

Astrology these days focuses merely on horoscopes as astrologers believed those born around the same time of the year when the planets were aligned in a similar way had a lot in common and thus had certain personalities. From there, individual predictions created in the forms of charts were brought to the table.

Finding your chart might be a simple feat thanks to the internet, but interpreting it? Whole ‘nother ball game.

And that’s what you’re going to do for the next 3 hours!

Numerology 

Divination via numbers

As with all methods of divination, numerology has a variety of sub-types held to its name - but the basic definition is the practice of assigning spiritual value to numbers. This typically focuses on numerical patterns.

One of the more basic methods of seeing the future, numerology is actually more anchored in our culture than you’d expect. Pythagoras - yeah, that guy that forced you to spend two sevenths of your teenage years obsessed with triangles - even followed its basic principle, claiming numbers were a universal language offered by god(s) as a “confirmation of truth”.

Triangles, man.

This started with the Ancient Egyptians, who believed life was made up of cycles of numbers, and that harnessing those cycles was how you could discover your key to success. Their fundamental claim was that each individual number has a personality, for example, the number 7 is the thinker or the searcher of truth.

By deducing key facts of your life with numerology, such as your date of birth, and what you should do on the different days of the months, navigating your future via numbers is your next hobby.

Augury 

Divination via the pattern of bird flight

As I write this post, I am following the UK government’s guidance to only go outside once a day. You’d think that this would restrict access to this form of fortune-telling, but if you can get to a window, you’re ready to forecast major world events.

Birds have always featured prominently in cultures, with many belief systems claiming the animals are messengers from the gods and can even transcend the borders of heaven. This means if you want to try your hand at augury, you will have to consult ancient texts which outline the patterns you need to be looking for.

And there’s a lot of patterns to look for.

You could be investigating how fast they fly, you could be interpreting the movement of their flight, and you could even be considering the way birds eat if you chuck a handful of grain on the floor.

Evidently, this form of divination is best practiced at Brighton when you’ve got a bag of chips in one hand, and an unknown meat-like substance in the other.

Automatic Writing 

Divination via writing

This one might be the easiest to do - but it's the most difficult to do right.

Pen? Check. Paper? Check. Access to the inner thoughts of spirits surrounding you? You’ll need all three to correctly practice this form of clairvoyance.

Many believe that otherworldly beings essentially write through you in this process. So, clear your mind, take a deep breath, and let your hand be guided.

Bibliomancy

Divination using books

Another simple form of fortune telling, this requires you opening a book to a random page, reading the paragraph you feel drawn to, and interpreting the message the gods are clearing letting you in on.

Bibles are the most popular book used for this practice, but any ol’ book will do.

Ceromancy and Capnomancy 

Divination using candles

If, like me, you have a minor addiction to candles, this is the perfect pastime to enjoy the pleasant experience of burning a candle and predicting your future.

The former requires you asking the, uh, candle a question, pouring melted wax from a candle into the water and interpreting the shapes of the cooled wax to find your answer.

The latter involves the interpretation of the smoke of the candle. As this is measured in the same way as interpreting the clouds, you can follow the same principles of aeromancy here, too.

Palmistry 

Divination via hands

One of the most famous forms of telling the future, palmistry follows several simple principles and practices. You can read hand shape, you can investigate line reading… And the options don’t stop there.

From more general observations of your own, to more specific divination, all it requires is a hand, and a guide to reading that hand.

Scrying 

Divination using mirrors or crystal balls

It’s the official mascot of telling the future - but you don’t need a crystal ball to master this art. In fact, using a mirror to open a portal to another realm and contacting the spirits is far more common.

It’s also far more dangerous due to the potential for negative spirits to cross the barrier into our realm. In fact, that’s how Bloody Mary really made her name.

You can read more about her story here.

Favomancy 

Divination using beans or peas

Are you a selfish prat? Were you one of those people that panic bought everything in my local Waitrose, and left shit all for that old guy who just staggered past me?

A - fuck you. And B - this is your new hobby!

All you really need to tell the future is a can of beans, and an open mind. With its origins in the Middle East, by dropping a handful of beans or peas and interpreting how they fell, you can see how the next few weeks might just pan out.

It might follow a complex set of rules, and it might follow very precise principles, but nevertheless, it can help point out the favourable and unfavourable signs for your future.

Haruspicy 

Divination via liver dissection

This is by far one of the simplest methods of fortune telling - trust me.

First, you sacrifice an animal to a deity of your choice. Second, you reach into its corpse, and rip out its liver with your bare hands.

Then, you sever the liver into several parts based on deities of your choice. From there, you’d investigate it for signs from the gods based on size, shape, colour, and texture.

Signs interpreted, messages understood, future predicted.

*drops mic into small intestine*

Iching 

Divination via yarrow stalks and Chinese coins

This might be the most complicated method of divination on this list, and this might cost the most as you try to get yarrow sticks by next day delivery, but thanks to websites offering to carry out the process for you virtually, finding your future might actually be the most effortless.

Harness the power of ancient Chinese divination via the I Ching (AKA The Book Of Changes) and the principle of cleromancy, the production of random numbers to determine messages from the divine.

This ancient Chinese manual is based on 8 symbolic trigrams and 64 hexagrams which are interpreted in terms of yin and yang...

Okay. I’ll be honest.

I don’t really know what’s going on.

There’s some vegetables, there’s some loose change involved, there’s more yin and yang references than the first day of Coachella… All I know is you find a website that does all that for you, and you ask it a question.

Moleosophy 

Divination using the moles on your body

Live in an urban area? More chance of seeing a fox hump a Chicken Cottage box than the Big Dipper?

Then why not try your hand at reading the moles on your skin?

This system of divination assigns significance to your moles, allowing you to interpret the marks on your body as warning you of your future. And warning is the right word.

Got a mole on your throat? You’ve more chance of being beheaded than Damien’s family members in The Omen. Freckle on your nether-regions? You’re a god-forsaken whore.

There’s many more meanings left to be unlocked - and hopefully not all of them are negative attributes about yourself or your death.

Oneiromancy 

Divination of dreams

Ever wondered what that dream you had, you know, the one with Gabriella from High School Musical saying all the old people should just die from Covid-19, cause, like, it’s inevitable, actually meant?

Well now you can!

With more online guides and overpriced books offering to analyse and interpret your dreams for you, accessing your subconscious and predicting future events has never been easier. But you will need to remember what actually happened in your dreams.

Fuck.

Cartomancy 

Divination using cards

Couldn’t get Prime delivery on your tarot cards? Have a knack for solitaire?

Pull out your pack of playing cards, and use ‘em to guide your future. There are many rules you need to follow, but it’s a good way to practice your divination skills before you move onto other oracle based cards.

It even follows the similar principle of tarot, with each card having a different meaning, e.g. the 8 and Hearts represents an unexpected gift or a visit.

And if you give up, just play a game of Clock Patience!

Scapulimancy 

Divination via bones

Still got the carcass of that animal you slaughtered in the name of your chosen god/goddess?

Good.

Reach into the body, and pull out the shoulder blade bones - aka the scapulae. Examine for messages and markings from your chosen god/goddess, and jot down the future events you predict on your calendar.

Then, check out your council website to see which day they take out the sacrificial goat bin.

Tasseomancy 

Divination using tea leaves

It’s the pop culture representative for the occult, making its name in the Harry Potter films and leaving us all with the vile experience of coughing up tea leaves into your morning.

It might be one of the most accessible forms of fortune telling - especially as it is primarily based on symbolism and your own interpretation of the messages your favoured god has left in the dregs of your hot drink - but tea leaves must be used for this practice.

Tea from tea bags won’t have the same effect.

Which One Are You Trying Out Tonight?

Leave me a comment and let me know. Or will I know already?

Fancy seeing a weekly article on horror films/the occult/ghost stories/all of the above? Also want to hear a new real ghost story everyday? Follow this blog and join the fam.

Read this post next.

