#i wish it was a pick and choose customization thing but unfortunately human bodies are not like that

[prorevmakeouts]

T gel + DHT blocker looking more tempting by the minute

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE,BLOOD Vol.10 Sakamaki Reiji [Track 3+4]

Original title: 鞭 & お仕置き

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, Blood Vol. 10: Sakamaki Reiji [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Katsuyuki Konishi

Translator’s note: Things are getting a little dangerous for the MC, but once again, this CD feels a lot more tame than the other ones. Reiji is pretty much just ‘threatening’ to punish her for now, but hasn’t done too much to actually harm her. As someone who isn’t into the super extreme stuff, this is definitely a nice change of pace. :p

Track 1+2 ll Track 3+4 ll Track 5+6 ll Track 7+8 ll Track 9+10

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

TRACK 3: WHIP

*Rustle rustle*

“I told you to keep still, did I not? Do you wish to be whipped by me? I will gladly do so if that is your wish.”

*Rustle rustle*

“I happen to have one on hand at the moment. ...Fufu, if you do not wish to be hit by this, you better keep still. Understood?”

You flinch and keep still. 

[00:31] “Hmー At first glance, nothing seems to be off.”

*Rustle rustle*

“There’s nothing left behind on your earlobe...your throat...or your nape. ...Hm? What seems to be the matter? You are quivering? Did you perhaps think I would suck your blood?”

You avert your gaze. 

[01:05] “Please do not underestimate me. Unlike my foolish brothers, I personally would never resort to barbaric practices such as latching on right away. Even when it comes to sucking blood, there are certain rules one must adhere to. Try and think of table manners, for example. You must follow a certain order, starting from the aperitif, then the soup (1). There is simply nothing more wasteful than having a meal without following the proper etiquette. Unfortunately, my siblings do not seem to understand even such a simple thing. I wonder if those imbeciles are simply incapable of understanding why Father has us organize those dinner banquets in the first place? Of course, I am sure that part of him hopes for us brothers to have an enjoyable time together.”

You tilt your head to the side.

[02:06] “After all, human food is not something our bodies originally require. We are still Vampires in the end. Now if you were to ask me why we consume it despite that, I personally think it connects to attaining a deeper understanding of human customs. While you humans are prey in our eyes, we are protecting our own home by taming humans and blending in with them in their world. After all, if we are speaking in terms of overall numbers, we are largely outnumbered by livestock such as yourself in this world.”

[02:52] Although we do have a temporary advantage by installing fear in the hearts of humans, threatening them with the possibility of capture, in the long run, we would most likely face our demise. Because we are the minority, we have no other choice but to use our heads. Well, I’m somewhat worried  you might use this against us, so let me repeat it just in case ーー Killing you is no difficult matter. “

He leans in close.

[03:36] “You value your life, do you not? ...It must not be easy for mortals such as yourself.” 

Your eyes widen in fear.

TRACK 4: PUNISHMENT

“Well then, I’ve loosened the ribbon above your chest. Now, show me the base of your neck. Those who enjoy being in the spotlight will most definitely leave their own mark somewhere. Especially when they choose to remain anonymous...I am sure you understand as well, do you not? Fufu…”

*Rustle rustle*

[00:31] “That being said, it has proven to be quite the challenge to find any marks. There are none on your neck, nor your collarbone. I was convinced I would at least find one or two disgusting marks, however.”

You tell him he is overanalyzing. 

“What did you just say? You mean to imply that I am wrong? Are you trying to mock me, perhaps? I can pick up a strong scent of a non-human being from you. I am investigating to find out where it is coming from.”

You protest.

[01:21] “Haah...This is infuriating. You truly are so very stubborn, failing to listen to what I am trying to say. I feel like it might be best to give you a taste of this whip at least once.”

He reaches for his whip.

“Hmph! Is it not that strange for an owner to punish its dog for misbehaving, is it? I am holding myself back right now. You should remember that very well.”

*Rustle rustle*

[01:59] “Well then, if there are none here...While it is a chore, I suppose I have no other choice but to remove your clothes. Or perhaps, they are on your legs…?”

*Rustle rustle*

“I do not see any marks at first glance.”

You flush bright red.

[02:24] “Why do you seem so flustered? I feel absolutely nothing from looking at your legs. However, just as I predicted...I have found one. Take a look at this mark on your thigh. Just as I thought, a Vampire is behind this. Hah. A modest mark like this one could not possibly be left behind by one of my silly brothers. I wonder which family they belong to…? Oh well.”

*Rustle*

“Either way...I now understand that you are the biggest trap.”

*Rustle rustle*

[03:13] “For starters, I do not like the idea that we are being watched. If this is their territory, then by remaining here, I would simply be dancing to their tune. Let us leave. It might not be easy, but I am sure we should be able to find a way to open the door. Come on, you should make haste too.”

You frown.

[03:38] “Eh? You cannot stand because you have lost the strength in your legs? Good grief...Not only did you let down your guard and let another man have his way with you (2), but you are even attempting to have me dote on you. How impudent. You will be punished once we return to the manor.”

Reiji leans down to pick you up.

“Be prepared, understood?”

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) ぜんざい or’ zenzai’ is a soup made from adzuki or red beans, usually served at the beginning of a meal. However, since this is a traditional Japanese dish, I translated it as just ‘soup’ so it would work for a larger audience. Coincidentally, having soup before the meal is rather common in the West as well.

(2) 抱く or ‘daku’ can mean both ‘to embrace’ or ‘to have sex with’ soーー I’ll leave the personal interpretation up to you guys. :p

[phoenixfell]

Protecting Yourself & Creating a Good Experience

An unfortunate post necessitated by recent events.  The unfortunate truth of reality is that we, as non-psychic human beings, are unable to determine with certainty the motives of other humans around us.  If someone claims to have good intentions but are hurting you, are they simply presenting themselves poorly or are they lying entirely?  This is a question you can never truly answer, but here I will guide you through some ways to protect yourself while being kind to yourself and others.

You may reblog this if you’d like.  

Although this post was created specifically in response to the turmoil in the Avatar: The Last Airbender fandom, it’s not specific to this exact situation and the purpose is not to take a side.  The purpose is to encourage everyone to do their part in ending hateful behavior and crafting a good community.   

Contents:

0.  Don’t send mean asks to people 1.  Install an IP Tracker on your blog. 1.a (How to) Install an IP Blocker on your blog. 2.  Curating your Experience 3.  Making First Contact 4.  Analyzing a Message 5.  Fiction as Fiction VS Fiction as Reality 6.  The Author’s Duty 7.  Echo Chambers & Lateral Thinking 8.  Accepting Differing Opinions 9.  Good Intentions (Pave the Road to Hell) 10.  Being Mean is Fun (so do it in non-harmful ways) 11.  Morality (Personal, Community, and Legal)

0.  Don’t send mean asks to people.

You know, I saw a post some time ago on the internet that basically said:  Why do we see so many posts teaching people how to avoid being raped and virtually nothing telling people not to rape others?  So, as obvious as this may sound, I’m going to give you a gentle reminder to not send mean asks to people.

Perhaps you are angry.  Perhaps something else is bothering you.  Perhaps you honestly feel like you are doing the right thing.  These feelings are entirely valid and I understand.  However, being mean to someone else on the internet is not going to solve anything.  At best, it’s going to get you ignored and at worst, it’s going to actively escalate things.  

If you feel down, depressed, or upset, consider this service:  https://www.crisistextline.org/

US and Canada: text 741741 UK: text 85258 | Ireland: text 50808

It’s a confidential service that will help support you.

On the other hand, if you feel like you genuinely have a bone to pick with someone, take a step back.  Get a cup of coffee, or tea; watch a YouTube video, and later on in this post we’ll discuss cooperative problem solving, the importance of word choice, and how to deescalate a situation.  

1.  Install an IP Tracker on your blog.

This is a very simple and completely legal process.  The easiest way to do so is to sign up for Statcounter.  This is a website for market and visitor analysis, but it does IP tracking for free, which is what we’re looking for.  The site will even guide you through installing it.  However--do not post it into the description.  In my experiences, this does not work.  Instead, click Edit HTML, search for <body>, and paste it directly underneath that.

For this to work most effectively, make sure that you have the Timestamps extension enabled within the inbox in XKit.  If you do not have XKit installed, you can find directions on their Tumblr page, here:  https://new-xkit-extension.tumblr.com/

1.a.  (How to) Install an IP Blocker on your blog.

Although Tumblr claims to give you the ability to IP Block through the inbox by blocking anonymous asks, many people have expressed doubts that it actually works.  Therefore, here’s an explanation showing you how to do it yourself.  There are three steps to this, all taking place in the Edit HTML section we’ve left off in last section.

1.

Directly below where the web analytics code above ends, paste this:

<script type="text/javascript" src="https://l2.io/ip.js?var=userip"></script>

2.

Directly below the previous command, paste this:

<script>

function ipBlock() {        var ip = userip;     //example: "0.0.0.0", "5.5.5.5", "3.3.3.3",     var bannedips=[         "155.555.55.55"     ];     var handleips=bannedips.join("|");     handleips=new RegExp(handleips, "i");            if (ip.search(handleips)!=-1){ 

                window.location.replace("http://www.tumblr.com");        } 

} </script>

You can customize this script in a few ways.  First, bannedips needs to be the ip(s) you wish to block.  You can add more by separating them by commas and enclosing them in quotes, as the example shows.  Secondly, in the window.location.replace line, you can insert any valid address.  Here are some suggestions I give people:

Tumblr homepage.  Basic and effective.

A link to a Google search of something, e.g. How to not send mean asks on the internet

Your own tumblr blog, so they get stuck in a refresh loop

A similarly spelled but nonexistent blog, to give the illusion you deleted/moved 

3.  

Finally, add onload=“ipBlock()” to your body tag:

<body onload = "ipBlock()">

That should be everything to get it working.  If you want to test it, click the link in step two, copy and paste the IP address that is displayed into the bannedips, save, and visit your blog.  If it’s working right, you should get thrown off.   

If you don’t want your IP Block active, just remove step three and return your tag to <body>.  

2.  Curating Your Experience

Although Tumblr itself does not allow the functionality, there are ways to ensure that certain words do not appear on your dashboard.  XKit has a blacklist feature which will hide posts containing certain words.  Also of note is the wildcard feature, which is accessed by adding an asterisk after the word, ex.

nsfw   ->  Only blocks exactly that word and that tag nsfw*  ->  Will block any word or tag containing that phrase

However, I would like to gently notify you that there is significant research that actively avoiding content does more harm than good!  Only you can know what is best for you, but there is a such thing as excessive avoidance.  

3.  Making First Contact

If there’s anything you take from this post, please let it be this one thing:

Always be kind.  At first.  Then tear them a new one if necessary.  

The inevitable happens.  As far as you can tell, you’re minding your own business on your blog.  Your ask box lights up and you perk up, wondering which of your friends is reaching out to you.

Instead, the message is nasty, condemning you for your support of your favorite ship and the theme of your blog.

You’re upset, of course!  And you have every right to be!  You put a lot of time and effort into this blog and your ship, and to have someone so coldly butt in--you can feel the frustration mounting!  Tears are glistening and your body trembles as you type up a strongly worded essay and--

Stop.

It’s okay.

Take a deep breath and step away from your emotions for a minute.  Your emotions are valid-- but so are the sender’s.  

Instead of starting a fight, be kind.  It may hurt.  You may not want to be, but I promise you it’s worth it.  Here’s a template response:

Hi, anon.  I’m really sorry that you feel this way about [thing] and will gladly take it into consideration in the future.  Could you please tell me more about why you dislike [thing]?  If you’d like to take some time to gather your thoughts, I’d be happy to discuss this issue with you.  

