#arc 5: the orator

[sorryitisandy]

I think one of the poorer decisions they made with Morgana was melding him into the games uh "narrarator text"? I know this seems like another "hurr hurr you should go to bed!!" post, but buried behind that is genuinely a criticism into how they kind of did both Morgana (and joker a little) dirty.

Persona 4 and Persona 3 manage railroad you to the same extent in practice. There are days when you'll try and do something and Mr. Yu Narukami will think "no I am very tired" or "I should really check the midnight channel". It's still the game railroading, but it's attributed to the inner thoughts of our protagonists.

Morgana does not just, as a character, represent this game railroading you. This cat becomes the speakerphone for Joker's inner thoughts. Those moments in Persona 3 and Persona 4, the generally quiet main characters might show some personality with their inner thoughts. Joker had a cat who will orate that shit for him.

Which is why I feel that a lot of people felt Joker was a bit drabber compared to our other two modern male protagonists. (Kotone, our Queen, is very different so she isn't included here). They are all quiet lads but those little moments to themselves characterize their subtle differences. Hard to do that with a cat doing your thinking for you most of the game.

I think the biggest example is that in the Persona 5 Anime, despite being an anime I do not care for, Joker shows a lot more personality because Morgana isn't co-opting his inner voice. It also doesn't help that in my opinion, Morgana's arc is kind of weak and also takes away from Haru's entrance into the game.

Compare to Teddie, who by contrast feels like he is a character that exists beyond our main character. My man keeps a steady job at Junes, my man lives with and terrorizes Yosuke Hanamura, my man is not chained to our protagonist all game.

A lot of people don't like the mascot characters, possibly for reasons different than this one. And fair enough, I'm not here to argue every point. But I do think this one about Morgana is a major contributing one.

#persona #persona 4 #p4 #persona 3 #text #atlus games #p3 #persona 5 #p5 #p5r #morgana #yosuke hanamura #teddie #kotone shiomi #minako arisato #yu narukami #souji seta #ren amimaya #akira kurusu #haru okumura #video games #jrpg games #jrpg

[basedkikuenjoyer]

Spiderwebs, Pt. 3: Looking Out for the Little Guy

So this one is pretty straightforward but timely. Franky’s the one who really sells this idea, but the Tontatta are the main vehicle Dressrosa has to invest the Straw Hats in the nation’s story. Incidentally, you could argue this is where Rebecca subtly is taken off the table. If we were just going to stick to Law’s plan she’d have more reason to run and less time to see the chance to go back. She gets to, because Dressrosa’s past was worth going back to in a way Wano’s wasn’t. Leo and the Tontatta by extension though fill a very basic structural role like Kiku and I’d argue Chiffon in Totland as well. The Tontatta are very fundamentally symbolic here; as Luffy’s star rises the crew needs to think about collateral damage. How what you do affects the little guy. Kiku’s story is one of being hurt by that same damage. We could have done this without Dressrosa reduced to rubble.

What we see in this scene is also something we’ll see with Franky and it plays into Robin’s growth that, like Usopp’s, will blossom more come Wano. If anyone ends up in that orator/organizer combo Usopp is showing why he’s volatile in that role. He doesn’t have the tact to do that at the level we need. It’s just like Chopper serving as Helmsman in a pinch earlier or even Usopp the de facto shipwright. It was fun, but he’s a sniper. His big feats first with the Tontatta in beating Sugar and then with awakening haki this arc set that in motion. The first contributes to earning Izo’s recognition in Wano which is huge for him; that’s a marksman on the same tier as his dad. Franky, if you’re wondering, has a good moment for this early on. It’s the shakedown, he and Luffy try to interrogate a guy and it’s the right idea but he just isn’t the guy for that. Same with Nami & co. and their failed diversion with Giolla. I’m also counting Donquixote Kin’flamingo. That gets us back to Leo.

Bahahahahahahahahaha! I love this gag of Leo & Mansherry. Cindry-grade lack of chill. Mansherry & Giolla, don’t let it slip that’s pretty damn similar to Holdem & Tama. But seriously, we mentioned this with Cavendish. The Grand Fleet captains have a shard of what’s missing, but they aren’t quite right for a full member on the main ship. One of those things I’d really look at in Kiku or someone like her stepping into a Quartermaster role defined by working with the Grand Fleet is that potential dynamic. Someone with that archetype threads the needle well. In Leo’s case? He’s the driven, ambitious arguable prodigy. The standout of his people. Quite capable and very noble but humble. Also love the bit about him going whole hog into the pirate aesthetic, I’ve mentioned if it’s Kiku I think she’ll do that. But he’s a little too naive and lacks tact. Leo’s lovely, but he can’t do the diplomat/negotiator side.

If my hunch is right by the way, cool in hindsight we introduce Kiku as this cover serial is wrapping up. These two shots line up with Luffytaro Returns the Favor & The Ruins of Oden Castle. This kind of stuff is why I don’t mind daring to dream, the potential for it to all fit together so beautifully. Since the Tontatta are easy, let’s just lay this out:

Cavendish could fill this position but he’s too vain, too much his own captain, and can’t control his demon side.

Barto could as well, but someone like Kiku can do more than just provoke and Barto’s earnest admiration is a little too much. Sorta the same logic as why Boa wouldn’t fit but the Kuja under Luffy’s banner would.

Leo as said is too naive and lacks tact. He has the spirit but needs guidance or his trusting nature becomes a liability. 

Orlumbus is the opposite. He has the poise and skills to do this, but needs to develop that scoundrel side. Too stuffy.

Don Sai is a tricky one. His example has a lot more to do with Baby 5. There’s a lot to be said about the hyper-people pleaser and a marriage happening here on the battlefield. It’s not as much of a problem for Cavendish the exiled noble, but Sai’s position with Kano is also a relevant hurdle here. It’s why Kiku’s the only Akazaya this would work with, right? Because she does have the wiggle room to be dissatisfied with that role. Sai isn’t.

Hajrudin & Ideo were the least developed but they do have relevant elements. They have the combat prowess but they’re still young and full of potential. We just need more than that for the main officers. Hajrudin has the national pride and honor angle & Ideo’s cover story shows a little diplomatic skill but they need room to grow. You could also argue these two are reminding you how great Jinbei is. I don’t think the Captains are supposed to be equal; Cabbage & Barto are in a different class. Worth noting from my angle at least once too, Kiku does outshine all of them in terms of battle prowess. I’d say Stussy as well but Vivi would have to be full on field marshal. Which would work just fine. Either way, it’s an ensemble who’d all play nice with this type of character in a dispatch/command capacity.

#one piece #dressrosa arc #little guy leo #Straw Hat Grand Fleet

[oldmanmuffins]

Undead Girl Murder Farce

Medium recommend. It's not a must-watch, but if you're going to be watching at least 5 animes from this year then I'd strongly consider adding this in. Bonus points if you get saturated with the more standard show formulas.

What it is

Summer 2023 anime. It's twelve episodes covering three story arcs, with an ongoing story beyond that. Demographic-wise it's probably most appropriate to call it shonen (young male). To me though, it felt like it straddled a weird line between that and josei (adult female).

The show is part detective story and part action with a blend of japanese and european folk mythology and pop literature. Its hard to explain succinctly, but imagine a half-oni rakugo storyteller competing with Arsene Lupin and a sword-wielding insurance agent for control of a diamond that reveals the location of potentially the last werewolves. That's the vibe throughout.

What it is trying to do

I want to post the definition of "farce" and point at it grunting enthusiastically. It's extravagant, comedic, and improbable. The comedy is not constant, which letts the mystery and dramatic elements have room. Anime is already a pulpy medium, so that tames the absurdity a little, but even with that its an extravagant story.

The mystery elements are definitely there and given a lot of space. I'll admit that mystery isn't a genre I've ever really understood, but this matches up the formula as I understand it. We get almost all the clues needed to make a conclusion, then we get a bunch of fun misdirection, and then the detective orates their conclusions at the end.

How well does it succeed?

It's good but not great. It's my favorite of the season, but this was a weak season for me.

The production is solid while not calling attention to iself. The art is detailed, but a lot of the scenes are dark and use a muted color palette. The music really contributes to the mood but is mixed well into each scene. Few of the performances are very demanding, but it also sounds like a lot of the actors are having fun with their lines.

My big issues with the show are with tonal shifts and pacing of the third act. Around midway through the season we're shown our big antagonists and the tonal shift is jarring. We move really quickly from a jaunty caper about stealing a diamond to some folks showing up and just doing all the murder. This issue continues throughout the rest of the show. We go from having fun with our eccentric cast to brutal murders and the transition between the two never feels right.

The pacing of the third arc also felt rough. It almost feels like they started the arc, then realized they had one less episode than expected, and had to condense things down. The first episode of the third arc is paced pretty normally for the show. Then it speeds up pretty rapidly, with some events in the final episodes just feeling handwaved.

Unsorted likes and dislikes.

Likes:

* Equal opportunity sexiness. The character designs are part of what contributes to me thinking of this as a little josei.

* The Trent-Reznor-y "Tsugaru is about to kick ass" music theme.

* Aya and Tsugaru making bad jokes back and forth at one another and never ceasing to be amused by it.

* All the unexplained details. There's a lot of things that pop up that you can mentally explore to build up the story of these characters and the lore of the world.

Dislikes:

* The Royce (insurance) agents feel unexplored. They feel like a dice roll of a character trait + a weapon. Their character designs are interesting, but they feel like set pieces.

* More werewolves. I wanted more to the third arc in general, but definitely more of them.

#anime review #undead girl murder farce

[moirai-au]

Timeline: Arc 5 - The Oracle, some time after Just a bad dream.

Warnings: blood

Taglist: @immabethehero @bupine​ @tabbynerdicat @i-maybe-exist @its-ethan-bro @sandinthetardis @honestlyitsjustkenna @taikeero-lecoredier

Marius shot up on his bed with a high-pitched cry, warm brown eyes flying open. It took him a minute for his breathing to slow down, his hand clutching the front of his black pyjama top.

That… was scary. He couldn’t remember what the nightmare had been about, but-

A flash of red in the corner of his eye interrupted his trail of thought. He turned to his window, spotting a small, bright red bird just behind the glass. It didn’t move, didn’t chirp or anything. It just stood there- its beady black eyes staring at him. His crest was a bright, lime green.

 Marius blinked- that was strange. Birds like those didn’t usually stick in this kind of climate, and...

 ...and…

 How did he know this? Since when did he know about birds?

 His head pounded a little. He slid off his bed, watching quietly as the bird tilted its head and spread his wings, taking flight and escaping out of view.

Marius pursed his lip and shrugged, his worries fading from his mind like magic- oh well. It wasn’t important anyway. He wondered what Maman had made him this morning...

The boy smiled at the prospect of breakfast, walking towards his bedroom with enthusiasm- but he stopped dead in his tracks. A cold feeling of dread bloomed in his chest, the imperious urge to crane his neck to the side and look at-

 His arms dropped at his sides, eyes glazing over as he was suddenly unable to remember what he had been doing. “It’s just…” the boy whispered dreamily, smiling fondly at his surroundings. “It’s just… such a good day!”

Blood dripped down from his nose as he smiled. He wiped his face, not noticing the streak of red on his sleeve as he turned back towards the door and walked out.

 A blurry, dark figure behind him lingered.

There was a stumble-jolt.

 ***

 Marius shot up on his bed with a high-pitched cry, warm brown eyes flying open. It took him a minute for his breathing to slow down, his hand clutching the front of his pyjama top.

That… was scary. He couldn’t remember what the nightmare had been about, but-

He suddenly felt the urge to look through his window, the deviation straining his brain painfully- but there was nothing there.

 Of course. Of course there was nothing there. This was just… a perfectly normal day…

 “Such a good day, such a good day,” he repeated quietly. His mouth tasted of copper, but he promptly forgot all about it.

He slid off his bed, smiling placidly as his little feet padded quietly on the carpet- his teeth stained with red.

There was a dark shape in his peripheral vision.

Marius pursed his lip and shrugged, any worries fading from his mind like magic- oh well. It wasn’t important anyway. He wondered what Maman had made him this morning.. 

The boy smiled at the prospect of breakfast, walking towards his bedroom with enthusiasm- but he stopped dead in his tracks. A cold feeling of dread bloomed in his chest, the imperious urge to crane his neck to the side and look at-

 His eyes widened, his body seizing up in shock and terror- there was someone in his mirror. Someone that wasn’t him.

Oh, it looked like him enough, true. The silhouette did share his current clothes, petite frame and shaggy brown hair, and mimicked all his movements perfectly. But things were wrong.

The other boy’s face was completely wrapped in white, red-stained bandages, patches of wild hair poking from between the seams. Like a mummy.

But the most disturbing thing about him were his eyes: too wide for it to be right, and they weren’t a warm chesnut like his- no, they were yellow, and his pupils were like thin lines, like… like a cat’s eyes.

And as he stared, the other boy started to move his arm and touch his own face.

 W̵.

 ̶A̴.̷

 ̵K̷.̷ 

̴E̷.̴ ̴ 

 ̷U̴.̷ ̶

P̷

 And then it was over, the strange vision gone as fast as it’d arrived, only leaving in the mirror the face of a perfectly normal little boy. 

Pale. Eyes blown wide with terror. Half-dried blood coating his upper lip.

