#i ended up with an acceptable depth of colour i reckon

[frankenfossil]

i traced that last photo (of crista cober by txema yeste for numéro august 2015) bc it just made me want to draw angora from @shingworks‘ comic the meek

im just in love with that composition tbh, i wanna take photos like that

also a good opportunity to practise shading in pencils without using black

[megashadowdragon]

Warning: this theory contains HEAVY SPOILERS! If you’re not fully caught up with the manga, read at your own risk.

Since English isn’t my first language, I apologize in advance for any spelling/grammar mistakes. Also, this is my first time posting.

It’s practically obvious to everyone that we will get a Kaido flashback in this arc, whether he dies or not: of course, there will be a part about his time in the Rocks Pirates, but we will also get to know possibly one of the most important people for him: his wife.

Because, let’s face it, Oda hasn’t done much yet to give his personality some depth and not being just an arrogant, cruel, child-beating antagonist with a penchant for alcohol and an obsession for death, and a figure such a woman he loved could be a great opportunity for doing so.

Some might speculate that she’s actually dead and that’s why Kaido started drinking.

It could be true but, knowing Oda, he would never introduce a deceased character of that importance out of the blue, without some sort of foreshadowing: a well-kept grave located in a secret place where an important character stumbles upon in the Onigashima raid (on screen, obviously), a framed portrait on a desk or a wall, a name seemingly being thrown offhandedly in a conversation… but there is nothing in Wano which even remotely resembles one of those things.

Therefore, she must be alive.

(Also, there are already too much fundamental figures in various characters’ history who ended up dead in flashbacks, such as Bellemere, Rocinante, Russian and so on. Come on, Oda.)

Is she going to be someone new, at least?

Well, that’s a possibility, however in next arc(s) new characters will be introduced and One Piece has got more than a thousand of them already… quite a lot, aren’t they? Consequently, there is a very good chance for her to be someone who has been already introduced into the story.

Of course, there must have been some sort of foreshadowing when she had been introduced, too: she was the lover of a Yonko, after all. Has there been a woman with an unknown lover in the past arcs?

Yes, actually.

It was her:

And I believe that the mysterious man she fell in love with was none other than Kaido himself. But wait, there’s more: Gloriosa has also eaten a Devil Fruit. An extremely powerful one.

Don’t worry, I will explain everything on the way. Now, hold onto your seat, because this will be quite the long ride.

Kaido and Gloriosa comparison

Kaido of the Beasts, Governor General of the Beasts Pirates, one of the Four Emperors, the Strongest Being in the world and Gloriosa, a former Kuja ruler. These two may have little to nothing in common... or have they?

Probably the most striking difference between them is their respective height: while Kaido easily dwarfs normal humans, Gloriosa is shorter than Luffy; however, both of their heights are currently not canonically stated.

Unstated as both of their ages are, although it’s clear that both of them are past their younger days: in Gloriosa this is highlighted by her grey hair and wrinkled face, but it’s clear that Kaido is not that young any more, too, having crow’s feet under his eyes and forehead lines. It is likely that these two are quite close in age, actually.

A notably interesting fact is, canon heights and ages of the various characters, along with things such as their favourite food, are revealed in the SBS corner in manga volumes. And yet, not even one of these little pieces of information has been revealed for both Kaido and Gloriosa.

It’s very unlikely that nobody has ever sent these question to Oda, or that the latter forgot to answer them; given the importance of the two characters in the arc where they have appeared, there must be a very specific reason why Oda didn’t tell us a thing. More than that, when Gloriosa talked about her Love Sickness in chapter 522, there was no flashback; not even silhouettes.

With these things and questions on mind, let’s move on to their position. Kaido is now an Emperor of the Sea, and Gloriosa was an Empress of the Kuja. Also, while Gloriosa was an Empress Kaido held no particular position, except by maybe being a pirate captain; and now the tables have turned, Kaido being an Emperor and Gloriosa being a nobody. A neat little parallel, isn’t it?

Now, let’s get to their Haki usage and knowledge: Gloriosa seems to have some knowledge about how it works and the characteristics of the people who are able to use the various Colours: in fact, in chapter 521 she comments about Luffy’s Haki, surprised by how he willingly bowed his head to Hancock to help those who saved him instead of a boat to leave the island without a second thought. She is not a confirmed user of any form of Haki; however, in a place where pretty much every powerful warrior can use at least Observation and Armament, it is hinted she is a wielder of these two colours at least and, since she used to be an Empress, there is also a chance she can use Conqueror’s, too. Kaido is a confirmed Observation, Armament and Conqueror user, and also one of the very few people, as he himself stated in chapter 1010, who can make the latter colour flowing through their body and coat their weapon(s). In the very same chapter, he also recognized Zoro’s illusions while performing Ashura as a manifestation of Conqueror’s Haki, revealing his in-depth knowledge about the subject.

Last but certainly not least... their strength. Kaido one-shot Luffy in Gear Fourth despite the Emperor being so drunk he could not stand on his feet properly; also, he was able to clash against a fellow Yonko for days and tanked pretty much both all the Scabbard’s hits and the majority of the Supernova’s attacks on the rooftop. Moreover, how can his absolutely epic introduction not be taken into account? He fell from a Sky Island literally 10000 metres above the sea level and he ended up with... a strong headache. I’ll tell you what: Gloriosa fell from a great height, too! In addiction to it, she landed without suffering any serious consequences, as shown in chapter 517, where she landed on her feet seemingly undamaged after Hancock quite literally threw her out of the Kuja Castle. As Gloriosa herself said, she might have grown old, but she is still a Kuja warrior. Also, being a former ruler where strength is beauty, she undoubtedly was a force to be reckoned with in her prime.

That being said*... Maybe they’re not so different, after all, huh?*

Mythology references

One Piece has loads of references to Japanese myths and folklore, however Wano is especially loaded with these; and how could it not be? It is inspired by Japan, after all.

Moreover, since Kaido can transform into a dragon, there must be some kind of reference to Japanese myths and legends regarding these legendary creatures.

There’s one in particular, which might be the key to Kaido’s backstory: the story of the Enoshima Dragon.

According to this myth, in the mountains near the Koshigoe village lived a five-headed dragon, called Gozuryu, who terrorized the inhabitants over a period of some-thousand years by provoking countless natural disasters such as huge storms, floods and earthquakes, as well as eating their children. The villagers kept praying and praying, until something happened: in 31st May, 552 AD, during a bigger and more violent storm than the usual, the clouds split in two and a rock began to emerge from the sea. A beautiful woman descended from a ray of light where the clouds slit and sat foot on the island just created, making it her home. The dragon, who assisted to the whole thing, immediately fell in love with her and asked her to marry him.

The woman, who was perfectly aware of the dragon’s evil actions, was none other than the goddess Benzaiten herself.

Benzaiten on a white dragon

Now, there are two versions of how the story ends: in one, the goddess turned him down at first, and told the dragon she would have considered his proposal only if he helped the people he used to terrorise. Gozuryu accepted and the village prospered thanks to their dual protection; in the end, the goddess agreed to marry him and the couple lived happily until the dragon met his demise. In the other version, Benzaiten straight up refused Gozuryu’s proposal due to his evil actions; ashamed for his wrongdoings, the dragon promised the goddess he would have never disturbed the village again, and retired in the mountains where he died of guilt.

Anyway, regardless of how the story goes, when the dragon died he fused with the land of Kamakura, creating the Dragon’s Mouth hill (Japanese: Tatsu no kuchi yama) facing south, the direction of the island where his beloved lived. Needless to say, the island of the myth is Enoshima.

The comparison between Kaido and Gozuryu is immediate: both are extremely cruel towards children, with the former having no qualms beating them, even his own, and the latter eating them. Moreover, the Emperor, much like the five-headed dragon, terrorizes the inhabitants of the place near where he lives (Wano Country and Koshigoe Village respectively) turning the land into completely inhabitable wasteland in the process, and is capable of causing huge storms; his apparition in chapter 921 is also being accompanied by a thunderstorm. Note that, in Chapter 1003, Zoro states that fighting Kaido was like “facing a natural disaster”, much like the natural catastrophes Gozuryu caused.

Now, let’s talk about Benzaiten.

Goddess of water (especially rivers), eloquence, and good fortune, Benzaiten is considered one of the protector deities of Japan, where she’s one of the most beloved and revered gods: every major city has at least one place for her worship and countless temples and shrines dedicated to her cult are present in many other areas across the country, all located near water sources such as rivers, ponds, lakes or even in the sea. She is part of Japan’s Seven Lucky Gods, and she’s the only woman among them.

Benzaiten, however, is not originally Japanese: she is in fact a syncretic deity derived from the Hindu goddess Saraswati whose cult was brought to Japan by Buddhist monks who arrived in the VII century from China.

Due to her extreme complexity, only the most relevant facts to this theory will be reported.

She wasn’t very popular until the XI century, when her cult was fused with Ugajin’s, an obscure Japanese Kami of water, agriculture and good fortune, often represented as an old man with a snake body. Once this happened, her popularity skyrocketed as a goddess of water and by assonance ‘of everything that flows’: rivers, eloquence, knowledge, music, art and Haki. Even nowadays, Uga Benzaiten, the goddess with Ugajin on her head, is one of the most common Benzaiten representations.

Both lived in an island inhabited only by women: Gloriosa in Amazon Lily, and Benzaiten in Enoshima, since she was the sole inhabitant of said island and also a woman;

Benzaiten originated from an Indian goddess and Gloriosas, the flowers which Gloriosa was named after, grow in India too! Gloriosa superba is even Tamil Nadu’s national flower.

Due to being goddess of water, Benzaiten was naturally associated with animals connected with said element: snakes, turtles… and dragons. Especially the white ones, since this colour is linked with water in Japanese culture.

Snakes are a big part of Amazon Lily’s culture: almost every warrior on the island has her own Snake Weapon which can be used as a bow, the island’s dome is sculpted with snake motifs, the Perfume Yuda, Kuja Pirates’ flagship, is carried by two Yuda snakes, even Kuja, the name of the tribe, means ‘Nine snakes’

White snakes were considered to be Benzaiten’s main messengers and avatars and Gloriosa in Share the World opening appeared with a blue top and*...* a white snake.

Also, the traditional representation of the Black Warrior is a turtle intertwined with a snake, much like Kujas with their Snake Weapon. Due to these facts, I believe that Gloriosa has eaten the Mythical Zoan Kame Kame no Mi model: Genbu.

Timeline and character analysis – a PERSONAL take on what could have happened and when (and why)

For this section, other than time markings scattered throughout the story, Momonosuke’s (biological 8 – actual 28), Yamato’s (28), and Hancock’s (31) ages will also be taken into account for comparison.

It is known that the Rocks Pirates were defeated and subsequently disbanded 38 years before the current time. Also, Kaido was captured, and presumably sentenced to jail, eighteen times; given his reputation and danger, it’s pretty safe to assume that at least one of those nine prison ships he sunk was directed to Impel Down.

Impel Down is actually not that far from Amazon Lily: the journey takes one sailing week with an average ship, while Marine ones can make it in just four days, about half the time, because of the reserved currents. In my opinion, it makes sense thinking that Kaido has sunk a prison ship in the Paradise and somehow ended up in Amazon Lily.

Now, everyone here knows the supreme rule of the Island of Women:

NO. MEN. ALLOWED.

For any reasons.

So, by the laws of the island, he was imprisoned and, just like Luffy, was sentenced to death. But, like the latter pirate did, Kaido defeated/broke/knocked unconscious all the animal/things commonly used for executions on the island, therefore the Empress finally decided to take the matter into her own hands.

I believe the Kuja Empress at the time was Gloriosa. Why?

Well, it was stated that 33 years ago the remnants of the Rocks Pirates sent off to found their own crews, and probably Kaido arrived in Amazon Lily even earlier, between 38 and 33 years ago. As Hancock stated, Gloriosa is actually the former-former-former empress of Amazon Lily: this means that there were two Empresses between her and Hancock; since the latter is stated to have become Empress at the age of 18, 13 years ago, and given that the other two unnamed Empresses died of Love Sickness which probably is more likely to strike the unlucky rulers at a fairly young age, 20-25 years are more than enough for two Empresses to have reigned.

To estimate her actual force at the time, let’s analyse her name a bit.

Like all Kujas, Gloriosa is named after a flower (or a genus of those): Gloriosa is a genus of 12 flower species, widely spread in areas of the world such as Africa, the Arabic Peninsula and tropical parts of Asia. It can reach 3 metres in height and they display showy, vibrant-colored flowers with distinctively shaped petals, earning them the nickname of fire lily.

So, the question arises spontaneously: why is this short, wrinkly old woman named after one of the most beautiful (and tallest) flowers in the world? Given Oda’s attention even for the tiniest details, I highly doubt he chose this name randomly; at least, not for her.

Either she’s a grotesque parody of her own name… or it could be a foreshadow.

Gloriosa is also the Italian, Spanish, Portuguese and Catalan word meaning ‘glorious’, if the subject it’s related to is feminine and singular. A truly fitting name for a ruler and the wife of a Yonko, isn’t it? And Kaido want his death to be… glorious.

Maybe Gloriosa in her prime was actually even more beautiful and stronger than the current Hancock, to the point where nobody had ever beaten her in combat.

Anyway, you know how the saying goes: if it’s one on one, always bet on Kaido.

Therefore, Gloriosa was defeated for the first time. By a man.

Hancock’s case probably gives us how Empresses fall ill with Love Sickness: it happens when a man catches them off guard by behaving in a totally and positively unexpected way, defying all the previous experiences the rulers have. Hancock fell in love with Luffy because he showed her kindness and didn’t judge her when she told him about her past; Gloriosa got Love Sickness because she fell in love with Kaido for his strength.

Because love… is always like a Dragon Twister hurricane!

How about Kaido?

It is common knowledge that he respects physical strength, even in his enemies.

That’s probably why he joined the Rocks Pirates in the first place: out of respect for Rocks D. Xebec, because he was actually the first person ever to defeat him in combat.

Just like Zoro with Kuina, or Douglas Bullet with Gol D. Roger (in the Stampede movie).

Gloriosa may have not defeated him in combat, but she surely gave him a very good run for his money, maybe she almost won. And he respected her for that, to the point where he actually accepted to leave Amazon Lily, even if he won. He stayed there for a little more, while a ship for him to sail the sea was being prepared, and lived peacefully (meaning: extensively touched and examined) with the Kujas.; what are the chances that one of his favourite (or least) foods is actually penne with Gorgonzola and Sea King’s meat, the island’s culinary speciality?

When he sat sail, he probably found out that the Empress snuck aboard his ship when he was far away from the island already. He thought of bringing her back, but, after listening to her reasons, he decided to let her stay with him because, let’s face it, Kaido is not Luffy, he actually appreciates the company of women.

The most beautiful woman in the world fell in love with him and contracted a mysterious illness which would have killed her if she didn’t go with him and follow him anywhere?

Oh no! /s

I’ll tell you what, I don’t think that Kaido was actually in love with her at first that much. He surely enjoyed spending passionate nights with her, and was amused by her curiosity due to Gloriosa knowing little to nothing about the external world.

There was a specific moment when he actually fell in love with her.

Have you noticed that, despite being often shirtless, Kaido's back is never fully uncovered even in his dragon form? He always wears a coat, a shirt, or both.

That hints that Kaido has some kind of mark on his back he wants to hide from public view, just like the Gorgon Sisters. Something must have happened that made him show her said mark, maybe Gloriosa caught a glimpse and asked him to see it. Anyway, Kaido was reclutant at first, but she had the right to know, she was his wife after all.

So he showed it to her, in a way that, when it will be shown in the flashback, might be a callback to when Hancock showed Luffy the Celestial Dragon hoof.

That mark meant that for the world he had and would always have been something inhuman, a failed experiment, a monster; even Big Mom, who has the best spy network in the world, calls him a 'thing'. But Gloriosa didn’t judge him for said mark, nor she believed he was a monster. For Gloriosa, he was just Kaido, the man who she had fallen in love with.

That's when Kaido fell for her. And he fell hard, probably to the point of no return.

At some point, the two conceived a child, and that's when Kaido decided that it was time to move to Wano instead of travelling the world: the pirate life is dangerous for grown people let alone for a child, plus he was one of the most wanted men by the World Government, meaning the child was in danger simply by existing.

But how did Kaido know about Wano?

He probably heard something about the Continent Puller and the ‘country’ he formed about 600 years before but, since it was a closed nation, he probably didn’t know much more until he met someone who escaped from said island: Kurozumi Higurashi.

41 years ago, she told Orochi that she fled the country because of the persecutions against the Kurozumi clan, and because she knew nothing about the outside world, joining pirates was the easier choice. Also, in that way she could have found allies and power for the Kurozumi cause easier.

The Mane Mane no Mi allows the user to create a perfect copy of a person whose face has been touched. She transformed in a woman, who, judging by the color scheme in the anime, is heavily hinted to be Bakkin and a young Shiki, both known members of the Rocks Pirates, so Higurashi may have traveled with said crew for a while. There she met Kaido, who she sensed he could have been a great help for the Kurozumis: big, powerful, and stupid, easy to manipulate.

A closed off country not part of the World Government: a perfect nation for Kaido to reside to ensure the safety of his family (mainly his child, because Gloriosa was more than capable of defending herself) and to use as a base for his operations.