Let me confess something.  I don’t suggest this out of pure kindness.  I suggest this because their response will tell you what you need to know.  Remember how the intro talked about how people’s intentions are incredibly hard to figure out?  This is a little trick I like to use to get them to play their cards.  

There are three possible responses:  They respond angrily, they respond kindly and respectfully, or they don’t respond at all.

In the first case, you may get something that resorts to expletives.  They may call you names.  They may tell you to delete your blog or any other amount of nasty things.  It’s very likely that your very attempt at kindness will anger this person!  This is a troll/bully whose sole interest is to get you upset and get themselves attention.  At this point, you can safely delete and ignore the messages without any guilt.  

In the second case, you have a person with a genuine grievance who just happened to address it poorly.  Both of you have a duty to humanity to resolve the problem respectfully and politely.  You’ve avoided escalating the conflict, you may learn something new and you may even make a new friend!

This also applies to reaching out to someone for the first time.  You see someone doing something you don’t like.  Oh, it just makes you blind with rage!

Again.  I’m going to advise you to stop. Take a deep breath.  No one responds well to name-calling and being condemned.  There’s a few techniques you can use (see if you can spot them in the template message):

Listen to their opinions

Actively ask to hear their opinion

Ask for clarification

Validate the way they feel

Avoid casting blame 

(These techniques work a lot in real life, too!)

Again, there are some genuinely scummy people in life!  But, there are many, many more ignorant people.  A gentle pointer goes much further than yelling and screaming.  

4.  Analyzing a Message

We’ve all been there.  We’ve gotten a message and we’ve panicked--do they hate me now?!  Is this a troll message or genuine criticism?!

Again.  Relax.  Push aside your emotions and focus on the logical words as they appear before you.  Ask yourself if you are reading a tone that doesn’t exist.  For example, not everyone puts active thought into choosing between “ok”, “Ok”, “okay”, “Okay”, “ok.” etc.  Sometimes an ok is just that.  An ok.  

Break the message into parts.  Find the logical structures and decipher them piece by piece.  Someone who throws some very hurtful words into a message may indeed have a point, despite coming off as very crude.  Accept that different parts of a message may mean different things.  The world is very complicated and multifaceted.  Try to avoid sticking labels to things.  

5.  Fiction as Fiction VS Fiction as Reality

I’ve seen a lot of arguments floating around recently that seem to think that these two ideas exist in a vacuum.  It’s simply not true.  The ideas are entwined intrinsically--Fiction is both fiction and reality.  Fiction was created to mimic reality yet extend it far beyond what can happen in the confines of reality.  What happens in reality impacts fiction and what happens in fiction impacts reality.  

This is undeniable.  

Both of these ideas exist, and as the author it is your duty to figure out what that means for you.

You cannot hide behind Fiction as Fiction to ignore your responsibilities as an author.

You cannot hide behind Fiction as Reality to promote censorship.  

Both of these ideas are far too simple for the complicated world we live in.  A complicated concept requires complicated solutions.  

Every word you write has an impact on the people that reads it.  This is the very definition of writing.  We use writing as a tool to share emotions.  Extend empathy.  We use writing to make people cry, to make people laugh, to make people angry.  

To deny that this impact exists is to deny what writing is.  

But censorship is not an option.  Censorship prevents these stories from being told, and quite frankly, no one should have the right to decide what story should and shouldn’t be told, regardless of what is in that story.  

What is the solution then?  There is no easy answer. 

6.  The Author’s Duty

When you put words before another human being, it becomes your responsibility as a moral individual to give your best effort into ensuring that those words have a positive impact on the individual.

This doesn’t mean not making them cry.  Or not making them upset.  It means ensuring that the morals you impart on them are sound and logical.  

How one achieves this is up to you.  

In general, tone makes all the difference.  Writing murder in a positive light versus writing murder in a negative light can drastically alter how the audience perceives your scene.  

Empathy, too, can help sway your audience.  If your writing must involve racist police officers stopping a young black man, make sure you delve into how unfair this is, how terrifying it is, how this needs to change.  Do not normalize it.  Do not let it go by without a somber note indicating your awareness of the topic.  

Sometimes, the solution is to simply avoid the issue.  There are certain topics that only some individuals should write about, and that’s just how it is.  This isn’t to say that you can’t write about it, but keep that writing private.  

Most importantly, do your research, and ask for help and keep an open mind.  It’s a grave responsibility and you may not do it right and that’s okay!  Everyone is capable of learning.  Everyone is capable of changing.  

7.  Echo Chambers & Lateral Thinking

An echo chamber is a phenomenon where an individual’s exposure to certain topics becomes self-enforcing because they don’t see, or actively avoid, differing opinions.  

Echo chambers are also exactly what happens when a rift this massive opens in a small community.  

When Orange blocks Green and starts posting about it, all of Orange’s friends decide whether they agree or not.  The overwhelming majority, due to peer pressure, will agree.  Many of them will then block Green and the users directly associated with them.  In retaliation, Green will defend themselves.  Because Orange’s group had already blocked Green, Green’s friends only seen Green’s point of view and will rise in response to the perceived slight.  

What results are two heavily biased groups of users that refuse to communicate with one another and many individuals swept into the mess because they don’t wish to be isolated.   

Even worse, it turns a complicated and multi-faceted issue into a binary issue.  Either you agree with Orange or you agree with Green.  The world is not this simple.  

Instead, I would encourage everyone to practice lateral thinking of their own accord.  I would encourage you to make your own decisions, rather than blindly supporting or condemning the people around you.  Everyone has their own opinions about what is or isn’t okay, and that’s perfectly fine.  Even your closest friends will have different opinions than you.  

8.  Accepting Differing Opinions 

Once you’ve accepted these different opinions (good on you!) what do you do now?  Simply put, the choice is on you!  There’s a few options:

Quietly accept it

Respectfully debate it

Avoid it

Escalate it

The first two are pretty obvious, and the third one is where blocking people and the blacklist comes in.

The fourth one is extreme and only recommended for activities causing active, known, measurable harm to other people.  

This involves actively seeking a legal entity to handle the issue.

Being mean to people on Tumblr is not a solution.  Tumblr is not a place to pursue a justice agenda.  There are bigger issues in the world, and I encourage you to find ways to make a difference that will actually be fruitful.  Donate to charities.  Extend yourself as support to victims.  Contribute to research.  

Changing the mind of strangers on the internet is not a good use of your time.  

9.  Good Intentions (Pave the Road To Hell)

This has been a phrase for a very long time.  

What does it mean?

Well, I’ll offer my own interpretation.  

It means that people often become absorbed with the idea that they are doing the right thing and forget to be mindful of the true consequences of their actions.  

It doesn’t mean to not do good things.  It means that good is relative and not everyone will find your actions good.  It’s important to keep an open mind and realize that just because you think something is good, doesn’t mean everyone agrees.  

10.  Being Mean is Fun (so do it in non-harmful ways)

Yeah.  

It’s okay.  You can admit it.

Being mean is fun!

If it wasn’t fun, people wouldn’t do it!  In fact, this very blog was created because I found that writing the character being mean was very enjoyable and cathartic!  

So, if you find yourself tempted to be mean to people in your life, maybe find another way to get those emotions out.  Hell, people on tumblr just might appreciate you taking up a nasty, villainous character that’ll tear their character up...

People love angst.  You can take this bad thing and twist it into something good.  

11.  Morality (Personal, Community, and Legal)

Bringing this long post to a close, I would like you all to end by thinking about what morality really is.  In particular, I’d like you to think about morality on three different scales:  Your personal morality, the morality of the community you’re in, and morals as described by laws.

You’ll find that these morals don’t overlap.  

Or, at least they shouldn’t. Please revisit section 7.  

Being aware of morality in these three ways may help you determine how to proceed when going forward.

Do I personally agree with this? Does the community I’m in agree with this? Do the laws have anything to say about this? 

None of these are right.  Everything has different morals, and it’s up to you to find the exact opinions that fit you.  

Don’t let people blindly tell you how you should and shouldn’t feel about a topic, and don’t let people bully you into changing your morals to fit into their perceived moral high ground.  

But at the same time, be open.  Extend yourself to new ideas.  If enough people tell you that something is wrong, it just may be time to listen.

Be you.

Be unique.

Be safe.

And above all, be kind.  

Have a nice night, everyone.  I hope we can all work to a brighter future.  

[cursedserpenthq]

(summer bishil, 33, woman, merperson) Blimey! Is that (BRIAR BRANDO)? (SHE) is the (CARPENTER) on the Cursed Serpent and has been onboard the ship for (TWO YEARS). Legend has it they are (QUICK-WITTED & PROVOCATIVE), but don’t get on their bad side, because I hear they’re (INFLAMMATORY & HEDONISTIC). Aye! Stop staring! (BRIAR) has their (FLINTLOCK BELT PISTOLS) out! (ooc: dea, pst, 24, she/her, rape/sexual assault)

THE CURSED SERPENT

After devoting several decades to living amongst her merfolk colony, conflicts of interest led to her choosing a more landbound existence. She found it easy to blend in with the lively energy Westburgh, having observed and the behaviours and dynamics of humans as well as the amount of traffic which crosses through the city. However, eventually, she found herself getting restless and in desire of a profession which would sufficiently satisfy her mind and body. She developed a fascination for metalsmithing and carpentry, shadowing masters of each field in exchange for fetching them supplies. Her good looks allowed her to barter fares for goods to a significantly lower amount, which paid off the space she took up. Otherwise, she kept a low profile and wore deliberately unflattering clothes, keeping her hair tied back and her words few; altogether generating an attitude aligned with a masculine demeanour that blended in better.

Time passed and eventually she grew restless in her apprentice positions, having understood what needed to be done multiple times over. Unfortunately, when Briar’s impatience flared an unfortunate event was soon to follow. Since her departure from the sea, she was careful to neglect using her sonic abilities — it was merely coincidence that the local lead carpenter happened to one night wander past the city limits and slip into a watery grave. With an open position, Briar seamlessly filled it and kept customers pleased and impressed with the speed and precision at which she worked.

Briar heard rumours of the Cursed Serpent throughout her years in Westburgh. Their reputation and the obstacles they’d surmounted preceded them — each one singing louder to Briar’s disobedient scallywag heart. To be a part of such a group always sounded enticing, although she was less interested in the prospect of being at the sea’s mercy for a prolonged period of time. Since leaving her colony, she harbours a hatred for the sea. The idea of swimming or being underwater to hear the voices of her kind leaves a sour taste in her mouth and a white hot anger under her skin. But, once again, she began to grow restless in her city-bound existence that followed the same rhythm everyday.

Considering life aboard a ship meant commanding the waves rather than falling beneath them, she reasoned with herself that it seemed a safe enough distance to submit to her heart’s longing for piracy. Soon, the siren call of adventure, prosperity, and infamy beckoned her over the edge. After following the trails of gossip, Briar found the Cursed Serpent and boldly pledged herself as the carpenter they needed to truly succeed in the rough times ahead. It remains her highest goal to maintain truth in the statement.

Briar enjoys being of aid and service to whatever the ship demands. She has a hungry work ethic and ability to juggle projects, likely to fly under the radar for stints at a time as she works in her preferred space — below deck. In the aftermath of storms she has remained acutely aware of any issues on board, and tends to stay an active member on deck taking initiative on repairs or reinforcements when others venture to shore, restock at ports, or find a rare moment of sleep. Briar mostly likes doing her own thing, but will readily take on tasks when asked. She works at an incredibly rapid pace without sacrificing perfectionism.