 There was something on his desk. A grey snapback. He didn’t own a snapback. He never did. That he was sure of.

Whose was it? The smell of chamomile tea filled his nose, mingling with the metal tang of blood.

There was a dark shape in his peripheral vision.

 There was a dark shape in his peripheral vision.

There         was         a         dark         shape         in         his peripheral         vision.

 There was a stumble-jolt.

***

 He was somehow lying on his bed again, his pillow damp from the tears flowing down his temples. Silent, trembling, he sat up, his little fists clenching his blankets tightly.

Dark shape. Peripheral vision.

Marius’ brow furrowed, trying to blame anything other than that shape he wasn’t allowed to acknowledge for what it was that had made the whole world go wrong.

He whimpered, feeling the thing move through the room. It felt like he’d been here for days, the presence horribly familiar, like a jailor walking past a cell. But he still couldn’t force himself to think of what it meant, static buzzing through his mind whenever he tried to directly think about it.

 E v e r y t h i n g  i s  a l r i g h t.

 It was there...

 D o  n o t  w o r r y  y o u r  s i l l y  l i t t l e  h e a d.

 It was always there.

 Y o u  w i l l  b e  s o  h a p p y  h e r e.

 Tears were streaming down his cheeks and blood dripped from his nose as static filled his head.

There  was         a                           stumble-jolt

***

 He was in the kitchen now.

His mother was smiling stiffly robotically mechanically rehearsed repeated over and over and over and over and over warmly at him, the kind of smile full of unconditional love that all good mothers had. 

 It made his spine feel like cold ice.

 “Mais qui voilà? Good morning bunny.” she cooed, her slight accent rolling pleasantly on her tongue.

Dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape dark shape

 Dad turned to look at him, sitting on one of the stools at the edge of the high kitchen isle. “What’s up buddy?” he waved at him, setting down his morning coffee. “Slept okay?”

The sight of his parents’ faces made him feel sick. He couldn’t focus. Why couldn’t he remember going to bed the day before? Why couldn’t he remember the day before?

 Why couldn’t he remember?

It was watching him.

The woman frowned, concern visible in her light blue eyes. She got down on one knee, gently brushing strands of hair out of Marius’ face. “Ça va mon lapin ? Tu es tout pâle.”

He stayed silent. No. He wasn’t alright. Nothing was alright. The walls were morphing, breathing, shifting.

There was a dark shape in his peripheral vision.

“Hélène, quit coddling him.” the man rolled his hazel eyes, reaching down from his chair to ruffle his hair. “Of course he’s okay, he’s a sturdy little one! Aren’t you Marius?”

Marius only frowned at the man that wasn’t one.

“Atta boy,” the man that wasn’t one chuckled. “Now, get up there and eat up, yeah? You have a big day ahead of you.”

There was. A FUCKING dark shape. In his peripheral vision.

 It didn’t seem to realize he knew it was there. And acknowledging it himself made his skull throb and pulse with stabbing pain- like brushing up against an electric fence, a barrier meant to keep his mind where it was supposed to be. But that was the problem with using pain as a motivator.

 Eventually, you build up a tolerance.

 “No.” he hissed between clenched teeth. None of this was right. Dad wasn’t right, Mom wasn’t right. His mind kept conjuring brief glimpses of another person, the afterimage superposing itself with his father’s towering frame.

A pair of rectangular glasses. Greying hair. A disapproving scowl, softened by a fond light in dark grey eyes.

Dreams-memories poking their way into this world, seeping through the cracks. His reality was starting to fracture, about ready to fall apart at the seams- pieces of the floor and walls were flickering in and out of view, the colors shifting back and forth between too dull and too vibrant, like a screen malfunctioning. His “parents” didn’t even look human anymore, shrieking undecipherable words in a distorted, unified voice. Faceless.

 The dark figure was gone. Instead, a mirror in front of him. Where it’d just come from, Marius didn’t know. 

His reflection stared at him, still and emotionless, eyes dull and lifeless. Yellow. Not brown. Never brown.

Lies.

Ever-so slowly, it tilted his neck, hands rising up, up, and up, grabbing each side of his face. There were scars. So many scars.

 And then it snapped its own neck with a sickening crunch, staring down at Marius disapprovingly as dark blood started dripping down his eyes and nose and mouth... “You just couldn’t play along, could you?”

 There was no more house. Only formless ideas of walls and floor and ceilings and inside and outside and skies and clouds.

 Marius turned away and ran.

#moirai au #arc 5: the orator #mars #the orator #jse au #tw blood

[themirrormenagerie]

🏚Ulysses Intro:

General

☆ Full Name: Letuimanu'asina Ulysses Fetuilelagi Le Tagaloa

☆ Alias: - Chief/Mr. Ulysses (mostly used by the school staff and occasionally Crowley)

- "U"/ Ulysses (Most of the student body)

- Crayfish (given by Floyd)

- Trickster (courtesy of Rook)

- Herbivore (by Leona)

- Human (as told by Sebek)

- Child of Man (said by Malleus)

☆ Age: 16 yrs old; 17 yrs old Post-Scarabia Arc

☆ Birthday: 11th March

☆ Zodiac Sign: Pisces

☆ Eye Colour: Ocean blue iris w/ crimson pupil

☆ Hair Colour: jet black

☆ Height: 178cm (5"10)

☆ Gender: Demiboy

☆ Dominant Hand: Ambidextrous

☆ Homeland: Not of Twisted Wonderland

☆ Family: Large, unnamed extended family full of relatives, half-relatives, step-relatives, adopted relatives + unnamed mother, father, grandmother and great grandfather

☆ Pronouns: He/They

☆ Sexuality: Panromantic Asexual

School Info

♡ School: Night Raven College

♡ Unique Magic: N/A

♡ Dorm: Ramshackle

♡ School Year: 1st Year

♡ Class: 1-A

♡ Student Number: Student no.9

♡ Club: Horseback Riding Club

Preferences

☆ Likes: Their family and village, stories and legends, the sea, seashells, wayfinding and sailing, boats

☆ Dislikes: Being landbound, recklessness, being called "fiapoko" aka an excessive know-it-all, purposeful stupidity, monsters, their own failure

☆ Favourite Food: Oka i'a (raw fish served in coconut cream with optional toppings of diced cucumber, tomato, and chilli)

☆ Least Favourite Food: Panipopo (sweet bread roll baked in coconut sauce)

Other

♡ Occupation: Student/Prefect

♡ Hobbies: Tagati'a (spear throwing contest), dominoes, taulafoga (similar to shuffleboard)

♡ Talents: Excellent oratory skills (ranging from debates to storytelling)

♡ Clothing Style Description: He is the type to wear as little layers of clothing as possible, mostly out of habit since he lived in a tropical environment most of his life. Sleeveless tops, loose pants and a pair of flip-flops is their go-to for any outfit.

♡ Accessories: They possess one abalone shell necklace which had been gifted to them by their grandmother. Ulysses later discovers that it emits the echoing sound of leaking during the events leading up to an Overblot.

Personality

☆ Quote: "My strength does not come from me alone but from many."

☆ Personality: Ulysses is sea-loving, kind, headstrong, practically fearless, and physically capable. Though they have moments of self-doubt, they hold great pride in who they are and their own self-identity. Ulysses is generally too stubborn to back away from new challenges. He approaches new experiences and tasks with the utmost seriousness and will stand his ground to fight for what he values even when all seems lost. He does have moments where a bit of his snark slips into his speech.

Additional Facts/ Trivia:

-So their full name is Letuimanu'asina Ulysses Fetuilelagi Le Tagaloa but when they were kidnapped escorted into Twisted Wonderland via ebony carriage they only gave their English name "Ulysses" hence everyone just calling them "U".

-The first time he ever told Grim his mouthful of a name, the furry monster was mostly convinced he just had a stroke.

-Ulysses is the offspring of the Village Chief back in their OG world (Ranked matai; specifically holding the title of 'Tulafale' also known as 'orator chief' status)

-Unlike my other MCs who are more than content to stay in Twisted Wonderland as a form of escapism, Ulysses actively tries to get back home to their people. He isn't looking for an escape and he has responsibilities left to attend to in his original world.

-Ulysses, similar to my other Pasifika-coded TWST OCs, also has tatau. Which means they have traditional hip and thigh tattoos which were done through the use of tools made from bone and twine as a sacred rite of passage.

-They have a soft spot for animals and as a result, Grim gets a safe pass for his shenanigans time and time again.

#disney twisted wonderland #twst mc #twisted wonderland mc #twisted wonderland original character #twisted wonderland oc #twst yuu #twst oc blog #twst mc intro #Twst Ulysses #reblogs much appreciated

[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

pt2. In pt 7 of my og theory i said that if there was to be a yiga spy arc in this stroyline, that there would have to be a spy who is close to Siv, or else the spy wouldn't get featured. I stick to that. But i do not stick to anything in part 8, 9, 10, 12, 13, &14. You might see where im going with this. but let me reiterate what i do stick to. 1. Siv doesnt necesarily want to feature Larc a whole bunch because he thinks hes too pretentious and gets enough attention as is pt 3->

Long post! Sorry

pt 3: 2. someone is probably going to die (whether on the picrew list or not) and the writer has alluded to siv not being safe as the main character (but with siv eating the quill it seems less likely that the story can go on without him) 3. Larc let Sooga escape and Sooga only got a scar. this all leads to one large conclusion. Link Arcadius Hartell. (deja vu am i right ha ha)pt 4 ->

4: why would Larc do it though? Why would he go against the yiga if he’s working with them? Well maybe he hadn’t been informed his brother was being taken hostage, or disagreed with it, and decided to break through the yiga to fix their mistake of taking siv. Why would he not want his rat bastard of a brother as a hostage? Maybe it’s brotherly love, or...

pt. 5: Some would argue that Larc is a great warrior and thats why he was that quick at getting to Siv... but then how did Sooga escape with only a scar? It was one on one between Sooga and Larc, while it was larc and a few other warriors against a possible great amount of Yiga soldiers as well as the great Master Kohga. And he was mentioned in the distress letter Kohga sent to Sooga so we know Larc didn't just bolt from the battle, he was a pivitol part of it. pt. 6->

pt. 6: so in conclusion Larc must have been an amazing warrior to get to the hostages that fast.But how did Sooga get away with only a scar? Wouldn't Larc have cut him down or arrest him quickly? Heres some food for thought: What if Larc had the element of suprise on his hands when he defeated the Yiga in the first battle. Now your going to say, "theory anon, no shit" But think about the suprise this way. hey knew he was coming, but they expected Larc to not fight against them.

Pt7: The surprise that Larc had on his side was that he fought against them. Think about it. If Larc was a spy, wouldn’t it be weird for him to fight against yiga at the military camp? Well By then, Larc would have heard about everything that Siv was writing and know that he was a hostage. So what if Larc didn’t want this to happen, and disagreed with Siv being taken? Then he’d have a reason to fight the yiga, and that would give him the surprise he needed to over power them and go for siv

pt. 8:..or it could have been an ulterior motive. the gist so far: Larc is a spy, he got through with the first battle between the Yiga and the other dudes at the military camp because he surprised the yiga, whom he was spying for, by fighting back because he didnt like the plan of kidnapping the orator, his brother. The fact that he let Sooga go with only a scar plays into this because he might not want to kill a member of his own clan. Now to play this into today's events, pt. 9 ->

pt 9: to tie this into todys events, larc sent a letter home to his husband and daughter (not his child soldier btw-just gonna say) that he will be away for longer than usual, why? because the festival got messy? didnt siv already say they just throw a lyonel at the blood and then be done? Siv didnt update on anything too in need of Larc to stay behind and clean up. when he was talking to Siv he was /very/ conspicuous with just saying "incident" feels like a cover ehh?

Pt. 10(and maybe final) the “incident” feels more like a cover for him doing yiga-ish stuff. And he’s probably hiding it from his husband and daughter as well. Now just a blip that maybe he’s linked link into this by trying to push link into being a soldier because he wants another yiga in the fam but who knows. Might also be why he didn’t mention Link at all in his letters home.

Pt11(final) Larc is also using Siv as the orator. I’m not sure how yet but it’s suspisios that Siv was given this job partially by Larc and get in the way of the yiga and a whole bunch of other stuff right away. I stick by the fact that alarm might die because legit no one is safe and isn’t treason punishable by death?in conclusion our rat bastard isn’t the only one who’s done bad things. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

These are all the ones I got from you, tumblr must have ate the others, RIP. Please feel free to resend! Especially since some of the latest posts debunk some details in here.

Siv eating the quill is important yes! But i should note there are other quills, like said in the original rat comic. but they’re not as special as the “true quill of the ancient roost,” as Sooga said, as these others don’t have the same powers. These lesser quills can only duplicate written stuff onto another, already designated destination, they can do the whole message back and forth thing. This is what merchants and stable owners use to instantly be up to date with stuff in botw. all i’m saying is, this blog potentially has other ways to manage, without siv.

The events of the arc, eye yi yiga, took place over the span of 5-7 hours, depending on where you define when the yiga thing “starts”

Sooga can teleport. Ideally he would have wanted to teleport with a hostage but he didn’t have enough tailsmens on him. Sorry I didn’t mention that in the original update arc. I’m not saying that debunks your theory though, but it is a detail of clarification

Arcadius was under the impression that his entire family, Launo, Link, and Aryll, were home.