[sacredgeometry101-blog]

Meditation's Beneficial Magic

Breathing in the Mind More and more these days we see countless recommendations to practice the age old art and science associated with meditation. Most, if not all, extol its seemingly magical power on the human psyche through its proposed benefits. These recommendations and claims have stood the test of time- they are universally accepted and also well justified. For eons past those who came before us have spoken volumes regarding this terrific gift we all posses but today sometimes, we neglect to use. Why now are we again reminded of this? All of us are participating either aware or unaware. in a quantum shift bringing at times, tumultuous shifts in all areas of our society and world structures. No one is exempt from the effects these rapid improvements bring. While universally experienced, these trans-formative energies are individually unique and processed differently depending on ones own outlook. With a little discipline and practice we can apply this gift of meditation to help balance pressure levels, reduce mind-movies which seem to play non-stop to bring increasing levels of joy, clarity and purpose inside life. While it's true that meditative practices are known by many names in virtually all people each with various forms of practice, finding one that will work for you is quite easy. Best of all, this gently potential customers us ultimately to a special place we often desire and want- greater understanding and acceptance so that you can life's mysteries. So , let's briefly explore the subject for the sole purpose of learning how to reap many positive rewards available through meditation. Besides, it is true, the best things in life are free. So let’s begin to clear our minds of useless, wayward abstract thoughts having no justification to control or stipulate our life's direction. We will find meditation allows you in the purest sense, to create your own life's experiences. (More discussion about that possibility a bit later). For now, consider that during meditation you can replace, and clear out unwelcome thoughts with life affirming versions gaining- a true, lasting peace of mind, body and soul. Meditation is your entry offering all that and more... you can even create some magic in your life through this simple process! As you may have seen or if you are already a dedicated practitioner, individuals report profound psychological, physical and spiritual well-being as they process meditation daily. What then is meditation really all about? For beginners, how can one start? And how far can I pick sincere dedication? In this article are going to examine a few areas- some historical background, benefits, science of the mind plus advanced possibilities. History to Date According to many archeologists, meditation pre dates written records. It could be easily created a person entering an altered state of consciousness by simply gazing in the mind-stilling flicker of fire even though taking no thought. The earliest documented record of meditation comes from India in their Hindu scriptures called tantras. These records date back over 5, 000 years coming from the Indus valley and were combined with precisely what is referred to today as yoga. Along with expanding trade, cultural exchange was also carried westward and introspection practice was soon embedded in eastern thought and spiritual practices. With the advent of Buddha approximately 500 AD, many diverse cultures began to develop their own interpretations and specialized meditative techniques. Some solutions still in use to this day are said to deliver incredible mind-over-matter powers and supernormal skills that transformed a practitioner. Today, these are devout individuals and are not necessarily monks living in some remote mountain monastery. They are people like you and I. Of course advancing through time, the long history of meditation is no longer sole attributed to the Hindus and Buddhists. Not to be left out, Christianity, Islam and Judaism also participate in all the perpetuation of meditation each with its own take on the practice. However , historically these religious faiths don't dominate in their teachings and practices a culture of meditation when compared to the Asian traditions. Meditation sees its place here in our Western culture in the early 1960's into the '70's. This was a time when high of our culture was being tested, demanding to be redefined. Meditation found fertile ground in which to flourish as well as expand. Some could say it was the "hippie" revolution which inspired to embrace acceptance of unusual ideas but only ones that possessed real substantive value. It was not long after that when the Western professional medical and scientific community began to conduct research and studies on meditation. And what did most reviews if not all, to varying degrees find? You guessed it- significant health benefits. One of the most important aspects of self-examination is how it releases stress from our bodies. This is achieved by bridging the gap between this conscious and un-conscious selves, situations or non-justified thoughts that ferment stress become less significant and lose their power. Through meditation, it does not take long before you feel more peaceful and relaxed about almost everything. What happened to cause this nearly miraculous change? Studies have proven that meditation raises serotonin levels which directly affect our behavior and emotional temperament. Conversely, low levels of serotonin lead to unhappiness, headaches even insomnia. All symptoms associated with stress. Today, our western civilization with all our "advanced" knowledge has re-affirmed the ancient knowledge and understanding of meditation's therapeutic power to help alleviate mental and physical ailments. And this was just the infancy of discovery or shall we say re-discovery from unlimited powers available inside each of us. Today, mediation without question is a universally medically accepted version of holistic healing used worldwide. Meditation could be summed up as a natural mechanism within each of us that allows the spirit within, the higher, true self to bridge the communication gap into our physical factors grounding us in unconditional love. Rebirth through Breath Beyond all the medical community assertions lies an infinite segment of the population seeking additional benefits when practicing meditation. How can what appears initially only to be described as a physical act, effect our true inner being so profoundly by simply clearing our conscious thoughts together with focusing on our breath? Well the secret really is in our breath. When you first start a meditative practice at face benefits, it appears really easy. Yet, early on many are easily frustrated because they have really never truly attempted to quiet ones own thoughts while awake. Successfully navigating the mental mind field of what apparently appears to be nonstop water ways of thoughts popping up can at first be a daunting task. Be forewarned this is a common occurrence and really normal and there is a solution. It's funny actually once realization sets in that you really are like a few individuals within a single physical body. And that is not far from the truth. I, like many who meditate found out in the beginning one key to successfully get beyond this mental speed bump is to acknowledge the thought. Proceed to in that case dismiss it entirely or agree to revisit the thought after the meditation session and return the mind's center to your breathing. I have used this method to great success getting past the egos gate keeper role which unfortunately it often plays. You may find this method helpful as well if not, find what brings your focus back without the need of distracting thoughts. Again, breathing's role is of utmost importance in this whole process because it is the gateway bridging the actual physical body with the spiritual body. The goal here is what I refer to as the death of thoughts as a result of focusing on your breath. Becoming more sensitive of taking no thought along with staying present in the moment by way of the simple act being consciously aware of your breathing, an amazing inner rebirth begins. Next, we define some terrific basic steps for all meditation practices. Meditation 101 Chances are in your life you have unknowingly experienced moments in a just meditative state. The odds are that when this occurred, you found yourself outside in nature. In dynamics we more easily find resonance with a deeper more real aspect of ourselves which often comes alive in the habitat. Perhaps it occurred while relaxing on a beach watching the hypnotic like waves repetitively washing on land or possibly noticing the invisible wind rustle leaves on a tree as warming sunlight bathed your face. If you happen to recall during these moments, you found a completely relaxed feeling immerse your entire being because you were free of distracting thoughts. This is what being in "the moment" is all about. It is as if your mind tunes into the higher natural frequencies of life which for the most part, are virtually nonexistent inside buildings and such. Yet, with focus, adequate intentions and processes we can escape these limitations imposed in man-made environments. Of course meditation can be really enhanced when it is practical in natural surroundings. The whole concept of meditation takes on various identities depending what your intention is while performing a chosen meditation. Some may want physical or mental relief, others, solutions or directions for a better life. Either way, choices are clearly individualized. Find yours since this moves a long way in helping you along the path aided with a unique, personalized purpose. Define it for you! To begin some meditation, a few simple rules are universally accepted. These generally are- 1) Break away from distractions. Switch off the outside electrical/technological intrusions like phones, computers, TV's etc . A quiet, calm peaceful place is desired. At first, commit 10 minutes or more with no interruption. 2) Posture is important in that you must be comfortable. Really this is with your back upright and your spine to you head straight. Normally a seated position on the ground is usually preferred with hands in your lap; it can also be done in a chair. Lying down initially is not suggested as you overall body can assume a sleep mode. 3) Close your eyes gently, relax your jaw and makeup muscles. Do a "body scan" looking for any muscle tension that may exist releasing any found. Continue unwinding now for a few moments allowing your body to become comfortable. Be observant of bodily tension arising. The key may be to physically relax. 4) Slowly evacuate your lungs completely. Gently inhale and exhale through your nostrils with a serious (from the belly) rhythmic cycle filling your lungs to capacity and expelling the air completely. Impede, long in and out breaths are ideal. Pausing momentarily at the end of each in and out air. Focus on the feeling and sounds during the entire cycle. 5) Activate the heart-mind connection which provides an initial thought-clearing mode. Do not attempt to suppress these thoughts. Acknowledge them. Briefly as thoughts arise, dismiss them just by surrounding any with the six heart virtues of: appreciation, compassion, forgiveness, humility, valor, and understanding. An additional very powerful technique is to apply unconditional love (without a judgment position) to any thoughts that can arise, release them and return focus to your breathing. 6) Steadily and incrementally increase the time entire length spent in your practice. As the moments of time lengthen between arising thoughts, you are now well on the way to raised levels of meditation. Remind yourself to notice and appreciate the beneficial by-products you have regained. Eleven Benefits of Meditating Daily Here's a short list (certainly not all inclusive) of the benefits that come from a daily meditation practice- one Your life becomes significantly clearer and calm The hustle and bustle of everyday life is choking our minds in the peace we deserve! Our technology advancements shouldn't suffocate our minds; it should allow us to achieve even more peace. Meditation helps put those events in perspective for our daily tasks. 2 . Your blood demand is lowered Science has proven it, meditation lowers the blood pressure, which in return is related to a stress levels and stress management. Much better than taking pills to lower your blood pressure! 3. People all over you enjoy your company Regular meditation leads to higher/positive energy that you are consistently tapping into. This effectively makes you very pleasing to be around, and people like that! People naturally gravitate to the people who make them feel good. 4. Your hitting the ground with God is strengthened Spiritual awareness is strengthened with a daily meditation practice. You naturally become more cognizant of your surroundings, and higher awareness always leads to a deeper connection with God. The trees begin explaining personalities, and the landscape takes on different meanings... all through a deeper awareness. 