#in terms of as an instrumental its completed

[kotaromita]

a lot of things are happening to me recently, huh? usually i'm just an observer of the most interesting on-goings in my friends lives but lately i've been tagging along in all the most significant of chaoses

if i told myself from a few months ago that was my current day to day he'd be scared shitless but luckily everything happening has been pretty good

[tanadrin]

until i started rooting around in the world data with dfhack i didn't realize that dwarf fortress randomly generates dance forms for each civilization and they can spread via trade and contact. you cannot really engage with this system at all in fortress mode, and adventure mode is still in beta, so this is hilarious to me. it's like the procedurally generated musical instruments. the things that tarn adams chooses to simulate in excruciating detail are really random.

and yet each species still has only one language, the name generation system is patently ridiculous, and the topography is pure perlin noise. this is why dwarf fortress will always have a charm its imitators can never match. it's just completely idiosyncratic in terms of its concerns and aesthetic.

[blueiscoool]

The 'Carnyx' Nightmare of the Roman Soldiers

The Carnyx was a brass musical instrument used as a psychological weapon of war by the ancient Celts between 300 BC and 200AD in western and central Europe and beyond.

The carnyx was once widespread throughout much of Europe, although only a dozen or so fragments are known to us.

It was carried by bands of Celtic mercenaries; it was present at the attack on the Greek sanctuary at Delphi in 279 BC; it defied Julius Caesar in Gaul; and it faced Claudius when he invaded Britain. They are even shown on a Buddhist sculpture in India, proof of the far-flung connections of the Iron Age world.

However, they were not only used by the Celts; they were also used by the Dacians in modern Romania. The term “Celtic” is a complicated one. The concept of a pan-European Celtic culture is a myth; rather, aspects of art and technology were shared across vast distances by diverse cultures. The carnyx was one example of this.

A 12-foot-long, thin bronze tube with right-angle bends on both ends made up the carnyx. The lower end ended in a mouthpiece, and the upper end flared out into a bell that was usually decorated to look like a wild boar’s had. Historians believe it had a tongue that flapped up and down, increasing the noise made by the instrument. The carnyx was played upright so that the boar’s head bell protruded well above the warriors’ heads. Its primary goal was to create more noise and confusion on the battlefield.

The Greek historian Polybius (206-126BC) was so impressed by the clamor of the Gallic army and the sound of the carnyx, he observed that “there were countless trumpeters and horn blowers and since the whole army was shouting its war cries at the same time there was such a confused sound that the noise seemed to come not only from the trumpeters and the soldiers but also from the countryside which was joining in the echo”.

And the Roman historian Diodorus Siculus wrote, “Their trumpets are also of a peculiar and barbaric kind which produce a harsh, reverberating sound suitable to the confusion of battle.”

Archaeologists discovered a hoard of ritually destroyed weapons in 2004, including a dozen swords, scabbards, spearheads, a shield, bronze helmets, an iron helmet shaped like a swan, a cauldron, animal remains, and seven carnyces. Before the Tintignac discovery, the remains of only five actual carnyces had been found.

The finest was unearthed in Deskford, Scotland in 1816. The Deskford carnyx only has the boar’s head bell and is missing the mane, tongue, and tubing. Images of Carnyx players have been found as well. A Roman denarius, dating from 48 BC bears a representation of a Carnyx. Three carnyx players are featured prominently on the Gundestrup Cauldron, which was found in a Danish peat bog.

One of the seven found at Tintignac, on the other hand, was almost entirely complete. The Tintignac Carnyx was broken into 40 pieces. When puzzled back together, it was found to be just an inch short of six feet long with a single missing section of the tube. The bell was a boar’s head with protruding tusks and large pointed ears. Once restored, the Tintignac Carnyx proved to be the first virtually complete carnyx ever found.

By Leman Altuntaş.

Music video by John Kenny.

[burst-of-iridescent]

South Asian and Hindu Influences in ATLA (Part 2)

disclaimer: i was raised culturally and religiously hindu, and though i've tried to do my research for this post and pair it with my own cultural knowledge, i'm not an expert on hinduism by any means. should i mess up, please let me know.

please also be aware that many of the concepts discussed in this post overlap heavily with religions such as buddhism and jainism, which might have different interpretations and representations. as i'm not from those religions or cultures, i don't want to speak on them, but if anyone with that knowledge wishes to add on, please feel free.

Part 1

In the previous post, I discussed some of the things ATLA got right in its depictions of desi and hindu cultures. unfortunately, they also got plenty of things wrong - often in ways that leaned towards racist caricatures - so let's break them down, starting with...

Guru Pathik

both the word "guru" and name "pathik" come from sanskrit. pathik means "traveler" or "he who knows the way" while guru is a term for a guide or mentor, similar to a teacher.

gurus were responsible for the very first education systems in ancient india, setting up institutions called gurukuls. students, referred to as disciples, would often spend years living with and learning from their gurus in these gurukuls, studying vedic and buddhist texts, philosophy, music and even martial arts.

however, their learning was not limited merely to academic study, as gurus were also responsible for guiding the spiritual evolution of their disciples. it was common for disciples to meditate, practice yoga, fast for days or weeks, and complete mundane household chores every day in order to instill them with self-discipline and help them achieve enlightenment and spiritual awareness. the relationship between a guru and his disciple was considered a sacred, holy bond, far exceeding that of a mere teacher and student.

aang's training with guru pathik mirrors some of these elements. similar to real gurus, pathik takes on the role of aang's spiritual mentor. he guides aang in unblocking his chakras and mastering the avatar state through meditation, fasting, and self-reflection - all of which are practices that would have likely been encouraged in disciples by their gurus.

pathik's design also takes inspiration from sadhus, holy men who renounced their worldly ties to follow a path of spiritual discipline. the guru's simple, nondescript clothing and hair are reflective of the ascetic lifestyle sadhus are expected to lead, giving up material belongings and desires in order to achieve spiritual enlightenment and, ultimately, liberation from the reincarnation cycle.

unfortunately, this is where the respectful references end because everything else about guru pathik was insensitive at best and stereotypical at worst.

it is extremely distasteful that the guru speaks with an overexaggerated indian accent, even though the iranian-indian actor who plays him has a naturally british accent. why not just hire an actual indian voice actor if the intention was to make pathik sound authentic? besides, i doubt authenticity was the sole intention, given that the purposeful distortion of indian accents was a common racist trope played for comedy in early 2000s children's media (see: phineas and ferb, diary of a wimpy kid, jessie... the list goes on).

furthermore, while pathik is presented a wise and respected figure within this episode, his next (and last) appearance in the show is entirely the opposite.

in the episode nightmares and daydreams, pathik appears in aang's nightmare with six hands, holding what appears to be a veena (a classical indian music instrument). this references the iconography of the hindu deity Saraswati, the goddess of wisdom and knowledge. the embodiment of divine enlightenment, learning, insight and truth, Saraswati is a member of the Tridevi (the female version of the Trimurti), one of the most respected and revered goddesses in the Hindu pantheon... and her likeness is used for a cheap laugh on a character who's already treated as a caricature.

that's bad enough on its own, but when you consider that guru pathik is the only explicitly south asian coded character in the entire show, it's downright insulting. for a show that took so many of its foundational concepts from south asia and hinduism and yet provided almost no desi representation in return, this is just rubbing salt in the wound.

Chakras

"chakra", meaning "circle" or "wheel of life" in sanskrit, refers to sources of energy found in the human body. chakra points are aligned along the spine, with energy flowing from the lowest to the highest point. the energy pooled at the lowest chakra is called kundalini, and the aim is to release this energy to the highest chakra in order to achieve spiritual enlightenment and consciousness.

the number of chakras varies in different religions, with buddhism referencing five chakras while hinduism has seven. atla draws from the latter influence, so let's take a look at the seven chakras:

Muladhara (the Root Chakra). located at the base of the spine, this chakra deals with our basest instincts and is linked to the element of earth.

Swadhisthana (the Sacral Chakra). located just below the navel, this chakra deals with emotional intensity and pleasure and is linked to the element of water.

Manipura (the Solar Plexus Chakra). located in the stomach, this chakra deals with willpower and self-acceptance and is linked to the element of fire.

Anahata (the Heart Chakra). located in the heart, this chakra deals with love, compassion and forgiveness and is linked to the element of air. in the show, this chakra is blocked by aang's grief over the loss of the air nomads, which is a nice elemental allusion.

Vishudda (the Throat Chakra). located at the base of the throat, this chakra deals with communication and honesty and is linked to the fifth classical element of space. the show calls this the Sound Chakra, though i'm unsure where they got that from.

Ajna (the Third Eye Chakra). located in the centre of the forehead, this chakra deals with spirituality and insight and is also linked to the element of space. the show calls it the Light Chakra, which is fairly close.

Sahasrara (the Crown Chakra). located at the very top of the head, this chakra deals with pure cosmic consciousness and is also linked to the element of space. it makes perfect sense that this would be the final chakra aang has to unblock in order to connect with the avatar spirit, since the crown chakra is meant to be the point of communion with one's deepest, truest self.

the show follows these associations and descriptions almost verbatim, and does a good job linking the individual chakras to their associated struggles in aang's arc.

Cosmic Energy

the idea of chakras is associated with the concept of shakti, which refers to the life-giving energy that flows throughout the universe and within every individual.

the idea of shakti is a fundamentally unifying one, stating that all living beings are connected to one another and the universe through the cosmic energy that flows through us all. this philosophy is referenced both in the swamp episode and in guru pathik telling aang that the greatest illusion in the world is that of separation - after all, how can there be any real separation when every life is sustained by the same force?

this is also why aang needing to let go of katara did not, as he mistakenly assumed, mean he had to stop loving her. rather, the point of shedding earthly attachment is to allow one to become more attuned to shakti, both within oneself and others. ironically, in letting go of katara and allowing himself to commune with the divine energy of the universe instead, aang would have been more connected to her - not less.

The Avatar State

according to hinduism, there are five classical elements known as pancha bhuta that form the foundations of all creation: air, water, earth, fire, and space/atmosphere.

obviously, atla borrows this concept in making a world entirely based on the four classical elements. but looking at how the avatar spirit is portrayed as a giant version of aang suspended in mid-air, far above the earth, it's possible that this could reference the fifth liminal element of space as well.

admittedly this might be a bit of a reach, but personally i find it a neat piece of worldbuilding that could further explain the power of the avatar. compared to anyone else who might be able to master only one element, mastering all five means having control of every building block of the world. this would allow the avatar to be far more attuned to the spiritual energy within the universe - and themselves - as a result, setting in motion the endless cycle of death and rebirth that would connect their soul even across lifetimes.

[dontforgetukraine]

"I watched a film today at the Venice Film Festival titled "Russians at War." Since our film is in the same section as this one, I usually wouldn’t speak publicly about it. However, in this case, I cannot remain silent, because it’s not just about films and art, but about the lives of thousands of people who die in this war— a war that has instrumentalized propaganda as its weapon.

This film may mislead you into believing that it is an anti-war film, one that questions the current regime in Russia. However, what I witnessed is a prime example of pure Russian propaganda. Here’s why.

The filmmaker begins by expressing her surprise at the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022. In her film, she always uses the term “invasion” and never "full-scale invasion." She does not mention that Russia invaded Ukraine and annexed Crimea in 2014. These two events seem to not exist in the world of this film. The filmmaker also states that her country hasn’t participated in wars for many years and that she has only read about wars in books. Thus, the war in 2022 was a complete shock for her. It’s interesting how the filmmaker could overlook the fact that her country has been inherently involved in various wars and occupations for at least the last 30 years (1992-93 Transnistria, Abkhazian War, 1994-96 and 1999-2009 Chechen Wars, the 2008 war in Georgia, and the 2015-2022 invasion of Syria).

The filmmaker starts her narrative with a Ukrainian who now lives in Russia and fights on the Russian side. This is a very intriguing choice for the beginning of a story about Russians at war. Later, this character will claim that a CIVIL war began in Ukraine in 2014. He will also suggest that Ukrainians bombed the eastern parts of their own country (and this is why he moved to Russia). Another character will declare that Ukrainians are Nazis. We’ve heard these narratives before; they are (and apparently still are) widely and actively propagated by Russian media. One of those horns of propaganda is Russia Today channel, for which the director of "Russians at War" has previously made several documentary films.

