#he came he saw he conquered though not necessarily in that order | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onmykneesforhotdilfs · 3 years

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jealous

guess who is back, that’s right, ME. anyway, this was not a request or anything but i needed to do this in order to get back on track. there are bunch of requests sitting in my box over there but i am working on them, i promise. if not in august, then you will get them all in september. k? now that this is out of the way, i hope you enjoy and as always, if you guys wanna talk about my fics or anything really, feel free to message me, i’m always available.

“Are you absolutely sure you want to go?

Bloom sighed and winced as Stella pulled a strand of her fiery hair too hard, sharp pain from the tug settling in her temple lobe making her regret her decision to have her blonde friend help her get ready for, yet another, Eraklyon ball.

“Well it seemed like a good idea to me at the beginning… but judging by the number of times I have been asked that question, I am starting to think it is not such a good idea after all.” Bloom responded sarcastically.

“Look Bloom,” Stella began as she took another strand of Bloom’s hair and curled it around the curling iron, “I get it. You guys broke up on friendly terms, but no one is going to blame you if you choose not to go.” Bloom frowned and she was about to open her mouth to protest, but Stella paid her no mind as she continued to curl her hair. “It’s his engagement party at the end of the day and the one that could turn rather messy considering who the bride-to-be is.”

“I know this might seem slightly unorthodox Stell, but I honestly have no hard feelings towards Sky.” Bloom shrugged one of her shoulders. “Besides, I’ve moved on.”

Stella snorted and tried to cover the sound (not befitting of a royal) with a cough but Bloom saw right through it as she leveled her best friend with a flat look. “Sorry Bloom. But you’ve got to admit that the situation is slightly absurd.”

Bloom sighed, her shoulders slouching forward in a clear sign of defeat. “Well, yes, I admit that the situation might seem weird-“

“Weird?” Stella laughed. “Sweetie, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but the situation ceased to be weird when you decided to spare the bastard.” Bloom saw Stella raise one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows in the mirror but an amused smile full of mirth was present on her lips. “This right now, this is insanity at it’s finest.”

Bloom rolled her eyes. “Okay now you’re exaggerating. Besides, the two of you are getting along quite well. With the way the two of you strive to get on my nerves, I’ll even say, you get along better than him and I do.”

“Okay, that’s just hurtful.” Stella pouted, her bottom lip sticking out and Bloom laughed at the puppy dog look her friend was giving her.

“I’m just kidding Stell.”

“I don’t know Bloom. I now might have to tell your boyfriend you find him annoying.” Bloom never quite considered Stella as a snitch, but the devils dancing in blonde’s eyes reminded her that she needed to thread carefully unless she wanted to be eaten alive by the devil himself and his accomplice.

“Now, don’t be twisting my words. I never said I find you or him annoying…” She stopped for a second to debate whether or not she should say the next sentence. “No matter how true that statement might be.” She mumbled at the end.

Stella burst out laughing and hugged Bloom from behind. “That’s ok Bloom, you annoy us too.” At the red head’s confused look, Stella continued. “Between your constant rushing into danger without thinking and doing the exact opposite of what you’re told, it’s a miracle neither of us has a set of gray hair from worrying too much.”

Bloom felt the heat rushing to her cheeks and she lowered her head to conceal the blush that was climbing up her neck. “I’m not that bad.”

“No, you’re not.” Bloom’s eyes met Stella’s in the mirror. “You’re even worse.”

“Thanks a lot.” Bloom mumbled but she had to bite her lip to stifle a laugh as Stella’s sharp elbow stabbed her in the back making her bend forward slightly.

“Speaking of the devil, how is Valtor?” Stella asked as she started tucking delicate curls into a bun with an elaborate pattern. “I mean, you did leave him with your parents, your real parents, after all. Aren’t you worried that there will be nothing left of him when you come back?”

Bloom grinned. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. He knows he should stay away from the throne room when I’m not there… He had to learn that the hard way though.”

“That hard way wouldn’t happen to be an angry king of Domino with a magic sword?” Stella asked through her giggles as the mental picture of an aristocratic wizard being chased across the hall by Bloom’s father popped up in her head.

“Who blabbed?” Bloom asked with genuine interest painted across her features.

Stella shrugged. “One of the maids that has a cousin working in Solaria’s palace happened to be at the right place and at the right time.” She pinned the final curl to the right place and stepped back to admire her work. “And I happened to be at the right place and at the right time to hear it being passed directly from one person to another.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky?” Bloom mumbled as she stood up from her chair and stretched her stiff muscles.

“Yeah, I guess I am. I never had the misfortune of being chased by your dad with a sword after all.”

Stella laughed as Bloom pushed her slightly, slight grimace present on her face. “Thank you for your help.” She leaned in to give Stella a hug. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss the show for anything.” Stella smiled and wiggled her eyebrows.

Bloom laughed. “You know, it is not nice to rejoice in someone else's misfortune. Dragon knows I would rather jump off the bridge than marry Diaspro.”

Stella waved her arm dismissively. “Each to it’s own. He should’ve sucked it up and come clean right away instead of preventing you from moving on and just prolonging the misery. A bit of suffering might be good for his soul.” She stopped for a second. “Though I’ll admit, marrying Diaspro might be too cruel of a punishment, even for him.”

“Well I am certainly not going to pull a Diaspro card tonight. I just hope he will live to see himself get married. After that, he is beyond my care.”

“Honey, he was beyond your care the moment you ended things, don’t pay too much attention to him.” Stella wiggled her eyebrows playfully. “Valtor might get jealous if you do.”

Bloom shook her head. “He’s not necessarily the jealous type Stell.” When Stella raised an eyebrow and her face morphed into an expression of disbelief, Bloom frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Are you completely blind or something?” When Bloom’s face continued to show nothing but plain confusion, Stella continued. “Are you seriously telling me that you do not see the glares he is sending to other people who look at you for two seconds too long?” Bloom shook her head negative but a stunned expression tensed her facial muscles and if Stella focused, she could probably see the cogs turning in Bloom’s brain.

“I’ve… honestly never noticed.”

Stella smirked. “I’m not sure why I’m even surprised. The two of you separately could conquer the world, but apparently when you’re together your brain cells eat each other or something because you are stupid for anything and everything besides for each other.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Bloom, honey, if there was a picture for ‘crazy in love’ in the dictionary, it would be a picture of the two of you.”

Bloom rolled her eyes. “I’ll have you know that we actually talk quite a lot.”

“I’m sure you do… when you’re not too busy getting lost in each other’s eyes from across the room.”

Bloom exhaled and pinched a bridge of her nose. “Okay I think that’s enough of that. Don’t injure that fashionable brain of yours by thinking too hard about me and Valtor. I’ll see you tonight.” She gave Stella another quick hug, ignoring the ‘Hey!’ she got and opened a portal to Domino. She threw a quick ‘I love you’ to Stella before stepping into the portal.

Shining rays of sun almost blinded her and she had to squint her eyes as she stepped into the throne room, making the people in it stop what they were doing to greet the princess. Bloom dismissed them all with a wave of her hand and a friendly smile as she climbed the steps to greet her parents.

“You look gorgeous honey.” Her mother said as she kept Bloom at an arm’s length to examine the hairstyle. Marion brought her hand to Bloom’s face and twirled a lock of fiery strand that framed her face.

“It’s all Stella mom. But thank you.” Bloom laughed cheerfully and tucked the lock behind her ear. “Have you seen Valtor by any chance?” She ignored a dangerous growl that sounded next to her, courtesy of her father, and continued. “We should get going soon.”

Just as Marion opened her mouth to answer, the door to the room opened and Valtor, wearing classic black pants and white shirt, strode in. Oritel jumped from his chair and Bloom saw, in her peripheral vision, how Marion gripped his forearm when Valtor came closer and started to climb the steps. He acknowledged no one as his eyes locked onto hers and Bloom got a flashback of Stella gushing about him having eyes only for her. Bloom felt the heat rushing to her head but paid it no mind as Valtor’s hands finally wrapped around her waist and he leaned down to kiss her forehead in greeting. She collapsed onto him, feeling almost boneless, her knees barely supporting her. The dragon fire connection burned pleasantly in her veins, carrying even more heat into her cheeks but Bloom was too busy basking in the euphoria that their connection provided to care. His thumb was drawing lazy patterns on her waist and Bloom had to resist the urge to giggle quite childishly. Instead she distanced herself from his embrace slightly, only now realizing they were not in private, and looked up at his face that had the beginning of a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Someone (Oritel) cleared their throat and Bloom broke eye contact with Valtor as unkind lights flashed in his eyes, his hand tightening around her waist, a clear sign of sheer annoyance on his part.

“So…” Bloom began rather awkwardly, clearing her throat as Valtor and Oritel continued to shoot each other unkind looks from across her head. “I trust the day has passed without any incidents involving swords and other sharp objects.”

“That only happened once.” Both of them spoke at the same time, a similar grimace painted at both Oritel’s and Valtor’s face.

“And once was enough, thank you very much.” Bloom said as she looked between the two men, trying to suppress her laughter.

“He started it.” Both men mumbled at once and turned an evil eye to each other.

“Very mature.” Sarcasm was dripping from every word Bloom spoke, her teeth nibbling at the bottom lip as she felt that exploding argument was about to commence and she really had no time for such shenanigans.

“If I remember correctly, your majesty,” Valtor began, sugar coating his voice but his face frozen in a sour expression, “you were the one that chased me with a sword, not the other way around.”

Bloom mumbled an ‘Oh no.’ and pinched Valtor’s side warningly. She squeezed her eyes together as dull pain began thumping against the walls of her skull. Her eyes met the worried but slightly amused eyes of her mother, and the queen shook her head clearly referring to the childish argument between the two grown men.

“Next time I’m simply going to break one of the hardwood chairs against your back then.” Oritel continued with a sheer, his frame slowly molding into one ready for an attack. The men leaned towards each other dangerously, and Bloom was afraid that sooner or later lightning will shoot from their eyes.

“There won’t be a next time. Your luck is that I chose not to defend myself, because otherwise, the outcome of that meeting would’ve been very different.”

“We can test that theory right now!”

“Bring it!”

The two were about to rush at each other, Oritel’s hand reaching for his sword and Valtor’s hand already lit with a spell, but an explosive spell rushed between their faces and forced the two to close their eyes and turn in the opposite direction. When the searing white finally retreated from their retinas and they were able to see clearly again, they turned to the women standing on the side, Marion’s hand raised as remains of the spell still sparked at her fingertips.

“Gentlemen. Please, behave.” The queen’s tone bore no traces of jest and Valtor and Oritel straightened their clothes in an effort to compose themselves, both coming to a conclusion that the continuation of a quarrel could result in serious bodily injury provided by none other than Marion.

Oritel cleared his throat and looked across Valtor’s shoulder towards the open hall. The servants were frozen in surprise, some were even huddled together as numerous whispers passed through the room. He looked towards his wife who was shaking her head in disbelief as if to say ‘Look at what you’ve done now.’ He once again cleared his throat and turned towards the people in the room. “Go back to your duties, there is nothing to see here.” The servants scattered across the room, fearing the wrath of their king, but amused chuckles still broke through some mouth.

“If you’re quite done,” the queen began, “maybe it would be for the best to go separate ways for today.”

“But Marion he-“ what was undoubtedly about to be another epic rant about whose fault it is was put on hold by a simple hand gesture. Marion crossed her lips in an universal ‘Zip it.’ motion and king’s mouth snapped shut. Seeing such scene, Valtor opened his mouth to say something but a sharp elbow to his ribs made him rethink his decision. He cleared his throat and grabbed the owner of the said elbow, a girl who was red in the face and almost had steam coming from her ears, and pulled her towards himself. Bloom struggled against his hold for a second but relaxed fairly quickly when Valtor sneaked his arm across her waist.

“I agree with mom.” She looked at Valtor and the hard look she gave him indicated that there was no room for refusal. “We should go get ready.”

As soon as the door to their room closed, Bloom snatched the shirt she was wearing over her head (weary of her hairstyle) and flopped face first onto the mattress. The dull ache in her head was turning into a full fledged migraine and she had to resist the urge to rip out all the bobby pins Stella placed into her hair. A sigh sounded somewhere next to her and a bed dipped slightly to the side due to the added weight. Bloom reached across the surface of the cool bed sheets blindly until her fingers wrapped around a gloved hand. She tugged on the hand slightly, a chuckle sounding in the room, as Valtor leaned above her to place another kiss at her forehead.

“Are you sure you want to go?”

“If another person asks me that today, I am going to scream.” Was her muffled response as she rubbed her face into the pillow she found laying around on the bed. “I’ve sat in the chair for hours, Stella practically tortured me with how much she pulled and tugged on my hair. There is no way, and I cannot stress this enough, no way in hell that I will miss Sky’s engagement ball just because I’d rather stay in bed.”

“If you say so.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles. “But in that case, we should probably start getting ready.”

Bloom groaned and pressed her face harder into a pillow. “Five more minutes.”

Valtor huffed a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh but moved towards the middle of the bed, one of his arms planting in between the bed and Bloom’s head replacing her pillow, while the other arm rested at the curve of her hip, his fingers drawing patterns at the soft skin. Bloom shuffled quietly on the bed as well, her head settling at the space where his neck met his collarbone, while one of her legs settled across his stomach. The hand that was mapping out the skin of her hip trailed teasingly upwards and Bloom twitched when his fingers ghosted over her ribs.

“That tickles.” She whispered against the skin of his neck, her lips brushing over the sensitive nerves with every letter.

“All the more reason for me to keep doing it.” Bloom pouted and lifted herself up on her forearms, her weight supported by her arms placed at his chest. Valtor huffed jokingly when she shifted her weight and he was rewarded for it with a slight punch to his shoulder. She ignored the fake ‘Ouch.’ from his side and moved to straddle his legs. He moved to meet her halfway when she leaned down for a kiss, the movements slow and gentle but no less passionate.

“Maybe we should just stay in.” He murmured when she broke the kiss only to descend down with short pecks to his neck. His hands took hold of her hips, fingers squeezing the tender flesh harder than necessary in a fit of passion.

“Mmmmm no. No. No, we don’t have time for that.” She groaned when his hands reached for the clasp of her bra.

“We can make it quick.” He huffed, annoyed and frustrated, when Bloom reached around to grab his hands and stop his movements. He fell back onto the bed as she moved up towards his face, his hands still held captive by her small fingers.

“No, we can’t.” She giggled and kissed his cheek quickly before swinging her legs off his lap and walking to her closet to pick up her dress.

“You always have to spoil my fun, don’t you?” He groaned and sat sup in bed, his fingers threading through his hair.

“Don’t sulk, we’ll have time to play later.” She didn’t even look at him as she continued rummaging through her stuff, but a teasing note and a promise was very much present in her voice. She let out a victorious ‘Aha!’ when she found the dress. “Besides, as my partner, I want you there.” The dress was tossed carelessly across the chair as she moved to stand in front of him at the foot of the bed. “Are you telling me you’d let me go all alone?” Her voice took on a slightly higher pitch and her lower lip wobbled slightly with every word. “You’d let someone else dance with me, put his hands on me?” She was playing a dangerous game and that was evident by the low growl that escaped from deep within his throat and by the darkening of his eyes.

She squeaked, slightly startled by the sudden movement, as his hands took a firm hold of her thighs and pulled her to him, his mouth attaching to her left hip, his sharp teeth leaving a bruised bite in the area as she wiggled in his hold, the pain from the bite sharp but not unpleasant. He soothed the tender spot by placing gentle, barely there kisses, no more than a brush of lips against the flesh. She hummed and ran her fingers through his hair, making him look up at her mischievous eyes. “You’re jealous.” It was not a question, but a statement and he groaned as he buried his face in her stomach, his arms circling her hips, hands resting on her behind. Bloom chuckled and tapped his shoulder twice before she pushed slightly on them, a clear sign he should let go, and grabbed her dress before she retreated to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

She emerged ten minutes later, silky turquoise dress sitting on her frame perfectly, loose curls placed behind her ear. Valtor, in the process of buttoning up his vest, stopped what he was doing and smiled at her. She mimicked his movements and stood right in front of him as her hands smoothed out wrinkles on his sleeves before straightening the collar of his shirt. No words were spoken as his large palms took hold of her delicate ones and brought them to his lips. The intimate moment was broken with the loud blaring of a cellphone and Bloom moved to answer it, Valtor’s hands letting go of her.

“Hello Stella.”

“Hey, where are you guys? We just landed. Are you going to be here soon?” Before Bloom even had the chance to answer either of the two questions, Stella continued. “Please say you will, because Bloom, I cannot promise I will not do anything if I see Diaspro.”

Bloom laughed, her hands rummaging through her makeup bag in search for lipstick. “We’ll be there shortly Stell, don’t worry.”

“You’re teleporting, right?”

“Mhm.” Bloom hummed absentmindedly as she continued looking for the lipstick.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon then. I love you.”

“I love you too Stell. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Stella laughed. “No promises. Ciao.”

Bloom threw her phone to the bed as she finally dug out a lipstick from a black hole that is her makeup bag. She leaned over the desk to apply it and she was about to turn around to ask Valtor if he could carry it in his pocket but gasped in surprise when two hands came up from behind and something cold was placed on her neck. Bloom bit her lip when she noticed that the cold object was a beautiful sapphire necklace, the color of the precious stone matching her eyes almost perfectly. Valtor’s hands moved from her neck, following the line of her spine, before settling on her hips. His lips ghosted over her hairline, down the line of her jaw before they settled in the junction of her neck and he placed a proper kiss there.

“You look stunning.” He whispered in her ear, his lips barely touching the shell of her ear, but the hot breath washing over her face made the goosebumps erupt across her skin.

“Thank you.” She spoke, her voice shaky, her fingers twirling the necklace resting at her sternum.

Colder breeze passed over her the very next second as he moved away from her to look at the mirror, spell words already on his lips and his appearance morphed back into perfection, not a hair out of place and no wrinkle on his clothes. He cleared his throat and turned to Bloom, who was still quite red in the face, and offered her his hand.

“Shall we?”

Bloom took his hand as his other one was already busy creating a portal, she moved closer to him, one of her hands searching for a pocket in his blazer. She smiled when she found it and looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye. “We shall, good sir.”

Valtor smirked as his free hand landed on Bloom’s left hip, his thumb tracing the bruise he left there, before the two stepped into a portal and disappeared with a flash.

#sparxshipping #valtor x bloom #bloom x baltor #bloom x valtor #baltor x bloom #winx club #winx valtor #winx baltor #winx bloom

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yamayuandadu · 3 years

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The Contendings of History and Seth

Seth as a serpent-slayer (MET) It's safe to say that the myth of Osiris is one of the only non-Greek myths to enjoy a comparable degree of recognition in modern popculture. There are few direct adaptations, sure, but the core narrative is well known, and as a result works themed after ancient Egypt use Seth as a villain almost without fail if only the premise allows the use of fantastical elements. However, in this article I will instead examine the other side of Seth, and especially his role as a protagonist of myths in his own right, including the historical circumstances of this development. While I mostly want to introduce you to a little known but fascinating world of heroic(?) portrayals of Seth, naturally I will also cover Seth's later loss of relevance and complete vilification to explain why it survived as the dominant tradition.

Early history of Seth

Seth protecting Ra from Apep (wikimedia commons) From the dawn of recorded history Seth's status in Egyptian religion was ambivalent, and it continues to be a topic of heated debate among researchers what degree of popularity he enjoyed in particular very early on. Some aspects of Seth character, like his evident interest in both men and women and whether it reflects broader Egyptian cultural norms (or if it’s merely yet another way in which Seth was an outsider among gods and men, as the author of the first monograph dealing with Seth proposed in the 1960s) are likewise a hotly debated topic. Seth was associated with many animals, such as the hippopotamus and the crocodile, but his main symbol is the sha or “Seth animal” which is regarded as either a mystery or a fictional creation, and in Egyptian texts inhabits zones inhospitable to humans. Seth was called “the god of confusion” by Herman Te Velde (the first writer to dedicate a monograph to him) and while this opinion has been since called into question, it is undeniable that it’s hard to form a coherent image of him. In addition to various versions of the well known myth mentioned above there are other instances of combat between Seth and Horus (most likely initially a distinct myth combined with the narrative about Osiris’ death and resurrection at a later date) and of Seth as a menace to the established order. Some of the Pyramid Texts present even the human followers of Seth as enemies to be conquered (which is held by some researchers a mythical memory of strife between local kings before the unification of Egypt). . However, there are also texts where Seth is a rightful member of the Ennead; where he and Horus act in harmony as protectors of the ruler; where he assists pharaohs in their resurrection in the afterlife; and even to Seth as one of the gods responsible for returning Osiris to life. A recurring motif in texts dealing with the afterlife in particular is a description of Seth offering a ladder to the dead who can reach some destination themselves. Mentuhotep II of the XI dynasty seemingly had Seth and Hathor depicted behind his throne in art; Hatshepsut described Seth positively as well. Personal names invoking Seth are known, too; and as established by Willam Berg in his studies of a different ambivalent deity, “children are not called after spooks.” Seth's ambiguous character made him ideal to represent The Other in Egyptian culture – the foreigners, especially these arriving from the Levant, their culture, and generally “un-Egyptian” traits. In that capacity, he functioned as an “ambassador” or “minister of foreign affairs,” to put it in modern terms. Or perhaps a foreigner in his own country, so to speak. As a result, he came to be associated with a group of deities which, while part of the official pantheon, had their origin outside Egypt.

The Ramessides and foreign gods

Generally speaking, there were two primary sources for foreign deities incorporated into Egyptian religion: Levantine trade centers like Gebal (Byblos in Lebanon) or Ugarit (Ras Shamra in Syria); and Egypt's vassal/enemy/ally/very occasional ruler Nubia (roughly corresponding to present day Sudan). Libyan influence was smaller, and to my knowledge there is no evidence of any major impact of Egypt's other trading partners (Punt, located near Horn of Africa, and Minoan Crete; the latter absorbed many Egyptian influences instead, though) or enemies (like the Hittites) on religion. The peculiar history of Seth is related to the the first of these areas. Early researchers saw the “Syrian” deities as worshiped at best by slaves or mercenaries – they didn't fit neatly into the image of Egypt presented by some royal inscriptions: an unmovable, unchanging and homogeneous country, a vision as appealing to absolute rulers in the bronze age as it was to many 19th and 20th century researchers. However, the truth was much more complex, and in fact some of the best preserved accounts of foreign cults in Egypt indicate that the process was in no small part related to the pharaohs themselves. For example Ramses II in particular was an enthusiast of Anat, as evidenced by statues he left behind:

Ramses II and Anat (wikimedia commons) He also named his daughter Bint-Anat (“daughter of Anat”) and his favorite pets and possessions bore Anat-derived names too. Not only only Ramses II himself, but the entire XIXth dynasty – the “Ramessides” (a term also applied to the XXth dynasty) - was particularly keen on these imported deities. Curiously, one of its founders was named Seti - “man of Seth,” and Seth was seemingly the tutelary deity of his family. The well known case of Ramses II's red hair might be connected to this – this uncommon trait was associated with Seth. As a result of the Ramessides' rise to power Seth became one of the state gods in Egypt, alongside heavyweights like Amun, Ptah or Ra. However, it's also safe to say that he was popular in everyday cult among commoners, as evidenced by finds from camps for workers partaking in various construction projects.

Part of Egypt of the Ramessides at its maximal extent (in green; wikimedia commons) During the discussed period, Egypt was as the peak of its power, both military and cultural; the “other” recognized Egypt's power. Weaker states in the proximity of Egypt paid tribute, while the more distant fellow “superpowers”of the era (the Hittites and the Mitanni, rivals of Egypt in Syria and the Levant, and the more distant Kassite Babylon) bargained with Egypt for dynastic marriages, luxury goods or craftsmen. While some foreign rulers didn't necessarily get that the pharaohs might not want to play by their rules and expressed frustration with that in their letters sometimes (see a particularly funny example below), overall the relations were positive, and resulted in a lot of interchange between cultures.

(source) The incorporation of foreign deities into Egyptian pantheon was a phenomenon distinct both from the well known practice of interpretatio graeca and from the monumental Mesopotamian god lists, and foreign gods were adopted rather selectively. Some researchers propose that the incorporated deities were often chosen because their sphere of influence wasn't covered by any native god. For example, Astarte (more accurately Ashtart or Athtart, considering the Ugaritic orthography; however the Greek spelling is used in literature to refer to the Egyptian version and I'll stick to that) was associated with horses and chariot warfare. As the animal wasn't known in Egypt in the formative period of the state, it wasn't among the symbols of any local deity; at the same time chariots were a prominent component of the Egyptian military at the height of its power, and as such required a deity to be put in charge of it. Six deities of broadly “Syrian” origin are usually listed among Egyptian gods in modern scholarly literature: Anat, Astarte, Resheph, Houron, Baal (the Ugaritic weather controlling one) and Qadesh. Of these, four were pretty similar to their original versions. Qadesh is a complex case as it's uncertain if such a deity existed outside Egypt – it's possible she developed as a combination of a divine title (“the holy one”) and the general Egyptian perception of foreign religion. Some scholars in the past asserted she is simply Athirat/Asherah but this interpretation relied on the false premise of Athirat forming a trinity with Anat and Ashtart and the three of them being the only prominent goddesses in cities like Ugarit. There are also curiosities like Chaitau, a god with Egyptian name (“he who appears burning”) but attested only in sources from Levantine cities (though ones written in hieroglyphics) and in magical formulas of similar origin. Baal is the most puzzling case: simply put, it's clear Baal was introduced to Egypt. It's clear Baal was depicted in Egyptian art. It's even clear that Egyptians knew that Anat and Astarte were deities from Baal's circle back at home, and that Baal was tied to a narrative about combat with the sea. And yet, it's not easy to say where the Egyptian reception of Baal ends and where Seth starts. Baal's name was even written with the Seth animal symbol as determinative. When exactly did this identification first occur is unknown: while it would be sensible to assume the Hyksos, a Canaanite group which settled in Egypt and briefly ruled the Nile delta, are responsible, there is some evidence which might indicate this already happened before.

Baal and Seth

Baal was a natural match for Seth: Seth represented the foreigners, Baal was the most popular god of the foreign group most keen on settling in Egypt; Baal has a somewhat unruly character in myths; both rule over storms and have a pronounced warrior character. Additionally, both of them were depicted as enemies of monstrous serpents. Baal was identified with Seth in Egypt, but in turn Seth became more Baal-like too. So-called “Stela of year 400” depicts an entity labeled as Seth more similar in appearance to Baal due to the human face and Levantine, rather than Egyptian, garb:

(source) It is well known that the main myth of Baal, in Ugarit the first part of the “Baal cycle,”describes his combat with the sea, personified by the god Yam, seemingly described both as humanoid and serpentine. In Egypt, this narrative was associated with the composite Seth-Baal, and a fragmentary version is recorded in the so-called Astarte papyrus. Curiously, it was actually discovered long before the Baal cycle itself – however, it only became a subject of in depth studies in the wake of the discovery of Ugarit. There are also many similarities to the Hurrian myth “Song of the Sea,” known only from fragments, and to the Song of Hedammu from Hittite archives. While in the Ugaritic version Baal fought the personified Sea against the wishes of the head god El, in the Egyptian version the confrontation happens because the Ennead fears Yam, who threatens to flood the earth and demands tribute, much like the Hurrian Sea. Before Seth properly enters the scene, we learn about how Ptah and Renenutet, a harvest goddess, appeal to his associate Astarte (as already noted before viewed as Ptah's daughter in Egypt), hoping she'll act as a tribute bearer. Astarte is described as a fearsome warrior; however, she is not meant to fight Yam herself, but merely temporarily placate him. She seemingly strips down and brings offerings – this is, once again, closer to the Hurrian than Ugaritic version, where Shaushka, an “Ishtar type” goddess like Astarte, seduces the sea monster Hedammu in a similar way. It is not clear if Yam is interested, though - in fact he appears to question why Astarte isn’t dressed (possibly mocking what must’ve been a humiliating situation for a warrior deity, I’d assume). Eventually, Seth arrives and presumably fights Yam, likely with Astarte's help - the rest of the papyrus is too poorly preserved to decipher, but as indicated by the foreign equivalents Seth and Astarte win. This is confirmed by the Hearst Medical Papyrus, imploring Seth to expel illness from the treated person just like he vanquished the personified Sea. The Ugaritic version of the myth doesn’t include a tribute scene among surviving fragments, though it’s worth pointing out that the Ugaritic Ashtart/Astarte cheers on Baal during his battle against Yam and berates him for not acting quick enough, which is easy to interpret as hostility caused by a similar episode. Many researches assume that it existed among the lost fragments of the Baal Cycle tablets, though this is for now purely speculative. A variant of the myth of Seth and Horus - The Contendings of Horus and Seth - presents a further curious case of Seth-Baal syncretism, this time incorporated into well established Egyptian myth rather than an imported foreign one. Seth and Horus compete for the right to rule after Osiris' death. Ra thinks Seth is the better option to nominate as a successor because Seth killed Apophis on his behalf, but a few other of the elder gods disagree and try to delay the process by insisting to ask various deities to provide their expert opinions. These generally favor Horus much to Ra's annoyance, but he can't go against them so he insults Horus (calling him "feeble and weak-limbed" and criticizing his hygiene) but doesn't stop his rise to power. The semi-humorous portrayal of Ra is rather unusual; in addition to showing annoyance with other gods, at one point he vanishes, and only agrees to return because Hathor lured him out. It seems Horus' mother Isis insults Seth in response to Ra's comments. Seth, offended, refuses to partake in the divine assembly unless Isis leaves; Ra orders that and the gods gather again without her. However, Isis disguises herself and asks Seth who should inherit first, a child or a brother who can provide for himself (and is a foreigner), to which Seth replies that the former; this was a trick, obviously, and Isis holds it as proof that Seth forfeited his right to rule, which Ra accepts. After multiple chaotic tribulations (including the [in]famous lettuce episode as well as Horus decapitating his mother because he decides she doesn't do enough) Horus is re-declared king but Ra, implored by Ptah (otherwise absent from the myth) gives Seth two wives (eg. Anat and Astarte; this solution was suggested already earlier by the gods providing the opinion; some authors question if they are meant to be Seth’s wives or merely allies, much like the relationship between Baal, Anat and Ashtart in Ugarit is considered debatable) and the storm clouds as his new domain. He is to strike fear into hearts of men, but will also get to be treated as if he were Ra's own son. Considering the emphasis on storm and the mention of Anat and Astarte, it's pretty clear to me that Egyptians essentially invented their own Baal backstory meant to integrate the foreign tradition with their own by recasting Baal and Seth as the same entity. The text is however unusual because of its humorous tone – the gods insult each other, act ineptly and all around hardly provide an inspiring example. Perhaps the focus on Seth made this possible. As a final note before I'll move on to times much less prosperous for Seth it's worth to mention that not only Baal but also other foreign gods were at times equated with Seth. The Libyan god Ash was conflated with him in the western oases, while treaties with the Hittites assign the name of Seth to various members of their pantheon, including the Baal-like Tarhunna (equivalent of Hurrian Teshub) but also the sun goddess of Arinna.