Briar fits right in with the lifestyle of a pirate with her rowdy attitude and hedonistic desires, likely to stir the pot whether she intended to or not. She finds it keeps things dynamic, and enjoys witnessing others as work almost as much as she likes bothering them. Although she likes the crew for their attachment to the Cursed Serpent, she has remained emotionally distanced and wary of everyone. Only shallow bonds have been formed with fellow members, in her reluctance to divulge much about herself nor interest in being close friends with anyone. At the end of the day, she wishes to find the Jewels more than anything else. Lives lost or injured along the way is inevitable collateral damage, hence her disinterest in growing too fond of anyone lest they be lost to the larger goal. Accordingly, in the face of any tragedy, she does not dwell in gloom or disappointment. Three modes govern Briar, at any given moment — rage, sardonic humour, and impulsivity.

The Captain’s death unnerved her, making the mistake of deeming him better than other humans for the kind of ship he ran and the notoriety he was responsible for. Briar deeply respected his leadership and intelligence, never in disagreement with the calls he made. His death had Briar, for the first time, considering him weak and tactless for not avoiding the final hit that killed him. It made her feel bitter. Human mortality was a heavy burden to live with and, with more dangerous waters likely ahead, above all else it frustrated her to think the Jewels may be harder to access without his level-headed order and discretion as the crew’s compass.

SECRET

In her spare time, on the down low, Briar likes to work on developing unique weapons. With a specific interest in fire and ignition; grenades, hand cannons, and other explosive projectile matter are her predominant under-development works. Most prototypes are too dangerous and volatile to work on in an enclosed space whilst active, and although it sacrifices swift progress, she ensures her materials are kept dampened until satisfied with her design. She remains confident that her awareness of the elements on board could curve any potential malfunction issues, but also knows better than to waste materials. In the meantime, she stocks up on ideas and their necessary frameworks as she awaits the day she can assemble something and put it to real use.

Briar was exiled from her merfolk colony for repeatedly breaking the law, branded for repeated fraternisation with a sorcerer that supposedly put her colony in jeopardy. Even though she claimed she was careful, travelling a great distance each visit, the relationship was deemed reckless for both the act itself and the (literal) dangerous waters she tread in the process. As a result of the mark bestowed upon her, Briar exclusively wears long sleeved shirts —  high collared or tightly laced at all times, at the bear minimum. Even on sweltering days. She would say it’s for protection from any shrapnel or splintering that she may encounter during her work. Due to the painful treatment her colony put her through despite her efforts to explain herself, she is very wary of other merpeople until she learns where their allegiance lies. Merfolk wandering in disguise amongst humans make her paranoid that her cover of normalcy may be blown. She is only sympathetic for outsiders, whether by force or choice —  she wouldn’t hesitate to help another in true and dire need, as it’s what she would have wished happened to her in her initial castaway phase.

KEY RELATIONSHIPS

ALLUDED APPRENTICE: Someone that wishes to learn more about carpentry. Briar didn’t like the idea of company at first, and was by no means interested nor in possession of the patience required to be a teacher. Initially it was purely through absorbing continuous examples of her at work from a distance that they were able to pick up a few things. Only when it became obvious how observant they were did Briar willingly begin to divulge a few techniques or skills that would enable better execution. Occasionally, she’ll make a game out of it and challenge them to making something in a limited amount of time. She’s far more critical than likely to praise anything they come up with, but she’s grown to appreciate having someone to share with and bond over her enjoyment of crafting.

CHARRED CAMARADERIE: Briar’s abrasive manner sometimes gets the better of her for its lack of discrimination. Anyone in her line of sight is fair game to rub the wrong way, even if that entails disrespecting someone ranked above her or twice her size. She doesn’t care much for rules and order, at the end of the day far more willing to be selfish if it means survival. It’s her unyielding audacity that this person can’t help but somewhat respect, yet they don’t want her to give her the wrong idea that she has any power in her beliefs. For the sake of order, no matter the weight of their personal opinion, they always make sure to shut down any instigative remarks she makes. Inwardly, she finds it both challenging and commendable that someone dares to keep her accountable and under some measure of control. At the heart of this dynamic, there is deep respect that goes both ways. However, on the surface, one wouldn’t be able to tell. It’s a lot of bickering and empty threats — a game of baiting and entrapping until one side concedes… until next time.

ALL THE FIXINGS: chock it up to plain clumsiness or one too many drunken stupors, this person is always causing bumps, scrapes, and breaks upon the ship’s materials as well as their own possessions. Briar fixes the result following each incident, no questions asked. It’s an explicitly need-to-know basis. The only thing she asks for her services is for there to be an exchange of some sort, which varies on her mood. Sometimes payment is as simple as a coin, other times a bottle of booze, or — for an undisclosed yet ongoing project — some pilfered gunpowder. The “don’t ask, don’t tell” rule goes both ways.

ANYTHING ELSE

Intended to play the assisting role in Lachlan Rhodes’ Guardian Angel WC.

[malachi-walker]

Rhythm & Blues Worldbuilding: Magicats

Since I finally got the rock star au up here and I'm working on the next chapter, I thought I'd share some of the worldbuilding ideas I've incorporated or plan to incorporate regarding how a world shaped by hybrids in addition to plain old humans would differ from our own. And since Catra of course is the protagonist along with Adora, it'd behoove me not to start off with the Magicats. ;) Though I do plan on making a post later covering the other kinds of hybrids as well (also for the love of God, crew-ra, please give me names for their individual races so I don't have to come up with shit like "lizard-kin". I'm begging you.)

World building goodness under the cut.

Quick note: although I do draw some indirect inspiration from real world cultures (specifically the clusterfuck that was colonial condescension to anyone who wasn't them) I do deliberately try to avoid taking customs from any real world culture. Because that has... Unfortunate implications. So most of what I discuss here is stuff I came up with on my own, but if something does match up with the real world it is unintentional on my part and feel free to let me know.

Standing with the other races

Out of all the hybrids the Magicats tend to be the most isolationist and closed off to outsiders, partly because they have a very small population size to begin with and partly because they along with the lizard-kin got hit hardest with the animal/predator comparisons. Although the current world has mostly gotten over that bullshit apart from some racists (note: I specifically use the term racist instead of speciest because writing speciest makes my memories of my editing teachers screech in the back of my head, but also because a running theme in the rock star au is that hybrids are still PEOPLE and should be treated as such, and drawing attention to it with words like "species" kinda defeats that purpose.) the average person on the street still doesn't know a whole lot about Magicat culture, and most of what they do know likely comes from old stereotypes or really suspect sources rather than actual Magicats. This is improving as more Magicats make their way into the public sphere and the internet has opened up new pathways for their voices to be heard, but it is still a work in progress.

Biology

General rule of thumb for Magicats for me is finding good middle ground between cat characteristics and people characteristics. Good example is that unlike cats, Magicats can eat chocolate, but too much of it in a short amount of time can build up to toxic levels. There are apps available that let them keep track of how often they can indulge. Same thing with alcohol; alcohol and Magicats is similar to a person with a very mild, non-lifethreatening allergy, i.e. they can get shitfaced very quickly on a comparitively low amount and it takes a bit longer for their body to metabolize out of their system. This is actually based on personal experience with my dad, who only drinks once in a blue moon and is thankfully a very mellow/happy drinker, so watching him get sauced on one-and-a-half rum and cokes is a pretty fun time. XD

Other dietary considerations: they're not complete carnivores, but they do have a greater meat to other food groups proportion than humans. Like sixty-forty percent, and heavy carbs and starches make up the smallest percentage of their diet because it's harder for their digestive system to process. Their front two molars are pointed like a predator's but their back molars are flat like humans'.

Like Catra has demonstrated in show, they possess phenomenal reflexes and agility, as well as heightened senses of smell and hearing--the hearing in particular is their primary dominant sense alongside vision. Speaking of vision, like cats they are red colorblind and shades of yellow are washed out compared to what we would see, but they see the rest of the color spectrum just fine. But like humans, they have a sharper clarity of vision than a cat would and aren't nearsighted.

Oh, and while it probably won't come up in the series itself, they do experience a heat cycle about once per year, but unlike in most fanfics they are still fully in control of their faculties and decision making capabilities. A Magicat in heat is no more likely to be sexually attracted to someone than they would be outside of heat, and it really pisses them off when people imply otherwise. It's kind of like when a human woman has her period but also feels horny. So if they don't want to get with a partner they should be left alone or treated like any loved one dealing with a rough period: patience and warm blankets.

Cultural Stuff

We're getting into the fun stuff now, though some of it will be saved for a future fic where Catra takes the time to learn about her own culture during her three years of homelessness. (Also please note that a lot of these are just general touchstones and actual viewpoints may differ from Magicat to Magicat.)

1. Magicat culture is an interesting mix between interconnectedness and individuality

And by that I mean that as a culture, Magicats do consider themselves to be an interconnected unit and to have a responsibility towards one another to assist as needed. However, they also have an emphasis on the individual as a complete being in and of themselves. This shows up most prominently in interpersonal relationships: unlike humans, who place a great emphasis on things like monogamy and marriage and the solidity of family units, it's not uncommon to see Magicats who are single parents of any gender, or never have kids, or maybe have a lifelong partner but never get formally married. That's because their culture makes it clear that one person is already whole on their own, and while having a partner or family is always nice it's not a requirement. It's up to each individual Magicat to decide what they want out of their lives, and there's usually no judgment whether they decide to get married and have kids or just stay single for their entire lives.

With that said, if a Magicat decides to get formally married (as in making an actual declaration of "this is the person for me") it is a BIG DEAL. Because again, culturally speaking it isn't a requirement, so making that commitment is a huge deal for them, and they often make that permanent. So if a Magicat decides to settle down completely with a partner, they use freeze branding to permanently turn a section of their fur white in a way that look similar to a quarter sleeve tattoo in a very distinct geometric pattern*. That basically tells every other Magicat on sight that this person is wholly dedicated to their chosen beloved. Younger Magicats will also use cold branding to replicate tattoos like other races, but the marriage brand is always distinct, both due to the particular geometric design work and because it is always on their dominant arm, to signify that they are offering their strength to their beloved for the rest of their lives. If their partner is another Magicat they will also get a matching brand, otherwise it depends on the particular race (humans typically get tattoos.)

*My personal mental image of what this resembles is similar to Maori or Pacific Islander forearm tattoos, but not a 100% match because 1) cultural appropriation is gross and 2) the logistical practicalities of doing that via freeze branding would be insane. So that general vibe but simplified. Feel free to flex those imagination muscles.

And before anyone asks... This may or may not come up later in the au. ;) ;) ;)

2. They have certain social rules dealing with other Magicats.

These will be explored in greater depth during the fic, but basically a lot of Magicat etiquette centers around who the other Magicat is to you and stuff like location. For example, they'll typically use honorifics to refer to Magicats who have been teachers to them or assisted them in some way as a show of respect.

The most obvious rule of etiquette to outside observers is that whenever two Magicats meet for the first time and wish to demonstrate respect for each other, the one who approaches the other will come forward slowly until they are just a bit beyond arm's reach. They will then take a half step forward with the leg that corresponds to their dominant hand and then offer that arm to the other. This is the cue for the Magicat being approached to mirror the pose regardless of what their dominant hand is (up until then they will remain in a straight and relaxed position and wait for the signal.) Once this is done, the two will clasp forearms and briefly dip their heads forward into the other's space for a single shared breath before breaking apart. This is a sign that they are now free to move closer to one another and can now interact in a way that is indistinguishable from what outsiders would consider normal conversation between new acquaintances. The purpose of the greeting is for the one approaching to demonstrate their respect for the other and ask to be let into their space; telegraphing which arm they favor symbolizes showing someone a strength of yours and is a sign of trust.

