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sophieeeikli · 2 years

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Blood & Brothers: A Close Reading and Analysis of Dante Émile's "Dioscuri"

Blood and Brothers: A Close Reading of “Dioscuri” by @orpheuslament. By Sophie E. Eikli. Available on Substack.

The world is formed anew, as is our vocabulary. Tumblr poet Dante Émile begins his piece with a title, Dioscuri, which holds no meaning as can be divined through English language save for a single title given to a unique dynamic. The word refers specifically to that dynamic of those poorly fated twins from Greek mythology; Castor and Pollux. They are the masculine in the divine-and-mortal set of twins, having been born alongside Helen and Clytemnestra out of the nonconsensual union of Zeus and Leda. The word itself comes from the Greek ‘Dioskouroi’ meaning ‘Sons of Zeus’. The word may also whisper of similarity to the English ‘obscure’, something which is definitely present in the piece by Émile.

The piece begins in conversation with a seemingly invisible speaker. “Your blood is my blood is your blood is my blood,” uttered by an unknown voice to an unknown recipient. This sentence is repeated twice more in the poem, at the middle and at the closure. The pronoun ‘your’, is also repeated steadily over the course of the piece, while “I” is never named- save for the invisible, yet heady I present in the repetition of “my” in the line which has already been named. This proves the existence of a first-person speaker kept tantalisingly out of the reader’s grip, without revealing its identity. Is it Émile commenting through his own work, projecting to a specific person in an act of poetic espionage? Is it Pollux to his mortal and less radiant twin? Is it Castor to the son born as what he is not; glory and divinity? My suspicion is that the truth lies somewhere between the latter options, and that the unsureness is deliberate. Castor and Pollux’s blood is the same, not just genetically but in reality. The line “your mother never looks you in the eye” could indicate that it is Castor speaking to Pollux, but this is something that cannot, and should not be, confirmed. Although fraternal, they both carry the traits and evidence of a fated conception.

Aside from its title, the poem walks a fine line between pretentious and relatable as the meat of its text keeps it grounded in modernity. There are no heady Greek words, nor are there Latin ones. And yet it brims over with the past. Émile begins by thrusting the name of Castor into the present in an act of bait-and-switch, placing the two of them in the setting of a motel bathroom, and yet the present is scarcely mentioned again. The poem laps back through time, going from a “motel bathroom” to the reflection of their “once [having been] a light to sailors” until the devastating final blow that delivers Castor and Pollux to Hades. The piece exists within a context of Greek antiquity. The present is not gone, but it barely registers against the weight of the past.

To all who grazed the Tumblr poetry sphere of the mid-to-late 2010’s, tell me if this sounds familiar: Dionysus in the present, owning a bar. Aphrodite, a stripper. Zeus, a marine or some other authority.

Those who had a Tumblr account in the mid-2010’s may be aware of the pervasiveness of Classical Greece within the poetics of that time. Many of them are gone now, their blogs reduced to half-memories and deactivated urls. While some of them, such as New Zealand’s Darshana Suresh, went on to publish a book, I have no idea if any of them continued to write. Because of time, and disappearance, and ghosts, I cannot find the exact poems to reference. Therefore, I can only ask for your belief in the fact that one thing was almost always present in a Tumblr poet’s portfolio: the Ancient Greeks in the present, haunted by a lack of belief. This is not a denigration of that poetry in the slightest; as a teenager I found myself uniquely represented in the ambitious poetry of fellow teenaged and young adult poets who often suffered with mental health problems of their own. It was also a heavily queer environment, in which there was no question at all regarding the relationship between Akilles and Patroklus. There existed a genuine artistry and love for the source material that marked it as an artistically unique subsection of poetry.

Another uniting force for the Tumblr poet community was its metaphorical patron saint; Richard Siken. An absolute crescendo of his time, Siken released the collection Crush when he was barely 19 in 2005. Even today his work entertains a sense of immortality, often being used in so-called web weaves (e.g; “Sorry / about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.”(Little Beast)). Even I have a not-so-hypothetical desire for a Siken tattoo on my left arm. His work is manic, bordering on surrealistic as he blends time and space, but more than anything it is intensely physical. There are many, many times in Crush where the word ‘blood’ is used. Hearts are swallowed, cows fall from the sky like rain, houses and people are burned at regular intervals. There is also a very heavy presence of second person in his poetry.

In several ways, Dioscuri feels like a testament and subversion of these things. There is the heavy presence of the past within Émile’s poem, but it is manipulated in a way that contrasts those poems from 2015. Unlike the pieces of which I think, which could alternately place Dionysus at a bar or Ikaros in a First World War fighter, Émile begins in the present and pushes backwards into the past. The thick love of these brothers is constant and unbearable, with Pollux eventually resolving to pull his mortal brother with him into the stars. The language, too, leans progressively more into the Antique with epithets such as “God-sent white bird” – which is interestingly used to describe the “dove” that “you once buried”, rather than another white bird which is their father in the myth of Leda. – being paired with reflections on the soul dualism (“A soul splits in two, / that which has always been yours to share”) which Plato credits to Zeus in his Symposium. While a line near the beginning of the poem asks “Who in Hell knows who speaks first”, the ending describes one waking “Down in Hades.”

And yet the present does exist, reaching through Pollux’s grief for his brother killed in Troy. “I’m not reaching Heaven if it’s not with my brother,” he says to his “old man”, Zeus. While it could be a meditation on the skies to which Castor and Pollux eventually become stars, Heaven’s capitalisation leads one to wonder whether it is not a reflection of the immortality of that brotherly bond, pushing back out from that motel bathroom at the beginning of the poem. Whether it is not Pollux’s bloody and codependent love for his brother that breaches time, space, body. There is blood all over this poem, and inside of it.

There is blood everywhere, and one cannot help but notice that some of it belongs to Richard Siken. Some of the lines seem to be subconscious redirection of Siken’s images. Although it may be overreaching, one could see the “wild horses running through your hair at night” as an honouring of Siken’s “How it was late, and no one could sleep. The horses running / until that they forget that they are horses.” (Scheherezade). There is also something very resemblant in the demand to “Keep the shattered moonlight under your pillow”, which could resemble the physicality of Siken’s “Look at the light through the windowpane” (Scheherezade). Faces don’t just become bloody, but are bloody already. A bloodied fist meets a pre-bloodied nose. Catastrophe is written into the DNA of the poem right until the fateful cry of mortal Castor: What have you done, what have you done. Not a question, for the answer is known by both. The answer is them both.

For such is the love of brothers and of twins in Émile’s poem. Their love is codependent and damaging, but no more damaging than the conception that made them. The poem demands that one apologise to their mother while simultaneously reminding that “it’s not your fault if things always end this way”. They hide under covers in the motel just as they hide together in the night sky. They guard each other in every reality and every plane.

To end, I have only one request of our dear poet:

Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us. Tell me we’ll never get used to it.

Credits given to:

Dioscuri by Dante Émile

Little Beast, Scheherezade & others by Richard Siken

Darshana Suresh and other Tumblr poets

#poetry #spilled ink #poetry analysis #orpheuslament #richard siken #classicsblr #my writing #my analyses #long post

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bourgeoning · 5 months

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we are so glad to see you safe , LIEUTENANT COLONEL SYLVAIN DE LA TRÉMOÏLLE of FRANCE ! it's dangerous out in the world these days , but i hear that you are ADROIT and UNDAUNTED enough to handle it . just don't let your RESENTFULNESS bring you down ! stay on your guard , because with your secret being at risk for exposure , you wouldn't want everyone to find out YOU KILLED YOUR DOPPELGANGER AND ASSUMED HIS IDENTITY .

BASICS .

BIRTH NAME : émile zhihao sun .

FULL NAME : sylvain lucrèce de la trémoïlle .

NICKNAMES & ALIASES : VIVI and SYLVIE are both childhood nicknames employed by members of the la tremoille family . their mother would sometimes call them EMMY when they were young .

TITLES & OCCUPATION : lieutenant colonel of the french armed forces , heir apparent to the duchess of thouars . comfortable being referred to by his military title or " my lord . "

BIRTHDAY & AGE : november 14 ( 35 ) .

GENDER : demi man .

PRONOUNS : he / him / his and they / them / theirs .

ORIENTATION : bisexual biromantic , polyamorous .

STATUS : unwed .

LANGUAGES SPOKEN : french , mandarin chinese , spanish , others .

TRAITS : adroit , undaunted , resentful , magnetic , duplicitous . neutral evil .

INSPIRED BY : patrick jane ( the mentalist ) , mizu ( blue eye samurai ) , charles sun ( the brothers sun ) , the prince and the pauper , the cain complex .

HISTORY .

TL;DR : a man born with nothing schemes seeks everything they ever wanted , no matter the price / an injured wolf found at your doorstep — you may let it in , may nurse it back to health , but remember that a wolf will always be a wolf .

born in china , the product of a torrid love affair between a local woman and a sailor . émile quickly learned that they had an older brother once ; their mother's son , from well before she met émile's father . he was gone long before they were born , yet his ghost haunted the child nonetheless . nothing they did seemed to be good enough for their mother , as she cited all of their older brother's feats at their age .

eventually , émile and their mother uprooted their lives and set out for france , their father's home country . they never found the man , but their mother became a laundress for the duchess in a city called poitiers , and there , émile met the duchess' eldest son , sylvain . the first remark , even before greetings , was that their resemblance was uncanny .

as the children played together , puerile antics led to a proposition : to switch clothes , to switch places . with noble parents and an overworked , perpetually grieving mother respectively , the ruse wasn't so difficult to keep up . especially when sylvain was allergic to study , content to live out his days mingling with the common people instead . so émile spent swathes of time in sylvain's shoes ( and pants , and shirt , and the rest of his clothes ) . they even studied his reading materials in their free time , as themself .

the duchess noticed the apparent change . her son , who had suddenly taken an interest in his lessons , in being her heir , became her pride and joy . and émile , masquerading as sylvain , basked in her praises , things they were so unaccustomed to hearing from their own mother .

as sylvain and émile approached young adulthood , their similarities were becoming fewer and far between . they were becoming their own people , and ideas had been swirling around émile's mind for quite some time . they already spent so much time as sylvain , were clearly worthier of the title he was born with . so , émile devised a plan . when the two of them swapped clothes for the final time , émile led sylvain out into the forest and struck him down , marking up his face just enough for his identity to be ambiguous . then , they ran .

at 20 , émile returned to poitiers — claiming to be the long - lost sylvain . no longer a boy , but a young man , surely he'd gone through enough change that his appearance would hold up to scrutiny . weaving together a story was much simpler , anyway ; already able to answer obscure questions about boyhood , any gaps could be easily filled in . and the duchess fell for it wholeheartedly .

once settled in , they expressed interest in enlisting in the army , despite the duchess' protests . she'd only just gotten them back , why must they leave again ? but they insisted , citing a family history of military service . really , though , they wished to feel wanted for something . something they couldn't find neither in poitou , nor as they wandered the far corners of the world . so , after completing their studies , off they went . over time , they rose through the ranks as a member of the cavalry .

but recognition for their martial achievements , evidently , wasn't enough . not before the reckoning , and certainly not after . they needed more , and set their sights on more lucrative targets , and on opportunities outside of the country he had come to call home .

