#while Suggesting That Doing Self Reflection And Learning Lessons From This World Might Help to Other People

[bacchuschucklefuck]

the never stop blowing up vhs is where cute twinks go to get harmed

[denisiabalingit]

Here are the key concept

The term “learning style” is one that’s commonly used in education. This popular theory teaches that people learn better when taught in a way that matches their learning style—whether that’s auditory, tactile, visual, or kinesthetic. According to this theory, a self-reported auditory learner learns best through listening to content, while a visual learner finds auditory content less helpful.

Today, many teacher preparation programs include the learning styles theory into their curricula to train teachers to accommodate different learning styles in their classroom. However, recent research suggests that this model may not be as impactful as previously thought.

Where Learning Styles Came From

The concept of learning styles traces some of its origins back to 334 BC when Aristotle theorized that “every child possessed specific talents and skills.” After Aristotle recognized children had these differences, the concept of learning styles formed, and researchers began developing their own theories.

One of the most widely adopted theories was developed by Neil Fleming in 1987. Fleming developed the acronym, VARK, which stands for visual, auditory, reading, and kinesthetic. According to the VARK model, learners are identified by the type of learner they were:

•Visual learner (movie, pictures, graphs)

•Auditory learner (music, discussion, lectures)

•Reading and writing learner (making lists, reading textbooks, taking notes)

•Kinesthetic learner (experiments, hands on activities)

Fleming, like several other learning style theorists, believed in the importance for people to know and be comfortable with different learning styles, especially their own way of learning so that they could understand how they and others learn best.

How Are Learning Styles Utilized?

The learning style model is deeply engrained in the education world—starting with teacher training. In fact, more than half of United States teachers are required to study learning styles for licensure exams. Academic support centers and a number of teaching products are also focused on learning styles.

An estimated 89% of teachers believe in adapting their teaching style to a student's preferred learning style, however, recent studies show that all students can benefit from learning through various methods.

Are Learning Styles Real?

While it’s true that people can develop a learning preference, there’s little scientific evidence that suggests that tailoring lessons to match a particular learning style actually benefits the learner. In fact, there are several studies that contradict the learning style theory.

In a study published in 2018 in the journal Anatomical Sciences Education, researchers found that not only did students not study in ways that seemed to reflect their learning style, but those who did tailor their studying to suit their style didn’t do any better on their tests.

Could Learning Styles Harm Student Growth?

Previous research has shown that the learning styles model has the potential to undermine student growth. For example, if students are labeled as only one type of learner, they don’t have the opportunity to strengthen and grow in other learning styles. They may only study in ways that match their perceived learning style even though it might not help them succeed. In some cases, students might even avoid effective learning strategies if they believe they’re a better fit for a learning style they think doesn’t match with theirs—even if the approach doesn’t fit the task.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7, pt 8, pt 9

- Chapter 10 -

Everyone did believe that Meng Yao had been robbed in love. It even got to the point that Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen – both somehow taken by surprise by it, he had no idea how, given that it was so obviously the result he was aiming for – spent a great deal of time behind doors trying to make sure Meng Yao didn’t feel bad about it, which was very nice, if unnecessary, of them.

He assured them that he didn’t mind the gossip at all, but, well, if they were offering to spoil him…

More importantly, Wen Ruohan believed it, too, just as he’d hoped, and his belief that Meng Yao belonged to him was shored up to the point of being nigh-unbreakable, just as Meng Yao had intended. His comments on the subject, made in a small break during a Discussion Conference when Nie Mingjue was enduring a lecture from Lan Qiren, were sticky sweet and suffocating and revolting to the point that it tested even Meng Yao’s well-practiced façade.

Interestingly enough, Wen Ruohan didn’t seem to be jealous of the relationship, or even to mind its existence, as Meng Yao would have expected given his now years-long obsession. Unfortunately, he also didn’t stop his usual antics – which probably formed part of the basis for Lan Qiren’s lecture, come to think of it. He seemed to regard it as little more than a childish lark, a passing whim scarcely worth noticing; as if it didn’t matter what Nie Mingjue did because he knew, or thought he knew, how everything would end.

It was, Meng Yao reflected, the sort of thing that would drive a lesser man up the wall with rage.

Wen Ruohan did express a mild curiosity as to how far things between Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen had gone, but luckily was just barely self-aware enough not to ask the supposedly jilted Meng Yao to find out more details for him.

As a result, Meng Yao was able to nod along with his recruitment speech without having to swallow back too much bile.

“You’ve always been very kind to me, Sect Leader Wen,” he said, his voice as sincere as he could make it. “I find that I’m often overlooked, given my status, though of course Sect Leader Nie’s needs must come first…”

“That is not necessarily true,” Wen Ruohan hummed. “You are just as worthy as he, with as many needs; are you not human, too? Why should you be the one overlooked?”

“Qinghe Nie values strength of arms,” Meng Yao demurred. “And mine is – lacking. There can be no comparison.”

“It must be difficult to be somewhere where you don’t fit in,” Wen Ruohan said sympathetically, as if he had any notion of such a thing. “Especially when you know there are places where you would fit in much better, if only you had a chance.”

Meng Yao heaved a sigh. “I have long ago given up hope of – other places,” he said, dropping obvious hints with his body language that the hope was merely dashed, not gone. “One should be content with one’s place.”

“Never be content with anything,” Wen Ruohan told him, his own voice slightly more sincere than usual, and it might be the only honest thing the man had ever said to him. His own personal motto, no doubt. He dropped his hand on Meng Yao’s shoulder. “Perhaps you should make more time for yourself – there are some areas in Qishan where you could go night-hunting to earn some glory, and I think you would find the game there to your liking. Especially, oh, around the end of the month?”

Meng Yao allowed himself a small victorious smile, and let Wen Ruohan think that he had convinced him that he had wanted the recruitment all along – a perfect catch, after years of setting out lures.

“That sounds like an excellent suggestion,” he said, and even meant it. “My skills have grown rusty, staying in the office so much…though I only fear I do not know the way. You know that Sect Leader Nie does not trust me at the border.”

He did, of course, but what would be the point of sending him there? Meng Yao’s skill was in logistics and management; while that was useful in active battle it would be utterly wasted in patrolling their well-armed borders to help pep up morale. But it was easy enough to make it appear to be a slight.

“You are capable of doing anything you put your mind to,” Wen Ruohan said encouragingly. “But you are right in acknowledging limits, and should not fear to turn to – capable guidance, when you find difficulty in finding your own way.”

Meng Yao lowered his eyes, full of triumph – for real, this time. “I am honored that Sect Leader Wen is willing to instruct me.”

Wen Ruohan patted him on the shoulder again, then went off his own way. Meng Yao turned to do the same, and abruptly saw Lan Wangji standing in the distance, looking out a window at the sky; it gave him a start, wondering if the younger man had seen. Hopefully not, or at least he’d hopefully know to keep his mouth shut – Meng Yao would have to go feel him out later.

The work never ended, he thought to himself with a sigh, and returned to Nie Mingjue’s side before his sect leader broke something trying to keep his mouth shut while talking to Lan Xichen’s uncle about righteous conduct, a subject on which the Lan sect seemed to think they had the final say and on which Nie sect principles were wildly and fundamentally different.

(Lan Wangji seemed to act the same as always when Meng Yao talked to him later – which was to say, virtually expressionless except for whatever it was that Lan Xichen claimed he could read in his posture, and still hilariously distractable with news of Wei Wuxian, who he’d met for all of a few months during the lessons in the Cloud Recesses that Nie Huaisang had finally passed – and that was a relief. The less Meng Yao had to think about what he was doing when he wasn’t actively doing it, the better.)

Getting permission – and publicly – to go out night-hunting was easy enough, since Nie Mingjue actively enjoyed slaughtering evil beasts for the good of mankind and thought that everyone else did too; he only needed to casually mention that it had been a while since he’d had time to go out to stretch his legs and Nie Mingjue immediately suggested that he go out on a night-hunt.

Convincing him not to come along with was slightly more difficult, especially when he mentioned that he’d heard some whispers of a demonic presence near the border with Qishan – Wen Ruohan was certainly demonic enough, in Meng Yao’s opinion – but with his position it wasn’t difficult to juggle the paperwork schedule to ensure that there was far, far too much work for Nie Mingjue to accompany him.

Arranging that Lan Xichen come to visit shortly before he left was an extra perk that Meng Yao included for both of them – for himself, getting to spend a wonderful day in the presence of someone infinitely more relaxing than Nie Mingjue, and for Nie Mingjue, getting to spend time on paperwork with someone infinitely more sympathetic than Meng Yao, who truly enjoyed the process of comparing long lists of received goods with each other to see if something was missing.

He’d miss Lan Xichen’s departure due to his night-hunt, but that was good, too – him going off to an atypical night-hunt would be understood by the majority of the cultivation world as a huffy retreat to avoid having to see his former lover and his superior together, and no one would think twice about it.

Once it was all set up, it was only a matter of waiting.

Wen Ruohan was confident in him, Meng Yao knew, and rightfully so: if he’d really been the person he’d been displaying in his presence since childhood, Wen Ruohan’s tricks would have snared him without question. A fool with an endless pit in his heart, greedy for affection and too stupid to be able to realize that no amount of glory would satisfy that greed, cunning but having no heart to see the bigger picture…dumb enough to agree to go meet Wen Ruohan, but smart enough to demand a measure of trust before he did.

A measure of trust – like the guide he’d insisted on.

Like the identify of whoever it was that had been so-cleverly dropping off all those letters, over all those years. Whoever it was had to have a considerable position in the Unclean Realm since the time Lao Nie had been in charge, and corrupted by Wen Ruohan since way back then; someone who had the freedom of the interior parts of the fortress, someone trusted, with good enough martial arts to avoid being spotted even when Meng Yao was specifically looking to identify them.

He’d run some tests and confirmed to his satisfaction that it seemed to be the same person each time, so there was only one high-level spy he needed to be concerned about – there were others, of course, but Meng Yao knew about those, and what he knew he could manage.

Or, well, Nie Zonghui could manage, he supposed. Nie Zonghui was technically the one in charge of managing personnel, or at least he was whenever he wasn’t stuck on some type of body-guarding duty – while they hadn’t shared classes due to the age gap between them, Nie Zonghui being older, Meng Yao knew that they’d had all the same ones, preparing them for much the same role. Between the two of them as advisors, Nie Zonghui was better suited for fighting and advising on situations involving imminent death, and they'd generally divided the work accordingly, but he was more than competent enough at managing spies and Meng Yao had handed the job off to him with great satisfaction. It worked very well.

Well, as long as Nie Zonghui didn’t turn out to be the traitor, anyway.

Meng Yao sincerely hoped he wasn’t. Nie Zonghui’s hobby was learning saber forms, and he spent all his free time on it to the point that he made Nie Mingjue’s training schedule look reasonable – Nie Mingjue was still the more powerful of the two, but only because he had ridiculously high cultivation for someone his age.

(That high cultivation had made his position as sect leader secure and allowed him to earn a name and a title and respect throughout the cultivation world, but Meng Yao wasn’t the only one that worried about how Nie sect cultivators died of qi deviation once they got too powerful. But Nie Mingjue was fairly stable for the moment, despite his rapid advancement, and Lan Xichen had devoted himself to trying to find a way to keep it that way – Meng Yao thought he might allow himself some room to hope.)

It turned out that the traitor wasn’t Nie Zonghui.

It was Wu Bixian, one of the army commanders, which was not quite as bad but only slightly.

Wu Bixian was from a smaller sect very close to Qinghe, a part of the Nie clan by marriage to one of the closer cousins. He was a good warrior, a tolerable commander, and had once had the occasion to save Lao Nie’s life in their youth together – he had been in a position of trust for a long time. He was wealthy, in the way most members of the Nie sect were with the sect’s treasury at their back and night-hunts to their name (Nie Mingjue’s comment as a child that the money ran free and easy once you started night-hunting wasn’t wrong) and he had a good wife, a few children, a saber of his own, moderately strong cultivation that was slowly gaining in strength…He had never shown any interest in acquiring more power than he had, no lust for domination, nothing like that.

He seemed content.

He was one of the ones that made snide comments about Meng Yao’s mother and had initially tried to refuse to take Meng Yao’s orders, even the ones that came straight from Nie Mingjue, until Nie Mingjue had personally told him to cut it out or else accept a demotion in favor of someone who could follow orders, but given how early the letters had started landing on Meng Yao’s desk, his betrayal must have happened far earlier than that incident and could not be the inciting factor.

Meng Yao had no idea what sort of things had Wen Ruohan offered to turn him, but whatever it was, he hoped Wu Bixian had enjoyed it while it lasted because he was going to kill him.

“It is kind of Commander Wu to take time out of his day to assist me,” he murmured, lowering his eyes to hide his rage even as his voice remained sweet and gentle.

“Sect Leader Nie wanted to make sure you were safe,” Wu Bixian said, and for half a second there Meng Yao wondered if it had been some sort of terrible miscommunication because he could see Nie Mingjue doing that, but then Wu Bixian continued, “I thought it would be good for someone like you to have a proper guide to teach you.”

If he had used anything like that language around Nie Mingjue, he wouldn’t have been allowed to come help, and that meant that Wu Bixian was in fact the right contact.

“I will follow in your footsteps,” Meng Yao said, still playing cautious. He saw a smirk steal over the other man’s face, smug and arrogant, and they left without another word between them.

With Commander Wu with him, finding a place to cross the territory line into Qishan without being spotted was easy – and worrisome, of course – and it wasn’t long before they arrived at the forest glade where Wen Ruohan was waiting for them.

His retainers had already set up a place for them to take tea, with him sitting above and them below, and even his traveling chair resembled the throne to which Wen Ruohan believed himself to be entitled.

Before they left the woods, Wu Bixian elbowed Meng Yao in the side, hard. “None of the backtalk you sometimes give Sect Leader Nie,” he instructed. “You ought to count yourself as very lucky that Sect Leader Wen has come himself to meet with you – he puts a high priority on the affairs of Qinghe Nie.”

That meant that Wu Bixian thought himself better than Wen Ruohan’s other spies in other territories, which were probably only good enough to report to a Wen disciple, or maybe Wen Xu if they were especially prominent.

Arrogance was good. Meng Yao could use arrogance.

He knelt in front of Wen Ruohan, giving him the deference he longed for – he’d only ever knelt to Nie Mingjue once, when he’d sworn an oath to him as part of becoming an official disciple of the Nie sect, and it had been outrageously awkward for them both – and Wen Ruohan smiled.

“You made a wise choice,” he said. “Qinghe Nie will not remain standing and independent for much longer. Only those that realize the truth will have a chance to influence the future.”

“Sect Leader Wen’s strength is undeniable,” Meng Yao said, because his mother taught him how to say the words that men wanted to hear. His mother as she used to be, before Sisi came back into her life and made her happy – his mother, who now spent some time being mistress of Qinghe, some time traveling, some time merely visiting other places with Sisi at her side; his mother, who asked him if he was happy with Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen, who accepted his answer and sought to aid him as much as she could; his mother, who loved him, well if not always wisely. “I do not wish to be on a sinking boat when I could join the rising tide.”

There was a bit more of that, mostly mutual ego-stroking and puffery, but finally Wen Ruohan got to the point: “What is it that you want?”

“My rightful inheritance,” Meng Yao said, because it was the safest thing to ask for. He didn’t really care if Wen Ruohan got rid of Jin Guangshan, after all, and Nie Huaisang’s reports hadn’t been especially positive in regards to Jin Zixuan – Wen Ruohan would probably just disinherit him in favor of Meng Yao, and leave him alive to cause Meng Yao too many problems to have time to rebel. And it was much safer than asking for anything else. “The venerable Sect Leader Wen is above such petty matters as gossip, of course, but he undoubtedly already knows…my father…”

“The Jin sect is a pearl of great value,” Wen Ruohan said lazily. “Do you think your service can justify such a reward?”

“I am sure of it,” Meng Yao said, full of confidence.

“And there’s nothing else you want?”

Meng Yao hesitated, having not anticipated that question the way he had others, and Wen Ruohan laughed to see him. “I told you before not to be content,” he said with a smile Meng Yao did not trust. “You have chosen wisely to trust in the power of the sun, and in the heat of its rays, from the ashes of the old ways, too stiff in their rules to change, you will be rewarded with your heart’s desire.”

Meng Yao smiled. “I await your excellency’s benevolence with eagerness, to give me light where I have been blind.”

He bowed and took his leave, heading back to Qinghe with the heads of some fierce corpses to show as the results of his hunt – Wen Ruohan was thoughtful, in some ways – and left Wu Bixian behind to discuss further matters to which Meng Yao was still too new to hear: an excellent people management stratagem to whet Meng Yao’s jealousy of Wu Bixian’s position, while also assuaging any concerns Wu Bixian had regarding his primacy.

The second he was out of sight, he pulled Chiwen out of the qiankun pouch he’d tucked into his sleeve – sabers generally disliked small places like that, but Chiwen had always been extremely understanding of the indignities one had to suffer to achieve greatness – and threw him down, leaping on top of him and hurrying forward at break-neck speed, and even so he only just barely managed to catch Lan Wangji before he disappeared back into the woods.

(He hadn’t realized that Lan Wangji was suspicious at first, despite him having coming willingly to the Unclean Realm alongside Lan Xichen and being even less social than usual; it wasn’t until that very morning, when he’d murmured some denial about having plans for the day – and Lan Wangji always had plans for the day – that Meng Yao had realized that he might need to keep an eye out for a tail.)

Lan Wangji was stiff as a board, his hand already sliding to Bichen on his waist; Meng Yao ignored it.

“You need to go back to the Cloud Recesses,” he said. “As soon as possible.”

Lan Wangji paused. “Why?”

“Because Wen Ruohan is going to burn it down,” Meng Yao said flatly. “The Lan sect doesn’t have the ability to stop him, but if you go now, you can pack away your sect’s most valued treasures and hide them away somewhere safe before they do.”

“Why?” Lan Wangji asked again, still wary, only this time he meant why are you telling me this.

“Because you have to make sure Lan Xichen isn’t there,” Meng Yao said. “He’ll hate it and he’ll fight having to run away with every ounce of will he has, but he can’t be there – or else everything will be so much worse.”

“Sect Leader Wen told you?”

“He all but promised me Lan Xichen as a prize for my cooperation.” Lan Wangji flinched, and Meng Yao nodded grimly. “Make sure he has a safe place to go. The Nie sect will come to your aid, nominally, but the real purpose will be to make it seems as though the Wen sect has defeated two Great Sects in one blow – it will be devastating to the morale of the smaller sects, and convince many of them to just give in to Wen domination rather than fight back...listen, come up with whatever reason you have to in order to convince them, but don't explain where you learned of the information. You understand?”

Lan Wangji nodded slowly. “You plan to spy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Meng Yao said, because he was far beyond planning at this point. But he knew, as Lan Wangji might not, that the elders of the Lan sect would never listen to Sect Leader Jin's bastard son or Sect Leader Nie's aide, so recently jilted in love - they weren't like Nie Mingjue or Lan Xichen, who would understand. “Listen, empty the Library Pavilion in advance, wait until they’ve started burning the other buildings, and then set fire to it yourself. If you defend it as if it’s full, maybe you can convince the Wen sect that they’ve done more damage than they really have.”

He shook his head – he’d been hoping to have more time, but the winds of war always came more swiftly than hoped. “Good luck, travel fast, and above all tell no one.”

[creativityobsessed]

Be Brave Adachi, or the musical shaping of episodes 1-4

Part 4: Episode 4

This is part of a 4 part series. You may wish to start with part 1, where I introduced the main musical cue we’ll be following and how it represents Adachi questioning the world as he knew it. Or, if you missed part 2, or part 3, you might want to start there.  

If you would like to follow along, please cue up 13:15 in episode 4.*

HOO BOY does everything happen in Episode 4! I swear every time I went back to rewatch to check something I noticed 2 more things that were worth mentioning. Go get your drink of choice, we’re gonna be here a while.

Since we have so much to talk about, and there’s not much new going on, I’m going to gloss over the 1.5 rotations of Questioning that happen right after Adachi gets off the phone with Tsuge. Y’all probably recognize it by now, right? Right. 

