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mindmeltonabun-blog · 4 years ago

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Tale of the Nine Tailed: Analysis and Theories of Ep 8

Welcome to another edition of Mind Melt On A Bun’s analysis and theories of TOTNT. I hope you all will enjoy this post, but fair warning it’s once again another VERY LONG POST! So if you want to turn on your thinking cap and face the risk of your brain blowing up into a million pieces then feel free to keep reading!

Snail Bride and Her Husband

Ureongi gaksi (우렁이 각시) or Snail Bride is a Korean legend which tells about a poor farmer who breaks a taboo and marries a woman who is actually a snail. One day while working in the rice paddy field, the farmer says to himself, “Who will I eat this rice with?”. To which a voice replied, “With me.”. Having heard this voice, the man turned around to see who it was, but only saw a snail. After having heard that, the man found that each day after returning home from work, a meal was always prepared for him.

The farmer was curious of who had been preparing his meal. So one day he pretended to go to work in order to catch a sight of whoever it was that had been preparing his meal. To his surprise, he had seen a beautiful woman emerging from the snail shell. Having been blown away by her beauty, he immediately asked her to live with him instead of returning to the snail shell. However, the woman told him it was not time yet and to be patient. Being the persistent man that he was, he eventually got the Snail to marry him.

The farmer became plagued with the fear that his beautiful Snail Bride might one day be taken away from him so he instructed her to never leave the house. The Snail Bride listened to her husband and did as she was told until one day when her mother-in-law told the Snail Bride to go and deliver lunch to the farmer. And so, the Snail bride did as she was told. However, along the way, the Magistrate who was enamoured by her beauty decided to kidnap her and make her his bride. Despite the farmer’s many efforts, he never found his Snail Bride and ended up dying of a broken heart and being reborn as a blue bird. Tragic I know !!!

Anyways, when applying this story to TOTNT, you will find that Ji Ah’s boss had shared many similar characteristics to the farmer from the Snail Bride myth such as persistency. Other clues that supports the ideal that Ji Ah’s boss is the farmer can be seen in the conversation between Green Juice Lady. The first clue is his fear of flying. This could be seen as a side effect of him being reborn in a previous life as a blue bird. I bet if Ji Ah used those Eyebrows of a Tiger Glasses, she would see him as a bird blue.

The second clue was in what the Green Juice Lady said, “ What are you doing here?”. I interpreted this as her knowing him in the past as well as her not expecting to see the farmer’s reincarnated self in the same vicinity as the Snail Bride.

Green Juice Lady Origin

In Korean mythology, there is a creature by the name of “Dueoksini/Dokeoksini” (두억시니는 ) that kills you by crushing your head (figuratively or literally). In Korean mythology, this creature is seen as an in between of a dokkaebi/goblin and a yokai. Because Dueoksinis have been mostly been forgotten throughout Korean literature, they are usually refer to as being a type of Korean Yokai.

Or the way I like to view the Green Juice Lady is that she's basically Pennywise, Freddy Krueger, and the Boggart rolled into one. After all its like Frank Hebert once wrote in Dune: “Fear is the mind killer”.

Taluipa

In TOTNT, the character Taluipa is seen as being the goddess of birth and fate, Sansin Halmoni. Besides having the ability of controlling birth and fate, Taluipa also can also foresee the future as well as grant immortality (i.e her husband). Given all of this, it is likely that her child, Bok Gil, would’ve had some pretty powerful abilities because he came from such a superior mother.

Now not much is known about Taluipa’s son other than he had committed suicide. Furthermore, the act of suicide was seen as a such a bad taboo that ensured he could never be reborn/reincarnated. In the context of TOTNT, it is inferred that even if you sacrifice yourself for the one you love, it is still considered suicide.

Lee Yeon’s Original Plan For the Imoogi

I think originally Lee Yeon had planned to take the Imoogi into himself and subsequently kill himself. However, when faced with the possibility that this would mean Lee Yeon could not be reincarnated, Ah Eum decided it was better that Lee Yeon killed her because at least she could be reincarnated.

Now you may think that well if Ah Eum sacrificed herself for the one she loves, isn’t that contradictory to what I said earlier about how sacrificing yourself for the one you love is still considered suicide and thus meant you couldn’t be reborn? It really doesn’t and here’s why. Remember that at this time, Ah Eum already had the Imoogi inside of her so her death by Lee Yeon’s hands were not seen as a sacrificial suicide. Rather, it was seen as him killing a greater evil and preventing the deaths of hundreds. Thus, this meant that Ah Eum could be reincarnated. Had Ah Eum ran into Lee Yeon’s knife or stabbed herself in the temporary moment she gain back control of her body, then that would’ve been seen as sacrificial suicide.

If both Lee Yeon and Ah Eum were able to find a loop hole at the very last minute that ensured Ah Eum’s reincarnation, I am sure that this time around Lee Yeon will be able to find a better loop hole given that he has had more time to than previously as well as learning from his past mistakes as it pertains to the Imoogi. I largely believe that this loop hole will have something to do with the favor Lee Yeon had asked of Taluipa’s husband. Maybe the favor Lee Yeon is asking Taluipa’s husband for is the elixir of life that is located in the Underworld (Hint: read my posts about Princess Bari). I think that Lee Yeon will want it just in case either him or Ji Ah dies in their battle against the Imoogi. Such an elixir could revive them!

Taluipa’s Son/Bok Gil = The Imoogi

As previously mentioned, I had theorized that Taluipa’s son, Bok Gil, must have been one hell of a powerful being given that his mom was a powerful Goddess herself. As to what those abilities could have been, it is still a mystery. However, I feel like his powers would’ve been connected the ones Taluipa had (i.e birth, fate, and ability to see what others cannot see). Again, not much was mentioned about him other than he committed suicide and that his name was Bok Gil.

Now let’s look at the Imoogi, we know that he has the power of life (bringing the bird back to life), death (sucking the life out of his nannies), and rebirth (being reborn as that boy).

By the way, I think it’s interesting that the cycle of life, death, and rebirth is represented as an “Ouroboros” or a snake eating its tail. Coincidence? I think not.

Anyways back to what else we know about the Imoogi. We know that he was born in a leap year as well as being born in a place between the living and dead (btw Lee Yeon was born in 420AD also a leap year..possible connection somehow?). The Imoogi could also see what others don’t see such as your soul and your deepest emotions.

If you think about it, when Bok Gil committed suicide, his soul/body was neither in the land of the living nor the dead. He was in between those two realms or in limbo. Connecting this to the fact that the Imoogi said he was born in a place between the living and dead, there is a significant possibility that Bok Gil is indeed the Imoogi. Furthermore, if you look at the kinds of power the Imoogi has and the powers that Taluipa has, you will find that they are strangely similar or related. If that doesn’t convince you enough then just compare the voice of Bok Gil to that of the Imoogi!

Imoogi and Lee Yeon

Initially, I had thought the Imoogi had wanted Lee Yeon for his fox bead (a kind of Yeouiju) so that it could become a dragon, but now I am beginning to think there’s more to the story than just Lee Yeon’s bead. If indeed Bok Gil is the Imoogi then I am left to wonder what kind of relationship did Lee Yeon have with Bok Gil before he died. Furthermore, could Lee Yeon have been part of the reason why Bok Gil committed suicide in the first place? If Lee Yeon had been part of the reason why Bok Gil committed suicide, then I can totally understand why Bok Gil/Imoogi would want to try to exact his revenge and/or anger on Lee Yeon. Maybe Bok Gil was jealous of Lee Yeon for getting more attention from his own parents than he was or maybe Lee Yeon got the girl he was interested in or maybe Lee Yeon was really mean and had bullied him or maybe the person who Bok Gil had died for (aka a loved) was somehow connected to Lee Yeon. I don’t know, I’m just purely theorizing and for all we know all the Imoogi wants is just Lee Yeon’s fox bead so that it can become a dragon.

Black and White Imagery

Other things I found interesting is the usage of black and white in Ep 8. For example, the shirts Lee Rang and Lee Yeon wears, the colors of the stones of the “Go Game”, and the cars in the background of the parking lot Lee Yeon was in.

Typically, the color combination of black and white represents Yin/Yang, Good/Evil, and Life/Death. In either cases, the concept is the same. Both represent the concept of dualism or the ideal that everything is interdependent, interconnected, and interrelated. Meaning you can’t have Yin without Yang, Good without Evil, and Life without Death. Or in the case of Lee Yeon standing in between the two cars and the two doors, both Lee Rang and Ah Eum/Ji Ah’s lives and fate were interdependent, interconnected, and interrelated to that of Lee Yeon’s.

Episode 9 Predictions

Lee Yeon will get Lee Rang out of the Forest of the Preta and Lee Rang will realize that his brother never really abandoned him in the first place. Additionally, their time in the Forest of the Preta is like a blessing in disguise because it helped both brothers to resolve the misunderstanding that occurred 600 years ago.

Now with Ji Ah, I think she will overcome her fear of the car accident. However I think she will be faced with another fear of hers which is seeing Lee Yeon die. I think she will overcome this too, but the Green Juice Lady will pull out one last trick out of the bag. Instead of making Ji Ah relieve some of her worst nightmares, she will make Ji Ah live in a world where all her dreams have come true such as having her parents back and Lee Yeon by her side. The Green Juice Lady will do this as a way to make sure that Ji Ah would never want to leave. After all, why leave a world where all your dreams come true right? Plus, Ji Ah’s mentality will become weaker because she will start to believe that the dream world she is living in is a reality. Therefore, in order to win against the Green Juice Lady, one must have a strong mind that is not killed by fear nor weaken by fantastical delusions.

This kind of reminds of the creature, “Black Mercy”, from Super Girl. Briefly, “Black Mercy” is alien parasite that makes its host dream their perfect fantasy world while it feeds off of them. The only way for the host to get the “Black Mercy” to detach itself is for the host to realize that the fantasy world they are living in is not real. So for Ji Ah, maybe she would have to do the same on her own or it would take Lee Yeon coming into her dreamworld in order for her to realize this.

Last Remarks

For all of those who are still left confused as to why Lee Yeon chose to save Lee Rang first, you can check it out here:

https://mindmeltonabun-blog.tumblr.com/post/633271037441818624/tale-of-the-nine-tailed-ep-7-thoughts-and

And if you’re too lazy to click/read all of that post, I’ll put it simply here:

In the past, Lee Yeon chose to go after Ah Eum first instead of saving Lee Rang from the villagers burning down the mountain. So this time around Lee Yeon did not want to make the same mistake twice and also Lee Yeon wanted to atone for his past mistakes. Plus, Lee Yeon knew that between Lee Rang and Ji Ah, Lee Rang had the weaker mentality so he would need more saving than Ji Ah would.

Happy Readings! I need a drink now after writing all of this !

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fermented-writers-block · 5 years ago

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Just how important IS Hooty?

You know, I can’t help but wonder if some of the secrets and codes in the episodes have been working as a bit of misdirection, diverting our attention away from the deeper mysteries tucked underneath the surface.

After all, I’ve been seeing plenty of speculation about stuff like Eda’s curse, the Boiling Isles titan, and King’s backstory/possible true form, but not a whole lot about the titular Owl House itself, the silly goofball pictured below:

Now, to be fair, he is particularly easy to overlook due to the lack of focus and weight given to him and his actions beyond the apparent role of sheer comedic relief, and much of what he has said is rather dumb-sounding with others emphasizing how annoying his voice is, but it feels very telling to me that this whole show isn’t named after Luz and Eda or their adventures in particular.

I mean, while the show has mainly been focused on the main characters of Luz, Eda, and King, they are the inhabitants of the Owl House, not the Owl House themselves, and with the way this show likes to reframe seemingly minor jokes and offhand lines as important in later episodes, I get the sense that the same might especially happen with Hooty but on a much grander scale.

We’ve seen throughout the series how he can manipulate different parts of the house like the weather vane and shutters, and in Hooty’s Moving Hassle alone, we both learned that the walls literally breathe and had the demon hunters - who were noted at the beginning to capture and sell the most powerful beasts - view Hooty as some sort of house demon tied to the house.

Though the latter could possibly be chalked up to the demon hunters mistaking a powerful display of animation magic from Luz, Willow, and Gus as a demon, the way that Hooty grew feet and the kind of aesthetics with the house’s design makes me wonder about the kind of importance Hooty could potentially be revealed to have.

Namely, that he either used to be or will become one of THE most important, powerful characters on show.

As @elementalist-kdj has noted before, the stained glass eye window of the Owl House comes from the tower behind it, but it has always struck me about how closely the whole house resembles the owl mural - or perhaps the Owl Deity as I’ve speculated before.

For those who don’t know, I’ve made a post before about how the mural and a few other parts of the Owl House seem like they could have come from some kind of temple or building dedicated to an owl spirit/deity that Eda may have found as a kid rather than having made it herself, and said “Owl Deity” appears to be reflected in stuff like Owlbert’s depiction on Eda’s wanted poster and etc, with particular focus on the following:

Obvious house geometry and chimneys aside, the front of the Owl House to me looks both like a more abstract and more realistic depiction of the Owl Deity than the mural itself. For comparison, let’s look at an actual life horned owl, one with brown streaks and a white spot in lieu of triangles and a diamond shaped star:

The dark brown streaks in the chest plumage are hardly uniform or symmetrical, and the kind of “diamond shaped star” that can be imagined with the spot of white in the center of this owl’s chest is less outlined as a clear star and more as a splash of color.

Now, with the Owl House, all of the glass windows on the front besides the eye-shaped one could be abstracted into right side up triangles while at the same time realistically varying in size and placement just like a real owl. And just like the white splash of color in the above picture, the door - aka Hooty - is placed roughly around the same spot on the house as the diamond on the Owl Deity in the mural. Heck, the owl weathervane could be interpreted as a stand-in for the subtle flame/crown above the Owl Deity’s head.

Just turn the eye-shaped window ninety degrees, make the outside more feather-like, and add some horns/ear tufts above the eye, and you could get what would likely look to be a more accurate version of the Owl Deity - albeit one with the wings tucked in as if roosting rather than spread out in flight - with some slight alterations to the feet of the following picture and getting rid of all the dirt right below the house and above the legs:

All in all, what I’m suggesting is that - as Hooty IS the Owl House itself - he could be either a reincarnation of/a new vessel for/an aspect of the Owl Deity, or a severely weakened and amnesiac Owl Deity that Eda had discovered and incorporated into her house.

With this, I believe that the power of the Midnight Conjuring and its effects on Hooty could be an indication that it would require both a LOT of magical potential/power to restore/bring back the Owl Deity in full force, AND the correct spell or ritual to do so.

Obviously, Luz and her friends easily fulfill the first requirement with their showing in Hooty’s Moving Hassle, but that incident merely channeled that power through Hooty rather than into him, and as such, Hooty’s true potential only partially manifested itself with very limited independence.

Heck, it didn’t even manifest in the correct manner at that, what with the feet in the above failing to match the kind of feet the Owl Deity and the IRL owl have as @sepublic‘s pointed out to me before, so to me, the implication seems to be that for as powerful the combined might of Luz and her friends under the Moonlight Conjuring was, that is still just a flash in the pan compared to the sheer amount of power required to actualize the entire Owl Deity.

As for what is the exact relationship between Hooty/the Owl House and the Owl Deity, I suspect that it could be related to how Hooty’s been often described as the house’s defense system and ‘guardian’ both in and outside of the show, and if my theory about the mural and curtains having come from just one of many rooms out of a whole temple is correct, then maybe the Owl Deity is a guardian being that has a mutually symbiotic relationship with its supporters.

Specifically, a being that is the temple housing said supporters itself.

In exchange for offering protection and maybe even some ancient wisdom as befitting the traditional image of a large and incredibly powerful owl in pop culture, its followers may have taken up residence within this temple and ritually offered to help bolster the Owl Deity’s strength and abilities with their own magic, which helps it more easily manifest its true power and knowledge.

However, I’d like to propose that something might have happened to the Owl Deity’s followers a long time ago, whether from something like all of them dying or being killed, the Owl Deity having fallen in some kind of battle or fight and such that led to its followers being forced into hiding, or its supporters somehow being swayed over to the side of someone else - perhaps someone with a closer association to corvids and ravens rather than owls.

From there, the Owl Deity lost a good amount of its power and strength, its temple body eroding away by the currents of time and its legacy falling into complete obscurity until a chance discovery by a young Eda Clawthorne during her studies at he Hexside School of Magic and Demonics.

And within these ruins, she found a miraculously intact room containing the owl mural and its associated curtains, among which she also uncovered a young/infant owl-like ‘house demon’ she brought back with her, eventually giving it the name “Hooty.”

Though I know the justifications for this theory are admittedly rather circumstantial and flimsy at the moment, I just can’t think of any other conclusion that feels anywhere close as likely to actually happen within the show.

I mean, a very recurring semi-major character often being the only one constantly being re-established as ‘just silly comedic relief’ among a whole cast of characters whose small quirks and funny antics constantly returning to show hidden depths?

And the owl mural itself - a topic of much theorizing - is a part of the owl house and therefore part of Hooty himself much like the breathing walls in the ‘living’ room, so wouldn’t that mean that Hooty has a MUCH closer relationship with it?

How about all the points brought up about how Hooty is supposedly a “state of the art defense system” and how Eda has a LOT of people after her who ought to have been able to get past Hooty despite his many showings of incompetency?

Either all of this is just coincidental set dressing and have no actual bearing on Hooty and his role in the story, or this is all part of a massive bait and switch where, between the idiocy and comedy, things are subtly building up towards a MAJOR demonstration of just why the show itself is named not after any of the inhabitants of the Owl House, but after Hooty himself.

#the owl house #owl house #owl house theory #the owl house theory #hooty #theory #speculation #long post #amnesiac owl deity hooty theory

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eyes-like-a-pisces · 4 years ago

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Rules: Answer 10 questions, tag 10 people and make another 10 questions.🧜‍♀️

Questions from my astrological twin: @maiden-song 💕

1. if you could choose to glimpse the afterlife, would you?

Yes, I would. I think a lot about It.

2. under what circumstances do you think you past life was lived?

I could have had many past lifes. I think I was a native american, cause I've always felt bonded to their tradicion and same with China, cause when I hear the sound of Erhu - traditional chinese instrument, something wakes up in me. I've also always wanted to see Sweden & Finland, so maybe I was doing something there... I mean, I could do anything. I see myself in biblical times, as well as middle ages. I could be a renaissance artist, as well as dying of hunger during victorian era, or something, and that's probably why I'm still careful with money, haha. For my latest one, I think I could have been a hippie in the 60/70s and had some drug use experience, cause when I was a child I used have dreams about taking drugs, even if I didn't know anything about It. I also had some experience with psychics (and "psychics"), my mom had a past life regression and she told me she saw me few times... I don't take anything for granded, but reincarnation is one of my favourite theories.

3. what three skills would you instantly master if you had the choice?

