#there's a schism between these two that's so fascinating... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dear-mrs-otome · 2 years

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Continuing our thirst for Kagetoki content, would you be able to tell us more about the relationship between him and Benkei? I saw it mentioned that they used to be on good terms, so I'm super curious about how they ended up having such serious beef 🧐

(P.S. Earlier this year I happened to stumble across a picture of one of Tamamo's sprites on Pinterest, and I HAD to find out who that gorgeous man was; Google reverse image search led me to your blog, and reading your fantastic IkeGen character analyses got me to download the game... so I have you to thank for my now all-consuming obsession. I adore reading your IkeGen content, your posts about it light up my dash and I would truly absolutely love to see more of it!)

Hi hello oh my gosh what a fun story! I'm glad to have been the catalyst for you liking Ikegen, and any time you want to screech about the characters or story I am always game to ;)

As for the backstory between Benkei and Kagetoki, it's Complicated for sure…but pretty fascinating. And I have written half an essay behind this cut LOL, all spoilers of course:

In Kagetoki's route we really get into the meat of the issue, when in that Seven Samurai setting I mentioned before Kagetoki and MC are forced to team up with a reluctant Benkei (who had been in the village for his own purposes) to free the townfolk. The two men call an VERY uneasy truce to deal with the situation, and MC eventually asks the story of what happened between them when she, Kagetoki, Benkei, and Yoichi are pressed into taking shelter together overnight during a storm when the fighting ends.

In history, as well as in the game, Kajiwara Kagetoki was originally on the side arrayed against the Minamoto - but eventually he changed his alliance. When Kagetoki first came to meet Benkei before the schism between bros, they did NOT get along despite being allies, with Kagetoki having been sent by Yoritomo to help Yoshitsune out. Benkei took issue with the way that Kagetoki planned his strategies and at one point literally shoved him against a tree and angrily told him that if he tried to make a target of anyone other than himself, he'd kill Kagetoki. (AKA you can use me as bait or a distraction etc but you can't do that to the rest of the soldiers, because as WE readers know at least, Benkei has super healing and can take a LOT of things dished out on him)

They were off to a rocky start for certain, and Kagetoki took Benkei at his word, using him freely in his tactics and plans, with Benkei still threatening to have his head on a near-daily basis. But a sort of grudging respect formed between them, Benkei allowing that Kagetoki is a brilliant man and Kagetoki reluctantly admiring Benkei's foritude and will. Things finally culminate in Benkei saving Kagetoki's life when he gets in a tough spot during battle (Kagetoki coming to witness first hand how seemingly nothing can take Benkei down) and they even literally do the FIGHT BACK TO BACK. Benkei trusting Kagetoki to think them a way out of the mess and Kagetoki trusting Benkei to be able to pull it off.

Feeling indebted to Benkei for saving him, kagetoki goes to thank him as he's recovering, but Benkei waves it off and says he wants Kagetoki to swear an oath to him instead - that he'll use that terrifying brain of his to save countless lives in the future. Thousands, tens of thousands…and Kagetoki isn't sure he can do something as crazy as that but he agrees, just as Benkei agrees to be the sword he can wield freely to make it happen.

After that they became close friends, though still of the 'I might kill you today' variety, always hanging out. But shortly after the Genpei war ending things started to break down between Yoritomo and Yoshitsune, and a letter from Kagetoki to Yoritomo led to him declaring Yoshitsune a rebel (this is a historical fact as well, it's said that Kagetoki's testimony and coercion led to Yoritomo turning on Yoshitsune). So many of their men died as a result of this declaration that Benkei feels he can never forgive Kagetoki for turning Yoritomo against them, especially since he feels Kagetoki of all people should know that Yoshitsune isn't a traitor.

In essence, you have a conflict of loyalty vs pragmatism between the two men. Benkei, who embodies loyalty and emotional bonds to comrades, cannot wrap his head around ever turning one's back on someone. Meanwhile Kagetoki feels that the end justifies the means, and if it means keeping his oath to Benkei and ending this fighting with the least lives lost and the best outcome for everyone, loyalty has no place in the discussion. It's merely about who he feels can bring about the results he needs - in this case, Yoritomo rather than Yoshitsune.

(This is in fact the central theme of his route and personality, a scenario that comes up over and over again)

Benkei is bitterly wounded by Kagetoki's betrayal, especially given his kind-hearted character…but Kagetoki carries the scars of it as well, even if he hides it better or doesn't perceive it as well. He still holds that oath he made to Benkei tight in his heart, and he respects and admires Benkei on some levels for having the sense of righteousness that Kagetoki understands he lacks. He's been told even as a child that he was missing something essential, that he's a brain with no heart, in essence. Seeing someone like Benkei, who is so much heart, fostered a very keen sense of respect in Kagetoki - even when by the same stroke he feels it is Benkei's biggest flaw and despairs that it will be the death of him someday.

#mrs o talks #ikemen genjiden #ikegen #ikegen benkei #ikegen kagetoki #spoiler #spoilers #ikemen genjiden spoilers #ikegen spoilers

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richmond-rex · 1 year

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I'm not either of the anons but I agreed with both to an extent so I thought I'd share!

I think the Yorkists were probably not the most functional or cooperative people, and that definitely led to severe consequences for their dynasty, but I definitely get what the second anon meant about this being the norm rather than the singular exception. Various examples can be found in and beyond England of both dysfunctional or uncooperative families (I guess anon gave a few) and this applies on a personal *and* political level. Both aspects were often blurred together when it came to monarchies, after all. The Yorkists' defeat and elimination by the Tudors - or rather, Richard III's defeat Yorkist-supported-Henry Tudor - was more due to their particular circumstances than anything else. And while it resulted in the loss of their dynasty name, it could be argued that Henry VII's ascension was a reclaiming victory for Edwardian Yorkists after Richard's usurption. I guess the perspectives vary, and it makes them very interesting and entertaining to study, so there's that as well.

Another related issue, imo, is viewing the Yorkists as a collective. The second anon touched upon this, but the level of functionality or dysfunctuonality, both personally and politically, varied greatly under Richard Plantagenet, Edward IV and Richard III. Ultimately, apart from Clarence (and curiously, the case of Clarence could demonstrate a degree of functionality as well. He did betray his brother - twice - but from what we know, various other family members actively worked to reconcile the brothers, which aided Edward's return to power. And while Clarence's execution was undoubtedly caused personal issues in the family, it didn't result in any notable political conflict), the family was quite cooperative and politically aligned during Edward IV's reign. Richard was clearly beneficial to him on a political level, and cooperated with the Woodvilles a few times. Clarence was ultimately an exception with regards to a fairly united family. I don't know if it's a compliment to Edward IV or disparagement of Richard III - I guess it's both - but at the end of the day, the culpability for the fatal divide between the Yorkists stems from Richard III's actions after Edward's death. There's a very notable, marked difference between the two brothers - Clarence siding against his brother and the whole family working to reconcile them is very different from Richard III causing a complete schism of divided loyalties that led to his own demise. So I think acknowledging that individual difference is also important.

And Margaret of York is very interesting to me because she is the *only* one from their family with a position in another country. Her political interests would ultimately diverge massively from those of her family, and that should be taken into account when talking about her reaction to Richard III's ascension, Henry VII's kingship etc.

I hope this makes sense! The political clashes of that family are very fascinating.

Hello! This is truly an intriguing topic and I'm afraid I would have to be way more well-versed in the theory of medieval monarchy to form a better judgement, but here go some of my observations:

1. I wasn't counting Margaret of York when replying to the two last anons — when women made dynastic marriages such as Margaret's, their interests, most of the time, spoke of the dynasty they married into; Margaret wasn't responsible for the success of the Yorkist dynasty, though she might have been expected to help it (eg: military or financial help etc).

2. Although personal dramas were political in a hereditary monarchy in the middle ages, not every personal strife resulted in dynastic upheavals — see Richard II and John of Gaunt butting heads but otherwise cooperating, John of Bedford and Humphrey of Gloucester again butting heads but cooperating, Humphrey and his uncle Cardinal Beaufort having spectacular personal and political fights but never losing sight of upholding Henry VI's position. Of course, in a system as flawed as a hereditary monarchy crises happened often, but it can't be denied that Edward IV's blood relations reacted poorly to those. And it's not just that they had a fight and that ultimately made them vulnerable to enemies, in Clarence's case for example he effectively allied with his brother's enemies to put a rival dynasty on the throne. From a dynastic point of view, that went against all self-preservation principles.

3. I disagree that Clarence's execution didn't cause any political consequences. I think it's a bit misguided to solely blame the destruction of the house on Richard's feet. If Clarence had been alive, it's quite likely Richard would not have had the political capital to simply depose Edward's children in the way that he did. Of course, the conditions that led to Clarence's execution were extraordinary and in many ways, Edward was justified to sanction it, but that's exactly why they occupy that sort of 'dysfunctional' political family position — they didn't work very well together to make the dynasty succeed in the end.

4. I agree though that most historical analyses may put the emphasis on Edward IV's blood relatives a bit too much. His relatives by marriage seem to have been very effective in protecting the dynasty's interests though they were ultimately poorly equipped to stop the powerhouse that Richard of Gloucester had become by the time of Edward's death (and that happened with Edward's assent — ultimately, some of that may also be his fault, as it is generally debated).

5. Although Henry VII's ascension meant that the political interests of Edward IV's family and allies were vindicated, it didn't save the York dynasty from a symbolic death: never again the crown would be represented by the sun in splendour, the falcon-in-the-fetterlock, or the crowned white rose; never again would crown officials receive a livery collar made of sun-and-rose links; they would receive the Lancastrian S-S chains of office instead. Ironically, the crown would come to be represented by the Beaufort portcullis, the symbol of one of York's first and bitterest enemies. Henry VII's descendants would be portrayed holding red roses, but never a white one.