Now just a blip that maybe he’s [Larc] linked link into this by trying to push link into being a soldier...Might also be why he didn’t mention Link at all in his letters home.

I will not confirm or deny anything here, but just....remember this. I am cackling and laughing so much. Days from now...for however long.......when things are revealed. I want you to remember this sentiment, so that you can laugh with me.

#hku theories #out of character

[dustedmagazine]

Julius Hemphill — The Boyé Multi-National Crusade for Harmony (New World Records)

Julius Hemphill · The Boyé Multi-National Crusade for Harmony by Julius Hemphill

In a career that spanned only 25 years, reed player Julius Hemphill left an indelible mark with his music, as a player, organizer, composer and mentor. One could focus in on his work with Black Artists Group in St. Louis in the late 1960s, creating a collective that fused music, dance, film, theater and poetry with a sense of social activism and with his Mbari label, a model for artistic self-determination. Or one could jump to his move to New York in the 1970s where he was an active participant in the loft scene, performing solo, as a leader, with dancers and poets, helping to transform the sound of free jazz in collaboration with other Midwest transplants like Charles “Bobo” Shaw, Lester Bowie, Baikida Carroll, Abdul Wadud and Oliver Lake. There’s also his leading role in developing saxophone ensembles, from his appearance on Anthony Braxton’s “Composition 37” along with Oliver Lake and Hamiet Bluiett in 1974 which foreshadowed Hemphill, Lake, Murray and Bluiett’s formation of the World Saxophone Quartet a few years later to his establishment of a sax sextet. There’s the mark he left on musicians who came up under his influence like Tim Berne and Marty Ehrlich. And then there’s his compositions, with acclaimed early pieces like “Dogon A.D.” and “The Hard Blues” to suites like “Roi Boyé and the Gotham Minstrels” or “Flat-out Jump Suite” to “Steppin’” to the through-composed chamber music that he wrote toward the end of his life to Long Tongues: A Saxophone Opera, a large-scale theatrical piece that was performed a handful of times but was never recorded.

But for all that activity, Hemphill’s discography was never extensive, and most of what he put out is now out of print. Which makes this expansive boxed set scrupulously compiled by Marty Ehrlich from Hemphill’s archives at NYU invaluable. Over the course of seven discs, the collection documents Hemphill’s music from 1977 to a posthumous performance of his chamber pieces in 2007 at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston. Each disc stands on its own. Disc 1 documents performances of ensembles including his potent quartet with Olu Dara, Abdul Wadud and Warren Smith as well as a piece by a rare meeting with John Carter. Disc 2 captures a performance in duo with Abdul Wadud, amongst his most fruitful ongoing partnerships. Disc 3 collects the earliest performances of the box by a trio with Carroll and drummer Alex Cline from tiny venues in New York, Berkeley and Philadelphia in 1977. Disc 4 is given over to through-composed chamber works while disc 5 documents his solos and collaborations with poet K. Curtis Lyle and dramatist Malinké Elliott. Disc 6 is the most varied, collecting a variety of different groups. And Disc 7 closes things out with recordings from Woodstock, NY in 1979 by a previously undocumented group featuring Hemphill, Carroll, Dave Holland and Jack DeJohnette. 

Ehrlich kicks off the in-depth booklet that accompanies the box with the following quote by Hemphill from a 1994 interview in Bomb. “Well, you often hear people nowadays talking about the tradition, tradition, tradition. But they have tunnel vision in this tradition. Because tradition in African-American music is wide as all outdoors.” Each disc of this set gives proof that Hemphill’s music completely embodied that ethos. 

Ensembles

Julius Hemphill · The Boyé Multi-National Crusade for Harmony by Julius Hemphill

Hemphill was always a thoughtful ensemble leader, thinking not only about the blending of sonorities of specific instrumentation but also about the particular voices that his collaborators brought to the mix. Trumpet players, most often Baikida Carroll but also Olu Dara, were chosen as a timbral foil but as importantly for their sense of concise freedom, rich harmonic sensibility, open timing and ability to traverse the snaking open-minded melodicism of the leader’s compositions with aplomb. Hemphill noted about Carroll, “I consider the opportunity to bear witness to the eloquent beauty of Baikida’s music a distinct honor. . . Baikida Carroll is polarized, poised, at a matchless point between lyricism and fire. I hope he remains so.” Cellist Abdul Wadud, whose arch approach toward counter-melody and loping pulse, filling the roll of bass while adding an additional solo voice, was also a crucial member of the saxophonist’s groups. Then there are the drummers he regularly enlisted – Charles “Bobo” Shaw, Phillip Wilson, Warren Smith, a very young Alex Cline – each of whom brought their own unique grasp of malleable propulsion and multi-hued percussive colorations. All of this served as the perfect counterbalance for Hemphill’s biting tone, voluble articulation, multifaceted embrace of open groove, abstracted blues and lithe dynamism as a soloist. 

The box is a treasure-trove of unreleased recordings of Hemphill’s groups. Disc 1 contains an extended live set by Olu Dara, Abdul Wadud and Warren Smith from a European tour on the heels of their recording of the oft-overlooked Flat-Out Jump Suite, here, trading the open-ended collective improvisations of the studio recording for fiery readings of two previously unrecorded pieces as well as the breakneck “At Harmony” which Hemphill utilized in various arrangements over the years. “Air Rings” by a quartet with Carroll, Philip Wilson and guitarist Jehri Riley presages the oblique angularities that Hemphill would explore in the 80s with his JAH Band with a heady solo by the trumpet player while also showcasing Wilson’s spry, polyrhythmic sensibility. 

Disc 3’s documentation of sets by The Janus Company, a trio with Carroll and a then-21-year-old Cline on drums, is a revelation. The open form of the pieces like “#4” allow for probing playing by all three and the interplay between the two horn players and Cline’s spare, finely-wrought vigor. The disc is capped off by a live recording of a set by the trio joined by Abdul Wadud and here, the music takes on a spirited intensity. The circuitous collective improvisation segues into an abstracted jaunt through “Dogon AD,” a standout of the box. 

The final disc of the set captures a live performance by a quartet of Hemphill, Carroll, Dave Holland and Jack DeJohnette from 1979 at a small venue in Woodstock, NY when all four were living in the area. Though this was never a regularly working unit, their extended improvisations taking off on three of Hemphill’s pieces are gripping. The four quickly establish a jubilant collective balance, leaving ample room for solos and group interaction. Holland is in fine form and the recording does a great job of capturing his lissome arco playing and gamboling sense of pulse at play off of DeJohnette’s orchestral textures and supple drive. Carroll and Hemphill are strikingly charged for the performance, each delivering torrid solos and reflective ensemble collaboration throughout. 

Solo and Text

Julius Hemphill · The Boyé Multi-National Crusade for Harmony by Julius Hemphill

Any assessment of solo saxophone improvisation demands that one spend time spent digging into Hemphill’s discography. With Blue Boyé and Roi Boyé and the Gotham Minstrels, the reed player threw himself into explorations of structures he developed for both unaccompanied and multi-tracked saxophone. The pieces revealed a keen formative ear, stripping his compositional approach to their elemental frameworks. From his early days in St. Louis, Hemphill also dove in to collaborations with poets, pitting his solo excursions against the fueled narratives of writers like Watts Writers Workshop poet K. Curtis Lyle and dramatist Malinké Elliott. Disc 5 begins and ends with solo excursions, bookending live performances of Hemphill with Lyle and Elliott. While the set with Lyle is gripping throughout, the set with Elliott is dazzling, capturing multi-tracked musings constructed from “Bells,” a recording of a structure of resonant metal played with mallets and sticks at a salvage yard in Oregon, Hemphill’s horn and Elliott’s readings of text that draws on Ralph Ellison’s novel Invisible Man as a meditation on the Soweto Youth Uprising in 1976. The 22-minute suite moves across five “voices,” from orator to hipster to preacher, each positing a differing viewpoint of underlying dissent and frustration, notably the chilling skronk of “Soweto 1976 A Suite in Five Voices Part V Carnival Barker.” Listening to the closing “Solo Soprano Saxophone with Bells recording” is a teaser for a full-blown album that was never to be realized. 

Duos

Julius Hemphill · The Boyé Multi-National Crusade for Harmony by Julius Hemphill

Hemphill made a handful of great duo recordings including meetings with Oliver Lake, Warren Smith and Peter Kowald. But his partnership with Abdul Wadud was one of his most long-lasting and most fruitful. The two made two recordings, both of which are long out-of-print, so it is particularly welcome that Disc 2 contains an entire set of their partnership. While the provenance of the recordings is unknown, Ehrlich found the cello parts for five of the pieces which appear to be written specifically for the duo. Ehrlich describes the pieces in the booklet for the set, noting that “Chromatic, open-ended melodic lines are placed in contrasting juxtapositions. The music has a sense of abstraction, while individual gestures evoke melodies known and felt. All of this sets up a charged emotional space for the improvisations to unfold.” The two navigate the countervailing parts with spirited zeal, moving seamlessly between unrestrained melodicism, bounding groove, thorny angularity, infectious free funk and hurtling intensity. They are entirely in synch throughout, their voices intertwined, prodding the pieces forward while leaving ample space for each other’s arcing flights. Hemphill touches on free-bop runs at times while Wadud moves in and out of the pocket, tossing off flittering pizzicato lines then diving off into flights of fiery arco. While all of the pieces are prime Hemphill, Ehrlich notes that none of the pieces from this set appear anywhere else in the archive or on commercial recordings, another element that makes this disc significant. 

 Composition

Julius Hemphill · The Boyé Multi-National Crusade for Harmony by Julius Hemphill

During Hemphill’s last decade, he received a few commissions to compose music for chamber ensembles, though these pieces were scantily recorded or performed. Disc 4 documents two performances of these works, one from 1987 at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston and another from 1981 at Soundscape in Manhattan. The disc kicks off with “Parchment,” a solo piano piece written for and performed by his partner Ursula Oppens. Hemphill rarely utilized piano in his groups, but here, he plies shard-like chords as fragmented, lyrical motifs emerge with unhurried deliberation. Hemphill’s arrangements of Mingus pieces for string quartet included here might seem an anomaly until one thinks about the arrangements of Ellington/Strayhorn pieces he did for World Saxophone Quartet. Recasting Mingus’ potent melodies for string quartet is a bit of a mixed bag. While he revels in the lush harmonic depth of the instrumentation, it’s only on his chart for “Better Get Hit in Your Soul” that things really click due in main part to the funky cello line that goads things along. The two extended pieces for mixed wind and brass quintet are much stronger. The expanded instrumental palette offers the composer timbral depth with John Purcell and Ehrlich moving back and forth between saxophones and clarinets, the pairing of Purcell on oboe with Janet Grice’s bassoon and trumpet player Bruce Purse and Ray Anderson on trombone and tuba filling out the tonal range. The groups attacks the arrangements with unbridled swagger, especially when the pieces open up for sections of improvisation which the group jumps on. Hemphill honed these skills with his large ensemble, his saxophone sextet and in his piece Long Tongues and one wonders where this avenue might have led had he lived longer. 

Any of these discs, taken separately, would be a welcome addition to Hemphill’s discography. Taken together, they provide a wide-ranging, illuminating view even to those who’ve long immersed themselves in his music. Ehrlich concludes the booklet notes with this quote from the reed player. “This music is blues-driven. In terms of what has gone on before. Now where it goes from here — where it is going from here — may not be the same thing, ’cause it has to change, or it’ll die in my opinion. You know what I mean? The traditions keep on turning over! People keep looking rearward for the tradition. The tradition in this music is forward! Forward! Not what you did last week, but this week! You see what I’m saying? Now . . . that’s a hard road.” Diving in to the seven discs of The Boyé Multi-National Crusade for Harmony, one is struck by how much Hemphill championed that tenet throughout his career and, indeed, drove the tradition forward in all of his artistic pursuits.

 Michael Rosenstein

#julius hemphill #The Boyé Multi-National Crusade for Harmony #new world records #dusted magazine #albumreview #box set #michael rosenstein #jazz #free jazz #improvised music

[mytargaryenchildren]

How a historical analysis might help reconsider the need to accept Game of Thrones’ TV ending

I’m dedicating this post to @bendthekneejon ❤️

I wrote this weeks ago but real life got in the way of finalizing it, but here you go. Almost 2 months later and I’m still angry about the Game of Thrones ending. And here’s how I am getting over it.

Most people I see online have been upset about the way the Game of Thrones TV show ended, including me. I have been a mega fan since 2013, read the books, spent a lot of money traveling to filming locations and on cosplay, went out of my way to meet Kit Harington, but most importantly I have used the story of ASOIAF as escapism for these past 6 years. It’s so ingrained in my daily imagination, so it’s been really difficult to come to terms with the butchering of characters and their arcs, sexist/racist writing, and an overall unsatisfying ending that we got just for the sake of ‘subverting expectations’.

To come to terms with my disregard for Season 8, I was thinking about a lecture I attended back in 2018 at my undergraduate university by Ayelet Haimson Lushkov. She wrote You Win or You Die: The Ancient World of Game of Thrones as a comparison of the events and tropes within ASOIAF with ancient Roman and Greek history. Usually, the comparison is made with medieval Britain or European history, but I found many of the parallels, especially from Essos, to be more interesting than the typical feudalist reading of ASOIAF that we get by historians. That’s not my main point here, though I would definitely check her book out if you’re a fan of history and ASOIAF like me. My main point is how to reconcile David and Dan’s ending or George R. R. Martin’s future ending with an actual satisfying end, and how modern fandom culture is actually the perfect way to bridge this gap.