Playing every instrument, speaking every language, singing beautifully

4. would your rather no passion or no pain?

No pain. Everything is needed in life, but you know, enough is enough.

5. if you had a chance to leave this world and go to another one, would you take it?

Depends of the world and who I would meet there. Even if this world can be cruel and disappointing at times, I still have some love for him and humanity.

6. if you could smell like anything in the world, what would it be?

Like the first day of spring, when you go outside and the air smells different. Or a storm.

7. do you feel like common interests or philosophical comparability are not important?

They are very important. I can't imagine a relationship without similar interests, views. You either get bored or fight constantly. I think that the whole point of searching a partner is trying to find things you got in common. The more similar you are, the more understood you feel and more you are attracted to them. That's my experience at least. That's a very basic example, but as you may noticed, I'm very much into music and I was dating a guy, who wasn't into music that much at all. I thought It doesn't matter at first, but then I started feeling like I'm missing my favourite way to connect with other person. Once I met a guy who loved music as much as I do, I'm sorry to admit It, but my partner became unattractive to me.

Similar interests and views are needed at the beginning, to bond with somebody, and later, to simply enjoy spending time together (thanks Captain Obvious). I mean... chemistry and good will are not enough for a relationship to last. Don't get me wrong, I don't think you have to be identical and agree on everything - some differences can be inspiring, balance your relationship and teach you something new. It's also ok and even needed, to have some separate hobbies, things that you like to do on your own. There are also other important things, like, if you equally care about each other and if you are on the same page in general, but I can't imagine not agreeing in the key points and things that are the most important to you. And the only person who can decide what is the most important is the person who is in that relationship, no matter if It's about interests, philosophy or religion. But beside a romantic relationship, I think It's good to be surrounded by different people and listen what they got to say.

8. if there was one mystery you alone could learn the answer too, what would it be?

The mystery of life in general. Why we are here, is there any destiny, how we are connected, how this universe works, what happens after death...

9. in your opinion, is there anything more important than love?

No :) (I'm not talking about putting your relationship before other things. I'm talking about love as a big force and meaning of this universe)

10. describe a new planet you would live on, if you could.

I want things to be diverse, monumental... Maybe another moon, why not. As a concept of the world, I wish there would be peace :) everybody has their safe place to live, will to live, passion, purpose, someone to love and who loves them back. Amen.

Questions from @mybloodiedvalentine 💕👯

1. What is an unpopular opinion you hold you about which you feel strongly and with which you seem to notice a lot of people disagree?

Nothing specific comes to my mind at the moment (that I haven't mentioned before). I sure have some, but what's unpopular opinion in general and what's unpopular opinion on tumblr, are two different things. Maybe, that the "tumblr positivity" is not really helpful. Like: "in case you need to hear this: you are smart, you are loved... ". How do you know that? Those are just empty words. But It's better to spread positivity than negativity, of course.

2. What is the nicest thing a stranger has ever told you that you can recall?

Oh, I had a few situations like that... This is so lovely, when a stranger wants to just be genuinely nice, not just catcalling you...For example, when I was with my 3 girlfriends at the club and 2 ladies in their 40s where like: "excuse me, we just wanted to say that we can't stop starring at you all, cause you are the priettiest girls in the club." And we were like: aww, omg, you are beautiful too, come dance with us. And we were all dancing in our witches circle ignoring all sweaty men around us, haha. Or when my mom went to the the same hair saloon as me and asked hair dresser if she remembers me and she said that she does and that I'm nice and intelectual. I'm her faithful client now ;_; (Sorry for sucking my own dick, but It was nice to remind myself about these situations).

3. Has a piece of art or music ever made you cry? If so, do you remember a specific moment?

Crying to music is my passion. The latest intense moment was few days ago. I was loading a dishwasher at night and I played some music and then "lover you should've come over" by Jeff Buckley came on and sudden wave of lonelliness hit me so hard, that I just had to put down the plate, hide my face in my hands and weep ✌

4. What’s your favourite piece of clothing?

Idk, maybe my Penny Lane coat :)

5. What’s a random childhood memory that fills you with a deep sense of comforting nostalgia?

Sledding with kids during a very cold winter in my home town, until It got dark and snow looked like sprinkled with glitter and having my freezed feet warmed up with a hair dryer, when I came back home, haha.

6. What is/was your favourite thing about your mom? If not your mom, your dad? Or best friend?

My favourite thing about my mom is that she's tolerant and open minded. I didn't have to lie to her or pretend I'm someone I'm not because of that. My favourite thing about my dad is that he actually cared about being a parent, even tho my parents divorced. I respect that he has unwavering morals and huge knowledge about a world - biology, astronomy, music, art...- subject doesn't matter- but he is very modest about It.

7. What’s something you learned on your own of which you’re proud?

Playing guitar

8. When was a moment in your life you remember laughing the hardest?

I was playing cards since I was a kid. After few years, when I was about 13 y. o. I got the first poker, a royal flush. When I saw my cards, I'm not sure why, I just coudn't believe my luck, I started laughing so hard I almost died.

9. What do you like to do when you’re having a hard time mentally that invariably calms you down?

Really depends of the kind of situation and if It's triggered by something or just a longer period of time feeling in a certain way. The is no a magic trick, but some things might be helpful. When It's concrete situation, at first, when the feelings are really intense, then I just can't calm down. Every try to do so, has a reverse effect. Like, I CAN'T THE FUCK CALM DOWN and It makes me even more angry. Brain needs about 20 min to chill, if It's not triggered, so It's better to be left alone and just go mad a little until brain will have enough haha. Have a good cry, listen to some music, have a lonely walk, write my feelings down etc.

I like to listen to Teal Swan on youtube. She's a spiritual teacher. I know, It might not sound encouragingly, but she actually seems very down to earth. She has a video about like, every emotion and every problem ever. She's very good in naming feelings, rationalizing them and It makes you feel more understood. And It calms me down as result. ASMR doesn't work for me, but I remember that at some point I liked to listen to sounds of the nature, like rain, waves etc + guided meditation to fall asleep.

Music always helps in general - listening, playing guitar, singing. I also like to take an oil and do a face massage. I'm really sorry if I sound like an instagram influencer 🤢, but when you feel bad for a longer time, you frown and there is a tention in your jaw, it can be really relieving. I follow instructional videos on yt.

When I have a longer period of going into downward spiral, then every way to distract my brain is good - TV shows, internet content that is not related to my life situation (although, sometimes It's good to distance yourself from social media), for example, I like criminal podcasts, cause they are occupying enough to distract a miserable brain, meeting somebody, going to a place I've never been before. + any kind of shedule, reason to leave the house, any goal, anything positive to look forward to and having even the simplest things done, is a blessing (even if sometimes It's the last thing I wanna do). I also tend to be much sadder in the evening, so I just go to sleep. When nothing works, then It's time for the professional help.

10. Do you have a favourite holiday memory?

Discovering Cocteau Twins.

Best regards if u actually read all that chatter, but those questions were so interesting, that I couldn't limit myself to one sentence answer (in most cases).

My questions are:

1. Who or what was the most influential for your music taste?

2. If you could time travel, where and when would you like to go first?

3. If you could be someone from an opposite gender for a day, how would you like to look like and what would you do?

4. Do you have a style icon/inspiration? Or a favourite designer? Desribe your dream clothing style

5. What's the song by a band/artist from your country that you could recommend? (From your hometown or state eventually)

6. What is the most rebellious thing you've ever done?

7. Has ever something in your life happened, that you coudn't explain with logic?

8. What 5 objects someone could use to summon you?

9. What is your favourite name from your culture's language? And outside your culture's language?

10. What's a song you normally wouldn't admit you like or different from music that you usually listen, but still enjoy?

I tag: @winterdryad @bowiepop @nightmare @confusion-in-the-sea-of-sorrow @l0w-budget @numberoneblind @mirandasinclairs @mysticbride @leperwitch @comeacrossthedesertnoshoeson @hexafu @mielmelancolie @arcane-delight

#don't reblog this or any of my personal posts please #and thank you

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connan-l · 5 years ago

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Glitters

Fandom: The House in Fata Morgana

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationship: Maria Campanella/Pauline Asama

Summary: Teenage Maria is going to spend the summer holidays at Pauline’s home in Amsterdam. Some things goes as expected, some others do not.

For ‘Day 9: Ocean’ of Femslash February 2020!

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Link on Archive of Our Own

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Notes: Just a short and fluffy gay thing I wrote for Femslash February 2020! Well I say ‘short,’ but it actually got a lot longer than originally planned...

To be honest, I actually struggle to ship Pauline and Maria — Pauline seems way too much into Yukimasa, and Maria kinda struck me as aromantic and as the type who’s just more invested in platonic friendships — but… they’re also the most obvious f/f ship of the game? So, hey, why not. They can be cute!

This takes place during the modern days pre-Reincarnation, but I admit there are probably some details I forgot about it (can’t recall if they mentioned anything about Maria and Pauline’s childhood or about Pauline’s family), so, sorry if there are any inconsistencies with the game.

Disclaimer that I don’t speak Dutch and I’ve never been to Amsterdam or even in the Netherlands, thus there will likely be some… mistakes.

Technically this is for ‘Day 9: Ocean,’ though I actually started writing this before seeing the prompts.

Spoilers for the main game, Requiem and Reincarnation! Though you can understand even without having read Requiem or Reincarnation.

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The first thing Maria did upon leaving the plane was to throw up.

Which was a pretty unusual thing; she was never sick, be it in cars or planes or boats. But here the journey had been particularly cantankerous.

It’s the last time I take the plane in my entire freaking life, she thought to herself while she was wiping her mouth. Though she knew pretty well it was a lie, as her return ticket had already been booked. She now practically regretted bitterly to not have cancelled her vacations altogether — but it was a rare occasion, as her family rarely went on vacation, especially not in another country.

“Ahh, Maria! There you are!”

Maria turned around, and saw a young black-haired girl with a ponytail waving and running towards her with a smile. However, when she saw Maria’s pale face, she stopped and put both of her hands in front of her mouth.

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

“Do I look okay, you idiot?” Maria snapped back.

She actually hadn’t intended to sound that mean — especially not to her best friend she hadn’t seen since at least six months — but it had been a knee-jerk answer. Pauline just tended to instinctively get on her nerves and activate her hostility button.

“N-No, you don’t,” she blurted out, wincing. “Uh… I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine, forget it,” Maria said, grabbing the handle of her suitcase. “The flight was pretty awful so I just got a bit sick, but I’m good now.”

“O-Oh… well, I can ask my mom to give you some medicine once we get home—”

“I told you, it’s fine. Don’t bother. More importantly, you’re alone?” Maria asked, as she could only distinguish her friend in the halls. She looked around to search her mother’s blonde locks or her father’s boorish figure, but saw neither of them.

“Orlando is the one who brought me,” Pauline answered. “He’s waiting for us in his car in the street below.”

Right, Orlando. An old friend of Pauline’s mom. Apparently, they had known each other since they were kids, and as far as Maria was aware he’d always hanged out around the Asama family. He didn’t seem to be very fond of Pauline’s father though. (Maria always thought the dude had a crush on Pauline’s pretty mom, but she would never tell her theory to anyone of course.)

As they were slowly walking towards what Maria supposed was Orlando’s car, she caught Pauline’s gaze on her — she had a dumb, gentle smile on her face, her black ponytail bouncing softly behind her back at the rhythm of her steps.

“What?”

“H-Huh? What, what?”

“You’re staring at me!”

“Ah, umm… sorry, I was just thinking you’ve changed since the last time we’ve seen each other.”

Maria cocked an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? You on the other hand you haven’t changed at all.”

“Th-That’s not true! I’ve changed too. I took three centimeters since last time! And I bought new clothes!”

Maria just laughed, and Pauline began to complain about how “mean she was” and how “she could compliment her a little.”

Maybe Pauline had changed a little in the months they hadn’t seen each others, but on the other hand it felt like their relationship had stayed the same during these all years they’ve been friends.

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Maria had only come to Pauline’s home in the Netherlands two times.

They had first met when she was around six years old — Pauline’s father had been on a business trip in Milan, and exceptionally he had decided to bring his wife and daughter along with him. She and her mother had came in a park one afternoon, where Maria had been playing with her grandfather, and like the little bully she had been back then, she stole the ice cream of that annoying foreign little girl. But then said little girl started crying so loudly that in the end she just handed it back to her. And then for some reason they started to play together. None of them knew how to speak the other’s language at the time, but as the small kids they were that didn’t bother them much.

After that, their parents met and so they stayed in contact. Pauline’s family was actually surprisingly wealthy — her father was a tradesman traveling very often, so she was able to come to Milan at least once a year, and the rest of the time they’d call or sent each other letters and emails. Maria’s family, on the other hand, had always been more on the poor side. Not excessively so — Maria always had a roof over her head and food in her plate, and she never truly lacked of anything — but she certainly couldn’t bring herself to pay some vacations in another country whenever she wanted. Which was why, three months ago, Pauline had proposed to invite her over for the summer vacations to celebrate her fifteenth birthday together — and she would pay for everything, trip price included.

“You still haven’t decided what you’re going to do after high school?” Pauline asked, tilting her head.

They were both chatting side to side on the car’s backseat, catching up with each other’s, while Orlando was silently driving. Both Maria and Pauline were speaking in English, and the poor man barely knew how to say ‘Hello’ and ‘Good bye,’ so he was probably feeling sidelined. Pauline always tended to treat him like he was her manservant. Maria kind of felt sorry for him.

“Not sure,” she mumbled back, her eyes falling on the window behind which scrolled through Amsterdam’s streets.

“That’s not good,” Pauline said, in that big sisterly tone she sometimes used and that tended to really annoy Maria. “You’re going to enter your last grade next year, right? So you should hurry up and decide.”

“Gee, thanks Mom,” Maria replied, glaring at her.

Pauline puffed out her cheeks. “I’m saying this for your sake!”

“I don’t want to hear this from the girl who can’t even choose her own clothes the morning,” Maria said dryly, and before Pauline could reply, she just added, “And you know what? I’ve decided already. I’ll probably enter the mafia or something.”

Maria grinned at her friend, and as she expected, Pauline stared at her with her brown eyes and her mouth wide open. It was so easy to predict her reactions that it was almost ridiculous.

To be honest, Pauline had actually good reasons to believe Maria wasn’t joking: ever since she was a child, she’d always bragged about how her grandpa was originally born in Sicily and that her family, the Campanellas, used to have ties to the mafia. Now in all honesty, Maria didn’t know how much of this was true — it was some kind of unspoken rule within her family to not talk about this, and her grandfather had always dismissed her whenever she’d questioned him about it — but she certainly had a lot of fun of teasing Pauline when they were kids by telling her that if she pissed her off, some mafioso would come to skin her alive. She had stopped doing this now, of course — that had been pretty childish of her, and Maria was going to be eighteen next year, so these days she tried her best to act more like the grown up she was soon going to be. Though teasing Pauline was just so much fun and so easy it was still hard to kill that habit.

“I’m just joking,” she finally admitted, releasing Pauline from her shock. “I’m not that much of a delinquent.”

“Yes, well,” Pauline said, sighing. “With you, I never know.”

Maria chuckled, when suddenly the car came to a stop.

“Wij zijn hier,” Orlando suddenly said in a stern voice.

Pauline and her family lived in a huge, modern house in Amsterdam-Oost with an extensive view on the sea. They had two floors with multiple rooms, a big garden, a pretty balcony and a garage. The first time she went there, Maria was ten, and she could still remember the intense jealousy she felt while seeing this. Compared to this, her small humble family apartment in Milan felt miserable. It’d be a lie to say she wasn’t still a little bit jealous now, but she was used to it at least.

The two girls went out of the car, and Pauline chatted in Dutch with Orlando through the window for a moment, before finally turning around towards Maria and signaling her they could enter the house.

“He doesn’t come?” Maria asked as she saw the car pulling away.

“No, he said he had a lot of work to do. Anyway, let’s go!”

“W-Wait, don’t run! I have my suitcase with me, remember?”

Both of them entered upon the spacious patio, and Pauline excitedly opened the front door.

“Mama! Wij zijn gearriveerd!” She exclaimed, before adding to Maria in a quieter voice: “Let your suitcase here, we’ll put it in my room later.”

Maria was going to reply, but before she could she heard a sound of door open, a few footsteps, and then a beautiful woman with long, wavy blonde hair in a harlequin sundress showed up.

“Maria! Buongiorno!”

Pauline’s mother beamed at her, and Maria instantly imitated her. “Goedemorgen, Filippa!”

Maria had always liked Filippa quite a bit. She was a nice, smiling woman, radiant like the sun and always dressed in colorful clothes, and unlike her daughter, she actually had some spice to her personality. She was a stay-at-home mother, as apparently her husband’s pay was more than enough to sustain the family (and, from what Maria had gathered, it was also because Filippa’s family was pretty rich). However, she was still a busy person, as not only she was taking care of her daughter and of the house almost all by herself, she also often participated in all sort of town activities and events, and was pretty invested in charities.

Looking at Maria, Filippa brought her hands to her chest, her blue eyes shining as if she was about to cry. “Oh my God, you look so grown up now!”

“Well, it has been about two years since the last time we’ve seen each others, right? So that makes sense,” Maria said, then sighed. “Though to be honest, I don’t think I’ve grown up that much. I used to be even taller than the boys in middle school, but now I’m one of the smallest girls. Hell, I can’t believe that even fucking Pauline is taller than me now. It’s depressing.”

“Oh, but small girls are so cute!” Filippa said, giggling.

“Bleh. Not interested in being cute. I’d rather be huge and frightening, like a bear!”

“Bears stink, though,” Pauline said, wincing.

“Why is that the first thing you think of saying?”

Filippa laughed heartily. “Still, I can’t believe how much you’ve changed… The both of you are going to become young women before I even realize it. It makes me a little sad.”

“No need to be sad. Pretty sure Pauline’s gonna be eighty and still be an unreliable kid inside.”

“H-Hey!” Pauline protested, elbowing her friend, while Filippa laughed again.

“Now, now, don’t fight! Though I suppose Maria isn’t wrong.”

“Not you too, Mom!”

Then Pauline began complaining in Dutch to her laughing mother, and Maria wasn’t able to catch everything they were saying. They may have been friends since they were kids, but they’ve always mostly babbled in English. Maria could understand some basic Dutch, but she was far from being fluent. Though the same could be said for Pauline — despite the fact she’d come to Milan quite a few times, she only knew how to say a bunch of Italian sentences, and her accent was absolutely awful. Maria, like the brat she was, used to make fun of her because of this back then, and little Pauline would start crying and call her a ��meanie.” Fun ol’ times.

“Anyway!” Filippa said again in English. “You girls are here just in time. I just finished the meal’s preparations, you just need to go set the table.”

“Oh, okay,” Maria replied, as Filippa was exiting the room. “So we need four plates?”

“No, it’s just the three of us,” Pauline replied.

“What? What about your dad?”

