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preciouslandmermaid · 1 month

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quiet fury in your head [viii]

Dream of the Endless x F!Reader!Goddess / Sandman Fanfiction

Note: I am still alive. Here is some angst, but then finally some progress with these idiots relationship lmao.

No use of Y/N. See part 1 for all the tags tbh.

Warnings: none !

Rating: 18+

(Read on AO3) || (masterpost for other chapters)

In the years that follow, it rains often in the Dreaming. You are grateful for your cloak to keep the rainwater from your face and hair. The rain reminds you of Dima and it tastes like regret. If only I had not asked for the storm. I could have driven the man to madness without her help. But you wanted the mortal’s punishment to be swift and absolute. You wanted him dead for the crimes he enacted against his child. I don’t regret what I did, I regret that Dima was banished for it. You are, despite everything, the embodiment of rage, and rage is not gentle. It does not deter from its destined path due to human definitions of morality. In your eyes, in your heart, the man deserved to die.

Dream is true to his word and does not speak to you. Sometimes, however, you think you see his shadow between the library shelves, through the birch tree trunks, and among the fields of golden wheat.

My time here must be ending soon. It must. You kick a pebble aside and settle on a damp rock overlooking the churning gray-blue oceanic waters. Dream cannot keep me here forever. He could. Technically. But that was beside the point. You crack the spine of your book and lay it open like a slaughtered offering on your lap.

Once I’m free, I’ll find my way through the fabric of the universe and reunite with Dima. You had two oaths to fulfill: Return to the Otherworld and bury your sister’s tokens and then travel through the various realms and find Dima. She’s the embodiment of storms. She won’t be too hard to find. You trusted your faithful friend would answer your call once you were free of the Dreaming.

You lost your goddesshood, your worshipers, your sisters, and your friend. Yet in the light of what you’ve lost, you haven’t lost your life. You won’t take that for granted. You pull the hood of your cloak a little tighter around your face, ignoring the pinpricks of cold rain, and begin to read.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sister,” Dream says, “what do I owe the pleasure?”

“What, I can’t come and visit my brother?”Death maneuvers around one of the marble pillars. “It’s rather dreadful out there, you know. Couldn’t you make it a bit more cheery?” She tilts her head to the rain surging across the stained glass windows.

He bristles. The argument with you and Dima’s banishment...it doesn’t matter how much linear time passes...the Dreaming continues to rain. He doesn’t regret banishing Dima. It was necessary. Your unhappiness was collateral damage. Death must pick up on a shift in his expression. She lightens and loops her arm with his. Dream finds he is pulled along by the cosmic gravity of his sibling.

Death is like that, you know. When she takes your hand, you don’t have any other choice but to follow her.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Death says.

“I don’t know who you mean,” he murmurs. He can’t be that transparent. He isn’t.

“I get it, you know,” she continues, heels clicking over the tiles, “she’s the embodiment of your favorite siblings.” She smiles. The Dreaming sings in response. “Death and Destruction.”

The song of the Dreaming rapidly cools at the mention of their wayward, lost brother. You are not like Destruction. Firstly, you don’t have his sense of humor.

“Why are you here, sister?” Dream tries again to dissuade her from poking into his life and his realm. He is sure she means well, but he doesn’t need a keeper. The situation with you – it’s his realm, his business, and his priority. In time, you’d eventually forget your bond to Dima. He’s sure of it. You’ll eventually grow bored of his silence. You used to be such a restless creature, running through his Dreaming, and he doubts those instincts have vanished in the past few centuries. Time in the dreaming is infinite and he has all the time in the world to wait it out.

He’s certain you will seek him out before he ever seeks you.

Death says, “Are you going to keep her here forever?”

“No.”

“Good, that’s all I wanted to know.” Death smiles again and vanishes. He sighs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is a city in the Dreaming made of light sandstone and glossy jade. A glass palace is suspended in the sky and anchored to the city below by great iron chains. On sunny days, the light reflects from the castle, and a thousand rainbows illuminate the city, and the fabric merchant stalls are removed, lest they catch on fire from an acute ray of light. The city functions like those in the waking world, with politics, drama, festivals, and ruin. The Dreaming is not a utopia but, its’ inhabitants live lives with intrinsic grooves and patterns like those of a mandala painting.

Today is the ‘Night of a Thousand Lights,’ a decennial tradition within the city. You’ve missed the last two...or was it three? Time. Meaningless to a would-be God. Either way, the last time you were here was with Dima. You see her in every swath of cobalt cloth that’s folded and shelved, in every bright laugh, in the droplets of sparkly water from the fountain where several children are kicking and playing with their loose pants lifted to their knees.

“Kimiyah!” A pregnant woman wraps her arms protectively around the swell of her stomach as she calls for her child.

In a flash, you see Macha, her eyes blazing, her hair shiny copper and fanning over her face. Your memory is a vice. You can remember your sisters as easily as breathing. You simply...choose not to dwell on it. You will dwell when you can act. So long as you are trapped within the Dreaming, you cannot bring them back, no matter how much you wish it. Soon, you promise yourself. The Dreaming will not be my prison forever. You shelve the thoughts like the merchants shelving their dyed fabrics and wander through the narrow, dusty streets.

A pair of massive purple peacocks strut through the street as a leash leads them. Their owner, you presume, holds up a bundle of ribbons for patrons to tie to their lanterns. Your heart aches. You recalled that Dima’s lantern had seven dark blue ribbons tied to it. You hail the gentleman and his dark, bushy eyebrows lift as you pluck three ribbons from his fingers.

One dark green, for Macha, for the fields she so lovingly tended, the green isles of your home.

One silver, for Badb, for the color of her hair, the quicksilver of her tongue, and the shiny pieces that laid upon the burial mounds.

One dark blue, for Dima, for the clouds she pranced through and in remembrance of the storms she wrought.

You are grateful in this moment that Dima is not dead. She is merely banished. It is a fate kinder than the one given to your sisters and the rest of the Gods. You keep wandering, smelling spice, listening to the thousand tongues of mortals and dreams, and stepping through iridescent slices of rainbows that warp around the buildings.

You don’t see Dream, but you feel him. He is inside every inhale. Every speck of dust that clings to your shins. You rub your fingers over the silk ribbon and your eyes linger on the beautiful mosaic architecture of the city. How could someone so infuriating create something so painfully beautiful?

You hug your lantern close to your chest and follow the procession as the sky softens to purple. You nod in gratitude after someone lights your lantern for you and watch the tiny flame dance within.

“Tonight, we release a thousand lights,” a woman said, wearing a ceremonial dress, “and we wish upon them like stars.”

The first lantern is released and swiftly followed by a dozen others. You close your eyes. Reunion. It is the wish that matters. Your freedom is an inevitability, but your reunion with your sisters and Dima is not. You open your eyes and Dream stands before you, less than ten paces away, a pale-faced shadow in a city of golden light and jade and twilight.

Your brow furrows, confusion mixed with anger and desire churns within, and you pointedly turn your face away from him as you release your lantern—the silk ribbons trail after it like a jellyfish’s tentacles.

“Do you need me, Dream Lord?” you ask coolly. He wounded you. You serve him, as Desire willed it, but no more and no less.

The lanterns behind him create hazy, golden starlight as they drift lazily into the sky.

“Will you walk with me?” He offers his elbow.

You slide your hand into the crook of his elbow and fall into step through the throng of dreamers and mortals alike. The children are clapping, and giggling, and pointing to their lanterns as their parents and caregivers hold one another close and smile. There is an air of camaraderie and comfort...and joy. A blissful, and hopeful joy as the Night of a Thousand Lights is a celebration to invite fortune into their lives. A wish made on this night was destined to come true – or so it was said.

“I believe I said I did not wish to speak to you unless it was to release me,” you remind him.

“Yes, I recall.” He steps smoothly and the crowd parts like river water curving around a stone. “Have you made your wish?”

“Does it matter to you?” Your jaw clenches. “Perhaps I wished for Dima’s return, but we both know that will not occur. Are you releasing me or not?”

“When you leave the Dreaming where will you go?”

“To the Otherworld, not only to fulfill my final task to Desire but to see its ruin for myself.” There is no point in lying because there is no victory to be won by keeping your future a secret. You are a creature with ambition if nothing else. “Perhaps to the mortal world for a while. I’d like to see the changes for myself.”

“Will you ever return?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His question remains suspended in the air among the lanterns. He has stopped the idle walking and now faces you, aware that his expression is beseeching. He cannot help it. He cannot help himself. He thought his stubbornness would overrule yours, but he has failed. You are within his Dreaming, but not a part of it. They call you the Queen of Nightmares, but he wishes…oh, how he wishes...for more. A Queen of Dreams and Nightmares.

You slide your hand away from his elbow and cross your arms. Defensive. Strong. Your eyes alight with that inner fire – the fire he saw on your first meeting, the eternal passion that burns within you. He could stare forever into your eyes and never tire of it even if eternity passed he found himself at the end of all things.

“I would return if my friend Dima could return alongside me.”

“Is that so?” he murmurs. “Your affection for her has not waned.”

He traces the shape of your smirking mouth.

“Do I seem a fickle Goddess to you?”

“No,” he replies, “you have shown stalwart loyalty.”

You tear your gaze from him and look up into the sky – no doubt searching for your lantern among the others. Dream finds it. He coaxes it downward with gentle wind and a soft hand until the lantern is floating between you. The ribbons wave and flutter, waiting for its next journey into the dark sky. He can guess your wish. You wish for freedom. A wish that he – and only he – can grant. But indulging in your wish will leave him...in a world without you.

“One ribbon for each sister,” he guesses.

“One for Dima,” you lift the dark blue one, “and two for my sisters.”

He feels the ribbon slip from your fingertips and Dream nudges the lantern back into the sky with a small flourish of his arm. “She was my first friend,” you say quietly, “I didn’t consider myself friends with the other Gods. Not really. And my relationship with my sisters...it was close to friendship, I believe, but still...different. Dima chose me.”

The music and sounds of revelry dull around him.