Throughout the film, all characters express their confusion about their actions in Ukraine, stating they want the war to end and that most of them are fighting for money. In the final part of the film, the battalion is moved to Bakhmut, and most characters die in battle. We then see their comrades and relatives grieving at their graves. All of them repeat that they don’t understand why this war is happening and who needs it. In the end, the filmmaker concludes that these are poor, ordinary Russian people who are being manipulated into war by larger political games. I found this perspective amusing because the filmmaker—like putin and his regime—plays an interesting game with these people. They deny them the simple ability to possess dignity and to think and decide for themselves. To her, these people are merely powerless objects. If those engaged in a war that has lasted over 10 years were not powerless, it would imply that they, in the majority, actually support this war, wouldn’t it?

You will feel pity for the people depicted as dying in the film and for those we see crying for their loved ones. And you should—if you are a normal human being, you should feel pity, sadness, and emotion. However, it is also important to remember that these individuals joined the army that invaded an independent country, many of them willingly, as we learn from the film. You should also recall Bucha, Irpin, Mariupol, and the civilians who were murdered there. Remember the thousands of children who were illegally transported from Ukraine to Russia. While I’m writing this and while you’re reading it, missiles are striking Ukrainian cities. The buttons are pushed by ordinary Russians. Are their crimes any less significant simply because they claim to be unaware of why they are involved in this war?

By the way, the director asks one of the characters if he thinks the Russian army commits any war crimes. He answers “no,” claiming he hasn’t witnessed any war crimes. Interestingly, the director echoes this in her interviews, stating she saw no signs of war crimes during her time near the front (https://www.reuters.com/.../russian-soldiers-given-their.../). We can only be happy for her that she was fortunate enough not to witness any war crimes. Unfortunately, thousands of Ukrainians have not been so lucky.

I could continue, but I believe it’s enough to understand that this film presents a very distorted picture of reality, spreading false narratives (calling the Russian invasion and annexation of Crimea a civil war; suggesting that the Russian army does not commit any war crimes; presenting those who are part of the aggressors army as victims).

If you decide to watch it, I recommend following it with another documentary about Russian soldiers titled "Intercepted," directed by Oksana Karpovych. "Intercepted" also opens a door into the lives of ordinary Russians fighting in this war. You’ll be curious to explore it, as it will undoubtedly surprise you. You may also want to add "20 Days in Mariupol" to your viewing list, just to be able «to see through the fog of war," as the director of "Russians at War" so aptly put it."

—Darya Bassel, Ukrainian film producer of war documentary “Songs of Slow Burning Earth

[aplaceforyourhearttorest]

Ride The Lightning ⚡︎ Lars Ulrich (18+)

Blowing a handful of stray hairs out of your face as you finally make it to the top of the seemingly never-ending stairs, your already depleting good mood completely plummets as soon as you take in the smug look on the drummer's face waiting for you. Your feet falter as soon as he fully comes into view, and your eyes immediately pick up on the fact that he's alone for once. Lars pushes himself up into a fully standing position, his hands in his back pockets to try and conserve heat in the concerningly cold complex's hallway. Thundered light bolts through and graciously gifts the two of you temporary brightness every few seconds, the sun now long gone as grey hues of spattered clouds take over the sky above the state of California.

"Got caught up in the rain on the way over here, didn't you?" He cockily asks, his accent licking at the words and making them sound more thickened and condensed. "Let me in, would you? Your brother's holding a guitar for us, and we need it for the rehearsal set we have tonight." His carefree and dismissive tone gives off no signs of gratitude to the fact that you had just cancelled your plans to run over here and let him in as soon as you got the phone call from your older brother.

You rapidly blink in disbelief as the Dane sarcastically steps aside for you, his left hand impatiently ushering you forward as you drip and create a small puddle in the outdated carpet underneath you. Lips pursing as you reach into your soaked pocket for your duplicated set of keys to the apartment, you narrow your eyes before flicking your head towards the overconfident musician to your right. An indignant sound strangles its way out of his throat as rainwater flies and lands on his flushed cheeks and shocked expression, and you successfully unlock the front door with a hidden and triumphant smile on your lips.

"Doing your daily running around for the rest of the band?" You ask in an innocent voice, instinctively walking toward the bathroom as you hear the front door being kicked closed and shut, the urge to dry off stronger than the want to continue to banter. "No, I'm simply doing a favor. You know, a thing you do for friends and for people who actually like and care about you. Ever heard of the term?" The taunting and condescending tone in his voice makes you falter for a moment, before you grasp onto a towel and firmly shut the cupboard with an audible and resounding click.

"Fuck this." You mumble, before stalking your way back out to the living room area and going up close to the musician, not stopping until your feet are only an inch apart. Lars pauses mid-faux performance with the new and sleek white electric guitar in his hands, his earlier cocky expression turning cautious as he looks at the neutral and resentful one on yours. Before he can make another asinine comment or tease you any further, your arm straightens out with a sudden strike. The rough cotton comes in contact with his pale and freckled skin and leaves a few inches of rugburn in its wake. The drummer lets out a shocked cry, before placing the guitar down to reach out and wrap his hand around your closest wrist. Lars lets out a grunt as you roughly shove at him to let you go, before he finds momentum and places you flush against the wall behind the two of you.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He exclaims, his pupils widened and a hazy mess, while you wince from the pressure engulfing your damp and reddening skin. "You're what's wrong, you asshole," you seethe, your head pushing itself off of the wall to peer forward into his green eyes, the button of your nose brushing the bridge of his. "I've done nothing but be nice to you and your band for the last year, while you've bought and exchanged instruments and tech gear with my brother, and you've been nothing less than a dick to me this entire time. So, what the fuck is wrong with you, huh? Upset a girl can play the drums better than you can, while she's taller than you too?"

Lars clicks his tongue and lets out a humorless laugh, his hand retreating away from your wrist as he takes a step back and looks away from you. You move forward, the adrenaline and frustration in you pivoting you to follow him over to the drum set near the windows facing the front of the building. "Answer me." You urge, your eyes taking in his tense form as he untangles and wraps his fingers in the skin tape your brother left behind for him. Lars glances up at you with a halfhearted glare, before letting out a slow breath and snapping the container of the adhesive shut.

"It's not my fault you don't know how to take a joke," he starts, raising an eyebrow at you as you let out a dumbfounded and disbelieving scoff. "You just seem overly sensitive, and I get bored sometimes, is all." Your eyes zero in on him, and you tilt your head downward to watch him as he sits on the chair near his main instrument. His left hand trembles as he undoes the headband keeping his drumsticks together, and you come to a sudden realization as you observe his unsteadiness. He wasn't jealous or hateful or conniving. He was nervous.

You bite your lip as a thought runs through your mind, and a small hum of amusement exits you before you can help it. Lars' head snaps up at the sound. "What?"

"You said James was going to be coming over tomorrow night to finalize the payment, right?" The drummer nods at you before twisting the wooden sticks in between his taped-up fingers, the absentminded movements almost capturing the entirety of your attention. "I'm just wondering why you came over today, is all. Since James is the one I get along with best, and I'm sure it's the same for him too." Satisfaction warms your gut as you watch his jaw click and strain in place, the muscle contraction making a small chill run itself down your cloth-clad spine.

"So, you want him here instead of me, is what you're saying." He states, his fingers halting all movement and the chair underneath him screeching in protest as he pushes the chair back with full-body force. You wince at the sound and go to open your mouth to reassure him, but falter as he throws down the drumsticks and reaches over the set to grasp ahold at your still wet and dripping t-shirt.

"What," you start to ask, before gasping out loud as he tugs you forward, your stomach pressing up against a cymbal for purchase and your feet almost lifting from the ground. You fluster as he leans up and glares into your eyes, his forehead brushing yours from the closeness and causing your heart rate to accelerate. "Do you ever think that maybe, just maybe, I enjoy getting that reaction out of you, because I'm the only one who can? Today's one of the only morning's we have off before tour preparation, and I'm stuck in this overcrowded apartment, with a girl so dense she can't even tell when someone is trying to flirt with her and get her fucking attention."

You gape as he looks at you earnestly, before setting his face and letting you go. You reach out to encircle your hand around his wrist instead and go to plead as you watch his eyes dim in what seems to be defeat. "Can you please continue? Because I've gone from months of thinking you can't stand being in the same room as me, to you suddenly admitting to actively reaching out on your own to be here with me today. My head is spinning." Lars' expression softens and he twists his wrist to carefully guide you around the drum set, and onto the chair he carelessly shoved away to the side earlier. You let out a trembling breath as he squats down to level with you, the muscles in his thighs and biceps straining from the confining movement.

"When I first met you, I thought you were beautiful, and the guys caught on to my attraction to you immediately. The only way I could get them off of my back was to join in on the teasing the other guys would give you. I don't know when the teasing turned into us insulting each other and getting under each other's skin, but it wasn't my intention to ever hurt your feelings or get you as upset as I did today," he murmurs, his eyes averting yours to look down and caress at the slight tears in the knees of your pants. "I feel like a major dick right now, and I'm sorry."

You furrow your brows as you take in his downtrodden expression, before reaching out to tilt his chin up and make him look at you. "Before you turned into the biggest asshole I've ever met, I thought you were attractive too. So much that my brother started getting on my ass and told me to make a move. But before I could, your insults started to dig in far too deep and I started to come after you and rebut even harder. I know I've hurt and belittled you at times as well, and for that I'm truly sorry." Your free hand's fingers absentmindedly wrap themselves in the middle of his long hair and gently massage his scalp while you apologize, the satisfaction warming your gut earlier coming back full force as you watch his eyes almost slip to a close and his pink lips begin to open in barely hidden bliss.

"You like that?" You whisper out in the cool apartment air, and a soft gasp expels itself from your chest as the fingertips caressing your kneecaps slide up to your thigh and grip the flesh. Lars looks into your eyes and nods, a weighted sigh pillowing out of him as your fingers lightly twist in his mane and tug. Lightning strikes out and nearly makes contact with the windows nearest to the two of you, the bolts of light making the flush on the man in front of you even more apparent during the brief highlight.

"You said you wanted my attention earlier, right?" You ask, your voice barely above a slight tremor of an exhale and nearly incoherent. Lars nods against the grip in his hair and on his chin, and his eyes widen as you tug him forward, his hands once gripping your thighs now grasping onto your waist to steady himself as you bring him forward.

"Come and get it, then." You shutter out, barely able to finish your sentence before his grip turns bruising and his lips ascend on yours.

⚡︎

Warm puffs of heated breath make their way down your bare and goosebump-ridden chest as you lean against the drum set behind you, your lips spread open wide in a permanent gape as the Dane sucks and licks marks into your skin. The tip of a tongue breaches out between kiss chapped lips to tease the top of your left, swollen nipple, and your hips pulse up against the firm and unyielding hands holding you down in place.

The teasing tongue wraps itself around your areola and gently tugs with a light gnarr of teeth, and you cry out at the oversensitivity, your hands reaching down to lightly tap on the shoulders of the man currently trying to taste every inch and centimeter of you.

Lars lifts his head from your chest and removes his mouth from you with a reverberating pop, you blushing as the sound echoes around the room and him sporting a wolfish grin at your reaction. The warm and persistent press of his erection on your leg makes the slick in between your thighs nearly double in amount as you acknowledge the weight of it, and you whine out as your clothed sex pulsates against the soaked material of your uncomfortable bottom clothing. Before you could beg him to move on, he sends you a gentle smile and wetly makes his way down to your navel, your stomach involuntarily sucking in as his appendage makes its way into your belly button.

You let out a light laugh at the ticklish sensation, and you feel him smile against your heating up flesh, the hands holding you down slowly rubbing circles in the bruising skin of your hips. You close your eyes and lick moisture back to your reddened pout as you feel him slide even further down and make it to the beginning of your jeans within a few heat filled seconds.

"Where else do you want me to taste you, angel?" Lars asks you, his face holding on to an innocent expression as one of his hands trail down from your side and its thumb digs into your clothed clit. The musician looks at you with faux confusion as you cry out, his tongue coming to peek out in barely hidden hunger as your chest heaves and your arms give out underneath you. Wooden drumsticks falter and tumble down to the floor, the sound going unnoticed as Lars helps you lift your hips from the chair beneath you and tugs your pants and underwear down in one haste filled yank. You immediately shy away as your overheated and weeping pussy is exposed to the awe looking man kneeling in between your legs, and you freeze in place as he lets out a tsking sound.

"I asked you a question, princess. Where else do you want me to taste you?" You let out an audible gasp as he situates himself and grazes his fingertips everywhere except for where you truly needed them.