The really interesting new stuff in this episode starts after Kurosawa rescues Adachi and Fujisaki, while they’re walking back to the office. Here, for the first time in full since episode 1, we get a repeat of the guitar music that I called Adachi-at-home in the first post in this series. Now, I’m gonna have to make a slight retraction because a) I didn’t know yet that this was gonna be important later, and b) it’s more interesting than I originally thought. So, to add some nuance, this guitar cue is not just Adachi when he’s on his own, fully relaxed, it’s that plus Adachi ruminating on how he doesn’t compare to Kurosawa. In the first case, he’s wishing for just one of Kurosawa’s good qualities. Here, he’s pointing out that they are “fundamentally different” with overtones of I am fundamentally worse than he is. The super interesting thing that I missed the first time around though is that this is the tune of the Home section. Sure it’s in C-sharp major (ish) rather than A major (not exactly a related key, but not an unrelated key either, at least if you ask Brahms^), but the melody is the same enough that I DEFINITELY should have caught that. What can I say, *shrug* pandemic brain.

So, anyways, given what I have since discovered about this guitar cue, I’d like to revise what I think it’s about - it’s about Adachi’s unacknowledged crush on Kurosawa. He still doesn’t realize yet that Kurosawa is something he wants, but moments like these show us just how much he wants it. 

Around 16:15, at the end of Fujisaki’s internal monologue in the elevator, Questioning comes in. This time, though, it’s not about Kurosawa in the slightest. When I was first trying to come up with a point to this series so my Intro to Musicology professor wouldn’t hunt me down for writing a “here’s some stuff” paper, I was all ready to say Kurosawa is the answer and call it a day. But if that’s the case, then why does Questioning start here? Sure, he just found out that Fujisaki knows about Kurosawa’s crush, but the worldview that he’s questioning isn’t that Fujisaki is more observant than he thought. It’s his reaction to her disinterest in relationships. Furthermore, this version of Questioning is far more stable than previous ones - instead of a tritone or other non-chord set of vertically stacked pitches, most of the Question phrases end on unison D, or some version of D + F-sharp (usually in the m6 orientation, rather than M3). Each Question phrase is approximately in time, or at least close enough that we have a sense of when the next will happen, where in the first few versions of Questioning the space between each phrase rotation felt indeterminate. I think what we’re seeing here is that even though Adachi still has questions, his life has already changed. He has a better sense of the people around him, and is less terrified of asking questions.

The Questioning section actually pauses when Kurosawa notices Adachi’s wound, and we don’t head into the next section immediately. In fact, we don’t ever get the next section here - we jump straight to Home, as Adachi starts back in on how much better Kurosawa is than him. It’s in the piano here, I think mostly so that they don’t have to change instrumentation midway through (we’ll see why in a second). This version of Home is the same slow tempo as the guitar version, and it’s very dry. All of the harmony is in block chords, which contributes to a kind of emptiness. But that’s ok because it doesn’t last. 

After a single (musical) sentence, Adachi begins to hear Kurosawa’s own self-loathing through his thoughts. As this happens, the chords that were once in blocks stretch out into arpeggios, filling in the spaces around the melody, in a move that reminds me so much of the way that letting go of a bit of anxiety can feel like unfurling from a tiny space.** Kurosawa’s “I’m sure he finds me annoying” is immediately followed by the addition of a cello line - and I’m about to go do some rewatching looking for where cello is important, but my first impression hypothesis is that cello represents Kurosawa’s inner headspace, particularly after some of the ways I noticed it being used in ep. 7. The cello twines around the piano line that we’re already familiar with, possibly as a metaphor for the way that Adachi and Kurosawa are having similar thoughts. And, as with earlier episodes, we end without a full resolution - we get a cadence, sort of, but the piano continues for a bit and ends with a cluster of notes with G as the main thing that catches our ear. For those unfamiliar, G is not a particularly tonic-feeling note in A major. It’s flat 7, which helps tremendously in feeling like we are NOT in major, better suited to the melancholy nature of the various thoughts flying around here. 

And then. Ok, and THEN. The part I have been writing this entire series to talk about. So, to set the scene, right? Adachi thanks Kurosawa, Kurosawa deflects but gives Adachi a direct, blinding smile, and for once Adachi doesn’t squint. He returns the smile. He has become comfortable here. 

As if that weren’t enough, the music comes in, and yes, we’re back to Questioning, but it is absolutely in time, with two beats of 6/8 between each iteration of the Question Phrase. Furthermore, this version has both guitar and glockenspiel in it - the guitar is Adachi’s home instrument, and here it suggests he’s become comfortable with questioning the world around him, while the glock does more to highlight the difference in the treatment of time. 

We don’t move on from this section for a bit, because Fujisaki interrupts his thoughts. We do, however, get hints of the next section - a rising line in the piano timed in the same way as the next section will start, for example. The underpinnings of the Questioning section provide a lush background for Adachi’s monologue on visiting Fujisaki’s mother, something the first version of Questioning could not have done. Adachi is being very brave here, and the changes to our favorite cue are a reflection of that. 

As he finishes we head in to the section of the piece, which is mostly accompanying shots of Fujisaki being overwhelmed, Adachi being worried that his attempt to be brave has gone wrong, and not much happening. There’s a weird loop in the middle, which makes me think that they tried it with the whole track and it felt waaaay too long without anything happening. 

Anyway, after she reassures him that his bravery is appreciated, we head into the Answer section. Adachi and Fujisaki’s chitchat isn’t what’s important here. The important thing is we have the Answer section, and here it is fully scored, electric guitar and bass, percussion, the works. Not only that, but the cue ends, and it ENDS ON THE TONIC. We did it folks! We found the resolution! And it turns out, the way to get there was to BE BRAVE.

This may not be the end of the whole series, but this is AN ending. This is the pan-out that we get at the end of every 90s Hollywood teen romcom. Adachi has Learned Something with capital letters, and it’s not that he loves Kurosawa or even that he needs to give up his low self-esteem. It’s that he can be brave, and he can contribute. It’s hard, and it may take four episodes of building to it, but he can do it.

Which is a lesson he’s really gonna need for the beginning of 5. But that’s a story for another time.

If you’ve followed my nerdery this far and you’ve enjoyed this series, please let me know via likes, replies, and/or reblogs. I may eventually continue the series if there’s enough interest (there’s some FASCINATING things that happen to this cue in episode 7, for example), but for now, I’m gonna go take a nap.

I did a follow up in response to an ask, if you really really want more.

*All video timings and quotes are from Irozuku Subs videos. If you’re watching somewhere else, your mileage may vary slightly.

^If you’re a SUPER HARD CORE theory nerd, look up Neo-Riemannian Theory for how this works. Or just if you want your brain to explode. Either way, have fun, cause I need it for my dissertation and I STILL don’t quite understand how it works.

**Not an Academically Approved metaphor. This is why I’m doing this on tumblr.

[lavendermilkandhoney]

2/22 The Chariot – V’s Journey ?

In Game

The Chariot is always charging ahead despite being pulled by its steeds in opposite directions. The rider who steers it constantly reins in the light and dark sides of the soul with the help of Reason. To ride in The Chariot is to experience highs and lows – ups and downs. 

Location

The Chariot is found on the wall next to Tom's Diner in Little China.

Misty’s Reading (After the Heist 1/2) - Upright 

“You’re ready for change, ready to seek the truth about yourself. And to help, you’ll have… Someone from your family?”

Zodiac Sign : Cancer

The zodiac sign Cancer is matched to The Chariot tarot card indicating movement in the form of growth, change is indicated by this card and for the sign of Cancer, the Chariot reflects the signs ability to use intuition to move to a higher emotional perspective.

In Tarot

UPRIGHT: Control, willpower, success, action, determination

REVERSED: Self-discipline, opposition, lack of direction

The Chariot Tarot card shows a brave warrior standing inside a chariot. He wears armour decorated with crescent moons (representing what is coming into being), a tunic with a square (the strength of will) and other alchemical symbols (spiritual transformation). The laurel and star crown signals victory, success and spiritual evolution. Although he appears to be driving the chariot, the charioteer holds no reins – just a wand like the Magician’s – symbolising that he controls through the strength of his will and mind.

The charioteer stands tall – there’s no sitting down for this guy, as he’s all about taking action and moving forward. Above his head is a canopy of six-pointed stars, suggesting his connection to the celestial world and the Divine will. In front of the vehicle sit a black and a white sphinx, representing duality, positive and negative and, at times, opposing forces. Note how the sphinxes are pulling in opposite directions, but the charioteer uses his willpower and sheer resolve to steer the chariot forward in the direction he wants.

Behind the chariot flows a wide river, symbolic of the need to be ‘in flow’ with the rhythm of life while also charging ahead toward your goals and intentions.

UPRIGHT 

The Chariot is a card of willpower, determination and strength. You have discovered how to make decisions in alignment with your values with the Lovers card, and now you are taking action on those decisions. When the Chariot appears in a Tarot reading, take it as a sign of encouragement. You have set your objectives and are now channelling your inner power with a fierce dedication to bring them to fruition. When you apply discipline, commitment and willpower to achieve your goals, you will succeed.

Now isn’t the time to be passive in the hope that things will work out in your favour. Take focused action and stick to the course, no matter what challenges may come your way – because, believe me, there will be challenges. You may be pulled in opposite directions and find your strength and conviction tested. Others may try to block you, distract you, or drag down the pursuit of your goal. But the Chariot is an invitation to draw upon your willpower and home in on what’s essential to you, so you can push past the obstacles in your way.

If you are curious about whether you have what it takes to achieve your aim or complete an important project, the Chariot is a sign you will be successful so long as you keep your focus and remain confident in your abilities. You need to use your willpower and self-discipline to concentrate on the task at hand. You can’t cut corners or take the easy route, or you will fail. Instead, see this endeavour as a test of your strength and conviction, and recognise that victory is within reach, but it’s up to you to follow through.

The Chariot calls you to assert yourself and be courageous. Be bold in expressing your desires and laying down your boundaries; otherwise, you will not get your way. You need to have faith in yourself and know fundamentally who you are and what you stand for (thus building off the personal belief systems and values established through the Lovers card).

In a very literal sense, the Chariot can represent travel, especially driving or taking a road trip. You may even be considering selling your home and buying an RV so you can head off and roam the country!

REVERSED 

Upright, the Chariot is a green light to move ahead with a key project and push past any obstacles that might impede your desired outcome. Reversed, however, the Chariot tells you to ‘back up the truck’ or, as we Aussies say, “Chuck a U-y” (AKA “do a U-turn”). You might bang your head against a brick wall, trying to push a project forward when really, you ought to back off or change direction. Or you might have lost your motivation and no longer feel as committed to the outcome as you did when you started. So, if something is not moving forward as you planned, re-evaluate the situation and check in to see if it’s a sign that you need to change course. Then ask yourself: Is there a deeper reason things have become more challenging? What lesson can I learn here?

At times, the reversed Chariot is a warning that you are letting obstacles and challenges get in the way, preventing you from achieving what you set out to do. It’s all getting too hard, and you don’t have the will to go on. If that resonates, stop for a moment and think about the things that matter most to you and why you want to achieve this goal. Will you allow other people’s opinions to sway you or give up as soon as the going gets tough? Or will you follow through on your commitment?

Before taking action, the reversed Chariot may be a hint that you are focusing your energy and attention on your internal processes, such as self-discipline, inner determination and personal commitment. You may home in on the intentions that align with your Higher Self. Or, you can use visualisation and meditation to make sure your energy aligns with your goals. These internally focused actions are essential so that when the time comes to act, you will be ready.

If you are someone who likes to have command over your destiny and know where you are heading, take this opportunity to tighten the reins and become more disciplined in what you are doing. While feeling a loss of power can be quite demoralising, the key is to look at what you can control and what you cannot. Do not allow yourself to worry about what is out of your grasp as you cannot change it now. Instead, focus your energies on what IS in your control. Examine what you can do to improve the situation.

Similarly, the Chariot reversed suggests that you may be trying to manage every minute detail in your life – but in doing so, you feel even more out of control. Loosen your grip and let things run their course. Be open to offers of help and then be grateful for what you receive, even if it’s not perfectly aligned with your expectations. You do not always have to be in the driver’s seat!

---

Thank you so much @cybervesna​ for the polish traduction from the official guide book and its associations with the characters!

[sepublic]

Suggestion on Belos’ past and motives...

           All of these asks, speculation, and discussion on Belos is just…

           …Even if it’s not confirmed, even if it’ll be disproven later on in the show. It all paints this VERY vivid image in my head, of…

           Imagine a young Belos, who’s a social outcast and doesn’t understand why people treat him differently for his unique ideas and ways of doing things. He has a genuine passion for magic, but like Luz and Lilith, Belos doesn’t have raw power; In fact, he might be actively hindered by a ‘disability’ of sorts, such as lack of magic bile sac! But Belos loves magic, so instead of working harder like the talented, able-bodied, and privileged are able to… Belos works smarter. Craftier. He’s more clever than the rest because he NEEDS to be!

           And the Titan recognizes someone in Belos, who is willing to learn Glyphs; Because he doesn’t rely on bile, and he’s looking for a way to explore magic regardless because he LOVES it! So Belos is ‘chosen’ by the Titan, or at the very least he’s one of many who are offered knowledge… And unlike most, Belos accepts. And he’s elated, because… He’s a chosen one! Like Luz in Episode 2, this is validation for the way he’s always been different, been treated as an outcast… It’s justification from the world that Belos isn’t inadequate; He’s outright better than others!

           Unlike Luz, while Belos learns to appreciate his own self-worth, and perhaps those like him… He never grows to understand that while every body is unique and is individually great on their own, nobody is inherently better than the rest. But Belos ignores the truth, because he wants a message that reassures him that all of his suffering wasn’t for nothing, it wasn’t because he was a freak or anything… Like Boscha, he tells himself that if people have mistreated him in the past, it’s because they’re jealousof Belos, that he’s secretly better than them!

           And Belos is so desperate to prove his self-worth, to not just be as good as, but maybe even BETTER than others… That like Lilith, he also does some cruel things. He drains Magic Bile, because unlike Luz, he never learned to truly embrace his outsider status, and still partially insisted on doing things the ‘normal’ way, of conforming, because deep-down despite building himself up, Belos was NEVER truly at peace with who he was! When the Titan reveals that it’s offered many others this opportunity and continues to keep doing so…

           Belos panics, because does this mean he was never special? That just by sheer circumstance influencing his decision, he was ‘chosen’… But so was everybody else, that Belos’ decision to accept the Titan’s guidance wasn’t the result of him being more special than the rest?! He rejects what the Titan says, instead! Belos decides that the Titan is WRONG, and argues to it that clearly Magic should be restricted to those who truly love it, who truly have a passion for it… People like HIM, people who are trulyworthy!

           Perhaps with some force, the Titan is swayed… And emboldened, Belos sets out the Coven System! It artificially makes other witches weaker, while uplifting a certain group, his own Emperor’s Coven. And members of that Coven…?

           To Belos, they’re people like him; People who are better than the rest, who EARNED that superiority by having a love of magic that he had! People who had to work smarter while others got by on just talent, a reward and justification for those who were studious –such as Amity, who had to work hard while Emira and Edric relied on talent- but willing to suffer! A form of reparations for one’s loneliness and inability, self-loathing and inadequacy, in the form of an elite group that puts you above the rest, to tell you that it’s okay, you were ALWAYS better and everybody else was just inferior and jealous of you!

           Belos sees Lilith. I’ve speculated that he has issues with being emotionally dependent… That he advised her on cursing Eda because to him, he genuinely wanted to help keep the sisters together! But I also have to wonder if Belos saw himself in Lilith… A kid who was overlooked and alone, who DID work hard, harder than most but wasn’t recognized because she lacked talent! A witch who needed to be smart and clever and work around her issues… Someone who deservedmore than others, to be treated special because of her lonely situation!

           And maybe that’s one reason why he accepts Lilith into his Emperor’s Coven, amidst other potential motives with more pragmatic undertones. To Belos, Lilith is someone he can understand, a person so desperate to prove themselves that they’ll do ANYTHING, even hinder others –be it by a curse of coven bindings- to validate themselves! Belos never had the guidance of anyone else save maybe the Titan… So he sees Lilith and others, and recruits them into his Emperor’s Coven to let them know that they’re not alone, to give them the opportunity to learn as they’ve always wanted!

          It’s like a dark and twisted version of Viney’s apprehension towards ‘outsiders’ to her friend group as people who might hurt her, Jerbo, and Barcus… A corrupted reflection of Viney carefully offering Luz the chance to learn with them in the Secret Room of Shortcuts! It’s as if Viney became truly bitter over her situation and decided that only people like her or Luz, or Jerbo and Barcus, deserved access to this sort of privilege, that only those willing to put in the work to TRULY learn magic should be allowed in! That everybody else is a potential threat and an encroacher, the way Boscha sees Willow as a threat to her popularity! The way Boscha believes that if people hate and mistreat you, it’s because you’re secretly BETTER than them…!

          And with someone like a psyche like this, who creates a Coven System meant to reflect these ideals and twisted lessons in life? No wonder so many people, when you look back, potentially reflect parts of Belos’ own personality, motives, actions, and history…! If he’s a counterpart to Luz, a dark parallel despite their shared Light motifs… He’s someone who believes in others who are separate from the rest and mistreated, a group of ‘misfits’ with a love of magic who have plenty of worth as people…

          …But unlike Luz, he never learned to stop being arrogant. Belos never learned that nobody is better than others, that believing in this ideal only retroactively justifies the same type of mistreatment he and others like him suffered! That Belos doesn’t recognize EVERYONE as having individual worth, only ‘his people’…

          It’s part of why he’s so patient with Lilith at first, why he gives her the chance to duel Eda on her own instead of forcing Eda to immediately join with Luz as a hostage; It’s why he lets Lilith prove herself! Not just for the pragmatic reason of Belos seeing if Lilith is trustworthy and competent… But because he also knows how much it means to a person, to want to be better than someone who’s been naturally more talented and ‘privileged’ than them!

          And he’s patient with Lilith’s bias for Eda, because BELOS never had to deal with a parasitic companion who hindered and dragged them down… Made them feel obligated to support them, instead of pursuing one’s own inherent greatness! But at the same time he wants Lilith to sever her emotional ties with Eda, because look at Belos! He doesn’t need connections, people told him that they didn’t want him, so he obliged by this sentiment and went off on his own! It’s hard for Belos to understand others; So why bother understanding them, if they never understood him?

          In Episode 2, Eda said that if one wants a magical destiny, they’d have to make it for themselves. To Belos, that’s what his Emperor’s Coven is… The idea that those who work hard and display genuine passion for magic have EARNED their destiny as his chosen elite, and that it makes them better than the rest… Because unlike Luz, he never learned to respect the stories and lives of all others as equal!

          It’s all just a childish way for Belos to cope with his childhood trauma and insecurities, to extend an olive branch to people he sees like him… Because Belos is aghast at the idea that he wasn’t mistreated because he was better than everyone! And he’s not content with the idea that at least he’s not LESSER than others, because that’s not enough for him! That he’s justified draining the bile of others, because to Belos he needs it more, and he’s going to make more use of it anyway, right? Because unlike the rest, HE has a brilliant vision… Only HE truly loves and appreciates magic, and can make the best use of the gift given to him by the Titan! And that’s why only Belos and his select few deserve the gift of Magic to begin with, or at least deserve to fully explore and utilize it!

          He’s still got sympathy for those ‘lesser’ witches, of course- The Coven System ensures they still have a place, that these inferior beings are reliant on one another in a codependent sense, and thus always together! So that neither they are lonely, like he was! But otherwise, those people are never allowed to embrace the ‘loneliness’ to become their own powerful individuals, the way the Emperor’s Coven is allowed to by being allowed access to all forms of Magic, unrestricted!

          Belos is Luz, if she never TRULY learned her lessons, if she was just content with the idea of being ‘better’ than others to make up for her own feelings of being different. He might see Luz, recognize himself in her… But unlike Lilith, Luz has learned, and she knows EXACTLY how twisted Belos and his message has become, how he’s become the very thing he’s swore to destroy; And she’ll reject him.