What I'm trying to say is: the York family was in no way extraordinary in dealing with personal dramas that also became political crises — history is full of examples of those. However, that doesn't change the fact that they were unable to make a dynasty last more than one (1) generation because of no external factor whatsoever but because of their own infighting. Clearly, the abrupt and violent way they rose to power explains a lot about the dynamics the family was able or unable to establish, so I'm not here to pass a moral judgement on them (more successful dynasties weren't in any way morally superior to them, either). This is just the academic consensus on the topic as far as I've seen, and until I'm more versed on the subject I'm afraid I'm unable to disagree.

I think the end it's just a matter of different perspectives.

#ask #anon #wars of the roses

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shiverandqueeef · 2 years

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so every once in a depressed while, when my brain is in a not great place and i need some cathartic, unrelenting angst, I find myself falling into a wincest fanfiction spiral. for context, I've only seen the first two series way back when they were first airing (the casual misogyny exceeded what i was willing pay for price of entry)

so really there is like. one actual fic i am interested in and I just keep looking for different versions of it and it's pre-canon up to maybe series 2 era but mostly just stuff that uses the base characters and absolutely non of the actual show canon beyond what is established in the pilot. pretty specific.

and seeing as ao3 wasn't actually around until like, series 4?5? i figured i would dive back into the honestly terrifying to me depths of ff.net

only it turns out that while there are supernatural fics published all the way back in 2005, when you search for sam/dean fics specifically there are only like 500 and something and the earliest is from 2011

so was all of the earlier stuff lost in the ff.net purge? ...wait when did that even happen...gotta duckduckgo it...

I wonder if the majority of them have been moved to ao3, but the oldest fics on there are from 2007...and i know wincest was being written before that because it was literally written into the show as a joke as early as series 2 (i think? maybe it was series 3 and i never actually saw it and was just told about it...)

so are they're still angelfire websites dedicated to wincest out there acting as an archive?

this stopped being about finding fic to read i'm just really really curious now about how the ff.net purge affected the fandom, wincest shippers specifically

ah man and i am fascinated by/want so badly to know more about how fandom was altered when castiel showed up

like i imagine there must have been a significant schism between wincest and dean/cas girlies, plus just an increase in fandom size in general now that the show had a shippable pair of white men who weren't, ya know, canonically related

there has to be articles and like peer reviewed essays on the supernatural fandom somewhere out there, right? sociology brain go brrrrrrrrrrrr

or are they some nice supernatural fans who have been here from the early years who feel like chiming in? I can give you nothing in return other than my gratitude and possibly a drawing that will take me five years to finish

#personal #long post #sry lmao #wincest #supernatural #fandom history #this post started in one place and ended somewhere very different

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lesbian-in-leather · 2 years

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Esmé loses her voice. Georgina’s feelings. lazy mornings, interrupted. 👀👀

Ah! Excellent choices!!! (Here is the link to the title list in case anyone wants to send more)

Esmé Loses Her Voice

Okay so I do genuinely love this concept BUT also I don't think it'll ever get finished. It was in fact this very fic that make me realise I am apparently incapable of writing fun / silly stories because the entire concept was just "Esmé loses her voice and, being Esmé, makes it everyone else's problem" with a healthy helping of Eswell content for the funsies. And yet. I could barely exceed 250 words. I just- I don't know how to go on from here. So the snippet below the cut is literally everything I've got

P.S. if anyone can teach me how to write silly stories, I would be immensely and eternally grateful. I think they're so neat

Georgina's Feelings

Another Eswell one!! I started this months ago and honestly completely forgot about it until writing out that title list, but I do genuinely want to finish it because it's FUN. Basically, Esmé and Georgina have an established arrangement, and the entire fic is just Georgina resolutely Not Having Romantic Feelings for Esmé despite... the obvious. Very fun times. The snippet for this one is also everything I've got, but it's split into two sections - a paragraph from very near the start, and the ending of the whole thing (separated by one of these — bad boys for ease of reading)

Lazy Mornings, Interrupted

I would like to say that I am very impressed that, in a list of 20 titles, you managed to pick the three shortest WIPs in my collection, by quite a significant margin. I know I've already answered some of the others, but still. Anyway, once again this one has barely anything to it at the moment, though I do thoroughly intend to finish it, and the snippet is once again literally everything I have so far. This is the one and only Jacquesmé fic I've ever attempted (though I do want to write more of them, because their dynamic fascinates me), and the snippet I've included is from towards the end of the fic. Basically, Jacques and Esmé have been casually seeing each other for some time, but have hidden it from the rest of the sugar bowl gen because, even though the schism hasn't officially happened yet, tensions are rising between the two future-sides. Also Esmé and Lemony have always hated each other, and her dating his brother would cause unnecessary drama. However, this fic takes place when Lemony comes back to the shared Snicket apartment one morning when he and Kit were both supposed to be away, and Esmé has spent the night. He almost catches her there, and after he leaves, she and Jacques have a conversation about the future of their relationship, ending with the snippet below the cut (though I would still like to add some more to the end of it as well just to round out the fic better. If I ever do finish it, that is)

Esmé Loses Her Voice:

Esmé was pouting. This wasn’t at all an unusual occurrence in and of itself; in fact, it was her go-to expression of displeasure. What was unusual was that she’d been pouting silently, for the last forty-five minutes – something that was entirely out of character, and entirely out of her control if she wanted to have her voice back for the imminent auction she’d been asked to not only attend, but to host. Something Georgina had been hearing about, non-stop, for the last six months.

Safe to say, this weekend had promised a welcome break.

Until Esmé had actually arrived, of course. Georgina often insisted that she despised her lover’s endless chatter, rolling her eyes and feigning disinterest – but she was well aware that it was, at least in part, an act. The truth was, Esmé’s voice could make anything sound interesting, no matter how tedious the topic, and Georgina was rapidly discovering just how silent her home could be in the absence of that strangely entrancing voice. When she was alone, she relished the silence. But somehow, knowing Esmé was present and wanted to talk made it feel almost… oppressive.

She looked up from her desk and found that Esmé’s pout was now directed at her, and entirely failed to stifle her smile (mostly because she didn’t actually try to). For a woman that could strike fear and awe into the hearts of half the City, she shouldn’t have been able to look so… well. So adorable.

“Yes, sweetheart? Did you say something?” the pout turned into a full blown glare, and Georgina laughed.

Georgina's Feelings:

Georgina swirled the rather unnatural-looking cocktail in her glass and watched as it sparkled in the orange-tinted lights of the ballroom, pointedly refusing to look up when Esmé’s laugh cut through the general murmur of music and conversation. Her ears, however, were clearly not as well trained as her other senses, and focused in on the sound of her lover’s voice, headless of the distance between them. Her mind conjured up melodic comparisons, conjuring quotes from half-forgotten poems she’d read in her youth. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know her mind began, unbidden, reciting a sonnet she had been particularly enamoured with as a young girl, that music hath a far more pleasing sound. She realised Esmé was looking at her before she could draw the next line out of her hazy memory – and around the same time her mind finally registered that she was looking at Esmé. And had been for some time, judging by the self-satisfied smile playing across the other woman’s lips. This is why you don’t drink at parties. She chastised herself for her lack of self-control, even as she allowed her eyes to wander over Esmé’s body, barely concealed by her dress. Perhaps there are some advantages to these parties, she mused.

—

Georgina had always thought ‘love’ to be a ridiculous word, and a pointless emotion. Love is what makes the strong weak and the intelligent foolish. Love is what inspires rash decisions and impossible promises. Love is how other people get to you, creating a crack in Georgina’s otherwise ironclad defences. Love is what she has spent a great deal of her life avoiding, crushing into a tiny metaphorical bottle and tucking away deep in the recesses of her heart. Love is an emotion for lesser people, she is certain. So what she feels for Esmé Squalor is not love.

It can’t be.

Lazy Mornings, Interrupted:

“Mmm… well, luckily, I happen to be very,” she squeezed her thighs around his hips, rocking against him once to emphasise the word, and his knuckles whitened as he gripped her waist even tighter, “close with the fashion columnist for The Daily Punctilio, and I have it on very good authority that he’s planning on taking his incredibly stylish girlfriend to that exact location this very evening.”

“Girlfriend?”

“That’s what I’ve heard.” Her voice was deliberately neutral and she shrugged one shoulder as she said it, the picture of a casual statement. Even if it was the first time either of them had defined their relationship – and he really could call it a relationship now, because the infamously commitment-avoidant Esmé Squalor had deigned to describe herself as his girlfriend.

Jacques couldn’t contain his smile, even as he tried to play along with her game. “And I’m sure, since he’s taking his stylish and beautiful girlfriend,” and he was almost certain he wasn’t imagining the way she relaxed a little against him as he said it, or just how natural the word felt on his tongue, “to this restaurant, it should be appearing in this morning’s edition of his column, just so everyone else in the City is caught up with just how In it is, yes?”

“Precisely.”

#asoue #eswell #jacquesme #gray zelle #WIP titles #the lesbian herself #i had almost finished answering this when tumblr decided to just. fuckin delete it all #FUCK YOU tumblr #s o m a n y w o r d s #GONE #i am really glad you sent this ask though #because i love rambling about my WIPs #and i thought no one was going to send any more #so thank you!!!

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xtrablak674 · 3 months

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Pariah at the Wedding

[I wrote the following email back in '15 the last time I spoke to or saw either of my siblings, nearly a full decade. I re-read this letter today and with the exception of a comma or two, I had abso-smurfly no edits to make to this message, it was well thought out, fairly-toned and articulated.

Curiously I haven't felt any significant loss of these two relationships, one that was openly hostile and the other mildly indifferent. I had heard that the sibling I was writing to in this email had separated from his spouse, and have to say was a bit peeved, that now that he was separated from the person who separated us, that he made no attempt to reach out, offer apologies or reconciliation.

Notwithstanding not only my queerness has created this schism but the fact that after our mom died we lived in very different households, and had very unique upbringings from there on. I think on both of their parts there is unresolved resentment towards me for the fact that for all intensive purposes I am more successful than either of them, largely in part due to my different opportunities, formal education and not having children. Albeit I had no hand in what happened to them I somehow am burdened with the responsibility of their lower-class lifestyles and disappointments.