“She worshiped you and she served you,” Dream says, “we...Gods, Endless, we don’t have friends nor do we need them. I am not friends with any of my subjects.” He is close to his ravens, he supposes, but the word ‘friend’ doesn’t fit correctly. It hangs like an overly large coat.

You wave him off in a flippant gesture. “You don’t understand, Morpheus.” You watch your lantern float into the sky among the pinpricks of flickering orange and gold. “And I do not expect you to. I am neither God nor Endless, as I live between worlds.”

Dream takes a step closer. “If it’s friendship you desire, then I can create a hundred friends for you, each more wonderful than the last.”

“I don’t want creations, Dream.” You frown. “You could create an identical twin to Dima, but it would not be her...and I would miss her all the more for it.”

You were happier when Dima was here. He knows this. But, his decision cannot be so quickly undone.

“In time,” he begins, “I will allow Dima to return. I will lift her banishment.”

You shrug and your expression...closes. He feels it like an icy wind at his back. You are withdrawing and retreating. A protective shell encompasses you instead of the bright, white-hot, and righteous anger that he is familiar with. It is at this moment that Dream realizes he misses you. You stand a foot away and yet he cannot reach you. You may as well be on the other side of the Dreaming – if the Dreaming bothered with meddlesome things like directions and width. He has caused you pain and suffering beyond the grief and agony that you dutifully hide.

A raindrop lands on his cheek. He steps closer. His hands are trembling. He wills them to close, to stop. Your head tilts to the side – and he knows that there is some part of you, no matter how weakened or buried, that senses his fear. He is afraid to lose you. He is afraid to let you go. Another step.

“You have done your duty, Morrigan.” He exhales.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You scan Dream’s face for deception, but he is unsmiling and serious. There is no humor to him. He is all dark angles and dark hair and keen, sharp eyes. Your heart trips inside your chest. You lick your lips and step closer as if drawn by an invisible string to him, and your breath shudders from within. Is he saying what you think he’s saying?

“Am I free to leave the Dreaming?”

Dream’s hand cradles the side of your face. The Dream Lord is to be my undoing. You remind yourself of your sister’s prophecy, but it no longer holds weight. If Morpheus was your death and your doom, then surely it would have happened by now. Your older sister was never wrong, but maybe her death rendered her prophecies obsolete. You inhale sharply as Dream’s thumb skates across the delicate skin below your eye.

“You are,” he whispers, “and you are free to return as you wish. The Dreaming will be open to you…and to Dima as well.”

Your fingers crawl along his chest and grip the lapels of his woolly coat. “Do you promise?” Be it God, or Endless, their word is their bond.

A heavy weight presses into your chest. You have dreamed of your eventual release a million times, but you never imagined it would look like this surrounded by flickering paper lanterns and twirling ribbons beneath a palace made of glass. His eyes widen imperceptibly, but otherwise, his expression remains grave.

“Yes.” He rests his forehead against yours. “As long as you promise to return.”

“Very well,” you say and the words come out choked, congested with relief and euphoria. Freedom at last. Freedom. A chance for a reunion just as you had wished. Dream collects your hands and joins them with his at the center of his chest.

Dream whispers, “Until next we meet.”

#dream the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x you #reader insert #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #dream the endless x the morrigan

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lifeofresulullah · 1 month

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The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): Before His Birth, His Birth and His Childhood

The Prophet is Given to a Foster Mother

The universe, which rejoined its master was joyful. The heart of the Arabia, which harbored the person that would provide the heart of the humanity with light and peace, was very excited.

Makkah, in which the unmatched event of the universe took place, was so excited and joyful that it was as if it wanted to fly to the lofty realms.

Hazrat Amina was peaceful and jubilant. It was as if the sweet smiles of her lovely child were helping her to forget a tinge of the intense pain that she felt over her husband’s death. Her child was her only consolation that secured her hope for the future.

The fortunate Amina could only suckle her glorious child for week. After this, Abu Lahab’s handmaiden, Lady Suwayba became the wet nurse of the Master of the Universe and suckled him for days.

Before that, Lady Suwayba had nourished Hazrat Hamza. In this way, she had attained the fortune and honor of being the means in joining the Holy Prophet (PBUH) and his esteemed uncle as foster brothers.

The Master of the Universe (PBUH), who possessed such virtue and feelings of faithfulness, never forgot the smallest favors that people did for him, nor did he leave them unrequited. Throughout his entire life, he never forgot Lady Suwayba who nourished him for a period of time. He would frequently visit her and would always show her kindness, respect, and pay her compliments.

Yes, faithfulness was the foundation of good manners that the Holy Prophet (PBUH) brought to the face of the Earth. The smallest trace of ingratitude cannot be found in the immaculate and upright life of our Beloved Messenger (PBUH).

At one point in time, Hazrat Khadija, who had taken lessons from the Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) virtue and gratitude, wanted to purchase Lady Suwayba, who would frequently visit Hazrat Khadija’s home, for the purpose of setting her free; however, Abu Lahab did not lend himself to this idea. It was not until after the Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) migration to Medina that Abu Lahab freed Lady Suwayba on his own.

Abu Lahab was our Holy Prophet ‘s (PBUH) own paternal uncle. Afterwards he did not testify and admit to the Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) Prophethood; he did not forsake being a pagan and did not refrain from his attempts in being our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) biggest enemy, either. For this reason, he incurred the wrath of Allah and did not earn a value that is equivalent to the nail of his slave, Lady Suwayba. In fact, it has been explained that because of Lady Suwayba, Abu Lahab has obtained a driblet of grace in the afterlife.

After his death, he was seen in a dream where he was found screaming in the severe punishment of hell. They asked him: “Why are you screaming? What is the matter?”

He answered: “What else could be the matter? The absence of water is making me burn! I never saw any good in my life, yet I did find one fortune: Because I set the woman, who nourished Muhammad, free, I have been spared the opportunity to absorb water and be watered” and as he said this, he showed his index finger (the finger that testifies faith).

This incident is certainly a case in point. A ferocious enemy of Islam, like Abu Lahab, who did not refrain from oppressing, torturing, and insulting the Master of the Universe throughout his entire life, was the recipient of such beneficence and grace and a tinge of his punishment in hell was alleviated. This means that goodness done not only upon our Beloved Messenger PBUH, but also upon those who have served him, is also not left unrequited by God Almighty’s grace and beneficence.

In addition, one should think of the greatness in gifts, favors, and Divine endowments of the eternal realm that are awaiting those who have made the Master of the Universe (PBUH) their absolute imam and guide in every matter and the true believers who have felt honored to uphold his Sunnah on the Earth .

The Custom of Giving Babies to Wet Nurses

Mecca’s weather was hot and muggy. It did was not good for the children’s delicate nature and was not a favorable condition for a healthy upbringing. In the desert, the weather was nice, the water was sweet and clean, life was easy, and the climate was mild. Besides, some of the tribes that lived in the desert had a language and diction that was smooth and sharp. They maintained their nobility and practiced good conduct.

Based on this, the Qurayshi gentry and leading figures practiced the custom of handing their children over to the tribal women in the desert to be breastfed for a cost, so that their children could grow and be brought up under healthier conditions and to learn and speak a dialect of Arabic that was appropriate in its essential form. The child would remain with his/her wet nurse for 2-3 years, and sometimes even more.

For this reason, many tribes that lived in the uplands/prairies, Sa’d bin Bakr’s tribe in particular, would have a caravan of women go to Mecca a few times a year in which the women would take the newly-born infants with them to their homeland for the purpose of nourishment.

Among the tribes in the vicinity of Mecca, Sa’d bin Bakr’s tribe was the one that had acquired fame since it was distinguished for its honor, generosity, chivalry, humility, and speaking Arabic properly. For this reason, the leading figures of Quraysh mostly wanted to hand the custody of their children over to the women of this tribe.

The Arrival of the Women from Bani Bakr’s Tribe to Mecca

The Holy Prophet (PBUH) was being nourished by Lady Suwayba.

At that time, a strong drought was prevalent in the homeland of Sad’s sons although such a strong drought had not occurred till then. The drought resulted in a famine that left the tribal community poor and miserable. It was so bad that they had difficulty finding something to eat. Their camels and sheep had weakened and their milk had ceased.

During this year of intense famine and drought, the tribeswomen of the Bani Bakr had gone to Mecca in a crowded procession with the intention of finding a child to nourish and of obtaining a portion of their livelihood.

All of the women, with the exception of one extraordinary lady, had chosen a child who was appropriate for them. Strangely enough, none of them chose nor approached our Beloved Messenger (PBUH) because they thought they would not be able to obtain much money and help since he was an orphan.

There was only one woman who arrived late in Mecca. She was distinguished among her tribe for her decency, cleanliness, gentleness, and modesty. Due to their old and frail donkey, Halima and her husband had fallen behind the rest of the procession. When they entered Mecca, all of the newly-born Qurayshi children, with the exception of one very extraordinary infant, had been chosen by the women of the Bani Bakr tribe that were in the forefront. With the fate and wisdom of the Possessor of the Absolute Power, Halima could not find anyone in need of nourishment.

Her husband, Harith, was sad, too. All of their friends shared the children of the wealthy families among themselves. She was the only one who was left empty-handed and it was only because she arrived late.

This virtuous woman, who now had a pale and sad countenance and was unaware of the plan that Divine fate had drawn for her, wandered the streets of Mecca with despair and the distress of not being able to find an appropriate fitting child.

Incidentally, she encountered an old man with a friendly face and who, through his presence, summoned the respect of his surroundings. This individual was Abdulmuttalib, the grandfather of the Master of the Universe (PBUH). They looked each other as if they had been looking to become the relief for their troubles. Then they began to engage in conversation:

Abdulmuttalib asked, “Where are you from?”

Halima: “I am a woman from the Bani Sa’d Tribe” (Sons of Fortune/Luck)

Abdulmuttalib: “What is your name?”

She answered, “Halima”.

Abdulmuttalib: “How wonderful! How wonderful! Fortune and gentleness are two traits that carry the beneficence of this world and the honor and glory of the afterlife” After he said this, Abdulmuttalib took a deep breath and followed with: “Oh, Halima! I have an orphaned child next to me. I offered him to the women of the Sons of Sa’d but they did not accept him. Come and be the wet nurse of this child. Maybe you will attain prosperity, wealth, and fortune for taking care of him”.