HEADCANONS .

wanting to one - up the brother he never knew propels nearly every aspect of sylvain's life .

sees his biological mother on occasion , as she's still on the la tremoille payroll after all these years . sometimes he wonders if he needs to tie up that particular loose end , but it's been years since he's seen any spark of recognition in her eye . which just … makes him feel even worse tbh . but there's still an innate desire within sylvain to win her favor .

the la tremoille family is known for its influence — as military leaders , as politicians , as friends to the orléans . they've been a fixture of the french court for centuries .

being a cavalryman , they are also , naturally , a horse girl ( gender neutral ) . they've got one mount with them : their war horse , areion . normally , they also have at least one hack for everyday activity , but considering the distance from home , and resources required to spoil take care of multiple horses , they elected to only bring areion along .

has fully adapted to living as sylvain , and doesn't even react when he hears the name " émile . " rarely , overhearing " emmy " seems to get a moment of pause out of him , but it's more confusion than anything else . he'll shrug it off as hearing the name of " an old friend . "

NAME & ETYMOLOGY .

ÉMILE : french form of the roman family name aemilius , which is derived from the latin aemulus , " rival . "

ZHIHAO : from chinese . it combines 志 ( zhì ) " purpose , will , determination , " and 豪 ( háo ) " brave , heroic , chivalrous . "

SUN : from 孫 ( sūn ) , " grandchild , descendant . "

SYLVAIN : french form of silvanus , derived from the latin silva , " of the woods . " silvanus was a roman cognomen , as well as the name of the roman tutelary of forests .

LUCRÈCE : french form of lucretius , possibly from the latin lucrum " wealth , profit . "

( DE ) LA TRÉMOÏLLE : unknown . descended from la trimouille , the name of a village in poitou , france .

named after my second favorite blue lion from fe3h .

WANTED CONNECTIONS .

HIS YOUNGER SIBLINGS ( ALSO ON THE MAIN ! ) : aware that sylvain had a lookalike when he was younger , perhaps they have suspicions about his return over a decade ago . despite any distrust , sylvain tries to be a good big brother , in his own way . they are influential at court , within france and / or abroad , as part of the ambitious de la tremoille brood . 21 to 33 .

A CHILDHOOD FRIEND : someone who knew sylvain well before he became the person he is today ( when they were still just émile ) , and doesn't even realize because he's changed so much ? but he remembers them . and in spite of all the walls he's put up , all the terrible things he's done , he still holds a tenderness for them . essentially , he'll still screw them over if he needs to , but he would think twice about it .

SHIPS IN THE NIGHT : there's a four or five year gap in sylvain's life they refuse to speak of . during that time , they traveled , returning to china for a stretch of time . if someone crossed paths with him at the time , they would have witnessed a young man trying to find purpose , seizing every opportunity they could to get ahead , and fighting to survive .

ENEMIES & ADVERSARIES : not eager to burn a bridge unless he absolutely must , that certainly doesn't mean sylvain is without enemies . i'd also love to see someone he spurned in his pursuit of power , maybe turning down a betrothal with them in favor of finding a royal to marry instead .

#theopulent.intro #sylvain : countenance #sylvain : musings #sylvain : study #sylvain : task #sylvain : answered #sylvain : mentioned #sylvain : wanted #(wanted to use fresh gifs for everyone but i fear these are too iconic to me specifically)#ch: sylvain

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msith · 8 months

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MIRACULOUS LADYBUG WIKI

Adrien Agreste

EDIT

PRODUCTION INFORMATIONFIRST APPEARANCE:LATEST APPEARANCE:"Stormy Weather""Miraculous Paris"VOICED BY:

ExpandBryce Papenbrook (English)

Click "expand" for full list

CHARACTER INFORMATION

OFFICIAL PRONOUN:

Male, he/him

FULL NAME:

Adrien Émile Gabriel Donatien Athanase Agreste[7]

OTHER NAMES:

Adrikins[8]

Cat[9]

Kitty[10]

Sneaky Kitty[11]

Tomcat and Cat popsicle[12]

Mr. Front-of-the-cover-Teen-Model-weekly[13]

Pussy Cat[14]

Pretty Kitty[15]

Kitty Cat[16]

Naughty Kitty[17]

Silly Kitty[18]

Adricat[19]

Little Kitty[20]

Cellphone Boy, Mr. Whiskers and Kitten[21]

Agreste Junior and Sleeping Beauty[22]

Buttercup[23]

Cockroach[24]

Aqua Noir[25]

Ice Cat[26]

Astro Cat[27]

Santa Cat[28]

My Kitty[29]

Kitty Noir[30]

Mister Bug and Bugaboy[31]

Bug Boy[32]

Banana Cat[33]

Bananoir[34]

Mr. Cat[35]

My Prince and My Poor Kitty[36]

Professor Reckless[37]

Mr. Bat[38]

Mr. Noir[39]

Adri-nothing and Alley Cat[40]

Prince Charmeowing[41]

My Sweet Kitty[42]

Mister Perfect Kitty, Mister Hanging On To His Secret, and Mister Number One Partner[43]

Traitor[44]

Little prince[45]

Adri-traitor[46]

Daddy's Nice Little Puppet[47]

Little miracle[48]

SPECIES:

Sentimonster

Human

AGE:

13 (Origins Story)

14 (Seasons 1-5)[49]

HEIGHT:

150 cm[50] (Almost 5 feet)

OCCUPATION:

Student at Collège Françoise Dupont (formerly)

Superhero

Second-in-command of the French Miraculous superhero team

Fashion model (formerly)

Voice actor

LIKES:

Hanging out with his superhero allies (especially with Ladybug after patrols)

Video games

Playing with cars

Anime[51]

Hamsters

Music (from Jagged Stone)

Reading classic novels

Christmas (currently)

Passion Fruit[52]

Croissants[53]

Chouquettes[54]

Listening to classical music when studying[55]

Dogs[56]

His family and friends

His costume as Cat Noir and when he and Ladybug switched costumes as Mister Bug

Freedom

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Opening gifts early

Architecture[57]

Being a superhero

Sausages with mashed potatoes[58]

Physics[59]

DISLIKES:

Loved ones being harmed

Being alone or locked up (his nightmare)

Being excluded

Liars

Secrets

Not being helpful

Failing

Ladybug rejecting his affections (formerly)

Christmas (formerly)

Thunder (formerly)

Feathers (his allergy)

Camembert

Chloé's excessive affection over him

Signing autographs

Being sick[60]

Harming others with his powers

Disappointing anyone

Lila's lies

Lila bullying Marinette

Being mistaken for a wingless bat (as Cat Noir)

Not being accepted for his true personality

Ladybug putting herself down

Rudeness

Nino's guilt for not being able to help him stand up to his father

Cauliflower with Bechamel sauce

When the Miraculous superpowers are being used by villains

Pancakes with banana[61]

Gabriel's pancakes[62]

Sausages (except with mashed potatoes)[63]

SOCIAL INFORMATION

AFFILIATIONS:

Gabriel (formerly)

Miraculous holders

French Miraculous superhero team (Second-in-command)

Kitty Section (occasionally)

The Resistance

RESIDENCE:

Agreste mansion in Paris, France

London apartments in London, England (temporarily, from Representation to Re-creation)

RELATIVES:

Emilie Agreste (mother) †

Gabriel Agreste (father) †

Amelie Graham de Vanily (aunt)

Colt Fathom (uncle) †

Félix Fathom (cousin)

Unnamed maternal grandparents

FRIENDS:

Plagg

Nino Lahiffe/Carapace (best friend)

Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Multimouse

Ladybug

Kagami Tsurugi/Ryuko

Wang Fu (before memory loss)

Tikki

Sass

Kaalki

Fluff

Alya Césaire/Rena Rouge/Rena Furtive

Scarabella

Alix Kubdel/Bunnyx

Luka Couffaine/Viperion

Max Kanté/Pegasus

Lê Chiến Kim

King Monkey

Wayhem

Ivan Bruel

Minotaurox

Rose Lavillant/Pigella

Juleka Couffaine

Purple Tigress

Mylène Haprèle

Polymouse

Sabrina Raincomprix

Miss Hound

Nathaniel Kurtzberg

Caprikid

Marc Anciel

Rooster Bold

Manon Chamack

André

Clara Nightingale

Santa Claus

Wang Cheng

Jessica Keynes/

Sparrow/Eagle

Aeon/Uncanny Valley

Majestia

Barbara Keynes/Knightowl

Dean Gate/Doorman

Fei Wu/Ladydragon

Mei Shi

Lian

Kang

Jiao

Zoé Lee

Vesperia

Harry Clown

Didier Roustan

Félix Fathom/Argos

LadyLion (future)

Fury (future)

Myst (future)

Krush (future)

LadyBlue (future)

Betterfly/Guardian Angel

Ladybug

Adrien Agreste/Claw Noir

ENEMIES:

Hawk Moth/Shadow Moth/Monarch/Monarch Bug †

Akumatized villains

Mayura (formerly)

Amokized Sentimonsters (formerly)

Ladybug (formerly; alternative timeline)

Lila Rossi/Cerise

(Since Transmission)

Chloé Bourgeois

(since Queen Banana & Dersion and she is exiled)

Adam (formerly)

Shadybug (formerly)

Claw Noir (formerly)

LOVE

INTERESTS:

Marinette Dupain-Cheng (girlfriend)

Ladybug (formerly)

Kagami Tsurugi (ex-girlfriend)

CREATED BY:

Emilie Agreste

MIRACULOUS INFORMATION

PRIMARY WIELDED

MIRACULOUS:

Cat Miraculous

SECONDARY OR TEMPORARY MIRACULOUS:

Ladybug Miraculous (occasionally)

Snake Miraculous (occasionally)

Rabbit Miraculous (temporarily)

KEPT

MIRACULOUS:

Rabbit Miraculous (temporarily)

Bee Miraculous (temporarily)

POWER

SOURCE:

Plagg

Tikki (occasionally)

Sass (occasionally)

Fluff (temporarily)