          And Belos will be HURT, because doesn’t Luz realize those other companion of hers are dragging her down?! Making her insist on conforming to THEIR weak standards, when in reality she should be embracing how much better and more magical she is!? He might continue offering his mentorship to Luz, as Belos begins to think, like Lilith, that he knows what’s best for this girl…

          That like Luz, Belos also gave a sense of belonging to others, but in this sense it was a VERY isolated sense of belonging, separate from the rest! And not done out of necessity and justified fear, the way Viney and the Detention Kids did… But out of a sense of entitlement, like I suffered, where’s my just and due compensation for this?!

          He’s like Willow, in that they felt stifled and not properly appreciated for who they were, but unlike Willow, Belos felt no guilt over wanting retribution over those he saw as mistreating him, and holding him back… He has genuine rage in his heart and Belos never moved past that identity. Willow and Belos both felt wrath over people acting like they were so much better than them, but unlike Willow, Belos took his retaliation as the chance to prove that, no, HE’S the one who’s so much stronger and better than you all!

          Luz and Belos are both Light; And Light reflects. They’re a reflection of one another in the end, a look at what the other could’ve become, under different circumstances… That Luz and Belos are both mirrors for each other to look into, and self-reflect upon by seeing themselves staring back. Belos is Luz, but if she’d never grown; If she’d never learned to differentiate conformity from having a sense of belonging.

          That there’s more to individuality than just being alone and ‘special’, that being a part of something and being your own person aren’t mutually exclusive. Belos is someone who is contradicting himself and the ideas he allegedly preaches, because he never TRULY made peace with who he was as a person and his feelings of loneliness, weakness, and inadequacy. That by this point he’s FORCING the idea of needing to be better than others upon himself, that in the end, Belos is still imposing a certain standard onto himself that he must live up to, in order to be happy with himself…

          That if he’s not good enough, that if he’s not BETTER… then Belos was never worth it, to begin with. He was never truly special, and never deserved to be chosen.

[pyxisblue]

The Wolf’s Calm

“It’s a secret between the Crazy Wolf and I.”

|| A3!: Omi Fushimi // 2nd POV Yume (self-insert), Swearing/cursing, a bit of violence, mention of alcohol

You already knew about your boyfriend's drunk habit: his previous gangster personality comes out whenever he had too much to drink. And you couldn't say you're a fan.

That one particular night, drinking with his friends, had him reconsider about allowing himself too much alcohol. With it almost costing his friendship with his clubmates, it was something the two of you didn't really fancy.

Sure, it does bring out a very different side of him, which you loved to know about, but if it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, you included yourself in the list of people who wouldn't want that to happen again, him on the top of the list of course.

You thought he'd already learned his lesson after his friends didn't talk to him for a week due to that incident... well, he thought so too.

A call from one of his university friends was something you didn't expect in a late night. Drying your hair with a towel, you yawned before you answered the ringing phone.

"Ah. [Y/N]... can you help us out?" You can hear the repressed panic in the voice of the man over the phone. He was one of Omi's friends in the photography club.

"Uh. Sure. What's up?" A lot of possible reasons ran through your mind as to why he'd call you in an ungodly hour while he fumbled with words. But what he said next wasn't one of those you considered.

"It's Omi... I think... he had too much to drink."

The same friend led you to a small karaoke room where you found lots of empty bottles and cans all over. Plates of unfinished snacks covered most of the table. The mic lies silently on one of the long cushion seat while the t.v. displayed a repeating video of sceneries as colorful texts flashed over them saying "Insert Song".

In the middle of the other long seat, there's a familiar figure sitting motionless, had his head hanging in front of him as the tiny disco ball from the ceiling showers him with neon lights in the scarcely lit room.

A sigh escaped from your lips when you saw him alone, left by the friends who 'convinced' him to come along only to leave him to himself when they've met the consequences of their actions.

As much as you wanted to call them idiots for running with their tails between their legs after baiting out the wolf inside the actual sheep Omi could be, you couldn't entirely blame them.

No one could deal with Crazy Wolf Omi.

No one...

Except for you.

And that's exactly why one of them called you for rescue.

"Omi. It's time to go home," trying the amicable approach, you wished it'll be over just like that. But the way he scoffed after a glance at you when he lazily lifted his head... You instantly geared yourself for war.

"It's [Y/N], huh? You're here," he stated as if he knew a battle was coming. 

Well, he's damn right, you thought, because you're not about to be a prey... not tonight. You knew damn well that dealing with drunk Omi meant a lot of things. One of them is making sure you don't get overwhelmed by his rough attitude.

Another exasperated sigh came out of you before you sat beside him, hands clasped in front of you.

You saw a corner of his lips curved into a smirk when he realized you're not here to fool around, and somehow, this Omi was amused.

"Look. We don't have all night. Both you and I have stuff to do tomorrow. So, we better go home now," your voice came out in a business-like manner.

Whenever you talk to Omi, your tone is always endearing and full of love. What else would this caring man deserve? In order to fill the gaping hole of his insecurities, self-doubt, and guilt, you always made sure you’re able to relay how much you love him down to every part of his being.

But tonight, the man beside you is in his usual demeanor. So, you knew the situation required a different approach.

You weren't here to persuade him into coming with you. He caught the impression--the one you made sure was obvious-- that you're ready to drag him home if need be, but still you were willing to try and ask nicely.

That... that posed as a challenge for him, and this bold side of his was not about to back down easily.

"Oh, really?" In an instant, his handsome face was in front of yours, wearing a challenging smirk, after he guided your face closer to him with just his fingers on your jaw. "I think we have all the night."

You couldn't help but gulp. This view should already be something you're used to, but his fierce eyes boring into yours with tight brows over them made you feel... things. Not to mention, the scar on his jaw made his appeal more... heart-racing than you expected. The man in front of you was dangerously irresistible that you almost got lured into a kiss.

He's your boyfriend; there shouldn't be a problem with it, but the possible consequence this will bring had brought you to your senses. 

A punch in the gut made Omi double over, releasing you from his grip. 

"What the fuck?" He cursed with a deadly glare to your direction which you met with an unfazed one once you stood away from him.

"We will return to the dorms. Now." No more playing the nice guy, you thought. You turned to your heel to march away, hoping he'd get the message that you weren't asking nor suggesting this time.

But him catching your hand made you stop on your tracks. Just a look in his eyes, you already knew why he was once called “The Crazy Wolf”.

In those burning amber eyes, it was only you who was reflected.

You actually became worried you've provoked him further.

"There shouldn't be any problem, right? You're mine," he said in a low voice that sent a shiver down your spine just as his grip around your hand got tighter.

What he said is true, but there was something  bothering you that gave you courage to deny him.

As strong as he is, you've caught him off-guard when you shook your hand free. 

He thought he already intimidated you into submission like a sheep backed into a corner. But you're [Y/N]... you're no prey, even to the Crazy Wolf. Wasn't that what attracted him to you... your fiery wild heart that doesn't bow to anyone?

With a resolute voice, you told him, "You're right. I'm yours. But I don't want to do something with you that you're gonna regret afterwards because you thought you hurt me."

His eyes grew wide not only because of your words, but also because of the way there was pain in your eyes as they met his, foreseeing an expression you'll bear if you went with this, and he regrets everything once he's sober.

It pierced through him, and even with this intense personality... he still have the same heart that never wanted to see you with that pained expression.

You turned around once again to leave. You were ready to give him another jab in the gut after he took your hand again and pulled you to him... but you found yourself unable to fight back his embrace.

"Then, let me at least do this," his warm voice was still bearing a hint of his gangster persona as he held you like you're the most precious thing in the world. 

He grinned, amused and amazed about how you dealt with him with no fear.

The absence of his domineering attitude a minute ago made you blink in confusion twice.

Did he finally become sober?

"Thank you," his words were soft and gentle to your ear, making a warm pleasant feeling bloom in your chest.

You didn't know which side of Omi was speaking, but all you knew is that no matter how troublesome his drunken persona is... you knew it's still him, the man you fell hopelessly in love with.

The two of you stood there in the middle of the small space, disco lights glimmering with the silence of the bright karaoke machine. 

The setting was far from being romantic, yet you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming affection that made you hug him back. 

"Let's go home, Omi." This time, you said it like you were coaxing a child.

And in even in his drunken state he couldn't help but feel... 'Ah, I'm really no match for this woman.'

No other woman can beat you at what you do to him.

You weren't his prey. You were his calm... the breeze that chases away the madness of the wolf... the one strong presence in his life he'd never be willing to let go. 

When you thought he'd finally let go after you asked to go home, he didn't move an inch. Instead, you suddenly felt his heavy weight on you when he finally blacked out.

You struggled to support his large frame weighing over you as you reach for your phone to call Sakyo and the others for help.

Waiting for them to fetch you, you tried to bring your now asleep boyfriend back to the seat. It was no easy task, and you cursed yourself for not asking someone from the company to come with you.  You sat beside him and pulled his head gently to your shoulder.

His sleeping face looked so serene and gentle even under the multi-colored dancing lights. You giggled to yourself, finding it funny how it was a far cry from the expression he had a while ago.

A few minutes later, Sakyo and Banri arrived to witness the mess in the room whilst the two of you slept with your heads over the other. It was a sight that made the older man exasperatingly sigh and the younger one grin in amusement. Both were relieved they didn't come to a chaos, but the out-of-place image of two adults peacefully sleeping, leaning on each other, in a room where it's supposed to be booming with high energy was nothing they expected. 

----

You yawned without a care as you ambled to the kitchen. There, you find Banri with a smirk as he shrugged and said, "You two were really getting it on when we arrived."

"We what??" The knife Omi had been using to cut the carrots fell to the chopping board. His eyes wide at Banri, shocked about the troupe leader's remark. 

Usually, he can easily ride this kind of conversation as he knows of Banri’s way of messing with other people. But the absence of his last night’s memories made him consider what the younger man is saying might have truth in it.

Unfortunately, Kazunari was also present, "Ooh. I didn't know you had it in you, Omimi. But then again, you were drunk. You said your old personality emerges when you're drunk, right?"

"Yeah. But I wasn't." All heads whipped to your direction at your sudden interruption.

Your boyfriend became even more flustered with your statement. A color of red appearing on his cheeks, his eyes grew even wider.

"Unlike someone, I knew what was happening, and I remember everything," you ambiguously said just to get back at him for what you went through last night.

He stood frozen by the kitchen counter, seemingly not breathing. Probably trying to recall scenes of last night...only to no avail.

"Oof. Omi.exe stopped working!" Exclaimed excitedly by the Summer troupe member.

This... this is the very reason you did not want something to happen when he's drunk. He'd be too flustered to deal with the aftermath. 

"So... something really happened, huh?" Banri was a bit surprised under the impression that he hit the nail right in the head. Though, he’d usually be really amused if that were the case, somehow, not this time. Probably because he only saw the two of you in your peaceful snoring last night.

He was met with your shrug as you approached Omi to make sure he was still breathing.

The curious pair had their brows raised as they tried to decipher what you just meant, not sure how to take it in if the 'something' they thought really did happen.

"Shouldn't you two be at the university by now?"

"Oh, shit," the two younger ones jumped and dashed away once they realized what the time was. 

You were relieved you didn't have to use the director's name to have their butt moving. Meanwhile, dealing with the man beside you was another story.

"I-- I... I didn't hurt you, did I?" You felt guilty as you were met with a heavily concerned expression. It wasn't worth keeping score if he's gonna be burdened with guilt.

You gave him a smile as you held his cheek, the side where his scar is, "No, you didn't. I was just trying to turn the tables on them."

He blinked at you with a bit of hope, "So... nothing really happened?"

"Well... something happened... but not what they were expecting."

"...?" He pulled that adorable expression he does when he's clueless, making you giggle.

"Don't worry. It's nothing to be concerned about."

"Then, can you tell me what went on?"

And to that, you grinned, "It's a secret between the Crazy Wolf and I.”

You left him in the kitchen with a wink as he stared at you in confusion and curiosity until you disappear from the room entirely.

"Why do I feel like I missed something big?" He whispered to no one as he unwillingly let it go and decided to ask the carrots on the cutting board instead.

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

This was a self-indulgent one I had written when someone mentioned about a fun fact about Omi who has his gangster persona returned whenever he’s drunk.

I scoured A3! sources to confirm this and was able to read the backstage story about it. I wondered how he really was as Crazy Omi and if ever we’ll see it again when he’s drunk, so...

I have so much love for this man. He deserves all the love I can offer.

Hope you enjoyed~

[lastpic21]

READING YOUR DOG

Though dogs have no capacity to communicate with words, they do have a rich language of their own that uses sight, sound, and smell to eloquently express their intentions and emotional states. Your ability to understand this language and its particular social setting is the cornerstone of a good relationship with your dog. The apt expression “reading your dog” means really understanding what she is saying to you and not just what you think it might be. By taking into account the dynamic interaction of various forms of body language, you can avoid problems that occur in the human-dog relationship when owners misinterpret their dogs’ intentions and moods.

For example, one of the complaints we receive from puppy owners involves submissive urination, demonstrated by a puppy who runs up to her guardian and excitedly greets her by urinating on the floor. This behavior is common in puppies, a natural outgrowth from when their mothers cleaned them by rolling them over to lick their genitals and anus. As puppies mature, submissive urination becomes a reflexive sign of their acceptance of dominance and authority. If you observe a young pup greeting an older, more dominant dog in a similar manner (crouching low, wagging tail tucked underneath, excitedly licking at the elder’s muzzle as she leaves several drops of urine on the ground), you will never see the older dog punish the pup. The expression of submission is received gracefully, with an attitude of dominant composure by the older dog as she stands erect, holding her tail high. She understands the sign completely.

Unfortunately, many owners misunderstand its significance and treat it as either a behavioral disorder or a housebreaking problem. We recall a frustrated owner who asked us, “Is she just a masochistic puppy? Doesn’t she understand? Every time I come home she piddles at my feet. I spank her, tell her how naughty she is, that she’s to do this outside, but it only gets worse. Now all I have to do is enter the house and she pees. Why doesn’t she understand?”

The man did not realize what his pup’s behavior expressed. By misinterpreting submissive urination as neurotic, cowardly behavior, and by punishing her with scolding and spanking, he had set the stage for a serious, long-lasting behavior problem. Punishment was the worst possible response to her behavior; it deepened the issue by making her even more submissive, since her body language had already acknowledged his authority. The proper response to this problem is outlined in chapter seventeen.

Expecting your dog to rise to the level of human thought and communication will lead only to frustration. Instead, learn to read her by taking what you know about dogs and stepping into her world, trying to view life from her perspective. This may require a different way of thinking than you are accustomed to.

Try a simple exercise: Imagine looking out of the eyes of your ten-week-old puppy. Do not attempt to verbalize; simply imagine being the dog. Now look up at the big human being next to you (yourself). With the increasing abilities you have as a dog to interpret human body language, what do you “read��? How do you react? Look closely at the eyes, the face, the body. Is the stance imposing and towering, or inviting? Consider the voice—you do not understand the words, but what is the tone? Is it cheerful and pleasant, or harsh and abrupt? Does it sound whiny or anemic? Now look around the room from a dog’s perspective. Observe the pair of leather shoes by the door, the large potted plant, the various pieces of furniture, and the inviting electric cords plugged into the sockets at puppy eye level. With your olfactory powers of incredible sensitivity, what is of greatest interest?

The point of this “pup’s-eye view” exercise is to till the soil of your imagination responsibly, to help you sense, in some small way, what things are like from a pup’s perspective. A good companion and trainer can enter imaginatively into the dog’s reality, interpret it correctly, and then adjust various handling procedures to fit that knowledge. Captain Max von Stephanitz, the founding father of the German shepherd dog breed, was very perceptive in this regard:

The trainer must himself be a psychologist; he must learn to read the soul of the dog, and his own, too. He must observe himself closely so that he shall not only be prevented from underestimating the dog in human arrogance, but also that he may be able to give the dog suggestions and help in an intelligent way. Whoever can find the answer to the question “How shall I say this to my dog?” has won the game and can develop from his animal whatever he likes.

When you approach your dog in this way, the experience is surprisingly multidimensional. Not only does your dog become trained but you become skilled as well, and the ongoing knowledge you acquire from your dog’s behavior has the potential to teach you as much about yourself as it does about your dog. An often neglected aspect of the training process is how your dog becomes a mirror, reflecting you back to yourself, helping you achieve greater self-awareness by drawing out greater degrees of patience, sensitivity, and emotional self-control. This is the heart of training.

In How to Be Your Dog’s Best Friend, we spoke of inseeing and its importance in your relationship with your dog. Inseeing is getting inside your dog’s psyche, putting yourself at her center, where she is a unique, individual creature, and understanding her from that perspective. This is possible only when you genuinely want to know what your dog is saying. To get inside a dog’s head, to understand her from her point of view, you must continually watch, look, and listen, since a dog communicates through her body movements and vocalizations. Inseeing is not a romantic projection of human thoughts and feelings; it takes into account the whole dog by reading what the major centers of communication—ears, eyes, mouth, tail, and body carriage—are saying.

In this chapter, we will examine the significance of these centers of communication and the different meanings associated with various gestures. Your friendship with your dog will mature into real and compassionate understanding when you learn to blend intuition with science in a serious grasp of canine communication and behavior.

Canine Communication

Besides becoming a keen observer of domestic dogs, you can also acquire an authentic sensitivity to a dog’s language by paying careful attention to the lessons available from a natural tutor: the wolf and its pack. Scientific evidence strongly suggests that domestic dogs are closely related to wolves, either as direct descendants of several species or as cousins, possessing a common ancestry in some earlier, unknown canid that is now extinct. Either way, studies performed on communication and social behavior in wolves are enormously illuminating for what they teach us about dogs, since the meaning of various postures and vocalizations are generally consistent throughout the canine family. Despite the fact that artificial selection and domestication have emphasized certain characteristics while suppressing others (for example, by promoting pendulous ears or by the unfortunate practice of tail docking and ear cropping in some breeds), all of the behavior patterns we observe in dogs are also present in wolves. Thus, in the following discussion, we gratefully acknowledge the research in canine communication and behavior carried out by wildlife biologists, ethologists, and animal behaviorists, and we include references to wolves where relevant.

Communication, simply stated, is the passing of information from one individual to another. In canines, this involves hearing, vision, and smell. As we have seen, puppies are born with inherited reflexes that are the basis of instincts—natural behavior patterns that are the means of communication. In the initial phases of life, a young puppy is limited both physically and behaviorally in how she expresses herself. As the brain develops and the pup has the opportunity of interacting with her mother and littermates, however, she becomes more and more capable of expressing a variety of different moods and emotions. These abilities continue to develop long into adulthood.

Vocal Communication

A dog, like a wolf, generally vocalizes in one of several ways, each apparently tied to various body postures that communicate different meanings and moods: whimpering and whining, growling, barking, yelping, and howling, all in a wide variety of tones.

The first vocalizations that puppies make are mewing sounds that indicate need (e.g., for food or warmth). Pups also make high-pitched grunts and squeaks when they nurse. As they grow older, the mewing sound changes into a whine, which carries over into adulthood as an expression of greeting, submission, or desire. Whining is more characteristic of dogs than of wolves (which whine only when expressing submission), and this is probably due to unintentional reinforcement by owners. Young puppies learn quickly what whining will do when their owners continually reinforce this behavior to get them to stop. A classic illustration of this is the puppy who whines the first night she is separated from her littermates. The owner, feeling sorry for her, takes her into bed and lets her sleep there. The puppy learns a fateful lesson in communication, and her whining quickly becomes generalized to any situation of want.

A growl communicates threat and antagonism. It is a warning and may be accompanied with a snarl (i.e., baring of teeth). Young canine puppies growl when they play, thereby learning proper canine etiquette; as they mature, the growl is usually serious. With wolves, it is used by a more dominant wolf over a subordinate and is usually enough to elicit submission. Dogs can utilize the growl in the same way, and if it is directed toward an owner, it signifies the dog’s attempt to assume dominance. An example of this might be an owner getting too close to her pup when she is eating. The puppy may utter a low growl as if to say, “Stay away!” If the owner backs off, the pup easily begins applying this behavior to other situations that challenge the person’s position of authority.

