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[traveler-food]

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[the-monkey-ruler]

According to your opinion, what do you think would be SWK's best written romance or what would they be as for the adaptations? You know, not only does the romance appear and that's it, but does it develop or at least seem good to you?

Not to say there are bad romances, but I just wanted to ask.

Honestly, it depends on what you think is romantic.

There is a reason that the Chinese Odyssey is such a cult classic and it's not because they get together at the end, but rather because it explores the idea of self-expression and restricted freedom in the view of romance. Sun Wukong cannot exist unless Joker becomes him, and Joker cannot become Sun Wukong if he falls in love. He had the chance to love and he lost it, being forced to change who he is, knowing what he could have had. Chinese Odyssey became so popular because it explores what it means to sacrifice your own individuality and conform to societal expectations while still having slapstick humor.

And I won't lie and say that has also changed my view of romance with Wukong in that I do not think there can be a Retelling of Wukong where he gets with an SO. There can be great Reimangings or Alternative Universes (and there are) but if someone wants a faithful adaption of the story there can be additions such as adding a romantic subplot but in no circumstances can they end up together. And that could still be a good romantic story.

The quality of romance does not have to depend on a happy ending but one that relates to people and touches their hearts. I think the key to any romance is that connection to the audience, showing a level of genuine yearning and the struggle with that yearning that anyone can relate to when it comes to connecting to another person, romance or not.

Personally, I haven't seen a romance story done it better showing that desire for connection like Chinese Odessey since...

But I would say a close runner-up is the 1996 Journey to the West subplot within the show. As I think as far as relating to a character this is one that I found personally touched by.

In the 1996 Journey to the West is also not a one-to-one with the book as it follows more like a drama than an adventure story with deep character elements but still a wonderful adventure. This probably has the best tv live-action versions of the characters with just how in-depth they go with each character and we actively see them have their individual character arcs as they go from quarreling journeymates to a close-knit found family.

On one of these adventures they meet the Spider Sisters, but not all evil as one of the Sisters, Shishi, is trying to find her lost love from her past life. The gang helps her and Wukong RELUCTANTLY helps as well though he is distrustful of demons and sees no point in trying to find lost love. Shishi's sister, Enen, tags along as well and defends her sister's desire to find her lost love when to her, love is the most important thing in the world. But to Wukong he believes that learning Buddhism and teaching is what is most important. The more Enen and Wukong work together the more Enen falls in love with Wukong's compassion, heroism, and diligence, seeing him as someone to be admired and someone she wishes to impress as well.

The reason I adore this love story is that it is one-sided completely and I think that the narration does such a fantastic job of showing how much Wukong loves Enen has a friend and someone he cares about deeply but he just doesn't have romantic feelings for. I thought that the build-up of their relationship was fascinating in that Wukong comes to terms with seeing Enen as a good friend and someone who has changed his worldview that not all demons are after power, some are just living their lives, and just that knowing her platonically has made him a more compassionate person. But that is the issue in that Wukong's love for Enen is purely platonic and how he even refuses to compromise on his morals and lie to her that he feels the same when he loves her only as a friend.

Enen falls for Wukong because he is her friend and someone that she admires as well. She tries to become more like him by giving up meat and eating fruit and even trying to study Buddhism with him. She didn't do these acts because SHE wanted to, but rather so she could be closer to Wukong. But in the end (Enen loses her cultivation from a demon and asks Wukong to at least say 'I love you' before she turns back into her original form) she isn't able to make Wukong feel the same THOUGH NO FAULT OF HER OWN.

In my personal experience, I have felt this many times, when friends try to admit their feelings, and that soul-crushing burden of having to let them down gently. When you care about someone and are willing to support them or fight for them but the one thing you can't do is reciprocate their feelings. Wukong in this series is being hounded by both Bajie and Wujing to at least pretend for Enen's sake (she does uncultivated and returns to spider form but isn't dead) and when Wukong tells her that he does care for her but not in that way he is seen as the bad guy.

Enen did nothing wrong in falling for Wukong, but she wasn't able to accept that he just couldn't feel the same. And Wukong did nothing wrong in not feeling the same as he cares for his friend greatly but he cannot lie to himself or her how he feels because he respects her too much to lie. Bajie and Wujing both call him heartless but moreso that they feel so bad for Enen but Wukong is the one that has to carry the burden of her feelings for the rest of his life.

Some people might not see this as a love story at all but I think this is a type of love story that is very common and that people on both the receiving and the giving end can relate to. That dejection from rejection and opening your heart and thinking maybe if you change, or something is wrong with you, or that you are not good enough. That horrible feeling of guilt for things out of your control and not being able to give someone you deeply care about what they want and then feeling more guilt that there is something wrong with you for not feeling the same. I thought that the show has an advantage over movies as it gives the characters time and room to grow and change around each other. Wukong becomes more sympathetic to demons and even has a deeper understanding of the importance of love just by knowing Enen before she "died" and rather because she lived (and still lives) he still cares about her and wants her to live the best life she can.

Even in her spider form, even when she wouldn't be able to understand him, Wukong refuses to lie to her about his feelings but expresses that he wants her to live a good life, one that leads her to enlightenment and back to her human form. He cares so much about her but just not in the way that she wants. I think there is something very well done in how the show shows that it wasn't either of their faults and that while they can love one another you can't change people. People can only change if they want to change, and you can't force people to feel the same. There are different forms of love and each is important, and just because someone feels a different kind of love doesn't make it any less real.

To me, a love story is about connection and how the audience can feel themselves in the characters. Love can be scary and you're more often going to face rejection than anything but that doesn't mean it is anyone's fault. Sometimes people just don't feel the same, as much as they do care about you, and learning to accept that and let go is a part of growing up. As such I think that my favorite would be the 1996 subplot as I feel that is it both emotional and that it also still follows the Xiyouji format. Especially love Wukong going to the Red String of Fate guy (Yue Lao) and rewriting people's tragic love stories so they can live happily ever after!

I think that maybe I enjoyed this the most as I feel like it still captured Wukong's character wonderfully as someone who might not feel romantic feelings (following the book) but also someone who learns compassion and what it means to love another person. He knew what it was like for someone to love him and that is not something to be taken lightly. People being vulnerable and expressing their desire can be scary and something to be even admired but can still unavoidable cause pain. It wasn't his fault that he didn't like Enen back but he wanted her and even others to find that kind of love. He wants people to feel free to find comfort in connecting with another person even if it isn't himself.

That is to say, there aren't other romances that I did enjoy that are reciprocated love as well! Funny enough the ones that I really enjoy are all Japanese or based on the Saiyuki series.