SUPERHERO IDENTITY:

Cat Noir

Mister Bug (occasionally)

Aspik (temporarily)

Snake Noir (temporarily)

Cat Walker (temporarily)

Rabbit Noir (temporarily)

AKUMATIZED IDENTITY:

Cat Blanc

Ephemeral (all temporarily; alternate timeline)

Anticat (Adrien's nightmares only, in "Representation" and "Conformation")

KAMIKOTIZED IDENTITY:

Celesticat (kamikotized hero identity)

POWERS AND ABILITIES:

Modelling

Speaking Chinese and Japanese

Understanding Morse code

Gaming

Piano playing

Dancing

Fencing

Hand-to-Hand Combat

Cat Noir's/Snake Noir/Rabbit Noir's Cataclysm and Night Vision

Mister Bug's Lucky Charm, De-evilization and Miraculous Mister Bug (occasionally)

Aspik/Snake Noir's Second Chance (occasionally)

Cat Blanc's Mega Cataclysm (temporarily)

Time acceleration (as Ephemeral; temporarily)

Levitation (briefly)

Rabbit Noir's Burrow (temporarily)

Flight (briefly as a kamikotized hero)

WEAPONS:

Cat Noir/Snake Noir/Rabbit Noir's staff

Mister Bug's yo-yo (occasionally)

Aspik/Snake Noir's lyre (occasionally)

Rabbit Noir's umbrella (temporarily)

AMOKIZED OBJECT:

Graham de Vanily Twin Rings

ALIGNMENT(S):

Good

LESS

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Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Gabriel Agreste

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Félix Fathom

Chloé Bourgeois

Kagami Tsurugi

Emilie Agreste

Alya Césaire

Miraculous Paris

Main series universe information

This article is about Adrien Agreste from the TV series and any information in it exclusively follows the main series' continuity.

For information from the Movie continuity, please visit this page.

This article is about the secondary protagonist, who is the current Cat Miraculous holder. You may be looking for the Ladybug PV version of Cat Noir, his cousin, another Cat, or his parallel self.

There's no way I can wear this!... Everyone's gonna realize that I'm the real Cat Noir!ADRIEN

Adrien Agreste is one of the two titular main protagonists (alongside Marinette Dupain-Cheng) of Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir and a major character of Miraculous World. He is a human-sentimonster created by his late mother Emilie Agreste from her emotions of love. He is a former student in Miss Bustier's class at Collège Françoise Dupont in Paris, France. He is also a former fashion model for his late father's brand.

With the Cat Miraculous, when inhabited by Plagg, Adrien transforms into the black cat-themed superhero Cat Noir ("Chat Noir" in the French version), gaining the power of destruction to stop Hawk Moth/Shadow Moth/Monarch and his akumatized villains. He is the second-in-command of the French Miraculous superhero team.

In "Syren", after Master Wang Fu translates the Grimoire in order to find a way to give Ladybug and Cat Noir the ability to transform into different powered up forms, he is able to make the potion that grants the aqua form. Adrien is able to use it to become Aqua Noir, which gives him a specially modified aqua suit with fins on his feet, granting him the enhanced swimming capabilities, as well as allowing him to breathe and speak underwater.

In "Frozer" when the titular akumatized supervillain freezes over Paris to turn the city into his domain, Adrien uses Master Fu's Magic camembert to transform into Ice Cat, which gives him a specially modified ice suit with skates on his feet, granting him enhanced skating capabilities as well as allowing him to stand subzero temperatures.

In "Reflekdoll", Adrien temporarily obtained the Ladybug Miraculous, which, when inhabited by Tikki, would be able to transform him into a ladybug-themed superhero Mister Bug,[64] gaining the power of creation.[65]

In "Desperada", Adrien temporarily obtained the Snake Miraculous, which, when inhabited by Sass, would be able to transform him into a snake-themed superhero Aspik[66], gaining the ability to go back in time for a Second Chance. Later, he returned the Miraculous after failing for the 25,913th time to save Ladybug from a particular villain.[65]

In "Cat Blanc", in an alternative future, Cat Noir, conflicted between his loyalty towards his father and the girl he loved, was akumatized by Hawk Moth into Cat Blanc, a white cat-themed supervillain with the power of infinite destruction. Later, due to Ladybug fixing her mistake, the alternative future was erased, including Cat Noir's akumatization.

In "Miracle Queen," after removing the Snake Miraculous from a brainwashed Viperion, Adrien unified the Snake Miraculous with the Cat Miraculous to become Snake Noir[65] ("Serpent Noir" in the French version).

In "Miraculous World: New York - United Heroez", after Mr. Ramier had been reakumatized into Mr. Pigeon for the 51st time, Cat Noir became Astro Cat to stop Mr. Pigeon from taking over the moon for him and his pigeons. Astrocat has the power to travel long distances swiftly via flight, including in space.

In "Ephemeral", after finding out the truth about his parents, Adrien, affected by an akuma, gave the Cat Miraculous to Shadow Moth/Shadow Noir and was akumatized into Ephemeral, a supervillain who made time faster or sped up the time it took for a Miraculous holder to detransform. Later, after Sass used Second Chance, Ephemeral was erased from the reality.

In "Kuro Neko", after giving up on being Cat Noir due to feeling unappreciated by Ladybug, Adrien was convinced by Plagg to create a brand new identity as a holder of the Cat Miraculous, becoming Cat Walker ("Patte De Velours" in the French version), even donning a brand new suit. He later returned to his original hero persona.

In "Evolution", after future Bunnyx was paralyzed during a fight against Monarch, Cat Noir took her Rabbit Miraculous and combined it with the Cat Miraculous to become Rabbit Noir so he and Ladybug could keep on fighting the supervillain and prevent him from changing the past or discovering their true identities.

In "Miraculous Paris", he was kamikotized by Betterfly into Celesticat, an angelic-cat-themed superhero to help Ladybug and Betterfly escape from Shadybug and Claw Noir.

In "Passion", to avoid Safari's venom bolts, Adrien temporarily used the Ladybug Miraculous and once again becomes Mister Bug.

In "Revolution", after seeing all the Parisians willingly stand up and fight injustice with their own hands and refuse to turn their backs on Ladybug and Cat Noir, Adrien evolves his powers, and now, he doesn't detransform after using his powers, and is able to cast as many Cataclysms as he pleases without the need to recharge. Then, he was sent to London by his father, and yet, shared a kiss with Marinette before leaving.

In "Representation", after being sent to London, Adrien returns to Paris as Astrocat hoping to find Marinette so he could tell her his identity and stay together but after being struck with Nightormentor's dust and the fear of putting her in danger, he backs off the idea and returns to London.

In "Conformation", when Monarch commenced his global plan against the French Duo, due to him knowing he wasn't in the right state of mind to wield the power of Destruction safely and the fears of his nightmares, Adrien sent Plagg back to Paris with the ring to help Ladybug.

In "Re-creation", after Monarch's defeat and wish, Adrien reclaims his Miraculous and rejoins Ladybug and their whole team in Paris.

I AIN'T READING ALL THAT!!!!!!!!

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enshrcuded · 6 months

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THE MONSTERS TURNED OUT TO BE JUST TREES.

ricky whittle, 'straight', male + he/him → isn’t that carston gillespie? i’ve seen them hanging out with the humans. i hear they're 43, but they’ve only been in alexandria for 3 years. they seem to be steadfast & flexible, but also hot-tempered & vindictive. they are not heightened!

was a moderate hunter who only hunted/killed those that crossed a line.

left his hunter family after witnessing them committing one too many atrocities, but he occasionally keeps in touch with the more mild and/or pacifistic ones that has a code of morality.

now seeks to protect those that cannot protect themselves.

proficient with all sorts of weapons. and... things not traditional used as weapons such as cards and coins.

BASIC INFORMATION.

FULL NAME: [ CARSTON ÉMILE GILLESPIE ] NICKNAME: [ CAR ] AGE: [ 43 ] GENDER: [ MALE ] BIRTH DATE: [ 1981 ] SPECIES: [ HUMAN ] ETHNICITY: [ JAMAICAN, IRISH, FRENCH ] OCCUPATION: [ MECHANIC ] RELIGION: [ not found. ] SPOKEN LANGUAGE: [ ENGLISH, JAMAICAN, PATOIS, IRISH, FRENCH ] ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: [ 'HETEROROMANTIC' ] SEXUAL ORIENTATION: [ 'STRAIGHT', HETEROFLEXIBLE ] SEXUAL TEMPERAMENT: [ DOM-SWITCH ] SEXUAL POSITION: [ TOP ]

more on the blog. (click the star labelled chronicle.)

#[musings; carston]#unveilintro

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wikiuntamed · 1 year

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Five steps of Wikipedia for Friday, 6th October 2023

Welcome, Bienvenida, こんにちは, Velkommen 🤗 Five steps of Wikipedia from "Magnetoactive phase transitional matter" to "Circumscription (taxonomy)". 🪜👣

Start page 👣🏁: Magnetoactive phase transitional matter "Magnetoactive phase transitional matter (MPTM) are miniature robotic machines that can change their shape by switching between liquid and solid state. ..."

Step 1️⃣ 👣: Gallium "Gallium is a chemical element with the symbol Ga and atomic number 31. Discovered by the French chemist Paul-Émile Lecoq de Boisbaudran in 1875, gallium is in group 13 of the periodic table and is similar to the other metals of the group (aluminium, indium, and thallium). Elemental gallium is a..."

Image licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0? by en:user:foobar

Step 2️⃣ 👣: 3G "3G is the third generation of wireless mobile telecommunications technology. It is the upgrade over 2G, 2.5G, GPRS and 2.75G Enhanced Data Rates for GSM Evolution networks, offering faster data transfer, and better voice quality. This network was superseded by 4G, and later on by 5G. This network is..."

Image licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0? by HLundgaard

Step 3️⃣ 👣: 3.5G

Step 4️⃣ 👣: Synonym (taxonomy) "The Botanical and Zoological Codes of nomenclature treat the concept of synonymy differently. In botanical nomenclature, a synonym is a scientific name that applies to a taxon that (now) goes by a different scientific name. For example, Linnaeus was the first to give a scientific name (under the..."

Step 5️⃣ 👣: Circumscription (taxonomy) "In biological taxonomy, circumscription is the content of a taxon, that is, the delimitation of which subordinate taxa are parts of that taxon. If we determine that species X, Y, and Z belong in Genus A, and species T, U, V, and W belong in Genus B, those are our circumscriptions of those two..."