“He’s back in Japan right now, for work,” she answered.

“Eh? But it’s August. Shouldn’t he be in vacation?”

“No vacations for sailors,” Filippa answered from the kitchen. There was a very clear sharpness in her voice, and with the grimace Pauline displayed, this told Maria her mother was irritated.

It wasn’t something new. As far as she could remember, Pauline’s parents always had this problem. They didn’t have a bad relationship exactly — from what Maria had seen, they actually were quite a loving and happy couple. But Pauline’s father still privileged his work over his wife and daughter, and he was very rarely home as a result, which was something Filippa had a lot of issues with.

This never seemed to bother Pauline much, though. Her parents’ problems seemed to completely pass over her head. Maria had asked her about it once — if sometimes her mom and dad’s disputes were something distressing to her — but she had just shrugged and replied that “It’s just how it is.”

To be honest, Maria thought it was a little… weird. Admittedly she never cared much about her own parents’ problems either, but she could still remember that some of the biggest arguments they had had still impacted her a big deal. So Pauline’s indifference concerning her family’s issues felt off sometimes. Her friend had always been an airhead, sure, but sometimes it really seemed like… she was a bit too much disconnected from reality and the world around her. But maybe Maria was just overthinking it.

For lunch, Filippa served them a bountiful plate of Italian spaghettis with tomato sauce, which she had cook specially for Maria, and which was of course delicious. They finished the meal with a vlaai for dessert, and then the girls ran into Pauline’s room and Maria started to unpack her baggage. The Asamas’ house had a guest room and was big enough in general for Maria to sleep alone in a bedchamber of her own, but Pauline had insisted for them to stay together. She had accepted without thinking much about it, until she realized it also meant sleeping in the same bed as Pauline’s.

This shouldn’t be something weird; it wasn’t the first time they’d sleep together — though the last this had happened, they were in elementary school. So now that they were older — almost ‘young women,’ like Filippa had said — it felt… a bit odd to her, somehow. This shouldn’t be odd. Friends slept with each other platonically all the time, right? So there was no reason for it to be odd. Maria hoped that if she told herself this enough times, this would convince her. Somehow.

But this issue quickly faded from her mind as Pauline dragged her in the living room in front of their really big, flat screen TV, where they spent the afternoon switching channels and making fun of the stupid melodramatic soap operas broadcasted while eating snacks. Although honestly they mostly spent their time chatting and laughing rather than truly watching the TV. Filippa interrupted them two or three times to try to make them leave the couch and go outside while the sun was still up and shining, but she finally left them alone when Pauline promised her they’d go out tomorrow. And before they even noticed it, the night had already fallen.

After the dinner, Maria was the first to change herself, then she let herself fall onto the bed while Pauline was busy in the bathroom, the muffled sound of a Dutch TV presenter resonating in the background from the living room — except this time it was Filippa who was in front of the screen. In the meantime she looked around the room, which honestly hadn’t changed much since the last time she came here. Pauline’s room was pretty girly and common; some posters of boys’ bands on the walls there, some cute stuffed animals here, some romance novels scattered around. The most distinguishing features were the trinkets from all sorts of different countries and cultures that her father always brings her back from his travels as souvenirs, and that she collects on top of a few shelves.

Pauline entered back into her room, and she was dressed in a white pajamas with dolphin patterns, her long black hair unusually let down and falling on her shoulders gracefully — and, despite the fact Maria thought the dolphin pajamas looked pretty silly (she wasn’t ten anymore, dammit), she did admit she was kinda cute like that. She thought it was honestly a shame Pauline never let her hair down like that. As far as she could remember, she’d always tied it in that messy ponytail, even when they were young children.

“So,” Pauline started, smiling at Maria. “What do you want to do now? I have some board games if you want. Do you like Monopoly? Or Cluedo?”

Maria sighed, then scratched the back of her head. “Nah, I think I’d rather go to sleep.”

Pauline gasped, then stared at her as if she had just confessed she had murdered someone.

“What? I’m tired!” Maria exclaimed, feeling almost offended.

“It’s just it’s not like you at all,” Pauline gently replied. “Usually you’re the one who want to stay up as late as possible, and I have to beg you for us to go to sleep… On top of that we spent the afternoon on the couch in front of the TV…”

“Yeah, well, I spent hours travelling in a plane before coming here, remember? And the trip was pretty awful. So I’m exhausted.”

“Oh… I see…”

Pauline looked genuinely disappointed, and it was so funny Maria couldn’t herself but grin. “Ahh, I see you expected me to keep you up all night, huuuh? You naughty girl— Hmph!”

Her face as red as a tomato, Pauline threw a pillow at her, which crashed directly into her face before she could say any more words.

“No, you don’t start!” She exclaimed, then sighed heavily. “You said you were exhausted right? So fine, let’s sleep.”

“Don’t sulk, Pauline! I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. We’ll stay up late as muuuuch as you want!”

“Ahh, shut up!”

Pauline turned away from Maria who wasn’t trying to hold back her laughers now, and picked up something from her desk, that looked like a small ball.

“What’s that thing?” Maria asked.

“Oh, it’s my nightlight,” she simply answered.

It took some time for Maria to process what she meant by that. “What, are you fucking kidding me? You’re still sleeping with the lights on? How old are you?”

“J-Just with that tiny nightlight!” Pauline protested, blushing. “It’s very faint, it shouldn’t bother you!”

“God, that’s not the issue,” Maria replied, rolling her eyes. “I swear, you’re such a baby.”

All while talking she lied down and buried herself under the sheets, while Pauline plugged her nightlight. It was indeed of a very faint, soothing blue color, and light never bothered Maria to sleep anyway, but she still couldn’t believe Pauline needed this as if she was a freaking toddler scared of the monsters below her bed. She felt the other girl rejoin her beneath the blanket, the mattress shifting under her weight. This reminded Maria of the times where they slept together as kids — Pauline is a rather touchy-feely person around her loved ones, so she’d always ended up snuggled against Maria the morning, arms tightly wrapped around her waist. She really hoped Pauline wouldn’t do this tonight. It just… wasn’t the same thing anymore, now that they weren’t kids. For a moment, neither of them spoke, only the sound of their breathing and of the muffled TV resounding in the room, and Maria almost thought she was going to fall asleep when Pauline raised her voice again.

“It’s because I have nightmares.”

Maria raised her head and looked at her friend. Pauline was staring at the ceiling, and she couldn’t really make out her expression in the darkness, but her gaze seemed unfocused.

“Nightmares?” She repeated. That was new. She’d never heard about Pauline having nightmares before — or at least, she’d never told her about it…

“It’s pretty rare,” the younger girl admitted. “But a few months ago I’ve had a really bad nightmare. Ever since, the dark prevent me from sleeping well, so Mom bought me the nightlight, and it helps.”

“Huh…” Maria didn’t know what to answer to this, and now she actually felt a bit like an asshole for having made fun of her without knowing this. Maybe Pauline read her thoughts — a pretty rare occurrence, as she usually wasn’t very good at this — because she smiled at her softly.

“Like I said, it’s not a big deal, really, so don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Maria replied by reflex, though it wasn’t completely true. She hesitated for a moment, before asking in a softer voice: “What… What are they about, exactly? Those nightmares.”

“Hmm…” Pauline’s frown burrowed, as if she was searching through her memories. “To tell you the truth… I don’t really recall well. It’s very blurry. But…” She stopped.

“I think… there’s a monster in it…” She finally added, and her voice sounded a bit odd. “A beast.”

Maria blinked. “A… beast.”

“And… I think he kills me.”

(The beast killed her.)

For some reason, a chill ran down Maria’s spine, and she felt as if her entire body grew cold.

“Strangely enough, though, I… I’m not scared,” Pauline continued. “I think… maybe it’s a bit sad, but it’s not scary…”

Maria really struggled to stay focused on her words; she felt as if she was far, far away, in a place where she couldn’t reach anyone. For a very brief moment, it was as if she wasn’t in that room anymore, warm and safe under the soft the blanket, but somewhere else, in far away old city drenched in blood and corpses — among them, clothed all in black and white, lied Pauline, looking older and motionless—

“He won’t kill you.”

Pauline blinked, and stared at Maria blankly.

“The beast won’t kill you,” she repeated, firmly. “I won’t let him.”

The black-haired girl next to her looked so confused, and Maria honestly couldn’t blame her. She wasn’t even sure herself what she was saying exactly. She just knew her body was still cold and that the scent of blood still persisted in her nose and that she had to tell her that. Instinctively, she reached towards Pauline and grabbed her hand in hers, as if she felt the need to feel her warmth there — to reassure herself she was safe and alive, by her side.

“If… If the beast ever comes to you, then all you have to do is call me, and I’ll go kick his ass. I definitely won’t let him kill you.”

Pauline’s shock slowly faded from her face, and instead a warm smile replaced it, which Maria suddenly felt kinda embarrassed about. Why was she spouting all this nonsense? What the hell was wrong with her tonight? But then Pauline giggled softly, a silly, but content and happy expression on her face… so maybe it didn’t matter after all.

“Okay,” was Pauline’s only response.

And then she gently tightened her grip on Maria’s hand, and closed her eyes.

“Maria?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Maria couldn’t really see Pauline in the dark, but she could imagine her soft and genuine smile from her voice, and while she had always loved to tease Pauline and would’ve usually retorted a snarky reply at this… this time, just for this one time, she chooses to answer sincerely.

“Me too.”

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“I’m sorry, but I just don’t get why you find those sandwiches so good. I mean, they’re just… sandwiches.”

“They’re not ‘just sandwiches’! They’re ham sandwiches! And it’s not my fault if you don’t know how to appreciate good things.”

“I’m not saying it’s bad, I’m saying it’s… normal. Common.”

“Well, that’s why it’s great! Ah, geez, whatever, forget about it.”

Pauline puffed out her cheeks, then forcefully bite into her ham sandwich they had just bought, as if she was trying to prove to her friend how good they truly were. It had been almost two weeks now since Maria arrived in the Netherlands. They had spent a big part of their time hanging out at Pllek beach and in the Vondelpark, though Filippa had also managed to drag them to the Rijksmuseum, despite the girls’ complaints. Right now, though, they were just a few streets away from the Asamas’ home, in a cozy place with a pretty view on the sea. It had always been Pauline’s favorite spot ever since she was a child; a bit like a secret base. Well, except it wasn’t secret or a base.

“So did you manage to make Filippa tell you where we were going for your birthday?” Maria asked, swinging her legs on the bench where they were sat.

“No,” Pauline answered, shaking her head disappointedly. “She kept saying it was a secret.”

“Fuck, I hate secrets. I just hope it’s not another museum…”

“Well… I did hear her vaguely mention the Anne Frank House…”

Maria chocked on her sandwich, then glared at Pauline. “You’re kidding me! No way am I going to some dead girl’s museum for a birthday!”

“Now, don’t be disrespectful…”

“I’m not being disrespectful, I just don’t want to think about freakin’ Nazis during my summer vacations!”

Pauline chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we’re just going to go celebrate to a restaurant. The Anne Frank House was about something else.”

Maria narrowed her eyes. “Wait. Did you just trick me?”

“Pauline!”

A voice called out from behind, and the two teens turned around to see a familiar middle-aged man heading towards them.

“Orlando? What are you doing here?” The interpellated girl questioned dubiously.

“Filippa asked for you two to go home,” the man replied in Dutch, and Pauline could see Maria frown besides her while trying to decipher what he was saying as much as she could.

“Why?” She replied.

“She needs your help. Did you forget? She had her new wardrobe and shelves delivered today, and she wants you to help install them.”

Pauline gasped and brusquely stood up upon hearing this. Her mother had in the prospect of redecorating the house, and she decided to start with the furniture. A few weeks ago, she had ordered a new wardrobe and shelves, and Pauline had promised her to help her out with them. Except she had completely forgotten about that! Her mom was going to be so angry!

“Hey, what’s going on…?” Maria asked tentatively, but she wasn’t able to get an answer that Pauline had already grabbed her hand and started running.

“We need to hurry! Otherwise there will be no birthday party at all, be it at the Anne Frank House or elsewhere!”

They managed to reach the house in ten minutes total, which was a record, and while Filippa reprimanded her daughter for her usual absentmindedness, there was no much of a scolding, as the girls helped as much as they could — although Maria did spend quite a few of her time grumbling. And she was still complaining about it even after the night had fell and that they were about to go to bed.

“If I’d known I was going to do manual work and have history lessons, I wouldn’t have accepted to come,” she said grumpily, sat on the half-opened window.

“It was not so bad,” Pauline tried to argue, but she only managed to get a glare from Maria.

“Vacations are made to have fun! Not to work! Your mom is a tyrant. Geez, seriously, what kind of idiot works during vacations?”

“Don’t… Don’t your parents often work during vacations…?”

“Yes! And they’re idiots!”

Pauline smiled awkwardly, then cleared her throat and quickly tried to change the subject to improve the mood. “Aren’t you cold in front of the window? We should close it. Plus, it’s starting to be late.”

“I’m not tired,” Maria replied. “And it’s not cold either. In fact, it’s still surprisingly warm outside.”

As she said this, Pauline came to her side, and indeed, she was right — there was a cool breeze, but overall the weather was still pretty hot. This wasn’t really surprising in August, though.

“Hey, Pauline?”

The girl turned her head towards Maria, and when she saw the wide grin her friend had placarded on her face, she instantly knew she was going to propose her something she wasn’t going to like.

“Let’s go hang out outside.”

I knew it! Pauline thought, and instantly frowned at Maria.

“No!”

“C’mon, let’s go! It can be fun!”

“B-But I don’t have Mom’s permission to go out tonight!” Pauline protested.

Maria rolled her eyes. “You’re fifteen! Stop acting like a baby already!”

“T-Technically, I’m not fifteen yet…”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’ll be fifteen in like, five days!”

“The point is, I don’t want Mom to get mad at me…”

“She can’t be mad at you if she doesn’t know.”

“You… You want us to sneak out of the house without permission?”

“What? You never did this before?”

“O-Of course not!”

Maria was looking at her with such a stunned expression Pauline honestly thought she was going to shook her for a minute.

“Never? I’ve been sneaking out of the house without permission since I was like, ten!”

“Yeah, well, not everyone can be like you!”

Maria rolled her eyes for what was probably the hundredth time today.

“Come on, let’s go! It’ll be fun.”

“But…”

Maria sighed yet again, then she took Pauline’s hand in hers, and stared at her straight in the eyes. Her face was so close to hers that she could feel her breathing and that their noses could touch.

“You trust me, right?”

Pauline stared at her for a few seconds, and then she slowly nodded.

“Then let’s go.”

And despite her reluctance, Pauline decided to listen to her friend, and so they started to prepare themselves. Maria grabbed a top with a cleavage that was a bit too revealing and a skirt that was a bit too short in Pauline’s eyes, then took out red high heels from her suitcase. The other girl chooses a more simple and comfy blue dress, and then Maria winked at her and unpacked a box from her bag, before Pauline realizes it was makeup. Filippa refused for her daughter to wear makeup, because she always said she was still too young for that, but she felt that if she were to say this to Maria she would just laugh at her again, so she decided to stay quiet.

“Let me guess,” Maria suddenly said. “You never used makeup before, right?”

Pauline winced. “I did,” she argued.

Maria arched an eyebrow. “For Halloween?”

“Yeah, well, that counts!”

“No, it doesn’t. It’s not the same thing at all. But don’t worry; I’ll teach you. It’s not that complicated.”

And so she did; she first put lipstick, some blush and eyeshadow on herself, and then on Pauline. She made her sit straight on a chair, and the whole experience felt pretty stressful to her — she had to stay still during the process, as Maria was only a few centimeters away from her face, applying and bumping and brushing all sorts of products on her cheeks and eyes and lips while she couldn’t see any of it. And she honestly couldn’t tell if it was not knowing what her friend was doing with her face that bothered her so much, or if it was the proximity and intimacy of feeling her delicately touching her lips and eyelids. Maria, however, seemed unfazed by this, completely focused on her work, and Pauline was honestly surprised by how thorough and meticulous she was. It made her wonder how much experience she had with this — how many parties she went to before, how many friends she have back in Milan. She knew Maria was quite the sociable type, and she had told her a bit about some of her Italian friends, but Pauline never actually got the occasion to meet any of them.

To be honest… sometimes she felt like she actually didn’t know much about Maria. They’ve known each other for most of their lives, but because of the fact they lived in two different, far away countries, they still missed quite some parts of their respective lives. And Maria wasn’t exactly a secretive person, but she was still the kind who preferred to deal with her problems by herself, or to downplay the things that happened to her. She wondered if Maria felt the same about her too — that if, in the end, she also had the impression she ignored a lot of things about her supposed best friend…

“That should be good!” Maria exclaimed, putting aside the eyeliner. “What do you think?”

Pauline finally looked at herself in the mirror, and… she had to admit that, although she’d always thought of herself as a rather plain girl, right now, with her lips shining of a pretty pink color and her eyelids and cheeks softly colored, she was… quite pretty.

“It’s… really good,” she said. “You’re really good at this, Maria!”

“Yeah, I know,” the blonde agreed, a smug grin on her face. “I’ve had quite the occasion to practice before.”

Once again, Pauline wished she’d know what she meant by that, but for some reason the question stayed stuck in her throat and she felt unable to say anything when Maria put her hands on her hips and smiled brightly at her.

“Well then, let’s go!”

“Ah… yes.”

Pauline rose from her chair, and then was going to head out of the room when Maria suddenly grabbed her wrist and stopped her.

“No, wait. Let them loose.”

“What?”

“Your hair. Let them loose.”

“Why…?”

“Why? Uh, no reason. It’s just… You always tie them up. So I’m curious to see you with your hair down.”

Pauline blinked at her, incredulous. Then she realized she had no reason to refuse, so she did as she asked, and slowly untied her long black hair, letting them fall on her shoulders.

“Like this…?”

Maria smiled. “Yep, perfect! Now let’s go for real.”

She enthusiastically grabbed her hand, and following her friend’s firm step, Pauline exited the room. Maria softly closed the door behind her, then put a finger in front of her lips and mimed a ‘Shh,’ which made the other girl gulp. She had almost forgotten that now came the most difficult part: sneaking out of the house without her mother noticing them. Maria still in head, they slowly advanced in the corridor, and Pauline was impressed at how little noise the blonde was making despite the fact she was wearing high heels — while on the other hand, she had the feeling she was a giant elephant with just her normal shoes.

Then Maria suddenly came to a stop, and Pauline noticed that the door of her mother’s room was open, and that light escaped from it. This almost made her panic and turn back; but Maria’s hand was still tightly holding hers, and she started to walk with such confidence that Pauline didn’t even get the time to say anything. So they managed to go down the stairs and reach the house’s entrance without Filippa show up. Pauline realized they were actually extremely lucky her mother wasn’t in the living room, because otherwise the whole operation would have been impossible. Maria then quickly asked for the keys, which Pauline knew were always hidden under a flower pot near the door, and without making a sound they got out of the house and disappeared in the darkness of the night.