When Oden went with Whitebeard 29 years ago, there were no factories in Wano, but they were there when Toki arrived in Wano with Momonosuke, who was 3 at the time, and Hiyori; so Kaido must have arrived in Wano three years earlier at last.

Gloriosa may not have been the Kuja Empress anymore, but had everything a woman like her could ask for: she was one of the heads of a soon to be powerful army, plus a devoted, loving husband and a child.

Why did she leave it all behind?

I have already talked about the parallels between Gloriosa and turtles in the mythology section, but here’s another one: in Chinese culture, turtle (especially turtle egg) is a very serious insult regarding the morality of one’s mother; that’s why Genbu is called Black Warrior instead of Black Tortoise.

This also expands one of Wano’s most prominent themes: betrayal.

Gloriosa was forced to leave Wano and Yamato behind because she cheated on Kaido. But with who?

Well, the Beast Pirates follow a card games and decks naming theme, and currently there is none named Ace; also, when Oden faced Kaido, Jack was only 8, so my hypothesis is that the third Calamity before him was called Ace. He probably had a crush on Gloriosa and when she went to him for comfort while Kaido was away, probably out to recruit subordinates or captured, he couldn’t resist.

But Kaido caught the two in the act, and was absolutely furious.

He killed Ace, and his position remained vacant for quite some time, until Jack finally took his place in the Calamities; that's why, in Episode 972, there were only King and Queen along with the fodder.

However, Kaido couldn't bring himself to kill his wife personally, so he offered her a choice: be dispatched by the hands of King or Queen, or leave and never return.

Gloriosa chose the second option.

She packed her things and left, only to realize she had nowhere to go: Wano obviously was not an option, but she couldn't just go back to Amazon Lily, not after she betrayed Kujas by abandoning them while she was an Empress. Plus, as a pirate, she was wanted by the Marine. So she lived on the run, continuously assuming new identities and never staying in the same place for too long.

Also, Love Sickness certainly has played its role in weakening her, making her age faster and dramatically decreasing her height in the process.

Taking a look at Hancock’s bed, it’s decisiverly oversized for her: said bed could comfortably fit a laid Boa Hancock together with her Snake Weapon, which is way larger than the others, her sisters, the doctor and Gloriosa, and still have room left for someone else to stand on it.

It is very likely that this bed was the Empress’s for a long time, and, since that position is not inherited, it had to fit Kujas of all sizes. So Gloriosa could have been taller in her youth, maybe a little shorter than Kaido, but still enough to handle him.

Anyway, Gloriosa managed to survive through sheer willpower, the same that allows her to snap out of Hancock’s charm much faster than the others, until her feelings for Kaido eventually faded away, thus healing from said illness.

When she finally arrived to Sabaody Archipelago, at least fifteen years ago, she was unrecognisable. Coincidentally, Shakky's Rip-Off bar was searching for new waiters, and Gloriosa applied because she needed money. The former pirate immediately recognised her.

How is that possible? Feminine intuition!

In chapter 591, she correctly predicted that Hancock would became smitten with Luffy despite not seeing her for thirteen years and every evidence in Hancock's behaviour pointing out the contrary. (Also in the very same chapter Hancock asks Gloriosa how to have a proper marriage while surrounded by monkeys wearing Wano's typical hat. Let that sink in).

Shakky understood that Kaido had no interest in her anymore and let her stay with her and Rayleigh, until the Boa sisters arrived and Gloriosa could finally return to Amazon Lily with the excuse of bringing them back home.

On the other hand, Kaido was devastated, to say the least.

Can you blame him? His beloved wife was cheating on him with one of his most trusted subordinates. He needed to forget, to get rid of all those negative feelings overwhelming him: that's why he started drinking.

However, Kaido isn't stupid. Okay, he may not be as smart as Benn Beckman, the most intelligent person introduced in the East Blue arc, but he surely has some brains: you don't reach and mantain high positions within a crew without some smarts, let alone being an Emperor of the Sea. Kaido soon realised that he caught the two relatively easily. Too easily.

Almost if they wanted to get caught in the act.

While Kaido was drinking his sorrow away, someone else was toasting to a risky plan gone smoothly.

The Kurozumi clan.

Higurashi may have lured Kaido into Wano and the alliance with the Kurozumi, but she didn’t predict that he would have arrived with a wife and a child. Gloriosa probably had a great influence on Kaido, who was (and maybe is still) regarded as little more than a muscle head; and the Kurozumis were actually afraid that she may have been plotting something. This impression was confirmed by the Onibanshu who spied the two pirates: probably Gloriosa wasn't happy about the shogun and suggested her husband some ways to dethronate him.

She was a threat, and they needed to get rid of her as soon as possible.

They sensed that one of Kaido’s top subordinates had feelings for Gloriosa, and they decided to use this fact to their advantage. So Higurashi transformed using her Devil Fruit powers and seduced the crew’s Ace, in a time and a place where she was sure Kaido could see them, while someone else distracted Gloriosa. In the end, everything went according to plan.

However, when Kaido saw the old hag using her powers some time after, he understood everything. But he had no concrete proofs, and certainly wasn't in the position to kill someone so important to his pawn based only on simple suspects; so he waited, until the perfect moment arrived.

Meanwhile, Kaido kept drinking, to forget his actions and to numb his guilt. At first, a little quantity of alcohol did the trick, but eventually he needed more and more, slowly falling into addiction.

You know, Gloriosas’ beauty is only matched by their toxicity: as proud members of the Colchicaceae family, they contain colchicine, a powerful metabolic toxin; all parts of these plants can be fatal if eaten, even a simple touch can cause skin irritation. Due to this, Gloriosa superba has been used for centuries to commit suicide.

Just like colchicine corrodes the body, alcohol, together with shame, guilt and anger, slowly eroded Kaido’s soul, corrupting him from within.

While Kaido's original plan for Wano was simply to make the island his operational base, after all that happened he decided to destroy and utterly annihililate it, just like Orochi destroyed his happiness. The shogun was fine with his ally’s devastations and never suspected that Kaido knew. The latter made Orochi believe he wouldn’t touch the Flower Capital, just to completely erase it from the face of Earth once his army would have been powerful enough to fight an all-out war. Revenge is a dish best served cold and then smashed on the forehead.

The rest is history.

Surely Kaido will be defeated, but he will not be completely dealt with in this arc.

Yamato probably got their kind, selfless nature from Gloriosa. The latter would have never approved of the terms of Kaido’s promise to Oden, let alone all the hostages and atrocities done by her husband; since Oden began to dance naked in the streets 25 years ago, probably Gloriosa was already gone at that time.

Because of this, Yamato has little to no memories of their mother, so they will likely ask Kaido about her at the end of the battle. However, Kaido himself doesn’t know her whereabouts because he didn’t send spies after her; at first, because he didn’t care about her anymore. When he realised his mistake, he still didn’t search for her because otherwise it would have shown that she was still important to him. He is not naive, he knows there are spies in his ranks, even at high levels; therefore he wants to avoid attracting unwanted attentions to her.

Plus, Kaido doesn’t even want to know, because Gloriosa probably is dead or has found another person to be with; and he deep down knows that those news would definitely break him.

However, there’s one little detail: Gloriosa’s speech quirk-nyon. Even if her appearance has changed quite a bit, she surely did nyot change her way of talking. Luffy would probably understand Kaido is talking about her because of this, and will tell them that she’s alive and well in Amazon Lily.

It is a known fact that our protagonist either kills the villains’ dreams or changes them: Kaido will change his goal too. He wouldn’t want to die yet, he will probably want to meet Gloriosa again to apologize properly for what he had done to her.

Thus, he will survive the battle and somehow, after almost thirty years, Kaido and Gloriosa will meet again.

Will Gloriosa forgive him? Will she not?

Only Oda will tell.

Other references

Black Maria Many people actually believe she’s a Kuja, and I admit, they have pretty good reasons for thinking so. Let’s start by her name: other than being a card game, Black Maria is also a variety of bougainvillea, a clear reference to Kuja’s floral naming theme; there is also a flower named Spider Lily (Lycoris radiata) referencing her Devil Fruit powers and Amazon Lily alike. Black Maria has also flowers in her hair; the most prominent ones, colored in red, have also five petals, much like the one Gloriosa wears in her hair! She is also the owner of a brothel in Onigashima and, also due to her size, it’s heavily implied that she and Kaido have a… passionate relationship, as Oda would put it (However, Kaido probably views her as nothing more than a distraction). Of course, Kaido and his wife must have had their passionate moments, since they have a child. Moreover, Benzaiten is almost always represented playing a biwa, and, as shown in chapter 992, Black Maria can play it very well. She also has a remarkable singing voice, a feature which was one of the basic requisites to become a geisha. Geishas also were protected by Benzaiten. All in all, Black Maria is actually the biggest reference to Gloriosa... in a literal and figurative sense! Oh, one last thing: the men tied to her webs in Chapter 1005 can be a symbol for Kaido’s soul, unable to move on and perpetually being trapped in the memories and regrets of his relationship with Gloriosa together with his alcohol addiction.

Kaido’s flagship Currently, Kaido’s flagship is the only one among the four Emperors’ which has yet to be seen or named. Some speculate that it’s actually Onigashima, but, in my opinion, that’s not the case: why would he travel with his entire home, with the concrete risk of it being destroyed every time he faces an opponent? Also, Yamato is in there: they have explosive handcuffs which doesn’t allow them to leave the island, but what if someone with internal destruction haki actually removes them thus freeing Yamato and letting them escape? Also, what if Yamato actually gets severely wounded, or worse, killed by invaders? Kaido actually strikes me as an overprotective dad, thus he will never directly expose his child to external danger. The handcuffs will explode if and only if Yamato actually tries to leave Onigashima: if they stay there, nothing will happen. Plus, in chapter 997, when Kaido started lifting Onigashima someone said that the island had never trembled like that before. Kaido actually has his flagship, and the reason why it hasn’t been shown is its name. I’ve said before that Gloriosa means glorious in some languages, therefore there’s a big chance that the ship will have in its name also the Japanese word of the same meaning. Maybe it’s called ‘Glorious Dragon’ in Japanese, or something like that.

Yamato Now, this will touch one of the most controversial topics within the community right now, which is Yamato’s gender; I wish not to discuss about it under this post, because this isn’t the time nor the place (IMO it’s better to delay the discussion at the end of this arc, when Yamato will hopefully detach from the Kozuki Oden persona and find their own identity). Regardless of all this, Yamato was born as a female: and Kujas give birth to female babies only.

Kaido and Big Mom comparison: Although they were part of the same pirate crew for some time and both of them being now Emperors, there are a lot of things about their characters which mark these two as counterparts: first of all, Kaido is male and Big Mom is female. Big Mom belongs to the older generations of pirates, while Kaido belongs to the new one (together with Shanks). Kaido drinks a lot while Big Mom eats a lot. Big Mom has more than 80 children, while Kaido just one*. Lastly, Big Mom has had many unknown husbands, who she married and treated as equals only to discard them when their children are born, revealing she had zero feelings towards them. With the previous comparisons in mind, it would make perfect sense for Kaido to have had only one wife who has already appeared in the story and who he has loved dearly and maybe still does.

*In my opinion, Katakuri, Oven and Daifuku aren’t Kaido’s sons. Even if the physical resemblance is uncanny, there are two major arguments against this supposed paternity: first, the triplets don’t display any type of horns, which Yamato, the known child of Kaido, has. Secondly, the Yonko’s age: he is surely younger than 68, since this is Big Mom’s age and she considers him like a little brother; however, being heavily implied that Shakuyaku was part of the Rocks Pirates as well and she was considered a pirate, while Kaido was only an apprentice, it’s implicitly stated that he must be younger than her, too. She’s now 64, and this puts his maximum age at 63; given the triplet’s age, 48, Kaido may have had them when he was 15, which is an age when men usually have reached their sexual maturity, but he may be even younger than that, so draw your conclusion.

I admit, this turned out a lot longer than I actually expected. My sincerest kudos to you, dear reader, for reading all this time-consuming post – I hope you enjoyed it as much as I had fun writing it.

Please, let me know your thoughts, they are more than welcome!

TL;DR: Gloriosa is Kaido’s wife and Yamato’s mother, she has eaten the mythical variant of the Kame Kame fruit, Katakuri is not Kaido’s son and Gin will become Pirate King.

comments on reddit  :

kaido has been revealed to be 59 

I really want to know who yamatos mother was and I am willing to accept any theory for now

[number5theboy]

Some General Thoughts on the Comics

Just a few ramblings about the TUA comics. These are not character-specific, as I have thoughts about the Hargreeves siblings that I want to put in a different post so that this doesn’t become a behemoth. @nocternaljunipers, if you’re still interested in my thoughts on the comics, here’s part 1 :)

First and foremost, I love the world that has been created. It is just a touch more insane, a touch more wildcard than the real world, and I adore it. And I just have to praise Gabriel Bá’s art, because I really fell in love with it while reading through the comics. It is harsh, but so expressive, and his use of colour and composition……..every single title page lives rent-free in my mind.

What I really gravitated towards in the comics, and I think my favourite take-away from them, is just the villains. The Umbrella Academy has so many fun villains with incredible designs: the Conductor, the White Violin, Carmichael, Perseus/Medusa, Scientific Man, Obscura, to just name a few, they are all so incredibly compelling, and I wish they got more depth because I got genuinely curious about them and their back stories.

Extra special mention for my favourite storyline in all of the comics, the arc of the Murder Magician, Clarissa, their son, and Allison. I just really loved how this storyline intertwined Allison’s past as a superhero and her present as a mother, how interesting the repentant Murder Magician was, and how Allison used her powers to lift a curse to give this family a little bit of happiness back. Like, the man who tried to kill her in cold blood put his own life on the line for his son, and she saw that, and related to it, and wanted to help out. And he offered his apologies and she accepted. It is so beautiful and really works towards Allison’s character development. It’s great.

Dr. Pogo is an icon and a good chimp and I love him.

The incest is still. Annoying and uncomfortable.

Apocalypse Suite: I think this one is my least favourite out of the three comics, simply because the pacing is so frantic and everything happens so fast. It literally happens across three days, and also there are numerous flashbacks. Th climax is pretty iconic, and I really like the orchestra and the Conductor, but everything moves so fast, and it really takes away from the impact that Vanya’s pain could have. She goes from ‘look for a different violin’ to ‘let’s end the world’ in a second. It also has some extremely confusing character set-ups (someone PLEASE tell me why the Conductor wanted to end the world. Please. What is his motivation.) but it still is a really good introduction to this world and the siblings, it just could have done with a less hectic pacing.

Dallas: Probably my favourite, honestly, it has so many good things and is better paced than the Apocalypse Suite. It is just an incredibly interesting character study of Five, and it really puts his actions in the Apocalypse Suite into perspective. It is such a compelling exploration of someone who was made a monster, the deadliest monster there ever was, and it truly is a delight. Also Allison and Five are just a killer dynamic, and the character development for Allison, from resentful to loving sister, is so well-executed. And I liked the dynamic between Klaus, Luther and Diego, they are pitted against each other in interesting ways, but they still work together if need be, and they all are left afloat after the world was saved. And Klaus accidentally blew up the world, but not before stranding himself and his brothers in the Vietnam war. Also the comic versions of Hazel and Cha-Cha are genuinely terrifying and also probably in love. Boy scout cookies can be a love language. It’s all in all a really good story.

Hotel Oblivion: Bar none, Hotel Oblivion is the coolest concept in all the comics. It’s just…eerie and sadistic and very horror, and I wish we could have had even more of it. I loved the exploration of different villains, from the repentant to the ones that were fucking furious. It also reminded me a lot of the Lego Batman Movie (which came out two years prior to the comic) just less gay. It has my favourite storyline of all the comics, and the gentle nefariousness of the mother, and however she’s been harbouring the Sparrows sets up an interesting next chapter. Not gonna lie, the space exploration storyline confused the hell out of me, and also had an incest moment that just. Ugh. Why. Loved how everyone was coming through for Klaus after his overdose. Luther has some excellent heroic moments in this volume, and we get even more of Five and Allison together. I really liked Hotel Oblivion, just the idea of reckoning leading to a meeting with the Sparrow.

As for the relationship between comic and show… I absolutely get why the comic fans are pissed at the show. It really only takes the barest bones of the comics and riffs off them. The second season barely has anything in common with Dallas, which is a shame, because, as I said, Dallas goes hard, and the show is also so much more romance-focused than the comics, which is a damn shame. I’ll talk about the Hargreeves siblings more in detail in a different post later today, but some of them got screwed over hard. I think the storytelling of Season 1 is superior to the Apocalypse Suite in the sense that it really builds to Vanya turning on her family, rather than have it be on a dime. It fleshes the theme of childhood trauma out and delves into it better than the comic, but it also loses so much of what makes the comic incredibly compelling, namely its worldbuilding and the genuinely amazing villains. I cannot believe that the Conductor and Carmichael got replaced with Leonard Peabody and the Handler, what an actual, dramatic downgrade, what an insult. I am more lenient towards Hazel and Cha-Cha, because fleshing them out still had them be interesting, and they still had the casual violence about them. I really like both versions of these characters. Something that I noted and really liked was how Five’s escapade into the apocalypse was introduced, and even though the comic and the show take two different approaches to it, both are equally devastating and I adore them both. Also, the finale of Season 1 and the Apocalypse Suite both have their strengths and weaknesses. The show builds better towards it, but the way Vanya goes down is so much more iconic and more of a character exploration in the comics. However, having the moon crash into the earth is a more dramatic pay-off than Klaus’ powers coming the fuck out of nowhere. As for Season 2……..bruh, what a mess. Dallas is genuinely so good, and has so many good character moments, and barely any of that is in the show. It is a shame and I don’t fault any comic fan for just losing any faith in the show. The comic is on the dark grey side of the morally grey scale, and that just gets completely brushed aside in adaptation. More on that in the sibling-specific post, but the Dallas elements are so disappointing. If they were bad elements in the original, it’d be less so, but Dallas really is excellent, and having none of that is just depressing. I mean, I’m glad they decided to scrub whatever weird one-sided thing was happening with Diego and Vanya from the show, but the fact that they tried making Luther/Allison actually romantic instead of something she tricked him into? Why.