5. You achieve several hours about sleep in one 20 minute meditation session Another scientific fact is that meditation is known to put you to a deeper state of rest than deep sleep. Deep sleep is associated with a delta brainwave. Deep relaxation can drop you into that delta brainwave rapidly, achieving the effects in a shorter amount of time. 6. Conditions seemed very difficult suddenly have clear solutions For every problem a solution exists. When your mind is clear and additionally you're in a state of peace, solutions appear. Being in a state of peace just naturally lures in solutions and pathways into your field of view. 7. Your productivity sky rockets because of a person's ability to have clear focus If solutions to problems appear more frequently when meditating daily, then imagine when there is to your everyday tasks. Solutions to everyday life become more and more obvious. And you begin to take note of these subtle changes since your spiritual vision grows clearer and wider. 8. Your life expectancy increases Science has shown that usual meditation will increase your life expectancy. It's pretty obvious to see... less stress and more peace promotes healthy skin cells and healthy cells regenerate healthier cells. And likewise, stressed cells regenerate more stressed cells. So stay longer by choosing more peace in your life. 9. You effectively reduce stress in your life Speaking of stress, mind-calming exercise has a profound effect on reducing stress in your body. Because meditation promotes peace and inner calm, stress dissolves dramatically from this meditative process. Again, science has proven it. 10. You can visualize powerfully when blended with positive affirmations and meditation Meditation is powerful at clearing the mind and focusing on simple things... such as breathing... or a flower. But, it can be used for so much more! To powerfully manifest your desires, you must get into an apparent connection with the source of manifesting (God/Universe/Ethers). If your spirits are on high while you visualize then the communication approach for manifesting positive events in your life is strengthened. While meditating I like to repeat affirmations, otherwise known as mantras, to help focus my energy into the positive. These statements can be as simple as "love" or "I are love, I am joy, I am peace". 11. You feel fantastic throughout your day! And finally, when you meditate on a regular basis, you may feel fantastic. Plain and simple. You feel good. Everything else is details. Science of Meditation's Magic Today there is a lot of scientific studies validating in a laboratory setting, that while in a meditative state, significant changes occur with our neurological activity. Just as to why brain frequencies are altered is not yet fully understood. Neuroscientists hypothesize our brain is actually rewiring connections sculpting new avenues of brain circuitry seen during magnetic resonance image resolution. Could we simply be accessing the higher mind which subdues the thinking, egoic-centric mind where restrictions of self-consciousness disappear? Seems very plausible. Regardless of the exact reason for this profound change, some other "super consciousness" force appears to be altering the way our brain functions while in a meditative state. Dr . Gregg Jacobs who was simply the assistant professor of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School and a senior research scientist at Harvard's Mind/Body Medical Institute now practicing at UMass Memorial Medical Center, published a book in 1993: That Ancestral Mind: Reclaim the Power. This book was the subject of a Time Magazine article back in August 2003 providing insight into the science behind meditation. Based on his research he made some interesting observations and arguments referring to what he labeled: the Ancestral Mind and the Thinking Mind. Dr . Jacobs argues, the conventional research implies our emotional well-being is being greatly hampered by the over-reliance on our dominant Thinking Mind- the verbal, rational, analytical and problem-solving part of ourselves. Over vast ages of time we have severed connection with an equally important part of our makeup- the Ancestral Mind. To me, this speaks of becoming a more truly balanced human being, maximizing the potential of consciousness. While that statement may not be in scientific jargon, any implication is the same. The Ancestral Mind: Reclaim the Power Book blurb- Dr . Jacobs offers a practical process for re-engaging with this indelible part of our being, explaining how to access life-enhancing positive emotions while reducing negative ones; connect with a more intuitive intelligence and foster a deeper, expanded sense of daily knowledge; and achieve a more integrated concept of self through a closer harmony of intellect and emotion. What is Taking effect In your Brain During Meditation? Scientists have only recently developed tools sophisticated enough to see what goes on inside your brain when you meditate. Below are a series of three interactive graphics from the 2003 Time "The Science of Meditation" article showing brain activity changes that occur during meditation. Clearly some profound changes occur inside brain. Our brain appears to interact and be directly influenced by our higher-minds and consciousness itself. Frontal cortex - is the most highly evolved part of the brain, responsible for reasoning, planning, emotions and self- sensitive awareness. During meditation it tends to go offline. Parietal lobe - processes sensory information about the surrounding environment, orienting you in time and space. During meditation, activity in the parietal lobe slows down. Thalamus - is a gatekeeper for the senses. It focuses your attention by funneling some sensory data deeper into the human brain and stops other signals in their tracks. Meditation reduces the flow of incoming information to a drip. Reticular Formation - receives incoming stimulus and puts the brain on alert, ready to respond. Meditation calls back the arousal signal. After training in meditation for eight weeks, subjects show a pronounced switch in brain-wave patterns, shifting from the alpha waves of aroused, conscious thought to the theta waves that will dominate the brain during periods of deep relaxation. Even people meditating for the first time will register your decrease in beta waves, a sign that the cortex is not processing information as actively as usual. After your first 20-minute session, patients show a marked decrease in beta-wave activity. Consciousness Directs Matter Are you ready to be able to dive into infinite possibilities of the more unique, inherent benefits of meditation? How far can one go into the universal domain that will retrieve enhanced power to intentionally co-create in this world? And no, you don't have to become a Zen Buddhist monk. Rather than go off in the quantum realm too far, allot is becoming understood within the research community about the creation power of our thoughts. The following knowledge is equally important to understand and apply its power when practicing meditation. Deliberate thought merged with meditation is an extremely powerful combination. By now everyone has got a little taste of the premise in the movie "Secret" regarding the subject of manifestation or as I like to label it- "deliberate intentions of thought". While that subject matter may seem new and novel to a whole segment of the population, like meditation, it has existed to get a very long time. Ever heard the famous quote from Napoleon Hill in his 1937 book titled- Think in addition to Grow Rich? It sure sounds like it could be in the Secret: "What the mind can conceive and believe, it could actually achieve" Interestingly enough in the book, Mr. Hill did not expressly reveal the step-by-step process to create instances which aligned with ones invocation of a positive mental attitude. He left that for the reader to locate. However , he did provide clues and examples which he documented through interviewing over 500 flourishing people while researching his first course study titled: The Law of Success. He went on to describe this approach idea as a "Definite Major Purpose" in order for the reader to be challenged and ask the question- In precisely what do I truly believe? His philosophical perspective was that 98% of people had no firm beliefs contributing them to be handicapped in achieving what they want in life. So yes, change your thoughts, change an individual's world. I mention Mr. Hill because he clearly proved the absolute power of deliberate considered to create your desired life. And this approach succinctly aligns with the infinite possibilities afforded in meditation. Much like a professional stage hypnotist can temporarily manipulate someone's actions by accessing and placing suggestions in a specialized place within their psyche, similar gateways or altered states of consciousness are possible during meditation. Some of our subconscious minds cannot distinguish between the physical "reality" we are witnessing and merely vivid thought projections. It can be here that during certain meditative states one can interject desired images powered by emotions, or predefined affirmations by purposely focusing intent, expediting their arrival in the physical. I personally believe the reason time appears to be collapse between the desire (intention) and actual delivery is directly related to the reduced level of mental (Thinking Mind) resistance we hold while in certain meditative states. We receive sooner that which is wanted within our life because of the drastically reduced counterproductive, opposing beliefs or thoughts. During meditation these contrary brain send thought forms are minimized thereby allowing quantum mechanisms to more fully dominate. Call it miraculous or a miracle or quantum physics in action, but despite of the term used, it is real. This principle is exactly the conclusion Mr. Hill wanted his readers to arrive at. Of course, meditation is not directly mentioned, simply alluded to, but clearly meditation accelerates this entire creative process by reducing resistant thoughts that hinder progress. Regardless if while meditating you receive an urge to take a specific action which leads to a solution and chance meeting bringing you closer or delivering entirely a previously specified outcome, the objective is demonstrated. The only prerequisite is that you must clearly define exactly what you want. Remember- "Definite Major Purpose". Begin to let one self feel (believe) what you will experience when the object desired has arrived and let the universal powers do their a part. You will quickly find this power is quite useful in improving your well-being when practiced routinely using meditation. A New Direction Awaits In closing, meditation is a wonderful gift that is available to all who seek. But, one ought to seek that which is worthy of attention. As we have learned there are many beneficial reasons to practice this lost but reemerging art. And apparently, the distraction and conveniences of this post-industrial age have dulled a part of us that's never forsaken us and remains vigil in wanting to empower us to our full potential. Just think, it's only breaths away! As our socioeconomic landscape is now being radically redefined as we step further faraway from a primarily consumerism driven lifestyle, meditation can play a significant role in this era helping us being more balanced and grounded. Many are awakening to the fact that a life based solely material gain to obtain a state of happiness is fraught with dangers and distorts real, lasting values. Material affluence is not really a problem, but trying to live a life where that is the primary focus distances us further from your higher nature. We have many choices demanding our time and attention today, to sacrifice a critical activity just like meditation which could alter and improve your life beyond where you find yourself now, would be a tragedy. If you do not currently meditate on a regular basis, please consider doing so as this is a proven way for greater well-being, enhanced health and vitality in addition to starting to be more at peace with the world surrounding you. Start today and thank yourself for directing people here- all is purposely directed! Tim's writing expertise and intuition for understanding arcane, nonmainstream theme including esoteric topics begun at the age of 14. It is through his expansive career in financial which affords Tim a unique ability to apply a professional, down-to-earth approach when writing about the science of spirituality.