Lushkov spoke about the formation of ‘canon’ in this lecture.  She explained how interesting it is how exactly ASOIAF canon has come to be: one author began it, which would usually be considered the one and only ‘true’ canon of a certain media. However, when it went to D&D and HBO, especially once they surpassed George’s books, that canon splintered into two. There’s book and show canon. Up until season 8 I was a fan of both; I liked each one for different reasons. I saw it as getting two separate stories told by two different entities, just using the same characters. In my heart I never preferred one over the other, I saw them as two different canons, two stories. I’m arguing that this is how we must think of the world of ASOIAF now. The book and show are completely different stories, and should remain that way. HOWEVER I’m taking it a step further.

Fandoms are just an authoritative source of canon as the ‘original’ creators. There, I said it. Now, let me explain this view by using Lushkov’s explanation. Because she looked into classical history, she naturally used Homer’s epic poems as a source to compare the content of ASOIAF with. Then she made the parallel, or reverse parallel, with the formation of these stories. First, it is important to understand the theories around Homer. “There are scholars who see (most of) the Iliad and sometimes the Odyssey as the work of a single inspired poet, a genius whom they call Homer.” In my parallel, this theory reflects GRRM and most singular content creators. However, the other argument helps my view, that “the Homeric poems are the product of a long series of compositions and re-compositions,” where “Homer is seen as a ‘movement’ rather than as an individual”. This theory states that the Greek Epics were compiled over time, by many people, until eventually it became one single canon. This isn’t only applicable to Greek poetry. Let’s look at where the word ‘canon’ comes from: religion. The Bible for example was written over time by different contributors into one eventual canon that’s followed by millions today. Each of the four gospels has its own version of the story of Christ, and even they differ from one another within canon!

So, why is this important? What does it have to do with the ending of Game of Thrones? Well, what I’m saying is that if we all agree that Game of Thrones season 8 was the worst thing to happen to the world of ASOIAF, we can throw it out the window of canon if we want. By reversing the formation of canon, us fans have just as much authority over it as David and Dan. Of course I’m not saying that every headcanon is 100% legitimate, no, but what I’m saying is that due to the widespread disdain and hatred for the ending, and overall agreement that it wasn’t up to the standards of the rest of canon, it’s acceptable for us to disregard it completely and feel no guilt in that. I don’t want anyone to say “no, I’m ignoring the final 3 episodes” and then to feel that underlying guilt or belief that you’re turning your back on a story you’ve loved for years. I know how much effort has been put into metas, theories, and fanfics. Some of you have spent way more time on this canon than D&D combined. It’s such a personal thing too, loving these characters, reflecting on our lives through them, and wanting to see them thrive. This analysis should help you disregard season 8 and feel justified about it under the definitions of canon.

Lushkov mentioned that modern fandom culture is so important in the acceptance of canon, and she was the one who suggested this reversal of roles. The definition of “Canon” is where my argument is strengthened: “Canon is a source, or sources, considered authoritative by the fannish community. In other words, canon is what fans agree "actually" happened in a film, television show, novel, comic book, or concert tour. Specific sources considered canon may vary even within a specific fandom.” Note the importance of fan’s acceptance in this definition. In Lushkov’s analysis, the fans play the same role as the original orators of the Greek epics before the Homer canon was solidified. Modern fandom is defined by many people sharing a story, and especially sharing extra content like metas and fanfics.

There’s a precedent for disregarding canon set already, though, and hopefully this can convince you more that you’re justified in throwing season 8 in the trash. When Disney bought Star Wars, they threw out everything that had been done in the Extended Universe and made up their own new canon. The Extended Universe was an example of one canon being created by one person, and then authors taking that and making their own additional stories in universe, that counted as canon. So, are all of their stories, their hard work, is it all invalid now? I wouldn’t say so. There’s just two separate canons now. Also, how many times have comic books been retconned? Just think about how many different superheros have 5 different film versions!  Creators ignore the past, or change it, and then new canon is accepted or not accepted by fans. I mentioned the Bible earlier; even THAT split into multiple Canons due to disdain for creators misusing canon! My years of studying Martin Luther have finally come in handy! Am I really comparing 1.5 million Game of Thrones fans signing a petition to remake season 8 to Martin Luther’s 95 Theses against the Catholic Church? You know what, yeah, yeah I am. 

If 1.5+ million people have signed the petition to remake Game of Thrones season 8, if 90% of the articles I see online hate the ending, if almost all of tumblr discourse says that the ending was gross and sexist and racist, well let’s throw it out the window. Clearly almost every character was acting out of character. The people we saw in the last 3 episodes of Game of Thrones were not the characters we grew to love in the previous 7.5 seasons.

I hope by pointing out real historical canons, as well as modern fandom interactions and media consumption, I’ve shown that the idea of one unifying ‘canon’ has never been as clear cut as one might hope. In this, I hope that everyone who is considering ignoring season 8 and turning to fanfiction to correct the mistakes made by David and Dan feels no remorse in doing so. GO FOR IT!! If Martin Luther could, you can too.  

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones meta #bringing my history degree into the GoT fandom lmao #there's lots of other stuff on fandom and media consumption and author/reader relationships that i didn't get into #i don't have the time #but yeah

[selfportraitsofcolor]

Kalisolaite ‘Uhila, b. Tonga, 1981 Ongo Mei Moana. Ongo Mei Moana New Zealand (2015) Performance [Source]

Becoming transfixed by the motions of the ocean inspired his next work Ongo Mei Moana. Ongo Mei Moana performed on Oriental Bay was a part of the 2015 Performance Arcade in Wellington. Through Tongan oration and choreography Kalisolaite conducted the sea for six hours from low to high tide at every low tide for 5 days. 

In this performance Kalisolaite was referencing the ocean not as something that divides countries but as a way of connecting people. Wearing ngatu and si leaves Kalisolaite is referencing his family lineage of Tongan mariners who used to go offshore to the Tongan-Kermadec volcanic arc collecting black rocks used to decorate cemeteries. This performance is a sophisticated blend of past, present, personal and global.

#Kalisolaite ‘Uhila #tonga #new zealand #oceania #2010s #performance art

[talabib]

What Every Speaker Can Learn from Barack Obama

On October 2, 2002, at the very same time that President George W. Bush and Congress were announcing their joint resolution to authorize the invasion of Iraq, Obama, then an Illinois State senator, spoke at an antiwar rally in Federal Plaza in Chicago. The New Republic reported an eyewitness account: Jesse Jackson was to be the day’s marquee speaker. But it was Obama, wearing a war-is-not-an-option lapel pin, who stole the show. Obama’s 926-word speech denounced a “dumb war. A rash war. A war based not on reason but on passion, not on principle but on politics.” The electrified crowd knew that a political star was born.

Barack Obama is, by any standard, a very good, if not a great speaker. But his talent did not spring from birth or from mystical magical powers. Obama uses a set of accessible techniques that you, too, can use.

1. Verbalization: Obama practices verbalization. In a Washington Post story he was quoted as saying, “My general attitude is practice, practice, practice ... Besides campaigning, I have always said that one of the best places for me to learn public speaking was actually teaching –– standing in a room full of 30 or 40 kids and keeping them engaged, interested and challenged.”

2. Person-to-person, head nods, read the reaction/adjust your content. A New Yorker magazine profile of Obama gave an example of his campaign for his Illinois Senate seat. When speaking to a group of AFL-CIO building tradesmen who had supported his opponent in the state primary, Obama adjusted his content to include a pro-labor message. The result: “Heads began nodding slowly, jaws set, as he drove home his points.”

3. Think “You.” Obama used that persuasive word strategically throughout his campaign for the Democratic nomination: on his Web site and in his speeches.

4. Speak with your body language.

Eye Contact: Obama’s strong eye contact is apparent in every type of speaking situation.

Reach Out: Time magazine reported,“Physically, he is uncommonly restrained: He keeps his hands close to his head, and his shoulders are always tight and squared.”

Animation: In all settings, large and small, Obama is always animated, his face expressive, breaking into a ready smile or expressing the meaning of his words with passionate emphasis.

5. Control your cadence and complete the arc. Emulating Reagan, Obama rolls out his words in long arcs, like a ship riding the waves on the high seas, completing each arc by dropping his voice, and punctuating each point forcefully. The pauses between the arcs allow his listeners to absorb the meaning of his words, if not to become captivated by his compelling rhythm.

How to Prepare Your Content

Many presenters and speakers, pressured by the demands of business and daily life, often beg, borrow, or steal a colleague’s material or put off their own preparation until the eleventh hour. Your presentation will be much stronger if you spend enough time to organize, develop, and think through your content. During the preparation, clear your mind by eliminating all the superfluous material and identifying the essential. Here are seven ways to prepare your content for presentation:

1. Establish the framework of your presentation. Define your objective. What is your call to action? What does your audience need to know in order to respond to your call to action?

2. Brainstorming: Consider all the possibilities. Distill all your ideas into a few main themes.

3. Roman Columns: Find a mnemonic device for your main themes. If you visit Rome today and tour the ruins of the great Forum, you are likely to hear your guide talk about the classic Roman orators who spoke in the Forum for hours on end without any notes. To help them remember what to say, the orators used the stately marble columns of the Forum as prompts. The object of your brainstorming is to develop the Roman columns of your own story; about five or six in all is optimal.

4. Flow Structure: Provide a road map for your audience and for you. Give the individual components of your story a meaningful, orderly flow. Two of the simplest and most common flow structures are chronological (track your story along a timeline) and numerical (Combine all your Roman columns and assign them a number, then count down for your audience as you discuss each column). Think of David Letterman’s Top Ten.

5. Graphics: Use visual aids, but give your graphics their proper role as support for your narrative.

6. Ownership: Take charge of your own presentation. Become a hands-on presenter and supervise your presentation’s development at pivotal points.

7. Verbalization: Practice the right way. In your rehearsals, speak the actual words of your presentation or speech aloud, just the way you will do it when you are in front of your intended audience. Verbalization crystallizes ideas.

“Good speakers are born, not made,” and its extended variation, “That person has natural charisma” are often said about a presenter’s delivery skills. The corollary implication of this view is “Change is impossible.” You either have it or you do not. For some unearthly reason, many people cling to this preconception, and recite it, almost as a pledge of allegiance. Change is possible for anyone.

Bill Clinton, with his usual rhetorical flair and an established reputation as a superstar of the keynote circuit, seemingly did not need any makeovers. But Clinton was not born with this capability. He admits as much in his autobiography, calling his first speech effort while in high school “unremarkable.” He was still far less than remarkable in 1988 when, as the governor of Arkansas, he gave a nominating speech for Michael Dukakis at the Democratic National Convention in Atlanta. Clinton rambled on for so long that the delegates began to chant, “We want Mike!” And when he finally said, “In closing …” the crowd roared their approval. In his autobiography, Clinton confessed, “It was 32 minutes of total disaster.”

#presentation skills

[minervarosewilliams]

June 13th Asteroids 2017

June 13th is Trump's Solar Return.

Yes, the 14th is his actual birthday but this year his Solar Return is the 13th of June. The Solar Return read is in effect for the entire year.

Trump  MID  24 Taurus 22 conjunct Jun13  Charybdis   24 Taurus 41

                                                                     Algol 26 Taurus 24

                                                          Trump  Banno  23 Taurus 39

                                                         Trump  Senator 24 Taurus 59

                                            square  Jun13  Tape 24 Leo 26

                                                        Jun13  North Node  26

                                                        Jun13  Hera 26 Leo 45

                                                        Jun13  Damocles  26 Aquarius 25

                                     opposition  Jun13  Washingtonia   26 Scorpio 6 Rx

<These are all forming a grand cross with each other, which is a high energy very difficult aspect.>

<This is very important. He has Charybdis on his Midheaven for his Solar Return. Charybdis is an all or nothing disaster asteroid. It's the whirlpool that either sinks your ship entire or that is narrowly escaped by skirting the edges. Charybdis being conjunct Algol adds an enormous layer of danger of mass death and destruction.>

<Charybdis will either affect Trump or he will inflict it upon the rest of us.>

<Charybdis is on Trump's Banno (Bannon) and Senator. He will either injure them or they will injure him.>

<Trump has Caesar in his first house. The Senators were the people who did him in, for the good of the Republic. That adds weight to the Senators being his Charybdis.>

<There is a play, Julius Caesar (Shakespeare) where the main character is dressed like Trump.>

<The square to Tape indicates the tapes, even if imaginary, are damaging to him. Same with the square to Hera showing the damage done to or by his wife.>

<The opposition to Washingtonia is the across the board damage he is doing to the government. Hopefully they can kick back.>

Jun13  Chaos   22 Gemini 6 conjunct  Jun13   Sun  22 Gemini 56

<The Sun is his ego.>

Jun13  Russia   15 Cancer 14 conjunct  Jun13  MID  16 Cancer 51

                                                              Jun13  Pylenor  17 Cancer 53

                                                              Jun13  Hooveria   19 Cancer 47

<Russia, Pylenor and Hooveria on his SR MID. Pylenor is the poison asteroid and Hoover founded the FBI.>