A friend of mines said to me, they act like you don't even exist, and nothing could be more truer, which is why this estrangement may follow me to death as will my general ambivalence.]

I had never wanted to mention it, partly to leave the past in the past, but also because I am so proud of the man you have become, but what was a lovely beginning for you, was a painful ending for me. I'm talking about your wedding and the various events that played out at the bequest of your mother-in-law.

I'm not sure if you know how it feels to be made a pariah at your own brothers wedding, but recollecting the events that led up to your wedding day still evoke very painful memories for me. Albeit I forgave you and Kelli both because of your age and inexperience, it is hard to forgive the betrayal I felt when my younger brother didn't stand up for me. The disappointment still lingers.

Regardless I attempted to take an unfortunate situation and behave as respectfully as possible even though I was hurting at the loss of our newly rekindled relationship, I wanted to model for you how to behave graciously under pressure, and I pray I succeeded. I attempted and encouraged you to also take the high road, in inviting Cousin Margaret to the wedding, I hope you didn't regret that choice. I reinforced your fiancée's love for you and the power of your bond and still per your mother-in-law's careful orchestration I saw you and your children only and a handful of time over the next decade. A blooming friendship between brothers was snuffed out, and still today it's a loss that ails me to my core.

You may recall the events differently, and I would hope I wouldn't need to get more specific than I already have, this experience was the singular beginning of my bad feelings about weddings, which inform my anxiety about our brothers upcoming nuptials. I was never the enemy but made to feel like a villain when all I wanted to do was to celebrate the happiness and love my younger brother had found in such a beautiful, fascinating and intelligent woman.

I may be your older brother but I am also human. My feelings can get hurt especially when I feel I tried so hard to rekindle our friendship. Please know I still hold you in the highest regard, but Monte's lack of respect shown towards me, has me feeling very conflicted about attending his wedding, of course I will always be the bigger man swallow my pride and meet my familial obligations, I just wish sometimes my own brothers could be there for me the way I try to be there for them, no matter how difficult the situation.

[Photo by Brown Estate]

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ryttu3k · 3 years

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What are you top 3 fave vtm clans? Do you feel like there are any clans that don't add much to the lore or are in need of a rewrite?

Number one - absolutely Tzimisce. I just find them so fascinating! The core concept behind them, that delicious contrast between a clan that is known for its fluidity and shifting nature, holding on to their domains because they need something to (quite literally) ground them? Beautiful.

Also, I love love love Vicissitude as a discipline. I mean, I'm nonbinary, disabled, love the concept of transhumanism, and never even reached five feet tall, believe me, I want Vicissitude XD Not to mention the whole... vampires are static and unageing and unchanging, at least conceptually. Tzimisce can transcend that! Metamorphosis, both as a Path and just as a concept, is all about seeking your own unique self - you can do some absolutely fascinating stuff with it.

Also, Koldunic sorcery! I'll touch on it again when I talk about the Banu Haqim, but I love the cooperative nature of working with spirits to achieve magic. It's not just a, "I will force magic through precise symbols and rituals" like Thaumaturgy, it feels much more of a give and take kind of thing. You can't shape the world without the cooperation of others.

And frankly, in terms of temperament, I'd fit them pretty well, haha. I like my own space. I feel I can be hospitable but I'm very very pleased when guests leave. I like reading and learning. And legitimately, on top of Vicissitude, my most-wanted disciplines would be Auspex and Animalism. Sign me up, baby!

Second - Banu Haqim. Just completely became fascinated by them playing my Night Road character. They have been... very mishandled in the past, yes. This is the description on the Wiki:

"The Assamites have gone through many revisions. In first edition, they were generally presented as an all male fanatical sect of Muslim assassins. In second edition, sorcerers started to make an appearance, but they were poorly defined and a tiny section of the clan, so it was an all male fanatical sect of Muslim assassins with mysterious blood sorcery to boot."

They've been refined more and more since then. Libellus Sanguinis introduced the three castes and a lot more depth, and V20 (especially Dark Ages V20) made them spectacularly more interesting. V5 actually did get rid of one of the more questionable elements (their clan curse being growing darker with age, which is... hmm), so that's one area where I genuinely like what they've done, as well as reaffirming that, no, the clan is called the Banu Haqim, not Assamites. 'Assamite' had been considered pejorative for a long time even before that, but it was still the default name, which felt... iffy.

The clan politics are fascinating. The Schism adds a ton of potential for conflict, and their history with the Baali and the Tremere add a lot of tension. Also love how they've worked with the Salubri, another favourite clan. And like Koldunic sorcery, Dur-An-Ki also relates to working with spirits, another thing I find funky as hell! (Dur-An-Ki isn't exclusively Banu Haqim, I know, they're just most associated with it.) I love the idea of getting into this mindset where you're open to communication and occult stuff, and the different ways to get there, ranging from drugs and meditation to dancing. That's rad.

Also really like how, even though they're known as having a majority Muslim population, there's still a prominent Jewish community within them. I have an old vizier who follows Derech Chaim and think they work great.

Third... I'm gonna do a three-way tie here because I literally can't pick one out of Toreador, Gangrel, and Salubri, haha. Won't go too in-depth on those three since I've already spent many words on the first two, but short versions:

Toreador: Artsy clan! Honestly, as much as I think I'd fit awesomely as a Tzimisce, I feel I'm pretty obnoxiously Toreador too, haha. Love the aesthetic focus and creativity. The focus on emotions and humanity and being connected to things that make you feel even though you're, y'know, dead. Connections!

(If I was a Toreador and posting on like... Schrumblr, I would definitely be reblogging posts like, "Unattractive and introverted Toreador are valid".)

Gangrel: When I go "heck society I'm gonna run off and live as a tree", that's my Gangrel side speaking up, lbr. Talking to animals! Turning into animals! I read so much Animorphs when I was younger. Also, the existence of non-stereotypical Gangrel like Beckett and Lettow are just... spectacular. Feral nerds are super valid.

Salubri: Vampire healers. That shit is awesome. Also, Saulot's possible dark side, also, the fascinating place they hold in Cainite history. Just a really, really cool concept.

...With Tzimisce, Banu Haqim, Gangrel, and Salubri as four of my five favourite clans, I'm sure you can guess my least favourite ;D That said, I do think the Tremere have an important part in the lore, as do all the clans, albeit to different extents. Reworks... well, for one, I'd ignore the V5 versions of Tzimisce and Salubri entirely XD;; I do like what they did with the Banu Haqim, and I think the Ravnos rewrite was done pretty well. The Hecata are interesting, and offer a lot more opportunities than just the Giovanni, who I have to admit, I really don't like. Cappadocians? Fantastic, love them. Giovanni, uh, no XD So having the Hecata works well for me.

But for others being reworked, honestly, none really come to mind. The most problematic ones (freaking Ravnos) have been addressed decently, and some of the ones that were reworked (like Salubri) are. Arguably worse so we're just not going to use it, haha.

If anyone else wants to chip in with their favourites and/or clans they think could be reworked, please feel free!

#vampire the masquerade #vtm #tzimisce #banu haqim #toreador #gangrel #salubri

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arcstral · 3 years

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— FE13: Binding Shield Speculation + Constructive Criticism. —

Long post, long thoughts. Been doing some on-and-off thinking about the intermediary gap of events bridging FE12 and FE13 especially in regards to the Binding Shield or Fire Emblem. When measured in tandem with one another some fascinating correlations can definitely crop up between Awakening and its Archanean predecessors. For example, the disassembly of the Fire Emblem and the consequent distribution of its gems prior to the age of Chrom and Lucina. While all five gems are equally important and conducive to the shield’s completion, each gem ended up going to very specific locations or hands during the Schism that reinvented the continent. This choice of allocation, for the most part, can be subject to some interesting interpretation.

First comes the prefacing. As Awakening is strongly and thematically centered around the inevitability of cycles, the past repeating again and again as Chrom’s future mirrors the footsteps of Marth’s bygone past who in turn reflected Anri, it makes sense that the creation of Ylisse would parallel the way Archanea itself was formed: by the intentional separation of the gems that complete the Fire Emblem. Adrah the thief carved out the gems in the shield and sold them to subsidize the creation of a kingdom called Archanea, becoming its first king. Two to three millennia later, the First Exalt during the Schism and formation of his Ylisse gives all away but the Lightsphere and Darksphere, conferring the Lifesphere and Geosphere to Regna Ferox and entrusting the Starsphere to Tiki.

For what reasons, we don't explicitly know. The First Exalt is even stated to be a friend of Tiki's but ultimately does what a 'friend' of hers—and especially a descendant of the Hero-King—would not sensibly do, i.e, willingly break apart the Binding Shield that was unified to keep her sane and awake (not to mention: keep the thousands of degenerated Earth Dragons sealed beneath the Dragon’s Table). The game occasionally tries to coin the separation of orbs as safeguarding, but two of the five orbs end up being stolen anyways prior to the events of the game so this justification is somewhat null.

Weird, unclarified decision making by important off-screen lore characters combined with the disappearance of the Earth Dragons(Where did they go?) and the narrative convenience of forgetting the dragonkin's degeneration disease, their inherent INFERTILITY, when applying the eugenics mechanic to the likes of Tiki and Nowi are my main points of contention with Awakening. Either way, a gesture of camaraderie and trust in Ylisse's fellow nations in a new age of peace where the responsibilities are shared seems to be the likeliest motivation for the Fire Emblem’s disassembly. What’s able to be more confidently theorized, and deduced, is the meaningful distribution of its gems.

First, the Darksphere. Sable. This is the most harmful gem, initially held in the custody of Ylisse as per the First Exalt’s intentions. It very easily corrupts individual leaders by manipulating the darkness in their hearts, as seen with Hardin, causing even the devastating outbreak of war. For all intents and purposes, the Darksphere residing with the kingdom of Marth's successors makes perfect sense in order to prevent the repetition of Hardin’s tragedy. The relationship between Archanea and Ylisse is essentially akin to Persia and Iran or Rome and Italy, after all, so far as modern analogies go.