#FiveStepsOfWikipedia #GemsOfWikipedia #WikiQuest #WikiWonderland #WhatDoesWikiSay

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studyinglogic · 2 years

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Idiosyncratic thoughts on music II: on forming the words and changing the lyrics, on being oneself and being other selves

A little child, who wakes up from the dream . . . starts forming the words -

---Akeboshi (selectively quoted)

I. Songs to express the self

Like many people, I often sing to myself while walking or doing chores. I also tend to change the lyrics of the songs I sing; it took me a while to realise I changed the lyrics to accord with my mood and what I found personally meaningful.

Some sundry examples (all changed lyrics are italicised):

I first heard AJR's "Adventure is Out There" on a day when I felt unable to do anything; I felt perfectly fine singing the lyrics. The next day, when I felt excited and eager, I kept changing the hook of the chorus to, "Holy moly, it's a new exciting day." I simply found myself unable to sing the original lyrics with any sincerity.

I almost never swear; I find myself switching out swear words in songs very often so that I can sing them. This includes songs where the swear words are at a minimum, like Noel Gallagher's "Dream On." (This is one of the reasons why I find it hard to listen to English-language rap.)

I sometimes change the lyrics to make it more meaningful to me---and I often do this unconsciously. For a long time, I thought I was singing the correct lyrics to "Bag It Up" by Oasis:

Gold and silver and sunshine is rising up Congratulate yourself on another day Take my hand in the meantime, and when you've had enough I'll find you on the end of a runway, maybe

As I discovered many years later, those are not the correct lyrics; I changed them to be both more life-affirming and doubtful.

II. Songs to escape the self

Songs are personal; music is joy; lyrics require interpretation. When I sing to myself, I find it difficult to sing if I can't relate to the lyrics. It feels uncomfortable. (Perhaps this is a very, very personal version of Gadamer's fusion of horizons.)

There is an intriguing exception: if the song is sung from a perspective so different from mine that to sing it is like acting, like inhabiting a different persona. Those songs tend to be fun and light and songs I don't take seriously. (Example: "Daft Pretty Boys" by Bad Suns, where I can't really identify but part of the fun is switching registers in the chorus.)

III. Romanticism and Confucianism

Here one can find the traces of debates within (and about) Romanticism and neo-Confucianism. (The linkage and exposition here is informal rather than rigorous.)

One of the features of Romanticism (speaking broadly) is the celebration of the uniqueness of the individual, of what it's like to be a particular kind of unique self. (These have practical implications for things like education: see Rousseau's Émile on how to foster the child's unique curiosity, for example.)

This is all well and good; it's nice to be myself sometimes. But it's also great to be able to inhabit a different self, to be able to escape from the particularities of what it's like to be me.

And here one can also find traces of a debate within Confucianism about the benefits of understanding something on one's own authority (the neo-Confucian 自得, zide, getting it oneself) or the benefits of understanding something due to the authority of others or of a tradition (Xunzi's 學 or 学, xue, learning or study). The difference here is, broadly speaking, the difference between getting (moral) knowledge from your self or from getting it from outside yourself.

In practice, of course, both happen. And in this case, it's a comfort to sing songs which express myself, and it's comforting to sing songs which allow me to step outside myself, too.

#music #AJR #Oasis #Noel Gallagher #Bad Suns #Romanticism #Confucianism #unexpectedly philosophical #neo-Confucianism #Xunzi

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rlg102group202 · 2 years

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Week 2 Blog Response

I understood transgression as people breaking the rules of social conventions and entering into a place where they feel comfortable, or when people change their behaviours. Therefore, I view the process of changing from an introverted to an extroverted personality as a transgression in our current society. As we previously discussed in the lecture and based on Émile Durkheim’s idea of transgression, transgressing from something to another means moving from one domain to the other, or a social binary. Switching personality types from introversion to extraversion could be a significant change for some groups of people. While an introverted person may be shy about speaking in front of large groups or prefer to enjoy time alone with their inner thoughts, an extroverted person likes to be in crowded groups and express themselves. I feel like it is unlikely for people to completely change their personalities. However, if someone does, it can definitely be considered a transgression from one value to the other.

Maggie Lyu

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oceansatedogs · 2 years

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i'm tired of being god's strongest soldier. i want to be god's babygirl instead

#émile barks #i am going to need these people in my life to understand i am trying my fucking hardest out here with everything i do and if it's not enough #then i'm sorry! i'm literally just a human being leave me alone #like i'm sorry i can't make it to One (1) study sesh. i'm sorry i have to switch jobs and abandon this retail hell #and i'm sorry for taking HRT because i decided to be happy and do things for myself #and i'm sorry to anyone else who feels inconvenienced by how i do things! this is just what works for me #just fucking back off i'm tired i'm literally so tired #this is not about anyone here mostly just IRL stuff sighhhhh

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kanene-yaaay · 4 years

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Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Kanene’s note: Okay, I’m- aaaaa

I’m very proud of this one because it’s a little different of what I use to write and it was cool to try a new something. I didn’t even wrote the laughter because I was writing this next to my family and I didn’t wanted any of them asking why my characters were laughing so much xDD.

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Switch!Émile and Switch!Remy (It is def romantic. They are married and very gay and there is a lot of kisses in it-)

* Hmmm… This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of amazing art in this site!! ‘u’).

* Something around 2700 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! I didn’t proofread that one very well, so I will probably be correcting a few things later. Any advice is always very, very welcome!

* Just two silly and very mean boyos being two silly, teasy and ticklish boyos. xDD

* A versão em português brasileiro irá ser escrita, ainda! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Watch a fun video, take a good rest, talk with the one that you love and drink water! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

- Émile ~

He didn’t know from where this came from. In a second they were on the couch, smiling and watching Steven Universe, and in the other a cold shiver ran across his body, making him turn to his husband, just in the exact moment to see he taking off his sunglasses, locking his glare on him with those sweet, dangerously warm eyes and grin. Just like that. It took a heartbeat before Émile realized what was about to happen, a wobbly smile beginning to control his features as he felt himself almost paralyzed, Remy starting to tap his fingers on the lenses of his own glasses, his malefic smirk never fading.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

They stared each other, Émile’s gaze finally changing to his fingers, another round of goose bumps spreading across his spine, the adrenaline taking over his veins and giving him the enough strength to dash in full speed through the hall.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Which leaded the poor, almost giggling, adult to his current state: hiding behind his room’s door and wishing with all his will power that this plan would really worked as well as it had when he watched in the cartoons.

(He tried to ignore the voice in his mind reminding him how all that chases usually ended up in the end, the thought only being enough to heat his face.)

- Émile ~ - It was in days like this that one wearing glasses could swear that Remy was a witch. Because there wasn’t any other realistic, rational and plausible explanation about how much the giggles trapped in his throat got louder, bouncier and even more difficult to control just with the slight sound of his voice, obligating their owner to press his hand further around his mouth, lightly biting the tip of his tongue. – You had better hide well, because you know what is gonna to happen when I find you, don’t you?

Émile shook his head, his back forcing itself on the cold wall.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

- Oh, gurl, maybe you don’t even remember anymore… Now, we can’t fusion like this, can we? Let’s me remind you, then. ~ - The chased hold a pouty whine when heard these words, already feeling the beginning of a blush spread in his neck. Remy knew very well how teases could be as unbearable and unnerving as the tic… I mean, The Thing. – First, I will carry you aaaaall the way back to the couch and maybe my fingers will slip in tweaks and squeezes all over your hips, who really knows, ya know? But you better don’t squirm that much, because then I will have no escape but be obligated to bring my other hand to better hold you and just hope that this one is not more slippy then the first, right?

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

- And then: The couch. Nothing different will happen there, really. I will just lay down with my extremely ticklish, helpless husband to take a nap, and, if my glorious lips will be random blessing your incredibly sensitive neck with a lot of Goodnight Kisses and my hands will keep lightly scratching, squeezing and poking all the length of your sides, sometimes even giving a little attention to your hips, because no way in hell I will be sleeping in a hard pillow, it’s none of your business, giggly boi. – Émile couldn’t help nor stop the pitched squeal that escaped from his mouth, eyes widening and breathing immediately stopping, the others giggles also begging to escape. - Oh, and, by the way, better keep your mouth very shushed while this. We don’t want the Tickler Master waking up, am I right?

Silence.

Remy’s nonchalant tune still full filling the air, which didn’t carried the sound of his steps anymore. The cartoon lover knew there was no way for him to save himself and, in a surrender act, just let his high, excited giggles run happily across the room hiding his face in flames behind his tremble hands. Seconds later, he heard the sound of his door being closed and his hide spot exposed.

- But we both know that you just can’t contain yourself, my so poor, so defenseless lee. – Émile playfully screamed as he was lifted up in the air, quickly being carried in bridal style. He opened his eyes enough to see Remy in a bat of eyes deviating his glare from his form, the tender smile taking pieces of seconds before changing to an evil grin, fingers suddenly tweaking his kneecaps and hips, leading the carried to jump, a squeal signaling the flow of giggles that followed it.

- Please, Remy, please!! – Each new squeeze was a snort interrupting his words, making him try to start again only to get the same result and repeat the cycle all over, resulting in a more helpless babbling than anything else. The said stopped, adjusting his hold in order to sneak his thumb in that damn spot right between his shoulder blades, switching between kneading and prodding while leading to an even more no-understandable sentence. - No there, no there, no there!!! Pleasepleaseplease-

- Huh? Whatcha you are trying to say, hun? That I’m the most handsome husband in the entire world? That you are so sensitive that only a few squeezing and prodding are enough to transform you in a blushy, laughing mess? – The one being held felt his laughter increasing, the words spreading tingles in all his others ticklish spots, even the ones which weren’t being attacked. He shakes head, denying. – Is that you love all these teases and specially when I tickle tickle tickle you? Huh? Use your words, babe.

– Nonononono! – Émile arched his back just to find another attack to his hips, bucking the said as Remy buzzed his fingers in the exact point where his sides and hips connected, and generating loud crackling as response. – You a- nah! You are mean mean mean!! – His arms danced to a place to another, too much occupied with the crazy sensation to really focus in stopping it, Remy increasing his efforts in order to make the snorts start to bloom amongst his laughter and squeals, no needing too much to succeed. – Remy!!!

- Yes, gurl? Geez, you should love my name. It seems like you can’t even spent a whole real minute without saying it! – His tune was still nonchalant. However, he leaned down for a heartbeat in order to steal a peck from his beauty, giggly and cute as fuck, husband, who obtained a new shade of red creeping down his neck. Nooooice. – Anyway, what did you wanna tell me? Be quick, I still having a lot of places to knead, scratch, scribble, wriggle… This whole ‘Tickle your extremely ticklish husband, like, really, reeeeeally ticklish, like seriously, this guy is a whole tickle spot himself, a alive version of Tickle Me Elmo, and, when he became a helpless mess just tease him more and more until the big, rational, Émile Picani turns in just a poor, so poor, blushy lee.