________________________________________________________________

Amsterdam at night was quite different from the day. Pauline may have been born and lived in this city her entire life, but she still had very few occasions to go wandering in the street when it was dark outside, and whenever she had it had always been with her parents. Under the starry sky, her hometown almost felt like a completely different world, and even with the bright street lamps at every sidewalk, she felt wary of the dark, and she couldn’t help but threw nervous glances behind her shoulders whenever she heard a noise.

Maria, on the other hand, seemed to be completely oblivious to her struggles, and didn’t seem frightened the least in the world — she walked with so much conviction, her high heels clicking confidently on the pavement, as if she owned the entire city. Watching her from behind, Pauline felt genuinely envious of her self-assurance. How did Maria always manage to appear so bold and assertive, in every situations? It was almost frustrating.

There was quite a few people around; some workers coming back to home late, some group of friends hanging out together — and despite the fact all of these strangers seemed to be absorbed in their own little world and couldn’t care less about the two teenage girls trotting down the streets, Pauline felt suspicious of every one of them. At some point, a very tall, middle-aged man in a big black coat walked past them, and she shrieked and grabbed Maria’s hand, as if she was afraid he was going to hit her. Maria, obviously, sensed her fright and rolled her eyes.

“I swear, what a wimp,” she commented, though she still didn’t let go of Pauline’s hand.

“You’re not even a little bit worried?”

“No? It’s cool, I’m used to it.”

“But— But what if that man had assaulted us. What would you have done then?”

“I don’t know. Kicked him in the balls? Wouldn’t be the first time it happens.”

“Wha— You know what? No, I don’t want to know what happened.”

Pauline sighed, but she didn’t have the time to regain her composure that Maria then instantly added: “So, where do we go?”

“Where…? Uh, I don’t know… I thought we were just going to hang out outside…?”

Maria sighed. “That’s boring. We need to do something. I dunno, maybe go to a bar.”

“But we’re both underage.”

“So?”

“So it’s illegal! They won’t let us enter!”

“Do you think something being illegal ever stopped me?”

Of course it didn’t. “No, but, I mean, that’s still— A-Ah, Maria?”

Her friend had stopped caring about what she was saying. Her eyes suddenly lit up, and she had brusquely started to run, crossing the street in the opposite direction. Pauline felt obligated to follow her, so she hurried to chase her down. When Maria finally stopped, she felt out of breath, and it took a few long seconds before she could regain her respiration.

“What… What’s going on?”

“Look!”

Pauline raised her head, and in front of her, behind a small wall, was a big, cleared esplanade, that directly gave view on the ocean. Pauline had already been to this place before, but it was the first time she actually saw it during the night; and she had to admit that the undisrupted sight of the sea, shining brightly under the moon and the stars, was quite enchanting.

“I wonder if the water is cold,” Maria pondered in a soft voice.

“It probably is,” Pauline argued. “I mean, it is the middle of the night…”

“Hmm…” Maria scratched her head, her eyes still staring at the ocean, and then a grin took shape on her face and she turned around towards her friend. Pauline instantly knew what she was thinking about without she even needed to open her mouth.

“No! Maria, don’t—”

But she had already thrown away her high heels, and without even taking the pain to remove her clothes, she climbed on the wall, and made a dive head first inside the sea, splashing everything around her, Pauline included. She resurfaced a few seconds later, the water only coming to her waist.

“Aaahh! It’s so fucking cold!”

“Of course it is!” Pauline yelled. “Hurry up and come back here! You’re going to catch a cold!”

Maria only laughed at her, then waved her hand. “Hey, you’ve always loved the ocean, right? C’mon! Join me!”

“What? I will absolute not join you!”

“Come on! For once in your life, stop being a coward!”

“I’m not being a—”

Pauline suddenly felt something grab a pan of her dress and pulling on it with all of its strength. And, as she never had the best sense of balance, this inevitably made her fell into the sea. Before she could understand what had happened, icy water was overwhelming her, and as soon as she got her head out of the sea she instantly started rubbing her arms and chattering her teeth. Then she glared at Maria, who, of course, was just giggling.

“You’re insane! I could’ve got seriously hurt!”

“But you didn’t, so everything’s cool.”

“Ah, God… I hope you’re happy now.”

“Hehe! Yes, very!”

Maria had that pesky wide grin on her face, and she looked genuinely so happy that Pauline couldn’t even bring herself to stay angry at her, which was annoying.

“Geez… The makeup you spent so much time doing is all ruined now…”

Maria shrugged. “No big deal. It’s just makeup. And it’s not like anyone can see us anyway.”

Pauline looked at Maria, and all of a sudden the situation seemed so weird and ridiculous — the both of them, two girls fully clothed into Amsterdam’s sea in the middle of the night — that she couldn’t help but chuckle. A chuckle that quickly morphed into a full on laugh, and that was contagious as Maria quickly rejoined her shortly after. Pauline knew that she should be upset at the other — the water was so cold and her hair and clothes were clinging to her skin in a really disagreeable way… but even after she calmed down and stopped laughing, despite everything, she still couldn’t help but feel strangely warm and happy.

Suddenly, she felt a hand brush her cheek. When she raised her head, her eyes met Maria’s. She was smiling gently — a soft, tender expression on her face that was a far cry from her usual smug smirks or mean grins. That was an expression Pauline wasn’t familiar with at all on her friend’s face, and it took her aback. Her hand was cold, but there was still something incredibly warm in the way she touched her cheek and put some of her black locks behind her ear.

“See? I told you.”

“T-Told me?”

“To let your hair loose. Your look a lot prettier like that.”

It was very dark, even with the light of the street lamps, so Pauline really hoped Maria wouldn’t notice the blush creeping on her cheeks.

She knew that she’d always been of the romantic, dreaming type. She had been the kind of little girl who dreamed to have a handsome prince to sweep her off her feet. Ever since she was a child, falling in love with a man, marrying him, and having children had always been her dream — and, despite the fact the people would tease her because of it, it was still her dream even now, and she never thought there was anything wrong with that.

As such, she’d always thought her first kiss would also meet all of the standard romantic criteria — after a lovely date with her boyfriend, he would bring her to a place where you could see the sea to watch the sunset, and then he would gallantly embrace her in his strong arms and gently put his lips on hers. It had always been how she pictured it. And yet…

And yet, when she looked at Maria, her blonde hair a mess and her clear green eyes shining like jewels, in the middle of that ocean of glitters, she felt a strange impulse taking root in her heart. She looked honestly so pretty, all sparkling and smiling and dazzling under the moon, and so without thinking she leaned in…

And kissed her on the mouth.

It was a brief, soft kiss; lasting only a handful of seconds. Maria’s lips were thin and soaked and salty. When Pauline pulled away, she saw her friend’s expression, which made her froze. She was staring at her, stunned, her eyes as wide as saucers, her mouth open, and her face the color of a brazen fire. Never in her life had she thought she would see Maria Campanella makes such a face, and she was absolutely sure that if she were to tell anyone, no one would believe her. And that’s only then that what Pauline had just done struck her.

“Ah!” She exclaimed. “Th-Th-That’s— I-I mean, that’s— This is—”

Pauline tried to search an excuse, an explanation. None came. She felt herself panicking. Why on earth had she done that? Sure, she’d always loved Maria a lot, but not… not like that. She… She didn’t think, at least? And Maria who just kept staring at her blankly in silence, as if her brain had just ceased functioning.

“S-Say something!” Pauline finally exploded.

“Ah, uh… I…”

At long last, Maria seemed to come back to herself, and winced while scratching her head. She opened her mouth, then closed it, and only a few seconds had probably passed by but those were actually the most excruciating seconds of Pauline’s entire life—

—until she sneezed.

The girls looked at each other in an awkward silence, and then, eventually, Maria spoke again:

“We should… probably go home before we got sick.”

________________________________________________________________

“Thirty-seven nine for Maria, and thirty-eight for Pauline,” Filippa declared, putting the thermometer on the nightstand.

The first one groaned, and the second sighed. Both of them were in Pauline’s room, muffled under the bed’s blanket with wet washcloths on their foreheads. It seemed it was a lot harder to discreetly came back home when you have an unstoppable cough, and they ended up getting caught before even reaching the stairs. Filippa had been generous enough to let them take a shower and sleep before any scolding, and when this morning they’d wake up with a high fever, she had also been relatively calm and understanding about their escapade.

“Honestly, what went through your heads? Going outside this late, all alone, without telling anyone. This is so dangerous! You’re lucky to only get out of this with a fever!”

“I’m sorry,” Pauline murmured, dipping her head under the duvet as if she hoped to disappear under it. “I didn’t want to…”

“You better not put the whole blame on me,” Maria suddenly added. “I didn’t have to insist that much for you to come with me.”

“Yes you did!”

Filippa sighed, then rose up from the bed. “Well, in any case you’ll have to stay in bed for at least quite a few days. I’ll see if Orlando can go to the pharmacy to buy some medicine…”

“So… there will be no punishment?” Pauline asked warily.

“I think spending your fifteenth birthday bedridden with a fever will be punishment enough.”

Her mother’s voice betrayed some irritation, but Pauline felt she had been more worried than angry about the whole ordeal. She then exited the room without saying anything more, closing the door behind her.

“You know your mom is still super cool,” Maria commented. “Mine would have never let me live if she’d have caught me completely soaked in the middle of the night in her living room.”

“You called her a ‘tyrant’ yesterday…”

“I was exaggerating. Trust me, compared to my parents, she’s an angel.”

Pauline had actually no troubles at all trusting her. She was well-aware Maria’s parents tended to be really strict, especially her mother. She witnessed it multiple times before, and it always made her feel grateful for the parents she had.

“It still doesn’t seem to prevent you from continuing to do bad things though…”

“What can I say? That’s just how I was born.”

A faint silence followed, until Maria broke it, in an unusual awkward voice:

“So, er… are we going to talk about it or not?”

“Talk about…?”

Maria groaned. “C’mon! You kissed me yesterday! On the mouth! Remember? I think that’s something that deserve a bit of a talk, right?”

Oh, right. The kiss. Pauline had, indeed, done that. For some reason. Yesterday felt like such an odd night honestly, and with her fever, everything seemed so far away and in a blurry that she had almost wished it was something she’d hallucinated. She and Maria hadn’t exchanged a word on the way back home, then they went to bed, and they’d been with her mother all morning. But Maria was right; obviously, this had happened, and they couldn’t just… ignore it.

“Well… I…” Pauline started, doing her best to not look at her friend in the eyes. “I don’t know.”

“You… don’t know.”

“I-I’m aware how silly it sounds. But it’s just… yesterday, things were weird, you know? We were in the sea, it was dark, and the water was so shiny, and, and… I don’t know! I thought you looked pretty so kissing you didn’t felt… out of place at the time… maybe…”

Pauline could hear Maria’s breath right next to her, but she couldn’t guess what kind of expression she had. She wasn’t courageous enough to look at her.

“So you just… felt like kissing me,” she finally said.

“Yes…”

“Because… what? I looked pretty?”

“Yes…”

Maria stared at her. She was clearly expecting… something else. But Pauline honestly couldn’t give her a comprehensive explanation. She herself didn’t truly know what had crossed her mind at that moment.

“So it wasn’t anything more.”

“More…?”

“You don’t have… any feelings for me.”

Pauline gasped. “Oh no! No, no, no! Of course not.”

Maria let out a huge, big sigh. “Right. It was just a weird impulse on the moment. You’re… just my friend. You like me, but, like, platonically.”

“Yes, yes, that’s it.”

“Yeah, of course that’s all. That’d be silly otherwise, huh?”

“R-Right…”

Then both of them looked away, an awkward silence still hanging in the room. Yes, Pauline was sure it was nothing. She wasn’t in love with Maria or anything. She was just her friend. So, really, there was no need to feel as awkward as she was feeling right now, right? She looked over at her friend (and nothing more!), who seemed to be lost in her own thoughts.

Surely Maria didn’t have… any feelings for her either, right? She always spent her time making fun of Pauline or telling her what a crybaby and an idiot she was… Sure, she knew Maria still liked her, otherwise she wouldn’t keep seeing her, but she wasn’t, like, romantically interested in her… She didn’t think…

Pauline felt like her brain was burning and about to blow up, and she didn’t know if it was because of the fever or because her thoughts were continuing to going back in circle in her head. So she decided she needed to stop thinking altogether, to speak.

“It was… my first kiss.”

Maria blinked, and stared at Pauline weirdly. “What?”

“You know. Yesterday. It was my first kiss.” She paused, before continuing: “I’d always thought my first kiss would be with my boyfriend, during an incredibly romantic date…”

“Oh. Uh. Sorry?”

“It’s not your fault. I mean, I’m the one who kissed you, after all.”

For some reason she still couldn’t fathom. Though thinking about kisses and Maria suddenly made an odd question birth in her mind.

“Say… Was it…”

“What?”

“Was… That wasn’t your first kiss?”

Maria snorted. “Of course it wasn’t.”

Pauline was kind of expecting that answer — Maria was older than her, and she knew she’d always been pretty popular. She never mentioned having dated anyone before, but Pauline still felt a bit disappointed that unlike her, it wasn’t her first kiss. Maybe it was childish of her. Now that she thought about it, she remembered that time two years ago when Filippa had asked her if she had a boyfriend, and Maria had just laughed awkwardly while dismissing the question… She thought she should let the matter at that, that it could be a potentially slippery topic, but the next question escaped her mouth before she even thought about it:

“Did the people you kiss before were boys or girls?”

“Is that any of your business?”

Her tone wasn’t especially disgruntled, it was just her usual snappiness, but Pauline still winced at it. And Maria noticed that, because she then sighed and added: “Both, actually.”

“Oh…”

Maybe that was why, then, that she never brought up the subject with her. Maria had never been the kind of person to be bothered by what others thought of her or to be judged, though, but… then again, what did Pauline knew about Maria, truly? They never seemed to discuss about important things together, or to really confide in each others.

But… maybe it was Pauline’s fault, too, a little bit. Maybe she should just ask Maria more about herself. She would never be able to know more if she never asked. Maybe she should take the first step and try to confide herself more to her, too.

“Though… you know, to be honest, I…”

Pauline hesitated a little, thinking maybe she shouldn’t say the rest for fear to be misinterpreted, but Maria’s green eyes seemed to push her to keep on.

“I actually don’t really regret it that you were my first kiss. I think it’s… actually rather nice for it to be with you. Plus it was also… kinda romantic, I guess.”

Maria stared at her, then finally she smirked, and let out a small chuckle.

“Sometimes you’re really so fucking weird, you know that?” She commented, and Pauline wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but there was an odd fondness and warmth in her voice, so it couldn’t be something mean.

Then she gently bumped the top of Pauline’s forehead, and she thought that, definitely, even with them ending up bedridden and with a fever, she didn’t regret at all any of the things they had done yesterday, or since the beginning of the month, for that matter. Maria always ended up causing her problems or dragging her into troubles she would have never gotten into without her, but maybe sometimes, just sometimes, it was worth it.

She thought it was worth it just to see the Maria who’d promise her to protect her against an imaginary beast from her nightmares while holding her hand, or to eat common ham sandwiches together, or to see a tender, genuine smile on her face during the night in the middle of an ocean of glitters.

And seeing a smiling, glittering Maria was worth all the fevers and punishments, and she would exchange it for nothing in the world.

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song-of-amethyst · 5 years ago

Text

Rain Wild Chronicles messy review (part 1)

Soo I finished the Rain Wild Chronicles (Dragon Keeper, Dragon Haven, City of Dragons, Blood of Dragons), and... There’s a lot to say. I actually got so focused on world/magic meta that I couldn’t talk at all about the plot and the charactes, so I decided to let this first post just be theories about magic, Skill/Wit, Dragons/Elderlings and this kind of stuff. This seems like the best time to reread Assassin’s Quest but I’m lazy so some of my theories might be inaccurate because of that. Spoilers below.

Silver.

Where else to start? According to Mercor, that is the source of all magic, and something that was in nature, in the water, and in the animals, and all the living got it from there. To say it poetically, there was a bit of magic in every part of nature; this seems to fall in with what Fitz feels with the Wit in the beginning of Fool’s Errand, when he was living in isolation and not yet trying to suppress his magic.

More ways in which both Fitz’s theories and Mercor’s memories somewhat agree is how the magic is stronger in the area surrounding Kelsingra. Fitz and Verity’s Skill seemed extremely powerful while they were in the mountains (despite Fitz’s Skill disability fuck you Galen). And the mountain folk’s attitude towards the Wit being that they consider it an additional sense rather than a magic just goes further in showing how deep the Silver apparently runs in that area.

Wizardwood, memory stone, and Dragon parts all have Silver in them. So far, we’ve seen both Wizardwood and memory stone become sentient if they are fed enough life.

It seems possible for life to be stored in the Silver and later taken back from it? Fitz came back to life by going in the Witted Nighteyes’ body and then back to his own body, the Fool did the same with Wizardwood.

Memory stone destroyed by a wizardwood arrow restored memories to their rightful owners (Fool’s Fate)

Memory stone enables a form reincarnation (Tellator and Amarinda have been implied to have lived several times through lovers), so memory can go from stone to people as well as the other way around, and without necessarily destroying the stone and not necessarily to the rightful owner.

Dragons’ intelligence and longevity comes from the Silver, rather than their basic biology. Safe to assume that originally, dragons neither lived long nor had particular aptitudes to hear/touch thoughts and make themselves understood by humans.

Likely, the only people who can understand dragon speech are those with at least a small aptitude for the Skill. And those who can only hear the noise are the completely unSkilled people. Because the dragons are actually only making noise and sending thoughts with them to convey meaning.

I remember by some point Alise wondering if dragons didn’t have a way to communicate only between dragons that humans cannot understand. Like some of their trumpeting. I believe this to be something like the direct communication thing, the one where you point the thought at one person in particular so that others can’t hear your thought. As Fitz taught Dutiful to do in Golden Fool, or Black Rolf taught Fitz and Nighteyes. The dragons could be using either the Skill, the Wit, or a magic that encompasses them, because at their core I feel they are pretty similar and linked.

On the relationship between humans and dragons:

Mutual change sounds very much like a Wit-bond. Comparison with the behavior of Icefyre (an ancient, authentic dragon with little love for humanity) and the Kelsingra dragons shows clearly their acquired human behavior. Even Sintara acquired social needs and would come to visit the earth-bound dragons after she had taken flight. Icefyre’s disdain for the “social” dragons can’t not remind me of how Nighteyes was viewed.

