#that there's a certain amount of consideration for others that he needs to exhibit

[verved]

I love when a game has you truly grow along with the character you play. Legit fucking hated Johnny's guts for the first half of the game because he's Like That, but I kept trying for the bare minimum civility with him because despite slashing people with a katana at every opportunity I'm also trying to play a decent person with a modicum of compassion in this shitty world I've been thrust into. And by making those choices, slowly Johnny warms up to me. I start to see the cracks in the "I Don't Give a Shit Fuck Everything" front he puts up. Half of it isn't even a front. I see how filled with hate, how deprived of any deep relationship with another he was by his own shitty attitude, and now by being forced to interact with me, be in my head, letting ME be the one calling the shots, he mellows out some, sees Night City through new eyes, literally. I start to resent his existence less, we have our bonding moments, and now 80 hours into the game I'd fucking die for the bastard that's destroying my brain and he'd do the same for me. 10/10 character development on all fronts.

[dahlia-coccinea]

What’s your opinion on the main characters in WH (like one for Nelly, one for Catherine etc)? Do you have a favourite and a least favourite?

There are a lot of main characters...I guess Nelly Dean, Heathcliff, Catherine Earnshaw, Cathy Linton, Hareton Earnshaw, and Linton Heathcliff? I feel bad cutting out Edgar and Isabella, they are important characters but I could easily write a thesis on each character and I don’t want to make this unbearably long (you’re going to regret asking me this as it is lol).

Nelly - She is not the “sensible soul” that she esteems herself to be. Compared to other characters she may seem discerning, but that’s partially because she’s just a witness to events that more deeply affect other characters. She can be very biased towards and against certain people, and her opinions tend to be fairly rigid. Her actions and convictions seem more an unconscious exhibition of societal norms of the time and her station in life; rather than her objective rational thinking. She certainly isn't immune to common superstition and small-mindedness. That being said, she is not the villain of the novel as critic James Hafley argued. She certainly isn’t heartless and cruel and she is motivated to do what she believes is the right thing to do. Overall I like her character.

Heathcliff - It's a testament to the complexity of his character that there is such a wide range of narratives on him…some I admittedly don’t understand. While a powerful force in the novel, I think he shows himself to be very human and fallible, and not the “ghoul” or “vampire” he is sometimes accused of being. It makes me laugh how many times I’ve seen critics say he is the human embodiment of the Heights but the first meeting of him it's literally said that he is a “singular contrast to his abode”? It’s also strange that his physical nature is often questioned by critics that reduce him to an elemental symbol, yet I would think Catherine is a better candidate to say she is more symbolic since we first encounter her in a dream and she is merely a memory/ghost in half the novel. Not to mention that throughout her life she displays a fixation on the spiritual and divine (not that I think she is symbolic either). I think he’s meant to be read as a human, not a devil or a symbol, and it makes it more interesting to read him as such. He can be sarcastic and witty and also utterly devoid of humor. His pain and loss is tragic yet his anger and hatred is fearsome. He plans to enact revenge over decades and (kind of) succeeds yet he also is so short-sighted and often misjudges characters and situations. He’s a villain and a victim and never plays either part in exactly the way you’d expect. Despite all this, he never feels inconsistent or out of character. 

Catherine - I’m such a broken record on her lol. We get a lot of negative opinions about her from Nelly but everyone else loves her? So I think it’s worth questioning what Nelly says about her. I don’t agree with popular narratives that exaggerate how terrible she is. She is certainly proud, quick-tempered, and her strong, unrelenting nature is unique for any character and even more so for a woman. These traits also make her Heathcliff’s natural counterpart, although she is never cruel in the way he can be, and she doesn’t seem to enjoy that side of his character either. I think audiences/readers often forget the better parts of her character, such as her love for her father regardless of his constant admonishments, her love of Heathcliff despite his harshness and his wrongdoings, and her brother Hindley in spite of all his cruelty. The tragedies of the novel are not her fault as it has sometimes been suggested. 

Hareton - It is interesting his character probably has the most physical descriptions and I’d say is the most flatteringly portrayed male character. Yes, he starts off being described as brutish by Lockwood, but we later get many moments showing he also has a gentleness. His faults are normally immediately shown as not wholly his doing and I’d say he has the most character growth, even more than Cathy. Cathy’s appearance gets a lot of mentions too, but because Lockwood is kind of a romantic and in a faraway, lonely place, it makes sense that he projects a lot of romantic notions on her. We don’t need to know that Hareton is good-looking but it’s certainly made known lol. I think it’s in part because Cathy’s and Hareton’s good nature are meant to be shown as desirable and Nelly certainly makes an aesthetic connection there in her descriptions of them. I really like his character, and how despite everything, and his initial pride, he tries repeatedly to help Cathy, even though it does nothing in gaining her good opinion and only puts him at odds with Heathcliff, who he sees as a father. He also shows that you don’t have to be the product of your upbringing.

Cathy - I really like how she tries to do the right thing and is good, yet doesn’t allow anyone (even Heathcliff) control her. She has faults but she’s able to grow from them. She also has a lot of similarities to her mother. For both Cathy and Hareton, I really dislike the idea that their move to Thrushcross is the symbolic win of culture over nature. That’s never made any sense to me and makes even less sense when you consider that Emily preferred nature, and the freedom and spirituality she found there, and not riches and formality. And after all, Cathy and Hareton are the successors of Catherine and Heathcliff. I can’t imagine they will become supremely refined, cultured, and gentle. Everyone forgets they are both wild and proud, and at their worst, they both physically hit the other - Cathy cuts Hareton with her whip, and years later Hareton hits her. This notion of their new domesticity comes from the narrative of the Heights = wildness and Thrushcross = respectability and progress, and I’ve mentioned before this also distorts our image of Isabella and mislabels her as a weak, refined, gentlewoman, even though she shows herself to be highly spirited. Sorry, got a little off-topic at the end there. I think they can forgive and learn to be kind to each other without equating it to them becoming genteel and upper-class. I don’t like that critics do this. 

Linton - I get why he’s no one’s favorite character but I don’t hate him. He is tragic, despite the fact that he also very annoying and bratty lol. I understand why he doesn’t care to better himself, and it seems pretty clear his behavior is a cry for the safety and affection that has been missing in his life since his mother died. He’s a pawn in a game he doesn’t understand, and yet he’s very aware of his role as a pawn and that his life will be short and its meaning and worth are ascribed inasmuch as he can prove useful. It’s understandable that he would cling to Cathy and her kindness to him. Of course, some of his sufferings are his own making. It seems he could less lonely if he was perhaps a little kinder to Hareton who doesn’t seem to have a preconceived dislike of him but is pushed away by Linton’s snobbishness. 

Favorite: That's a really difficult question. The simple answer is I love them all hah! It does change, but I do often go back to Catherine Earnshaw. Charlotte Bronte wrote that there is a “certain strange beauty in her fierceness” and I think that sums it up perfectly. The fact she dies tragically young and the closest we get to her as a narrator is the little bit of her diary Lockwood reads, and that her memory lives on so strongly with Edgar and Heathcliff, all make her a compelling figure. The fact that so many readers hate her also makes me like her more lol. 

Least favorite: Everyone always says Linton and Joseph are the worst so I’ll say Zillah because she doesn’t get picked on enough lol. She literally didn’t realize Nelly was being held hostage and instead believes some bullshit story about her being lost in a marsh and assumes Heathcliff saved her?? She was terrible to Cathy - granted she had been proud and stiff-necked but she was clearly being held against her will? Like is Zillah just not at all aware of her surroundings? She doesn’t get Dr. Kenneth when Linton is dying and instead leaves Cathy alone crying in the stairway, supposedly out of fear of losing her job if she disobeys - yet she didn’t seem worried about that when she puts Lockwood in Catherine’s old bedroom? She also knowingly embarrasses Hareton when he shyly asks her to ask Cathy to read aloud for him - she immediately says that Hareton is the one asking for it. Zillah is just one of those people that has no self-awareness and no consideration for others beyond her self-preservation. So yeah she wins the spot of “least favorite” lol. I’m not sure if you meant my least favorite of the main characters? If so then it would have to be Linton just cause no amount of sympathetic feelings towards him makes him less annoying lol sorry. 

[orsuliya]

The Rebel Princess Carry Top 8 List

Rebel Princess who?

If you are reading this list, you probably already know everything there is to know about The Rebel Princess. For all the newcomers: I advise you to strap in, watch, enjoy and prepare yourselves for any unreasonable expectations towards prospective male partners that you may acquire in the process.

Carrying of princesses or princess carries

For the purposes of this list we shall define a princess carry as an act in which person A carries person B in their arms, with one arm placed beneath either thighs or knees, the other supporting the back and the body of person B being held close to person A’s chest. Just like a groom carrying his bride, hence the alternative name of a bridal carry.

Furthermore, we shall only accept those attempts in which a defined element of lifting the carried person can be observed. A carry is a carry, a catch is a catch, no matter how delightful such a princess catch happens to be. This automatically disqualifies catches performed by Zitan and Xiao Qi in, respectively, episodes 2. and 4.

Similarly disqualified are all instances of potato sack hefts, such as the one performed by Potato in episode 4. with Xie Wanru playing the role of the sack, as well as any other hefts, lifts or carries where the carried person is not merely supported, but rather fully embraced by arms coming at them from opposite directions.

Attention! Despite the name stating otherwise, the carried person does not, in fact, have to be a princess, thus any titles carried by the carried person will have no influence on the final score.

Why Top 8

Why Top 8, you might ask. Well, there are exactly eight proper princess carries in the whole 68-episode-long drama. Which, by the way, gives us one princess carry every eight and a half episodes or 0.12 of a princess carry per single episode.

Scoring criteria

Since the purpose of this list is to objectively estimate the respective value of each princess carry and then use those results to rank all the attempts accordingly, from the feeblest to the most admirable, we are in need of a comprehensive scoring system. After some deliberations the judging panel (namely me) has managed to create exactly such a system, which was then approved by an independent third party (also me, but in a different hat). Each attempt shall receive a score from 0 to 10 points; this score being the sum of four components: Style, Technique, Hotness and Excellence. Those four main components encompass partial, specific criteria; see the explanation below.

Style: This particular component is mostly used to give proper value to such vital characteristics as artistry and flair. However, those are not by any means the only considerations the judging panel will take into account while awarding the total score. The intention behind any given attempt is to be established and subsequently used to judge how well the chosen style suits the purpose of the carry in question and whether it adequately fulfills any goals and needs that may have been expressed or set before the commencement of the attempt itself. The judging panel reserves the right to make demerits based on handling of clothing and accessories, as needed.

Technique: While proper technique of executing a princess carry is most important and ought to be assessed with exceptional care, it is far from the only criteria taken into account while rating general technique of any one attempt. After all, lifting a person in one thing and actually carrying them a very different one. Thus, whenever possible, we will observe and judge the endurance exhibited during the attempt in question; if such an observation proves to be impossible for any reason, a reasonable estimation may serve as an acceptable substitute. Moreover, since any princess carry has to be judged on its merits, the overall difficulty of any attempt must be first established, depending on the probable disparity between the strength of the carrier and the weight of the carried person as well as other factors, such as any floppiness or lack of a proper latch on the neck of the carrier.

Hotness: Recognizing that overall hotness is not a criteria that can be judged objectively, the judging panel hereby undertakes to use more precise methods of measurement, such as: reaction of any independent witnesses, if any are present, emotional reaction of the carrier, the carried person or both, whichever applies and the general mood set by any particular attempt. If any of the aforementioned methods cannot be used for any reason, the judging panel reserves the right to supplement this component with individual hotness assessments made by qualified experts (also me, but horny).

Excellence: Any exceptional elements or unique characteristics, which the judging panel feels might not have been rewarded properly while scoring the other components, will be subject to a rather subjective criteria of overall excellence.

The individual components can receive the following maximum point values:

Style: 3 points

Technique: 3 points

Hotness: 3 points

Excellence: 1 point

AND NOW TO THE LIST PROPER!

Number 8. Song Huaien gets recruited to escort a rather shaken Yuxiu to a doctor – episode 36.

Style: 0.5 points

What style can we even speak of when one of the parties involved makes no attempt at hiding their utter lack of interest in anything even remotely approaching artistry or feeling? Truly, never has there been a carrier less gracious; that the purpose of this exercise is to escort Yuxiu to a doctor is neither here nor there and serves as no excuse for the decided lack of any flair. After all, technically this is an engagement carry, seeing as Song Huaien announces his intention to make Yuxiu his main wife halfway through its duration. Moreover, he has the easiest possible dress to deal with and still manages to bunch it up, if only a little.

Technique: 2.5 points

A truly great lift it is not, although a more or less correct one, at least if we were speaking of pure utility. Still, Song Huaien manages to position Yuxiu in his arms in one move, no further jostling into place needed. Although this may be helped by the fact that she hooks her own hand around his neck even before he gets her off the ground. What is rather impressive is Song Huaien’s undeniable endurance: he not only manages to carry Yuxiu through two entire courtyards, going up and down the stairs, but also makes it look surprisingly easy. Why, at one point he even breaks into a trot. That Yuxiu is hands down the smallest female to be carried in this drama is another matter; he still does rather well and his posture leaves nothing to be desired throughout the entire carry.

Hotness: 0.4 points

There is much to be said about the utter lack of any emotion from Song Huaien other than pure unwillingness to even exist in this particular time and place. No show of strength or endurance will ever compensate for that. The witnesses do not seem to be overly impressed either; why, Awu cuts off Song Huaien’s declaration of intent and physically hurries him away, while no other person present at the scene pays any attention whatsoever to Huaien’s feat. Sheer competence might have been enough to raise the final score, if not for one thing: Yuxiu holds herself very, very stiff for most of the time, trying to look smaller and not, by any chance, lean into Song Huaien’s chest. It’s only at the very end that she makes a conscious effort to do so and that finally brings the element of positive emotion into play.

Excellence: 0.1 points

We admit that there is something rather special about the sheer awkwardness of this princess carry.  It certainly is not easy to forget this heap of stiff, sad mess.

Total score: 3.5 points

Number 7. Potato does his absolute best to show Xie Wanru his love – episode 45.

Style: 1.2 points

There is something to be said for Potato’s (faulty) confidence as well as for his single-minded intent to show Xie Wanru the depth of his care for her and Miracle Fetus. That he doesn’t properly succeed is a different matter altogether. Yet it cannot be denied that there is a certain flair to his approach, if not to the actual execution of the princess carry itself. One also has to question the validity of deciding to princess carry one’s wife while standing at the foot of the bed, although that might simply mean that Potato chose to be surprisingly realistic about his capabilities.

Technique: 1 point

The fact that Potato even manages to lift Xie Wanru, much less to a proper princess carry height, is a rather impressive feat, particularly taking into account that he is, well, Potato and Xie Wanru is no sylphid. Moreover, he really does rather well on the upswing, applying a reasonable amount of force, certainly enough to get her to the required, if not particularly awe-inspiring level. What is surprising is that - when the scene is rewatched closely - it does seem like he actually manages to lock his grip and stop Wanru on the downswing, if only for a moment. What does get him is her fearful reaction; and even then he does manage to let her down in a controlled manner. Sadly, Potato’s attempt should be properly classified as a princess lift rather than a princess carry, since there is no actual carrying going on; this makes it hard to estimate his endurance.

Hotness: 1.4 points

The judging panel would like to notify all sundry that its opinions are meant to be devoid of any personal prejudices and as close to true objectivity as it is even possible. Which means that it must be admitted that there is something rather… warm about the pre- and post-carry playfulness exhibited by both parties, regardless of the momentary fear and panic shown during the latter half of the carry itself. Moreover, the general mood of the scene remains in place in spite of Potato’s incompetence and objective failure. Truly, it is a great pity we cannot see how any of Wanru’s maids might have reacted to Potato’s shenanigans. “It’s a rather lovely moment of marital playfulness,” says our expert, “one perhaps made even more spectacular by Potato’s failure to fulfill his original goal. And really, it does prove once and for all that potatoes should be served warm, not cold!”

Excellence: 0.8 points

It may not be quite fair to award points based on the sheer unexpectedness of ever seeing this particular carry, but there you have it. Objectively speaking, Potato’s sheer excitement and playfulness alone might have managed to win the judging panel over, but the fact that a root vegetable somehow managed to pull off a princess… lift is even more impressive.

Total score: 4.4 points

Number 6. Gatekeeper steps in for Zitan and carries Su Jin’er out of the dungeon – episode 57.

Style: 1.1 points

It is debatable whether there is much flair or artistry to this particular princess carry, despite it being executed in rather dramatic circumstances and in no less dramatic surroundings. However, that is not the purpose of this attempt; what Gatekeeper is actually meant to do is to conduct a rescue, which he certainly does in a rather professional, matter-of-fact manner. There is, however, one element to his behaviour, which may seem rather out of place; notice that he stops before Zitan in such a way that Su Jin’er’s legs actually bump into Prime Minister Wen. As to whether he does it on purpose, well, that certainly seems to be the case.

Technique: 2.9 points

That Gatekeeper is a surprisingly competent man, especially for an Imperial Mook. Not only does he manage to lift an unconscious Su Jin’er from a slumped, almost horizontal position, but he also attempts it while in full mail. What’s more, he does pretty well with arranging her in his arms despite her overall floppiness and then moves around tight spaces with no visible effort. As if that was not enough, he then carries her up a great number of very steep stairs and then, presumably, all the way to the palace proper. Really, the only thing one might find any problems with is Su Jin’er’s relatively low position in Gatekeeper’s arms, especially where her legs are concerned; and even that might be the result of trying to provide more support for her head.

Hotness: 0.6 points

While an unconscious Su Jin’er is unable to express any kind of reaction and even if it was not so, she would most probably act disappointed in the identity of her actual carrier, there is something very reassuring about the matter-of-fact manner in which this particular princess carry is executed. “Competence is something rather attractive, no matter its source,” says our expert, “and there is a certain romantic air about the idea of being literally carried out of danger.”

Excellence: 0.5 points

There is something to be said for a competent substitute, although this rather novel approach to princess carries might be not to everybody’s taste. And yet it spared us from having to watch Zitan making his own attempt, for which the judges are, for one, undeniably grateful.

Total score: 5.1 points

Number 5. Xiao Qi rescues Awu from the evils of excessive alcohol consumption – episode 13.

Style: 2 points

Never has there been a carry more utilitarian in purpose; Xiao Qi makes a decision to get his wife to bed and immediately executes it, no hesitation or half-measures needed nor wanted! And yet even then he cannot deny himself that one tiny show of flair on the upswing. Why, I do believe that at one point Awu’s knees are positioned higher than her head, if only for a moment!

Technique: 3 points

There is much to be admired about Xiao Qi’s technique; he manages to lift Awu up in one fluent move, using the considerable power of that upswing to position her in one go so well that it requires no further corrections. Which raises a question of where and when he might have learned to do that, seeing as it’s the very first attempt we see on-screen (somebody must have brought Awu back from the bridge, don’t you think?). Xiao Qi carries Awu all the way to bed, which may not be a great distance, but still a considerable one. Especially as she is out of it and thus unable to help support her own weight by holding onto his neck or shoulders, although she still tucks her arm in, stopping herself from achieving total floppiness.