At first, Halima became hesitant upon hearing this unexpected offer. However, she did not want to return to her homeland empty-handed. For this reason, she overcame her hesitation and accepted the offer from within. Nevertheless, she did not want to disclose her answer without first asking and receiving permission from her husband. She immediately returned to her husband and after she explained everything to him she said, “I was unable to find a child to nourish. I do not favor going back empty-handed among my friends. By God, I am going to take that orphan”.

Her husband, Harith, supported her view and said, “There is no harm in taking him. Perhaps Allah will endow us with prosperity and blessings thanks to him”.

Upon this, they returned to Abdulmuttalib.

Abdulmuttalib took Halima to Hazrat Amina’s modest home which the Beloved Prophet (PBUH) illuminated.

Halima went to our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) bedside. Our lovely Master (PBUH) was wrapped in a white fabric made from wool and was sleeping soundly on a blanket of green yarn. The surrounding smelled like musk!

Halima was in a state of amazement. She immediately warmed up to this child so much that she could not bear to wake him up!

The cloud of gloom and anguish had left Halima. She was so happy that it was as if she was walking on air. It was such a great bliss to have suddenly come across an infant of excessive beauty after squirming in the distress of not being able to find a child.

Halima could not resist anymore. She neared the Master of the Universe’s (PBUH) bedside very closely and slightly lifted the corner of his blanket. With a mother’s love and compassion, she kissed his forehead and hands that smelled like roses and that were softer than cotton and as white as snow.

At that moment, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) opened his eyes and replied to Halima’s kisses with a sweet smile. They got along with one another.

While one of them was in despair because of not being able to find a child, worn out, and downhearted, the other was a radiant orphan who had been rejected by the women. Fate had filled both of their worlds with happiness.

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

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Unexpected Places (Pt. 02 of 11)

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless X Reader/Bjorn X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: As a princess, you've lived in a golden cage all your life, always a piece on someone else's game. But everything changed when the Norsemen came crushing down on Wessex, like waves in a violent storm. Their king spared your life and decided to take you with him to his kingdom, in what felt more like a rescue than a kidnapping. There, you were not only confronted with a completely different culture and lifestyle, but also with two of his sons. The oldest one has his eyes set on you, but it's the youngest one, Ivar, who gets who claimed your attention since the first sight. And he seems to have an unnamed interest in you. Of course you hoped whatever that was would pass, but when unexpected feelings start to flow a different way, things begin to change.

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{Vikings Masterlist}

A Christian Among Vikings

It takes two days to share your entire life with the Queen of Kattegat, but she did seem interested after you started. Mostly on the parts where you give voice to everything you couldn't stand. The lies and hypocrisy. That, Aslaug loves, and you have no trouble telling her that. It feels good to say all these things without the fear of being caught.

So, since today you'll finally go to the feast they're still having for the third night on a roll to celebrate this year's raid, you relax in the tub, the warm water slowly getting colder, a sign that you'll have to leave soon.

You're stretching your legs, watching the water drops rolling from your ankle to your knee, before falling back into the water. “Aslaug, where's the–” The voice makes you turn your head at the door, pulling your legs down to the safety of the water. Ragnar stands there, wide eyes and mouth half-open. “I thought this was my wife.”

“Well, it isn't so go away.” Thanks to the distance, you know he can't see anything, but even so, it makes you uncomfortable.

“I live here, do you know that?” He snaps back and you roll your eyes.

“I don't care. I'm not your wife so get out.”

“This is my–”

“Get out!” You raise your voice, throwing water at him. “Or I'll scream for help.” You're not scared of Ragnar, and you don't think he'll try anything. But you know him enough to know he's a teaser, and he loves putting people in uncomfortable positions.

He raises an eyebrow, shrugging his shoulders. “Then do it.”

Squinting your eyes, you move closer to the edge, making sure he won't be able to see anything. “Help!” You shout, trying not to laugh. The situation is quite funny, and, if he wanted to try anything, he'd already moved. So you decide to play along. “Somebody help me!” When you hear footsteps, you smirk victoriously. But, when another man comes in, the smile fades, and out of instinct, you cross your arms over your chest.

“What's going on here?” The guy asks, confused as hell, furrowing his eyebrows at you and then at Ragnar.

“Princess, this is Hvitserk, my son, who so bravely came to your rescue.” Ragnar starts, pacing around to the other edge of the room. “Hvitserk, this is (Y/N). Aslaug has been keeping her in here I have no idea why.” He sounds a little pissed, but you don't mind him in the back, your eyes focused on his son.

“Hi.”

“Would the two of you just leave?” Now you're annoyed, running a hand through your soaked hair. Relieve washes over you when Aslaug comes through the door, her eyes quickly finding her husband.

“What's going on here?” She mutters, and through the corner of your eye, you see Ragnar already moving.

“Just came to take this.” He answers, showing her something you can't see, right before leaving, grabbing his son's arm and pulling him along.

“Your husband is a complete idiot.” You say, relaxing once again.

“I noticed.” She gestures at the dress she brought you, laying on a chair. “Get dressed. I'll do your hair like a Viking woman and you'll join the feast tonight.”

Doing as she says, you put on the dress, which is different from everything you ever wore. The fabric is strong, yet beautiful, in a wonderful shade of blue with golden details that look like flowers. Aslaug braids your hair, way too patiently, and when she's done, you do look like a Viking. She even teaches you how to paint your eyes, and you wonder why she changed so much in these two days. As you wait for her to get ready, with the aid of her slaves, you decide to ask.

“Why are you being so nice to me now?” Playing with the tip of one of the many braids, you rest your back against the chair you're seated on. “When I got here I thought I'd end up living with that Lagertha.”

“Because it's more than rare to find a Christian I don't find stupid.” Dismissing the girls, she stands up. You're not entirely sure that was a compliment, but you decide to take it. “And I have the feeling, mostly after everything you told me, that this was most of a rescue than a kidnapping.”

She has a point. “It certainly does.”

“Now, come. Today I want to introduce you to the town.”

“Introduce me?” Following her, you wonder what that's about.

Aslaug doesn't answer, and it doesn't take much until you start hearing the feast. How long do these things last? Is the third day and it doesn't seem like anyone is tired. The moment the Queen enters, some heads turns, and, as she stands right before her chair, a silence starts to fall. You stat in the back, waiting to see what's going on when she gestures for you to come. Taking a deep breath, you move to stand next to her.

Many eyes lie on you. Probably all of them. You can identify hate, curiosity, disgust, indifference... And other things you can't quite place. At least you look like one of them... It must be of some help.

“People of Kattegat, this is Princess (Y/N), daughter of King Ecbert of Wessex,” Aslaug speaks, loud and clear. “She was brought here by my husband, and now will live among us.” That gets some people talking. They're not particularly excited about a Christian among them... You can't blame them. Your people kill them, and they kill your people back. They're like natural enemies. “I'm aware of the fact that you have no affection for her kind, and neither do I. So that's why she will tell you what she told me.”

A breath gets caught on your throat, and for a moment you feel like you're back home, forced to admit your sins, even though you haven't committed any. You've been in situations like this, but now, it's different. You can speak. You can let out the very thoughts that once had you imprisoned, confined to your chambers for days no end. Maybe they'll understand, unlike people in Wessex. Aslaug did. “Tell what?” You ask because you did speak great too many things with her. You have no idea where to begin.

“Tell them about your relationship with your faith.” She seems so secure, unbothered by how some men and women look so angry at this whole thing.

Taking a deep breath, you look ahead, eyes scanning through the room for any kind face... But it takes a long time until you find that Ragnar son who went to your rescue, Hvitserk. He doesn't look like he hates you, so you focus on him. “I have no love for the Catholic faith.” You start, stepping forward. “Since I was little, they've been telling me you worship false gods, made of stone, wood, iron, and silver. But they do the same.” Hvitserk furrows his eyebrows as if asking something. “My father himself spent hours repeating prayers for a cross made of gold. They accuse you of doing the same things they do.” If your older brother heard this, you'd be whipped, probably. “They're all hypocrites, punishing and condemning people for the same sins they commit, over and over again, and that I could never accept.” Chuckling, you move your eyes from Hvitserk, noticing how some angry faces are now... Inquisitive. “I was told you're all murderers, but so are they. So what if you come home covered by the blood of your enemies? Isn't that what a battle is? If it was me on the battlefield, I'd rather kill a hundred men than die by their hands.” The hall erupts on yells and shouts, hands being raised. It takes you by surprise, and for a moment, you're scared they heard enough, and decided to end your life right here and now. But the yells are from... Praising, approval. “And, as Ragnar Lothbrok as my witness, I'd rather face death than go back into the life I had there. If I can even call that a life.”

“That's true.” Bjorn raises his voice, coming from behind some men. “The moment she learned her father was dead, he stood before my father, ready to face her fate. I've never seen a Christian girl do that.”

“Don't forget about how she stood in the pouring rain with that idiot over there,” Ragnar says, pointing out his hand at Floki, who's standing on a chair or something, at the very back, watching the commotion.

Floki giggles, tilting his head at Ragnar. “Even though she can't swim. And don't get me wrong, I'd still rather she fell off to the mighty waves than have her here with us.”

“Don't say that Floki,” Aslaug warns, moving to sit on her chair. “I plan to make a Viking out of (Y/N) since she's more than eager to leave behind everything she once knew.”

“No doubt.” You mutter, wondering if this is it, if you can go sit down somewhere.

“What about that man, Edward?” Bjorn asks, coming to stand before you. He's so damn tall. You don't think you ever met a man this tall before. “You said something about a marriage.”

“Oh, that.” Rolling your eyes, you shrug your shoulders. “My father would have me dragged down the aisle in chains if it was necessary since the political implications of the union were... Delicate. But you guys decided to show up and ruin his plans. Thankfully.”

“Was he that bad?”