Again, this doesn't apply to all Magicats and the younger generation in particular tends to eschew or pick and choose what etiquette they follow, but in general they do like it when the old traditions are observed, especially by younglings. They don't use this system of etiquette with other races and usually instead adapt their behavior to the person they're interacting with.

Other Misc. Details

I was originally going to have Catra be a motorcycle lesbian because duh, but while doing my due diligence in researching motorcyle safety I ran into a few reasons why that isn't a good idea.

The first is that part of the reason why motorcyle helmets work in the first place is because the evenly curved surface provides an equal distibution of force when striking something. This is why novelty helmets like ones with cat ears or stuff of that type are considered dangerous; they break up that curved surface and thus can't redistribute that force as evenly. So not only would a motorcycle helmet like ours be uncomfortable for a Magicat and disabling to one of their primary senses, trying to design one to accommodate their ears would increase the danger to them in case of an accident.

The second is that I've already established in the au that overheating is a constant concern for Magicats, and proper protective clothing for human motorcyclists already carries a huge risk of overheating us without the added consideration of having fur. So it would be a trade off between solid protection at heavy risk of personal discomfort and overheating or eschewing that protection and increasing the chance of serious injuries. And yeah, Magicats have good enough senses that they could probably backflip or throw themselves clear if they're about to crash, but just getting off the bike isn't gonna do much if you then smack into another vehicle at 60 mph.

And that's kind of a shame, because otherwise Magicats would be ideal safe motorcyclists. Their spacial awareness and sense of balance is phenomenal, and they'd be great at anticipating and reacting the movements of other drivers. I just couldn't make it work with rock star!Catra because she's a lot less reckless. Canon!Catra I could see taking the risk. Don't get me wrong: if you wanna make Catra a sexy, motorcyle riding catgirl you have my full support. I just couldn't justify it in this au.

Honestly, there'll probably be more later, but I'm tapped for now. Would love to hear what if any of you have any thoughts. And of course, if you like what you've read and haven't already, check out my rock star au under the Rhythm & Blues tag or the masterpost list. ;)

[theincompetentgenius]

Hiya ★

Can I get matchups for A3 and ikevamp ? ( And maybe ikerev ? Hehe~)

I’m an only child who’s a virgo and INTP-T who like to draw traditionally (but only with pencil & pen tho) and loves basically all kinds of music. I like seeing people playing games, and I play some games a bit myself too. I draw and read novels/story books / comics in my free time ♥ ( I’m not into Harry Potter but apparently I’m a Slytherin according to a test I take ).

I have many kind people surrounding me, but I have a hard time expressing what I want or what’s on my mind, so I kinda keep to myself from other people, except a few people that are very close to me, and I also keep a distance between myself and new people, thinking that all the people that I know now are enough. This also makes it easy for me to be treated badly ( thank God I only have good people around me ), but don’t worry, I know my limits and I will fight back to those who mistreated me if I’m super pissed. HARD.

Although I’m like that, I’m always open to people who just want somebody to lend an ear to their problem. I’m probably the mom friend because of that. Though I don’t always properly “listen” to their rants, as sometimes they go into one ear and go immediately out the other ^^

I treasure people who are close to me, so once you get to know me, and if you’re a decent person, I’ll stay loyal to you. And maybe because of my nature in the paragraph before, I may not show it if I love/care for you even tho deep down I really feel that way, but I will express it in any way I can ( though I can be shy doing so sometimes >//////

With friends, that’s my age or close to my age, I’m VERY wild around them 😅. I talk endlessly, I joke around, I get mischievous and play pranks with or towards them. Because I can adapt to other people’s personalities ( except the ones that are being mean for no reason ), I have many types of friends, from the nerds to the bad kids and popular ones, and that means my personality being influenced by all of them.

I don’t know if it’s a good or a bad thing, but I kinda regret it a lil bit from being influenced by the bad kids, since I curse a lot and getting into fights as a grade-schooler. But aside from that, I don’t really have regrets, since I think a lot about my life but I don’t let it sink an impression on me, so I can easily move on from a bad experience and treasure the good ones.

I act pretty much the same around other people, but how I act still depends on which friend group is I hanging with, since my mom is outgoing, and therefore I have many friends/connections/acquaintances through her. It makes it easier to get what I want because of her ( but I’ve been less spoiled than how I was before, tho )

I don’t really do any kind of physical activity, whether it’s martial arts or just plain sports. The only thing I enjoy is dancing, swimming, and badminton, as I’m pretty good at the latter ( though I rarely swim and been playing less badminton since I came to america). I don’t have good stamina, and just by walking pretty far, or by plain running got me feeling like I’m on the verge of dying TT.

I’m quite open to experiencing new stuff, and I’ll be able to adapt to the new environments pretty easily ( at least that’s what I think judging by how I’m doing in America for four months since I went away for school ).

I’m more of a “behind the scenes” person rather than the one who’s in the spotlight, just because I don’t like all the troubles that go with being the center of attention. So when there are a group project and all that kind of stuff, I’ll be the one who tells everyone what to do (but not the leader), and people sometimes rely on me if there no one else available. Even though I’m heavily involved in things, if something goes wrong, I’ll never take the blame first and try to blame it on something else lol, even if all fingers point to me. ( I’ll try to make excuses for myself )

I have a straight, shoulder-length black hair with dark brown eyes, and I’m pretty annoyed that I’m around 5'0 ( I wish I can get taller ). You can say that I’m chubby, with a few acne here and there decorating my face, and when I’m hot, my whole body turns red ( my friends even joke about it saying my skin is like tomato or boiled crab every summer ). Because of this, I don’t like extreme temperatures, whether it’s very hot or very cold.

I’m bilingual, and also know a bit of vocabulary in some other languages. I know quite some stuff, anything from what we learn in school, to useless fun facts, and it’s because I like to learn about new stuff ( not studying, they’re two completely different things ). I’m not big on practicing the knowledge that I have thought, I’m only big in the theory department.

So, I think that’s all for the description of myself. I’m sorry if it’s too long or too short, as this is my first time requesting longer matchups ^^ thank you again in advance ★

Thanks for the request and I hope you enjoy the matchup! Also, the length is totally fine because the more info, the more I get to use for your matchup. (I just cut the post at the very beginning because it would be a long scroll for everyone else lol).

A3!

I’d pair you with…………………… Citron!

Now matchups for A3! can be difficult because I have 20 different options, so there are way too many possibilities in my head. There were a few contenders for this one, but I ended up choosing Kazunari as your runner-up. Kazunari is an energetic fireball, so the two of you would have so much fun together! He loves your mischevious side and appreciates how much you contribute to the company with your “mom friend” attitude. He can’t help but shower you with affection. 

However, I ended up choosing Citron as your match! He’d really appreciate the fact that you’re one of the few people who don’t roll your eyes or ignore him when he makes mistakes while speaking.  In fact, the two of you would spend time together to improve his English. You’d make some fun games to help him to understand the right words with the right definitions. He does fairly well at first, but he seems to forget all of it after a day or two.

In return, Citron helps you with your mischevious shenanigans. He usually distracts the victim with his bright smile or confusing words, giving you more than enough time to lay your traps before the victim can notice. The only issue is that Citron gets very close to blowing your cover, but he manages to compensate for it in other ways.

Citron loves that you’re open-minded. With that mentality, he can show you all his favorite foods, clothes, and customs from his culture. The two of you have a great time as you’re introduced to new flavors, try on beautiful cultural clothing, and experience a different way of life. Every time he shows you something about his culture, it makes him feel closer to home.

As for your listening habits, Citron doesn’t really mind! Although he has a lot to say, he understands that it’s very easy to get lost with his vocabulary. Every time you find yourself zoning out, he assumes you got confused by his wording and simply moves on. There’s no arguments or squabbles here.

Citron is also amazed that you’re really good at leading despite being a behind-the-scenes person. Since the director is always busy, he often comes to you to see if there’s anything he can do to help improve the quality of the plays or improve his acting. After having a one-on-one session with you, he always walks out feeling like a new and improved man.

Another Possibility: Kazunari Miyoshi

Ikemen Vampire

I’d pair you with………………… Napoleon Bonaparte!

I was really getting Napoleon vibes from your description, but I also thought about Comte! He’d love how you care for everyone in the mansion, especially since he has worked quite a bit to keep them all together. Also, you’d be the mom friend while he’d be the dad friend, so that’s automatically an amazing ship. However, I ended up going with Napolean instead.

Now Napoleon is the easiest to trust (besides Comte) because he’s more human than anyone else in the mansion (so he’s not out to suck all the blood out of your body). He constantly keeps an eye on you, making sure that none of the other vampires harm you. It’s really hard to keep you from harm, however, since you easily make friends with almost all the residents. Luckily, he’s caught Arthot creeping almost three times now.

Napoleon is the perfect muse for your art! You have him sit down in various poses so you can draw the perfect portrait. Although the French leader doesn’t understand why you chose him out of everyone in the mansion. Every time he asks, you look up from your painting board and ask, “Would you like me to paint a nude Arthur instead?” Napolean laughs and doesn’t ask any more questions during the rest of your painting.

Napoleon is the first person to tease you about your red skin during extreme climates. Whenever it’s freezing outside, he’ll look to you with a hearty laugh and ask whether his presence is causing your entire body to blush. All you can do is glare at him because your teeth are too busy chattering against each other to form a response. So Napoleon takes off his jacket and slides it onto your shoulder.

He’s also amazed that you don’t have any major regrets in your life, so Napoleon always encourages you to live your best life. Even if he doesn’t see the point of some of the things you do, Napoleon is always by your side. He’s always willing to participate in your shenanigans for that reason, no matter how crazy they might be. 

You also introduce Napoleon to some of your favorite novels and comic collection. As he picks up a book, you begin to explain the synopsis of the story. After flipping through a few pages, he decides that he’ll take a look into it. A few days later, he’s read the entire novel and unfortunately ships your least favorite pairing. The two of you squabble over it all the time. 

Another Possibility:  Comte de Saint-Germain

Dangerous Fellows

I’d pair you with……………….. Eugene!

Originally, I was going to go with Harry. Similar to what would have gone down with Comte, the two of you would be in charge of keeping the morale high within the group. Also, Harry is drawn to the fact that you’re willing to listen to his problems, especially when he needs a shoulder to cry on. However, I ended up going with Eugene.

Now Eugene is quite some trouble because of his less-than-friendly attitude. However, your friendly nature would slowly bring him closer to you. Although he tries to hide it, it’s very clear the Eugene likes your motherly attitude towards him. No one else gives him that much attention or affection (besides Harry).

Also, Eugene’s personality blends perfectly with your’s. He’d a loud child who needs lots of attention without a sense of direction, while you prefer to stay on the sidelines while assigning roles to others. You give him purpose and love, which allows him to let his guard down around you.

The two of you bond because of your shared interest in music. While Eugene was more involved in music than you were, he’s glad that there’s someone else who understands his passion for the subject. Sometimes, the two of you sneak away to hear Eugene play the piano in the music room. When he does, you close your eyes and forget about all the bloodshed around you. When he’s finished, you quietly applaud him and praise his skills. It reminds him of how much he used to love this feeling.