Demonization of Seth

While in the late bronze age Seth greatly benefited from his role as a god of foreigners, in later periods this has proven to be his undoing. Egypt couldn't maintain its power forever, and eventually fell to the Assyrians, who showed little respect for local culture and looted Thebes. While the Assyrian domination was only temporary, it severely damaged the country, and a spiritual scapegoat was needed to reconcile the carnage with the idea that Egypt was a land chosen and protected by the gods. The change seemingly occurred under the rule of Psamtik – in a new version of the myth of Seth and Horus, Seth not only lost decisively, but also was punished afterwards, and religious texts spoke of a “rebellion”of Seth. Seth was never associated with Ashur, the head god of the Assyrians, before, but in Egyptian imagination he was blamed for bringing the invaders under “his” command to ravage and subjugate the country. A mythical text has Isis implore Ra to punish Seth for robbing temples, much like the Assyrian armies did. Even later accounts tell various tales about Seth being punished, either gruesomely (a few texts recount massacred of towns belonging to Seth) or humorously (for example in one text Thoth makes him impotent with a spell) and exiled from among gods. There's evidence that the worship of Seth, previously commonplace, came to be abhorred and depictions of Seth were destroyed or altered. A famous example is a Seth statue converted to look like Knhnum or Amun instead:

Seth no more (wikimedia commons) A late relief from Edfu, from the Ptolemaic times, seems to indicate that even Seth's role as a guardian of the solar barge was lost: Seth, depicted as a hippopotamus, was defeated by Horus from the solar barge of Re. However, while Apep is usually depicted as huge and menacing, hippo Seth is tiny and pathetic.

Seth as a tiny hippo representing the forces of chaos (wikimedia commons) Curiously, despite the official policies, which continued under Ptolemaic rule, it seems that until the 2nd century CE, Seth continued to be popular in the Dahkleh oasis, possibly even serving as the main deity there. Sadly due to lack of research I am unable to provide any more detailed information about that.

Closing remarks

Even further demonization of Seth is evident in the fact that the Greeks and Romans referred to Seth as Typhon, leaving no room for ambiguity of interpretation. As the Greek accounts of the late version of Seth were all that was known for centuries due to ability to read hieroglyphic writing vanishing with the advent of new religions, it remains dominant in media today. Perhaps it would be beneficial to leave some room for the serpent-slaying hero Seth hanging out with foreign deities in modern works, though? Surely his peculiar outsider status is even more appealing to modern readers than it was to the public of the Ramesside period.

Bibliography

N. Ayali-Darshan, The Other Version of the Story of the Storm-god’s Combat with the Sea in the Light of Egyptian, Ugaritic, and Hurro-Hittite Texts

G. Beckman, Foreigners in the Ancient Near East

M. Dijkstra, Ishtar seduces the Sea-serpent. A New Join in the Epic of Hedammu (KUB 36, 56+95) and its meaning for the battle between Baal and Yam in Ugaritic Tradition

T. J. Lewis, ʿAthtartu’s Incantations and the Use of Divine Names as Weapons

D. Schorsch and M. T. Wypyski, Seth, "Figure of Mystery"

D. T. Sugimoto (ed.), Transformation of a Goddess. Ishtar – Astarte – Aphrodite - especially the chapters ‘Athtart in Late Bronze Age Syrian Texts by M. S. Smith and Astarte in New Kingdom Egypt: Reconsideration of Her Role and Function by K. Tazawa

H. Te Velde, Seth, God of Confusion: A Study of His Role in Egyptian Mythology and Religion

P. J. Turner, Seth - a misrepresented god in the Ancient Egyptian pantheon? (PhD thesis)

C. Zivie-Coche, Foreign Deities in Egypt

#mythology #egyptian mythology #seth #astarte #canaanite mythology

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vminity21 · 3 years

Text

+1 | kth

Pairing: HighschoolCrush!Taehyung X StillProcessingIt!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Genre: angst/fluff/smut

Warning(s): slight language use, angst (if you read b/w the lines), pretty much smutty kissing, hand groping, mention of alcohol, breast worship, nipple play; Rated: 18+

Summary: When a crush you had in high school unexpectedly returns to your life six years later, this is the experience you have with him when you collected the courage to invite him over to hangout.

Credit to: @suhdays for the amazing cover!

Inspiration comes in the form of little expectancy especially when life seems to throw a curveball you never dreamed would be a potential possibility; but, here you are, tapping upon the keyboard of your five-year-old laptop decorated in stickers of celebs you've admired over the years mingled with relevant quotes that have bustled yet again- inspiration that motivates you day by day to continue to be the human being that you are. Inspiration though can appear in lyrical melodies broadcasted globally for millions to pine over; or, published in numerous pages creating imaginary worlds where ones can escape to; or, sketched in a meticulous design to build whatever idea had been desired to come to life; or, filmed in scenes of an edited story by talented persons determined to enter the spotlight in any way they can; or, painted along a canvas in colors of calculated detail bringing forth the picture of accomplishment. Inspiration derives from a mere moment- one that sparks the instinct to gather the materials needed to pour out your heart in ways that may bring a sense of peace.

For you, it used to be in the lines of a song penciled into a crinkled notebook from your backpack hidden away for no one to discover; it used to be countless childhood journals where you expressed your inward battles in order to find enough solace to sleep at night. You've lost your touch over the years because life changes in the blink of an eye, as you grow older, and work can distract from the time taken to focus on yourself; thankfully graduating college to gain the degree you now behold landed you a job, one you hope lasts for many years, and you are currently living in a two-bedroom apartment with your best friend, Monica, who's presently slumbering as you brush some loose strands of hair from your vision.

Your dog is curled at the end of your bed as you write, which is something that you haven't done in what feels like forever, but the reasoning behind this sporadic urge ignited when the familiar pair of brown eyes from six years prior, re-entered your world without your preparation and his presence from a recent night shared seems to echo in every space of your brain to where you've finally had enough. It's about time to reach out, the devil on your shoulder whispers, but the angel sitting on the opposite begs to differ. Shaking your head, you pause momentarily, cracking your knuckles before resting your forehead on the desk, exhaling slowly while the memory of his touch seems to haunt your skin.

He was someone you once admired in high school- roaming the hallways where girls giggled giddily each time he'd pass by; star of the basketball team, rising popularity to the point everyone knew his name, collecting homework answers from budding friendships, and it all began once he started his junior year at a new school- the school where you attended. But the difference that set him apart from the typical cliché's of the prevalent students you never seemed to relate to, was that he talked to absolutely everybody and anybody- no judgment on what group the person took part in, his kindness won the hearts of many other than the evident attraction of his physical features. He didn't care who you were or what you were into, he would be your friend, and that, considering he was viewed on a higher level, made him even more special.

Despite never admitting it then, you had a crush on him. He was more of an acquaintance, but you enjoyed his company when he came around, and when a past friend, who is now married with a few kids, used to have a crush on the same person, your heart sank, because with every guy thinking she was hot, you felt as though you would never stand a chance. Especially not with this guy who made your hands jittery and the beat in your chest skip- the guy who is none other than Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung would frequent the chorus room at times when you and your past friend would practice music pieces and he always was fond of your singing voice- something he praised you for often, while his attention was received from his talent regarding sports. Something he was so good at that it was spread that he may have gained quite the scholarship for college if he decided to go. There were memories of bravery where you seized the day just to steal a conversation and a hug; at one time, scribbling the words 'hot af' with an arrow pointing where he signed your friend, Min Yoongi's, yearbook; Yoongi playing it off as though he had no idea who the culprit was when Taehyung asked who wrote it. Utter surprise can't even fathom when you along with Taehyung were voted 'Most Likely to be Famous' by your graduating class when senior year was conquered. The inside joke was for you to hold the basketball while he placed his hands upon the keys of a piano, the picture you still couldn't process happened, but always remained grateful for.

Six years flew by and the conversation never necessarily held, but there were the rare messages from social media where he'd reach out hoping all had been well with you. Interestingly enough, a cover you posted harmonizing with a fellow singer happened to be his absolute favorite, one of the few Instagram posts he'd commented on, and one of the few singing videos he continuously would listen to repeatedly without your knowledge until a few weeks ago when he revealed that to you. A cover that is now near to be a four-year-old video that he still finds uplifting when he hears you and the way your voice blended so well with the other female. Your mind is reeling because after all this time, and even now, there are remains of the aftershock, trying to forget the feel of him, when there's no way you can, not with everything so fresh on your mind. So fresh on your heart.

It all occurred when Yoongi, who kept in touch with you occasionally after graduation brought you up to Taehyung who happened to think of you earlier when listening to his favorite cover of yours, and he agreed he'd like to hang out. He asked if his friend, Hoseok could join you, Monica, and Yoongi which of course you said yes to learn how sweet you found it, that he had traveled within the span of a day after visiting his grandparents, because he is a man of his word, planned to come see you even though the drive was five hours out of his way. The night was filled with so much laughter mixed with serious conversations to the point the card game that was supposed to be played was never finished, and it sprung the desire of wanting to see Taehyung again, and you couldn't come to terms with never knowing so after some encouragement from Monnie and Yoongi, you messaged T to hang out a few days later, but never opened his reply until you were safely home from work.

Taehyung: Gotcha! Hmmm, I haven't decided on what I intend on doing. Either being with family or hanging out with friends. If I don't hang out with family, you could be my plus 1 or bring whomever or vice versa

[Y/N]: Sorry I just got home from work! I'll definitely be your plus 1 if hanging with family doesn't work out! Sounds like a plan!

He asked if you wanted anything from the store when it was confirmed he was on his way which you responded with your typical answer of no, and with music playing from your Bluetooth speaker, you were highly humiliated when you lost track of four minutes of time, opening a message from him to see that he had been there, at your door. Heart racing you rushed to unlock it, head spinning when you saw he leaned against the stair railing with a plastic bag of two Arbor Mist wine bottles dangling from his hand, him promising everything was fine despite your profuse apologies- him slipping his phone in his back pocket while he followed you into your home.

Monnie happened to be staying the night with her family, so it would be just the two of you tonight, besides your dog who bounced at his legs while he reached down to pet her fluffy head. Taking in the sight of him, now that was something you found hard to believe. Just a simple pair of jeans, a gray t-shirt with a black jacket complementing the dark tendrils of hair spread across his forehead leading to the carefully sculpted lining of his jaw nearly brought you to your knees, but you held it together long enough to settle across from him at your dining room table. He had taken off his shoes at the door remembering upon a few days prior, and he set out the wine while you jumped to retrieve wine glasses (Yoongi happened to purchase for you) while banter still related to greetings.

One thing that truly intrigued you when first seeing Taehyung after six years were words, he had said that touched your heart more than you'd like to profess. "That's why I try to enjoy every moment with people because you never know what day will be your last," and you knew right then, that if there was anyone you wanted to share a moment with, it was him, and there he was, right before you, smiling about something you said while the sound of the fruity liquid-filled each glass.

"I really truly do not understand what you are so afraid of. What do you even have to lose?" Monnie tinkered with the lens to her camera while she sauntered through the living room. Exasperated from anxiety, you sucked in your lips before teasingly throwing her the side-eye.

"My dignity,"

"Oh c'mon," she paused, lifting a brow. You had been talking nonstop on how bad you wanted to invite Taehyung over, but fear of rejection including the fear of humiliation seemed to overwhelm you, although deep down you knew your best friend in the entire world was correct. You did not nor do you have anything to lose.

"Well!" You squawked, raising your palms dramatically in the air before slapping them to the sides of your thighs, "Why the hell would Kim Taehyung ever want to hang out with me anyway? Do you not see how farfetched this all is?"

"Bold of you to assume that my life isn't already farfetched enough as it is-"

"Not! The point!"

Monnie sighed, and when she saw the way your shoulders slumped in disappointment that shouldn't have been an issue, to begin with, she stepped closer, placing her hand on your shoulder, "First off, you are overthinking this, and you shouldn't. Besides, I think after hanging out as a group, he only sees you as a friend, meaning no expectations. So, go into it with that mindset okay? I'm sure he'd love to hang out with you. Secondly," she smiled, her serene expression filled with promises she always kept, "You've waited six years for this. I think you should ask him to hang out."

"You really think so?" Your grin reached your hopeful eyes, and the feeling in your chest seemed to react more positively despite your earlier turmoil.

"Yeah. The dude owes us a chair anyways,"

"Ah!" You cackled, back pressed against the dining room table as you remembered literally a few days ago when Taehyung accidentally broke a spindle of the chair in half with his foot when Yoongi scared him just by suddenly walking down the hallway. "I don't think I've ever seen a man so embarrassed."

"I'm not saying to hold it over his head, but," Monnie held up her index finger, "I think that gives him enough reason to come back," she giggled, setting her camera on the dining room table before waltzing into the kitchen.

You shrugged, "At least we can still sit on it."

"Look at it, it's staring at me," Taehyung pointed swiftly at where the vacant spindle would have been, your laughter reverberated throughout the space.

"T, really, you do not owe us new chairs. I promise, it's fine," you reassured him, realizing your cheeks were sore from how much you'd been smiling since he entered your 'realm of refuge' as you liked to describe your apartment. He snapped a picture of it, probably with the intention of getting a new chair for you and Monica regardless, and you found that appreciative although you would be happy if he didn't.

Shit. You pause from the computer screen, leaning back into your chair before folding your arms tight across your chest. Eyeballing the cursor, your vision narrows as it blinks, waiting for you to add more words to the memory that seems to spin in a cycle with the subtle goal of not stopping. Or, so you figure. If recalling every little detail isn't already hard enough, reliving the reminiscence of his fingers twirling in your hair, his sweet laugh when he looked at you, or the way he held you so tight-

But, everything in between, leading up to those mesmerizing flashes are just as important to you as what it led to. Maybe it was the conversation- the three hours of conversation before the move to the sofa which it was hard to fully focus on what else was being said because how could you properly concentrate when the one person, you'd been so worried about spending time with was seriously conversing with you like the pair of you had been friends your whole lives?

Miraculously, you were able to gather the stories of past vacations that resulted in mild disappointment revolving around the complaints of people surrounding him, or the goal of visiting as many places as possible leading Taehyung to scribble down a list of where he'd been to reveal you both have equally been to the same amount of places. Of course, the thrill of going on a mini adventure with him brought an excitement you haven't felt in a while; even the story of why he was transferred to your high school years ago due to a misunderstanding, and when the pair of you made your way to the couch, he nestled into one corner while you gladly took the other, wishing you could snuggle closer but fear prevented you from doing so.

It seemed as though that he didn't want to watch the movie anyhow, because he talked to you as though he never wanted to stop, and eventually it led to you asking one too many times if he was okay with spending the rest of the night with you. "It's up to you, I'll stay if you want me too," he promised, the way your heart fluttered when you replied, "Yes, can you please stay? I don't want you to go."

"Alright, alright! I'll stay," he smiled widely, both of his large hands reaching out, and there was not one ounce of hesitation from you- your hands grasped his before your dog jumped to beg for attention, trying to lick at his face causing your hands to undo. Laughter was contagious with Taehyung, and still cuddled into the corner of the couch, you were so elated that he was going to stay, you reached to hug him, his arms wrapping around you, the feel of your bodies aligning putting the biggest smile on your face. It was crazy how everything was seeming to fall into place- the stars aligning as though it was all magic; and, you couldn't get past how right everything felt. How right he felt. Pulling away, his smile never left him, "Are you shy?" His arm remained draped around your shoulders, and timidly you peer at his surprised gape, his black hair almost covered his crescent eyes.

"I mean... Yeah, I can be," you murmured, reaching to hug him again, but something washed over you this time, a thought that had crossed your mind repeatedly that you just couldn't take it anymore. The side of his face was blurred, placing your palm upon his cheek, and without even a moment of doubt, you kissed him. A sudden decision, but one of the best ones you could have made.

His lips were so soft, the way his mouth just seemed to mold with yours for only a few mere seconds, and the shock on his face when you pulled away, paired with the realization that his hands were held in the air, you hadn't expected his reaction. Shit! You cursed inwardly, immediately jumping back to persistently make sure he was okay; even when he moved to cuddle with you, him claiming everything was fine, but that he couldn't believe you kissed him being the both of you never once saw this coming especially six years ago during the high school days. His hand was fidgety as he swiftly rubbed your shoulder, your head buried on his chest while your mind spun in a continuous loop of how you could not believe that you kissed Taehyung. The Kim Taehyung.

He became quiet- too quiet, concern etched in your expression, maneuvering yourself back to the opposite corner of the couch, so you could face him. "T, are you sure you're okay? Did I freak you out?"

"No, no, I just can't believe you kissed me," he was in awe, eyes dazed as he ran his slim fingers through his hair, "Like, really I never saw this coming,"

"I mean, have you looked in the mirror?" You teased, knowing damn well he'd been aware of you finding him attractive, and he shook his head in dismissal of your compliment as he chuckled; it took you a whole sixty seconds to realize you were holding his hand, fingers linked, and him asking if you were nervous due to your clammy palm, though you tried to swear up and down you were not, the next round of words he said nearly brought you to tears when he finally spoke.

"You shouldn't sell yourself short," he looked you in the eyes without any faltering, although you tilted your head in mild confusion as to why he was saying this, to begin with, "I don't think you realize how much of an impact you've made on others, especially guys," ah, he was letting you down easy, and you knew it, but you're too stunned to speak as you listened, "I don't think you give yourself enough credit either. You're a great singer, you're pretty much a musician, you love animals, you have a job, you live on your own. Really, you shouldn't sell yourself short-"

"T," you breathed, pleading almost, but trying not to make it obvious, but he never broke eye contact, "We don't have to date or anything, I just- I just wanted a moment with you." You mentioned what inspired you to spend time with him- exposing how a few nights ago when he said he wanted to enjoy every moment with people- you knew you wanted to have a moment with him, too. Memories from high school were spoken momentarily, thirty minutes passing by which included a made-up handshake as well as the subtle twirl of his fingers in your hair- him complimenting how good your hair looked which made you blush even more.

Just when you thought he wasn't already smooth enough, you noticed Taehyung started teasing your dog, her pouncing at his chest before he'd lean in closer to you. Eyebrows scrunching, it took you a hot second to realize what he was doing. Each time Taehyung would scoot closer to you, he'd kiss you, sending the pair of you in boisterous laughter when your dog would try to break the kisses by jumping in between your faces. The more your lips would touch, it'd last a bit longer and longer, your hand clinging to the side of his jacket to pull him closer when things really started moving fast, eventually your dog left the room with the hint that attention was no longer available for her.

Still lip-locked, Taheyung's hands gripped your hips while you willingly moved to straddle him, arms resting on the top of the couch on either side of his head, the tip of your tongue glided along his, while he fanned his hands along your ass. You refrained from moaning into his kiss despite how bad you wanted to, yet you held yourself together, involuntarily grinding your clothed heat where his erection was felt. T smacked your ass before slithering the tips of his fingers to your shirt, slowly unbuttoning one by one.... One by one. His eyes were hazed from how much he was craving your mouth, and with a seductive nod in his direction, he continued until he made it to the final goal, your kisses never planning to stop, the sides of your shirt being brushed away for him to take in the sight of you.

"Ooh my God," his eyes darkened in evident lust when he saw the way your black bra cupped your breasts, "Oh my God," his voice deepened, him hardly knowing what to do with himself while your smirk remained subtlety on your mouth. Though you hadn't needed him to ask, he politely waited for your permission to touch your chest, a quick pang of frilly nerves ghosted your stomach.

"Yeah," you breathed seductively, gradually moving to capture his lips, trying to hold back a giggle when he gently moved his hands to your back, "You're not going to find it there," you mused, referring to the clip. He paused as if panicked, "It's in the front," you finally admitted, but failing miserably, Taehyung let you take initiative, you unclipped your bra uncovering what is now widening his brown eyes. "Oh my God!" His reaction made you want to cum right then and there, especially when his fingers made their way to squeeze your nipples when his mouth returned to yours. Taehyung worshiped your breasts, and for some odd, yet arousing reason, you lived for it.

You're uncertain of when the tv was switched off, and even now, as your hands continue to fly across the keyboard, one thing you do recall, one of the lingering memories of the evening was your shirt being off, thrown onto the floor mingled with your bra, and without any warning, Taehyung hoisted you in the air, your legs instinctively wrapped around his torso while he tightened his hold around your body. His steps were painfully careful, kissing you roughly while your arms kept their place behind his neck, and the direction was being taken to your bedroom where your heart pounded so anxiously to be. His jacket was shed before the bold act, and all that was left was his gray t-shirt and jeans. Laying you down with a bounce from your mattress, he remained above you, and your eyes refused to stray especially when he reached to remove his shirt- his smooth skin greeting yours sending waves of goosebumps spreading among your limbs.

There was no one like him in your eyes, and there never would be. Not in your heart. And with how perfect everything was going; you were not prepared for how hard it was going to be to stop before things went too far. Because what if he doesn't exactly feel the same? He was letting you down easy not even an hour ago, and here you were, hopes so high, you weren't sure how you were going to erase them back down. He kissed you until you couldn't breathe, your fingers dug into your comforter, while his palms glided all over your frame for however long you let him, but when he went to remove your leggings, you halted him.

Now, this is where your heart aches when you relive this part, because a conversation was held, one where you mentioned what if someone catches feelings if the both of you decided to solely be just friends with benefits? Taehyung said all you had to do was communicate with him because he was easy to get along with, and you've known this about him for six years. He was always someone easy to talk to, and you knew he would never treat you poorly over a situation like this. And, he hadn't. You made the executive decision to not sleep with him for you wanted him to remember you as the woman you are, and the woman, you've always been, and with the fear of going all the way being something that could change his image of you, you were satisfied to hear the loud echoes of his snoring after you changed into pajamas, gazing at his sleeping demeanor before you drifted into slumber as well.

When the morning came, you were not ready for him to leave, but he asked if you would walk him out, him throwing on his shirt and jacket while you rushed to brush your teeth. T asked if you had any other plans for the rest of the day which you proceeded to answer honestly with a no, as he mentioned that he was going to get breakfast.

"Let me know when you make it home," you said tenderly, "I want to know you're safe,"

"I will," he promised before you embraced him, turning just enough to place a peck to his cheek. It was his smile that decided to enter your recollection- the boxy smile that would plague you until the day you accept that you will never forget it.

And when you opened the door to the apartment where he gracefully waltzed through, you merely caught a glimpse of him leaving, ahead of you quietly shutting the door to whatever could have been.

Or, what could have started a beautiful story that has yet to unfold.

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hellsbellschime · 4 years

Note

idk if you already have one (if you do link pls), but could you do a meta on how dany and sansa compre as rulers?

Well shit, honestly I know my inner Sansa stan is going to come out here and it’s going to sound like I hate Dany. However the fact that I love Dany as a character doesn’t negate the fact that she was an absolutely terrible leader, and I feel like the fact that every time she was in a situation (typically one of her own making) that was too difficult to handle her reaction was to essentially toss up her hands and say “soz guys this isn’t working out, DEUCES” is pretty irrefutable proof that she was just an absolutely awful queen.

This might seem minor in the grand scheme of things, but one of the earliest learning experiences for both Sansa and Dany I think represents how they learn and behave towards everything going forward. For Sansa, the riot is a huge turning point for her. She’s already been abused and mistreated on a level she’s never experienced before, but she genuinely can’t understand why some men she’s never met before wanted to rape her and likely kill her. The lesson that she learns here seems to be that, regardless of the fact that in the moment Sansa is completely powerless, as a member of the ruling class she has more power over the common people than they will ever have over their own lives and that they’ll ever have over anyone else, and so when those rulers don’t have a good handle on ruling and if they’re ignorant of the experiences of those below them, then they will inevitably suffer and often times die. But it of course is extremely telling that Sansa’s reaction to Shae’s explanation is that she would have given them bread if they had it, and it’s an interesting contrast to Dany.

I think Dany’s kind of defining moment as a leader is with Mirri Maz Duur. Although these incidents aren’t really that similar on paper, the life lesson to be learned behind them is, but Dany and Sansa take entirely different things from it. Unlike Sansa in the riots, Dany is actually almost completely directly responsible for the suffering of Mirri Maz Duur. No, she wasn’t the one doing the raping, but the Lhazareen are being pillaged, killed, and sold into slavery to fund Dany’s conquering of Westeros. Mirri seems to do what she can to hurt Dany, and obviously Dany burns her alive in return. But Dany’s perception of herself, her righteousness, and her ability to do whatever she wants as queen seems to be cemented here. Mirri actually gives Dany a much more clear and understandable explanation of why she did what she did, but Dany’s internal reaction to it seems to be that the suffering of the Lhazareen were an unforeseen and unintended consequence, and that it’s only the fact that she didn’t intend for it to happen that matters. Instead of trying to understand what other people are going through or coming from, Dany essentially decides the opposite, that everyone should understand where she’s coming from and that she has good intentions, so anyone who acts out against her regardless of their reason is deserving of her wrath.

Another defining element of their leadership styles seems to be “I am the blood of the dragon” vs. “the lone wolf dies but the pack survives”. In a broader sense, the whole blood of the dragon obsession represents the absolutely insane level of Targaryen exceptionalism that the Targaryens believe, honestly Dany probably even more than the rest of them. The Targaryens literally think they’re gods among men, and the fact that Dany became the mother of dragons only cemented that idea in her mind. So then, she considers anything below godly exaltation to be blatant disrespect. Ironically, she hates ruling, but she wants everyone in the world to acknowledge her as their ruler because she sees literally everyone else as her inferior, and she cares much more about symbols like the title of queen or the Iron Throne than she does about anything else. Dany is willing to completely destabilize the world and to let anyone suffer so long as they call her queen while they do it, and she has shown time and again that anyone who doesn’t respect her position as ruler or acknowledge her claim to the throne will die. She’s completely injudicious when it comes to who she kills because literally all that matters is how they feel about her. FFS, “ending slavery” was a huge focal point of her storyline and she indiscriminately killed slavers who weren’t of use to her, but almost her entire army is made up of the Dothraki who were a key component of the slavery economy in Essos. In a weird way she has always demonstrated her “I know what is good” mentality in the sense that she literally just judges whether or not someone is good or bad based on whether or not they defer to her and call her queen.

And it would be disingenuous to say that Sansa doesn’t care about titles or rank, clearly that is something that has always been a priority to her and was especially when she was younger, however her perception of power and how it works is very interesting. She actually has an unfair advantage here because she has “role models” for kingship and queenship in people like Joffrey and Cersei. Especially with Joffrey, she obviously learned that being called king or queen says nothing about how much power you actually have, and having that title says nothing about whether or not people defer to you or whether or not you truly rule them. And more importantly, Sansa’s arc with Jon as the King in the North and even when Bran came home demonstrates that she understands what a necessity stability is, and that she’ll prioritize stability over her own superiority. Like Dany, Sansa actually has a pretty strong claim to the Northern throne, she could have very easily pressed that claim when Jon was named King in the North, and that claim is something she likely would have won. She also immediately tried to put Bran in the position of Lord of Winterfell even though in name that would have weakened her own political position, because she understands that destabilizing the North would be dangerous, would cause people to suffer, and because she truly understands that changing her title and having people call her something different would have zero effect on the actual power that she had within the country.

It’s kind of weird to say it, but Dany was almost at a disadvantage because she had no real experience learning how politics worked or how to rule or lead. Drogo was arguably the only real ruler she ever saw, but he didn’t really rule. Just like Dany ultimately wound up doing, he went to certain places, yielded whatever benefit he could find from it, and left. She never got to see why people like Joffrey and Cersei failed as leaders, or why people like Ned and Robb failed as leaders, and because she is the only person in the world with WMDs she’s never had to learn how to do anything through any other means besides overt force. And I mean, killing everyone who opposes you is certainly a way to gain power, but it’s clearly not effective leadership.

And on the other hand, Sansa has literally never been able to do anything alone. She’s always been a helpless girl who had to rely on the people around her, which has given her a lot of very good and clear life lessons on the fact that not only do rulers have to cooperate with others in order to succeed, but cooperating with the right people is as important as learning to work with others in general. Also a hugely important distinction here between her and Dany is that while Dany believes that the only moral choice for a leader is her and that anyone who chooses her as a leader is inherently moral, Sansa learns the opposite. She understands that a lot of the people who try to connect with her or earn her favor may be ill intentioned, and that it’s extremely important to distinguish between who is on her team for the right reasons or wrong ones. She also cannot bulldoze her way through problems so she has to actually solve them, and she understands that she can solve them much more effectively if she has other people around her to work with. If she needs food, she can’t just fly on a dragon somewhere and take it. If she needs men, she can’t just find a city and kill all of the leaders and tell everyone there that she’s their queen now. And that makes her job infinitely more difficult than Dany’s, but it also makes her position of power far stronger in the long run.

That’s not to say that Dany isn’t someone who has good ideas or good intentions, honestly when it comes to the status quo in Planetos it’s safe to say that it should be challenged, and although Sansa values stability over change that doesn’t necessarily mean that that’s the best course of action for a better world. But Dany’s problem when it comes to her big ideas is that she won’t put in the work to execute them properly. She doesn’t like the work of ruling and if we’re being real, she doesn’t have to put in the work because her dragons and her army the size of a city can do it for her or silence any dissent or opposition. And that is what makes her enormously dangerous. She looks at it as her right instead of her duty, and instead of ever trying to convince anyone of her competence she takes it as a personal insult if everyone she meets doesn’t immediately fall all over themselves to do her bidding. But of course why wouldn’t she, and why would a god ever have to prove themselves to mortals?