Jun13  Machiavelli   9 Virgo 58  conjunct Jun13 Karma  10 Virgo 24

Jun13   Lie   3 Leo 21

Jun13   Cox  3 Leo 57

Jun13  BAM   4 Leo 25

Jun13  Sphinx  4 Leo 39

Jun13  Mueller   5 Leo 51

<Cox was the person fired by Nixon in his attempt to obstruct justice. The Sphinx asked riddles, and if the answer was wrong it would kill you. Mueller is the Special Prosecutor investigating ties to Russia.>

Jun13  Lincoln  20 Scorpio 9 Rx

Jun13  Sado   20 Scorpio 27 Rx

Jun13  Gunnie  20 Scorpio 45 Rx

Jun13  Vilain   21 Scorpio 47 Rx

Jun13  Mercury   13 Gemini 30 conjunct Jun13  TL66   13 Gemini 51

<TL66 is a disaster asteroid. Mercury is communications, travel, or mental acuity.>

Jun13  Photographica  8 Cancer 3 conjunct  Jun13  TD10   9 Cancer 53

<TD10  is a disaster asteroid with overtones of mental illness.>

Jun13  Pyrrhus  18 Sagittarius 47 Rx conjunct  Jun13 Burns 19 Sagittarius 44 Rx

Trump SA Sun  0 Virgo 49 conjunct  Trump  ASC   29 Leo 58    

                                                            Trump  Hooveria    1 Virgo 20

                                                            Regulus  0 Virgo 4

<The FBI is looking at him.>

Trump SA Mars 4 Scorpio 40 conjunct  Trump Elektra    6 Scorpio 44

Trump  SA Saturn  1 Libra 42 conjunct Trump  Nike   0 Libra 55

                                                              Trump  Madhatter   1 Libra 48

Trump  SA Uranus  25 Leo 47 conjunct  Trump Mars 26 Leo 47

<Uranus/Mars aspects can be dangerous. Accidents or unexpected war. This solar arc is exact in about a year, as is TD10/Hiroshima following.>

Trump  SA TD10  17 Capricorn 21 opposition Trump  Moomintroll 17 Cancer 22

                                                          Trump  Hiroshima   18 Cancer 21

<TD10 is a destruction asteroid with overtones of mental illness, in opposing aspect to Hiroshima. The combination of this one with the previous aspect is very disturbing.>

Trump  SA Pluto 17 Libra 56 conjunct Trump  JUPITER   17 Libra 27

                                                              Trump  Cicero   17 Libra 41

                                                              Trump  Gunnie   18 Libra 31

<Cicero was an orator.>

Trump  SA Chiron 22 Sagittarius 48 conjunct  Trump  Pyrrhus   21 Sagittarius 45

<The karmic wounded healer and burning everything to the ground to 'win'.>                        

Trump  SA TL66  23 Aries 55 conjunct Trump  Flammeus 24 Aries 10

<A conjunction of two disaster asteroids.>

Trump  SA Claudius 7 Scorpio 46 conjunct Trump Scylla   8 Scorpio 11 Rx

Jun13  Senator  21 Virgo 15 conjunct  Jun13  Libitina  21 Virgo 34

<Libitina is a funerary goddess.>

Jun13  Hooveria   19 Cancer 47 conjunct  Jun13  Polybius  20 Cancer 18

<Polybius was an historian who wrote on the separation of church and state.>

Jun13  House  27 Virgo 41 conjunct Jun13   Paine   28 Virgo 27

<House of Representatives?>

Trump  Lie    17 Taurus 31

Trump  Moron   18 Taurus 17

Trump  BAM  19 Taurus 39

Trump  Shotwell  19 Taurus 57

Trump  Fama   20 Taurus 33

 Trump  SA Lincoln  28 Aries 4 conjunct  Trump  Tapping 28 Aries 1

                                                                  Trump  Booth  0 Taurus 29

Jun13 Uranus  27 Aries 32

Trump  Tapping 28 Aries 1

Trump  SA Lincoln  28 Aries 4

Jun13  Icarus  28 Aries 29

Jun13  Destinn  28 Aries 57

Trump  Booth  0 Taurus 29

Jun13  Gunn  2 Taurus 25

  Jun13  Jura  9 Gemini 4

Jun13  Weimar  9 Gemini 30

Jun13  Teutonia  11 Gemini 39

Jun13  Garrison  11 Gemini 59

Jun13  Mercury   13 Gemini 30

Jun13  Johnson   13 Gemini 41

Jun13  TL66   13 Gemini 51

<This one had me worried before I found Jura, which means 'law'. The Weimar Republic was Germany at the time of the rise of the Nazis. Teutonic has to do with the Nazi ideal of a master race. These two together indicate white supremacist. Combined with Garrison this is frightening. Jura, however, will bring them to justice. >

Jun13  DEC  14 Aries 29 conjunct Jun13  Reich 14 Aries 58

<For his solar return Reich is in his house  of equal friends.>

[theironweasel]

Fullmetal Alchemist: And Why I’m worried Avatar has spoiled me.

SPOILERS!

This was the series more than any other anime I had seen that I was hoping that could live up to the quality of the Avatar franchise. It was an Action/Adventure series about the same length as both series and it was even TV-PG, allowing even darker situations and themes, and it had a strong starting concept. Once again, however, I was ultimately disappointed.

The Humor. This is a rather small complaint in the grand scheme of things, but I felt the humor in FMA fell pretty flat most of the time. I think there are two reasons for this, first most of the jokes are just repeated time and time again and are the one comedic note a character has. Edward gets mad when someone calls him short, Armstrong has his weird physique obsession, and Hughes loves to go on about his daughter. The other issue is the tonal shifts the humor creates. I’d describe the humor in FMA as exaggerated, with background changes, chibiesque faces and other anime humor tropes. However this doesn’t really gel with the serious and dark tone of the rest of the series, this is why the humor seems to work better in the small number of “comedy” episodes such as the Flame Alchemist. Compare this to both Avatar series. In each, characters also tend to derive their comedy from one particular place, but it isn’t limited to a single joke. Sokka has his cynical sarcasm, Toph has her blind jokes, Katara has her deprecation of her brother, Bolin has his naive silliness, and even Mako get’s his overly uptight attitude and awkwardness. But they don’t just repeat the same joke over and over and the reactions of others is also a huge part of the jokes, from annoyance to anger to confusion. Additionally the jokes don’t tend to break from the tone too much. Sokka’s sarcasm is usually a result of the bad situations he tends to wind up in, and Katara tends to get on Sokka’s case when she is annoyed at him for some reason. These jokes are also much more subdued and realistic, they feel like real human beings who have these personalities would say these things in the situation they are in. In FMA, most of the time, it feels like characters become caricatures whenever their humor moments emerge. Also, a lot of humor relies on the reactions of other characters with FMA it's very easy to predict the over the top reactions that will happen. One of my favorite jokes in Avatar is when Bolin is checking to see if Aiwei is in his house “He's not home. Or he's hiding in there. (gasps) Or he's invisible.” To which Mako gives him an amazing look of annoyance that is simply expressed in a pursed mouth and a cocked eyebrow but the timing and sincerity of it always make me laugh.

2. The Pacing. FMA has a problem I rarely even talk about or notice, because I tend to find as long as the pacing is consistent it doesn’t matter much how fast or slow it is. With FMA the pacing is all over the place. At first The Pacing was quite good, letting a single story last only 2 episodes at most, but shifting from a continuing arc to one off episodes relatively well, though the time skip is bizarre. However this changes once the Lab 5 arc begins. 4 episodes are almost entirely in one building over one night with a continuous story that creaks along at a snail's pace. This was the beginning of the longer arcs that would mostly comprise the rest of the show. The worst offender was the Izumi arc which lasted 8 episodes, and the locations that were visited were: An island, a house, some streets, a meat shop, a military base, a bar, a mansion and some sewers. Basically each episode averaged one new location. By comparison, the Ba Sing Se arc in ATLA minus Appa’s Lost Days, was 7 episodes and covered many more locations: The Drill, the outer walls, the lower ring, a tea shop, Zuko’s apartment, the Gaang’s house, the palace, Lake Laogai, a zoo, a haiku club, a restaurant, a fountain area, a spa, The Dai Li headquarters, The Jasmine Dragon, The Water Tribe camp, The Eastern Air temple, The Catacombs and several other locations. Additionally, The entire second half of Book 2 could be considered a single arc that’s 11 episodes long from The Library to The Crossroads of Destiny, however while there is an overarching plot, each episode also has it’s own plot where a number of aspects are resolved each episode, making each feel like a complete story even if the larger story is only slowly developing. FMA has a habit of arcs essentially being one story broken into a number of parts which tends to kill the pacing. It could be argued that LOK is essentially 4 season long arcs going from 12-14 episodes each. While this is technically true, each episode feels independant from each other while also building on the overall plot. While people complain that the pacing gets slow in the middle of Book 2, it isn’t as bad as some of the FMA arcs and bounces back quite well in the second half. And Book 3 is one of the best examples of a slow buildup with an amazing payoff that I’ve ever seen.

3. The Villains. I’m going to be blunt here, the villains of FMA are pretty bland and boring, which is a real shame.There really isn’t much going on with these villains, at best they aren’t completely one dimensional and have some tragedy in their backstory. At worst they have one, continuous boring note they hit and that's it. This is such a waste given the naming convention for most of the villains. We have 7 villains named for the 7 deadly sins, there is so much that could have been done with this, exploring the nature of these concepts from the obvious to the imaginative, to the subtle. We could have seen how a being that is supposed to be an embodiment of a vice interacts with humanity, or how these supposed vices could also be virtues in certain situations. There are a million things that could have been done with this, but for the most part this just plays out as: a guy who will eat anything, a woman who dresses kind of sexily, and a woman who talks like she just woke up. One of the strengths of Avatar are the villains though each series handles them in different ways. First, ATLA tends to have more traditional villains, save for Zuko, though Azula teeters the edge between traditional and humanized, though this is what makes her one of the best villains in fiction by combining pure evil with humanity and tragedy. Back to my point though. Most of the villains are pretty simple, and all of them are essentially aspects of Ego. This is the exact opposite of FMA, taking one concept and exploring it in different ways. Zuko is about the infliction of one's ego on another person and how that can screw someone up and learning how that ultimately, feeding that ego won’t lead to real contentment. Zhao is a bully who enjoys inflicting suffering on others to boost his own ego and his actions both for and against his nation's interests are simply to serve his delusions of grandeur. Long Feng is all about control as an extension of his ego, he rose up through society to prove himself and demanded complete control of Ba Sing Se as an extension of himself. Azula is about the control of Ego as well as how it becomes a defense mechanism to replace a lack of love from those around her, showing how it is ultimately unsustainable because when it is stripped away there is nothing left. Finally, Ozai represents the power hungry nature of Ego and how it will never be satisfied, abusing and manipulating those around him for power and eventually being driven close to madness by a belief in his own power and invincibility. I love this aspect of ATLA as it examines all the aspects of Ego from subtle to extreme, with Ozai being the climax and showing just how terrifying and horrible an absolute devotion to Ego is. LOK takes an opposite approach, each villain represents a different ideology that is taken to an extreme but also humanizes them more than in ATLA. Amon represents how a devotion to extreme equality is misguided as it requires punishing the naturally gifted even though they may choose to use their gifts to help others (Like the Krew) and that in any political movement a figurehead is required and it can be the ultimate weakness. On the other hand it also shows how Amon started as a good person whose ideals were warped by abuse and even though he wants to try and start again he is ultimately killed because of the inevitability of repeating the mistakes of the past, while he may want to change in the moment, all it takes is temptation for the whole thing to start over again. Unalaq is a pretty boring villain but at least he does believe in the need for spirits to be a part of the physical world only taking it to an extreme. And we at least got Vaatu as a pretty cool embodiment of ultimate Darkness and Chaos. Zaheer is extremely interesting in how humanized he is without giving him any real backstory. All this comes from his actions which reflect someone who cares deeply about his friends and loved ones and genuinely wants to help people, but is also ruthless and willing to do ANYTHING to get his way even if it is hypocritical. He also represents a kind of violent Individualist Anarchism that is relatable in how it advocates for total freedom in the midst of an extremely oppressed society. However, it fails to account for how people, especially those who have been oppressed for a long time, don’t tend to act responsibly. More importantly, most people want safety more than freedom and are willing to turn to a horrible dictator to feel safe if necessary. Which brings me to Kuvira, a representation of Fascism who emphasizes Strength, Order, and Military might, from her jackboots to her mechanized army, with a face that could cut glass and an intimidating voice that will make you pee your pants. Seriously, while Hitler was a powerful Orator he didn’t have much else going for him, Kuvira is like if an Übermensch was also the Fuhrer. But beyond that, while her humanization is limited, the final reveal of her character while minor, ties all of her actions together as someone desperately seeking validation in opposition to her abandonment complex. Seriously, look at how long I went on giving just a brief description of each of the villains of Avatar and I could go into much more detail. FMA’s villains are so boring that I could use the same space to write about every single detail we know about all of the villains from backstory, to powers, to motivations and I would at most miss a few minor details.