The Ylisseans' reverence for Hero-King Marth combined with Frederick/Stahl/Sully/Cordelia’s's admission of being reared on knighthood stories of the 'Bull and Panther' (Cain and Abel), and Caeda, insinuates that they were aware of their own historical figures, and therefore history:

Even Chrom reveals himself to be relatively well-informed about the age-old hero Anri, the founding king of Altea and the ancestor of his ancestor, King Marth. The knowledge and historical repository of the Ylisseans can therefore be estimated to date back by two thousand years. Knowledge of the Darksphere, an appendage of the Fire Emblem, would have likely migrated through the generations of Marth’s future dynasty just as as well as their heirloom, Falchion.

Then there was the Geosphere (Vert) and Lifesphere (Gules) given to the khans of Regna Ferox, notably gems of lesser importance during the progression of the Hero-King's adventures two millennia ago. Regna Ferox is canonically acknowledged to be a unified nation of the barbarian aboriginals that once inhabited Archanea alongside its later settlers. By this admission, many Feroxians were likely descended from the hostile barbarians that both Anri and Marth clashed with along their course across the Marmorthod Desert and to the Ice Dragon shrine. Either that, or the fierce barbarians inhabiting the area around the premieval Dragon’s Table that even Macedonian dracoknights did not dare to touch. Was the choice to give Regna Ferox the least pivotal of the five gems for a precautionary measure? Were the gems even conferred in the first place as a token of peace—meant to symbolize the trust of Ylisse in its newly civilized barbarian neighbors? Maybe. Maybe not. Regardless, the Lightsphere(Argent) also stayed with Ylisse, alongside the Darksphere.

Ylisse choosing to personally keep custody of the Darksphere and the Lightsphere seems to suggest that Archanea’s future generations remained wary if not perfectly educated about its power, both the adverse force and the counter-measure, which is presumably why the Grimleal chose to steal the powerful Darksphere specifically. Rather than just it being the thematic evildoer effect of them stealing the black-colored gem.

Finally we have the Starsphere, or Azure, safeguarded by Tiki in Valm. The Starsphere is a complement to the Lightsphere (that Ylisse holds) in order to craft the Starlight tome, so whether out of sentiment or insurance of preventing another Imhullu scenario, that could very well have been the reason for its possession in Tiki's hands. Tiki being a trusted friend to the Archanean/Ylissean dynasties would likely encourage her stewardship of one of the more important orbs. The Starsphere is definitely snug in the higher echelons of importance at least from the Imhullu angle.

#◜ ╰ ♕ ◦ › gathered wits ‹ INTROSPECTION. ◞#me dropping a borderline academic analysis on the intermediary timeskip between fe12 and fe13? More Likely Than You Think #i have a love hate relationship with awakening #as an archanea fan it's very difficult not to consider fe:13 a long displaced sequel to the marth games #but in all rationality awakening is much more along the lines of a spiritual sequel than an actual one #too many plot components of archanea were twisted or outright ignored for the narrative convenience of chrom and lucina's storyline #which very likely stems from its initial development as 'the last fire emblem game' so i don't really fault it there #i do like to consider upsides and downsides equally however and awakening still has my love on a number of points #and i will ALWAYS chew on the connections to be made between archanea/valentia and ylisse/valm simply because i adore the universe

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mylittleredgirl · 3 years

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gonna keep sharing a few thoughts as i watch the star treks this week. i pinned the post where i was asking for crowdsourced episode suggestions if you want to add some! i couldn’t limit myself to a clever one-liner for each episode and busted out the bullet points, so i’m putting it behind a readmore.

(episodes are all tng for this round: “schisms” / “masks” / “manhunt” / “the emissary” / “peak performance”)

“schisms”:

i LOVE when tng goes horror. that scene in the holodeck where they slowly reveal the alien operating table... 👩‍🍳💋. i need to do a Spooky Trek marathon soon.

add this one to the unofficial “counselor troi is really necessary and good at her job actually” theme for the week -- remember that post about how starships need a Weird Shit officer for people to report weird shit to? that’s deanna! worf had a strange reaction to a pair of scissors in the barber shop and must have immediately gone to tell her, as did riker and geordi and that civilian lady, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when Weird Shit happens in deep space, and that’s how you find out that aliens from another dimension are borrowing your crew.

i’m obsessed with the ship’s counselor role and will go fully feral on anyone who dismisses it.

“masks” for @mrv3000:

look, this episode gets a bad rap, but it’s hard for an episode to be too bad when you’ve got patrick stewart and brent spiner trying their best, you know?

the premise that super sophisticated aliens sent out a super sophisticated probe that survived 87 million years in deep space for the purpose of a brief mythology larp is weird, but it makes me think that either the interaction with data (an unexpected sentient piece of technology not meant to interface with the probe) caused a glitch OR the 87 million years in deep space meant that the probe probably wasn’t supposed to do this exact thing. it’s like if someone in 87 million years encountered a derelict starship voyager, and whatever sensor beam they sent at it activated the tiny portion of the computer dedicated to Fair Haven and they were like “ah, these people for Spiritual Reasons recreate a ritual where they get drunk and throw ceremonial ring-like objects, how strange for a technologically advanced society to do that.”

actually, an alien holoprogram is the only thing that makes sense by Star Trek Rules™️, because the rules of holoprograms is that you can get stuck in the program, but the program ends and everything re-sets to normal once you play to the end of the story.

can we talk about that opening scene with beverly and deanna where there’s a random sculpture in deanna’s quarters and beverly is like “oooh maybe will left it for you as a little present.” i’m gonna leave aside the fact that they decide it’s probably a secret admirer randomly breaking into a senior officer’s quarters with anonymous gifts, and that’s not a cause for immediate investigation, and just focus on how i adore will and deanna’s are-they-or-aren’t-they relationship and beverly being like SOOOOOO is he leaving you booty call tokens? (and this is like an episode before the deanna/worf story starts heating up)

“manhunt” for @coraclavia:

this is an amazing episode of star trek because absolutely nothing happens. the a plot of the episode is “lwaxana troi is horny for alien reasons and goes around sexually harassing every man she sees.” the b plot is “everyone stares at funny looking aliens in stasis.” the c plot of “assassins attempt to bomb diplomatic conference” takes up 45 seconds of airtime in the last scene of the episode.

i live for pulaski and deanna’s hallway interaction where they decide that actually they ARE going to leave captain picard in lwaxana’s clutches for the evening because it’s probably hilarious

i haven’t read imzadi fanfic in years but someone who does please point me to whatever’s the best of the “deanna absolutely breaks riker with sex when she hits midlife” genre

honestly if i were a famous rock musician i also would want to appear on star trek, absolutely unidentifiable beneath sixteen pounds of latex and a voice modulator

“the emissary”:

K’EHLEYR MY BELOVED

i absolutely, absolutely love every interaction she and deanna have in this episode and i want them to become [girl]friends immediately

the conversation about culture is so rich and i want so much more of it, especially between worf and k’ehleyr -- worf fully klingon but raised by humans, overcompensating by being (as jadzia will later point out) so adherent to klingon honor roles that he can’t loosen up and have fun, but also remaining separate from his home culture; k’ehleyr both as human and klingon, raised by both parents, disdainful of the klingon honor code but also making it her life’s work to be a bridge between the two cultures. IT’S SO FASCINATING!

it also makes me think long and hard about b’elanna, and how both k’ehleyr and b’elanna see their klingon tempers as a dangerous burden they have to control, but k’ehleyr seems so much more comfortable with herself in general. in watching it this time, it occurs to me how much of that is likely due to the homes they grew up in -- b’elanna came from a broken home and is estranged from both parents, with the perception that her father left because she was “too klingon” and that her mother was disappointed in her for not being klingon enough; k’ehleyr seems to come from parents who put work into their relationship and dealt with cross-cultural challenges together (“klingon and human dna is compatible, with a little help -- rather like my parents”).

i spent LONG HOURS as a kid trying to work out the biology of how klingons can get pregnant through their hands.

“peak performance”:

season two gets a lot of shit -- the episodes aren’t as tightly written as later ones because of the writer’s strike, but that means there’s lots of filler content which is awesome. the cold open poker game in “the emissary” feels like it leads into the whole strategema side-plot in this episode.

i love pulaski and data’s relationship in the back half of season two, with the same part of my heart that loves spock and bones’s relationship. is it unhealthy and problematic? yeah. is it also somehow heartwarming and my favorite part of season two? yep.

i love riker so much. his combination of confident swagger and “who WOULDN’T take the opportunity to be guaranteed pasted by the best” is perfect.

quark!! hilarious to me that the ferengi are still a Real Threat™️. i think they should’ve brought that back actually in the dominion war like oh you guys just FORGOT the ferengi have a fleet of ships that almost destroyed the federation flagship a couple of times? we’ll fight the changelings with you but we’re charging you market rate plus hazard pay for each torpedo used.

#star trek thoughts #tng #trekathon

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

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oc and their partner asks: ❣️, 💘, 💋 & 💜 for fane and solas <3

You know, I like rambling about Fane and Solas just about as much as I love rambling about solely Fane! *rubs hands together* Ehehe, time to be fluffyyyyy!

Thank you for the ask! <3 <3 <3

❣️ When did your OC first realise they were in love? How did they react to the realisation?

I could be super sappy and make up something utterly dramatic, but it was really kind of..sudden for Fane? He first had feelings for Solas as a dragon, but they were so confusing and disorienting that they were shoved aside. And even if Fane could have understood what he was feeling, he wouldn't have been able to say anything. Solas always led the conversations, and Fane just watched and listened. They built a relationship through respect and a mutual agenda to free their respective people.