Sansa and Dany are meant to be foils for a lot of reasons, but one of the most intriguing to me is the fact that Sansa comes from a family of people who are just as super special as the Targaryens, but she’s not super special (I think it’s extremely likely that she is a warg, but when you compare her experience to that of Bran, Jon, or Arya, obviously she seems like the ordinary one in a family of superstars), and more importantly she was never raised with the idea that she was super special. Yes, she was an extremely highborn lady, but Ned Stark didn’t raise any of his children to believe that they were the chosen Kings of Winter who had ruled the North for thousands of years and done magical things that no ordinary human could ever dream of (and that difference always stands out to me so much, because frankly the Starks have even more reason to believe that they’re super special snowflakes than the Targaryens do, but they don’t), and that attitude obviously carries over into her leadership. She doesn’t look at being queen as her birthright because it quite literally is not, but she understands that it is first and foremost a duty and responsibility instead of an entitlement, and that shines through in the fact that she diligently does all of the scut work that the position requires.

#hybrdkiller #sansa stark #anti daenerys targaryen #anti daenerys #got #got meta #sansa stark meta #daenerys targaryen meta #anti daenerys targaryen meta

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aelaer · 3 years

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☕ The fact that Wakanda was presented as an advanced country looking down on others from it's comfortable vibranium armchair but had a monarchist system that could place a ruler with 100% muscles and 0% brains at the head, along with other bothersome stuff like that, like Shuri being the head of the government's science department while she is a part of the royal family, or really, every single part of Wakanda that looks good on paper - a king with a council of people leading the different tribes - but that history has shown us very often ends up creating a dictatorship, which is really what happened in the movie and I'm surprised no one sees it.

Like, the movie literally shows us this country that's supposedly so advanced, with spies and people placed around the world, most likely putting their fingers in as many pies as possible, and an incredibly developed technology - which is frightening on many levels considering that UN or no Wakanda could blow up everything outside of its borders and people wouldn't know it until it happened -, but with a monarchist - and whatever other words could define it - governmental system that has revealed a lot of problems in its configuration. The tribes leader were literally being choked in the throne room and no one was doing anything, there was a destruction of a historical, scientific and cultural heritage being condoned by the new religious ceremony leader(???) just because the king ordered it. They would've literally tried taking over the entire non-black population (and where does that leave all the metis people? All the ones that are not white, but not black? Of middle eastern descendance? Of Asian one? Etc?) if the ex-monarch hadn't done something.

What I'm trying to ask if, what do you think of Wakanda being a good idea on paper but terrible in practice? True! Untrue? Something else?

Holy shit lady, you ask the tough questions. This is a difficult subject to cover - you’re asking me to look at the political structure of a fictional society within a disenfranchised continent - and I’m uncertain if it’s possible to do a decent analysis without addressing heavy topics. Basically, I don’t want to sound like a privileged dickwad. So I guess what I can say is - this comes from someone with a (mostly decent) American-based education, and no formal study of pre-colonial customs and political structures in Africa. I apologise for any misconstrued ideas and more than welcome any corrections to those who know more about these subjects!

I like Wakanda on paper, mostly due to the fact that the majority of Africa got completely screwed in terms of historical treatment and I’m rooting for the continent’s people to gain their own voices again. Wakanda being such a huge thing in international popular culture might serve as an inspiration for someone who ends up being important to at least one country there. In that sense, I really like Wakanda - the idea that it can potentially inspire historically disenfranchised cultures in the real world. How practical that thought is, I’m not sure - I might just be too idealistic.

Dictatorships can happen in non-monarchies as well, which you know -- as the most famous examples in 20th century history are not monarchies. The issue that can appear in monarchies -- or dictatorships -- is the lack of checks and balances to help keep those in power from going overboard (or the populace not having enough manpower/arms to get a dictator-like-coup out, but that’s an entirely different discussion!)

From what we got in the movie, Wakanda does seem to lack those checks and balances and no ability to overrule a king’s command. It seemed that they never had any sort of Magna Carta in their history (which is far from a perfect document, but did start the precedent of limiting monarchical power), and it doesn’t seem there’s anything resembling a representative government with veto power over the leader that you see in, what, 2/3rds of the world these days? (I legit have no idea, but I do know it’s wide-spread.)

But why wouldn’t they have such a document limiting monarchical power or some sort of democratic process? The modern mindset across many countries around the world leans towards democracy and elected, representative governments. But it can’t be denied that colonialism helped spread this, as -- at least, according to wiki -- representative democracy/liberal democracy/Western democracy all originate in Europe. So, in some way it makes sense that they didn’t transition yet because they were never colonized, and they were completely self-contained so didn’t have any of the outside world conflicts to force them to make changes. France helped fund the barons who pushed for the Magna Carta. France was also responsible for helping fund/arm the US in their fight to gain independence (lol France vs England history, it’s so great). External conflicts with other regions/countries caused *changes* to happen in those societies, at least from what I know of European history. Possibly happened in other continents, but I’m just not knowledgeable enough about their histories to give specific examples.

Wakanda had no outside conflict, and with no outside conflict, you get one major source of problems eliminated. Civil wars happen for a multitude of reasons, but perhaps one of their solutions historically for kingship changing without civil war was the fight of a representative of a tribe to try and win it over. Who knows? But when you’re enclosed like Wakanda was, there’s a lot less chance of things changing.

(On that note - their selection of a new leader is also incredibly disproportionately unfair to women. The average man is physiologically stronger and faster than the average woman. It’s just--biology. But who knows, maybe Wakanda was the same as much of the rest of the world in terms of their thoughts of women leading in politics. There’s comic canon that could be different, but the MCU did a lot of changes from comic canon.)

A *lot* of things changed across the world in the 20th century, making the world much smaller. Before the 20th century, it was likely considered completely useless and nonviable to make war on other nations because, though they were more technologically advanced, it’s incredibly unlikely they had something akin to nuclear bombs in the 19th century. They had to have their own steps of progression. And if they were only *a bit* better, they couldn’t stop the entire world if they started attacking and word spread. It’s only in the late 20th, early 21st century that things like destroying the rest of the world with Wakandan weaponry was likely actually feasible. Though honestly? I don’t think that shield could withstand a nuke. I just don’t see it. If Erik’s plan went through, he may have doomed Wakanda's capital city to being utterly annihilated because too many countries do have the ultimate kill button, and there are some who would not hesitate to use it.

It also could be cultural. Wakanda didn’t go conquering their neighbors left and right. They were happy with five tribes and it seemed to remain five tribes. That speaks of something deeply cultural, deep within the roots of how they’re raised and taught. Erik came from an entirely different culture with a violent childhood and background, and because they were in the 21st century, other Wakandans could *learn* of the rest of the world, and get new ideas - and get the same anger that stirs war and revolutions, and ultimately can affect a country’s culture.

So perhaps before the 21st century, limited power with the king wasn’t needed simply due to their isolation. Now, though that they are much more connected with the world, maybe they need something more like Botswana or Nigeria, only tied in with a monarchy (according to wiki -- Elsewhere, in Botswana, the kgosis (or chieftains) of the various tribes are constitutionally empowered to serve as advisors within the national legislature as members of the Ntlo ya Dikgosi. Meanwhile, in Nigeria, the various traditional polities that currently exist are politically defined by way of the ceding of definite authority from the provincial governments, which in turn receive their powers to do so from a series of chieftaincy laws that have been legislatively created.)

So basically what I’m trying to say is, while I’m personally super gung ho about representative democracies and individual liberties, that’s not necessarily the culture of Wakanda and it may not fit for them. But *what* the culture of Wakanda evolves into, being more open to the rest of the world -- and thus, the rest of the world’s ideas and cultures, remains to be seen. They may find that they do need to reform their political structure after the civil war we saw in the first film, though, and perhaps they do so.

#mdcbd #wakanda #erik killmonger #meta #mcu #ask #answered

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lady-spieroles · 4 years

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God(dess) Help the Outcasts

He lived in a world of duality, Mianite and Dianite, Order and Chaos, Red and Blue, Propriety and Discord. How could he be anything but an Outcast when he chose the forgotten Third God?

Dedicated to Nerf House, @topazgirlygirl, @snowydawn17 and all the rest of the Voice Vibes crew <3 you all

Jordan had been born to a divided family. His Father was a follower of Mianite, his Mother a follower of Dianite. While this wasn’t necessarily the norm, it wasn’t frowned upon either. They lived in a world of duality, Mianite and Dianite, Order and Chaos, Red and Blue, Propriety and Discord. Everyone in their world chose one or the other. Neither were wholly good or wholly evil, just as no single person was good or evil, there were intricacies. However, people tended towards one side or the other, one God or another. In the case of his own family, his Father, a librarian, tended towards order and organization; so he, when he was old enough to choose his path, pledged himself to Mianite. Jordan’s mother on the other hand, an artist, adored spontaneity and was just generally, a disorderly person, her studio a mess of paints and brushes at all times. She had pledged herself to Dianite when it had been her time to choose.

Their families had been surprised when they’d first fallen in love, but wasn’t that how the old saying went? Opposites attract? And when a follower of Order and a follower of Chaos had a son, was it any wonder that he trended towards the middle ground of Balance?

Jordan had never had an answer when the other children in school asked which God he would pick. His town was close to the Capital and was therefore mostly neutral, conversations of who they would follow were frequent. Rarely was there any negativity shown towards either decision, except when Jordan said that he wasn’t sure. They always looked at him strangely, it was normal to have all but chosen by the time you were old enough to understand who the Gods were. You couldn’t pledge yourself officially at the Temples until you were 16, but that didn’t mean most children didn’t already know. He became an outcast, not bullied per say, but mostly ignored, the strange boy who clearly didn’t know himself well enough to know who to worship.

Despite this, he did well in school and between his studies and spending all his free time reading in the library where his Father worked, Jordan was quite clever by the time his final year of schooling came along. He left the school for the last time with the reputation of the outcast still on his shoulders but emotionally no worse for wear because of it.

In all the years spent there, all the time they thought that he didn’t know himself, he’d known it to be the opposite. He knew himself too well. He knew that he would not pledge himself to either God. He would forge a middle path, a Balance between Order and Chaos. If he was alone in his beliefs, so be it, but they would be his.

It was a trader that came from the far flung deserts that got his thoughts turning. He was manning the library for his Father when the trader arrived, dressed in rich blue robes.

“I come to trade with Sir Conway.” The man said, voice accented and gravelly.

Father had warned Jordan of this and had given him instructions and payment for the trader. “He’s not here, but I’m his son. I can help you.” Jordan explained, reaching under the counter to grab the bag of emeralds his Father had left for him. The trader nodded shortly but said nothing, producing a stack of three old books from his bag. The covers were dyed leather, faded and cracked with age, one deep royal blue, one burgundy and one a rich purple color. Three books for 10 emeralds was what his Father had said, so Jordan handed over 10 gleaming polished gemstones. The trader made a pleased sounding grunt and left the library without another word.

Once he was alone again Jordan looked at the books, he could recognize the archaic spelling of Mianite’s name on the spine of the blue book and Dianite’s on the burgundy one, but he’d never seen the name Ianite before. Curiously, he cracked it open and began to read.

As he read, Jordan realized that this Ianite figure had felt the same way he himself did. They were between Order and Chaos, a third option, a third God. But why then had he never heard of them? Why had no one told him that his thoughts were valid? He spent the entirety of the day reading the book, trying to find the answers to his questions.

He learned that Ianite was not a God, but a Goddess. She was the Goddess of Balance, sister to the Gods of Chaos and Order. Her domain was the End, something that shocked Jordan. He knew about the End but no one had been there in centuries according to the stories. Ancient Heroes of the Gods had entered the dimension and conquered it, slaying the beast that defended it. Was that why there was no mention of Ianite? Had conquering her domain in the name of the Overworlders done her some great harm? Caused her to fade from memory? Why would they have done such a thing?

Ianite had been different than the other Gods, he was able to gather as much from reading between the lines of the text. She’d been the least worshipped by the ancient people of this land. Her followers had been cast out for worshipping a Goddess of ‘contradiction’, instead of picking a side, they picked Ianite. Like he himself inadvertently had. But yet, he felt no shame in it.

That book became Jordan’s most important possession. He poured over it’s every word, committing every last scrap of information about Ianite to memory. He scoured other books about the Gods, searching for mentions of Ianite or Balance or the End. It became his life’s goal, he would find the End one day, because it was there that all the secrets of Ianite were.

He moved to the Capital, made a living in the bustling city by doing odd jobs and tasks. All his years of study and reading had given him such a vast wealth of knowledge that he could accomplish almost anything. It was during these jobs that he began to notice the disparity among the people, the different levels of society. He knew the Champions of the Gods lived here, their images and lives exalted by the civilian population, he’d come to recognize their names and faces the same as everyone else despite supporting neither of their Gods. The two men were friends he learned, practically as close as brothers. Jordan wondered, what it might be like to be so close to another person or to a God. He had a name for his beliefs now after all this time, a greater privilege than he’d ever expected when he’d chosen the third path years ago, but nothing more about her. It was also in the city that he realized that he may not be entirely alone in his beliefs.

Every city had it’s lower class, the poor and downtrodden, the Capital was no different. It made pity twist in his stomach to see people pray to their Gods for wealth and glory, while at the same time ignoring the people directly in front of them who needed things as simple as food. He took to giving what extra coin he could spare whenever he saw someone in need because how could he, an Outcast to the Gods, ignore the outcasts of society. Sometimes it was a lot, sometimes only a little, sometimes it was a loaf of bread or an apple. Every time though, no matter what, they were grateful.

One day, after Jordan had given him a loaf of bread and a handful of coins, an older man dressed in little more than rags, said “May Lady Ianite bless you in your kindness.” Jordan was too shaken to reply. He nodded and went on with his job, trying not to notice the knowing look the man gave him at his reaction.

It was that interaction that reminded him of the path he’d set himself upon. He was in a place of fortune, unlike so many that he saw. He could afford the time and effort to learn all he could about Ianite and the part she played in the history of the land. He dove into his research, seeking out books and scrolls and legends, following every lead in hopes that one of them might give him the knowledge he needed.

With each passing day and each new story he learned he felt closer and closer to this Goddess he’d never met. Most people went their whole lives without properly meeting their Gods, only the Champions interacted personally with the Gods, but Jordan felt so connected to Ianite already.

‘Maybe in another time or another life you were her Champion.’ He thought with a wry chuckle while getting ready for bed one night. “Yeah, like I’d ever be a Champion.” He muttered to himself as he blew out the candle in his bedroom.

“Don’t be so sure” A woman said in his dreams.

Days passed the same as they always had. He spent the daylight doing courier work and odd jobs, while the night was spent researching and learning. It was monotonous, until one lead brought him to the local museum. On display they had something unlike anything he’d seen. It looked almost like an enderpearl except it was pale green and blue with a dark streak through the middle that looked almost like a slit pupil.

‘Legend tells us that an Eye of Ender was the key to discovering the entrance to the void world, The End, when the ancient Heroes of the realm ventured forth to conquer it in the name of the Gods.’

This was the link he’d been searching for. After years of effort, he’d discovered the last step. This was how to find the stronghold that protected the portal to The End. Jordan left the museum with a grin on his face and hope in his heart.

It took him days to barter, purchase, or otherwise acquire the resources to create just over a dozen Eyes of Ender. He’d need a dozen alone to open the portal but he figured that if he calculated the trajectories just right, he could find the stronghold itself with less than 5. A week was spent preparing supplies for the journey and getting his affairs in order. Then, one final day was spent cooking and distributing all the perishable food he had throughout the city. He had no idea how long he’d be gone, no use letting things go to waste.

Just before sunrise, he climbed to the highest point in the hills surrounding the Capital. Below, the city was just beginning to wake up, smoke trickling from some of the chimneys, people heading to the fields and the markets. The Temples to Mianite and Dianite, one of either side of the city, were lit in crackling firelight by the enormous ever burning braziers the statues of the Gods themselves held in their hands. Jordan took one last look, imagining what it might be like to have a third temple, a third statue, a third God. Then, he turned away from the city towards the wilderness beyond and threw the Eye of Ender as high as he could.

~~~

He was farther from home than he’d ever been. A few days ago he’d hit the desert and hadn’t that been interesting? All his life he’d thought deserts to be excruciatingly hot, but after days spent in a strangely cold desert, he owed mental apologies to every desert trader he’d ever questioned for wearing such thick, blanket-like garments. He’d nearly frozen the first night, huddling as close as he could to his campfire under the shelter of a large sand dune. He was close though. He had to be. If his calculations were correct he should be within a few hundred blocks of the stronghold. He still had two spare Eyes aside from the dozen he needed to unlock the portal. He could spare one. Sliding his sunglasses back in place in front of his eyes, he looked up towards the sun, throwing the Eye, it drifted and drifted in the direction he’d been travelling but then he noticed something on the horizon as his eyes tracked its path. Was that a tree?

Jordan ran through the sand as fast as his feet could carry him, tripping and stumbling as it filled his boots. It wasn’t just a mirage, he realized as he got closer, it was an oasis, a crystal clear pond surrounded by drooping trees flush with leaves and vines. On the other side of the pond was a crumbling stone structure, a ruin of some long forgotten building, but within it was a staircase that led below the earth. Two small obelisks still stood, flanking the staircase, each made of intricately carved lavender stone and capped with a pyramid of obsidian.

A laugh of astonishment bubbled from his throat as he collapsed to his knees in the sand. He’d made it. After all this time. He’d found the entrance to the stronghold.

That night as he sat by fire, he reread his favorite sections of the purple book his Father had purchased all those years ago. It was worn down from years of use, the spine loose and some of the pages torn, the ink faded in spots. But that didn’t diminish Jordan’s love for it and what it represented. If anything he liked to think that Ianite appreciated the love he’d shown her book after so long.

He fell asleep to the relaxing crackling of his fire with the book open on his chest, thinking about the possibilities of what lay ahead.

“I’m so excited to finally meet you, my Hero.” A woman whispered as he drifted into his dreams.

~~~

When Jordan entered the Stronghold, he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. He wandered the eerily silent halls, lighting the torches on the walls to mark where he’d been so that he was less likely to get lost in the maze-like complex of halls and rooms. There were remnants that someone had been here before him but he’d expected that. The stories told as much. What he hadn’t expected to find were signs that there may have once been an entire civilization beneath the ground. He stumbled upon dozens of empty rooms in all different sizes, fountains, storerooms, two libraries, a prison, and nearly endless hallways and staircases. Had there been people who lived here once long ago?

Finally, after what felt like hours, down a darkened hallway, he saw an otherworldly glow. Jordan rounded a corner and there it was, the portal. It was elevated above a pool of lava, the blocks that made the frame glowing from their own internal illumination. It was the brightest room he’d been in since leaving the light of the sun behind. There were bits of rusted and cracked metal at the top of the staircase that led up to the portal. Whatever it had been, had been destroyed long ago. The portal was made of a strange white stone, capped with filigree patterns the same color as the Eyes of Ender. In the center of each was a rounded indentation of smoothed obsidian.

He gently placed the first Eye of Ender in the closest spot, jumping in surprise at the bizarre, resonant sound that echoed through the room. With each Eye the sound changed in pitch and tone until he got to the final slot. Jordan took a deep breath and inserted the final Eye. There was a crack of energy and a deep thud of a noise, alien and unnatural. Where there had been an empty frame, was now filled in with a warping speckled void unlike anything he’d ever seen in his life. It had appeared from nothing and seemed to go on endlessly even though the logical side of Jordan’s mind knew there was lava beneath it.

This was the moment he’d been waiting for. Ianite’s domain was beyond this remarkable and mystical portal. The answers he’d been looking for his entire life waited for him. And, if nothing else, at least maybe being in her domain would give him a chance that she would hear his prayers.

He closed his eyes and stepped forward in a leap of faith.

When he opened his eyes he was greeted by a bizarre landscape of the same off-white stone of the portal and immense towering columns of obsidian. He could see enderman teleporting about, their lanky, ink dark bodies moving without a single step. He averted his eyes downward out of reflex, confused by the obsidian platform that hovered above the Void. Jordan’s heart stopped in his chest, the Void was a scary story, a warning from parents to children about being cautious how deep into the earth they went. He’d never expected to actually see it in his life. Connecting this platform to the main island was a surprisingly wide path of cobblestone, worn and dirtied with age, but otherwise safe enough looking. This was more evidence that others had been here before him, the path was wide enough to accommodate multiple people at once with a waist high walls lining either side for safety. His thoughts turned back to the book and his thoughts that maybe, once upon a time, she had been worshipped the same way Dianite and Mianite were. There could be a Temple to Ianite somewhere on that island.

Cautiously, Jordan stepped onto the path, pleased that it didn’t crumble or give any indication of failing. With each step he gained confidence and surety, eyes flicking upwards towards the pillars of obsidian, the researcher in him taking in every bit of information he could, above each pillar floated a white crystal, bobbing gently up and down. The stone that made up the island, endstone he mentally dubbed it, had a strange texture under his boots. There was an almost, sandy feeling to it, like the very top layer was loose dust. It made for a slick surface as he ventured deeper into the landmass.

The first thing he noticed was just how many enderman there were, reminding himself to keep his gaze low so he didn’t attract their attention. In the center of the island was a fountain-like structure made of bedrock, something he’d only seen on school trips into the deep mines. Next to the fountain was a monstrous skeleton, the skull of which was larger than Jordan was tall. It looked almost reptilian in nature, with a horned frill and long sharp teeth. The Beast, he realized. The beast the ‘Heroes’ had killed was a dragon, a creature from myth and fairy tales.

As Jordan looked around further, he was beginning to fear that all this had been for nothing. There had to be more here, it couldn’t be just this. There had to be something else, something relating to Ianite.

An enderman teleported across the island. Behind it, Jordan caught a glimpse of the same lavender stone the obelisks at the oasis had been made of. Curiously he walked over to investigate, eyes widening in understanding as it came fully into view. It was a Temple. A decaying and crumbling Temple, but a Temple nonetheless. The roof was mostly caved in, only the front pediment was mildly intact, the lavender stone balancing almost precariously on top of a series of pure white columns, quartz if he had to guess. The walls of the Temple seemed intact enough as entered, wary and wondering.

It was emptier than the Temples dedicated to the other Gods that he’d been in. No pews or places for private prayer, simply a large room filled with the stone remains of the roof. Purple flowers in varieties he’d never seen sprouted up from in between the cracks in the floor, interspersed with flowers he did recognize, lilies of the valley and lavender sprigs. The drooping white lilies were a symbol of returning happiness and the lavender a symbol of feminine elegance, his mother loved painting them both because of it. Moss and vines had somehow found their way in as well, growing uncontrollably up and around the remains of grand columns and archways. But the most eye catching thing was the statue of a woman before an immense and intricate stained glass window, her arms outstretched in a pose of strength and grace. It was her. Ianite.

He approached and without really considering his actions, fell to his knees before her. He’d never prayed to a God before, had never felt that it was his right. But he’d seen others do it all his life, he knew how it traditionally went. He reached into his bag and pulled out a flint and steel, carefully lighting the end of a stick to use as a match. Surrounding the base of the statues were the stump ends of purple candles, melted to almost nothing, wicks blacked to charcoal. He lit those first, one at a time. Next he removed the offerings he’d prepared, it was said that every God had their favored items and the more valuable an item you presented, the greater blessing you would receive. With no knowledge of what she may want, he’d done his best. He laid diamonds and emeralds before her, as many as he could truly spare. But also, he presented the book that had sent him on this journey. He’d memorized every word and while he wasn’t sure what use it might have to her, the idea of offering something so significant to him felt right.

Jordan looked up to her then, the statue. Much like the rest of the Temple, it had seen better days. It was cracked and broken in places, a finger on one hand missing entirely, the hem of her dress ragged and eroded, her face barely more than a hint at an expression, shards of ender pearl where her eyes ought to be. Twin cracks traced down her cheeks like tears. She may have been forgotten, but she still deserved better.

He spread his arms wide, mimicking her pose. He swallowed, hesitant for what he was about to do. The Champions of the Gods were the only ones who were supposed to speak directly to the Gods themselves. The rest of the kingdom spoke only to priests and disciples who relayed the messages, and ‘Godless’ Outcasts like Jordan? Well, the last priest he’d spoken to had laughed him from the Temple because he’d dared insinuate that there was someone besides the two Gods. Still, he’d spent a long time trying to form the words he wanted to say to her. He was not here just for himself, but for all the Godless outcasts that could use the blessing of a Goddess.

I don’t know if you can hear me Or if you’re even there I don’t know if you would listen to a humble prayer

Yes, I know I’m just an outcast I shouldn’t speak to you Still I see your face and wonder Were you once an outcast too?

God help the outcasts Hungry from birth Show them the mercy They don't find on Earth God help my people We look to you still God help the outcasts Or nobody will

He wasn’t sure when he’d started crying but he didn’t wipe his tears away, looking into her eyes. He’d never felt so humbled in his life nor felt anything as strongly as he felt now. All his life he’d wondered what it felt like to pray to the Gods and have them supposedly listen. The prayers he’d heard though, had often been selfish. Requests for self-betterment, wealth, fame, glory, love. It made him wonder what kind of Gods Mianite and Dianite must be if their followers prayed so selfishly.

I ask for nothing I can get by But I know so many Less lucky than I

Please help my people The poor and down-trod I thought we all were children of Gods

God help the outcasts Children of Gods

He felt lighter when the words finally left him. Something in his heart had lifted, a weight he’d not realized he’d been carrying. A smile found its way to his lips as he wiped the moisture from his eyes. Jordan bowed his head to Lady Ianite for a moment, even if this had all been for nothing, at least he could return to the Capital with a new sense of purpose. He would spread the word of her existence, tell people of the third option, restore the belief in her. Maybe it would bring her back, maybe not. Either way, he felt she deserved it.

Jordan got to his feet and with a grin said “Alright My Lady, let’s see what I can do about fixing this place up eh? I’m not the best at building but I’ll do what I can.”

He worked through what he thought was the entire day, humming and whistling to himself and occasionally asking questions out loud to Ianite as if she could answer.

“What do you think? Leave all the flowers or just leave certain ones? I personally kind of like them all here, you’ve never probably seen the Temples in the Overworld but they’re kind of lifeless. I think the flowers add a nice touch. Maybe just a path through the center…?”

He stopped to eat, sitting against the inside front wall of the Temple and just looking. It was better already. He’d gotten most of the chunks of the ceiling pulled aside, at least the ones he was strong enough to move, as well as the remnants of the columns and arches. He’d pulled up the dead flowers and plants and lit the torches that lined the walls. Yes, it was looking a lot better than when he’d found it. Still not perfect, he didn’t have the tools or supplies to fix it in its entirety, not yet at least. But he would. Now that he knew where the portal was, he could return to the Overworld and stock up then come back.

He yawned widely. With no sun or moon he had no way to tell just how long he’d been here. If he was this tired, it must’ve been at least a whole day. It certainly wasn’t respectful of him to sleep in here but the alternative was sleeping out in the open surrounded by who knew how many enderman. “You don’t mind do you Milady? Just this once. I promise.” He yawned again, settling back against the wall and letting his eyes slip shut.

As his breathing evened out, every candle on the altar suddenly extinguished in a gust of air. The enderpearl shards in the eyes of the statue began to glow weakly and then with a single graceful step, a woman stepped from the stone. Her hair and dress floated around her as if she was underwater, her entire being mostly transparent. She leaned down to pick up the book that had been left to her, smiling faintly. He’d done so well to get here on his own. With nothing to go on but this book and his own feelings, he’d come to her. She could not think of a single person more deserving in this world of behind her Champion.

The Spirit of Ianite drifted through the Temple, the flowers waving delicately as she passed over them. She came to rest in front of him. His eyes were shut and entirely body relaxed, soft snores leaving him.

“Thank you for all you’ve done. I know you will go on to do a great many more things in my name. I am honored to bless you as my Champion.” She spoke into his dreams.

Ever so gently she wrapped her hand around his left forearm, shutting her eyes to channel her power. Upon his skin, a golden tattoo spiraled into existence. The pattern was varied, eyes and flowers and abstract symbols of balance all flowing together into a single piece of artwork. She felt the connection between them blossom to life like one of the chorus flowers that decorated the Temple. She could feel his mortality like a steady beat in her mind, the reassuring thump thump, thump thump of his heart. Ianite basked in the sensation for a moment, so new but still so welcome. He stirred beneath her touch, his subconscious reacting to their new connection.

She pressed her lips to her fingertips and whispered “I will answer your prayers my Champion. I will visit the others in their dreams as I will visit you. They will know you as my Champion and it is through you that my name will return to the world of mortals.” then with the utmost care, touched her fingertips to his temple to complete the blessing.

Ianite drifted back to her statue, looking back over her shoulder with a fond smile one last time before vanishing.

#mianite #Mianite fanfiction #Captain Sparklez #ianite #Goddess of Outcasts au #Song fic #mianite au #my writing #Nerf House #dianite #the realm of mianite #words words words

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asheelnair · 3 years

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PERSONAL BLOG :-)

Asheel Nair (Me18b101)

Course - MS4100 ( Soft skills)

First of all thanks Viji Ma'am to teach this wonderful course and making me understand and help me to grow and realize my skills that will help me personally as well as in professional growth.

1) Meaning and Purpose

It was a very great session to attend as it gave a lot of insights about life and insisted us to find our true worth and value of life in this world.

There is a statement which touched me very much- “Ultimately, man should not ask what the meaning of his life is, but rather must recognize that it is he who is asked. In a word, each man is questioned by life; and he can only answer to life by answering for his own life; to life he can only respond by being responsible.”