He declares his love for you by giving you a bag of his favorite chips. It’s not a lot, but he really likes his chips. The fact that he gave you his chips means that he likes you more than his chips, which means he likes you a lot.

Additionally, both of you try to flake out from missions as much as possible. Neither one of you are great at running or other physical activity, so you guys try to convince Lawrence not to let you guys out. Unfortunately, everyone has to do their part and the two of you are shipped out together (Lawrence was trying to kill two bird with one stone), but y’all managed to come back without too much damage.

Another Possibility: Harry

[watchtheblog]

invidious consumption

i was crippled with anxiety in the weeks leading up to my 21st birthday (just last year! wow, time sure does fly!) terrified that one of my earnest girlfriends, in an innocent but spectacularly misguided attempt to celebrate me, would surprise me by hiring a limo** - with a sunroof that i would be expected to stick my upper body out of - to drive us around times square because she had misinterpreted my denouncement of a limo full of rabble (one of whom - having witnessed my disdainful facial expression - had rolled down her window to look at me pityingly and emit with no irony the query, “jealous?”) as repressed curiosity… when in actuality it had been a manifestation of my vehement distaste for unfettered, garish exhibitions of joy.

(limo sidebar: my alter ego, reina, is *obsessed* with limos:

you can see more of her work here. HIRE ME TO RUN YOUR DATING APP ACCOUNT THAT YOU USE TO AMUSE YOURSELF AT THE EXPENSE OF DESPERATE MIDDLE AGED MEN IN YOUR AREA!)

while the last time i was flailing my body through a limo’s sunroof was never, i can say with the utmost confidence, i could go to my grave never having had 50-100% of my body in a limo and my life will have been full.

ditto drunkenly slurring “genie in a bottle” in a neon lighted basement in chinatown with strangers who smell like a chain hibachi restaurant. (i’m describing a karaoke bar. did it work?)

double ditto having a man in a thong swathe me in a sash and other bridal accoutrements and proceed to rub his muscles on me in the name of tradition at a bachelorette party (which is why i don’t allow anyone near me who owns a michael kors purse, whose favorite movie stars reese witherspoon, anyone who has seen magic mike in a theatre, or anyone who thinks instagramming a glass of wine with a caption about “relaxing” is an appropriate thing to instagram… also anyone who has ever posted a collage or that “year in review” on instagram. also anyone who wishes family members who don’t have instagram a happy birthday/father’s day/mother’s day etc. on instagram. #instagram #spon)

fear of having to refuse to partake in the activities someone has planned for me because they assault my sensibilities - and therefore having no celebration at all - has not stopped me from expecting to be surprised in some way on my birthday (september 26th. that is my birthday) every year since i turned 14 my first year at boarding school.

my parents are not “fun” people. they don’t “do” surprises. my mom is not “warm” and my dad is not “sneaky”.

despite this, i was absolutely convinced that my parents - who lived in new york and had acrimoniously divorced the summer before - would surprise me for my birthday and, i don’t know… take me to dinner and look at me, my mother contemplating why she’d crossed the atlantic ocean to do this when she could have just not and instead she could be in new york at like, the chobani store (this is a private joke for myself about my mom and her v specific, repellent personality). but no, instead, she’s in london with her ex husband… watching their daughter eat her weight in prosciutto and not even have the decency to have adopted a british accent yet.

honestly, the best possible outcome was no less grim than this… and yet!

when i woke up, assuming they’d taken a red eye, i calculated time for collecting their bags, getting lost and added two hours in case my recalcitrant mother had gotten detained for saying “bomb” on an airplane in a post 9/11 world - something she has literally done for sport; i have borne witness to it.

so, at lunch until the end of the school day, i stared out the window, waiting for them to arrive. when school ended and they hadn’t arrived, i expected them to surprise me in the dining hall at dinner. they didn’t. when my dad called me after study hall to wish me a happy birthday i thought, “oh maybe just my mom is coming…”

neither of them showed… nor did they the next three birthdays i had there, even though every year i woke up with the same eagerness of anticipation.

(that christmas, aged 14, i learned there was no santa.)

the perpetuation of this surprise fantasy allows me to excitedly anticipate a thoughtfully placid fete… and then inevitably gently fails to come to fruition, effectively allowing me to enjoy a day pleasantly marked by sangfroid, as i consider the calamity that “could have been” while at a dinner i have guilted one to three of my five friends into attending at the last minute!

and THAT is the cycle of my birthday and the 364 leading up to my birthday. (my birthday is a lifestyle, just like drake said.)

(an alternative explanation is that i continue to delude myself into thinking someone will plan a surprise party for me *in order* to be disappointed so that i may blame any potential melancholy on someone (everyone!) else instead of my hatin ass for being a human being who is impossible to please and whose inability to literally be “fun loving” and embrace gauche celebratory activities has barred her from ever experiencing the type of youthful excitement katy perry songs are about. this is a shitty but also v honest assessment. thank you for reading.)

ALL THAT BEING SAID … if you’ve been here before, you know my hatred of vulgar displays of birth nostalgia does not prevent me from loving being celebrated privately and has never stopped me from treating my birthday like it’s a wedding and creating a tacky but v self aware registry for the occasion.

so without further ado …

my birthday list! (which - because i refuse to leave my home unless it's to go to a lawyer's office to sign a contract and pick up a check for a series order for my pilot - is the only acceptable way in which you may celebrate me privately. so if you choose not to celebrate me financially, please consider yourself removed from the following list.)

thanks!

(if for some perverse reason you’d like to see my prior innocent but spectacularly misguided registries, please go here. it’s a doozy! however, please note i will only be accepting gifts from this year’s registry. so stay current!)

also, i’m not going to say whether or not anyone has ever purchased something for me off one of my lists, but i will quote william blake “If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise” as opposed to albert einstein and you may draw your own conclusions.

the list.

givenchy pandora purse

here are 1, 2, 3, 4 options

a casual throw for my bed

i just love something easy you know? i beg you to click that link and know that the description includes this: “perfect for cuddling in the cold”. literally lmao. correct. and unfortunately there’s zero other way for me to cuddle in the cold.

seriously though a casual throw

this one is on sale in the white, which is the only color i allow on my bed. isn’t that nice!

ditto this one

here’s one that isn’t

a pillow

i need a firm pillow. i didn’t know that. i thought i liked soft. but then i realized i like firm and my pillows are soft. you can see my dilemma. here or here or here

this bathrobe

it’s a bathrobe. you know how they go.

a juicero

i don’t know how many times i have to ask. i’m not even putting a link because i’m so furious. ditto: a range rover. smh. 

a personalized clutch

do what you will. small or big

a vacation

you know... so i can chill from all the stress of waking up and realizing i have to figure out how to spend the next 10 hours… every. single. mother. fucking. day. here are some places i’d like to go. you’re more than welcome to book a trip for yourself, but i will not engage with you in any way. (i kept it domestic…ish to be polite)

arizona

this is a whole spa thing…

tulum

utah. also utah

montana

this is an all inclusive ranch experience… can you imagine the discreet fun i would have! and the joy you would get from witnessing that, second hand.

wyoming

erewhon gift card

somewhere in the range of $1000-5000 should take care of me for the fall. if you need to understand why, please read this

macarons

not shitty ones. please use bottega louie as a standard but you can find better i’m sure. go to france! i want like 45 of them. pistachio is my favorite; i also like rose, salted caramel, strawberry.

i want to go to a lakers game, but i must be courtside.

no link.

sunglasses chain thing

i am v embarrassed to put this here because i was directed to it from some bop’s instagram i never should have been on… but we all make mistakes and now you can literally pay for mine. (when i typed “sunglass chain”, it autocorrected sunglass to dumbass.) feel free to have a regular glasses chain custom made if you’d rather not support the local business of an instagram celebrity. i wear glasses now to look smarter but uglier.

a candle 

this candle smells like the gramercy hotel in new york. i once stepped on john mcenroe’s foot “accidentally” at the bar inside this hotel in 2013. that is enough of an interesting story to make you buy me 5 of these candles, right? consider it preemptive retribution for the serena williams comment.

a yoga mat

it’s a long story… i saw a spider in my home and my neighbor called the police on me because i was yelling and crying so loudly she thought i was being murdered. but in actuality, i was heaving a yoga mat across the room to cover the intruder... and then i stomped it to smithereens, effectively rendering the yoga mat - which had previously never been in use - useless. i need another one. and this one is one of the most expensive ones i could find. it’s luxuriously dense, like my cerebrum.

really good headphones

i think this pair are really good but then again i am an idiot. i will accept any that someone deems “really good”.

megaphone

i’d like a megaphone for reasons i don’t feel comfortable getting into here. i have not googled but any top of the line megaphone should do.

in conclusion, i will settle for a job a dinner at olive garden or nobu malibu on my birthday - with uber suv roundtrip fee included - where no one sings happy birthday to me and no one asks “how my career is going”! my birthday is september 26th.

godspeed.

[radical-6]

Hey everyone, I received a bunch of messages asking me how I made my skirt for Kaede Akamatsu from the new Danganronpa game, Danganronpa V3. I wrote a quick guide, so if you're interested, read on...

To make my skirt, I custom-designed a musical note pattern on a purple background and uploaded it to Spoonflower, a fabric printing website. I've recently made the pattern public, so if you'd like to use it for your own cosplay, you can access it here:

http://www.spoonflower.com/designs/5978234-kaede-akamatsu-skirt-by-sinkuu

However, this was my first time working with designing/custom printing fabric, and using Spoonflower in general, so it ended up a little finicky. Spoonflower also has a lot of crazy options, so it's easy to get lost in the mess of DPIs and repeats and types of fabric you can print on. Hopefully this guide makes it...less convoluted.

So, on Spoonflower, you can print three sizes of fabric: yards, "fat quarters" (1/2 yard x 1/2 yard), and samples. What you're going to want here is yards, unless you only need a little bit more fabric and don't want to waste money on an entire extra yard.

This is what a yard looks like. To print my pattern, set the repeat setting to "basic".

Kaede's skirt has four musical bars on it, so you want to cut a yard of my pattern into three pieces. You get two four-bar pieces you can use for the body of the skirt, and then a leftover two-bar piece that you can't really use for the skirt itself, but that makes a really good waistband. When cutting between the sets of staffs, there's about 4.25" vertically between each staff, so you want to measure up (or down!) 2 1/8" vertically, and cut there to make sure to get even length pieces. Without a waistband or a hem, each skirt piece is about 14" long. THIS COULD BE A PROBLEM IF YOU ARE TALLER THAN 5'8". More on this later.

Spoonflower gives you about 41.5" of horizontal pattern per yard, so if you get two four-bar panels out of that it's 83" of skirt, plus a 41.5" waistband per yard.

This is what a fat quarter looks like. Again, set repeat to "basic". 0

It gives you one four-bar horizontal panel that's about 20.75" long. So it's useful (and cheaper!) if you just need a /little/ bit more to finish the skirt, but overall the yard is going to give you waaaaay more bang for your buck with this pattern. (83" of skirt vs 20.75" of skirt.) ​ ​How much fabric you need is completely up to you, and your measurements, and the style of skirt you choose to make. Danganronpa is unfortunately incredibly inconsistent with its art, and Kaede's skirt has been drawn as knife pleats, box pleats, no pleats at all, just gathered, and some weird sewn-down bell abomination pleat. Pick your favorite!

...Seriously, pick your favorite.