Now, as an elf? OH, BOY. Fane, I kid you not, was literally just speaking with Solas one day, which isn't abnormal, of course, but for some reason, he started to feel all those century old feelings again. The grief, the longing, the quiet desire, the affection, the warmth. It all came back in a tidal wave as he just stood there, no longer talking, and just...listening. It was the way Solas spoke, even, calm, soothing. It brought everything back, and Fane was able to decipher what all those emotions boiled down to.

And literally, all he thought, as flowing words morphed with stormy orbs was, 'I love him. I...have always loved him, and now, I can tell him. I don't have to be silent anymore..'

💘 What do they love most about their partner(s)? What do their partner(s) love most about them?

Fane really enjoys watching Solas interact with spirits. It reminds him of Arlathan, of their time before the schism. The sky gets softer, more open with familiarity of a land lost to time and necessity, and the easy smile that will bloom upon a normally impassive or sorrowful face makes it even better.

Now, Solas. This is a bit spoilery for my fic, so I'll try not to give too much away, however, Solas really adores how focused and driven Fane can get when he's neck deep in research. It just fascinates him how one moment Fane can be curt, terse, and purely physical, and then in the next have such an intense passion that's expressed with written words, complex diagrams, and a mind like a scholar's. He loves how Fane has...grown, so to speak. Solas is always looking for new things about his dragon, and he absolutely adores it when another seemingly lost emotion is restored through odd triggers.

💋 Who is the best kisser? (if you’d like write a short smooch scene!)

Fane and Solas are pretty evenly matched when it comes to kissing. They usually start off tame, but...they quickly shift. However, they do have different styles that are personalized.

Fane is unsure at first, the sensations strange and the emotions connected overwhelming. He'll ease into it, putting their foreheads together to lock gazes, searching for reciprocation before he actually initiates. Then, it's timid, like it's a first kiss every time. He'll nudge at Solas' cheek with his nose, laying a chaste kiss here and there before their lips brush together, softly, barely noticeable, but enough to make his head foggy and his cheeks flush. There's a lot of quiet looks, silent requests until Fane will tilt his head just so, and lean in, connecting them the way he always wished to. The movements are languid, tender, seemingly synchronized. Another tilt of his head and he's going deeper, mind blurring at the edges, oxygen leaving his lungs steadily even as he breathes out contented sighs through his nose. Sometimes, he'll cup Solas' face or just wrap his arms around him to keep him close, connected. Then it ends just as slowly as it began, and his whole face is no longer white as Solas gives a knowing, pleased smirk, and his eyes sharpen like the night sky.

Solas, if initiating, is more straightforward, but gentle with Fane, since he knows that a sudden influx of emotion can disorient him and have him receding into the depths of his mind. He'll do things to relax Fane before they kiss. Stroking his cheeks, kneading the point of his ear, combing through his hair with his fingers; he wants Fane to relax, to take in each emotion slowly. After that, it's pretty similiar to how Fane engages, but Solas starts out more deeply, no shy brushes, but there is sometimes sorrow and guilt laced into the kisses, which Fane will pick up on. But instead of discouraging, it encourages them both to delve in more, and Solas will take the reins, tangling a hand into snowy hair, and utterly losing himself in the sensations of never wanting to lose each other again. Solas will push, pull, guide until the two of them have to separate for air, and there's no sorrow, no guilt, no shame as they part. There's only uncommon smiles and feeling of home.

Soooo...yeah. Even! :D

💜 Give a random fact about their daily life together!

There's a lot of trusting intimacy between the two of them. After Fane divulges the circumstances surrounding his abuse, and shows Solas his body, his scars, it becomes a daily routine for the mage to help him undo the bindings. It's a ritual, every morning and every evening, and if need be, after battles. There's no heat, no passion behind it. It's sometimes somber, sometimes calming. Fane takes comfort in knowing someone knows and that he doesn't need to hide all the time, and Solas also feels comfort in the fact that Fane trusted him enough to allow privy to the horrific secret as even his sister doesn't know.

Bonus fact!: Fane and Solas also tend to traverse outside of Skyhold on their own. They don't go far, but they both know the mountains and they like to get away from the weight bearing down on their shoulders, if only for a moment. They'll explore tiny caverns, passages, and paths that they can remember, and it's also a way to continue piecing back together Fane's fragmented memories due to the mountain being somewhat similiar to the one he lived on as a dragon. They make sure to bring back something worthwhile so as not to raise too much suspicion, but if they can't, Fane just says, "We needed some air." Cassandra doesn't always buy it, but what can she do? Nothing, and Fane knows it. Solas usually just sighs before coming up with a more eloquent excuse.

#i got kind of carried away about that kiss one #solas and fane have some...woo! that's all I'll say!#gotta be sfw right? >:3 #but yeah fane can get lost in a moment pretty easily since he's not used to them #and we all know how solas is #Fade tongue~#but with fane he's very very tender #they go a really long time just simply kissing because it's new for them both with each other! X3 #oc: fane lavellan #solas #solavellan #dragon age #asks #thank you again!

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wrathandgreed · 3 years

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Hi! Hope you're having a good day.

For your ask game may I ask 🎨& ⚡?

Okay, so Tumblr ate my first response when I was alt-tabbing between this and Docs. Thanks, Tumblr! But thank you for the prompt, @evierena !

🎨 - Show us a WIP

From “Horn Maintenance” (short fic, fluff, Asmo x reader)

“Hey!” You boop him on the nose with the flat end of the file. “Let me work here.”

A great sigh. “But darling, you’re right here in front of me, and you’re cute enough to nibble on!”

You almost give in. But you want to see if you can bring Other Asmo back. So you settle yourself down in his lap and give him a kiss - not one of passion, but one of gentleness. Then you kiss the tip of his nose and smile right into his eyes. “Azzy, just let me just be affectionate for awhile. Let me take care of you a little.”

“Affec -“ For the briefest of moments, Asmo looks confused and it makes you really sad. You wonder if anyone’s ever asked to ‘take care of him’ without it being a sexual reference. You give him another kiss simply because you can’t stand seeing that look on his face. And then, without looking at him again, you turn back to his horn splinter and get to work.

From “The Seven Brothers Detective Agency” ( I did some googling into the “hard boiled detective” genre, and it’s fascinating. Apparently, in the early 1900s, it’s not that there was a lot of police corruption, it’s that the basic job of the police was enforcing things FOR the mob and/or politicians (basically the same thing back then). In the 1920’s, thanks to Prohibition, the mob began having so much money and power on their own that they didn’t need the cops anymore, and the alliance began to fracture. Enter, now, stories about this schism - people wanted justice, and they wanted stories about people to defend them from organized crime - AND from the cops (again, basically the same thing). So we wind up with the noir detective, usually a cop who disagreed with corruption, and is now jaded and cynical about their fall from the organization. Usually also dealing with shell-shock from WWI. )

(These are currently more like notes than full-on HCs)

Lucifer (The Boss)

Son of Old Money

Served in the Great War, very much against his father’s wishes. Men of their status do not sit in trenches and eat canned muck and get shot by German snipers.

Almost died more than once, saw some Major Shit.

Had a lot of trouble adjusting when he came home. Beds were too soft, everything glittered and sparkled and was too wide-open.

Also too boring. He spent two years facing life and death, and sitting back at his father’s desk with a cigar felt too simple.

So he decided to become a policeman. One of the **good** ones. He truly wanted to make a difference.

The day he enrolled, his father disowned him. Lucifer still had money left to him by his mother, but everything from his old man, including controlling interest in the company, was given to….someone else.

And for the first time, Lucifer felt free.

Rose in the ranks, thanks to charisma and intelligence.

Knew about the corruption, refused to participate, but felt he was too junior still to do anything about it.

By the time he was a senior detective, he’d gotten used to it. He wasn’t tempted by bribes himself, since he had more money than he would ever need.

If he was actually going to help people, he needed to stay on the force. To stay on the force, he had to turn a blind eye.

At least until the murder.

A young Black singer, the daughter of one of his father’s servants.

He’d grown up with her, their servant’s kids were as much his siblings as his actual sister.

This girl was younger than him by a few years, but her voice had been heavenly.

She sang in speakeasies, throaty voice singing the blues.

And now she was dead - brutalized and strangled for telling a rich white kid “no”.

The bastard was caught with blood quite literally on his hands. He fucking confessed.

But the boy’s father was a major contributor of the Chief’s - so her death was ruled an unsolved homicide.

Enraged, Lucifer did what he swore he would never do - he fought the system.

And lost.

And those who supported him - whatever their reasons - were kicked out of the force right alongside him.

So, with too much money on his hands, too much grief in his heart, and too many junior officers looking to him for leadership, Lucifer starts the Seven Brothers Detective Agency.

He saw his juniors - his friends, his **brothers** - and realized that, for most of them, they hadn’t just lost a job, they’d lost a reason to get up in the morning. So he gave them one.

He’ll never admit that he needed a reason to get up even more than they did.

At this point, he’s low key a functioning alcoholic.

He uses big-money cases in order to fund helping the disenfranchised.

Will always help people in real trouble, even if they can’t pay at all.

He spends most of his time on paperwork in the office, and occasionally bailing his juniors out of jail.

Or paying off their mob debts.

Kind of the same thing, anyway.

When he does go out into the field, though, he’s formidable.

He seems to have this otherworldly charm, and people find themselves talking to him, telling him things they maybe shouldn’t.

He’s an expert at questioning someone around in circles until they don’t even know what they’re saying.

He’s also an expert at asking such direct questions that people become uncomfortable. You can learn a lot from someone’s discomfort.

⚡️ - Biggest fear

What really scares me is uncertainty and insecurity. I grew up pretty poor. Not like super poverty, but the type of poor where you start working off the books at 11 and you eat dinner at your grandparents house for a few weeks because your own parents can’t afford groceries because something happened that sucked up available funds. Also, my mom was sick most of my childhood, so I wound up being her caretaker and between that and the whole getting-a-job-at-11 thing, I didn’t really have a childhood or teenage-hood. I’m a lot older now, and I’m in a pretty secure financial place, but I’m still desperately afraid of that one accident or emergency that will send me back into eating at other people’s houses or having to borrow money from my parents to afford to fix my car.