We are all hungry for meaning, for purpose, for the feeling that our life is worth more than the sum of its parts. We can find meaning in the sublime, in the absurd, in the dull and dreary, and in the perfectly wretched in life. That's when Viji came up with the word 'ikigai'- Combining the Japanese words iki, meaning life and gai, meaning value or worth, ikigai is essentially about finding your purpose in life. for exampe- Ikigai means “the reason you wake up for in the morning”

Then Viji told us to write our purpose of life in our book :-

What i love most- Video Games, family, friends, dogs

What i am good at - Maintaining relations, consulting

What can i get paid for - Consulting job or maybe some unexplored fields(who knows xD)

what the world needs- world is selfish and everyone wants profit in each and everything they do, the current world needs humanity and needs to develop a sense of empathy and helping nature.

Always know your true worth and realize it because it is only you know your true worth and value and always be grateful for who you are.

2) The '5S' principle

:- It was the first time i came across this principle and trust me it was worth it :)

What are the 5 principles of 5S?

5S stands for the 5 steps of this methodology: Sort, Set in Order, Shine, Standardize, Sustain.

5S is designed to decrease waste while optimizing productivity through maintaining an orderly workplace which will help you bring positive thinking and productive solution.

Application - I applied this principle in my room which was dirty and messes up. I cleaned everything and kept everything in a proper way. After implying this principle it felt very comforting and nice.

3) Time-Management

It is one of the crucial factors to live a peaceful life without any tension and stress. The person who has time management skills are very calm and comforting and always live a peaceful life. Everyone has the same 24 hours, however, some make better use of their time than others. This is one of the reasons why we have people who excel at the things they do. In other words, people may become busy; but that necessarily does not mean they are effective at their task. Hence, time management plays a crucial role in personal and professional life.

Time management may be a conscious effort to spend a selected amount of your time to perform a task efficiently . Furthermore, productivity is the key focus here. The more productive the work, the higher are the results. Moreover, time management requires a careful balancing between business life , social life, the other hobbies or activities. From an academic perspective, time management is a necessity. Students have many subjects to hide , therefore, efficiently managing time is a crucial skill.

The main problem we all face is the lack of time. Having so many things to do and yet not enough time to do them all. Through my conversations with many, I realized that I was not the only one facing this issue. This was when I realized sharpening my activity management skills becomes important. Though many people may call it ‘time management, I believe activity management is a better term because we can’t manage time but we can manage our activities each day. The reality is many people drift through life and allow themselves to be carried by the waves. We all have a choice to take control of our activities and reach our fullest potential.

so use your time wisely by sorting important things first by realizing the importance of time in your life and seeing the benefits of time management.

As it is said " Time and Tide wait for none" , make sure you make each and every second count and create a change for a greater tomorrow.

I even talked with few people who I believe is very efficient in time management and asked them their secret mantra :P , example - My friend :-

– All good things take time and so does your goal, some achieve goals faster while some take their time. You need to be vocal and loud about your goal, aim and thoughts. Always have a positive mindset and be ready to face any challenges thrown at your goals. You should always be open minded and appreciate every small thing that makes you reach your goal. She thinks that the importance of setting goals comes with maturity and responsibility and you need to figure out what things comes first in your life.

4) Strength based Learning - All the above factors can be included while finding about our personal strength based learning. sit down for few minutes and think about your strengths and weaknesses. For me-Strengths-based learning involves a process of assessing which helps us to identify our greatest talents, and to then develop and apply strengths based on those talents in the process of learning, intellectual development, and academic achievement to levels of personal and professional excellence.

As it is said " champions are not born they are trained and nourished with care to become a champion", Skills do not naturally exist within us; they must be acquired through training and practice. The concept of strengths is based in each individual’s unique nature and building upon what he or she naturally does best. Takeaway-After this session I realized I have strengths with which I can create a change for better tomorrow and life is too long to explore, learn and develop. I would always like to explore my strengths and work on it and inspire others to play on their strengths. Thanks Viji for this wonderful session :)

5) Communication

It is something because of which I faced conflicts in past, For me -signaling benevolence in communication seems vital than harsh-naked truth as it can sometimes product in fright, strain or spite in developing long-lasting relationships with family or at workplace. Blunt honesty can sometimes be rebellious whereas benevolence aids in handling difficult situations ethically by breeding trust and in boosting one’s morale. It enables one to be mindful of consequences and frame things in a way that is different from complete unvarnished truth- which in turn fosters relationships and other developments.

Thanks to Abha ma'am and Viji ma'am to take up this session and making it a wonderful experience. Salute to both of you for your professionalism and are dedicated to your work, was truly amazed to see this.

Presentation- The three 's' -structure, style and substance were covered in this. There were many other factors that were taught which helped me to learn, incorporate those and make my skills even stronger. Learned a lot on how to communicate, make a presentation and how to present yourself in front of people, all thanks to Abha ma'am.

Assertive Communication - Assertiveness means expressing your point of view in a way that is clear and direct, while still respecting others. Communicating in an assertive manner can help you to: minimize conflict. The 3 C's Of Assertive Communication are Confidence – you believe in your ability to handle a situation. Clear – the message you have is clear and easy to understand. Controlled – you deliver information in a calm and controlled manner. Passive communication and behavior involves allowing your own rights to be violated by failing to express honest feelings, thoughts, and beliefs, or by expressing your thoughts and feelings in an apologetic manner that others can easily disregard.

Few steps for assertive communication :

1.Tell the person what you think about their behavior without accusing them.

2. Tell them how you feel when they behave a certain way.

3. Tell them how their behavior affects you and your relationship with them.

4. Tell them what you would prefer them to do instead.

6) Self Realization

This was a very good session and topic. During the first 5 min we were told to take out a mirror or front camera and look yourself in it for few minutes and write down whatever comes into your mind. when i saw myself i could see that there is a fire burning within myself that want's to achieve each and every goal, I realized i will soon conquer each and every challenges in my way and make my parents and myself proud.

Then we came on the topic of

Body shaming :

It is something that i feel is cheap and very immature. Without knowing what the other person is going through people criticize them and laugh at them. Individuals with a history of trauma, depression, self-harm, low self-esteem, or borderline personality disorder are more likely to be affected by body shaming and potentially develop an eating disorder or engage in self-harm behavior.

Empowerment doesn’t just refer to professional success and financial stability but also the overall personality development of an individual. Empowering yourself requires you to confront your problems but not bow down to them. It involves you being open to changing your views based on your own personal experience. Hence, if you’re not changing and sticking to what you’ve been told by society, you’re keeping yourself away from empowerment.

When it comes to our views, we have plenty of them pertaining to our own selves. A majority of them are concerned with how we look. From television to magazine, most women have grown up being told that the perfect girl is slim, fair, humble, docile and quiet.

But, what about those women who are plus-sized, have a deformity, have too many tattoos or are too outspoken? The society might not find them palatable enough to call them perfect but who gave society that right, anyway? The only person who gets to decide is you. You need to shed societal expectations and accept every bit of yourself.

Takeaway - Don't live by fearing of someone's judgement, Everyone has a beautiful body on this planet, all are different that is the beauty of this world. "Embrace it don't hide it"

Snake and Ladder in our life :-

Ladder here refers to all the supports in your life who encourage you to achieve something great in your life while snake refers to all the challenges that is stopping you to achieve your goals.

Ladder and goals -

Family, friends and dear ones

Get into a dream company that recognizes my talent and reach a good position where one day i can become a leader

Want to buy a luxurious home to my parents and want to give them everything whatever they ask for

Buy a dream car

Building shelter homes for animals

Do something for orphans and rural people

Reach at a height where i become a role model for few

Build a dream PC gaming set-up, xD

Want to travel the world (each and every corner)

Want to learn calisthenics

And many more............. :P

Snakes -

Negative people

Procrastination. “I will do it later” is often equivalent to “I will never do it,” though that is never the real intention behind procrastinating something

Fear of Failure

Ignorance

Lack of Purpose

Lack of Courage

Fault Finding

Lack of Self-belief Takeaway -

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angrycowboy · 4 years

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So my original idea was to just tackle my thoughts on RNM’s portrayal of Michael Guerin’s bisexuality, which is something I have loved a lot. But then 2x06 aired, and we got some beautiful insight into Alex Manes, and I had to shift gears a bit to include that.

Because I know tensions regarding this episode are high, consider this a warning - I am going to talk about Michael and Alex, and a bit about the airstream scene in 2x06. And I am going to discuss how it has resonated with me in a positive way. But mostly, this is about how sexuality is complicated, and how amazing it is to see depictions on television that truly make me feel seen.

One of my favorite things about Michael Guerin, and about how RNM has chosen to portray his bisexuality, is that it’s not obvious. He doesn’t feel the need to talk about it, or discuss it - and in fact, only offers it up to Isobel in 1x10 as she’s questioning her own feelings in an effort to make her feel more comfortable. Later in 1x11, he snaps at Max because well, Max has just poked and prodded at him talk (and they’re stuck in the bunker together with nothing else to do). And someone who isn’t comfortable in who they are doesn’t say things like, “It’s not that complicated.” That is something firmly in the camp of yeah, this is who I am, what of it? Because make no mistake, it is incredibly important to me to hear characters like Michael Guerin self-identify on screen as bisexual.

Part of this portrayal can of course, also be attributed to Michael’s upbringing in the foster care system, where talking about himself was never encouraged or allowed. Because I don’t think, given how it is repeatedly reinforced that Michael shunned most aspects of humanity on Earth, that he was ever ashamed of his sexuality. Though I do believe that said upbringing did affect his own feelings of self-worth, and how he saw himself in the eyes of others.

Something I’ve seen mentioned a lot are two interactions we see on screen: between Alex & Maria in 1x10, and between Maria & Liz in 1x13, and the idea that there is “outing” of Michael. And while, I do understand and respect a lot of those arguments, especially regarding their importance regarding the LGBTQ community as a whole, something I don’t see discussed are people who don’t necessarily want to have a formal coming out, or who don’t feel the need to initiate those conversations regarding their sexuality. Even though yes, both Alex and Maria do technically out Michael (though neither do it with any malicious intent), I don't believe that Michael himself would care that other people know he is bisexual (his feelings for Alex are a different story entirely). And part of that may be that he doesn't believe anyone else thinks of him that much to even discuss him due to that upbringing he had, and also because the act of coming out would involve the feeling of being under a microscope (thanks for that wording, Riley), and Michael Guerin would definitely want to avoid that.

But back to my original point - at no point during Season 1 does Michael Guerin give the impression that he is ashamed of his sexuality - the lack of bringing it up first does not read that way to me. It reads more as Michael sees it simply as part of who he is, and that’s it. He can’t change it, and he’s already different (he’s a literal alien, ffs), so why worry about it. It very much reminds me of how I have viewed my own sexuality for years - it is simply just part of who I am. I have never felt the need to sit anyone down and announce my sexuality - in fact, I came out to my mother as I was walking out the door to go on a date. She asked what his name was, and I just replied what her name was.

But there seems to exist this idea within the LGBTQ community that every person needs to have a “coming out.” That we need to be completely in control of who knows, and how they find out, and when they find out, which is not something I agree with completely. Now, also know that I understand the importance of this idea to many, because of rampant homophobic attitudes that remain present within our society. But I see very few people discussing and supporting those of us who would rather not have to announce it in some grand way - because is this not also allowing someone to control their narrative? It has definitely made me wonder how different my own acceptance of my sexuality could have been had I believed that it wasn’t a requirement for me to come out to the people in my life (an idea which sends my anxiety into a tailspin, tbh).

Again, this is just my perspective��regarding the overall portrayal of Michael’s bisexuality. It is not meant to act as a correct version, just sharing why I have particularly enjoyed what RNM has done.

But it was not Michael Guerin that made me want to write fanfic, and it was not Michael Guerin that truly made me love this show - it was in fact, Alex Manes. It was Alex Manes, who is confrontational, who is analytical, who needs facts first and who lives so much within his own head, that truly drew me into this show. Alex Manes who very clearly has struggled not with the fact that he is gay, but with that outward expression of his sexuality. In canon, this is very much due to the trauma of his childhood, to growing up in an abusive household that rejected everything about who he was as a person, and tried to force him into a box that was very much not who he is. And while I did not have that kind of upbringing, the idea of believing you won’t be accepted even among the people who should love you unconditionally is a universal feeling within the LGBTQ community.

Alex’s talk with Maria in the truck is perhaps some of the most relatable queer representation I’ve ever seen. Because it dives into the different types of love and attraction and how not every touch between two people needs to be sexual in nature. And it lays out very plainly how important it is to have trust between people. But it’s also about recognizing what you do want, and accepting that for yourself. And that conversation is so important toward understanding what happens later on in the Airstream.

Because Alex, due to his upbringing, doesn’t believe that he is worthy of being loved in that way. When Maria comforts Michael over the realization that he could have lost both of them, Alex says he should go, not because he doesn’t want to be there. He says it because he feels like he shouldn’t be allowed to be there, to want to be there. Alex feels like an intrusion, even though he’s gone through the same horrifying ordeal and he’s with two people he loves and feels safe around. Maria recognizes that immediately, and moves back to Alex in order to give him the safety he needs as well. Maria is acting in regards to both of the boys love languages - Alex needs that physical touch of reassurance (kissing him), Michael needs to hear it verbally (”it’s okay”). And furthermore, they all need each other in that moment (”I just want us all safe”).

But it is specifically Alex’s speech in the truck earlier, about touch and self-acceptance that has me sobbing every time I watch it. Because even though I got my first crush on a girl as a teenager, it wasn’t until years later that I actually allowed myself to act on that. It was only years later that I learned just how different my attraction toward men and women really was, that I enjoyed different things for different reasons from the different sexes and that was okay. So that speech has just really resonated with me as a bisexual woman who struggled for years with acceptance of her sexuality, of being able to act on it, and it makes me incredibly happy to see a television show (A CW SHOW ABOUT COWBOY ALIENS OK) conquering these things in such a relatable way.

All of this ended up making me go back to something Chasing wrote last year about Michael’s bisexuality, and the portrayal we’re seeing, and something she said in her meta: “No one is harder on queer representation and queer media than queer people - and I get it. We’ve had so much bad representation and we’re sick of it and that’s understandable. But it’s turned into this thing where every slice of representation has to be Perfect or it’s Garbage, and it’s leading creators to not want to try because they’re so harshly run off every time they do. And when they don’t try, they don’t learn, and when they don’t learn, they don’t do better.” So maybe the rep isn’t perfect, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a valiant effort being made to reach out to an underrepresented community. And for me personally, the depiction doesn’t have to be perfect, because people aren’t perfect, and sexuality isn’t one size fits all. What may make one person feel seen and understood, another may not see themselves represented at all - but that’s okay. Because with more representation in media, comes different tellings and stories, and comes different ways people can relate because the queer community is not a monolith. We all look at things through different lenses and experiences, but it becomes hurtful when those who don’t see themselves represented in a specific piece of media start telling those who do that they are wrong. And I wish more people would take that into consideration during discussions and criticisms.

Finally, I want to end with this gif, because woo boy. This face and that look. I know that look. I have made that look. This look is so goddamn recognizable and familiar. Because there’s also something about knowing you’re watching an actor who has probably also gone through a lot of these same feelings the character is expressing, that it just comes through in their performance and makes it all the more relatable and real (and especially how even the script itself makes it obvious it was written by people in the queer community).

#roswell new mexico #roswell nm meta #rnm 2x06 airstream scene #michael guerin #alex manes #not really malexa #but a little malexa #notso writes meta #also some of my own personal thoughts #does any of this makes sense #i have no idea but i needed to finally get it all out #i love alex manes and michael guerin a lot ok

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travllingbunny · 4 years

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The 100: 7x03 False Gods

Although I liked this episode less than the first two episodes of season 7, which were great, especially 7x02. I quite enjoyed False Gods for what it was. This seems to be an unpopular opinion in the fandom, which mostly hated it for what it wasn’t. And I get it - Bellamy has been missing for almost 3 episodes (even though it’s not even been 2 days since he left Sanctum), Clarke took a back seat here, and the new SciFi Anomaly storyline is far more interesting than the power struggles in Sanctum. Plus the A plot of this episode was problem-of-the-week, another potential nuclear meltdown - of a reactor we didn’t even know about before.

it feels like a setup/breather before we get to the real story. Yes, it's high time the storylines finally converge and Clarke and the others learn that Bellamy and others are missing, and get involved in the Anomaly plot. I guess I’m more patient than most, and it helped that I already knew this would only happen in the next episode.The biggest problem of this episode is probably that it didn’t address what was happening in the other storyline, for the benefit of all the viewers who are watching this weekly, don’t necessarily think about the show’s timeline and aren’t aware of the fact that it’s been a little over one day since Bellamy, Octavia, Echo and Gabriel went to research the Anomaly Stone, that there’s absolutely nothing surprising about the fact they haven’t come back yet (people were absent for similar periods of time in season 6 even when they went to a less distant location), that there is no reason whatsoever for Clarke and others to think that there are any other threats on the moon or any other humans outside Sanctum, and that there are no radio signals or mobile phones they could use to call them before they get back. And that, if she doesn’t have reasons to think Bellamy is in danger, it’s not OOC at all for Clarke to not be whining about the fact that he left with his girlfriend, his sister and Gabriel to do research instead of stay and help her as a co-leader in Sanctum, while she is also grieving her mom... Actually, you know what, I do have a problem with people criticizing Clarke for that. But I do see why a mention would help the viewers get a sense of coherence, that both this and the previous episode belong to the same story.

But at the same time, this episode delivered some of the things many fans have been saying they wanted to see: it was focused on the characters who have been there from season 1, Raven and Murphy (and Emori, who has been there since season 2 and has had the most long-lasting relationship in the show), it gave Raven an arc and character development and put her in the situation to make “impossible choices” and understand how Clarke has felt so many times (something that many were asking for after her season 6 characterization), it, put an end to Madi being a Commander, and let Clarke grieve for the loss of her mother for another episode.

Raven's storyline was still really engaging and the scenes in the reactor intense. And damn it, I liked Hatch, even though he was in just two episodes and a few scenes. He stole the show and made me really sad when I realized he was definitely doomed. I knew from the trailer that Nikki would beat the crap out of Raven, but I didn't know why. A lot of people thought Nikki would just be a straight-up villain like McCreary, but instead, she's given a good reason to feel the way she does. And it was high time the show addressed the fact that the Eligius prisoners are looked down on as second class people or barely people. Sure, they are murderers and thieves and not nice people, but that doesn’t make it OK to see them as barely human, as Eligius Corporation did when they were going to leave them to die as expendable.

This is probably leading to the friendship between Raven and Clarke getting stronger again. Other things this episode seemed to be setting up:

future conflicts in Sanctum: SheidhedaRussell (SheidRussell? RussellHeda?) getting more control, while Clarke and others have no idea about who he really is, while the Eligius prisoners are going to be led by a very angry Nikki;

Clarke has a continuation of her story from 7x01 and gets a kind of closure to her grief over her mother. She gets to say that she cannot lose anyone else, a very obvious setup for learning about Bellamy’s (and others’) disappearance. At first, this made me roll my eyes a little bit - it’s not like this is a new motivation for Clarke. She is always trying to save her people, and anyone who isn’t aware how important Bellamy is to her, has not been paying attention. But then it struck me - the show was doing extra work to set up Clarke being ready to leave Madi in Sanctum without looking like a ‘bad mother’ - and for that purpose, she now 1) knows Madi is not a Heda anymore and can breathe a sign of relief that Madi can be a normal kid now, 2) has no idea about Sheidheda, and 3) has started to trust Gaia enough as someone who could take care of Madi.

This time it’s Luisa's voice saying "Previously". It looks like they're having a different cast member say it at the start of each episode (Eliza in 7x01, Marie in 7x02).

James wasn’t losing any time, did he. It’s been just a little over a day since they came from the ship, and he’s already hooking up with a girl from Sanctum. And the show really did the horror trope of a couple that goes to a secluded place to hook up and dies.

There is a nuclear reactor in Sanctum? We go to another planet moon, and again the same problems, just as Indra said.

The opening titles ended with a new shot of the mansion and the grave next to it - this is presumably what Abby’s grave will look in the future. At the moment, it’s a heap of rocks with flowers over them. (Maybe it's meant to be Kane's, too - they don't have either of their bodies, though Abby did die on Sanctum and they could at least bury her clothes.) Contrary to what many fans thought, Clarke burying Jake’s ring was not Abby’s “funeral” - the funeral had already been held, so the answer to the often asked question “why weren’t Madi, Raven, Jackson, Murphy etc. there", is - they were, when the funeral was held. Clarke just went later, alone, to bury the ring, the remembrance of both her parents. With the grave being so close to the mansion, Gaia saw Clarke coming to bury the ring and then came to talk and bury the Flame.

It’s good that Clarke has another confidante/budding friendship, someone to talk to in her increasingly small circle. But I’m not sure that Clarke and Gaia managed to connect that much over grief - because losing a parent and losing your religion are very different kinds of loss. Clarke doesn’t even have a religion and doesn’t have that kind of experience.

I love the way the show acknowledged that everyone knows Clarke will always be the first one to risk her life to save everyone - and Murphy knows it. But the plot mechanics ket Clarke away from this storyline (because Murphy and Emori had have it) - Indra said Calrke had her hands full with Russell’s execution, even though it wasn’t clear why she’d have to be the one to organize it (especially since Indra herself seems to be capable of dealing with the politics) and Clarke didn’t look too busy the rest of the episode.

I’m glad we’re done with the plot of Madi being Heda or having to pretend to be Heda. Although I’m sure this will haunt her still, because she has memories of other Commanders - including Becca and Sheidheda, and she may find it the easiest to recognize SH, because she knows him better than anyone.

I completely understand why Clarke wasn’t going to let Madi order Wonkru members to perform such a dangerous task - she doesn’t want to let Madi feel responsible for sending people to their deaths, feel the same guilt she did, but at an even younger age.

Gaia telling the truth both was and wasn’t the right thing to do - morally right, but with potentially terrible consequences, if no welders had been found. Here’s a song for her by one of my favorite bands. On the other hand, Raven lied to people in the name of necessity and the greater good of them all, and achieved her goal but ended up sending people to their deaths, and felt the consequences of lying.

One revelation I really liked is that the guy from Sangedakru thinks of the infamous Dark Commander as “Sangedakru’s greatest champion”. That feels a lot more realistic than the idea that all Grounders hate him and think of him as a monster - even though their culture is based on war and killing, and we’ve seen other Grounder leaders (Queen Nia) be just as ruthless. Sheidheda being from another clan helps makes sense of Indra’s story from 6x13 of the time SH “took Trikru” and was going from village to village and killing everyone who refused to kneel. I’ve been wondering for a long time what exactly Heda were commanding before Lexa united the clans. I suppose they were trying to command, but clans were still divided and preferred Hedas from their own. And it seems that Sheidheda was also trying to ‘unite’ the clans, but not by negotiations! Of course he is considered a monster by people from all the other clans, whom he was killing and torturing and trying to conquer, but is still remembered as a hero by his own clan. Of course. That’s how it usually goes.

Small moments of Sheidheda enjoying the fact he’s corporeal again - from touching his own arms to eating a cookie - are a nice touch.

I like the fact that Sheidheda is smart and much sneakier than the pompous Russell was. He had to be smart to be able to manipulate the AI in the way no other Commander could, not even Becca, its creator, ti isolate the other Commanders, get control of Madi, and later download himself to Russell’s mind drive. SH was also using the captivity to read some of the books he’s found and apparently gain some technical knowledge about Sanctum,

Delilah’s parents are finally back. I don’t think we had seen them since they killed Priya. And Trey (the annoying “adjustor” who was brainwashing Jordan) can go f(ck himself. Really? Blaming Delilah’s parents for avenging her death?

I’m still unsure where exactly the show is going with Jordan. His brainwashing will have to be addressed at some point. It may not have been fully successful - he doesn’t think of the Primes as gods - but it was sure enough for him to stop despising them as murderers and to start believing their BS (and even to form some sort of attachment to Priya). If he weren’t brainwashed, he’d be spending time with Delilah’s grieving parents, rather than the people who worship her murderers. Right now, the show is playing it ambiguously, so some people may even forget about brainwashing and just see Jordan as a gullible naive guy (which he is, of course, he grew up just interacting with his parents) or as Jordan sees himself, as a moral compass/substitute for his father. Someone should tell him that Monty was never naive and knew when it was necessary to fight and kill, even though he hated it and tried to avoid it. Maybe realizing that he’s been manipulated by the Devout and by SH will be a wake-up call.

Jackson has had more character focus in S7 than he had for seasons - the mild doctor now wants revenge for his mentor-mother figure. Good to see more focus on his and Miller’s relationship, including their arguments. What Jackson said about Miller seems to have hurt Miller, who’s still feeling guilty for his role in the Blodreina regime. Maybe this Mackson disagreement contributes to Miller deciding to leave, to prove something to himself, and save Bellamy this time, since he didn’t do it in season 5.

Memori continue to be adorable. and we learn that Raven having no respect for her friends’ privacy is a recurring thing. Another snippet about the life on the Ring.

There was one line that didn’t make sense to me. Raven to Murphy: “Go do your job, be Emori’s moral anchor”. What?! Isn’t it usually the exact opposite?

Speaking of couples - Hatch called Nikki “Honey bunny”. That has to be a Pulp Fiction reference. Raven got the job done here, but I feel like Hatch’s death will have dire consequences for the possibility of peace in Sanctum. Both because he was the more optimistic and tolerant one, willing to expect good and to try to work to earn respect, and because Nikki is now going to be even angrier and more extreme. And just like we had different views about Sheidheda among the Grounders, here we see different views among prisoners about McCreary - Hatch calls him a jackass he won’t miss, but Nikki thinks he would have fought for the rights and better treatment of the prisoners. (I wonder what any of them have been told about Diyoza.)

“Welcome to the world of grey”

A few more words about Raven’s storyline -

One thing that bothers me about this storyline is the idea that this is the first time Raven is in the "world of grey". I guess the writing staff Murphy doesn't remember that time when she tried to give him to the Grounders to be tortured and killed in Finn's place for a crime Finn committed. She also tried to get Clarke to kill Lexa and start a war over Finn in that same episode, basically to sacrifice a bunch of people for him. There was also that time when she tortured Lincoln with electric shocks to save Finn. Or that time when she was withholding medicine from the dying people, including a dying child, because of rationing. Or the time when she was ready to turn the plug on 283 prisoners in cryo sleep. Or when she gave Echo an OK to kill Shaw, her ally, in season 5.

But all this got forgotten because she's never before had to deal with the consequences of her actions. Lincoln didn't die, the others stopped her from turning over Murphy and Finn gave himself up, Clarke opted to mercy kill Finn and do what's best for everyone instead, Murphy stole the meds and gave them to Abby so the child was given the medicine but died anyway, they didn't have to - and then couldn't - kill the prisoners in their sleep, Echo did not kill Shaw...

There were also plenty of times when Raven gave others the responsibility - like when she decided Clarke needed to make the list of 100 people who'll get to survive Praimfaya in the Arkadia as shelter (while passively aggressively bashing her at the same time, which was weird: "I'm in charge of rationing, but deciding who lives or dies is your specialty"), and then Clarke got blamed for it.U

Now, the writers (going by Jason's recent interview where he said that Raven had never done anything morally wrong in the first 6 seasons) seem to have forgotten about it - which I guess is why they wrote her as a self-righteous moralizer in season 6 - unintentionally making her really hypocritical. Which I hated, because she used to be one of my favorite characters, but became quite hard to like in season 6.

The way I see it, it’s best to ignore ridiculous BTS statements of the writers when those statements don’t match canon. I’m all for “Death of the Author” in that case, at least. If we just ignore it, Raven’t entire arc starts making more sense. Maybe they had some weird idea that they were writing her as the moral compass of the show in season 6 (but people who have acted as a moral compass usually don’t say things like “I’ve never done anything wrong in my life!” and refuse to acknowledge their own mistakes), but I’ve always interpreted Raven’s behavior in S6 as lashing out - she was hurting and lashing out, because she had been betrayed by her substitute mom Abby in the same way and for the same reasons as her real mom; she also felt betrayed by Clarke; and then she lost Shaw, the one person who would have put her first, so she felt she had no one left who would. (Though she did get better later in the season, making up with Abby, acting less judgmental and making up with Clarke. )

This is either the show course-correcting her earlier characterization, or fixing a long-standing flaw - Raven’s tendency to be harsh and judgmental to others, which had already been there before season 6. This was seen in this episode, too, from some of her disparaging comments to Murphy, to her contempt for the Eligius prisoners (not that this isn’t understandable, with the fact that she had been tortured by McCreary’s men).

So this feels like an important step in Raven starting to face the world of grey she often tried to see as black and white, and for once be in a situation where she has, almost directly, caused people’s deaths, by decisions she made on her own.

(The show also seems to be course-correcting a few other things about Raven: she looks more like her old self, she has gotten back some of her snark, and the show is showing her disability more - after having largely ignored it for the last couple of seasons.)

To be fair to Raven, she did not know from the start that she was sending Hatch and others to their deaths. She had assumed at first that the task would be dangerous, but not lethal. When she realized it was, the men were already irradiated, and it was necessary to fix the reactor so it would not kill everyone. The bigger problem was that Raven had lied - because she did not respect these people enough to give them an opportunity to maybe volunteer while knowing what the danger was. I think that Hatch, at least, still would have. He did prove smarter than she thought but realizing what was going on, while she was still lying to them that they weren’t going to die in minutes, and, contrary to what she had assumed - he did still want to fix the reactor, in spite of knowing he’d die, to save someone he loved. Raven also showed a similar disrespect towards Murphy - locking him inside to get the job done. It feels like this is something that has never been fully resolved between them - the fact that Murphy was a POS in season 1 and crippled Raven, but also, that she was fully prepared to give him to the Grounders to be tortured and killed in Finn’s place. I feel like this is going to make her start thinking differently and maybe give people the benefit of a doubt.

I knew Nikki was going to beat the crap out of Raven from the trailer, but I didn’t know what her reasons would be. It felt like Raven herself almost wanted this as punishment, because she felt guilty, and would rather take a beating than comfort (”Don’t touch me!”) And I’m sure Raven can understand how Nikki feels, since she has lost Shaw so recently, and Finn before.