Most domestic dogs bark much more frequently than wolves, probably as a result of selective breeding. Since an early goal of domestication was to have dogs guard and warn, it is clear why they were bred for their barking ability. Wolves, being hunters that do not wish to alert potential prey, bark only in specific situations, such as a warning to other pack members or to the pups that a stranger is approaching. The bark is a short, quiet woof and is generally not repeated.

Domestic dogs bark anytime they are excited. Barks are short and sharp, and the tonal quality reflects meaning. High barks are associated with greetings, such as your puppy’s excited welcome when you come home; when prolonged and frantic, these vocalizations will accompany pain and/or stress and are described as yelps. Warning barks are deeper and alert you that something is up, such as the preliminary bark of the watchdog. The aggressive bark is deeper still and communicates threat. It alternates with growling to send an unmistakable message.

Howling is more common in wolves than in dogs and is their major form of vocalization. It is a prolonged tone, lasting from two to eleven seconds, and may fluctuate over a wide range of notes. Each wolf’s howl is distinct, which seems to suggest that individual wolves can be identified by their vocalizations. Specialists feel that wolves howl for a number of reasons: to reassemble the pack after they have been scattered during a hunt, to advertise territory, or simply to perform a collective celebratory rite. Wolves howl both alone and in chorus, and when they howl together they avoid unison, apparently preferring chord tones.

Dogs howl much less frequently than wolves, though the sound is normal in northern breeds such as huskies and malamutes, as well as in hounds. In our kennel work, we notice that many huskies and malamutes howl shortly after their owners leave them, presumably as an expression of loneliness, and we have periodically experienced the howling of our shepherds, most frequently while we ourselves are singing. Evidently the harmonies they hear encourage them to join in with their own notes.

[tysonrunningfox]

Two Night Stand: Part 5

Sometimes random things you dig up are what you write

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Masterpost (ao3 to come)

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Astrid stares at the mess in the bathroom for a moment, the door clicking shut behind her echoing in the damp space.  She nudges a soaking towel into the corner by the tub and wrinkles her nose at the way it sogs her sock. 

The stolen plunger is still in the middle of the room and she picks it up with hesitant fingertips and sets it by the thankfully functioning toilet. 

It’s a testament to how far their conversation just devolved that she can’t even focus on the fact that she just dealt mass property damage in the pursuit of breaking, entering, and using a stranger’s toilet. 

She bends down to pull her damp sock off and catches her reflection in the mirror over the sink. 

Hiccup is gross.  Of course.  All guys would want nothing more than a striptease, that’s obvious, he didn’t need to tell her that.  In fact, he just said a bunch of really obvious things and acted like it was brand new information.  He forgot to remind her that it’s snowing though, so he left a base uncovered. 

Base.  Like a baseball sex metaphor type base. 

Maybe there’s a reason aside from lack of birth control and women’s rights that people used to have a dozen kids to work the farm.  How much is there really to do when you’re locked in with someone for a long time?  And like Hiccup said, they already got high and made a pillow fort. 

And critiqued each other sexual performance because apparently, they couldn’t even go twenty-four hours ignoring the fact that they did, in fact, have sex with each other. 

She teeters, because she’s been standing here on one leg like an urban dwelling flamingo native to dysentery creek, halfway through taking her sock off, and when she catches her reflection again, she hates that she thinks Hiccup might have a point.  It’s not really an attractive pose—not that she has to be sexy at all times, that’s stupid, and part of the women’s rights issue that means she will not be having twelve kids to work any farm—but it still makes her pause. 

She shuffles over to the sink, drumming her fingertips on the edge of the porcelain and staring at her reflection like it knows something she doesn’t.  Are you there mirror-Astrid?  It’s me, Astrid, you’re currently in the bathroom mirror of the guy I attempted to have a one-night stand with but then I got snowed in and it’s a whole thing, laws have been broken, I critiqued his sex-technique, mirror-wisdom would be appreciated. 

Mirror-Astrid would shrug, if she weren’t dependent on real world motion to bend light, and the twinkle in her eye says something like ‘well, it would look hotter if you unbuttoned that oversized flannel more slowly while maintaining eye contact.’

Mirror-Astrid is the slut.  Maybe she’s been the slut this whole time. 

Maybe she has a point. 

She bites her lip, reaching for the top button of her shirt and popping it open slowly, cocking her hip to one side. 

And again, they’ve already gotten high and made a pillow fort and broke and entered and committed plunger-themed larceny.  What else is there to do, really?  She was right this morning, she cannot un-sex him, but having sex with him twice, well…they’ve already done it once. 

And it’s cold outside, if the furnace goes out they might have to generate body heat. 

They should practice, maybe. 

Ok, if the furnace were going to go out, it probably would have happened already, but it’s a secondary argument.  If she needs it.  He is a guy, and he didn’t have any problem getting interested in having sex with her last night. 

She fusses with her hair, pressing her bangs down against her forehead and then shoving them to the side when they don’t stay down.  It’s fine, her hair doesn’t matter, this is not a seduction, it’s a scientific endeavor. 

That’s it.  It’s an experiment. 

“Hey Hiccup,” she walks normally into the living room.  Or she tries to walk normally.  Usually, when she walks normally, she’s not thinking about walking normally, but nothing is usual about this situation so she’s doing her best. 

“What did you do to my shower?”  He asks without looking up from his laptop and she perches on the back of the couch above his shoulder, trying and failing to soften her glare, even though she wants something from him. 

“Nothing.”  She sighs, “I was thinking.” 

“That’s always dangerous.” 

“You know what?  Never mind, it’s stupid.”  She stands back up, glad that his personality just saved her from sounding stupid, for once. 

“No, sorry,” he closes his laptop and looks up at her upside down, head on the back of the couch, hair flopping away from eyes that look greener considering what she’s about to say, “stupid’s my favorite.  What’s up?” 

“I was just thinking,” she pauses, waiting for him to interrupt again, but sadly, he appears to have learned his lesson, at least momentarily, “so the hypothesis of our conversation is that a frank conversation with a mutual interest towards self-improvement would make us better lovers.” 

“Oh, so you can pull it off?” 

“Yes.”  She crosses her arms and leans on the couch again, “or no, it’s—I don’t think anyone can really pull it off, it’s kind of an awful word, but—”

“Are you back for more?”  He raises an eyebrow, and the expression is an understanding of an inside joke, like all their jokes aren’t inside jokes, considering the weather. 

He doesn’t mean it and it makes her blush. 

“Yes.”  She stares him down, direct like she was chatting with him.  Asking the clear question. 

“Ok, hmm, you were largely a very adequate lover, but I’m sure there are some minutiae I could help you finesse for a future time with someone else—”

“I think we should have sex again.  For science.”  She tucks her hair behind her ear and feels it sticking out.  But this isn’t a seduction, it’s the intro to a lab class.  Today, the lesson is practical.  Hands on.  Real-world applicable.  “Keep the lines of communication open, put some of what we just talked about into practice.” 

“I know that supposedly, all I need is friction, but I’m not sure I could take your well-intentioned critiques while trying to perform.”  He rolls his eyes, not taking her seriously, and she lets her hands drift back to the buttons on her shirt, letting her eyes bore into his as she pops the next one loose. 

His eyes flick down.  He licks his lips.  The way he’s looking at her is almost worth how silly she feels and she makes a note in her mental, sexual lab notebook.  It’s crisp and new, the blank paper feeling a little sexual under her mental pencil.  It’s new too, fresh out of the package. 

0.05mm lead.  Fine tip.  A precision instrument. 

Ok, too far.  Too far.  But there’s something sexual about new paper and she’s just leaning into it right now. 

“I’m just saying, before we trot out our miracle cure for sexual incompatibility, we should probably do some clinical trials.  It’s only responsible.”  She’s never seduced anyone before, especially not a one-night stand she ordered on the internet on the eve of a once in a century blizzard, but it feels good to speak medically again, even if it’s not a good metaphor. 

Clinical trials take months.  Years. 

“I mean, we haven’t even nailed down stock options yet.”  He’s nervous, and it’s infuriatingly obvious in his big green eyes, and it’s also infuriating, because he’s supposed to be a cocky dick that she literally ordered on the internet. 

“A dry run can’t hurt anything, it’s just compiling more data,” she pops another button open and he bites his lip, setting his laptop aside. 

“Well, not a dry run.  Hopefully.”  He smirks, half-honest, and she doesn’t want to know that he puts a smiley face on his oatmeal or that he’s worried about what she thinks of his leg, but she does, and she’s trying to make the best of it. 

“In a normal sexual situation, there should be some lead up, but considering everything, it’s ok for you to just kiss me.”  Her stomach twists at the creak in the floorboards when he stands up slowly, faking confidence behind the cracks she’s ignoring, because they make him an outlier she shouldn’t consider sampling. 

And he’s silent.  Bigger without words jostling his shoulders as his hand finds her waist, fingers bunching in her oversized shirt.  And he looks at her, gaze a steady confirmation before he kisses her, knee nudging between hers as he guides her backwards. 

“That’s good,” she pulls back enough to nod and he grins, too real again.  “The knee thing.” 

“Yeah?”  He follows as she takes a couple more steps back towards the bedroom, “I thought it was suggestive—”

“Please don’t explain every move to me.”  She kisses him, hands fisting in his collar. 

“They’re very nuanced though, I want to make sure you understand.”  His hand slides under her shirt, too warm against the small of her back.  And his knee nudges between her legs again and she trips on the edge of the rug, stumbling back into the doorframe.  “Shit, are you ok?” 

“I’m fine,” she rolls her shoulder.  Shake it off, Hofferson.  “Walking backwards while kissing is fine in movies, not so great in real life.” 

“Noted.”  He follows her into the bedroom, where unfortunately the bed is unmade. 

“Remember when I wanted to see your apartment?”  She asks, half-expecting to need to explain, because nothing outside of the last day feels real, especially with the buzzing under her skin when she thinks about what’s about to happen. 

“I had to put all my Bundy fan-club awards down the garbage disposal, of course I remember.”  He jokes, his voice deeper, breathing husky on the shell of her ear, and she shivers.  “I’m devastated.” 

“Well, a girl likes a clean place.  Makes you feel taken care of, I guess.”  She grabs the clean fitted sheet from the basket in the corner and starts putting it on the mattress.  “Also, women want to have sex with functional adults, a made bed is an easy first step.” 

“That hasn’t been my experience.”  He laughs and she rolls her eyes, tugging the sheet tight and tossing him the next layer. 

“You’ve had a different demographic thus far.” 

“No, I mean making a bed is like wrestling an eight-foot long, six-foot wide rectangular bear,” he throws the duvet over the flat sheet as she shoves the second pillow into its case, “might need a nap to rebuild strength and energy before the sex.” 

“Lay down then,” she shoves his shoulder a little too hard, refusing to feel guilty when he falls back on the bed, propping himself on his elbows. 

“Lights are on,” she refuses to let her voice shake, tilting her chin at the bulb above the bed as she pops open the next button of her shirt.  He watches, eyes flicking between her face and chest as another button comes undone. 

“You’re a quick study,” he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor before going for his belt. 

“You too,” she compliments, unbuttoning her pants and pushing them down with an unnecessary sway in her hips, trying not to smile when he licks his lips, pupils wide. 

She faces away from him, shrugging the shirt slowly off her shoulders, letting it fall against her heels.  She unhooks her bra and bends forward, letting it fall off of her arms as she tugs her underwear down, bending at the waist and trying not to feel stupid or cold or slow as she steps out of them. 

She looks over her shoulder at him, standing up at that glacial pace and turning to face him like an iceberg drifting past Greenland. 

He’s breathing hard, skinny chest heaving above the boxer briefs that are thankfully the only thing he’s still wearing.  His leg is on the floor and she’s not sure whether she’s supposed to look or not, so she keeps her focus on his face. 

“Is that…” she cocks her hip, then regrets it, unsure where to put her hands.  It’s cold.  He’s staring.  She wants to turn the lights off or to make a joke or to get under a blanket because it’s actually cold in here.  He should keep his place warmer, probably, and she should tell him, but she just got naked the slowest she ever has and she needs his opinion on it, because nothing makes sense.  “Is that more what you thinking of?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, too fast, and she almost tells him off for being cute when they’re trying to be scientific, “that was—yeah.  Good.  You really took my point and um…yeah.” 

“Honestly I just…moved slower—”

“Men are so stupid,” he sits up, waving his arms at her in something halfway summoning, “come here.  Now.  Please.  That’s not an order, I just—you, wow—”

“So, lights on, strip slowly is a real thing?”  She half jokes on her way to the bed, trying to frame how his eyes feel on her skin in terms of scientific understanding.  The mutual pursuit of knowledge.  Earnest commitment to research. 

“Men are dumb.”  He catches her waist with a long, warm arm and pulls her down into the bed, hovering over her as his lips latch onto her pulse-point, callused hand sweeping across her ribs. 

“Apparently.”  She moans when his thumb glances across her nipple and he leans up slightly to look at her face.  “What?” 

“Trying to discern real from faking it,” he teases, self-conscious, and her stomach twists at the still hand on her side that she so badly wants to be moving. 

“It’s going to be easier to get me off if you’re trying to,” she nods at him, “instead of reacting to imagined criticism.” 

“Oof,” he winces, scooting his hips away from her an inch, “that’s—while true, that’s also generally applicable to my failures as a person, which isn’t sexy to think about—”

“You’re not into being accidently insulted by people who just stripped for you?”  She jokes, reaching up instinctually to rub the back of his neck, his shoulders.  His ass, surprisingly taut under his boxers.  And the lights are on and goosebumps prickle up her stomach. 

“Accidentally?”  He’s a little too soft, a little too meek, and she tugs him back down to her by his hair. 

“Yes.”  She kisses him, and she was honest earlier.  He’s a good kisser, just how he’d be a good conversationalist if it weren’t being forced upon her as the only option.  It’s give and take, it’s soft lips and the hard edge of teeth.  It’s determination behind the acquiescence in his moan as his hand finds her breast and squeezes.  “That’s good.” 

“Yeah?”  He kisses down her neck, taking his time like he hadn’t the night before, his fingers curling around her waist and pulling her against him, his thigh between hers.  She hooks her leg around his hip and he groans into her neck, “that’s—”

“Not good?”  She starts to move her leg but he catches her thigh above her knee, pressing it closer to his side. 

“Very good.”  He kisses her collarbone, her nipple, breathing hard against her sternum.  “It’s like you want me closer,” he shudders when she drags her fingernails up his back, “good move.  All good moves.” 

“You too, this is good.”  She reaches between them, fumbling under the waistband of his boxer briefs, “I don’t mind the stubble.”  She groans when he drags his chin against her neck, kissing under her jaw.  She grabs his length and he stiffens, forehead on her collarbone as his expected groan comes out as a whine.  “What?” 

“You’re very direct,” he catches her wrist with a firmness that makes her core twitch.  “It’s—I like it, don’t get me wrong here, I’m a stupid, friction-obsessed man and that feels—you’re naked—and you—”

“It’s distracting,” she lets go, pulling her hand out of his boxers and letting it rest on her lower stomach, flirting with the juncture between her legs. 

“Yes,” he kisses her, “and that’s not a bad thing, I’m just trying to focus.” 

“On?”  She flirts.  She doesn’t have to, but she does.  And he presses his leg against her core and his breath is hot against her neck and maybe talking is what sex has needed this entire time. 

Talking and a quick-witted tongue on her chest, and long, callused fingers dipping between her legs.  Soft, auburn hair tickling her neck as she arches under the contact. 

“Don’t…don’t say anything about a dry run right now, I…will kill you.”  She grips his shoulders, heel dragging down his short calf and back onto the bed as he almost gets it right, the sizzling contact just off epicenter. 

“Wouldn’t make sense, anyway.”  He kisses her neck, her cheek, his smirk like a brand against her skin as he swipes just past where he should. 

“Just—up, ok?  And to the right?”  She doesn’t want to sound irritated, but it’s irritating to have things feel so good and almost great.  He adjusts, over-adjusts really, and she reaches down to grab his hand and direct him, her fingers over his.  “There, it’s just—like…”

“This?”  He mimics her motion and she squints her eyes shut, her knees clenching on his hips as she nods.  “Am I—I mean is this getting you to…where you need?”  He’s awkward, and earnest, and arousal flares in her chest like an errant spark. 

“I mean it takes a minute.”  She gets out, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder.  He smells like breaking and entering and a stupid high day in a pillow fort and she tries to focus on his fingers and how they’re trying to build style into the method she prescribed him. 

They aren’t marching, they’re dancing, adding his own flair to steps she’d thought were set in stone.  

And the lights are on, and he’s watching her like a gauge.  Like something independent, instead of as a reflection of himself.  And he kisses her lips and her cheek and a finger dips into her, long and agile but impatient too. 

“Can I, I mean, I was under the impression that you were going to be critiquing—unless—”

“No critiques necessary,” she eeks out, biting her lip and pressing back against his touch.  She feels spectated, but knowing why helps.  He wants to see her.  He wants to study her falling apart, like it’s a phenomenon, and the thought makes her toes curl as his pupils widen and he kisses her neck, her chest, looking up for her reaction between. 

He slows down. 

“Don’t go easy on me, it’s obviously not working—”

“It just takes a bit,” she snaps, grabbing his wrist and pressing his hand closer, “it’s slower, it takes a minute, it was…you were on the right track.” 

“How long is the track?”  He kisses her jaw and her neck, his hips nudging against hers.  He groans when she wraps her leg back around his hips and she feels her own chest, letting the feeling bloom in her stomach. 

“As long as it is.”  She tries to be grumpy.  It half works.  He twitches when she grabs his length again, his groan shuddering against her neck as his hand falters. 

Two long fingers dip inside of her then and she gasps, grabbing his upper arm. 

“Is that—”

“Don’t stop.”  She tries not to squirm, tries not to mess up the angle he has, what feels like the whole length of his fingers stroking against what she has to believe is her G-spot, more obvious than it ever has been, like banter is foreplay.  Like his very presence is foreplay.  Like this was inevitable.  Like he is inevitable.  “You found…”

He rubs it. 

She regrets ever arguing with an engineer, double entendre implied. 

“Is that?” 

“Don’t stop,” she clenches his arm, probably too tight, but there’s no time to think about that because he’s kissing her, stubble and lip and tongue and hand doing that again and again and again. 

“Might have to, if you keep that grip.”  He kisses her cheek and she arches into it, because his hand is unraveling her like she’s grandma’s first sweater attempt and he’s warm and earnest. 

She reaches down to touch herself and he gasps like it’s been ripped out of him.  She bites her lip, leaning into the warmth, which yanks the cord to get his hand moving again, and then it’s here and they’re kissing and she feels her throat going hoarse before she knows he’s kissing her.  And he doesn’t stop kissing, or petting, or holding. 

And this is the worst idea she’s ever had. 

“You didn’t want me to explain my moves,” he kisses her cheek.  Her ear.  His other hand cradles her neck so sweetly, tilting it as he kisses and where was this last night.  Where was this when she needed him. 

“Explain them.” She’d say he was wrong if she needs to.  She’d say anything.  His fingers are thrusting and she’s rubbing and she can’t breathe and every time she bucks up, his hips press back down against hers like a promise. 

“Well, I’m um…” He pauses.  She kisses his chin because it’s what she can reach.  His rhythm falters and she bites her lip.  “Well, I uh…think I found your G-spot.” 

She nods. 

He gets so red that she could light a fire on his face and she digs her heel into the back of his thigh. 

“Is that a yes?” 

She nods. She hits his shoulder with her free hand, doubling down as he strokes. 

“We are communicating,” he kisses her, “I need a yes—”

“Yes,” she yelps, “more.  Yes.  Don’t stop.  Asshole.”  She squeaks out, and he’s kissing her.  Everywhere. And his hand in her is moving, his thumb joining hers on her clit and when she opens her eyes, there’s something in his gaze. 

He’s committed.  He’s tuned in. 

“You’ve told me, emphatically I might add,” he presses her clit for a second, suddenly at home in the mastery he’d only hoped for a second ago, “to not tell you about my moves.”