3. The Plot. The plot starts out simple and interesting, however it eventually becomes way too convoluted with multiple factions with different motivations and goals that aren’t always made apparent so that we aren’t always certain what is going on and why. While it is okay to have some of these things, too much and you start becoming unsure what exactly is going on in relation to everything else. Another unfortunate effect of this is that there are a number of plot points that revolve around one group knowing some information that other groups don’t know. Again while occasionally okay, it is done too much. ATLA has a very simple plot with only a few twists occasionally, but for the most part, most episodes are self-contained stories so it’s difficult to get lost. LOK has more complicated plots, but each one only lasts 12-14 episodes and there is still plenty of stories that wrap up well in one or two episodes and the plots are all pretty interesting and engaging.

4. The Characters. This is more of a mixed bag, I like both Edward and Alphonse and think the relationship between them is pretty great. I do wish the show had taken more advantage of this and focused more on it, because the closest I came to crying watching this show was early on when Alphonse quietly lamented to his brother how he can’t feel anything anymore, specifically he can’t even find physical comfort in his own brother. However there are way too many side characters and most of them are kind of boring and onenote. A huge red flag for me is when Hughes died, this was probably the most likeable of the side characters and this should have been gut wrenching, but I only got a little misty eyed and mostly because of the kind of exploitative child crying during his funeral. It also feels like a number of characters who were supposed to have a bigger arc really didn’t, like Scar who winds up not really changing at all and stupidly plays into the villains’ plans. ATLA was pretty smart in knowing how to handle characters, have a small number of complex main characters with a ton of minor characters with a lot of personality who aren’t seen often, so they are memorable but their schtick isn’t over used. LOK didn’t have quite as interesting main characters, but made up for it with great side characters such as Lin Beifong, Tenzin and Varrick.

5. The Fights. While decent, I got rather tired of Ed using his arm blade to fight and all of the other Alchemists using just one ability the same way over and over. While I understand the specialization of the Alchemists, I wish they would use other abilities more or use their specialization in more creative ways. Avatar was always excellent about coming up with creative ways to use bending from the specializations, to just the imagination of how to use bending from utilitarian such as using sweat as water, to the fantastic, such as firebending magic shows.

6. The Tone. While FMA is praised for it’s dark tone, I think it has a habit of kind of wallowing in it’s darkness too much, especially in regards to the Ishvalan war. While it’s good to have dark moments and even an overall dark tone, I found FMA to not really utilize it’s darkness well. I often felt like the darkness was just dragging everything down into a kind of depressing miasma. The best example I can give with Avatar is Korra Alone which is the most consistently depressing episode of the entire franchise but it is all born out in Korra’s character whereas with FMA it’s mostly worldbuilding/ character development for side characters and doesn’t go into it enough to really justify how relentlessly dark it can get.

7. Winry. Ok this mostly comes up in one episode: Her Reason, but it is essentially just an exaggeration of her normal problems. She comes off as selfish, conceited, and acts like the world revolves around her. She doesn’t consider the emotions of others and never apologizes when she makes a mistake, letting those around her take the blame. At best she just comes across as a kind of boring love interest. Compare this to Avatar, where even the most love interest focused characters such as Yue, Suki and Opal are still pretty strong characters even if they aren’t super deep. And they have the ability to rebuff their love interests if they are acting like jerks without resorting to violence, something that Anime characters seem to have difficulty doing.

8. Izumi. OH MY GOD. If there is one thing I HATE about FMA it is Izumi. She is hateful, hypocritical, uncaring and oh yeah ABUSES CHILDREN! Now I get that in a dangerous world sparing is necessary even if they get their butts’ kicked. However, leaving two prepubescent boys on an island by themselves for a month with a guy who kicks the crap out of them IS ABUSE and no life lesson is worth the trauma that would have resulted from this in real life. There is also the insufferable tendency of the show to follow up her abuse with kindness which is the exact thing an ABUSER would do to fuck with their victims emotions. I could go on for awhile about Izumi, but instead I will compare with Avatar. Iroh is one of the most amazing characters in fiction, at first he may seem like the wise old mentor stereotype but it's quickly apparent that he is a bit of a goofball, but also deeply kind and caring, even putting up with his largely ungrateful nephew. And as we learn, Iroh used to be a very different person and his journey reflects the journey of other characters. In LOK we have Tenzin who is a rather flawed mentor in that he takes himself way too seriously and is rather inflexible in his ways. However he deeply loves his family and culture, learns a lot over the course of the series, and while he is a bit stiff he is also kind of a doormat so that even when he is acting his worst, it never comes across as malicious because if people were really fed up with him they could just ignore him and all he would do is harumph.

As for the Movie, all I will say is that while I liked what it did with the kind of silly plot point at the end of the series. However I don’t think it did enough with it, I wish that most of if not all of the characters had been universe swaps. And in addition, I wish it did more with this concept, turning Hughes into a stick in the mud, single, Nazi was a bad move. It would have been fascinating if they kept the same characters but showed how might they react in a vastly different situation. For example what if Hughes was his usual self, with a family, and because of this he is terrified that the weakness of Germany is a threat to his family, hence why he would reluctantly join up with the Nazis. Ideas like this could have given a lot of depth to the story. Oh, and the villain sucks. Yes FMA made a dimension hopping Nazi boring, with her entire motivation tying into the on the nose moral of “Racism is bad M’kay?”

However, despite all this, I don’t think Avatar has spoiled everything for me. When I look back to Trigun I remember how invested I became in the characters to the point of being moved to tears on multiple occasions and I consider Vash, Wolfwood and Milly to be characters I will always remember and love.

#fullmetal alchemist #edward elric #alphonse elric #winry rockbell #izumi curtis #Avatar The Last Airbender #legend of korra #korra #aang #bolin #iroh #uncle iroh #tenzin

[nothingeverfeelsthesame]

#98

Nem szeretek rovid ismeretseg utan olyanokkal dobalozni, hogy na ezzel biztos lesz valami, vagy pont az ellenkezoje, vele tuti nem lesz semmi. Egyszeruen nem lehet megallapitani par beszelgetesbol meg talalkozasbol, hogy szimptikusak vagytok-e elegge egymasnak.

Az egyetem egy eleg kotetlen dolog, minden orara mas emberekkel jarsz, alig vannak ismeros arcok. Vannak ugyan olyan emberek, akiket rendszeresen latok, de igazabol csak mindenki egy arc a tomegben. Eppen ezert a tanulasmodszertan tanar kitalalta a legelso oran, hogy memoriatesztet csinalunk ilyen szolanc szeruen, az elso mondja a nevet es magarol valamit, a masodik megismetli az elozot aztan bemutatkozik, a harmadik is megismetli, stb stb. Igy legalabb azt a 30 embert, akivel egy tanmodra jarok, megismerem(talan). Onnan mar eleve ismertem 5 vagy 6 embert, de a tobbiek meg mindig total ismeretlenek voltak. Egesz hamar belejottem a nevekbe, bar mindenkit csak az adott tulajdonsaggal tudtam beazonositani. Igy volt ez Erikkel is. O volt Erik a cserkesz.

Hetfo reggel 9 korul alltam egy terem elott, vartam az elso oramra es zenet hallgattam meg beszelgettem messengeren nehany emberrel. Total koma voltam, azt se tudtam hol vagyok. Ram koszon egy ember, felnezek, par pillanat beazonositas, oke Dani vagy a komenymagbol. Eltelik fel perc, valaki csettint elottem, felnezek, vad integetes, beazonositas, oke Peti vagy a repterrol. Harmadik ember meg megall elottem, megvarja amig felnezek, integet, koszon es elmegy. Beazonositas folyamatban, bingo, Erik az.

Kedden elmaradt a gazdjogom, szoval nehany csoporttarsammal kimentunk a westendbe enni es valamkt feltettem rola insta storyba is azzal a felirattal hogy "jo ez a gazdjog". Erre Erik irt insta dm-ben ra valamit, hogy csak a tanmod ne maradjon el. Elkezdtunk beszelgetni. Aztan elmaradt szerdan a tanmod, igy ket oram kozott volt 4 es fel ora szunet. Ugy terveztem hogy hazamegyek, de jott Erik, es valahogy elcsatangoltunk a varosban 4 orat.

Azota folyamatosan beszelunk es iszonyatosan jo arc. Oszinten szolva teljesen masmilyennek kepzeltem, ranezesre egy bekepzelt, ontelt alaknak neztem, erre kiderult hogy vegtelenul szereny es hihetetlen jo a humora. Keves embernel erzek ilyet, de valahogy nala az az erzesem akarhanyszor beszelunk, hogy "hol voltal eddig az eletembol???"

Es nem tudom eldonteni hogy mi van most.

[moirai-au]

16 with Henrik and Chase :3

Timeline: beginning of Arc 5: The Orator

Warning: this is Davil (dave x cecil). there are mentions of nsfw stuff, implied self-harm, and maybe a mention of homophobia??? but other than that it’s clean.

it was supposed to be a short and fluffy thing, but it turned into this absolute monster wtf. but you already know this tabby, my partner in crime! love ya

(if anyone wants to read the longer, nsfw version of this, head right over here)

“Mars almost lit the kitchen on fire again.”

Cecil blinked and turned to look at David; the other wasn’t looking at him, eyes set on the diminishing pile of clean laundry between them. His movements were swift and precise, folding the clothes and beddings with practised care, like he’d done it a million times before.

Which he probably had, being a father and all.

“Is that so?” Cecil mumbled, eyeing the black button-up shirt in his hands. Probably Mars’, he though. He hadn’t worn one of those in a long time, verdammt. How did they fold again?

“Yeaaah. I’m really starting to consider giving him cooking lessons.” Dave chuckled, his voice echoing slightly in the small room. “I swear this kid could burn water if we left him unsupervised.”

The doctor only hummed in response, trying not to get caught on the way Chase’s hands moved with rhythmic intent, or the way theauburn bangs peeking out from under his snapback made the blue of his eyes pop, or-

Nein.

His low hum died in his throat as he swallowed, painfully aware of the strangled sound that had escaped him, trying his very best to shake it off. He was almost scared to look up and risk making eye contact with Dave, to be confronted about what he knew was such a meaningless non-problem that it shouldn’t even be crossing his mind…

He bit his tongue, setting down the shirt he’d been holding idly for seconds, a small sigh escaping his lips.

They kept going as if nothing had changed.

Had it?

“I wish you the very best of luck,” Cecil muttered, picking up another article of clothing. “You should have seen the mess he created when attempting to bake me a Father’s Day cake when he was five…”

“Oh?” Dave asked, clearly intrigued. “Was it any good?”

Despite the unwelcome warmth and tingles spreading through his veins, Cecil let out a mirth-filled huff of laughter. “After I scraped what was left of it from the ceiling, it was… adequate. Certainly not winning any awards.”

David seemed to find Cecil’s response humorous, judging by the way his eyes lit up with mirth. He chuckled lightly, and the doctor felt his breath hitch at the sound. “Well,” the father said, “it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Cecil nodded distractedly, eyes trailing back to the lump of fabric in his hands, and cringed; the folding was all wrong. Scheiße. How was he supposed to focus with the other man babbling away next to him, the space between them so thin he could almost feel his warmth through his sweater vest-

“Um, Doc? Helloooo, Earth to Cecil, you with me?”

He tensed up, jaw tightening; He felt on edge, restless, filled with confusion and annoyance and something else that made his insides twist in the most peculiar way.

Dave leaned forward, catching Cecil’s stiff expression. His brow furrowed in concern; was the doc mad at him? It wouldn’t be out of character for him, David always seemed to get on his nerves for some reason, but still…

He looked down and spotted the black button-up balled up in the doctor’s clenched fists. “Oh, are you having trouble with that shirt?” he tried, treading carefully. He reached out, his hand brushing up against the German’s as he tried to grab the fabric. “Here, l can-”

Cecil flinched at the sudden contact, a sharp intake of air resonating in the room. Dave did a double-take, worry squeezing his chest at the other’s tight expression. “Ceec? Shit, are you hurt or something?”

“I am fine.” the German hissed at him, folding the black shirt frantically and messily. “I know how to fold a shirt, David. Mars was never good at taking care of his own things.”

“That’s not- I don’t care about the damn shirt! For fuck’s sake, right now the only thing I’m worried about is you!”

The doctor clenched his jaw, not responding and stubbornly keeping his eyes on the folding table. He wasn’t in the mood for this. He didn’t want to discuss this.

Problem was, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to out himself right there, right now, with Dave hovering so close he could almost feel his breath on his cheek…

The father shook his head. “You’ve been out of it all morning- c'mon Doc, for me?”

“No.”

“For you?”

”No.”

“Will you just tell me what’s wrong?”

"No! Nothing is wrong, I am okay.”

"Oh for the love of- stop telling me you’re okay! I’m here for you if you-”

That’s when Cecil snapped.

“How do you keep doing that?” he hissed between clenched teeth, suddenly turning around to take a step closer to Dave. The younger man’s eyes widened in surprise, taking a step back as the older man advanced on him; and ended up with his back flush against the wall. His expression was the textbook definition of oh god what did I do. “C-Cecil?”

“Why do I become such a mess everytime you speak to me?” the German accused, his voice seemingly on the edge of breaking.

That must’ve been the moment his brain decided to stop working, because the next thing he knew his lips were on Dave’s, his hands squeezing the other’s shoulders for dear life. The coil of anxiety in his stomach, instead of loosening up like he’s expected it to, was only getting tighter and tighter with each passing moment. He felt lightheaded, the chills coursing through his body colliding with the growing heat in his belly, the lightest touch from the younger man lighting a fire under his skin.