“The most disgusting man I've ever met in my life, so, as the Queen said herself a few moments earlier...” Turning at the people once again, you sigh. You don't expect to be accepted by everyone here, you just hope they won't hate you. Not so much, at least. “This was more like a rescue than a kidnapping.”

“Well, now that you know our new resident, I must make something very clear,” Aslaug speaks up, her voice rising above everyone else's. “(Y/N) is a free woman.” She takes a cup from the small table set next to her chair, spinning it in her hand, not bothering to look up from it. “Whoever touches her loses the balls, the hands, and the tongue... As a start.”

You giggle, thinking she's joking, but by the way, the silence persists for quite a long time, you understand that was no joke. And that's very good. That will surely keep them away from you.

“Well, let's celebrate!” Ragnar shouts, and everyone sets in motion again.

You're not sure where to go, so you find a table that's half-empty to sit down, taking a cup and filling it. Being isolated for two days with Aslaug didn't really help you being sociable, and it does feel like you're from two different worlds now. Because that's the truth, even though you're dressed like them. There's an invisible barrier keeping everyone distant, and not only for what Aslaug just said.

“Hey there.” Someone says as they settle down by your side. Hvitserk glances at you, kindly smiling. “Sorry about earlier. Heard a girl screaming, thought something bad was happening.”

“Well, something bad was happening. Your father was annoying me to death.” Taking a few sips from your drink, your eyes find that man again, Ivar. He's seated on Ragnar's chair, chatting with his mother. As if being called, he stares straight at you, suddenly angry.

“I see you already met my little brother,” Hvitserk mutters, and only then do you notice he had followed your gaze.

Clearing your throat, you look away. “Not really. But by the looks of it, he hates me.”

“I wouldn't say he hates you. Ivar is just... Not really fond of the idea of–”

“Of a Christian girl among us.” The voice comes from the head of the table, and when you raise your eyes, you see the man himself. But this time, you don't let his eyes pull you. Somehow, you manage to distract yourself. “You know you're only here because my mother wants to turn you into a Viking.”

“I'm not interested in being anything else than myself.” Drinking what is left on your cup, you sigh. “Haven't had the chance since I was born.”

“Do you really expect anyone here to believe you didn't like being a princess?” His tone is mocking you, a fake pity expression on his face.

“Being a princess in England might be fun if you just do as everyone says, no questions asked.” For some reason, you're pissed. Ivar pushed some button that got you suddenly annoyed, so you stand up, bending over the table to get the jar and refill your cup. But before you can reach it, Ivar takes the thing, drinking straight from it, some of the liquid dripping on his chin. Sighing, you squint your eyes at him, a humorless laugh escaping your lips.

“Here.” The voice gets your attention, and when you turn at him, you see Bjorn filling your cup again. “This one's better anyway.”

“Thanks.” Sitting back down, you give Ivar one last glance before taking long sips.

“Are you going to live here?” Bjorn asks. “Or are you going to live with my mother after all?”

“I'm staying.” Nodding, you look at him. His mother is the most famous shieldmaiden in the world, a skillful fighter. Also Ragnar's ex-wife, reason why Aslaug can't stand her. “The Queen already helped me settle on my chambers.”

“That's good.” He smiles, and a man pushes his shoulder quite violently. Bjorn turns to face him, cursing, but soon enough bursting into laughter.

Ignoring the two men, you look down at your cup, now almost empty again. Music starts playing suddenly, and it doesn't take much for people to start dancing. It gets louder as the minutes go by, and Ragnar and Floki stand on your table, moving around and laughing, kicking everything out. Your eyes follow the whole commotion, standing up and stepping away from the table when they get a little too close. But you don't mind. You've never seen people acting so... Crazy. So happy. And you can't stop smiling, seeing as other people join them.

“I bet you never saw anything like that,” Hvitserk says, raising his voice a little to make himself heard. “I know how boring the feats are in England.”

“This is so much better.” Ragnar jumps to the ground, but one of his legs get caught in between the bench and the table, making him fall. But on the next second, he's up again, a smile on his lips. “My brother would have a heart attack if he ever saw this.”

“Aethelwulf?”

“Yeah.” Someone bumps on your back, making you almost fall. But Hvitserk holds you up, and he seems quite confused to find you laughing. “What? It's alright, I like it. At least this chaos is real, people aren't faking it.” As your eyes move through the hall, you find Ragnar, behind this weird curtain made of leather. You didn't even know he left. “What's that weirdo doing over there?”

“He's observing.” Hvitserk answers, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “From back there, he can see who's sleeping with who. Who's not sleeping with who anymore, who may be plotting something to put him in a dangerous position.”

“Smart guy.” Nodding to yourself, your attention is stolen by the crowd, that starts moving outside, shouting something you can't really understand. “What's going on?”

“Someone's gonna fight. Come watch.” Hvitserk helps you walk among the people, all the way to the beach. Torches came out of nowhere, illuminating the night. Everyone seems oddly happy for this to be about a fight, but Hvitserck wasn't wrong. On the sand, the two men pace around each other, shouting, cursing.

“What's this about?” It happened out of nowhere, and you're not sure how serious this is. The warriors are clearly pissed at each other, but the public is cheerful. This is when you feel how new and different this culture is. Something like this would never happen back at Wessex, and it will take a while for you to get used and understand how things work here. It's a shock, a sudden impact.

“They're both in love with the same woman. She claims she loves both, but they won't share.” Hvitserk explains, as someone passes him a torch, which he holds up high. “The one who survives gets to be with her.”

“Damn.” You mutter as the two men start attacking each other. You've never seen an actual fight. Girls aren't allowed on the battlefield, mostly not a princess. The only glimpses you had were from soldiers training, and it was nothing compared to this. This is violent, powerful, and you can't help but be impressed by their skills. Of course they're good. They're Vikings, a freaking force of nature, they had told you back in England. It's impressive how they keep getting back up, even after so many wounds. Cuts, punches, everything.

A particular loud shout coming from the crowd gets your attention. It's Ivar, seated on the sand, eyes shining and a bright smile on his lips. He's enjoying this. Everyone is, actually. And once again, as if you called his name out loud, he turns to look at you. And somehow you know exactly what he's looking for. Fear, desperation. He wants to see if you're scared.

But... You're not.

Every single person here is joyfully yelling, and those two men choose their fates. They're not being forced to it, it was their decision, as it was yours to stand up, neck exposed, ready for the ax Ragnar was holding. They're choosing to face death, fearlessly.

Then, your eyes aren't on Ivar anymore, but following the men's every move. It doesn't take much for you to gasp and yelp when one or the other successes to throw a blow. You feel like a savage, laughing at the thought of what your father and brother would say if they saw you now.

When the tallest man, with long dark hair, falls dead, the crowd goes insane. The victorious raises both his hands, still holding an ax. A woman comes from the crowd, hugging and kissing him. “That's insane.” You chuckle, running a hand through your braided hair. “Teach me.” The request comes out suddenly, and you don't even give it much thought.

“Are you sure about it?” He asks, looking down at you. Hvitserk is being nice to you, and that's a surprise.

“I mean, I could never be a shieldmaiden but... I'd like to know how to defend myself.”

“Well, I've got nothing to do tomorrow, so I guess we could start.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you smile. “Thanks. You're the quickest and... Probably the most real friend I've ever made.”

“Yeah, you'll need someone to help you out around here until you get the hang of things. Ragnar gave me this task.”

“Oh...” Looking down, you start walking back to the hall, following Hvitserk's pace. Maybe it was a little stupid to expect him to be so nice to you. “You don't have to. I will get used to things on my own.”

“I didn't mean it like that.” He quickly responds, leaving the torch on some post along the way. “You're pretty cool, actually. For a Christian. You've been a good friend so far.” He gives you a glance and a smirk. “And I don't have to obey my father, you know.”

Blushing a little, you giggle. “Thanks again, then.”

“Now, get a good night sleep and get ready for tomorrow, I mean...” Hvitserk takes a look over his shoulder, a little too dramatic for your taste. “If my older brother doesn't mind it.”

“What do you mean?” Following his gaze, you find Bjorn staring. He doesn't seem angry, but he's not happy either.

“I think Bjorn likes you.”

“And? If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have watched the fight.” Shrugging your shoulders, you stop at the entrance of the hall, waiting as the crowd moves inside. “You've done more for me than he did tonight.”

“So you enjoyed the fight?”

“I have no idea why, or how, but I did.” Nodding, you smile again. “Now, friend, let's drink some more, and maybe I'll consider dancing.” Gesturing at the hall, you both walk in.

The warmth is welcome, and you soon find your way back to the table. But, as you sit down, you see Ivar again, crawling. He moves fast, talking to a man. As he moves past your table, he gives you a stare. It's different from before, but you can't read it. His eyes, like magnets, attract you in a way you didn't even know was possible. You think about waving, or smiling, but then he looks away and disappears inside the house.

“Don't mind Ivar,” Hvitserk says, and you look down at your cup. “He'll get used to your presence.”

“Let's hope he will.”

@multific @revolution-starter @crackhead1-800 @youbloodymadgenius @clown-boyyy @kitten0394 @castielsangelx-blog @goldlion07 @midnightmystic @readsalot73 @xvxcarolinexvx @momowhoo @fangfoxy @msrawog @walkingonshunshine @alytavzla

#ivar the boneless imagine #ivar imagine #imagine ivar #ivar vikings #ivar the boneless #imagine ivar vikings #imagine ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless fanfiction #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar vikings x reader #ivar x reader #imagine vikings #vikings x reader #vikings fanfiction #bjorn imagine #imagine bjorn

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cienie-isengardu · 3 years

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Lin Kuei: Cryomancers

RELIGION <> ORIGINS / ARCHITECTURE <> FOOD <> FOR THE LIN KUEI <> ART <> CRYOMANCERS <> LIN KUEI SOCIETY <> MONEY & MATERIAL GOODS

The continuation of the morgianesffs-blog’s list of questions about Lin Kuei. I initially divided them into smaller categories and the cryomancers will be the subject of this essay.