I’ve also got some of my mom’s conditions - plus a few mental illnesses - so part of my fear of uncertainty is what’s going to happen to me in the future. By the time she was my age, my mom was going blind and suffering mini-strokes. I’ve managed to avoid all of that, but for how long? We survive on my salary, so if I become unable to work, we’re screwed. Not to mention I can only be as healthy as I am because my job provides top-tier health insurance. What happens if I lose it? I’m not having children, so how will I be looked after if I actually live to be old?

So, short answer, I guess, is just “the future” - I’m always afraid of things taking a sharp downturn, because my childhood was nothing BUT thinking things were fine and then everything exploding in your face.

#ask game #obey me WIP #w&g stuff #thanks!

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pengychan · 3 years

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[Good Omens] Winging It - Genesis 9:5

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon Rating: T

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N: Guess who has two thumbs and stumbled onto a writer's block? That's me. Pretty relieved to be past it.

***

“Lord Beelzebub…”

“Not now. I’m busy,” Beelzebub buzzed, not lifting their eyes from the screen on their phone. Gabriel was suggesting they go see some museum with old planes, which he had developed an odd fascination with. To be fair, Beelzebub could sort of see the point: it was amusing how humans had tried so hard to soar the skies, not unlike angels could… and yet kept coming up with ways to make the experience absolutely miserable from start to end.

Hell may or may not have had a hand in the constant reduction of size seat and space between rows. They grinned at the thought, sprawled on their throne, and began typing up a reply to Gabriel’s suggestion. They didn’t get to write a lot.

“My Lord, I urgently request audience.”

Beelzebub scoffed, finally looking up. “Urgently? What can be so urgent, Dagon? We hardly have anything much to do, considering that all we were supposed to work towards and build up to has no happened, so--”

“Yes, that is-- that is what I mean to talk to you about, my Lord. If you please.”

There was a serious edge to Dagon’s voice, which was actually nothing new because Dagon always took her work very seriously, but this was… more serious than usual, Beelzebub could tell. Slowly, they put down the phone and straightened themselves on the throne.

“... Speak,” they finally said.

Dagon stepped closer, but didn’t speak right away. Instead she glanced around, uncharacteristically nervous. “As you know, I have been chairing numerous meetings while you were-- otherwise occupied.”

Beelzebub frowned. “Important matters,” they declared as their phone pinged, with Gabriel suggesting they may like to visit the London Dungeon while they were there.

“Of course, my Lord. As you were busy, I filled in for you, as per your request, and many are… dissatisfied.”

A scoff. “We’re in Hell. What kind of Hell would that be if we were not dissatisfied?” they said, but their voice was not quite as dismissive as they knew it ought to be. And Dagon could tell, surely, because when they spoke again their own voice was firmer, almost emboldened.

“More dissatisfied than the norm, I mean,” she said. “I need to make clear, Lord Beelzebub, that I mean no disrespect-- nor insubordination-- and that what I am simply reporting, uh, concerns. To your ears alone.”

Not to Satan’s, then, Beelzebub thought , Gabriel’s voice ringing out somewhere in their mind.

Why rebel to the absolute authority of God to pass absolute the absolute authority of Satan?

“Since the Armageddon did not come to pass, many are wondering what comes next,” Dagon was saying. “We have received no word from him . No new instructions, no indication of a change of plans or… any plan at all. The entire purpose of our existence seems to be gone, and now we wonder--”

“And who ever said that was the purpose of our existence?” Beelzebub cut her off, suddenly angry. Dagon looked up, a flash of something on her face.

“... Lord Beelzebub,” she said, more slowly. It was the tone of someone knowing a misstep could cost their very existence, and yet willing to take a chance. A very human trait, that. Humans took chances. And, a very long time ago, so had they. “You know I am loyal to you.”

“I am aware.”

“Am I correct in assuming the same questions I am asking now have crossed your mind too?”

Beelzebub leaned back against their throne, and for a few moments there was only silence - the kind that can only be heard, or rather not heard, moments before something is uttered that can never be taken back or ignored again. Well aware of the seriousness of it, Beelzebub finally spoke in a low voice.

“What if the War never happens?” they said. “No resolution, an eternity of corrupting mortal souls because of orders we received thousand of years ago, according to a Plan we all rebelled against in the first place and that is now moot. An eternity of this,” they gestured at the dark walls and ceiling, “because of the orders of one. Is that what is being whispered through Hell?”

A pause, and Dagon nodded, eyes still darting around. “I know some would say that questioning his orders is treason--”

“Well, it is. That’s why demons are whispering and not yelling about it,” Beelzebub replied, and stood, causing Dagon to immediately step back to give them space. “But it seems to me that the concept of committing treason did not stop us the first time around. At least the lot of you learned to be more secretive now.”

“Ah. Yes, well… that is not to say we have plans to-- that is not to say we have plans yet,” she said quickly. “We are only thinking over our options, now that it seems the entire purpose of our work is gone.”

“Of course.” Beelzebub folded their arms, and looked at Dagon straight in the eye. It was a dangerous game they were stepping into, but they had never been the kind to back away from dangerous games. If they were, they may have never Fallen in the first place. “Perhaps I should find the time to chair this next… meeting.”

Dagon nodded, and flashed a sharp smile. “We’d welcome you to it, my Lord.”

***

“Have you given any thought to what Sandalphon said?”

“He says a lot of things. You’ll need to be more specific.”

“You know what I am referring to.”

The scrape of pen on paper stopped, and Michael sighed, finally looking up at Uriel. “I was rather hoping you had forgotten about that conversation.”

“We don’t forget things,” Uriel pointed out, coming to sit across her desk. “Except those who used to be with us before the Fall. And we know now it was not God to will it. We did it ourselves.”

“Enemies are easier to fight if you can't recall them being anything else - you said so yourself.” Michael leaned back against the seat, folding her hands on the desk. Her eyes drifted to the drawer where she kept the phone she once used to get in touch with her contacts in Hell - the back channels, as she called them. But even then, it was nothing personal. They were still enemies, and occasional cooperation did not change that. “And they are enemies still.”

“But it’s not looking like that fight is happening,” Uriel replied. “The Great Plan is no longer in place, and we have no instructions as to how to proceed. We have not received an order in a very, very long time.”

“... We were ordered to banish Gabriel.”

“Which was a test. And we failed.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Now that the Great Plan is… null and void, it seems, we are still doing as we always did. Following orders, or whatever we took as orders.”

“Took as orders?”

“We never got any directions on how to run things, did we? There was an end goal, and we figured the rest out.” Uriel gestured at the immaculate room around them, at the paperwork on Michael’s desk. “As efficiently as possible, preparing for the War. We took initiative. Did things we were not expressly commanded to do… and things we were not expressly forbidden to do.”

And God never forbade us to think of the Fallen as they were before the schism.

God never forbade us to punish a traitorous angel either, and yet.

Michael forced the thought out of her mind, and sighed. “What is it you’re driving at?”

“That maybe what happened with Gabriel proves that we are meant to question… some things,” Uriel said. She leaned forward, folding her hands on the desk as well. “Such as our true purpose, if no War is to happen in the foreseeable future. And that we may not be the only ones asking ourselves such questions just now.”

… Wait. Did she just say-- did she mean--?

Under Michael’s startled gaze, Uriel smiled. “You are not the only one with access to some back channels, Michael.”

There are no back channels, Michael almost said, but that would have been Gabriel’s line and she did not utter it. Instead, she tilted her head on one side as she considered the implication of what she had just heard.

“... There is unrest in Hell, then?”

“Well, to be entirely fair that is like saying there is oxygen on Earth.” Uriel shrugged. “You’d be hard-pressed finding a time without unrest in Hell. But according to my contact, demons have been left quite directionless without the Great Plan or any War in sight. They don’t know what to make of it any more than we do. And they are questioning whether going on like this, business as usual, is worth it. This may be a sign of interesting developments to come.”

Michael reached up to rub her temples. “Tell me they are not thinking of another uprising.”

“I wouldn’t give too much credit to the amount of thinking that generally goes on downstairs, but it wouldn’t be their first.”

“And their first attempt did not go their way.” A pause. “Are you suggesting we intervene?”

“I am suggesting we keep watch,” Uriel said, and stood. “And an open mind. Perhaps the order of things we have known since the first War is at its end, after all.”

“If we act in a way God disapproves--”

“I trust God will make it known very, very swiftly if that is the case,” Uriel replied, and Michael found there was nothing she could retort to that.

***

"Does he really have to come by?"

"He has to return the book."

"He could leave it outside or something. With no need to actually come in."

"It is an antique and very rare book, Crowley. I will not have it left on my doorstep. What if someone takes it - what if it rains?"

"Fine, fine. But no inviting him over for tea."

A chuckle. "I was not planning to, believe me. We already have a guest coming, after all."

"Much more appreciated than the Archangel Fucking Gabriel if you ask to me," Crowley muttered, and that was the end of the conversation.

And yet he was unable to shake off the uneasy feeling that something was not quite right.

***

“Wait. You mean to tell me you got that book from your traitorous angel?”

“Yes.”

“You told him what it was for?”

“I may have mentioned it. ”

“What possessed you into thinking it was a good idea!”

“I didn’t really think--”

“Ugh, of course you did not!” Beezelbub huffed and dropped back against their seat, arms crossed, kicking the one in front of them for good measure. Thankfully, said seat was empty. “You ought to have kept your mouth shut.”

“Not what you said last night.”

“What?”

“I said, I didn’t think it would be an issue. What do you care about the opinion of an angel?”

A scoff. ”An angel who is certain to relay the information to a renegade demon we know all too well.”

Gabriel shrugged. “He won’t need to.”

“... I beg your pardon?” Beelezebub glanced up, nothing in their voice, pose or expression indicating they were begging for anything, much less pardon. Gabriel shifted, only… marginally uncomfortable.