I liked Hatch’s conversation with Murphy and the parallels Murphy could see there - Hatch and Nikki were another Bonnie and Clyde-style thief or rather robber duo.... except it went too far and they became murderers. Which Memori were not... but Murphy was a murderer even in season 1. In season 6, Murphy died and thought he had gone to hell for his sins, so it must have resonated with him when Hatch replied that, no, he wasn’t looking for redemption, because “There is no making up for it”.

Body count: James (RIP to yet another Arker from Wonkru, though we first met him in 6x02), his Sanctum girlfriend, and 4 Eligius prisoners including Hatch (which means that 32 remain).

Rating: 7/10

#the 100 #the 100 7x03 #false gods #the 100 season 7 #raven reyes #john murphy #emori #clarke griffin #gaia kom trikru #sheidheda #jordan green #indra kom trikru

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mrneighbourlove · 4 years

Text

Metal Masters Match

Working for Hyrule's forge was a great job. Asakonigie had a few qualms about leaving her cousins and uncles, but this was a way to expand her metalworking and show off her talent. Now, most of Hyrule's army had her signature on their weapons or armor. Oddly enough, after she presented Klinge's suit of golden armor to him, he had admitted his feelings for her. Asakonigei was flattered, confused, and most of all, unsure. Her first relationship ended with infidelity. All that time down the drain, the drowning despair of heartbreak, and the humiliation took a while to cover from since Mojag cheated on her with her best friend, Halona. At least, hopefully, she would never have to relive those days again. Though sometimes, fate was cruel.

Klinge felt rather bitter today. The prisoner he interrogated said absolutely nothing to him, despite all the pain he went through. Then Ralnor, dear little Ralnor, came in like the devil. He offered the prisoner a deal in exchange to rat out his more deranged partner in crime. The prince told Klinge to simply call him next time and save everyone time and blood. To say at least, Klinge was in a mood.

However, ever since dating Asakonigei, he felt like his anger didn’t need to be held onto as much. Ralnor trying to undermine him meant nothing in the grand scheme. Why worry about a bad day at work when he had a lovely girlfriend to go home to? Opening the lock to his castle apartment, Klinge trotted in. “Asa? Are you home?”

Asa was lying face down on the bed, muttering curses and something along the lines of 'may his dick fall off' and 'her hair fall out'. When Klinge walked into the apartment, it was a little too late for her to move from her sulking spot on the mattress. She realized a muffled reply and groaned aloud.

Klinge wondered what gave her trouble this day. “Asa? What troubles you?” Fully suited, he sat beside her, placing a hand on her back.

"... ignore me, I'm brooding." Asakonigie turned her head to face him. "Just saw someone in the market that I don't necessarily care for."

“They obviously upset you.” Taking his armour off, he set it gently on their makeshift bench. Getting onto bed, Klinge picked Asa up, and held her on top of himself. If she wanted to sulk, she could do it next to him. His face was damaged, yet calm. His voice patchy, yet firm. “Would you like to talk about it?”

"... it was Mojag..." Asakonigei was quiet when Malik held her. "He was with Holana and some of my... well... I used to call them friends." She sighed heavily, feeling silly for letting an issue of the past get to her. "Talking about the day they got married and he..." The Kovina said through gritted teeth. "Almost made the mistake of marrying an uptight, know-it-all, she-devil. When he was the one who cheated on me. Somehow it's my fault."

Klinge was glad he was holding his delicate girlfriend in his arms. Anything else he might have crushed. It was frightening how Asakonigei would see the calmness in his corrupted eyes turn to malice. “They said this directly to you?”

"No, I just overheard them." Asakonigei took a slow breath and wiped at her eyes. "I feel so stupid. All I did was stop by the vendor's to pick up some of those peppers I like to use to make salsa and... they were at the next stall over getting sweets."

“I could talk to him. Straighten him out.”

"Straighten out Mojag? Good luck." Asakonigie scoffed. "He's the biggest prick in this kingdom. Had me fooled the entire three years we courted. Then I catch him in bed with my supposed 'best-friend' the day of my wedding? I doubt even brain damage would fix his arrogant ways."

Was that a bet? Klinge was tired. This could be treated tomorrow. For now, he’d help the exterior pain before going to the source. “You’re absolutely beautiful. I want you to know that.”

"Now you're trying to make me feel better." Asakonigei gave him a small smile. "It's working. Tell me more."

Klinge pulled her gently close, kissing her lips with his. “I speak with my actions.”

"Enough about me, how was your day?" Asakonigei could not help but wonder how Zarazu's research was coming along for Klinge. He said he wanted to be human again, to be with her. Having patience was difficult. "You had an interrogation and new training drills for the rookies, right?"

“Training the rookies went smoothly. Hatchlings this round of Dinolfos. Very rowdy, but obedient. Slapped ones nose because it was attracted at the sight of one of Ralnor’s daughters if you can believe it.” Klinge gave a light chuckle.

"Hrm, and you say that dragon hatchlings are worse than Dinoflos." Asakonigei teased him. "I think you're just biased."

“Dragons can’t put on a suit of armour and serve their country. They’re little vermin.” Klinge grumbled, averting his gaze for a moment.

"Oh? Maybe I should make some dragon armor and prove you wrong." Asakonigei saw that he was deflecting from her, and hugged around his neck. Klinge had this 'thing' about challenges and orders. She saw that little glint in his eyes when she was bossy. Sometimes, she could not help but wonder if he had a 'dom' fetish. Tracing a finger along his jaw, the Kovina then said, "You like a challenge, don't you?"

“I do. Conquering them makes you stronger.”

"Hrm, wonder what you would do if you couldn't conquer me." Asakonigei giggled. "Sulk? Curse like you did when we first met?"

“I don’t need to conquer an equal.” Malik traced his fleshy hand down the side of her cheek. He wished he could pleasure her without looking like a freak.

"Hrm, more flattery, an easy way to distract someone." Asakonigei asked with an innocent flutter of her eyelashes. "Are you trying to get me to drop my guard?"

Klinge stopped for a moment, studying his lover. “Asa? Why would I want you to drop your guard?”

"To get me to fall in love with you more." Asakonigei told him, giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Even though you deem yourself unworthy of it, I'll give my love to you regardless of what you think of yourself."

“That’s very generous of you.” Klinge almost purred as he rubbed against her neck. “Thank you for not thinking less of me as a man.”

"Never." Asakonigei promised him. "You may have done things you regret in the past, but that does not make you any less of a man." She then told him, once more, firmly. "And what you look like doesn't change things either. You're still you."

“That means the world to me. I wonder how Cipher would think of you.” He kissed her again, getting a little into it. “I love you Asa.”

Asakonigei released a most unlady-like snort at the mention of Cipher.

"I'm pretty sure Cipher would say you have a type." She laughed. "Definitely have a 'stubborn woman' type."

“I’d have to hear it from her myself.” Klinge frowned at his nose.

"I'm certain that most of all, Cipher would want you to be happy." Asakonigei leaned against his chest. "In Lorleidi, many years ago, there used to be a medicine woman or what you might call a shaman. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you could go and ask her to speak to those who passed on before you. It would be nice if we still had one. You could possibly talk to Cipher again."

“That would be...” Klinge closed his eyes, pulling his lover to his side to spoon her. “Let’s just forget about the content of our days, and lie here in bliss and company.”

"Very well." Asakonigei would not object to a little rest. The forge had been very busy lately and she rarely had any time for herself or for Klinge. She then requested, "May I ask you something?"

“Of course.”

"Do you believe that one day, maybe we'll finally be able to rest?" Asakonigei asked him sincerely. "No more fighting, no more worries, and just... be happy? You and me, with our family?"

“... I do.” With a solemn promise, he kissed her softly before dozing off for their nap.

Klinge wore his best, his bronze armour shining from Asa’s craftsmanship, a red silk cape trailing behind. This bastard didn’t deserve to be basked in gold, but Klinge wasn’t out on a full witch hunt, so black wasn’t in style either. His curiosity on this Mojag had finally one out. He’d see if he was as stubborn as Asa claimed he was when he sought him out.

Mojag and his friends were not difficult to find. Almost every other day, the group frequented the pastry vendor for fresh baked goods. There were a few tables in front of the stall decorated with flowers and wicker chairs. All of them were talking about work, good times, and family. Holana was there as well, munching on a raspberry tart, feeding little bites here and there to her bragging husband.

He had secured a rather large client for his metal works in Danjur. Evidently, some rich duke there had a fancy for his metal sculptures. There was an art show there every month, and Mojag was rolling in cash. "What kind of idiot pays 10,000 rupees for a sculpture made of scrap metal? It's insane what these rich floozies will buy." Mojag was gloating to his friends. "Now, he wants me to do a series of commissions for him and his friends, and display my work in some gallery of his. He says it will get me more potential clients."

"Well, we can't complain it means more money." Holana snickered. "Not like the Talbithas were rolling in it anyway."

"All you had to do was flirty with him a little, and we had the fat man." Mojag laughed. "The duke probably keeps coming back for your pretty face, my dear."

"Might as well flaunt it if I got it."

"And Asa, pffft, asking her to do a bit like you was like asking her to eat shit." Mojag rolled his eyes. "Why did you even hang out with her anyway?"

"Same reason as you, her family had the largest forge at the time and I needed the work, so I pretended to be her friend to keep my job."

Absolute. Bloody. Fury.

Klinge overheard the exchange from the start, but kept himself from interrupting until he heard enough. By first impressions, it appeared Asakonigei was correct. “Yet your craft isn’t what is sought by your Queen.”

Mojag jolted when he heard the voice, turning around to look at the source. This was a guard of Hyrule of some sort. The armor looked awfully familiar. He could not quite place his finger on the voice either. He had seen this man somewhere before. Where was it? "... well, to each his or her own." Mojag shrugged his shoulders. "Some just don't have an eye for finery like I do. Right, babe?"

"Of course." Holana agreed. "Why? You looking to buy, mister?"

“I came looking for you. Mojag, if I’m correct?” Klinge looked around at every member of the gallery, eying then for weaknesses.

"Yeah, I'm Mojag." He confirmed. "Look, if you're here for business, you can come by my forge later. Right now, I got to treat my girl to a tasty pastry because she's delicious herself."

“Oh believe me, besides my own work already being better, I have a better forge master than you. I merely arrived to see if you were worth any worry.”

"A better forge master?" Morag started laughing as did his friends. "Look, you probably got one of those sissy Hylians doing your metal work. You're biased, you haven't seen real metalworking yet."

"... wait... I think I recognize that signature." Mojag looked at the metal arm with scrutiny. "Is that a Talbitha signature? ... you went to them? They're expensive work, man, I could have cut you a way better deal for less of a price but high quality. They'll rip you off with all that 'fancy' shit engraved in the metal. You don't need that."

“I pay for the best Mojag. The reason the Talbitha family works for the army of Hyrule is because they produced the best weapons and armour this army hasn’t seen since ancient times.” Klinge picked up a piece of metal that Mojag was working on, and with a squeeze of his literal steel fist, turned the metal into scrap. “As you can see, it’s quality is nothing to smirk at.”

"Psh, whatever man, Asa probably just spread her legs for whoever was in charge to get the account. Oh wait, she's too much of a prude, maybe her uncles had to sweet talk them!" At Mojag's comment, everyone was laughing. "Thinks she's too good, better than everyone else."

“From what I see, all you can do is belittle your competition. Have no true fire. No true craft. It seems you can’t accept that Asa was the better smith, and the better Lorleidian.” Klinge’s voice was calm, but deep inside he wanted to start snapping bones off this guy. For a rare occurrence, however, Klinge was in no legal right to do so.

"Better Lorleidian? Better craft? Please, I taught that bitch all she knew. She still insisted on that fancy shit. And she couldn't give out a little pussy." Mojag scoffed. "No matter, I got me a better woman, a real woman now."

Klinge made a glance, he blank stare of his cold helmet looking at her. “Tell me, what’s your name girl?”

"Who wants to know?" Holana paid the stranger no mind. "I don't know you, and I don't have to tell you a damn thing."

“It’s odd. I’d have assumed that a near extinct race would be kinder to one another. Betrayal amongst Lorleidians seems counter productive for your betterment as a people.”

"Betrayal? Give me a break, it's not like I didn't warn Asa that Mojag wasn't right for her." Holana had heard this lecture over and over before, but simply tuned it out. "And he even tried to break it off a few times, but the girl was so dense she had no clue what he meant."

“Your friendship meant nothing?” Klinge started to pace, his voice cutting the surface like a knife. “Queen Zarazu told me stories of an ancient Queen that fell in love with Vul’kar. Only for her to betrayed by scum and villainy.”

"The queen was stupid for falling in love with an Abyssian of all creatures, look at what Vul'kar did to us!" Holana huffed. "What she did was inexcusable, doesn't compare to what I did. I simply went after the man I loved."

"What, did her uncles hire you to harass me over this stupid matter again? It's been years, get over it and move on." Mojag rolled his eyes. "Besides, her new beau supposedly is a freak of nature." He snorted, telling his friends. "I think it's just a pity move."

His furnace suddenly blew apart in a small fizzle and bang. Klinge was incredibly subtle with his magic, and his fury reached its limit. The man’s work would do instead of squiring him on a pike. Klinge walked over to Mojag, staring him down. His voice was low, like parent who was ready to snap at the next wrong doing. “My final reason for coming here. Asakonigei is ready to move on from filth such as yourself. It seems that your envy of her won’t let yourself move on. You’re an inferior smith. Stop slandering her name, or I will make your life very, very difficult.” He looked at the rest of the Lorleidians in the room as a small fire spread. “Clean your mess of forge as well as your attitudes. We’re done here.” With that, the commander made his exit.

"WHAT THE FUCK!!!" Mojag nearly fell out of his chair when his furnace from across the way suddenly crumbled into a million pieces. He was furious. This man had some gall! "I don't even know you, you fucker! Wait... wait a minute, you're the one who is fucking her now, aren't you?!" He chased after the commander. "No wonder she sent you to torment me, finally got her a freakshow in a suit to come do her dirty work!"

Klinge gently snatched Mojag up by the colour, lifted him up high off the ground, then lightly tossed him lightly on his ass. “Caution little Lorleidian. Don’t fight this dragon. Go back to your little forge. Perhaps move to Danjur. Asakonigei has proven her worth to the Queen and this country far more then the likes of you.”

"That's rich, coming from a freak. Don't think I haven't heard the rumors." Mojag picked himself up off the ground. Just for spite, he used his magic to start twisting Klinge's metal arm. "Let's see Asa fix that. Piss off, you freak. Come on, Holana. We're going home for the day."

Mojag suddenly felt a very real sharp pain stab from under the ground and into his foot. A little knife materialized, cutting into his foot rather well. “I’d get that looked at. Carefully were you tread.”

Klinge winced behind his helmet from his arm being pulled, but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of pain. He wanted to see Asa break his spirit. If Klinge couldn’t go beyond tame pains, and Mojag had no criminal history to go off for an arrest, Klinge knew he had to crush his pride.

Mojag was releasing a string of curses and holding his foot as Klinge walked away from the market area.

Klinge returned to his living quarters, satisfied by his afternoon. However, he knew this situation with Mojag was something he couldn’t normally fix.

Asakonigei decided that working in the forge every single day was tiring. So, she decided to take a day off and work on her designing inside. She was inside her room, sketches all over the floor. There were several different styles she wanted to try but she was not sure how functional the armor would be. The Kovina drew out the weight, pieces, and various ideas on her parchment and then even used her magic to try a few swirls in the metal.

Walking in the door, was a surprise to Klinge. “What do you have there?”

"Mind the sketches, please." Asakonigei had charcoal on her cheeks from working on various sheets. "I had this idea of creating some new armor for the soldiers dependent upon their type of work. Like the scouts need lighter armor to move faster, but still something to protect them. The guards at the front gate usually see a bit of trouble, so they need thicker armor. Yet, the rookies still don't know what they want as far as a station, so I need to design a universal type for them..." She elaborated more and more on her various sketches. "Oh! And this!" She held up a sketch of a crudely drawn war boar with armor. "We have nice saddles for the dragons, why can't we have a little more protection for the mounts?"

Klinge gave a light frown at the war boar designs. “I know it’s the royals favourite animal to ride, but the rest of the army, myself included, ride horses. I suppose it is cute though.”

"Oh, I did that too! Where did I put that sketch...?" Asakonigei looked around and then found it under a pile of possibilities. "See? For horses too."

“Your work is lovely.” Klinge set the paper down, and put his hands gently together. It was something he always did when he was going to deliver a difficult conversation. “Asa? Can I tell you something?”

"... yes?" Asakonigei gave him a look. "I know that tone of voice, Klinge. What's wrong? ... did Nubi'ahlus mix up your weapons as a joke again? I told him not to do that."

“Your story about the market with Mojag struck a cord, so my curiosity won over me. I investigated his whereabouts and met the man.”

"... oh no..." Asakonigei made a face, grimacing. "Please tell me that you left him... breathing. I know he's an asshole, but he does have others who depend on him."

“That thug was the most difficult ordeal of restraint I’ve ever gone through. Besides stepping on a knife when he tried to twist my arm, he’d fine.” Klinge looked at his arm, hoping that cockroach didn’t harm his mechanics. “It was strange. He didn’t have your grip.”

"...!!!! He twisted your arm?!" Asakonigei seemed more concerned about the possibility of Klinge's discomfort instead of the fact that Mojag did even received his small touch of karma. She held out her hands, and insisted, "Let me see! Are you all right?"

“I’m fine Asa.” He gently showed her his arm. “I’ve never met any of your people so... pathetic.”

"There's bad apples in every bunch, Klinge, even you know that." Asakonigei scowled loudly when she saw Klinge's arm. The metal was warped! "That fucking asshole, piece of shit, smega-eating dickhead!"

“His friends seemed to be drones. The girl was interesting. Her venom towards sounded like a play to me.”

"Shush." Asakonigei put a single finger to his helmet as she used her magic to fix the warped metal back into place. Peace and quiet were vital in concentration. She tried to do so as gently as she could to avoid causing Klinge further discomfort.

Klinge rested his human hand on the bed, waiting until she was done calibrating his arm. “I swear there has so be a way to counter that kind of magic. I thought the runes on this arm held magic.”

"This metal can only be influenced by Kovina magic and melted by Vatra magic." Asakonigei explained, "Unfortunately, Mojag is a Kovina, like me. I'll research runes to see if I can restrict magic warping---wait... Zarazu never explained these runes to you?"

“Not in particular. It unnerved Abyssians, but that’s was about it.”

"They're old magic, some of the first Lorleidians created these to use when our people were first learning how to use the elements our spirits gave us. The runes are infused with light magic, so I'm thinking that's why the Abyssians balked." Asakonigei sat on the edge of the bed with her husband and pointed out each rune one by one. "This one is strength. Not only in body, but in mind. This one is hope, for now, for later, and when you need it most. And the last one..." She chuckled. "The last one is 'adanata'. Love. Heh, and Zarazu told me that Covarog is the cheesy one." The Kovina told her lover. "Zarazu believed you worthy of love."

“Of course we are... no matter what others think.” It was almost cute how low Klinge’s voice dropped as he held Asa’s hand gently.

"Ha! Zarazu's never cared about that, we shouldn't either." Asakonigei then said, "You know, she requested these when I made the arm. I could always add more."

“If you think there is more to add?”

"Well, if you really wanted me to, I could always add 'Asakonigei has the best tits and ass', on there." She suggested with a laugh. "Not a rune. But just a statement."

“Been a while since you showed them off, so busy with work.” Klinge smirked. “Listen, I think I know how you can forever get Mojag off your back. Legally.”

"... legally? But that's no fun." Asakonigei sighed, flopping on the bed, her black hair sprawling everywhere. "I beat his ass once. Now that was fun."

“But that wasn’t enough. You didn’t humiliate him.”

"... should have dragged him and Holana out for everyone to see what a fucking cheater he was. But I was too angry to be clever for that."

“And that, my dear lover, is why you failed in your revenge. You broke his body. But do you know what you needed to break instead?”

"His dick."

Klinge gave a hardy metallic laugh. “God, I love that. Part of his body my dear. Take it from someone who served a man who went by the title of Dark Lord once. You need to break his spirit Asakonigei.”

"And how do you suggest I do that?" Asakonigei quirked an eyebrow, intrigued. "Mister-Fear-Me-Lord-of-Dark-I-Know-All-Revenges."

“He still thinks he’s a better metal smith then you. What’s your reply to that?”

"That's his arrogance talking. He thinks that he's so much better simply because his dad owns the largest forge." Asakonigei rolled her eyes. "Typical asshole thing."

“Then you need to disprove him in front of his friends, his customers, and all your people.” Klinge straightened up tall, looking down at Asa. “If you beat him in open competition in front of his Queen and everyone else, not only will his spirit be broken, but you will have found yourself something that goes beyond revenge. Justice.”

"... well... there was that competition that Ralnor organized, but I didn't think I'd have time to enter." Asakonigei sat up on the bed.

“I can set you up. Zarazu can make it even more grand by renting the Colosseum for use. And give Mojag an invitation he can’t resist.” Klinge placed a hand on her shoulder. “I believe you can do it.”

"The competition is only three days away..." Asakonigei looked a little worried.

“What if I helped you?”

"Hmm... I'd have to the design, that's the rules. But..." Asakonigei was good at finding loopholes. "There's nothing that says I can't have help making the metal."

“I was Ganondorf’s best smith. We can do anything together.” Klinge lifted her up on his knees, smiling warmly at her. “Want to take a bet?”

"A bet? Didn't take you for a betting man, Klinge." Asakonigei looked at him with a grin. "What kind of bet?"

“500 rupees says Mojag will flee the country once you break him in front of all his peers.” Klinge smiled, tilting his head at her. “That or a dance from you~”

"500 rupees? That's my salary for a week!" Asakonigei huffed, not about to gamble her hard earned money. "A dance? From me? Don't you mean with me?" She appeared to be confused for a moment before turning bright red, understanding his insinuation. "Klinge!" She swatted his arm, in embarrassment.

He grinned wickedly, a laugh cracking from his person. “You’re the one so confident about the best T and A in Hyrule. I’m sure it’d be fun to see a private dance.”

"Just because I know I have the best tits and ass doesn't mean I'm exactly ready to show off." Asakonigei was still bright red in the cheeks. "I'm not the queen."

“You think Zarazu galivants around the castle?”

"... you have seen what she wears in front of the king?" Asakonigei had a point. "Half the time, I think he picks out her outfits."

“Does it help I only want myself to see you?” He bounced her a bit on his hip, a toothy grin shining even through his exposed cheek.

"Think about a ring, then undressing me you naughty man." Asakonigei swatted him on the shoulder. "For now, we have a job to do."

“As you command dear.” He lifted her up, placing her down on her feet. “Then we best prepare.”

A messenger made his way to Mojag’s forgery that very day. The Lizalfos adjusted its metal cap, giving a knock. “Pleasssse open up ssssir.”

Mojag was busy with his orders and Holana opened the door. Their forge was attached to their house. She was surprised to have a messenger. "What's this about?"

“Messsssage for Mojag. An invitation from the Queen of Hyrule. Ssssshe is hosting a competition of the best Hylian, Goron, Kovani and other sssssmiths in the land.”

"A competition?" Holana took the invitation and read over the conditions and rules. "Huh. First prize gets money, second prize a day at the spa, and third prize gets a free couples dinner at that new Goron restaurant."

“You forgot the prizzzze of recognition. A medal from the King and Queen herself.”

"It's a dumb medal. Money we could use." Holana scoffed. "Recognition is nice, but it doesn't pay the bills."

“Will you join? The cassssh prizzzze pot is a cash prize of $10,000 rupees, assss well assss $100,000 in diamonds.”

"Of course we'll join." Holana started to close the door and then on second thought, asked another question. "How many others are there competing?"

“39 ssssssmiths.”

"And would one of those smiths happen to be a Talbitha?"

“Why do you assssk?”

"Just some bad blood, lizard." Holana shooed him off. "We'll see you at the competition."

The Lizalfos frowned, its frills shooting up. “Lizalfos.”

With that, he headed off to give Klinge word stage one of his plan was ready.

Klinge escorted Zarazu to her throne that oversaw everyone else in the coliseum where she could address the crowd and enjoy the competition. “Your tribes are about to finish finding their seats. You know Zarazu, Zelda once sat in this very seat to watch a competition of strength from her husband.”

"I recall Ganondorf telling me of that tale... 17 times already." Zarazu said dryly as she looked over the coliseum. She had to wear a damn fancy dress for this and it was so itchy and uncomfortable. The queen was walking rigidly and had to move her dress to the side to sit down on the throne. "I was expecting a... smaller crowd, to be honest. I didn't know we have such interest in these competitions." She arched an eyebrow at him. "And due to your insistence that I be the judge of this competition, something tells me you have a motive. You're not good at hiding things around me, my friend. Dare I ask what's going on?"

“I have to be fair, it’s you, BiggestGoron, and Fiest the Dinolfos. Least the competition be seen as favoured in Asa’s favour too much.” Klinge stretched an arm out to the crowd. “People love entertainment. As Queen, I think that’s a lesson you haven’t fully grasped. Sure, assassinations bring a level of excitement to the castle, or Covarog’s siblings come back with daring tales of adventure, but the public doesn’t get to experience that. They don’t get to see legends made of the ‘common’ folk often anymore. This metal smithing competition has brought in all of your tribes, Hylians, Gorons, as well as many others looking to spectate and compete. It’s an honour to host this event Zarazu.”

"You do have a point, the public probably doesn't have everyday adventures like Orana's fascinating tales." Zarazu had to agree with him on a few aspects. "I'm sure everyone will have a good time. Though, you know what is a giveaway that you're up to something?"

“Yes?”

"You're wearing the armor that Asa made for you."

“And?” Klinge shrugged, pretending with a tone he had no idea what she meant.

"And you only wear it for one of three reasons," Zarazu elaborated. "To impress others, is the first. You strut like a male cucco bird when you wear it. Second, if you're going to do a demonstration for the rookies, because that is your best suit and you like to show it off. Last, if you're up to something that you're trying to keep on the down low. The last five times you've been wearing it, I found out about an event you were trying to keep shush shush. Like you pummeling those jerks who catcalled Asa a few weeks ago." She had an amused expression on her face. "Klinge, face it, you're becoming too easy to read. You're smitten with her, aren't you?"

“I care a deep deal about her, yes. So much so, I organized this events so that she can humiliate Mojag and destroy any trace of hope he would have. I made sure every Kovina is present, as well as a few of the man’s customers. Once this competition is through, she’ll never have to worry about him again.”

It was part romantic and part mortifying to hear how dedicated Klinge was willing to go.

"... for some reason, I'm not too surprised." Zarazu crossed her legs. "You'd move the moon for her, wouldn't you?"

“No. But raise her above my head to get closer to it.” A giant boom and the feeling of an earthquake was felt. This was followed by another boom, and another, until a Goron the size of a giant peered its head over the stadium radius. Klinge nodded. “And that is Biggestgoron. I should go see Asa. All the smiths are preparing in the centre.”

"Heh, what do you know, the great and fearsome Klinge has a soft spot." Zarazu had to tease him a little. "Go say hi, Klinge. And do tell Asa I said good luck."

Klinge made his way through the crowd until he spotted her designated working area. “Asa, how are you feeling?” All around them smiths of various races were preparing mentally to begin.

Asa had checked her list for all the items. Five times. And now she was inspecting her forge for the third time. It was obvious that the Kovina was... nervous.

"Fine. I'm fine. Just... fine."

“Asa, you can’t conquer the battlefield until you conquer your fear of battle first. Admit your troubles, tell me what weighs on your mind.”

"I... I um..." She took a breath and then blurted out. "I don't like being the center of attention. I'm not like the queen who can speak publicly and have all eyes on her."

Klinge nodded, understanding that fear. “Do you like art Asa?”

"Well... I guess metalworking is a form of art." Asakonigei tried to think about the question from a logical perspective. "I just don't use brushes and paints."

“It is. Many people love your art. They want to be motivated and inspired by your art. You can loved, but have no need to be publicly present back. All you need, is to focus on your world, and create your art.” Klinge rested just metal arm on her shoulder. His final reasoning for pushing Asa towards this. “You are so much more then you think. I think, deep down inside...” Klinge pointed a metal finger at her heart. “... you know it’s time the world believed too. Let them see the might of your vision.”

"... you make me feel better, Klinge." Asakonigei smiled at him. She took a deep breath. It was hard enough to think about how many people were watching, so she decided just to do what he told her. Just focus on her work. "I know Zarazu is judging, but there are a few other judges as well, aren't there?"

“The competition will work as such. First round is building an item from scratch with the supplies you are given. It will be tested for design, use, and finally, durability. This can be anything you want. The judges will decided who the top ten contestants are for the next round. This is where you will bring in an item of your previous work for examination. The best piece of work wins. The judges are Zarazu, Feist-“ Klinge pointed out an ten foot tall Dinalfos with dazzling gauntlets and an axe on his tail tip. “And Biggestgoron.” It was hard to miss out the small mountain sized Goron looking over the stadium, looking bored as he rested his arms on the ring shaped top. “I hear he’s rather cold to youngsters, do you don’t have to worry about him treating other Goron’s with more respect.”

"Oh spirits..." Asakonigei swallowed. Hard. "They um... they're pretty uh... big. Scary. Fucking hell." The Kovina looked back at her work. "Okay, I can do this, I can do this. I used to make stuff from scratch all the time. I still make stuff from scratch. I love to make stuff from scratch."

“Breathe.” Klinge rested his hands on her shoulders.

"Okay, breathing, that I can do..." Asakonigei took a look at the competition and then saw... Mojag. With Holana. She had a look of fury on her face. "He brought her of all people with him?"

“Asa. She can’t participate unless it’s to work against him. This is a solo event. And she matters not. Close your eyes. Breathe.” He waited until she humoured him. “Breathe. Think of me. Think of your family. Think of your work. Channel it into art. Nothing else matters. You are indifferent to distractions.”

"That... that... that jerk!!!" Asakonigei huffed with a fire in her eyes. "I'll show him. I'll wipe the floor with him! He'll wish he never stepped foot in a forge!"

“Anger is good. But only if you focus it.” He could use this development too. Perhaps Zarazu’s peaceful meditations were getting to him. Focusing rage was something he was a far better teacher at. “Crush him. Burn his ego alive. You can flay his pride amongst thousands.”