Hotness: 1 point

Since Awu is out of it and Xiao Qi’s face is full of determination to get his wife to bed… but for altogether too innocent reasons, there is little that can be said for overall hotness of this scene. The only witness for whose reaction we might have hoped, namely Yuxiu, is also unconscious, which forces us to ask the experts for their opinion. “Somewhat hotter than lukewarm by the sheer force of Xiao Qi’s competence in executing that carry,” said I, nodding with great authority.

Excellence: 0.7 points

The judging panel remains in awe of the exceptional fluidity with which Xiao Qi manoeuvred Awu’s body into his arms.

Total score: 6.7 points

Number 4. Zilu starts celebrating Mi’er’s birthday in a very appropriate manner – episode 22.

Style: 2.4 points

From what little we can observe, Zilu, who is a rather artistic man on any given day, is no less artful when it comes to celebrating his beloved’s birthday. A proper princess carry is just the way to go; still, there remains a question of whether a planned and possibly rehearsed carry is just as good or maybe even better than an improvised one. Zilu’s is certainly planned, judging from the way he arranges himself in the doorway and then carries Mi’er through the entire courtyard, door-to-door. What is admirable is that he miraculously manages to deal with her very difficult dress; perhaps it could have been arranged better, for it does get somewhat bunched up… but it’s a good attempt nonetheless.

Technique: 2.1 points

Sadly, we have been robbed of seeing the actual lift, all thanks to Pang Gui the Inept Ninja. Still, there is much that can be assumed based on the prelude, which we do see, and the carry itself. Zilu’s stretched out hand is undoubtedly very steady, which speaks to his confidence in the subsequent maneuver. The carry itself is rather less steady – Mi’er seems to rest rather low and even sways at one point, although that can be excused since Zilu is climbing the stairs at that very moment. All the same, Mi’er does clutch onto him rather tightly with a fully functional grip.  And yes, Zilu does manage to climb a few stairs, which, together with the fact that he carries Mi’er through the entire courtyard, is a surprising feat for a Ma prince. Those, as you know, are not particularly known for their fitness.

Hotness: 2.2 points

It is rather hard to say what Zilu’s two servants might think about his princess carry, even if they do go to their knees. What is quite remarkable, on the other hand, is that Pang Gui stills for a good moment or two, seemingly for no other reason than to observe this great feat. Unfortunately, we do not see Mi’er’s face, although it is obvious from Zilu’s pre- and post-carry reaction that he at least must take great enjoyment from the very idea of surprising his lady in this manner. “There is a tangible promise of great enthusiasm and surprising endurance right in that princess carry,” says our expert, “which raises the temperature quite considerably.”

Excellence: 0.3 points

Not a memorable princess carry by any means; there is a reason why it was missing from the original list of contenders despite the rather unexpected carrier. Still, it is a birthday carry, which certainly makes it one of a kind.

Total score: 7 points

Number 3. Xiao Qi rescues Awu from the evils of lonely garden strolls  – episode 18.

Style: 2.7 points

Excellent handling of a rather difficult multi-layered dress on Xiao Qi’s part! Somehow he manages to lift Awu in such a way as to fan out all the layers for maximum aesthetic effect, while at the same time not leaving them to hang so low as to hinder his steps. The overall style is rather sentimental, which suits their surroundings, if not the occasion itself.

Technique: 2.1 points

The lift itself is not quite forceful enough to allow Xiao Qi to arrange his wife correctly on the first try; he does have to jostle her into position. Although this is pretty understandable, seeing as they go straight from an embrace to a full carry with no space to catch momentum in between. Awu is quite a helpful princess on this occasion, holding onto Xiao Qi’s shoulder with a solid, if not overly firm grip and bringing her head close to his chest, which redistributes her bodyweight in a rather helpful manner. The distance to their bed is presumably not that great, taking into account the general layout of the house, but it would still take more than a few steps to get there.

Hotness: 2.6 points

No witnesses to be had, but Awu seems properly impressed during the lift itself. In fact, there might have even been a tiny gasp! Once properly in the air, she shows proper appreciation as well as undeniable trust in the strength of her husband’s arms. Xiao Qi, on the other hand, may look rather restrained to an untrained eye; make no mistake, though, there is undeniable pride there and a not very subtle promise of things to come in form of a smile. “Trust,” says our expert, “is a very warm feeling in proper circumstances” and we concur heartily with this opinion.

Excellence: 0.5 points

There is little else to be said about this particular carry, although there is something truly remarkable about Awu’s helpfulness and utter trust; the judges hold an opinion that a proper carry is just like a tango – meant for two.

Total score: 7.9 points

Number 2. Xiao Qi bridal carries his princess of a bride to their chamber – episode 33.

Style: 3 points

There is masterful handling of clothes and then there are miracles. What Xiao Qi is doing on this occasion can be nothing but the latter; somehow he manages to execute a princess carry while managing his own floor-length ceremonial robes, Awu’s difficult dress with exceedingly long sleeves and a train as well as both of their trailing cloaks. All the while displaying this unwieldy finery to its full magnificence and somehow not landing on his face. Although he noticeably deploys no other dramatic gestures nor tricks except for some very touching and impressively prideful sweet-talk, so it seems like this miracle does require a lot of concentration. But do we really need additional bells and whistles in this case? The judges seem to hold a rather firm opinion on that matter: a bridal carry it is supposed to be and a bridal carry it is, for it really does not get any more bridal, at least not without some reality-shattering shenanigans.

Technique: 2.2 points

Unfortunately, we are again devoid of the opportunity to see the actual lift, which seems like a true pity, taking into account the probable level of difficulty caused by all this wedding finery. Once again Awu is being held rather high, although, to be fair, rather unsteadily – for Xiao Qi, that is, not unsteadily in a particularly dangerous or even visible manner. There is also the matter of her grip; this time Awu locks her hands around Xiao Qi’s neck, which might indicate the need for further support. It is hard to estimate the distance which they might have crossed as we do not know the starting point, but it must have been a rather considerable one and those robes cannot be light.

Hotness: 2.7 points

Having female attendants literally giggle once hit with the aura of overwhelming hotness should be proof enough that this princess carry is truly something special. If it is not, then there is always the look of undisguised manly pride on Xiao Qi’s face, only further affirmed by his words. “Few things can fan the flames quicker than a prime display of manly confidence,” confirms our expert, blushing violently, “as long, of course, as it does not cross over into toxic machoism. In this case we can feel absolutely safe, there is no doubt as to that.” The judging panel, however, decided to award a demerit for a visible lack of surety or excitement on Awu’s face; although caused by external matters, it does seem to retract from the overall mood.

Excellence: 1 point

I am sure that nobody can deny that this particular bridal carry is the most bridal of them all. There is literally no further height to strive for, as far as bridal carries are concerned.

Total score: 8.9 points

AND NOW FOR OUR NUMBER ONE PRINCESS CARRY...

Number 1. Xiao Qi cannot wait to give Awu all the children – episode 29.

Style: 3 points

There is showing off your wife’s beautiful clothes and there is just plain showing off your skills at the former. Xiao Qi shows himself to be the master of both, somehow allowing Awu’s train to hang very close to its full length and yet managing it in such a way that it doesn’t hinder his steps in the least. He also does it while seemingly paying no attention to his own steps, which takes it to a wholly different level, and while at that, he adds a lot of eye-contact and even a heartbreakingly gentle nuzzle. No wonder that towards the end we can observe a quietly triumphant look under all that manly confidence… and no wonder that this particular carry gets its very own rather dramatic music accompaniment.

Technique: 2.4 points

It is rather unfortunate that we were not able to observe the execution of the lift, although there is no doubt that it is was correct at the very least. What we do see, however, is that Awu is being held very high, which indicates an application of considerable force on the upswing, something that Xiao Qi has already proven himself to be more than capable of. At the same time, the difficulty of this particular carry is rather low due to a rather trifling distance as well as Awu helping quite a lot with how she holds her body and with that gentle, yet very solid grip. However, the judging panel is forced to admit that the steadiness of Xiao Qi’s hold is truly a sight to behold; it takes a true master in order to maintain such a minute face-to-face distance without touching and yet avoid any unpleasant bumps.

Hotness: 3 points

Never has there been a carry more deserving of an NC-17 rating. Even without the prelude there is no doubt whatsoever as to the purpose of this particular exercise; the look which Xiao Qi and Awu share speaks just as loudly as five full-blown kisses would have in any other circumstances. And a smouldering look is not the only thing they share: why, at one point they seem to share the same breath, which turns the chemistry up to unimaginable levels. At the same time, this scorching hotness is masterfully tempered by a sense of pure tenderness and intimacy, which causes the judging panel to bitterly regret their promise not to exceed the maximum score for any single component.

Excellence: 1 point

This princess carry really has everything that an ideal princess carry should have, which is undeniably a kind of excellence in itself. However, that is not what convinced the judges to award the highest number of points possible in this category, but rather the fact that more than one expert has pointed out this particular scene as the reason of their own imminent pregnancy, sometimes with twins or even triplets.

Total score: 9.4 points

[all the amazing gifs used in this list were provided by the ever-generous @storge​]

[dwellordream]

“There is a substantial connection between the social and religious philosophy of an epoch, its political, economic, and moral conditions, and the manner in which individuals treat one another. Belief or disbelief in man’s accountability to a supernatural force plays an important role in the formation of courtesy practices and standards. Citizens of a community, in which most people strongly believe that the world is created by a living God who holds individuals accountable for their actions, exhibit a double-edged deference towards one another: their treatment of one another is based on a recognition of their personal worth as well as a personification of their placement within a divine system managed by an active supreme being. 

Relations within such theological societies could be said to be doubly deferential or triune. The ‘other’ is not only a fellow citizen but also a spiritual sister or brother (a ‘thou’) who acts as a reminder of one’s religious identity and duties. Members of a community are, therefore, in a relationship of mutual witnessing and considerable mutual surveillance for they feel themselves to be in the presence of a third all-seeing supernatural being. The Protestant Reformation had a seminal influence on human relations and civility practices because it placed considerable spiritual responsibility on the individual. 

The removal of the Catholic confessional and the priest’s power to speak to God on behalf of a person created a community in which citizens had to take over the ministerial functions previously reserved for the clergy. This assumption of personal responsibility undoubtedly made for less artifice and a more grave interactive style. Protestantism insisted on deep self-reflection on the matter of behaviour and salvation. It, therefore, favoured ‘sincerity’ of thought and feeling. This movement away from the performance aspect of courtesy and towards the sincerity and authenticity of personally managed moral behaviour created a certain amount of resistance and criticism towards books such as Castiglione’s Il Corteganio (Trilling 1971). Some Protestant works even ridiculed the medieval courtesy books (Starkey 1982:232–9). 

It is difficult to gauge how much of this resistance was connected to the waning of the ideal of courtliness and its implied aesthetics and how much of it was a defensive reaction to the invasion of Italian style and language in northern Europe. On the whole, however, those nations that were progressing towards absolute monarchies, such as Russia and France, continued to consider style and etiquette vital indicators of personal worth. Unarguably, Protestantism had a new and important long-term influence on standing conceptions of propriety and impropriety. 

The Catholic Church had used the Augustinian dualistic conception of life to argue that the secular world was unreliable and that only devotion to the Church and its rituals could act as an effective insurance policy against the wiles of the devil. Man had been stuck between two formidable forces that were at odds: Good and Evil. When Martin Luther reacted against the Church’s abuse of power, he realized that the central question that needed to be answered was the question of man’s ‘justification’ in the eyes of God. Was God’s gift of grace given a priori due to God’s love of mankind, or was it to be earned on a case-by-case basis? 

By extension, had Christ died to set in motion an absolution of the sins of all Christians – an absolution that became effective upon the demonstration of total faith – or had Christ simply set an example that now needed to be replicated within an active and self-directed journey towards salvation? How was a sinner to earn God’s favour without the confessional and the availability of absolutions and prayers administrated by priests who were supposedly capable of speaking to God on man’s behalf? These were not trifling questions for a society that was passionately (and anxiously) obsessed with discovering and understanding God’s purpose for mankind. 

This intense questioning of self would have an important effect on the reformation of social mores and citizenship ideals for it put tremendous pressure on the individual to map out a personal life that would be in accord with God’s wishes. It would be an understatement to say that the Protestant ideal was anything less than a strict mission entrusted to each member of the faith. John Calvin, who was far stricter than Martin Luther, denied the idea that salvation was a ‘reward.’ Since God stood outside humankind, God’s decisions regarding human fate could not be analysed by human means nor tied to human covenants. 

Calvin ([Latin: 1536, French: 1541] 2001) found it ridiculous that a person would count on salvation simply because he had asked for it and been reassured by a cleric that it would be his. A person’s decision to be faithful to God did not automatically put God in a contractual obligation to dispense salvation. God himself willed the fate of those He intended to save as well as those He meant to damn. If He chose to redeem a sinner or damn a righteous man it was a decision that was beyond human understanding, to be accepted as divine will. 

Such acceptance was the ultimate test of faith. In the absence of guarantees of salvation, man had to map out a pious and sincere life for himself. No ecclesiastical intermediaries could speak on his behalf, not for any price. Man was the sole arbiter of his relationship with God and, consequently, fully responsible for the outcome of his life. Thus, according to Protestant doctrine, individuals could not possess foreknowledge of that for which they were predestined; all they could do was to perform at their best in order to increase their chances of salvation. 

It is hard to tell which came first, the desire for prosperity and a consequent break with Catholic ideology or the Protestant ascetic convictions which unintentionally (or intentionally) facilitated progress in the material world. At the outset, the main effect of Protestantism’s removal of absolutions and indulgences was the rise of a strong introspective individualism, at times hopeful and at other times mired in morbid self-blame. Calvin’s theology also reunited God with the world. Although God was located outside the world, He remained its creator. So, accepting God was also an act of worldly acceptance. 

There was no longer any need for the monastic denigration of secular life. Protestants rejected the medieval Augustinian distinction between the ‘sacred’ and the ‘secular,’ believing, instead, that a person actually honoured God’s creation by committing himself to good worldly works. Every person was, therefore, a potential member of God’s priesthood. And God did not evaluate individuals by the grandeur of their work but by the sincerity of their motives. Godliness could be experienced in the most mundane tasks provided they were performed with God in mind and heart. 

This communally grounded theology had a twofold effect. It liberated individuals to consider every secular activity that did not contravene Biblical prohibitions as potentially worthy of God’s approval. It also placed secular activity under the scrutiny of religious ethics. In this manner, Protestantism imbued temporal life with a new mystic meaning. Calvin had declared that every person occupied a ‘calling’ chosen for him by God. Human dissatisfaction resulted from a person’s nonacceptance of that which God wished him to do and where He wished him to be socially. 

If God assigned all men’s callings, then no one calling could be considered superior to the next. This promoted a type of social equality that required courtesy practices based on a broad standard of tolerance, applicable to the interactions of individuals of varying social ranks. The courtesy a person gave and received was no longer a refection of inherited privilege but of actual worldly involvement. And it could not be determined by the aesthetics of style. More important than mannerisms was the character of a person and the severity/sincerity of his religious intentions and practices. 

Calvin even warned against the superficiality of conversational competence when he stated: ‘I consider looseness with words no less of a defect than looseness of the bowels.’ Emotional restraint had already been increasing during the Renaissance. The motive for this increase was the need to control aggression and also to provide courtiers, merchants, and republican politicians with the opportunity of observing the behaviour of their adversaries without revealing their own positions. This guardedness became transformed into an emotional reserve that went hand in hand with rational calculation. 

The Protestant movement furthered such restraint of emotions through its insistence on a serious and methodical relationship between personal conscience and divine guidance. There was a self-absorption that accompanied this continual search for the proper ways of seeking God’s favour. This affected personal as well as communal relationships. A certain ‘serious’ (or perhaps ‘dignified’) Puritanism became embedded in even the most intimate personal relationships. Any comparison of Catholic and Protestant communities needs to take this transformation into account, for the varying emotional thresholds of Protestant and Catholic cultures and ideologies have important effects on the degree to which artifice and the aggrandizement of self and others become part of habitual civility rituals. 

Wit, in the Protestant sense, becomes the ‘irony’ of self-critique, a modified and tamer version of medieval ‘moral anger.’ Protestant insistence on personal accountability also encouraged believers to think critically of one another. This ‘mutual surveillance’ cannot be suffi ciently stressed, for it achieves its most radical form in the Puritan teachings in England and America. Undoubtedly, the self-reflection of the Protestant doctrine facilitated the work of the Enlightenment thinkers, even though the Enlightenment occurred much later. In the interim, what did increase were the restraints put on the body and the mind, for Calvinistic Protestantism did not take kindly to sloth or the enjoyment of pleasure for its own sake. 

Whereas the Renaissance had attempted to free the human body from the domination of medieval theology, Protestantism delivered it back into servility, this time in the service of communal salvation. Although Calvin had asked in all irony, ‘Is it faith to understand nothing, and merely submit your convictions implicitly to the Church?’ he also warned that ‘God preordained, for his own glory and the display of His attributes of mercy and justice, a part of the human race, without any merit of their own, to eternal salvation, and another part, in just punishment of their sin, to eternal damnation.’ 

Delivered from the monastics of Catholicism, the Protestant was now required to be his own monk. It should not surprise us that a certain ‘bodily hesitancy’ (and even mistrust) entered into social relations and the relationship between a person and his physical body wherein lay his desires. So, what has been termed ‘Protestant guilt’ in the popular literature might be better referred to as ‘emotional hesitancy,’ almost bordering on mistrust. After all, how could an individual fully trust his contemporaries when he remained painfully aware that any one of them could be damned without his being aware of it?”

- Benet Davetian, “Shifts in Identity and Awareness: Protestantism and the Enlightenment?” in Civility: A Cultural History

[fanfictiondreamscape]

The Ouran Academy Deviant

Request: if not already requested...May I request Bad Reputation for Haruhi from Ohshc x Female reader? 

Title: The Ouran Academy Deviant

Genre: songfic~, a lil comedic (just a little bit - if you squint you might see it), and slightly romantic. still very floofy tho, WOO. 

Pairing: Haruhi Fujioka x Fem! Reader

Notes: The influx of Ouran requests that have flown in is making me melt, seriously. Dead fandoms are really becoming my primary writing topics now, aren’t they? Either way, I love this request and feel like this could go in so many new directions that mimic total bbe - and the pairing just makes everything feel so much more powerful. Like, Haruhi and a total troublemaker? YES. 

This is extremely long, as well, so prepare to read something that is (arguably) longer than anything else in this vein that I have written. 

Also, I felt like this would work amazingly in one-shot form, and I took some slight liberties. That being said, proceed with caution. The only thing I would warn you about is vulgar language! 