For the formalities, the original questions:

Question about the Cryomancers. I know the game lore says that they are supposed to be rare, but I also know that the Lin Kuei have had at least 5 (grandpa, papa, older, and younger Sub Zero, and Frost). 4 of which are part of 3 generations that inherited it even with mixed blood (I'm assuming Mama Sub Zero wasn't Cryomancer since they left her alone).

That's a lot of generations in a row for a rare trait... So do you think the Cryomancers as a group have figured out they're being hunted and have chosen to live in hiding?

Looking at the sources, my personal theory is that the true problem is not that cryomancers are rare per se but that not every of their descendents:

is capable of using ice powers.

will survive long enough to develop and control the freezing abilities

Johnny and Cassie Cage are the best analogy for point A - both are the descendants “of an ancient Mediterranean cult who bred warriors for the gods”[MK9!Johnny’s bio] and thus possess special - and at least in theory rare - genes. Johnny is one of the top Earthrealm Champions yet he, canonically, managed to use his inner power only once, in a fight against Shinnok to protect Sonya. When Cassie was born, she had a very high chance to inherit Johnny's rare genes and because of that was the potentially future champion. Coming from Briggs-Blade-Cage family gaves Cassie a lot of opportunities to develop her fighting abilities, first because of strong ties to military and later also to other meritorious Earthrealm defenders. Yet like father before, the inner power was activated only under strong pressure, while protecting her family from Shinnok. And despite all the access to additional powerful mentors (Raiden, Sub-Zero, Bo' Rai Cho, Fujin and maybe even Scorpion), she still struggles with mastering the power - and with using it at will. And let’s be real here, Cassie is a superb warrior in her prime of life - if someone like her struggles with mastering ancient power, most who happen to be also descendants of these warriors may never use it even once during their lifetime.

And here comes my feeling that Lin Kuei could have even dozen descendents of cryomancers at the same time yet only few will truly be able to discover their potential and even less to master it (and only one, the best, will use the title of Sub-Zero). It is outright said, that freezing powers are hard to control and are usually mastered at the latest stages of life, as we were told by Mythologies: Sub-Zero in-tie material:

Sub-Zero learned of his ability as a young adult. It was passed on to him by his father, a fourth generation Lin Kuei warrior himself. The ability to harness the element of cold is one that takes years of practice. It's full potential realized only by those who've mastered it at the latest stages of life. Sub-Zero's skills have the ability to develop much faster than those of the other Lin Kuei. [source]

By logic, if naturally cryomancers need years to get a grip of their power but Bi-Han’s skills developed much faster than the rest and it happened when he was already a young adult (a person in their teens or early twenties, max thirty?), then most cryomancer learn how to use their ability as an adult (25-30+ years old?). Now, considering the mortality of warriors in this brutal profession and harsh system of punishment, not many cryomancers will live enough to truly develop ice powers. They do, however, can pass the genes to the new generation and it seems as something happening from ancient times. Except not every baby with their special genes will be taken by Lin Kuei and though limited sources, it seems like female cryomancer are not the main target.

My personal theory for this is based around pregnancy and how difficult it must be to carry a child with special powers that may or may not manifest itself in the least expected moment. The conscious use of power of course requires experience and control but in the unborn child it could result from independent stimuli that affect both the child and mother. So a mother with cryomancer genes probably has a better chance to give birth to a healthy offspring and not to die in the process (thus producing another child(s)) than a full-blood human one. Also, the two known examples of the not taken by Lin Kuei female descendants of cryomancers were the youngest children (and in the case of MK Conquest TV series, one was born after her brother's kidnapping). So there is a possibility that Lin Kuei intentionally does not take every available child, in order to not "break the genealogical line" and in result, cut their source of new warriors.

(The other reasons I can think of why female cryomancers may not be the main target for Lin Kuei are:

A) some biological complications that makes female cryomancer with active ability much rarer, thus the uneven ratio of known Lin Kuei male to female ice warriors. This could fuel Frost’s ego (the rare example of female cryomancer with powerful freezing abilities) but also her anger for not recognizing her skills and/or right to the title of Sub-Zero by Kuai Liang.

B) cryomancer’s strong sense of family ties thus natural instinct to protect their own. So if a female ice warrior gets pregnant, taking the child from her could be a pretty hazardous thing, especially if blood-related cryomancers are somehow emotionally/psychologically bonded with each other. In the past, the one Grandmaster who wanted to punish (male) Sub-Zero for helping Great Kung Lao (who saved Sub-Zero's biological family) got killed in the process. And this Sub-Zero was kidnapped years ago so he knew his family only from some distant memories yet despite the lack of real interaction with biological parents and sister (born after his disappearance), he allied with the enemy to pay the debt and killed his superior without a second thought. Then we have MK9!Kuai Liang who against Grandmaster’s orders ran away from Lin Kuei to avenge brother’s death because the clan did not tell him what happened to Bi-Han. So it seems that once a biological family is threatened, the (male) ice warriors get pretty agressive and openly disobedient. Now imagine how far would a female cryomancer go if her child was put in danger by the clan. I mean, keeping cryomancers in check is a pretty hard thing on normal days and in times of family critical matters even worse.)

Another useful information comes from Grandmaster [MK Conquest TV series, episode 3 - Cold Reality] who said about then currently in-training Sub-Zero:

So rare. Centuries have passed since one such as this has been among us.

Which could be interpreted as either Lin Kuei did not have a cryomancer for centuries or did not have a cryomancer who developed strong freezing abilities so fast(?). I personally think it is the latter because cryomancer power is described as “ancient” and if there wouldn’t be any cryomancer for centuries, the knowledge about the ice-wielder could be lost and forgotten. Of course, as the Grandmaster, the man could be simply familiar with clan history and lore but dunno, it seemed like he knew what to expect and how to force still-in-training Sub-Zero to develop his powers. Which, in all honesty, was pretty brutal and from what was shown on screen, involved throwing hot coals on the warrior’s bare back. What is painful for a normal person, even more for someone whose body is built to withstand freezing temperatures, not the heat. So, either there was a book with all the bad tips on how to train cryomancer in case you get one or the grandmaster actually had some experiences to compare Sub-Zero abilities with other candidates and/or ice warriors.

Frankly, I have this really old theory of mine, that fleeing from Outworld cryomancers had a deal with Lin Kuei - in exchange for the help and shelter, the cryomancer agreed to give some of their children to the clan. Thus from ancient times, warriors with ice-powers served Lin Kuei and passed the duty from one generation to another. However, with the passing time and mixing with native people, their natural abilities regressed to the point some branches of the cryomancer family could be declared as extinct, as in, not possessing the right combination of genes. In result forgetting their own legacy only for the power unexpectedly activating generations later. In Mortal Kombat Conquest TV series, the family of a kidnapped years ago cryomancer boy did not have any(?) clue why Lin Kuei targeted them. Something similar could happen to Bi-Han and Kuai Liang in an alternative timeline, thus the unusual abduction mentioned in Kuai Liang’s MK9!BIO:

"An assassin of the Lin Kuei clan, Kuai Liang commands the power of ice and cold. Unlike other members of his clan, he and his older brother, Bi-Han, were abducted as children by the Lin Kuei and trained in the techniques of assassination throughout their lives [...]”

If that would be true, the Lin Kuei could keep eye on every known descendent of cryomancer species (run away or simply living in ignorance) and kidnap only a few selected children. Of course, some family members tried to hide their children from Lin Kuei, which was seen in the original timeline. In this case, the mother of Bi-Han and Kuai Liang tried to save them from their father, a faithful Lin Kuei warrior.

I will be honest here, I always thought that mom of ice bros was simply a normal but unlucky woman who somehow got involved in assassin clan matters. Yet Mythologies: Sub-Zero tie-in materials gave an interestingly input about the family situation:

Their mother wanted a normal life for her sons, who had already been chosen by the Lin Kuei to become warriors for the clan. She tried in vein to hide them from their father whose own life in America was only a cover for his true identity and purpose. Eventually they were found and their father returned with them to his homeland. Their mother and sister were never seen or heard from again.

The most standing out informations (hints):

→ the children weren’t randomly kidnapped but chosen by the clan. In the case of Bi-Han and Kuai Liang, the choice makes sense since they came from a family serving Lin Kuei for at least the last four generations (while their father alone was Sub-Zero himself). Yet their sister, most likely the youngest child, was not included. So she was still too young or wasn’t meant to become a warrior at all. Either due to lack of potential or because of some unknown to us clan politics forbidding taking all children. The most intriguing is how the clan determined who should be chosen or who left in peace. Like, was the clan so versed in genetic science to predict things like that or did they have other (magic?) ways to predict (check) whether it was worth taking the indicated child? Were the children prematurely tested before the decision was made?

Additionally, in MK Conquest TV series, the Grandmaster sounds pretty sure about Sub-Zero’s freezing abilities before the warrior himself started consciously use them:

“He has trained his whole life. His fighting skills are unmatched among us… yet it is only now that he truly begins… for it is his destiny to carry to battle ancient powers. The time has come to unleash them.” [Episode 3, “Cold Reality”].

What could explain why Lin Kuei took only the boy yet did not come for his younger sister born to the same parents (thus having in theory the same chances to inherit the wanted genes).

→ the mother seemed to be aware about Lin Kuei and the clan's interest in her children, so for all we know she actually could be one of them or be more involved in her partner (husband?)’s criminal activity. This is an interesting idea in context of her desire to give her sons a normal life. The mother tried but failed to hide the boys from Lin Kuei. She and the daughter weren’t seen nor heard of again what may imply both died… or, if mother was truly full trained Lin Kuei herself, she actually managed to run away with the daughter and hide so well. Anyway, if Kuai Liang and Bi-Han’s mother or sister survived long enough to give birth to another child, the Sub-Zero brothers could still have a biological family living somewhere, maybe even ignorant about the whole cryomancer legacy.