"I'll make sure of it." Asakonigei told Klinge with a determined face. "I can do this. I won't let him win."

“I know.” Klinge made his way out, unfortunately having to walk past Mojag to do so. “I hope your foot has grown better after your accident.”

"Go kiss Vul'kar's ass, filth." Mojag sneered as Klinge walked by... and then he saw Asakonigei. He knew the two of them were associated. "Looks like she is fucking that thing."

Asakonigei shot Mojag a glare and awaited the introductions from the judges.

Klinge glared one last time behind his helmet, pointing to a specific area in the audience above. “See them Mojag? Those are your rich, customers from Danjur and Hyrule that were interested in your work. I’m certain they’ll pay whoever wins the competition. Best of luck to you, you punk.”

"To all of my people and guests of this kingdom, welcome to the Metal Masters Match!" Zarazu thought the name was absurd, but Covarog loved it. "Today, we have various competitors to show you exactly who will be the best master of their craft! For the first round, we will have our contestants make a weapon of their choice from the scrap metal in front of them. Our judges will then decide who will proceed to the next round."

“Armour, jewelry, or other works are also fine.” Feist added in a rather eloquent voice for a lizard. “All if you have your forges set up, and you’ve been given the same amount of resources to work with. You have two hours to create your choice. Cheating will not be tolerated. Prepare! 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.”

“Begin.” Biggestgoron had to whisper to not shake the arena with his voice.

Contestants set to work. Goron’s took heavy hammers, battering at the metal. A Moblin cranked chipped away some metal by hand to craft a necklace. Everyone didn’t waste a single second.

Asakonigei looked at her items. A few items had a bit of rust, but she could take care of that easily. There was nothing sharp enough to build a weapon. Nothing of worth for jewelry. But... there was enough to make a statue. A huge statue like those rich, pompous nobles paid for to put in their gardens or in their corridors.

Feist walked his way through the contestants, watching their abilities unfold. He turned his head to towards Mojag next.

Mojag was using his spare materials to construct jewelry. His items consisted of a few stray jewels and enough thin pieces of metal to construct various types of jewelry. Thus far, he had a set of earrings, and a necklace.

Others constructed daggers, shields, rings, and other various items. Soot spread wildly, until finally, Biggestgoron spoke over the stadium. “Time’s up.”

Klinge waited beside Asakonigei’s family, watching with hope at her craft. Her family and him had been discussing forging tips and tales while the hours had gone by, and their hope they put into Asa.

Asakonigei's statue was by no means huge, but it was still a majestic piece. She has used the rusted parts to highlight pieces of hair while she used the shinier sections to sculpt body parts. When the piece was finished, it was a sculpture of the Gerudo twin goddess; sand and stone.

Everyone had to carry their items to a presenting stage for the judges to examine. Zarazu was able to judge the surface level look and practicality. Feist would judge the craftsmanship. The first man presented a dagger. Feist examined how he placed jewels amongst the hilt, but noticed cracks in the blade. Lifting it up, the mighty hand of Biggestgoron plucked the dagger up. He held it close to his eye to examine it. Then to the horror of the contestants, he tested its durability. With an ounce of a flex, he crushed to blade into pieces. “Bah. Pathetic.”

Feist frowned at his fellow judges attitude, but who was he to argue with a stone giant? “Next contestant.”

This continued, till at last, it was Asakonigei and Mojag last by chance. They were told to stand at the bottom of the platform together and wait to be called up.

"A statue? Really? That's the best you could do?" The man sneered towards the woman.

Asakonigei was quick to retort, "Well, not all of us got jewels like you did. Shame to see that you still can't craft jewelry worth shit."

"At least it's good enough for Holana, and that's all that matters."

"Psh, Holana doesn't know what's good from bad, and that, is bad."

"You're just jealous that she's a better fuck."

"You're just sore that I'm better at metalworking."

"You wish."

"What reason do I have to lie?"

"You---"

Mojag had no time for another quip for he was called to the podium. He presented his jewelry set to the judges; a set of earrings, a necklace, a bracelet, and a ring.

Feist was impressed by his jewelry. Certainly, the best in a while. “Fascinating craftsmanship. My Queen?”

"The jewelry is absolutely beautiful." Zarazu picked up the necklace. Her neck would get sore after a while of wearing this. It was rather weighty. "The stones are high quality and he removed the impurities from the gold. However, it's still a bit on the heavy side. Perhaps less weight next time?"

"Of course, my queen." Mojag was polite. "I accept your advice."

“Hurry up.” Biggestgoron waved a massive hand for the jewels. Examining them incredibly close, he gave a few nods. Finally, he opened his mouth and chewed down on them. One crunch. Two crunch. Impressive. “Not an Amateur. The ring lacked any inscription. I did enjoy the necklace, despite its weight.”

"...!" Zarazu was not expecting the Goron to... eat the items. "Next, we have a..." She turned and motioned for Asakonigei to approach the podium. "Oh! A stunning statue of the twin goddesses of sand and stone of Gerudo lore."

"Yes, my queen." Asakonigei used her magic to lift the statue upward for inspection.

"It seems you had some rather rusty materials... but you used it for a flare."

Feist darted his head up and down, examining the design. “It’s very striking on the eyes. I love the etchings you made. It looked as though you used all the material at your disposal. Well done, Kovina.”

Klinge felt a strong sense of pride at what she had crafted. He wondered what she could do with more time.

Biggestgoron lifted the statue up and examined it, twirling it around to see every corner etched out. No one else had done a statue. “Great imagination.”

With a light squeeze on the statue, it didn’t break. So, he did another one. He heard cracks, but it still held. With a flex, the statue turned into tiny scrap. Taking that scarp, he devoured the material. “Delicious craftsman ship. Need to eat some rocks later.”

"I um... can make another if you're still hungry?" Asakonigei offered, her jaw hanging open as the Goron devoured the statue. "I'll need more..." She heard the crunch and the snap, and nearly winced. How could that be good for anyone's teeth? "Ah... materials."

"I'm sure that Biggestgoron will take you up on that offer later, Asa." Zarazu laughed in delight at Asa's shock. "My friends, what do you think? Does she pass into the next round?"

Feist nodded, finishing up a list of people who believed worthy to be finalists. “She does, along with these others.” One his list he included Mojag, ranking 7th for him, but still top ten.

Biggestgoron shook his head. “I devoured and ate your items simply because I could. Because, even those that won’t continue on, you can recreate what you made here today. And it will be better the next time. The Queen and Feist may announce the finalists. I care only for the top ten.”

Feist made sure him and Zarazu agreed before announcing the winners. Even though they lost, the lower placed contestants still stayed to watch the demonstration part of the competition.

In the crowd, certain spectators were making bets on who would win. More importantly to some who traveled far, who they would hire.

“The Talbitha lady seems to be skilled. She’s quite the artist.”

“Mojag makes far more fair jewelry, but if she wins, I might have to switch my business.”

“I heard she’s a hack.”

“I suppose we’ll see.”

After the top ten finalists were announced, there was the second task to complete. Asakonigei and Mojag moved to their respective stations. The Kovina felt... happy. She was glad that the judges liked her work. While she did love creating armor and weapons for Hyrule's soldiers, this was a good change of pace. It was nice to simply have that opportunity to construct something entirely new.

Feist explained the rules. “At your called name, you will present your finest previous work that you choose to bring here today. The three of us will examine your item of choice for its craftsmanship, flare, and uniqueness, giving each a score out of ten. May the best smith win.”

First, a Goron came to the stage. His craft was making a replica of the legendary Megaton hammer. The original had been lost to the wild. “Biggestgoron, Queen Zarazu. I present the replacement to the Megaton Hammer.” With a swing, he crushed a boulder he used as demonstration into pebbles. “May it be used to slay dragons, just as the original did.” He noticed the Queen’s eyes raise at that. “Eh, er, evil ones of course. No disrespect to my Lorleidian brothers and sisters in the crowd.”

Klinge had to admit. He really liked the sound of that weapon. He wouldn’t kill Ba’puu, but it’d certainly hurt the dragon to bop him on the noes for misbehaving. Ah, he could daydream.

Mojag presented a pair of twin dual swords. The weapon was crafted with the best quality of metals, yet lacked elaborate design. Still, it was a good sword to use in battle. Asakonigei waited until her name was called. She really had not given much thought to what she should present. Over her many years, the Kovina had constructed hundreds of suits of armor and who knew how many weapons. Yet, she supposed her best piece was the part that brought her here...

Feist checked the list. She was the second to last contestant. He had seen swords, hammers, a mirror shield, and exotic crowns. “Asakonigei. You are one of two Kovina here today. We have seen your fellow tribesmen. What do you have to present?”

"I... my greatest creation actually belongs to another now. May I call Commander Klinge to the stand?" Asakonigei fidgeted slightly.

Others looked at him, and Klinge rose from the Talbitha family to make his way through the crowd to join Asa. For good measure he shot Holana a glance from behind his helmet. How he wondered how little she felt. Arriving, he gave Zarazu and the other two judges a bow.

"If you wouldn't mind showing them your arm?" Asakonigei asked Klinge with a smile. "Please."

He whispered down to her. “Do you want me to take it off, or tell them why it was created?”

"I doubt he needs to remove it, my fellow judges, you can see the fine craftsmanship?" Zarazu asked the others. "I'm sure Klinge would love to elaborate upon his tale."

"I made this with what my family had leftover from Lorleidi." Asakonigei explained to the judges. "It's called Banthorarium metal. It will never rust, never crack, never fade, and never melt unless it is with the magic of a Vatra."

Feist looked closer once Klinge removed the armour around it. The fearsome commander tended to keep to himself. “What are these markings on the arm?”

"They are runes, sir." Asakonigei explained to Feist. "From the olden days of Lorleidi, when we were first using our magic, learning how to use the elements." She pointed to the runes. "Strength, hope, and love..."

Biggestgoron laid out a palm to Klinge to climb aboard. Stepping on, Klinge held his breath as he was lifted into the air for closer look. “Smith. Is the arm magic?”

"Yes, and please don't try to eat it." Asakonigei added as an afterthought. "The commander needs his arm."

“I’m not eating any of the projects you brought forth. Smith. Why did you create this arm?”

"I created it due to the request from my queen." Asakonigei told the judges. "She said a friend of hers had lost his arm in a fight, and needed a new one to replace it." She gestured to the various parts of the arm. "It had to be fully functional and accommodating for his job."

Klinge glanced down from high up. She knew damn well why specifically it had to be made. Biggestgoron seemed satisfied. He carefully set the commander down. “Asakonigei, take your seat beside the other Kovina with the previous contestants. We have one more smith.”

Asakonigei did not think it was her place to tell the judges what happened to Klinge. If he wanted to tell the grand story of how he battled the queen, that was his place. Once she understood that Klinge's arm was not going to be eaten and in fact, had their approval, she took her seat.

Both the Lorleidians hadn’t noticed do to worries or mentally preparing during the first round, but a tiny mouse made its way up the stage, doing its best to lift a box a little bigger than itself. This was a Minish, a rare race of Hyrule that liked to keep itself to secrecy most of the time.

"Oh! May I help you with that?" Asakonigei was halfway to her seat when she noticed the next contestant. She approached the tiny... mouse? Rat? What was this? Zarazu had told her of other races, but she could not quite place this one. "It looks heavy."

“I’m fine. Thank you.” At least Mojag and a Moblin could be heard snickering at the sight. The Minish smiled softly, speaking in an even softer voice. “I liked your demonstration miss.”

"Thank you, I look forward to yours." Asakonigei heard the snickers and shot the Moblin and Mojag a glare over her shoulder. "Ignore them. They're bastards."

“That’s not a very nice word.”

"Well, they're not very nice. Good luck." Asakonigei resumed her seat.

The Minish gave a tiny bow to the Queen and Feist once he was done. “My name is Spielzeug once again. I’m sorry for the wait.”

"You're fine, Spielzeug. Tell us, what do you have to show us?"

“My creation. I like to build toys with a little magic.” Opening the box, a metal dragon crawled out. Every scale was etched perfectly, zero hint of rust. Its wings were made of fine glass, with perfect folds to allow it to close and open at will. Its eyes were fitted with tiny rubies, and the judges swore it was looking at them. “Fly!”

The dragon did as was commanded, fluttering into the air. Its scales moved and tightened as if it had to breath like any dragon of flesh and blood. It danced and made little chirping sounds, a tiny echo escaping from a little jaw. The dragon flew by the competitors, then rest by the Minish. “I call it a Dragon-Fly. Due to its size and what it is based off.”

"Oh my! This is absolutely delightful!" Zarazu held out a finger and watched as the dragon perched on the digit. "I've never seen such a cute toy! My twins would absolutely love this."

Asakonigei actually grinned. It was a cute toy. She wouldn't even mind having one herself.

“I took my time crafting tiny gears and smelting the metal together. After that, I imbued it with a little life.”

Feist took hold of the sleeping curled dragon. “Curious. Most curious.”

Biggestgoron wished it wasn’t so small. His eyes could barely make it out. “Certainly unique, tiny one.”

"It's adorable, I love it." Zarazu had a huge smile on her face. She was tempted to ask if she could buy it, but this was not the time or the place. The competition had to come first. "May I ask which dragon you used for inspiration?"

“One from a story book.”

"A story book?" Zarazu thought of the erotic book, 'The Dragon's Bride' for a moment and nearly giggled. "One suitable for children, I hope."

“Why wouldn’t it be?” The little Minish knew not of the many profanities in the Queen’s mind.

Feist set the dragon back in the box. “Queen Zarazu. I believe it’s time we voted for the top three contestants.”

"Yes, indeed. Oh, um..." Zarazu carefully placed the dragon back into the tiny box. "Are you sure you don't need some help? I wouldn't mind. You truly do have a unique item there."

“No thank you. I can handle myself.” Carefully, the Minish carried the box all by himself down the ramp.

Klinge waited in anticipation as he watched Biggestgoron hold Feist and Zarazu in his palms for secret discussion. Who would come out on top?

Finally, the Goron set the Queen down. “We are proud to announce the top three.”

Feist looked to the crowd. “In third place, Boulog the Goron for his replacement of the legendary Megaton hammer. Now, Queen Zarazu, please announce second and first place.” That certainly got a cheer, especially from the Goron tribe.

Klinge looked down to Mojag and Asakonigei. He could have sworn he heard a scoff from Holana, as if it was obvious from the beginning her lover would win. Who would win the competition? The arena crowd was on the edge of their seats, all eyes on the Queen to deliver the verdict.

"In second place... Asakonigei Talbitha for her amazing and fully functional prosthetic arm." Zarazu announced the crowd, earning cheers. Up in the stands, there was loud yelling. Her uncles and cousins went wild, spilling beer and popcorn everywhere. Her family was thrilled. "For first place, we have decided upon the most unique creation we have seen in a long while..." Mojag looked smug and confident but his expression quickly fell. "Spielzeug!"

The tiny Minish nearly had a heart attack from shock. “Me?”

The crowd exploded into cheers. Klinge took a breath of relief. Asa wasn’t the champion like he might have wanted, but at least she beat that smug prick.

Feist scooped up the Minish in the palm of his hand, and elevated him above where the champion was supposed to stand on the podium. “I give you, the champion of the Metal Masters Match! You are the among the greatest smiths of the generation! You win the grand prize of $10,000 rupees and a bucket of diamonds!”

Setting the Minish down, he pointed to Asa. “Asakonigei. For second place and being the best Kovani here, you receive a spa getaway with anyone you like.” To the Goron, he gave a nod of respect. “Boulog, for third, you have received a free meal at Goron Sirlon Rockalanch. May you three prosper, and thank you for the rest of the contestants for participating.”

"You did marvelous work. I'm assuming you're going to open a toy shop? Or do you already have one?" Asakonigei was a good sport and congratulated the tiny Minish. She could not exactly shake his hand, so she offered a single finger to serve in its place. "I think the queen would be happy to have a couple toys for her children. I know I would if I had any."

“With all this money I’ve won, I just might do that.” The tiny Minish shook her finger with both hands.

Klinge had to wait behind a wave of people rushing down to great to winners. One even pushed past Mojag to get to them. “Sir! Sir! Will you build us my wife a suit of armour?”

“Sir Spielzeug! My sister works for the Queen of Danjur! I wanted to acquire an axe from you, and perhaps buy that dragon!”

“I’ll pay for a new pair of boots and an electronic bear!”

The little Minish shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I can only so many orders so fast. I can start taking a list, but may I suggest Asakonigei or Boulog smith your much larger means?”

"I'd be sure to direct people your way for... smaller projects." Asakonigei laughed when the poor Minnish was a touch overwhelmed by all the attention. "I'll be happier to complete the larger works."

"I do hope you enjoy your prize," Zarazu told the Minnish with a smile. "And when you have time, I would like to place an order for two dragons. For my twins."

“Oh! Of course.” The little Minish gave a tiny bow to the Queen.

Klinge finally was able to push his way to Asa after 25 new customers commissioned orders from her. “Congratulations. You earned it.”

"Thank you." Asakonigei finally completed the paperwork and assured her newest customers that their orders would be out as soon as possible. "I got a spa package. I think it will be nice to be pampered for a day, don't you?"

“I do. We can go whenever you like.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “They loved your artwork Asa.”

"This was... this was fun." Asakonigei sighed as she placed her hand on top of his. "I think it was good to have a little deviation from the everyday routine, yeah?"

“Indeed. I want to point out two things to you. Justice...” Klinge pointed at Asakonigei’s family. They jokingly told her that they’d have to see if they could see her or not due to their own orders. They looked so proud of her.

“We’ll be having dinner with them tonight. You brought pride to the best smithing family in Hyrule. And, well, revenge.” He pointed to Mojag. He did not look or sound happy.

"I'm glad I could put him in his place, but..." Asakonigei glanced at Mojag and then looked up at her family in the stands and waved to her cousins and uncles. "I think I like this view better."

Klinge nodded in agreement. A darker desire in him wanted to see the humiliation from Mojag further, but his heart told him that there was more than enough vengeance granted. He was best suited to follow his lover and support her at Asakonigei’s side. “Then let’s go celebrate.”

#Short Story #Well just shy of 10K words might be pushing that definition for this particular story #But one contained story #Revenge and competition #Crossover #ridersoftheapocalypse #Klinge #Asakonigei #Metal Smiths #Zarazu #Minish #Mojag

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inumbro · 6 years

Text

a collection of some of the ama answers, all the twitter posts, and all of red posts on the boards about zed & some related topics that I can find from the last ~1.5 years (with a few exceptions), so that I have all this info in one spot for reference

organised based first by topic, then by rioter

if anyone has any jhin / xayah / rakan / vastaya related information that I missed I’d appreciate a link so I can add it bc there’s not nearly as much not-officially-canon-canon information on those connections as I remember there being!

Morals:

WAAARGHbobo said:

No. He is, if anything, a hardline nationalist and federalist.

WAAARGHbobo said:

Zed is, indeed, much more complicated than you think. But he is definitely not a nice person.

@miketmccarthy said:

At the moment, [Akali] does not align with [Zed’s] philosophy. He killed Shen’s father and master. Although they are both aggressive, Akali is inherently good and Zed, well, notsomuch.

Shadow magic:

WAAARGHbobo said:

...A wizard has a different, more studious, and analytical way of accessing magic — but arguably a shaman has a more inate connection to spirit magic. While warriors like Zed, Shen, and Kayn have studied a different way to access magical power—

The strenght of the connection, the control, and the narrowness of focus are all important variables...

@LaurieGolding said:

... but Shadow Magic had not been practiced in Runeterra for a long time, before Zed started. Jax hasn't had time to master it in the ~10 years since then!

Kayn:

Scathlocke said:

Kayn's principal conflict is almost not with Rhaast at all, but Zed. It is very likely that his master sent him to retrieve the weapon knowing that it would be the ultimate test for his protege - either it would destroy him, or he would conquer the Darkin and become a worthy new leader for the Order of Shadow.

Basically, Kayn and Zed have a super-complicated "adopted father" type of relationship going on. Rhaast is more like Lady Macbeth, in this current situation.

@LaurieGolding said:

I think [Kayn’s] shadow-form is what Kayn and Zed both hope the outcome will be - he's been given a near-impossible task by his master, as a true and final test of his worthiness to one day lead the Order of Shadow. If he fails, the weapon will consume him.

It's interesting, because both Zed and Swain seem to have engineered their plans for succession into their own rise to power. Both of them seem to say "You can have my job... IF you can take it!"

@LaurieGolding said:

Kayn is a singularly gifted student, but Zed gave him the hardest test imaginable - to withstand the power of a Darkin. ...

Jaredan said:

I wouldn't take the horror of Kayn's experience as typical of Noxus's approach or attitude to recruitment. The Ionia conflict saw some very strange things happen within the Noxian military and beyond. I can't talk about them yet. But that day will come.

@miketmccarthy said:

I think a lot of that will come out later... Zed has had a complicated run in his life, he wants a successor, and I believe he hopes Kayn is 'the one' and time will tell whether or not he can be that. Zed saved Kayn from certain death, trained him, raised him. He cares.

Interlocutioner said:

Link to Zed: Functionally, they're master and apprentice. But in truth, I think they have a deeper relationship than that. Zed sees himself in Kayn. An orphan with a gift and a drive that others can't control, no matter how much they try. No matter how much Zed tries, in Kayn's case, lol. I think Zed might also see something he could never be in Kayn. Kayn's link to the shadow is deep, for whatever reason. Maybe Zed hopes this is a sign that Kayn could do better than him? Ultimately succeed him? And he may have other, darker motives as well.

I think Kayn's respect for Zed is just as deep. Unfortunately, he's in the process of convincing himself that the only way he can prove himself to his father figure is by becoming something more than Zed wants him to be. Stronger than Zed. Strong enough to defeat him, if necessary.

They have a bond, but it will be tested.

...

I just mean their bond will be tested by Kayn's possession of Rhaast, if nothing else.

Kinkou + Jhin:

Jaredan said:

The characters you mentioned [Shen, Zed, Jhin] are very important to each other's lives going forward...

Jaredan said:

Shen, Zed, and Jhin, sitting in a tree. K. I. L. L. I. N. G.

In their history, Jhin is absolutely an antagonist. But Shen doesn't look at Zed with any kind of fondness, only with betrayal. The man he thought was his brother murdered his father, the person that Shen defined himself by.

However, it's true that Shen can't give into his own immediate, visceral anger. Perhaps he even tells himself he doesn't hold that anger against Zed. His job does require him to hold that inner balance to perform it. It's a role that he does partly in honor of his father. Still, if Shen told you he isn't angry, would you believe him?

When he has two worlds balanced on the edge of a blade, how long any man keep his hand steady?

I'm not going to talk about where their story might be headed in specifics, but those are the things that are involved in our thinking.

Jaredan said:

Yup, though Shen and Zed's relationship is a bit more complicated than Tobias and Malcolm's. Zed and Shen also have more complicated personalities and responsibilities than TF and Graves (that's not a challenge when it comes to Graves especially, he's a to-the-point kind of fellow).

Scathlocke said:

Shen is most likely seeing quite a few parallels between Zed's path, and Akali's. There is some significant crossover in their ideology, and they both rejected the Kinkou Order in some way... but Zed rejects the notion of "balance" as weak, and is more than happy to use any/all means at his disposal. Akali is certainly not there, yet!

Thermal_Kitten said:

Akali knows the cost of Zed’s break with the Kinkou. Zed was training alongside Shen, but after their first run in with Jhin, Zed began to have second thoughts. (We updated Zed’s bio to add more context and details surrounding this.)

...

As far as the Order of Shadow and the Kinkou, they don’t exactly work together, it’s more they tend to keep out of each other’s territory and see to Ionia’s future in their own ways. If it came to a direct disagreement, it could come to blows.

WAAARGHbobo said:

Jhin give us a chance to show that Ionia is in transition. The attack on their nation changed them. They are embracing technology they had previously thought unnecessary, and they are questioning their morale foundations. Jhin is the true villain of Zed and Shen's story-- and he represents everything that could go wrong for Ionia.

The Noxus-Ionia war:

Scathlocke said:

Seven years since Swain seized power and commanded the Noxian armies to leave Ionia.

@LaurieGolding said:

Noxus has a HUGE military presence off the main coast of Ionia - the First Lands are so concerned with restoring balance after they "won" the war, they've failed to notice that Noxus hasn't actually abandoned the island of Fae'lor, for example...

@LaurieGolding said:

The Great Stand at Navori was about ten years ago, and she was something like 14 then. Swain seized control of Noxus roughly three years later and ended the war in Ionia.

@LaurieGolding said:

Noxus was originally supposed to be persuading Ionia to join the empire, which of course became an occupation, then a war. They didn't intend to pillage/destroy... But it seems Darkwill was actually looking for magical stuff to extend his life, so who knows? (LeBlanc, maybe?)

@LaurieGolding said:

The death toll was catastrophic, certainly. But also, Ionia has been marked with a big, bloody Noxian handprint that they'll never be able to wash away - the soul of the First Lands has been changed forever... Was that Swain's plan all along? It's hard to say.

Vastaya:

Q&A:

Why is there a rebellion? Is Zed doing something with magic that affects the vastaya and are they dying as a result?

Not dying, but magical essence sustains their continued existence. The less magic there is, the fewer resources there are to support vastayan life and tradition. Other humans tap into or twist up the same magic source that the Lhotlan vastaya need to survive. This is not necessarily a moral thing, good people do bad things for good reasons, unaware of the consequences it causes others. Zed and his people are unknowingly or uncaringly accelerating the drain of the magical energy though they are absolutely not alone in doing this. This is aggravating the growing tension between humans and some vastayan tribes in Ionia - and directly violates the agreements that were forged between species.

Miscellaneous:

In response to:

Then Zed decided to pull a Sasuke because he couldn't deal with someone being better/picked over him.

Jaredan said:

Zed's issues run a bit deeper than that.

WAAARGHbobo said:

[referring to the wild magic video] It is not a part of the timeline. Promotion team just takes inspiration from the lore-- they do not make stuff within the timelines. Because... uh.. Reasons? Well you'd have to ask them.

WAAARGHbobo said:

So as the guy who did this, and Jhin’s lore...

The character you love hasn’t changed.

This simply expands the timeline and shows how Zed’s descent can be understood from his own perspective.

This timeline was actually done during Jhin, and the goal was to give Zed’s fall a slower, more human, less arch, trajectory.

Timeline (rough from my phone):

Shen and Zed are students together and bros. Zed is clearly the better, more talented student.

Kusho takes the two young teenagers undercover chasing “the golden demon”

Jhin crime scenes traumatized zed. (And shen)

Zed begans to struggle with his studies.

Kusho catches but refuses to kill Jhin. Zed loses respect for his master.

Zed begins to study forbidden shadow magic. —gets in trouble.

Leaves.

Noxus invades —zed witness war crimes. Kusho’s refusal to help the war effort is the last straw, Zed is no longer sympathetic or allied to the kinkou. While not directly opposed to them— he begins to view the kinkou as rivals.

Zed forms his own order— related to the Navoi militia group. (Spelling?)

Some vastaya tribes looking for a better deal, ally with the Noxus. Others fight for Ionia. Zed begins hostility with non- humans.

The war is tough, zed returns to the take the last of the shadow magic. Kusho tries to stop him.

Zed kills his master, shen’s dad.

Shen becomes the eye of twilight.

Kayn.

The war ends.

Zed begins consolidating power. Trains kayn. (He continues hostility with noxus, growing hostility with many Vastaya tribes.)

Harrowing mists begin to bother the southern Ionia sea ports.

Kayn gets raaast (around here i think)

Jhin is frees.... by someone

Zed finds out jhin is free. contacts Shen.

Jhin heads to zaun.

#zed #super long post warning /#long post warning /#dear anyone who sees this on my blog on mobile or anywhere where read more doesn't work: I am so sorry #official information.#jesus fucking CHRIST this took a LONG ASS TIME TO COMPILE #I have memories of more information that I can't find and I'm like #are the rioters not red anymore and therefore not on the boards or #the red tracker I mean #zzzzz #might tweet at scathlocke to see if I can get an indication of what shadow marks would look like for zed #or age. or more on his contribution to the ionian war.#despite how much there is here so little of it is like. 'new.'#: (

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quranreadalong · 6 years

Text

SO YOU AFFLICTED THE PEOPLE OF YOUR HOMETOWN WITH A FAMINE BECAUSE THEY ARE DISBELIEVERS

We’ve talked a lot about the Medina days in history lessons, but the Mecca days have been left fairly blank beyond that one history lesson in surah 6 and some tidbits along the way. There is a simple reason for this: far more was written about the Medina days in reputable sources. Mohammed lived as a Muslim in Mecca from 610 to 622 AD, and there was animosity between Mohammed’s camp in Medina and the Quraysh of Mecca all the way through 630 AD. That’s a long time! But the reliable information that we have on what exactly was occurring in Mecca during those 20 years is really skimpy.

Of course, we know the general outline, with the Quran itself as the most important source--how the majority of people in Mecca not only didn’t take to Mohammed’s “message” but thought he was a bit nutty and irritating, and all the drama that unfolded as a result of that. We know a bit about what happened towards the end of this time period, with the Treaty of Hudaibiyya and the conquest of Mecca. But we just don’t have a serious record of everything that happened in between, and most of what Muslims are taught about Mecca in this era relies mostly or entirely on weak traditions.

None of this is really surprising when you think about the numbers involved here. The vast majority of Meccans were not Muslim when Mohammed and his followers left for Medina. Those who stayed and later “embraced Islam” only after the conquest of Mecca (and subsequent hunting of polytheists) years later would naturally have been reluctant to talk about the years they spent in opposition to “Allah’s apostle”. Those who were Muslims at the time and migrated from Mecca to Medina with Mohammed numbered fewer than 200 even by the most optimistic accounts, and not all of them survived long enough to tell the tale. Compare that to the thousands of men that Mohammed led to conquer the city within a decade. Islam was born in Mecca, but it didn’t go from Local Man Becomes Cult Leader to Local Man Becomes Warlord until Medina.