Below the cut! 

Haruhi Fujioka and (L/n) (Y/n), the odd couple of Ouran Academy. One is a scholarship student, in a club, with a clean track record. She comes off as kind, intelligent, respectable to the utmost level - especially so for dealing with things in the particular way that she does. 

(Y/n), on the other hand? She skips school, could care less about her grades, and decides to forego the uniform whenever she does go to school. She sneaks off to do very unladylike things, comes off as incredibly intimidating, and appears to be someone rewarded by fear rather than respect.

The two could not be more different, but the one thing that drove them together was simple: Tamaki. 

(Y/n)’s older cousin was the one that dragged her to school that day, he was the one that introduced her to the club after a tiring day at school that consisted of her slacking off in class and skipping in the academy bathrooms, he was the one that provided an easy form of detention for her when she got penalized by the staff. 

During the time that she was cleaning and helping in club duties, she had run into Haruhi in her work, and despite what she had said, Haruhi still helped her. “I don’t give a damn, you’re a host aren’t you? Go woo some chicks over on those couches.”

Normally, that would’ve been the end of things. Which makes the next events more shocking.

...

Tamaki had noticed his cousin and his newly-appointed apprentice working together, and in their battle of wits and capabilities, he also picked up on their chemistry. From then on, he was driven to make the two a couple. Though, his methods are extremely unconventional.

One random day, he had invited (Y/n) to his mansion, dragged her to his bedroom and shared a talk with her. She had initially come off as disinterested, but his attitude made her open a bit more. 

“Sooo, my dearest cousin, I have a proposition for you!” he had declared. (Y/n)’s interest was peaked, but a part of her advised her to avoid asking. That side lost to her curiousity.

“And what may that be, because if it so happens to be one of your over-the-top plans to try and get me to drag my ass to school I’m leaving.” Tamaki played the dramatics before getting to the point. 

“Oh, dear (Y/n), it is nothing of the sort. It is a resolution to a problem of yours, though.” 

The (h/c) raised an eyebrow, leaning in and nodding. “Go on.” 

The blonde let a small smirk settle on his face, and when he had announced his idea to her, she jumped up and was already on her way to leave the room. 

“Wait, wait, wait! Hear me out, please!” She paused, took in a deep breath and rolled her eyes before allowing herself to continue speaking. (Y/n) didn’t need this amount of annoyance before she left to wreak more havoc, but she also didn’t want to send the only person that cared enough to help her to his emo corner. 

“What if I say yes to this? What’s the catch gonna be? I’m not jumping from Class-C to Class-A just so you can play the part of the savior.”

“Well, first of all: you wouldn’t be bored. You have already shown that you are highly intelligent, you just need the proper amount of stimulation. You can get there!” She paused, then nodded, and gestured for Tamaki to continue. “Second of all: you need something to do during school other than vandalize the alley walls and bathroom stalls. You’re extremely pretty, and-”

“And I’m going.”

“Wait! Let me finish, I promise that you won’t absolutely hate it,” he pleaded. (Y/n) was still hesitant to go along with his plan, but again - don’t want to send the only person that cared enough to help her to his emo corner. 

“Fine, but make it quick.”

Cue the sparkling eyes. 

“Thank you! Anyway, I think you should join the Host Club. We can open it up to girls that want to appeal, and this would make your record look better for the future! After all, you want to succeed, right?” 

With a sigh, (Y/n) walked back to the bed and sat down. She had to debate the idea - she did want to do well following high school, and she did know that the way she was going halfway through the year wouldn’t be good for doing just that. Tamaki was right to advise her of this, but she didn’t want any obligations tying her down for the rest of her high school career. 

Tamaki was bouncing on the balls of his feet as he watched his rough-and-tumble cousin run the benefits and drawbacks in her head. His lips were pursed and his hands were drawn to his chest tightly, gripped with anticipation. 

“I’ll think about it. You are right, I’ll give you that, but the likelihood that things would be that easy right now is low,” she answered calmly. She had a tone of seriousness as she spoke, and it was laced with fear. 

He had heard the way that she went about her response, and while he was admittedly a little disappointed that she wasn’t jumping for joy at his idea, he also knew that she didn’t work like that and didn’t intend to work like that. This was the best possible scenario for an answer that he could get, and that thought excited him. 

“You won’t regret it, I promise! Let me know after you think it through, I can get you prepared and set quickly!” (Y/n) nodded hesitantly, and then got up to leave. 

“I’m gonna leave, but I have a lot to think about, now...” she paused, a small flurry of red crossing over her face at the thought of what she was about to say next. ‘Thanks’ wasn’t a word in her dictionary, but now? It may have to be. 

“...Thanks, Tamaki.” 

His head darted up at her figure as he leapt up with joy and hugged her tightly. He had also lifted her up and managed to spin her around before she kicked him in the shin and got dropped. When Tamaki hit the floor gripping his leg, she was already walking down the hall and alerting the maids of her departure. 

...

Now, she sat in Class-A in her second year. The twins were sat behind her and didn’t bother trying to prank her, no one in class was brave enough to stand up to her or correct her when she exhibited some unladylike behavior in class, and some guys that were deemed crazy by the school populace attended the host club to chat with the new ‘Wild’ type. (Following Mori and Honey-senpai’s graduation, of course) 

(Sad boi hours-) 

She was surprisingly popular according to the polls that Kyoya had taken, and when taking this into consideration, she became the go-to for information from the club’s king himself. 

Despite Tamaki’s initial intentions, though, she had only become more quiet and focused on causing more harm outside of school hours. 

On multiple occasions, she had gone to the bathrooms and decided to tag the windows with an ‘X’ after covering them in black paint. She had also gone outside to rearrange what she could in the garden after blocking any cameras that would pick up her actions. 

Safe to say, she still maintained the reputation that she had achieved in her first year attending. 

Her antics were also upped by a new friendship with the twins. She had begun to teach them ways around the school and new ideas for pranks, some that would push the school regulations harshly, and joined them in their endeavors to terrorize certain students that would do certain things to them or someone they cared about. 

Otherwise, Tamaki was happy to see another facet of his plan come alive - Haruhi and (Y/n). The two were beginning to get along very well, very quick. It seemed as if the new year and new experiences lit a fire under the (h/c)’s ass, and she had begun to talk more. At least, to people she knew wouldn’t wimp out due to her words and actions. 

The change had made the blonde leap out of happiness, the observation that his most treasured cousin was beginning to grow up and become a better person - at a slow pace, but still, there’s improvement. 

“(Y/n), you’ve got some customers waiting for you,” Kyoya informed her, making said female groan in frustration. 

“They only come here to try and get into my pants, and they still think I’m gonna give those sleaze-bags a chance after the fuck-ton amount of times I’ve told them off.” She stood up despite her statement, brushing off her black skirt and pulling her tie down just the slightest to make herself presentable. “Whatever, I know you’re gonna crucify me if I don’t do it - money, after all.”

A smirk settled on Kyoya’s face as he watched her reluctance. “Of course, dear. Don’t want to keep those undergarment-chasers waiting, do we?” (Y/n) rolled her eyes. “If they try anything, leave and let someone know, of course.”

She chuckled at the taller male, “Of course, Ootori. I’m not dumb, I could easily put them in their place.”

The two shared a look before the female seated herself on the assigned couch. 

...

The year was passing by quickly, and as her popularity rose, Haruhi’s attention to her became more evident. (Y/n), admittedly wasn’t oblivious to the attention that she was being provided, but she was oblivious to the attention she was providing.

Now, the two sat next to each other in the cafeteria and talked about whatever was on their mind (at least, they did this when (Y/n) decided to show up to eat there instead of setting up pranks for the staff members). The two were showing an immense amount of attraction to the other, yet they wouldn’t come to the realization that they were crushing on each other. 

Even the Ouran Host Club graduates could pick up on the two’s liking to the other, despite not seeing them as often as they may have liked. When they did pop in, they tried to push the two together more often with the help of Tamaki himself and the twins. The whole of the club was in on a plan to get them together, sooner or later. 

Sadly, that would have to wait for the group as (Y/n) had started to revert back into skipping habits not long after her and Haruhi had developed a close bond.

Though the school had pressed for the person that decided to skip school at least once a week (which was still an improvement from the three days minimum that she’d jump for previously), they still failed to punish her severely due to Tamaki’s pleading and cover-ups. 

She was running thin, and frankly, her snark to other students was becoming more apparent. She had begun to let off more expletives than usual at anyone that pissed her off in the hallways, and would run to the bathrooms with no real explanation before planting herself in the nearest stall for the next class period.

This was starting to annoy staff, and Tamaki was walking an extremely tight rope due to it, but he was determined to help his cousin. He would stop at nothing to get her back to the person she was growing to be. 

One day, a Thursday, (Y/n) had run off to the bathrooms yet again. This time, school had ended, and while he knew that this would be a brash decision for someone so self-proclaimed gentlemanly, he ran into the girl’s bathroom to tlak to her. 

His footsteps weren’t the most silent, but he doubted she could hear him over the amount of mumbling she doing in the first stall. 

“This isn’t really happening, you’re just imagining this. You just like them as a friend.”

Bingo. 

“(Y/n)-chan?”

“The fuck- Tamaki? What the hell are you doing in the women’s restroom?”

The two left the area after letting Kyoya know that he and (Y/n) wouldn’t be attending to the club for a while. Despite his initial annoyance, Tamaki reassured him that it was something extremely important. 

They had decided to walk around campus for a while, mostly in silence as he waited for her to talk. He knew better than to press her on topics such as this, especially at times like these. 

“I’m worried.”

Tamaki’s violet eyes reflected worry, his brows furrowed in concern for (Y/n). “About what? You’ve gotten so much better, and you’ve told me that you like it. So, what’s worrying you?”

She sighed and gestured to the garden nearby with her head. Her eyes were silently pleading, acting as a way to indicate that she wanted to sit down. Whether that was out of fear for her emotions or Tamaki’s he was unaware, but he followed her outside and seated himself on the bench that had been laid before the lavender plants and roses. 

“It’s...it’s Haruhi.” The girl paused, took a  breath, and continued yet again. “I don’t know what...what I’m feeling for her..”

With a comforting hand resting on her shoulder, he spoke quietly. “What do you mean by that? You both enjoy each other’s company, from what she had said and you have shown. It isn’t contempt, is it?”

“No! No, it’s not that, it’s just...I think...I think I like her.”

Tamaki practically lit up at the statement. “You do? I swear, she does too, she’s just really oblivious. I can get you two together, but-”

“Tamaki, I appreciate the offer, but I know she doesn’t like people like me. Haruhi doesn’t like people that can’t keep the word ‘fuck’ out of their vocabulary for five seconds. She doesn’t like people that refuse to maintain a reputation that’s squeaky clean and extremely fucking poised. Worse yet, I know that even if she does like me, her reputation would be ruined by my shitty one - and that’s simply by default!” 

Tamaki remained silent as she continued, his hand still resting on her shoulder as his raised arm fell to his side slowly. He leaned in to listen to what she had to say closer. “I don’t want to drag her into my bullshit, otherwise I would’ve said something already! She just - ugh - she deserves someone that isn’t so nasty.”

As she let her face settle into her cupped hands, he sighed. Some thinking had to do the job, because she had been making such good progress and she was gaining more proper respect because of it. 

He knew she wouldn’t care otherwise, as she liked getting into trouble and basking in the adrenaline rush that came with the things that she did, but Haruhi had to remain well-mannered or else she’d be gone from the academy. 

Then it hit him. 

“How about this? You go home and think over this for the day, take a few days off from the club, and get some rest.” (Y/n) was listening attentively, wishing for something good to come from her cousin’s words. “Of course, you’d still have to attend school, but you could sneak some stuff in during break - you didn’t hear that from me.”

The female chuckled a little at his words, but she gestured for him to continue. “We were planning to have a ball soon, and Mori and Honey-senpai will be attending as prized guests. You can join us in hosting, but if you want to to, you can leave early.

“We want you to be as comfortable as you possibly can, after all - that, and.... Well, I know you and Haruhi like each other. I’m going to do whatever I can to make this happen.”

(Y/n) paused, seemingly frozen for a good second, before she leaped out of her seat and started smacking his shoulder. “What the fuck, Tamaki? You know that I don’t want that, she’ll be ruined! Anyway, she doesn’t like me! Seriously, how the hell do I handle you sometimes?”

Laughter left the male’s mouth as she slowed down, eventually letting her screaming cease in favor of a similar giggle. A gleeful smile gradually formed on her face, and the two finished their small sessions of laughter with panting. 

“My god, Tamaki, you are one crazy asshole, aren’t you?” she inquired playfully, breaths peeking between the words as she regained her breath from her sudden actions. 

In an abrupt action, Tamaki’s dramatic abilities came into play, feigning a face of horror as he uttered loudly. “That was extremely unladylike - you’re lucky I haven’t called for daddy!” 

The (h/c) gagged before grabbing what she had of her things and flicking him. “Let’s go; I need to go home, and you need to go back to the host club.” The taller blonde dropped his act and followed suit. 

As they left, a shorter figure stood by for a while after. A small brunette stood huddled tightly in formation to hide behind a pillar, having listened to the conversation that the two had shared. 

The amount of vulgarities that lined (Y/n)’s speech was a little shocking, but that didn’t phase Haruhi as much as what the content of it did. ‘She...likes me? I never noticed, I just...wow.... Is this why she’s been going through my head so much?’

She smiled hopefully, making sure to run back to the host club before Kyoya had added anything more to her already over-the-top debts. 

...

A few weeks had passed by now. More havoc was seen around the school from a week prior, all by (Y/n)’s doing, and the host club was back and full for the first time in a while. 

The week was prefaced with the aforementioned female sitting behind a curtain doing whatever she needed to do while listening in on any and all meetings that the group shared. Her grades were the highest they’d ever been - something that both scared and calmed the teachers - and she had been saving time for after school to do anything that was particularly crazy. The best part of all of this was that she had not only been able to begin attending classes again, but that she had also begun to think.

Thinking about things helped her out now, and she managed to get away with many more annoying things before jumping the stealthy gun and going absolutely crazy with her pranks. It also helped her out with her emotions, and she had realized something very important. 

Especially so since the ball that Tamaki had proposed they held was to be this weekend. 

(Y/n) had been debating on what to do for the coming event, but eventually settled for her tendency to wing it for stuff like this. She had an idea of what she wanted to do, but things change and she wasn’t down to make any specific plans for the day. 

Otherwise, there was something that she was heavily torn on. Her feelings towards the androgynous brunette host were getting harder to contain, the twins were starting to see the effects that had come with it, and they were holding a prank over her head if she were to avoid telling her soon. (Granted, they weren’t aware that she knew, but she had ways of getting information out of people - intimidation tactics definitely work.)

She wanted to yell them to Haruhi if that’s the last thing she did, but two turnouts hit her square in the face. What if she said no? Well, then she would be devastated, and considering that this is the first person that she has actually cared as much about (romantically, of course), she’d be worried. If that were to happen, would she push herself further into herself? Would she lose the progress she’d be getting? Maybe she’d permanently jeopardize her chances at a future?

On the other hand, what would happen if Haruhi said yes? Would she run away and claim that is was false, or would she stand by and be at a loss for words? What about Haruhi’s reputation? Normally, (Y/n) would be preaching and standing by her status as a deviant at the high end establishment, but this? This was different, and she knew this - it was inevitable that her reputation would follow Haruhi and ruin the already somewhat tainted one that she already had. Privileged prissy students were already something to tip-toe around for the beautiful and wealthy, but a poor scholarship student was bound to face more detrimental consequences by the student body. 

The whole scenario was leaving the collected girl in an extremely confused mindset, and it was starting to peek out to anyone that was able to see that her notes had little doodles hidden in the lines of the topic notes. She knew how to hide it, but Tamaki - the normally oblivious prince - had been the person to see the coded messages in her notes when he was helping her with her work for a project. 

The fear that was hitting her due to this was harsh, much more so than normal. For once, she was truthfully scared - she didn’t like it. 

Haruhi, on the other hand, noticed her improving after the chat she had eavesdropped on a bit ago. She also, for once, noticed that (Y/n) had become a bit more interested in what she was doing, sometimes even trying things that she normally wouldn’t try. 

From time to time, Haruhi would throw out a random idea for a prank that she had wanted to see as a joke, and it would have come up on the campus courtyard within the week. It flattered her, and seeing as she knew that (Y/n) was one to prank and cause trouble wherever, whenever, and for whatever? It made her flustered, frankly. 

With the ball coming up soon, too, she was determined to relax for the night, hopefully with the (h/c) beside her. No fear, nothing, just an image of her and her continually-developing crush standing beside each other under the stars - cheesy imaging, sure, but she enjoyed the thought.

They both had opposing stances on the event, though, and that was what Tamaki had caught onto first. He had seen the glances that had seemingly become more representative of longing, and he wasn’t going to do it. He had a plan, and he’d be damned if it didn’t work. 

...

“Ready, men?”

“Yes, sir!” 

“Are the decorations in the room prepped?”

“Yes, sir!”

“How about the music?”

“Ready!”

“Great, now the scenery. Balcony completed?”

“You got it, boss!”

“Amazing! Now, boys, let’s go cater to some girls, hmm?”

The gaggle of hosts had gather together earlier than others, already coming prepared and dressed, excited for the formal evening. A plan was looming over their heads as well, and they were driven to get it completed to perfection.

The subjects? Haruhi and (Y/n), of course! 

The two were unaware, courtesy of strict regulations regarding the scheme, and a new relationship was most definitely going to be formed later in the night. For benefit of both, privately, but they had to get the ship to sail. 

While the boys were meeting, (Y/n) was at home going through her closet. Big fancy ballgowns were never up her alley despite the many times that her parents had tried to force her to wear them, but they had given up after she would wear them with some ‘improper’ shoes or switch the dress out for a button-down and formal pants. 

She had run through all of the gowns in the front of the closet before reaching the back, finding where she hid all of her favorite formal clothing. It mainly consisted of options that people around her would normally trash her for, but she had persisted in her action to wear it. 

There was a plethora of short dresses that she found comfortable, even some lighter colored ones that she would typically gag at and hide away from. There was a section strictly reserved for dress pants and shirts, and some ties were set up beside them on a shelf. There was even some shoes that she would wear for formality purposes if they were absolutely necessary (read: for future privilege purposes). 

What stood out to her in her search of what to wear, though, was a silky (f/c) dress, complete with a small back lacing detail and a low-cut neckline. A pair of tights with a lacey pattern in black, a simple choker, and some sensible combat boots would tie the whole look together - might as well dress up to dress up and dress to impress while she’s at it. 

She reached the garments, grabbing what she could fit in her hands and leaving said closet in choice of getting dressed. 

Haruhi was being cornered by the twins and dragged to a room near the club room where there was a wide collection of clothing to choose from while (Y/n) had the benefit of taking her sweet time. 