“Dragon glamour” had been strongly implied to be Skill suggestions in the Liveship Traders trilogy, which was all but confirmed in Fool’s Fate (Dutiful explaining Tintaglia’s command by compaing it to Fitz’s Skill-burned order on him), but Sintara implied that the way human praise dragons affects them as well. It seems recurrent that even when dragons recognize insincere flattery, their “pleasure” still shows in their eyes and they are more compelled to listen and be patient (which is against their most instinctive animal nature)

Further confirmation that “praising” is a form of Skilling is when the Elderlings, who are completely untaught in the Skill, try to work Silver and decide they should suggest things to it, by treating it like they treat their dragons. Which they interpret to be asking with a lot of flattery and beautiful words. Which somewhat works, although it takes very long.

I guess that Skilling while speaking is also how the humans are understood by dragons, too, then. And I have to admire this metaphor, that praise corresponds to powerful Skill-suggestion. None of the keepers seem strongly Skilled, so I wonder what just being a sweetheart would yield to a strongly Skilled one. Remember that to get the dragons to help Dutiful deal with his mother-in-law’s stupid excuses, Nettle nagged Tintaglia, haunted her dreams, and childishly taunted her that if she didn’t get her mate to do as she wished she was not a real queen and bet you can’t do that. Now imagine if Nettle had praised her? ...

No way. I’m trying to imagine any Farseer flattering someone and I’m laughing because it’s just so unrealistic.

Thinking about it remember that any time Fitz says a nice thing to someone (few enough times, to be sure), even if he’s super awkward, the other person is visibly happy? The Fool’s face literally brightens when Fitz says he likes him or misses him. What of Kettricken, whom he adores and is pretty much the only one he tells openly how highly he thinks of her? The poor woman had no chance.

On Dragons, Silver, Elderlings and the Others (Abominations):

Memory is stored in Silver. Wizardwood, memory stone, and dragon blood, all contain Silver. So I deduce that in the Liveship Traders trilogy, serpents who reverted to bestiality have done so because of having been deprived of Silver for too long, thus their intelligence and ancestral memories started to fade. Maulkin got them back by giving them memories, from his own toxins (which, again, are made of Silver), and his state of weakness seems to imply he had little Silver left himsef.

Silver has been source of conflict.

Dragons went to war with other dragons to gain access to Silver wells, or to protect their claims to one. And Elderlings apparently kept from dragons knowledge of the location of the Silver to keep them dependent on them.

Others/Abominations are the offspring of Dragons who have been modified by human contact, and they lack the ability to take flight, and to go to Kelsingra. Their need for the Silver thus cannot be fulfilled that way, so they attract it. Elderling artefacts washing up on their shores is certainly not a coincidence. Silver, and Silver-coated objects are susceptible to Skill-suggestion, so having them come to them makes sense to me. Likewise, them abducting She-Who-Remembers, who has the most ancestral memories and thus the most Silver in her blood.

Ironically, the shunning of the Others by dragons (remember it is considered taboo to even speak of them), and them being left to their own devices is part of what delayed the serpents and caused dragons to almost go extinct.

Probably unrelated, but the Others had used She-Who-Remembers’ ancestral memories to predict the future. This goes in the way of the White Prophet/Catalyst beliefs, which state that the world’s history is somewhat of a circuit.

Glamour (the Fool mentioned in Fool’s Errand that he could charm anyone he wanted, except it didn’t work on Fitz), dreams that could be interpreted as future events (which could also apply to the past), a special place where people who had those dreams were required to record them, their prophecies sold or used by other people... This sounds way too familiar, so I’m wondering where Whites stand in all this. Is White prescience linked to Silver? Is there any link between the original White folk and Elderlings? (after Fool’s Quest I have a few theories on this but I’ll leave them out and anything that could be a F&F spoiler)

Is the fact that the Fool is a White somehow related to how he could use the Silver in his fingers when the Kelsingra Elderlings clearly had no idea how to use it, or is it thanks to him having some notions of the Skill through his contact with Fitz? Same for Amber’s skill at working Wizardwood, and the fact that the Silver in her fingers lasted for years without appearing to accelerate her aging? (I’ll get more theories on that when I read the F&F trilogy, probably)

That brings me to the big controversial question that was implied in the RWC but never explicitly raised: on the wrongness of the Dragons/Elderlings civilization. Fool’s Fate gave as a reason to bringing dragons back, the need for humans to see their arrogance reflected in dragons, to realize they belong to the world rather than the opposite, to stop acting as though they own the world and shape it to fit their needs. Now surely, humans always try to create environments that facilitate their lifestyle, but it does not seem as though there is some sort of ecological crisis in the rote world. Whereas, the Elderling/Dragons civilization...

They used the Silver to shape stone and roads that “remember” and that repair themselves, and that never allow plants or animals to live or walk on them.

Elderlings put their memories in stones that allowed them to preserve their lives and even to “reincarnate” by possessing new people. Rapskal’s tragedy is that in his open curiosity and naivety he opened himself to Tellator who just drowned him. A similar event is described in Fool’s Errand, with the Wit. The dead woman who lived as a deer, the dead woman who lived in her cat and tried to take on Dutiful’s body. Fitz himself expressed feeling an extreme sense of wrongness from the deer-woman, even as his non-judgmental mind asserted that no one could truly understand them and their decision.The explicit conclusion that was given by the Old Blood nonetheless is that two beings in one body can only have an unequal bond, and inevitably, one of them will yield and be no more than a passive observer while the other drowns them and decides everything. This situation is considered immoral, harmful to nature and Old Blood humans have strict rules to prevent it. Elderlings apparently did not, if Tellator and Amarinda kept taking control of people and discarding their identities.

There are sad parallels between the Cat who loved Dutiful and the woman who tried to use him and take revenge on the Farseers by hurting him (thanks Regal), and Thymara, loved by Rapskal and bullied by Tellator. Imagining Rapskal in the position of Cat, powerless but aware of what the other is doing, of how Thymara loved him but couldn’t love Tellator, after it was too late... Well I like to make myself sad it seems.

Dragons claim that they need the Silver to survive. The truth is, both their intelligence and their longevity is not in their very basic nature, and with it they acquired arrogance, and the belief that they ruled the world and humans. And magic, long-lasting knowledge, longevity added to their size and shape certainly helps the belief. I mean, if you can just go destroy a city because they attacked one of your kind and you have to make humans fear you, well... For this kind of tyranny I might have to disagree with what the Fool told Chade in Fool’s Fate. Not that his words are wrong, but the context is. You don’t encourage more symbiosis with nature by bringing back creatures that respect it even less than humans.

Dragons claiming ownership of a magic that belongs to all the living, and disdaining all the living as mindless, including humans, is worse than what most people do I guess.

#rote #rain wild chronicles spoilers #meta #review

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littlemisssquiggles · 6 years ago

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We've seen Oscar extend a hand of mercy towards misguided foes such as Hazel in the show, but do you believe he would have the moral strength to risk his life and actively save someone whom he may dislike for personal reasons or would his doubts and reluctance win out over duty in the end?

Hello again Al. This is actually a pretty great question. One I’ve considered beforeand my Pinehead headcanon is that Oscar is a selfless kind of kid---the kind of hero in themaking with the drive to risk his life for someone regardless of feelings orany emotional attachment he had to said person. Oscar would do it because it’s the right thing. Oscar strikes me as the type to do everything in his power tohelp if he can and this is extended to anyone he meets; friend or foe. If Oscarwas willing to take the chance to attempt to reason with Hazel in spite ofknowing he’s the enemy then I think he would definitely attempt to save someone;again friend or foe, so long as it is within his power. And ironically enough,Oscar is the type of character to be that unapologeticallyselfless. Not only does he have thereincarnation granted by the God of Light but he also has the potential to usemagic. Magic, in Remnant is literally the power of the Gods bestowing its userswith abilities beyond the likes of anything one has seen.

If magic can be used to turn regularhuman beings into animals and empower them with the forces of nature then whatelse can magic do? Instead of developing a god complex, I can see Oscar comingto view himself as a self-sacrificing saviour willing to put his life on theline because in his mind; he is the one person who can make that daringsacrifice and not have any severe repercussions.

Unlike all those huntsmen andhuntresses who died throughout Remnant’s history to decide the fate ofhumanity, Ozpin---Ozma and the other Wizards of Light have the advantage ofreturning. When one of them dies, he returns as another. I can see Oscar willing to die because in his head, his death will mean something. If he’salready going to lose himself to becoming the life of another then shouldn’t heat least ensure that his life---the one he still has control of goes outmeaning something.

It is for this reason why I think should Salemthreaten to attack Atlas with her army of Winged Beringels, Oscar wouldn’thesitate to surrender himself. He’d willingly hand himself over to the enemy ifit meant protecting or ensuring the safety of a kingdom full of innocent lives.One life in exchange for the lives of millions. Oscar would make thatsacrifice. The only folks who might be against that are the people who careabout the boy---the smaller, more honest soul that is Oscar. I’m seriouslylooking forward to seeing how that part of the Atlas Arc plays out and hope itisn’t turned into a disappointing mess since it’s an opportunity to developOscar’s character.

I actually have two imagined scenariosthat can provide decent examples for Oscar’s noble side. Okay, so hear me outon this one. Once upon a time I was left a question prompt for any theories orideas for a Mombi/Tip interactions in RWBY. For my response, I depicted another bullycharacter reminiscent of CardinWinchester---a genderbent Mombi around Oscar’sage who acted as an antagonist to him during his attendance at Atlas Academy.For the sake of this theory, I will christen this boy Kid Mombi.

For this idea, it plays out similarlylike the events of Jaundice only with Oscar as the focus character. An Oscar-worthyarc of some sort. He attends Atlas. Unintentionally attracts the attention of alocal first year bully named Kid Mombi. Kid makes it his duty to ensure that Oscar’s first timeexperience at huntsmen academy is a living nightmare; harassing him to no endusing the detail about Oscar’s lack of experience as a huntsmen as a crutch tohumiliate him repeatedly. It gets to a point where Oscar becomes frustrated andconsiders quitting Atlas and being a huntsmen altogether. Fortunately he hadclose teammates such as Ruby and Jaune to help him through this tough ordeal.

Ruby offersto be Oscar’s Pyrhha---volunteering to aid him with hiscombat training through private lessons the two will share together. This is afeat I can definitely see Ruby doing for Oscar and she’s the most fittingcharacter to do this since she’s been in Oscar’s shoes before. She knows what it’slike to be the youngest huntsmen in an academy of older more experienced pupilsand have to work hard to prove her worth. Ruby was fortunate to have her familyand friends who believed in her and now she wishes to extend that hand toOscar; if he’d allow her.

I can see Oscar being firmly against thisidea at first due to his pride. But ultimately, he’d accept Ruby’s help. Thetwo start training together thus providing a good bolster for their budding friendship to blossom further.

On Jaune’s end; he offers Oscar someadvice on how to deal with Kid Mombi, using his experience with Cardin to offerOscar some guidance. This acts as a great bonding moment for Oscar and Jaune tofurther solicit the idea of him ultimately joining JNR to revive JNPR. Isincerely hope that part of V7’s storyline with Oscar is building upon his tieswith the JNR gang; particularly Jaune as he is the leader of the team.

I pray that partof Oscar’s side of things for the next volume is showing him developing therelationships that will be most detrimental to his character growth and story OUTSIDEOF HIS SHARED STORY WITH OZPIN. TheWriters need to invest time into developing Oscar as his own character. It isadmittedly very disappointing that even after a full three-seasoned arc, Oscar still feels lessas his own person and more as a vessel through which the CRWBY Writers canprogress Ozpin’s story. Even when Ozpin is taken out of the story, nothing muchhas been done for Oscar’s character. I find it kind of odd that the narrative triesto paint the consensus that Oscar is his own person yet the writing has done little to nothingto truly justify that; at least in a way that feels satisfactory to those of us who genuinely want to see this done for Oscar. LikeI said, he needs this.

But to be fair, this is only my opinion and asalways feel free to respectfullydisagree if my words sound too harsh. At thispoint, I feel as if the only way the Writers plan on fleshing out Oscar isthrough his relationships. I’m okay with this if done right and with people whocare about Oscar for Oscar and not his connection to Ozpin. They’ve done wellenough so far with making Ruby someone on Oscar’s side.

Another example is his growing comraderywith the JNR gang, particularly Jaune. I can see the JNR gang becoming Oscar’sfamily team---his brothers and sister in arm and I want this dynamic so badly.More than that, I want Oscar to earn this relationship of his own accord. Iwant to see Oscar prove that he would make a worthy addition to the JNR gang. I’dlove to see more moments of Oscar bonding with each member of JNR. Ren includedbecause as of now he’s the one person that Oscar hasn’t shared a bonding momentwith.

This is why I like the idea of Ren being the one to suggest to Jaune tohave Oscar join their team. Jaune andNora have more or less had their moments with Oscar. Now all I need is one withRen to complete that trinity.

I will be most displeased if the CRWBYWriters end up glossing over this development too and just have V7 begin withOscar already being a part of the reformed JNPR without showing how it got tothat. But I digress.

Going back to my example: so in theend, Oscar grows stronger through the help of his friends. It gets to a pointwhere he’s able to use what he learnt from them to protect Kid Mombi during atraining session that goes haywire. In spite of everything he put him through; Oscar saves Kid and in a twist, earns his respect. After this, Kid stops bullying Oscar and instead learns torespect him as a fellow huntsman. That’s one example involving a potential RWBYcharacter.

My next example is based on a theorywhere Oscar winds up unintentionallykilling Tyrion Callows. I know most fansare probably expecting Jaune Arc to be the one to do that but once more, hear me out. This theoryplays into my musing about Ruby andOscar being kidnapped by Tyrion to be taken to Salem only for the Rosebuds to make their daring escape; winding up stranded in the middle ofthe Dark Domain where they are forced to make the trek back to civilization.Granted there was one in such a dark world.

After failing to bring the children toher, Salem mercilessly disowns Tyrion for his failure, practically leaving himleft for dead in the Dark Domain too. This sends Tyrion into a psychoticbreakdown where he vows to hunt down Ruby and Oscar and bring them back to his goddess;dead or alive if he must.

So Tyrion begins his pursuit of thechildren and at some point, he manages to track down Ruby and Oscar. During hisassault, Tyrion poisons Ruby and threatens to take her life in front of Oscarif he didn’t play ‘good lil boy’ and surrender himself to him.

My Pineheadheadcanon is that should there be a standalone Dark Domain Arc involving Ruby and Oscar surviving together, it would provide theperfect setting for Oscar to hone his magical abilities. I still stand by myhunch where part of Oscar’ssemblance will enable him to take back Ozma’s magic from a Maiden; startingwith Cinder Fall.

In the event that the CRWBY Writersplan on keeping Cinder in the main narrative and not have her killed off inAtlas, I can still see Cinderthreatening Ruby’s life before Oscar with him unlocking his semblance to saveher.

I’ve heard a number of ideas for Oscar’ssemblance from fellow Pineheads and RWBY theorists. But for this squigglemeister, I’m still sticking with his semblancebeing Nullification or Negation. I still feel as if Oscar willpossess the power to render another’s semblance useless; maybe even temporarilydisable it.

I also like this concept for theadditional detail of it having a unique effect on the Maidens. If Ozma possessed the ability to bestow his magicto the Maidens as he did in Isaac’s lifetime as the Hermit then I believe itwould be most fitting if Oscar’s truepower allows him to take that magic back. So inthe event that Cinder shows up, Oscar will relinquish her of her Fall Maidenmagic, rendering her powerless while he in turn regains a portion of hisoriginal magical strength; making him stronger than the average Maiden.

So resuming my point with the DarkDomain Arc, my hunch is that during this potential storyline, Oscar would beforced to master full control of his magic since it plays an important role inhis and Ruby’s survival in the Dark Lands. While Ruby’s Silver Eyes kept themsafe from the Grimm, my belief is that Oscar’s magic offered them nourishmentand accommodation. Like since magic provides control of elements without theuse of dust, I figured it could be used to perform feats like manifest a rockenclosure for Oscar and Ruby to camp during their travels; create fire out ofthin air to keep them warm during the nights; grow food (or the closest thingto it) out the soil for them to eat.

I know the food part sounds a lilfarfetched. However in the World of Remnant episode on the Four Maidens, therewas a shot of the original Spring Maiden growing a sunflower in the palm of herhand I believe. It’s not even to say that she had a sunflower seed in her handthat she turned into a flower. She literally conjured it out of thin air. So ifmagic can do that then surely Oscar would be able to grow some kind of food tohelp him and Ruby through the trek. Even if it’s something as small as himgrowing a small apple tree out of thin air that him and Ruby could pick from.Oscar and Ruby are the two known beings in the series who share the God of Light’slight within them. Ruby has his eyes which can combat the Grimm and Oscar hasthe gift he gave to humanity centuries ago. That’s bound to count for somethingbut who knows.

Anyways, Tyrion threatens to kill Rubyand in a heated rage, Oscar uses his magic to subdue Tyrion. But to Oscar’sastonishment and Ruby’s; the kind of magic he manifests was one he’d never usedbefore. It was a darker kind of magic---one more akin to Salem’s. I can picture Tyriontaunting Oscar. Mocking him just to further enrage him. And when Oscar’s guardis down, he lunges to finish off the subdued Ruby only for Oscar to use hisdark magic again; putting Tyrion in such a tight death grip that heaccidentally crushes the Faunus; killing him in the process.

Imagine…Oscar using dark magic and his first act isusing it to kill someone out of unbridled rage. I can imagine Oscar being horrified by this. Even though Ruby does her best to comfort him and assure Oscarthat everything was going to be okay, Oscar is left traumatized at what he haddone. While Tyrion was an enemy.

Someone Oscar tremendously disliked since heplayed a hand in Salem’s scheme to conquer Atlas kingdom; separating him and Rubyfrom their allies who they weren’t sure were still alive or dead. Despite beingthe reason the two rosebuds wound up stranded in the Dark Domain far away fromthe security of their loved ones on their own. In spite of the grief thescorpion Faunus had caused them, Oscar believed he didn’t deserve to die theway he did. By his hands. With his power. Something that was meant to be good. Do good.

It was the first time Oscar had comeclose to being exactly likeSalem and that thought frightened him most ofall.

So yeah, that’s my answer. Does this answer your question Al? Let me know if it does and as always, thanks for asking fam.

~LittleMissSquiggles(2019)

#squiggles answers: rwby #oscar pine #ruby rose #lie ren #jaune arc #salem #rwby theories #rwby v7 theories #squiggles pinehead headcanons #pinehead headcanons #albion-93

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thevividgreenmoss · 6 years ago

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A good or great writer may refuse to accept any responsibility or morality that society wishes to impose on her. Yet the best and greatest of them know that if they abuse this hard-won freedom, it can only lead to bad art. There is an intricate web of morality, rigor, and responsibility that art, that writing itself, imposes on a writer. It’s singular, it’s individual, but nevertheless it’s there. At its best, it’s an exquisite bond between the artist and the medium. At its acceptable end, it’s a sort of sensible cooperation. At its worst, it’s a relationship of disrespect and exploitation.