"Want your tongue to taste my pussy, want your mouth on me again," you start shakily, letting out a moan as you watch his green eyes darken at your next words. "On your pussy." Lars temporarily closes his eyes and twitches against your leg from your words, and you murmur out his name as his hand travels to cup your sex and tease at it with his calloused palm. "So, if this is my pussy, then I don't have to wait for you to tell me where you want me to taste you, do I?" He asks you, waiting for your nod of consent and agreement, before thumbing your clit and bringing the digit up to his swollen lips. Lars watches as your breath visibly wanes at the sight of him eating your slick so casually, and he bites back a satisfied and predatory smile as he brings his spit slick thumb back down to rub it against your pulsating folds.

"So, I can eat this pussy, tease this pussy," he muses out slowly, watching you writhe in front of him with impatience and desperation. "Use this pussy whenever I'd like?" You nod with fervor and let out a cry of relief as he slowly teases two fingers inside of your tight heat, the relief almost palpable and bringing tears to your eyes. Lars lets out a coo as he watches your fluttery lids begin to dampen with emotion, and he bends down to lightly press a kiss to your trembling thigh, before trailing his head and mouth up to where it truly wants and craves to be.

You melt and slug against the drum set behind you as the first rough swipe of his tongue meets with your enflamed clit, and your nails dig into his shoulders as his free hand pulls you down even further on the chair. Digits curve themselves in the wet heat inside of you, and your legs seize and tense against either side of his sides as he brushes against your sponge-like spot with finesse. Lars moans against your weeping and gushing sex as he feels your walls clench and constrict around his fingers, and his eyes nearly flutter shut as your taste and slick make their way into his inviting and overactive mouth and down his jaw.

The heat in your groin intensifies and a seeming coil snaps as you reach your first orgasm that night, a sob wrenching its way out of your sore and exhausted lungs as your cum accumulates and strings against his fingers and now sopping wet wrist. Lars' eyes open back up fully as he watches you gasp for air above him, and satisfaction fills him as he watches you involuntarily twitch from his ministrations. His cock impatiently twitches in the confines of his fitted jeans as he waits for you to come down from your oversensitive high, his fingers carefully removing themselves from inside of you and coming up to draw figure 8's in your shivering skin.

"You still with me?" He asks you, you letting out a stilted exhale and weakly nodding back a response, unable to catch your bearing enough to verbally respond back. A feeling of disappointment floods through you once you are finally able to lift your head and see that he's still erect in between your legs, his cockhead visibly pulsing against the material of his pants and staining the zipper of them with precum. Lars lets out a soft sound of confusion as your unsteady hands tug him up into a standing position, his hips bucking into the cupping palm of your hand as you rub against his hard dick.

You let out a hush as he begins to protest your movements as you shakily lift yourself off of the drum set from behind you and the ruined chair, and carefully make your way down onto your still trembling knees. "I just want a taste," you dazedly reassure him, your tongue still feeling heavy and slow from your orgasm just a few minutes ago. "Once I can fully process a single thought that isn't only about me wanting to suck your dick, I want you to fuck me against the drum set."

Lars' mouth gapes open and his eyelids flutter at the relief of you releasing his dick from the rough and damp confinement of his jeans, and a small stutter of a sound punches its way out from his chest as the rain pelts itself down on the windowpane outside. Your mouth begins to water once his length bounces itself against his groin once it's freed, and you waste no time before sliding your tongue out of your mouth and wrapping it around his flushed, red tip.

The Dane lets out a sharp gasp as you immediately slide down to the hilt once your tongue collects the copious amount of his pre-ejaculate, and his fingers run down to make purchase in your wet locks as you hungrily swallow around him.

"Holy shit." He shakily whispers out, the muscles in his stomach taut and tightening as you mouth fuck him for all he's worth, your tongue sliding out as you deepthroat him and moan at the feeling of the tip of his dick meeting with the back of your throat.

You lightly tap against his hips with one of your spit-soaked palms and let out a positive sounding hum, your eyes fluttering shut and eyelashes collecting stray and heavy tears once he begins to fuck your mouth and throat. Calloused fingers tear their way through the strands of your hair as his hips make audible contact with your chin, going so far into your throat that the tip of your tongue makes contact with his tightening and raising ballsack.

Lars has to force himself to slowly slide out of the tight heat of your mouth and cup the base of his dick before he orgasms, the tip of his cock still weeping out a few drops of pre-release as he takes in your disheveled look and state. Thick tear stains run themselves down your cheeks and bubbled spit collects itself in a messy spread along your chin, and you lightly rub at the hood of your sex as your arousal drips down onto the wooden floorboards beneath the two of you.

"God, you're such a fucking dream." Lars grunts out, his fingers slowly removing themselves from your hair and bending down to wrap his shaky palms around the slick sides of your waist. You let out a pleased sound as you're lifted up with ease and planted back onto your feet, the sound soon turning into a gasp as you're steadily maneuvered and bent over the drum set, the chair you released on earlier getting shoved to the side once again.

The drummer lets out a hum of approval as he watches you obediently spread your legs wide and fight your inner shyness, the slick running down your thighs enticing him even further as he nearly mounts himself over you. "What'd you say about me fucking you against my drum set earlier, again?" He casually asks you, you beginning to feel small in this position as he towers over you, a blush fighting its way up to your messy cheeks as you hear and feel him slicking himself up with your release and wetness.

You can only whisper and beg out a please, before his length slides into you with an experienced and hearty thrust, his tip hitting your g-spot like it was made for you and this moment entirely. Lightning strikes out again and paints itself white against the two of you, as you sob and hold onto a cymbal as you're pounding into from behind.

Slick and disgustingly messy sounds create a cacophony in the small apartment, combined with your strangled and gasped out moans of pleasure, and you let out a silent scream as the man behind you slides a hand down your front and pinches at your clit, his mouth only releasing itself from your hickey-ridden shoulder to playfully muse out.

"Knew you'd sound better screaming for me, rather than at me." You're unable to rebut back as your second orgasm takes over and your release soaks the front of his still thrusting thighs. A hand delicately wraps itself around your throat as he continues to fuck up into you with reckless abandon. You let out silent gasps of pleasure and overstimulation as he uses you against his set, the partial deprivation of air making you feel deliciously lightheaded. Lars moans out against your ruined skin and pulses himself inside of you as he fills you to the brim, the sensitive skin of the tops of your thighs beginning to sting from his once seemingly never-ending thrusts.

Thick globs of cum run their way down your weakened legs as he slowly removes himself from inside of you and gently turns you around, your body relaxing in his embrace as he brings you forward and into a spit coated kiss.

"You doing alright? I was a little bit rough with you." Lars' eyes run their way down your exhausted and beat figure, and you nod against him with the rest of the energy you've got left in you, before slumping forward and closing your eyes.

"How about we both get in the shower, and then come back out and clean up this mess?" You tiredly open your eyes and let out a shocked and weak bout of laughter as you look down at the floor beneath you. A thick consistency of your combined releases drip themselves down into a puddle on the floor from the drum set and the chair is tumbled over and lying down on its side, the curtain closest to it now on the floor and tangled around a leg of it. If you look close enough, you can still see the shine of your cum on the sitting area of the chair. You quickly blush and glance away as your feet are removed from the ground once again as he lifts you up. And as you tilt your head back and allow yourself to be carried away and toward the bathroom you stormed out of earlier, you let a small smile grace your face as lightning resounds and vibrates the floorboards beneath the two of you.

You were glad he made his way over to your brother's apartment on his own, and eventually to you, and into you.

[chihoshisai]

Guitarist Ace

Ace x Reader

Part 1

cw : self-sabotaging Ace, drinking, established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, cursing, Ace needs serious therapy // wc : 3.8K // I'm really loving toxic guitarist Ace to the point i'm planning on writing more of him ♡

tagging : @littleleelee @taylor4taytay @seillarium @acpola01

A Drowned Temper Part 2

Ace wasn’t sure when he blacked out. But when he did wake up, the harsh colors of sunset were creeping all around his apartment. Irritating every cell in his body as he winced while the feeling of consciousness regained him. His brain thumped in his head. His eyes burned. Everything seemed to feel too bright or too noisy. And worst of all, the wretched heated sensation that started to make its way up from his stomach to clog at his throat, before getting released once his head had found the toilet bowl. God, he just wished for every part of his body to stop throwing a tantrum and behave so he could get ready to go on about his business. 

Right, now that his emotional probation day had passed, now that he had drunk away his feelings, it was time for things to get real again. The routine — head to his part-time job, go to the studio to practice and maybe hit the bar with his friends. Practice being the highlight until the time they settled for dripped away. Which was a mere two to three hours. As for food? A mere afterthought. Whenever he had time to grab a bite or two in between transit from one place to another. Things were too hectic for him to slow down. 

In all honesty, with the way his body felt, almost like it was mutilated, Ace did not have enough willpower to think about you. Nor about the things he had said that had driven you to exit his apartment with a rainfall of tears staining your features. Right now, all he could do was dissociate. Put his brain on autopilot, and do the things he usually did when he wasn’t completely wasted. 

The truth was that he feared to take a step back, to consider and analyze things, and that in turn he would come to realize the ugly truth behind his reality. That he needed help. But why ask or seek for it when dreams and opportunities are right around the corner? Why sacrifice lifelong efforts just because you’re having a hard time? Ace was the type to suck it up, letting it explode inside of him rather than coming to terms with his weaknesses. Even if one of them was you. He owed you not one, but many apologies for his shitty behavior. And even if he wasn’t ready to properly own up to it, what with refusing to change and treat himself better, then he’d make up for it with what he did best. Music. Signing, flowers, soft yellow fairy lights mixed with an astonishingly sweet and romantic candlelight homemade diner. The perfect combo that he would accompany with pleading eyes as the cherry on top.  

Yet again, you weren’t the priority right now. Finding pain relievers was. 

Ace busied himself through a disheveled morning routine — a quick shower, the first clothes he saw and the usual skipping of breakfast as the finishing touch. He would make it up to you eventually. He truly would. But only after the storm that raged inside him and between the two of you yesterday had passed. After all, you were his brightest light of hope and inspiration.  

Eventually he made it outside, grunting under the sunlight that discomforted his still present hungover. He survived work, as easy going as it was by working in an instrument shop and using his expertise to guide the clients that wandered in. Work was a breeze of fresh air for Ace. A way to connect and be in constant proximity with his interest while also not being too demanding. And let's not forget the discount, a blessing for not only him but also to his members, providing a comfortable cushion for the otherwise rigid budget spent on instruments and tech. Surprisingly, the pay was good and for some reasons the tips he received were even greater. It was a given that he was attractive, even if he never considered himself that way, but Ace preferred to believe that his sales skills were the cause rather than suspecting his appearance.  

With the relief that work had brought on the sensitive body of Ace, late afternoon had managed to come by and announce the end of his shift. As such, he bid farewell to his coworkers and headed to the studio, his feet's dragging along the sidewalk with the nearing of his demanding reality. He sighed, sliding his hands in his pocket, thinking how positive he had to be for the infinite time in front of his band. It was so so fucking exhausting. If not for his believing in his skills and worth, along with his member's, he would've screwed the whole thing a long time ago. Most probably spiraling in the unknown reality that would've welcomed him like a cold shower. Hanging in there was hard. But giving up and trying to pick things up again after some time, with the past possibly repeating itself like chains pulling you down, seemed even harder. Scarier in fact. 

Therefore Ace readjusted the guitar case on his back, feeling it heavier than usual as it was the reminder of his journey, clenched his jaw and instead thought ahead for which way to uplift his friend's mood. 

The studio in which they regularly performed was situated upstairs with the first floor being for dancing, giving off a cool air with its black walls while also looking quite elegant with leather couches in the lobby. Ace arrived with a yawn that quickly got replaced by his customer service smile upon greeting the manager and a slight bow once learning that the price had been paid and the others were already inside. 

However, the true colors that etched at his heart quickly clawed their way to his face once his back had been turned to the lobby's counter. And it was with a scowl that Ace led his feet amidst the corridor, recognizing each door with the inhabitant it housed as a potential threat before stopping in front of one. The only threat behind it being himself. At least once he had stepped in. And his members also. If we forget the other bands and the industry, the greatest obstacle an artist could face was inevitably themselves. 

With those last thought echoing in his mind like a warning to give his all for the upcoming three hours, Ace's lungs found themselves rising before emptying themselves of all the inhaled air and consequently providing a counterfeit comfort to his nerves, before a firm hand opened the door to allowed the muffled voices and instrument symphony to pass through the forged smile that stretched Ace’s lips. 