So in addition to a dearth of material to work with, we ultimately have a dearth of potential original sources. Of those who narrated a thousand or more ahadith, in fact, the only two who were present in Mecca at any point during that era (Aisha and Mohammed’s cousin Abdallah ibn al-Abbas) were both very small children at the time of the migration to Medina. As such, trying to piece together exactly what went on in Mecca takes some work and some willing suspension of disbelief. This applies to not only Mohammed’s days in Mecca, but also to what happened in Mecca before Mohammed conquered it. Today we will look at a very good example of this problem.

In the last section, we were talking about this hadith from Bukhari, which is repeated in several sahih ahadith:

We were with `Abdullah and he said, "When the Prophet (ﷺ) saw the refusal of the people to accept Islam he said, "O Allah! Send (famine) years on them for (seven years) like the seven years (of famine during the time) of (Prophet) Joseph." So famine overtook them for one year and destroyed every kind of life to such an extent that the people started eating hides, carcasses and rotten dead animals. Whenever one of them looked towards the sky, he would (imagine himself to) see smoke because of hunger. So Abu Sufyan went to the Prophet (ﷺ) and said, "O Muhammad! You order people to obey Allah and to keep good relations with kith and kin. No doubt the people of your tribe are dying, so please pray to Allah for them." So [Mohammed recites part of surah 44 about how Allah will take them in a “mighty grasp”]. Ibn Mas`ud added, [that] happened in the battle of Badr

After that, Mohammed recites an ayah from surah 44, in which he says that the Meccans would just return to disbelief and would be destroyed by Allah, which is interpreted as a reference to the Battle of Badr. Other ahadith on this subject have some alternate dialogue--in this one Mohammed curses “Mudar”, which was an enormous tribal confederation including the Quraysh--but the general idea is the same.

That famine is assumed to be what Mohammed is talking about in 23:76, where he tells the Meccans that Allah has already punished them for their disbelief, as a warning. Well, fair enough, right? Here’s the issue: this is supposed to be a Meccan surah. And there is no record of such a catastrophic famine befalling Mecca before Mohammed left the city in 622 AD. It could have happened, I guess, but there’s nothing said of it in any reputable source, and one would assume that A) if such a famine had happened, a hell of a lot more people would’ve converted to Islam and followed Mohammed, and B) it would have been mentioned in the ahadith by people who suffered through it. But there isn’t any mention of this event anywhere. In fact, it’s really hard to tell when this apparent famine happened at all!

Let’s look at some sketchy stories that pinpoint the supposed famine in Mohammed’s Mecca days. Here is one from the guy mentioned in the Bukhari hadith. Abdullah ibn Masud is mentioned in another sahih hadith which says:

One day I went to Ibn Mas`ud who said, "When Quraish delayed in embracing Islam, the Prophet (ﷺ) [said:] I invoked Allah to curse them, so they were afflicted with a (famine) year because of which many of them died and they ate the carcasses ... Asbath added on the authority of Mansur, "Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) prayed for them and it rained heavily for seven days. So the people complained of the excessive rain. The Prophet (ﷺ) said, 'O Allah! (Let it rain) around us and not on us.' So the clouds dispersed over his head and it rained over the surroundings."

This and all of the other sahih ahadith concerning this topic stem from the same three narrators: Mansour, Masruq, and Abu al-Duha; they mention Ibn Masud as the ultimate source of this knowledge.

Reader, it is my opinion that one of these people is lying.

There is no record of any such famine in Mecca before the migration to Medina, nor is there any trace of this supposed famine from any chain of narration not involving the people named above. If Mohammed created and ended a drought on demand, I’d guess that he’d have won more than a couple hundred converts in 12+ years in Mecca. After all, one of the Meccans’ persistent criticisms of Mohammed, as the Quran itself states, was that he could not perform miracles. In fact, the account of Mohammed sending rain to relieve a drought, the people getting soaked and complaining, then the rainclouds being pushed out in a circle above is extremely similar to another mythical account... about this happening in Medina, which does not involve the Quraysh at all. It seems like that myth got transformed a bit and then backdated to the Mecca days, and that’s how the first hadith came to be.

This does not mean that the famine itself is purely mythical. It is mentioned by plenty of other narrators--just not the part about Mohammed performing a miracle to both invoke it and stop it, then placing it pre-Badr. I am now going to show, in obnoxious detail, why this detail was almost certainly false and early Islamic myth-making, and why the real famine, if it happened, instead occurred while Mohammed was in Medina.

There are plenty of other famines mentioned in Islamic histories and the sira we’ve been reading, but none that properly fit the timeline here. Ibn Ishaq, for example, references a famine that led to the young Ali coming to live with his older cousin Mohammed and his wife Khadijah:

God showed His favor and goodwill towards him (Ali) when a grievous famine overtook Quraysh. Abu Talib (Ali's father, Mohammed's uncle) had a large family, and the prophet approached his (other) uncle al-Abbas, who was one of the richest of Banu Hashim (their clan) ... the apostle took [in] Ali and kept him with him and al-Abbas took (Ali's brother) Jaafar.

But this was before Mohammed’s prophet days. So that one doesn’t work as a punishment for disbelievers. And anyway it’s unclear whether the people in Mecca were dying of hunger here--the implication is more like Abu Talib in particular was suffering because he didn’t have enough money to feed his large family. That was possibly because fewer people were coming to Mecca for the hajj, and Abu Talib made money catering to pilgrims. And Ibn Ishaq mentions no other “grievous famine”.

Some modern-day scholars instead try to connect the mysterious famine with a “boycott” of Mohammed’s clan, the Banu Hashim, mentioned in some history books, though it is not referenced in any strong ahadith. At some point, these books say, the Quraysh got so pissed off at Mohammed that they agreed to stop trading and marrying with his clan, even though most of his clan wasn’t Muslim at the time. The boycott was not very effective because people went around it and quietly traded with them anyway, then two or three years later the boycotters gave up. Even the sketchy sources describing this event have been drastically dramatized in modern times, implying it was a boycott of all Muslims (it wasn’t) and that it resulted in people dying (it didn’t). The actual sources that mention this never say this “boycott” starved anyone, let alone that it killed people. And at any rate, even if you do connect the Meccan famine to the supposed failed “boycott”, there’s still no mention of the supposed retaliatory famine in this era in any history books!

There is no other famine mentioned anywhere between 610 and 622 AD that we can even semi-plausibly connect with the famine. So we’re gonna have to ignore the belief that this was from the Mecca days if we want to make this work. The first hadith has to contain mythical details--a hadith being sahih does not necessarily mean that it is a true recollection of events, but simply that the statement probably does ultimately trace back to the alleged source (see examples of mythical sahih ahadith here or here). So let’s expand the timeline a bit. Al-Wahidi records a version of the story that does imply it was from the Medina days:

When Thumamah ibn Athal al-Hanafi (a powerful tribal chief) was brought to the Messenger of Allah, Allah bless him and give him peace, as a prisoner and the latter embraced Islam, he set him free. Thumamah returned to al-Yamamah (Najd region) and prevented the people of Mecca from getting any provisions from al-Yamamah. Allah, exalted is He, sent upon Quraysh years of scarcity until they were forced to eat animal hair mixed with blood. Abu Sufyan went to see the Messenger of Allah, Allah bless him and give him peace, and said: ‘I beseech you by Allah and our ties of kinship; do you not claim that you have been sent a mercy unto the worlds’. He said: ‘Indeed!’ Abu Sufyan said: ‘But you have killed fathers with the sword and children with hunger’

So, okay, here we have a clearer story: the “famine” is caused less by natural causes and more by a blockade of goods that results in starvation, courtesy of this powerful tribal leader from the Najd region east of Mecca and Medina. Allah’s “divine punishment” comes in because the guy doing the blockading is a Muslim. Ibn Ishaq relates the incident in which Thumamah here was captured:

The apostle's cavalry went out and captured a man of the Banu Hanifa not knowing who he was ... The apostle went to him and urged him to accept Islam .. When they let him go he went as far as al-Baqi, where he purified himself and then returned and paid homage to the prophet

If you remember from way back in surah 9, the early Muslims did engage in some raiding and attacks before Badr, most of which involved them trying to attack a caravan; they succeeded in the Nakhla raid, which resulted in a Meccan trader being killed during a supposedly “sacred month”, prompting the Quraysh to put together a defense force for the next caravan. The Muslims at the time did not have the numbers to raid all the way into the Najd region, though, and there’s no record of them having done so in 623-early 624 AD. So... if we want this story to work within the timeline, we have to assume that Thumamah was captured in some small, otherwise unmentioned raid when he was just hanging out in the Hijaz region for some reason. Again, it’s possible. But it seems very unlikely. And based on where this incident is listed in Ibn Ishaq’s work, this happened long after Badr, anyway, closer to 630 AD. Another dead end...

If we assume that the famine really did happen and is not just some early Islamic myth-making, going by the sources available to us, we’re gonna have to ignore 1) the belief that this ayah is from Mecca, and 2) Ibn Masud’s alleged interpretation of the ayah, mentioned in the hadith, as referring to Badr. We gotta put the famine post-Badr. No other timeline makes sense. In this case, the famine would be a warning whereas the outright conquest of Mecca and subsequent elimination of polytheism would be the true punishment, I guess. Basically a variant of the standard Allah Will Destroy You Like Past Disbelievers thing.

This paper records some other opinions of scholars and tafsir authors, which do gel with the al-Wahidi account as long as we assume this is happening after Badr:

al-Thalabi in his Tafsir: the [Quraysh] suffered hunger for seven years and the Arab tribes cut off their food supplies according to the order to the prophet. ... [Abu Sufyan] asked the Prophet to invoke God for them, which the Prophet indeed did. Then the prophet permitted to carry food to them while they were still unbelievers

This 11th century account expands the famine so it lasts the full seven years, whereas the Bukhari hadith says Mohammed asked for a seven year famine but only got one year. It also says that Mohammed graciously stopped the famine upon Abu Sufyan’s request and relieved the starving Meccans. This last part, where Mohammed saves the Meccans from hunger, seems to have sprung up in the works of the Arabic grammarian al-Farra but is not found in any reputable ahadith. But still, keep it in mind for later. The tidbit about the famine lasting seven years is not found in earlier stories and seems fabricated, but the core idea--that the famine was caused by some Arab tribe blockading Mecca--at least does fit with the Thumamah story.

So the best vague approximation for what the famine really was and when it really occurred (if ever) is that it was a blockade of Mecca carried out on Mohammed’s orders at some point between 625 and 630, which is when Mecca was conquered. That at least gives us a better starting point than “idk it happened at some point somehow”.

There is more evidence for putting the famine in the later end of that period (~628) than the earlier end, simply due to Abu Sufyan’s presence in the hadith--his visit to Medina just before Mohammed conquered Mecca, in which he tried to resolve the situation peacefully, is the only time he’s mentioned as actually visiting the city in reputable sources. But for the sake of argument, let’s assume that there was some otherwise unmentioned visit. This will let us look at some alleged incidents that put the famine closer to 625.

Al-Wahidi mentions one other incident involving Abu Sufyan visiting Medina, this time at some point after the Battle of Uhud.

After the fighting at Uhud, [Abu Sufyan etc] travelled to Medina and stayed as guests at ‘Abd Allah ibn Ubayy’s (Medinan leader called one of the “munafiqun”). The Prophet ... had allowed them to come to speak with him with his assurance of protection. ... They said to the Prophet ... “Reject the mention of our idols al-Lat, al-‘Uzza and Manat and say that they have benefit and the power of intercession for those who worship them, and we will leave you alone with your Lord!” Their words hurt the Prophet

This incident isn’t mentioned by any of the sahih ahadith, but it apparently stems from around the 8th century (allegedly from Muqatil), so at least it’s a pretty early tradition. According to this, at some point after Uhud, Abu Sufyan stopped by Medina and asked Mohammed to just keep the names of their goddesses out of his mouth and say that they could respond to prayers. Mohammed and Umar rejected this and the delegation went back to Mecca. The story seems to imply that it wasn’t right after Uhud, because it implies that the Muslims weren’t in a very subservient position here, so maybe it was after the later non-battle at Badr or else the siege of Medina. That would be 626 or 627. If you remember from surah 9′s history lessons, one of the reasons why Abu Sufyan refused to fight at Badr that year is because it was a drought year. A drought coupled with a blockade would have produced some seriously awful results. Maybe we’re on to something here? Could this be the visit in which Abu Sufyan pleaded for relief?

Some traditions, again not found in any sahih ahadith but still worth mentioning, imply that in the period between the failed siege of Medina and the conquest of Mecca, Abu Sufyan began to reconsider his strategy and tried to appease Mohammed by accepting gifts from him and sending Medina gifts in return. The paper quotes the scholar Ibn Asakir (1100s AD), citing a tradition supposedly going back to Mohammed’s follower Ikrimah:

[Abu Sufyan] sent to the prophet weapons and other things which the prophet accepted. Then the prophet sent him [dates] and Abu Sufyan sent him in return hides.

Similar traditions suggest that Mohammed sent food to the people of Mecca in general, which is like that account from al-Farra mentioned above.

So, hey, we maybe got something going on here. The general idea would be that at some point between 626 and 627 AD, Mohammed told one of his followers to blockade the eastern routes to Mecca, depriving them of crucial food supplies in a drought year. In addition, Mohammed ordered his followers to raid their allies and some related clans (the other “Mudar” clans), depriving the Quraysh of outside help. After the collapse of the siege of Medina and the defeat of the Jews and various Ghatafan clans, the Quraysh were isolated and, apparently, starving.

Within a year of that happening, Abu Sufyan recognized the inevitable and interceded with Mohammed to ask for relief, at which point Mohammed sent supplies to Mecca, establishing his control over the city in advance of the Treaty of Hudaibiyya and subsequent conquest of Mecca. Despite the fall of the city, Abu Sufyan would ultimately be rewarded for his subservience, as his family was taken into Mohammed’s inner circle and his son and grandson would both go on to be caliphs. Yaaaay mystery solved!!

...

HOWEVER.

As this other paper points out, this all relies upon sticking different traditions together. The one where Abu Sufyan visits Medina to ask Mohammed to stop talking shit about their goddesses doesn’t mention any famine. Even if the Thumamah story is true, it seems like the effects of the famine weren’t disastrous by the time of the supposed “after Uhud” visit. I mean, that seems like a pretty damn crucial piece of information to leave out. So while, yeah, it’s possible, again, it relies on highly tenuous readings of already shaky traditions. Let’s take one more swing at this riddle and try to place the famine in the latest years possible--closer to the time of the conquest of Mecca itself. After the Treaty of Hudaibiyya, in the years 628-630 AD. Maybe “Allah” only gave Mohammed one year of famine instead of seven because Mohammed would be in control of the city not long after that year. A sahih hadith mentions the following incident of a guy from Mecca leaving for Medina in this period.

Abu Basir a man from the Quraish (who was a Muslim), came to [Medina]. And [the Quraysh] sent (two men) to look for him; so [Mohammed] handed him over to the two men. They took him away ... and alighted to eat some dates which they had, Abu Basir said to one of the men: ... I think this sword of yours is a fine one; the other drew the sword and said: Yes I have tried it. Abu Basir said: Let me look at it. He let [Abu Basir] have it and [Abu Basir] struck him till he died, whereupon the other fled and came to Medina, and running entered the mosque. ... He said (to Mohammed): I swear by Allah that my Companion has been killed, and I’m as good as dead. Abu Basir then arrived and said: Allah has fulfilled your covenant. You returned me to them, but Allah saved me from them. The Prophet (ﷺ) said: Woe to his mother, stirrer up of war! ... When [Abu Basir] heard that he knew that [Mohammed] would send him back to them, so he went out and came to the seashore. Abu Jandal escaped and joined Abu Basir till a band of them collected.

So this guy, Abu Basir, is sent back to Mecca as per the conditions of the treaty (Mohammed sent the men back at first but kept the women, even though the treaty itself made no such distinction). But on the way back Abu Basir stabs one of the guys escorting him and chases after the other one, who runs back to Medina and tells Mohammed what happened. Mohammed is irritated and says that Abu Basir now really has to go back, because he’s just killed a guy for no reason. Instead of returning to Mecca, Abu Basir instead joins up with this Abu Jandal fellow--a runaway from Mecca who had secretly converted before the Battle of Badr and had switched sides during the battle along with his brother, much to the chagrin of the Quraysh. After the battle, he was dragged home and imprisoned for his betrayal, but he later made his way to Medina. Mohammed said had to go back, mentioned in another sahih hadith.

Abu Basir and Abu Jandal, along with various other Muslims, set up a “band”, as the hadith says. Hey...... haven’t we heard of these guys before somewhere?

Oh yeah! They were in this hadith from surah 9!

Abu Jandal bin Suhail got himself released from them (i.e. infidels) and joined Abu Basir. So, whenever a man from Quraish embraced Islam he would follow Abu Basir till they formed a strong group. By Allah, whenever they heard about a caravan of Quraish heading towards Sham, they stopped it and attacked and killed them (i.e. infidels) and took their properties. The people of Quraish sent a message to the Prophet (ﷺ) requesting him for the Sake of Allah and Kith and kin to send for (i.e. Abu Basir and his companions) promising that whoever (amongst them) came to the Prophet (ﷺ) would be secure. So the Prophet (ﷺ) sent for them (i.e. Abu Basir's companions) and [Allah] revealed the following Divine Verses: "... After He made you the victorious over them. ... the unbelievers had pride and haughtiness, in their hearts ... the pride and haughtiness of the time of ignorance." (48.24-26) And their pride and haughtiness was that they did not confess (write in the treaty) that he (i.e. Muhammad) was the Prophet of Allah and refused to write: "In the Name of Allah, the most Beneficent, the Most Merciful,"

So the “band” in question was a band of murdererous converts from among the Quraysh who attacked every Qurayshi caravan along the Syria route they could get their hands on, killed the traders, and stole all their goods. During the “truce”. The Meccans--presumably including Abu Sufyan--asked Mohammed “for the sake of Kith and kin” (his family/clan) if uhhh hey could you maybe stop your people from attacking us please we kind of have a treaty with you bro lol?? But in response Mohammed blamed them for refusing to recognize him as a prophet in the treaty (remember that debacle?).

Now hold the fuck up. Here we really do seem to have something. There was a drought going on--starting around 626 and continuing at least until the time of the Tabouk expedition, as we’ve already talked about--and here we have a sahih hadith telling us that the Meccans were also being deprived of their trade, not just from the east as in the other story, but also from the north--from their absolute most vital route. And, as the paper I linked above mentions, the scholar Ibn Hajar connects this incident to a time in which:

(Quraysh) sent Abu Sufyan b. Harb to the apostle of Allah to ask him and to plead with him to summon Abu Jandal and the people who were with him.

...Abu Sufyan went to Mohammed in person during the “treaty” era, which would be 628 or 629! And this ties into the earlier explanations about the stories supposedly set a couple years earlier in 626/627--because Abu Sufyan’s visit here still led to Mohammed relieving the Meccans of the blockade, as long as the Quraysh agreed to ignore the one part of the treaty that was actually beneficial to them, which they did:

They (i.e., Quraysh) said: 'anyone who sets out from us to you may stay with you lawfully, and there is nothing objectionable in it'

So it all ultimately fits together!

TO SUM UP A VERY LONG READ: If we assume the famine did happen, the most logical way to put together the story is this. Mohammed first started blockading Mecca from the lands of the Najd in the east, courtesy of Thumamah. Gradually the allies of the Quraysh were defeated or made to submit to Mohammed, from Bedouin clans to the Jews of Medina. There was a drought going on, and times were tough but not unbearable, because the Meccans still had their other trading routes to rely upon. But years later, after the Quraysh’s strength had collapsed and the treaty had been signed, the people of Mecca still “persisted in their unbelief”. And so a band of Muslims began to blockade them from the north with Mohammed’s support. Mecca was cut off from vital trade routes in two directions, and a famine began. After a year or so of misery, Abu Sufyan realized that defeat was inevitable, and began taking steps to effectively surrender to Mohammed, including begging him to stop the blockade in exchange for getting rid of a pro-Quraysh stipulation in the Treaty of Hudaibiyya. Mohammed agreed to this and the condition of the people in Mecca improved once he sent them supplies, but by now they knew that they lived and died on Mohammed’s whim, and it was only a short time before he took over the city itself.

To me this timeline is really the only one possible, given the evidence. The Bukhari hadith is almost certainly mythical, and based on a myth that puts this incident in a totally different era at that. When it comes to the surah we’ve been reading, some parts of it, perhaps including 23:76, appear to be from the Medina era instead of the Mecca days. And the punishment-famine referenced in the various ahadith we’ve read is likelier to be this famine, caused by a combination of drought and blockades prior to the conquest of Mecca, than any other supposed famine.

So there you have it. I think that is the single clearest explanation for that ayah, and several related others that we will later come across. In addition to raids, ambushes, forced conversions, massacres, sieges, mass enslavements, rapes, feudalism schemes, and ethnic cleansing, evidently Mohammed was not adverse to using hunger as a weapon. Nobody ever said that establishing a theocratic empire was a cute process fam!!

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#historylesson #surah 23 #quranreadalong #al muminun

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under-the-riverwolf-fanfiction · 6 years

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Can Love Conquer All/Chapter 5

Summary: Things get difficult between Betty and Jughead, and one of them is dragged into questioning. Just a little bit of fluff before the storm hits.

Wow, it's been a while since I've updated, but I'm back! Hopefully, I can get myself organized and get the next chapter up quicker, I'm finally in holiday mode so I have more time to write, let's just hope my editor (because I suck at editing) has some free time to edit the next couple of chapters, I hope you enjoy this chapter

AO3 LINK

FF LINK Betty awoke that morning feeling a surprising bliss. One that made her toes curl. It didn’t take long to remember the night where she and Jughead made love for the first time. Betty touched her lips, and felt them slightly swollen from their desperate kisses. She smiled and a giggle escaped as she felt an overwhelming sense of joy.

Jughead stirred at the sound, and his arm came over the top of her waist, snuggling himself in closer to the side of her body. “Morning,” he said groggily. He had yet to open his eyes, but Betty was too fascinated in admiring him in that vulnerable state. His beanie nowhere in sight, his long locks fell over his head in waves. Betty resisted the urge to touch his hair and went for his forearm that laid on her stomach instead, and stroked it gently. “I’m not a cat,” he muttered. Betty grinned, “You purr like one.” Jughead peaked an eye open and gave her a frustrated look even though he was fighting a smile. “Is that right?” he said, and tugged her closer till his arm wrapped around her waist completely till he spooned her. “Oh my - Jughead!” Betty flinched and pulled away quickly till she stood on her feet. She took the sheet with her and held it to her body as she looked back at him in the motion of sitting up. He covered himself with the duvet before Betty could see. “You’re um-” Jughead gave her the smile that could make her swoon. One that was half mocking, and half genuine amusement. “It’s the morning, Betts. I can’t control what it does all the time.” “I was almost thinking you didn’t - you know. Get enough out of last night.” “Betty, that was the most amazing night of my life.” Betty bit back a smile and tucked the sheet up closer. “I don’t know why I’m still shy about being naked. I mean - you’ve already seen me...you know.” “It’s alright. I think you’re beautiful with your clothes on and off.” Betty smiled. “Preferably with them off,” he added.

Betty’s face dropped in mock annoyance, but she felt complimented in the best way. “Guess we should head out to Pop’s cause I don’t have anything for breakfast. You should probably let your mom know you’re alive on the way too,” Jughead said. “Oh shoot!” Betty muttered and searched for her phone. “This might start the day off interesting,” she muttered. “What?” Jughead asked, scratching the back of his head. “Finding every item of my belongings.” “Nothing like a good scavenger hunt to start your morning. Good thing I don’t live in a mansion,” Jughead joked.

***

Cheryl was experiencing those old memories all at once, sitting in the very last booth in the back of Pop’s Diner. Milkshake long forgotten. Seeing Archie dead was just too much and the tears started rolling again. She swiped at them as Jughead and Betty entered the diner. She watched them as they walked hand in hand, giving each other small glances. Small smiles. Small touches. They seemed closer than ever. She tilted her head as they kissed quickly, but Betty spotted her as she withdrew and quickly made her way over, dragging Jughead by the hand. “Cheryl!” Betty smiled. Cheryl didn’t know what to say. “What’s wrong,” Betty asked, when Cheryl didn’t respond. “Uh, Archie-” Cheryl found it difficult to say words. It wasn’t necessarily just Archie’s death that had her in a state of sorrow, it was the memories of her now deceased brother found dead in that river. Ginger hair...gold and blue jacket that he wasn’t found in, but wore nevertheless, and Cheryl was having a hard time coping with the regurgitation of all those repressed memories.

“Is he okay?” Jughead asked. Cheryl shook her head. “He’s dead,” she muttered. “What?” Jughead’s eyes widened, and Betty looked quickly from Cheryl to Jughead, unsure of what to do. Both of them were shocked. “How- how did he die? Was he in an accident?” Betty asked. Jughead hung his head before he placed his head in his hands, his elbows on the table. Betty placed a hand on his back, as if to soothe him. She glanced at Cheryl and she watched as Cheryl’s face dropped even more and shook her head slowly. “Archie was murdered. Police said something about being shot. I- I was just out for my walk along the river. It- it’s the anniversary of Jason’s death-” Cheryl broke off in sobs and tried to stifle them with her hands. “Oh, Cheryl,” Betty muttered. She felt stuck between comforting Jughead and Cheryl. “The kiss of death visits Riverdale again,” Jughead muttered. “Same day, once more.” “Come on Jughead. Don’t be so morbid,” Betty said. “Then what shall I be? My friend is dead. I know you weren’t fond of him, but he wasn’t as bad as you think.” His tone was harsh, and coarse. “Friend?” Betty may have been somewhat absent to Jughead’s life until now, but she’d never in a million years saw them being friends. “We were.” Jughead muttered, “A long time ago.”

Betty grimaced and said, “Hey, how about I get us some breakfast? On me.”

Jughead slid out of the booth reluctantly and let Betty shuffle out.

While she ordered breakfast she watched as Jughead slid over into her seat by the window. She tilted her head in curiousity as Jughead reached over the table and placed a hand on Cheryl’s. She couldn’t hear the words, but knew his intentions were pure of heart. His face painted pain, and loss. He was trying to comfort Cheryl. ……

The walk to school was silent, Jughead looking down at his feet refusing to look at Betty, she knew he felt bad for the way he spoke to her those few moments before. But understood that grief was hard. She witnessed it all to well with her sister Polly, grieving over the loss of her fiance Jason who was also the father to her children. When Polly found out about Jason’s death she immediately pushed Betty away, keeping Betty at arms length, Betty just hoped that Jughead wouldn't do that.

Betty placed an arm on Jughead’s shoulder making him stop in his tracks.

“Juggie” Betty whispered caressing his cheek with her hand, slightly pushing him to look at her. Jughead looked horrible, his eyes puffy and his cheeks stained with tear tracks.

“I’m so sorry Betts” Jughead sobbed.

Betty pulled him into a hug.”Shhh it’s okay Jug” she said tucking his head into her neck. “I know what it’s like to lose someone remember?” she felt Jughead loosen his grip on her waist, and felt him melt into her a little more.

Betty pulled away slightly to rest their foreheads together, but Jughead had other ideas, as he crashed his lips on hers. Betty immediately melted into it, both of them fighting for dominance. Jughead gently pushed her against the brick wall behind her.

He broke the kiss but before Betty could complain, he began his seduction on her neck, nipping at the skin then soothing it with his tongue, causing Betty to moan.

The school bell rang out and brought Betty into the world of reality once more. There was a world outside of Jughead’s kisses...and she hated leaving it. “No,” Betty whispered. Jughead smiled as he withdrew. The sexual tension in the air thick between them.

“The bell, wouldn’t want to be late,” she said, still breathless from his kisses.

“I don’t care” Jughead mumbled into her neck, ignoring her pleas as he continued to ravish her neck with kisses.

“Jug, come on.” Betty tried weakly to push him away, not really wanting to. Laughing at the pout on his face, she could have melted right then. This situation seemed to be happening a lot lately.

“Later,” she said with a smirk. Jughead cocked his head as he remembered their little game.

Jughead backed away from her and grabbed her hand as she picked up her backpack that had fallen to the ground. Reluctantly, they continued their journey to the school building once more.

Jughead lead Betty by the hand to the Blue and Gold room, kissing her quickly before running off to his first period. Betty had a free period so she thought that she would catch up on work for the newspaper that she was currently running.

She was planning on asking Jughead at breakfast if he could join and help her out, as she was really struggling working all by herself, and she knew how excellent at writing Jughead was. As soon as Jughead was out of her sight, Betty reluctantly entered the room only to find Sheriff Keller and Principal Weatherbee standing in the room.

“Miss Cooper?” Sheriff Keller asked

Betty went into her best Elizabeth Cooper mode. “Yes that’s me! How can I help you?” she said in the most cheerful voice she has ever heard, she wondered if they believed her because she certainly didn’t.

“Miss Cooper, I'm gonna need you to come down to the sheriff's station with me,” Keller said.

The shock of Keller's words made Betty want to scream. She pulled herself together enough reply. “ Um sure, may I ask why?”

“We just want to ask you a couple questions about the murder of Archie Andrews,” Keller said firmly.

Betty stood there frozen, she didn't know how to reply. Well who would know how to reply after someone wanted to question you about a murder.

At the sheriff's station, Betty was sitting in the interrogation room, fiddling her thumbs. Nervous butterflies, itchy skin and feeling of guilt...for what she had no idea. Was she a suspect?

Mr Keller entered the room finally, after what felt like forever to Betty. He slid into his chair in front of her, his file coming down on the table with enough force to make Betty flinch.

“So, Miss Cooper, where were you the night of 9th of July?”

“Well I was at home,” she whispered.

“Are you sure about that?” “I was at Jughead’s last night,” she whispered truthfully.

“No, Miss Cooper, the 11th was two days ago. Where were you the night before last?”

To be continued...