The absence of external rules complicates things. There’s a very thin line that separates the strong, true, bright bird of the imagination from the synthetic, noisy bauble. Where is that line? How do you recognize it? How do you know you’ve crossed it? At the risk of sounding esoteric and arcane, I’m tempted to say that you just know. The fact is that nobody—no reader, no reviewer, agent, publisher, colleague, friend, or enemy—can tell for sure. A writer just has to ask herself that question and answer it as honestly as possible. The thing about this “line” is that once you learn to recognize it, once you see it, it’s impossible to ignore. You have no choice but to live with it, to follow it through. You have to bear with all its complexities, contradictions, and demands. And that’s not always easy. It doesn’t always lead to compliments and standing ovations. It can lead you to the strangest, wildest places. In the midst of a bloody military coup, for instance, you could find yourself fascinated by the mating rituals of a purple sunbird, or the secret life of captive goldfish, or an old aunt’s descent into madness. And nobody can say that there isn’t truth and art and beauty in that. Or, on the contrary, in the midst of putative peace, you could, like me, be unfortunate enough to stumble on a silent war. The trouble is that once you see it, you can’t unsee it. And once you’ve seen it, keeping quiet, saying nothing, becomes as political an act as speaking out. There’s no innocence. Either way, you’re accountable.

Today, perhaps more so than in any other era in history, the writer’s right to free speech is guarded and defended by the civil societies and state establishments of the most powerful countries in the world. Any overt attempt to silence or muffle a voice is met with furious opposition. The writer is embraced and protected. This is a wonderful thing. The writer, the actor, the musician, the filmmaker—they have become radiant jewels in the crown of modern civilization. The artist, I imagine, is finally as free as he or she will ever be. Never before have so many writers had their books published. (And now, of course, we have the Internet.) Never before have we been more commercially viable. We live and prosper in the heart of the marketplace. True, for every so-called success there are hundreds who “fail.” True, there are myriad art forms, both folk and classical, myriad languages, myriad cultural and artistic traditions that are being crushed and cast aside in the stampede to the big bumper sale in Wonderland. Still, there have never been more writers, singers, actors, or painters who have become influential, wealthy superstars. And they, the successful ones, spawn a million imitators, they become the torchbearers, their work becomes the benchmark for what art is, or ought to be.

Nowadays in India the scene is almost farcical. Following the recent commercial success of some Indian authors, Western publishers are desperately prospecting for the next big Indo-Anglian work of fiction. They’re doing everything short of interviewing English-speaking Indians for the post of “writer.” Ambitious middle-class parents who, a few years ago, would only settle for a future in Engineering, Medicine, or Management for their children, now hopefully send them to creative writing schools. People like myself are constantly petitioned by computer companies, watch manufacturers, even media magnates to endorse their products. A boutique owner in Bombay once asked me if he could “display” my book The God of Small Things (as if it were an accessory, a bracelet or a pair of earrings) while he filmed me shopping for clothes! Jhumpa Lahiri, the American writer of Indian origin who won the Pulitzer Prize, came to India recently to have a traditional Bengali wedding. The wedding was reported on the front page of national newspapers.

Now where does all this lead us? Is it just harmless nonsense that’s best ignored? How does all this ardent wooing affect our art? What kind of lenses does it put in our spectacles? How far does it remove us from the world around us?

There is very real danger that this neoteric seduction can shut us up far more effectively than violence and repression ever could. We have free speech. Maybe. But do we have Really Free Speech? If what we have to say doesn’t “sell,” will we still say it? Can we? Or is everybody looking for Things That Sell to say? Could writers end up playing the role of palace entertainers? Or the subtle twenty-first-century version of court eunuchs attending to the pleasures of our incumbent CEOs? You know—naughty, but nice. Risqué perhaps, but not risky. It has been nearly four years now since my first, and so far only, novel, The God of Small Things, was published. In the early days, I used to be described—introduced—as the author of an almost freakishly “successful” (if I may use so vulgar a term) first book. Nowadays I’m introduced as something of a freak myself. I am, apparently, what is known in twenty-first-century vernacular as a “writer-activist.” (Like a sofa-bed.)

Why am I called a “writer-activist” and why—even when it’s used approvingly, admiringly—does that term make me flinch? I’m called a writer-activist because after writing The God of Small Things I wrote three political essays: “The End of Imagination,” about India’s nuclear tests, “The Greater Common Good,” about Big Dams and the “development” debate, and “Power Politics: The Reincarnation of Rumpelstiltskin,” about the privatization and corporatization of essential infrastructure like water and electricity. Apart from the building of the temple in Ayodhya, these currently also happen to be the top priorities of the Indian government.4

Now, I’ve been wondering why it should be that the person who wrote The God of Small Things is called a writer, and the person who wrote the political essays is called an activist. True, The God of Small Things is a work of fiction, but it’s no less political than any of my essays. True, the essays are works of nonfiction, but since when did writers forgo the right to write nonfiction?

My thesis—my humble theory, as we say in India—is that I’ve been saddled with this double-barreled appellation, this awful professional label, not because my work is political but because in my essays, which are about very contentious issues, I take sides. I take a position. I have a point of view. What’s worse, I make it clear that I think it’s right and moral to take that position, and what’s even worse, I use everything in my power to flagrantly solicit support for that position. Now, for a writer of the twenty-first century, that’s considered a pretty uncool, unsophisticated thing to do. It skates uncomfortably close to the territory occupied by political party ideologues—a breed of people that the world has learned (quite rightly) to mistrust. I’m aware of this. I’m all for being circumspect. I’m all for discretion, prudence, tentativeness, subtlety, ambiguity, complexity. I love the unanswered question, the unresolved story, the unclimbed mountain, the tender shard of an incomplete dream. Most of the time.

But is it mandatory for a writer to be ambiguous about everything? Isn’t it true that there have been fearful episodes in human history when prudence and discretion would have just been euphemisms for pusillanimity? When caution was actually cowardice? When sophistication was disguised decadence? When circumspection was really a kind of espousal?

Isn’t it true, or at least theoretically possible, that there are times in the life of a people or a nation when the political climate demands that we—even the most sophisticated of us—overtly take sides? I believe that such times are upon us. And I believe that in the coming years intellectuals and artists in India will be called upon to take sides.

Arundhati Roy, The Ladies Have Feelings, So . . . Shall We Leave It to the Experts? (Based on a talk given at the Third Annual Eqbal Ahmad Lecture, Amherst, Massachusetts, February 15, 2001; compiled in The End of Imagination)

#*#arundhati roy #the end of imagination

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snkret-photography · 6 years ago

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Back to Me

Most people know that I follow an abridged variation of a Paleolithic/Ketogenic diet. It makes me feel the most optimal and reduces a lot of my inflammation and hormonal imbalances. Also I’ve never really been a big carb or grain persons so it was an easy transition mentally. This has just been what has worked for me to feel optimal. When I was younger, I ate whatever I wanted, when I wanted and proceeded to exercise like I was getting paid for it. I don’t have that time or energy anymore so my current lifestyle is well supported by my diet. And while I have a general label for how I eat so other people can easily digest it, I don’t particularly care to label it. I try to keep things paleo but Quest Bars are my crack, literally candy bars. I get one life and even if I reincarnate, the experiences in that lifetime won’t solidify my satisfaction in this one. So I still eat what I want, when I want but instead of focusing on the immediate satisfaction that it gives me, I focus on the long term gratification I can derive while still making sure I don’t feel deprived. It works for me and that’s all I worry about.

Recently, I started a new job, I’ll probably talk about that more in depth at some point, but it’s a very youthful workforce and the company operates in the ad tech space. Which means everyone is aware of diets based on the loose depictions they can find on Instagram; legit, no shade. I’ve been on my food protocol for about 2 years and over the past year have cut down to eating once a day, which I just prefer to be freshly made at home right before bed. This translates to me surviving the work day on coffee and water alone. Which translates to everyone having an opinion on their lack of willpower communicated through copious questions and declarations I’d rather not entertain. Like I said, it’s a new job. But whenever I glaze over the details of how I choose to eat, people immediately start throwing out buzzwords as if I remembered the definition and not the word itself. This is usually followed up with some variation of:

“They say that is/is not good for you because some bullshit study somewhere in some bullshit magazine somewhere else.”

I follow an eating protocol that works for me, my goals, and my overall health from both an internal feeling perspective and careful attention to medical markers. Added fact that I love biology which means I actually look at the basis of science studies to look at their original reasoning for deriving a hypothesis, the control of the study, who backed it, and the subsequent reporting along with the counter arguments. I.e. I look at the big picture and not just what “they say” as a basis for how I live my life and make decisions. How I eat works for me but it may not work for everyone else. I do a lot of people’s diet plans and I almost always start out with a list of carbs to intake. Just because I limit the type and amount of carbs I eat, doesn’t mean that everyone else would benefit from such. I may be an accountant but I am not a copy/paste formula. And “they” don’t know everything. Just because some people have made buckets of what Is and is not healthy does not mean that it is 100% accurate. They haven’t studied you and your bodies reaction to the blanket list that they’ve decided to impart on the public. And the public, being the public, has a low tolerance for research and assuming their own opinions; we all love when some stranger says something on the internet super convincingly and have broken it down in a manner in which we can regurgitate without much reference for what is actually said.

This isn’t a conversation about diets. And I’m no better for the flaw in which I’m pointing out. We all go to pseudo-authorities to help make formalized decisions for us on both short-term and long-term decisions. From what to eat, to figuring out our careers, choosing partners, relaxation methods, methods for creating happiness in our lives, and so much more. Consultation is one of the most common things we all do and we always tend to consult, directly or in-directly, those in which we believe have a stronger foundation in the topic than we do. You want career advice, you consult someone who has a career length or position in which you desire to. You want fitness or dieting advice, you consult the trainer or dietitian. More commonly you follow the person who competes on Instagram or ask your friend who’s always been skinny/buff, depending on your goals. You want to know how to navigate your relationship, you ask people who have relationships in which you aspire to. At least, in theory this is the manner in which people go about things. Everyone consults based on their immediate circle and the manners in which they trust other to help them navigate their problems. I don’t believe in monogamy, yet all of my friends in relationships consult me on how to secure their relationships and improve the quality of because they’re aware I'm going to advise them based on the value of our friendship and not my personal views on the matter. I know trainers that constantly tell their clients that to achieve their results, it require discipline and consistency yet their clients chief question, paraphrasing, is what they can buy to achieve that. So they in turn sell them accountability until the person can gain that for themselves and routines that are built around the person’s goals. At my gym there is a trainer who I’ve seen float the exact same workout to both men and women trying to achieve completely different goals, only changing the duration, intensity and repetition of the workout. That is so not how it works but that is how a lot of people work. “This worked for me or I have found x so it should work for you and anyone else who asks.”

This theme of listening to the “they” hit a real head recently. I greatly enjoy the role of devil’s advocate. No particular reason, it brings me joy and that’s all that matters. So going with the current is rather easy but personally, infuriating. I would go online to browse random sub-reddits and a bunch of jack-offs behind their keyboard were operating on a full level of knowledge, confidence and rudeness you could tell was in-organic. I would entertain a public discord on some newsworthy topic and was subsequently met with opinions that nobody could concretely defend. And all that diet shit I mentioned earlier. So when it was time to decide my next project, I didn’t even want to do one. I looked back on my recent projects and then broadened that to my entire works over the past year from the creation of this website to side projects I had picked up and was entirely confused. I had no idea what I didn’t like about everything as a package nor that impressed by individual projects. Even my posts were bugging me. So far from the course in which I originally set. And somewhere in reflecting on why people found it so appropriate to consult me on my own practices from an outside party in which neither of us ever regarded personally, something clicked. It’s been a very inauthentic experience. Sure I have some projects here that I absolutely adore. Yes, I have gotten to do something I love, work with people in the manner I desire, and develop my skills in a manner I never really thought I could before. Of course this has been a cathartic outlet with great growth and has had a visibly positive impact both in my and other’s lives. It has also just made me grow closer with a lot of people by opening up the realm of conversation. It’s dope. But something still wasn’t clicking. My writing was getting weaker and almost always derived from an emotional perspective. I kept trying to change my website and Instagram layout but could never figure out how to keep it in the manner I developed it. Photo-shoots had more to do with getting content out or making a quick buck on the side rather than developing an idea and creating a story from it.

I had developed a business and parts of my life on the advice and consultation of people who have no actual basis of authority. And doing things strictly to impress others or at the console of something others have an opinion on yet no tangible marker of authority is dissatisfying to say the least. I don’t like social media almost strictly based on not giving a fuck about the facade that people put on to have these amazing lives they don’t nor entertain the countless opinions of people who can’t keep that same energy. I originally designed my website in the taste of my ex-boyfriend who had never designed anything for public consumption or really taken any action on anything. Adjusting concepts and final visions on the advice of a person who just on-looks but doesn’t operate. Then I look at the approach I developed in writing to be more open in my communication about my emotions and life at the advice of all my friends who like to act like they have none, self explanatory why I should have not listened. Broaden the pattern, I had an abysmal living arrangement on the advice of people who suggested the money saved would be best long-term. In short, a bunch of opinions from people who have nothing to lose in the outcome. And it all just settled. I couldn’t take much pride in things when the outcome was based more on the advice of non-active participants than myself. Which was my own fault. I can consult the world but I don’t have to take the world’s advice. It was something I’ve always known and implemented in my life yet neglected in my business. Putting off projects because my consultants didn’t particularly like the idea or get it. Wondering if I needed to go back to the drawing board or if I wasn’t communicating it properly. But it’s not their project. They’re not putting their name on it and quite frankly, if they don’t like it then that is a miss for them. But if I put out a project I’m not invested in, then that is a lost for me that I will always have my name attached to.

So now, on the anniversary of my dive back into photography and writing, I’m going back to the original ideas. I will do things that I want to move in the direction I want. I will consult authorities and opinions alike but will make note of the differences and be sure I’m still just as invested at every step. There is no worse feeling than to have to live according to someone else’s version of happiness, success, and achievement. The manner in which other people live and operate are mere matters of comparison to derive what parts we identify with and which parts we don’t, constructing the best possible experience for ourselves. And I want to bring people the best that I have. I love what I’ve put out over this past year because no matter how good or bad something may be technically, personally, anecdotally, I have a record in which to document my growth. But what is the point of a goal if it is not consistently refined as you achieve it? So when I set out on the first year, I had a lot of goals with a lot of people who are no longer here. Now I have some goals for myself and at the forefront of them, and in the words of Megan Thee Stallion: What The Fuck I Want, When The Fuck I Want!

*And I’m still at the mall with your motherfuckin’ daddy, eh

#Blog #Work #Diet #Advice #Projects #Social Media #Content #Growth #Development #Goals #Relationship

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aion-rsa · 3 years ago

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Is Skyward Sword the Only Link and Zelda Romance Story?

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If you’re anything like most gamers from a certain era, you probably grew up assuming that Zelda and Link were in love. After all, he is a hero, she is a princess, he was a boy, she was a girl…can we make it any more obvious?

However, the truth of the matter is that nothing is quite that obvious when it comes to Link and Zelda’s relationship. Much like your relationship status on Facebook whenever you felt like stirring up a little drama, the relationship between Link and Zelda over the years has been decidedly complicated.

That’s part of the reason why Skyward Sword has always been one of the most interesting Zelda games from a lore perspective. After years of ambiguity, complications, winks, half-answers, and lingering questions, Skyward Sword gave us a Link and Zelda relationship that couldn’t possibly be interpreted as anything but romantic (even if there is some ambiguity regarding how their relationship ends). The game was even promoted with this “Romance Trailer” that highlights that aspect of the plot:

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While there is very little debate regarding whether or not Skyward Sword is a Link and Zelda love story, there is a much more substantial (and far more interesting) debate to be had regarding whether or not it is the only real love story in Legend of Zelda history.

“Hold up,” you might be saying. “If Zelda and Link didn’t have a canonical romance until 2011, then why did I grow up believing that they were in love?”

Well, as we mentioned before, elements of the perceived romance between Zelda and Link can be attributed to the fact that most of the guys you see rescuing princesses in fantasy stories do tend to fall in love with them. It’s not exactly the genre’s most beloved trope, but it’s certainly one that has ingrained itself into our collective pop culture consciousness over the years.

To be fair, though, the Zelda/Link love hasn’t just been in our heads this entire time. The popular theory is that the pair end up getting married at the end of the original NES game (even if the sourcing for that claim is somewhat dubious from a canonical perspective), and we see Zelda kiss Link at the end of Zelda II: The Adventure of Link. Granted, the Zelda that kisses him at the end of that game isn’t the Zelda he saved in the original game but rather a version of Zelda from years ago. Look, Zelda lore is…weird.

Speaking of which, we should probably talk about the Link from the 1989 animated Legend of Zelda TV series. That version of Link was more or less a stalker who pretty much refused to help Zelda without asking for a kiss. He was also so insufferably annoying that we honestly think Zelda might have been better off with Ganon than this ’80s movie jock in a green leotard.

It’s around that time that Nintendo became much coyer about Zelda and Link’s relationship. A Link to the Past doesn’t really bother to bring up the possibility of a romantic relationship between the two (outside of an often misinterpreted piece of dialog), and Link’s Awakening doesn’t even feature Zelda (though the character Marin is clearly inspired by Link’s memories of Zelda). At this point, it’s easy to assume that Nintendo decided to abandon the more overt references to Link and Zelda’s romance due to creative preferences, the increasingly complicated nature of the franchise’s timeline, and perhaps the feeling that this just wasn’t meant to be that kind of franchise.

That’s when we enter a prolonged and strange “Will they or won’t they?” period for Link and Zelda’s relationship. Ocarina of Time dances around the issue, but only hints that a romantic relationship may be blossoming. The Wind Waker pretty much abandons the idea entirely in favor of presenting the two as adventuring equals, while Twilight Princess offers the “coldest,” or perhaps most “business-like,” relationship between the pair yet. Nintendo even gave Link more overt love interests during this time to seemingly try to encourage people to stop focusing so much on the Zelda/Link romance narrative.

Interestingly, the Zelda/Link relationship has always skewed more towards intimacy (or at least blossoming romance) in many of the handheld Zelda games. That’s not a universal rule (Zelda wasn’t even in Phantom Hourglass), but for some reason, the pair have almost always been a bit…closer in those games.

That trend reached its apex with the release of 2009’s The Legend of Zelda: Spirit Tracks. That game was originally not even supposed to include Zelda as Link’s adventuring partner, but the developers felt like it would be better to feature her as a prominent side character rather than try to create a new character or simply re-use Wind Waker/Phantom Hourglass‘ Tetra yet again. The result is a Zelda game where Link and Zelda spend an unusual amount of time together (compared to other titles in this series). While that kind of set-up is enough to get shippers talking, the game wasn’t exactly shy about teasing a possible romance. It even ends with Zelda and Link holding hands!

What’s even more interesting than Spirit Tracks‘ implication that its version of Zelda and Link could end up together is the reason that the developers chose to give Link a female partner for that game in the first place.