There it was again.

The subtle stolen glances of worries. The averting gazes when confronted by eye contact. The pretending to appear busy by fiddling with the instrument. The compassionate smiles.

Ace did not ask for any of it. And because their concern was genuine, he turned a blind eye to it all as there were more pressing issues at hand than nitpicking his bandmate's expressions. 

With his positive facial features, he closed the door behind him and let a greeting that had been polished for such situations slide from his dry throat. “Hi, it's good to see you guys are always so early!”

“And you're right on time,” the bass member Marco pointed out nonchalantly. 

The drummer Yamato, who until now sat on his chair, rose with a smile. “To be honest, I was starting to wonder where you were, but now that you're here I'm relieved.”    

“Sorry, got a busy day at work,” Ace laughed through his lie, depositing his instrument case agaisn't the wall to take out the guitar. 

Truth be told, it was quite rare for Ace to arrive remotely at the appointed time, but with the rough evening he's had with you, let's just say that things had hit harder than usual. His feelings. His tears. His anger. His frustration. His increased alcohol intake. His black out. No wonder coming here almost felt like a chore, especially when he was aware that you knew the band's practice schedule. 

“Is your girlfriend not coming over tonight?” The pianist Izo asked, his serious expression piercing through Ace's mask.

His smile twitched at it's corner, but by placing the guitar around his body and keeping his gaze on the strings while tuning them, it was enough to appear unbothered despite the complex hurricane that bit his insides. “I don't know, she didn't tell me anything.” His heartbeat raced in anxiety by placing the blame on your silence.

After making sure that the guitar had been plugged in the amplifier, Marco went on to change the mood that started to appear like a morning fog. “Alright then, since we're all here let's get started.” 

“Let's play loud enough for everyone outside to hear,” Yamato cheered.

“You're overestimating the sound proofness of these walls,” Izo pointed out with arched eyebrows.

“Who cares, we have to be able to make our music reach the people standing at the far end of the audience after all,” Ace grinned, taking his usual position in the center, turning his neck with a nod to give Yamato the signal.

Three drumstick click traveled through the room, before the harmony of different instruments went on to echo through the walls. Ace, who despite all things considered had been waiting for this moment allowed his voice to be carried by the melodic notes. His sense of loss and failure, mixed with the complications of relationships seeped through his pore by his every breath. Record companies be damned. Auditions be damned. And fuck romance for being so damn difficult. So damn demanding. 

Even if he loved you.

In that single moment all that mattered was the polishing of their skills. Until the exhilaration of the practice came to an end, the heated up muscles relaxed, puffed breaths came to be heard and the intensity that once seized the room came to be blown away by the silence of instruments. Their time was up.  

“Good job y'all, tonight was a good one!” Ace praised in between breaths, turning to face his band with a proud smile now that his passion has been fueled. Looking at them and the sweat that dripped from their skin was enough to remind him of his faith in them, as well as how he could keep on doing this vice cycle over and over again. 

If he wasn't broken, he could keep going. If his fingers still moved, he could keep playing. If his voice wasn't gone, he could keep signing. If his heart was still ablaze, he could keep the band living. 

With everyone busying themselves with packing up, Marco took that opportunity to slide himself beside Ace. “You probably shouldn't tag along with us after this. Go and get some rest,” he hushed in a whisper.

Offended by the words, Ace's lips thinned in a line, “what makes you say that?”

“Just some concern for our leader, you know,” he placed a hand on Ace's shoulder, squeezing it in compassion. “I'll handle stuff here so get some rest at home, okay?”   

Deep down, granting himself a distraction through the evening merry of eating and drinking with his friends was what Ace desired the most. It would in turn cloud his return home, with an unfocused mind that would cease to think of the difficult stuff and lull him to sleep proficiently. But going home sober meant facing a reality he had yet to swallow. A reality that had been postponed by his hangover. And with his mind finally free from the haze, he would undoubtedly think of you. Of the vile speech he gave you all while standing in the cold night veil of his apartment. Alone. Clear headed. In silence. More than anything, he dreaded the direction his thoughts would take towards himself in the solitary confinement of his head.

“What are you guys whispering about,” Yamato asked with furrowed eyebrows. The drums belonged to the studio, meaning that he only had his sticks to pack. 

Bending to pick up his guitar case before putting it on his back, brushing away the hand simultaneously, Ace gave an innocent smile. “It's nothing,” he spared no look towards Marco, knowing full well he failed to answer his question. 

“Then let's go eat already,” Yamato chirped, wrapping an arm around Ace's shoulders.

“About that,” Marco began, forcing both to look in his direction, along with Izo who had just finished packing his piano and turned to join the conversation, “Ace won't be able to join us tonight. He's quite tired you see.”

The nonchalant attitude almost made Ace burst out in anger. But his mind knew that the words were spoken out of worry for him, and therefore used that knowledge to lock in the emotions alongside the thousands of others ones who had met the same fate, preventing them from seeing the light. Instead, his lips pursed in a weary way while he nodded.   

“Is that so. Then get some rest,” Yamato voiced with a nod accompanied by an encouraging smile and a fist bump on Ace's shoulder.

“Get home safe,” Izo added in turn.

The words forced to come out of his throat with an unsuspicious tone while anxiety dreaded in the pit of his stomach unnerved Ace. “Yeah, I'll see you guys tomorrow.” He forced a smile to crack on his features before silently following the group outside and parting ways with a wave of hands.  

As his body neared home, every muscle dragging Ace in an aching manner made him aware of the truth. He was physically tired. Thankfully that wasn't a lie. But that didn't guarantee that the exhaustion would travel to his brain and shift him to sleep like alcohol would. Once the habit was settled, there was no getting out of it quick and easy. As such, with the brisk night air pricking his skin, his thoughts, while reenacting the events of practice, made Ace take a mental note to pick up more of the bittersweet substance after dropping off his guitar at home. The last memories of your times together were still too fresh for him to analyze them radically. 

Having finally reached the floor of his apartment, Ace momentarily froze.

Shit. 

He considered turning back. Pretending he saw nothing. Maybe even crash at one of his brother's place under the excuse that it has been a while since they met. Even crazier, go back to the orphanage in which he grew. Anywhere. Anywhere would do.

But he had spent too long considering his options because your eyes turned to fix him with a blank look. Running away now would only add oil to the fire. However his heart could not permit him to fumble twice in less than 24 hours. But it was far too soon for you to show up. Far too soon for the shrouding feelings that swelled inside Ace to have cooled down. 

His brain hurled profanities, while his legs headed towards the door in a slower way, his face trying to remain calm as he eyed you crouching by his door. Meanwhile his mind was completely panicking. Trying to pinpoint the reason behind your presence. Almost choking him by entertaining the thought that a breakup would follow. God this was awful. A bitter taste settled in his throat while time stretched into eternity. 

As the distance closed, Ace watched you stand up, your body language bare from any sort of emotions when his feet stopped inches away from you. The fire of yesterday shouldn't have extinguished in you yet. Maybe you were here to pick a fight in turn. What a poor consolation these reflections were. He remained silent, unsure of the correct approach to take and hoped you would voice your reason for being here. 

“You're back early today. Did you skip the after practice hangout?” You asked with genuine curiosity. 

Ace couldn't bring himself to meet your eyes. “Yeah well, things happen.” He shrugged. Frankly it annoyed him — that you were making small talk after deciding to show up unprompted and how he wasn't ready to deal with you just yet. He had never expected you to come for him when it should have been the other way around and now he wished you'd get to the point before his temper got the best of him again. 

“Is it okay for me to come inside?” You pointed a finger towards the door.

“Of course,” Ace brought out the keys from his pocket, tinkering them inside the lock. Best have a talk inside than out for the whole world to hear. Plus with you inside, it would overwrite the self isolating scenario that would've happened otherwise. 

An increase of heartbeat found itself ringing in Ace's chest. While he deposited the keys. While he put down his guitar. While he ran a hand through his hair. While he sat down on the couch. While he watched you stubbornly stand across the room, refusing to sit. Everything made him and his poor heart uneasy. Terrified. Palms sweating. Eyes unable to do nothing but fixate on the ground.  

The reality was that he should have given you an apology the moment he saw you. Begged for forgiveness even. It might have been enough to salvage the situation. It might have prevented this thick tension from staining the air of his home. And because he hadn't spared you a single thought throughout the day, he wasn't ready. Now with his skin growing hot with the passage of time, he sat awaiting for your judgment to come.

“What's wrong?” Your words, softly spoken, carried over while you eyed Ace.

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed, and finally after getting inside he looked at you. 

“I'm asking you what's wrong,” you began. But as the confusion remained you further added, “you were right to say that I can't understand all you're dealing with since I'm no artist. But I think there's more here than simple frustration over a rejection. Speak to me not as a musician but as a person.”

Ace parted his lips as if to say something, but quickly shut them. It felt too anticlimactic. And he wasn't going to jump on the opportunity to make amends without addressing the elephant in the room. “Do you have nothing to say about yesterday?” His gaze found the floor again in guilt.

You sighed. “Not particularly. I just came at the wrong time,” you admitted. Truth be told, your entire being had grown soft towards Ace, almost like a sponge that would absorb all of his ugly and release it through your personal methods for the sake of your sanity. You loved him enough to make a sacrifice. The tears. The pain. The misery. All were temporary. But the happiness. The laughter. The warmth. It was enough to overwrite the bad and fuel your down bad passion for this man. Even while being aware that the whole thing felt like the thorns of a rose.

“Don't give me that crap,” Ace raised his tone in annoyance. “I owe you an apology,” he mumbled sourly, clenching his now intertwined fingers, unable to face you still.

“And you think you can give one in this state?” You asked with an arched eyebrow. 

God did Ace hate being sober.

“But if you want to talk about yesterday then fine. Why did you say those words to me? Why did you push me away? Why did you treat me that way?!” Your voice grew in melancholy with each sentence bringing back the ache of another day.

Ace racked his hair once more with a hand, according occasional glances at you. Your tone ripped at his heart even though he was the one that brought forth the conversation. “Because I was drunk,” he whispered in shame, cheeks reddening in self awareness.

“What?” You scoffed, baffled.

“Because I was drunk okay!” he raised his voice along accusatory eyes in your direction at the sound of your bewilderment before regretting it through a sigh. “Look I'm sorry.” He said in a softer tone.  

You crossed your arms, “that's just your excuse!”

“Then what do you want me to say?!” Ace's voice threatened to reach the roof. To him, this was his reason. His truth. And to see you blatantly deny it proved quite painful. Almost unfair.

“Alcohol is a bridge between your pent up emotions and your mind. So I want you to be honest with me,” you paced the room, closing the distance that fermented the argument.

With you standing so close, Ace found his sight robbed of the ground and instead directed an annoyed look to your face. “What the fuck are you talking about?!” Truly he had no idea. All he wished was for you to accept his apology and move on. But now that you were the one who ambushed him, holding the reins of the conversation it made the struggle quite difficult. It unsettled his mind, leaving him feeling vulnerable. Being sober didn't help either.

“I'll ask you again. What's wrong?” One of your hands, ignoring his temper, slowly went on to stroke Ace's cheek, exchanging warmth as a reminder of the affection that existed between you two, before parting ways while your eyes egged him to answer. Yesterday had made you realize how deep Ace had fallen. How far gone he was. How unaware he remained. Therefore you weren't about to allow him to slip further without trying to catch him. Even if it meant drowning with him. 

Blaming him would be too cruel.

Blaming the alcohol would be too immature.  

Ace took in a deep breath, having calmed down at your touch. “I don't know. I can't understand what is happening to me,” his lips trembled, “so how can I explain it to you when I can't rationalize it for myself,” his voice cracked while his nose sniffled. The burning sensation that scratched at his eyes mixed with the prickle of his throat made Ace take notice of his first words of truth. How he had laid bare a reality he ignored for far too long. Rather than making him feel relieved however, it made his muscles tense, his heart palpitate in an uneasy fashion and his mind to grow apprehensive towards the future. A part of him wanted to blame you for bringing forth this side of him. However, his thoughts were far too agitated to fight back against your ruling of the conversation.     

“That's okay,” you wrapped your arms around his neck in an embrace, pulling him close until his head nestled in your stomach while he remained sitting. “That's all I wanted to hear. You did well telling me that,” your hand stroked his hair in an affectionate way, “let's figure things out together from now on, okay?” 