Dun Dun Duh!!! haha, I hoped you guys liked this chapter. I will hopefully try and get the next chapter up quicker (honestly probably not, I suck at time management, and I spend basically all my free reading @Lazydaizies, @it-happened-one-starry-night , @sylwrites and @AdamantEve fics, seriously they can write! ). Thank you to the people who commented on my last couple of chapters, I honestly didn't think anybody would like this story, I honestly love you all xoxoxo

The Next chapter will carry on from where Betty left off and will focus on Jugheads reaction to finding out that his girlfriend was called to the sheriff's station for his old best friend's murder.

#bughead #bughead fanfic #bughead fanfiction #betty x jughead

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tlatollotl · 7 years

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From 400-Rabbits

1/2

A female conquistador would be an anachronism, as the role was very much bound up in ideas of Medieval European knighthood and specifically the role of the hidalgo. More on that in a bit, but let's start by asking a very real and important demographic question.

Where the White Women At?

In order for there to be be female conquistadors, there first have to be women. The gendered reality of immigration to what would become the Spanish territories of the Americas, however, is that is was overwhelmingly made up of men. Women were particularly in what we might consider a sort of "Conquistador Era" of the conquest and settlement of the Caribbean and Mexico. Boyd-Bowman (1976) finds that, between the years 1493-1519, only 308 Spanish women were documented as immigrating to the Americas, or 5.6% of the total documented migrants. Between the years 1520-1539, that number increases to 845, but the greater overall influx of Spanish colonists means these women still made up only 6.3% of the overall migrants. Most of these women came not independently, but as the pre-existing wives of Spanish men moving to the Americas.

Beyond these years, female immigration increases (in part due to laws that banned married men from immigrating without their wives), but by that point the era of heroic deeds and battles were over in the Caribbean and New Spain, leaving South America as the destination for those seeking to recreate the deeds (and riches) of Columbus and Cortes. Cañizares-Esguerra (2006), commenting the distinction made between the crusading Spanish conquests and the more economic aims of the English in 1609 pamphlet endorsing emigration to Virginia notes:

The rather medieval knightly, chivalric view of colonization that privileged service to God and honor over profits and mercantile pursuits had already gone out of fashion in Iberian American, where merchants, miners, and planters were firmly in control and the Creole heirs of the conquistadors nostalgically wrote epics to recall the forgotten deeds of their ancestors.

Simply put, by the time women -- particularly independent women -- were present in New Spain, the age of the conquistador was over. But what were women doing at this time, if not going out conquering?

Non-Overlapping Gendered Magisteria

As noted before, the role of a the conquistador was one that was very much bound up into the Medieval chivalric tradition, and in particular the Spanish notion of the hidalgo. Growing out of the Reconquista, which saw the opening of new lands for Christian dominion through expulsion of Muslim rulers, the hidalgo was a fiercely romanticized figure in Spanish culture. As a member of a sort of petty nobility, the hidalgo (particulary in later times) might not be landed, but he was legally independent and entitled to bear arms.

Such men were too far outside the main wealth of the landed upper nobility in Iberia to live comfortably off hereditary incomes, but well off enough financially to make their way the Americas to join, or even outfit, expeditions for trade and conquest. As such they formed the a significant contingent of the early migrants to Spanish America. Cortes was a hidalgo, as was Bernal Diaz del Castillo. Indeed, Hassig (1994) notes that of those early Spaniards, even those who could not claim the background "pretended to hidalgo status."

William H. Prescott, whose History of the Conquest of Mexico was perhaps the first major and enduring English-language account of the Spanish actions in New Spain, writes of a Spain drenched in the chivalric traditions of Medieval Europe and outright ascribes the call to the Americas a stemming from these ideals. Writing of how word of the Americas was received back in Spain he says:

These reports added fresh fuel to imaginations already warmed by the study of those tales of chivalry which formed the favorite reading of the Spaniards at that period. Thus romance and reality acted on each other, and the soul of the Spaniard was exalted to that pitch of enthusiasm which enabled him to encounter the terrible trials that lay in the path of the discoverer. Indeed, the life of the cavalier of that day was romance put into action.

The role of the hidalgo, however, was ultimately a gendered one. A woman could not be a hidalgo because a hidalgo was a man. Period. Full stop. The role was inextricably bound up with the performative role of masculinity in Spanish society, which excluded women from the combat at the core of the knightly identity of the hidalgo. Women, particularly in New Spain, often found themselves managing the household or even vast estates, but they themselves could not legally hold title to such material wealth, given their status as legal minors in the Spanish judicial system. In this system, a woman, outside of extraordinary circumstances, would always be the dependent of a man.

We can compare and contrast this with the indigenous system of gender roles, particularly since the much more numerous indigenous women are far more visible in historical record. Just as the Spanish hidalgo was synonymous with maleness, so to was Aztec military life the province of men. If anything, the separate spheres of men and women were more explicit, with Nahua sources making a clear analogy between men dying in battle or sacrifice, with the stuggle and sometimes death of women in childbirth, with both the men and women giving their blood and lives to bring forth new life, and both being honored greatly in the afterlife.

The connection between maleness and warrior status is so ingrained that "acting womanly" was seen as a grave insult to the martial male. Even the most famous example of female combatants in the Aztec era, during the civil war between the sister cities of of Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco, has their role less as warriors and more as shaming and alarming the men by interceding with their naked bodies and (in the account of Duran) spraying breast milk at the attacking Tenochca. Yet, in the Siege of Tenochtitlan, we find the women up on the rooftops, raining stones down upon the invading Spanish and their native allies.

So while women fighting in defense of their homes was not unknown in the Americas, both the Spanish and the Mesoamericans firmly saw them as alien to the warrior role. Native women, particularly in the early colonial period, enjoyed the much less deprecated roles of the indigenous culture, where they could be landholders, own significant property, and generally operate as legal equals to indigenous men. Kellogg (1995) notes, however, that as Spanish norms of women as "legal minors" took hold in the 16th and 17th centuries:

indigenous women, especially nonelite women, found themselves increasingly circumscribed in a more rigid and narrowly defined "woman's" domain, which was rooted symbolically in the family and household but which extended outside the home into forms of labor that usually took place under male supervision and control.

Women, in other words, were necessarily excluded from the combat roles which were at the base of the conquistador identity because they were women. To have a female conquistador was to have a transgression of gender roles overturning centuries of chivalric tradition, and though we see similar ideals about separate spheres for men and women in indigenous cultures, we also have accounts of women rising up to defend their homes with force when needed. The very limited number of Spanish women in the Americas, however, were not placed in such dire circumstances, and were often already a part of a male-dominated household. In addition, the Spanish legal mores of the time meant that even if a Spanish woman were to go out conquistadoring, she would need to overcome judicial norms which saw her as the dependent of her male relatives, if she hoped to hold on to her spoils.

American and African men, however, were not excluded from this military tradition.

2/2

A Rainbow Coalition of Conquest

English language accounts of the Conquest of Mexico, following the tradition of Prescott, tend to begin with the arrival of Cortes on the Gulf Coast, and either end or quickly trail off following the surrender of Cuauhtemoc bringing an end to the Siege of Tenochtitlan and the Aztecs as an independent political entity. The problem with this narrative is that it tends to either ignore or give short shrift to the Aztecs as agile and evolving power in Mesoamerica with their own military history and tradition, the momentum of which was hardly slowed by now having transferred ultimate authority to a Spanish emperor an ocean away. Lockhart (1992) notes a basic pattern to how indigenous life adapted to the realities of Spanish rule, with the first generation basically existing in "stasis" with little to no changes to everyday life.

The continuation of business as usual extended to Nahua conquests of their neighbors. The Aztec TlatoaniMotecuhzoma Xocoyotl had been busy running annual campaigns down into Oaxaca and Guerrero to subjugate the Mixtec and Zapotec polities of the region. Chance (1991) makes it clear that these campaigns basically continued with a little more than hiccup as a result of the Spanish establishing dominion over the Nahuas of central Mexico. Only now the armies of Nahuas were ostensibly led by small numbers of Spaniards.

Likewise, the authors of Indian Conquistadors: Indigenous Allies in the Conquest of MesoAmerica (1997) show the innumerable ways in which the martial traditions of Mesoamerica were expressed through conquest of Guatemala, Honduras, Oaxaca, Gran Chichimeca, and elsewhere, with native allies not simply serving as subsidiaries and support, but as active participants in colonial ventures, which also helped to establish a Nahua presence in outside the core areas of Central Mexico. We see Tlaxcalans settling the northern parts of Mexico and being integral to the burgeoning silver industry, and we see indigenous nobility accepted into the role of hidalgos, being granted titles, coats of arms, and the characteristic privileges of being able to ride horses and carry swords. It is only due to the strong association of "Spanish-ness" with the notion of conquistadors that these native participants are excluded from the title.

Matthew Restall, whose work features in Indian Conquistadors, has also written on the role of Africans in the Conquest of the Americas, both in his Seven Myths of the Spanish Conquest and in his (2000) article, "Black Conquistadors: Armed Africans in Early Spanish America," noting that in the latter work that “African were a ubiquitous and pivotal part of Spanish conquest campaigns in the Americas” and that “from the very onset, Africans were present both as voluntary expeditionaries and involuntary colonists.”

Probably the most well-known African conquistador is Juan Garrido, born in Africa and brought to the Americas enslaved, was part of the Cortes expedition and eventually became a free man who participated in numerous campaigns throughout the early stages of extending colonial Spanish Mexico. Similarly, Juan Valiente, who was similarly born in Africa and brought to the Americas as a slave, would earn his freedom through his martial efforts in Peru and go on to be a named a captain and encomendero.

Restall notes, however, that:

Just as Juan Garrido has been called Mexico’s only black conquistador, so has Juan Valiente been called “the lone Negro conqueror of Chile.” Yet the evidence for Mexico, Chile, Peru, Colombia, Venezuela, and elsewhere shows these men were by no means alone.

Just as the native contributions to Spanish conquests often go unmentioned, with the thousands and sometimes tens of thousands of Mesoamerica soldiers who dwarfed the dozens to a few hundreds of Spanish among them rendered to little more than “invisible Indian,” so to does the retelling of the Spanish colonial effort suffer from a case of “anonymous Africans.” In some cases the numbers of African troops outnumbered the Europeans on expeditions. While these black conquistadors were often acting as auxiliaries, and many of them were slaves or servants, we also see men like Garrido, Valiente, and others who either took up arms as free men or else earned their freedom through their actions and continued to expanding their own fortunes. Again, as with the role of indigenous men, the only reason to exclude these black men from the ranks of the conquistadors comes down to a narrow, ethnocentric view of that title being reserved for Europeans from Iberia wearing neck ruffles and morions.

Among and betwixt the defined roles of European, American, and Africa, we also find the growing populations of mulatto and, especially, mestizo individuals who sought their fortunes with expeditions pushing the boundaries of colonial Spain, whether it be to Northern Mexico and beyond, or Peru and Colombia. While the Spanish would eventually become known for the fairly rigid casta system of racial hierarchy, this was much more a development of later centuries and the earlier period was much more, to mix my Romance languages, laissez faire in their approach to racial boundaries.

While women may not have been commonly present on the frontlines of the various colonial entradas and expeditions (though they certainly were present on many campaigns in the form of cooks, weavers, etcs.), and their inclusion as such can be seen as an anarchronism, the inclusion of American, African, and mixed-race men should not be surprising.

Actually, it’s about historical accuracy in video games

All that being said, I have no problem with the inclusion of fictional female conquistadors in a video game. I know it is fashionable to vociferously critique and fisk to death the minutiae of particularly video games, and wholeheartedly support the role of historical criticism of all sorts of popular media. I worry more about overly exclusive errors of fact than overly inclusive ones though, as such omissions tend to elide over all of the wonderful details of history in favor of a severely (and literally) white-washed Western canon which perpetuates noxious notions of history that serve to ill-inform the casual consumer of such media. A player of Expeditions: Conquistador being disappointed to learn there are not actually any historical accounts of women conquistadors is far less harmful, on a societal level, than a game that perpetuates the notion that the Conquest of the Americas was exclusively carried out by a small handful of white men.

This is not to give any game a pass. Just a brief glance at the description for Expeditions: Conquistador makes it clear I and many others knowledgeable in the history of Americas could probably spend hours happily grousing and perhaps even angrily railing about its inconsistencies, errors, and perpetuation of harmful tropes. Game designers, however, necessarily make choices and sometimes those choices are in favor of gameplay over historical accuracy. Prior to taking a break from Reddit, I had some wonderful correspondence with /u/downvotingcorvo and /u/Jonah_Marriner as they put a tremendous amount of effort into building a historically accurate mod for EUIV. Not every developer wants to delve into centuries old, non-English, primary sources however, but instead want to simply use the basic tropes of an ear to build gameplay around.

So I’m not bothered by the choice to give a nod to modern day ideals of inclusion and have female conquistadors; it’s a harmless anachronism. If we were to seriously critique the game on historical grounds we’d probably have to start with asking why the devs chose to make the player act as the Spanish, since invading armies of alien peoples bent of pillage, forced conversion, rape, and conquest seems to be an odd choice for a protagonist. More importantly, if we were to hold the devs to the fire for historical accuracy, we would need to have an actual role for women in the game. We would need to see a chance to play as someone like Malinche, the Nahua companion to Cortes who played an absolutely pivotal role in the conquest. Or we would have to see a chance to play as someone like Isabel Moctezuma, the daughter of the Aztec ruler who was given to Cortes as a wife and went on to be a wealthy matriarch of a prominent line of mestizos.

The sad reality is that such playable roles would probably be massive unpopular, or at least off-puttingly strange, to the intended audience for such a game centered on conquesting about as a Spaniard. Pulling a gender swap on said Spaniard may be an innocuous anachronism, but basically comes down to what the much maligned Anita Sarkeesian has termed the trope of the “Ms. Male Character.” Truly building a nuanced world allowing for roles which reflect the actual lived experiences, struggles, and achievements of women at time would, from the position of historical accuracy and artistic complexity, be the preferred route, but game devs must make choices, and the ruffle and morion clad trope of the heroic conquistador is a simple enough framework to hang a game on, I guess

#history #historia #conquistador #mesoamerica #mexico #askhistorians #reddit

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greenspank34 · 6 years

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On the Topic of Nietzsche’s Veil of Illusion

Perhaps this essay would be suited better if it was titled “A Brief Commentary on Nietzsche Through Personal Reflection.” It’s hard not to make these arguments without personal reflections, Nietzsche’s subject matter seems to have a propensity for introspection. When we learn Math or History we tend to place the information into a little corner of our brains, only pulling it out when we must once again build upon it. Nietzsche (and perhaps all of philosophy in general) seems to become more than just words on paper. It’s a full throttled journey in which the more we learn the more it seeps into our skin, into our bones and eventually into our souls. At that point, the point it has reached our souls, one can no longer protect his everyday life from the criticizing lens of Nietzsche.

It seeps so deep into my soul that I overflow onto others. Often, I stand up on my bed and preach to the crowd gathered around me “Everything's a lie! God is dead! Get angry! Break free!” Three morbidly obese cats look up at me with a puzzled look on their faces. After a moment, one licks a paw, the other two stretch out and prepare for another hard day of napping. Is this how Zarathustra felt? Perhaps.

The veil of illusion I…we place on our lives is so obvious, it’s right in front of us but we refuse to see it for what it is. It’s this lie that we as individuals and as a culture produce to keep our lives interesting, to give life a meaning that we can derive self fulfillment from. The veil of illusion sticks in my mind with close association to video games. Once I loved them, but now they bore me. Video games had a reverse greco-silenean transformation on me! But how?

You see, I once loved the thought of adventure and the sense of accomplishment that came with video games. It was enthralling, so much so that I would rather play them than sleep. The more I wanted to play them, the better I wanted to get at them. At one point, I saw through the illusion, it became so streamlined that the fun was lost. I realized that every video game was the same formula: collect this, kill this to gain experience, run here and click this button. Yet it was veiled with these storylines that convinced you it was so much more than that! Every time I try to join into the next big thing I can’t help but immediately see the formula that I am following: the flesh and flashing lights were stripped away, all I saw were bones.

Seeing these bones are enough to make video games boring, but what about the bones of life? When the illusion is stripped away from life, we often find ourselves lost, confused, and in some cases depressed. Some have termed this an “existential crisis.” We lose the ability to see the meaning in all little events and actions that filled our day. Why does getting good grades matter? Why does getting a good job matter? Why does making money matter? Ask why enough times and you’ll find that at a certain point you may not be able to come up with an answer. All of your values, your life structure has been built upon a foundation that you really can’t explain. All of a sudden the values you once held become baseless, disappearing like dust in the wind.

There is a class of video games, however, that still manage to pull me in. Games with a competitive edge seem to make me feel a sense of glory when played successfully. It’s with glory that we are able to trick ourselves into doing really dangerous or undesirable things. Religion and art feed off of glory like piranhas. How else could you convince someone to let you cut their heart out of their chest while it still beats? For the glory of God of course!

Religion has provided us with the foundations for our commonly held morals and traditions. These weren’t necessarily a bad thing to have in the time period of their respective origins. The toxic portion comes from the strategies employed to grow a following. People were convinced that there is life after earth, a life filled with love and happiness, a paradise in every sense of the word. It is truly sad because this illusion, this lie, has pulled in so many people to dedicate varying portions of their lives to abide by these values and even help in spreading the message. People want to believe these values are the “right” values so badly that they are willing to turn their backs on loved ones for disobeying them, they will run into a battle to conquer those who disagree with them.

Famous paintings more often than not have the ability to fuel us with adrenaline and the desire to be so much more than we are. Art acts as the medium in which the illusion takes hold of our lives. Nietzsche will often point to paintings and plays as the propelling force, however it seems as though music has a higher impact on human values of modern day. Modern song fills us with enough misdirections that we find ways to become happy. Love songs convince us that we just need to find that one person in order to be happy. Artists often make sing along songs that fill the listener with a sense of euphoria, that they live the best life and all others are jealous. Within the combination of art and religion, we are handed a divine cocktail that makes us believe our suffering will eventually be justified, that there is hope and we must push on through this life.

In the Plato’s “Republic” Socrates banished the poets. He believes they preach a message that gives false hope. Poets know no more than anyone else, yet they are able to convince everyone that their wisdom can provide something missing from our lives. It’s false hope, an illusion. After making this point, Socrates does something interesting: he admits he does not want to banish them from his city, he invites someone to make an argument for them to stay. I’m sure that there are many ways to interpret this and maybe mine is incorrect, either way there is no denying that it is a very interesting moment. My interpretation is that art provides an escape so powerful, so entrenching, that it has worked its way into the subconscious of the most powerful thinker in history. His subconscious doesn’t want to lose the service poets provide.

So often people spend time looking for the meaning of life. Had they read Nietzsche, they would understand that he believes there is no inherent meaning, no one goal or rule that all humans should strive towards. Rather, we layer these meanings over everyday life in the forms of our values.

The bottom line is that we want to be fooled. Life without illusions and escapes is dull and boring. By stripping away all of this, we find ourselves with nothing to look forward to. According to the themes of Nietzsche, there is nothing interesting about the smell of air or graduating college had we not been trained to love the smell of earth after a rainfall or value education. Of course, these trainings come from the veils of illusion, through the revaluation of values. But if given the the opportunity, would you give up the joy you find in fresh air or your college degree if it meant living a life without false beliefs?

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thefinalcinderella · 6 years

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DIVE!! Book 3 Chapter 8-OLD BOY’S AMBITION

The last chapter of 2017! Hopefully I can finish Book 3 before my winter vacation finishes.

Full list of translations here

Previously on DIVE!!: Youichi goes to meet Chairman Maebara.

Youichi was using the washroom on the lobby floor when the old man walked in. Despite the fact that it was virtually empty, the old man went out of his way to stand shoulder-to-shoulder to him, and rudely stared at the scene that Youichi didn’t want to be looked at very much.

The old man looked like he was in good shape and was wearing a dark grey suit. The bright blue shirt seemed a bit too colorful against his grey head, but the chic grey necktie helped hold back the impression of gaudiness. His eyes had a reptilian coldness, but his thick, connected eyebrows gave off a mammalian warmth. He gave the impression that everything was on a delicate balance.

When Youichi finished, the old man suddenly began to do his business. When Youichi looked without thinking at the surprising force of the released fluid, the old man crooked his lips into a smirk and proudly flared out his nostrils.

Youichi left the place, feeling an indescribable sense of defeat in his chest, and made his way quickly through the lobby to get on the elevator. He did not try to take his finger off from the “open” button.

He waited some ten minutes. Before long the old man appeared, and stood right next to him again.

Youichi took his finger off the “open” button and spoke.

“To the twenty-seventh floor?”

The old man nodded.

“You are Chairman Maebara, am I correct?”

He had that feeling from the first time that he saw him.

The old man raised his wristwatch to his eyes, confirmed the angle of the minute hand, and nodded.

“It seems that it is exactly ten o’clock. This is only my opinion, but people who are careless about time cannot be accepted in the world of water. Competitive swimming is a race that competes for point-one seconds. You are battling, and conquering time. Compared to that, diving is a battle with the self confined within one-point-something seconds. The one who makes the best use of those one-point-something seconds becomes the victor. Either way, people whose sense of time is slow should stay on land.”

He was talking only to talk, and Chairman Maebara turned to look at Youichi without asking for agreement.

“You’re Fujitani Youichi-kun, aren’t you?”

The elevator door opened silently in front of the two of them before Youichi could nod.

The chairman led him to a room on the twenty-seventh floor that was, contrary to Youichi’s expectations, was a very simple twin room. As soon as they entered, there was the unit bath and the washroom, and in the back of the room there were two queen-size beds. Salmon-pink lined curtains hung from the window, and two chairs stood on either side of a side table. The wallpaper, the rug, the bed covers—all of them were in that light pink colour. As soon as Youichi stepped foot into the room, he felt like he’d been wrapped in the peel of a strawberry daifukumochi (1). A woman dressed in a red two-piece suit—maybe to match the décor—sat a desk near the wall, perhaps doing deskwork.

The woman, who he thought was around thirty, saw the two of them, quickly tidied up the documents on the table and stood up.

“This is my lover.” he said solemnly.

“I am his secretary, Mizusawa.” She corrected with a smile. “Please take your time. Until the time for the interview approaches, I will be in the lounge on the first floor.”

The secretary left the room carrying the documents. The chairman looked into the mini fridge while grumbling that she should have made some coffee at least, and took out a can of coffee and Oolong tea. Then he prompted Youichi to go the chair by the window, placed the Oolong tea in front of him, and gave himself the canned coffee.

“I have said this earlier, but I am very particular about time. I’m directly asking you: What are you coming here to do?”

While lifting the tab on the canned coffee, and gave Youichi a sharp look.

“The time given to us is one hour. To be exact, fifty-six minutes. You must make the most of this time. Let’s dispense with bothersome things, like first interview greetings and talks about the weather, for this occasion.”

Youichi nodded. He said that, yet he thought that it was necessary to spare time to reach for Oolong tea.

“I came because I have a request.” Youichi cut to the point. “I…I (2) want my Olympic nomination to be returned to a blank slate.”

His cool mask fell apart, and his voice shook faintly.

“Could you start it from scratch, and re-determine it through a competition?”

“Through competition?”

“At the Olympic representative qualifying trials. Fighting with everyone else, and the winner gets the right to represent, just like how it is always done until now. Could you let me go to Sydney that way?”

“Why do you want to repeat the Sydney Olympic representative selection once again? It is quite a strange idea.” Chairman Maebara hmmed, as if savoring that strangeness. “But, it is lacking in reality. Did you think that such a thing is possible?”

“I don’t know. The Olympics themselves are too big and lacking in reality for me. It doesn’t really feel like it’s mine…so, in order to make it mine, I want fight with everyone once more, and take the representative right with my own hands.”

“I don’t understand. Is there such a big difference between us deciding the representatives and the representatives being chosen through competition?”

“It is different. There is a big difference. It’s really important.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t understand at all. But, well, I suppose that you are voluntarily giving up your representative spot, so it probably is quite a serious matter.”

At those words, Youichi relaxed his shoulders in relief. “But, Fujitani-kun,” Chairman Maebara continued. “Even if it is an important matter to you, what about the diving world as a whole? Don’t you think that this is just the selfishness of one person?”

Youichi was at a loss for words.

“That may be. But, it is a fervent selfishness. I have tried to think differently from various people’s standpoints, but somehow, I’ve only gotten disconnected from the important things, and so, I have no choice but to do what’s appropriate for me. (3) That is how I feel.”

“If I reject that fervent selfishness, what do you plan to do?”

“First of all, I plan on not participating in the Sino-Japanese Goodwill Competition at the end of this month.”

“Not participating?”

“Based on the results of that competition, you were going to announce mine and Teramoto-san’s Olympic nominations. But, you won’t be able to nominate a diver who wasn’t in the competition.”

“Are you trying to start the representative nominations over again by yourself? That is also a strange idea.”

Nodding like he was partly impressed, the chairman downed his canned coffee in one gulp. It was as though he drank to replenish the energy he needed to continue talking.

“It is a lonely story though, isn’t it, Fujitani-kun. Even if you did decline the representative nomination, we could just have another diver to fill that spot. Certainly, you’re the best choice to go with Teramoto Kenichirou to Sydney. However, it does not necessarily have to be you.”

“There are no substitutes for Teramoto Kenichirou, but there are plenty for me. Is that it?”

“There aren’t plenty. The Japanese diving world is not blessed with many talented athletes. But, there are some divers who could perform well enough to not give the judges a bad impression of Japan.”

“I see, so you will choose a new safety blanket from them.”

Chairman Maebara replied carelessly. “It’s quite bad for you, Fujitani-kun. I feel that if it’s for medals, I’d gladly offer my soul to the koalas.”

“Koalas?”

“That’s about it…well, if I’m borrowing your words, that’s how much I fervently want medals. And that fervor isn’t just mine, but the entire Japanese diving world’s.”

Chairman Maebara reached for his canned coffee again, and when he noticed it was empty he slowly lifted himself up. He discarded the empty can into the trash can next to the desk, and as if he suddenly thought of it, went to open the curtains next to the refrigerator that were flapping around like a folding fan.

The sun, trying to reach its zenith soon, was a brilliant paintbrush that dyed the pink room a lively orange.

“Fujitani-kun, do you know how many divers there are in Japan?”

Youichi gestured with his head to tell him to go on.

“It is perhaps about the same number as the number of students in your high school. Six hundred people. Only six hundred people across the whole nation.”

“That is not a lot.”

“It’s very little. Indeed, it’s catastrophically small. It could even be said that they’re on the verge of extinction. With these numbers, we are trying to compete against countries like the US, which has around ten-thousand divers. What’s more, the number of children starting to dive does not appear to be increasing. Children love sports like soccer and baseball. Who would be interested in a sport where even its Olympic finals are almost never shown on TV?”

Chairman Maebara sighed deeply onto the window reflecting the hazy high-rise building streets.

“We aren’t blaming TV for this. Diving does not get much attention because it is weak. The 1932 Los Angeles Olympics were the first Olympics that Japan sent diving representatives to, but even after over seventy years, we haven’t won a single medal. We have winners. But the winning is useless. We need medals. We need a hero who would move people to tears from hearing just one story about his hardships. If that is what diving is, we need a hero who would broadly appeal for its beauty and magnificence.”

The chairman held his tongue, which could have kept turning forever if let loose, with the force of his will. He turned languidly towards Youichi.

“This is my fervor. It is the fervor that the Japanese diving world had handed down in an unbroken chain for eighty years, since the first diving board in Japan was installed in 1917.”

The chairman’s eyes pierced Youichi. His back was lit from behind by the golden rays of the sun.

Youichi could only avert his eyes from that strong gaze.

It appeared that he, who had only lived for seventeen years, had his own fervor crushed by the Japanese diving world’s eighty-year older one.

“That’s why I want medals. I want to send someone who would definitely aim for a medal to Sydney. Do you understand that?” Chairman Maebara asked him, but Youichi opened his mouth with difficulty.

“So…so, that means for the sake of medals, you’re only going to protect Teramoto-san from now on?”

“If other divers who could aim for medals appear, I will protect them with all my power, no matter who they are.”

“And thus, you’ll sacrifice everyone else. You’d limit participation in international meets, decrease the number of representatives to the Olympics, in order to shut down any opportunity to enter the outside world. Is that the right way…?”

“You’re asking if that is right or wrong, Fujitani-kun?” Chairman Maebara said while scratching the side of his nose. “Well, it’s not up to me, but the medals that will decide that. If Japan wins medals at the Olympics, then my way of doing things would be right. If we don’t get medals, I will be blamed for making the mistakes. The referee confers the result in an instant, and history will spend a long time examining it. But to be honest, I don’t care about that. For me, even if I fell into hell, I would want medals.”

Even if I fell into hell, I would want medals.

By that single phrase, Youichi was completely defeated. He had completely lost the words to at least reply back to him with. When he talked the old man, he felt like he was diligently throwing small pebbles into a bottomless swamp that swallowed up both clearness and cloudiness.

“Well, I have finished my story.”

When Youichi, who seldom broke his posture, listlessly slumped his shoulders, Chairman Maebara left the window side and sat in his chair again.

“But, there’s still thirty-nine minutes left. So now let’s hear your story.”

“My story?” (3)

“As I have talked about the current situation of the diving world, you should also talk about the current situation of you as a person. How you were born, and how you have lived until now. What do you associate with diving. It doesn’t bother me if you can’t say it well. Just be careful about how much time you use. I hate stories that end with “to be continued,” which is why I have never seen anything like a serial drama.”

“But, why is it my story…”

“I’m simply interested. I’m interested in the eccentric high school student who came by himself to visit the medal ghoul with a bad reputation. I’m very interested in the psychology of the one who threw away the extremely-hard-to-obtain Olympic representative spot. And also…” Chairman Maebara stared at the ceiling for three seconds before continuing. “Your story might become a clue that would convey to me some of your fervor.”

Something tense returned to the space between the two who were facing each other.

Youichi straightened his posture, reached for the Oolong tea on the side table, pulled the tab and quenched his dry throat.

And then he spoke.

“I will tell you.”

Translation Notes

1. A type of small round rice cake with sweet filling.

2. Youichi switches his pronouns from ore to boku here, to sound more polite. He switches back sometimes during the chapter.

3. He switches back to ore here.

Next time on DIVE!!: Youichi’s origin story.

#DIVE!!#dive novel translation

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