Alakazam the Great (1960) 西遊記

Monkey Magic (1998) モンキーマジック

The New Legends of Monkey (2018) 新猴王传奇

I think the common factor of these is that Wukong in all these forms becomes a better person just by knowing their SO and take it upon themselves to become a better person, rather than the SO taking it upon themselves trying to 'fix' Wukong, I feel like that is an issue with a lot more modern romances of Wukong in that they are far too rushed, if Wukong does start off as a jerk then there is no real reason the SO should fall for him, and then Wukong doesn't stop being a jerk until the end when there is no proper resolution. It feels all very rushed and very forced.

I think that I enjoyed these versions mostly because they had the advantage of keeping the SO alive and they play on the trope of "changing for your loved ones" rather than "getting character development because of SO's death." We see Wukong in 1960 slowly relearn what it means to be humble and grateful to his SO Rinrin with her undying (literally) devotion and how this dedication leads to him wanting to be a better person deserving to be by her side. Monkey Magic 1998 is a surprising one but one that I found charming nonetheless as Goku is a hotheaded and impulsive person but everything he does is for his friends one being Fenya. They never confirmed their relationship but she is the only one who never treats Goku differently after he becomes the king and even when he demands her to call him as such she never lets him forget his humble roots which by the end he learns to return to. The last New Legends 2018 is also surprising as I really didn't enjoy the plot of this show and found the pacing painful, but that Monkey and Tripitaka's relationship was something that had a lot of potential. From Monkey's arrogant attitude and Tripitaka's deception of her true identity, I thought that the show handled them slowly but surely coming to trust and rely on each other. I feel like the show could do a lot more with their character development but I doubt we are getting a third season.

I will say a guilty pleasure of mine is Monkey King 2014 just cause it is more of an innocent childhood crush kind of feeling than anything else. I'm sad that she still dies but I feel like out of the Wukong romances I have seen (please note I haven't seen them all) I can see why the SO would fall for Wukong as he was nothing but sweet and kind to her and that I was sad to see her go.

[boonauwarriorcats]

Whitestorm, ThunderClan warrior.

In the Boon AU, Whitestorm and Tinyfrost meet as children - they are around the same age - and Whitekit played a small role in Sunstar sparing Tiny and taking him to Pine to raise. Whitestorm didn't remember the event as much as Tinyfrost would, and didn't recognize him when he joined ThunderClan as an adult.

Canonically, Whitestorm is killed by Bone during the BloodClan battle. In the Boon AU, Bone is fighting alongside ThunderClan instead of against them (as part of FireClan.) Thus, Whitestorm wasn't killed in the final battle.

After the destruction of the forest started, Bluestar in StarClan chose Whitestorm as ThunderClan's representative to go on the journey to Sun-Drown-Place. He would be the oldest cat on the journey, and provided a wise approach to that adventure. He took on a fatherly role for many of the journeymates (who almost all had dead fathers and/or daddy issues.)

On this journey, rather than going through the mountains, the journeymates went through the lowlands - so instead of meeting the Tribe of Rushing Water, they met the Clowder. The Clowder was a collection of loosely affiliated cats, living on a ranch as part of a free-roaming cat rescue colony. One of those cats, a deaf cat named Tumbleweed, took a shine to Whitestorm, and the two fell in love. After he sustained injuries in a fight, Whitestorm elected to stay behind with the Clowder while the journeymates finished their adventure. He lived out the rest of his days with Tumbleweed.

[bi-hop]

autism pvp ... autism on autism violence <333 (most normal okonomiyaki trio enjoyer)

it saved them. like. THIS IS HOW THEY START THEIR GROWTH/COMMUNICATION FIXING JOURNEYM THIS IS THEIR FIX IT. THEIR HURT/COMFORT . LMAOO

really sometimes that's all you need. it's in part why I don't get why people are so vehemently against that episode/those chapters bc it's extremely vital to the rest of the story. how else is the significance of toshiro vouching for laios, lamenting not trusting him, and choosing to consume faligon gained if not for the fact of that resentment overflowing and then being resolved? I dunno, I'm too writer brained maybe.

but most crucially more characters should just beat the shit out of each other 'unprompted'. I appreciate it very much as an autistic guy with anger issues ODASJDSODSJO

[clickcraze]

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[onceuponabedtime]

The wheel spins and sun sets on another day in the Clay Age.

By the water’s edge we find two potters, journeymates, weary and worn from their day.

The clay from this bank, gathered by dawnlight, has been their masterwork.

By chance they gathered more than enough for two pieces.

Not quite enough for three.

What have they made?

     Something strong, he hopes

                                                                    Something kind, she implores

                                       Something to love as it is, and as it still might be

     Flexible and firm, intended to endure

                                                                     Abundant in joy, open in pain

The journeymates return the remaining clay back to its bank.

The clay is no less for having never been fired.

The bank is no more from this modest return.

But the journeymates themselves, they have been changed by this lifework.

They have learned much of their craft, and of themselves.

They rise and turn to leave, two silhouettes in the fading light of the Clay Age.

[jeanettehill]

REMINDER!! We are better together! #flyageless #sisters #brothers #journeymates #bettertogether #writersofinstagram #playwrightsofinstagram #actors #theatre #stage #entrepreneurs #sistapreneurs #blackplaywrights #ourstoryourvoice https://www.instagram.com/p/CLuANtDjfPG/?igshid=17hzyvsptfwid

[henriettahowes]

[malkumtend]

Warmth - set in the ILYL universe (set between ch. 12 and ch. 13).

Art by @lonely-ghost-606

Windclan cats had been able to adapt to many things. Their legs, long and tight with muscle, gave them the strength and speed needed to chase rabbits and hares. They could fix their senses to the breeze that split through the grass, breathing in the wafts of prey that waited tree-lengths away. And their sleek, thin coats allowed them to rush through the moorlands, and not feel heat swell through layers of useless fur, even when the sun was hot and angry above Silverpelt.

Crowpaw was proud to say he had reaped the rewards of each of these benefits.

However, as his small, unprotected by fur, paws crunched through the blanket of snow, he really wished Windclan had discovered ways to fight the cold.

But they hadn’t. Often enough, they were warmed by their sheer raid movement on the moors, so rain hardly gave them a problem. And snow was a rarity among the clans themselves.

Here, in the mountain air, where the sky grew dark and the air descended into a bitter mist, where snow lined the rock like white, frozen moss, Crowpaw wasn’t so lucky.

His paw dug into the unbroken white once more, and the damp freeze clawed him once again. He winced as cold ran it’s tongue up his leg, then glared into the winter horizon, seeing the acres of snow they still had to navigate.

“Crowpaw?” Crowpaw hissed back a growl as he looked up at Brambleclaw. The Thunderclan tom had stopped, strong paws not even shivering as he waited in the snow. “Are you sure you don’t want us to stop to find some shelter?”

Every cat, all thick furred and stationary, looked back at the apprentice. They all shared the embarrassed look of pity.

Crowpaw’s ears burned, but even that offered no help to his shaking back. “I’m fine!” Crowpaw said, he had to grin his teeth so he didn’t stutter. “It’s not that cold!” The worst part was that was true. There was no snow falling, just a plethora of short, but cutting gusts of wind. It would undeniably get colder when the dusty afternoon sky began to darken. Crowpaw groaned. He didn’t even want to think about that.