In general, the show is entertaining, and fun, and has some really good characters, but it truly is a shit adaptation.

[ekaterinakostrova]

How would Cassian react to a friendship blooming between Nesta and Eris?

I want this moment in a very epic way.

At the end of Acofas, Nesta is driven out of Velaris. 

And the last scene was really terrible for me, because I could literally feel the burden of her loneliness and confusion. She realized that nobody wanted her. And how painful it is to realize that you have no longer a place that you can call your home. 

Nesta is destroyed as a person, and I cannot forgive the coldness of the members of the Inner Circle.

Nesta does not tell much to other people about herself, and rarely shares her true feelings. She is trying to overcome her fears on her own. And I would love to see the particular scene of her returning to Velaris, but as a strong and confident person. 

I want her back as a woman, who has influence and power. I want her to return to Velaris, not just as a sister of the High Lady, but as a significant figure. A person to be reckoned with.

Keir is going to visit Velaris in the spring, and at this time of the year Nesta has a birthday, and this is also the time that the Blood Rite passes. I sincerely hope that Nesta would not only tame the creatures living in the very depths of the Illyrian Mountains, but also return, accepting a her new self, accepting her new nature.

And I hope that Nesta would be able to become something powerful and important for all of Illyria and its people.

“A city of night and stars that woke up in the night. 

She walked slowly along the snow-white marble, absorbing the silver light of the moon. The night air chilled her bare shoulders, the amethyst material of her bloody red dress flowed down the bright stairs. 

A diadem with large garnet gemstones was heavy. Long ruby ​​earrings in her ears caught the glimmer of light of the awakening city of night.

She heard the sound of music coming from the ballroom. She saw the light illuminating tall marble pillars decorated with lace murals.

Her heart was beating fast, but the anticipation of war was born within her. Excitement, which she had not felt before rising in her. Heavy jewelry in the shape of wings are woven into the golden braids of her hair. A gift from women of the northern clan of Illyria.

The bodice of her red dress encircled her breasts, was embroidered with a myriad of scarlet stones. A dress that she would have considered too frank before. However, when she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she did not recognize herself.

White skin, full red lips. Pride in a dark silver pool of her eyes.

Something inside her broke off, when she peered into her reflection, because a strong female was looking at her. Black tattoos of Illyria covered her back. Emerie made her tp choose the red dress. The colour of fire, power and revolution.

“Now you are the daughter of Illyria,” Devlon kept his face completely expressionless.

He paused before uttering the following words, speaking them softly so that only she could hear them.

"Welcome to the Windhaven, Nesta Archeron".

His words after the Blood Rite. 

And at that moment, something between them changed, as everything in the Windhaven changed. She felt a change in a whisper behind her. Anger and hatred were replaced by admiration ... 

The first female-warrior, who returned from the bonds of dark forests and mountains, who survived in The Blood Rite. The men in the war camp had looked at her before, but now they looked at her differently. She well knew the meaning of this look.

They all looked at her as if she was something ephemeral.

Velaris is a city of night and beauty, a city of midnight pleasures and sin. The city of black magic and shadows, the city of music and love.

She never allowed others to see her weakness, and because of that, when she came out into the light of the ballroom, she raised her chin higher.

She has no master, just as there is no fear of the darkness that longed to devour the city of night.

Gems and gold shone in her silky hair.

Light covered her naked shoulders. And she allowed every look to freeze in this snow-white palace, even the music was quiet.

She took a step forward, stopping at the long stairs leading down. Her dress is like burning blood.

She did not lower her eyes, feeling the gaze of the High Lord of the Night Court.

Everything has changed now. She knows who she is now. There is no monster that her heart would fear, because she was the most dangerous beast of these lands.

The High Lord of the Night Court knows nothing about the true darkness. 

The Shadowsinger knows nothing about whispers of shadows.

The Lord of Bloodshed knows nothing about the Death. 

She is the Mistress of horrible nightmares and dark illusions, and horrific, beautiful shadows are her minions. The most terrible beasts of Illyria are under her control. All of them. She is the core of pure darkness. 

But tonight, she wasn't a witchcrafter. She was something else, a symbol of beauty, a symbol of desire. 

She went down the stairs, and every look was turned only to her alone.

“I'm glad you were able to accept my invitation’.

Eris.

He smiled and her breath stilled, caught in her lungs as his gaze drifted possessively over her, hot, filled with naked desire.

She has to do it. She will overthrow her enemies, even if it makes all of them hate her. Let them hate, let them despise her.

Eris held out his hand to her.

Nesta remembered what her mother was saying. Always cold, detached... but her hands were warm, when she cuped her crying face. And she vowed that no one would see her tears. No one will hear her suffering, no one will hear her cry of despair. 

She must be strong, she must be stronger than anyone if she wants to protect those, who are dear to her.

She took his hand.

“I'm happy to see you again, Nesta Archeron.”

She looked up at him. 

Eris closed his eyes briefly and then opened them to meet her steady gaze. 

“Nesta”.

His voice was low and compelling, washing through her body like the touch of fingers on skin. 

He whispered then.

"With you, Nesta Archeron, I do not trust myself". 

"There are things you don't know about me, Eris Vanserra".

But then she felt this rage...

She made herself not to turn around, although she felt his closeness. She felt it. He took a deep breath and let it out. She frowned, her pulse thundered in her ears.

Cassian.  

He was here...

Nesta tried to quell the panic rising rapidly. 

Cassian was angry. She could feel the anger churning in his gut, riding him hard as he struggled for control.

"There is no time, Eris".

She reached out instinctively to him, gripping his hand. Eris wrapped his arm around her naked shoulders.

"Do not panic. We'll get you through this together as we planned before".

[elenatria]

Ok, so before I sleep I have something to say. Thanks to you I have been sucked in the Valoris ship and not only can't get out but also come up with head canons so here is one: How do you imagine Boris(from the series) reacted when the news of Valery's (from the series)death reached him?

Took me long enough to answer that one, didn’t it?…  Sigh. Hopefully I’m not off topic. Here it is.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19349599/chapters/47025865

Here.

Here and now.

Boris squeezed one last time the jagged piece of metalthat was getting slippery with sweat between his thumb and index finger. As ifwaking from a trance he shifted his eyes from one end of the half-lit corridorto the other like a burglar weighing his chances; he had been standingmotionless in front of that door for a good five minutes.

Too long.

Inga is waiting.

Taking a sharp breath in he wondered if there was a pointin carrying on with his plan.

Gubarev said “there must have been a tape foryou”. Not “there is”. Valery had “hinted at it” but what did that even mean?What did Valery say? He should have asked Vladimir his exact words but it wastoo late now, the journalist was long gone and Inga was probably freezing, mewingher lungs out in his trunk. He shouldn’t leave her waiting, he reckoned, lockedin the car just because he was too eager to find Valery’s gift on that sameday. She was only a cat.

Another gulp of air, another squeeze of the key. Heclutched his eyes shut.

What if it’s not there? What if the police, the KGBfound it already? What if they heard Gubarev’s tapes and solved the riddlebefore me?

What if I’m here to waste the next three hours of mylife, whatever life is left of me, searching for something that doesn’t exist?Something I wasn’t bound to find?

“B’s gift.”

What did that even mean?

It meant nothing, they never exchanged gifts whenValery was alive, when they still had time.

Time - the one thing Boris always took for granted,the one commodity his high position in the Party couldn’t grant him. And that fuckingnerd was never the sentimental type, never accepted his presents. Besides hedied on him, didn’t he? No second thoughts, no consequences, no Boris. He nevergave a fuck.

“B’s gift.” What a joke. Time was the only giftI wanted from you, Valery, and it was the one thing you couldn’t give me.

You bastard. How could you leave me behind, howcould you—

Boris tightened his fist around the key letting its metalteeth sink into his flesh. The sharp stinging brought him back to reality, backto rational thinking. Back to standing in front of a closed door.

I didn’t leave you behind, Boris. I had no choice.

He snapped his eyes open. There it was again, angergiving way to guilt.

But there was no time for regret.

Inga was freezing. Inga was waiting. Inga was only acat.

Valery was dead but Inga was alive.

He pushed the key into the lock and turned. With one briskclick the door creaked open into the dark apartment.

The smell of mould and dust hit his nostrils like theitch of an old wound, like a long-forgotten memory. He had never been therebefore yet the scent of old furniture felt eerily familiar. Maybe if he openedthe shutters a stream of pale November light would rid this place of its glum otherworldlyair but he didn’t want to make his presence known to people on the street.

Another lie.

It was the thought of sunlight entering this place, thistomb, that he hated the most. The specks of dust dancing in the frozen air,the rustling of feathers coming through the open window… it was all about life.It would feel as if nothing had changed, as if life went on.

But it didn’t.

Not for Valery, not for him.

He tossed his leather gloves on the telephone desk. Ashe took off his ushanka hat to put it on the hanger he caught a glimpse of hisreflection in the mirror above the desk.

Was that really him? The Deputy Minister sent toChernobyl two and a half years ago who would yell at both his superiors and hissubordinates with equal fervour?

Those weren’t his eyes anymore - they were worn,tired, heavy. He had lost weight, he was missing colour from his cheeks. But itcouldn’t be that bad, could it? He probably didn’t look half as bad as Valerydid on the day he took his own life. Maybe Valery had gazed at this very mirrorminutes before tightening the noose around his neck. Maybe he saw exactly whatBoris was seeing now: a pair of vacant eyes looking back at him, filled with amillion accusations, a million regrets.

You didn’t do enough.

All those people, all the innocent lives you sent totheir graves—

and then the one who mattered most.

You did nothing.

He shook the morbid thought away. He had wished athousand times to be with Valery that fateful day, any day. He had wishedhe wasn’t a coward.

And die for me because of a visit? he almost heard afamiliar whisper in the shadows, vibrant and secure. Have me read about yourdeath in the papers? Wouldn’t they love that, Boris. Wouldn’t they gloat overmy despair. “He fell from the stairs of his own house.” “He slipped on snow.” “Hemistook rat poison for salt.” “He died in his sleep because of a gas leak.” Athousand imaginative ways to die in the hands of the KGB, a thousand convenientdeaths to break my heart. And what would I get? A cheap watch instead of amedal. A faceless article instead of a call from your family announcing yourdeath to me. You would have done them a great service had you come here. Andyou still think you should have done it? How magnanimous of you, Boris. Howgloriously naive.

(shut up you’re not here you’re not me you don’t knowwhat it’s like--)

Boris almost collapsed, his pale forehead against thedoor casing being the only thing that kept him still and standing. When the voicecreeped back into the walls he forced his eyes open and squinted around atsilhouettes of objects he still couldn’t discern.

There should be a switch somewhere, he thought, thereshould be some light. Had to be.

How he craved for it now.

He fumbled in the dark for the small plastic square onthe wall like a castaway desperate for a float.

A click and there it was, the sickly light of a lightbulbgiving colours and names to what were shapeless shadows a second before.

“Hesaid he had hidden something for you in the kitchen, ‘B’s gift’ he calledit.”

Toocryptic. But of course. He didn’t want them to find out.

Borispeered through the corridor. The door at the end of it had been lefthalf-opened revealing a kettle on the stove and a used towel hanging from adrawer under the sink. He dragged his steps across the hallway, his eyes fixed onthe opposite wall, on the kettle and the cracked white tiles behind it.

Enteringthe kitchen he realized there was not enough light for his search – and yet he couldn’tstand another bulb hanging above his head faking daytime. He walked around the tablestaring numbly at the tape recorder on it and the ashtray where someone hadleft his final cigarette butts. Laika smokes and their familiar scent.

Hisscent.

Borisopened the window and blinked painfully as the hard white light engulfed him. Thebanging of shutters against the wall startled a couple of pigeons on the ledge causingthem to flutter away.

Heleaned out in the fresh air.

Valery’sapartment was on the fourth floor so he could have easily jumped from there,give his life an instant merciful ending. But it would have been messy,wouldn’t it? It would have alerted the KGB right away. Perhaps he wanted togive Gubarev time to learn about his death from neighbours and find his tapes.

Perhapshe didn’t want to make this public, his death was only meant for those whoknew. Those he blamed.

Borisslammed his fists on the ledge. Squeezing his lips shut he turned back to thekitchen.

B’sgift, B’s gift, B’s gift. He should start somewhere.

Hedragged the drawers open with a clang, pulled them out, emptied their contentson the floor. He pulled the dishes out of the cupboards one by one, stacking bythe sink the ones that escaped his feverish haste, kicking on the side the onesthat got smashed in the process. He emptied every pot, every box big enough tocontain a tape. He removed the strainer from the sink and shoved a hook madeout of a hanger down its depths only to bring up black pulp of rotten food andgreasy strands of red hair. He folded those in a table napkin, carefully pattedthem dry and hid them in his pocket.

After an hour of turning the kitchen upsidedown he was aching from head to toe. He wasn’t a young man anymore; he wasn’t ahealthy man. He collapsed on the chair, his chest heaving as he leaned on thetable, resigned, defeated.  There was notone tile on the floor he hadn’t checked, one rug he hadn’t flipped, onecookbook he hadn’t opened in hopes of finding its pages torn and replaced bysomething as small as a tape. He had emptied the cupboards in search of falsebacks. He had traced the inside of the cooker hood, the vent, but those werethe first things any agent would search.

Therewas no hope. There was no tape addressed to him. There never was.

Hishand lay lifeless on the table next to the ashtray. Unconsciously he traced theflower-shaped edge of the cool brown crystal. He fiddled with the butts andrubbed his fingers together, watching idly the ash fall on his lap. He was solost in the deep blackness of his mind that he barely noticed the buzzingintruder flying through the open window.

Theunlikely visitor landed on the back of his hand tickling his skin. Its yellowand black stripes looked so out of place on such a cold day that broke him outof his haze.

Borislifted his hand to take a closer look at the frail lifeform.

“Whatare you doing here?” he mumbled, his eyes watering at the sight of a creatureso fragile and beautiful. “Aren’t you supposed to be hibernating or something?Protecting your queen from the cold? Who brought you here to die?”

Heturned his hand to get a closer look at the insect’s transparent wings.

“You’re doomed away from your hive, you know, awayfrom your queen. You weren’t supposed to be here at all. You were supposed towork, you were supposed to live.”

Thethought of the bee’s fate made him numb.

Heknew he couldn’t protect it, he could only watch it die slowly or let it go. Forgetit ever existed.

Hejust didn’t know which was worse.

“Youmust be hungry,” he muttered, “but there’s no sugar in this apartment, Idropped it all in the sink. Maybe there’s —”

Hislast words dissolved in his drying mouth. He got up slowly like a somnambulist,mesmerized by the insect’s yellow and black stripes.

Heknew now.

Gubarevnever said “Boris’ gift”. He said B’s gift.

Bee’sgift.

Andbees have only one gift to give.

Howcould he ever think it was about him. How selfish, how blind he had been allthis time. It was a riddle. Something the KGB would never suspect, cynicalbastards that they were.

Borisplaced his palm next to the sink letting the bee fly off and then franticallyturned to the cupboard next to the vent. There was one jar left, one jar hehadn’t checked because it was filled with a substance so inconspicuous and denseand sticky nothing could be preserved in it without being ruined.

Heopened the cupboard and grabbed the honey jar. It was big enough. It wastransparent yet dense enough. No one would have guessed.

You’rea genius, Valery. You’re a fucking genius.

Heunscrewed the lid and let the honey drip into the sink.

Thereit was, a heat-sealed bag and a tape with a red cover in it.

There.It. Was.

Heturned on the tap and rinsed the precious find carefully making surethere were no holes on the plastic to let water in. He wiped it with the toweland ripped it open until the tape was safe and dry in his palm. With shakyhands he took it out of the case, turned to the table, pressed the ejectbutton and shoved the tape in.

Click.  

Manyseconds dragged by without a single word coming from the recorder.

(hesitance)

Howunlike Valery. He was never afraid to speak his mind, never had second thoughtsabout it. But he was at a loss of words whenever Boris was being a bit too bold,whenever he took their relationship one step further. Valery would turn into alost puppy each time Boris asked for reassurance, each time Boris showedaffection. Each time Boris asked for more.

Thefirst sound from the recording broke Boris out of his reverie.

Aclearing of the throat. A cough. A sigh.