- REMY!!

- What? Can’t handle the truth? Boo-hoo, then.

Émile didn’t answered, unless you considered his fast, absolutely incoherent, stumbling words a kind of response, choosing to clench is hands in his shirt and hide his face in flames, instead. His laughing being so strong that reverberate through the attacker’s chest, who couldn’t stop feel like a villain as he stared with a gigantic grin adorning his lips the ribs that such act let defenseless. Well, he internally shrugged as he took a deep breathe, suit himself. His arms were growing tired anyway.

Émile thought he was going to melt in any moment, the teases still heating his sensitive skin and increasing the tickles in a way that should be definitely illegal, but in the moment he felt the raspberry, spreading, taking over his nerves and T I C K L I N G he died.

And screamed, for sure. Oh, and also gripped something while kicked and trashed as if Mabble’s life was depending on it (not his own life, of course, since he was already dead). Some part of his desperate brain noticed he was falling, but the laughter exploding from his mouth and the impossible to ignore feeling quickly expelled any other thing.

He opened his eyes, breathless as his watery vision focused in the form mostly layed onto him, their giggles flying and filling the entire room. After some heartbeats, Remy finally got up, his hands resting on the floor and sustained the weight of his body. Their eyes met.

- I’ve forgot how much of a kicker you are. – Émile just curled up a little more, pulling his tongue out in a very mature and hard to win, statement

- ‘s not my fault your arms are weaken than Deadly Arms’ ones.

- Excuse you?

- Nuh.

- I beg your heck pardon?

- No, you let me fall for you. Twice. In love and on the floor. I’m ignoring you until the end of ours married days.

- Oh, is that so? – Remy replied, adjusting his position so his hands would lay each one in the sides of his husband’s head, who immediately recognized the smile beginning to shine and exploded one more time in a flow of giggles, his arms in front of his body, attempting to conjure a kind of shield.

- Wait wait waitwaitwait!! Nonono! – A yelp cut his sentence when a hand tweaked his thigh. - I’m sorry, I’m sorry!

- Yep, gurl, you will b- And his threat was interrupted when Émile pushed his shirt and connected their lips, stealing his words, breath and any and every coherent thought from his head, his giggles still floating from his mouth, which leaded, if that was even possible, to the coffee lover melt further, allowing himself to be carried away by the tenderness and love, sighing and deepening the kiss.

…Until that dirty, evil, nasty cheater digs his fucker fingers in his damn stomach, which ruined the romantic moment and absolutely did NOT made Remy Tough Picani release a half shriek half snort that DIDN’T resulted in the only one wearing glasses coos softly, excuse you.

- Awww. – Émile gave him an innocent smile, quick turning the tables and sitting on Remy’s legs, his fingers swinging in a dance that consisted in craving his thumbs right above his waistline and vibrating his others fingers in his torso, the maddening sensations culminating to free, belly laughter escape from the ‘victim’s’ mouth. Eyes tightly closed, wrinkled nose. – What is the matter, my dear? The cool, bad boy Remy can’t take some ti-tickly tickle tickling in his tummy-yummy-yummy? Huh? Huh? Can’t he? Because he is super hype dyper sensitive, aren’t you? Yes, you are! You are!

- OH MY GOD, SHUT UP!! – Remy could feel his face, against his own will power and threats, melt in flames. His laughter being replaced by hysterical giggling as his husband changed his technique to spidering, slowly walking his fingers up before quickly drag his nails in random patterns the way down, going up and down one time more and after that a couple more of times, always managing to catch four or five snorts. – THIS IS SO DUMB, FUCK.

- Now, now, Mister Ticklish Master. Let’s not be a Squidward to the Tickle Monster, alright? He just wanna to hear aaaaaaall that adorably, lovely, helpless giggles of yours!! – Émile lowered down and touched their noses, his smile increasing as he felt the other’s laugh hitting his cheeks, his tune now in flying in joyful whispers. – And what a cute laughter you have! Definitely the most lovely, sweet and favorite lee of the Tickle Monster!

- ‘m not- ‘m not cuteyourbi-nOPLEASENOTTHERE- His words stumbled in each other, specially when his shirt was lifted and a finger began to squirm and scratches his bellybutton, his legs now kicking while his hands tried to get enough strength to stop the marvelous move. However, exemplary falling as the attacker focused some quick prodding in the exposed axillaries, receiving what was suppose to be an angry snort. Émile couldn’t help but coo one more time. – I’M. NOT. – He couldn’t help the squealing cutting his sentence. - CUTE. FUCK OFF!

Émile made a soft sound of sadness, pouting even if his husband was still with his eyes tightly closed, unable to see it.

- Now, it’s a pity that you don’t believe in the words of your own husband. – He switched to lightly scribbles and pokes at his sides and lower ribs, making sure to rub circles in each one of them while also gave his ‘victim’ some room to breathe and understand his words.

- Well… maybe, maybe he would… – Remy tried, really tried to frown and looks angry, but that was really hard with the giggles still interrupting his words. His body melting in the gentle, good touch. Totally against his will, for sure. - ... if his husband wasn’t being a jerk and tickling him.

He stared directly at Émile, therefore he didn’t lose the slightest which red freckled his cheeks, smirking, wobbly that is true, but also proudly in being the only between both who managed to say ‘tickle’ without shuttering. Sadly, though, he also didn’t lose the way his eyes and smile widened, showing that the other had an idea.

Butterflies started to panic in his stomach, especially when Émile’s gaze focused there with a ratter crazy gleam, his next phrase coming out as a soft, dangerous purring.

- You know… all of this made the Tickle Monster a bit hungry… and he heard that some lil lil lee has a very yummy yummy tummy right here. – His hands squeezed his belly, as if to prove his point. Remy jumped, the adrenaline running all speed across his body as the words starting to weight in his brain.

- Wait, WAIT! Émile!!! – The one being called slowly moved towards his target, ignoring the squirm and pleas from his husband, who grew more and more desperate as his attacker innocently smiled and looked at him, his head gradually lowering to his most ticklish spot. – Émile, Émile, please, I’m actually begging you. I’m begging you!! I’m cute, see? I said it!!! Émile!!!!

- I’m listening. ~

- No, you’re not! – His euphoric, hysteric giggles already began to take over his sentences. – No! Fuck!!

- No? – Émile’s lips already were resting on his belly, the word sending shivers across his nerves, which was not helped by the fact that the other absently shook his head, demonstrating his saying.

- No! No!

- A no to ‘no’? So that is a yes?

- nO.

- No? But what about the ‘yes’?

- Stop it! Oh my gosh, I’m gonna to get a bitching divorce!! It’s a no to your yes!

- Got it! It’s a ‘no’, then?

- Yes!

- A yes? Okay!

Before any other protest could fly from his mouth, a shriek did it first. And again. And again. And one more time, almost as fast as the nuzzled raspberries buzzing and the nibbles, together with the ‘nhom nhom nhom’s’ sounds, spread and madly tickled in a total oblivion to his kicks, pushes and loud, thunderous laughter painting the air.

It didn’t took too much before the cartoon lover stopped, already aware of the other’s limits, and touched their foreheads again, Remy’s breathing and reminiscent giggles being the only thing breaking the silence which involved them in a calm, cozy, warm feeling.

- You don’t look at me like that, your traitor. – His tune was free of any harm, his bright gaze and blushed cheeks locking his attention. Émile couldn’t help himself but kiss the pout out of his face. – And don’t you dare to kiss me. – Quick kiss. - I don’t trust in your sweet lips anymore. – Soft kiss. – They are a hell of a trap. – Giggly kiss.

- I love you.

Their eyes met, one more time, and Remy finally gave up, swimming in that deep, caring moment. Their hands intertwined themselves.

- I love you, too. – He lightly poked Émile’s ribs, winning a yelp before receiving the same treatment. – But only sometimes.

- Uh huh.

- What? It’s the truth!

- Sure it is, dear.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Their heart did, beating in unison.

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agerestorybits · 4 years

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Remy regress

He woke up feeling..off. He brushed it off as lack of good sleep and needing a coffee. He started the coffee maker. Soon enough he had a cup of plain black coffee. He took a sip and wrinkled his nose at the taste.

Huh.. that’s weird.

He ended up putting a bit of caramel flavoring in it. That helped...somewhat.

“Morning!” Emile said as he walked in.

Remy answered with a hum. Emile chuckled as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “Bad night?”

“I guess?” Remy said, frowning at his mostly empty cup.

“Something wrong?” Emile asked, sitting down next to his boyfriend.

Remy shrugged, “I’m fine babes...just still tired.” That was it...wasn’t it?

Emile looked at him closely, “Okie dokie!”

Remy smiled and drained the rest of his coffee. He didn’t get more. Something that Emile noticed immediately. He didn’t mention it.

“So what are we up today?” Remy asked.

“Napping if you're still tried.” Emile said.

Remy rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Emile frowned, “Ok. How about we just stay here today?”

“Sounds lame.” Remy said.

“Remy.” Emile said.

“Fine.”

They ended up watching cartoons..both of them. Normally half way through the first episode Remy would have pulled out his phone.

“Is your phone dead?” Emile asked.

Remy pulled his gaze from the t.v, “Huh? Oh! No...Why?”

“No reason.” Emile said Remy was already watching the t.v screen again.

It was two hours before Remy got bored and stood up.

“Go to get coffee?” Emile asked. He watched as Remy wrinkled his nose at the thought.

“..Yes.” That’s what he would normally do.

“You don’t have to.” Emile said, his voice switching into Therapy mode.

“I know.” Remy said. No eye roll. No comment. Just...I know. “I think I’ll take a nap.”

Remy walked off and ended up in their bed room. In the corner was Emile’s stuffed animals. Most of whom were from cartoons. Some were just cute.

Remy really really wanted to snuggle one. He shook his head. What was with him today?

He crawled into bed and opened his phone, ready to scroll through instagram until he passed out.

He squinted at the screen. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t read anything. Everything was small and jumbled up. He turned off his phone and set it on the night stand and then stared at the ceiling.

What was wrong with him today? Maybe he should ask Emile. He would know something about this...right?

He glanced back at the pile of toys.

Screw it. He got out of bed and grabbed a simba plush. He crawled back into bed holding a stuffed animal to his chest. He dozed off quickly.

He woke up sometime later and felt even weird. Why was it so hard to think? He was getting scared. What if he was sick? Really really sick?

Tears sprung to his eyes. He hugged Simba tighter.

He was so scared and confused and he wanted Em.