“Sure.” Stormfur muttered.

Crowpaw tried not to hiss. I’d like to see how you do without all that fur, fish-breath!

Feathertail glared at her brother then faced Crowpaw worriedly. “Crowpaw, it really doesn’t matter. None of us would mind.”

“Feathertail’s right.” Tawnypelt agreed. “It’ll do you no good to push yourself, Crowpaw. It’s only going to get worse from here.” She mewed with a whip of her tail. “It’ll be better if you keep your strength.”

“I said I’m fine!” Crowpaw meowed, stamping his forepaw furiously. He cringed when he hit a fresh patch of snow. “I-I don’t need to rest! If you all do, that’s your problem. I’ll just carry on by myself!” With that, he began to storm past the cats, trying to use his anger to heat the chill biting his paws. It grew with every disbelieving or piteous look he was able to catch.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself!” Stormfur snapped, shaking his head as Crowpaw passed him with a quiet snarl.

Crowpaw was about to say something bitter, but most of his energy was saved for trying to keep himself warm. He sighed drearily, watching with a frown as his breath blew away in a vapor of steam.

He kept his head high, for some reason thinking that would help him conserve heat if he kept his head away from the snow. It wasn’t working. Crowpaw bit his lip in frustration, but he didn’t stop. He may have hated being half-frozen, but he hated being pitied more than anything. He’d rather sleep furless in icy water than be the reason the group stopped for a moment.

The Two-legs pillaging Winclan wouldn’t wait for him. He couldn’t either.

However, the constant, slithering powder of frost that made his back hurt was just as merciless.

Little by little, Crowpaw slowed down in his walk again. The cats he had proudly stormed ahead of began to pass him again, one by one, this time keeping their mouths shut. It was clear anything they said would just make it worse for their prickly accomplice.

Still, each one’s warm, fleecy coat of fur looked swollen with regret that that they couldn’t give him any help.

He heard Feathertail mew something soft to him, but by then Crowpaw’s ears were pounding with humiliation.

He could just imagine Mudclaw’s face. The abject disgust at how pathetic his apprentice had turned out to be. Look at you! Your father picks you to represent our great clan and you whither like a wet kit!

Crowpaw’s steps only slowed as the even colder voice persisted in his brain. No surprise, his decreasing pace only made the strength to continue even weaker. Every step now felt as heavy as pulling his body out of a pool of mud.

He growled quietly. Stupid snow. It wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t suited to this mouse-brained weather. A defeated sigh left him like a spirit. No. If he could truly call himself a Warrior, he should have just been able to grit his teeth and bare it. And even though he could bare it, he knew he was slowing them all down.

He was making Windclan look like a liability.

Crowpaw tried to not look like that hurt him as much as he did. He closed his eyes, gnashing his jaws. He just needed to carry on at this point. Sulking wouldn’t make him look any less of a complete rabbit-heart. He kept his eyes to the snow, determined to not remind himself of the contrast of his and his journeymates wills.

His ear perked however, when he heard snow crunch beside him. He just caught the ginger and white paws that bounded effortlessly in the snow until they were right beside him.

Crowpaw sighed, feeling his ears go hot. “What is it, Squirrelpaw?” He said curtly.

“What?” A snappy voice replied. “Can I not walk with you now?”

Crowpaw kept himself from getting angry. It wasn’t Squirrelpaw’s fault he was useless. “Don’t be mouse-brained.” He said. “What do you need?”

“I don’t need anything. I just wanted to talk to you.” Her voice shifted cheekily. “You should count yourself lucky.”

“Shouldn’t I just.” Crowpaw rolled his eyes. He caught her then. She looked remarkably unperturbed by her environment. She strode through the snow as if it was new-leaf grass. But maybe that was the benefits of having such a fluffy coat like she did. Crowpaw looked ahead. “Shouldn’t you try to catch up with the others?” They were at least half a tree-length ahead.

“Only if you feel like it.” Crowpaw frowned and Squirrelpaw had the sense to let her ears fold back guiltily. “Sorry. I know that Windclan aren’t really… suited for snow.” He could practically feel the burn of her eyes as they slid across his spiked, wimpy excuse of a coat.

Crowpaw felt the sudden need to jerk himself up. Looking so bad in front of his best friend was hardly a welcome thought. “I said it before; I’ll be okay.” He spoke. His tail swung forwards. “Don’t wait on me. Just carry on ahead.” The last thing he wanted to be was a burden.

“I’m not waiting on anyone. There’s no need to rush, after all.”

The very idea that she could rush in this made Crowpaw groan a little.

Squirrelpaw shrugged, pouncing ahead. “Cheer up. We’ll have to find some shelter soon. This mountain’s so big, there has to be thousands of places to sleep.”

Crowpaw scoffed. “Yeah, but since it’s so big how long will we have to walk until we find one of them.”

“It can’t be long now.”

So painfully optimistic. As the cold made his bones brittle, Crowpaw looked away. “Yeah. You keep thinking that.”

Squirrelpaw looked at him pointedly. Her eyes hadn’t lost their fire, if anything they looked even sharper. “Maybe it would help if you weren’t so moody. Would it really hurt you to think of something other than the worst of everything?”

Crowpaw’s tail flared. He couldn’t help but glare at his friend. “It’s easy for you to say, fuzz-ball!”

Squirrelpaw laughed mockingly, “Oh, that’s a new one. What? Jealous?” Her overwhelming coat seemed to shake with every spark of her words. She seemed to be more fur than cat!

Crowpaw flashed his teeth, “Not really. You should count yourself lucky. Without all that fur, you’d be smaller than a kit!”

“I’d still beat you in a fight, though!”

Crowpaw only scoffed again, turning away with a growl.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that!” Squirrelpaw said frustratedly. “You can’t get angry at me for this.”

“You’re the one acting like a mouse-brain.” Crowpaw said monotonously.

There was gawking sound. “How? All I said was that it wouldn’t kill you to stop looking so angry. It’s hardly going to help you is it?”

“Oh, and if I smile like an idiot, I’m – what – just going to get all warm, fuzzy feelings.” Crowpaw bit his tongue as his head tittered in a mocking grimace. “Get over yourself.”

“You first.” Squirrelpaw muttered with the edge of a hiss. “No need to get nasty.”

Crowpaw didn’t reply. Talking to her was too much effort.

Besides, maybe now she’d join up with the others instead of seeing him like this.

She didn’t. They continued to walk. And for some reason, even though she had to be in better shape than him, she matched his pace the whole time. Crowpaw scanned the path ahead and exhaled slowly. There was still no sign of shelter. At least he hadn’t lost sight of the others.

It didn’t take long for his side to quiver. His nose creasing, he looked and his frown softened when he saw the ginger pelt still whiskers from his own. He could swear he could feel a small heat radiating from the bright strands of fur.