In summary, and this is really just my personal take on the matter, there are many more descendants of cryomancer species around the world than we know about. The problem lies in genetic variation that gives a freezing ability only to a handful of people. Some cryomancers were part of Lin Kuei for generations (and maybe get paired with genetically specific group of people for better breeding thus the continuity of ice warriors generations), some never learned about their true legacy and some knew and either seek out the clan (Frost) or tried shield their children from the cruel life of assassin. Sadly, it seems like Lin Kuei warriors were really good at tracking the right families to get children with certain abilities so even if at some point cryomancers decided to hide it did not save them in the long run. On other hand, cryomancer adepts are very stubborn and unwilling to let themselves forget about their biological family, so Lin Kuei balanced on thin ice with hunting down and training the descendants of cryomancers.

#mortal kombat #cryomancers #lin kuei #my replies #sub zero #bi han #kuai liang #mother of ice bros #mortal kombat mythologies #sorry it took me so long to do this #my analysis #johnny cage #and #cassie cage #are an interesting example how having special genes does not #guarantees the possibility of using the special powers that comes in pair

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we-pay-for-everything · 2 years

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It’s interesting how Stefan and Elena deal with Damon’s death in similar ways. Stefan gave up on searching for Damon because he felt it was pointless and that he had to move on, so he “started over” in a new town, working for an asshole at a repair shop and dating a normal girl. He was punishing himself for giving up on Damon and that’s why he ignored his friends and wouldn’t let himself go back to Mystic Falls. He even let himself get mistreated by a boss he could easily compel. He was obviously ashamed and felt like a bad brother, but you can’t fault him for giving up. He was grieving. I can’t imagine what it’s like you lose your brother, especially one who you thought would live forever so you wasted so much time hating and resenting him. Like Stefan said, Damon was finally happy and had changed for the better when he died. He and Stefan had become close again too. It’s unfair, because, all those years, all Stefan had wanted was his brother back. He finally had him and thought he had decades left to make up for lost time yet lost him just like that. So, yeah, Stefan’s grief is worse than Elena’s because he has so many regrets and old wounds that were reopened by Damon’s death. There are so many things he said and did to Damon that he can’t take back and so much time they could’ve spent together had they not both been so stubborn. Regret and guilt are the worse - they destroy you completely.

But Elena handled Damon’s death a bit like Stefan. First, she had hope - in her case, it was more like denial - and she hallucinated Damon to cope, but, then, when she realized it wasn’t working (she almost killed people), she tried to start afresh and erase his memory - similar to Stefan, except she took it literally. It says a lot about Stefan though, and the magnitude of his grief, that he didn’t even try to discourage Elena from forgetting about his brother. He understood her completely.

I enjoyed the scenes where Ric compelled Elena. Seeing Stefan handle things just as badly as Elena made me understand her decision better. I thought Elena finally seemed like her old self, and looking back at her memories of Damon cleared up a lot of questions I had about their relationship. I didn’t buy into it 100%, but most of it made sense to me.

The first time Elena felt that Damon was sexy was in the Miss Mystic Falls pageant - this tracks because you can see her attraction for him in that scene; when she first met Damon she was “scared”, but a good scared, thrilled - this makes sense too because she’s remembering the real first time they met, when she was just a happy teenager who still had her parents and would naturally find a hot older guy exciting; when Damon and her first kissed she felt bad because of Stefan - true; when she kissed Damon at the motel she really wanted to kiss him - duh; she first found out she was in love with Damon when she learned about the sire bond, yet knew her feelings were real - again, true. All of this is true, yet sort of erases every bad thing Damon did when she was with Stefan and how confused she was by Damon and by her feelings for him. However, the girl lost her boyfriend, so she wouldn’t be thinking about their rocky past - none of that is relevant in the face of his death and her grief.

What’s really interesting though, is the memory that is apparently the key to erasing all her feelings for Damon: the real first time she knew she loved Damon. She denied her feelings for Damon all throughout season 3 so it makes sense she wouldn’t want to admit to when she actually started having feelings for him. Like Caroline said, we all know they started when she was in love with Stefan, and Elena is a very faithful person who really loved Stefan and didn’t mean to fall for Damon too. However, I thought Elena first realizing she was in love with Damon at her 18th birthday party was a bit of reach. But I think the phrasing is key here: she fell for him “in that moment”. Elena said Damon had never been as selfless as when he gave her Stefan’s necklace back, even though it stung, just because he loved her and knew what the necklace meant for her - hope, protection, her connection with Stefan. Elena was obviously moved at the time, as she was every time Damon showed his selfless side, or proved to be someone she could rely on. Elena is very loyal, like I said, and I think she felt attracted to Damon in season 3 because he was also loyal and devoted to Stefan.

Regardless, I don’t honestly think she fell in love with Damon so early in the season, and the writers might have been retconning their relationship a bit to make it look more epic. Because it's hard to believe Elena realized she loved Damon, and that her love scared her, as far back as the first episode of season 3. Even if it was only in that moment, and something she subsequently erased from her mind, Elena didn’t seem at all scared at the party and didn’t even try to push Damon away - and we know she would’ve had she felt for even a second that she loved Damon (she did it in later episodes). I’ll just choose to interpret her words differently. “In that moment” (as she emphasized), Elena loved Damon, I would say platonically more than romantically, yet those feelings of attraction, which she could at least readily admit to having, flared up when Damon gave her the necklace, and that scared her. I think this makes much more sense from Elena’s pov.

Okay, I’m done now.

#tvd #elena gilbert #stefan salvatore #damon salvatore #delena

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vivithefolle · 3 years

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Not sure if you already talked about this. (I’m pretty sure you have) but someone seemed to notice that when the trio get into fights, Hermione’s always in the right. Even when she’s supposed to be wrong she always seems to be half right. That kind of bothers me. Especially since it’s evident in the whole Scabbers situation.

I have indeed, on Quora, so let’s move yet another answer of mine to Tumblr!

Hermione is seldom wrong in the Harry Potter books. Sometimes she makes mistakes but those mistakes are either completely swept under the rug or downright ignored.

It’s partly due to lazy writing and partly due to Rowling’s own growing bias in favour of her Author Avatar that was fuelled by Steve Kloves, the primary advocate of the Hermione Granger Is The Perfect Girl Ever line of thinking (an utterly ridiculous line of thinking mind you).

Lizo: Steve, Hermione is a character that you have said is one of your favorites. Has that made her easier to write?

Steve: Yeah, I mean, I like writing all three, but I've always loved writing Hermione. Because, I just, one, she's a tremendous character for a lot of reasons for a writer, which also is she can carry exposition in a wonderful way because you just assume she read it in a book. If I need to tell the audience something...

JKR: Absolutely right, I find that all the time in the book, if you need to tell your readers something just put it in her. There are only two characters that you can put it convincingly into their dialogue. One is Hermione, the other is Dumbledore. In both cases you accept, it's plausible that they have, well Dumbledore knows pretty much everything anyway, but that Hermione has read it somewhere. So, she's handy.

Now this, right here, is the exact core of the problem.

Rowling herself admits it: if she wants the readers to have information, she puts Hermione in the scene. Hermione is our primary means of exposition because, like *grits teeth* Sssssteve puts it, it’s easy to assume that she’s read about it somewhere and it makes sense.

That’s all well and good but at first, if you notice, Ron also gave us exposition about the wizarding world, mostly about its culture. He was able to recall the exact year of the Wizarding Confederation that outlawed dragon breeding in Philosopher’s Stone! He explained what were respectively a “Mudblood”, a “Squib”, and Parseltongue, Hermione doing a little exposition about the history of that last one! He was also able to identify Sirius, after being dragged into the Whomping Willow, as an Animagi!

But then Goblet of Fire happens and you can notice the first change that will exponentially grow through the books: instead of Ron, pureblood Ron, born-before-the-end-of-the-war Ron, lived-through-the-aftermath-of-the-war Ron, identifying the Dark Mark, it’s instead Hermione, muggleborn Hermione, lived-as-a-Muggle-for-most-of-her-life Hermione, has-no-idea-about-the-emotional-impact-of-the-Mark Hermione who looks terrified as the Dark Mark shoots into the sky!

And it only will get worse, by the end of the series, Hermione pretty much knows about everything the plot needs her to know, instead of having to work with things she knows but can’t always apply to the situation:

Suddenly has a deep knowledge of Magical Law (in the will of Dumbledore’s chapter, while we had Rufus Scrimgeour who could have provided it to us, or to a lesser extent, Ron could have explained how a wizarding will basically worked)

Is suddenly an expert at finding edible plants and mushrooms. Apparently books are always the goddamn answer in JKR’s world, you can literally learn anything from them

She can decipher all the Tales of Beedle the Bard (may I remind you that they were written in Runes, okay Hermione may have a few years of Ancient Runes education BUT I once tried to translate a 3k+ story I had written for fun, from French to English, which means I knew what the subtleties and intentions were, I knew which turns of phrase I had to preserve so it would make sense in the end, and it still took me two gruelling weeks to get a satisfying result!)

Has suddenly grown a sense of quick-thinking (escaping Xenophilius’ house, using the jinx to make Harry’s face weird-looking) despite it being the only remaining flaw she had at the time (remember when she turned her back on her enemy while he was still conscious just to compliment Harry, and almost died as a result, even though she had been training in the DA to learn how to fight Death Eaters?) Quick-thinking under pressure can be learned, but it takes time and a lot of work to force your brain to override its instinct - and it’s fine because we’re all human and different. But no suddenly Hermione is the Greatest Strategist Evah™ and those silly boys (who actually were the original quick-thinking ones, and one of them was established as the strategist early on) better be grateful for this literal goddess because she protects them from all harm with her superhuman brain.

Somehow knows about Quidditch stuff - she knows about a Snitch’s “memory-touch”. Why should she give all the answers? Why can’t Ron give us this particular tidbit of information?

And then when we come to something Ron actually knows, the damn narration itself goes “woah a book that Ron has read but Hermione hasn’t??? shocking!! incredible!! Ron is not dumb, somebody call the news channel”. But… is that really so surprising? We’ve never seen Hermione read wizarding fiction or even Muggle fiction. We’ve never seen Hermione with anything other than schoolbooks in her hands. Of course Ron has read books she hasn’t read since she doesn’t seem to read fiction at all!

Sorry, bit of a tangent over here.

There are only two characters that you can put it convincingly into their dialogue.