“You had moves you didn’t tell me about?”  She struggles to sound indignant when he’s touching her like this.  When he’s devoted like this.  When he’s redeeming himself, sure with this kind of frantic, earnest energy. 

It hits all at once. 

She clings to his shoulders, crying out a bit too loud, glad for the empty apartment as his fingers stroke deep.  And human.  And he’s close and real and she’s trying not to remember that this is nothing, a fling, a one-night stand, an addendum to a one-time thing.

And he’s hard.  And that was great.  And she wants him. 

She wants something.  That’s easier. 

She wants parts of him.  Now. 

“Was that..?”  He kisses her forehead, his arms wrapping around her. 

And he holds her, that’s a point in his favor.  He held her last night and he holds her again and she wants to compliment him and for once, there’s no gateway. 

“Nothing fake,” she says as a truth and a comfort and his hand finds her core again, perfectly lazy, hesitantly in something close to awe.  “Condom.  Now.” 

“But my redemption—”

“On track,” she rolls to the side, digging in the bedside table for the reel of condoms she found earlier. 

“But you—”

“I did,” she cups his face, pulling him close with an arm around his waist, “do you ever stop talking?” 

“Not in living memory.”  He touches that spot within her again and she shivers, ankles crossed behind his back.  “Can I have some room to move?”  He kisses the hollow of her throat, and his voice is relieved and she reaches to stroke him with a pleasure-lazy vengeance.  “Astrid, I—”  

“Hiccup,” she settles on his name, because she doesn’t know how else to communicate, even if it ends in him staring at her, through her, into her. 

“For science,” he lines himself up and she bites her lip. 

“It’s just good practice at this point.” 

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 139: Lars of the Stars

“Bingo Bongo.”

On Saturday, January 22, 2011, a character from the webcomic Homestuck was suddenly killed. On Sunday, the scene continued, and in a string of wordless panels, another beloved character prepared to take revenge for this murder. On Monday, this character was also killed, and the murderer escaped. (I didn’t remember those dates on the top of my head, Homestuck has a very well-maintained archive, but I do at least remember that it was my first weekend back at William and Mary after my junior year’s winter break.)

To this day, that one-two punch remains my go-to example of a nameless phenomenon in serialized storytelling that fascinates me to no end: when reading Homestuck in real time, these deaths are two discrete events that happened days apart, but when reading it literally any time the after full string of updates concluded, both deaths are one big event. The gap between published segments of a serial have a tremendous effect on how the audience takes in a story, but once the story is complete, that effect can’t be felt again by new audiences.

Lars of the Stars aired just over seven months after Lars’s Head, and as someone who watched Steven Universe live since the pilot first dropped, it felt like the momentous return of the Off Colors. An ultra-early preview of the episode piled on the hype for the fanbase (I personally avoided discussion of it, not wanting to spoil myself), and the Breakup Arc made the divide seem even greater. But if you’re watching all the episodes in a row, the gap between Lars’s last appearance and this one is just 66 minutes; for context, that’s shorter than the time between Spinel landing on Earth and leaving it with the Diamonds.

I see Lars of the Stars as a very different episode today than I did when it debuted, and that’s fully because of the release schedule. Because while it remains a fresh, fun new direction after dwelling on the Breakup Arc for a few months and waiting on Lars to come back for even longer, watching it without the hiatus makes it clear that this isn’t just the start of a new chapter. It’s also an epilogue.

The fourteen episodes between Doug Out and Kevin Party pile on so much tension that we need a follow-up that feels like a break, which Lars of the Stars is happy to provide. But that doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate how far our characters have come during that chunk of episodes, and that’s exactly what happens here. Part 1 of the big stretch ends with Steven leaving everyone behind as he goes to space, and now we get an episode about him returning to space but including Connie in the way he should have from the start. Part 2 of the big stretch ends with the Off Colors trapped on Homeworld with little hope in sight, and now we get an episode about their freewheeling lives among the stars. And Part 3 of the big stretch ends with Steven and Connie establishing a new understanding of their relationship, and now we get an episode where they share what they’ve learned with the class.

In our last episode, Connie showed an ability to socialize without Steven. While this makes him worry that she might only be at Kevin’s titular party to have a good time rather than reconnect, the furthest he goes in terms of dark thoughts is that she doesn’t wanna hang out with him anymore. Meanwhile, Lars takes Sadie’s similar ability so socialize without him as a personal insult: his instinct is to assume she’s hanging out with the Cool Kids as an act of revenge, because it turns out people don’t just flip personalities after major life events, and despite some tremendous changes Lars still has work to do. (This is something that happens more and more as the show goes on, it’s almost as if the perpetual need to work on yourself is a major theme of the latter-day series or something.)

Stevonnie’s ability to help Lars out works in any episode, because Stevonnie embodies close relationships and Lars could use some tips on that front. But the fact that their defense of Sadie in this situation is what causes Steven and Connie to fuse in the first place gains new power when this it comes right after watching Kevin Party, because feeling uncertain about a friend/love interest’s new friends is something they just experienced both sides of. And as one last reflection of the kids as individuals, Steven reacts to Lars’s concerns with a thoughtful monologue about his feelings, but only after Connie chews him out for being such a dingus.

It’s lousy to be possessive and self-absorbed, but for all my criticism of Lars in the past, it’s not as if he’s the only teenager to be possessive or self-absorbed in the world (or space). That doesn’t make the behavior great, but it’s more a sign of adolescent insecurity than any deeper failing at this stage of his life; if he doesn’t grow out of it then that’s a whole other story, but his negative impulses are outweighed by his ability to take criticism of those impulses and reexamine his outlook. And as part of a show that teaches big lessons to kids, I love that his poor reaction to Sadie’s happiness is presented not as some angsty relationship hurdle, but as comically pathetic. Matthew Moy has a blast playing a version of the character who’s finally confident, but he hasn’t forgotten how to tap into Lars’s whiny grouch.

Thankfully that confidence defines the rest of the episode (which itself lends power to the stark return to his old personality). I don’t just say “thankfully” because I’m glad he’s got some self-esteem, but because like I just said, Matthew Moy has a blast. This is the goofiest episode we’ve had since The New Crystal Gems, and while I’m sure it’s even better for anime fans out there (Space Pirate Captain Harlock being the clearest influence) it still works for scrubs like me without that reference pool. Which is critical, as I doubt many members of the youth audience are all caught up on their late seventies anime.

Excellent pacing helps the fun hit for maximum impact, pivoting us from Kevin Party to space with a brisk opening scene and reintroducing characters not through exposition (which takes time) but on-screen text (which is faster and also magnificently cheesy; Lamar Abrams practiced this in Restaurant Wars). We use space jargon and references to old adventures to throw us in the middle of Lars’s journey in a quick and believable way, all the while building up the camaraderie between the Off Colors. His miniature breakdown would normally be a third act affair, allowing for its resolution to conclude the story, but instead it’s smack in the middle of the episode and we get a bunch more fun after it: it’s an important part of the story that informs Lars’s final gambit, but it’s not the main set piece.

(And, of course, the music remains as on point as ever: Aivi and Surasshu give the Sun Incinerator a punchy theme that complements those introductions perfectly, and revisit the motif heard in the Love Like You reprise, Holly Blue Agate’s scenes, and the drone attacks from Off Colors during this new foray into space. I don’t think it’s even possible for these two to disappoint.)

Confident Lars is marvel to behold, because it’s the real deal. His insecurities are still there, but rather than patching them up with a superiority complex (which so often is the case when insecure folks go too hard in building themselves up) he doesn’t feel the need to put on a front anymore. He’s cocky, but he loves his crew for who they are and is never as mean to them as he was to Steven, even as a joke. His exaggerated anime poses aren’t just dopey and delightful for the sake of being dopey and delightful, but show a newfound ability to have fun without being crippled by self-consciousness. And his zany schemes, shouted about by Emerald at first but then seen in action, actually work! He comes into his own as a space pirate, and as neat as it is to see him become a baker when he returns to Earth, Lars of the Stars makes a strong case for a life in space.

Speaking of Emerald, while I’m sure a lot of folks who hyped themselves up on Lars of the Stars were disappointed that this is all we see of her (especially because emeralds are big-name gemstones in the real world), I think her single appearance makes the episode even more of a hoot. This is not Steven’s story, so we get very little frame of reference for what the Off Colors have been up to: it feels like a crossover episode with a nonexistent spinoff. Having a small glimpse into the greater journey was a great call, because this is just one of many tales from the Sun Incinerator’s sterling crew, and it keeps up the thread of Steven being out of the loop on Lars and Sadie’s lives.

It also lets Jinkx Monsoon ham it up even harder than Moy without getting bogged down by character complexity. This is a ridiculous space adventure, and that tone is heightened by a baddie who doesn’t chew so much as gorge herself on the scenery. I mean, this is still Steven Universe, so even someone as over the top as Emerald gets a tiny arc: Lars seems to be the instigator of their rivalry, and while we side with the Off Colors because they’re the underdogs escaping persecution, Emerald has legitimate reasons to see herself as the wronged party. And Lars’s realization that she would never fire on her own ship doesn’t just work as a conclusion to his story, showing that he learned a lesson from his bitterness towards Sadie, but for Emerald’s, showing that while she wants her revenge she more just wants her stuff back. But this is still an opponent who we only see screaming from a screen, and that’s exactly what this episode needs.

The Off Color Gems stick to the characterization that defined them in their debut, but they’ve all let their guard down in a way that suggests both familiarity with Lars and relief from the unending pressure of a lifetime of hiding on Homeworld. We get a few good jokes from their roles on the ship, but their competence is never undermined. It’s funny that Padparadscha is a technical advisor, considering she only offers insight on events that already happened, but she ends up being able to foresee Emerald’s intent as well, which certainly has its uses. It’s funny that Fluorite is the chief engineer, considering her meandering nature doesn’t mesh with the tight time windows of keeping a speedy starship afloat, but despite her slowness she manages to keep pace. It’s funny that Rhodonite is head of strategic operations, considering her usual strategy is to panic at the most minor setback, but her constant worry about what could go wrong helps balance out Lars’s recklessness. While while the Rutile Twins’ natures aren’t at odds with their role as pilot, they’ve grown out of their quirk more than anyone else on the team: the sisters have branched out from their repetitive dialogue, with each head now expressing separate thoughts on a regular basis. They don’t just summarize each other anymore. They aren’t redundant anymore either.

Steven and Connie are largely around to observe and comment, even after fusing into Stevonnie, until they take over for the final action sequence. And that’s just fine, because it turns out AJ Michalka nails supporting role as well as nails lead: Stevonnie’s blithe “Whuzzat” is the perfect punchline to the Off Colors’ fear of the melodramatic "that,” but nothing tops the sincere adulation of “Wow Lars I missed you.” And because they don’t steal Lars’s spotlight in his big moment, it’s that much more exciting when they take the Star Skipper out for a drive, ending the episode with a brilliant action scene and a cliffhanger that promises further adventure, like any good space serial should. Steven Universe has the occasional incomplete first half of a two-parter, one that works fine in context but not as well on its own. Lars of the Stars does not have this problem, working so well as a genre piece that the lack of a conclusion is the only viable conclusion.

Finally, Lars of the Stars doesn’t just celebrate the end of Act III’s fourteen-episode sweep: this is the last episode from Jesse Zuke, who came out swinging with Chille Tid and maintained an unbelievable batting average over the course of their twenty episodes. There’s only one episode Zuke had a hand in that I’m not huge on, Know Your Fusion, and even that is funny as hell if you’re into that style of meta humor. Alongside Hilary Florido, Zuke gave us two of the show’s greatest instances of characters just hanging out in Beta and Last Stop Out of Beach CIty, and the pair laid and reinforced the foundation for Peridot’s post-villain characterization in Catch and Release, Too Far, Log Date 7 15 2, Barn Mates, Too Short to Ride,  the aforementioned Beta, Gem Harvest, and Room for Ruby. But on top of being a master of comedy, Zuke could also do horror (Chille Tid and Are You My Dad) and drama (Beach City Drift, Steven vs. Amethyst, Gemcation), and had a good enough understanding of Steven and Lars to earn solo boarding credit on Stuck Together. I would’ve loved to see what else Zuke might’ve brought to Steven Universe, but that makes their unbelievable consistency that much more of a gift while it lasted. Bingo Bongo, Jesse.

Future Vision!

This is the first time we hear Sadie Killer and the Suspects by name, and it thankfully won’t be the last.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

It speaks to the range of Steven Universe that teen drama Kevin Party can stand alongside Lars of the Stars in my list of favorites. Granted, my top five also speaks to this range, but it’s nuts that the last two episodes are back-to-back and it not only works but benefits from this viewing order despite their wildly different tones.

Top Twenty-Five

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Lars of the Stars

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Back to the Kindergarten

Steven’s Dream

Kevin Party

When It Rains

The Good Lars

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Chille Tid

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Catch and Release

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

That Will Be All

The New Crystal Gems

Storm in the Room

Room for Ruby

Lion 4: Alternate Ending

Doug Out

Are You My Dad?

I Am My Mom

Stuck Together

The Trial

Off Colors

Lars’s Head

Gemcation

Raising the Barn

Sadie Killer

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist

The Zoo

Rocknaldo

Dewey Wins

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

Tiger Philanthropist

No Thanks!

     6. Horror Club      5. Fusion Cuisine      4. House Guest      3. Onion Gang      2. Sadie’s Song      1. Island Adventure

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Give them what they want ch. 4

"Rajah can be base!" Fahran crowed as he grabbed the pet tiger's tale.

It was the final day of vacation before heading back to Auradon Prep, and Jordan was spending it to play tag with Aladdin and Jasmine's youngest children, 7 year old Asha and 5 year old Fahran. Not that there was much to do with the eldest, Zahrat Alquamar and her husband going cradle shopping while Aziz, Cassima, and Jay practicing R.O.A.R. moves.

But it was nice, after all the kids were adorable and all the work of keeping them out of trouble kept her mind off things for awhile.

She felt that everything was so hopeless whereas her love life was concerned, and she couldn't think of what to do. She searched any information she could on the Internet. But sites devoted to specific genie love problems were nonexistent. Which was only proving her idea that maybe she would never find love. She was never meant to.

So she tried to go on with her life and take breaks to reflect on her self worth by listening to her soundtrack of heartbreak an despair.

She had thought of asking her parents about it, but quickly discarded the idea. Genie and Eden, helpful advice. Never went well. Parenting was not their strong suit at all. They had gotten a bit restless with all the changing diapers and catering to needs and paying attention. There was a whole new world to explore, parties to start and having fun with their newfound freedom. So they turned over their parenting duties to Aladdin and Jasmine from 3 years old on. While she still visited them and spent vacations, the majority of the time, she called Jasmine and Aladdin her parents.

She had been bitter about it. But she understood that it was better she had been raised by Jasmine and Aladdin. They were dependable, they cared about her grades at school, and social life, and were the best people to call in a stressed situation. No where near as flighty, oblivious, or forgetful as her biological ones.

Okay, maybe she was still a little bitter about the abandonment.

She had asked advice from them before, specifically on how to deal with her love life and her friends using her. All she got was that in a few years, give it a couple of centuries or so, she'll find someone. Play along with it. If you really wanna forget your troubles, have some wine.

They never really felt the pain of being used. All they had were masters, they expected to give wishes, if they happened t find love, bonus. It never really bothered them because they had lived for years in a world where people didn't value them for their personalities.

Auradon was SUPPOSE to care for people for their individuality and inner beauty. If only, she could find someone that had that same idea when dating her.

"How about the fountain as base?" Jordan suggested as she gently pried Fahran's hand from his death grip on the tail. "The fountain doesn't feel pain if you jump on it too hard." As if agreeing with Jordan's statement, Rajah yanked his tail away, swatting Fahran on the cheek as he did so.

"Jordan just the person I wanted to see." Jasmine called as she and Aladdin walked out to the courtyard.

"Uh yes?" Jordan moved away to the garden path Jasmine was walking on while Aladdin went off to play with the kids.

Jasmine leaned closer to her, "Aziz told me about Pierce." When Jordan didn't answer, she continued talking with a low, calm voice, "He told me the same day you told him. I was hoping you would come to me on your own during this vacation, but since tomorrow you're leaving again, I wanted to bring it up."

Jordan felt her stomach sink. She had so much wanted to ignore the event that had happened.

"When Aziz told you about Pierce, did he tell you, how I told him that I would deal with it? That I was over it." Jordan said

"I know you don't like talking about it..." Jasmine said softly, "But I wasn't going to suggest that. I just wanted to know if you wanted me to do something with the administration. Maybe take a few days off. I know it hurts since you were telling me how.. How great he was when you were dating."

Jordan couldn't help but think of lyrics from her soundtrack of heartbreak and despair. "I loved him but only on my own."

"It's okay mom. I've been dating other people." Jordan tried to plaster a smile on her face but Jasmine's thoughtful, knowing look made her drop it.

"Which hasn't ended well. Jay told me about the limo turned python. He was impressed."

Dina had been furious with Jordan replacing the limo with a python, but hadn't reported her use of magic. Although it was against the ban for Jordan to use her magic, it had been against the Anti-Magic Ban for Dina to wish for it in the first place. So tough for her.

"Am I getting punished for that?" Jordan sighed

"No, I can imagine why you decided to do that if she had wished for that limo in the first place. Right now, I want to talk about Pierce." Jasmine answered.

"I can't do anything about that. People date me for their reasons to date me." Jordan replied.

"When it comes to me, their kisses come free but they never give all the heart."

"You can do something about Pierce." Jasmine said. "He should not be allowed at that school. Taking advantage of your magic like that. Allah, forbid that he wants seconds. You don't have to say anything, I will do the talking."

"No, Mom" Jordan grabbed her shoulder, stopping Jasmine mid-rant. "I would have done it myself. But seriously, I don't care what happened to me. It doesn't matter. It's only going to happen again."

"Not if I report him." Jasmine answered stonily, "I'm more than willing to press charges."

"Maybe there's somewhere a lesson to learn. But that wouldn't change the fact, that wouldn't speed the time. Once the foundation's cracked, and I'm still hurting."

"Not just him. From anyone. If one person can wish that, another person can. They already did." Jordan whispered, remembering the first time that event had happened. "Relationships, strangers. It's happened centuries before, and I'll have to deal with it in the future. After all, I'm a genie. People expect me to give them pleasure..."

Jasmine took a hard look at Jordan, maving her stare directly into her eyes. "I do NOT want to hear that explanation ever again. That is asinine and I will not have it. Just because you are a genie, that is no reason to allow them to abuse you or take advantage of you or rape you. You are a person as anyone else. The idea that you are "meant" to do it means nothing. You do not have a master,you are no one's genie, and you never will. "

"The world has no right to my heart, the world has no place in my bed"

Jordan wanted to cry into Jasmine's chest like she used to do when she was younger and had nightmares about those situations. "I still can't do anything though. I..you see. Pierce's third wish was that no one could get revenge on him for this. Not by physical means or through reputation. Even if you put a report, it wouldn't go through or maybe backfire. Belive me, I tried to throw a case at him and it only hit me."

Jasmine's face transformed from righteous fury to pained understanding. It only made Jordan feel worse to see it. Jasmine, her adoptive mother cared so much for her well-being. And here, she had gotten raped and she was helpless to get justice or find closure in some way.

"Mom.." Jordan ventured to tell what had been haunting her thoughts lately, "All people want from me are wishes."

"I don't. None of your family does." Jasmine inturrupted.

"But what about everyone else do. They dump me if I don't. And so far no one has dated me for any other reason, and it's been like this for years. I was wondering if anyone ever would. No one, no one cares for me otherwise.."

"They see me for what I am. Which is a horrible, stupid, dumb and ugly, fat, and stupid, simple, self-hating bitch."

"There are people who care more than about wishes." Jasmine insisted. Jordan thought of Calix, but he didn't see her in that way. Her family didn't see her that way for obvious reasons. Her parents would never but...they had left her. Her stomachs felt hollow as she had a sudden gripping fear that her relationship with the rest of her adoptive family might change. Her parents obviously thought she was a handful and gave her to someone else.