He barely registered the surprised sound coming from the other man as their faces collided, nor the feeling of warm fingertips tentatively settling on the side of his face, or the fact that the other was tilting his head to deepen Cecil’s clumsy kiss.

I want this I don’t want this

I want to hold you I want to run away

His body started trembling under the onslaught of conflicting emotions, and he let out a choked sob; he had no idea what he was doing, everything was slipping out of his control and it felt like tethering at the edge of a cliff, the smallest breeze threatening to push him over.

Gott, he hadn’t realized how starved he was for human contact. When was the last time anyone had touched him so gently?

At this moment, Cecil wanted so, so much. So much to say, to feel, to run his hands through that annoyingly messy hair and pull the other man flush against him and let him in give him everything he was and ever will be please please please something anything-

“Ceec? Cecil, jesus, are you okay?”

The doctor gasped, unaware that he had been holding his breath this whole time. He blinked back into awareness and found Dave staring at him with this soft, concerned expression of his, which only made Cecil’s heart ache more intensely. “I-” he started, only to devolve into a sudden coughing fit; his throat had seized up, making his voice come up in a broken croak.

“S’okay,” Dave whispered, running his hand up and down his arm in a comforting gesture, “It’s okay Doc. Take your time.”

The cap-wearing man moved his other hand to gently brush his thumb against Cecil’s cheek; it came back wet, to the doctor’s surprise and following mortification. Surely he wasn’t that desperate!

Was he?

He groaned and rubbed at his own face, wiping the tears away as he tried to gain a semblance of decorum back. “I… apologize. I don’t know- I’m not… usually like this.”

“Like what? Human?”

Cecil blinked; David was smiling up at him, his cerulean eyes crinkled up in amusement. “I’m not gonna get offended by you showing emotion, you doof. Do you need to sit down?”

He nodded, a shiver running through his spine when Dave grasped his hand to lead him out of the room, the unfinished pile of laundry left behind and forgotten.

***

“So. You have feelings.”

An eyeroll. “Hilarious. But yes.”

“Feelings for me.”

A nod.

“Romantic ones?”

“Among… other types, yes.”

They had moved into the living room, both of them sitting across each other on the plush red couch. Dave had kept a respectful distance between them, which Cecil wasn’t sure whether he hated or found comfort in.

The dad plopped his elbows on his crossed legs, resting his head in his hands. “I like the sound of that.” he winked, making Cecil groan in irritation. Why, out of all people, did he have to fall for such an aggravating little-

“But seriously though, you looked really freaked out back there. Did I do something wrong?”

Cecil lost his trail of thought; Dave’s tone had lost that teasing edge, and he was looking at him with genuine concern. The German took a deep breath, fighting off the anxiety swelling in his chest; guess there was no point in hiding it now, was there?

“I was… overwhelmed.” he began, scanning the other’s body language. Dave only nodded, silently prompting him to keep going. So he did.

“I had never really… felt for someone that way before. Not this strongly.”

“But weren’t you married once? That’s what you told us anyway.”

He shook his head. “Irrelevant. Vanessa and I- we wed out of convenience. And because it seemed like the most logical action to take at the time.”

“Waddaya mean?”

Cecil pursed his lips; this conversation was making him re-live a part of his life best buried in his subconscious, away from the surface. He took a moment to center himself, focusing on the way the couch felt under his fingers. And when he spoke again, his words came a lot easier.

“In my teenage years, I felt… alienated.” he continued. “Other boys my age were eloping left and right, while I just didn’t see the appeal.”

He folded his arms on his lap, rubbing them absentmindedly. “When I met Vanessa, we… clicked. Intellectually anyway. We agreed on a lot of things, and she ended up confessing to me.”

He rubbed his neck, grimacing slightly. “I was young and foolish. I thought that maybe this could work. We got along well, we shared common interests, and marrying her would allow me to get a US citizenship, which I’d been wanting for a while. I thought we could be happy, even without the more… physical aspect of a relationship.”

He sighed. “But… in the end, she wanted more out of this than I did. Things I couldn’t give her. So she grew bored.”

He hadn’t realised he had started trembling until he felt Dave grasp his hand, running his fingers along the palm and back. He didn’t try to pry it away, letting the soothing motions ground him again. “And-” he breathed out, voice strained and unsteady. He cleared his throat. “And even though I never loved her, I still cared for her. So when she left, I- it hurt. A lot. I thought ‘this is it. I’m the problem. Something’s wrong with me, I’m incapable of loving someone, so it makes sense than no-one could love me either’ ”

“Ceec, I-”

“So I shut down.” Cecil kept going, words tumbling faster and faster out of his mouth. He could no longer stop them, nor did he want to. “I became cold. Bitter. Angry. Gott, I was so angry, mostly at myself. I lashed out at my colleagues, I lashed out at my patients- that’s how I lost my medical license in case you were wondering, because why not get that truth out of the way as well, right?!”

He took a shuddering breath, grabbing the side of his face. It was wet again. He could feel the looming threat of a panic attack. “Everything fell apart around me. I was a broken mess, merely a shell of my former self- that’s why I could barely stand to look at you the first few days you spent here, it was like looking into a mirror-”

“Doc!”

“I’m sorry!” he cried out, curling into himself and burying his face in his arms. I am the worst kind of person. Dave stared in shock as Cecil devolved into full-blown, nearly silent sobs, choking out half-formed apologies; this wasn’t how he expected his day to go.

It had all started to normally: wake up, take his meds, have breakfast with the doc and Mars -if the kid hadn’t stayed up all night practising his magic again- and greet Ollie as he climbed in through the window with a fond hair ruffle, laugh as Cecil chastised him for “not using the door like a normal person”, help out Mars with his plants, look up jobs and schools, get a snarky remark from Cecil here and there…

Huh. He now realized the doctor hadn’t said much at all today. Hell, he’d been borderline cordial to him since this morning, if a bit… low. Careful. Like he was treading on thin ice.

Which, in hindsight, should’ve ticked David off as to what was going on.

Eyes going soft, the dad scooted over to Cecil, hands hovering just above the doctor’s shoulders. “Ceec… I’m going to touch you now, yeah? Tell me if that’s okay.”

The older man took a trembling breath, his thin frame still wracked with sobs, and nodded. Dave let out a relieved sigh and gently set his hands on the older man’s blue sweater vest, slowly moving them up and down his arms in a soothing pattern. “Cecil? I’m not mad at you. I don’t blame you for anything. I… get it. Really, I do. So don’t beat yourself up too much about our early days, okay? Look at me.”

He delicately grabbed the older man’s face, encouraging him to raise his head back up; he gave in after a few seconds, meeting Dave’s gaze with his own. 

The dad smiled at him, his expression radiating something Cecil hadn’t seen directed at him in a really long time.

Honesty. Warmth. Kindness.

“There you are,” Dave said softly, “There you are. If it makes you feel better… I forgive you. Even if I don’t think there’s not much to forgive in the first place.”

He hummed, tucking a strand of brown and grey hair behind Cecil’s ear. “And I like you too. A lot. I just assumed you weren’t interested, so I never said anything. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable…”

Cecil’s breathing slowed as he took in the words, mind switching into autopilot. He closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of Dave’s hands against the fabric of his clothes. The faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen nearby. The lingering smell of chamomile tea David had brewed not long ago.

Breathe. Five seconds. Hold. Seven. Exhale. Eight.

When he opened his eyes again, he felt… more or less in control. He wiped his face on his sleeve with a quick swipe, eyes red and puffy, but sharp once more. “…Thank you.” he grunted, voice hoarse and thick with leftover emotion. “I’m okay.”

The father raised an eyebrow, disbelieving. “…Okay-ish.” the older man relented, rolling his eyes. “How is that?”

Dave shrugged. “Acceptable. Can I hug you?”

“You may.”

The younger man didn’t waste another second, wrapping his arms around Cecil and pulling him into a tight embrace. The doctor stiffened slightly, still unused to so much human contact in one setting, but soon relaxed into the soft, strong body enveloping him. His hands tentatively crept up Dave’s back as his eyes fluttered closed, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He basked in the feeling for a little while, his skin tingling in the spots David brushed against, while the other buried his face in his hair.

Cecil eventually let go, patting on Dave’s arm to make him release his hold. They pulled away, almost regretfully, and the dad smiled down at the doc. “How was that?”

“…Acceptable.”

Dave laughed. “Okay, I deserved that one. Sorry you had to relive all… that.”

Cecil shook his head, sighing. “It was… a long time ago. It shouldn’t affect me that much still…”

"You shut down and buried it for years, I think I can cut you some slack for not having processed it properly yet.”

"Hmm. I never thought about it that way.”

The dad waved noncommittally. “Eeeh. Been there. I know my way around trauma by now. So, you’ve never… you know…”

"No. I never desired women that way.”

"Yeah? How about guys?”

"I never thought about it. Never considered that I could be-”

"Gay?”

Cecil suppressed a wince, pushing down the unpleasant memories this word tended to bring up in him. “…Yes.”

“Well… do you have any gay cousins?” David asked, tilting his head to the side. The other just stared, failing to see how this was relevant. “No?”

The dad smirked. “And that,” he said, poking at Cecil’s chest playfully, “was your first clue. in this world, you either have a gay cousin, or you are the gay cousin.”

The doctor gaped. Then he let out an undignified snort, amazed at the nonsense Dave could spin on the fly. “That doesn’t sound very scientifically sound. Besides, I don’t know if it applies to me, considering I never felt any attraction to any man before you.”

“Aww.”

“Shut up. And stop making that face, it makes me want to punch it.”

“Kinky. But for real, there’s nothing wrong with the way you felt back then, you know that, right? You could just be ace.”

Cecil hummed. “I do know about asexuality and aromanticism. But by the time I learned of the concepts, I had stopped caring about labeling myself altogether.”

He looked up at Dave, eyes lingering on the gentle curves of his body. He gulped, lingering heat pooling in his stomach. “And… recent evidence suggests that I’m definitely not those.”

“So you got the hots for me, got it.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” Dave chuckled. “But that’s okay too, y’know? Maybe you like men, maybe it’s just me. Maybe you’ve changed, maybe it’s always been this way. Maybe you’re demi, it fits what you told me at least.” he shrugged. “But who gives a shit, right? I know labels are important to a lot of people, they can be super helpful. But if you don’t care about them, that’s fine. You don’t need them if you don’t want them.”

Cecil processed the other’s words, the gentle yet determined tone soothing more and more of his worries. He offered the younger man an appreciative smile. “I suppose so.”

“Although… do you still want this?” Dave asked softly. “D’you still want, y’know… me?”

Cecil stayed silent for a few seconds, parsing the sensation, David’s earnest voice, his expression. “…Yes,” he realized, “Very much so. You?”

“God yes,” the other man breathed out, hands looping around Cecil’s middle with surprising gentleness. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this for?”

The doctor shook his head, eyes wide. Dave smiled. “Dude, I’ve been pining after you since the day we met.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am so serious. I mean, I didn’t realize I was until we visited Liz and the kids last week, but yeah. Though to be fair,” he continued, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, “At first it was purely… y’know, physical. A ‘oh no he’s hot’ kinda thing. And I liked the banter, a lot. But I think I really, really fell for you when- I think it was a few days after Marv went all supernova on us. Right before Ollie finally came back.”

He reached out, brushing his hand against Cecil’s. He looked wistful. “T’was the first time I heard you say you were sorry. About being an asshole.”

“Hey!”

“What? You were,” Dave laughed, “still kinda are. That’s okay though, you’re our asshole now.”

He sobered up, planting his gaze in Cecil’s eyes with rare intensity. “But seriously. You looked so earnest. I looked at you, and saw you. Really saw you. The version of you that you hide under all that snark and- and ‘oh look at me, I’m a genius slash doctor slash better than everybody else here’…”

“I do not sound like that.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” the former vlogger rolled his eyes playfully. “Still. That uh, that was the moment that did me in, y’know?”

cecil was stunned- he could’ve hit himself. For a man of his genius, he was apparently blind when it came to those things. “I’m a dummkopf, aren’t I.”

David nodded, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “Yeah. But I kinda like that about you. When you drop the whole ‘cold-hearted science man’ thing and get all confused and clueless. It’s cute.”

The older man felt his ears heat up, resisting the urge to look away. “Don’t call me that.” he grumbled. “That’s not- I’m not-”

“How about you?”

Cecil stopped his muttering, focusing back on the other man. “I’m sorry?”

“You know, like… you being into me. When did that happen?”

Oh.

Cecil looked down, absentmindedly rubbing his calloused hands together as he pondered. This deserved a proper answer. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the memories wash over him. Phantom images and words passed through his mind as he tried to pinpoint that moment.

“When Ollie came back,” he finally said, “After the whole… debacle.”

Dave made an oof sound. “You mean when he and Mars had an argument, and Ollie disappeared for weeks and spiraled into repressed anger until he almost killed a guy while Mars shut himself away and made the whole house float?”

Cecil groaned; those weeks had been rough on everyone, but he still remembered running himself ragged trying to keep everyone in the mansion from falling apart at the seams. “Yes, that. I wasn’t… present when the situation was sorted out, but Marvin told me how you successfully calmed him down.”

Dave nodded. “Yeah, the whole thing was insane. I still can’t believe you trusted me to go to him at that moment. Then again,” he smirked, “you were pretty concussed. Mars’ a great kid, but he’s got issues.”