“Thistape belongs to Boris Evdokimovich Shcherbina,” the voice began in an almost formaltone. “I don’t know if he will be Deputy Chairman of the Council of Ministersby the time it reaches him. I don’t even know if he’ll live long enough toreceive it. But there it is… Months of silence condensed into a single tape.”

Borisfelt his stomach clutching as the voice continued.

“Thereason why I’m making this tape now, Boris, is that… you called me thismorning, didn’t you? I knew it was you. And I knew we couldn’t talk. That’swhy I’m talking now.” Valery’s recorded voice drew in a deep breath, preparing hislistener for what was bound to become an unstoppable river of words.  

“Ihad been waiting for that call. How long has it been? Six months? A year? I’velost count. To be honest, I thought you’d call earlier. I would lie in bedstaring at the ceiling and imagine the talks we would have you and I, hours of them,and as months went by and I didn’t get to hear from you I would come to imagineour silences instead. The ones we would share after a long tedious day at thepower plant, smoking and drinking and going through endless reports withoutexchanging a single word. The silences that enveloped us each time we found newways to… explore each other. Sometimes you couldn’t stop, sometimes Icouldn’t stop. But there was always silence afterwards. I cherished that asmuch as I cherished watching you come undone in my arms. Losing control. Iloved you the most when you were like that - vulnerable. Digging your nailsinto my ribs, holding on to me for dear life.”

Therewas a pause after that as if Valery was trying to gather his scatteredthoughts.

“Forgiveme, Boris, but I had forgotten how you sounded like, the deep soothing tone ofyour voice.  My memory…” He clicked histongue, probably shaking his head in regret. “It must be the medication,getting heavier every week, every day. Sometimes I just refuse to take it becauseI don’t want to forget, you know? Least of all you. But you called.” He laughed.“I knew it was you, I heard your breathing in my ear and it all came back. Theorders you gave, the barking on the phone, the promises that you’d get us… get meeverything I needed.” A pause. Valery giving himself time to think, toremember. “The pleas, the soft whispers when we were alone telling me what todo, the desperate gasps and soft whimpers when you… when you… Oh god…”

Boriswas almost certain he heard a stifled sob. A biting of the fist. “I’m so sorry,Boris, it all comes back to me now… It’s harder than I thought it would be. It’ssavage.”

Anothersob, masked as a sharp intake of breath. “It’s worse than being alone. It’sknowing that I’m still alive and you’re out there, in a phone booth who knowswhere, wasting your coins on me, unable to even say ‘hi’. Because of what Idid. Because of what I said. I wish I could take it all back now...”

Therewas no doubt now, Valery was crying.

“G-giveme one more chance to lie to the world, Boris, and I’ll take it. One horriblelie for one more day with you. I-I think it’s fair...”

Borisheard the clicking of plastic; Valery had removed his glasses and dropped themon the table. “But I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, not when I knew that they werethe reason you were coughing red stains into your handkerchief. Not when I sawyou broken like that, bending over your knees on that miserable bench insteadof enjoying the sunlight, feeling hopeless, worthless. You’re not worthless,Borya, not to me, not to anyone. Not to the millions of people you helped save.”

Borischoked. His vision was getting blurry but he refused to dip his hand into hispocket and bring out the handkerchief – he knew Valery’s hair was still there,soft and fragile, folded in a napkin. He knew the feel of it was going to ruinhim.

Hewiped his cheek with the heel of his palm instead.

Thevoice continued. It was clearer, more composed now. “Do you remember the daywhen we set the lunar rover to motion for the first time? I thought I would neverforgive you for making me blush in front of everyone. I mean how dare you,”Valery chuckled. “That night you made it worse - you kissed me. You made mekiss you. I didn’t know I could do that, Boris. I had forgotten. When the firstrays of sunshine found us together in your bed you traced my lips promising mysmile was yours to protect, forever. I didn’t understand it back then. I didn’tknow why my smile mattered. And you didn’t know ‘forever’ could be awfullyshort.” Valery huffed. “I guess we were both equally ignorant.”

Afaint laugh.

Boriswinced hard against his fist as hot beads slid down the back of his hand.

“I’msmiling now, Boris, I wish you could see it,” Valery sighed happily smothering asniffle. “You may think they won but they didn’t because not a day passeswithout your thought putting a smile on my face.”

Borisblinked again and again trying to get rid of the thick tears blinding him.

Therewas no time for grief. He had to listen to the end. He had to stay focused. Hehad to drink in every single word.

“They’llnever take that, you know,” Valery reassured him, his tone steady and firm likethat day in the court. “It’s that last inch of me they cannot take. The inchthat is you.”

Valery’svoice lowered until it was nothing but a dark whisper. “They turned my worldinto a prison, Boris. They took everything. Except you. You’re that part of methey will never have.”

TheUkrainian was leaning on his elbows, uncaring of the tear stains gathering onthe tape recorder. He didn’t need it anymore. Valery’s words didn’t need a recorderto be remembered.

“Don’tdie before me, Borya,” came the final choked sob from the speaker. “I couldnever live with myself if you did.”

Borisfidgeted with the keys, brushed his hand over the speaker just to feel thevibrations of Valery’s voice.

Justto feel.

Heclosed his eyes waiting for the beloved friend’s last words to pulsate throughhis fingers as if they were together one last time, in bed, feeling each other’slips in the dark.

Thewords finally came. Maybe he had heard them before. Maybe he hadn’t. He didn’tremember. It didn’t matter anymore.

Valerylived. Valery existed. Valery was his.

 “Ilove you, Boris. Don’t die.”

…

 Thatevening, and for many evenings to come, Inga enjoyed a royal meal - not justthe usual canned pet food, no. She had baked salmon served in a porcelain bowl anda large basket to sleep in in front of the fireplace. However the basket wasonly meant for naps and she’d rather spend her day being petted and purringhappily. When she was done licking herself clean she would hop on her new owner’slap and settle herself between the pages of a Pravda issue and a hot cup oftea.

Shewas never denied the tenderness she deserved even if sometimes the petting wasinterrupted by long intakes of breath and hands stilling on her back as if timehad stopped, as if the world had come to an end. She didn’t know what thatmeant, she was only a cat, but she knew what she wanted and she would consistentlybring her owner back to reality with her soft mewing and the playful blinkingof her big emerald eyes.

Thegrey-haired man’s lost gaze would then turn back to her, his reddened eyessoftening, and he would continue to indulge her with long even strokes alongher back, the ones she loved the most.

Shewas only a cat. Maybe she knew instinctively that her time on this planet waslimited and those displays of affection, those shared moments with someone wholoved her were enough to make life worth living.

Maybeshe was so happy because she didn’t know how long she had.

Butthen again, who does.

[aidanhnd1bphoto]

Cheap pt2..The Correction

If at first you don’t succeed..

Following on from the portfolio review last week I have been asked to shoot another photo for the #cheap project...this time following the brief!!

If I'm perfectly honest i did expect this would be the case. Somewhere between the first and second shooting session I had mislaid my objects (coloured crayons and a sparkling disco deer)

 and on the day of the 2nd shooting accepted Julie’s kind offer of a flower head and set about trying to get some dramatic lighting.

Nice though the flower was and there were some really nice photos of the flower...that’s what it is....a nice photo of a flower!! So....

Finally I have decided on what was actually my very first idea, the idea that popped into my head when the brief was announced...a corkscrew/bottle-opener. There is definitely something about that very first flash of an idea..before research or study of any kind, that seed of an idea.as much as research is such an essential aspect of developing these briefs, if you have an idea the research can help give you breadth and depth. Ways of executing the idea, different lighting, backgrounds, techniques, lens choice.

After a few test shots i’have realised that what I need is the use of a Macro lens.

There are so many amazing shapes within the object and given the right lighting  the reflections off the polished metal could really add something special but like I mentioned, I need a Macro lens..I really want to get up close and get abstract

At this point I have to confess to being totally undone by this brief for a number of reasons. I had set out to borrow a macro lens at the beginning of the Christmas break from the college store and was advised by one of the knowing technicians that the best macro lens would be the Canon 65mm macro which has up to 5x magnification. Not sticking to my initial choice I deferred to the suggestion of the technician. The lens turned out to be wholly unsuitable and scuppered that plan. The major sticking point not just with this project but with almost everything increasingly over the past two months (I'm not sure this is the place for this but I reckon it’s relevant) has been a chronic inner ear infection- Labyrinthitis which has caused total mayhem to my cognitive abilities and also made looking at a computer screen almost impossible. After almost two months I am beginning to feel slightly less dizzy and nauseous but it seems the previous infection is now being replaced by chronic fatigue...medical tests are being done.

 As much as I desperately wanted to finish this brief...1photo, just one damn photo, I have as yet not been able to do so. I had been getting extremely anxious about the situation but over the last couple of weeks I’ve just had to tell myself to relax.

I can only say I hope to put this project to bed in the next couple of weeks.

I still haven't put it to bed and its been months. The change in tutors has been a bit of a problem. I’m not sure who to ask. I have made a series of photos and will have to ask someone if they fulfil the brief. 

I had found the most perfectly crushed, squashed coca-cola can. It was just absolutely beautiful. I set up a light board with a soft box on either side and a white piece of card at one end to have as much light as possible. I had a circular polarising filter on the lens to help minimise unwanted reflection. The camera was mounted on a tripod and a remote trigger was used. Canon 5dmk4 and Sigma 35mm Art lens. F8-ISO 50 and using shutter speed to control exposure.

[kyndaris]

Raiding the Coffers

From the island of Yamatai to the mountains of Siberia and finally, a sojourn to the jungles of Peru. In the reboot trilogy, Lara Croft has roamed across half the world. She has transformed from a simple and naive student of archaeology into a force to be reckoned with as the raider of tombs. Throughout her adventures, Lara has faced several challenging foes and survived harrowing crucibles to become the titular heroine of the video games that sparked the imagination of so many teenage boys in the early 1990s. With the release of Shadow of the Tomb Raider, this origin story has finally come to an end. 

Shadow of the Tomb Raider follows on several months from Rise of the Tomb Raider. Knowing the truth behind her father’s death, Lara is on a journey of revenge as she hunts down Trinity. She finally catches up to a cell in Mexico, led by Dominguez. As she tries to uncover what it is Trinity hopes to accomplish, Lara stumbles upon an old Mayan site and takes the dagger secreted within (not because she knows what it is but more due to the fact that if Trinity wants it, she would take it first). This sets off a chain of events leading to the end of the world. Wracked with guilt, Lara embarks on a journey to find the silver box of Ix Chel. 

As with the others, Shadow of the Tomb Raider builds upon Lara’s backstory and providing additional depth to her character. In this game, we see her struggle with the question that  has haunted every single individual: who am I?

There’s a scene quite early where Lara recalls the early days of her youth right after her mother passed away. Even then, she was as adventurous as ever, clambering all over Croft Manor and somehow managing to survive several bone-breaking falls. This proved to be a defining moment for Lara, affecting much of her psyche and the choices she makes as she relentlessly pursues Trinity for what they did.

But once the credits roll, it is clear that Lara has finally reconciled her past with her present. Yes, she did destroy an entire organisation but it is quite poignant as she writes a letter to Jonah that she has finally achieved clarity and accepted her place in life.

 A couple of reviews I read noted that in this entry, Lara leans quite heavily on the white saviour trope. But even were Lara coloured, the fact that she was raised in the Western world still cements the trope that only those individuals from the West can help uplift more primitive and barbaric civilisations. This is even touched upon by how Trinity managed to insinuate themselves into Paititi.

Many have also commented that the story was a little too short. This proved to be quite true even in my experience. My completionist nature helped with padding out the game and I was quite satisfied when the 100% trophy popped on my screen. 

And there is quite a bit to see in Shadow of the Tomb Raider. Collectibles aplenty can be found in hidden nooks and crannies. There were many a deaths as Lara plummeted down a crevice. Other times she was impaled as I responded slowly to a trap. Still, the problem solving and exploration aspects of the game proved to be an enjoyable diversion.

With bow in hand, Lara Croft can also be a deadly adversary. There were many comments on one of my more frequented YouTube channels that emphasised how Predator-like Lara had become. I can’t say as to the accuracy of the statement (since I never watched the films) but scurrying through the undergrowth and stabbing people in the neck proved to be a delight. The gunplay was a little unwieldy at first but after a few misfires, I was able to adjust.

Shadow of the Tomb Raider proved to be a somewhat satisfying finale although it did not reach the heights of the earlier games. Still, I have to admit that Lara has quite the constitution. It boggles the mind that Lara has never been felled by disease or infection considering she NEVER TREATED ANY OF HER INJURIES! And THEN slathered bacteria filled mud all over her body! Even Jonah had a parasite crawl up in his arm when he ‘tested’ the water to see if it was safe. Lara, on the other hand, just dives into bodies of water of questionable quality with nary a scratch.

I was also a little disappointed by the fact that there was still such a focus on Lara being the ‘Chosen One.’ Right after she triggers the apocalypse and manages to escape the tsunami that ravages Cozumel, there is a point where Jonah argues with Lara over her deeds. It’s a shame that, in the end, she does play the role of sacrifice. But then again, it probably would not be as satisfying to see Lara Croft sidelined in her own game when someone else takes up the role of hero.

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

20th September >> Mass Readings (Europe, Africa, New Zealand, Australia & Canada ): Thursday of the Twenty-Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

   or Saints Andrew Kim Taegon, Priest, and Paul Chong Hasang, and their Companions, Martyrs. Thursday of the Twenty-Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Red)

First Reading 1 Corinthians 15:1-11 I preached what the others preach, and you all believed Brothers, I want to remind you of the gospel I preached to you, the gospel that you received and in which you are firmly established; because the gospel will save you only if you keep believing exactly what I preached to you – believing anything else will not lead to anything.    Well then, in the first place, I taught you what I had been taught myself, namely that Christ died for our sins, in accordance with the scriptures; that he was buried; and that he was raised to life on the third day, in accordance with the scriptures; that he appeared first to Cephas and secondly to the Twelve. Next he appeared to more than five hundred of the brothers at the same time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died; then he appeared to James, and then to all the apostles; and last of all he appeared to me too; it was as though I was born when no one expected it.    I am the least of the apostles; in fact, since I persecuted the Church of God, I hardly deserve the name apostle; but by God’s grace that is what I am, and the grace that he gave me has not been fruitless. On the contrary, I, or rather the grace of God that is with me, have worked harder than any of the others; but what matters is that I preach what they preach, and this is what you all believed. The Word of the Lord R/ Thanks be to God. Responsorial Psalm Psalm 117(118):1-2,15-17,28 R/ Give thanks to the Lord for he is good. or R/ Alleluia! Give thanks to the Lord for he is good,    for his love has no end. Let the sons of Israel say:    ‘His love has no end.’ R/ Give thanks to the Lord for he is good. or R/ Alleluia! The Lord’s right hand has triumphed;    his right hand raised me up. I shall not die, I shall live    and recount his deeds. R/ Give thanks to the Lord for he is good. or R/ Alleluia! You are my God, I thank you.    My God, I praise you. I will thank you for you have given answer    and you are my saviour. R/ Give thanks to the Lord for he is good. or R/ Alleluia! Gospel Acclamation 2 Corinthians 5:19 Alleluia, alleluia! God in Christ was reconciling the world to himself, and he has entrusted to us the news that they are reconciled. Alleluia! Or: Matthew 11:28 Alleluia, alleluia! Come to me, all you who labour and are overburdened, and I will give you rest, says the Lord. Alleluia! Gospel Luke 7:36-50 Her many sins have been forgiven, or she would not have shown such great love One of the Pharisees invited Jesus to a meal. When he arrived at the Pharisee’s house and took his place at table, a woman came in, who had a bad name in the town. She had heard he was dining with the Pharisee and had brought with her an alabaster jar of ointment. She waited behind him at his feet, weeping, and her tears fell on his feet, and she wiped them away with her hair; then she covered his feet with kisses and anointed them with the ointment.    When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, ‘If this man were a prophet, he would know who this woman is that is touching him and what a bad name she has.’ Then Jesus took him up and said, ‘Simon, I have something to say to you.’ ‘Speak, Master’ was the reply. ‘There was once a creditor who had two men in his debt; one owed him five hundred denarii, the other fifty. They were unable to pay, so he pardoned them both. Which of them will love him more?’ ‘The one who was pardoned more, I suppose’ answered Simon. Jesus said, ‘You are right.’    Then he turned to the woman. ‘Simon,’ he said ‘you see this woman? I came into your house, and you poured no water over my feet, but she has poured out her tears over my feet and wiped them away with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but she has been covering my feet with kisses ever since I came in. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. For this reason I tell you that her sins, her many sins, must have been forgiven her, or she would not have shown such great love. It is the man who is forgiven little who shows little love.’ Then he said to her, ‘Your sins are forgiven.’ Those who were with him at table began to say to themselves, ‘Who is this man, that he even forgives sins?’ But he said to the woman, ‘Your faith has saved you; go in peace.’ The Gospel of the Lord R/ Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ. ——————

Saints Andrew Kim Taegon, Priest, and Paul Chong Hasang, and their Companions, Martyrs

(Liturgical Colour: Red) Either: First Reading Wisdom 3:1-9 The souls of the virtuous are in the hands of God The souls of the virtuous are in the hands of God, no torment shall ever touch them. In the eyes of the unwise, they did appear to die, their going looked like a disaster, their leaving us, like annihilation; but they are in peace. If they experienced punishment as men see it, their hope was rich with immortality; slight was their affliction, great will their blessings be. God has put them to the test and proved them worthy to be with him; he has tested them like gold in a furnace, and accepted them as a holocaust. When the time comes for his visitation they will shine out; as sparks run through the stubble, so will they. They shall judge nations, rule over peoples, and the Lord will be their king for ever. They who trust in him will understand the truth, those who are faithful will live with him in love; for grace and mercy await those he has chosen. The Word of the Lord R/ Thanks be to God.   or Alternative First Reading Romans 8:31-39 God did not spare his own Son With God on our side who can be against us? Since God did not spare his own Son, but gave him up to benefit us all, we may be certain, after such a gift, that he will not refuse anything he can give. Could anyone accuse those that God has chosen? When God acquits, could anyone condemn? Could Christ Jesus? No! He not only died for us – he rose from the dead, and there at God’s right hand he stands and pleads for us.