“I was searching for something that hadn’t been portrayed much, and there was Princess Zelda,” says director Daiki Iwamoto regarding the casting decision. “At first, we hadn’t settled on the subcharacter, and I discussed several things with the staff. Then we thought that, since they’re adventuring together, it would be better to have it be a girl.”

That last part brings us back to the elephant in the room concerning this whole Zelda/Link relationship discussion. There is a heteronormative side to fantasy fiction from certain eras that has, to a degree, trained our brains to see female and male leads together and just assume that they’re going to be romantically involved by the time the credits roll.

Even though Nintendo has historically danced around this romance and, at times, straight-up avoided it, Iwamoto still says that it just made more sense for Link to be with a female character that he obviously ends up having intimate moments with (even if they may or may not be entirely romantic). You could argue that throughout much of the history of The Legend of Zelda franchise, speculation regarding the pair’s romantic relationship has been fuelled by those who either wished the two would get together or just assumed that has to be the case given their situation and genders.

So why did Nintendo decide to finally show Link and Zelda in an obviously romantic relationship in Skyward Sword after dodging the matter for so long? Interestingly enough, Skyward Sword producer Eiji Aonuma thought about cutting the romance angles when the game’s development team (which, it must be said, consisted of quite a few Spirit Tracks developers) initially suggested them. While Skyward Sword‘s developers had to make some cuts to justify including the romance subplot, Aonuma’s decision to leave it in ultimately came down to his simple belief that it was an effective way to get players to care about rescuing Zelda.

“As far as the love story goes, it wasn’t that we wanted to create a romance between Link and Zelda as much as we wanted the player to feel like this is a person who’s very important to me, who I need to find,” Aonuma said in an interview with Game Informer. “We used that hint of a romance between the two to tug at the heartstrings.”

From a meta standpoint, the idea that Nintendo is aware that even hinting at the possibility of a Link and Zelda romance is a pretty easy way to engage people certainly makes a lot of sense. While Aonuma stops short of saying that was somehow their idea this entire time, you could argue that it’s more valuable for Nintendo to simply leave room open for that possibility rather than outright establish a romantic relationship more often.

Of course, that makes it all the more interesting that the one Zelda game that features such a blatant romance story is also the first game in the Zelda timeline. While the versions of Link and Zelda featured in that game are not the same characters we see in subsequent games, Nintendo did clearly establish that the foundation of their relationship (and this franchise) is partially based on their love for each other. Circumstances may have prevented them from leading the life together they hoped to have (at least based on our hopes for how two young people in love might end up), but who is to say that one of Zelda‘s descendants or one of Link’s reincarnations won’t be able to break the curse and live the life that these two were possibly denied so many years ago?

Actually, that’s what makes Breath of the Wild such a fascinating piece of this puzzle. While serious questions remain regarding how Breath of the Wild fits into Zelda‘s chronology, it almost certainly seems to take place at what we could see as “the end” of the current Zelda timeline (or timelines). It’s perhaps no coincidence, then, that it’s the game that not only openly acknowledges the complicated relationship between the various Links and Zeldas over the years but is also the game that shows Link and Zelda clearly growing closer to each other over the course of the adventure. By the end of the game, you could very easily view their relationship as “romantic” or, at the very least, heading in that direction.

While we’ll have to see whether or not Breath of the Wild 2 does anything with that implication, we’re left with the simple conclusion that Skyward Sword may be the only “overt” Link and Zelda romance story so far, but elements of that romance can be found in Spirit Tracks, Breath of the Wild, and, depending on your interpretation of the timeline, nearly every other Legend of Zelda game in some form or fashion.

Sure, it’s a little annoying that Nintendo keeps hinting at romances they seemingly never intend to really do anything with, but there’s something to be said for the ways they’ve paired Zelda and Link together over the years without relying on a relatively simple romantic subplot. Of course, that just makes Skyward Sword even more of an oddity than it already was.

The post Is Skyward Sword the Only Link and Zelda Romance Story? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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echodrops · 6 years ago

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A random thought I had what if the final “boss” Of Noragami turns out to be not father, but Izanagi. And the guy who set up the Shinto system was the worst Child abuser of them all? (Ebisu and Kagatsuchi could vouch for Izanagi’s propensities) Would that change your thoughts on the Tsukiyomi Theory? I admit I don’t have much to support it. Just I think that in a series that deals with child abuse as seriously as this one. It’s weird that Izanagi would fall off the radar like he does in myth.

Gonna answer two asks in one here, since they’re both about the Tsukuyomi theory.

I’ve toyed around with the idea of Father being Izanagi for a while–there are definitely some connections there:

1) “Father” as a name and a role in the story; as far as dads go in Japanese mythology, Izanagi is definitely the most well-known.

2) The idea of “culling the herd” is so opposite of Izanagi’s stated goal of giving life to 1,500 new humans for every 1,000 Izanami claims that it almost seems to fit with Noragami’s theme of the gods being completely different in “reality” compared to the way humans perceive them (Izanami only wanting friends, Bishamon being a gorgeous lady, not a bearded warrior male lol)

3) The complete lack of mentioning Izanagi in the manga so far has been a bit odd, given that we have seen Izanami and others related to that family.

4) Izanagi does basically deserve “shit dad of the era” award, so if Fujisaki doesn’t have anything to do with Izanagi, then they should totally take it behind the nearest Denny’s and fight it out for world’s worst dad title.

But especially with the events that have unfolded lately in the manga, I’m leaning away from this idea. Mostly because of this:

We’re shown a corpse beside a lake at the same time we’re shown Father holding the woman he (very likely) was in love with. Considering that it appears shinki who die without turning into ayakashi don’t leave bodies behind and we know gods don’t leave bodies, the woman Father loved was more than likely really a human. While I don’t think it would be completely impossible for Izanagi to fall in love with a human and end up standing against all of Heaven for that somehow, that feels like a somewhat unlikely series of events, particularly because it would mean that Amaterasu would have subjugated her own father, which is kind of iffy in terms of the tradition of Japanese filial piety.

We also got a couple more hints about what Father might be over the course of the recent chapters:

Father repeatedly describes himself as being “forsaken” or “forgotten” by Heaven. Yato mentions that “normal” humans shouldn’t be able to use the Koto no Ha. Amaterasu, who clearly knows gods can come back from the Underworld freaks out because she didn’t think there was any way for humans to return. Father can name shinki, possess human bodies, control ayakashi, recognize spells, and battle (almost) on par with Bishamon, the strongest god of war. He knows about the concept of god’s greatest secret, understands the inner-workings of Heaven (aka what determines which gods will reincarnate and who won’t, why Heaven needs humanity, etc.). Furthermore, Father repeatedly expresses concern that Yato won’t be able to reincarnate…

What is the “threshold” for reincarnating? How much belief/how many followers does a god need to really reincarnate? Is being in even one human memory enough, or do you need a ton of people? This isn’t clear. But I do think it’s odd for Yato’s self-proclaimed “lifeline” to be thinking his pet god can’t reincarnate. Maybe it’s because Yato doesn’t have enough followers–or maybe it’s because Father isn’t human at all, and therefore couldn’t help Yato reincarnate even if he wanted to?

Honestly, I really don’t know what Adachitoka have up their sleeve. They’ve done a fantastic job of keeping Father’s identity and motivations a secret–even when they reveal things like the flashback above, the “reveals” tend to bring up more questions rather than answers! There is so much conflicting evidence supporting either side at this point that it’s really just a matter of “We have to wait and see.”

Father could be a human who found some way to seize the powers of the gods for himself, possibly by being a holy man (such as a buddhist monk, I saw a pretty convincing post about this) or just out of sheer hatred for the gods lol. He clawed his way back out of the Underworld with the Koto no Ha, and is now taking corrupted souls aka ayakashi out of hell and unleashing betrayed and upset former-humans on Heaven and the living world.

Or he could be a god who was punished for doing something against Heaven’s rules, was subjugated/killed by Heaven, and subsequently ignored and allowed to stew in his hatred and desire for revenge to become the monster we know today, but I would somewhat doubt whether he really could be Izanagi without anyone having noticed.

Making a long story longer, ultimately I don’t really think that Father is Izanagi, so I personally wouldn’t be leaning on that for the Tsukuyomi theory. (And even if Father was Izanagi, Tsukuyomi and Amaterasu are like… some of the only children Izanagi didn’t treat like shit, so wouldn’t it make more sense for Father to be more directly connected to other children he mistreated aka Kagutsuchi?)

So what about Yato’s fate if his Father is defeated and Yato isn’t Tsukuyomi?

Well, that whole thing hinges on whether or not you believe that Father really is Yato’s lifeline in the first place. If Father turns out NOT to be a human, then the whole lifeline thing would have been a lie in the first place, and Yato will be in no more danger (in fact, significantly less) after defeating his Father than he would have been otherwise.

If Father really is his lifeline, Yato states that he has Hiyori. He’s also becoming an increasingly well-known god with a new official godly name, etc. If Yato continues to do good work with Yukine and increase his status, he’ll probably begin to work his way into the consciousness of the human world and gain enough followers to secure his safety. Hiyori could also establish him as the personal god of her family or something. He has options.

And anyway, as I mentioned in my original post on the Tsukuyomi theory, just because I don’t personally like it doesn’t mean I don’t think it has some basis. I honestly could see it happening–but that doesn’t mean I have to like it when it does. XD

The other thing I wanted to address was the idea of “change” that was brought up in the second ask, which I think is odd, because as far as I’ve seen, one of the number one things that Tsukuyomi theory fans say is that “Yato won’t change even if he is Tsukuyomi!” Like, if we’re talking about the moon god having to do with change, then that’s one thing, but as far as I can tell, the number one defense of the theory being okay story-wise is that it wouldn’t actually cause Yato to change, so…

Just on a personal level, I don’t understand the viewpoint that Yato wouldn’t change significantly if he was revealed to be Tsukuyomi. To me, this is the equivalent of saying “This poor person had amnesia for 15 years… Now they’ve suddenly remembered their entire past, who they were before, and all their previous lifestyle… but nothing about them is going to change, promise!”

Even if we completely ignore the possibility of Yato having to go back to being Tsukuyomi in the future, just revealing that a character had a whole other life is enough to change who that person is in the readers’ minds and how they think of themselves. Revealing that Yato was really Tsukuyomi all along would mean potentially revealing previous relationships with other gods, previous shinki, previous homes, previous worshipers, previous powers, previous attitudes… Unless we just collectively agree to pretend that Tsukuyomi sat in the same spot and never interacted with anyone else for thousands of years, then revealing that Yato is Tsukuyomi would mean revealing that he had a previous life, and that would be a big change in how we view his character–and what his current friends, beliefs, and situation actually mean in the grand scheme of the story.

Honestly I’m kind of confused about the whole thing anyway–people want Yato to be Tsukuyomi… but then multiple people who support the theory say they don’t think it will cause Yato to change, so… People want him to be Tsukuyomi, but not live like, act like, or in any way fulfill the role of Tsukuyomi in the Heavens? Doesn’t that just actually mean “I want Yato to become the god of the moon,” rather than “I want Yato to be Tsukuyomi”?

I just personally can’t imagine any reveal of Yato being Tsukuyomi that doesn’t also include some kind of flashbacks to the person he used to be–or Yato somehow regaining knowledge of his “true self”–and I can’t see how people think this won’t affect who he is and how he thinks of himself. The only way I could see that happening is if Yato actively chooses NOT to return to being Tsukuyomi.

(But in that case, what’s the point of being excited about the theory if the only thing you want out of the reveal is for him to reject that past identity?)

And I mean… are there fans that are okay with the idea of Yato flat out refusing to do Tsukuyomi’s job? Do people really want him to find out who he is and just go “Nah, thanks guys, but I think I’ll just stay Yatogami and let that whole Tsukuyomi thing sort itself out?” To me this seems not only contrary to Yato’s own wish to be a well-known and loved god, but also contrary to his powerful sense of duty.

One of the most central facets of Yato’s character growth has been learning to look beyond his own self-serving ends, to put aside his own wants and needs in order to genuinely serve and help others. From the boy who is willing to kill for praise to the boy who covets money to build his own shrine to the boy who selflessly risks his own life to save a friend in need–Yato’s whole track as a character has been learning to do what’s right, even when what’s right doesn’t have any immediate benefits for himself, such as when Yukine told him to keep killing ayakashi and Yato wondered how that would help him become a god of fortune.

I can’t see Yato in his present state (as a character who has grown to the point of being selfless enough to risk his life to save Heaven from his own Father), being completely okay with ignoring Tsukuyomi’s role or responsibilities. He would be expected to return to Heaven among the other ancient gods. He would be expected to answer the prayers of people at Tsukuyomi shrines. He would expected to conduct himself like a god known by every single Shinto believer in Japan. He’d likely have to like… do something with the moon…??? And I just can’t see Yato looking at all this and going “I think Heaven should just deal with not having Tsukuyomi around despite the fact that I’m technically back.”

I think that if Yato discovered he was Tsukuyomi, he would do his best to fulfill the role he was apparently born to fulfill–and as a reader, I don’t think I’d be happy if he didn’t, if he shirked his duty to humanity intentionally.

If we buy into the idea that the gods exist for a reason–that they exist to fill important roles in human consciousness and life–then I can’t imagine as a reader that I would ever be okay with Yato finding out he’s the god of the moon… And then refusing to be the god of the moon and all that entails. And that would mean that he would change, not gradually, but abruptly.

So that’s my two cents on the whole “change” and Tsukuyomi theory. As I mentioned before, as possible as I think it is, the whole thing just confuses me entirely from a writing/narrative standpoint.

#noragami #noragami meta #tsukuyomi theory #noragami manga spoilers #yato #tsukuyomi #fujisaki kouto

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correspondencearchive · 4 years ago

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4. Yujin Lee & Prima Jalichandra-Sakuntabhai (part 1)

Yujin Lee and Prima Jalichandra-Sakuntabhai discuss Paul Chan’s article, “What Art Is and Where It Belongs,” artistic production and its relationship to capital, making art for (or not for) a Western art audience, their interest in collaborative/process oriented projects, and whether or not one can be free as an artist from the intersecting systems of global capitalism and white supremacy that make up the art world. Read part 2 of their conversation here.

Yujin Lee (YL): Hi, Prima! First of all, thank you so much for accepting my invitation! I see that you received my email with the link to Paul Chan’s article, “What Art Is and Where It Belongs.” I suppose I will start with this obvious question. What is art to you and where do you think it belongs?

Prima Jalichandra-Sakuntabhai (PJ): Hi Yujin, thank you for sharing the Paul Chan text. It was indeed an interesting read! To your question as to “what is art to me and where I think it belongs”, my job as an art handler has deeply affected how I view art. I can no longer see art as a product of a singular mind but rather, an object that exists in relation to multiple networks. Paul Chan is generous in giving art the definition of a “more than” an object by the way that it expresses what an object desires to be. I would argue that art is only “more than” an object because it’s value is not intrinsic to its material properties and use-value but the cultural value assigned to it by a number of actors. When I was in undergrad I came across this book called, Worlds of Art (Les Mondes de l’Art) by Howard S. Becker. Anyway, he was one of the first authors to place art and artistic production in a chain of labour production from administrative works of post-production and marketing to intellectual works from universities and curatorial work. That vision of art is more true to me in my daily life than the art that is heralded for its poignant inquiry into humankind’s psyche and advancement of what we call “civilization”. So the simple answer to your question may be that art belongs to capital and serves those who can afford its production and consumption. But at the same time, while I serve as a clog in this system, I also want to make an art that can exist outside of the system and truly be moments of disconcert with the real. My current show is up at a gallery that used to be a storefront in a shopping plaza in Chinatown, Los Angeles. The interface with a non-art audience is inevitable. The projections attracted attention and the occasional passer-bys waiting to pick up their food would stop and talk to me. But the conversations remained fairly surface. None of them have yet made an appointment to intentionally see the work. Not to mention the heightened tensions caused by art’s complicity in gentrification. So, even in a public-facing space, art can only rely on its existing structures and those who already have access to them.

Since you work a lot with the public and collaborations, I wonder how the experience has been for you and whether you believe art can belong outside of the art world itself?

Prima Jalichandra-Sakuntabhai, Chloropsis Aurifrons Pridii, 2021, performance and multi-media installation, 2 video projectors, 2 overhead projectors, transparencies, colour filter, printed black and white images on photocopy paper, books

YL: I completely agree with everything you said about the complex networks that build up a work of art (and the artist’s career). Come to think of it, when has art ever been outside of that system? One example comes to mind that relates to how Paul Chan began and ended his article. Chan begins with a very “kitsch” painting that he purchased for thirty dollars in the streets of New York and an unexpected challenge in finding the right place to hang it in his home. And he ends the article with, “For art to become art now, it must feel perfectly at home, nowhere.” This beginning and ending reminds me of the Korean shaman paintings (portraits of the indigenous gods). Even though the tradition goes far back in history, not many of these paintings remain. They were either burned or buried because people believed that the painting is a physical dwelling (or a seat) for a particular god served by a particular shaman. In most cases, the artist is also unknown and unimportant. Moreover, up until the late 80s, art collectors refused to collect shaman paintings as they are not merely powerful paintings (as an art object) but empowered paintings (as sites of divine presence). Despite it all, if it somehow falls into a collector or enters the museum, it is believed to become what Marx called the commodity fetish, losing its power, thus losing its value. In this case, the art object, artist, and collector all have no place! This may be why shaman paintings have not been considered “art” for so long by its creators, users, and admirers. So for me, it’s not a matter of whether art can or cannot belong outside the “art world,” but that “it must feel perfectly at home, nowhere,” or that it must feel perfectly at home, everywhere. I test this theory by experimenting with process-oriented, collaborative, performance and relational art.

I watched the video documentation of the performative lecture installation that you’ve mentioned, Chloropsis Aurifrons Pridii, at The Fulcrum Press. The collage of your voice with the light and shadow of texts and images created by multiple projectors choreographed by the subtle gestures of your hands… It was a sensorial and immersive experience, even through my computer monitor. The occasional sound of the machines turning on and off took me in and out of this poetic narrative. I was also compelled by the intricately untangled individual journeys of your family members crossing three generations, and your re-interpretation of the overarching macro history that wolves together three continents. The most memorable moment was when you said, “... Both view history as driven by cycles of reincarnations. Within one body, one consciousness, are contained centuries of all earthly desires, unquenched. History thus progresses as a movement of return. For the last five years, I face the Pacific and the fear of a return.”

Having said that, I wonder why contemporary art often appears to be disparate from the rest of the world. Sometimes even alienating and elitist. Judith Butler actually defends this position quite eloquently:

“Who devises the protocols of ‘clarity’ and whose interests do they serve? What is foreclosed by the insistence on parochial standards of transparency as requisite for all communication? What does ‘transparency’ keep obscure?”