As that heat lingered, the silence became more suffocating.

“Look.” A soft voice made Crowpaw crane his head. “If I said something to upset you, I’m sorry.” Crowpaw blinked in shock. “I didn’t mean to.” He heard Squirrelpaw spit bitterly. “But that doesn’t give you the right to be like this. It’s not my fault your coat’s so thin.” She muttered. “I can’t make it grow, you know. It’s not like I want you to be cold.”

He lost valuable energy doing so, but Crowpaw’s head shifted to his side.

Her lips were in a thin pout, and her eyes were downcast in a bad mood. But she didn’t slow or quicken her pace. She kept right by him. Occasionally she would tilt her gaze, but stopped when she felt she was being watched.

Neither spoke. The quiet made Crowpaw cold inside.

Crowpaw bit his lower lip, ignoring the sudden twist in his stomach. As the bitter silence persisted however, he sighed to himself. She was right. It wasn’t like she’d tried to provoke him. All she’d done was try to keep him company and be the over-zealous molly she always was. She hadn’t started anything. Or at least she hadn’t tried to.

Even if she didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut, she still was looking out for him. And even when snapped at she didn’t just leave him like he deserved. She accepted his moodiness. Maybe he needed to learn to accept her… quirks.

Besides, talking to her had made his mouth feel warm.

Crowpaw breathed, feeling the cold made him cough momentarily. When he’d stopped, he found Squirrelpaw looking at him with obvious concern. The tom’s face mellowed. “I know.” He said, looking forward, downcast. “I’m sorry too. I’m just sick of this cold.”

At his apology, Squirrelpaw’s ears twitched. Hesitantly, she faced him, the stiffness of her muzzle quivering just the slightest. She looked over his shivering frame again. She let out a soft breath. “If it’s bothering you that much, I can ask the others to stop.”

“We can’t do that.”

“But Crowpaw-”

“No.” Crowpaw affirmed. “I don’t want to slow anyone down.” He’d said it before he could take it back. He grunted at himself. He was so freezing, he didn’t even think about what he was saying.

“It isn’t slowing us down. They’d do the same no matter who it was.” Squirrelpaw said, her gaze warm.

Crowpaw let out a bitter laugh, “Maybe, but it wouldn’t happen to any of you.” He said tensely, using his shaking tail to point at his pelt.

Squirrelpaw’s jaw hung in sad recognition. She looked up at Crowpaw wordlessly, unable to offer a retort.

Crowpaw gave her a gentle nod. He knew she couldn’t counter that, no matter how much she wanted to. He resigned himself to carry on walking. If Squirrelpaw kept by him at this point, he counted himself lucky. He licked his chest a little to warm himself up, but bit on it softly as the organ began to freeze. He shook himself again; all he could do was keep moving.

He was just beginning to feel some kind of control over his stiffening tail again when he felt something knock into his side.

It wasn’t a hard push. Really it was just a pressing on his ribs. Crowpaw usually would have jumped away, but he stopped shot as he noticed the feeling the sudden presence gave. It felt softer than the moss that he used to line his nest, but it condensed the same kind of comforting, embracing warmth that he felt from his den. Without fully realising it, the frost that had made his ribs ache subsided to a blissful glow.

He turned to his side, and blinked stupidly when he saw what, or who, was the source of the heat.

Squirrelpaw wasn’t facing him, but her fur was pressed right into Crowpaw’s body. She walked, a little clumsily, next to him and, this close, Crowpaw felt just how woolly her coat truly was. It really did feel like she was made of fur. It slipped all over his side like a ray of sunlight. He really did feel his body begin to swell with her share of heat.

But the heat in his face was all his own. “S-Squirrelpaw?” He mewed incredulously.

“Hush.” Squirrelpaw said, her voice muffled for some reason. “If you’re going to be stubborn like this I might as well make sure you don’t hurt yourself doing it.”

“W-What?” Crowpaw felt something pound in the depths of Squirrelpaw’s side.

“Let’s just keep moving.” The Thunderclan apprentice mewed, “I can’t just let you freeze. Don’t worry, I’m sure I won’t need to do this for long. We can’t be far from shelter now.” There was a silent plead in the cavern of her tone. Crowpaw could feel her muscles tense. She was looking quickly at him, as if checking that he didn’t rip himself from her.

There were many reasons that he should: clan loyalty, personal embarrassment, how fast his heart was-

Crowpaw gulped, his eyes still on the smaller cat. He saw her swallow hard and noticed her stiff, vacant expression as she kept on walking. Crowpaw’s stomach churned.

She was embarrassed herself, but she worked through it for him.

Her head tipped back a little, and Crowpaw noticed the cute way that her nose twitched when she was nervous. Her fur still mingled with his, he could barely see his own coat wrapped inside the ginger fluff. Crowpaw’s tail swung from side to side. Did he really feel as calmly about this as he did? This… this wasn’t normal, was it? Even if they were friends, could they really…

Crowpaw took in a hot breath. He felt shaking at his side and looked down stunned. She wasn’t cold, was she? Why was she shivering like that? Was he that cold to touch? No. That was ridiculous. She hadn’t looked like that before. His body tingled with worry. His tail began to sway quickly, maybe it would be better if he started to rush ahea-

He blinked.

His fur quivered all over his body. This time with realisation.

He wasn’t freezing anymore.

How…How could that be? Was her fur actually that warm? He slowly looked down again, shocked by how seamless his neck felt now. There she was. Nestled against him, eyes burning with embarrassment, tail quivering behind her, her gait clumsy and stuttering.

She wasn’t cold though.

Crowpaw felt that much.

And if somehow she was, she hadn’t left him yet.

Crowpaw felt warmer.

Gently, he slipped his tail until it had intertwined itself with his friend’s. Squirrelpaw jerked, twisting her head up. Her lips trembled. “C-Crowpaw?”

Crowpaw was concerned that she’d pull away, so he offered her a small smile. “Sorry. I just thought I’d return the favour.” He pressed himself even closer to the soft pelt. Squirrelpaw let out a light squeak as Crowpaw’s tail embraced her own. His tail tingled as it cloaked itself in the brush of long fur. He winked at her. “Wouldn’t want you falling in the snow after all. I’d have to laugh at you.”

Squirrelpaw didn’t speak for a moment. Dumbfounded.

Then her tail began to squeeze his like a soft paw.

And her lips curved into a grin.

“Careful,” She warned, her eyes half-closing. “I’ve seen you trip before. I can make it happen again.”

Crowpaw snickered. “You do that, you’re coming down with me.”

“Great! That way I can hold you down. I’ve always wondered how you would look with white fur!”

“Touche!” Crowpaw chuckled.

Squirrelpaw beamed, ready to start again with another silver quip.

“Squirrelpaw?”