[celticfeather]

Chapter 1: https://celticfeather.tumblr.com/post/188433697686/akatsuki-fic-campfires

Cannibals Chapter 3: The Lineage of Izanagi

-Uchiha Itachi-

Something particularly loveless prodded Itachi awake.

"You're the last watch till dawn," Kakuzu said. Itachi activated his sharingan as he woke, his dark eyes shifting to red. He could see Kakuzu's green ones were dilated near-sightlessly in the blackness.

Itachi rose and leapt up their chosen watchman's tree. The sharingan allowed him to see a wider spectrum of visible light than a normal human, and what should have been the black jungle night gained a strange ultraviolet tinge, a whitish-purple color somewhere between neon and dark that his language could not well describe. The stars and chakras shined different, coldly-bright, minty colors too. But he saw no glows of enemy shinobi in the night, just the gentle silver chakra silhouettes of sleeping birds and insects, and the three ninja below him. He let his sharingan fade. In an hour it had become bright enough for ordinary humans to see.

He alighted between the three ninja sleeping on the ground to no response. So much for Kisame's 'I only half sleep' claim.

Unsure of the best way to wake them, Itachi announced at normal volume, "It's dawn."

They rose quickly and quietly, professional in every mercenary sense of the word. For a troupe of cantankerous rogues, Itachi was surprised no one complained. He supposed that would resume once they decided they were no longer being hunted.

"No sign of the enemy since I've been awake," Itachi reported.

"Time to get the hell out of the land of Lightning. Anyone gotta take a piss, now's the time," Kakuzu said. After a short moment, the four ninja oriented themselves against the eastern dawn, and began leaping through the trees.

"Where's Zetsu when you need him?" Deidara muttered as they ran. "He'd say what Pain wants us to do about this."

"You don't need Pain or his pet mushroom. You have me," Kakuzu said.

"Yeah? And who made you second in command?"

"I'm the one who actually talks with our contractors. So naturally, I have our mission intel, and there's no reason to stop work."

"Hmpf," Deidara said.

"Since you fucked up the least, Kisame, I'll let you pick what you do." Kakuzu said. "You want to fix this Raikage incident, or make some money?"

Kisame looked at Itachi for his opinion. Itachi merely raised his eyebrows in reply.

"Make money," Kisame answered. Good. Itachi wanted to be away from this disaster.

"Great. You two go to this shithole village and kill their patriarch. When you're done with that, some pirates could use a lesson in not leaving witnesses." Kakuzu tossed a scroll to Kisame and one to Itachi, who each caught them deftly. Kakuzu then looked at Deidara.

"Deidara, you and Sasori will fix your fuck up. We don't want the Cloud or Mist investigating the Akatsuki. Blame it on different terrorists."

"How do we do that?"

"Doesn't matter," Kakuzu said.

Deidara frowned. But his calmness suggested he thought Sasori would know how to fix it.

They were soon over the border of the Land of Frost, where they said the brief goodbyes of stiff men. Itachi and Kisame continued west. Deidara went north. Kakuzu south. They stopped at a collection point on the way to get Kisame a new robe and gear, and began their ascent to the next mission's village in the afternoon.

They stopped along a river to prepare. The mint-colored alpine meltwater cooled the air in a low dense pocket from the beating sun. Itachi opened the scroll of mission intel and familiarized himself with the details. "Small town. Better we don't make a stir."

Kisame grunted in acknowledgement and stepped towards the river, swinging Samehada off his shoulder. He summoned a large deep-blue shark along the bank. It opened its mouth, and Kisame pressed the wrapped Samehada inside its white-fleshed throat. The two ninja being armed to the teeth was useful for intimidation, but a hindrance to infiltration. As if it was a loyal horse, Kisame patted the magical shark once on the muzzle once it closed its jaws around Samehada.

"You ever touch a shark before, Itachi? Try it."

Like he had been invited to partake in the most dangerous petting zoo, Itachi wet his feet at the bank where the shark, high as his hips, swayed half submerged. He thought the shark would look at him, or at least acknowledge him, but its circular black eyes didn't waver. With a slowness Itachi hoped the fish would interpret as respect, he brushed his palm against its exposed gray flank.

"It feels like sandpaper."

Kisame smiled. "Shark skin is actually made of dentin, the same material as teeth."

Because they need more of that, Itachi thought. He removed his hand, and deeming its duty done, the huge probably-sentient carnivore disappeared with a puff of mist to the realm Kisame had summoned it from.

"It's not easy to make a summoning contract with a shark, you know. Ninja tend to not come back," Kisame said.

"I thought you said sharks don't like how people taste."

"Oh, the sage sharks of Koraru Depths make exceptions for arrogant Mist chunin. You don't taste that bad."

He sent Kisame a reproachful look at his choice of pronouns, but Itachi's face was something of a resting scowl, so Kisame seemed not to notice.

To appear like a traveler of the civilian sort, Itachi untied his shuriken packs and the ninja headband. They kept their robes, no one yet recognized the red clouds as unique. He thought living in the forest on the run gave him enough of a convincingly rough appearance. Lifting his gaze from the water's reflection, he regarded his partner.

"Do I pass for a trader?"

"You look fine. It's your voice that's the problem."

"My voice?"

"I don't know how much you know about the Hidden Mist, but there we have a caste system, and the Hoshigaki belong to a certain caste. And people like me can tell by your dialect, Itachi, that you come from a noble family, and there's not a chance in hell you're a traveling merchant."

Itachi never thought of himself as in an upper class, and caste had been abolished in his land seventy years ago. Kisame's background in the Mist allowed him to perceive things that Itachi never intended to exude. "I see."

"Try gotcha, instead of I see."

"Gotcha."

Itachi pulled a piece of paper from the scroll and unfolded its careful nine-faceted square. A sketch of the man they were paid to kill stared back at them. Taika Hiroki. About sixty years old, leader of the local clan, someone had it out for him. Kisame nodded, having committed his face a last time to memory. Itachi burned the incriminating documents between his fingers.

The pair climbed ancient stairs carved from wood, stone, and roots, along a humid forested mountain crest. Traditional torii winged gates arched over their heads, and the small village soon appeared along a glacial lake between the mountains. A chunin posted at the doorless entrance looked the two travelers up and down. He pulled a root of wild licorice from his teeth before he spoke.

"What brings you to Honomura?"

"We're merchants," Kisame said.

"Here for the festival?"

"Of course."

The guard escorted them in. A minor official who clearly did not get enough visitors gave them each wooden travelers' passes. What a bothersome village.

Itachi felt more endangered in these hamlets. He paradoxically would be less noticed in a large ninja village. It was in these tribal redoubts, where most of the settlement consisted of a single clan, that he knew he was immediately recognized as an outsider. By the introductions they made with petty officials, the pair gleaned that three quarters of the settlement's two-hundred-odd population had the surname Taika, and it would not be easy to find theirs.

But the presence of the foreigners attracted mercifully little attention at the festival. Like moths drawn to the warm haze of paper lanterns, the outlaw pair wandered dazed to the center of the fairgrounds. After weeks in the forest they were transfixed by the live music, the vendors, and best, the greasy scent of real food -not whole animals- which glistened with salt and sauce. They looked at each other with testing eyes that betrayed the same poorly concealed thought.