Hikaru had tossed a dress that he had presented to her on a mannequin (which proved that the garment would be extremely skimpy), as did Kaoru, but Mori and Tamaki were quick to jump in and remove her from the dresses and to a changing room. She was promptly handed a dapper suit and told to get ready. 

(Y/n) had slipped the (somewhat) formal wear on, making sure that everything fell just right. It didn’t take long until she had called for someone to help her with her hair as she had little intention to wear makeup, and if she were to, it’d be very little. 

A servant of the family had slipped into the room and started to brush through her hair, and decided to curl it just the slightest. It fell to frame her features perfectly, and as the servant left and she did some light makeup, a smile started to spread across her face. 

For once, a formal event left her excited. Whether that was her suppression of the fear from the day before or a weird way to redirect it, she didn’t know, but she enjoyed the feeling. The fact that the thought was leaving her excited also drove her to fluff her hair a little bit before grabbing her cell phone and her bag. 

As she was on her way out of her room, she stopped and looked in the mirror. With her hair done, some makeup on, and a dress that usually would skip over unless she had a good reason - she paused. She stood stock-still and looked over herself in the mirror, seemingly glancing over a girl who she didn’t recognize. 

It was so different than her typical baggy t-shirt and torn jeans, so much so that she couldn’t believe that it was actually her reflection. She looked...pretty, for once, not grunge-y and dark. It brought more confidence to her as she texted Tamaki that she was on her way to the school. 

She got into the limo that he had sent for her, and she was on track for the academy. 

Haruhi had been getting prepped at the academy, courtesy of the host club. Kyoya and Tamaki were making sure that the decor of the ballroom was up to par, the twins were waiting beside the hairstylist and makeup artist they had hired for her, and Mori and Honey were greeting and making conversation with the females that had decided to attend the event.

Annoyance was a familiar expression on her face as she had tools prodding at it and people pulling her hair in what was supposedly called ‘styling’. She was willing to put up with it for the night, though, if it meant that (Y/n) would be able to see her. 

She didn’t know how this would have hit her, but she was finished not long after a knock was heard on the door. She was already full with an odd mixture of fear and excitement, but when she saw the (h/c) female walk in, her jaw almost refused to leave the floor. If it weren’t for Hikaru, it most certainly would have stayed there. 

Tamaki had rushed into the room, got a view of his little cousin all dolled up, and ran to hug her tightly. The air left her lungs for a second, but that was prevented due to Mori pulling him off her. A small ‘thanks’ was uttered before she was pushed towards Haruhi. 

The image in front of her held the same power that she had to Haruhi. She, the troublemaker who refused to keep her mouth shut, was left speechless. Her hair was done in a refined manner, her face held some light touch-ups, and the suit that she donned was making her features appear more clean and sharp. 

“Wow, you look...you look gorgeous, (Y/n).”

“I could say the same to you, Haruhi.”

The whole of the hosts watched on in intrigue, waiting for someone to say something more, but that was interrupted in favor of discussion. After all, each of them had to uphold a specific image for the night, and if that was a failure to up hold, well...beware the wrath of an annoyed Kyoya and an angered Tamaki. 

 It took around fifteen minutes to make sure everything was covered accurately and thoroughly, and the club was left to the night. 

They made an announcement, presenting the festivities of the night and the reward for the best dancer. Similarly to the previous year, the winner would receive a kiss from Tamaki, and the night would go on. 

Everything had begun with extravagance, catering was going on and handling the plethora of attendees with quick succession. (Y/n) had the pleasure of witnessing Haruhi go googly-eyed at the mention of fancy tuna for the umpteenth time, busting out laughing at the image of her holding a plate in one hand and a fork in the other, stuffing the food in gleefully.

In contrast to Haruhi, (Y/n)’s interest was peaked by the amount of shenanigans that she could pull overnight. The doors were open to the club, and if there were rooms left out and were lacking anyone inside them, that meant that those were primary times to pull pranks. She had already snuck out of the ballroom to a supply closet to create chaos in a staff room nearby. Haruhi had watched her run off and enact her plan, refusing to stop her in favor of watching the glowing glee that radiated from her as she did so. 

Everything that had been happening was being monitored by Tamaki, and alongside Kyoya, the twins, Mori, and Honey-senpai; they were almost ready to push the big plan into action. 

Operation (Ship/name) was to be put into action in T-minus ten minutes.

The night had continued to pass by happily, and around the start of the competition, Hikaru and Kaoru had dragged (Y/n) and Haruhi off (respectively) into different hallways. They had to interrupt their conversations, but everything was just starting. 

While Kyoya had been initially keeping an eye of the plan, he had requested that Mori and Honey stand by the twins while the competition was being done. Tamaki was stood beside him and had provided specific action for the duo as before they took their leave. Thankfully, a majority of the attendees were caught up in the night, and failed to notice the group of hosts leaving. 

As the twins had brought the respective person to an assigned room, they had made sure that the lights were kept off for a bit longer. The subjects of the plan were left to wander around the room in the dark, eventually finding themselves by bumping into the other. 

When the quartet had heard the sound, they had made a quick job in turning the ceiling-rigged lights on. This left the two under an indoor view of sparkling lights that mimicked that of stars, making the two realize that something had been planned. (Y/n) had remained staring at the ceiling lights while Haruhi was left staring at the floor, only then letting the situation hit her. 

The two of them had remained in their own little worlds as Mori had let the curtain blocking balcony open, leaving moonlight to creep into the impeccably decorated interior and allow it to glow under the night sky. Everything seemed too surreal to be generally close to reality, but the setting provided a sense of pride and comfort for the (h/c) female, which then led her to make a brash decision.

“Hey, uh, Haruhi?”

The said brunette lifted her head from the tiled floor to make eye contact with her, and the view that met her sight left her breathless for the hundredth time that night. The glow from the moon let her features pop, almost made her appear to be glittering, and she couldn’t form any coherent thought for a second. 

Eventually, something did come to her head, but it took an extra prod from aforementioned female to do so. “Uh, yeah? What is it?”

“Well, I...”

The hidden group had stood behind in a dark corner, watching the scene before them unfold. Honey-senpai had a hand pressed against his mouth as he gripped Usa-chan tightly, Mori maintaining his stoic face despite his eyes, and the twins gracing michevious grins. Tamaki and Kyoya had left to ‘deliberate’ on the winner, but they were watching with interest from a corner opposite to that of the other four - Tamaki had his own han dclosed around his mouth so no squeals of joy could be heard in the quiet room.

“I, uh...I like...you.” 

Haruhi’s eyes widened at her shy declaration. She had known the girl for a while, but she had never expected this to be how she handled something like this. Normally, she’d jump right in and shout the claim, not beat around it and stutter. This shocked her, and before she could utter a response, (Y/n) had spoken again.

“Listen, I know you may not like me, or you do - whatever. I just needed to get this off my chest, and if your answer is no, don’t be afraid to tell me.” She came off as bold, but one look in her eyes would tell even the most unaware being on planet Earth that she was truly terrified of the answer. 

“(Y/n), I like you, too.” 

It took everything in the viewing crowd’s power to keep themselves from shouting praises and congratulations at the two females. 

(Y/n) lips twitched upwards, forming the largest smile anyone of the group had seen on her face. It didn’t match the usual mischief that it normally did, nor did it seem like she was hiding something; for once, it looked like a real smile from a place of happiness rather than benefit. “Really? Great, I just feel the need to warn you of something before you say anything else, if you even decide to do so.”

Haruhi’s interest in the statement was brought to the speaker’s attention as she continued, “I get that I have a bad rep, and that what comes out of my mouth could rival that of a sailor. And, despite that, I’d normally jump at the chance to ask you out, but...”

The crowd of hosts watched on in anticipation, both worried and hopeful that thei rnew declared OTP would hop onboard the ship and allow it to sail. 

“I just want you to have a good time here, and I don’t want any of my fuck-ups to reflect on you. People here are vicious, and you’re already in the vein of students that get shit on. I should be the only one to deal with any stupid fucking repercussions from my own bullshit, and I don’t want to pull you into it. Now that I’ve told you that, you can tell me if you’d-”

The interruption was very sudden, and the way that it was done left even the hosts shocked. Haruhi had pulled (Y/n) to her and kissed her, preventing her from continuing her worried rant. A few seconds had passed before the magical moment ended.

The both of them were left breathless following the contact, and Haruhi’s next words brought joy to the (h/c)’s face. “I don’t give a damn about your reputation, all I know is that I like you and would like to date you.”

Tamaki had watched on in calm glee, the scene giving him a sense of joy that he hasn’t felt in a while. Seeing his troubled sister come out of her previous stump so strong made him so proud, and brought a new sense of pride to him along with it. She has truly shown that she has changed for the better while maintaining her typical attitude towards that world. 

“Thank fuck! Okay, now that that’s done, you wanna dance with me, your newfound girlfriend?”

“But there’s no music, (Y/n),” Haruhi chuckled out. A gentle smile sat on her lips as she spoke. 

“You think I give a damn? We don’t need any music to dance, y’know.”

Music had started to play from the background, cued by Tamaki pressing play on the radio remote. Speakers blasted a gentle slow song, and though the girls were now made freshly aware of the said blonde’s actions, they decided to forego any ounce of annoyance in favor of each other’s arms around the other’s waist. 

The slight squeak of (Y/n)’s boots and the slight shuffle of Haruhi’s suit was comforting the to whole of the club. 

Before long, the two had ended their short dance, allowing the six men that stood watching from the corners to reveal their presence. They had made it clear that they were only doing this to make sure everything went smoothly for the both of them, but before their short spiel could be completed, (Y/n) ran and jumped onto her cousin’s torso. If Tamaki’s hug left her breathless, her hug left him completely dead. 

The group had left the girls together in the room while they had decided on the winner in another room, and when they were done, they had gone to gather the girls for the announcement. 

Once the winner was crowned and the night had regained any sense of energy that it had lost, the new couple had made their way to the dance floor. The spectacle of two members of the club dancing together had left some of the attending students speechless, but the two remained unbothered as they had waltzed around the floor gracefully. 

Some people had watched on in awe at the two, never stepping in to stop them. Some of the viewers also gushed at the image, presumably falling victim to the ship that they had shown over the span of the year to this point. 

Once the end of the song was coming to the climax, (Y/n) had returned the kiss that was given to her by Haruhi earlier in the middle of the floor. The onlookers’ jaws had hit the floor as they continued to get into the action, the twins watching the scene while trying to suppress their laughter at the expressions of the people around them.

When (Y/n) pulled away from the lip-lock, she laughed at the incredulous expression that rested on Haruhi’s face before flicking her shoulder. “You little-” 

“Oh, trust me, baby - I already know.”

The crowd had let the moment pass somewhat, and the night continued along well. As the night was ending, though, some people had shot dirty looks at the two. This, of course, prompted (Y/n) to flip them the bird and a formal ‘Fuck you’ as they exited the building. 

“Was that really called for (Y/n)?” Haruhi asked in amusement, watching as she shrugged her shoulders. 

“A girl can do what she wants to do, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

The remainder of the night was left to the club, Kyoya directing the staff to clean whatever mess there was the other five males were left to their own devices. The girls had left the commotion in favor of the starlit room, leaning against the balcony and watching the clouds in the slightly-chilly night sky move in formation. 

As they had been throwing out suggestinos as to what shape they were forming as they moved, Haruhi proposed another question for the (h/c) beside her. “What about your reputation? Wouldn’t dating a scholarship student ruin that for you?”

(Y/n) paused, did a double-take to her and the ledge she was leaning on, and spoke up. “Please don’t tell me that you’re asking the same damn thing I did earlier? I already have a bad rep, and I frankly don’t care about it.”

“But, it might make it worse-”

“I don’t give a damn ‘bout my bad reputation, and I would highly appreciate it if you would refrain from claiming that you would be detrimental to it. I taint my reputation, nobody else.” 

“Fine, fine....”

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

* * * *

INTERVIEW: SAINT MISBEHAVIN’ WAVY GRAVY

by Richard Whittaker, Dec 21, 2010

One day I got a note from ServiceSpace founder, Nipun Mehta offering me tickets to a new documentary movie about Wavy Gravy. Would you like to go?

    I went. Although I was aware of Wavy Gravy as a cultural icon, I really knew very little about him. The film is a eye-opener. Michelle Esrick’s loving documentary, Saint Misbehavin’ - 10 years in the making - is a real introduction to this remarkable man. I'd never heard about Hugh Romney, the man who later became famous as Wavy Gravy. And what a story. I'll mention just one of its surprises: earlier in his life, Hugh Romney was Lenny Bruce's manager.

    A few weeks after seeing the film, at Mehta’s urging, I had the chance to interview Wavy Gravy himself.

Richard Whittaker:  How are you feeling about Saint Misbehavin’?

Wavy Gravy:  Oh, it’s a swell movie. I’m honored to be so well-documented, and the review in the New York Times was embarrassing. I’m not that good.

RW:  You said in the film that you’re an “intuitive clown.” Would you mind saying something about what that means?

WG:  I’m trained in the art of acting improvisation. That means acting on the spur of the moment rather than doing, say, the focused slow burn and all the traditional clown moves. I don’t do any of that.

RW:  So that would be about sensing the moment, what’s there, and taking in who you’re with.

WG:  Absolutely—and sensing what’s going on. I was, for a number of years, with The Committee in San Francisco. I taught improvisation at Columbia Pictures. Harrison Ford was one of my students and I’ve taught improvisation at Camp Winnarainbow for over thirty years.

RW:  I wanted to ask you about your history. For instance, in New York in Greenwich Village, you wrote poetry, right?

WG:  Yes I did.

RW:  Is any of it available? And is it something you’d want people to find?

WG:  There are a couple of slender volumes out there. I think you’d have to go to Amazon or eBay to find them. I don’t even have copies myself. But other people do and will lend them to me when I need them.

RW:  Do any titles stand out for you?

WG:  Kaleidoscope and there’s Joe’s Song, which is taught in a poetry class at the University of California at Berkeley. Would you like to hear it?

RW:  Please.

WG:  Okay. It goes like this:  “Once upon and ever since I was a child in a child’s world. I have wept a child’s tears and built a child’s wall of clay and stone and colored years of poems in paint and virgin gold. I sought to build a wall so tall from lion eggs from Gallilee, a brick of song among the dregs of silver nails and lesser men a mile long to kiss the sun and climb again. Once ago and ever now I stood a man on a child’s wall. I stopped and prayed to spider webs and roses of the sea. I spoke as one with all the earth and knew the pain of birth and death to be the same without my wall. Once upon and ever furled I stand alone with all the world.”

RW:  That’s beautiful.

WG:  I wrote it in 1960 or about then. I don’t write lyric poems very often. These days I mainly write haiku, usually when friends pass away, which is happening more and more frequently from natural causes. Also I’ve been having the good fortune to have my art exhibited, and I do a haiku to go with each piece.

RW:  I’m imagining that, as a younger man, you had certain visions and deep feelings that could have been a liability for living the conventional life.

WG:  I don’t think I ever had to contend with that one [laughs]. I live in the land of one thing after another. [speaking with an east Indian accent] “The sand only goes through the hourglass one grain at a time,” as some Hindu sage proclaimed. I’ve discovered that to be true.

RW:  Did you have mentors who supported you in Greenwich Village?

WG:  It was kind of amusing. I was going to theater school at Boston University, which was an amazing theater school. The finest directors in the world would come in and the whole college would read for a part. A freshman could get a lead. It was extraordinary. And if you weren’t cast in the production, you would be cast in the lighting crew or the costume crew or the stage crew. Then there was an upset about theater students not doing their social studies and the university attempted to move the campus of the theater school over to where the rest of the university was laid out. Just at that time, the teachers who had all been hired during the McCarthy blackball because they couldn’t work on Broadway, well, the blackball ended and they all quit. They went to work at the Neighborhood Playhouse in New York City, and they took me with them.

    But while I was at BU, I had read in Time Magazine about jazz and poetry in San Francisco. I thought, hey, I’ve written a couple of poems and I know some musicians. I can do that! So I got together with a bunch of artists from the museum school and we proceeded to take the basement of a bar called The Rock on Huntington Avenue. The place in the basement was called The Pebble in the Rock. We put in black tables and black clothes and mobiles and paintings and began doing jazz and poetry. It was the first jazz and poetry done on the East Coast. So I had the privilege of inaugurating the East Coast to jazz and poetry. I persisted in doing it for years in, of all places, Hartford Connecticut. On every Monday I would grab a bunch of musicians and go to Hartford and make substantial money. Otherwise I was going to the Neighborhood Playhouse and reading my poetry in the evenings at the Gaslight Café in Greenwich Village, as you saw in the movie.

RW:  That’s an amazing story. There was another thing you said in the film, “put your good where it can do the most.”

WG:  Which is the advice I gleaned from one of my mentors, the author and adventurer, Ken Kesey.

RW:  Did that kind of focus something for you?

WG:  Well, it lit up. It lit up. I had discovered that, somewhat. Whenever I would do a good thing, it made me feel good. I think I heard a preacher of color on television in the late fifties. He said, “It’s nice to be nice.” And that kind of hit a chord for me.

RW:  Do you think there’s a mix in what artists do? That in your poetry, part of it was trying to give something?

WG:  Hmmm, I don’t know. I was just trying to get out of the way and let whatever was inside of me come to the surface. In the early days, I was not all that consciously altruistic—although, in the early days of poetry, the poets were not paid. We used to pass a cornucopia around after an hour or so and people would put money in it. We made an embarrassing amount of money that way. Myself and Len Chandler, who was one of the first folk singers I brought into The Gaslight, he and I put on these capes with hoods—Len was an African-American and he had a motor scooter. And we would jump on the motor scooter at the end of the evening and drive down into the Bowery and find somebody passed out on the sidewalk. We’d stuff his pockets with money and drive off and find somebody else until we’d given away at least half of what we’d made in the course of the evening. It was a lot of fun.

RW:  That’s incredible. What do you think led you to do that?

WG:  I don’t know. It just seemed like a fun thing to do. We didn’t need all that money.

RW:  Do you remember the moment when Ken Kesey said “Put your good where it will do the most good”?

WG:  No.  But he told me a lot of stuff—like, “You should honor your mother and your father.” This comes out of the Bible. As soon as I learned that Kesey had written that, I forget how he worded it, I immediately called my mother and my father and honored them verbally as best I could. And it was illuminating for them and for me. Afterwards, I called Ken up to thank him. He said, “Well, it’s just so darn simple.”

RW:  I want to ask about giving and receiving. Do you have any thoughts in general, let’s say, about giving?

WG:  Giving seems to be easy for me. Receiving is the thing I’m just beginning to learn how to do with grace. It’s a work in progress, like the rest of me. Over the last thirty years I’ve experienced considerable physical difficulty, having had to receive a series of spinal surgeries and spending amounts of time in body casts. You have no alternative, or you starve. So it was necessary. I tell people I learned patience in the hospital. [there’s a pause] That’s a pun.