   Nothing therefore can come between us and the love of Christ, even if we are troubled or worried, or being persecuted, or lacking food or clothes, or being threatened or even attacked. As scripture promised: For your sake we are being massacred daily, and reckoned as sheep for the slaughter. These are the trials through which we triumph, by the power of him who loved us.    For I am certain of this: neither death nor life, no angel, no prince, nothing that exists, nothing still to come, not any power, or height or depth, nor any created thing, can ever come between us and the love of God made visible in Christ Jesus our Lord. The Word of the Lord R/ Thanks be to God. Responsorial Psalm Psalm 125(126):1-6 R/ Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap. When the Lord delivered Zion from bondage,    it seemed like a dream. Then was our mouth filled with laughter,    on our lips there were songs. R/ Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap. The heathens themselves said: ‘What marvels    the Lord worked for them!’ What marvels the Lord worked for us!    Indeed we were glad. R/ Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap. Deliver us, O Lord, from our bondage    as streams in dry land. Those who are sowing in tears    will sing when they reap. R/ Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap. They go out, they go out, full of tears,    carrying seed for the sowing: they come back, they come back, full of song,    carrying their sheaves. R/ Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap. Gospel Acclamation 1 Peter 4:14 Alleluia, alleluia! It is a blessing for you when they insult you for bearing the name of Christ, for the Spirit of God rests on you. Alleluia! Gospel Luke 9:23-26 The Son of Man is destined to suffer grievously Jesus said:    ‘If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross every day and follow me. For anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but anyone who loses his life for my sake, that man will save it. What gain, then, is it for a man to have won the whole world and to have lost or ruined his very self? For if anyone is ashamed of me and of my words, of him the Son of Man will be ashamed when he comes in his own glory and in the glory of the Father and the holy angels.’ The Gospel of the Lord R/ Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.

[sunset-wishes-upon-hill]

Name (Kuroshitsuji - Sebastian x Yuri) (Christmas one-shot)

Spin-off to The Liars and The Soothsayer: FF I Wattpad

The whole London was cloaked in pure white, excitement tangible in the air as the Christmas bell rang throughout the bustling, crowded city street. The smell of the turkey, trimmings and sweet desserts lingered in the air. Eager children accompanied their parents, wrapped presents held under their arms. London thrived in festive mood; the usually dark, grey city has never been livelier and more colourful.

He’s unnerved, Yuri noted scrutinising his stiff, mechanical movements shifting through the company documents that needed to be approved and signed. She wanted to believe he was simply stressed and exhausted by the sheer workload he had to inspect and review – after all, no company will be more busier than a toy company during Christmas. Despite her own logical speculation, certain part of her nagging mind was prompting otherwise. Even with the lavishly decorated Christmas tree, umpteen wrapped gifts of all size and shapes, and the ménage’s anticipation of year’s end and start of brand new beginning, the air he carried was awful, tense and full of resentment.

21st century London never snowed. The wintery scenes was breathtakingly beautiful; she imagined filling the frozen pond with skating woodland creatures, a magical winter ball with dancing mice and a sleigh ride with polar bears. Everything that made Christmas the magical day people made it out to be seemed to be there. It was the first time Christmas day felt like Christmas rather than just a 25th December on the calendar. Had she been back in her time, she wouldn’t have been able to spend it the way she would have liked. Christmas weeks paid double the amount than she received and it was money she couldn’t afford to pass her and that went for her mum too. Christmas was never a special day for her. There was no gift exchanged, no putting up Christmas tree, no Christmas dinner except for maybe a nice dessert she might splash out on – it was always a 25th December.

“You’ll catch a cold.” A voice said beside her.

Yuri jumped, startled by Sebastian’s sudden appearance. She hadn’t heard him approach. His eyes remained on her bare feet, part submerged in the snow.

“I always wanted to do this.” She sheepishly admitted. How comical it must be for a nearly adult woman wanting to do something as childish as going bare foot in snow.

“Is this…beautiful to you?” He suddenly asked to her surprise.

“Yes. I don’t see snow often.” She said, “You don’t think so?”

“I’ve seen countless snows in my lifetime. In the end, it will melt and change into dirty mud; what’s so beautiful about it?” Sebastian stated, watching the tiny snowflakes fall and seep into the mass on the ground.

That was then she decided to turn her gaze to him. Her reflection held in his dark, pitless eyes yet she wondered if he truly were looking at her. He breathed, moved, bled and his heart beat in his chest like her and many would, without suspicion, accept him as anything but a man. His character as a butler was flawless – perfect, deserving of standing ovation, although his façade as a man was horribly inept and forced. His speech, truly appropriate in any given situations; gestures that would label him as ideal gentleman of the era turned into a fiasco by his mismatching expressions and stoic tone as though an actor impeccably reciting a script and simply believing it was good enough without understanding the power of words weren’t a straightforward notion of conveying those words in the right time and place and the people.

He reminded her of a child. A baby. A tabula rasa*. Experienced and inexperienced. Knew and not understood. Alive but not lived.

“For someone who’s been alive for a long time, experienced and witnessed things beyond what anyone could imagine – none of it was ever reflected in your eyes.” Yuri summed. A semi chastise and semi disappointment.

She didn’t know what to feel for this..man. This demon. It was likely he won’t see her reason for sadness, this empathetic pity. He won’t understand why she spoke of it as if he was missing something as vital as his life and he was blind to it. He won’t know why the snow should be beautiful. Why his privation was something to be so heart-rending. But that’s why it was so tragic, wasn’t it? A man could have a taste of something blissful and lose it and be equally tragic. What soothed it was the fact he knew it was tragic and would probably try to gain it back somehow whether it was through revenge or forgiveness. The man who never had it and could not see his own tragic existence, would always feel empty, she supposed. Always thirsty and hungry for something they could not fill with tedious things like money.  

“Dirty things can be beautiful.” Yuri told him.

“…Then do you think I’m beautiful?” He cautiously asked her. The question surprised her. Surprised him. An impromptu. He was rarely so impulsive. More so on seeking out others’ sentiment of him. He has never once cared for such trivial sort.

“You think you’re ugly?” Yuri blinked, unable to understand how someone who could clearly distinguish and know – at least – physical aesthetic would consider himself unsightly.

“My original form is hideous.” He revealed blatantly, his voice flat as though he was reading out a list on the menu.

“I think you’re alright.” Yuri said after a thoughtful pause.

Darkness. The white world defiled in suffocating, icy darkness. She could feel something crawling on her skin. Underneath it. The spine chilling sound vibrated in the air; sound of million insects chewing at her skin, bones and flesh and quivering their wings. There was no pain yet she couldn’t help but scratch and claw her body to thwart it off her. Her mouth gaped in silent scream. She could imagine beetles and maggots chewing down her body, magnified chittery background grinding, merging into a drone that rose and fell.

A footstep. The staccato beat of heel echoing in the darkness to the rhythm of insects buzz. It was accompanied by a foul, rotting smell that made her want to retch. Something was decomposing. She couldn’t quite describe what she saw of Sebastian’s true form.

Black feathers. Nails like eagles talons. Glowing red eyes. Cold. So cold. So so cold. A living decay.

She was not so naïve to believe in the romanticised vision of demons as some tragically beautiful fallen angels – if Sebastian were even an angel in the first place. After all, the belief fall from grace could be, even at slightest, merciful as to spare angelic beauty was almost laughable; the fall signified shame and perversion of something so sacred and holy, one could only imagine how hideous to see it tainted.

White returned with her voice. Numbing coldness crept up from her bare feet, purple patches forming. She could breathe again. He smelled sweet again. He was beautiful. The only colour in the colourless.

He had given her a glimpse of his true self. The grotesque freak in a circus show behind the glitzy glamorous mask he donned. But just as he intended, this had been a scant coup d'œil. He wanted her to know, if he was dreadfully abhorrent even from this short brief moment, how disgusting would he be wholly bared to the world.

But at least…at least..at the very least, you don’t do what he does. She couldn’t help but ponder. To her, the true demon in her life was her father. He had stolen from her. Her money. Her life. A loving family. Her chance of being a normal teenage girl. Fucked her up.

“..I’ve seen worse.”

Sebastian face remained vacant, emotionless. Her word didn’t seem to have any impact on his belief. He wouldn’t know. Wouldn’t understand the working of her thought. It didn’t matter anyway.

Sebastian, unmoving for a minute then strode across, closing the distance she had made between them before swooping her up to his body. One arm on her back, another underneath the crook of her knees.

“You’re feet are blue.” He commented, nodding toward her exposed legs that had now turned cyanotic from cold. His body radiated usual warmth she didn’t expect.

“You’re really warm for a demon, well at least when you look human.” She noted. His body temperature was higher than an average human, almost feverish to touch, while she was always cold. She liked that about him – the ironic warmth that emitted from the demon.

Something shuffled in her chest, the abrupt movement startling the pair from the serene silence stretched between them. It bopped up and down, slinking up her body before the mystery mound popped out from her décolletage and made itself known to the curious demon.

Its large, sharp eyes blinked up to Sebastian’s stunned gaze and let out a piping meow.

“Oh, seems like she’s not cold anymore.” Yuri smiled, stroking its small head.

Looking up to see his response, she was pleasantly surprised by the red hues in his cheeks as he regarded the tiny little kitten. Who knew a demon had a soft spot for a cat?

“I found her shivering in the snow without its mother around so I think she was abandoned.” Yuri said sadly, “Do you like cats?”

“Yes, I think they are the most beautiful creatures on Earth.” He said with adoration.

“Does Hell have…well animals?”

“We have creatures kept as pets but..” Sebastian hummed, “They are not as..pleasant.”

“How do they look like?” Yuri asked and the more she listened to Sebastian’s in-depth description of the so-called pets, she couldn’t help but imagine the very alien from the movie. She reckoned it was equivalent to a dangerous exotic pet people kept either as living exhibition or status symbol.

They arrived inside the manor and he gently released her from his hold. Yuri quickly caught the kitten before it slipped down her dress.

Stretching out her kitten held arms to him, she offered, “..Do you want to name her?”

Her little trifling suggestion thrown off his guard, while the kitten’s innocent, twinkling eyes stared, waiting.

“You’ve not named her.”

She nodded, “I’ve only just found her. Besides, I’m terrible with names.”

“I’ve never named anything before.” He muttered, perplexed.

“How come?” Yuri frowned, puzzled as to why someone, who lived as long as he did, never came across an opportunity to name anything.

And even he, rare as it may be, seemed at lost in moment such as this. How laughable it was to be dumbstruck to such petty question yet it seemed more baffling than any questions or tasks he had been given in his years of servitude.

“They were the ones who have named me.” He revealed, “And neither of us cared little for other things than what they desired.”

“Ah…” Yuri realised. He was just like a baby. “Then…think of it as a Christmas gift from me. I wasn’t sure what a demon would want for Christmas present seeing you lived for a long time but I guess this is perfect – something you never had.”

He was silent, eyes darting back and forth between the kitten and her, all the while his face never betraying his thought.

“Yuri.”

“Yeah?”

“The kitten’s name is Yuri.”

She stared at him, agape, bewildered by his choice of name. “Are you serious?! Should I bring out a name dictionary? Does the library even have that kind of book?”

“I think it’s a beautiful name.”

Yuri bit down her lip to hold a grin from spreading, albeit horribly and instead forming a crooked smile.

“It’s an alright name,” She shrugged, “But really? Out of all names in the world, you choose that?”

He took the kitten into his arm, holding it close to his chest and cooed, “You like that name, don’t you?”

The kitten meowed in response, receiving a tickle under the chin as reward.

“Gee..and I thought I was terrible with names.”

“Unfortunately, so am I.”

“I can see that.” Yuri grinned, “Merry Christmas, Sebastian.”

“Merry Christmas.” He returned then added, “Yuri.”

The kitten purred, snuggling into Sebastian’s warmth.

*tabula rasa- an absence of preconceived ideas or predetermined goals; a clean slate.

[theopentable]

Nurturing Kindness, Calm and Contentment in Children with Spirituality

At home we have a couple of those small labyrinths you can run your fingers through. Jobe (5) and Pearl (2) will often trace their little fingers through the grooves slowly and carefully towards the centre and back again.

Yesterday, as Jobe was quietly winding his way into the centre he asked me, “What’s in the centre?”

It was a good question. Most likely a practical question given he picks the labyrinth up often enough and probably wonders why it has this apparent dead-end in the middle. Risking turning the conversation into a deeper conversation that was happening more in my head than his I mentioned that all of life is really a journey to the centre. We’re always moving in and out of the centre. Sometimes we’re far from the centre and we’re trying to find our way back in. 

And then I asked what he thinks is in the centre. Pearl who was quietly colouring in next to us chimed in confidently, “Love.” Together they added a bunch of other descriptions of our inner lives when our kindness and calm systems are whirring away nicely (calm and brave feelings, kindness, goodness, happiness and so on). Alongside these the kids also include God in their reckoning. God is in this place. God is in the centre alongside all the other stuff.

Sometimes we’ll talk about the ‘centre’ as our heart space which helps give a bit of language for our contemplative practices. Sometimes as a family we’ll sit in quiet together in our heart space. We talk about how Jesus is always in this space and we can be with him here. Pearl will get the “gonger” (meditation bowl), we’ll have a little candle, and we’ll keep our eyes closed and our hands on our hearts while the bowl rings out (Pearl, in her sincerity and sweetness, is probably at peak cuteness when she does this). We breathe slowly and sit together. Sometimes we might use our imaginations and think a little bit about some imagery that relates to divine presence (life-giving breath, the warmth and light inside us). Sometimes I’ve asked Pearl if she can see Jesus when she has her eyes closed. I’ll ask her if he says or does anything. Last time Pearl spoke about how Jesus said “I love you” and was doing work on her. I have no idea what she meant by that but I do know what it means in my own life and how much I need lots more work done on me! 

These are very simple contemplative practices that we do together but they offer a way of sitting in compassionate presence and imagery and that can play an important role in helping to activate our soothing and contentment system so central to our wellbeing. Whatever the kids think or understand about spirituality I can at least say they connect prayer with encountering kindness and love in a personal form. This love lives inside them, is accessible to them, and connects them to others in an unbreakable way[1].

Obviously not everyone embraces spirituality in this same way, or, even if we hold something of this, our understanding of spirituality takes a million forms depending on our various traditions, world-views, experiences and beliefs. Largely speaking though we can say that spirituality remains a pervasive aspect of what it means to be human. Perhaps spirituality is something like an underground stream that is always bubbling away in some form, whatever our awareness or language. Whether we claim regular access to deep springs or whether we simply experience times where the water seems to bubble up to the surface of our lives we all seem to have some awareness and experience of spirituality - encounters with depth, with mystery; encounters with something vital that speaks to the truth of who we are and reaches right into our being. These experiences help to pull us from the margins of our lives into the centre where we make contact with that which is enlivening, beautiful and sacred. We enter into the school of our own experience. We wake up. We kiss aliveness. We are drawn into authenticity, flourishing, meaning and hope. We appreciate the many ways we are part of a greater whole, swimming in a sea of relationality and connectedness.

Of course how we make sense of any of that with language or practices is one of the great challenges of our lives. Our ability to describe our experience will always remain slippery and imprecise, a clumsy work in progress. This challenge is obviously present when it comes to nurturing spirituality with little ones, but not on account of experience. There is wide acceptance that children, like all of us, have an innate capacity for spirituality. Lisa Miller says that a child’s spirituality precedes and transcends language, culture, and religion and describes the way ‘It comes as naturally to children as their fascination with a butterfly or a twinkling star-filled night sky’[2].

David Hay and Rebecca Nye, in their three-year research study into young children's spirituality, have sought to describe the characteristics of children’s spirituality. Nye describes the ‘relational consciousness’ that is core for children and provides the foundation of their relationships with themselves, with others, with creation and with God. Within this comes capacities for joy, wonder, awe and imaginative wondering and is given further expression in the search for identity, meaning and purpose[3].