"How much money do we have," Itachi said.

Kisame checked himself. "I've got eight hundred."

"I have one thousand."

Crap.

"I'll find some more money," Kisame said. Good. They were on the same line of the same page. In less than two minutes, Kisame had stolen a two centimeter wad of cash from a food stand.

Itachi's eyes darted from stand to stand. "What do you want to eat?"

"Do I look picky to you?"

Bristling with treasures —foods on sticks and cups of tea and sake between their knuckles— Itachi and Kisame seated themselves at one of many low tables near the town's stage and began to eat. Soon enough an announcer entered stage center, and introduced an act on the origin of deities.

"How's your knowledge of religion, Itachi?"

"Average."

The play began as they ate, and rusted to art forms, Itachi found himself paying rapt attention. Two actors dressed in white robes, a woman and a spear-wielding man, stepped onto the stage, where white lanterns cast the empty scene in an ethereal fog. Dipping his spear into the water, or rather tapping the stage floor, the man created land, and the white-clouded lanterns slid on the string to be replaced with ones tinted a jungle green.

"Izanami and Izanagi," Itachi whispered to Kisame. "Siblings, but also..." he waved his hand in esoteric explanation.

The creation gods Izanami and Izanagi had several deformed and normative children. First born was Hiruko, stricken with a hunched back, and cast into a river. They had many others, at last birthing Kagutsuchi the fire god. Izanami died giving birth to the flaming infant.

"And with Izanami's end, the world's first death occurred, and with it the age of creation. Intent to amend his wife's unjust fate, Izanagi plunged into the underworld, which then, was not separated from the realm of men," the narrator read.

Izanami wandered through a darkened stage, and stopped short. Behind a veil shined the unmistakable silhouette of his beloved wife.

The curtain lifted, but the woman it revealed was not fair Izanami. The actress's serene white face-paint had become putrefied in death. Children's gasps accented the moment. Fingers curled in shock at his rancid beloved, Izanagi turned away. His wife was enraged at his superficial rejection, and spurred demons after her former lover. Izanagi raced from the underworld, off the stage, where demons in fur-rimmed masks chased him through the audience until Izanagi circled, panting but safe, back onto the stage of the surface world. He pushed a prop-boulder over the cave, forever sealing life from death.

The narrator stepped onto the stage, and a spotlight centered on him, with Izanagi bathing himself in background.

"Izanagi cleansed himself from the underworld in a rushing river. The water that streamed off his face became three new gods:"

The spotlight jumped to greet the new characters in regal dress:

"From one eye sprung the proud moon god, Tsukuyomi."

"From the nose, the mischievous god of sea and storm, Susanoo."

"And from the other eye, artful and enlightened, patron of our village: Amaterasu the sun."

"Amaterasu was by far the most righteous and beautiful of the three new gods," the narrator crooned, and stooped low to leer at her backside. Amaterasu raised her fan to her face, whumphing the announcer without a lapse in grace, and the audience laughed.

The three new gods greeted the world of men -the audience- each with kabuki flourishes that reflected their personalities. He thought Amaterasu made eye contact with him from behind her fan.

"Hm." Kisame smiled slightly and his pupils slid to Itachi.

Itachi sipped his tea. "We might be the most interesting thing that blew into this town in a week."

"You should talk with her."

"I'm not good at flirting."

Kisame snorted. "Just like your knowledge of religion."

"I'm not being modest. I haven't spoken with a girl my age in years. In this town, I'm just a merchant."

"A kind, handsome one."

Itachi was struck that Kisame had called him 'kind.' He did not think Kisame would evaluate someone with that category. Not knowing how to take the compliment, Itachi stared back at the stage. Amaterasu and Susanoo competed over who was a stronger god. Amaterasu had just turned Susanoo's sword into five human beings, versus Susanoo's ability to spring only three from her necklace.

Their low table quaked. Kisame had plunged his cup down so hard and fast that his drink sloshed over the rim. His wide nose wrinkled and the stare Itachi met was battle-urgent.

"There's blood, buckets of it, enough to drain ten men."

Itachi forced his shoulders to relax. They must not act or show awareness of this yet. His eyes scanned the crowd as a cheering arose and the taiko drums beat an excited sinister trot into the space between his ribs. A column of fifteen men and boys carved a path like a wild river through the parade grounds, a coarse wooden platform undulating on the men's shoulders. Atop it glistened a bleeding heap of fresh red muscles and white fascia. It was a dead, skinned, horse.

Kisame squinted. "What the hell?"

"The crimes of Susanoo. Upset with his sister, he flayed the skin off Amaterasu's horse," Itachi explained. He also noted that in these conditions, Kisame could not differentiate human from animal blood.

Susanoo charmingly presented Amaterasu the horse carcass from the audience. Amaterasu strode off the stage in grief and anger, her silken white-red sleeves snapping, and the stage darkened with the egress of the dawn goddess, plunging the realm of men into darkness. Susanoo smirked and laughed, and the loping demons in fur-rimed masks began to howl. String instruments climaxed crescendo and fell, marking the end of the play's chapter. The audience gasped and clapped. The festival night was now without the Sun's guidance, and any kind of crookedness could occur before dawn returned.

The men heaped the horse onto a pyre, and a chunin lit it with a fire jutsu, enflaming a birchwood pile which was small enough that the meat might be cooked rather than carbonized. The village had a dark interpretation of their worship: Itachi thought that the goddess Amaterasu would not appreciate the flaying of another horse in her name. But the villagers seemed to like it.

"The Leaders of the Mist would consider this barbaric," Kisame said, his sly eyes smiling behind his cup.

Itachi matched Kisame's sentiment. No, the great ninja villages did not sacrifice simple horses to gods of sun, but sacrificed men and souls to gods of war. Gods they hailed each time they smithed a kunai, and who licked their lips at each newborn baby.

The next performance started, some students playing taiko drums. It was a banal sight compared to the play. Itachi ate his dango and drank his tea, listened to the music, and watched thick smoke rise from the pyre.

A gang of the village's teens stood by the pyre, the actress for Amaterasu among them. She had removed the headdress and white facepaint, but she still wore Amaterasu's red and white wake-sleeved furisode. One of the group looked at him and Kisame and giggled, as if discussing a dare. Then Amaterasu looked at the two travelers and grabbed a tray. He realized with a start that she was coming towards them. Kisame, who smelled caste like he smelled blood, tugged Itachi's robe, telling him that this is when merchants stood.

She dipped her head in greeting. "Excuse me sirs, my name is Taika Hato. I'm priestess at our temple and actress at the theater. We noticed you're not from around here. Would you like some horse flesh?"

Itachi blinked: the sun goddess Amaterasu had just offered him to eat her horse. He stumbled out a yes.

"And you, sir?"

"Please give me the shoulder, Miss Hato."

"Sure. May I ask your names?"

'Itachi' meant weasel. Weasels were small, ambitious, mean, and hungry. His parents' birth judgement had been imperfect: Itachi had become a man who was calm, sharp, and observant.

"I am Karasu. And this is my companion, Mekajiki. It's very good to meet you, and thank you for the food." Itachi bowed his head and gave himself a name meaning crow, and swordfish for Kisame.

"You're welcome! How was the show?"

"Your performance was stirring. I only hope your next act is soon: if I remember, demons terrorize everyone on earth until Amaterasu comes back," he said, trying his best to exude friendliness, but he had not spoken to anyone he considered a friend in years. He sat down, and with a gesture to the empty space, he invited Hato to join them if she wanted. He noticed Kisame's chin dip near-imperceptibly in approval of his manners.

"You know your religion," she said, taking a seat. "Stick around tomorrow at seven to see me kick Susanoo's butt. What brings you two here?"

"You mean, you can't tell by our dress?" Itachi asked.

"It is odd," she agreed.

Itachi smiled. "We're charcoal burners."

"So you...?"

"We fell trees, burn the logs in an earthen kiln using fire and water style, and then travel from village to village selling the charcoal. Smiths burn it to keep their forges at the correct temperature. It's also used in cooking, fertilizer, detergent, explosives, traditional medicine- even cosmetics. We've got a wagon full of it down the road."

Her look between the two men deduced Itachi was the fire user. "How good is your fire style?"

"Just the basics," he said modestly.

Hato's eyes changed from simply friendly to that of intrigue, and her expression became appraising and hopeful. "For the last act, the village guards cast fire jutsus as tributes to Amaterasu. You should join them."

"I couldn't possibly intrude on your ceremony as an outsider."