I went with knife pleats, since in the game itself they seemed to be the most common thing that came up on the skirt roulette during cutscenes. Plus, I like knife pleats. Using myself as a fabric example calculation...I have a 29" waist, and a knife-pleated or box-pleated skirt needs a rectangular block of (skirt length, here it's 14 inches) by (waist measurement x 3). So, I needed 87" inches of skirt, plus a little seam allowance. A yard gets you 83" inches of skirt, and 87" is...over that. So I ended up getting one yard, and a fat quarter. Yaaaay, math. If you do a gathered skirt, you can probably get away with only using one yard depending on how much you gather it.

Here's another reference image (waistband from the yard not pictured) of what cutting two panels out of a yard looks like, and what cutting up a fat quarter looks like.

This isn't a tutorial on how to pleat/gather a skirt. If you're looking for one, I recommend this one here: http://fattogami.tumblr.com/post/55535810050/how-to-make-a-sailor-uniform-part-2-sewing-the  Google is also your friend!

Pleats tacked down, (but no waistband) the skirt looked like:

And finished, it looked like:

--- So, why is the skirt length a potential problem for people taller than 5'8"? I'm 5'8", and I designed the pattern for myself. Danganronpa has REALLY short skirts, so I made the skirt...really short. If you're significantly taller than 5'8", there's a high chance that your ass is going to be out. You can compensate for this by making the skirts waistband sit lower on your hips, and use a mid-hip measurement for the waistband rather than a waist measurement, but it might be easier for you to just use a different pattern, or make your own. I'm sorry, really tall people. I think you're cool, and I WISH I was that tall.

Here's a picture of what I mean about my ass almost being out at 5'8", in case you are taller than that and need convincing to abandon hope, all ye enter here.

--

Another big question is, "what fabric should I pick"? Again, it's up to you. I used kona cotton because it's slightly nicer than regular cotton. Since I did a pleated skirt, I also interfaced the entire thing with featherweight interfacing because I like my pleats extra crispy. Any cotton should be fine for either pleated OR gathered skirts, or I guess twill for pleats if you're really fancy and have money falling out of your pockets. Maybe a heavyweight knit like jersey for gathered if you're again, fancy, and have money falling out of your pockets.

--

A few final notes:

1) Spoonflower fabrics tend to fade a little bit in the wash, since they're printed on. The fade is more pronounced with dark inks. Since this is a black pattern printed on dark purple, DO NOT put it in the washing machine, or pre-wash it, or post wash it. If you need to clean it, either spot clean it very carefully by hand or dry clean it.

2) This isn't a very high-contrast pattern, so while it shows up great in real life to real human eyes, it doesn't photograph well. If you're very particular about photoshoots, you're going to have to be careful about the lighting you're in, or be prepared to do some photo editing after the fact. Unless you've got a really nice all-over light source, or can point a light directly at the skirt, it tends to wash out to just a plain purple skirt in pictures.

3) The song that appears on the skirt isn't canonically accurate (I made it before the game came out in JP and Kaede's full design sheet was released), but it IS a real song! It's actually "The First Noel", but slightly bastardized. I erased some slurs between notes, removed some crescendos/decrescendos, and took out some staff markers and clefs to make it repeat seamlessly. In retrospect, I should have made it "I Stepped on the Cat".

4) If you use this pattern to make a skirt, I don't need credit, but hey, feel free to send me a picture of what you make! I'd love to see it.

5) I'm finished with NDRV3, so I know the entire game plot/spoilers. If you want to crawl into somewhere private (like my inbox) with spoilers, feel free, but keep spoilers off this post and anywhere public. Be considerate to fans who are waiting for the official English release in September.

6) With that said, absolutely crawl into my inbox if you don't like Shuuichi Saihara. I love talking shit about him.

I'm not super active on tumblr these days, but you can either contact me here, or @skelefiend on Instagram!

[ugcnetjrfstudymaterial]

English Literature, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Chapters 4–6

Global Teachers Academy: 09953762308

 Synopsis—Chapter 4: Showing Off in Sunday School

 Mr. Walters tumbled to "flaunting," with a wide range of authority bustlings and exercises. . . . The bookkeeper "flaunted". . . . The young woman educators "flaunted". . . . The young ladies "flaunted" in different ways, and the young men "flaunted."

 Sunday morning arrives, and Tom plans for Sunday school with the assistance of his cousin Mary. As Tom battles indifferently to take in his Bible sections, Mary energizes and tempts him with the guarantee of "something decent." Tom's hard working attitude at that point enhances, and he figures out how to retain the stanzas. Mary gives him a "Barlow" cut as reward. Tom at that point dresses for chapel, and he, Mary, and Sid rush off to Sunday school, which Tom hates.

 Before class starts, Tom exchanges every one of the crown jewels he has picked up from his whitewashing trick for tickets. The tickets are given as prizes for all around recounted Bible stanzas, and an understudy who has remembered two thousand sections and got the proper tickets can exchange them in for a duplicate of the Bible, granted with respect before the whole class.

 Judge Thatcher, the uncle of Tom's companion Jeff Thatcher, visits Tom's class that day. The judge's family incorporates his little girl, Becky—the delightful young lady Tom sees the past evening. The class regards the judge as a VIP—the understudies, educators, and director make an incredible endeavor at flaunting for him. Not surprisingly, Tom is the best hotshot—by exchanging for tickets before class, Tom has amassed enough to win a Bible. Mr. Walters, Tom's Sunday teacher, is floored when Tom approaches with the tickets. He realizes that Tom has not retained the suitable number of sections, but rather since Tom has the required tickets, and since Mr. Walters is anxious to inspire Judge Thatcher, the Bible-granting function continues.

 The Judge praises Tom on the head and compliments him on his perseverance. He allows him to flaunt his implied learning, asking him, "Most likely you know the names of all the twelve supporters. Won't you disclose to us the names of the initial two that were named?" Tom does not know their names, obviously, and in the long run proclaims the initial two names that ring a bell: David and Goliath. The storyteller argues, "Let us close the window ornament of philanthropy over whatever is left of the scene."

 Rundown—Chapter 5: The Pinch-bug and His Prey

 After Sunday school comes the community gathering, which incorporates a long, dreary message. At a certain point, the pastor depicts how, at the thousand years (the 1,000-year time frame amid which Christ will rule over the earth, as indicated by Christianity) the lion and the sheep will rests together and a little kid will lead them. Tom wishes that he could be that kid���as long as the lion were agreeable.

 Exhausted, Tom takes from his pocket a case containing a "pinchbug," or an expansive dark creepy crawly. The creepy crawly squeezes him and slips from his grip to the center of the walkway while a stray poodle meanders into the congregation. The puppy explores the pinchbug, gets one squeeze, circles the bug carefully, and after that in the long run sits on it. The bug hooks onto the poodle's behind, and the grievous pooch runs howling through the congregation until the point when its lord flings it out a window. The general chuckling upsets the message totally, and Tom goes home cheerful, in spite of the loss of his bug.

 Rundown—Chapter 6: Tom Meets Becky

 On Monday morning, Tom pretends an "embarrassed toe" with the expectation of remaining home from school. At the point when that ploy fizzles, he grumbles of a toothache, however Aunt Polly yanks out the free tooth and sends him off to class.

 On his approach to class, Tom experiences Huckleberry Finn, the child of the town alcoholic. Huck is "cheerfully despised and feared by every one of the moms of the town," who expect that he will be an awful impact on their youngsters. Be that as it may, each kid, including Tom, respects Huck and begrudges him for his capacity to maintain a strategic distance from school and work without dread of discipline. Huck and Tom banter, contrasting notes on charms with evacuate warts. Huck conveys with him a dead feline, which he intends to take to the cemetery that night. As indicated by superstition, when the fiend comes to take the carcass of an insidious individual, the dead feline will take after the body, and the warts will take after the feline. Tom consents to run with Huck to the graveyard that night, exchanges his yanked tooth for a tick from Huck, and proceeds to class.

 Tom arrives late, and the schoolmaster requests a clarification. Tom sees an open seat on the young ladies' side of the room, alongside Becky Thatcher. He chooses to get stuck in an unfortunate situation intentionally, realizing that he will be sent to sit with the young ladies as discipline. He strikingly proclaims, "I halted to converse with Huckleberry Finn!" The frightened educator whips Tom and sends him to the seat by Becky.

 Tom offers Becky a peach and attempts to intrigue her by drawing a photo on his slate. Becky at first shies from Tom's considerations, yet she before long warms to him and guarantees to remain at school with him amid lunch. Becky and Tom present themselves, and Tom scribbles "I cherish you" on his slate. Now, the educator collars Tom and hauls him back to the young men's side of the room.

 Investigation—Chapters 4– 6

 Twain renders Tom's cousin Mary as a romanticized character whose aggregate goodness drives her to excuse the shortcomings of others. Not at all like Sid, who carries on well yet gets a kick out of getting Tom stuck in an unfortunate situation, Mary acts well and endeavors to keep Tom out of fiendishness. Her nurturing looking after Tom is show not just in her excitement for Tom to learn Bible stanzas yet in addition in her name, which inspires that of Mary, mother of Jesus.

 In the Sunday school scenes, Twain delicately caricaturizes the custom of influencing youngsters to remember Bible sections. He brings up the efficiency of the prize—"a doubtlessly bound Bible"— and relates the tale of a German kid who "had once presented three thousand sections without halting" and a short time later endured a mental meltdown. In calling the kid's crumple "a heinous disaster for the school" (since the school depended on the German kid to perform for visitors), Twain suggests that the understudies are remembering refrains not for genuine otherworldly development but rather for influencing their educators and administrator to look great. Twain promotes this suggestion by showing Mr. Walters' excitement to show a "wonder," or to a great degree gifted youth, for Judge Thatcher.

 Twain's study is empathetic, be that as it may. His goal isn't to uncover anything intrinsically unworthy in his characters however to bring up all inclusive human shortcomings. At the point when Judge Thatcher visits, everybody at Sunday school flaunts—the administrator, bookkeeper, educators, young men, and young ladies—trying to draw in the neighborhood big name's consideration. Tom masterminds to win a respect he doesn't merit, educators hover over understudies they for the most part treat seriously, and the administrator gives a reward to a tyke (Tom) whom he knows doesn't merit it. By uncovering the triviality of the Sunday school's workings, Twain influences Tom's own emotional tendencies to appear not a takeoff from, but rather an embellishment of, his general public's conduct.

 As Twain depicts the chapel gathering in Chapter 5, he again demonstrates Tom's deficiencies duplicated in the conduct of grown-ups. Tom is eager and oblivious in the standard untainted way, however he isn't the only one—the assembly in general floats toward sleep, and "numerous a head before long started to gesture." Tom's craving to be the tyke driving the lion and the sheep, while misinformed, shows that he is at any rate tuning in to a portion of the lesson. That whatever is left of the gathering is so effortlessly diverted backings Tom's absence of enthusiasm for and misconception of the message constitute the all inclusive reaction to the tedious priest.

 By discharging the pinchbug and making destruction, Tom prevails with regards to doing what the lesson can't—he stands out enough to be noticed. With a larger number of individuals thinking about the pinchbug than about the pastor's fire and brimstone, the chapel gathering starts to appear as strange as the battle between the poodle and the creepy crawly. Once more, nonetheless, Twain's parody isn't pitiless. No one is blamed for being skeptical or evil for nodding off amid the administration. Or maybe, Twain uncovered the comic and at times absurd components of customs, for example, churchgoing, that predicament the network together.