The ginger cat opened her eyes, her grin slackening as she saw the smile on Crowpaw’s face. “Hmm?” She questioned, raising a brow.

“Thanks.” Crowpaw said. Genuine.

He just about felt a beat inside Squirrelpaw’s chest again. But she cut it off with a laugh that could make icicles fall. “Who are you and what have you done with Crowpaw?” He joined in, laughing until he was out of breath. Squirrelpaw smiled, her head almost underneath his chin. Her tail curled blissfully over his. “Don’t mention it, Crowfood.” She said, the gentleness betraying the nickname.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Crowpaw quipped, chuckling as Squirrelpaw nudged him away with her side.

But their tail still stayed linked, so they easily found each other again.

…

Not many people seemed interested, but fuck it. If people hate it they can tell me in the comments. For those that are interested, I hope you liked it.

[jupiterminingcorporation]

Ok this might be really weird but you seem /really/ familiar and I am fairly certain at one point we were mutuals like YEARS ago. Did you used to be a fitblr?

Yes! Many moons ago I had a fitblr/weight loss blog, but when things were really tough a few years ago I deleted all my blogs. I had a few different URLs back then, I'm a bit fickle like that, lol. The ones I can remember are journeyme, longhardroad, gettingupfallingdown, and thestarfishandtheseal. Can't remember how I broke them up with dashes or whatever though!

[norhayatiefendi]

U gave birth to me ..i loved u first ..i love u always, always have n always will .. #eommaappasaranghae #yattadventure #journeyme https://www.instagram.com/p/BvgNzs8pa_5/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1vrwqpugwcim5

[the-monkey-ruler]

Another question, how many times was swk kicked off the journey and why?

Wukong was kicked out of the group first in the White Bone Demon Arc, I would say that this was about a year or so into their journey together, and at this point, they have had only three adventures. The burning of the Abbey, the Yellow Wind Demon, and the Ginseng Fruit Arc. To me, it's important to know which arc has led up to the telling arc so that we can have a better understanding of where people might be with trust.

Wukong can tell White Bone Spirit is a demon right away and while he was going to kill her Sanzang tried to give her the benefit of the doubt as she hasn't actually harmed them in any way. Wukong accused him of just wanting to sleep with her.

So already not off to a good start.

This leads to the three killings and both of them butting heads over who is right and wrong. Is it right for Wukong to kill someone that has yet to harm them only because he knows she is a demon but his journeymates cannot tell or is it right for them to have to wait for a wrong to be committed to retaliate in the first place?

Also, I think that since neither Wujing nor Bajie has seen the Fillet Tighening Spell at this point they were not aware of its effects since they were only away of what it could do in the Ginseng Fruit arc, and even then I don't think Bajie believed it until now, similar to how he didn't really believe Bailong was a dragon under his horse disguise until the Yellow Robe arc when he first spoke.

That isn't to excuse their actions but the main reason I believe that Bajie was trying to get back at Wukong for the perverse uncounted where he was strung up in a tree by Guanyin at the start of the Ginseng Fruit arc and other deities due to Wukong's pushing for him to get married. At least I believe he thought this was a sting-for-a-strong kind of revenge.

Bajie was the one to tell Sanzang that Wukong might be lying for the sake to kill humans which sadly at this point isn't too far out there due to his persistence to kill humans at the Burning of the Abbey. Wukong doesn't kill humans because he has to, he has shown that when he killed those seven bandits that attacked him and Sanzang at the start of the book as well. He kills humans because he believes they deserve to die and he is the one to do it. It is not out of need, he wants to kill them if they get in his way.

Again I think that because of these past actions have clouded Sanzang's judgment to believe Wukong because he is 100% in the right that she was a demon trying to kidnap him. But he has seen Wukong treat humans and demons the same way, and with no help of Bajie, is making choices out of anger rather than logic. Needless to say, there hasn't been a lot of good blood so far, I really think that Sanzang would believe him if Bajie didn't keep making excuses.

This all came to a head when Sanzang really thinks that Wukong isn't going to change his stance on killing people, whether it be his own lack of ability to teach or that Wukong finds human life of little value he sends Wukong away. He doesn't even bother with the spell on the third killing just for him to go.

After that is it the Yellow Robe arc where Wujing is captured, Sanzang gets turned into a tiger and almost hunted to death, Bailong is out of commission and only Bajie is left standing.

And he has to be the one to get Wukong back. Which he does leading to Sanzang being very grateful and they move on to the journey.

From there about seven years pass or so, and they are about 8 or 9 years into the journey when the Six-Eared Macaque Arc begins, so a little over halfway with about 6 or 5 years to go. I think he has used the spell only once when the Hundred-Eyed Demon was pretending to be Sanzang as well and Wukong told him to recite it so he knows which one to kill.

From there it is a little bit more direct why he got banished it's more to do with how he treated both the living and the dead.

I think what people again miss is that when it comes to humans, Wukong isn't facing other demons that can fight with him toe-to-toe in magic. Wukong has so many abilities to subdue that he has don't with other deities and demons, putting them to sleep, making them immovable, tying them up, he can stop humans and scare them off without killing the for the sake of protecting Sanzang. But he wants to kill them because he thinks they deserve to die anyway, which goes against their whole thing about showing mercy.

Instead, Wukong explains how it's actually Sanzang's fault that he has to kill so many humans. That if it wasn't for him and this mission that there would be so many people alive, and who cares about some petty thieves or scum bandits, they would have died anyway so he was just speeding up the process. This is ironic to me because Wukong who was also sent to be executed was giving mercy to have a second chance as well but he wavers in some cases when he thinks others deserve a chance at redemption as well.

From there it is a little bit more direct why he got banished it's more to do with how he treated both the living and the dead.

They were staying at a family's house and they claim that their son has done great evil as a bandit, a bandit that the pilgrims have already met and Wukong killed their leader. When the bandit came home and saw them he wanted to get revenge and kill them in their sleep. His family let the pilgrim get away so that no one would get hurt but they were still chased after.

Wukong makes the choice of killing the rest of the bandits and I think that maybe, perhaps he wouldn't have been banished this time if he didn't go to the trouble of cutting off the head of the family's son and presenting it as a trophy. But Sanzang let his anger get the best of him and sent him away without trying to talk it out.

He goes to Guanyin because he didn't want to face the shame of going home but she tells him to wait until Sanzang has cooled off his anger to see reasons again and rather asked him with his powers why he couldn't have shown mercy to the bandits (like a good teacher does).

I think that is why the Six-Eared Macaque arc shows the real turning point with how not only Wukong behaves but Sanzang as well. Wukong is fighting his inner demons over here but Sanzang has to learn not to let his anger and emotions not to get the best of him. He is too quick to judge and needs to find out more about the whys in how people act rather than taking it at face value.

These are defiantly the worst point for either character as it highlights their worst traits and I hate to think of them as the most common examples whenever people think of Journey to the West when there are nearly 15 other arcs showing how they both change and grow throughout their journey.