"When you once unafraid wore your heart on your sleeve, and the ones that you loved, chose to just turn and leave."

Jordan straightened her back and took a deep breath, "You're right, Mom." She said quickly, "Thank you for the talk. I better pack up before going." She gave a brief hug and speed walked to the palace. The next day, she avoided any further conversation than the goodbyes and was soon off to Auradon.

Her thoughts swirled around desperately, as she imagined what she would be left without her adoptive family. The inevitable day that they died and she was still living or worse, they see her as everyone else does and reject her.

She wanted assurance but didn't want to broach the subject with anyone. What if she brought it up, and with some thinking they do realize her bad points if they hadn't already.

"Only when you're left alone does it get sad."

At first it seemed irrational but the more she thought, the more it made sense. Clearly something was wrong with her. Why else would everyone leave her? She had to be good. She had to be perfect and nice and do everything they wanted. Say anything they wanted to hear. Be anything they wanted. Anything to keep them from leaving her. She had to give them everything they could want from her.

"Cause everybody, they love a winner. So nobody love me. Lady peaceful, Lady happy. That's what I long to be. All the odds are, they're in my favor, Something's bound to begin. It's gonna happen, happen sometime. Maybe this time, maybe this time I'll win!"

Author's Note: And it slowly comes back to the title.

So yet another chapter in this story has been completed. Whew. Things are still going down from here. Don't know when I'll update but the movie is coming! Woo!

Anyway some miscellaneous notes.

Zahrat Alquamar means Moonflower in Arabic. I thought it would be nice, since Yasmin would be so unoriginal.

Cassim was the name of Aladdin's dad so that is where Cassima comes from.

Eden was Genie's girlfriend in the Aladdin series. Until proof is shown, I firmly believe that Eden is his wife and Jordan's mom.

So soundtrack of heartbreak and despair songs,

"I loved him, but only on my own" ~On my own (Les Miserables)

"When it comes to me, their kisses come free but they never give all the heart" ~Never give all the heart (Smash)

"Maybe there's somewhere a lesson to learn, but that wouldn't change the fact. That wouldn't speed the time. Once the foundation's cracked and I'm still hurting." ~Still hurting (The Last Five Years)

"The world has no right to my heart, the world has no place in my bed" ~Burn (Hamilton)

"They see me for what I am. Which is a horrible, stupid, dumb and ugly, fat and stupid, simple, self hating bitch." ~You, Stupid Bitch (Crazy Ex Girlfriend)

"When you once unafraid wore your heart on your sleeve, and the ones that you love chose to just turn and leave." ~Safer (First Date)

"Only when you're left alone does it get sad." ~Dying ain't so bad (Bonnie and Clyde)

"Cause everybody, they love a winner. So nobody love me. Lady peaceful, Lady happy. That's what I long to be. All the odds are, they're in my favor, Something's bound to begin. It's gonna happen, happen sometime. Maybe this time, maybe this time I'll win!" ~Maybe this time (Cabernet)

All grammatical and spelling mistakes are mine. Sometimes Autocorrect, depending how ridiculous it is.

[dishonoredrpg]

Congratulations, REY! You’ve been accepted for the role of THE HERMIT with the faceclaim of LUCY BOYNTON. History loves a revolutionary, and there’s no doubt in my mind that this sentiment will extend to Marceline. I could feel her desperation to be part of something bigger than herself -- maybe even larger than her father’s ambitions -- they practically leapt right off the page. I felt for her in her loss, ached for her in her need for revenge, empathized with the pain and appreciated her determination to change things for the better. The Hermit has the potential to be small-scale, but you’ve taken her far beyond that, and I cannot wait to see what Marceline does on the dashboard! 

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

OOC

NAME: Rey PRONOUNS: She/Her AGE: 25+ TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: PST. Because I am currently working from home, I would say on a scale of 1 to 10, I am a 7. I try to log on at least once a day. ANYTHING ELSE?: Just how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood!

IN CHARACTER

SKELETON: The Hermit NAME: Marceline Ash Pelagius FACECLAIM: 1. Lucy Boyton 2. Lindsey Morgan AGE: 22

DETAILS: I’ve chosen the Hermit because she reminds me so much of the French republican youths that got involved after the French Revolution (as most famously depicted in Les Misérables) and I’d love to dig into the historical parallels. Like Enjorlas, Marceline is born into wealth, but she sheds herself of this reputation and becomes a bleeding heart for the revolution.  (Also like Enjorlas, she’s a “charming young (wo)man who is also capable of being terrible.”)

Revolutions rarely begin with noble aims, even if the outcome might not suggest so. For Marceline, revolution begins with vengeance. Her attempts to get closer to the Fool and the guards of the city in order to avenge her father’s death opens her eyes to the social and political inequalities of the kingdom. What was once simply about revenge is now about so much more. She’s a woman who knows she wants to kill a king, but her reasons for deciding to do so only keep growing with time. Before long, she begins to assume her father’s radical political beliefs: tear down the monarchy and replace it with a republic. I find myself drawn to dedicated characters with unyielding drives - especially ones whose moral compass seems so set but will in actuality change at the shift of a tide in order justify their end goals.

Marceline is very much  a person to be reckoned with. Her fight becomes a fight against her own grief, her unknown magic and the monolith of monarchy. Each of these seem to be an immovable object, but she is the unstoppable force that beats against them. The Hermit tarot card can signify someone who is taking too much time for self reflection or too little. In the case of Marceline, she is someone who thinks she knows herself well enough to simply act; she is so set on her path that true self-reflection is something she doesn’t spend enough time on.

BACKGROUND:

You know this is not a rebellion, you know it’s a revolution.

You are born of a noble house, the only child, last of your name. Your mother is revered in court as the Keeper of Coins. She has a mind for finances and business, though you inherit the steel of her spine and the cut of her jib more than anything else. If you trace her lineage far back enough you’ll see that before nobility came piracy and maybe that’s why she’s always been so good with gold. She’s a smart woman with a sharp eye that upholds her family’s reputation by being someone that can sniff out a poor deal or a tampered book with ease. She’s never really sailed the seas, but you can see that she misses it. And thus, so do you. Most of your lullabies are sea shanties and you take your first steps along the banks of Tyr’s Tear. You cannot remember a time when you didn’t know how to swim. Your mother, for some hidden reason, knows how to fight and she is the one to teach you how to use a sword. ‘A cutlass’ she clarifies the first time you call it something else. ‘There’s language used correctly and then there’s language used beautifully.’

Meanwhile, your father is hopelessly bound to the land. More specifically, he is hopelessly bound to his books. He is an academic that is fortunate enough to be born into nobility. His father lived a long life as a trusted advisor to Octavius Valmont. A former educator at the Bard’s College, the birth of you brings about a new chapter to your father's life causing him to leave the college and spend most of his days in Tyrholm writing, reading, and discussing matters of political science. How he wooed your mother you’ll never know, but because of them you’ll never doubt what love is. If you had to guess though, your father enchanted your mother because no one used language more beautifully than him.

Your father has a secret though. When you are four years old, you learn that you’ve inherited it. The two of you are Inferi magi.

The fastest way to someone’s heart is through conspiracy and you and your father are bound by this secret you share. He’s spent his whole life hiding this, and he teaches you to do the same. You hate being anything other than outspoken, anything other than untruthful about what you think and who you are, and the only anchor is you know how much he hates it too. The two of you hold tight to something the world hates and work to make it a gift more than a curse. This is what connects you to your father. Inferi magic is destructive, but your father shows you that sometimes that is the way of life. He tells you about the pine-trees that depend on heat to crack open their seeds. He talks about entire forests that are born from the ash of forest fires. Sometimes, in order to make something stronger, you must burn it down; sometimes, in order to make something last forever, you must destroy it. You know the story of the wolves and the snakes, he’s told you it over and over again to lull you to sleep, but he tells you it again now. Political structures -  you are five so you say ‘what’ and he replaces the phrase ‘political structures’ with the words ‘Kingdoms, like Tyrholm’ and you say ‘oh, okay’ - Kingdoms, like Tyrholm, get better, continue surviving, by being torn down and rebuilt. Just like the wolves and the snakes.

‘Let me teach you little one, how revolutions begin.’ He tells you instead of bedtime stories.

Your father believes in revolution, in a way that is before his time. He wants to dismantle the monarchy and in its stead assemble a republic government. His political ideology stands stark amongst the beliefs of this world and you are young enough to be enraptured by the optimism of it. Your mother, far better at playing society’s game than your father is, tells him not to speak so loudly about such things when you are not in your home.

And it is a nice home. For all of your father’s gripes against King, it seems the current system has given you and your family everything you need. You have all the flourishes that come with wealth: a respectable reputation, a lavish upbringing, a thorough education. You’re a lady and the dresses and the etiquette and the social gatherings don’t let you forget it. In many ways you are like your father, you debate and you discuss and think deeply on things with little regard to how that reflects on your station in life. Your mother is the opposite. She teaches you how to lie and survive within the status quo.

You are ten when your father begins writing pamphlets - ‘purely educational,’ he defends - about what a republic is. At least once a month he meets with a handful of like-minded people who are interested in discussing such things and their conversations often go late into the night. They sit tucked away and hidden in the back of a low-lit tavern - and you know these things because you are wily enough to try and follow him one night. Your father catches you and drags you back to the manor by the scruff of your neck like some stray kitten. Your mother is furious - at the both of you.

You are sent to bed without any supper and your father sleeps in the library that evening.

So goes your life. You become your mother’s apprentice as the Keeper of Coins and she makes it worth your while by teaching you to spar in the evenings. Your footwork improves more quickly than your mathematics, but you’re not too bad at either. Your life as a lady blooms. More lessons, more competitions. You find love, a first love, so you don’t understand that there can be different kinds, and even sour kinds. All you’ve ever witnessed is the warmth between your parents, even in their bickering, and so the most naive parts of you believe this to be true of all love.

This routine is almost enough to make you forget about the plights of the kingdom and that you live in a gilded cage.

Your father gets bolder in his commitment to a radical political movement. You’re 15 when you start staying up late to help him proofread the pamphlet he writes. The two of you start taking camping trips to the Volkun Forest, so that you may discuss such things freely amongst the trees. Out here, if the wrong word slips out or if a little bit of magic pushes through your fingertips, there is no one to pass judgment. Out here is freedom.

You take these trips and your father returns, only to lock himself in his study for the next three days. Sometimes you’ll press your ear to the door when the house is quiet and hear nothing more than the quick and furious scratching of a quill across parchment. Not too long after there will be fresh sheets of radical ideas floating through the city.

When you are 17, the fabric of your world is ripped apart at the seams. Your father’s ideas are labeled as treason and the King’s Guard ambushes you in the middle of the Volkun forest. They run your father through with a broadsword more times than necessary to kill him and he is left in a bloody, bloody heap. You manage to survive by playing dead. It’s a decision you replay over and over and over again. The anger over it lingers for years. You should have leaped to your feet and fought, and instead - you chose a coward’s route.

You dig a grave for your father using only your hands and still, somehow, you manage the return home.

The rage in your mother’s eyes when you tell her complements your deep sorrow. She dries your tears and you dry hers, but both of you agree that no one else will see you cry. Your magic burns in you that night, so hot and unknown that you throw yourself into the river to temper the flames that lick your blood. Your lack of training has never been more apparent than now. At such times you’d ask your father what was happening to you and even if he told you that he didn’t know, the shared loneliness made it bearable. He is not here now, and you must weather this alone.

Your mother doesn’t speak for 13 days. At first you think she will never speak again, you have heard of those that die of heartbreak, but you soon realize that she is scheming.

“I know what we will do.” She says on the thirteenth day and you nearly drop the sword you are polishing.

A plan forms. Together, the two of you plot. How do you kill the men that struck down your father? How do you kill a king? It’s decided that you will join the guard. You abandon your engagement. Like that, you abandon your life. Your reputation is ruined and your mother barely scrapes by.

You move out of the familial manor, out of safety for your mother. She’ll still write you letters and you will still visit to sleep in your childhood bedroom, but the two of you agree to keep these instances to once in a blue moon. You move to Lowtown. You know that one of the men you want six-feet under is the Captain of the Guard.

When you first ask to enlist, they think you are pranking them, trying to pull the wool over their eyes because some noble has dared you. When you don’t leave though, that’s when they grow from disbelief to skepticism. ‘Why?’ You are asked. ‘Because I dream of a better world.’ Of course you’re met with laughter. You, however, refuse to lie. You stay steadfast in your plot. You wait for their amusement to die down before challenging the man nearest to you to a spar - if he wins you’ll leave and never bother them again.

That evening, you bring your cutlass and you win your way into the Guard.

After all is said and done you hear a stray spectating guard say to another, ‘She fights like a pirate.’

No one can stop you once you are a woman decided. You spend the next few years putting your head down and doing the work. You become the youngest lieutenant the Guard has ever seen. You are not intimidated by this, you swallow it easily with the knowledge that you are here with a higher calling. The truth has a tendency to make things harsh and unwelcoming, and yet it is the very thing that makes the men here listen to you. They look at you and see someone unwavering in their honesty, merciless with their virtue. It earns you a level of respect that most lieutenants spend their whole lives scrounging for. The world may not be fair, but you intend to make it so. That is seen and that is respected. They listen to you, but more importantly, they trust you. You make it clear that you’ll take an arrow for any of them, parry whatever blow comes their way. When a man is struck down in the field, you’re one of the first to volunteer to tell their family. They start letting you do this by default, your stoic demeanor and steady nature prove to be the exact temperament needed to weather a storm of their family’s sadness. Every time you do this - every time you confront a freshly widowed bride, a newly motherless son - you promise to take care of them. You won’t let their death be in vain, you say. You find yourself caring for all these families as much as you care for your mother. In this way your family grows, and it no longer feels like you are last of your name.

All of this goes without mention of the elephant in the room. Your job puts you in painful proximity to the Fool, one of the men that killed your father. However, these days it seems you’re on the same team in more ways than one. Together you lead the Guard, together you declare you’ll fight in the same revolution. You seek forgiveness within yourself, but your heart finds it hard to go back on a judgment once it has passed. You know that striking him down would be a poor move on your part tactically, that it would scatter the men, that it would lead to a different kind of revolt. You don’t want to tear your new household in two just. So you take his name to that list of names you intend to make your way through and shift it to the bottom. That night you begin a new list, one of additional grievances to call upon that specifically the Fool is responsible for and you decide that you will savor and remember these grievances when the day of his death finally comes.

You’re intense, you ache for revenge, you age for revolution. Those that would think less of you for the latter are nowhere nearby; they’re far off in some ivory tower. Those that surround you are bolstered by it. Each breath is spent on the growing rebellion, each action is dedicated to felling an empire and an unjust king. You are a flame that keeps your friends warm, you are a fire that chases your foes into action.

Living amongst the Guard has taken you out of luxury, out of a life of nobility, and placed you in the thick of a growing revolt. Each citizen of Lowtown comes with their own history, of a life earned through hard work and skill, and you realize that a monarchy is bullshit. Power to the people, you think.

It’s difficult to remember the girl who existed before your father died. But try and you remember. You’ve still got your family crest, it reminds you of the sea. A mutt wanders onto your path one patrol of the Volkun forest and you swear it looks part wolf. You take him in. Two weeks from now he’ll chase after a snake on your hunting trail and even you will say “Oh come on” at the heavy handed metaphor life has thrown your way. In these ways, the world continues to remind you of who you are.

And then, only on quiet lonely nights do you let your mind wander, galloping through the memories back to the day your father was butchered before you. You clawed your way back to the city, clawed your way back to your mother. You’ve defied death once and so hell nor heaven scares you anymore. Buried deep within all your noble intentions is an undeniable truth: you have your revolution, you have your decided aims for a republic, but you would put it all on the line, just to get back at the men who killed your father. You pray to the wolves and snakes you will become a better person.

You are not a revolter, you tell yourself, you are a revolutionary.  

PLOT IDEAS:

Marceline doesn’t believe in kings. As the revolution grows, there are plenty that want to replace this king with a new one. Who will take Septimus’ place? The Emperor, the Chariot, the World? None. Marceline thinks that’s just trading out one cage for another. As mentioned: down with the monarchy, up with a republic! Marceline believes in the ideals of a republic, the same ideals her father believed in, and she wants to work to stoke that fire in the same way he did. It might be a moment before she returns to distributing pamphlets or standing on soapboxes, but natural rights and equality for all citizens of Tyrholm is something that she is determined to fight for. She will try to convince every revolter she comes by of her radical ideas and even when they turn her away, she’ll find a way to stay. She’s always been a woman bad at understanding the word no. I’d like her to try and convince as many people as she can and I think this has the potential to be an interesting plot. Not everyone is going to agree with her and I’m sure it’ll cook up a new batch of allies and enemies. Her father wrote and distributed pamphlets against the king and in favor of a whole new political structure, and Marceline would like to get this radical political movement going again through these handouts. However, Marceline is not the same wordsmith her father was. She’ll do it, if she has to, but I would love for her to find that person to help her write a new round of Enlightenment principles with. In general though, Marceline will be at the forefront for a push for a republic. It’s an ideology that she’s willing to die for. In the long run maybe this even causes a schism in the revolution between those that want another king and those who want something else entirely. TEMPERANCE: Marceline breaks off the engagement, returns the ring that is given to her, leaves without a word. Marceline knows she loves the revolution more, but still her love for Temperance lingers. From where she’s standing, it seems as if her former fiancee has had no trouble moving on and so Marceline is doing her best to drown herself in work and other people. If she could pick one person to convert in favor of her ideal vision for the future, it would be her. But the more Marceline stays with the Guard, the more she sees that Temperance is blind to her own privilege. She wishes Temperance could see things her way. If Marceline ever had to pick between the revolution or Temperance, she would do her best to try and save both. Marceline has left the life of nobility behind, but I would love to see the life of nobility try and drag her back in through her undeniable love for this for this woman. THE FOOL: Until a new republic is built, Marceline still has to live in this monarchy, and there is plenty to do here. There’s her own vendetta, for Marceline will do anything that’s necessary to track down and kill the men that killed her father. Fool kills Dad. Hermit kills Fool. That easy, right? Wrong! Things are already messy as is because both she and the Fool are revolters and thus technically on the same side in more ways than one. Because of this, Marceline needs to find cleverer ways to retaliate against him. Their relationship is a complex one as she is always quick to undermine him, but still sees him as her co-partner in leading the Guard. For a girl who believes in keeping a judgement once it is passed, I want to push the boundaries of her decided vendetta. As she lies in wait, I imagine Marceline trying to be close to anyone that the Fool knows. I’d also love her feelings for him to grow and for her to have to wake up every morning and have to conscientiously decide that she wants to kill this man. I want the Fool to make her change as a person so that by the end of this she’s either consumed by hate for this man or consumed by love - no in between.   THE MOON: The Moon is possibly the only friend Marceline has outside of the Guard.  Every time Marceline ventures Volkun forest, she brings back something new for her botanist friend. There’s a comfort she feels with this one - one she hasn’t felt since her father was around. Something tells her it’s magic, but Marceline knows the dangers of asking about such things. Still, she will do everything to maintain a friendship with the Moon, as she is one of the few people around whom she is utterly at peace. I see them growing close because of the revolution, and I can see them growing even closer if they ever choose to tell each other about their magic. Ever since the death of her father, Marceline has completely turned away from the magical side of herself, but that does not mean the magical side of her does not exist. I see her magic being a grab bag of abilities that she has absolutely no control over. (And per admin discussion, I have some ideas on this.) She feels utterly lost, but Marceline does everything she can to avoid letting anyone know about this side of her. (She always tells the truth, except in this instance.) There’s probably less than a handful of people that know and while I would like this number to slowly grow, I imagine the Moon would be the first. Ultimately, I would like Marceline to come to terms with her magic and see how it influences her thoughts on the war and the revolution. Eventually she’s going to come to understand that her magic might be able to help her take down the king. She might even like to try and travel to Hypatos sometime to seek out mentors. Maybe this is somewhere she and the Moon journey together. Marceline is willing to train up anyone who wants to learn how to fight, be they part of the Guard or not. If you’re part of the revolution, or even if you take no particular side, she thinks you have a right to be able to defend yourself. Just expect to eventually get an earful about some radical political ideologies. Marceline hates pirates and bandits. She cannot stand either of them, especially when they terrorize her Guard. She wants to make a statement to show that the Guard won’t turn a blind eye to being messed with. She’s willing to offer both groups a shot at joining them against the king, but if they refuse, she won’t hesitate to go against them for the men they’ve harmed. In the meantime, any pirates or bandits should steer clear of her as she won’t go easy on them. Marceline sees every single guard as a member of her family and when a guard dies she makes a commitment to look out for that guard’s family. I don’t want this to be easy for her. I’d love to try and throw her up against her own moral compass while trying to stay true to a promise she’s made.