Ace nodded while raising his arm to circle you in turn. “I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry,” he whimpered.

“I forgive you.” 

[thyandrawrites]

On (soccer) partnerships, commitment, and why Nagi and Reo are the poster children for always doing the opposite of what the series is about

Alright fellas, this started out as something completely different, so forgive me in advance if it feels disjointed, but.

Have you wondered why in chapter 18 of epinagi, Nagi’s inner monologue complains that his “heat is being stolen away”? Or why even in the main series Nagi can’t seem to win a single match even after he and Reo get on better terms? Well, if you have, this post might be a fun read for you. If you already have answers, I might sound like I’m stating the obvious because none of this is particularly subtle or particularly new. But since both series have hit the Nagi Flop Era, I thought it’d be fun to take a deep dive into his character and Reo’s, the themes of the story, and how their codependence contradicts the entire premise of blue lock, intentionally so. I’m going to go over why stagnancy is the entire point of their partnership, and why the fact that they keep failing and failing is instrumental to the type of story Kaneshiro is trying to tell. 

So, without further ado. Get comfortable, this will get long. 

So, as I anticipated, Nagi and Reo are very very often written to be at odds with the themes the story functions around, and I think their regression is another instance of that. In a manga that often underlines the importance of making soccer your “reason to exist” if you’re serious about it, Nagi and Reo are the only duo repeatedly singled out as more committed to each other than to the sport itself. This, the story tells us, being the root of why they so often fail. 

The premise of blue lock is that you can’t become the best in the world until you dedicate your whole self to the sport. Only that egoism will push you in the right state of mind to go above and beyond for a victory. 

Time and time again, we see the most outstanding goals happen in what gets called the hottest place in the field. This “center of heat” comes up a couple of times, and it’s usually represented by a person. According to Ego’s philosophy, the idea is that the world’s best striker possesses a soccer-specific kind of charisma. When he enters a state of flow and pulls off a world-class play, he’ll have a ripple effect on the players around him, pushing them to reach flow too and elevating the level of the game itself. We saw this happening in the U-20 match. Ego’s not really aiming to create a national team, or to foster the talent of the new generation. He only cares about nurturing one person into that role, betting it all on the fact that once that striker awakens from its “rough diamond” shell, they will fire up their teammates & lead Japan to victory. 

Because of this, ideally, everyone aiming at becoming the world’s best striker should strive to be that center of heat. To an extent, even Nagi does. His motivation is spotty at best, but whenever a game heats up, Nagi’s ego gets tickled awake the same as everyone else’s. This is not limited to the times Isagi challenged him, by the way. He reacted to Rin’s skill in much the same way. 

Problem is, neither Nagi nor Reo seem to know how to become that center of heat by themselves. They only react to someone else raising the stakes of a match. Even when Nagi feels fired up, his lack of creativity & playmaking sense fail him against any opponent who is more tactical than him. In a similar way, even when Reo starts going after goals alone in the wake of his split from Nagi, he still can't see his vision of a goal through to the end, or gets outsmarted and beaten to the punch by other playmakers. 

The only times they really get their head into a game is when they're working as a duo. Compare for example Nagi losing grasp of his heated frenzy when he splits from Reo to how quickly he reaches flow when they go back to playing together.

So why is this an issue? If Nagi's limit is his over-reliance on instinct, and Reo's is the lack of self-centeredness that's key to scoring, then shouldn't teaming up solve the problem and make them a powerhouse? How come, even after somewhat resolving their communication issues, their soccer still is no match to that of the blue lock elites? 

Well, before I can begin to unpack the answer to that… A big theme driving the soccer partnerships is that you won’t go very far if you rely too much on the other person to carry your weight. This is the reality Bachira faces in the 4v4, when he “disappears”, swallowed by everyone else’s growth. This is also the lesson Rin learns from Sae when his brother returns from Spain a completely different, overwhelmingly superior player. The series tells us that relying on others to pick up your slack makes you less sharp and prone to noticing your weaknesses because someone else will cover your back. 

For a practical example of this, Rin's style when he played with Sae mirrors Nagi's around Reo: they both relied on instinct, trusting that the ball would always come if they just positioned themselves in the right spot to score. And for a time, it did. But that's not the level the rest of the world plays at. Nagi and Reo's winning streak ends when they face an unpredictable, explosive talent like Isagi, who doesn't operate according to any predictable patterns. Similarly, Rin's playstyle gets wrecked in a matter of minutes by a Sae who got to experience the "real" soccer played overseas. 

The point, then, is that Nagi and Reo never really assimilated any of Ego's lessons, instead resisting his philosophy to a fault by choosing each other. From the start, they’re not very good at being apart, given how their strength draws from being a team. Both of them are noted to only ever increase the level of their plays when they are working together, but not as much when alone.

Nagi’s the brawn to complete Reo’s brain, and their dynamic too often falls back on that codependent partnership. In fact, they default to their roles even when they're not playing with each other. During the second selection, Nagi replaces Reo with Isagi, continuing to rely on someone else's creativity and game sense, while he just follows. And in the 3v3, we similarly see Reo fall back on playing the midfielder to Kunigami and Chigiri's forward, offering up the perfect passes to make them shine and get all the scoring options they want. 

But what about when they're together? Aren't they strong then? Didn't Nagi score a crazy super goal thanks to Reo's assist? What do we make of that? 

You'll probably remember how Ego got a sense of foreboding from Nagi's five shot revolver. Of course, you might say, Ego never liked their soccer! He was cussing them out for playing together since day one! Of course he's a hater! 

Well… Yeah. But Ego's also an authorial insert, and he's there to tell us the themes of the story, and comment on the characters growth. Or in this case, their stagnancy. Nagi's returning to his reliance on Reo's brains and Reo's willingness to entertain it are both framed as a bad thing because it specifically contradicts the idea the series is based on: that a real striker is an egotistic, self-reliant existence that doesn't bend to other people's rules, but instead dictates their own, and makes everyone follow or fall through in their wake. 

There are several players this definition already applies to. Rin, Barou, Shidou and of course Isagi all come to mind. Isagi's growth in particular has been rotating around this concept. Isagi not only believes in his (meta) vision, but he also possesses the sharp-wit and the cutthroat resourcefulness to see it through no matter the odds, at times even to the detriment of his teammates. Nagi and Reo, on the other hand, can pull off some incredible plays, but it’s never enough to land them a solid victory, especially in the NEL arc. Usually, in a story, when a character fails enough times to become stagnant, the author is making some kind of point. In this case, as the narrative itself points out through Isagi first and Agi later, it’s the concept that relying on their teamwork is actually making Nagi and Reo’s soccer worse. 

Sure, Nagi might've caught Isagi off guard with those feints once and managed to score, but that's still him relying on instinct over brains. If you dissect that match, you'll see that aside from the fake volley itself, which is the product of a non-replicable state of flow, there isn't a single move Nagi and Reo made during that game that Isagi didn't see through, expect, and match their pace at. This is by design, of course. It's meant to indicate that while Isagi grew, learning from stronger players and assimilating new elements in his arsenal of weapons, Nagi and Reo are still stuck playing the same way they did in the second selection. With Reo as the heart, brain and anchor directing Nagi around, and Nagi as the leg kicking the ball into the net following a momentary burst of inspiration. 

The fact that this is intended as a setback in their path towards a more egotistical soccer is made more obvious by the timing. It's not a coincidence that Nagi went back to Reo the moment he got frustrated by how hard creativity and tactics come to him when he's on his own, without a "handler" like Reo (and later Isagi) taking care of all the hard parts. 

Nor is it a coincidence that Reo was faced with the choice to go back to helping Nagi out right when Reo was beginning to go after his own goals, without help. Nagi comes up to him and shakes him up literally one (1) panel after Reo's dramatic, resolute decision to prove himself alone.

Had they gotten anywhere in their quest to polish their individual skills during the split, maybe their partnership could’ve aspired to become more like Isagi and Bachira’s, eventually. However, they weren’t apart long enough to master their respective strengths, or to consolidate their egos as something separate from their status as partners. Thus, when they resume playing together, they instead hold each other back. 

So is their ego the problem here, then? Ever since that five shot fake volley, we see Nagi’s dissolve, leaving him unmotivated again, grasping for answers he can't seem to reach no matter how many people he asks. And surely, its disappearance is significant, much like how Reo's ever changing definition of his own ego is also significant. But I think the real issue is something else. Egos can take many forms, and Nagi and Reo aren't the only players whose so-called “protagonism” isn’t rooting for their own success. Most recently, Hiori gained an ego too, and it was framed as a good thing even though it doesn’t strictly lead to him becoming the best striker in the world. 

My idea, then, is that it's less that they lack the "correct" ego, but more like they lack the correct attitude towards soccer to begin with. From the start, they're both motivated by something that is not inherent to soccer itself, but only tangential to it: the World Cup—or rather, their promise to each other that they'd win the World Cup. Because of this, I think, they center their football more around their partnership & their shared dream than any genuine passion for the sport, unlike pretty much the rest of the cast (now including Hiori. Yay!). In other words, the problem is that neither of their egos is really about themselves, yet. So it fails them because it's not conductive to "protagonism", but centered around an "us" that drags them off course.

Let's go with Nagi first. On the surface, "commitment" and "Nagi Seishirou" don't seem to go well in the same sentence. Nagi doesn't do anything excessively. He's content to coast through life doing nothing more than he strictly needs to survive. As long as he can put in minimal effort and still have time to play video games and nap, he's happy. When his teachers asked him to fill a form about his future, he couldn't think of anything he wanted to do. He's the embodiment of living one day at a time cause it's too much work to figure out his life past that. Yet, he genuinely commits to soccer. 

Or does he? 

Sure, he agrees to not only playing the sport, but to dedicating several years of his life to becoming pro. That’s dedication, for sure. But is it really for soccer? I would argue that no, Nagi’s commitment is to his partnership with Reo, not to the sport itself. And okay, you can’t have one without the other, but the distinction is important to understand Nagi’s (and Reo’s as well) resistance to character growth. 

So, Nagi had no passion for the sport until he saw the level some other elite blue lockers played at, and got curious and frustrated enough to put real effort in it himself. But until then, soccer was simply something he tagged along in. In fact, he was pretty unenthused with the idea of playing until Reo promised him an easy life and made it so Nagi wouldn’t have to work hard for it. Nagi signs up for blue lock with the expectation that he’ll be the one to flunk out first, without being too torn up about it. Clearly, it’s not a career as a professional soccer player he has an attachment to. I’d argue it’s more the fact that he feels comfortable around Reo, and he is invested in what only their agreement can bring forth. That is, a life more exciting than any nap or game. 

The excitement part is the focus here. At their core, both Nagi and Reo’s characters are motivated by the wish to escape boredom. So much so, the epinagi movie made that its tagline. Thematically, dissatisfaction with boredom is the catalyst for every choice they make. While everyone else is motivated by an ambition that is inherent—that draws from their wish to excel—Nagi and Reo are more prize-oriented, lacking the conviction that they’re special on their own. It follows that the challenge of bringing home the World Cup represents just that—for Nagi, it’s the thrill of a final boss with the prospect of an easy life afterwards, and for Reo, something hard to obtain that he’d conquer by his own merit. In both cases, soccer for soccer’s sake is not the end goal. It’s just a tool to achieve what they really want. 

Neither of them ever really dreams of becoming the world’s best striker, and neither swears their entire life to soccer, either. Not even Reo ever brought up a career in the sport, past winning for Japan for the first time. This is why I say their commitment is more to each other than to football, and also why they struggle to advance in the program. 

Let's think about it. The Cup was never really Nagi's dream; beating Isagi was. Yet, when their partnership all but crumbles down, Nagi keeps making choices with the Cup in mind. The boy who never fought for anything becomes determined to honor his promise to Reo even if he's not certain that Reo still cares about it. By his own admission, he chooses Isagi and then England because both of those things bring him closer to their original goal, and Nagi's resolve for that has never waned, even if for a time he thought Reo's had.

It's like he clings to inertia to avoid thinking what the sport means to him. Despite how Reo seemingly turned his back on him, Nagi doesn't want to give up on what made them partners. To him, soccer never stopped being something they shared (to a fault). That's why, I think, when they make up, a big part of their reconciliation is going back to sharing a dream. This time, with Reo helping Nagi out instead of the other way around. And I'm saying that's a flaw because his subconscious need to seek answers and help from others made it so that whenever he's alone, he doesn't have a very defined idea of how to move forward. But again, a striker should be self-reliant, and have the capacity to evolve on his own even as the match is unfolding. But Nagi didn't even believe in himself until Reo convinced him he was special, so how can Nagi have the right mindset to seize his protagonism?