There is a lot more to be said with how Sanzang is seen in more of a Confucianism mindset in later interactions to give Wukong more good qualities in comparison as the story of Xuanzang changes more and more throughout time. But also Wukong's representation of both control and freedom and the balance of the two to make a cohesive narrative within the story.

There is so much more that can be said but I think I'll wrap it up here.

[twoshrinkinggirls-blog]

Shatterfly’s 1/27/17 weigh in

279 this week

That’s 2.2 up from last week. The trend line on my libra app is on a three day horizontal trend. 

Just repeating to myself that we all get stalls and if I keep at it this will pass.

[awesomebrazilianprincess]

It's Neymar's Time to Complete His Rise to Royalty

If Cristiano Ronaldo or Lionel Messi has anything in common with Crash Davis—if there’s any sort of cultural crossover between the archetypes of global sports glitz and minor league baseball grime—it’ll show itself when the tape recorder starts rolling. That’s when the icons in their posh private jets heed the wisdom Davis imparted on a bumpy bus, whether they’ve seen Bull Durham or not. “You’re gonna have to learn your clichés,” Crash says in the 1988 classic. “They’re your friends.”

The galácticos have little choice but to follow this advice. Combine the fanaticism surrounding global soccer with the minimal access afforded the media covering it, and you have an environment where every crumb becomes content, where innuendo is louder than insight, where the tiniest spark can become a bombshell. In short: The less said the better; be safe, not sorry. So it’s significant, then, that in the middle of what should be the most relaxing summer of his adult life, Neymar da Silva Santos Jr. is willing to let you in, share his concerns and maybe even make a headline. He can’t hide from who he is, nor from the momentous, legacy-defining season to come.

The quiet but charismatic 25-year-old Brazilian forward has never won a World Cup. He has never been named FIFA’s player of the year. And if he remains at FC Barcelona (which was up in the air as of Monday; if he’s not in Paris a week from now, it will be a surprise), he will have to wait a bit longer until he’s even considered his own team’s centerpiece. But he’s universally deemed soccer’s best player after Ronaldo and Messi, and he’s beloved in a way that neither of them ever will be. And a big reason for that is his indifference to the Book of Crash.

Neymar can’t fake it. He’s not packaged, and he’s not a ­product—and as a result, he sells lots of them: Nike, Gillette, Panasonic, Beats by Dre. In 2013 he was named the most marketable athlete in the world by SportsPro and Eurosport. In January he was ranked the most valuable player on the Euro­pean transfer market by Switzerland’s CIES Football Observatory. And in April he was the only footballer on TIME’s list of the world’s 100 most influential people. (“I’ve always been struck by his humility,” David Beckham wrote for TIME. “He’s respectful and wants to learn...He lives to play the game, and I imagine he approaches it now the same way he did as a boy.”)

Neymar says he can’t explain his inclusion on that list—and then he tries to do just that: “Maybe because I’m an athlete or maybe because I do a lot of things on social media. But I don’t know. I don’t like to talk about myself. I try to be a good role model for my son, my family, my friends, and then I try to be a good role model for the rest of the people, too. ... I try to be myself without being anything different. I’m only one Neymar—for my family, for the public. I’m always the same person.”

When Neymar acknowledges that, yes, the next 12 months, climaxing with the World Cup in Russia, will probably be “the toughest season of my life,” he believes it. The world will read those words and discuss and dissect them, and then they’ll become even more true. The spotlight is about to get even brighter, and Neymar, who’s been soccer’s next big thing for nearly a decade, will have to confront his destiny.

This was Neymar’s first summer without a national-team commitment since 2010, when his exclusion from Brazil’s ill-fated World Cup squad caused an uproar at home. Brazil has already qualified for Russia, so he’s had the chance to indulge. He hit Oracle Arena for Game 2 of the NBA Finals, sitting courtside with Formula 1 champion Lewis Hamilton and posing afterward with Odell Beckham Jr. and Kevin Durant. Neymar wasn’t at all concerned about whether the Warriors’ megastar was a fan; this was no ego trip. “I don’t know if he’s seen me play,” Neymar told SI, “but I had the pleasure to meet him.”

In another photo the 5' 9" Brazilian stood on a chair and playfully lorded over 6' 7" Draymond Green. Neymar enjoys being around famous and accomplished people—he reunited with Green in Ibiza last month—not because of how it reflects on him but because he’s a fan, genuinely in awe of what they can do.

In the last year he performed a short, silly scene in which he juggles a napkin holder in Vin Diesel’s most recent Xander Cage movie—a role only for the athlete who doesn’t take himself too seriously—and kicked a ball across Hollywood Boulevard on Jimmy Kimmel Live! He’s joined musicians onstage, singing and dancing at concerts back home.

Neymar has a piano at his house in Spain—it was there when he moved in, he says, and he has been teaching himself to play with YouTube ­videos—but at an L.A. photo shoot for this story it takes some convincing to get the man watched by tens of millions every weekend to tap out even a simple a tune on a rented grand. He sits, gets up and wanders a bit before settling back in. Songs are suggested. How about Barcelona’s club anthem, “El Cant del Barça”? A Nike marketing rep asks that the studio’s ambient music be turned up, not down, so Neymar might feel a bit less scrutinized. He’s not an action figure to be played with. He’s human; he gets nervous. He says he felt it when he met Michael Jordan in Las Vegas and when he lined up to take what would be the winning penalty kick in the Olympic gold medal game last summer in Rio. Before the confidence bubbled up at the penalty spot, he admits, he endured the “worst sensation—all of the responsibility is on you.”

The Olympics play a distant second fiddle to the World Cup, but that U-23 tournament stubbornly remained the one international competition Brazil hadn’t won. And with the 2016 Games being contested on home soil two years after World Cup humiliation (also at home), Brazil named Neymar one of its three over-age players. He delivered, scoring four goals in six matches and converting that gilded penalty against Germany. Neymar was in tears almost immediately. For him, delivering the final piece of Brazil’s trophy puzzle was an immense achievement. For the public that adores him, however, it’s still not enough.

“It was like the Yankees finishing with the best record in the regular season: O.K., that’s kind of cool, but they measure everything around here by World Cup championships,” says Brian Winter, a Texan who co-wrote Pelé’s 2014 autobiography and who now runs Americas Quarterly, a political, business and cultural journal covering Latin America. As Reuters’ chief correspondent in Brazil for five years, he knows well how the nation’s sports, economics and politics intersect; he was living in São Paulo when Germany dismantled the hosts 7–1 in the ’14 Cup semifinals. That game in Belo Horizonte, he says, marked “the start of a long descent into hell for Brazil,” which has been reeling from financial and political crises since.