 In the scene following the community gathering, we meet Huckleberry Finn, a standout amongst the most renowned figures in American writing. Huck appreciates what Tom and each different fiendish kid furtively wishes he could accomplish—finish flexibility from grown-up specialist. Not at all like Tom, who is parentless however has Aunt Polly to restrain his freedom, Huck has no grown-ups controlling him by any stretch of the imagination. His dad is the town alcoholic, leaving Huck to meander however he sees fit—"that goes to make life valuable, that kid had." From a kid's point of view, Huck can do all the critical things—swimming, playing, reviling, angling, strolling shoeless—without persevering through the weights of chapel, school, individual cleanliness, or parental badgering.

 Given Tom's failure to shield his brain from meandering amid the congregation lesson, Huck and Tom's sincere eagerness for superstition in their discussion about the reasons for warts is especially remarkable. Tom may not be occupied with retaining Bible sections, but rather he and his friends are interested by the many-sided points of interest of charms, enchanted fixes, and different assortments of society astuteness. The young men's immovable confidence in the adequacy of the wart fixes takes after religious enthusiasm in its reliance upon clarifications that exist outside the limits of human comprehension. They need so unequivocally to put stock in the otherworldly that when an appeal appears not to work, they rush to outfit what they consider a discerning clarification for its disappointment rather tha

 Global Teachers Academy (GTA)

D-2, Arjun Nagar Safdarjung Enclave, New Delhi 29

Contact No.: 09953762308, 09999318556

Best Ugc Net

English Literature

Study Material For Net Preparation

http://www.ugcnetd.com/study-mat.php

[ugcnetjrfenglishexamcoaching]

English Literature, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Chapters 4–6

Global Teachers Academy: 09953762308

 Synopsis—Chapter 4: Showing Off in Sunday School

 Mr. Walters tumbled to "flaunting," with a wide range of authority bustlings and exercises. . . . The bookkeeper "flaunted". . . . The young woman educators "flaunted". . . . The young ladies "flaunted" in different ways, and the young men "flaunted."

 Sunday morning arrives, and Tom plans for Sunday school with the assistance of his cousin Mary. As Tom battles indifferently to take in his Bible sections, Mary energizes and tempts him with the guarantee of "something decent." Tom's hard working attitude at that point enhances, and he figures out how to retain the stanzas. Mary gives him a "Barlow" cut as reward. Tom at that point dresses for chapel, and he, Mary, and Sid rush off to Sunday school, which Tom hates.

 Before class starts, Tom exchanges every one of the crown jewels he has picked up from his whitewashing trick for tickets. The tickets are given as prizes for all around recounted Bible stanzas, and an understudy who has remembered two thousand sections and got the proper tickets can exchange them in for a duplicate of the Bible, granted with respect before the whole class.

 Judge Thatcher, the uncle of Tom's companion Jeff Thatcher, visits Tom's class that day. The judge's family incorporates his little girl, Becky—the delightful young lady Tom sees the past evening. The class regards the judge as a VIP—the understudies, educators, and director make an incredible endeavor at flaunting for him. Not surprisingly, Tom is the best hotshot—by exchanging for tickets before class, Tom has amassed enough to win a Bible. Mr. Walters, Tom's Sunday teacher, is floored when Tom approaches with the tickets. He realizes that Tom has not retained the suitable number of sections, but rather since Tom has the required tickets, and since Mr. Walters is anxious to inspire Judge Thatcher, the Bible-granting function continues.

 The Judge praises Tom on the head and compliments him on his perseverance. He allows him to flaunt his implied learning, asking him, "Most likely you know the names of all the twelve supporters. Won't you disclose to us the names of the initial two that were named?" Tom does not know their names, obviously, and in the long run proclaims the initial two names that ring a bell: David and Goliath. The storyteller argues, "Let us close the window ornament of philanthropy over whatever is left of the scene."

 Rundown—Chapter 5: The Pinch-bug and His Prey

 After Sunday school comes the community gathering, which incorporates a long, dreary message. At a certain point, the pastor depicts how, at the thousand years (the 1,000-year time frame amid which Christ will rule over the earth, as indicated by Christianity) the lion and the sheep will rests together and a little kid will lead them. Tom wishes that he could be that kid—as long as the lion were agreeable.

 Exhausted, Tom takes from his pocket a case containing a "pinchbug," or an expansive dark creepy crawly. The creepy crawly squeezes him and slips from his grip to the center of the walkway while a stray poodle meanders into the congregation. The puppy explores the pinchbug, gets one squeeze, circles the bug carefully, and after that in the long run sits on it. The bug hooks onto the poodle's behind, and the grievous pooch runs howling through the congregation until the point when its lord flings it out a window. The general chuckling upsets the message totally, and Tom goes home cheerful, in spite of the loss of his bug.

 Rundown—Chapter 6: Tom Meets Becky

 On Monday morning, Tom pretends an "embarrassed toe" with the expectation of remaining home from school. At the point when that ploy fizzles, he grumbles of a toothache, however Aunt Polly yanks out the free tooth and sends him off to class.

 On his approach to class, Tom experiences Huckleberry Finn, the child of the town alcoholic. Huck is "cheerfully despised and feared by every one of the moms of the town," who expect that he will be an awful impact on their youngsters. Be that as it may, each kid, including Tom, respects Huck and begrudges him for his capacity to maintain a strategic distance from school and work without dread of discipline. Huck and Tom banter, contrasting notes on charms with evacuate warts. Huck conveys with him a dead feline, which he intends to take to the cemetery that night. As indicated by superstition, when the fiend comes to take the carcass of an insidious individual, the dead feline will take after the body, and the warts will take after the feline. Tom consents to run with Huck to the graveyard that night, exchanges his yanked tooth for a tick from Huck, and proceeds to class.

 Tom arrives late, and the schoolmaster requests a clarification. Tom sees an open seat on the young ladies' side of the room, alongside Becky Thatcher. He chooses to get stuck in an unfortunate situation intentionally, realizing that he will be sent to sit with the young ladies as discipline. He strikingly proclaims, "I halted to converse with Huckleberry Finn!" The frightened educator whips Tom and sends him to the seat by Becky.

 Tom offers Becky a peach and attempts to intrigue her by drawing a photo on his slate. Becky at first shies from Tom's considerations, yet she before long warms to him and guarantees to remain at school with him amid lunch. Becky and Tom present themselves, and Tom scribbles "I cherish you" on his slate. Now, the educator collars Tom and hauls him back to the young men's side of the room.

 Investigation—Chapters 4– 6

 Twain renders Tom's cousin Mary as a romanticized character whose aggregate goodness drives her to excuse the shortcomings of others. Not at all like Sid, who carries on well yet gets a kick out of getting Tom stuck in an unfortunate situation, Mary acts well and endeavors to keep Tom out of fiendishness. Her nurturing looking after Tom is show not just in her excitement for Tom to learn Bible stanzas yet in addition in her name, which inspires that of Mary, mother of Jesus.

 In the Sunday school scenes, Twain delicately caricaturizes the custom of influencing youngsters to remember Bible sections. He brings up the efficiency of the prize—"a doubtlessly bound Bible"— and relates the tale of a German kid who "had once presented three thousand sections without halting" and a short time later endured a mental meltdown. In calling the kid's crumple "a heinous disaster for the school" (since the school depended on the German kid to perform for visitors), Twain suggests that the understudies are remembering refrains not for genuine otherworldly development but rather for influencing their educators and administrator to look great. Twain promotes this suggestion by showing Mr. Walters' excitement to show a "wonder," or to a great degree gifted youth, for Judge Thatcher.

 Twain's study is empathetic, be that as it may. His goal isn't to uncover anything intrinsically unworthy in his characters however to bring up all inclusive human shortcomings. At the point when Judge Thatcher visits, everybody at Sunday school flaunts—the administrator, bookkeeper, educators, young men, and young ladies—trying to draw in the neighborhood big name's consideration. Tom masterminds to win a respect he doesn't merit, educators hover over understudies they for the most part treat seriously, and the administrator gives a reward to a tyke (Tom) whom he knows doesn't merit it. By uncovering the triviality of the Sunday school's workings, Twain influences Tom's own emotional tendencies to appear not a takeoff from, but rather an embellishment of, his general public's conduct.

 As Twain depicts the chapel gathering in Chapter 5, he again demonstrates Tom's deficiencies duplicated in the conduct of grown-ups. Tom is eager and oblivious in the standard untainted way, however he isn't the only one—the assembly in general floats toward sleep, and "numerous a head before long started to gesture." Tom's craving to be the tyke driving the lion and the sheep, while misinformed, shows that he is at any rate tuning in to a portion of the lesson. That whatever is left of the gathering is so effortlessly diverted backings Tom's absence of enthusiasm for and misconception of the message constitute the all inclusive reaction to the tedious priest.

 By discharging the pinchbug and making destruction, Tom prevails with regards to doing what the lesson can't—he stands out enough to be noticed. With a larger number of individuals thinking about the pinchbug than about the pastor's fire and brimstone, the chapel gathering starts to appear as strange as the battle between the poodle and the creepy crawly. Once more, nonetheless, Twain's parody isn't pitiless. No one is blamed for being skeptical or evil for nodding off amid the administration. Or maybe, Twain uncovered the comic and at times absurd components of customs, for example, churchgoing, that predicament the network together.

 In the scene following the community gathering, we meet Huckleberry Finn, a standout amongst the most renowned figures in American writing. Huck appreciates what Tom and each different fiendish kid furtively wishes he could accomplish—finish flexibility from grown-up specialist. Not at all like Tom, who is parentless however has Aunt Polly to restrain his freedom, Huck has no grown-ups controlling him by any stretch of the imagination. His dad is the town alcoholic, leaving Huck to meander however he sees fit—"that goes to make life valuable, that kid had." From a kid's point of view, Huck can do all the critical things—swimming, playing, reviling, angling, strolling shoeless—without persevering through the weights of chapel, school, individual cleanliness, or parental badgering.

 Given Tom's failure to shield his brain from meandering amid the congregation lesson, Huck and Tom's sincere eagerness for superstition in their discussion about the reasons for warts is especially remarkable. Tom may not be occupied with retaining Bible sections, but rather he and his friends are interested by the many-sided points of interest of charms, enchanted fixes, and different assortments of society astuteness. The young men's immovable confidence in the adequacy of the wart fixes takes after religious enthusiasm in its reliance upon clarifications that exist outside the limits of human comprehension. They need so unequivocally to put stock in the otherworldly that when an appeal appears not to work, they rush to outfit what they consider a discerning clarification for its disappointment rather tha

 Global Teachers Academy (GTA)

D-2, Arjun Nagar Safdarjung Enclave, New Delhi 29

Contact No.: 09953762308, 09999318556

Best Ugc Net English Literature Study Material For Net Preparation http://www.ugcnetd.com/study-mat.php

[urbanfriendden]

Minoes makes the most of it

The first denial the young prince had ever received was, “Don’t open the door to the dungeons”. So unsurprisingly, the first thing the prince did when opportunity presented itself, the universe’s way of saying ‘teehee’, was to insert and turn a key. But to do so, the pampered royal rascal had to elude his caretaker’s ever-watchful gaze, a retired military scout once known as The Cat in part due to her sharp senses, and even now she retains that title, but only because she enjoys taking catnaps in her rocking chair.

Children will cause trouble without ever understanding why, the prince was told no, after all, and that is enough for most to seek out the forbidden. Curiosity, however, this drive shaped like a key, is superstition’s pendant, a force which pries open mountains and poisons goblets just to see what happens, and what happened was that the young prince opened the door and was never seen ever again.

We can say he shouldn’t have done this, but this is a hindsight, a wisdom that catches up too late, a friend tapping on your shoulder to warn you about the paint bucket on a wobbly ladder one unfortunate dye-job too late. Simply put, to forward ourselves, we must accept that he is no longer needed, but his actions stand at the precipice of events we could never prevent, motion creates motion, and loathe as we are to admit but quick to realise, nothing is without consequence.