Noel Keating, leaning on the insights of Ken Wilber and Allan Combs, describes the way children are able to access very deep states of spiritual consciousness even with limited cognitive development:

‘Children are too young to understand very much about life. In their simplicity, they are comfortable with the limited and emergent nature of their knowledge, with not-knowing; they know they have so much to learn about the world. Because of this they remain open to possibility. They have a trust in their innate way of knowing, in their perceptual knowledge. By comparison, as we grow into adulthood and our capacity for conceptual knowledge enlarges we begin to doubt the validity and value of perceptual knowledge. As we become more rational, we tend to think that everything can be explained in words and concepts and we tend to distrust perceptual knowledge. While adults generally feel the need to analyse, to explain and to control their environment, children are open to allowing life to unfold its mysteries. Whereas adults are often deeply uncomfortable with anything that cannot be expressed clearly in words, children seem to embody the understanding that while knowledge may be complex, wisdom is simple. They are able to leave themselves open to whatever may transpire in the silence, without having to understand it or explain it.’[4]

There are beautiful gifts here - gifts of simplicity, receptivity, wonder, wisdom and the embrace of mystery (perhaps we could say the “beginners mind”) that we ourselves as adults may struggle to open our own hands to. This is part of the beauty of the spirituality of the child. Which might even mean that our children may be the ones to help guide us adults into the centre. And that, when it happens, is a very beautiful thing.

                                                        *    *    *

[1] Jobe, as a three year old, once argued with us about a place that he insisted he had been before. We had been, but he hadn’t. Or at least in our own way of seeing and understanding. Jobe had his own way of understanding time and place and the ways we’re all connected. 

He explained to us that he had been there before because before he was born he was with God, in God’s heart. That’s what we had always explained when he asked about where he was before he was born. He was embraced in God’s loving awareness, bound up in intimacy and connection, longing and purpose.

And Jobe would also ask where God is now, and so we have always spoken about how God is present before all things, but also about the special way the way that God dwells within our very hearts. So God couldn’t be closer and where we go, God goes. Jobe, the contemplative, then argues his case with us. He was at all those things with us before he was born. Because Jobe was in God’s heart and God was in our hearts. And so he was there - past, present, future, all held within the divine life. If God was with us, so was Jobe because Jobe was with God. Love connects us in an unbreakable way, across life, death, and time.

[2] Lisa Miller (2015), The Spiritual Child. Miller’s work highlights the biologically based, identifiable, measurable, and observable capacity in children for a felt relationship with a transcendent loving presence that is part of our inborn nature and heredity.

[3] David Hay and Rebecca Nye (2006), The Spirit of the Child (Revised Edition)

[4] Noel Keating (2017), Meditation with Children: A Resource for Teachers and Parents

[earthdeep]

ok this is really starting to get on ludicrous levels but... can we quit with the aa5 hate a bit? like srsly? y’all are gettin waaaaay too aggressive abt ppl liking this game. half the time it’s shit over nothing! it’s not like ppl are out here praising this as a masterpiece of writing. srsly the only times I’ve seen what y’all are insisting stans are doing is for aa4 (usually guessing at what was intended for future sequels that actually continued on from it) and shipping (especially narumitsu shippers? some of u are REALLY invested in subtext like wow). 99% of the praise I’ve seen for aa5 is for the characters. which is more than fair! in case u forgot, aa5 introduced us to the entire blackquill/cykes group, in all their lovable glory! and fleshed out the universe with the wonder that is lawyer highschool (which, listen, if ur accepting 13 year olds are allowed to prosecute, this isn’t actually incompatible with the depths this fictional justice system will sink) that also managed to connect parts of aai2 into the timeline as well! ffs apollo’s single friend only exists in canon bc of aa5!

and u can say everything’s clumsily implemented all u like. but, uh, in case u hadn’t noticed, aa5 isn’t the first time it’s gone weird. have u seen t&t lately? dahlia and godot were soooo clumsily integrated. I’ve ranted on godot’s mary sue qualities before, but ugh. both have the same problem of “oh by the way did I ever mention that INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT ex of mine who is totally irrelevant btw haha oh wow they’re suddenly relevant how about that”. fucking jfa has the same issue with franziska aka “woah now there’s ANOTHER von karma? and she’s even MORE challenging than the last one?!” srsly let’s not pretend her sudden arrival made sense for a prodigy who is also next of kin to the most infamous prosecutor around. nick not knowing who manfred was was clumsy too. what I’m getting at is that the aa series does not in fact have the smoothest writing, to the point where nick and later apollo appear to live under rocks in order to lose out on what should be common knowledge in their situation. srsly apollo how did u never notice that there’s some frontman in a rock group pushed by the literal police who looks scarily like ur boss, has the same last name as ur boss, said band is literally called the GAVINners. like christ I’m not into music but I at least recognise the names of 1d members. in all honesty I am so glad athena did not end up like those two pebble-dwellers and had actually p good reasons for either not knowing shit (hello l’belle and his private company) or keeping quiet (hello the entire space station situation). athena is good at this. 

and u know the biggest plus that kinda ties into the character situation? NO STOCK FUCKING PERVERT CHARACTERS. WE ALL HATE THEM. BUT CAN WE NOT OVERLOOK THE FACT AA4 HAD TWO. BOTH STICKLER AND HOTTI/HICKFIELD BOTH APPEARED IN THE SAME CASE. BOTH INVOLVING A FIFTEEN YEAR OLD GIRL. I HAVE THE SCRIPT. DO NOT FUCKING TEST ME.

there’s other stuff I’ve seen too specifically abt the satire that started the series. yes, gyakuten saiban was created to satirise the unbalanced nature and unbelievably high prosecution rates of the japanese courts. gyakuten saiban 4 was written in reaction to the real life introduction of the jury. (srsly if u have time, go on a research trip. there’s a lot of interesting stuff surrounding the background of the series.) but, forgive me if I’m missing something, what the FUCK were 2 and 3 satirising? as far as I’m aware, takumi was asked to continue the series bc ppl liked it. and it made capcom money. takumi eventually got totally sick of it and left the main series but please don’t act like this is something new from capcom. not everything in the series is pure political commentary. some of it is just regular stories. this is true for almost any satirical series ever. it doesn’t make them unenjoyable. besides y’all are content to shit on soj anyway for being a cheesy take on of a corrupt government system so maybe u just don’t care and just have a hate on for anything tangentially related to aa5.

and on whether it’s unenjoyable? nah man aa5 is fun. monstrous turnabout was a bit slow I reckon, but everything else moved at a nice pace, had fun characters, had those good good friendship moments. it was a bit wobbly in places, but we sat through turnabout serenade and turnabout succession! would u like my list of plot holes in serenade alone? bc I have one. I had to make one to break down the damn thing enough to write an au version of it. and with aa5 and the phantom? apparently that’s largely on the localisation team deciding western audiences wouldn’t accept ‘yokai’ as the answer and then just... not... putting anything else in? literally could’ve been solved with one word being swapped out or jinxie mentioning said yokai in one of her lists which... yeah that one’s on the game. idk maybe in the distant future when the games are all remastered for the new new new nintendo 3dsi that’ll be fixed too. or maybe the miracle never happen. who knows.

like probably the only other thing I can’t argue with on criticism is the art style. yeah, I’m not keen on fuse’s faces. nuri suffers with a certain level of same face too, but (as shown in dgs) the other parts of his design are pretty and managed to shine through in 3d. but the colours are way better come soj now the main team is getting into the swing of it, and anyone who doesn’t think khura’in is pretty as hell can fight me.

but srsly there are actually a lot of good points to aa5. it is not the antichrist. personally it is far from my favourite game (with my own fave as aa4 bc dem characters tho... barring the perverts) but many of its flaws are not new to the series. and while it has lost potential in various parts such as several important characters being dead on arrival, let’s not forget it left behind some especially nasty parts of the series and appears to be CONTINUING to leave those behind. mmm just look at that lack of literal canon pedophiles we’re supposed to feel sorry for... sorry every time I remember aa3 I like it less and less. which is a shame, bc young!mia is still the most relatable protag ever.

anyway, let’s not become the dicks who shat on anyone who liked aa4 back in the day, yeah?

[letithappeneverafter]

Came across Nicks essay about living in a far-away country and what it means to be a creative human at the arse-end of the world. This comes from a past edition of Griffith Review which is a pretty impressive literary essay magazine. Full of cultural and thought-provoking stuff. Go Nick. I probably shouldn’t just copy’n’paste but I did borrow it from Brisbane library to read in the flesh. Just wanted to share with all you Tame Impala and POND fans.

Creative Darwinism by Nick Allbrook

- This is my city and I’m never gonna leave it. Channel 7 News 

WRITING ABOUT MY experience of making music in Perth is a strange thing, because as soon as a ‘scene’ is bound and gagged by the written word it is finished, petrified, swept up into the Rolling Stone archives and forever considered ‘history’. It might be revered and glorified, but it’s still long gone. This could be a very restricting view to take on a community like Perth, which is still just as inspiring and productive as it ever was. I can’t pretend to understand where ‘music scenes’ begin or end. It seems a futile and narrow-minded pursuit. So before I begin, I want to say that this is merely a reflective exercise. There was never a ‘golden age’, and if one does exist I can’t see it, because it’s floating all around, invisible and omnipresent.

For years I suffered serious cultural guilt as a Western Australian. The orthodoxy and banality made me feel isolated, relegated to the company of eccentric long-haired ghosts singing to me from inside my Discman. Every birthday and Christmas, Dad would give me a care package of CDs. This blessed nourishment of Jethro Tull, Lou Reed, Led Zeppelin and David Bowie shone a light into the murky tunnels of my future. Playing music and generally being a flaming Christmas fruitcake became my sole purpose, and me and a few other school friends – Steve Summerlin and Richard Ingham of Mink Mussel Creek, and many other brilliant but criminally under-recognised projects – revelled in our little corner of filthy otherness. This outlook was key to our musical and creative development. We railed against the boredom of Perth not with pickets or protest, but with a head-in-the-sand hubris that made us feel invincible and unique. We found more comrades along the way – Joe Ryan, Kevin Parker, Jay Watson – and together we erected great walls of noise and hair and mouldy dishes around our Daglish share house commune citadel on Troy Terrace where we incubated, practised, recorded, talked and grew. A friend stick’n’poke tattooed a spiral shape into my arm to represent that way of life (which I’d lifted from Hermes Trismegistus and other alchemical mumbo jumbo I learned at university). Look inside and the world can be whatever you want. Look out and it’s ugly and shitty. In Perth, use of public space is regulated to the point of comedy, and Orwellian restrictions on tobacco, noise, bicycles, alcohol and public gatherings breed a festering discontent and boredom because no one likes being pre-emptively labelled a deviant. Being trusted enriches the soul – you can see it on the face of the child who leads the family trek. You can see the flipside on the faces of disenchanted detainees. On weekends, this restlessness is unleashed across clubs and pubs in Northbridge and Subiaco in an avalanche of Jägerbombs (17mL of Jägermeister dropped into a larger glass of Red Bull and then consumed with haste) and Midori and violence and cheap sex. When the Monday sun staggers over the horizon, people rub their eyes and heave a great sigh and the city reverts to its utilitarian state – the ‘bourgeois dream of unproblematic production’, as The 60s Without Apology (University of Minnesota Press, 1984) puts it, ‘of everyday life as the bureaucratic society of controlled consumption’. That this description of pre-revolutionary 1950s and ’60s America is so apt for Perth is damn scary. Or hilarious. I can’t decide. I guess it depends on the depth and colour of your nihilistic streak, or if you actually live here. Whichever way you look at it, it does not paint a picture of a city conducive to creativity. Art is the antithesis of logic and functionality – it is romance and wonder and stupid, pointless lovelies. As good old Mr Vonnegut so often said, it’s an exercise to make your soul grow. So how, in a super-functional and conservative environment whose every will is bent towards digging really, really big holes in the ground, have I seen and heard and felt some of the most brilliant, pure and original creativity in the world? I USED TO dream about living in a cultural powerhouse like Paris or Berlin or New York, but after spending time in these places I’ve realised that the emptiness and isolation of Perth – boredom to some – was a far better environment for creativity. The ‘cultural capitals’ are so rich in art and wonder that it can feel pointless to add to it. Maybe just being in those ‘cultural capitals’ fills us up with wonder? Strolling through Berlin at night, ducking into a bar with fish nailed to the roof, skipping across the cobblestones for some cheap beers in a record shop in a Russian caravan in an abandoned peanut factory…that kind of stuff fills the romantic void. Having a Ricard and a few Gitanes on the terrasse of Aux Folies; stumbling through Camden after a lock-in at the Witch’s Tit or the Cock’n’Balls or the Cancerous Bowel or whatever you call it; recollecting a possible conversation with Jah Wobble over a pint…Perth? It has no secret tunnels to romantic fulfilment. For me, music and art have always been a way to manufacture that romance lacking in upper-middle-class Western Australia. To be honest, if I had lived in New York I probably would’ve been so damn hung-over – or busy ensuring that I would be later – that a whole lot less creation would’ve gone on. Mundane and discouraging places like Perth create a vicious Darwinism for creatively inclined people, where survival of the fittest is played out with swift and unrepentant force and the flippant or unpassionate are left behind, drowning in putrid mind-clag. You have to really need it, and without the mysterious and poetic benefits of a vibrant city culture this has to come from deep inside. Amber Fresh, otherwise known as Rabbit Island, is one person who produces constant streams of music, drawings, essays, poems, calendars, videos and photos from her home. She fills her world with little pieces of homemade, lo-fi, photocopied beauty and magic. They don’t have funding or precedent or material ambition – and the result is something fresh and original. Mei Saraswati does the same thing, although completely different styles of music. She has produced, mixed, mastered and illustrated scores of albums in her bedroom and then released this other-worldly electronic R’n’B brilliance onto the internet with no fanfare, simply to turn around and start making more. These are just two examples. There are many more. SOMEHOW, BY BEING a cultural long-drop, Perth lit a fire under my arse. In more scholarly terminology this could be called a ‘spirit of negation’ – a margarine version of the same zeitgeist that has catalysed most worthwhile movements throughout history, from dadaism to punk to all the intellectual and artistic wonders of The Netherlands freshly unchained from their dastardly Spanish overlords. Being isolated spatially and culturally – us from the city, Perth from Australia and Australia from the world – arms one with an Atlas-strong sense of identity. Both actively and passively, originality seems to flourish in Perth’s artistic community. Without the wider community’s acceptance, creative pursuits lack the potential for commodification. There’s no point in preening yourself for success because it’s just not real. It’s a fairytale, so you may as well just do it in whatever way you like, good or bad, in your room or on the top of the Telstra building, which – as anyone with any common sense will attest – was built for that one potential badass to drop in on a skateboard and parachute off. Growing up in the Kimberley and then Fremantle, the true machinery of the music business evaded me. It was about as real as the Power Rangers and twice as awesome. Led Zeppelin and U2, all the way down to whatever was on Rage that morning, was just a pretty dream. But if I grew up in a city where success in music was common and highly visible, I reckon it would have been far more alluring. I would’ve understood how to go about it, probably before I actually realised how deep my love of music was. With the template for success laid out so precisely – gigs to be got, managers to be found, reviews to be had and the ultimate dream of ‘making it’ tangibly within reach – Perth would find itself producing far less original art. Because as it stands, it doesn’t really matter if you’re crap or silly or unbearably offensive, you wouldn’t get much further doing something different anyway. This helps to preserve a magical purity because it’s executed with love – with necessity. And what’s more, when these artists keep going and practising and advancing – which they must – somehow their crassness coagulates into something brilliantly individual and accomplished, and you can see it performed in an arena that makes the audience feel truly blessed. I saw Rabbit Island and Peter Bibby and Cam Avery play in backyards. I saw cease play in a tattoo parlour in Maylands. Me and Joe Ryan were plastered against the wall by their sound, gawking up at Andrew, the guitarist, precariously standing on his enormous amp wearing high heels and full fishnet bodystocking, slowly trying to drive his guitar through the top of his cabinet like some pagan-burlesque reimagining of King Arthur. After hours they slowed to a halt, and the crowd cheered from the stairs and bathroom door and kitchen and I remembered where we were: in a tiny share-house in Maylands, in the flaming cauldron of hell or the halls of Valhalla. Mink Mussel Creek played there a few times and once, in a flash of drunken inspiration, someone turned the only light in the room off mid-performance. I saw the fourteen guitarists of Electric Toad destroy a warehouse art gallery wearing ’90s WA football jerseys. Tame Impala and Pond played in Tanya’s garage and every time I cried and danced and felt like the breath of God was being embarrassingly saucy all over my skin. We played our very first show in that garage and I can still see Jay demolishing the tiny drum kit – kick, snare, ride, tom – as sparks floated from the forty-gallon drum and lit the faces of the people looking in from the dark. None of us had ever seen anyone play like it in real life, let alone in a garage, sitting on milk crates. As far as genres go, our music ‘scene’ in Perth was an anomaly. A mad mosaic of groups and artists only held together by gallant separation from conventional Perth society. Nick Odell, the drummer of CEASE and Sonny Roofs, still has a poster for a gig at Amplifier Bar that I remember as a kind of microcosmic Woodstock – a tactile realisation of all the beauty and communion we cherished. The line-up included us (Mink Mussel Creek), CEASE (aforementioned stoner/doom/drone lords), Sex Panther (punk-party queens), Oki Oki (Nintendo synth pop) and Chris Cobilis (experimental laptop noise music). I think most members of the bands ended up on stage at more than one time, wrapped in Cobilis’ wires or yelling into a madly effected microphone in front of CEASE. I certainly did. Nowhere else would such a ridiculously mismatched line-up consider themselves a tight community. We all partied together, played together and are still friends. I think this spirit is lacking in a lot of the more culturally enlightened parts of the world. Maybe in these vibrant communities the countercultural idea is so entrenched it becomes capitalist orthodoxy and loses its edge. It is subjected to the rationality it once challenged. In the cultural capitals – Paris, Berlin, New York – creativity and original thinking are accepted and valued parts of mainstream life. In Perth they are not. Paris has over four hundred streets named after artists and writers, and this honour is not restricted to the most unobtrusive or patriotic. Rue Albert Camus, Rue Marcel Duchamp and the recently proposed Place Jean-Michel Basquiat, for example, show the state glorifying revolutionaries, absurdists, libertines and a gay, heroin-using, Haitian–American graffiti artist. Today we can stroll along the verdant Boulevard Auguste-Blanqui, named after the man who led the uprising of the Paris Commune. A revolutionary, a prisoner, an anarchist. In modern terms: a terrorist. There, art is a basic fact of everyday life, while in Perth it is an anomaly hidden in garages and living rooms – deep beneath a conservative fishbowl of productivity. So, all things considered, ‘cultural capitals’ should be havens for art and music, and Perth should not. The romance just seeps into the pores, ja? I always thought this before I left Western Australia, but have since found it to be otherwise. I asked a young photographer and artist in Amsterdam about the music scene there and her reply was wholly negative. A lot of Parisians seem to feel the same way. I look back on my time in Perth and think about the huge number of brilliant musicians and artists who I saw and knew, often not in official venues but in backyards or sheds or the abandoned entertainment centre (yes, CEASE). Perhaps with the freedom – almost expectation – to create, revel and throw it all around the streets, it all just gets a bit boring. Like much good art, it doesn’t really ‘mean’ anything, so writing an essay about it is an odd activity. The experience of a city or community varies so much that it can never be defined while it is still occurring. When it’s actually happening, a ‘scene’ is not really a ‘scene’ – it’s completely intangible and only coagulates into a definitive and convenient ball when history puts it in a cage, when someone from the outside looks in and decides there’s something shared between a bunch of vaguely artistic fools. I guess that’s what I’m doing now, which is pretty ridiculous seeing as nothing is finished and the Perth artistic community is so ethereal that it couldn’t and shouldn’t be labelled at all.