“I know.”

“He needs therapy. AND better parents.”

“I know. That’s… kind of related to what I’m trying to tell you here.”

The younger man blinked. “What? Oh, oh, are you finally gonna adopt him?”

Cecil gaped, cheeks flushing in surprised embarrassment. “Was?!”

“I mean,” the other continued, seemingly oblivious to Cecil’s state of unrest, “I already heard him slip up and call you dad once, so I figured-”

“NEIN! Nein, Gott, that’s not what I mean!” the doctor sputtered, hands gesticulating wildly. “Can you just- let me explain? Please?”

David laughed, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just teasing ya. That was way too good to pass up. But okay, I’ll shut up now, go ahead.”

Cecil spat out something in his native tongue that Dave didn’t quite catch, then cleared his throat. “Anyway. After all… that, when Oliver eventually came back, and I found him, you and Mars together in the living room…”

Dave’s eyes widened, leaning forward to show he was back to taking Cecil’s words seriously; he knew where he was going with this. He remembered holding the two in his arms, their exhausted sobs still resonating in his ears. Their quivering, trembling hands grabbing his clothes with desperate strength, his shirt growing damp from all the tears they shed.

“When they were at their lowest, when I proved unable to help… you were there for them.” Cecil continued. “They relied on you. Trusted you. And you told them it was alright, that they didn’t have to go through their struggles alone anymore.”

He chuckled, the sound jarring and unfamiliar coming from him. “I can only guess that’s when I started to… feel for you, one might say.”

“Wow.”

“Yes. I admitted it earlier, but before this moment, my opinion of you was somewhat different.”

Dave raised an eyebrow. “You thought I was an alcoholic bum, a neglectful father and a bad influence on Mars.”

Cecil cringed at that. “… Not the words I would’ve used, but I guess that is accurate.”

“It’s fine,” the younger man shrugged, “not like it was that far from the truth.”

The German shook his head, the heat progressing down his cheeks. “That’s irrelevant. I’m still sorry I thought so little of you, and hurt your feelings. A few times.”

Dave gasped in pretend shock, his face splitting into a huge grin. “Oh my! Three apologies in the same week? Who are you and what have you done with Dr. Edelheim?”

“Ha-ha,” Cecil rolled his eyes, “very funny. I am being serious.”

“And so am I when I tell you I forgive you. Hell, I wasn’t even mad at you in the first place.”

The doctor opened his mouth, ready to protest once more, but Dave beat him to it with a much more inviting prospect.

“Can I kiss you?”

Cecil’s words died on his tongue, the man taken aback by Dave’s sudden query. “Sorry,” the dad continued, “you just have that look on your face and- I think I’ll go insane if I don’t smother you in affection. Right now.”

The doctor observed David’s face, taking in his words; the man’s eyes were blown wide, shiny with something akin to desire. He was biting on his bottom lip idly, waiting expectantly for Cecil’s response, but searching for any sign of fear or discomfort in the older man.

“…Bedroom.” he blurted out.

“What?”

He flushed; that came out wrong. “I mean- What I meant to say is-” he sputtered, pausing to gain some composure back. “We shouldn’t- do this here. Talking. About things. Feelings. In the middle of the living room, where someone could walk in.”

He grimaced. “Like Aster.”

Dave’s face twisted, nearly perfectly mirroring the other’s expression. “Yeaaah, we def’ don’t want that happening. We’d never hear the end of it.”

He got up, reaching a hand out to Cecil with a small smile. “We can go to my room if you want to, like… talk. Or make out, or whatever.”

Cecil’s heart skipped a beat, anticipation -for what, he wasn’t sure- making him feel lightheaded. He took Dave’s hand and let him pull him to his feet. “Yes.” he said quietly, squeezing the warm hand in his grasp. Steady. “Let’s talk.”

#moirai au #schneeplebro #docaverage #david #cecil #davil #arc 5: the orator

[symptomatic-solutions]

Solution #159: Cryptic Crossword IX

Original puzzle.

Across 1. MERCY 4. NAUSEATED 10. EGGSHELL 11. ORATED 12. TEE OFF 13. SPECTATE 14. SOLDIER 16. BASTION 17. ARTICLE 19. OFFLOAD 22. INSTANCE 23. ENRICH 25. SILENT 26. PANDEMIC 27. CENTENARY 28. ISLET Down 2. EL GRECO 3. CISCO 5. AT LAST 6. SHOVE-HALFPENNY 7. APARTOTEL 8. ELECTRO 9. BEEF WELLINGTON 15. DAINTIEST 18. RANKINE 20. ARC SINE 21. REAPER 24. REEDS

#solutions

[refractions-bhs-blog]

INSTASNAP’s Finest User

By Max Barrett.

I wake, but not as eagerly as my alarm. I pull on my pants, hesitating over the open drawer of fresh shirts. I slide the drawer closed after a moment, its inventory undisturbed, and simply throw the jacket over my shoulders. I will return within minutes. My Peugeot 12-speed feels heavier today. I skip every other the step down to the ground floor. The wheels turn smoothly while sleepiness coalesces my own moving parts. Watch says 5:02 AM. I turn over the tasks of my morning in my semiconscious mind: two photos of the Passerelle Debilly Bridge from the East bank and one of the Pont de L'Alma Bridge. I shoot the first from the East bank, and begin uploading it with a caption from my notebook: “Morning run!” I take the other with my second cellphone, and retire to a bench in the 90 seconds that INSTASNAP allows a user to post a photo after it is taken. I watch each upload, and double check the location tag.

I add the first photo to the profile of a regular customer by the name of Buchanan. Buchanan makes travels to Paris on behalf of his knee replacement manufacturing enterprise back in the states. Every few months I receive a letter with the username and a new password to his INSTASNAP account, and an itinerary for his week long business trip. I find time for his several morning runs on the banks of the Seine. Occasionally during these week long stays I receive a call, and in a rough voice I am instructed to come to the L'Hotel du Collectionneur Arc de Triomphe, or the Hotel d'Aubusson. The bellhop wheels my bicycle through lobby as if walking a lion through a dog show. His eyes flick from rug to bike to door to bike to elevator. A stern chofer presses the buttons in the elevator with an elephantine peach thumb, and escorts me to Mr. Buchanan’s room, which is always empty. The chofer directs me to Buchanan’s handwritten instructions to send a direct message to Mrs. Buchanan hinting at a restful night in his own hotel room. I carry out the painfully personal deed with a clouded mind. The smiles of the women of Paris whom Mr. Buchanan is likely in the company of do not leave my mind as I reclaim my bicycle. The direct messages pay well.

The second photo, also a ‘morning run’ service, is for Butch Burter. Butch is the only one of my clients whom I have ever met in person. Standing hardly a meter and half, Butch’s tendency to stand very close in conversation necessitates his rabbit eyes to remain at a cloud gazing angle. He has given me a pair of running sneakers identical to his own, and requires that I feature them in several of the shots. His payments are made in US dollars, exclusively at the back door of his bowling alley. Meeting at the back door seems unnecessary, as he almost always invites me in for a “round on the house.” As soon as he rolls a ball down the alley, (often knocking down every pin) Butch sheds his nervousness and parades around, introducing me to his circle of American expats through friendly back slaps and rib jabs. We speak in English, and he peppers me with “bud” and “my man,” terms weighted with obligation of my continued allegiance. I do not consider Butch a friend, but I believe he has a good soul unlike Buchanan. The last photograph is for a new customer. With the photographs uploaded I return home. The bike feels just as heavy as before. The top frame presses into my shoulder blade. I step through the familiar door. I ignore the old floor’s creaky protests of my movement, while I hang my coat and return to bed. The blankets have cooled. Watch says 5:34 AM. I have made good time, but the relentless second hand catches hold on my gaze and uneasy mind. I avert my eyes, and let the hand sweep off into coming morning as I doze into a dream.

I am drifting through the fog. I cannot tell if the sun is rising or setting. My legs are stiff, but I creep forward like one of Butch’s bowling balls. The waitress from the Café de Flore stands still. I try to warn her of something that creeps along behind me, but I cannot break the iron trance.

The second time I wake to the birds of early spring, the cacophony of the city, and the shouts of Lord Edmund the Ugly.

“Lourdaud paresseux!” he yells, banging on the door. I open the door so he can openly demonstrate his impatience as I search for my wallet, sleepily distracted. I hand him the money. I have enough, and I apologize for my forgetfulness. The more peaceful noises return. I believe the birds find Lord Ed off putting. I open up my notebook. Yesterday's baguette softens in a bowl of café au lait. Notebook says several posts before 12:00 PM.

I ride down the familiar streets of the my beloved city. The warm sun burns away the reminisce of the unsettling dream. The wheels spin light footed with a resonant hum. At this moment I feel sorry for my clients. I am paid to live their notable or simply pleasing moments and leave them with the crumbs! Even worse is that I live them for all the wrong reasons– the photos with meaningless captions. But pity is outside my area of business. I stop at a market to update the profile of Eleanor Montague. Ms. Montague is woman of wealth, somber beauty and loneliness. Her artificial personality is worth 115 Euros a month. Her image is cultivated to allure the digital eyes of young bachelors with daily updates in libraries, book stores, open air markets, and public gardens. It does so with great success, (I must add proudly) yet she winds herself down an eternal spiral of first dates, frustrated and unimpressed. At the Café de Flore I order a croissant and an espresso. At the counter is the waitress whom I have seen walking down my street early in the morning. I sometimes hope that I will run into her on my own morning travels. I pause after thanking her but I am unsure what to say, as always. She smiles and turns away.  

The excellence of this late breakfast will soon be proclaimed by two people whom I doubt have set foot in this café. This same breakfast will also be enjoyed by a few others on the steps of the Fontaine Saint Sulpice in a few minutes.

Next I visit Ms. Montague’s favorite bookstore. I first visited the store for Ms. Montague’s account, however I have become very fond of it myself. I now visit it often in simply search of books. At first I was very determined to keep my visits for books and my visits for photographs separate. I gave up after I found myself leave the store to pedal around a few blocks and return twice in one week. Regardless I am a regular. I believe the salesclerks attribute my frequent empty handed visits to a taste in rare literature. As I enter today I hold the door for a tall woman. I am focused on of book under her arm, the cover looks to be some artwork of Duchamp. She meets my eyes. It is Ms. Montague! I am startled but I cannot help but stare for a moment, she too pauses, taking in my rough appearance.

“Pardon... excusez-moi.”

I have made a fool of myself. The two of us in all the two million. I impossibly well acquainted, I am a  stranger nonetheless. I wander the aisles aimlessly, unsure what to of make of her non-virtual existence. I imagine our absurd meeting becoming one of her disappointing first dates and the idea makes me terribly confused. I recognize a copy of the book she had, which turns out to be on the life of Francis Picabia. Apparently Ms. Montague’s tastes for Dadaism are less trite than my own. I leave the store without purchasing any book. I am deeply concerned by such a collision of space and time in the City of Lights.

I am drifting throught the fog again. There is no sun at all. There is silence. A few boys wade in the shallows at the shore of the Seine. They tie blindfolds over their eyes in torpid disjointed motions. I stand waist deep, a voiceless orator, with no audience but the river.

I am awake, but I do not remember waking. I have realized that of the twenty two lives I live, I own only one. Now that Ms. Montague has entered world digital world, I can no longer live her life as my own. I must end our contract right away. It seems that my distance from each client (aside from Butch) has allowed me to pretend the things I do for them are my own, just as they pretend my photographs are their’s and accept the praise of the ignorant.

I glide down the Quai de Conti, my wheels buzzing. Watch says 3:22 AM. The bakeries and cafes are fast asleep with their owners. The world is still, apart from myself. The sprouting leaves only rustle when I rush past them. I carry my own pressure pushing wind only a few feet to my right and left. I am an Egyptian god touring the fertile banks of the Nile. Will I weigh the hearts of the obsessive liars against a feather? No, for the Nile flows north, and the Seine flows west.

I think about my breath, cold as it comes in, warm as it comes out. Do I wear a face of twenty one, now twenty strangers? Yet none can recognize it. My lungs are real. They must be my own, but strangers use them. I pull both brakes, skidding and squeaking to a stop. Here I am, alone before the Institut de France. I move to the backside where I can scale the neoclassical walls (those erected in 1795 with the purpose of preserving the purity of the French language). I wonder whether they keep bad words out, or good ones in. I run across the roof towards the huge dome. I make my way up it quickly. I have been here before, but this does not stop the adrenaline from rushing to my hands and feet. I grip the cold ledges pulling myself higher and higher. The cobblestone street grumbles up to me from 100 meters below. It reminds me that if I fell my own life is the only that would cease entirely. The other twenty would carry on, and who would notice? I don’t answer. I pull myself over the last ledge, and roll onto my side. I truly wish I had come here only for the view. I wish I came to absorb everything the night offers, but I must flee a petty thief of light and beauty. In the dark I scramble for some miniscule shard of the truth. Very little makes it through the camera of my cellphone.

Some tiny shard that will find its place as the bragging rights of some twelve year old  boy who has never lived. I would like to bring him up here and throw his cellphone out over the Seine. He would gasp for air as his phone sunk to the bottom, but to his surprise he would find it and feel it in his lungs for the first time in his life.

#art #literature #refractions #short story #fiction