“What’s wrong?” Emile asked as he walked into to find a sobbing Remy holding a stuffed animal.

Remy was quick to bury his face in Emile’s chest and whimpered. “Scared.”

“Why are you scared?” Emile asked softly.

“My brain’s weird and I can’t read and I don’t like it!” Remy described.

It clicked for Emile. He’s seen this before. He was a therapist he’s even suggested for patients to age regress. Get in touch with a childhood that they had lost.

“I think you’re regressed.” Emile said, stroking Remy’s hair.

“What?”

“It’s where you feel younger...do you feel younger?” Emile asked.

“A little.” Rmey said quietly. He paused, “I’m hungry.”

“Well then. Let’s get you something to eat!” Emile said.

Remy clung to Emile all the way to the kitchen and whined when Emile let go of his hand to get some food.

Emile talked to Remy the whole time he made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and cut it into squares. He set that down for him and then gave him a glass of milk.

He turned around to make himself a sandwich when-

“Oops! Oh no!” He turned and found that Remy had knocked over his glass. He looked scared.

“Hey. It’s ok!” Emile said, grabbing a towel.

This was only the first of many accidents that Remy had while small. Each one made him more upset than the last. By evening he was hiding in the back of his closet, his knees pulled up to his chest and his head hidden behind his arms.

It took Emile fifteen minutes to find him there from when he ran off after accidentally dropping a glass and it shattering across the floor.

“Hey. There you are!” Emile said turning on the closet light.

Remy whimpered.

“Hey no! It’s ok!” Emile said.

“No! I..I didn’t mean too!” Remy said breathing fast.

“You aren’t in trouble.” Emile said.

Remy looked at him scared. It hurt Emile that Remy was afraid of him. “Of course not! It was an accident!”

“I’m an accident.” Remy muttered.

Emile frowned, “No. You’re not.”

“Yes I am! I break everything ! And- and I’m always scared! Now I’m all brain weird!” Remy shouted.

“Oh sweetie.” Emile said, opening his arms. Remy threw himself into them and sobbed. “I had no idea you were so scared.”

“I’m stupid.”

“You aren’t stupid.” Emile said firmly. He was going to have a long chat with Remy after he wasn’t regressed about all of this. For now, he needed to calm him down. “How about some ice cream?”

“Really?” Remy asked hesitantly.

“Really. Come on!” Emile said, pulling Remy along to the kitchen.

He gave him a dish of ice cream and watched as he slowly started smiling. “Better?”

Remy nodded. “Thanks Em.”

Emile smiled.

---

Remy woke up with a mild headache from not having his coffee yet. He felt… normal if not a little embarrassed about how he acted.

He looked over and found that Emile was already awake.

He got to the kitchen and found Emile had made a pot of coffee and was reading. “Ah! You’re up!”

Remy didn’t respond right away. Emile frowned, “Aaaw are you still feeling little-”

“No!” Remy said sharply before taking a breath. “No I’m just..” He poured himself a cup of coffee. He didn’t want to turn around.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” Emile said softly.

“Right. Because me acting like a kid is totes normal.” Remy said drily, turning to face his boyfriend.

“It’s perfectly healthy to age regress.” Emile said, staring him down.

Remy broke eye contact first.

“We need to talk.” Emile said.

Remy nodded and sat down across from him tensely. This was the part where they go back to being friends right? Remy was just too screwed up to be bothered with.

“So you regress pretty young.” Emile started.

Remy shrugged and took a drink. He had no idea if that was normal or not for age regression.

“Do you want me to be your caregiver?”

Remy almost spit out his coffee. “My what?”

“I watch you when you're regressed.” Emile clarified.

“...that’s going to happen again?” Remy asked quietly.

“Probably. Maybe not. It could have been a one time thing.” Emile said, trying to comfort him.

Remy stared down into his coffee. “I...I don’t know.”

Emile put a hand over Remy’s. “We have time. You don’t have to answer right away.”

Remy nodded. He had a lot he needed to think about.

---

Two weeks had passed since he had regressed and he stubbornly avoided talking about it again. He was not going to do that again! He shuddered at how scared and helpless he felt.

“Regressing can be fun!” Emile promised.

Remy ignored him. There was no way that...that was going to be good for him! He had a fine childhood, he didn’t need to regress! He wasn’t stressed...much. Or depressed… most of the time.

He could handle it! He was fine!

At least, until he woke up with his head fuzzy again. Dread settled in his stomach at what that meant. He took a breath and was determined to do everything he could to not regress!

He glanced over at Emile who was still asleep. He was not going to tell his boyfriend either...Even if he had promised. He hadn’t meant it anyway….

Guilt started to gnaw at him. He got out of bed. He could handle this.

He would handle this.

He drank his coffee black despite wanting to put an unholy amount of sugar in it. He got a second cup even though he didn’t want to. He got dressed in his normal clothing even if they were uncomfortable. He went to work and was fine!

He was fine!

Until he got sent home early for being snippy. He was always snippy, he grumbled as he got home. He looked around the empty apartment and sighed. Emile wouldn’t be back for a couple hours.

He wanted him now though. He wanted to be held and told that everything was fine. He wanted to just..relax.

Well he could do that, couldn’t he? Yeah, if he got less stressed maybe the fuzzy feeling that plagued him would leave.

He first tried watching t.v but the Rom Com he put on wasn’t holding his interest. Next he tried scrolling through Instagram. Again not interesting. He groaned in frustration.

Tears pricked at his eyes. Angry he wiped them away. He would not lose to this! He was an adult! He could handle this!

Emile came home to find Remy sitting on the couch staring off into space, tears pouring down his face.

“What happened?” He asked.

Remy looked at him, “I...I didn’t want to.” He said quietly.

Fear shot through Emile, “Didn’t want to what?” A million terrible situations running through his head.

Remy shook his head, “I’m an adult.”

Emile paused for a second. It clicked. “Oh. Are you feeling a bit small again?”

“I don’t want it!” Remy said sobbing.

“Would a hug make you feel better?” Emile asked.

Remy nodded and fell against Emile’s chest. Emile hugged him as he cried. “It’s ok. Shh.”

“I don’t wanna.” Remy cried.

“Why not?” Emile asked.

“Cuz it’s weird!” Remy said.

“So?” Emile asked. “People think I’m weird. Weird is ok!”

Remy thought about this. “I feel bad...scared.”

“Oh. Well I’m here now and I’ll protect you!”

“Really?” Remy asked.

“Really. I'll keep you safe.” Émile promised, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Remy hugged Emile again, tighter this time. “Tank you.”

“Of course.”

Emile put on a movie and let Remy cuddle up to him. It took time for him to finally relax.

“Em…” Remy started quietly.

“Yes?”

“Love you.” Remy muttered.

Emile almost squealed. “Love you too baby.”

“Mkay.” Remy said leaning his head on Emile’s shoulder going back to watching the movie.

Remy still wasn’t comfortable with his regression but he did feel safer with Emile there.

And that was a start right?

#agere remy #cg emile

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velvet-studies · 4 years

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Hey!! It’s Nico (aka @velvet-studies). I decided since it’s the start of March I should set some goals so here they are.

Memorize the polyatomic ions for chemistry next semester. Tried before and failed but I know I can do it this time around.

Set up a meeting with my advisor to discuss switching from engineering physics to bioengineering. + mention taking classes for forensic sciences.

Find a roommate for college dorming next semester.

Find my sticky notes so I can finish my notes over L'Assommoir by Émile Zola.

Get back into learning Spanish. I haven’t practiced in months and I’m definitely losing it.

Fix my sleep schedule. I’ve been sleeping 7am-7pm and it’s really not helping me.

Let me know if you guys have any march goals too <3

Listening to: The lumineers “Ophelia” but it’s played in another room + it’s raining. (1 hr ver.)

#studyblr #study #chemistry #new studyblr #nico speaks #velvetstudies #stemblr #engineering major #bookblr

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goingoverthegardenwall · 5 years

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Chapter 8: Babes in the Wood

In this last hurrah of explicit homages to animation of the past, the most obvious discussion point is Merrie Melodies and its ilk: Babes in the Wood is essentially a full-episode reference to the bouncing musical shorts of yore, where everything can sing’n’dance and the villain is a blustery bozo who’s defeated with a sight gag. If we expand to children’s entertainment in general, as we did with Greg’s Beatrix Potter episode, then The Wizard of Oz is our logical next step: the song welcoming him to Cloud City owes everything to Dorothy’s introduction to Munchkinland, complete with the fact that our hero has just entered a dream.

And look, there’s nothing wrong with talking about the obvious. But as we near the end, I think it’s a little more interesting to instead explore the very beginning. So let’s go back to a newspaper cartoonist in New York—the one who inspired fellow New York newspaper cartoonist John Randolph Bray to become an animator, which in turn led fellow New York newspaper cartoonist Max Fleischer to become an animator, because it turns out that just like the birth of superhero comics a few decades later, the birth of American animation hinged on print artists who dreamed big in the city that never sleeps.

A boy named Zenas was born in Michigan on September 26, 1871. Or maybe he was born there in 1869. Or maybe he was born in Canada in 1867. He said one thing, and a biographer said another, and census data says another, and I wasn’t there. It’s similarly unclear when or why he started going by his middle name, but by the time he took his first job at age 21 (or 19 or 17) as a billboard and poster artist in Chicago, he was calling himself Winsor McCay. They sure did know how to name ‘em in the 19th century.

McCay began his newspaper career as a freelancer, but moved to New York in 1903 to work for the New York Herald, where he wrote a variety of comics before hitting it big with Little Sammy Sneeze. McCay’s art was always brilliant, but his gag work was formulaic to a fault: the joke for Sammy Sneeze was always the same, he would sneeze and ruin everything right before the last panel. That devotion to formula would continue in his second big comic Dream of the Rarebit Fiend, where a fantastical events would occur for ever-changing characters before the lead woke up in the last panel, revealing it was a dream.

That second formula was the basis of McCay’s masterpiece. Already a successful cartoonist in the two short years since he’d moved to New York, his fame skyrocketed with Little Nemo in Slumberland, which used the same “wake up at the end” formula but with recurring characters and a running story. He toyed with the medium like none had before, playing with panel arrangement and innovating the portrayal of motion in comics, and his art skills only improved with this full-color strip. His success led to the vaudeville circuit, where he turned the act of drawing into a performance, and this combination of stage entertainment and his continuing comic work led him to seek new ways to dazzle the crowds.