"When it comes to this ceremony, I am the authority. Plus, gifts from strangers mean more than gifts from friends, we say."

Itachi nodded. He would make an offering of flame to Amaterasu. And the girl, her representative, smiled with her eyes. "Thank you, Karasu! They'll love it."

Kisame stretched, looked at the two youths, and stood to leave. His gaze alerted Itachi not to expect his return. "I'm going to… get some more sake."

"You don't want to watch your friend perform?" Hato asked.

Kisame grinned and waved. "He's not so impressive."

Hato led Itachi backstage to meet the village's top military brass: a gaggle of four men spanning years fifteen to thirty who passed a ceramic bottle between them. The root-chewing gatekeeper was youngest among them. Hato was received warmly by the soldiers. She introduced Itachi as a pious charcoal merchant, and he was quickly ignored by the men.

For this dangerous and final act of the night, the stage had been stripped bare of its curtains and paper lanterns, and strapping men spilled buckets of water across the hardwood stage. A grinning bucket-spiller splashed the remaining water dregs onto the squealing children in the front row. From the backstage tent, Itachi watched the first four performers submit their offerings, each casting the biggest sun he could into the night sky in honor of Amaterasu. The crowd shrieked and laughed, fire reflecting on their wide scleras. Stepping forward for his turn, Itachi decided he would create a fireball that was the third largest- no need to upstage the locals.

Itachi mounted the stage as the penultimate performer left. His eye caught on Hato staring at him encouragingly, she flashed a thumbs-up, and he was bolstered with a better idea. Halting just one step onto the stage, Itachi faced profile, and his chest swelled like a bird. He blew, and his fire bloomed a deep ferrous red sparking with trace elements, and the chakra fireball sprinted across the stage in the shape of a stallion. Mane flaring, embers sparking from its light hooves, the fleet, shrieking horse appeared and faded in a vacuum roar. He returned backstage to raucous applause. When the soldiers' mouths gaped wide enough to catch frogs, a quiet grin cut Itachi's lips.

It hadn't been larger than yours, he thought.

Hato linked arms with him and led him through the festival crowds. She would introduce him to people and he would forget their names. Villagers welcomed him like a hero and plied him with sake. A kind old lady handed him a skewer with cubes of horseflesh. Any friend of Amaterasu was a friend of theirs. He was happy. Kisame was gone, the mission was something for tomorrow, Hato was a nice girl, and he could pretend to be normal for a night. Her attention made him feel pleasantly male, that he wasn't strange, isolated, murderous or evil.

She had showed him around the small town and they found themselves walking along the cold, white-graveled shores of the glacier lake. The gentle summer alpine night glowed cobalt blue, lightened by a huge low moon, whose coolness was relieving compared to the warm and dark frenzy of the blood festival.

"Actress and priestess," Itachi said as they strolled. "One's devout, and old people would say the other is sinful. I haven't met a person who's been both."

She smiled. "Each coin has two sides, and the same goes for you. Where'd a merchant learn ninjutsu like that?"

"The road is dangerous… and," he whispered like sharing a secret, "Sometimes really boring."

"Hah! Can't be less interesting than here."

"Did you know, that was a curse you'd tell your enemies in the old days? 'May you live in interesting times'?"

"Sounds menacing when you say it. Can you do other ninja tricks?"

In a heartbeat, he threw three kunai in a perfect line along a slender birch, each resonating a deep thunk that merged into one. A white and gold moth fluttered impaled on the center knife. She gasped.

But when he looked back at her, her face seemed uncomfortable. The throw was well above chunin level, above most jounin. Itachi knew he should not be careless in his desire to impress her by throwing beyond the abilities of a merchant. But somehow, the throw had not pleased her.

"Is something wrong, Hato?"

"What I liked about your fire jutsu wasn't its killing power; it wasn't a weapon, it was art."

"Art..."

"It's like how you and Mekajiki use fire and water style to make charcoal. Your fire style painted Amaterasu's horse, and it was beautiful. Performance is art, and it makes people happy."

Itachi regurgitated what he knew of art. "Do you think art is a single rapturous instant, or eternal?"

"Weird question. Art isn't a period of time, but a place. It transports you somewhere you've never been before, to some feeling you've never felt before"

"Hm," Itachi pondered. He thought that was a better philosophy than that of either Deidara or Sasori. He wondered how mad they would be if he answered like that, and decided he would next time they asked his opinion. Which would probably be never.

She smiled at him. "I've got a stupid dream. Wanna hear it?"

"I'd love to."

"I dream to lead a group someday that practices more peaceful uses to ninjutsu than war. Even if it was just a traveling circus of theater artists, and all we accomplished was making some villagers laugh."

"You've already got a talent for performance. The road is dangerous, but train and surround yourself with others like you, and only a fool would rob you."

She smiled sadly. "Dad wants me to marry a prince in the next village."

"Bring the prince along."

The actress said nothing and skipped a stone over the lake. It failed after two stops, and she made a noise of embarrassment. Itachi picked up a small flat stone and also skipped it badly. Ripples in the lake reflected the moonbeams like bobbing driftwood.

"It's late," Itachi said after a while.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?"

Itachi did not answer right away. She said, "Stay the night at my house."

Itachi bowed. "That's very generous of you. I would be happy to stay overnight in your stable, and my partner as well, if possible."

There was a sly shift of her eyes, lids heavy around her big, black pupils. "I think he'll have found an inn by now. But that shouldn't stop you."

Hato escorted him across flagstones that shone silver in the moonlight. Carrying their shoes, opening a sliding door with the utmost care, the two tiptoeing teens entered her sub-clan's complex and slipped into her bedroom.

Itachi set his shoes along the wall, wondering to what extent he should undress himself. When he turned around, Hato had knelt on her white futon. With her eyes trained at him, she slowly loosened the belt of her furisode to bare her chest. Itachi did the same. He reached to kiss her, she kissed him back. He shed the rest of his clothes, then did the same for her. He leaned into her. This is what people did.

He shuddered at the unfamiliarity when her weak hands touched his neck, they were warm and soft, hot as death-blood. He banished the rising memories, memories from the last time he did this, no, from the last time he thought he did this with Izumi that terrible night. Their bodies fit together like hot white ivory, and like smoke and steam, a very un-normal man tried his best to do this very normal thing.

Author's Note;

Heyo, thanks for supporting this fic. I plan to post Chapter 4 around Friday Nov 23. This will be a long dramatic fic with probably about 10-15 chapters this length, and I have a lot of progress made already.

Let me know your thoughts. And thanks of course to thanks again to beta myochiikurin!

Steadfast,

Kelto

Follow on FF or Ao3

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13409132/1/Campfires

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21019778/chapters/49992863

[drunkdragondoes]

Songbird

It comes and goes like winter snows Fierce and fleeting, never quiet It always shows Your love is nothing if not cold Unforgettable

It was from an old song, a remake of the original. The lyrics were tacky, even for the time period that it was from.

You’re distant ‘til you’re here The breath of a coming storm And that’s all I want from you It’s the norm I just can’t let you go

And yet there was something in the words, in the way the piano softly played in the background. The original piece was accompanied by string instruments, as was common at the time, and it seemed to try and sound mournful. But now it was more of a person’s musings, as if lovestruck.

And when I feel your chill My body shakes It’s the storm, the surge My nerves lay still I’m ruined by you

The singer’s interpretation was, for better or for worse, good.

General Ironwood paused the meeting. “Are you still with me, Winter?”

Her eyes scrunched together. The earlier-than-usual morning was still taking its toll upon her. Cooped up in the basement of an ‘abandoned’ office building, the sterile white walls and fluorescent lights were harsh upon her blue eyes. She might have had her morning coffee already, but that didn’t meant it was working its magic yet. “I was rushed over at your request, sir. I suppose I’m still a bit tired from the trip over. Continue please.”

The old general leveled his eyes with her before giving a nod. “This is Qrow Branwen. I won’t wax poetic on his history - you’ve been with us long enough to know that anyone we bring up is under suspicion of not being fully human.” He pressed a button, and an image slowly sharpened onto a projector screen, revealing a man that looked to be in his early to mid forties. Dark hair, graying just at the sides, and a bit of a stubble, he matched the imagery of a man that could be just charming enough to get away with something.

“The case with him, though, is unusual. Most of the time, we function as quiet observers. The non-humans know of our existence and we don’t need to do any policing. However, he reached out to us for protection services.” The screen changed, this time revealing him at events in a black tuxedo, sometimes with another person, but usually alone. “And while we normally wouldn’t act in this situation, Branwen is a rising musician celebrity in our world. A lot of eyes are watching him, so our hand might be forced here. In addition, he’s offered a payment for our services, which includes a hefty advance if we take on the task. Any questions so far?”