So, that’s one part of the problem: the fact that Rowling, after making Ron our insight into magical culture and Hermione our provider of knowledge, ended up saying “eh whatever I guess Hermione can tell us everything we gotta know because it’s more convenient for me”. Which is a decision that was not based on Hermione’s character, but simply lazy writing. Long story short, it probably went: “Could Ron explain this bit of trivia? Meh, better make Hermione say it cause she’ll have read it in a book. It’s convenient and I won’t need to bother myself with exploring Ron’s characterisation.”

(And thus completely forgetting that Ron could maybe ask his big brothers via owl and provide us with a good heap of extra advanced knowledge - Bill is supposed to have aced his NEWTs after all.)

The other part of the problem is quite simply that Hermione is more often than not, either painted as a victim by the narrative (which makes more people take her side, classic manipulation tactic), or made to be right anytime it’s about a plot point.

Hermione’s mistakes are never explicitly stated, corrected, or even pointed out as being unethical.

Hermione only gets one mistake expressedly pointed out as being a mistake: her misadventure in Polyjuice Potion. The rest of them? Even her crush on Lockhart can’t be counted as a mistake - people get crushes all the time, based solely on physical appearance, it’s not something awful or terrible (Except when it’s Ron who crushes on someone. Ron crushing on someone is absolutely forbidden, and he must be punished with much ridicule and humiliation if he thinks he can get away with not worshipping Hermione like the goddess she is. The nerve of him, really.).

Throughout the books Hermione eventually morphs into Rowling’s Powerful Angel of Vengeance, that punishes the people who dared to do something she disliked - Rita is silenced but at a very ethically dubious price; Marietta gets scarred for life because she was more loyal to her mother than to a bunch of people her friend insisted she hang out with; Umbridge is led to a very, very alarming fate that is never made clear but some people have ideas and they’re not all very kid-friendly; Ron first is “helped” without knowing it because Hermione can’t be bothered to have faith in his capabilities, then when he fails to dutifully reward her for “helping” him, she causes him bodily harm before actively bullying him for not mind-reading her interest in him; causes even more bodily harm to Ron because that’s how feminism works; etc.

Hermione’s mistakes are always justified through the plot itself (which is lazy writing).

Turning into a cat? Only affects her.

The Firebolt? Scabbers? Well, in the end, it was really sent by Sirius Black and Crookshanks really wasn’t the culprit. Therefore all the feelings that were hurt and all the trust lost are irrelevant because Hermione was right all along.

Trying to free the house-elves? Well, it’s the intent that counts, right? And we’re never told enough about house-elf lore to know whether they’re poor brainwashed victims or powerful Penate-like symbiotes who need to serve a wizard to survive?

Kidnapping Rita Skeeter, trapping her and blackmailing her? Rita may be one foul little beetle, but that’s going a bit far, isn’t it? Harry approves? Oh, well, I guess it’s okay then…? A main character can’t have a dubious morality, right?

Manipulating Harry into forming Dumbledore’s Army and forcing him to relive a traumatic event with the same woman she’s kidnapped and blackmail and that she knows he hates? In the end, it all works out for the best and Harry’s hurt feelings don’t matter since it’s all about the greater good.

Using the centaurs to get rid of Umbridge (which poses the highly distressing question of what did the centaurs do to her?), realizing that the centaurs aren’t nice little horsies that are going to gently obey her every orders like good Disney princess’ companions, my goodness could this be an opportunity for character growth - nevermind, here comes Grawp the Giant Ex Machina, saving her arse and protecting Hermione from all that scary possibility of introspection. Thanks, Grawp Ex Machina.

Trying to dissuade a highly stressed-out and irrational Harry from rescuing Sirius by telling him exactly what he needed not to hear, a.k.a. “you have a saving people-thing” which causes Harry to completely go bonkers and go save his godfather without thinking twice? Well she was right after all, it was a trap! Nevermind how mind-boggingly insenstive and inadept at dealing with someone else’s feelings she was being, she was right! That means it wasn’t Hermione’s mistake!… probably. (Geez, I’m sensing a pattern here…)

Endangering Cormac’s life (Confunding him WHILE HE’S ON HIS BROOM) to promote Ron’s success? Oh but that’s so romantic! (Yeaaaah, how romantic to display exactly how much faith you lack in your crush. Top it off with a broken neck and that’s a picture perfect first date!)

Assaulting Ron with magic and causing him even more scars than he already had? But he was being cold with her first, right? And he totally should have known she was asking him out! It’s not like her invitation was even worse than his attempt to ask her out two years earlier! Plus she’s just a teenage girl expressing her emotions, anyone who tries to find fault in this is a disgusting abusive misogynist pig! Ha!

Getting all jealous that Harry is better than her at Potions, then pretending she’s not jealous by claiming that TEH BOOK IS EVIL, HARRY, and giving him the cold shoulder too? But no, she’s right, look, Harry used Sectumsempra and he almost killed Draco, nevermind that he’s very horrified about it! Hermione was right, like she always is!

Hermione Obliviating her parents, which pulls her from the “ethically dubious” zone into the “wow okay I’m pretty sure that this counts as a violation of basic human rights” zone, makes her one of those quirky wizardfolk who have the privilege to control those simple-minded Muggles because it’s for the greater good? But nooo she’s crying about it so it’s obviously very sad and angsty and it shows her devotion to the cause!

Splinching Ron while fleeing from the Ministry? Eeeh, but he’s fine, they’ve got Dittany, he’s good as new!… blood loss? Anaemia? What’s that?

Hermione was wrong about the Deathly Hallows not existing? Um, um, that doesn’t matter, LOOK DOBBY IS DEAD AND HARRY IS BACK TO LOOKING FOR THE HORCRUXES!! Therefore Hermione was right, the Hallows weren’t important for their quest, therefore the Hallows might as well not exist, HERMIONE WAS RIGHT NO REALLY I’VE GOT RECEIPTS -

The books never forget to remind Harry and Ron of their own shortcomings and moments of weakness.

Harry’s wrath and recklessness cost Sirius his life. This is the lesson he has to learn from his entitled behaviour in OotP: actions have consequences, and the greater your responsibility, the greater the cost will be.

Ron’s envy and insecurity lead him astray; they’re used to humiliate, ridicule and torture him throughout the books. They’re supposed to teach him that he’s worth something - but how is he supposed to believe that, when nobody ever tells him he’s worth anything? When nobody ever apologizes to him? When his feelings are taken for granted over and over? When his two friends seem to discard him whenever he does one thing wrong?

Hermione is never punished. Hermione is never said to be wrong, never shown to be wrong, never called out on her behaviour. From Prisoner of Azkaban to mid-Deathly Hallows, she stays exactly the same character. She doesn’t grow up. She doesn’t learn. She doesn’t change. She has virtually no character arc.

The only time, THE ONLY TIME IN SEVEN BOOKS, the only time we have something remotely resembling a call-out of Hermione’s horrible behaviour is with this sole quote in HBP:

Harry was left to ponder in silence the depths to which girls would sink to get revenge.

Note how it’s about “girls” and not Hermione in particular, which implies that any girl would do what Hermione does to Ron. Thanks for the generalization, JKR, but I like to believe I’m actually a decent sort of person that doesn’t resort to petty cruelty and exploits my friends’ insecurities whenever I’m angry with them.

Hermione NEVER has to apologize. Hermione NEVER has to learn from her mistakes because she’s always presented as a victim when she really isn’t. Hermione NEVER develops into something more - she’s emotionally stuck at fourteen years old. Even less than that when you consider that her reaction to Ron’s return in Deathly Hallows is to trash him with her fists - and she was going to get her wand!! The utter psychopathic b- wanted TO THROW BIRDS AT HIM AGAIN!!! - and this reaction is an appropriate one for a four-years old girl, but certainly not for a supposedly “mature” seventeen-years old.

(Yes, because what separates a child from an adult is the ability to reign in your emotions and not succumb to your impulses. Exactly what Ron did when he left the tent (notice that he had drawn his wand, then he left before he could start hexing Harry), he left to calm himself down. Exactly what Hermione fails to do when Ron returns (she has the impulse to strike him and immediately succumbs to it, which proves to us that The Brightest Witch Of Her Age has all the maturity of a very small child).)

All of that, on top of the awful portrayal in the movies which removes all of Ron’s characteristics to stuff them into Hermione and turns her into some impossible epitome of perfection, eventually contributed to the portrayal of Hermione as the one who is always right and knows everything.

Add to it JKR’s own ridiculous bias (“Ron was quite emotionally immature compared to the other two”, yeah right I don’t see him trying to force freedom onto unwilling creatures or making Harry fly into an irrational rage with mere words but you do you, Jo) and the sexist misconception that “girls are innately more mature than boys”, and you get yourself this apparent behemoth of righteousness that was literally the sole reason why those two silly boys survived everything, and don’t you dare criticize this angel of perfection OR ELSE.

#vivi answers #ask #hermione granger critical #hermione granger #hermione critical #harry potter series #ron weasley #jk rowling #anti jk rowling

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yandere-wishes · 4 years

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Gambling man //Yandere Idia Shroud Gang AU//

This has got to be one of my longest fics so far, if only because I tried to stuff it with Greek mythology references. Let me know how many you guys can find!

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

I met you once, I loved you twice that's the way this tale begins

You took a deep breath, straightening your black dress for the third time that minute. You weren't supposed to be here, this wasn't something "good girls" did. They didn't lie to their mothers just to sneak out to casinos run by one of the seven notorious gangs of Night Raven city! But what choice did you have? Money was tight, you're mother's flower store was barely surviving. No one wanted freshly picked Forget-me-nots or bouquets of narcissus and roses! Any "normal" person in Night Raven city didn't have enough money to buy dinner for their families let alone an assortment of flowers. The truth was that no one in the city could ever make ends meet, not with the amount of "protection" money the seven gangs demanded. Each territory had a set price range, all inhabitants of those territories had to pay that exact price every two weeks, failure to do so would lead broken bones, burnt homes and as a last resort dead family members. Each time gang took over a rival gang's territory the price would increase as a sort of punishment for the residents. It was cruel, unjust, but then again so was the world.