RW:   You’re right! [laughs]

WG:  And as my infirmities persisted, I learned to acquiesce to the moment and accept, with as much graciousness as I could muster, the assistance of people who offered it.

RW:  I bet this is true for lots of people, that it’s easier to give than to receive.

WG:  Right, but as I pointed out, I didn’t have much choice, as with a lot of the stuff that has happened to me in my life. Life situations have presented themselves and it was either sink or swim.

RW:  This reminds me of another part in the film. This is at Woodstock. You and the other members of The Hog Farm were brought there to be the police force for the whole event. You called yourselves “the please force.”

WG:  We were the Please Force. And we had also set up what we called the Trip Tent.

RW:  And there’s a part in the movie where you describe helping a young man who was having a bad acid trip.

WG:  As he came in ranting, this three-hundred pound Australian doctor laid on top of him and said, “Body contact. You need body contact” [said with an accent] and then a psychiatrist leaned in and said, [using another funny voice] “Just think of your third eye, man.”

   Then I figured it was time for me to make my move. I said, “Excuse me. I’d like to try something here.” And they all backed up. What’s this hippie going to do? That’s when I said, “What’s your name, man?”  

RW:  And he mumbled something…

WG:  I said, “No, your name.” He told me his name and I said it back to him. In fact, I said it back to him several times.

RW:  I noticed how very clear and emphatic you were when you got his name. “Okay, Bob. Bob, that’s your name.”

WG:  Your name is Bob.

RW:  Where did you get the knowledge of using that simple directness?

WG:  We’d spent some time on the psychotropic frontiers through the prankster days and beyond. It was not unfamiliar territory.

RW:  You knew something about being really concrete, and focused.

WG:  And through the greatest professor of them all, professor experience; and from courses at hard knocks university.

RW:  You’ve had a lot of hard knocks university experience, I think.

WG:  Yes. Well, that’s how you learn things.

RW:  You said in the film how you’d found you could get high without the psychotropic assistance. Could you say something about that again?

WG:  There are many ways to alter space. I do lots of breathing exercises, and I do mantras. Different people have different recipes to get to a space of consciousness and then to dwell in it for as long as you can, I guess. My own way is an amalgam of many different practices from many different lineages.

RW:  You evolved from Hugh Romney doing the poetry to where you were wearing a jester’s hat.

WG:  Between poems I used to talk about the bizarre things that happened to me during the day because it was really tedious just reading all these poems night after night after night.  Then a guy came along and said, look, skip the poetry. Just talk about your bizarre experiences. That’s how I got into doing stand-up.

    Lenny Bruce became my manager. I put out a couple of albums and toured the U.S. —and in fact, something of the world—doing stand-up before these other things came along.

RW:  Somewhere you left the jester’s hat and started dressing as a clown.

WG:  I was asked, when we had moved to Berkeley in the mid-seventies, to go the Children’s Hospital in Oakland and cheer up kids. On the way out the door of my house, someone handed me a red, rubber nose. I discovered it enabled me to get out of myself and be entertaining to the kids. After awhile, I began to paint my face up as a clown. Somebody gave me a costume, and a clown who was retiring from Ringling Brothers gave me his giant shoes. I worked with kids, with kids who were terminal, even, and did this almost every day for about seven years.

    At one point I had to go to a political rally at Peoples’ Park and I didn’t have time to take off my clown stuff. I discovered that the police didn’t want to hit me anymore. Clowns are safe.

RW:  Can you say more about what your experience at Children’s Hospital working with kids was like?

WG:  I discovered that not only was I helping the kids, I was helping myself. As I began to do this work, I’d gone through three major back surgeries and was in quite a bit of pain. But working with the kids I discovered that as I focused on the children and the pain they were in, I lost track of my own pain.

RW:  Is the clown an archetype you can inhabit?

WG:   Sure.

RW:  Do you think, “I’m a clown?”

WG:  I don’t know. I can’t see you.

RW:  [laughs] No. I have a long way to go. If I evolved, I might become a clown.

WG:  Well, you need to go to camp Winnarainbow. They’ll teach you to clown. It’d be good for you. I think John Townsend said it most brilliantly in The Book of the Clown, “A clown is a poet who is also an orangutan.” But clown comes from the word “clod” or bumpkin, and the red nose indicates they were drunk. But I found all this out later. Suddenly I have these big shoes on and [laughs] a nose and I’m painting my face up, and where does it all come from? I began to study it, and it’s very fascinating, the path of the clown and the jester.

RW:  What have you found out about being a clown? What has been revealed?

WG:  It enables me to go places I couldn’t go as a regular kind of guy. People feel challenged by people going where I go. But when I put on the patina of a clown I’m no challenge to them in any way.

RW:  What do you wish for people when you become a clown?

WG:  I wish that they would find joy in the moment. It’s like I expressed in the film, laughter is the valve on the pressure cooker of life. Either you laugh at stuff or you’re going to end up with your beans on the ceiling.

RW:  At camp Winnarainbow in the film it showed the labyrinth you have on the grounds…

WG:  It’s a unicursal Cretan labyrinth. The oldest one is 3000 years old and was found on the island of Sardinia. The more common labyrinth, like the one you see at Grace Cathedral came about during the 11th or 12th century when Europeans could not go to Jerusalem on pilgrimage. So they developed this other labyrinth, which is different from the Pagan labyrinth, which made it to Scandanavia, to India and somehow to Peru and to the sun temple at Mesa Verde. That’s where I first encountered it when I spent time living with the Hopi Indians for a few months.

RW:  How did that happen?

WG:  I was enamored of the Book of the Hopi by Frank Waters. And that’s where I first saw the labyrinth. According to the Hopi if there was a condition of planetary emergency the different races would gather on this mesa for instruction from the spirit world. So I showed up. They said, “You’re pretty early.” But they took pity on me and I got to hang out with them for a while.

RW:  Was anything given to you?

WG:  Not something that I would feel comfortable talking about, but yes—not so much from the people as from the geography.

RW:  So you brought this labyrinth to camp Winnarainbow, then?

WG:  Yes. I asked Minalanska, who was an elder, what that was. She said, “Oh Wavy Gravy, that’s just the master plan of the universe.” So I borrowed a pencil and wrote it down, and I’ve brought it everywhere I’ve gone ever since. I learned to draw it. Even with my first book, I’d sign it and draw that labyrinth.

RW:  Now how do you make use of the labyrinth at camp for the kids?

WG:  A teepee at a time, in the evening, the campers get to walk the labyrinth to beautiful music under the stars. If they do good things, they get strokes. If they do bad things they get strikes. Three strikes and you’re out. You can always work off strikes, but you can get enough strikes to be sent home, too. By doing things above and beyond the ordinary camper—for instance, if you get eight stokes in a two-week session, you get to walk into the center of the labyrinth. In the center, there’s also these crystals. You get to take a crystal out of the labyrinth and take it home.

RW:  Do you talk to the kids about the labyrinth?

WG:  Oh, sure.

RW:  What do you tell them?

WG:  I tell them that the labyrinth is not a maze. Mazes are designed to get you lost. Labyrinths are designed to get you found. And I ask them to think of each step as a prayer for peace. I tell them you go into the labyrinth and that there’s an energy in the center that I call the spirit of Gaia, the earth mother. I say that if you have cares or problems you can leave them in the labyrinth and come out perhaps lighter than when you went in. And that is sometimes helpful to young people.

RW:  In the film you made a comment to one kid that the labyrinth is inside of you.

WG:  Oh, I tell all the kids that. The true labyrinth is inside you.

RW:  That’s powerful. From the film, I see that your life has been a journey. Do you feel it that way?

WG:  Absolutely. It’s been a great adventure.

RW:  What are some of the changes from where you were and where you are today?

WG:  The things that are the most significant for me in my life are the circus and performing arts camp that I’ve run with my wife Jahanara for over thirty years. We do nine weeks for kids and one week for grown-ups. And the Seva Foundation is another. Through it I’m able to raise funds to help the blind regain their sight. Eighty percent of the blind people in the world don’t need to be—they can get their sight back.

    When we first started doing the work it was about five dollars for a cataract operation. Now it’s close to fifty dollars for the operation in third world countries. If you go to SEVA.org you can find out all about us. We’ve helped to orchestrate—it’s going on three million sight-saving operations. I get to put on concerts to raise funds to do that. I’m going to be seventy-five years old in May and I’m looking forward to doing a concert in the Bay Area at the Craneway Pavillion in Richmond and in New York City at the Beacon Theater. And also I’m facing another basic spinal surgery in January. So I’ve got a lot of stuff on my plate.

RW:  I know we don’t have much more time, but …

WG:  Eternity now, I always say.  That’s one of my favorite quotes. And we’re all the same person trying to shakes hands with our self. I think that’s a good one, too.

RW:  I like those quotes. It’s clear that you’ve spent a lot of time doing forms of service. Camp Winnarainbow seems to be a service.

WG:  Well, my greatest legacy is the children that have come out of camp over the last thirty years. Lots of the kids who started camp when they were seven are now running the camp. And I’m sure it will go on long after I’m gone.

RW:  Is that something one begins to learn, that the deepest gifts come when one can look beyond personal wants to take in the needs of others?

WG:  That is my want! [laughs] Put your good where it will do the most. I can’t say it any better.

[WORKS AND CONVERSATIONS]

[thedogloverplanet]

Dog Training Complete Guide

Dog training is the process of teaching a dog to exhibit certain desired behaviors in specific circumstances. Some examples are:

* Teaching a dog basic obedience commands (part of obedience training) * Teaching a dog to perform tricks casually or for circus acts * Teaching a guide dog to lead the blind * Teaching a rescue dog to find victims of a disaster * Helping a hunting dog learn to perform its instinctive behaviors at appropriate times

The specific behaviors taught in each case are different, but the underlying principles are similar.

In the wild as pack animals, canines have natural instincts that favor training. These instincts are manifested when the dog lives with humans as a desire to please a handler, as a dog would please senior members in a pack in the wild. The handler is simply whoever is working with a dog at the time.

Basic training

Most dogs, no matter their eventual advanced training or intended purpose, live with people and therefore must behave in a way that makes them pleasant to have around and for their own safety and that of other people and pets. Dogs do not figure out basic obedience on their own; it must be trained.

Basic training classes

Professional “dog trainers” usually do not train the dogs, but actually train the owners how to train their own dogs. Although it is also possible to send a dog away to a training school, the owner still must at some point learn what the dog has learned and how to use it and reinforce it. Owners and dogs who attend class together have an opportunity to learn more about each other and how to work together under a trainer’s guidance. Training is most effective if everyone who handles the dog takes part in the training to ensure consistent commands, methods, and enforcement.

Formal training in classes is not always available until the puppy has completed all its vaccinations at around 4 months; however, some trainers offer puppy socialization classes in which puppies can enroll immediately after being placed in their permanent homes as long as disease risk is minimal and puppies have receieved initial vaccinations. In most cases, basic training classes accept only puppies who are at least 3 to 6 months old.

Age for early training

Dog training begins virtually at birth. Dogs that are handled and petted by humans regularly during the first eight weeks of life are generally much more amenable to being trained and living in human households. Ideally, puppies should be placed in their permanent homes between about 8 and 10 weeks of age. In some places it is against the law to take puppies away from their mothers before the age of 8 weeks. Before this age, puppies are still learning tremendous amounts of socialization skills from their mother. Puppies are innately more fearful of new things during the period from 10 to 12 weeks, which makes it harder for them to adapt to a new home.

Puppies can begin learning tricks and commands as early as 8 to 12 weeks of age; the only limitations are the pup’s stamina, concentration, and physical coordination. It is much easier to live with young dogs that have already learned basic commands such as sit. Waiting until the puppy is much older and larger and has already learned bad habits makes the training much more difficult.

There are some professional trainers who disagree with this idea, particularly those who train working dogs, detection dogs, police dogs, etc. They feel that obedience work shouldn’t start until the dog is at least a year old, or after the prey drive has fully developed. These trainers also take the position that spaying and neutering is harmful to the training process, again because of its negative impact on the dog’s prey drive.

Communicating with the dog

Fundamentally, dog training is about communication. From the human perspective the handler is communicating to the dog what behaviors are correct, desired, or preferred in what circumstances. From the canine perspective the handler must communicate what behaviors will give the dog the most satisfaction to his natural instincts and emotions. Without that inner satisfaction a dog will not work well.

A successful handler must also understand the communication that the dog sends to the handler. The dog can signal that he is unsure, confused, nervous, happy, excited, and so on. The emotional state of the dog is an important consideration in directing the training, as a dog that is stressed or distracted will not learn efficiently.

According to Learning Theory there are a four important messages that the handler can send the dog:

Reward or release marker Correct behavior. You have earned a reward. For example, “Free” followed by a reward.

Bridge Correct behavior. Continue and you will earn a reward. For example, “Good”.

No reward marker Incorrect behavior. Try something else. For example, “Uh-uh” or “Try again”.

Punishment marker Incorrect behavior. You have earned punishment. For example, “No”.

Using consistent signals or words for these messages enables the dog to understand them more quickly. If the handler sometimes says “good” as a reward marker and sometimes as a bridge, it is difficult for the dog to know when he has earned a reward.

Rewards can be treats, play, praise, or anything that the dog finds rewarding. Failure to reward after the reward marker diminishes the value of the reward marker and makes training more difficult.

These four messages do not have to be communicated with words, and nonverbal signals are often used. In particular, mechanical clickers are frequently used for the reward marker. Hand signals and body language also play an important part in learning for dogs.

Dogs usually do not generalize commands easily; that is, a dog who has learned a command in a particular location and situation may not immediately recognize the command to other situations. A dog who knows how to “down” in the living room may suffer genuine confusion if asked to “down” at the park or in the car. The command will need to be retaught in each new situation. This is sometimes called “cross-contextualization,” meaning the dog has to apply what’s been learned to many different contexts.

Reward and punishment

Most training revolves around giving the dog consequences for his behaviour, in the hope of influencing the behaviour the dog will exhibit in the future. Operant conditioning defines four types of consequences:

Positive reinforcement adds something to the situation to increase the chance of the behaviour being exhibited again (for example, giving a dog a treat when he sits.)

Negative reinforcement removes something from the situation to increase the chance of the behaviour being exhibited again (for example, releasing the tension on an uncomfortable training collar when the dog stops pulling on the leash).

Positive punishment adds something to the situation to decrease the chance of the behaviour being exhibited again (for example, growling at a misbehaving dog).

Negative punishment removes something from the situation to decrease the chance of the behaviour being exhibited again (for example, walking away from a dog who jumps up).

Most modern trainers say that they use “positive training methods”, which is a different meaning of the word “positive” from that in operant conditioning. “Positive training methods” generally means preferring the use of reward-based training to increase good behavior over that of physical punishment to decrease bad behavior. However, a good trainer understands all four methods, whether or not she can put operant-conditioning terminology to them, and applies them as appropriate for the dog, the breed, the handler, and the situation.

Rewards

Positive reinforcers can be anything that the dog finds rewarding — special food treats, the chance to play with a tug toy, social interaction with other dogs, or the owners attention. The more rewarding a dog finds a particular reinforcer, the more work he will be prepared to do in order to obtain the reinforcer.

Some trainers go through a process of teaching a puppy to strongly desire a particular toy, in order to make the toy a more powerful positive reinforcer for good behaviour. This process is called “building prey drive”, and is commonly used in the training of Narcotics Detection and Police Service dogs. The goal is to produce a dog who will work independently for long periods of time.

Some trainers believe that the toy acts as a positive reinforcer for the desired behavior, when in all likelihood the prey drive works on an entirely different level from standard training and conditioning techniques. This is seen most clearly in the fact that, according to the laws of operant conditioning, positive reinforcers lose their effectiveness if they’re given every single time a dog does what is desired of him; the more predictable the reinforcer, the less reliable the behavior. Yet detection dogs only work well when they are always rewarded with a toy, every single time they find drugs or explosives, etc. The reason for this disparity is that when a dog is trained through the prey drive, the training activates an instinctive, automatic sequence that has to be completed in order for the dog to feel satisfied. That sequence is: search, eye-stalk, chase, grab-bite, and kill bite. So when a dog searches and finds drugs or explosives, he feels he hasn’t finished his job unless he can bite something. This is the primary reason he’s always given the toy. It’s not really a positive reinforcer. If it were it would reduce the reliability of the behavior overall. It’s a means of completing the predatory sequence for the dog.

Punishments

“Positive punishment” is probably the consequence that is least used by modern dog trainers, as it must be used very carefully. A dog is generally only given this type of punishment if it is willfully disobeying the owner. Punishing a dog who does not understand what is being asked of him is not only unfair to the dog, but can make the dog a fearful or unwilling worker.

Punishments are administered only as appropriate for the dog’s personality, age, and experience. A sharp No works for many dogs, but some dogs even show signs of fear or anxiety with harsh verbal corrections. On the other hand, certain dogs with ‘harder’ temperaments may ignore a verbal reprimand, and may work best if the reprimand is coupled with a physical punishment such as a quick tug on a training collar. Trainers generally advise keeping hand contact with the dog to positive interactions; if hands are used to threaten or hurt, some dogs may begin to behave defensively when stroked or handled.

Avoiding punishment

Keeping a puppy on a leash in challenging situations or in his crate or pen when not closely supervised prevents the puppy from getting into situations that might otherwise invite an owner’s harsh reaction (such as chewing up a favorite pair of shoes).

The command voice

When giving commands to a dog, a calm, firm, authoritative voice is most effective. Dogs do not respond well to hesitant, pleading voices, nor to yelling, which might sound to the dog like threatening barking or scolding. It is also important that the word used for the command and the pitch of the voice be consistent each time the command is delivered so that the dog can more easily learn what the owner means (siiiiiiiiiiiit does not sound the same as sit, for example).

Using the puppy’s name before a command ensures that the dog knows that a command is coming, that it is for him (rather than for other dogs, children, or people), and that he should pay attention. This is important because dogs hear a lot of human speech that has no relevance for them at all, and it is easy for them to disregard commands amongst the babble.

To reinforce the command, the dog always gets some kind of reward or reinforcement (praise and usually a treat or toy) when it performs the action correctly. This helps the dog to understand that he has done a good thing.

Note that not all dogs are trained to voice command. Many working breeds of dog are not trained to a voice command at all; they are taught to obey a combination of whistles and hand signals. Deaf dogs are perfectly capable of learning to obey visual signals alone. Many obedience classes teach hand signals for common commands in addition to voice signals; these signals can be useful in quiet situations, at a distance, and in advanced obedience competitions.

The specific command words are not important, although common words in English include sit, down, come, and stay. Short, clear words that are easily understood by other humans are generally recommended; that way, people will understand what a handler is telling his dog to do and other handlers have a good chance of controlling someone else’s dog if necessary. In fact, dogs can learn commands in any language or other communications medium, including whistles, mouth sounds, hand gestures, and so forth.