Similarly, Reo’s drive is also not based on anything inherent. From the start, he doesn’t believe he was “chosen by football” the way geniuses like Nagi and Rin are. Because of this, he never bought into Ego’s striker philosophy, nor has he been a very fitting candidate for it yet. Much like with Nagi, his set up as someone willing to step away from the spotlight positions him in defiance of the story’s themes. While Nagi has the talent and instinct to become a powerhouse but lacks conviction, Reo is a born leader outside of the facility, but within blue lock’s rules he can only make it to the U-20 bench, and so far no further. 

The point here is that Reo’s readiness to be Nagi’s crutch is lowkey framed as a voluntary burden he places on his potential growth, a fact that the narrative condemns. 

Reo was born for success—bred and raised with every luxury to make sure he'd step into his father's shoes and be one of Japan's wealthiest and most capable businessmen. And Reo takes obvious pride in his social status, too. We can see it in the flaunted wealth of his spending and daily habits, as well as in the way he interacts with his peers. He funds his Hakuho soccer team and easily seizes captainship. Blue lock teams don't have captains, but he still rises to a similar position even within an environment designated to promote violent competitiveness and a wolf-eat-wolf mentality. Heck, he asks Nagi to call him "boss" and demands Zantetsu recognizes him as "super elite". Pride in being the best and excelling at everything he does is written into Reo's code.

Yet, the moment Ego suggests that there is no such thing as cooperation within his training program, Reo is quick to bargain—take him, he’s the real star. I will tag along and ensure his success. 

Ever the businessman, right? Problem is, renouncing his pride for someone else is the opposite of the attitude he should have. Same as Nagi, Reo puts a lot of weight on their shared dream. Too much weight. Somewhere along the line, “I want the World Cup” became “If Nagi’s at my side, we will win the World Cup”. Being partners until the end became so entangled with Reo’s dream that he can no longer separate the two. When Nagi leaves, Reo’s image of that finishing line crumbles. Iirc, he doesn’t even mention the World Cup as his goal anymore until Nagi comes back to him. When asked to put into words what he wants to achieve with his soccer, Reo tells Chris that he wants to go after goals alone. It’s only later, when Chris questions what happened to his solitary resolve in the wake of Reo’s restored friendship with Nagi, that Reo is like “well, my actual dream was the World Cup anyway, so this still counts.” 

That is both true and a deflection from the truth. Yes, Reo’s real goal has always been the cup… but he also subconsciously sees it as something inseparable from his promise with Nagi. He can’t have one without the other. Or he thinks he can’t, is the point. Partly because of that, and partly because Nagi is his best friend, Reo is very resistant to Agi’s criticism. The story’s trying to nudge Reo towards personal growth, telling him that the only way out of this impasse is to quit what isn’t working. However, because Reo’s meant to resist the themes of the story, the choices he makes are rarely the right ones. That is, the choices a real egoist would make in his place.

This isn’t anything recent, by the way. For this same reason, for example, winning Nagi's trust back becomes his main motivation to survive past the loss in the 3v3. By his own admission, Reo is the only guy in blue lock who not only has a safety net outside the program, but a very comfortable life to fall back on if a career in football doesn't work out for him. But when push comes to shove and he faces the chance of dropping out, Reo resolves to improve by thinking of Nagi and their shared dream.

Let’s compare that to Barou, who was similarly broken down and had to crawl his way up again. Barou goes the egoist way and finds his resolve within himself, vowing to double down on his king shtick and devour Isagi back. To Barou, the simple idea of passing a ball is akin to defeat. When he envisions a future of normalcy, with football as something to only watch on tv, Barou’s hunger to reign the field like a king rears its head again and motivates him forward. Reo, instead, never reaches a point where he embraces the series’ trademark selfishness. In fact, he does the opposite. When he vows to step up his game, he doesn’t do it because he thinks he’s the top dog like everyone else. The root of his despair is not a wounded pride, or a desire to prove himself further, to “devour” others back and rise to the top, but just the loss of his fix against boredom. Remember, chasing an exciting life is both Reo and Nagi’s main motivator so far. To put it simply, Reo doesn’t want what awaits him outside of blue lock. 

That’s the seed of his actual ego, by the way. Not the Cup, not making Nagi the best, but rather obtaining something by his own merit. But because of his reliance on Nagi (and Nagi’s on his), Reo hasn’t yet reached the point where he can realize this and use the knowledge to better his plays. In that sense, their partnership holds both of them back from exploring their inner motivations and individual strengths further.

And I said that this is instrumental to the kind of story Kaneshiro’s telling because it’s meant to show us all the ways a striker can’t be. This is not a manga where the power of friendship will get you anywhere. No matter how stubborn you get about having it your way, obstacles will materialize in your path and set you back the longer you refuse to play for your own sake. 

Yet, Reo doesn't want to advance in the program for the sake of becoming the world's best striker. He never did. He wants to move forward because Nagi left first, and he wants to meet him on the other side (quote, "beyond our dreams"). In other words, to return to being friends, even if he fears that Nagi might've replaced him with Isagi and "forgotten" about him. It doesn't have anything to do with soccer per se. It's more like Reo sees soccer as his chosen tool for self-determination. It was the trial to prove to himself, as well as his father, that his "worth" wasn't handed down to him by circumstance, but was inherent. He could achieve something worthwhile thanks to hard work, and not just reap the benefits of his last name. 

And the thing is…If he were literally anyone else, at this point he would’ve already channeled that into individualism, but because it’s Reo, he doesn’t. Despite possessing that seed of egoism, Reo doesn’t water it. His ambition doesn't make him an egoist in the way Ego Jinpachi intended, but instead becomes something that's meant to be carried by two people, contradicting the story.

Reo’s resolve is then always a bit off from falling in line with the rules of blue lock. Even when he gets something right, he does it for the wrong reasons, stumping his development. For example, his resolve after the 3v3 is both a step forward and two steps back. The positive is that he "engraved despair". He faced his shortcomings, realized his powerlessness, and took measures to improve to avoid being left in the dust again. The negative part is that being on his own should've given Reo a taste for real egoism, a hunger for self-reliance, but it does the opposite instead: it makes him long for what he had, and put all his willpower into restoring that partnership however he can. If the issue was that Nagi's improved enough to no longer be satisfied by the level of Reo's plays, then Reo's solution is to make his soccer exciting again in Nagi's eyes to, quote, "be enough to satisfy" him.

Because of that, however, the moment he has Nagi's trust back, their partnership back, Reo pretty much stops trying to improve. His chameleon style is still a go, but it becomes yet another tool to assist in Nagi's goals. It didn't start that way.

Initially, it was what Reo intended to use to score alone, remember?

Yet, even after coming up with a style that's solely his, that focuses on his strengths and brings no value to Nagi's, Reo keeps committing to stagnancy. In different but similar ways, both do. 

Teamwork and passive codependence are the two things Ego asked all the blue lockers to leave behind, but Nagi and Reo make it their job to bring typical shonen manga dynamics into a series that sets out to break from the norm. And that’s the point! 

In this sense, Reo is more at fault than Nagi, who instead realizes that sometimes being apart makes you better, and doesn’t mean the end of your friendship. If I were to pin down Nagi’s role in the narrative, then I’d say he’s meant to show that talent doesn’t equal success without discipline, self-awareness and determination. So the world’s best striker can’t just be good. He needs to know what he’s doing, and when and where he can do it to make the most of every play, since nothing happens by chance on the field. Whereas Reo’s role is that of showing us the mindset of a real striker. Because Reo enters the program without accepting or even understanding Ego’s rules, Reo’s faulty beliefs get challenged at every turn, with the author basically spoonfeeding us the correct path to soccer stardom. 

So in the end, since they struggle so much to even understand what they should be doing, their fumbling around makes it so the story goes more into depth about its own themes. Their job is to be incompetent, basically, but in a way that doesn’t rule out eventual growth. They just need to come to terms with the rules of the competition they entered first. So far, they’ve been content to just live in a bubble and coast through the increased stakes of the selection. If they’re serious about their dreams, however (and we’ve established that they are!), they will have to make a choice between what’s comfortable and what’s necessary. Cause, to quote Ego from epinagi chapter 2, in blue lock there’s no place for self-conscious babies who don’t want to ever get their feelings hurt. 

So what will they choose? Each other again, or the only way they can make it past blue lock and thus actually chase their dreams? 

[howlsofbloodhounds]

So I was thinking about the different ways Killer’s views on the name “Killer” may shift depending on what Stage he is in.

With the canonical view of the name we have from Killer when he leaves Nightmare for Color, where he doesn’t believe he has the right to change his name, to which Color reassured him that he just needs time.

And I was mainly thinking about the views when in Stage 1, 2, and 4. With 2 and 4 mainly just being speculation.

Stage 1 Killer is characterized by a sense of guilt and remorse for his actions. He views the name "Killer" as a constant reminder of the crimes he has committed and the lives he has taken.

He feels a deep sense of shame and believes that he does not deserve to disassociate from his past actions. The name serves as a form of self-punishment, a way to ensure he never forgets what he has done.

This stage struggles with self-forgiveness and feels unworthy of redemption. By refusing to change his name, he is acknowledging his past and accepting the burden of his crimes.

He believes that changing his name would be an attempt to erase or run away from his past, which he feels he has no right to do.

Stage 2 Killer views the name "Killer" as a regular name that signifies his role. He has normalized his actions and identity as a killer, seeing it as an intrinsic part of who he is.

This stage is characterized by a detached and apathetic view of his actions. He does not feel guilt or remorse in the same way Stage 1 does, and thus the name does not carry the same weight of condemnation.

To Stage 2, the name "Killer" is simply a label that accurately describes his function and role within the world. It is a practical identifier rather than a source of emotional burden.

He sees himself as fulfilling a necessary role, and the name reflects that role without any added emotional significance.

Stage 4 Killer does not see "Killer" as a name but as a descriptor of what it is: a killer. In this stage, it is deeply dehumanized, viewing itself purely as an instrument of the Their will.

This stage has lost a sense of personal identity and individualism. It is completely subsumed by its purpose and role, seeing itself as an entity rather than a person with a name.

For Stage 4, "Killer" is a functional label that describes its existence and purpose. It is not a name but a definition of its sole purpose to kill as commanded by Chara.

It operates with a clear, singular focus on serving Chara. Personal identity, names, and individual distinctions are irrelevant to it. The name "Killer" is stripped of any personal or emotional context and is viewed solely in terms of functionality.

Stage 1 carries emotional weight and self-condemnation with the name "Killer," feeling it is a deserved burden. Stage 2 lacks this emotional weight, viewing the name pragmatically as a reflection of his role. Stage 4 is devoid of personal identity and sees "Killer" purely as a descriptor of its function.

Stage 1's perception is tied to guilt and identity. Stage 2's perception is tied to a pragmatic acceptance of his role. Stage 4's perception is tied to a loss of personal identity and a focus on functionality.

Stage 1's view is influenced by guilt and remorse, Stage 2's by detachment and normalization of violence, and Stage 4's by dehumanization and unwavering obedience to Chara.

[paper-mario-wiki]

what's ur favorite erb?

i dont have "favorite" as much as i have "the ones i watch every now and again".