By 1910, the earliest animated shorts had already started to emerge, and McCay was inspired by pioneers like James Stuart Blackton and Émile Cohl to try animating the characters of Little Nemo. Under Blackton’s direction, McCay singlehandedly drew around four thousand fully colored frames to produce his first animated cartoon, presented at the tail end of a filmed short about said cartoon in 1911. As mentioned, animated shorts were already a thing. But none of them looked anything like this. (If you’re concerned that there might be racist caricatures in it, don’t worry, there definitely are, McCay had a lot of strengths but overcoming garbage prejudices was not one of them).

The sheer quality of his work, continuing with the legendary Gertie the Dinosaur, directly led to the invention of the rotoscope as a means to mass-produce cartoons of similar finesse. The influence of Winsor McCay over animation as we know it is hard to overstate (and let’s stress again that this was his side gig, and he was just as influential over comic art): as crazy as it sounds, it’s safe to say that Over the Garden Wall would not exist if not for a story about the whimsical adventures of a little boy who traveled across a land of dreams from his bed.

“Where’s Greg, Wirt?”

Babes in the Wood is delightful and goofy and lighthearted exactly once.

In the same way our fourth-to-last episode mirrored our fourth, this third-to-last episode mirrors our third: Chapters 4 and 7 focus on Wirt, but 3 and 8 are Greg’s. It’s not simply a matter of who the main character is, but what these episodes are about: Greg’s love of fun clashing with his drive to help others. Both times he's spurred by the desire to help others to go off on his own, both times he gets distracted by whimsical wonders involving funny animals and physical humor, and both times he ends up deciding to help out anyway. But despite switching his goal from making the whole world a better place to just helping his brother, the stakes are actually far higher now, so the fun has to be that much more fun if we want the full horror of the ending to sink in.

There’s no tonal shift in the series that’s more devastating than Greg falling prey to the Beast after nearly ten minutes of goofiness in Cloud City. It turns a moment of welcome relief from the growing tension of Wirt’s despair into a dagger in the heart, and the knife is twisted when we learn in our next episode what the Unknown truly is.

That despair is evident well before Wirt explicitly gives up. We get our second opening in a row featuring Beatrice in a hopeless search, and things aren’t much better for the boys. All sense of progression from the first episode feels lost, with Wirt reverting to mumbling poetry and Greg reverting to Rock Facts. Their boat is an outhouse and Greg uses a guitar as an oar, because (if you’ll pardon my French) they’re up shit creek without a paddle. When they land, Greg’s victorious bugle is a ridiculous sign of hope, but he soon drops it in the same way he abandons the guitar: in Schooltown Follies he takes instruments to help others, but this time he loses them.

Wirt’s frustration with Greg threatened to boil over in The Ringing of the Bell, only to be cooled when the Woodsman interrupts them. This time there’s no such interruption, so after Greg’s total failure to read the room gets to be too much, his brother finally snaps. It crucially isn’t entirely unjustified, as Greg’s antics might be funny to us but have not been appreciated by Wirt, and despite Greg’s age excusing his lack of emotional intelligence, it’s still gotta be frustrating for a teen to deal with that behavior nonstop. And Wirt’s “tirade” reflects his depression, because he doesn’t even seem that angry: he doesn’t shout or rave, he’s just openly irritated as he argues that they’ll be lost forever. This is apathy and fatigue, because he’s lost the energy to be furious.

But the most chilling part of the exchange isn’t Wirt cruelly blaming Greg for their mess, or abandoning their search. It’s when, after Wirt asks if they can give up, Greg responds with a chipper “You can do anything if you set your mind to it!”, a sentiment that the Beast will fiendishly repeat verbatim while tricking Greg. It’s such a generic positive expression that Greg hangs a lampshade on it, but it shows the darker side of the power our minds have over our well-being. Sure, it’s a great lesson that focus and dedication can help us achieve our dreams, but if we use that focus and dedication towards self-destructive behavior, there’s no limit to how badly we can hurt ourselves.

After a goofy sort of prayer (incorporating lines from the classic Trick or Treat poem, which will become super relevant an episode from now), Greg is whisked away by so-creepy-it’s-funny cherubim to the score of a so-overwrought-it’s-funny song. His flight aboard the bed/cart pulled by a donkey across the sky feels legitimately magical, but we soon switch to the surreal world of 1930′s songs and physics.

Cloud City is such a stark contrast to the tone of the episode so far that it instantly feels delightful, and such a stark contrast to the tone of the entire series that it lends a special sort of wonder to Greg’s dreamland. References to old cartoons are everywhere in Over the Garden Wall, and before we delve into the tension of our last two episodes, we get one last gigantic celebration of the past with a sequence straight from the golden age of animation.

The transition alone is enough to make this scene hilarious, but the actual jokes help quite a bit: Greg’s growing impatience with the numerous Wizard of Oz reception committees is my favorite gag of the night. Everything is cute to the point of being cloying, including our three angels that look and sound an awful lot like Greg, and the parade that he leads seems like such a fun and peaceful affair after so much time wandering alone. It’s easy to get as roped into it as Greg when we first watch it. But considering the events of our next episode, the scene destroys me every time I rewatch it, because there’s a very specific place Greg is being welcomed to.

Babes in the Wood gets a lot less cute when it becomes clear that it’s a welcoming committee for a dying child. Greg and Wirt are drowning, and this is the episode where the shock wears off and the cold sets in and the younger and weaker of the two looks into a bright light. Greg’s near-death experience is hammered in when we get to The Unknown, but for now it’s being rationalized in a way that brings him comfort.

The cold is Greg’s enemy, and the same childish tone is used to show that he’s willing to fight for his life: thus, the North Wind segment is ironically more hopeful to me than the parade’s warm welcome of death. This third song sounds enough like a Randy Newman number that I’m honestly still convinced it’s an uncredited Randy Newman performance, and it jolts us back to reality for a moment as we see the effect this bitter wind has on our babes in the woods. The boys are starting to freeze, and we again see Beatrice searching for them, getting so close before an owl that looks remarkably like the one we saw in our first episode scares her off. The episode doesn’t want to lose us completely to the sky, and this grounding helps keep the stakes clear as we complete Greg’s dream.

The Popeye-esque battle between Greg and Ol’ Windbag is a hoot, between the latter’s grumbling anger and the former rolling up his sleeve to get back into the brawl. Its conclusion is hidden from us, so we have no idea how Greg gets him in a bottle, but that fits right in with the weird logic of this throwback and allows us to meet the Queen of the Clouds.

I ought to bring up the theory that everything we see here is an illusion created by the Beast, even though I don’t really subscribe to it myself. The most obvious “hint” is that this sequence directly leads to Greg deciding to join the Beast with an off-screen promise, but we also have the old man in the welcoming march wearing an outfit just like Wirt’s and holding a lantern, perhaps a reference to the Beast’s intended fate for Greg’s brother. Plus there’s lines in the songs that seem like they’re luring Greg in, especially the assurance that the wonders of Cloud City “ain’t gonna lie,” which sounds a lot like what a liar would say. Both the Queen of the Clouds and the Beast pointedly call him Gregory instead of Greg, but so does Old Lady Mrs. Daniels (and Wirt when introducing him in Songs of the Dark Lantern).

While it’s a neat enough idea, I think the Queen of Clouds is pretty clearly on Greg’s side for real: she seems upset at his fate in a way that doesn’t make much sense for an ally of the Beast. I also think it’s more meaningful for Greg to truly have the choice between happiness and responsibility, between the possible peace of rest and the definite struggle of life, and for him to choose the latter right as his brother is giving in. But I’ve got no beef with folks whose interpretation of the show is enhanced by this theory, so believe what you want to believe about this ambiguous situation.

Either way, we cut back to Wirt instead of Greg when the dream ends, and he’s still annoyed as he’s trying to sleep. Greg’s strange new seriousness is already cause for concern, and asking Wirt to take care of the frog is even more alarming, but even that doesn’t compare the horror of realizing where he’s actually going. Or rather, with whom.

This is another reason why I think the Queen is an ally: while it’s obviously dangerous for Greg to go with the Beast, that’s what it takes for Wirt to snap out of his funk. It’s a hell of a gambit, but as soon as he starts to awaken, he’s immediately concerned for Greg’s safety despite whatever anger or resentment he had, sparing no time or thought to the branches creeping over him as he runs after his brother.

The quiet distortion as we follow his frantic search is soon met by the Beast’s song, but even as he blames himself for Greg’s plight, Wirt is no longer content to wallow in despair. Because it turns out that these brothers are more similar than they seem, and neither is truly capable of letting the other suffer. In the folk tale for which this episode is named, two children abandoned in the woods eventually die and are covered in leaves by small birds (with some versions seeing them enter heaven), but as we’ll see in our next episode, this isn’t a folk tale.

The thrumming noise intensifies as Wirt slips on the ice, then we add visual distortion as he plummets into the freezing water. He’s saved, but this isn’t water that sees him reborn: the distortion finally breaks as Beatrice asks the episode’s terrible question, and we’re left in the cold.

Every even-numbered episode of Over the Garden Wall, perhaps by virtue of airing twice per night, ends in a mood-setting cliffhanger that grows tenser and tenser with every iteration (or at least it does until the end). First we got a leaf symbolically caught in a fence, then the Beast’s introduction, then the fallout of Adelaide, and now the capture of Greg. Getting trapped has always been a threat for these roving heroes, but the greatest threat of all, that of Wirt trapping himself, has been handled. Things look bleaker than they ever have, but despite the glee of Greg’s dream contrasting with the harshness of reality, Wirt’s ability to climb out of the pit of despair keeps hope alive: even in absence, Greg’s influence looms large.

Rock Factsheet

Dinosaurs had big ears, but everyone forgot because dinosaur ears don’t have bones.

Where have we come, and where shall we end?

Most of these were mentioned in the main analysis, but it’s great that we hear Wirt’s description of Into the Unknown right before the episode itself shows us what happened.

#babes in the wood #over the garden wall #otgw #steven universally #winsor mccay #little nemo in slumberland

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tabellae-rex-in-sui · 4 years

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I wanna know why they switched the cheating scene in Divine Émile. I just think it's really funny that they did.

#irl Voltaire walked in on émilie cheating on him with saint lambert #in the film Émilie walks in on Voltaire cheating on her with mme Denis #i mean i can guess why they changed it #i have common sense #but i still think its funny

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lindwurmkai · 5 years

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if it’s been a while since we posted any kind of life update here, that’s mostly because nothing of note actually happened.

we’re still searching for a new place to live. we’re still approximately the same amount of physically ill - at least that’s stopped getting worse; hooray for small favours. we’re still disastrously and irrevocably fucked in the head.

but.

one of us - whose name, for now, is nele - has discovered that they possess the ability to take control at will, which is a good thing because our switches have until recently been entirely random. we’ve managed to do it on purpose about three or four times now, and nele appears to be especially good at making it happen.

that is to say, it’s easiest to induce a switch when nele has been fronting. due to these factors, they’ve decided to become host and try their hand at time management. (it was actually émile’s idea.)

a few hours ago, nele was so tired they couldn’t focus on anything. when they realised it was not physical tiredness but mental exhaustion, they asked if anyone else wanted to take over and that’s why i’m here now. i am not tired - it’s pretty astonishing.

we’re incredibly relieved to know this is something we can do now. i will even admit to feeling a certain amount of - dare i say it? - hope. perhaps there is a way for us to become more organised after all, as much as our sleep disorder will let us.