Thanks For Reading Hope This Will Help You

[thestarkerisobvious]

Sixteen - The Masked Librarian

amazing art work by @starker-sorbet​  A snugglefic for @mrstarksbabyy​

Sixteen

1 The Masked Librarian

After his sixteenth birthday, Peter used his birthday money to buy several notebooks and spent the summer filling them up with the facts he had gleaned from Tony, along with the books he had gotten from the libraries.  For fear they would be found, he wrote a lie in bold marker on the covers:  

                                                Novel Ideas:  

                                              Ideas for a Novel

Putting a timeline together with the information he got from Tony was impossible.  Tony was far more concerned with his duties around the farm than who was actually ordering him around.  

Peter’s constant questions finally made it clear – Tony had never been terribly concerned with whom he was serving, as long as he was fed and had a job to do.  Who was the son, nephew or uncle or son-of-the-uncle of whom ultimately did not concern him.  The title of “Master” wasn’t even passed on directly from father to son in every case, although it was, Peter finally ascertained, only given to a male blood relative of the original Post homesteader.  There were other problems, too, with the things Peter was being told.  Tony had no interest in years or wars or anything in American history that Peter could plot along a timeline.  Peter quickly learned there was no point in asking “which war?”  Tony had never understood which wars were which, just that men sometimes left for them.  To Tony, all the wars were “The War.”  To further complicate things, Peter strongly suspected that New York City was referred to as “New Amsterdam” by the Post family long after it was really called something else.

What he could find in the libraries was sparse.  The best he could find was the same stories they had been told when they bought the house: that two Post brothers had come from Germany and married a woman who was related to the royal family in Portugal.  That the boys were always taught German in honor of the patriarchs and the girls Portuguese, for the same reason.  That a Post had been a famous hero in the Civil War until he died by Direct Encounter With A Cannonball.  No other details.

Until the 1920s.  That’s when things got interesting..  The Post Homestead, at one time, had been a type of artist colony, which was to say, the sprawling Post family were famous for inviting artists to live, sometimes for years, as guests in their multi-generation household.    This had started out as a series of artisans hired to tutor the multiple Post daughters.  Over the decades this had become a tiny thriving community.  Mostly painters and sculptors, according to the books, but there were musicians too.  This had caused a conflict between the Post family and the town – for a period of the time the Post Homestead had been bringing in jazz musicians at great expense, much to the delight of the tiny artistic community.  To the town at large, not so much.  (Those of the African American persuasion were welcomed to come and work in Devil’s Hollow, but not “let the sun set” upon them.  The Post Family apparently did not share those same reservations.)

What happened after that was hard to piece together.  Tony wasn’t around to ask, and even if he was, he might not have known the answer.  But the death of Jedediah Post certainly must have been a turning point. 

Or maybe it just seemed that way to Peter because that was the most newsworthy event he could find.  Jedediah Post was a man of considerable wealth, and left a great deal of it to the towns around him, as well as three different museums in New York City.  But none to Devil’s Hollow.  The amount of art the family had amassed was significant, including paintings, sculptures and something called “art deco” which, as far as Peter could tell, involved a lot of very fancy furniture.  The donations were large and it was easy to track down stories about them.  Some of the museums in New York City he had even been to, although he had never seen the art in question (he was more of a Science Exhibit man himself) but some Aunt May had seen. 

The breadth of the donations was breathtaking, but mostly Peter’s research turned up bitterness and resentment.  Jedediah Post had left nothing to the Devil’s Hollow library, nor the museum (there had been one in those days) nor the school.  Apparently After-You-Die Donations had been a local phenomenon in Devil’s Hollow, particularly from the Post family.  That ended, it appeared, with Jedediah. 

Was there a reason?  Did Jed Post attempt to create an artistic community at the Post Homestead, and resent the town’s undue influence on whom he was allowed to invite?  Or did he simply make more friends outside the boundaries of the town than in?  And was that why the sprawling Post family all relocated elsewhere?  Whatever had happened, sometime in between the 1930’s and the 40’s the last Post son was living there completely and utterly by himself. 

Was he hated by the townspeople because he was a hostile misanthrope, or did he become a hostile misanthrope BECAUSE he was hated by the townspeople?   Whatever had happened, the Post estate had gone from a busy, noisy, bustling place to a house with one resident.  

Evan Post.

Evan Post… and Tony.

When Peter wasn’t pouring over his books he was remembering what it was like to be wrapped up in the arms of the thing that lived under the bed.  Which reminded him of his promise to the thing that lived under his bed.  He took long walks daily, getting sunlight and climbing every available surface that looked climbable, doing all those things that he had been promised would make him “healthy.”  Exercise by itself was boring, but the further he could walk the more wildlife he could observe.  The higher he climbed, the same.  Aunt May started to call him “The Spider” as he came home daily reporting all the wildlife he had observed from dizzying heights.  The exercise did him good, it made him hungrier at night and soon he had grown several inches and put on more weight.  He admired himself in the bathroom mirror, he enjoyed standing on the scale.  He was proud of his new body.  

He couldn’t wait to show Tony.

The long walks into the forest and the many hours sitting in trees gave Peter time to think about what life had been like for his friend in the years between Jedediah and Evan Post.  Which led to even weightier thoughts about what life had been like for Tony in the years between life in the monastery and life with the stylite Simeon the Elder.

Primarily, Peter thought about Tony, and what Tony liked to eat.

In the monastery, it appeared Tony and the others (the ones he called “us”) were fed just like guard dogs.  Or more correctly, like hellhounds.  They were fed on cattle and “infernal vapors” and, on rare occasions, people.  All until he was sent to live with Simeon on a pillar where he learned how to feed entirely on feelings.

Peter went over it in his head many times, the things Tony had said about Simeon and his other monk-lover, the one he had left behind without a single thought.  Simeon he had loved, Peter was sure of it.  “I was his beloved,” Tony had said.  (He had also spoken about touching, about pretending to be shy, about needing to be ‘taught.’  Peter tried not to think about that, but he did.  He thought about it a lot.)  

It was true, Tony might have loved Simeon the same way he loved the fields of cattle being raised to feed him, but he loved the man nonetheless.  Spent 12 years with him on a pillar, when he was supposed to be convincing him to return to the monastery.  Protected his ability to ask questions. Took away his hurt and his desire to hurt himself.   Lived on that, and nothing but that, until the day he was forced to kill the man.  That was something he could not control, Peter was certain, any more than he could control being after “sent into the ground.”

The next thing he knew, he was working in the New World.  Was he fed with farm animals, too, working on the farm as he did?  The only thing Peter could think of was the roaring twenties and the artists that lived and created at the Post Homestead.  The layout of the little artist colony was easy to see from his vantage points in the tops of trees or in his hiding place in the empty barn.    Barns, silos, and animal stalls had been razed and almost a dozen cottage-like guest cottages built by Jedediah in his day, only to be raized to their foundations by Evan decades later.  Had Evan despised growing up in that cacophony, unable to find a quiet place to himself, destroying all vestiges of it in his old age?  Or had he treasured that life, growing up in the safety of his title as son of the lord of the manor, removing the artists village when he finally understood he would never see the likes of it again?  Had he hated people as an old man because he had hated people all his life?  Of had he considered the composers, painters and sculptures the ‘normal’ people, and hated the people of Devil’s Holler’ because they were anything but normal?

Even knowing what Evan Post had done, Peter could still sympathies.  He himself had to go to school with boys his age who complained that the “for’ners, n-words and queers” were taking over the country, while he sat in silence and day-dreamed about the day he could go to college in New York City and be surrounded by “for’ners, n-words and queers” again.

Peter tried to picture it, sitting up in a tree and observing the whole of the Post Homestead.  A little village of people, creating, despairing, hoping, disappointing, arguing, loving, scheming, fearing.  And Tony underneath it, grazing on it all.  Tony spoke of feeding from artists after the work was done, or else the work would never get finished.  Did he know it instinctively?  Or did he learn through trial and error?  How much art was never complete because he fed too soon?  It couldn’t have been much, the finished artworks that DID come from the Post Homestead were legion.  Did the artists even know they were feeding Tony their light?  Was it voluntary?  Mandatory?  Tony remembered a grandmother that called him “a musa,” The Muse.  Did they think Tony was the cause of the art that was produced in this place, or did they realize he was simply growing stronger from it?

And where did the money come from?  The Post Homestead was an actual farm, and then one day it wasn’t.  Were the artists all brought here because Jedediah Post was a very rich man, and knew what he wanted to spend his wealth upon art?  Or did Jedediah invest his money into feeding Tony, which in turn made him a very rich man?

And how difficult was it for Tony, feasting on the light of sculptors, painters and controversial Jazz musicians, to learn how to live on nothing but the hate and fear of Evan Post?  What did that turn him into?  Tony readily admitted that he had driven off everyone who had come to live in the Post Homestead before Peter’s family, driving them away because all he wanted to drink was fear.  Couldn’t stop seeking out fear, causing the fear, even when he realized his own greed was driving away his only source of food.

And he had tried to inspire fear in Peter and his little family of three, Peter remembered.  When his quiet family moved into the vast house they decided, that very first night, that there was a good reason why the Post Homestead was considered haunted.  Their quiet country home was anything but quiet. It wasn’t as noisy as their New York City apartment, of course, but still not quiet.  Not only did floors creak and doors slam in empty rooms, but entire wings groaned and floorboards squeaked in the exact rhythm of footsteps.  The wind howled under the porch like an angry monster.  The first night in their new home not a single member of the family slept a wink.

So, naturally, the little family sat at the breakfast table the next and formulated a plan – a research plan.  That very day they set out for the tiny town library, got library cards, and searched out books on architecture.  When the library proved lacking they drove to the next town and did the same.  Soon Peter had a pile of books to read and May and Ben set out to fix up their Still-Quieter-Than-New-York-City farmhouse.  Peter found the books fascinating, had read them to May as she worked in the kitchen or Ben as he worked on the fences, but when those two ran him off he mostly he found himself reading out loud to himself in his room.

And, just like that, the noises quieted down.

The wolves, too, that had howled with alarming frequency when they first arrived (alarming because they had been assured there were no wolves in the woods anymore) dried up the very weekend Peter had come home with an armload of books about canines.  At the time it seemed to Peter that he had superpowers.  Whatever alarming phenomenon their haunted house produced, Peter could make it go away just by researching it.  He joked about it with Aunt May as he read to her about plumbing at the breakfast table (the obvious reason for the growling sounds coming from the basement.)  She called him “The Masked Librarian.” 

Now, he realized, he had been doing something else entirely.  Tony had lived on a diet of fear.  But Peter was only providing Tony with questions, the joy of gaining new information, followed by more information.  The thing Tony called “light.” 

Sometimes Peter wondered if Tony would be happier in a household with more emotional displays – Peter knew that “light” was not simply the positive emotions.  In addition to fear and hate, Tony fed on anger, sorrow and righteous indignation just as well.  But Peter’s little family had certainly put Tony on a strict diet.  May was stubbornly, sometimes grimly, cheerful whereas Uncle Ben raised his voice so very rarely Peter could remember every single instant.  Peter was by far the most emotional of the trio, reading books about pollution that made him cry, about endangered animals and acid rain that made him so angry he felt like punching the walls.  Tony had requested all of those kinds of books, had requested laughter and tears and anger and questions. 

Had requested everything but fear.

He had described Peter as ‘fearless,’ and in many ways that was true.  Maybe Peter had inherited some stubborn, determined optimism from the same ancestor as Aunt May, or maybe he had learned it hanging onto her apron strings.  In any case when he had first discovered that there was a voice talking to him from under his bed, fearlessness and determination had certainly served him well.

But now that the thing that lived under his bed had a name and a backstory, Peter certainly felt some real fears creeping in.

Especially as the season that Tony had told him to wait for came creeping in, a sixteen-year-old Peter was aware of some budding feelings.  His body, he was told, would be changing.  He thought he was prepared for that.  But he was finding, much to his alarm, that his brain was changing too.  Watching the foxes chase rabbits from his perch high in a tree, or watching the owls devour their prey whole from his hiding place in the barn, Peter poked at those fears gingerly, teasing around the edges.

All his life, it seemed, pretending the fear wasn’t real had served him well.   Now he wasn’t so sure.  Normally, when Peter Parker was alarmed by something, he looked it up at the library.  But he wasn’t sure there were any books on this subject.

So he did the only think he could have done, he reviewed it in his brain.  Reviewed everything he knew about Tony.  Everything he knew about the thing that lived under his bed.

As he went over the story in his mind, he found himself with two things that he decided not to label ‘fears’ after all.  He decided it would be more expedient to label them ‘regrets.’

Alright, three.  Maybe four.

[goodshipsherlollipop]

Self-interview (but not really) Part 2

Thanks again @sherlollyappreciationweek

Comp1mom

Q: What made you decide to create a “Christian” version of Sherlock?  According to the BBC version, he is a self-avowed atheist.

A: When I look at Sherlock’s true nature, I see such potential for him as a Christian.  He exhibits so many characteristics that we, as Christians, try to show - forgiveness of wrongs done to him (note how he doesn’t fight back when John assaults him); sacrificial love (his willingness to die for others, as in TRF); the desire for true justice, the way Moriarty says he’s  “on the side of the angels”.  At least for me, I was intrigued by the idea of converting him to Christianity, to give him a true purpose for his life that has eternal consequences.  

Q: Do you think that portraying Sherlock as a Christian is important? Why or why not?

A: I am always hopeful that people will read and see the validity in my reasoning for him becoming a Christian, given how often he has escaped death.  Quite often, in stories, Molly puts the question to him - Why are you still here?  Why have you escaped death so many times?  That should be enough to make anyone reevaluate their life’s purpose.

Q: Molly Hooper is the one who proselytizes him, right? Why do you use Molly? Why not John, who must be a believer in Christ in some way or he would have had a problem with christening Rosie?

A: For me, it HAD to be Molly.  Her character and the way she behaves in the show is consistent with the behaviour of a Christian.  She loves Sherlock unconditionally; she sees beyond the detective persona to the real man beneath.  She needs to be the catalyst for Sherlock to be open to the idea of Christianity, because he loves and trusts her.  John, although he certainly believes in God and has some Christian (or Catholic in my story canon) background, does not live a life that is consistent with Christianity and its ideals.  He has multiple sexual partners.  Although I think he is an ethical man, I don’t believe he has the kind of sexual morality that is typical of committed Christians. Identifying yourself as a Christian because you were raised in a Christian home and went to church, does not make you one if you display behaviour that is contrary to what the Bible teaches.  Either you’re committed to what you believe and try to follow what the Bible teaches, or you are not really committed to your faith, (not that Christians are perfect - far from it, but we do try to follow what the Bible teaches, and we feel guilt when we fail).  There’s a difference between being a Jesus fan and a Jesus follower.

Q: What evidence does Molly use to convince Sherlock of a Higher Power?

A:  In various stories, Molly points out the beauty and balance of creation, that it does not make sense for that balance to have occurred spontaneously.  She also points out the complexity of the human body and how it is built with all its systems designed to work in harmony.  Personally, I believe these two facts are huge considerations, and that it takes far less of a leap in logic to believe something created this beauty, rather than it happening spontaneously.  Molly also points out the fact that Sherlock has been spared from death so many times and asks him to question why that is so, whether there is a higher purpose to his life because of that.  

Q: How do you maintain Sherlock’s acerbic wit and still have him believe that Jesus Christ is more than a swear, is a deity, the Deity?

A:  I try to show that Sherlock is not the “perfect” Christian.  He has many years of conditioning in one type of behaviour, and that is something that is going to come out from time to time. I don’t find it as difficult to write him as someone who does not use the name of Jesus Christ in a profane way, because he doesn't talk that way in the show (unlike John). Personally, I am also not comfortable in writing (or reading) stories that use the name of Jesus Christ as an expletive.

Q: What does belief in Jesus Christ do for his detective work? Or does it influence his detective work?

A: Oh, I definitely think his faith adds an element of compassion to Sherlock’s detective work.  He is no longer answerable only to himself, but he is trying to behave in a way that displays his faith and pleases God.  That means thinking before he speaks, caring about the people involved in the case, rather than just the case itself. His motives, to glorify God in his work, are his priority.

Q: Is there any evidence in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s writing that Sherlock Holmes believes in Something Higher than himself?

A:  I absolutely believe ACD’s Sherlock believed in God, which is one of the reasons I felt it believable to change BBC Sherlock’s atheistic stance.  ACD’s Sherlock mentions Providence, as evidenced in this quote from The Naval Treaty.

“Our highest assurance of the goodness of Providence seems to me to rest in the flowers. All other things, our powers, our desires, our food, are all really necessary for our existence in the first instance. But this rose is an extra. Its smell and its color are an embellishment of life, not a condition of it. It is only goodness which gives extras, and so I say again that we have much to hope from the flowers.”

Also, in The Boscombe Valley Mystery, when Sherlock lets a dying killer go, he says, “You are yourself aware that you will soon have to answer for your deed at a higher court than the Assizes.” This implies God will judge the man after he dies.

Penelope Chestnut

Q: How long have you written  Sherlolly stories? What made you start writing?

A: A dear friend of mine recommended watching Sherlock, and my husband and I binge watched it in the summer of 2017.  After the final episode, I was so sad that the Sherlock and Molly dynamic was not resolved, I was moved to write a happy ending for them.  My daughters have been involved in fanfiction for years, so I knew people did this kind of thing.  My intention was to write a one-shot happy ending for them, just for my own satisfaction.  After I wrote it, though, I found I didn't want to let the characters go.   I had fallen in love with their story, and I wanted to keep writing for them.  60 chapters later, I decided to start publishing my story, A Journey to Love, Faith and Marriage.  This was just over 3 years ago, on November 7th 2017,  when I joined fanfiction.net.  I later joined ao3 as well and was publishing on both sites for quite some time.  I've had a better response though on fanfiction.net, so have pretty much limited myself to that site over the past year and a half.  I continue to make revisions and correct errors on my fanfiction.net stories, while I don’t really do anything on ao3. I have been likened to a writing machine on a couple occasions.  To date, on fanfiction.net, I have published over 1.9m words.  Putting that in perspective, in three years I've published the equivalent of more than 7 volumes of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (the longest book in her series), or close to two and a half volumes of the Holy Bible.

Q: Do you have a certain routine you follow when you write?

A: I don’t have a set daily routine, but I do set myself a goal to complete a certain amount of work per week.  This has changed over time.  Currently, I set myself the goal to write at least one chapter of a story each week, to keep myself in line with my publishing schedule of one chapter per week.  If I am writing an installment for my COVID-19 series that is published in addition to my regular publishing schedule, I still try to write that in addition to my usual chapter writing for the week.  So, at times I write more in a week than other times. I am also working on revising one of my AU’s into a Christian historical romance I hope to publish professionally next year.  

Q: What is it like being a Christian author?