"Blackbeard vs Al Capone" i might just like the way EpicLloyd speaks as Capone, but i also cant help but be utterly entranced by a shouting match between to middle aged men who want the other one to be scared. Favorite verse: Capone 1 (of 2)

"Wonder Woman vs Stevie Wonder" although this one still has the signature simple and cheesy bar structure that ERB is known for, this is PEAK in terms of performers. nicepeter and epiclloyd (the main guys) are great, but after the first 30 videos it became very easy to detect their individual deliveries and cadences. t-pain is pretty iconic in his performance of stevie wonder. Favorite verse: Stevie 2 (of 3)

"Stephen King vs Edgar Allan Poe" watzky was unfortunately cursed by god to forever look like a little twerp, but he works with it really well and it fits very well for the real-life twerp that was Edgar Allan Poe. and zach sherwin is always a charismatic force to be reckoned with, his uniquely clever writing style and flow shining. Favorite verse: Stephen King 2 (of 2)

"Steven Spielberg vs Alfred Hitchcock" this one's just good fun. its a little battle royale among a bunch of really famous pop directors. i know that the character-appropriate cgi background is a staple of post-season-one ERB, but i really appreciate these ones specifically for some reason. Favorite verse: Alfred Hitchcock

"Kryptonite" this isnt an ERB and is in fact a completely unrelated normal rap song but i was listening to this one today. my oldest brother listened to a lot of rap when i was young and this one was one of his favorites. i remember listening to it all the time when he would drive me to blockbuster to rent gamecube games. i didnt listen to it for a few decades, but i looked it up on youtube a few weeks ago on a whim and i really liked it a lot. it's all about smoking weed which i love doing, and the chorus is really catchy, plus the instrumental is one of my favorites. Favorite verse: Big Boi 1 (verse 3)

"The Joker vs Pennwise" both rappers somehow look like different versions of matpat in heavy makeup, and joker works in a natural "we live in a society" which i like. i think that's all i got for this one. Favorite verse: Joker 3 (of 3, because this is the one with the we live in a society bar, but all of his bars were actually really solid)

"Tony Hawk vs Wayne Gretzky" another one for the "zach sherwin is one of the best thing ERB has" pile. he delivers in a quaint (if a bit cartoonish) canadian accent a scathing comparison between the actual real-life achievements and significance and skill between the two actual athletes. which i think is very spiritually fulfilling considering the name of the series. Favorite verse: Wayne Gretzky 2 (of 2)

"James Bond vs Austin Powers" might unfortunate austin only gets 1 verse because it's far and away the best part of this one. aside from a clever pussy eating joke near the end between the two feuding bonds. Favorite verse: Austin Powers

"Nice Peter vs EpicLLOYD 2" this is an actual real-life catharsis event between the main two artists behind ERB who seemingly put very real and deep-seated creative and personal frustrations they have with each other into their verses, plus a very real burnout over this series that they put all their money on being The Big One, creating a legitimately tense feeling in watching their performances. for reference, Peter rips on how Lloyd is an alcoholic and is unwilling to let the channel grow or change, and Lloyd talks about how Peter is obsessive and manipulative, referencing a real life issue involving a friend they fucked over in the separate video he appeared in. Favorite verse: Lloyd 1 (of ??? this one is almost a duet at times really)

"Babe Ruth vs Lance Armstrong" this one is specifically here because babe's second verse goes extremely hard in an almost uncharacteristic way for a series with very middling raps in general. Favorite verse: Babe Ruth 2 (of 2)

i could keep going i think but i just scrolled to the top of the list and my face flushed with embarrassment at how long its getting so im gonna end it there. you get the idea.

[witchofthesouls]

I would love to see you write some more culture differences between the bots and humans. If you wouldn’t mind :0 I wish we saw some in TFP

Same here. I love seeing world-building and deep lore, especially with other fantasy/sci-fi civilizations.

TFP gave us so much and so little at the same time. It's like going to a restaurant, you have a drink and great appetizers, so you're constantly waiting for the entrée that isn't coming!

TFP is also really fascinating when looking at it with the lens of the caste system and its deep roots within and among the 'bots, even their reduced circumstances. I get the feeling that Optimus is way more casual in way with his team than what the decorum would demand, even with his barriers.

The Autobots would find human cityscapes as quaint. Even the dense sprawls of megacities with towering high rises are paltry reminder of what they're used to.

Cybertron was a planet where its wilds had been tamed. Either reshaped or completely stripped. The Wastelands is/was an apt name for the baren landscapes outside the established city-states.

It wasn't just a large difference in public transport and zoning and sheer scale. It was also the functional design and architecture.

City-states mimicked the layouts of Titans' ground alt-modes. They didn't sprawl outward. Those had set perimeters based on Titans' outer defenses. Instead, the cities expanded up or down.

It wasn't limited to just a parking structure or secretive bases. Whole levels housed entire communities of what castes resided there: occupations, hospitals, sewage, refineries, restaurants, entertainment, and so much. Some mecha go without ever seeing the sunlight or feel real wind, especially those at the lowest of the system. The lowest castes are set all the way at the bottom, among ancient tech and dilapidated buildings. Sorting and recycling what could be kept and what must be sent back to the upper levels.

The concept of "open to the public" would confuse the Autobots. The Golden Age operated its society under the strict overview of a caste system, which expanded to "where" and "what" individuals of a caste could access.

Monster truck rallies fall under bloodsport to them. Bulkhead once scavenged money to watch and do small bets at high-stakes drift racing and lower-tier gladiator matches below the ground. Mecha still had to pay entrance fees to it.

Parks were under the Artisanal caste. Blending murals of legends, careful tending to fauna that are functionally extinct that was tailored to the agreed aesthetic, live music from specific pupils of masters, playing on instruments that merged with the gardens, so it was difficult to tell what was a tool and a plant or animal. And entry to any of it was only allowed for certain castes.

Universities were thriving, self-contained communities, and major points of power. No one off the list would be allowed into its grounds. All visitors and short-term guests were deeply screened and monitored. There is no such thing as "dropping by." Everything is meticulously planned and prepared. Unless a faculty member personally vouches for a guest, they must heed the numerous rules or a risk permanent banning.

Academia had long since been territorial over its talents and quality of its programs and people. They refuse to allow anyone outside its jurisdiction to bully one of its own. No matter the rank or caste, it will close its inescapable jaws around an outsider.

The fact that someone could go to a private university and simply jog upon its grounds is mind-boggling to the 'bots.

As well as libraries and their courses and workshops. So anyone can go? Anyone?! Everyone has access to the knowledge!? Can anyone simply go join a seminar on local gardening? Anyone can just go to a playground and start swinging or playing basketball or flying a kite or dancing to music? Anyone?

Bulkhead had a lot of questions for Jack and Raf since they're locals compared to Miko.

"So anyone can go?"

"Yeah. I used to spend my recess looking up bird anatomy and Ancient Greece and Egypt."

"You had a thing for ancient civilizations?" Raf asked.

"Doesn't everyone?" Jack shrugged. "Pharoahs and gladiators and old gods? We ate that up with mystery books or Goosebumps."

"I read Sherlock Holmes and the Chronicles of Narnia."

"Those are classics. Hey, did you get into The Lo-"

"Hold up," Bulkhead cut in, crouched down and leaning more forward, as if sharing a secret and quietly ask, "So anyone?"

"Yes. Anyone." Jack repeated, rapidly firing off each point with a finger. "Their family. Their friends. Their classmates. Their coworkers. Their pe-"

"Even, let's say, a construction worker. He could just go inside and pick up, I don't know, quantum physics? Anatomy of any frames? Gardening?"

"Sure." Raf squinted and moved to wipe off his glasses with his sleeves. "Clubs and people like to donate more to expand the base. Some of the college professors even leave early editions of their textbooks." Raf readjusted his glasses and beamed. "It's for easier access people and for an industrial copier."

"Oh..." There was a wealth of meaning in that small noise.

"You..." Jack struggled on the concept. Perhaps giant metal aliens didn't need books and could download information from their own internet. "You don't have libraries or schools?"

"No. We did." Bulkhead sighed. "I just wasn't allowed into them."

Out of all of them, Miko would be the to come the closest to understanding them in some ways. 出る杭は打たれる. The nail that sticks out gets hammered in.

As a transfer student from Japan, Miko does have instances of culture clashes with her American classmates and host family.

She's loud. She knows that. But Americans are a different breed with no restraint. In some ways, admirable. In others, incredibly frustrating.

Miko is used to a far heavier workload with long hours after-school and a busy city life. Jasper qualifies between a small and large town that she can't walk around easily on her own with the blazing heat and bitter cold nights and the lack of a car or a bike.

Detention in the US is a joke to her. Stay in school after it's over? She's used to doing that back at home with clubs and cleaning it. On a Saturday? Same thing. Some clubs back home ran long hours over the weekend. Do homework? She already finished it during lunch or between classes because she wants all the other time to herself and the 'bots.

Because Bulkhead gets a realization just how free the kids' social mobility is, he tries to get on Miko over her scrapping at school and her assignments, especially after Ratchet's high jacking their science projects resulted in failure. And that was another strange blow since Ratchet is a medic and a scientist. She's smart and quick and can be rough around the edges and so everywhere, and, to him, Miko deserves everything she could want in her short life. (And wasn't that also a terrifying concept to grasp? To just live and die under a single vorn?)

At first, Miko was getting annoyed because it's similar to the well-meaning nagging her host family does, but she reads the worry he has, and they have to really sit down and speak and soothe over his misunderstandings.

It comes as a huge surprise to her that Bulkhead can just download a language into him. Context and colloquialisms would be missing, and he needs work because he's a mix between extreme formality and, much to her delight, yakuza. And it's all because of her own frustration that English is her second language.

[riverssongs13]

First, let's just get this out of the way for I'm still seething about the storytelling mess that was Familiar By Thy Side (and parts of Darkest Hour). I want to appreciate the fact that this masterpiece of an episode is more than 10 minutes shorter than the previous one, which had so many unnecessary parts; this half hour of an emotional roller coaster ride has done so much more to progress the ENTIRE show's plot. We finally pieced the puzzle of Lilia's kookiness and her "jumps". We got so much more Teen lore from this than the Teen episode itself. We now have resolution to all the (previous) trials, Alice's… state, Rio's real identity, Jen's importance… We even dealt with the damned Salem Seven as a bonus. So many things happened but it was not overwhelming at all. If this were a suit I'd say it's bespoke indeed.

Now, what I truly loved about this episode is how it was able to paint a non-linear narrative with so much finesse, with each twist and turn taking us to different parts of a single timeline, without making it nauseating, all while pulling the threads to secure the stitches in place and make sure the seams are tight without it puckering. Like embroidery that adds patterns on different areas, we finally sew it all up to see the final tapestry.

The whole fandom has definitely theorised all about how Lilia's weird "inserts" are connected, each episode giving us more pieces to make sense of. But of course it feels infinitely better seeing it ourselves, and how they make up a whole linear timeline in Lilia's mind-POV, while Agatha and the gang are left confused with the breadcrumbs of phrases left for them at different intervals. I absolutely loved how this time discrepancy was used. No more boring-ass unnecessary flashbacks filled with drivel. This time, the past is completely enmeshed with the present, and is used to decide on what's needed to be done to get the desirable future outcome.

This "time is non-linear, it exists simultaneously at all points" phenomenon has certainly been used in countless other media (Fringe and its Observers come to mind), but I love how actively Lilia used it. Her being in that tea-leaf reading lesson held so much significance to her as a Trial Subject, as a Coven Member, and as an Individual Witch. Her time in the gazebo reminds me of The Time Traveller's Wife; existing in all the times, getting sent and pulled back and sent again.

That gazebo was both her prison and her escape. Being stuck in that place made her think her life is a rigid series of unfortunate events, and she can't do anything but be helpless in the face of tragedies that befall everyone she ever cares about. Having had the power to see the future yet be unable to prevent her original coven's death perpetuated her self-depreciation, thus she spent 450-ish years giving in to the usual witchy tropes and misconceptions (the palm reading and tarot tents and the minor scams here and there, but a girl's got bills, ya know), even if it hurts her in the process.

So then, prison AND escape, right? Being tethered to that specific point in time, with her mentor guiding her path to self-rediscovery, was crucial to Lilia's ability to escape her shackles, because she needed to realise she put the shackles on herself. Having a powerful but dangerous gift and being actively afraid of it is quite the self-fulfilling prophecy of doom. You're scared so you stop using it altogether but then you can't control it so all that suppression does more harm than good (looking at you, Charles. What you did to Jean was cowardice. Also, hello? Elsa??). Lilia exclaiming "I was bad at tea leaves" at her literal first day of training might just have been the reason why she spent her life believing she's bad at it. She planted the very idea in her brain (Inception? lol).

This whole forward and back travel from the Road to the Gazebo is instrumental to Lilia coming to terms with the idea that time for her does not move in a straight line. Her confession to Jen, paired with her mentor's wise words, makes her admit that she does, in fact, have a problem. First step to recovery and all that. This then leads to her unravelling the next layer of her issues, which is death to all she holds dear. Granted, she has seen so much death within her lifetime. 450 years of life would do that to you. Something she cannot possibly control.

But that's the thing, isn't it? She was never supposed to control anything. Her job as a Trial Subject, a Coven Member, and an Individual Witch is to SEE. See the trial with the eyes of 450 years simultaneously happening, the heart of someone who wants to protect her coven, and the power of a witch who can walk through the threads of time's tapestry. Once she sees that, and once she accepts that Death is not a Bad Thing, and once she lets go of control, the pieces started to fall into place.