Neymar’s penalty and Olympic gold offered only temporary respite. “It was cool for, like, a day,” says Winter. “It created the sensation that hosting the Games hadn’t been a total waste. But once the lights went off, it was so clear that all of the promises linked to the ­Olympics—improved policing, infrastructure—had fallen short.” Brazilians, he says, are “desperately hoping for a reason to be happy in 2018. And so often—maybe too often—Brazilian soccer and politics mix.”

So the nation turns to Neymar. Four years after the misery of the so-called Mineirazodrubbing by ­Germany, which Neymar missed with a fractured vertebra suffered in a quarterfinal Thunderdome match against Colombia, Brazil has a viable shot at redemption in Russia. The 7–1 stain will never go away, but this World Cup will feature Neymar in his prime, shouldering the hopes of a country desperate for a reversal in fortune. This is the season in which it all could turn around. The season in which Neymar might finally fulfill his promise.

"Everybody wants that Neymar be the protagonist in the World Cup,” says Ricardo Kaká, the Orlando City midfielder who was part of Brazil’s 2002 title-winning team (and who, incredibly, is the last man other than Ronaldo or Messi to be crowned world player of the year—10 years ago). “This is unfair sometimes, but it’s also because of who he is as a player, for his potential, how he can decide a game, how he’s a protagonist in Barcelona. There is going to be pressure on him.”

Kaká is certainly familiar with scrutiny, but as good as he was, he never became the long-term, tactical focal point of the Seleção. Nevertheless, Neymar looks up to the former Brazil number 10, who’s 10 years his elder. Neymar admires Kaká’s piety, and Kaká appreciates Neymar’s willingness to listen and learn. They’re both part of a text-message group reserved for Brazilian national team veterans, making it one of the most exclusive clubs in the world: Kaká, Roberto Carlos, Denílson, Elano...–Neymar joined recently, and he employed the group’s advice during the Olympics.

Kaká explains: “The first games, Brazil didn’t play so good, everyone was criticizing Brazil—and he was the most important player. He tried speaking with the press, and then I said to him, ‘Now as a player we have a very good opportunity to answer without saying; we have the field to [show that] we care and that the situation is important to us.’ In the end he won the Olympics, and that was the best answer he could give.”

The members of the group, Kaká says, believe Neymar is “very smart to understand that these guys can give him something different, something that could help.”

Brazil needs Neymar because, increasingly, Brazil is Neymar. Though rocked by recessions and political scandals, the nation has seen massive gains made by the nascent middle class over the past couple of decades. For years, socioeconomic classes “often resembled castes,” Winter says. There were five—A through E—and it’s the C that’s been on the rise.

C is roughly where you would have found a young Neymar. The son of a journeyman pro player, he wasn’t impoverished growing up on the southern fringe of the São Paulo megalopolis, but his family didn’t have much either, and making ends meet was a chore. Now Neymar takes in some $37 million per year (more of it from endorsement deals than from Barcelona), according to Forbes. He’s living the modern Brazilian dream.

“Neymar has the deepest connection with the people of Brazil of any soccer player of this generation, particularly with the rising middle class,” Winter says. “The way he talks, his street-wise charm—he appeals to that segment. He’s the best pitchman in a generation.”

That appeal also dovetails with the millennial generation. Neymar is a master of social media. His image isn’t meticulously crafted or self-celebratory like Ronaldo’s; it’s not homey or reticent like Messi’s. That video of Neymar playing soccer in a backyard with Justin Bieber is more effective than anything a consultant might stage. It’s organic and honest, a window into Neymar’s effortless cool.

He’s fashionable. And he’s got a wonderfully wry sense of humor. “Social media tends to ferret out the phonies,” Winter says. “People love watching for their idols to show a glimpse of insincere behavior—but you really don’t see it from him.”

There’s a 2011 video of a 19-year-old Neymar in the locker room at his old Brazilian club, Santos, in which he dances and sings and thrusts along to Michel Teló’s cover of “Ai Se Eu Te Pego.” The more sighs and eye rolls Neymar gets from teammates in the video, the more committed he becomes.

He’s comfortable, unvarnished and fearless in the moment—the sort of person anyone with spunk or spirit would like to be around. The clip has more than 25 million views, and Neymar has 78 million followers on Instagram, making his account the 14th-most popular in the world, a hair above Messi’s.

Ronaldo has more, but Google “CR7 dancing” and among the first few hits are clips of the Portuguese star gyrating in a pink bathing suit in front of a crowd in Ibiza and another of him cavorting on a private plane. Search “Messi dancing” and you’ll find videos of the Argentine and his wife. There’s no better illustration of the differences among the three men.

Kaká certainly sees it. “Neymar just tries to be himself,” he says. “What’s in your character [takes] you where you want to go. Messi is a little bit shy, so he wants to be more out of the light. Cristiano wants to be not just a soccer player, but also a celebrity. There’s not a rightway, it’s just a choice. Neymar is the nice guy who wants to be everywhere, but he’s humble and simple. When he takes a picture with Kevin Durant, it’s: ‘This is the man, not me.’”

The soccer-loving world may worship now at the feet of Messi and Ronaldo, but that’s humanity’s appreciation for the divine and incomprehensible. Messi plays as if there are fireworks attached to his boots—the ball moves so quickly from one side of his foot to the other that it seems to occupy two places simultaneously. He’s all controlled chaos, staccato soccer. He is a savant, essentially, who doesn’t seem to be truly comfortable anywhere but on a field, and he’s been the driving force behind a three-time European champion that’s arguably the greatest side the sport has ever seen.

If Messi is from Mars, then Ronaldo hails from Mount Olympus. He’s like one of us but better, perfected. He plays like the physical specimen he is: with strength, power and panache. He’s more attractive than the statues of him. If Neymar markets to the C class, Ronaldo aims his CR7 brand, with its underwear and fragrances, at those in the A+. The guy has not only an airport but a galaxy named after him.

Yet for all their supernatural prowess, neither Messi nor Ronaldo is as adored in his homeland as Neymar is in Brazil. Argentines and Portuguese may look up to their respective icons, but Neymar prefers to look you in the eye.

Asked if he’s a little bit Ronaldo and a little bit Messi, Neymar says, “I think I’m like that. Sometimes I’m a little flamboyant, an extrovert. Sometimes I’m quiet.”

Whether he’s their peer is less important to the soccer world than whether he’s their successor. The Messi-Ronaldo duopoly has combined to win six FIFA Club World Cups, eight Champions League titles and a boatload of other honors. But Messi is 30, Ronaldo 32. Next summer’s World Cup will be the last for each man in his prime. At some point, it must be Neymar’s turn.

The Brazilian says that FIFA’s player of the year award is “very important” (Crash Davis wouldn’t like that answer), but he shrugs when asked if and when he’ll break through. “Everything happens in the right time,” he says. “The main focus is to keep playing well, keep winning games, and when the time is right, I’ll get mine.” (I’ll get mine—that wouldn’t pass the Crash test either.)