“He may have been present at the time I, uh, borrowed the book.”

“Uuuugh,” Beelzebub groaned, a hand reaching up to press against their eyes.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “That was about what he said, too.”

The hand covering Beelzebub’s eyes went down just enough for them to glance up. They were still scowling, but not quite as much. “Oh?”

“I daresay he was rather disturbed.”

“Was he now.” Beelzebub sounded rather interested now, the corners of their mouth curling up almost imperceptibly. Gabriel smiled.

“Scarred for life, I would say,” he confirmed. It had… honestly not been his intention at the time, but it seemed to please Beelzebub greatly.

“Well,” they finally said, “I suppose it will not hurt if I come in with you when I return the book. So I can have a look at his face, and--”

“Excuse me, may I see your ticket?”

Both Gabriel and Beelzebub glanced up to see a ticket inspector beside their seats, wearing a uniform that looked rather like it had been salvaged from the jaws of a dog and with a smile that was only halfway convincing. Beelzebub, never one to appreciate being interrupted while speaking, snorted. They had protested quite adamantly when Gabriel had mentioned the need to buy tickets, pointing out it was unbecoming of the Lord of the Flies to pay a fare like they were some spineless, law-abiding mortal.

“No,” they informed the ticket officer, sounding incredibly outraged by the request. By their side, Gabriel began frantically searching his pockets for the tickets he had purchased for both of them. “You may not.”

The ticket officer blinked. “You mean you don’t have a ticket, uh…” he hesitated. “... Sir?”

“It’s Zzzzzzir to you, and--”

“Here!” Gabriel almost yelled, sticking his arm over Beelzebub’s head to hold out two tickets. “We have tickets! We do, here, see? Great. Have a nice day!”

As the mortal left, only a little perplexed and without the foggiest idea whose ire he had almost become the target of, Beelzebub turned to glare at Gabriel.

“I told you I needed no ticket.”

“It spared us an inconvenient argument.”

“I could have incinerated that mortal where he stood.”

“... See, thing is, that would have been even more inconvenient.”

“Hmph,” Beelzebub replied, and sank back into the seat. “Why take a train in the first place? I could have transported you to London in the blink of an eye.”

“Last time you did that, it was far from discrete and we were seen.”

“And memories were wiped. It is not hard.”

Gabriel shrugged, glancing out of the window. “Well, there is the fact I do enjoy the scenery, too,” he said. It was a bright day, after all, and the countryside around them a luscious green. “The bright sky, the sun--”

Clouds gathered suddenly above the train, iron gray, darkening the sun. As rain began beating against the glass, abrupt as it was violent, Gabriel groaned. “That’s childish,” he declared, turning to Beelzebub with a pout. That gained him a smirk.

“No it isn’t. It’s petty. Not the same thing.”

A sigh. “Fair,” Gabriel said, and leaned back as well, putting an arm over Beelzebub’s shoulders. The smirk faded, and an eyebrow went up.

“I cannot recall asking for this-- show of physical affection.”

“Does it displease you?”

“... I suppose I can tolerate it,” they said. Outside, the downpour cleared as quickly as it had come - a phenomena British meteorologists, who made an art out of the national pastime of talking about the weather, would discuss at length that evening across all channels. Gabriel smiled a little, but refrained from saying anything. It was a nice silence. Peaceful.

So of course, Beelzebub took it upon themselves to break it. “What would you say if I told you me and a few lieutenants are thinking about an uprising?”

Ah. Gabriel blinked, and glanced over. Were they really thinking of fighting the War without the Armageddon having happened to signal its start? He certainly hoped they wouldn’t choose Earth as the battlefield. Actually, he rather hoped it would not happen; he’d rather not see Beelzebub, or any of his former colleagues, get destroyed by either holy water or hellfire. “I would say that it’s probably not a wise idea. Your army lost once before, and-- not that I mean to brag, but I did oversee the preparation for the War, and I know for a fact you would be crush--”

“You misunderstand. Not an uprising against God.”

Gabriel blinked again, and looked down. “What? Against who, then?”

Beelzebub craned their neck to meet his gaze, giving him a look that told him in no uncertain terms he was an idiot. “Idiot,” they said, just to make sure there was no doubt left over what they meant to communicate. “Who do you think? Who rules over us?”

Oh. Oh, shit. “What-- an uprising against--” he sputtered, pulling away his arm to grab Beelzebub by both shoulders and shake them. God, had they lost their mind? A failed uprising against Satan would spell their doom, and that of anybody following them in that folly. Satan would not be content with casting them out. “It is a terrible idea!”

Beelzebub tilted their head. “You gave me the idea.”

“I have terrible ideas!”

“Are you arguing for us to remain under his rule even if we decide we no longer wish to?”

“I am arguing for you not to get yourself destroyed!” Gabriel gave them a shake, which thankfully did not result in immediate mutilation, although he was probably on thin ice. “Can’t you just-- walk out on him, or something?”

“I find destroying him would be a preferable, more permanent solution. In case he means to stop us.”

“The power he has--”

“He’s not an evil version of God, Gabriel,” Beelzebub cut him off, their voice perfectly calm. “He started out the same as me or you. What power he has over the forces of Hell, we gave him that by following his orders. And we can claim it back.”

There was sense in what Beelzebub was saying, Gabriel knew, but he was unable to truly hear it; all he could think was Satan, the negation of everything God stood for-- whatever it is God stands for -- utterly destroying Beelzebub with naught a word. If that happened, what then? What of him? What would he do?

I won’t lose you again.

“If this goes wrong--” he began, only to pause when Beelzebub gracelessly slapped a hand over his mouth, nearly knocking the back of his head against the window.

“Listen, it’s not even a plan yet,” they muttered. “Just ideas. I am far from the only one with questions over our purpose now that the so-called Great Plan has apparently gone out of the window. There may or may not be an uprising, or we may or may not just walk out on him, or we’ll only grumble and then absolutely nothing will happen. I don’t know yet. So don’t get your feathers ruffled.” A pause. They shifted a little before clarifying, “... That wasn’t meant to be a jab about your wings.”

Ah. Gabriel stared a moment before he snorted out a laugh, leaning back against the seat. “God,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “All right, all right. Just promise me you won’t take risks-- needless risks-- and that you’ll tell me if any decision is made.”

“... I suppose those are requests I can satisfy,” Beelzebub conceded. “Although I am not certain what difference you would make, being a mortal and all.”

“Perhaps, if I speak to Michael--” Gabriel began, and trailed off at the sharp look that gained him. He held up his hands. “No, no, hear me out. The Heavenly forces may be able to help.”

“What?” the Prince of Hell rolled their eyes. “Is your human form old enough for dementia to set in already? Heaven will not help us. We are the enemy.”

“But Satan is the Enemy. That makes you the enemy of their Enemy. If it means taking him out of the picture, or significantly reducing his power--”

“If we do rid ourselves of his reign, it doesn’t mean we have any intention to return to Heaven. The idea of being there makes me break out in hives.”

That was… a bit of a shame, really, but Gabriel could at least see the point and did not argue further. He did, after all, nearly break out in hives himself at the mere thought of residing in Hell. “No, of course not, but… well, events have made clear that both Heaven and Hell may be long overdue for an overhaul, and the enemy of my enemy--”

“We can free our own damn selves,” Beelzebub cut him off, their voice cold enough to make Gabriel fall silent. They glared at him for a moment, as though expecting more arguing, but when that failed to happen the scowl faded and they sighed.

“I don’t plan on getting myself destroyed, and I will not disappear on you,” they said, and leaned against his side again. “That I do promise. No need to bash your head before you bandage it.”

“I think you mean--”

“You know what I meant to mean,” the Lord of the Flies muttered, and Gabriel managed a smile, putting his arm around their shoulders again. He felt their frame relax a little. “... Well then. I cannot say I am not curious to see for myself the expression on the traitor’s face when he sees us both cross the threshold, so I guess I will accompany you into the bookstore. Afterwards, I suppose…”

The rest of the train ride - not long, truth be told - was spent without incident, making plans for the afternoon that would not come to be.

***

I know that boy.

Realization hit Hastur - who was not meant to be in London, but who was still unable to let go of the very pleasant fantasy he could get a shot at revenge against Crowley if he kept lingering there - within seconds of seeing the boy in question crossing the street only a few meters ahead of him.

An unremarkable-looking young mortal, and he wouldn’t have stood out among the several people crossing at the same spot without bothering to wait for the green light, as most pedestrians in London and indeed across the world. He wouldn’t have stood out but for one detail: when someone you think is the Antichrist looks at you straight in the eye and informs you that you smell like poo, you tend to remember what he looks like. And oh, did Hastur remember the little bastard well.

He could have torn him apart right there and then in the middle of the desert, of course, but trying to figure out what in Heaven was going on - what in Heaven had Crowley done - was the priority, and he had no time to indulge in some good, old-fashioned bloodshed. But oh, Hastur thought as he began following the boy, now… now he had all the time he wanted, and plenty of humans to do his bidding within striking range.

Contrary to popular belief, Hastur had always found that the most privileged, sheltered humans were the easiest to corrupt in the most spectacular fashion, with the most far-reaching consequences. But desperation is also a powerful tool, and the job he needed to get done now wouldn’t require too much finesse. It would be short, a powerful push, straight to the point.

And it takes so, so very little to snuff out a mortal life.

***

The folding knife in Noah’s pocket seemed to burn.

Having it on his person had always made him feel uneasy, ever since he had bought it second-hand, but after the third time someone jumped him - because jumping a homeless man just trying to get a few hours of sleep with his dog was apparently some bastards’ idea of fun - he’d decided he needed something to defend himself and Chip with. Thank God, he hadn’t needed to use it.

But he really ought to now, if anything to try cutting into somebody’s bag or backpack. He hated the idea, and he’d made it so far without the need to rob anyone - shoplifting food, he decided, did not count, and to be honest he didn’t have the skills needed to pick pockets - but the vet who came from time to time to take a look at Chip had said very clearly that without surgery, his dog was pretty much done for.