A: It brings me joy to spread a Christian message through my work, but, like anyone else, at times I do suffer self-doubt.  I've questioned in the past whether my limited audience makes worthwhile the enormous effort I put into writing these stories.  It can definitely be discouraging to get very little return on your work, and I have a bad habit of comparing myself to more “popular” writers in the fandom.  I am, however, getting better at recognizing my own self-worth, having confidence that the lack of readers is not a reflection on my ability and talent as a writer, but more a reflection on the general lack of interest from the majority of Sherlolly fans in reading stories with Christian themes and the values that go along with it (particularly sexual purity outside marriage). Just as I don’t care to read stories of characters with a colourful sexual history because I don’t agree with that kind of behaviour due to my Christian beliefs, I imagine those without similar beliefs are probably not interested in reading about sexual purity or abstinence before marriage, as it is not something they can relate to. Thankfully, I am blessed to have a small but vocal support group who really give me the impetus to keep writing these Christian stories.

Q: Are there any devices you use in your writing as a legally blind author?

A:  As I mentioned earlier, I absolutely would be lost without my iPad.  Actually, it is the larger sized iPad Pro.  I would also be lost without programs that give me the ability to resize the font so I can read it!  Thank God for technology!

If you made it to the end of this two-part interview, I hope you enjoyed getting to know my writing journey better.  God bless!

[miraworos]

Our Remedies Oft in Ourselves Do Lie (Rated T)

Ten days. It had been ten bloody days since Crowley and Aziraphale had fooled their respective head offices and celebrated at the Ritz. Ten days didn’t seem like a Hell of a lot, but when it was ten days added onto six thousand years of bleeding his heart dry with pining for his best friend, it was a sodding eon. 

And Crowley was literally bent out of shape about it. He couldn’t concentrate. He could barely look at Aziraphale without falling down for no apparent reason. His blasted legs would just stop working, and he’d have to brace himself as gracefully as possible against the nearest surface to make it look deliberate. Like he just wanted to lean. Flash bastard and all that. He couldn’t eat (which was fairly routine). He couldn’t sleep (which was categorically not). He was a bloody mess, and he had no idea how to fix it.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale was completely fine. Acting like not a bloody thing was different. All smiles and inviting Crowley in for a nightcap and calling him on the phone to arrange a visit to the new museum exhibit about Satan knew what. Crowley was so busy staggering into priceless artifacts and getting shouted at by security that he had no idea afterward what they’d even gone in to see. 

The point was, Aziraphale was normal, and Crowley was not. And he was fairly sure it had something to do with the uncontrollable lust-love-whatever-EMOTIONS that he couldn’t stop feeling for a certain angel now that Hell was no longer breathing down his neck.

Crowley had tried to stay away for a bit, get some distance between them, but the Bentley, and his phone, and even his own feet all conspired to take him straight to Aziraphale’s door no matter what he said about it. Crowley had then tried to pretend to himself that Hell was still in the picture, still watching his every move so that he dare not say anything to Aziraphale for fear of putting them both in danger again. All that had got him was a bad case of jump-out-of-his-skin paranoia and an outbreak of supremely attractive hives. So at last he had tried to actually address it with the angel--and the stuttering stream-of-consciousness drivel that fell out of his mouth merely led to a confused look and a sincere, if somewhat condescending, “Crowley, are you quite all right?” 

So. Now he was here. Because he was desperate. Because he had literally nowhere else to turn. Because Aziraphale happened to mention that the woman would be leaving town soon, and it had put the idea in his head. And, frankly, because he was a bloody idiot with zero chill.

He rang the bell first before reading the sign.

Madam Tracy, Sibyl to the Stars, By Appointment Only, DON’T RING THE BELL

“Bollocks,” Crowley swore, snapping his fingers.

Madam Tracy opened the door in a swirl of robes. She was wearing considerably less makeup than the last time Crowley had seen her, and was minus one ginger wig.

“Mr. Crowley,” she said, surprised. “It appears we had an appointment. I have no idea how I missed that in my diary this morning. Won’t you come in?”

“Obliged,” Crowley muttered as he followed her into a nearby sitting room.

“I’ll just get us some tea.”

As she bustled about in the kitchen, Crowley took in the tawdry fabrics, brass figurines, and crystal ball.

“Here we are,” she said kindly as she settled the cup onto the table in front of him. “What can I do for you, Mr. Crowley?”

“I need some sort of…” He waved his hand vaguely. “...hocus pocus. Something to tell me...what to do.”

“What to do about what, love?”

“I have a...a problem. I can’t be more specific.”

Madam Tracy raised an eyebrow that could either mean I know exactly what your problem is, you daft pillock, or I am only tolerating your brusque manner because you’re paying me. He didn’t give a blessing which it was. He just wanted someone to tell him what to do.

“Cards, then,” she said, picking up the crystal ball as if it weighed nothing (which was likely, since it was obviously made of plastic) and set it on the floor next to the table. Then she pulled a squarish, scarf-wrapped bundle from a pocket in her voluminous robes. She set the bundle on the table and untied the knot, folding out each corner of the scarf around a deck of Tarot cards.

After unwrapping the cards, she closed her eyes and folded her hands together, making some sort of hmming-hrrking noise in the back of her throat that did not sound particularly healthy, nor confidence-inducing. This had clearly been a Bad Idea.

Her eyes popped open like someone had pinched her arse. Then her features relaxed into her usual smile, and she started shuffling the cards. After a minute or two of shuffling and sorting with a sublime expression on her face, she laid the deck on the table in front of Crowley.

“Now, cut the deck in half whilst contemplating your question.”

Crowley did as he was told, though he very nearly took her literally and cut the cards into pieces out of spite.

“There, there,” she said, looking down at the cards rather than at him. “It will be alright. We’ll see what the cards have to say, hm?”

Crowley ground his teeth together and slumped loafishly in his chair. Profoundly. Stupid. Idea.

“Well, isn’t this interesting?” she said after she’d laid out a cross pattern of four cards.

“Interesting?” he said, leaning forward. Maybe she’d See something useful, though truthfully, it looked to him like a nine-year-old had gone to a Ren Fair, got a contact high from all the weed, and decided to draw silly pictures.

“Yes. You see this card here at the top? That’s the Seven of Wands, love, only it’s reversed. And in this position in the spread, it’s saying that you need to believe in yourself. You’re battle weary from a long, dark struggle. But you’ve persevered, haven’t you? You’ve made it. So hold to that belief as you’re dealing with your problem.”

Crowley harrumphed. Sounded like a bunch of garbage psychobabble to him. Though the part about the battle weariness was true, he supposed. He nodded for her to continue.

“This card here, the Knight of Cups, is telling you there’s a gallant man in your life that you need to propose to.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You need to propose, love.”

“Propose...like...marriage?”

Madam Tracy pursed her lips, looking at him as if he were being particularly thick. “Could be marriage. Could be an arrangement of sorts? The cards only reinforce what you already know.”

“Shows what good they are, then,” Crowley sniffed. “I know fuck all about anything.”

Tracy sighed heavily and took a sip of her tea.

“Wassat one?” Crowley said, indicating the card on the right. “I like that one. Pointy swords, girl all tied up. That looks like me.”

“Ah, yes. The Eight of Swords. But it’s reversed, love.”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning you’re in a rut, and you need to use the strength we talked about with the Seven of Wands to dredge yourself out of it. You are your own worst enemy, dear. Getting in your own way all the time.”

“Huh, yeah, well… I resemble that remark, I suppose.”

“And this one is the most important card. It’s the What’s-Next card, you know. The Magician.”

“The Magician? Augh, really?” Crowley said, wrinkling his nose in disdain. Charlatans. Totally bamboozled Aziraphale last century. Crowley’d never cared for them since. “Can’t bloody stand magicians.”

“This one is special,” Tracy insisted. “This one is positive, quick-thinking, and inspiring. Harness that positive energy, and your problem will be resolved as if by magic.”

Crowley sat for a long moment--a long few moments, in point of fact--considering what Tracy, and the cards, had told him. On the one hand, they’d been vague and unhelpful. On the other hand, they’d been...hm...vague and unhelpful.

“Yeah, I don’t get it,” he said.

Tracy rolled her eyes to the ceiling, and said in an overly calm voice, “The cards are telling you to just kiss him already.”

Crowley, who’d decided for some silly reason to tilt his chair back at that particular moment, fell completely to the floor, knocking the table with his foot and sending tarot cards flying in every direction.

“What?” he squeaked, popping back up onto his feet as Tracy rose gracefully to hers.

“I said,” she began, taking a deep breath. “Just kiss him already, you ridiculous person. Saints preserve us, you are incredibly dense.”

Crowley gaped at her for a full minute in complete shock.

For her part, Tracy straightened her robes, and plastered her calm smile back into place.

“Thank you so much for coming, love. That’ll be eighty quid.”

Grumbling, Crowley paid her, and then sped the Bentley all the way back to the bookshop. 

Stupid cards, stupid fortune, stupid brain not knowing what to do. Tracy got one thing right: he couldn’t go back, and he couldn’t stay still. He had to do something or he’d end up like that girl all tied up and abandoned. And he had to admit that having his problems resolved as if by magic held a tremendous amount of appeal.

Maybe...maybe he should take Tracy’s advice. What was the worst that could happen? Okay, the worst that could happen is that he’d lose the love of his life and his best friend and any hope of happiness in this life or any other. Splendid.

He was still undecided about what he was actually going to do when he shoved open the door to the bookstore and called for the angel.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley whipped off his sunglasses. “Aziraphale, where are you?”

“Here, dear,” the angel said, calm as you please, standing at the top of the stairs to the flat he never used. “Whatever is the matter? You look positively disheveled.”

“Dish--? Ngh-- Angel, come down here.”

With an arched eyebrow that Crowley could see even from this distance, Aziraphale capitulated and walked steadily down the stairs towards him. Crowley’s legs wobbled treacherously while he waited, the shifty bastards.

As the angel’s feet touched the floorboards, he said, “Crowley, what could possibly be so--”

“I…” Crowley interrupted, but then stopped, words stuck in his throat.

“Yes?” Aziraphale said with a half-amused, half-exasperated expression.

“Fuck it,” Crowley said. 

He lurched forward and captured the angel’s face in his hands. He paused the length of a heartbeat, waiting for Aziraphale to pull back, to protest. But he didn’t protest--he slid his hand over Crowley’s wrist, gripping it softly, as if granting permission. So Crowley leaned that one inch further and pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s, pouring into it all of the strength and faith and adoration and magic he felt for the one being he loved enough to stay and save the world for.

Crowley could barely feel his body for all the energy radiating between them as they kissed. And he wondered, for just a moment, if this was what it felt like to be discorporated. 

A full measure of euphoria later, Crowley pulled back to assess the angel’s reaction.

“Sorry,” he said huskily. “Should’ve asked first.”

But Aziraphale was smiling up at him without a trace of regret or worry. 

“The only apology I’ll accept is one for taking so damned long to kiss me in the first place,” he said, his smile turning smug.

Crowley gaped, speechlessly. “Wh-- You could have kissed me!”

“I suppose so,” the angel said, tracing a finger along Crowley’s jaw and gazing at him in a dreamy fashion that was causing havoc in Crowley’s lower extremities. “But sometimes an angel likes to be wooed. I have standards.”

Crowley scoffed. “Oh, oh, well, alright then. I suppose it was worth all the anguish I’ve suffered this last fortnight. You have standards, after all.”

“Mmm,” Aziraphale agreed, unfazed. “Anguished, were you?”

Crowley made a few inarticulate noises as the angel’s hand dropped from his face to stroke his hip. 

“I bet I can think of a few ways to console you,” he said, leaning in for another kiss.

Fuck, Crowley realized in that moment of neurons exploding in his corporeal brain, the cards were right. 

It was the last cogent thought he had for, frankly, an obscene amount of time.

* * *

The next afternoon, Aziraphale hummed to himself as he shelved a few books on the ancient art of divination from his section on human mysticism. Crowley had gone to get them something to nosh on, and just in time, too, for Aziraphale was positively famished from the previous night’s--and morning’s--activities. He’d need all the sustenance he could get to keep up with Crowley’s robust energy levels. Not that he was complaining. He had plans for later that evening, and he intended to see them through.

A knock at the door interrupted his ruminations. He set the books on a nearby stack and walked to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open, as he already knew who would be on the other side.

“Good day, love,” said Tracy with a brilliant smile. She was wearing a sedate cardigan and beige, knee-length skirt. “I hope everything went as expected last night.”

“Oh, yes. Very much so, thank you, my dear.”

“Always happy to help out a friend,” she said, winking at him. Then she held out her hand. “That’ll be eighty quid, love.”

Aziraphale pulled out his rarely used wallet and handed over the requested fee.

“Worth every penny,” he said, smiling.

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[birdlord]

Every Book I Read in 2019

This was a heavier reading year for me (heavier culture-consumption year in general) partly because my partner started logging his books read, and then, of course, it’s a competition.

01 Morvern Callar; Alan Warner - One of the starkest books I’ve ever read. What is it about Scotland that breeds writers with such brutal, distant perspectives on life? Must be all the rocks. 

02 21 Things You Might Not Know About the Indian Act; Bob Joseph - I haven’t had much education in Canada’s relationship to the Indigenous nations that came before it, so this opened things up for me quite a bit. The first and most fundamental awakening is to the fact that this is not a story of progress from worse to better (which is what a simplistic, grade school understanding of smallpox blankets>residential schools>reserves would tell you), in fact, the nation to nation relationship of early contact was often superior to what we have today. I wish there was more of a call to action, but apparently a sequel is on its way. 

03 The Plot Against America; Philip Roth - An alternative history that in some ways mirrors our present. I did feel like I was always waiting for something to happen, but I suppose the point is that, even at the end of the world, disasters proceed incrementally. 

04 Sabrina; Nick Drnaso - The blank art style and lack of contrast in the colouring of each page really reinforces the feeling of impersonal vacancy between most of the characters. I wonder how this will read in the future, as it’s very much based in today’s relationship to friends and technology. 

05 Perfumes: The Guide; Luca Turn & Tania Sanchez - One of the things I like to do when I need to turn my brain off online is reading perfume reviews. That’s where I found out about this book, which runs through different scent families and reviews specific well-known perfumes. Every topic has its boffins, and these two are particularly witty and readable. 

06 Adventures in the Screen Trade; William Goldman - Reading this made me realize how little of the cinema of the 1970s I’ve actually seen, beyond the usual heavy hitters. Ultimately I found this pretty thin, a few peices of advice stitched together with anecdotes about a Hollywood that is barely recognizable today. 

07 The Age of Innocence; Edith Wharton - A love triangle in which the fulcrum is a terribly irritating person, someone who thinks himself far more outré than he is. Nonetheless, I was taken in by this story of “rebellion”, such as it was, to be compelling.

08 Boom Town: The Fantastical Saga of Oklahoma City, Its Chaotic Founding, Its Apocalyptic Weather, Its Purloined Basketball Team, and the Dream of Becoming a World-class Metropolis; Sam Anderson - Like a novel that follows various separate characters, this book switches between tales of the founding of Oklahoma City with basketball facts and encounters with various oddball city residents. It’s certainly a fun ride, but you may find, as I did, that some parts of the narrative interest you more than others. Longest subtitle ever?

09 World of Yesterday; Stefan Zweig - A memoir of pre-war Austria and its artistic communities, told by one of its best-known exports. Particularly wrenching with regards to the buildup to WWII, from the perspective of those who had been through this experience before, so recently. 

10 Teach us to Sit Still: A Sceptic’s Search for Health and Healing; Tim Parks - A writer finds himself plagued by pain that conventional doctors aren’t able to cure, so he heads further afield to see if he can use stillness-of-mind to ease the pain, all the while complaining as you would expect a sceptic to do. His digressions into literature were a bit hard to take (I’m sure you’re not Coleridge, my man).

11 The Power of Moments: Why Certain Experiences have Extraordinary Impact; Chip & Dan Heath - I read this for work-related reasons, with the intention of improving my ability to make exhibitions and interpretation. It has a certain sort of self-helpish structure, with anecdotes starting each chapter and a simple lesson drawn from each one. Not a bad read if you work in a public-facing capacity. 

12 Against Everything: Essays; Mark Greif - The founder of N+1 collects a disparate selection of essays, written over a period of several years. You won’t love them all, but hey, you can always skip those ones!

13 See What I Have Done; Sarah Schmidt - A retelling of the Lizzie Borden story, which I’d seen a lot of good reviews for. Sadly this didn’t measure up, for me. There’s a lot of stage setting (rotting food plays an important part) but there’s not a lot of substance there. 

14 Like a Mother: A Feminist Journey Through the Science and Culture of Pregnancy; Angela Garber - This is another one that came to me very highly recommended. Garber seems to think these topics are not as well-covered as they are, but she does a good job researching and retelling tales of pregnancy, birth, postpartum difficulties and breastfeeding. 

15 Rebecca; Daphne du Maurier - This was my favourite book club book of the year. I’d always had an impression of...trashiness I guess? around du Maurier, but this is a classic thriller. Maybe the first time I’ve ever read, rather than watched, a thriller! That’s on me. 

16 O’Keefe: The Life of an American Legend; Jeffrey Hogrefe - I went to New Mexico for the first time this spring, and a colleague lent me this Georgia O’Keefe biography after I returned. I hadn’t known much about her personal life before this, aside from what I learned at her museum in Santa Fe. The author has made the decision that much of O’Keefe’s life was determined by childhood incest, but doesn’t have what you might call….evidence?

17 A Lost Lady; Willa Cather - A turn-of-the-20th century story about an upper-class woman and her young admirer Neil. I’ve never read any other Cather, but this felt very similar to the Wharton I also read this year, which I gather isn’t typical of her. 

18 The Year of Living Danishly: My Twelve Months of Unearthing the Secrets of the World’s Happiest Country; Helen Russell - A British journalist moves to small-town Denmark with her husband, and although the distances are not long, there’s a considerable culture shock. Made me want to eat pastries in a BIG WAY. 

19 How Not to be a Boy; Robert Webb - The title gives a clue to the framing device of this book, which is fundamentally a celebrity memoir, albeit one that largely ignores the celebrity part of his life in favour of an examination of the effects of patriarchy on boys’ development as human beings. 

20 The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read (And Your Children Will be Glad that You Did); Philippa Perry; A psychotherapist’s take on how parents’ own upbringing affects the way they interact with their own kids. 

21 The Library Book; Susan Orlean - This book has stuck with me more than I imagined that it would. It covers both the history of libraries in the USA, and the story of the arson of the LA Public Library’s central branch in 1986. 

22 We Are Never Meeting in Real Life; Samantha Irby - I’ve been reading Irby’s blog for years, and follow her on social media. So I knew the level of raunch and near body-horror to expect in this essay collection. This did fill in a lot of gaps in terms of her life, which added a lot more blackness (hey) to the humour. 

23 State of Wonder; Ann Patchett - A semi-riff on Heart of Darkness involving an OB/GYN who now works for a pharmaceutical company, heading to the jungle to retrieve another researcher who has gone all Colonel Kurtz on them. I found it a bit unsatisfying, but the descriptions were, admittedly, great. 