Which then makes her SEE that she's the Traveller. This tarot reading is about her, and she has been sprinkling the answers throughout her timeline, waiting to be plucked by the Awakened Calderu of Now. Give credence to who she is, and her power that Must Not Be Feared. Recognition that she needs her Coven in order to succeed. Acceptance for what she has lost along the way. Welcoming the path ahead no matter where it leads her. Embracing heartbreak, sorrow, and grief. Undertaking miraculous transformation. And finally, the beginning of the end, the end of the beginning.

How fitting is it that we see the start and realise it was actually the end? The fall, initially thought as something dangerous, was in fact just part of the journey. Death, once feared, now embraced like an old friend. Something that perpetuates the cycle. The past, shrouded in darkness, now illuminating the path ahead.

So now we see, she wasn't actually falling. If you ask me, she was flying. Flying to that gazebo in a garden somewhere in Sicily, 450 years ago, about to start her very first lesson in reading tea leaves. Her mentor saying, "Let us begin", and her ultimately saying, "I loved being a witch".

[opencommunion]

"My analysis challenges a number of ideas, some mentioned above, common in many Western feminist writings:

Gender categories are universal and timeless and have been present in every society at all times. This idea is often expressed in a biblical tone, as if to suggest that 'in the beginning there was gender.'

Gender is a fundamental organizing principle in all societies and is therefore always salient. In any given society, gender is everywhere.

There is an essential, universal category 'woman' that is characterized by the social uniformity of its members.

The subordination of women is a universal.

The category 'woman' is precultural, fixed in historical time and cultural space in antithesis to another fixed category—'man.'

... Merely by analyzing a particular society with gender constructs, scholars create gender categories. To put this another way: by writing about any society through a gendered perspective, scholars necessarily write gender into that society. Gender, like beauty, is often in the eye of the beholder. The idea that in dealing with gender constructs one necessarily contributes to their creation is apparent in Judith Lorber's claim that 'the prime paradox of gender is that in order to dismantle the institution, you must first make it very visible.' In actuality, the process of making gender visible is also a process of creating gender. Thus, scholarship is implicated in the process of gender-formation."

Oyèrónkẹ́ Oyěwùmí, The Invention of Women: Making an African Sense of Western Gender Discourses (1997) ~

"Feminist anthropologists of racialized peoples in the Americas tend not to think about the concept of gender when they use the term as a classificatory instrument, they take its meaning for granted. This, I claim, is an example of a colonial methodology. Though the claim that gender, the concept, applies universally is not explicitly stated, it is implied. In both group and conference conversations I have heard the claim that 'gender is everywhere,' meaning, technically, that sexual difference is socialized everywhere. The claim, implied or explicit, is that all societies organize dimorphic sexuality, reproductive sexuality, in terms of dichotomous roles that are hierarchically arranged and normatively enforced. That is, gender is the normative social conceptualization of sex, the biological fact of the matter. ... The critique of the binary has not been accompanied by an unveiling of the relation between colonization, race, and gender, nor by an analysis of gender as a colonial introduction of control of the humanity of the colonized, nor by an understanding that gender obscures rather than uncovers the organization of life among the colonized. The critique has favored thinking of more sexes and genders than two, yet it has not abandoned the universality of gender arrangements. ... Understanding the group with gender on one’s mind, one would see gender everywhere, imposing an order of relations uncritically as if coloniality had been completely successful both in erasing other meanings and people had totally assimilated, or as if they had always had the socio-political-economic structure that constitutes and is constituted by what Butler calls the gender norm inscribed in the organization of their relations. Thus, the claim 'There is gender everywhere' is false ... since for a colonized, non-Western people to have their socio-political-economic relations regulated by gender would mean that the conceptual and structural framework of their society fits the conceptual and structural framework of colonial or neocolonial and imperialist societies. ... Why does anyone want to insist on finding gender among all the peoples of our planet? What is good about the concept that we would want to keep it at the center of our 'liberation'?" María Lugones, "Gender and Universality in Colonial Methodology," in Decolonial Feminism in Abya Yala: Caribbean, Meso, and South American Contributions and Challenges (2022)

[aliusfrater]

i've talked about mirroring or vague feelings of comparison between sam's s6 soulless arc and his s9 possession arc a couple times before but i'm bringing this idea back because there's more to be said about seasons five/six and seasons eight/nine and its events' relation to the violation of sam's agency and autonomy. sam views the self-mutilation of his body through its use as a tool as an act of his own agency which is first demonstrated in his use of demon blood in season four and this is an idea that continues into season five (and six). dean realises that it's not up to him when it comes to what sam does with his body (but rather, that it's his responsibility to Let Him Go and process his own grief) and sam jumps into the cage possessed by lucifer as (what sam sees to be) an ultimate act of agency then is resurrected against his will and without a soul; this missing metaphysical piece of him represents a violation of bodily autonomy after his act of agency is gratified by both dean and the narrative. sam's completion of the trials in season eight mirrors the events of season five in an inverted way in the continuation of the exploration of sam's internal view of his body as a tool/instrument and self-mutilation as an act of agency. except, dean stops sam from completing the trials and sam is prevented from performing his ultimate act of agency right before he's coerced into possession; he returns from the trials with a metaphorical parasite as a violation of bodily autonomy. (this also mirrors season four, in which ruby coerces sam into having sex with her, something intimate that will form the basis of the abusive, grooming dynamics of their relationship and sam's relationship/struggle with addiction.)

the remedies of these situations correlate to each other as well. sam is tied to a bed — just like he was in 4.21 when the levee breaks, further relating his addiction (and his relationship with ruby, which also mirrors sam's 'relationship' with azazel) to violations of his body — and is made to accept the return of his soul against his will, a functional violation of autonomy. the panic room can also metaphorically become sam's body if you relate dean's tricking of sam into bobby's panic room for a forced idea of what dean refers to/considers recovery to dean's tricking of gadreel into sam's body for another forced idea of what dean refers to/considers recovery. in season nine, the expulsion of gadreel from sam's body requires a further violation of his body when crowley possesses sam to make him aware of gadreel's presence in his body. there's just a general lack of power within the way that sam is able to use his body; even apparent acts of agency involves releasing a sense of self in regards to his body to use it as a tool within actions that constitute as self harm.

following this train of thought, it would make sense (in terms of characterisation) that soulless!sam wants to stay soulless because of how efficient of a human being it makes him. he has always viewed his body as a tool/instrument and being soulless had given him the perfect opportunity to use his body as exactly that for hunting. his apparent willingness to mutilate his body, scarring it metaphysically beyond recognition so that it can no longer house a soul through patricide also makes sense. he's commited acts of self-mutilation to perpetuate the use of his body as a tool before, it makes sense that he could consider patricide as a legitimate act of agency.

[whencyclopedia]

Top 10 Inventions of the Industrial Revolution

The British Industrial Revolution transformed life at work and at home for practically everyone. Noise, pollution, social upheaval, and repetitive jobs were the price to pay for labour-saving machines, cheap and comfortable transportation, more affordable consumer goods, better lighting and heating, and faster ways of communication.

Any shortlist of inventions is bound to be far from complete, but the following have been chosen not only for what they could do but also for how they permitted other inventions to become possible and how they transformed working life and everyday living for millions of people. The period under consideration is also important and here is taken as 1750 to 1860. With these criteria in mind, the top 10 inventions of the Industrial Revolution were:

The Watt Steam Engine (1778)

The Power Loom (1785)

The Cotton Gin (1794)

Gas Street Lighting (1807)

The Electromagnet (1825)

The First Photograph (c. 1826)

Stephenson's Rocket (1829)

The Electrical Telegraph (1837)

The Steam Hammer (1839)

Mass Steel Production (1856)

The Watt Steam Engine

The steam engine, which harnessed power from the expansion of heated water, is often cited as the single most important invention of the Industrial Revolution, principally because so many other important subsequent inventions used it as their power source. The steam engine was born from the necessity to pump out flooded mine shafts and enable deeper mining. The first steam pump was invented by Thomas Savery (c. 1650-1715) in 1698. In 1712, Thomas Newcomen (1664-1729) perfected his more powerful steam pump to drain coal mines of water in Dudley in the Midlands.

To make the steam engine more useful for other purposes, it had to be made more efficient both in terms of fuel consumption and power. The Scottish instrument maker James Watt (1736-1819) and Matthew Boulton (1728-1809) kept tinkering with the workings of the steam engine until, in 1778, they had perfected a separate condenser to vastly increase the engine's efficiency. Power was also increased by the steam powering the piston down not just up (hence its name, a double-acting engine), increasing the 'horsepower', a term coined by Watt. The engine also had its power converted to a more versatile rotary motion using a flywheel. Using just one-quarter of the fuel of Newcomen's engine, Watt's engine was cheap enough to use almost anywhere. Steam engines kept on evolving, notably with the expansion steam engine, and they benefitted from ever-better tool machinery that could make stronger and better-fitting parts.

By 1800, Britain boasted over 2,500 steam engines, most of them used in mines, cotton mills, and manufacturing factories. 500 of these engines were made by the Watt and Boulton factory in Birmingham. Every walk of life was affected. Steam now powered fountains, threshing machines, sewage pumps, and printing presses. Essentially, any work that required pushing, pulling, lifting, or pressing could be made much more efficient using steam-powered machines. Steam engines were harnessed for trains and steamships, and, aptly, all these uses caused a boom in the coal mining industry, which had been the origin of the machine in the first place.

Continue reading...

[liure00]

Mixing Stuff Masterpost for Vocal Synth Users

i'll say a few things here and there on how i approach mixing based on a set of guidelines i've been giving thru learning. i won't go 100% and i encourage you research further on your own as everyone has a different perspective of certain concepts. whats important is that you understand the concept so that you are able to interpolate on it with your own liberties. yeah. please read the links before looking at my commentary or you won't understand what im saying.

Some DAWs, Their Guides, & Some Freebies: One of the first things you should do is pick a DAW and learn how to use it and its functions to streamline your mixing process.

Free DAWs: The Best Available in 2023 by Produce Like A Pro

Audacity / DarkAudacity (i like darkaudacity): has a section of the site dedicated to tutorials on using Audacity!

Reaper: has a 3 hour course FREE course on mixing!

FL Studio: has a demo version you can pretty much use forever with a few.........exceptions. I won't be linking any cracked versions though. Here's a manual for this program since many people use it!

Free VST Plugins by Bedroom Producers Blog

37 Best Free Mixing VST Plugins by hiphopmakers

ORDER IN THE COURT!: The order of plugins is more important than you think. These links should also introduce some terms we use in the audio production world (like "gain staging" or "EQing")

WHAT'S THE BEST EFFECTS CHAIN ORDER FOR MIXING? by Icon Collective:

The Order Of Things: Audio Plug-ins by AskAudio

Plugin order is viewed from "top to bottom". BASICALLY... most like to gain stage -> EQ -> compress -> saturate -> MORE EQing -> whatever else at this point, but i do my process a bit differently. don't be afraid to bend the rules a little bit. but the guidelines are there for a reason.....based on what they do

Basics: I'll link to some tutorials to elaborate on what was listed by Icon Collective's list.

Gain Staging: Gain Staging Like a Pro by Sweetwater

Saturation: Saturation in Mixing – Instant Warmth, Glue and Fullness with One Plugin by Tough Tones (soundgoodizer fans make some fucking noise i guess)

EQ: SUBTRACTIVE VS ADDITIVE EQ (WHEN TO USE EACH & WHY) by Producer Hive

Compression: THE COMPLETE GUIDE TO AUDIO COMPRESSION by Icon Collective + Audio Compression Basics by Universal Audio

Modulation: Modulation Effects: Flanging, Phase Shifting, and More by Universal Audio

Time Based Effects: Reverb Vs. Delay: Complete Guide To 3D Mixing by Mastering.com

Audio Busing/Routing/Sending Tracks: Your guide to busing and routing audio tracks like a pro by Splice

Limiters: 10 BEST LIMITER PLUGINS FOR MIXING AND MASTERING by Icon Collective

Sidechaining: Sidechain compression demystified: what it is and how to use it by Native Instruments (i dont know anything about this lol)

Automation: Mix Automation 101: How to Automate Your Sound For a Better Mix by Landr (p.s learn how to write automation in your respective programs)

Last note: great. these are the main things you should focus on understanding in mixing. now you are FREE my friend!

Bonus: Tempo Mapping in Reaper (if you want to learn how to midi songs with bpm changes!!!)