Back in June, when Ronaldo celebrated Real Madrid’s second consecutive Champions League crown with fans at the Plaza de Cibeles, he made his case for a second straight world player of the year award with a micro­phone and a chant. The thought of it—of using a team event to tout his case for an individual honor—makes Neymar squirm. “No, I wouldn’t do that,” he says.

He attracts attention in other ways. His play, like his demeanor, borrows a bit from both Messi and Ronaldo. But whereas Messi slices and Ronaldo surges, Neymar glides. He’s smoother and more efficient than either, outstanding with both feet and blessed with the creativity and vision of his great Brazilian predecessors. But his game, like his personality, is more accessible. Train long enough and hard enough, and maybe you, too, could play like Neymar. He’s human, mortal, and he speaks with a voice the next generation understands.

This is where Paris Saint-Germain enters the picture. The powerhouse French club was always going to feature in Neymar’s story, thanks to an astonishing Champions League round-of-16 series that will live forever in the lore of both PSG and FCB. Last season was a tough one by Barcelona’s standards, and its puzzling lack of ruthlessness was exposed in a 4–0 first-leg Valentine’s Day massacre at the Parc des Princes. Neymar says he was embarrassed by the performance, and he corroborates the story that he promised friends he’d net two goals in the March 8 decider at the Camp Nou—which he ultimately did, in the 88th and 91st minutes, before setting up Sergi Roberto’s clincher in a 6–1 thriller.

On a team as loaded as Barça, there aren’t many moments when a player can and must take command. But with his European season on the line Neymar was unstoppable, and for many it seemed like a turning point on his climb to soccer’s summit. In TIME, Beckham wrote that it would “be remembered as the moment he stepped up to take on the mantle of best player in the world. Neymar is ready to make his move.

But as July came to a close, it appeared more and more likely that move might take him away from Messi and back to Paris, where PSG was looking for a way to finance the payment of his record $261 million release clause. Yes, Neymar would have to wait for Barcelona to become his team—but if and when it did, then his team would be Barcelona. If he leaves for PSG, he will join a lesser league and a club that has the cash but not the chemistry to make a deep Champions League run. In NBA terms he’d be moving from the Warriors to the Clippers. And instead of Durant, whose desire to win trumped his need to be the man—as Neymar’s did when he left Santos for Barcelona in 2013—the Brazilian would be channeling Kyrie Irving, itching to get out from under LeBron James’s shadow.

Asked which of his two favorite NBA players he identifies with more—James, who was raised in the spotlight, or Steph Curry, who came up quietly at Davidson, mirroring Neymar’s lower-profile beginnings—­Neymar chooses LeBron. Let us not forget, then, James’s ultimate decision to break from the Big Three after winning superteam trophies in Miami. In order to be soccer’s biggest name, perhaps Neymar has to shine further away from Messi, Luis Suárez and Barcelona’s band of superstars.

If he ultimately stays in Spain, Neymar must launch his assault on Messi and Ronaldo while improving on his own 13-goal La Liga campaign and helping steer Barça back to the top under new coach Ernesto Valverde. Last season’s results and the upcoming World Cup apply pressure from both sides. But Messi and Suárez relieve it, at least on the club side. Neymar doesn’t have to be the best player every time he steps onto the Camp Nou field. He’ll have to be more impactful, but he can do so while remaining true to himself. He’ll have some leeway.

If he goes to PSG, he’ll be paid like a king and expected to inspire a desperate club that hasn’t advanced beyond the Champions League quarterfinals since 1995. He’ll have the headlines and the billboards to himself. When those are shared, knocking a ball around with Bieber endears you to fans. When they’re yours alone, a Bieber moment may raise questions of focus, maturity or leadership. There will be no outlets at PSG, no excuses. Either way, he’ll also have to prepare mentally and physically for the rigors of a must-win World Cup.

But it’s all manageable. It always has been—so believes the man with LIFE IS A JOKE tattooed across his left biceps. He was Brazil’s Olympic talisman, and he was thriving at the 2014 World Cup before getting hurt. “We only have one life, so we have to figure out a way to be happy,” Neymar says. “Don’t take it so seriously. That’s pretty much it. Enjoy your life.”

Neymar’s relationship with his homeland remains strong. Not even the court cases concerning his controversial 2013 transfer to Barcelona have dented his reputation. In July, he was cleared of tax evasion in Brazil; a Spanish investigation is ongoing. (“Tax evasion,” Winter points out, “is next to soccer as the national sport in Brazil.”) Neymar’s countrymen, meanwhile, remain grateful for the gold medal and for his staying with Santos as long as he did. His Q rating is unscathed.

The only thing that could hurt him at home is, of course, failure to win in Russia. After he was forced to watch the semifinal rout by Germany while recuperating, Neymar told his fellow Brazilians, “We are going to do all we can so that I can fulfill my dream. My dream is to be the champion of the world.”

Three years later he’s asking for help. “I want to win a World Cup,” he says, “but it’s not only me, you know? There are other factors. There are teammates. There are a lot of things going on.” He’s certainly right, if the Mineirazo was any indication. But then he concludes, “I think you can be a legend without winning a World Cup.”

Maybe, but not in Brazil. Sócrates and Zico, for example, were great players and remain well respected. Many pundits think their 1982 squad, which lost to eventual champion Italy in the second round, was better than the ’94 side, which won it all. But on a team with five stars on its jersey, the bar is so much higher. “If Neymar doesn’t win at least one World Cup, as much as people love him today, he will be forgotten,” says Winter. “Brazil isn’t short of epic personalities who’ve won World Cups.”

Neymar tries to make light of the pressure. “It’s very normal,” he says. “The thing is, if you win a World Cup, they’ll tell you that if you want to be the best, you have to win anotherWorld Cup! When you’re one of the top players, this is going to happen all the time.”

Perhaps it has all felt routine until now. But the next 12 months, whether he’s in Barcelona or Paris, will be anything but ordinary. A new chapter is beginning, and while the end is uncertain, it’s sure to be blessedly free of clichés.

[echocircles]

Ooh, what luck!

[ ⚜ ] Wait. Did this person just asked him to directions to his store? It made him happy that it was recognized, so much that his tail almost slipped out of his coat. Shin smiled at the stranger.

           ❝ No, its near Do you see the road there                 leading up to the sea ? Its just a little to                 the right. I’m actually heading there myself. ❞

Ooh, what luck! It looked like he wouldn’t have to give up and try to shop online after all. Abel returned the stranger’s smile.

“Ah, thank you! I guess we’re journeymates, then. How do you know Lys Noir? Are you a regular customer? Or do you work there?”

[blognikdimeu]

Judgment in our Journey!

Judgment in our Journey!

The focus is on judgment my justified journeymen!

When we judge ourselves or others we loose focus on what’s really important, how we act. As a person with multiple disorders. I am easily controlled by black-and-white thinking or better known as passing judgment.breaking patterns starts with recognizing the pattern and so my journey begins.

When we see things in two ways as either yes…