“Her hip dysplasia is too severe. It can only be fixed with surgery and physio, Noah. I can give you something to help with discomfort, but in the long run…” he had sighed, and made a vague gesture. “It may be kinder to let her go when the pain becomes too much.”

That was not an option, clearly, nor was giving her up for adoption because she would be at risk of being put to sleep - not the most adoptable dog, a seven-year-old mongrel with fucked up hips. He had almost nothing left but Chip and fuck it, she wasn’t even old. It was not her time yet, it was not fair.

The vet had offered him a payment plan, though, and Noah only had to get some money together for the first instalment. He’d immediately sold his tent, a few belongings he had left from his previous life, the nice coat a man had given him a few months prior on a rainy day.

"It’s looking like you should get to work to build that Ark, no?”, he had said, and Noah had found it funny, then. Not so much now: the biblical Noah saved all kinds of animals on Earth, but he was struggling to save his own damn dog. But he would, no matter what he had to do; a cut backpack and a missing wallet must suck, but not as much as losing the only friend one had left. He felt sorry it had come to that, but--

Well, if that isn’t the perfect target.

The thought came to him unbidden, and it felt oddly alien. Noah found himself turning to see the target in question, a kid walking down the street; as he looked he felt a sudden, inexplicable wave of hatred against him

Look at that, just the watch at his wrist would pay for the entire operation. Spoiled brat. Thinks the world owes him something. Go on, what are you waiting for?

Noah began moving, anger mounting to the point he heard the blood rushing in his ears. He moved in quick, long strides, eyes fixed on the boy - spoiled brat, a silver spoon down his throat while I go hungry and cold and my dog is sick and I cannot help her - and never noticing the pale man with black, black eyes fixed on him in turn, whispering through the corner of his mouth directly into his mind.

Pull out the knife.

Noah broke his stride, something in the pit of his stomach turning, a clear thought - a thought that was entirely his own - cutting through the haze of red-hot fury and desperation for a moment.

I don’t want to hurt anyone.

He didn't, he really didn't, he hated the idea of robbing anyone, let alone harming them and that was only a kid, he was making a mistake, he was--

No one needs to be hurt. Just a scare, nothing more. Scare him, get the watch, save your dog. It will be a lesson, is all. A lesson that no one is safe. Accidents happen.

Noah began walking again, approaching the boy as he began crossing the street towards an old bookstore. He felt oddly disconnetted, a buzz in his ears and something burning in his chest. His hand slipped in his pocket, and closed around the folding knife.

Accidents happen.

***

“And for your lifeblood I will require a reckoning: from every beast I will require it and from man. From his fellow man I will require a reckoning for the life of man.” -- Genesis 9:5

***

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#good omens #ineffable beurocracy #ineffable husbands #archangel gabriel #beelzebub #warlock dowling #hastur #Archangel Michael #archangel uriel #crowley #aziraphale #winging it

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santmat · 3 years

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Talking Animals, Whales that Save Humans: Women Priests, Vegetarianism – An Early Christian Manuscript Holds Some Surprises: The Acts of Philip: "For sanctity is the bridge for the souls of the righteous, and it abolishes the source of corruption. Therefore, raise yourself above the pollution of desire. Do not allow meat eating and excessive drinking of wine to rule in your members, lest your soul be cast in that mold." -- from chapter 15, verse 3, The Acts of Philip: A New Translation (@ Amazon), François Bovon, Christopher R. Matthews François Bovon and Christopher Matthews utilize manuscript evidence gathered within the last half-century to provide a new translation of the apocryphal Acts of Philip. Discovered by Bovon in 1974 at the Xenophontos monastery in Greece, the manuscript is widely known as one of the most unabridged copies of the Acts yet discovered. Bovon and Matthews' new translation incorporates this witness to the Greek text, which sheds new light on the history of earliest Christianity. François Bovon has spent many years peering into the mists that shroud the early history of Christianity. His investigations have shown him something that might surprise nonscholars that even in the religion's infancy, when the first generation of Christians were spreading the faith, diversity of belief was already the norm rather than the exception. “The usual view is that in the beginning was unity and then schisms developed. Now we have to say that in the beginning there were several communities that differed significantly from one another,” Bovon said. Bovon, the Frothingham Professor of the History of Religion at the Divinity School, has made a major contribution toward clarifying our picture of the early Christian world with his publication of a 4th-century text describing the acts of the apostle Philip. The manuscript describes a community of celibate vegetarians in which both women and men functioned as priests. Bovon and his colleague Bertrand Bouvier of the University of Geneva discovered the manuscript in a monastery library on Mt. Athos in Greece. That they found the manuscript at all is a testimony to Bovon's finely honed detective skills. While examining a catalog of the monastery's holdings, the Swiss-born scholar noticed that a Greek word in the title of a manuscript was plural rather than singular. “Only one letter, and yet it makes a great difference.” The word was praxeis, meaning “acts". The word jumped out at Bovon because most of the other known manuscripts chronicling the career of the apostle Philip record only one praxis or “act,” that of Philip's martyrdom “It was an invitation to me, to find out what was behind that plural.” Philip is mentioned several times in the New Testament, but little is known about him from canonical sources. But there is more information about Philip and other first-generation Christian missionaries in a body of literature known as The Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles, comprising stories that were eliminated from the New Testament by 4th-century editors. Both the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Churches have tended to preserve these accounts, even though they do not have the status of sacred scripture. This is because the apostles (except for Judas Iscariot) are also saints, and in order to celebrate their feast days, the churches needed information about their lives on which to base ceremonial and iconographic traditions. But these apocryphal texts have themselves been subject to editing by Church authorities in order to bring the liturgical and theological elements in line with orthodox doctrine. The revisions tend to leave out passages that reveal the diversity of practice and belief that characterized early Christianity. “As scholars, we would like to go back before these revisions were made,” Bovon said. Recovering this earlier narrative of Philip's ministry involved something very much like a journey through time. The monastic community of Mt. Athos is a world unto itself, residing on a narrow, rocky peninsula that reaches into the Aegean like a bony finger. At its tip is Mt. Athos, a peak of white marble 6,670 feet in elevation. Along the coast are some 20 Orthodox monasteries that govern the peninsula as an autonomous theocracy. There are no automobiles, little electricity, and by a 1060 edict of the Emperor Constantine Manomachos, which is still in force, neither women nor female domestic animals are permitted to set foot on the monasteries' territory. There is evidence that the first Christian hermits arrived at Mt. Athos in the 7th century, driven out of Constantinople by the Muslims. According to legend, however, the place became a sacred sanctuary in 49 A.D. when a boat bearing the Virgin Mary was blown off course and landed on its shores. At the time, the peninsula contained many pagan shrines, but upon Mary's arrival, these spontaneously crumbled, and a stone statue of Apollo spoke out, declaring itself to be a false idol. Bovon found the manuscript describing Philip's exploits in the Xenophontos monastery, founded in the 10th century. The manuscript was copied in the 14th century, but the original text dates from the fourth century and itself reflects earlier traditions. These traditions are different in many ways from later Church practices. For example, instead of the Eucharist with its ceremonial consumption of bread and wine, Philip's fellow Christians simply sat down to a common meal of vegetables and water. Church leadership was democratic rather than hierarchic, and men and women served equally as priests. In fact, the manuscript describes Philip and the apostle Bartholomew traveling from town to town with Philip's sister, a woman named Mariamne. Bovon believes this woman to be Mary Magdalene. The community described in The Acts of Philip also seemed to follow ascetic practices more extreme than those reflected in New Testament sources. The group insisted on strict vegetarianism and sexual abstinence among its members. “The asceticism was not just a moral issue,” Bovon said. “They believed that living a pure life was a way to better communicate with God.” According to Bovon, the historical Philip along with Stephen and other disciples represented a distinct group of early Christians composed of Greek-speaking Jews centered in Antioch, whose mission was directed largely toward the pagan world. These are the so-called Hellenists of the canonical New Testament book of Acts. Scholars have identified two more groups active in Jerusalem, one led by Peter and another by James, the brother of Jesus. A fourth group, based in Edessa in ancient Syria (now part of Turkey), was led by Thomas, who, according to legend, later traveled to India. Other more radical groups have left traces of their doctrines as well. For Bovon The Acts of Philip is one of many noncanonical early Christian writings that exhibit a fascinating diversity of practice and belief. The author of The Apocryphal Acts of John, for example, describes Christ dancing with his disciples. The Gospel of Nicodemus and the fragmentary Gospel of Peter assert that during the three days between his crucifixion and resurrection, Christ was in the next world preaching to the dead. Another rich source of information on early Christianity is the collection of Coptic writings known as the Nag Hammadi manuscripts, found in Egypt in 1945. Believed to represent a branch of Christianity called Gnosticism, which stressed salvation through knowledge, the Nag Hammadi manuscripts comprise gospels, prayers, sermons, and theological treatises which, like The Acts of Philip, represent a viewpoint “very distant from mainstream Christianity.” These apocryphal writings not only throw light on the origins of Christianity, they can be valuable for understanding early Christian art as well. Bovon regularly takes his students on field trips to the Museum of Fine Arts, where he identifies and interprets art works based on noncanonical Christian sources. A French translation of The Acts of Philip by Bovon, Bouvier, and Frédéric Amsler, a former research assistant and doctoral student of Bovon at Geneva, was published in 1996. In 1999 Bovon published with Bouvier and Amsler a critical edition of the Greek text in the series Corpus Christianorum. It was followed by the publication of Amsler's dissertation, a commentary on The Acts of Philip, in the same collection. A general study, The Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles, co-edited with Ann Graham Brock and Christopher R. Matthews, was published in 1999 by the Harvard Center for the Study of World Religions.

https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2000/02/women-priests-vegetarianism-an-early-christian-manuscript-holds-some-surprises/

#new testament apocrypha #apocrypha #acts of philip #vegetarian

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