Her lips pursed together, teeth raking across the top behind it. Asking for protection was not uncommon, and it was often turned down. They were observers and keepers of peace after all, not a task force. “There has to be more behind this. We wouldn’t be taking on a simple protection job without a good reason.”

The soft hum of magical gears and rotors spinning and humming to the rise and fall of his chest. “You’re right.” He looked her in the eye. “We’re taking on this case because Branwen implicated that he is a siren.”

She blinked. “A what?”

“A siren.” The screen changed again, this time portraying a series of pottery and art from older civilizations. “Greek and Roman mythology were among the first to describe these creatures, though facts often vary between the sources. Some depict them as similar to mermaids, others as avian amalgamations. And while most pieces depicted them as both male and female, over time it has portrayed them as female.”

“And he’s claiming that they exist and he’s one.” She found herself staring at the screen again.

“Indeed. In the end, we don’t know much about them, and if they’ve been this secretive about their existence, who knows how long they have been in the background.” Ironwood took a deep breath. “And that brings us to why we brought you in on such short notice. This is our potential first contact with a siren, and we want you to facilitate the relationship, maybe even make an ally out of him. Who knows how his powers could benefit us, after all.”

“And do we have any grounds to believe what he says?” she said, keeping her eyes on his pictures, looking for any unusual tells that would give himself away.

Nothing.

“There isn’t much outside of his word.” Ironwood clicked over to the next slide, leading to pictures of him singing in concerts and events. “But given his public profile as a rising singer, there’s reason to believe him.”

“How do we know it’s not a trap?”

A long breath. “We don’t. We staked out his apartment-” the screen switched to reveal a posh building, “and so far nothing unusual. Unless we use more invasive techniques, we can’t pick out anything else for now.”

Familiar words, but it came with the business. With one last blink, she rose from her seat. “I’ll get started then.”

Ironwood nodded before standing up as well. “His request seemed urgent, so you’ll be flying out late tonight. When you arrive in Vale, you’ll be checking in at the branch to pick up a body monitor before heading over to arrive at thirteen hundred hours local time. He knows we’re coming, so he should be expecting you.”

“Understood.”

He looked her in the eye. “And remember, Winter, werewolves might be a dime a dozen and we’re long past the age of shipwrecks. But if there’s one thing to be aware of, it's that sirens are born to sing. Be careful.”

“I mean, he even told me he was expecting someone, and here you are, at the time he told me, so-”

Even though it was a redeye flight, taking off at three in the morning, it was impossible for her to sleep. The seat was uncomfortable, and sleeping upright was never easy to begin with. And once she touched down in Vale, it was business as usual. Check in with headquarters and get her body monitor, check into her cheap hotel. Sit in a car for half an hour to go ten miles.

“Sometimes I think he does this on purpose, but don’t tell him I said that.”

Walk into an apartment complex, and suffer through the unlucky attendant’s third attempt page his apartment.

Nothing.

“Come on, pick up.”

Winter sighed, taking a moment to rub her eye. This was taking too long. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see if I can get in contact with my agency and get them to reach out to Branwen. Thank you, though.”

With a little more than a nod, she left the front doors of the lobby. Making her way out of the complex, her eyes scanned for any security cameras or staff. Once she made sure that she was out of sight, she began to let her magic work. She could feel her body shifting, becoming as light as air and blue like the sky.

With a tiny flash, she was gone, traversing through walls and floors until she was sure she was at the right one. Sensing that no one was by, she let the spell fall away, her body rematerializing in the posh hallway lights and at his apartment door. Her hand slipped into her coat, and she turned on her body monitor. “I’m in, commencing rendezvous.”

A tiny voice fed into her ear confirming that they got her message, and she was alone again. With a heavy blink of her eyes, she rang the doorbell in front of her.

Nothing. Again. Winter didn’t even hear a tone on the other end. For all she knew, the button could have been broken. And with a few more presses in vain, it might as well be.

No matter. Blinking her eyes and doing her best to ignore the scratch of sleep, she let herself slip through the cracks of the doorway again. Instead of letting herself shift back, however, she remained in her wispy, ethereal state. No one would be able to see her like this, so some recon of her own sounded appropriate.

So far, the grandiose apartment seemed silent. But if she strained her ears, there was something soft in the air, striking through at odd, unusual intervals. Simple. Elegant. And maybe another word she couldn’t think of at the time being.

Might as well take a peak. She drifted through the air, going through the few short halls to encounter a wide open area. One side was a television, two couches posed like an L, and a coffee table. To the other side was a piano, and at its front was the man she saw on the slides - dark hair, sharp red eyes. Qrow Branwen.

\As he played, fingering each key until they became a cohesive rhythm and tune, his lone humming echoed with the chords. Sometimes he would pause, but just as quickly he would pick up again. The tune might change, the keys might alter, but the tones of his unsung piece remained the same.

Winter didn’t really understand it. Music was taught to her at a young age, but now it was just a bygone afterthought. She couldn’t find the C key for the life of her, and she didn’t bother trying to stay in tune when following her favorite piece on the radio.

In fact, she didn’t remember much of it at all. Couldn’t remember the instrument she tried to pick up as a part of her class.

Another sharp blink, another breath, another step closer, Winter’s shoes gently clacking against the floor. Blink. Again. The jet lag must have been catching up to her. Shaking her head, she tried to focus on Qrow, but the only thing that seemed to register was his humming.

Her foot moved towards him, and her gaze drooped down. She was by the couch. For whatever reason, he started playing in earnest, his hums becoming more and more intense. Maybe this was why he wasn’t answering when the front desk paged him. He was too busy at work.

Surely he wouldn’t mind if she took a seat. She was a guest and they were supposed to have a meeting after all. Yes. Yes, that would be fine. He would stop, and they would talk and figure out this business.

Stay. Take a seat. Get comfortable.

Stay. Listen.

Rest. Enjoy.

Another soft hum.

Sleep.

When Winter first came to, she didn’t snap into action. Even though she was in an unfamiliar place at an unknown time, something felt peaceful. Whatever she was on was soft, softer than the bed she had at her own apartment halfway across the continent. Same with the blanket - warm and comforting. Safe.

Her immediate choice was to tuck the blankets around her again, roll over, and go back to sleep. Return to the land of warm and soft.

One tiny thing broke the spell, however.

“Arf!”

She felt her eyes snap open, and everything was wrong. This wasn’t her apartment. This wasn’t her blanket. This wasn’t her couch.

(In fact, Winter didn’t even have a couch.)

Quickly rolling over, she came face to face with a black and white dog - some kind of corgi.

“Arf!”

If there was one thing she knew she didn't have, it was a dog.

And to make matters worse, a pair of hands entered her vision to set down a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.

This was really bad.

“Courtesy of my nieces, and an apology of sorts for missing our meeting.” Her eyes traveled up the arms and settled onto his sharp red eyes. “I got carried away with my work and, well, I guess it might have carried you in as well.”

It was like being caught red-handed. She tried to hide her embarrassment long enough to figure out a way to venture forth into the conversation, “Qrow Branwen, then, I assume?”

“That’s me,” his eyes scanned over her briefly, and despite the blanket around her she felt painfully naked, worsening the heat on her cheeks. “I’d shake your hand, but, well…”

She gave a huff. Might as well take the out he gave her. Slipping her arm over the blanket, she extended her hand. “Winter Schnee, Officer and Specialist of the Protectorate.”

A/N: Eyyo! Finally got this little bit ironed out. There might be more, there might not. I still have 2.59 and Summoner AU, after all. But hey - at least there is some more Qrowin in this world :3

[theparaminds]

The desert of adolescence is dry and brutal. Dunes and murderous heat engulf the eyes and heart with unwavering repetition. Walk for months and you may only inch closer to enlightenment. But there, in the distance, is an oasis. An understanding and all enriching moment of freedom within the drivel of growing up. For any, this is oasis is personally founded in their art, experiences and ideologies. But in this generation, not a single youth’s oasis is complete without Surf Curse; not complete without their generational ability to connect. 

It’s known that if you’re a teen and with the opportunity to see Surf Curse live, you simply must. Having been a pair of blinded youth at one point, Nick and Jacob have grown to a point of personal understanding. They began as idealistic 18-year-olds, similar to their fans, but now stand as formed individuals who grasp their inner values and principles. Mirrored in their new album, Surf Curse have come to terms with what it means to grow and the beauty that exists in the process. While terrifying, the desert is gorgeous in its grandiose novelty. 