From Griffith Review Edition 47: Looking West © Copyright Griffith University & the author.

[jaggidart]

So hey guys, I’ve been thinking…what if White Diamond doesn’t exist? At least, without the (three) Diamonds we know…FUSED???

Here me out.

(This post turned out quite long, so I’ll put it under the cut)

Also, potential spoilers ahead!

It took a long time to name drop pink Diamond, and after that point we have seen/heard a lot more of the Diamonds. Blue, Yellow and Pink that is. But not so much as a mention of White Diamond.

It seems to be a fandom-accepted fact that White Diamond exists and is a big part of the Diamond Authority. And with good reason:

We got the pre-rebellion Diamond Authority logo strewn across the Earth and Moon,

Followed by the Pink-less new logo,

And of course the murals. But does anyone actually SAY “White Diamond” outright? No, they do not. And here is my thinking:

White light is made up of all colours on the spectrum. Now, maybe there are more Diamonds to come (hey, never say never, am I right?) but it’s been strongly hinted that our Diamond Authority is made up of four big shots.

Now, I’ve seen a lot of theories floating about regarding Diamond fusion, such as the fusion weapon i.e. the attack on Earth to end the rebellion, and Blue and Yellow fusing for reasons. And while it all sounds great, there’s something not sitting quite right with me. Because NO ONE HAS MENTIONED WHITE DIAMOND EVER.

And yes, perhaps they’re saving another big name drop like they did with Pink Diamond and address the giant white elephant in the room. But I’d have thought surely there might be a clue somewhere by this point in the series.

Which is why I’m thinking that White Diamond was/is a fusion of Diamonds. Specifically, the big three combined to create a pure, perfect and rarest of gems.

I did some research and colours such as yellow are common, and pink and blue a little less common, and of course clear or white diamonds are the rarest (come to think of if, is she even called White Diamond? What if it’s Clear Diamond? Or just DIAMOND? We’ll see, I guess. For the sake of this slightly unfocused post, I’ll stick with calling her White Diamond.)

Either way, WD is a big deal. She is the epitome of what Homeworld (and the Diamonds) strive for: perfection.

And why is it not common knowledge? I reckon it’s because fusion is such a personal, meaningful thing that the Diamonds would not want to share this information with their underling gems.

Which explains why Blue Diamond was so outraged when Ruby and Sapphire first fused (accidentally, mind you). Fusion is SACRED among different gems. And it gives gems so much more than the sum of their parts, as we learn through Garnet and her journey as a fusion.

The exception her of course is same-gem fusion. The Diamonds don’t have a problem with it because it is merely accentuating gems’ abilities, or making them bigger versions of themselves for fighting purposes. But cross-gem fusion is a whole other matter, which the show has taught us.

And because of the Diamonds’ secrecy, regular Homeworld gems see fusion as a “cheap tactic” or a “trick”, which is why Rhodonite and Flourite hide, and why Garnet decided to leave Homeworld behind; because it is forbidden; because the Diamonds believe only they should fuse.

Getting back on track somewhat;

Many have speculated that this is the result of Blue, Yellow and White Diamond creating some sort of fusion weapon to wipe out the last remainders of the rebellion, and it sounded legitimate. HOWEVER. 

Let’s take another look at the temple mural:

See those diamond shapes around what we are supposed to believe is White Diamond? I previously assumed it was just decorative embellishment, or to imply who she was. Whereas I think it’s representative of the light gems create when they fuse. Or perhaps it’s similar to the sparkles when gems’ weapons are either created or disappear. Because White Diamond could indeed be used as a weapon if, say, a pesky rebellion was taking place on Earth.

But wait! I hear you say, the White of the Diamond Authority logo remains! Yes, you are correct, but let’s take a look at that too, shall we?

The white part is still at the top, indicating its rank amongst the colours in terms of power and purity. But the logo now has a backing: a green circle. And the logo therefore has a greenish tint to the whole thing, which implies it is not quite as pure as before.

Now, obviously, white LIGHT is made up of ALL colours, so I’ll admit this could be flimsy. But yellow and blue are primary colours, and pink is the closest to red we are going to get to create the basic fundamentals of my colour theory. (By the way, I looked it up, and red diamonds are stupidly rare, so we’ll put a pin in that. I daresay we can let some things go, as pearls are technically grown organically, and bismuth is a mineral.)

White Diamond could still exist, but she would not be as powerful, or pure, or perfect as she was before, because Pink is missing. And because Blue Diamond has mostly kept to herself for eons, mourning Pink, who’s to say that the Diamonds didn’t encourage a rumour that White Diamond was in an even deeper grief and isolated herself? Their fusion secret would never have to be found out.

The song explosion (I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to call it) has a bright white centre, which could indicate White Diamond being formed. And you can say, “but White is one of the three colours in there, how could she not be part of said fusion?” Well, I don’t know about you, but that top left corner looks suspiciously green to me, not pure blue. Also, white is not a colour, it is a combination of colours in the spectrum; what we see is LIGHT. And Steven Universe gems and fusion is all about light.

In conclusion, White Diamond, as a fusion, could still be formed. Perhaps just with Blue and Yellow, perhaps with another diamond (wishful thinking)?

TL:DR = White Diamond is a fusion of the Diamonds. I doubt I’m the first to think this, but I’ve not seen this anywhere yet so here we go.

Disclaimer; this is just my personal thoughts and slightly bitty ramblings so forgive me. This went into much more depth than I originally planned!

Regardless of whether I’m right or wrong, I just know the Crewniverse will give us something spectacular!

There’s bound to be loads I’ve missed, and also things I’ve run out of enerygu to say, such as they walked past Pink Diamond’s mural on the moon too, but she got a big name drop reveal, so might White Diamond. And how are they okay with fusion experiments on Earth? Perhaps I’ll do a theory video covering this when I get a bit more time. But in the meantime, please share your thoughts in asks or reblogs, or however Tumblr works these days.

Cheers!

Jag out.

[coolbloggerthings]

27 top character design tips

Character design can be a tricky beast to tackle in animation world. Creating your own character from scratch involves a lot of creative thinking. Although many of the classic characters familiar to us all through cartoons, movies and advertising look straightforward, a lot of skill and effort will have gone into making them so effective.

From Mickey Mouse's famous three-fingered hands – drawn to save production time when he was first developed for animations in the 1920s – to the elegant simplicity of Homer Simpson, character design has always been about keeping it simple.

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But aside from clean lines and easily readable features, what else do you need to consider for your character design? There's knowing what to exaggerate and what to play down, what to add to give a hint of background and depth, and what to do to develop personality.

And then there's the matter of the technicalities of how to draw your character design. If it's going to be used in motion or as part of a comic strip, you'll need to make sure it works from any angle (easier said than done, as this unsettling top-down view of Mickey Mouse proves).

For this article, we asked a range of leading artists and illustrators their advice on creating memorable, unique character designs. Many of these tips come from Pictoplasma, an annual character design festival in Berlin.

01. Don't lose the magic

Make sure you don't polish all the charm from your characters [Image: Laurie Rowan]

Many character designers will start their project with a sketch. And most agree designers agree this is often where the essence of the character is captured. So when you're working up your design, make sure you don't lose that magic.

"I try to stick to my original drawing style, because the instinct is to try and clean it up," says Laurie Rowan. "I don't like to feel like I've created by characters; I like to feel like I've kind of just encountered them."

"When starting out on your character design, don’t get caught up in the details," says Pernille Ørum. "Decide what you’re trying to communicate, then create loose sketches with movement, acting and flow. As soon as you start to tighten up the drawing, you’ll automatically lose some of the dynamic, so it’s important to have as much life in the early stages as possible. Movement is all but impossible to add later, so make sure it’s in the initial sketch."

02. Step away from the reference material

While inspiration needs to come from somewhere, the aim is to create something original. So Robert Wallace – known as Parallel Teeth – suggests not having the reference material right in front of you as you work.

"If you look at something and then you try and hazily remember it in your mind, that's when you end up making something new, rather than a pastiche of something," he says. Above you can see Wallace's new take on well-known festive figures, created for a Hong Kong department store.

03. Research other characters

For guidance, it can be helpful to try and deconstruct why certain character designs work and why some don't. There's no shortage of research material to be found, with illustrated characters appearing everywhere: on TV commercials, cereal boxes, shop signs, stickers on fruit, animations on mobile phones, and more. Study these character designs and think about what makes some successful and what in particular you like about them.

"When you work with characters you need to be inspired," advises Ørum, "and you can do this through research. Your mind is a visual library that you can fill up. Try to notice people around you – how they walk, their gestures, how they dress – and use that in your design."

04. ... but also look elsewhere

It's also a good idea to look beyond character designs when hunting for inspiration. "I like birds' mating rituals a lot," laughs Rowan. The odd movements can spark unique character behaviour.

"When I begin a project, I often start with the feeling I want to evoke," he adds. The process begins with the designer taking videos of himself as a reference, trying to capture something of the character idea's movement or posture.

Other inspirations include ceramics – an organic texture and muted colour palette stop his work feeling too clinical – and folk costumes.

05. Don't lose sight of the original idea

Sea of Solitude is an upcoming game by Jo-Mei studio [Image: Jo-Mei]

It's easy to subconsciously let our favourite designs influence us. Cornelia Geppert, CEO of indie games studio Jo-Mei, is a huge fan of The Last Guardian, with its unique aesthetic and great video game character designs.

At one point one of her team members had to say to her that their Sea of Solitude design was looking a little too similar to The Last Guardian. She looked back at her initial artworks, and it brought back the feeling she had when creating them. The project shifted back on track.

06. Exaggerate

Exaggerating the defining features of your character design will help it appear larger than life. Exaggerated features will also help viewers to identify the character's key qualities. Exaggeration is key in cartoon caricatures and helps emphasise certain personality traits. If your character is strong, don't just give it normal-sized bulging arms, soup them up so that they're five times as big as they should be.

The technique of exaggeration can be applied to characteristics, too. Anna Mantzaris' hilarious Enough film (above) shows everyday characters in mundane situations, doing the things we've all dreamed of doing on a bad day. "I think it's fun with animation that you can push things further, and people will still accept it as real," she says. "With live action it would look absurd. You can also push the emotion further."

07. Decide who your character design is aimed at

Nathan Jurevicius' Scarygirl features in games and a graphic novel [Image: Nathan Jurevicius]

Think about your audience. Character designs aimed at young children, for example, are typically designed around basic shapes and bright colours. If you're working for a client, the character's target audience is usually predetermined, as Aussie artist Nathan Jurevicius explains.

"Commissioned character designs are usually more restrictive but no less creative. Clients have specific needs but also want me to do my 'thing'. Usually, I'll break down the core features and personality. For example, if the eyes are important then I'll focus the whole design around the face, making this the key feature that stands out."

08. Make your character distinctive

Whether an animator is creating a monkey, robot or monster, you can guarantee there are going to be a hundred other similar creations out there. Your character design needs to be strong and interesting in a visual sense to get people's attention.

When devising The Simpsons, Matt Groening knew he had to offer the viewers something different. He reckoned that when viewers were flicking through TV channels and came across the show, the characters' unusually bright yellow skin colour would grab their attention.

09. Create clear silhouettes

A silhouette helps you understand the character's gesture [image: Pernille Ørum]

Another good way to make your character distinct and improve its pose, says Ørum, is to turn it into a silhouette. "Then you can see how the character ‘reads’ and if you need to make the gesture more clear. Do you understand the emotion of the character and see the line of action? Can things be simplified? Try not to overlap everything, and keep the limbs separate."

07. Develop a line of action

A line of action is the backbone of a character drawing [Image: Pernille Ørum]

One key aspect to consider when creating a character design is the line of action. This is what defines the direction of your character, as well as being a useful narrative tool and bringing a feeling of movement.

"Try to bring the line of action all the way out to the extremities," says Ørum. "A ballet dancer is a good example: they emphasise the line from the tips of their toes to the tips of their fingers. The line of action is also easier to see in creatures with fewer limbs, which is why mermaids are an ideal subject for developing a strong line of action."

08. Make it personal

Geppert's Sea of Solitude video game is an exploration of her experiences of loneliness. Intensely personal though it may be, the game hit a chord with audiences when it was previewed at E3 earlier in the year, because it deals with an experience that is so universal yet still strangely taboo.

"The best art is based on personal experiences. People can relate better if it's based on the truth," says Geppert. "It's not a made-up story, even though it's based in a fantastical setting."

09. Find the posture first

Posture can say a lot about a character [Image: Félicie Haymoz/Wes Anderson]

Félicie Haymoz has worked with Wes Anderson on both of his animated features: Fantastic Mr Fox and Isle of Dogs. When embarking on a new character design, Haymoz likes to start by finding the individual's posture. This element can start the ball rolling on the whole feel of the personality. "I try to capture the stance of the character. Are they hunched over, or are they sitting straight and proud?" She also notes the face is important to get right.

Read more of Haymoz's film character tips here.

10. Consider line quality

Straight and curved lines are read by your eyes at different speeds [image: Pernille Ørum]

The drawn lines of which your character design is composed can go some way to describing it. Thick, even, soft and round lines may suggest an approachable, cute character, whereas sharp, scratchy and uneven lines might point to an uneasy and erratic character.

Ørum recommends balancing straight and curved lines. "Straight lines and curves gives your character design a rhythm. A straight line (or a simple line) leads the eye quickly, while a curved (or detailed line) slows down the eye.'

It's also worth considering the balance between stretch and compression. "Even a neutral pose can lead the eye by applying these two approaches, resulting in an effective character design," says Ørum.

11. Use a joke structure

Rowan grew a name for himself by sharing humorous clips of his characters on Instagram, and went on to work on projects for Disney, the BBC and MTV, and earned himself a BAFTA award and nomination in the process. However, it was his less successful years doing standup comedy that provided inspiration for his trademark character animations.

"It's through standup I learned brevity. It's kind of a joke structure," he explains. Knowing how to frame the clip comes from past failures and successes on stage: "You very quickly learn how to hit certain points," he laughs.

12. Keep it simple

As well as knowing when to exaggerate, Ørum is also keen to highlight the importance of simplicity. "I always try to communicate the designs with the fewest lines possible. It doesn’t mean that work hasn’t been put into creating the volume, placement and design of the character, but I try to simplify as much as possible and only put down the lines and colours that conveys the necessary information."

13. Consider all the angles

Hilda needed to work from all angles to appear in a comic strip [Image: Luke Pearson/Flying Eye Books]

Depending on what you have planned for your character design, you might need to work out what it will look like from all angles. A seemingly flat character can take on a whole new persona when seen from the side if, for example, it has a massive beer belly.

In the Character Design Crash Course workshop at Pictoplasma 2019, Jurevicius and Rilla Alexander asked attendees to sketch their character in poses held by other attendees, life drawing style.

And if you're going to turn it into a comic strip, a la Luke Pearson's Hilda, it'll need to not only make sense from all angles, but look good too.

"How to draw Hilda from behind without her hair swallowing her silhouette", how to draw her beret from above; a long and drawn out battle with how her nose should look… these were all issues Pearson had to deal with when creating his character. The problems all ultimately led to design solutions.