CHARACTER DEATH: Totally cool with you killing my character. My character’s dog however, needs to live forever.

WRITING SAMPLE

There are those that shared his beliefs that come knocking at their door to share their condolences. Marceline and her mother had vowed not to show their tears to the public so Marceline’s mother greets the guests with solemn eyes and a quiet nod of thanks. Marceline doesn’t even make it out of her room. Her father’s death is still too fresh, too heavy on her heart and it’s difficult to be confronted with the fact that someone the world keeps turning.

Marceline is coming up on three days without sleep. Her throat is sore, her eyes are raw, and they are both nothing compared to the dead thing in her chest. She tries to sleep, but etched onto the underside of her eyelids are the faces of four men that she will never forget. She knows grief is nonlinear, but she wishes it would leave for a while and return later when she feels a little stronger. Finally, utterly exhausted, her body gives up on her and she falls into a restless sleep.

There’s a full tangerine moon in the sky and Marceline wakes up in delirious pain. She finds herself on the floor, covers still tangled around her legs. She’s rolled off her own bed. She is still herself though - and that’s what matters. She can see through the haze of pain her hands, her fingernails, the bits of dirt underneath them.

What is this pain? It’s her magic, she thinks, or maybe it’s her grief. She’s buried this part of herself so often, that she forgets about it until it makes itself known. It pulses in her blood with such unpleasantness that she cries out for her father before remembering he is too far to hear her.

She doesn’t want to do any of this without him.

The pain licks up and down her spine. She can feel this Inferi magic coursing through her blood, taking her immense sadness and twisting it. This is in no ways normal, but each time she’s had to face it she’s always had her father.

Marceline kicks with trembling legs at the covers still wrapped like mummy bandages around her body. She crawls to the chair at her desk and grips at the chair leg with her sweaty hand. The wood begins to glow red - at least she thinks it does -  and she knows she is going to set it on fire if she doesn’t move it. She grabs higher, pulls herself up, grabs the curved back of the chair until her feet are flat against the wood floor.

Marceline takes a shaky step, then another, and then she stumbles with the inertia of pain out the door of her bedroom. She nearly collapses as soon as she reaches the bannister of the stair. Her torso hits the wood and the impact blows another wave of fire all through her, knees crippling - she catches herself before she hits the ground but the world spins around her.

She is going to die. She is going to die. She is going to die.

And whatever it is inside her is going to kill and destroy everything in this house. How did she ever think she was going to survive in this word three days without her father?

She must though, she must.

Another wave of pain throws her to the floor. She curls into herself; her sadness magnifies and triples tenfold. Like a wave it washes over her, and then recedes. Here, she will die here -

And then Marceline gets up.

Only this time, it is her magic rising from inside her. It surges through her, hardening the muscles in her legs. She slaps a bloody hand on the counter and straightens up. She breathes hard: in and out, in and out, in and out. As her eyes close, she hears - she swears - the steady beating of wings, as it reminds her swelling heart to keep beating.

She crunches her way out of the hallway, down the stairs, and then out into the garden where the moon hangs low. It is watching her, she feels it. Its light pours over her bloody form with every step she takes. At first she steps slowly, she eases her toes into the cool grass. But then faster, steps more steady, and then even faster, until she is running away from her family’s manor, towards the river, as though she could flee from her sadness.

But she is fleeing towards the moon.

Her magic gives her strength and gives her pain. It roars in her chest now, harmonizing with her grief. She hates it, she hates it so much, hates how it makes her hide, hates how it’s always been a mirror of her emotions.

She remembers her father and how he could look at a burning thing and see the growth that will come after. She’s never going to see him again and there are precisely four men to blame. She can’t stop her tears as she splashes to the banks of the river and falls to her knees inside the reflection of the full moon, which dances on the surface of the water. Her hands press into the sand. She fists the rocks and shells. She is probably going to die. And she should fight it still, but her magic is the only part of her father that is still left.

She doesn’t want him to be gone, and it’s the last thought she has before it feels like she goes up in flames.

Marceline falls forward into the river.

The next morning, she wakes to the sound of the water, as it kisses at her toes and her ankles. Slowly, Marceline blinks her eyes open to the sunlight appearing over the river. The pain is over. Her body felt peaceful and brand new. Three days of mourning and now - rebirth. She feels like she’s just shed her own exoskeleton. She’s done it all on her own too.

A raven picks at the hem of her blouse and forces her to sit up to shoo it away. Tyrholm is still here. She is still here. She breathes in like she needs to remember what it is like to have her lungs expand. Both her magic and her grief, she thinks, are strange, strange things.

EXTRA

A few extra headcanons: While growing up Marcline’s mother would temporarily stay in Noble quarters at Castle Tyrholm. Marceline and her father lived in the Pelagius manor in Hightown. After her husband’s death, Marceline’s mother moved out of the Noble quarters and returned to the manor. Her mother is still Keeper of Coin for the king. Marceline lives in Lowtown but makes sure to visit her mother in Hightown at least once a month. She writes letters often. One does not simply become the youngest lieutenant of the Guard without being a skilled swordsman. Thanks to her noble upbringing, she’s had access to top tier mentors and tutors. What Marceline lacks in size and sheer strength, she makes up in swiftness and cunning. In fact, Marceline’s noble upbringing has left her with a handful of random skills that she is never sure she will use again. She’ll spend most of her evenings these days in the Barracks playing cards or drinking with the Guard. They are her pack. Marceline is slowly starting to pick up where her father left off with his pamphlets. Marceline has a mutt that is probably part wolf... no one really knows. But his name is Little Wolf. He’s her hunting dog (and possibly her best friend.) He follows her around plenty while she is on patrol. He loves members of the Guard and hates the aristocracy.

A few stray musings: Look, I’m not saying she wants to inspire the French Revolution of this world. But... yes okay that’s exactly what she wants. Big Enjorlas from ‘Les Mis’ vibes. Mixed in with some Hamilton. There’s a touch of Isabella from Shakespeare’s ‘Measure for Measure’ thrown in there as well. “So men say that I’m intense or I’m insane.” Most likely to yell “Wake Up Sheeple!!” in the middle of a crowded ball. Bisexual AF.  

[lordsalehi]

a reflection of berlin avery salehi / memories: 

a  memory  of  when  they  felt  HAPPINESS

her  eyes  drifted  up  from  the  neck  of  the  guitar ,  neels’  fingers  desperately  trying  to  find  the  right  chords  of  his  favorite  song .  they’d  stopped  the  official  lessons  a  while  back ,  but  they  continued  to  hang  out ,  berlin  letting  him  pick  up  her  guitar  and  try  to  play  fleetwood  mac  for  the  umpteenth  time .  there  was  something  about  the  way  his  brow  scrunched  or  the  way  his  tongue  darted  out  to  wet  his  lips  when  he  was  deep  in  concentration  that  made  her  smile .  she  didn’t  get  to  hang  out  with  people ,  not  usually ,  she  was  either  helping  her  mom  or  teaching ,  but  the  time  she  spent  now  with  neels  didn’t  feel  like  another  weight  on  her  shoulders .  the  clashing  of  the  wrong  strings  being  strummed  broke  her  from  her  daydream ,  laughing  while  reaching  out  for  the  guitar .  “ you  know  i  can  just  play  songs  for  you  right ? ”  she  asks  while  taking  the  guitar’s  place  in  his  lap .  her  hands  run  through  his  hair , tilting  his  head  back  so  he  could  look  up  at  her .  berlin’s  voice  dropped  to  a  whisper ,  leaning  down  so  her  lips  brushed  his  as  she  continued  to  drag  his  playing ,  “ or  must  you  insist  on  wrecking  my  ear  drums  every  time  you  come  over ? ”

a  memory  of  when  they  felt  GRIEF

her  mom  sat  her  down  on  the  couch ,  her  smile  nervous ,  her  eyes  watery .  the  first  thing  she  asked  her  was  ‘ what’s  wrong ? ‘  nervously  waiting  for  a  response  from  her  mom .  nearly  a  month  ago  she  had  given  berlin  what  she  thought  could  be  the  worst  news  of  her  life ,  but  her  mother’s  demeanor  now  almost  suggested  otherwise .  her  mom’s  hands  reached  out  for  her  own  giving  them  a  squeeze  before  brushing  hair  away  from  berlin’s  face .  her  next  words  were  calculated ,  trying  to  think  of  the  best  way  to  break  the  news  to  a  ten  year  old .  “ so  i  got  a  letter  from  your  father  today , ”  her  mom  starts  slowly ,  not  waiting  for  her  daughter  to  ask  questions  before  she  continues ,  “ um ... he  said  things  were  too  complicated  for  him .  but  that  he  loves  you  very  much ,  and  that  he  hopes  one  day  you  can  forgive  him . ”  berlin’s  face  had  wrinkled  with  confusion ,  but  knew  she  should  be  upset  about  it .  “ maman ,  what  do  you  mean ? ”  the  question  leaves  her  softly ,  scared  that  if  she  spoke  too  loud  her  mother  would  start  crying .  the  look  she’s  given  is  gentle ,  apologetic ,  and  sad .  instead  of  cushioning  the  damage  it  only  made  it  worse  when  she  finally  told  her .  “ he  left  us ...  i’m  sorry . ”

a  memory  of  when  they  felt  TRUST

she  stared  at  the  hand  outstretched  to  her ,  eyes  revealing  her  uncertainty .  she  didn’t  trust  people ,  not  really  anyway .  alejandro  stood  there  patiently  waiting  for  her  to  take  his  hand .  if  their  agreement  was  going  to  work  she  had  to  trust  him .  so  she  placed  her  hand  in  his ,  giving  him  a  small  smile  as  he  helped  her  out  of  the  car .  the  hand  he  placed  on  her  back  was  comforting ,  protective ,  she  felt  like  she  was  his  despite  the  fact  they  were  sinking  away  towards  the  back  of  the  restaurant ,  away  from  prying  eyes .  it  was  his  charm  and  the  way  he  called  her  beautiful ,  that  made  resisting  him  difficult ,  especially  when  he  offered  to  help ,  offered  to  care .  it’s  over  the  course  of  dinner  that  berlin  feels  herself  relax ,  finding  talking  to  him  easier  than  it  had  before .  he  was  arrogant ,  self - absorbed ,  and  thought  the  world  revolved  around  him .  he  thought  he  deserved  every  nice  thing  to  exist  and  she  was  lucky  enough  to  be  considered  one .  they  made  their  deal ,  she  had  to  believe  that  he  would  actually  keep it . 

a  memory  of  when  they  felt  ANGER

a  week .  her  brother  had  waited  a  week  after  she  turned  sixteen  to  pack  up  his  things  and  leave  them .  instead  of  letting  her  find  a  job  so  she  could  help  contribute  he  decided  he  needed  to  be  selfish  and  leave  her  with  their  mother  and  her  mountain  of  medical  bills .  he  had  tried  to  slip  out  while  she  was  at  school ,  but  hadn’t  finished  packing  his  things  in  time ,  berlin  finding  him  standing  over  his  bed  with  two  half  packed  suitcases .  it  was  wrong ,  to  let  the  hot  anger  consume  her  as  quickly  as  it  did ,  but  it  was  her  only  other  option  next  to  crying ,  which  she  wasn’t  about  to  do .  his  weak  excuse  only  fueled  the  fire  already  ignited ,  berlin’s  hands  tearing  through  the  drawers  of  his  dresser , throwing  whatever  articles  of  clothing  she  happened  to  land  on  towards  him . “ i  bet  you  sat  here  for  ages  thinking  about  what  you  were  going  to  write  on  some  fucking  letter  for  me  and  mom  right ?  tried  to  remember  what  dad  did  and  said  and  took  a  page  from  his  book ? ”  her  hands  found  the  bottle  of  cologne  that  sat  on  his  dresser  and  aimed  it  at  his  head ,  watching  his  hands  come  up  to  catch  it  only  infuriating  her  more .  she  was  about  to  pick  up  something  else  that  decorated  his  dresser  top  when  the  tired  sound  of  her  name  came  from  the  door  way .  “ berlin ,  just  let  him  go . ”  her  mother  looked  at  her  begging ,  pleading .  her  eyes  asked  her  mom  the  question  she  couldn’t ,  being  met  with  an  equal  reaction  to  answer .  berlin  turned  to  look  her  brother  dead  in  the  eyes  one  last  time ,  her  words  cold  and  unwavering .  “ you’re  a  coward .  just  like  dad . ”

a  memory  of  when  they  felt  LOVE

she’s  four  when  her  mother  brings  her  onto  her  lap ,  sitting  her  in  front  of  the  piano .  instead  of  letting  her  mess around  with  the  keys  like  she  used  to , she  starts  pointing  out  names  of  notes  and  keys  and  putting  them  together  in  chords .  her  hands  fit  easily  over  her  own ,  guiding  her  through  a  short  and  sweet  song .  the  excitement  in  her  mother’s  voice  is  evident  as  she  encourages  her  daughter  to  keep  learning  how  to  play  telling  her  that  as  long  as  she  has  music ,  she’ll  never  be  alone .  of  course ,  berlin’s  attention  had  run  dry  by  the  time  her  mom  finishes ,  letting  her  eagerly  run  back  off  to  play .

a  memory  of  when  they  felt  LONELY

more  often  than  not ,  alejandro  couldn’t  be  bothered  to  walk  her  out ,  leaving  her  to  figure  out  her  own  way  of  the  elaborate  mansion  he  called home .  she  typically  left  as  soon  as  possible ,  avoiding  any  staff ,  and  especially  any  potential  of  running  into  his  wife  or  his  daughter .  this  time  on  her  way  out ,  she  happened  to  look  up ,  her  eyes  lifting  from  the  floor  only  to  land  on  a  picture  of  him  and  his  family  posted  above  their  fireplace .  it  was  rare  that  she  ever  cared  enough  to  take  a  moment  to  realize  she  was  helping  someone  cheat ,  and  this  wasn’t  exactly  that .  it  bordered  on  guilt ,  but  really  all  berlin  felt  was  an  overwhelming  loneliness .  after  the  few  hours  he  kept  her  around  for  entertainment ,  she  meant  nothing  to  him .  her  mind  danced  between  the  people  she  knew ,  thinking  of  which  might  even  consider  her  a  friend ,  berlin  positive  the  only  person  who  ever  cared  for  her  as  more  now  hated  her .  a  chill  of  fear  runs  through  her  body  with  the  realization  that  she’s  completely  alone .  that  once  her  mom  is  gone  and  alejandro  moves  on  to  his  next  toy ,  there’s  no  one  that  would  bat  an  eye  at  her .  as  quickly  as  she  came  to  the  realization ,  she’s  forcing  herself  to  forget ,  blinking  quickly  to  dry  her  eyes .  her  foot  falls  are  faster  than  before ,  eager  to  get  to  the  front  door .

[altik-0]

Personal Revelation

I've spent the last two weeks trying to figure out how to write this post, but my mind has felt like it's tumbling around a washing machine and trying to figure out how to straighten my thoughts into a coherent message has felt impossible. But I'm driving myself crazy continuing to hold off on saying something, so I'm going to just rip off the bandage now, and we can talk in more depth after the cut.

Hi! 👋 I'm Asexual and Aromantic! Let's talk about it.

Where to even start

This month has been a fucking trip.

On the one hand, this has been the fourth month of nearly continuous quarantine for the COVID-19 pandemic. On the other, the end of May was the spark that began a wildfire of protests against police brutality that have swept across the country, including the seemingly milquetoast land of Salt Lake City. I found myself simultaneously figuring out the umpteenth way to keep myself entertained while being in home nearly uninterrupted for over 90 days, while also desperately searching for the courage to exit my home and join the marches against injustice.

And in the background of all of this, it was Pride Month.

On the 12th, a Youtube creator I follow released a video about their experience discovering themselves as non-binary. You should watch it, but what is important for the sake of this post is that the bulk of the video is an asynchronous telling of various moments throughout their life that, in reflection, show them that "[they] were who [they] are now, back then". These moments form a tapestry that tell a story of self discovery, and the result is incredibly powerful.

They released a rough cut about a week earlier for Patreon supporters, and I was immediately transfixed. I watched it three times in a row on the first day it was uploaded. I watched it twice more after the release. Hell, when I pulled this video up now to get the share link I couldn't help but sit and watch through it all over again.

At first I didn't really know why I felt so attached to this piece in particular. Yet still, I spent multiple nights laying awake for hours in what felt like a dreamlike haze at the time. It took three nights like this for me to realize I had spent all this time reflecting on my own past moments, and revisiting them through the lens this video had shared with me.

How I got here

It is September 2005. I am currently at a school dance. I know I am supposed to be finding someone to dance with and enjoy that for some reason, but all I want to do is go home. I might consider mustering up some courage and just asking someone, anyone, to dance, if it weren't for the fact that I still didn't have any friends. Instead, I feel trapped, wandering up and down the side wall, waiting for it to be over so I can finally leave. I stumble across a small group also sitting on the sides; a girl reading manga, and another playing Yu-Gi-Oh! with a boy across from her. I approach: "I didn't realize anyone still played this" They invite me to join, and soon I find myself with genuine friends at school for the first time in years. I never think about asking someone to dance again.

It is the summer of 2017. I am at a bar with some coworkers at the end of the week. I don't drink, but I've opened myself up to joining people for happy hour because it feels like a good way to socialize, and I've genuinely enjoyed getting to know folks. My team lead makes a comment that he feels it's impossible for a man and a woman to ever have a friendly relationship without having some element of sexual tension between them. I rebuff this comment -- initially I feel a sense of feminist frustration at the concept, as if it is implicitly saying that men and women should not work together. As the conversation continues, I realize the real reason I feel so sure this is wrong is because I have never felt this way toward anyone I've worked with.

It is the summer of 2008. I am in church, listening to the new instructor for my Sunday school class shift the discussion towards politics. Since he began, every lesson without fail will eventually derail into right-wing screeds. For him, any issue that is even vaguely left-leaning is a potential avenue for Satan to take hold of you: feminism, activism, even environmentalism. But lately he has had a particular fixation on the topic of gay marriage, and it is beginning to take a toll on my mental health. Being in these classes, hearing a man in a position of authority repeatedly say "it is not that we shouldn't love these people, but we need to still understand that they are committing a sin" has become physically painful to listen to. Of course, I am not queer, just an ally -- I can only imagine how painful this must be for those who are directly affected. I will nearly pass out from exhaustion and anxiety during sacrament meeting a few hours later.

It is February 2020. I am out to lunch with a friend and coworker. I have just recently changed jobs after less than a year, because I was hopelessly miserable at my last one. It should have been a dream job, marrying two of my closest passions, but instead I felt suffocated by being in a world where everyone seemed indifferent towards me at best, or actively hated me at worst. My friend invited me to join this job, and although it is a miserable job, I find solace in being able to go to lunch and have genuine conversations with someone I get along with. He mentions his wife is pregnant, and the stress of tending for his current child while she is resting. I acknowledge the frustration, though somewhat awkwardly since I am still single. "Oh, yeah, I sometimes forget you aren't married yet, haha. Well, don't worry, you'll get to join in on the fun soon enough!" I want to say "I very much doubt that"; instead I say "Well, I guess we'll see." The conversation does not feel so genuine anymore.