This statement may sound like art gibberish to the non-art audience and support your disappointment of the disinterest displayed by the non-art audience in Chinatown. But I wonder, what does it mean to desire the interests of the “non-art audience”?

PJ: First of all, yes to process art works! I think our two approaches to art practice staunchingly demarcate us from “the commodity fetish” that most high art/internationally-recognized art ends up becoming by the very fact that we care less about the end product and more about the creative process themselves. The process can take shape as a form of knowledge or a set of techniques that in my case, takes on a certain shade based on my personal narrative. But taken up by someone else, the combination of voice, body movements and layering of images that you noted, would express something else entirely. That is what I am interested in in achieving: rather than creating an original product, I want to redefine techniques and processes of thought. I think the relationality and collaboration in your work that I’ve seen at VER and what you continue to do at your residency in Jeju strive for a similar balance between the creation of processes and the specificity of the people you engage with.

This reflects the other side of our art practice: although it is defiant of consumerist art, it is still bound to the Western art canon. Even a working against or criticism of Western art canon asks the audience to be aware of the canon to understand our respective positions. I respond strongly to you raising the example of the Korean shaman paintings (of which I know nothing of!) as being uncollectable and therefore, not considered art. In this case, its power operates in a culture that is closer to the non-art audience. It doesn’t need to invent value for itself but its symbolic code is embedded in the culture that receives it.

That is why I am saddened by not being able to touch the “non-art audience”. I believe that I envy the power of the shaman paintings, a power that can touch anyone without necessary prior knowledge. That is what I lament in operating in the current art world that I am in. At the same time, I do deeply agree with you that the demand for clarity and the parochial is a form of holding back of thought and the need to plunge in the mystery that is sometimes too specific for the artist themselves to put words to. That is perhaps why I still value art over other forms of knowledge: art can give shape to what is previously unknown. I also don’t mean to juxtapose the shaman paintings versus the inaccessibility of high art, as if one holds more intellectual value than the other. What I simply want to highlight is the different levels of reception that each form allows for.

YL: It’s true that the non-art audience (who may not necessarily understand the painting’s aesthetic value nor its symbolic meaning) are likely to succumb to the power of shaman paintings because of its deep-rooted history that vibrates within the culture. Do you know about the Swedish artist and mystic, Hilma af Klint? I think she didn’t give two cents about the art or non-art audience. Af Klint considered her experimental paintings (the first Western abstract art known to date) too avant-garde for her contemporaries and rarely exhibited them in public in her lifetime. Meanwhile, her so-called Theosophical art, which was heavily influenced by Buddhism and Hinduism, interestingly brings us back to the Korean shaman paintings. Before creating a shaman painting, one is to take a good bath, wear clean new clothes and oftentimes chant a prayer. Af Klint did something similar. Before starting a new series of paintings, she dedicated many months of “purification” by adjusting her lifestyle, like practicing vegetarianism. It may sound like a frivolous formality, but it demonstrates a belief on how the creator’s (artist’s) personal life cannot be severed from their creation (art), even if the admirers (public) may never know or care about the creator to begin with.

I’d like to go to your comment on how art “can give shape to what is previously unknown.” Chan also states that “in art, the only ideas worth realizing are the truly untenable ones.” I seriously weighed this concept (of art giving shape to obscurity) during my exhibition in Bangkok at the end of 2019, especially through the work you mentioned earlier, Drawing Conversation 2.0, a series of collaborative live automatic drawing performances created with local Thai artists. The obscurity for me at the time was the uncomfortable reality of having a solo show at a place where I did not understand its native language, culture, nor history.

A smaller room attached to the main gallery was dedicated for this work. The walls were painted black, and the floor laid with a dark grey carpet. A square table (around 30 cm in height) was placed in the center of the room where a blank sheet of paper covered its entire surface. A large scale drawing titled, In the beginning was___, was hung along with 5 other blank sheets of papers ready to be conversed upon. Drawing materials such as graphite, charcoal, eraser, and pen (no colors) were provided. For each session, a local artist was invited to create a drawing with me in silence for 108 minutes. A timer was set on my phone. The audience could freely enter and exit the space, sit, stand, or walk around us. The first ten minutes or so felt highly performative. But as more of our marks, gestures, breaths, and bodily heat crisscrossed, I experienced a kind of a (collective) trance. And when the timer went off and broke the silence of the room, the familiar ringtone of an iPhone sounded like the Korean shaman bell, bringing everybody in the room back to the present time and space. I think maybe this was my closest attempt in creating an “empowered painting.”

Yujin Lee, Drawing Conversation 2.0, Nov. 29, 2019, collaborative live drawing performance with artist Dujdao Vadhanapakorn, 108 minutes, Gallery VER

YL: Back to Chan… He asserts that “art and life would rather belong to the world than be free in it.” That is a bleak outlook for art, don’t you think? So, my question is, can we imagine art to be free in the current world (of capitalism)? I wonder what your thoughts are on this last point, and could you expand your thoughts on “art giving shape to the unknown” in relation to how you use language/text in your work?

PJ: Two big questions! [laughter]. I think it is a good question because we’re working towards agreeing that art is more often than not, not free in capitalism but can there be instances where they are…

YL: I thought that the last part of his text was interesting because when he’s saying “art and life would rather belong to the world,” it has a negative connotation... contrasting to what follows, “rather than be free in it.” Also you would think that he meant to say, “be free from it,” suggesting an escape from the world of inequity. But he’s sort of saying even within the system, art can be free inside of it, right? I thought that was an interesting, nuanced statement, and I want to pose this question to you, since you are still in the system, the LA art scene.

PJ: Are you saying that you’re not part of a scene because you are in Jeju?

YL: [laughing hard] That’s how I felt when I moved to Jeju, but with COVID I don’t think that’s true anymore because the internet in some ways amplifies the presence of the international art scene.

PJ: I think art has always been in network and in communication across borders and that capital gives more value to the kind of art that travels or is part of the international scene. LA or New York may have a very specific local scene but these major cities give the impression that if you’re part of their local scene, you’re somewhat seen internationally. So I think that art still depends on this kind of network. But the thing that is different with COVID is that people are more proactive in participating across countries and timezones.

YL: Yeah, that’s actually what I mean. I thought I left, by relocating to an island, a countryside, but COVID definitely brought me back to the network.

Yujin Lee, Painting Conversation, 2021, collaborative drawing performance with artist Jo Ahra, paintings completed over 4 sessions (March 19th, 21st, 23rd, 28th), Next Door to the Museum Jeju Artist Residency completed painting used as a costume for an improvisational dance video (work in process)

PJ: I want to also argue that maybe even if our locations are specific, that doesn’t mean that we’re not part of a larger network that has formed us.

Whether you like it or not, your context will always be informed by the experience you had in New York.

YL: You’re right. I thought, ‘physically leaving New York= leaving the art world.’ But the reality is, like you said, my experience as an artist is based on my time in New York. So, I’m probably going to carry that with me. So back to my questions on Chan’s statement… We’re all part of this world that is not very equitable... How can we be part of it, yet “be free in it?”

PJ: I want to believe that there is some sort of freedom. When you give away a certain part of the bargain and that bargain being monetary or investment by some sort of institution to give value to your art, to me, by abandoning that, I feel much more free. And I’m able to have full ownership of decisions around my work, which would not be the case if I was trying to respond to a certain expectation.

Prima Jalichandra-Sakuntabhai, Seven Springs, 2019, Collaboration with Chris McKelway, 2 violins, 2 overhead projectors, images printed on transparencies, colour filters

Yujin Lee is a Jeju-based visual artist working with drawings, performances, videos, and audience-participatory projects. Interested in the Buddhist concept of yuanqi (interdependency), Lee have pursued collaborative projects with artists Emi Hariyama (108 Bows, 2013), Nicole Won Hee Maloof (Same/Difference, 2015), Aracha Cholitgul (im_there_r_u_here, 2020~ongoing), and Jo Ahra (Untitled, 2021~ongoing). Since 2019, she has been running an alternative artist residency at her farmhouse, Next Door to the Museum Jeju. Lee received her MFA in printmaking from Columbia University and a BFA in painting from Cornell University.

leeyujin.com @jejuanarchist

Prima Jalichandra-Sakuntabhai is a transdisciplinary artist, working across performance, video and installation, based in Los Angeles. Born in Thailand in 1989, they were raised in Europe before moving to the US in 2011. They received their Visual Arts Degree from the Ecole des Beaux Arts de Nantes Metropole and a License in Film Studies at the Sorbonne Nouvelle-Paris 3. They earned BFA at the School of the Arts Institute of Chicago and MFA at the California College of the Arts, in San Francisco. Featured in the 2015 Arizona Biennial at the Tucson Museum of Art, Arizona. Recipient of the SOMA Summer Award, Mexico City and the emi kuriyama spirit award.

Recent projects include: Fieldnotes for Useful Light, The Prelinger Library (San Francisco), Irrational Exhibits 11: Place-Making and Social Memory, Track 16 (LA) and The Anthropologist As Hero, in collaboration with Linda Franke, Justine Melford-Colegate and Jessica Hyatt, PAM Residencies (LA), Chloropsis Aurifrons Pridii, Fulcrum Press (LA). They curated the MAHA Pavillion for the Bangkok Biennial 2020.

www.primasakuntabhai.com @prima_jalichndrsakntbhai

#yujinleeprimajalichandrasakuntabhai #yujinlee #primajalichandrasakuntabhai

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lubbuthedigitalnomad · 4 years ago

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Why The Monks And Nuns Are The Way They Are — Part 1

I hope you are happy and healthy and enjoying what seems to be a bit of recent improvement in conditions. If we want our conditions to improve more consistently in the future, taking some tips from the monks and nuns will be very helpful. How do you feel about maintaining confidence and security that enable you to always look at life on Earth as a friend that you are traveling with, and never as a threat to be defended against? How do you like the idea of having an internally generated sense of well-being and happiness that is immune to assault by external circumstances? How about the notion of being a consistently kind and caring person to yourself as well as others — and eliminating doubt, fear, compulsive behavior, guilt, envy/jealousy, and anger from your life?

Yep! That all sounds good to me too. That’s why I think the two chapters from the book Reincarnation Through Common Sense that is entitled, “Why The Monks And Nuns Are The Way They Are — Parts 1 and 2” contain some of the most important things I have ever observed and written about. These chapters total 17 pages and there are another 8 pages about similarities between the system in southeast Asia and the system from Tibet. But with due respect to the short attention span world that we live in, I will post excerpts that contain only @ 1000 words. The first of these is below. The second will follow next week. If you are interested in the rest, it can be found in the book. More party-heavy, less esoteric excerpts from all three books will appear online in the following weeks.

I am damn sure not going to become a monk and I doubt that anyone who reads this is going to become a monk or nun either. But there are a lot of things monks and nuns do full-time that, if adopted even very part-time by us regular humans, can turn a hellish life into a decent one and a decent life into a more heavenly one.

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Why The Monks And Nuns Are The Way They Are — Part 1

THE BIG BRAIN THING

“In the cultivation of the mind, our emphasis should not be on concentration, but on attention. Concentration is a process of forcing the mind to narrow down to a point, whereas attention is without frontiers.” J. Krishnamurti

The locals visit our Temple often. Some come on to the grounds screaming, crying, angry, depressed, or otherwise agitated. After a half-hour of talking with our Wisdom Professionals, the formerly forlorn usually leave smiling. Why do so many people come here to see the robe wearers, and why do all these visitors leave feeling so much better than they did upon arrival? Why are the residents of this Temple so much fun to be around? What makes the Monks and Nuns who they are? There must be some reasons I’ll never know, but a few are obvious.

The first is The Big Brain thing, and the team spirit it entails. The second is reincarnation — but this is certainly not the kind of reincarnation you are used to hearing about. These two factors meet at so many crossroads that it can often be hard to separate them, but let’s try to talk about one at a time, beginning with The Big Brain thing.

Everybody’s got a brain and a mind. Many people consider these to be different words for the same thing. Technically, the brain is just a biological organ while the mind is something deeper and more inclusive. But in case it makes you more comfortable to do so, we will use these words interchangeably here. It won’t hurt anything. The words soul or spirit might be more accurate, and consciousness is actually what we’re talking about — but some folks think of these terms as abstractions. We can use the more familiar words “mind” and “brain” for now. Many people seem to find those terms more familiar and easier to understand.

It is widely known that any human uses only a small percentage of his or her mind/brain at any given time. Exactly how much gets used and what those percentages pay attention to having always been very important matters.

The Monks and Nuns believe that each individual carries a deep responsibility to focus the greatest possible percentage of their mental facility on the best, kindest, most loving, and most wisdom-heavy attitudes and functions they can produce. Fulfilling this responsibility is not optional but mandatory for them, as it probably should be for all of us. They recognize this responsibility as a necessity because it affects individual, familial, societal, and planetary relationships — as well as our survival as individuals and as a species.

Directing the use of our minds toward constructive positive ends is not an esoteric or saintly activity to be practiced only by cloistered Wisdom Professionals. It is a very practical and logical activity that can influence every human’s personal life. Material and emotional satisfaction are most comfortably born from a base of mental satisfaction. Happy and compassionate people feel prosperous, regardless of financial income. They don’t often steal from or kill each other.

Whether conscious of it or not, we always think of an action before we do it. There are big advantages to thinking consciously. The residents here know that any action should be avoided if it doesn’t help and that blind emotions bubbling up unrecognized from subconscious depths lead many folks into destructive actions. There are no blind emotions here. By quieting their own mental turbulence, these robed folks clearly see what they are thinking, and then steer it. Everything they do is done on purpose. Nothing gets away from them.

The sub/unconscious type of thought, and the actions resulting from it, are usually fueled by instinctive reactions or habitually programmed mental-reflex reactions. These are all too often based on the memory of past trauma or fear of the unknown future.

The most basic sub/unconscious thoughts are survival instincts and callous self-interest — animal reflexes. All of us live partially under the direction of such instincts. Our DNA has carried these instincts since caveman days. They are a physiological part of us. They cannot immediately be erased, but with proper attention, the nastier parts can be transcended.

Our subconscious minds have inherited yet another batch of characteristics and instincts through the training and information we have been given by schools, churches, parents, governments, TV/media, and so on. These are the conditioned reflexes, the behavioral patterns we have observed and absorbed since birth.

These biological and historical patterns coexist as what can be called “the little brain.” A lot of human actions can more accurately be called knee jerk reactions. The subconscious mind has such an entrenched pre-recorded program of how-to-be and what-to-do in it that we often react to situations without giving any thought at all to our reaction. Many people spend most of their lives controlled by mental patterns that they are not even aware of.

But we have all floated into The Big Brain Thing on occasion. When you and a lover feel like one body, when you feel your child’s pain as if it is your own, when you display “superhuman” physical strength/perseverance/clarity of thought in an emergency situation — at these times we go beyond so-called normal human parameters of feeling and function. We wander semi-consciously into Big Brain mode.

The Monks and Nuns live there. Their conscious focus is on the mind and life that we all share in our involuntary coexistence with all other creatures — animal, human, and divine. They are of the opinion that the similarities and relationships between us all are more deserving of attention than the differences. They believe that the mutually beneficial goals that this Big Brained point of view dictates outweigh personal goals in importance.

Oddly enough, it often turns out that personal goals are much more easily attained when universal goals are given priority!

The concept that all of humanity shares a mutual existence and sort of a universal mind containing great power that properly trained individuals can tap into, somewhat resembles Carl Jung’s Collective Unconscious theory — except with the Temple folks it is conscious, the idea had already been around for several thousand years before the great Mr. Jung was born, and it is considered fact, not theory.

The drop/ocean metaphor is often used to explain it. Most of us think of ourselves as an individual drop of humanity. The people here in the Temple think of themselves as an integral part of a vast ocean that contains all living things. Both views have some truth in them. This “ocean attitude” may seem a little esoteric or even a bit weird to many of us, but it has advantages. All individual problems and personal pains recede somewhat when you pay attention to the bigger picture. The freedom and security that the power of an all-inclusive ocean offers is much greater than the freedom and security available to a single drop of water, or a singular human.

Like most of us, the Temple residents have good intentions. But they are more committed and loyal to those intentions than most of us are to ours. They make that commitment functional by donating their motivation for achievement toward improving life for all of their fellow-creatures, as well as for themselves. They constantly work on improving their little drop (self), but that process is always based on how their drop can become a better drop in order to become part of a better ocean (how improving their lives can improve all lives). They are dancing on their own legs, but a much bigger force than any individual is always playing the tune. All ways.

To put it another way, these Wisdom Professionals have trained their little brains very thoroughly in the concern for all little brains. This keeps them tuned to the same wavelength as that bigger force that both contains and is concerned with the well being of all the little brains — The Big Brain. They have, through dedication and strong effort, actually become a conscious cell in and therefore a bit of a co-creating partner with The Big Brain. Call it God, or Dharma, or The Force, or the Collective Unconscious, or the Unified Field. Whatever you would call an all-inclusive divine resource, they are now part of it. Perhaps we all are, anyway! But they are aware enough of their inclusion in the bigger system, and practiced enough in that system’s processes, to be able to direct themselves to coordinate with it. They consistently, consciously practice moving their minds in an internal direction that benefits everything external as much as possible. Loyalties and actions are at least as concerned with the ocean at large as they are with their own individual drop. This affiliation with the Big Brain governs the lives of the Nuns and Monks and all the choices they make. It directs them as surely as any commander directs his or her troops.

About the Author

Doug “Ten” Rose may be the biggest smartass as well as one of the most entertaining survivors of the hitchhiking adventurers that used to cover America’s highways. He is the author of the books Fearless Puppy on American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense, has survived heroin addiction and death, and is a graduate of over a hundred thousand miles of travel without ever driving a car, owning a phone, or having a bank account.

Ten Rose and his work are a vibrant part of the present and future as well as an essential remnant of a vanishing breed.

Follow him on Facebook, Doug Ten Rose

Travel Adventure Books can be an excellent gift to your friends and family, buy from Amazon.com

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The books Fearless Puppy On American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense by this same author are also available through Amazon or the Fearless Puppy website, where there are sample chapters from those books. Entertaining TV/radio interviews with and newspaper articles about the author are also available there. There is no charge for anything but the complete books! All author profits from book sales will be donated to help sponsor an increase in the number of wisdom professionals on Earth, beginning with but certainly not limited to Buddhist monks and nuns.

If you missed the Introduction to the new book that will be titled Temple Dog Soldier, or would like to see several chapters of it that are available for free online, go to the Puppy website Blog section. This is a book in progress. You will be reading it as it is being created! Just like you, I don’t know what the next chapter is going to be about until it is written. As the Intro will tell you, this is a totally true story — and probably the only book ever written by and about a corpse journeying completely around the world!

#adventure books #Travel Books #travel adventure book #fearless puppy on american road #Reincarnation Through Common Sense #travel adventure books #buddhism books #buddhism #amazon kindle #kindle books #amazon.com

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