For it was the caretaker who took the blame for this child’s derelict behaviour and for the nastiness which ensued, but we won’t blame her, not an inch or iota or other quantification one might use for culpability, as it is fear together with the mechanism of the unknown which becomes a justice that demands a scapegoat, never a justice to begin with. She was locked in the darkest dungeons for this, for the crime of being herself a circumstance and a subject.

But what is a subject without a name, no one should ever be just a referential! The name she is with is Minoes, and her cell is quite alright. She was branded a witch, a demoness, an arcanist, conspirator with the dark, she is rather fond of that title, agent of the Brim Dividing; these nominations have their benefits, because no one with a soupçon of superstitious sense will ever think to disturb her. Or execute her, for that matter. Death, who welcomes all strangers, but who is always personal, we are never true strangers to them, should never be made to host a true stranger in their halls. Minoes is exempted from even this.

There is another boon to this ordeal: this dungeon is the biggest home she’s ever owned, wooden walls became stone, metal partitions to give her rooms, plural. Middle-left will be my gallery, she thinks, Bottom-right has the most hay so that is where I will sleep, upper-right can be my own little dining hall. There is nothing we could consider furniture but this is where the theory of forms picks up. The far exit of the dungeon remains locked, separated from the castle proper with a thick wooden door, wrapped in chains and padlocks plus a sliding grate for the convenience of eye-contact, to deign dignity and courtesy for a context where there is none. Nevertheless, Minoes makes the most of things.

Before you ask, no, she does not have a surname, an inheritance common to her bloodline, which makes birth a spectacular event: parents, uncles, aunts, nephews, and cousins, even friends are invited to deeply consider together what special name to give to the new-born. Beer is brewed and herbs are smoked, it must be exemplary and magnificent, suggests tipsy cousin Wilhelmina, recognisable and grand, yells the undulate uncle Armand. Then father Swit interjects, it must fit her and only her, there is no blood to make her special, only one word, let her decide it when she is old enough. Minoes picked this name five years ago.

Most days, Minoes simply eats bread upper-right. On the scratched metal tray they slide through the viewport is fresh bread and a relatively generous jar of pickles, but you see, she cannot open the jar, she has no strength in her hands, sometimes she curses these vestigial things, but what she lacks in physical strength can be found in her resolve, patience, and respiration. She makes due with just the bread, she calls her meals a latecomer’s banquet. The jailor knows about her condition, yet spares her no cruelty, morality is an objection saved for humans, so he chooses to see a monster.

A monster that came from the dungeons, of course. It hid the entrance to the Brim Dividing, a dark dimension where demons roam, if the old and corny legends are to be believed, and they are by many, perhaps that is why a simple door could for the longest time stave off this invisible threat, one needs only peer inside to let our worst nightmares out, yet it is the door that keeps us up at night.

But as it stands, no terrible demon army or rain of fire has come pouring through the portal, desecrating our symbols, burning our farms and fortunes, committing the massacres which are clearly a fantasy, in both senses of the term, that which is unreal and that which is a desire, but no king will address that everything might actually be alright. In the dungeon, there was a woman, no more, far from less.

This woman, it must be stated, is neither demon nor apparition nor delusion of a lonely woman, she is simply there, a being-there, Minoes calls her Daar, an old word meaning ‘there’, because that’s where she is. Daar is happy to provide, she is younger and healthier and can glide between worlds with relative ease, she even goes so far as to remove her feet with a comical plop, because that’s customary for guests, right?

Minoes, used to and even familiar with the bizarre, or perhaps there truly is no place for suspicion when under suspicion yourself, there are no pretenses for solidarity, appreciates Daar’s company, the only thing she provides. No greetings or thank-yous, no whispers or rumours, no conspiracies or conversations about the difference between their radical worlds and the funny fact that all life everywhere contains more questions than answers but this is distinctly not a bad thing. Hardly ever a word about Daar’s transparency or the occasional cough of Minoes, not everything lends itself to exposition, not every meeting requires words, the coward’s language.

They dance through the rooms, familiarised with the subtleties native to bodies, Daar offers Minoes the things she asks for. A rug please, she begins, My knees are quite sore, Then I would like an oil lamp and some blankets, perhaps a jar opener. Bring me a mattress and many chickens for filling, she chuckles a joke, Then a bookstand, two quills, one swan and one goose feather, their thicknesses differ and that difference is valuable, some parchment and ink if it’s not too much of a bother, you are such a dear.

The chickens announce another daybreak, this is the only time Minoes knows, wasting away takes so long, but when the sun is your clock, it swings by faster than before, no pesky minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, clothes, letters, crows, deaths, geriatrics to subdivide time into frustratingly-present minutiae, pieces of the past that keep stacking with each new experience.

Minoes receives a platter of things she can only eat one half of, even equipped with a jar opener her grip fails her. Daar, unprompted, opens the jar of pickles for her, with no twist or turn of the wrist, no second attempt after great exertion, the lid simply comes off, vertically. She mentions how olives are stored much more practically and are much more delicious, too. Minoes agrees, but doubts any funds would be spent on providing such lucrative fruit to a witch. She then discovers she does not enjoy the taste of pickles. Finally, she chomps down on the loaf of bread only to hurts her teeth on something hard, a cruel prank by the guard, she concludes, and tosses it away. No food today, it seems.

However lovely this arrangement seems, its paranaturality cannot go unnoticed by way of its own nature, it escapes the conventions we’ve been taught to recognise and normalise and has fled into, created a new modality of comfort, a love that’s better than regularity, loud in its weird and new silence, therefore horrific. It doesn’t help she was already branded an evil woman.

The first pair of eyes to take note is the torturous guard who is normally stationed fifteen superstitious steps away from the door, only closing in when the overworked chef hands him the food tray. Today of all days he has reason to exert a supernormal amount of cruelty; we might empathise with that and attempt to scrutinise what’s got him feeling prickly, for we share that base humanity with him, but how about instead let’s not.

He yells a dehumanising word, hoping to draw attention, for what is power without a subject which acknowledges and which despairs, but he receives none, and it his attention that fixates on Minoes and her silly expression instead. Sour pickles will crumple the most statuesque of faces, and he only knows her through death-wishing glares.

It takes him a second to realise this, that she is eating pickles, and demands to know how that is possible, not out of curiosity or wonder, and an old woman who overpowers vacuum packing is deserving of praise, but moreso out of panic at losing control over the one cruelty to prove himself with. He spots a feetless ghost and scampers off to call for help, but not before tripping, the echoes of his armour fill the dungeon. The ladies laugh; the prisoner’s victory comes small and easy.

What are you making, May I know more about you, two questions like kisses on the left ear of Minoes, inflections audibly added to the end like Daar was taught is the custom when asking questions.

Curiosity, as we know, is not only a tool for scrutiny but is often a question behind a question, wanting to keep words dear, wanting to fill in the blanks together. To figure out the legends to navigate your maps with, what words are your roads, what nouns line out the mountains and the malpaises, what verbs show where the winds are fiercest, a remark in your throat that tells if this river can be forded or must be caulked, dotted silver phonemes for cities, towns, borders, places we named together, red squares for the landmarks around which memories are built, monuments to what two people share. The brass plaque reads and a pair of lips speaks, I will keep your secrets safe.

Minoes replies, quilling down a last word before tickling Daar’s nose with the feather, their mattress feels warm, A memoir. Daar repeats this as a question, Minoes lets her know it’s a simple piece of evidence that she has been here, a being-here, in the cell, in this life, in anyone’s life.

Why do you need to write it down when I know you have been important, this emotional declaration coming from a quasi-physical being, it must be noted, unfalsifiable words we pitch against a background of metaphysics, love as we might call it, means more than words, hers or these, can convey. Minoes chuckles and snuggles closer to the woman, her body incorporeal but the intimacy is there.

Do you have to die here, there is a height in the breath of Daar’s question that feels cold, No, dear, but I am an elder and a prisoner, and what they have in common is that both have to wait for freedom to come, Do you have to be, No, dear.

In the ensuing embraced silence, where language piles up in minds and gets stuck in throats, everyone resorts to their most personal selves, personal in the individual and independent sense, tiny habits become havens, each idiosyncrasy a pub, a bar, a quiet pier, a leaf-green bench beneath a lantern overlooking a cold and smelly promenade crowded with sailors making the most of it. Daar does something inscrutable, Minoes gnashes her teeth, remembering the exact hardness of the loaf she tried to eat. She lets her eyes wander as if a tourist inside her own awkwardness and spots a key sticking out of the bread.

You see, there was a second pair of eyes to take note of the extraordinary fate Minoes had been subject of: the overworked chef in charge of the meals of prisoners as well as the custodians, the servants, the knights, the advisors and ambassadors, the halberdiers stationed in the courtyard though not Clarice because she is allergic to nut oils and buys her lunch in town instead, and, of course, the undeserving royalty. Every very early morning, Antoin waits for the steward who unlocks the kitchen and the pantry to return to his tiresome job of saying yes sire and promptly heads out to the markets carrying a satchel of saffron, which he trades for a jar of pickles.

The guard had never known the pickles aren’t a part of the prescribed meal, but conversely, because everyone has their own tasks, Antoin means well but seeing as the entire day he must cure meats and bake breads and baste pheasants and broil soup and remember each royal member’s favourite combinations of herbs, he spits on the king’s pork, he could not have been aware of his refusal to perform the base courtesy of twisting the lid for Minoes, the sliding grate evidently only there for show.

He figured the delirious guard running up the stairs, falling back down the stairs, and running past him meant that his plan to free Minoes had worked. A monster without a cage to him, but to Antoin, she was a woman he had served with half a lifetime ago, who told him five years ago, Let’s change our name together, But we’re so old, he had lied, Age is no objection, Antoin. He had snuck in the key, a shape that spells curiosity as well as freedom, and there is only one possible outcome, really, the one where Minoes is an ex-prisoner.

What Antoin hadn’t accounted for was that she would be having company. Oh dear, I didn’t want to believe the story of your incarceration, but this ghastly girl here is damning evidence you are in some faint way conspiratorial with demons, he shrugs, Anyway, did you like the pickles?

Oh no, not at all, an honest lament, but a chef knows they cannot please every palette, their art the art of necessary destruction, after all. Minoes continues, So you were the kind soul who expanded my meals, is it too late I trouble you for olives from now on?

Yes, actually, all-considering. The two friends pause and laugh, Daar joins in, drawn in by shared amusement and the weird elation of freedom. Antoin conjects it is likely our friend the guard is screaming for reinforcements and Minoes laughs again, a beautiful sound, So having a girlfriend was the last drop, was it? Daar’s face flushes at the statement. Antoin, knowing there is no time left to ask who Daar even is or where she came from — does it matter? — or what the deal is with all those chickens, instead makes a suggestion which sets into motion events we could never prevent: escape.

Where there is a captive, escape is always at the horizon, where there is love, there is an unfathomable weirdness that is good and that tickles, where there is a prince, there is an incredible lout of a person, where there is motion, things will never be contained. Daar asks Minoes, they are in the back of a wagon, and outside in farthest possible distance there is a city with a castle, Let me hold your face, her rough hands on her dark cheeks, she feels warm and hers, what a strange meeting, so of course they kiss, of course they do.

In the cell, the fuddled guard scratches his head as his retinue attempts to catch the mysterious chickens. He finds a piece of parchment.

It reads “I will make the most of it.“