14. Build it in 3D

If your character is going to exist within a 3D world, as an animation or even as a toy, working out its height, weight and physical shape is all important. Alternatively, go one step further and create a model.

"Even if you're not someone who works in 3D, you can learn a lot by converting your character into three dimensions," says Alexander. It's a key part of the process the students follow at the Pictoplasma Academy.

15. Choose colours carefully

Complementary colours create a pleasing balance [image: Pernille Ørum]

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Colours can help communicate a character's personality. Typically, dark colours such as black, purples and greys depict baddies with malevolent intentions.

Light colours such as white, blues, pinks and yellows express innocence and purity. Comic-book reds, yellows and blues might go some way to giving hero qualities to a character design.

"To choose effective colours, it’s important to understand the basic rules of colour," explains Ørum. "Become familiar with the primary, secondary and tertiary colours, as well as monochromatic and complementary colours. One technique for generating an effective colour palette is to chose two complementary colours and work with them in a monochromatic colour scheme."

"You’ll create balance because complementary colours create dynamism, while monochrome colours invoke feelings of calm. You could also try a tertiary colour scheme, which adds a third colour (for example, violet, orange and green), and then work with monochromatic versions of those colours, but it demands more planning and skill for it to work well. If you’re new to colour, try and keep it simple."

To read more on this, see our post on colour theory.

16. Don't forget the hair

Shape, divide and hairline are the secrets to drawing good hair [image: Pernille Ørum]

"Some years ago I went from hating drawing hair to loving it," Ørum. "Previously, I used to view working out all the details and directions of the hair as a tedious endeavour. Now I think of it more as a large, organic shape, which like a flag in the wind indicates and emphasises the movement of the character or its surroundings.

"Start by creating a large shape and divide it into shorter sections, while thinking about where the hair is parted and where the hairline is. Every line should help to define the volume, shape and direction of the hair."

17. Add accessories

Props and clothing can help to emphasise character traits and their background. For example, scruffy clothes can be used for poor characters, and lots of diamonds and bling for tasteless rich ones. Accessories can also be more literal extensions of your character's personality, such as a parrot on a pirate's shoulder or a maggot in a ghoul's skull.

[mintchocolateleaves]

The Innocence Game (1/??)

Summary: Identified by the police as uniquely gifted, a group of teenagers are given access to cold cases and crime scenes to hone their abilities and solve what the police cannot. After reuniting with her best friend, Kaito, Nakamori Aoko is their newest recruit.

Against the constant rumble of the police station during the busy changeover of the day and night shifts, Aoko hears her father’s voice as clearly as if she was inside his office. She glances at the door, holding the bento she’s made for his dinner, waiting until he’s free for a second to eat dinner with her.

He’s been working a lot of overtime recently, stuck trying to finish paperwork and trying to find petty criminals who’ve committed thefts of convenient stores and jewellery stores. Unable to make it home until the late hours of the night, Aoko has been taking it upon herself to bring him food during his breaks, simply so she can see his face more often.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. I’m very sorry for the bother…” she hears, the tone tired and drawn out, lacking in sleep - she knows it well, is the voice she hears from her father every time she sees him recently. She hears another voice then, one she can’t make out and then her father again. “We’ll have to wait until forensics gets back to us on that handkerchief.”

The door opens, and her eyes meet the red rimmed eyes of her father’s. Aoko feels her heart twist in her chest slightly, glancing at the bags under his eyes. Unshaven and dishevelled, he looks older - and extremely exhausted.

“Aoko,” he says, as she paces forwards, waiting beside his door so that his guests can leave first. “I’m afraid we might not be able to eat together tonight.”

Aoko bites her tongue to avoid any sharp retorts. Up until seven months ago, she wouldn’t have minded as much, but since Kaito has disappeared, she’s been eating meals alone whenever her father adds extra hours to his shifts.

Her face must show her disappointment, because her father’s expression morphs, regret blooming in his eyes, his lips pinched together.

“While we wait for the evidence Inspector,” one of her father’s colleagues - Aoko is pretty sure he’s called Inspector Megure, finds it odd that her father is working with someone from a different division - appears at the door, “Kudo-kun and I will look over the crime scene again and come up with a list of suspects.”

Her father and Megure share a look and a short nod. Then behind them a third voice picks up - younger, filled with more spirit that either of the tired detectives.

“I’ve already got the fundamentals down. We’re looking for a male, late forties, possibly early fifties, who owns a Toyota Celica 2000.”

Aoko knows she shouldn’t stare, but as he comes into view, she does. He looks like he could be Kaito’s twin, has the same bone structure - except his jaw is a bit more defined, his hair isn’t as messy. His demeanour is different as well, he’s calmer almost seems more reserved that Kaito.

“It would have been nice if you’d told us how you got to that deduction,” Inspector Megure says as Kudo steps forward, leaving the room behind for the division’s offices. “You can tell me in the car. For now, we’ll have to search the database for car owners with that type…”

Kudo nods. His gaze meets Aoko’s stare, forcing her to look away in embarrassment. She shouldn’t be staring - even if he does look like Kaito. In looking down however, she notices a handkerchief falling to the floor, out of Kudo’s pocket.

It’s bright, baby blue, and Aoko finds herself leaning forwards to retrieve it, calling out ‘excuse me’ to capture Kudo’s attention.

“I’m sorry,” she says when he turns back to her. His eyes are blue, like Kaito’s, except his seem dull in comparison, less wild, much more focused. “It’s just, Aoko noticed you dropped this - and she’d hate for you to lose something so precious.”

Behind her, her father and Inspector Megure are saying their goodbyes. It’s difficult to take notice of it though, as Kudo’s eyes narrowed. His response isn’t unkind, but it is, strange. He says, “how did you know it was precious? It’s just a handkerchief.”

Aoko pauses, takes a moment to think and passes the fabric over.

“Well…” Another pause, “most handkerchiefs are either linen or cotton, because they dry quickly when people dry their hands, right? So, Aoko assumed that since the fabric is rayon, it would have been a gift from someone very special.”

“Rayon? I thought this was silk?” Kudo’s frown deepens as he glances down at the fabric, and Aoko has the impression that he isn’t often wrong, doesn’t often find himself in the position of someone who’s confused. “How did you know?”

“Uh…” Aoko rubs at her ear, tries to think and comes up short. “…Well… It’s heavier than silk is, and it’s softer - Viscose rayon fabric usually is? A friend of Aoko’s used to always use viscose for his magic tricks, so Aoko knows the texture of it.”

Inspector Megure comes up behind Kudo, places a hand on his shoulder and tells him that they’re ready to head back to the crime scene. Kudo pulls at the collar of his shirt, nods absentmindedly before glancing down at the fabric again.

“Thanks for telling me about this,” Kudo says, “Nakamori-san it helps a lot.”

Aoko smiles, “Aoko only did what she thinks is right. She wouldn’t want the hard work of the person who gifted the handkerchief to go to waste.”

Again, Kudo stills. Aoko doesn’t know what she’s said, but his lips part slightly, and he lifts the cloth nearer to eyes to inspect it. She watches silently as Inspector Megure mutters something under his breath, about wanting to actually close the case today.

“What do you mean?“

Confusion spirals through her as Aoko tries to understand why he’s so intense over a piece of material, but she answers him anyway. She tells him that they don’t sell baby blue handkerchiefs made from that material anymore, and that the person gifting it must have dyed it that colour for him. 

She’s not sure if it’s still that accurate, after all, she only knows about the fabric not being sold in blue because Kaito had been complaining about it before one of his magic shows, and they’d both gone shopping, searching for fiber reactive dyes and white vinegar to properly dye the correct colours. It’s nothing impressive, but still Kudo’s smile transforms into a grin, as he turns to the inspector.

"It’s a lead. I think we can close in on the killer this way.”

Aoko doesn’t know what he’s talking about, and instead of trying to take notice, she lets it go straight over her head. Turning back to her father’s office - the door is closed already, and she reckons her dad has shut himself in with all of his paperwork - she readjusts her bag on her shoulder, and the bento boxes she’s holding.

“Nakamori-san,” Kudo says as she’s making her way to the door, “thank you for the information. I’ll be sure to tell the owner of this cloth that it was a very intimate gift.”

Aoko flushes on her way back to her father’s office as she realises that she’d just been talking in depth about a handkerchief that doesn’t even belong to him.

The event goes from her head quickly, just another strange incident in a police station, and Aoko doesn’t think of it again. Or rather, she doesn’t for two weeks, until her father calls and asks whether she can come down to the station after school has ended for the day.

As soon as she knocks on his office door and lets herself in, she knows that it’s related to the other day, mainly because Kudo is there, along with Inspector Megure and another man Aoko hasn’t met before. Her father is sat at his desk, looking moderately stressed, and Aoko wants to ask if he is okay, but doesn’t, looking at their guests instead.

“Aoko,” her father starts, “this is Inspector Megure and Kudo Yuusaku.” He waves to each adult in turn.  "They’ve got a proposition for you.“

He doesn’t look very pleased with the proposition - Aoko wonders what it is - and she notices with some uncertainty that he doesn’t introduce Kudo. Knowing her father however, he’s probably going to take a step back and let her choose which outcome she likes without asserting any influence over her.

"Yes,” Kudo Yuusaku is the one who speaks, “we wanted to talk to you about a programme we thought you might excel at.”

Aoko listens to the preposition, but it really doesn’t seem like something she’d enjoy. As Yuusaku explains that there is a programme for teenagers particularly gifted at elements of police work, she thinks that they’ve got the wrong person. 

While she doesn’t know what she wants to be when she’s older, Aoko is certain she doesn’t want to be a detective - it’s not something she thinks she’d enjoy. Solving crimes has always been something her father has done, and while she’s listened to him about the cases he’s working on sometimes, she’s never wanted to solve any.

“Aoko thinks you’ve got the wrong person-” Aoko tries, but Yuusaku shakes his head.

“Shinichi was telling me about the conclusion you came up with when you returned evidence from a crime scene to him,” A crime scene? Aoko handled police evidence? “And, it was something he’d overlooked. I’m not suggesting that you go into detective work, but you’ve clearly got an affinity for forensic work.”

Frankly, Aoko doesn’t think that she has. She only knew about the fabric because of something Kaito had taught her years ago. It doesn’t come naturally, not really, had just been something she’d learn after years of being best friends with a magician.

“Aoko really doesn’t think-” She pauses, breaks off, “police work isn’t exactly Aoko’s type of thing. She doesn’t think that it’s something she’d be good at, or even enjoy…”

Shinichi - she assumes that’s what he’s called - looks up at that from where he’d been skimming through his phone. He says, “I think you’d fit in with our group… Why not come back with us and take a look around before you decide?”

Uncertain, Aoko accepts. It won’t hurt to look around, even if she’s pretty certain that she’s going to refuse.

Inspector Megure - apparently he’s in charge of picking the cases that the group look into, most of them old cold cases - drives them across town to a large multi-unit building. There are two floors - the bottom has just one entrance, in the middle, whereas the top has four doors, almost like apartment complexes.

“Everyone should be in here,” Shinichi says, when the step out of the car. Kudo Yuusaku follows after him, although he’d informed her on the drive over that he only oversees the project, and isn’t an active agent in it’s practise. “I don’t think anyone has anything after school today…”

He leads them inside, and Aoko watches as chaos unfolds.

The first thing she sees is Hakuba Saguru, her classmate, arguing with a darker skinned detective. The two of them are hunched over a counter, an open folder over them, glaring at one another. For some reason, Aoko doesn’t find it surprising - Hakuba has always been rigid in his beliefs and has always been prone to arguments because of it.

“No, I’m telling you, the Killer entered through the window.” “Oh come o’ it. Ya know tha’ it was through th’ door, don’t be an idiot.”

Shinichi glances at them, glances at Aoko and says, “they’re not the best example… Hattori and Hakuba don’t exactly get along. Plus, they haven’t caught on to the fact that there was a hidden annex, so it was neither the window nor the door…”

Aoko nods her head, doesn’t feel very convinced, and follows him further into the room. There’s a side room, and glancing inside, she notices two girls practising martial arts. She watches as one performs a roundhouse kick, only for her foot to get caught by the other, pulling her forward.

“That’s Kazuha-chan and Ran,” Shinichi says, “they don’t exactly solve mysteries here, but they are always great to have whenever a suspect decides to get violent or when they try to run.”

She adds to her mental checklist that she probably shouldn’t mess with either girl, decides there won’t be an opportunity for such a thing to occur, and follows the teen into a final room. It’s a sitting room, with three sofas and a tv in the middle of the furthest wall. Half of it seems more like a rec-room, with a pool table and some board games piles in the corner.

A pack of playing cards lay abandoned beside the cue, and Aoko feels tempted to pick them up and shuffle them, just because it’s something Kaito had done.

“Oi,” Shinichi says, and kicks the side of the middle sofa. Aoko can’t see over it, but she can see a pair of feet hanging off the edge, both of them tapping at the air to a rhythm that goes unheard. “Did you listen to those interviews?”

There’s a groan, and a hand raises, hand holding a cassette player. Aoko thinks it’s strange at first, that there are cassettes, but then she remembers they’re solving cold cases and that most of them are years old. Then, she takes a step forward and glances at the hand holding the cassette player.

Usually, she doesn’t spend time looking at people’s hands - why would she? - but this hand has a scar over the knuckle of the owners pointer finger, and years of watching card tricks has made her remember that scar with such clarity…

“He’s lying about his alibi, you can hear it.”

It’s his voice.

Aoko steps forward, looks over cushions and looks down at the best friend she hasn’t heard from in months.

“Kaito?”

[Next Chapter]

[nomtheburritos]

Why representation matters

The moment you realise each year has been defined by an otp, their ups and downs and you learned so much from it that it changed your life forever:

2013: S.S Endurance 2014: Ellie & Riley | Korrasami 2015: Pricefield 2016: My own life! 2017: Sanvers

I know these ships are all f/f but believe me, each of these has been the reason I could get further into understanding myself.

Lara Croft has been my fave female character when I was a kid and teen; she was the coolest; a tomboy, an adventurer with plenty of skills, making a name for herself without the need of anyone else tagging along. Her relationship with Sam in the reboot was the reason I started feeling that “shit, all these things I’ve felt before - maybe I’ve been lying to myself all this time…maybe I’m not straight at all…but how do you define not caring about people’s genders and falling for the person and personality instead?”

Ellie Williams was further proof girls could be powerful and meaningful on their own. She survives the apocalypse, is a 14 yo badass and she inspired me to always fight for what I felt was right - my calling in life. Even if it didn’t happen in the end! And her story with Riley brought me joy and tears alike, knowing how much they meant for one another but also, how it never made it a big deal of their sexuality because the feelings and subtle gestures were all making their affection for one another clear from the start. Ellie and Lara were also the reason I became an archer.

Korrasami was going hand-in-hand with me accepting my sexuality. I saw these two badass ladies do all these amazing things and ultimately, even after years of waiting, they could let their life start properly and together. Asami didn’t stop caring about Korra when she was broken and needed healing - she gave her time, patience and when Korra felt better, they could start as if they never separated in the first place. It was so inspiring… I cried for days about the ending. It has changed my life for the better forever. I knew that things could sometimes take time, that not all starts were flawless and full of joy and also, that two women together were a force to be reckoned with.

Pricefield saved my life in a way, giving me a fandom and friends to love deeply…man, I’ll never be able to express how much their story, the depth of it all, means to me. It came to define the best part of my life, which by the way started with me wishing to drop out of Uni and almost ending that way too. Their story, love and determination is what had me pushing. For a while, Life is Strange was the only thing but ultimately, it led me to friends so dear and a relationship with a woman so wonderful I’ll never, ever, know how I came to deserve that. I just know it allowed me to take risks and steps toward my own happiness, ultimately the best months of my life, and my coming out to my parents. This ship was also the reason I seriously pushed myself to draw more and become a better human artist!

And now, Sanvers is happening. Supergirl is creating a healthy, realistic relationship between two adult women and their nearest and dearest. It is giving a valid reflection of how people feel in these situations, both Kara and Alex + Maggie alike and my god, I’ve never recognised myself in any series more than I have in this one. I love it more than I can express and I’m just so happy kids get to grow up knowing the values and love that stand as a base for this show.

I’ll be honest: I know that romance and/or being in a relationship isn’t for everyone. I don’t want this post to be gaycentric or anything. What I mean is; representation in media is so, so important! No matter if it touches upon sexuality, mental issues, gender identities, family problems or introduces a variety of dynamic characters of different skin colour, ethnicity and religion or the lack thereof. It’s important to show that everyone is different, that there isn’t a mold that we all need to fit. So many teens get to grow up finding themselves in popular media more and more often - but it’s still far from perfect. However, we are perfect just as we are and we shouldn’t need to feel pressured to be somebody else just because that’s what the world likes to watch on TV.

Tropes are an issue. Lack of variety in shows is another. Ace/aro characters are barely anywhere to be found and neurodivergent people are made to look like some freaky monsters while in reality being just as awesome, important and caring as the neurotypicals - just needing understanding from people who don’t feel or struggle the way they do!

Representation, guys. It matters. Proper representation saves lifes. It gives people hopes when they can’t make their lives better at the point in time. It helps them understand themselves. It educates people about people if done well!

Fucking sprinkle that stuff everywhere, it doesn’t hurt the media - it makes it popular and loved.

And if you read it all - thank you for taking the time