24 Disappearing Earth; Julia Phillips - A story of an abduction of two girls in very remote Russia, each chapter told by another townsperson. The connections between the narrators of each chapter are sometimes obvious, but not always. Ending a little tidy, but plays against expectations for a book like this. 

25 Ethan Frome; Edith Wharton - I gather this is a typical high school read, but I’d never got to it. In case you’re in the same boat as me, it’s a short, mildly melodramatic romantic tragedy set in the new england winter. It lacks the focus on class that other Whartons have, but certainly keeps the same strong sense that once you’ve made a choice, you’re stuck with it. FOREVER. 

26 Educated; Tara Westover - This memoir of a Mormon fundamentalist-turned-Academic-superstar was huge on everyone’s reading lists a couple of years back, and I finally got to it. It felt similar to me in some ways to the Glass Castle, in terms of the nearly-unbelievable amounts of hell she and her family go through at the hands of her father and his Big Ideas. I found that it lacked real contemplation of the culture shock of moving from the rural mountain west to, say, Cambridge. 

27 Dead Wake: The Last Crossing of Lusitania; Erik Larson - I’m a sucker for a story of a passenger liner, any non-Titanic passenger liner, really. Plus Lusitania’s story has interesting resonances for the US entry into WWI, and we see the perspective of the U-boat captain as well as people on land, and Lusitania’s own passengers and crew. 

28 The Birds and Other Stories; Daphne du Maurier - The title story is the one that stuck in my head most strongly, which isn’t any surprise. I found it much more harrowing than the film, it had a really effective sense of gradually increasing dread and inevitability. 

29 Someone Who Will Love You in All Your Faded Glory; Raphael Bob-Waksberg - Hit or miss in the usual way of short story collections, this book has a real debt to George Saunders. 

30 Sex & Rage; Eve Babitz - a sort of pseudo-autobiography of an indolent life in the LA scene of the 1970s. It was sometimes very difficult to see how the protagonist actually felt about anything, which is a frequent, acute symptom of youth. 

31 Doctor Fischer of Geneva or The Bomb Party; Graham Greene - Gotta love a book with an alternate title built in. This is a broad (the characters? are, without exception, insane?!) satire about a world I know little about. I don’t have a lot of patience or interest in Greene’s religious allegories, but it’s a fine enough story. 

32 Lathe of Heaven; Ursula K LeGuin - Near-future sci-fi that is incredibly prescient about the effects of climate change for a book written over forty years ago. The book has amazing world-building, and the first half has the whirlwind feel of Homer going back in time, killing butterflies and returning to the present to see what changes he has wrought. 

33 The Grammarians; Cathleen Schine - Rarely have I read a book whose jacket description of the plot seems so very distant from what actually happens therein. 

34 The Boy Kings: A Journey Into the Heart of the Social Network; Katharine Losse - Losse was one of Facebook’s very earliest employees, and she charts her experience with the company in this memoir from 2012. Do you even recall what Facebook was like in 2012? They hadn’t even altered the results of elections yet! Zuck was a mere MULTI-MILLIONAIRE, probably. Were we ever so young?

35 Invisible Women; Caroline Ciado Perez - If you want to read a book that will make you angry, so angry that you repeatedly assail whoever is around with facts taken from it, then this, my friend, is the book for you. 

36 The Hidden World of the Fox; Adele Brand - A really charming look at the fox from an ecologist who has studied them around the world. Much of it takes place in the UK, where urban foxes take on a similar ecological niche that raccoons famously do where I live, in Toronto. 

37 S; Doug Dorst & JJ Abrams - This is a real mindfuck of a book, consisting of a faux-old novel, with marginalia added by two students which follows its own narrative. A difficult read not because of the density of prose, but the sheer logistics involved: read the page, then the marginalia? Read the marginalia interspersed with the novel text? Go back chapter by chapter? I’m not sure that either story was worth the trouble, in the end. 

38 American War; Omar El Akkad - This is not exclusively, but partially a climate-based speculative novel, or, grossly, cli-fi for short. Ugh, what a term! But this book is a really tight, and realistic look at the results of a fossil-fuels-based second US Civil War. 

39 Antisocial: Online Extremists, Techno-Utopians, and the Hijacking of the American Conversation; Andrew Marantz - This is the guy you’ll hear on every NPR story talking about his semi-embedding within the Extremely Online alt-right. Most of the figures he profiles come off basically how you’d expect, I found his conclusions about the ways these groups have chosen to use online media tools to achieve their ends the most illuminating part. 

40 Wilding: The Return of Nature to a British Farm; Isabella Tree - This is the story of a long process of transitioning a rural acreage (more of an estate than a farm, this is aristocratic shit) from intensive agriculture to something closer to wild land. There are long passages where Tree (ahem) simply lists species which have come back, which I’m sure is fascinating if you are from the area, but I tended to glaze over a bit. Experts from around the UK and other European nations weigh in on how best to rewild the space, which places the project in a wider context. 

FICTON: 17     NONFICTION: 23

[dabistits]

Himiko & emotional intelligence

This is an aspect of Himiko that I deeply appreciate and want to talk about here, especially since I haven’t seen a comprehensive post about this character trait. I think this is especially important given her desire to Kill and Replace, but it also contradicts portrayals of Himiko that construe her as not particularly smart or strategic. Emotional intelligence is actually a huge asset of hers, in many terms, including as a weapon. She exhibits a profound and seemingly intuitive understanding of other people’s emotions and can modify her own behavior accordingly for her own ends. Below is a listed breakdown with specific examples, in no particular order of importance:

1. Intuitive understanding of unspoken feelings

This is probably the most prominent example, and which we see time and again. Himiko repeatedly makes assertions based off tangential information, which she surmises into an accurate reading of other people’s character. Ochako and Izuku are basically complete strangers to her, but with minimal interaction, Himiko’s able to deduce important relationships to both of them. In the latter examples, while Izuku and Jin have alluded to their feelings to or around her, Himiko cuts right to the heart of the issue: not only does Izuku hold Ochako’s abilities in a conflict situation in high regard, he trusts her; not only does Jin feel guilty for Magne’s death, he feels the most guilt, and cooperating with the yakuza hurts him because of his guilt.

She confidently makes a statement about three different characters, and she’s shown to be correct in how she interprets their feelings. Her intuitive deduction often acts as a narrative device to show authorial intent (that Ochako does have a crush, that Izuku does trust her, Jin does feel guilt), so it’s important that her statements are accurate. As a result, she happens to become one of the most emotionally perceptive characters in the series, almost to an unnerving degree, able to correctly make snap judgments about people’s feelings and relationships. But how else do you use a quirk like Transform, right?

2. Blending into her role

We’ve so far seen Himiko in four different transformations (Rock Lock isn’t on here because I got lazy lol). Quite obviously, she’s not perfect—Kemi’s classmates at Shiketsu notes that she’s been acting weird, and Izuku quickly figures out that the Ochako he rescued during the Hero License Exam was an imposter. That said, Himiko does several things very well that shows it’s not carelessness on her part, so much as reasonable limitations given how much she knows about each of these people.

Starting from the obvious: her mannerisms. Himiko adjusts her mannerisms according to whomever she’s imitating, including expressions, body language, and (I’m assuming, w/o the requisite Japanese knowledge to go on) speech. Her personas are distinctive in each instance, and tailored to suit the situation they’re in, from Ochako’s sheepish look to Izuku’s direct, urgent communication. Himiko assumes a, at the very least, passable imitation of people she’s, again, barely met, adopting salient behavioral traits so she doesn’t easily get found out. Even when Izuku calls her out, he points out technical flaws in her imitation of Ochako (that she didn’t float, the lack of planning when coming to save him) rather than obvious tells from personality.

That said, where and when Himiko uses her Transform ability is also strategic in nature. For sustained periods of transformation, she selected a target who she could imitate more easily, whose strangeness would be more likely to get overlooked. Shishikura Seiji says this about Kemi:

Himiko’s target and surroundings are carefully chosen to minimize chances of discovery, all strategic considerations that rely on an ability to read the atmosphere and people’s dispositions. She makes use of moments of confusion and plays off of people’s (but especially heroes’) need to react and help, betting on them to act before asking too many questions. This also raises an interesting question for me: in the hero license exam as Ochako, did she fall deliberately, counting on Izuku to catch her? Canon doesn’t make it particularly clear either way, but to speculate about it is fun in its own way.

3. Curiosity towards others

This trait ties in obviously to Himiko’s fixation on Kill and Replace, but it also serves to expand her understanding of other people. By asking these questions in her drive to satisfy her curiosity, Himiko must also necessarily take in and process the information she receives in response, so she necessarily acquires an (emotional) understanding towards others. While this line is directed to Izuku, her interrogation of him broadens her perspective about not only Izuku himself, but those who are like him—in this case, heroes. Both Himiko and Tomura (in the mall scene) seek out Izuku to elucidate certain ways of thinking that are foreign to them, and seem to come away from the interaction with some knowledge gained about the enemy. While Tomura is the one who clearly grew during his encounter, in beginning to use his acquired philosophy to gain legitimacy, it would be inaccurate to say Himiko gained nothing from hers, even if it was marginal enough not to be addressed in the canon narrative yet. She’ll obviously have more interaction with Izuku in the future though, so there should be plenty of opportunity to show how this encounter affected her too.

4. Using emotional information for her own ends

All of her skills amount to this—a brilliant play in the Hideout Invasion Arc that is vastly under-appreciated. Let’s set the scene: she and Twice have been drafted into the yakuza, whom neither of them much like, and now they’re embroiled in the yakuza’s affairs which involves a confrontation with heroes. They’re disadvantaged in terms of sheer physical power, they’re trapped in the battlezone with a significant risk of getting arrested, and their true target (Overhaul) is quickly making his escape while Mimic slows everyone down. Mimic is someone with whom she’d had a brief but antagonistic interaction that we know of, maybe more went on off-screen. Regardless, she understands enough about this person to figure out where he’s hiding (which stupefied the heroes), and exactly what to do to make him reveal himself against all his best interests. How she goes about this sets the course for the rest of the chapter.

With the right combination of words, she coaxes Mimic into self-sabotaging by revealing his location, and the heroes react exactly as she wanted them to. They prioritize subduing Mimic; once Izuku catches on to where he’s hiding, he takes him out, and it occupies all of the heroes for just long enough for her and Twice to make their escape. Himiko talks the situation into her favor, and ends up with one of the most troublesome yakuza members out of the way, and the road cleared for Twice and herself to execute their own plan to sabotage Overhaul.

I don’t think I need to go on about how amazing it is to manipulate a chain of events like that. Suffice to say that achieving such a result required a remarkable understanding of Mimic’s character and tics. She knew what to say that would dig the most at his insecurities, what would piss him off the most, and how the heroes would react. Basically, she played them, pretty much effortlessly and with very little time to think everything through. As stated in point 1, her ability to grasp a situation and all personalities involved seems pretty much intuitive, allowing her take advantage of what is going on around her. This is one of those scenes when the cunning of a character truly shines through, and it happens by allowing Himiko to take control of the situation just by reading someone’s personality and emotions. 

5. Emotional intelligence=empathy?

One would think that this all amounts to an extremely sympathetic reading of her, and Himiko does tend to get very sympathetic reactions out of fans. After all, she’s redeemable by her age, she’s fun, and she has extremely endearing interactions with Twice. People particularly like to cite the scene above as evidence that she’s empathetic, and therefore not just a surface-level sadistic serial killer. I somewhat agree on these points, but although I’ve just spent a lot of words detailing indications of her emotional intelligence, I hesitate to assert that it necessarily makes her more predictable in terms of her loyalties or willingness to self-sacrifice.

So as to not get too deeply into what other people think or don’t think, I’ll just present my own argument here. While Himiko does show herself to be perceptive towards other people’s feelings, upset at the team’s loss of Magne, and reassuring when Twice is distressed, it may not come from a totally selfless, empathetic place. This is something of an extrapolation from her behavior in other instances, like the serial killing lmfao, but also this bit towards Tomura:

When faced with the possibility of doing something she doesn’t like, her reaction drastically differs from Twice. Twice is hurt by Tomura asking them to join the yakuza, but Himiko doesn’t seem to feel hurt; rather than echo Twice’s plea for consideration, her reaction is a logical, problem-solving attempt to remove the element that is making her do that which she dislikes. Her gesture towards Tomura is antagonistic. Her expression is placid, she even calls Tomura by his first name, but her action is a threat, making it clear she will hurt someone to get her way.

What I read from this interaction is that, to Himiko, people are disposable if they become ‘unpleasant.’ It’s the people on her good side who warrant her reassurance, but given that it’s Tomura she threatens here, that can change at the drop of a pin. This is why I hesitate to point to her emotional intelligence as something that indicates unconditional loyalty or compassion; there is very clearly a self-centered and opportunistic streak in the way Himiko evaluates people around her and her relationships to them, and that’s a trait that’s often overlooked. People are welcome to interpret her however they want, but I think her willingness to rebel against and threaten the people she deems friends is something that bears acknowledging.

6. Bonus: she still cares to remark on what Tomura thinks though

IT’S CUTE, that’s all.

Emotional intelligence doesn't always point to good deeds and intentions, and I think this aspect of it is ignored when it comes to Himiko. Focus on her character tends towards the moments when she's being compassionate (and I get that because it's really cute) but I feel like it undersells how manipulative she can be. She regularly uses her people skills to infiltrate, confuse, and sabotage, which is also very a interesting and fun part of her character. She can be strategic! She can be cunning! It's just a different type of intelligence that most of our main characters exhibit, especially in terms of how she uses it, but that's also part of what makes her a great villain.

[masquedefoot5]

Balinese Mask - Spiritual Force Behind

Presentation

Bali is an island, which all through the ages has been impacted by numerous different societies. While Bali's strict root originates from animism and genealogical love, Hindu folklore and Buddhism have been significant impacts. Notwithstanding, paying little mind to what they were rehearsing, one factor has consistently stayed steady: "Life in Bali is represented by religion" . Hence, it does not shock anyone that the specialty of cover making determined as a strict demonstration, instead of a mission to make tasteful excellence. Veils accordingly offer structure to genuine and chthonic powers and are utilized in dramatic exhibitions to show transformations of Indian Sanskrit Texts . Likewise, dramatic cover moves are utilized for, "planting and reap festivities and now and again of change in the lives of people and networks". Veil moves, for example, Topeng, additionally examine governmental issues of the over a wide span of time, and ethics. I will additionally talk about the veiled moves in another part of this article.

Theater in Bali, Indonesia is in excess of a recognized order; it is an exhibition laced with consistently life. Theater, similar to all craftsmanship, is a piece of the religion and culture in Bali; subsequently all Balinese partake in workmanship here and there. Besides, music, dance, outfits, and show are not isolated substances, but instead bits of Balinese Theater that depend on one another to accomplish their definitive reason: Creating solidarity and amicability between the three universes. In this article, I will talk about Balinese covers and the strict socio-social job they play in Balinese Theater. Get it here Masque Rugby All Black Nouvelle Zelande

Balinese Beliefs and Mythology

The Bali Hindu religion, the establishment of the arranged Balinese society, overruns each part of life. Bali Hinduism, which has root in Indian Hinduism and in Buddhism, embraced the animistic customs of the indigenes, who repressed the island around the main thousand years BC. This impact reinforced the conviction that the divine beings and goddesses are available no matter what. Each component of nature, thusly, has its own capacity, which mirrors the intensity of the divine beings. A stone, tree, blade, or woven fabric is an expected home for spirits whose energy can be coordinated for acceptable or evil. Notwithstanding, even workmanship shop veils, those wood covers made in an unconsecrated sequential construction system way to be offered to vacationer, have been known to get had. A previous overseer of Bali's Art Center has a compact clarification: "In the event that you make an alluring home, somebody will need to live in it." An attractive recommendation

As per Bali Hinduism, for each certain standard or helpful power there is a similarly incredible dangerous powers. These are once in a while alluded to as powers of the right (high) and powers of the left (low). The two components preferably exist together in balance with the goal that neither accepts an excessive amount of intensity. Keeping up this shaky balance is a consistent distraction for the Balinese, who get ready every day contributions to satisfy the spirits and monitor them just as argue for favors.

Contributions, or banten, fluctuate as indicated by the idea of the function and whether they are proposed for a high or low soul. They may comprise of blend of incense, blossoms, old Chinese coins, texture, betel nuts, arak (alcohol), blessed water, palm-leaf adornment, and food. The food isn't really intended to be eaten by the divine beings yet works as means by which individuals offer back what legitimately has a place with the spirits. The main second in the life of offering is its devotion. From that point onward, what befalls it is significant. Therefore, contributions to low soul, which are left on the ground, are generally rummaged by chickens or canines. The bigger contributions to cheerful dispositions are reclaimed to the family home in the wake of dwelling for some time at the sanctuary, and the eatable parts are then devoured by relatives.

Balinese sanctuaries, adorned with a beautiful showcase of stones carvings, comprise of blustery, outdoors patios, encircled by a divider and entered through a huge split door. Once inside the passageway is a detached divider (aling-aling). Past the divider is an enormous, open territory with numerous little sanctums of different sizes, each committed to an alternate god or goddess. At sanctuary celebrations, the typically serious holy places are profoundly finished, and admirers come to ask and devote their contributions, at that point resign to converse with companions. A celebration is a profoundly social event, coming full circle in a live presentation of cover dance or manikins introduced for all to appreciate nearby townspeople and visitors just as the spirits of visiting gods and predecessors, and even an infrequent sightseers.

The dance and covers dramatizations that are performed at the sanctuaries as a component of the odalan are viewed as significant contributions to the god and goddess. The gods would be reluctant to go to any birthday festivity where there is no amusement. A cover artist makes a contribution of his aptitudes each time he performs, now and again serving in a limit comparative o a cleric. Wali moves, those allowed to happen in the internal sanctum of the sanctuary complex, are coordinated toward the idolized predecessors, who are respected visitors, and will in general be associated with spirits instead of plot, character, or story.

Balinese Mask Performance

Veils exhibitions have been significant ceremonies on the Indonesian island of Bali for over 1,000 years. Albeit numerous people of old social orders utilized wooden covers to commend their religions, Bali is one of only a handful few spots where the custom craftsmanship has never vanished and is, truth be told, flourishing. Wood carvers are delivering more lovely and more detailed wood veil than any other time, and a huge number of individuals overall gather these convincing items. The expansion of Balinese craftsmen and execution bunches demonstrates that the little island is going through a social renaissance, the highlight of which is the tapel-the delightful Balinese covers.

Covers may speak to divine beings, creatures, devils, or people and can be entire veils or half covers relying upon the dance they are utilized for. Covers can likewise be sacrosanct or non-consecrated relying upon their motivation and readiness. Since the otherworldly auditorium in Bali has caught the consideration of endless outsiders to the land, non-sacrosanct veils are made richly available to be purchased. Be that as it may, the best of the veil carvers have not deserted their calling to make the hallowed, sanctified covers when they have a "feeling" to do as such.