#posts by ellis #chaos particles #life update

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saintaugustinerp · 6 years

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Congratulations Holly! You have been accepted for the role of The Golden Heir with the faceclaim Émile Woon. Please be sure to check out the accepted applicants checklist! Also be sure send us a link to your blog within the next twenty-four hours. Welcome to St. Augustine!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/alias: holly

Age (18+) : 21

Gender/Preferred pronouns: female, she/her

Timezone: pst

IN CHARACTER

Desired Skeleton: The Golden Heir Character Name: Julien Moreau

Age (18+): Twenty-one

Gender/Pronouns: Cismale, he/him

Hometown: Ottawa, Canada

Major: Political Science

Desired Faceclaim: Émile Woon

Character blurb:

He gingerly steps onto the platform, toting rosy cheeks and a practiced grace. This is understandable considering the lineage he stems from — a background that everyone who surrounds him is intimately aware of, including you. He is well-dressed, well-fed, well-loved, and all of these factors exude from every pore of his being. There is a faint glow that radiates from him; the aura of untouched naivety, of someone who lives blissfully free of worldly worries. He offers you a warm grin as he walks past, though it does not seem to reach his eyes. Still, you cannot help but smile back.

Developed Headcanons:

HISTORY: Julien’s father is the highly respected speaker for the Canadian parliament, and his mother runs a slew of non-profit foundations, and deems herself a socialite in her off hours (read: stay-at-home mom, without much of the mom part, and more of the thinly veiled alcoholism and marital problems). He has one sibling — a bratty younger sister, Anais — who he deeply cherishes. His family name is delicately braided into the foundations of the French and Canadian governments; information that is well-known to familial outsiders. All of them have established connections in high places, as their reputation and lineage overshadow any and all other personal details.

His childhood is etiquette classes, private tutors, lavish events, and the echoes of empty rooms in a house that is far too large. The essential fares of a lonely rich boy, though he doesn’t consider himself to be particularly lonesome. He is well-off and pampered, with parents who pay heaps of attention to him, despite being caught up in their own affairs. He is showered with near endless accolades throughout his youth, grooming a belief that the world is giving and kind, and the people who inhabit it are inherently good, keeping him trapped in a bubble of opulent warmth.

Though every moment is quietly controlled, and every action laced with the constant fear of mistake or failure, he is still — generally — quite contented with his life.

(Or at least, he can fake it enough to make everyone believe that, including himself.)

PERSONALITY: ( alignment — lawful neutral / mbti — esfj / zodiac — taurus )

His image is clean-cut and untarnished, making it easy for others to project whatever they desire onto him. Everyone who surrounds him views him differently — the golden child, the loving friend, the gifted student, the talented athlete. None of the interpretations ever seem to skew on the negative side, at least the ones he is aware of.

He was bred to hold a fear of negative emotions, and shown that the only viable option to stay above the heap is to project a very particular image. Those kinds of feelings are to be expressed only in private, only out of the public eye, if expressed at all. Interactions between his family unit are either unbearably positive in that ‘a very special episode’ sort of way, or heavily weighted periods of uncomfortable silence.This has contributed to a complete suppression of negative feelings, to the point that for a long while, it appeared they were going to exist in a permanent lock-down.

The events of the past year have proven to be an excellent lock-pick, as gradual cracks in the canvas have begun to form. Within, he is a deeply troubled kid. Worrying lack of sleep, poorly handled stress, a penchant for watching depressing foreign films alone at 4 AM — these are all signs of deeper problems that he tries to brush off as simple character quirks when questioned. This neuroticism has begun to peek through the holes in occasional blowout fits of rage and depression — the aftermath of which are always desperate apologies and sheer embarrassment. The last thing he desires is pity, or for any word of these growing issues to get out into the world. His feelings are for him to repress all by himself, thank you very much.

THE PARASITE: The beginnings of Julien’s relationship with The Parasite were primarily rooted in the image obsession he has been bred with, though it certainly has bloomed into true and deep affections. He has always been somewhat of a romantic; compelled toward soppy love stories and the concept of soulmates. That four letter word does hang unspoken on his lips, and was a mere fraction away from spilling until Frederick’s death. His head has been significantly more cloudy since — though he still considers The Parasite to be one of the few presences that can truly ground him. (Oh, poor naive soul.)

THE FALLEN ANGEL: There are not many freedoms offered to Julien in the way of natural youthful rebellion, as he had been directed onto a very particular path without much room for deviation. This factor led to the development of a deep jealousy toward his peers who were permitted to run freely, feel the wind in their hair and all that cliche ‘coming-of-age’ nonsense. This jealousy presents itself in his adult life as a sense of superiority over those who live recklessly, and of those who experience the consequences. If he is able to keep his head on straight, exist carefully between the lines, why should he be expected to sympathize with those who throw that all away?

The Fallen Angel’s fall from grace is tragic, yes, but in his mind, they are simply facing the heat for their actions. Julien harbors regret for how he has treated them, but he cannot be expected to throw his work, his reputation, his name into the flames to keep one person warm.

THE GOOD SAMARITAN: They were rugby teammates and friends, and though it’d be a stretch to say they were close, there was never any bad blood or tension between them — as two kindhearted and popular year twos, they got along quite well.

Frederick’s death has proven to be quite the blow to Julien’s mental state. He grew up incredibly sheltered from the pains of the world, outside of the charity balls his mother would throw for starving children or dying animals or whatever tragedy she chose to care about that month, so being personally involved in one has resulted in feelings he is unaccustomed to. He carries the thought that he could’ve done something, if only he hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own business. If he would’ve just been paying attention, he would’ve seen him wander off into the woods alone… he has been plagued by recurring nightmares about the bonfire in light of this guilt.

MAJOR: Political Science was not quite the major he would’ve chosen for himself, but it was essentially a base level expectation that he would follow in the footsteps of his family and pursue a career in the political world. He receives high marks, but has approximately zero passion for the work he is doing. He is still about a second away from switching to Philosophy or Literature or anything that would be more engaging.

INTERESTS: He has a frankly astounding addiction to caffeine. Seeing as he very rarely gets enough sleep — both due to his schedule being packed to the brim, and his own propensity for staying up for no reason — he relies on about five cups of coffee a day. (Or a noxious mix of random energy drinks and an assortment of painfully sugary candy, though that is a potion for only the most dire of occasions.)

As a pretentious child of wealth, offered private schools and personalized tutoring, it is only natural Julien adore reading as an adult. He was raised on the pompous classics, though his all time favorite book will forever be The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.

Though he grew up in a house with maids, his mother always made certain that baked goods were personally prepared with her family recipes. And as a boy with a sweet tooth that will not quit, a blend of Malay and French desserts comprise the most nostalgic flavors of his childhood. In times of immense stress, he would sneak to their expansive kitchen in the middle of the night, hastily (and poorly) prepare a galette or a red bean kuih or whatever else his tongue was vying for, and scarf it down like a seasoned champ. Nowadays, he’s replaced this stress relief with a (decidedly worse) smoking habit. The lack of filling pastries with the addition of endless packs of cigs has contributed to bad breath and a stomach that is perpetually craving a sugar rush.

AESTHETIC: Decorative lattes, thick hardcover books, untouched piles of snow, cozy turtlenecks, rose bushes, the click of shoes on tiled floors, kiss-swollen lips, acoustics with loads of reverb, leather oxfords, a lightly floured cutting board, whiskey glasses, ugly babies from historical paintings, ashtrays, Baz Luhrman films, an icy rugby field, the drone of coffee-shop chatter, the moment of stillness before sunrise.

Writing Sample:

The gentle glow of soft orange light. The burn that builds in the pit of his belly, flooding his veins and tingling down into his toes. A warm and inviting hand, curled into his own. Eyes crinkling with a joke being told; a genuine smile that makes his cheeks hurt.

Snow falls from the heavens. The flakes that drift before his vision, that pile softly around his feet, are blood red. He looks up — the sky is a dark crimson. When his eyes drop, everyone around the fire has vanished, leaving Frederick alone, slumped unnaturally. He tries to call to him, but no sound comes out.

Frederick turns, and his eyes are pitch black.

Julien jolts up. His breathing is labored, erratic, and his hair lays flush against his forehead, glistened with a cold sweat. His heart is making it well known that it desires a very promptexit from his chest, banging wildly against the walls of his ribcage. He spares an errant glance at the clock at his bedside — 5:32 AM — an offers a heaving sigh. A half-hour of sleep feels hardly worth it, moreso considering his mind will need far longer to quiet down.

Thin legs swing from a cozy cocoon of three thick woven quilts, and goosebumps immediately take residence. He snatches a cigarette and a well-worn lighter from his side-table, delicately plodding toward the dorm window. Oh, if only his mother could see him now: up before sunrise, eyes weighed by bags so large they could declare themselves a sovereign nation, with the final cigarette from his pack held between deft fingers. Not to mention the sheer illegality of it all, what, with him lighting up in his room. A room that was the previous lodging of monks, no less. He figures recurring horrific nightmares about your dead friend are a sound enough excuse.

(He is, however, unsure if the monks would accept that.)

He props himself beside the window, eyes grazing the skyline. The view is less than engaging at this time of the morning — snow-capped roofs, flurried flakes, and an almost uncomfortable stillness. There are a few quiet flicks, before the flames spring to life in the darkness. The smoke comes soon after, wafting in a delicate stream up to the ceiling.

How long would it take to get over this? Another puff toward the ceiling. Months? Years? He was a friend, but their closeness was nothing to write home about, so how does it figure that he is still so hung up? He has always vied to befriend everyone in their year. He’s not sure how he’d react if this happened to anyone else. Would his brain plague him with countless dreams then?

Just my year, now, he thinks, after a moment. Another puff.

Maybe he would never be over it, cursed to exist obliviously warmed and content by the bonfire, Frederick’s blackened eyes forever on him.

Other: i created a mockblog right here that is available for perusal! also thank you for reading this gigantic wall!!!!!!! :^)

#rp #rpg #roleplay #golden heir #accepted

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