It is January 2009. I am watching House M.D. with my dad. We bond a lot while watching tv. We're both avid fans of MST3K, and we are invariably the obnoxious people in a movie theater a few rows down cracking jokes throughout the film. It feels fun and rebellious, even if we're doing it at home where nobody will be annoyed. This episode starts with Foreman and Thirteen waking up together in bed after clearly spending the night together. My dad cracks a joke about how "they're going to get in trouble, since they aren't married!" I quip back "nah, it's not a big deal, they just slept together, haha." My dad pauses the show and turns to me, deadly serious: "Who told you that was okay?!" I am a deer in headlights. I suddenly realize that I meant "slept together" literally, but nobody else uses it that way. I don't understand how I missed that.

It is October 2010. I am at home, speaking with my mother after coming home from school. She has always been a political firebrand, and especially after I left the church and started college the two of us have connected on this a lot. She has just read an article that mentioned the expanded acronym "LGBTQIA", and says she doesn’t know what all the "I" and "A" refer to. I don't yet know what the "I" refers to, but I suggest the "A" is probably for "asexual". She says she hadn't heard of asexuality, though that does make sense. I realize I don't recall hearing about asexuality before either. I don't actually know if anyone identifies like that. It just somehow feels like something that must exist.

It is the spring of 2007. I am at a local game store playing at a Friday Night Magic event for the first time. I suffer from very extreme social anxiety, and I spent the entire week a ball of nervous energy. Despite myself, I have managed to drive myself to the event and register. I have promised myself dozens of times over that I already knew Magic players were people similar to me, so there was no reason to worry. My first match is against someone wearing a frilly dress, cat ears, and tail. She mews at me several times while playing. On the surface I have frozen and only robotically go through motions of playing the game because my anxiety has boiled over to the point that I cannot quite function properly. Inside, I am filled with pure delight at realizing that someone could feel comfortable expressing themselves that openly in a space like this. I eventually become friends with this person who I will later learn is trans -- I had never met a trans person before. I will become close friends with three more trans people, at least two enbies, and countless other queer people over the next decade of playing this wonderful game.

It is November 2019. I am at work, sitting at my desk, feeling completely numb despite starting the day energetic to the point of mania. I've just had an argument with a close friend -- perhaps the closest friend I've ever had -- and it ended... poorly, to put it mildly. So poorly, in fact, that it is safe to say we are just not friends anymore. The reality was that there were always problems between us, and this was a culmination of conflict that never really got effectively resolved. It might not have even been possible to resolve. In the moment, though, I cannot escape the suffocating feeling that I am a failure as a human being; someone who simply does not know how to maintain a relationship. My mind goes through loops of how I could have said something differently to have it end better. The emotional pain will not fully make sense to me until several months later, when I realize this was the closest thing to a break-up that I've ever experienced.

It is January 2012. I am watching House M.D. with my dad again. Since leaving the church, watching shows like this has been a desperate lifeline for our relationship. We don't joke as much anymore. This episode features a side plot with an asexual couple, who House determines is simply impossible, and uses his power of supreme logic to prove the asexuality wasn't real all along. I have heard of asexuality, though I don't know where or when, so I am angry at this. Of course, as an ally. I want to joke with my dad to release some frustration, but he is still in the church, and I don’t think he will empathize. I stay silent, and do not enjoy this episode.

It is December 2019. I am scrolling through a Discord channel I was invited to from one of the leftist creators I follow. This community has been a breath of fresh air in many ways, and one I found surprisingly helpful was an NSFW adult content chat channel where people are open about sex, fetishes, and more. I've considered myself fairly open-minded and sex-positive, but I'm still a virgin at 28 so I've found there is a lot I just don't know about. Today, someone has started a conversation about what qualifies as "taboo" and relating it to kink-shaming. Another member replies, mentioning they are asexual and find the whole notion of taboos being kind of bizarre. My mind reels at seeing someone who identifies as asexual in this chat. Over time I find out there are several other people who identify at least gray-ace in this chat, some who even draw risque artwork for commission. I realize how little I actually understood about what asexuality really was, and begin scouring the internet for articles and wikis on asexuality.

It is April 2010. I am at an Apollo Burger across the street from the local game store where I am playing in a Magic prerelease. My friends I followed over are talking about weekend plans, and one of them makes a joke about doing some chores to butter up his partner to have sex. The joke does not go over my head -- I am straight, and understand sex, even if I am still a virgin -- but I still can't help but think out loud: "You know, I just don't get why people make such a big deal out of sex." The awkwardness and confused looks are suffocating. I drop the topic immediately.

It is June 2020. I have just watched a video from an enby Youtube creator about their experience discovering their own gender identity. Over the next three days I will see every one of these past experiences, along with hundreds of others, flash before my eyes in rapid succession, over and over, until I begin to realize that I haven't allowed myself to truly identify how I do. Every time I asked "am I asexual?" in the past, I would dismiss it because I understood sex and have a sex drive. Once I actually researched asexuality, though, I almost immediately found stories of people who identify as ace and still experience a sex drive. I also discover a lot of stories from aromantic people that sound painfully similar to feelings I hadn't even realized were not the norm. For the first time I begin to realize I may not just be an ally.

So what does this mean

I came to a sense of satisfaction with living alone and single a long time ago. At first this came with a certain level of shame, because I felt like it was only because I was too cowardly to enter the dating scene and try to find a relationship for myself. Over time the impact of the shame diminished, but it never went away; it just became a quiet background noise that I got accustomed to pushing back.

But now that I feel comfortable calling myself "Aromantic", I don't feel any shame. A romantic relationship is simply something I don't need. Instead, I can focus on fostering the kinds of deep relationships that do feed my soul. That will likely be a difficult thing to do -- awkwardly traversing intimacy was something most people worked through as a teenager or young adult, and I'm nearly 30, haha. But it at least feels possible now.

But really the biggest change for me is that I feel like I can be honest and public about who I am in a way I never was before. Simply being open about this piece of my identity somehow feels important if for no other reason than to let other people who felt like I did growing up that they aren't alone.

So... yeah. I'm aroace. And I always have been.

[recentanimenews]

FEATURE: Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Lone Wolf? Analyzing Digimon's Matt

Toei Animation’s 2020 re-imagining of Digimon Adventure has not only brought back familiar faces, but also a whole new take on beloved characters. First airing in 1999, Digimon Adventure was created as an adaptation of the then-new Bandai Tamagotchi spin-off virtual pet franchise, Digimon. Since its original broadcast run from 1999 to 2000, the series has spawned various sequel series, movies, and OVAs, including the recent Digimon Adventure Tri. For the newly initiated, this soft reboot of Digimon Adventure is the perfect point of entry for those who never saw the original. 

  If you have a favorite DigiDestined, however, get ready for some changes. Of the chosen children, one is notably different: everyone’s favorite brooding embodiment of friendship, Matt.

    A Lone Wolf After All?

  Matt appears in front of Tai in the Digital World

  For Digimon veterans, the first few episodes of Digimon Adventure: (2020) start on a very different note compared to the 1999 original. By the first episode, Tai and Matt encounter each other in the Digital World. Except — Matt is already there by the time Tai arrives. Together they join forces and form Omnimon, a powerful Digimon created from the fusion of their partners Agumon and Gabumon. Does any of this ring a bell? This Digivolution first occurred in Mamoru Hosoda's 2000 Our War Game OVA, which chronologically takes place after the events of the 1999 anime. Ironically, the second episode titled “War Game” borrows the same premise of stopping a missile from landing in Tokyo. Rather than symbolizing the power of Tai and Matt's friendship after a long journey, this new version of Digimon Adventure presents Omnimon as proof of an untested alliance. Instead of starting from the beginning, it’s almost as though we’re starting from the end.

  But this still begs the question — why is Matt already in the Digital World? Cool kid points?

    Matt and Tai stand on Omnimon's shoulders

  Compared to Tai and friends, this new version of Matt is an early bird. In fact, he's already shown riding Garurumon, Gabumon’s champion evolution. This suggests Matt might already have an established bond with Gabumon. This first impression of Matt — originally brushed off as a stereotypical “lone wolf” — offers us a fresh new take on what he has to offer.

  In classic Digimon Adventure, Matt is first depicted hanging out alone, dubbed a "lone wolf" by Tai. As a self-appointed guardian for his little brother T.K., Matt is cautious but still impulsive, constantly butting heads with Tai. After being transported into the Digital World with the other kids, Matt slowly begins opening up to the others. He reveals to Tai that his parents were divorced and that protecting T.K. has become a huge part of his identity. But being so wrapped up in watching out for his brother, Matt takes it personally when T.K. starts growing into his own. What’s a lonely boy with a harmonica to do except moodily ride his wolf into nothingness?

  Of all the kids, Matt is the first to break away from the group by choice in search of some soul-searching. After acquiring the Crest of Friendship — tags the Digidestined obtain to further their Digimon’s potential — Matt seriously begins questioning whether or not he has “grown.” A brief stint back in the real world before returning to the Digimon World to finish off the Dark Masters makes Matt realize that his family probably isn’t getting back together, whether he accepts it or not. After being confronted by Cherrymon, a Digimon scheming to turn the DigiDestined against each other, Matt is encouraged to cut out his supposed enemies — namely Tai — and forge his own path.

    Matt doubts if T.K. really needs him anymore Image via Hulu

  Despite the irony of having the Crest of Friendship, Matt chooses to temporarily break away from the others, admitting that T.K. can take care of himself and beginning the process of sorting through his angst. Sure, he cries a little when Tai punches him in the face, but what does that have to do with getting over your crippling self-doubt and anxiety? Self-reflection is uncool and overrated, right? Right? OK, maybe not.

  If this version of Matt taught us anything, it’s that trying to play tough all the time doesn’t help. In fact, it might end up backfiring in the end.

  Friendship Dilemma

  As it turns out, Matt isn’t exactly a “lone wolf” after all.

  Let’s dig a little. The Crest of Friendship doesn’t symbolize what Matt already has, but something he needs to actively work toward. Inevitably, Matt will have to return to the real world after his Digital World adventure. If Tai is brazenly courageous and Izzy is obviously hungry for knowledge, can we necessarily say Matt starts off as a social butterfly? Not exactly.

    Matt watches T.K. reunite with his mom after returning from the Digital World Image via Hulu

  Matt accepts he can’t change his family. Having time alone forces him to realize he needs to look inside in order to not only survive the Digital World, but to cope outside of it as well. Because, despite how cool your giant blue wolf looks, it doesn’t fix a complicated, real-life family dynamic. This tension ultimately reaches a fever pitch when Matt, more depressed than ever after splitting from the group, loses himself inside a strange cave. Here, Matt confesses he’s pushed people away because, if his family didn’t want him, then why bother opening up to anyone ever again? Can anyone truly love a brooding, seemingly antisocial teenager with boyband hair?

    "Let's make a promise that we'll always be there for each other, no matter what happens. Gabumon and Matt, friends for life." Image via Hulu

  Yes, of course. And not only that. In this memorable scene, Gabumon admits it’s okay to cry. If Matt can’t cry in the real world of divorce and being separated from his brother, he can at least cry here, in this allegorical cave. After expelling all his personal demons, Matt learns an important lesson: It’s okay to open up to people and actually show emotion. In a 2006 conversation with fans on the Digimon fansite With the Will, voice actor and scriptwriter Jim Nimoy commented if given the chance to rewrite one Digimon Adventure character, he “would make Matt less of an indecisive guy.” In hindsight, this breaks open Matt’s entire character arc. His main trait isn’t the “lone wolf” but something far more complicated — someone troubled by his own self-doubt.

  Breaking the Fortress of Solitude

  The Crest of Friendship appears in Matt's Digivice as he rescues the others

  In the latest 2020 iteration of Digimon Adventure, Matt helps Tai and company siege an attack on Gorillamon in the eighth episode “The Children's Attack on the Fortress.” Having arrived before everyone else, Matt is seemingly less unfazed by the severe amount of violence aimed at them. Admittedly, it seems like this version of the Digital World is even more hostile, which makes Matt’s stoic demeanor all the more impressive. Despite the fact that Digimon now apparently have access to military-grade weapons, Matt doesn’t concede to Tai’s help until he finally sees the others can hold their ground. For what it's worth, this is what proves them in his eyes — that they can carry their own weight. They aren’t, as Nimoy had pointed out, indecisive.

  The Crest of Friendship briefly appears on Matt’s Digivice, he kicks Gorillamon’s butt, and finally decides Tai and his pals aren’t so bad after all. This version of Matt has, so far, had his entire original arc turned inside-out. Rather than beginning in a group, Matt stakes it out alone, and in a pivotal moment, realizes the powerful potential of friendship. For better or worse, this new Digimon Adventure has already done the legwork of admitting Matt’s more than a two-dimensional “lone wolf.” Having essentially addressed an arc that previously took at least 50 episodes to reach by Episode 8, it seems as though Matt may serve a very different role than before.

    Matt and Gabumon make new friends

  While this doesn’t exactly answer the specifics of why he’s already in the Digital World, it does tell us this: If even Matt can have a change of heart so soon, there’s no telling what else is in store for the others. The kids will certainly have an unprecedented set of challenges awaiting them. With everyone rounded up together now (sans a certain pair of younger siblings), this is just the beginning of a new twist on the status quo. Maybe Matt's truly a social butterfly in wolf’s clothing after all? It's a brave, all new Digital World out there.

  How do you feel about Matt in Digimon Adventure? Let us know in the comments below!

        Blake P. is a weekly columnist for Crunchyroll Features. His favorite Digimon is Patamon. His twitter is @_dispossessed. His bylines include Fanbyte, VRV, Unwinnable, and more.

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[hanybanani]

𝑀𝓎 𝒹𝒶𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝒹𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓅𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑜𝓅𝒽𝓎

First of all, what is philosophy and how does it help us? Philosophy is the study of existence and reality, it helps us develop our critical thinking and makes our lives easier in terms of making better decisions and choices in life. 

Have you ever wondered how to make good choices in life?  Of course,  you would want to keep heading into the direction you want and not fall into a spiral of stress and despair. Now, as teenagers, even adults, many of us wondered about our lives, like what is our purpose, some people think they don’t have a purpose. What is success and how will you achieve it, what is good and what is bad, or how should we treat one another, ect. 

Philosophy gives us ethics. It involves “systematizing, defending, and recommending concepts of right and wrong behavior". Growing up, we often face choices, there are times when we are indecisive in life and you realize you are responsible as you set an example.

 Philosophy  in Greek means “the love of wisdom” or “the pursuit of wisdom”, and I think making mistakes can be turned into a valuable lesson to a person. Why do I think this? Well, as Albert Einstein said, “ Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new”. My philosophy in making mistakes is that it teaches us to clarify what we really want, it is a fundamental part for every understanding, advancement, and development. The correct exists because of the fault and this is what makes us human. Men is prone to error and develops, but that depends on how one responds to the error. 

Philosophy has been around since the 6th century, without it, everything we have now wouldn’t exist. We wouldn’t have freedom to have our own opinion, values, nor have equality. It helps us approach into making policies, make rational suggestions into shaping society to become better. Philosophy helps students acquire a knowledge of those ideas and its origins. Philosophy also influence teaching, and even leadership. 

Science and philosophy are pretty similar when it comes to finding out what is reality. The difference is that science is all about the natural phenomena and philosophy is understanding the nature of man and our existence. I personally think that philosophy can lead to innovation, giving fantastical inspiration to create new ideas for creating innovative solutions. 

The Noble Eight-fold Path

I’m not Buddhist but reading the Eight-fold Path helps to become calmer and be more at peace knowing what to do in times of distress, if you want to follow the Eight Fold Path  It’s a good thing to remember that it’s important to be ethical in word and in deed, and thought. To be kind to others, and being positive as much as possible and be respectful and moral person. Remembering those will surely help you to be peaceful in your mind and to everyone around you and will not let you suffer as a bitter person. Having peace within oneself makes you have the right understanding, the right intent, the right speech, right mindfulness, concentration, following all of these creates a harmony in oneself. I have learned that when you’re compassionate towards others and treat them right, you get a reward too, and it also feels good to do something good to others and they will be kind to you as well. 

Treating others the right way is good for the mental health and well being, it can reduce the stress and improve our mood and also self-esteem and of course, it makes us happy. Doing good deeds does not need much time or costs money like when listening to your friends without judgement and focus on what they need.  

Ecocentric  model  and  evaluate  personal  views  and attitudes toward nature

The environment that God has given us is truly beautiful, the air we breathe, the land we walk on and the plants and animals that live among humans are made carefully. All lives are equal to existence and ecocentrism is a pathway to  a sustainable living. Man is made to dominate the Earth and take care of it. Ecocentrism is the reason why we value the environment we live in. Life relies on geological processes and has been worldview and many countries speak about folklore. An ecocentric view holds the planet’s ecology and ecosystems, the the lives of humans, animals, the creatures the lives in the depths of the sea and all life forms. I think that we should continue to take care of our surroundings for the future generation, to look at the world with love of nature, will give the children of the future a wonderful Earth that they could still live on. With all the buidings that are being built, the trees that are being cut and the amount of garbage that is being thrown to the ocean should be reduced and think about the other living things that will suffer from the greediness of mankind. 

We should reduce, reuse, recycle to save that dying animals and reduce the pollution in the air that we breathe for the sake of the children and the children of their children. We must protect and value the things that were made to sustain life even if they cannot be used by humans as resources. 

Marcos Batas Militar

How can reason be translated into action?

An individual’s speech makes sense based on logic and facts and can be turned into action when the individual starts to act upon his visions logically and comfortably 

If there were no intellect, there would be no will. Explain.

You cannot accomplish anything without intelligence or without any practical plan, thus there is no will if you do not know how to make ends meet. 

What is a social contract and how is it reflected in the EDSA Revolution?

An agreement from the members of society. The law is reflected in the people by making an agreement.

Was freedom denied during the Martial Law? Was there free choice within the Filipino people? 

People could not go outside their houses and speak about the government or they will get killed. There was no freedom for the people who denied the Martial Law  and there was no free choice. 

How do you think this is similar and/or different from the colonization of the Philippines from the hands of the Spanish, American, and Japanese?

The Spanish people colonized the Philippines under military and religious supremacy while the Philippines is an instrument for WWII for the Japanese. America desires for opportunities that will benefit their own country and to have power over the islands from other countries, it is somehow similar to the Marcos martial law where the authority or people with access to firearms disregards the safety and needs of the people for their own benefit. 

How do you think this is similar and/or different from today’s events in the Philippines?

The events regarding for covid-19 are similar but different as people are required to stay home for their own health but similar to martial law as the media sensualize the virus to which it makes people afraid and scared, but according to a doctor in Europe, covid-19 is just like any other flu. 

My mother likes listening to classic music and because of my mother, I know about Andrea Bocelli. His music is comforting and his voice is beautiful. Andrea Bocelli is a knows as a great music artist that inspires many people around the globe. When he was still in his mother’s womb, the doctor advised his parents to abort him because him might have a disability, his mother, however opposed the advice the doctor gave and gave birth to him and when he was born he did have many issues with his sight and was diagnosed with congenital glauoma. As a young boy, Bocelli had a passion for music even with his disability, it did not stop him from playing the piano and other instruments and to be a great singer and won countless awards. He is a good model for young kids with disabilities to never stop hoping and dream big.

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 25-year life plan. 

Firsly, I want to develop my skills in arts and be able to try out and learn digital drawing since it looks super cool and fun to do and be able to do animations because I wanted to do that as a kid. When it comes to career, I want to get a good job in  software technology and be able to create applications and games  that would help many people in their daily lives and also have fun. But before I achieve all that, education is important.My plan is to get to graduate college, I want to expand my knowledge in computer programming.

I want to be able to contribute to my family, and support them with their needs, and show them love as much as possible so I guess having a decent stable job would allow me to be helpful to the family. My financial plan would be saving as much to start a business  and  also giving to charity. In life, you can’t always just be working and working, sometimes looking after yourself is more important as well, being healthy and to excercise more and eat healthy food in order to achieve your goals. Working hard and looking after yourself can take you to places and for pleasure, I would like to do my bucket list like to be able to travel and see places, to be part of an organization helping citizens and the environment, giving to charity and to meet new people and learn from them. I think this is most people’s common life plan, its a dream and a plan, but don’t call it a dream, call it a plan, make it a goal and thrive big.