But here and now, at the oasis, Surf Curse is delivering a message of hope. Their body of work, so far, can be seen as the journey of self-discovery that now culminates with a catharsis of teenage moon dreams and film history. They want all youth to have the freedom they were able to attain through creating their art. And in creating that freedom, Surf Curse is cementing an opportunity for normality for young lives of turbulence. From now on, the oasis will never die and, due to their efforts, will be able to speak to limitless bleeding hearts.                                                           - How’s your day been going so far and how have you been as of late?

Nick: My day’s going pretty good so far, just started honestly as I had a bit of a late night. Both of us did. I was up until 5 in the morning just having a good chat with some friends. Got only like 4 hours of sleep.

With the new work finally coming into the foreground after a while of planning and rollout, what is the most overwhelming feeling in your life right now? The one that defines you emotionally.

N: I guess this release has been so different from everything else we’ve done. It’s very well organized and the record is well produced. There’s been a lot of money, time and effort put into it. I think it's the most organized it's ever been. There are no surprises which is really nice, but you do get the feeling of a large stakes situation. It's just anxiety hoping that everything goes well. We’re both very confident in it though. I’d also say it's just a lot of waiting. The records been done for over half a year now so we’re just excited to see everything rolling out.

Through this last year, what do you look back on as your favorite memory and almost a time that defined this entire few months for you?

N: I really do think recording this last album was such a great experience. We usually record so DIY but this time around, with the label backing, we were able to go into a studio with an engineer. It was such a special experience after over 10 years of home recordings to be able to go into a studio and make a professional sounding project. I know for Jacob and I, it was one of the best experiences of our lives. Every day was such a blessing.

When you look back at the early days of this band in 2013, how do you compare your artistic vision from then to now and do you think you are in a place of satisfaction with it?

N: I really love where it is now. I think there’s been a lot of growth and it’s hard to anticipate growth really, it just comes naturally. We were fortunate that as we've had a lot of time to sit with ourselves and write freely. This last record is one of the things I’m most proud of and it's a very obvious change in our sound and style. But again, that’s been a natural progression. Any musician or artist goes through that. It’s not a conscious effort either, it just progresses. When we wrote those first songs we were both 19, but now we’re each 27.

You did mention working with a new producer and really having it all be a tighter and more professional effort. But how do you feel that is visible within the songs and how do you feel seeing it all come into fruition in a professional sense.

Jacob: I think the production of it changed a lot of our songwriting. We had a bunch of demos but only in entering the studio did we realize the true capabilities we had. I think the original songwriting is still there but there was just a feeling we could make it much more true to life. As we were recording we noticed how cinematic and grand it is as well. We noticed it was a large cathartic experience. That, in some places, was a result of being able to add strings to something or having someone come in to create larger harmonies. It influences the songwriting in that you have to write with something truly grand in mind.

In the run-up for this project, there’s been a lot of talk about the influence that came from old cult film and the idea of peering into adolescence through film. With some songs like Midnight Cowboy the influence is obvious, but what other films do you feel achieved that vision you pulled from?

N: I think it's funny because there's a lot that is very on the head. We have some films that pretty directly translate to the song. Usually, a song is just a melting pot of so many ideas that it is never limited to one thing. I think with the song ‘Opera’ it is very clearly about Dario Argento’s Opera in the style and structure. But the themes are more relevant to our lives and what is going on within them. With the entire album’s feel as a whole, we were trying to make something like the movie ‘The American Friend’. Before we shot the album art we watched it with the photographer just to get a general vision for it. I really do feel it is so many different films that we consumed. Even when we were recording we had VHS’ playing constantly in the background. You can look at the tracklist and breakdown a lot of the obvious influences.

If you could personally take any film in history and strip its soundtrack, thus replacing it with this album, which do you think it’d fit with best?

J: I don't even know if we can. I think we'd have to make the movie go with it.

Then what would the plotline of that film be?

J: what's interesting is we created that newspaper that had that short story inspired by the album cover as a scene. It was a way to verbalize much of what’s going on within the actual songs.

A lot of the album’s ideas are apparent in the music videos as well though. How do you feel you're able the concepts of the music into the visual space and is it important for you to create the stories through the different mediums?

N: I think it's funny because the music is so influenced by visual art. Once we create the song it becomes its own thing that needs to go through another filter to be understood. The music video for Disco is a combination of ‘The Last Days of Disco’ and this film called ‘The Hole’. It’s a combination of two things that would never find a life together other than in this video. It's fun and interesting to be able to almost pay homage to very different films we can interpret similarly.

On top of film, what other art and external factors did you find guiding you upon this artistic journey?

J: Just life honestly. The experiences and what we’ve been going through. I mean, ‘Midnight Cowboy is a fictional song, but I wrote it because someone that I had dated was a sex worker. They explained to me their whole philosophy of sex work and I was so inspired by that while cared so much for them that I tried to put myself into that perspective while being in love during that. The song Jamie is about Nick and I’s good friend and it’s songs like that we can look back on and remember the moments and heartbreaks along with them.

N: I think as we’ve made this record, the environment we created it in influenced it a lot. Moving to LA and creating such a grand project that is a step forward for us in our lives. Just being in the culture of LA and the weird celebrity of it has been a big influence. It’s also hard to say on some level. It really just is the accumulation of so many moments and so much media it’s impossible to pinpoint which is above the rest.

To kind of throw a quote at you, when Billy Corgan was making a lot of his nostalgia-based music for the Smashing Pumpkins, he said he was: “taking [his] childhood, wrapping it with a bow and putting it under [his] bed”. In a sense being able to look back on the past fondly but without a need for it. Do you feel this project, as you’re at 27, did the same for you or is there still a lot you're trying to find?

J: Absolutely. It's funny because ever since we began very young at 18-19, our whole demographic has been teenagers and people in their twenties. It's always been young faces throughout the years. We get very nostalgic and in love with these moments we have with each other and with friends. We’re trying to capture that. A lot of this album feels very much like these sweet moments or tough moments or moments of blessings where you just have to be in love with the times.

N: A lot of it does put a bow on it but the music doesn't give answers. It's confronting the tough questions of adulthood and life and the themes on the record are more mature than what we dealt with in the past. That's also just growing and having experiences. If anything, a lot of the adolescent or youth influence is from the fact I believe when you release a song, it’s someone else's. And with our fans being young it's a way for them to transcribe their growing up. Writing these songs has not felt like looking back on the rearview mirror but instead being within it.

You really have connected with the youth, as you said, and people talk about the staple of going to a Surf Curse show in their teens. But how do you feel about the fact that the legacy may be a soundtrack to that coming of age time and to find an answer through what you were trying to solve?

N: I think it's a beautiful thing. It's also a secondary thing as well. It’s never an intention but I think that it’s a beautiful result of music and it’s hard to take credit for it. It just becomes whatever someone makes of it and I can be proud of it all, but I think it's so unintentional. It’s hard to grasp how to feel about it or to take part in it.

Do you feel that you have memories in the future you’re currently nostalgic for before they even happen?

J: I think we're both excited to be on tour again. We’re looking forward to being in a car with people we love and having good and rough nights. I was on this Current Joys tour opening for Nick’s band and I still think of being in the car with everyone and loving it, or sometimes being so miserable some nights.

It seems on tour it’s not the shows that are memorable at all but the moments in between and the events between the milestones.

N: Oh for sure, the show is just 10% of the tour. No one else sees what else gets put into it.

J: We’re just part of that one hour for everyone else. But honestly, we’re probably 12 shows in and on an 8 hour drive consuming music and reading a book and having a beautiful conversation, probably telling the same story for the 5th time.

Do you have anyone to say thanks to or anything you want to say as a final idea?

N: I would say to any young creatives, do your work for the right reasons. Do it for yourself and don't create for being cool. Create so you can get yourself out there. Don't get blinded by what everyone perceives as a success. Find, make and achieve your own success.

J: Yeah, stay in your lane. I've been thinking about this a lot because I've been swimming a lot. I'm a new swimmer and I go to the YMCA and I’m learning to swim. It’s so hard and very existing. But those who go to this pool are really advanced swimmers and we have to share a lane. But whenever I look at what they’re doing I lose my form and focus. I always think about that when people talk about other artists. When you focus on what they're doing, you’re going to mess up your form. Stay in your lane and don't worry about how people will consume it. Just make it what you want. Oh, and watch ‘Too Old to Die Young’.

                                                         -

Photos by Matthew James-Wilson

                                                         -

Follow Surf Curse on Instagram and Twitter

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                                                         -

Words and Interview by Guy Mizrahi