You and your mother lived in the current "Purple territory" run by the Octavinelle gang, the greediest out of the dreaded seven. Ever since someone tipped the local cops off about a gang-related kidnapping, the "protection costs" had risen by 20%. Whoever was barley scavenging money back then was surely penniless at this point. So that's why you were here, hoping to somehow win enough money to pay at least a quarter of the next "protection rent". The blue division nicknamed the underworld was one of the better divisions. People there paid less, lived more prosperous lives, businesses their earned fair income somewhere even booming with business. One of the blue divisions most alluring aspects was the Night Long casinos, a place where people from all over the city tested their luck.

The skull doorknobs were icy to the touch, sending shivers up your spine upon contact. It was almost like you were willingly walking to your death. For a split second you closed your eyes, grounding your thoughts. This was stupid, everyone went to the casino when they were short on money. Of course if they actually gained anything -or lost what little they had- was all up to faith.

the bright lights glared from every corner. Blinding any who dared to open the metallic black door. Music reverberated off the walls, rushing to crush the guests. Everything was blinding and uproarious, beyond overwhelming for any newcomers. Your body shook, torso feeling too heavy for your frail legs.

"Fist time kid?" You turned around rapidly, a cold sweat broke over you, had you done something wrong? How could that even be possible? You just got here! When your attention shifted to the source of the voice you were momentarily stunned. Sitting behind a desk, a blue screen floating close to her face, was the most exquisite girl you had ever seen. Tiny black skulls decorated her curly blond hair, her fair milky skinned hand carelessly swiped through digital documents on a hovering Netscreen. Her Olympic blue eyes circled with heavy dripping black makeup, were fixed on you, bearing right through your soul.

Your voice refused to leave your throat, words stabbed the inside of your neck sticking themselves to your throat forbidding air through. The girl behind the receptionist's desk let out a haughty giggle before outstretching her arm beckoning you forward. Hesitantly you stepped over to her, body trembling with every step. As you approached she leaned forward a playful smirk shining over her face. "You're new here aren't you sweetie?" inelegantly you nodded. For a second a look of sympathy fashed over her divine features. "Money's tight huh?" again you nodded, head half away up something shined in the corner of your vision. A blue and back armband fastened tightly around her bicep. She was a member of the Ignihyde gang, not just some lowly secretary. The girl didn't seem to notice your staring, her eyes were darting across the packed rooms. "Those two bottom feeders seem to be occupied" she mumbled more so to herself. "That would just leave Ortho," cupping her hands around her mouth she yelled over the roaring music and endless chatter. In moments a young-looking boy skipped over....except he wasn't a boy at all! You're eyes frantically scanned the boy's stark white body. His feet resembled hooves more than usual feet. Half his face was covered by a muzzle of sorts that blended in the snowy appearance of his torso.

"Ortho, be a dear and show this young lady around, she's new and wants to earn some quick cash." No sooner had the words left her mouth that her attention jolted back to the hovering screens, back to scrolling through names and credits. "Right this way miss" The young boy, who you presumed was named Ortho called, somehow he'd already skipped ahead. You rushed over to him, following this the shine that the metal of his body emitted. "And this is the blackjack table, my big brother is in charge of running games, let's stop by and say hi!!" "O-okay"

In the past nineteen minutes that you had met Ortho, all the young boy talked about was his "amazing older brother". How wonderful this man must be to have engraved his presence so deeply in the mind of such a young...child. Steadily you followed Ortho over to a green table in the middle of the room. Arching over the soft green table was a black neon sign with bold white lights spelling out the word "BLACKJACK". Tiny money chips and playing cards flashed around haphazardly.

Ortho ran up to the table, slapping his palms on the fuzzy surface, sending frail cards flying in all directions. "Big brother! I met a new girl a the door! She's so nice, a bit quiet but she's so sweet! Hey, big brother do you want to meet her? Do you? Hey (y/n) come over here! This is my big brother Idia!"

Dame that boy really could talk a mile a minute couldn't he? Tensely you eyed the tall man that Ortho was talking to. It took a minute for everything to click. The blue hair that resembled wild flames, dark yellow grief-filled eyes, and teeth as sharp as a shark's, it had to be him!

Idia Shroud the inherited leader of the Ignyhide gang, sister organization to the avaricious Octavinelle and owner of the Underworld casinos.

The man was rarely seen in public, it was rumored that he suffered from a strange curse which is why he remained locked up in his mansion most of his life. Yet here he was, nodding along to the ramblings of his....younger brother? For a split second his golden orbs darted towards you, absorbing every detail of your frame before returning to his brother. You stifled down a yelp, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself. Endless minutes seemed to scurry by as Ortho drowned on about every little thing he had noticed about, every theory for why you walked like there was a gun pointed at your head, or why your eyes lingered longer the 0.58 seconds on every someone every time they started celebrating their victories. It was mind-numbing, you wondered how Idia could just nod along without bang his head on the table out of annoyance.

"Hey" You felt a sharp tung on your arm, almost knocking you off your feet. Subconsciously you let out a loud welp, casing the two Shroud brothers to turn to you. You craned your neck trying to look behind you. A tall slender man's fingers where wrapped suffocatingly tightly around your forearm, causing the appendage to turn white. "Are you here to play or just stare at Idia-sama?" his voice bordered in between a threat and a question. His honey-colored eyes glared daggers at you.

You tried to for a coherent answer, your throat only pushing out a few syllables repeatedly like a broken record. "Actually Pain she was just getting ready to play blackjack with me" Idia's voice was creaky and horse, it was like his words were coming from the inside of a damp cave. The flame-haired man's lips pushed apart forming a smile of sorts, displaying his fang-like teeth. The man quickly let go of you, pushing you slightly towards the two brothers. Obediently you took a seat on one of the tall stools. Idia began to shuffle a deck of grayish blue cards, his eyes never once leaving your form. "Come one Pain let's go get them some drinks" Ortho cheered as he capered over to the taller man and guided him into the sea of players. "How much do you want to be?" Idia queried, his long fingers rearranging the deck in a mesmerizing manner. It suddenly occurred to you why you had even come to this suffocating place in the first place. To win some money, to help mother. You shuffled through your purse and scavenged out a crumpled twenty dollar bill, nervously you leaned over the table to pass it to Idia. His thing fingers grasped the bill and shoved it into the pocket of his tuxedo pants. Half-heartedly he tossed you two blue chips and a green one. "Um I think you made a -" he brought a finger to his lips and made a "shushing" noise. You simply gulped and awaited him to pass you your cards.

Hours ticked by, people began to leave, the once crowded room had been reduced to a bored-looking secretary, two bodyguards tossing cards back and forth and a little robot who gazed at the pair at the blackjack table. Glee and sheer excitement pooling in his electronic iris. The game had started out in utter silence, every single sound around the two of you had by some magic faded into the abyss. You had surprisingly one three rounds gathering a total of one hundred thirty-five dollars, not nearly enough for even a quarter of next month's payment. The next two rounds were one by Idia who didn't even seem to be paying attention to the game. It was around this time that he had reluctantly asked you why you were here. It might have been the optimist in you or maybe the drinks that Ortho and the bodyguards kept serving periodically. But you had cracked, told him everything. How you're mother couldn't make enough to afford three meals a day, how she starved her self to be able to feed you a minimal breakfast and lunch. How the Octavinelle gang had risen the prices on their "protection money" and how you just wanted to help! You were desperate to make life just a tiny bit easier for your mother! Every time one miserable story came to an end there was another waiting to take its spot. Sometimes you swore you saw pity and sadness cross over Idia's features but again that could just be explained by the drinks you had consumed.

It must have been the third round, Idia had won for the fourth time in a row. You were about to push the few chips you had to his side, when the Ignihyde gang leader slammed his hand on the table, imitating his brother's action from earlier. "I can help!" he blurted but then quickly recalled hunching his shoulders. "I can pay your mother's debts!" Your eyes widen, ears ringing with the mystical words you had just heard. No No No! There was no way in hell that a heartless mob boss would agree to help your family. "W-what do...what do you mean!" for the first time his golden eyes locked with your (e/c) ones. "I'll tell Azul to lower the prices a bit and I'll pay your mother protection money" You jumped to your feet about to hop over the table and hug him! Joy coursed through your body your brain spinning in every direction trying to make sense of what you had just been told! How could a descendant of the "Lord of the dead" harbor such kindness in his heart! "THANK YOU IDIA I--" before you could finish or even get close to him he stuck out a pale arm. "But there's a price", sadness and threads of shock washed over you, of course there was a price. There was always a catch with everything in this city, even kindness didn't come for free. Your eyes lowered staring at your shoes, then his shoes, and back to your shoes. "Which is?" you mumbled. Horrific thoughts flashed through your mind. What was he going to make you do? Force you to work as a waitress in the casino? Maybe a stripper for the VIP lounge? Would he force you to become a prostitute on the street to repay him the money he had so "graciously" offered you!?

A cold sweat began to glisten over your face, just what had you gotten yourself into? You could feel Idia's icy slender finger pinch your chine as he gradually tilted your child up. There was a look of uncertainty on his eerie face. His lips would part, move even but no words would fly out. The once comfortable silence had now turned rotten and began to decay. Finally, the tips of a word became to clumsily fall from his mouth."S-s-stay....stay here with--" his eyes fell to the floor, the quickly swam up to stare into yours with also much faux courage as he could muster up. "Stayherewithme!" he blurted out in a single outstretched breath. It took a moment for your brain to nitpick the words apart, analyze each jumble to comprehend what they meant.

"The lord of the dead use to have a queen, it was said that dispute her being a powerful goddess she could not obstruct the dreadful curse that the Lord of Olympus had bestowed on his younger brother. But her mere presence was more than enough to subdue the pain that he felt." Idia leaned forward, his greying chapped lips brushing against your soft ones, for a second it resembled a kiss. But before your lips fully touched he slithered both hands up, to cup your cheek as he rested his forehead against yours.

"But why me?" You quizzed. After all you had just met him a few hours ago. It didn't add up! From the distance you heard an exhausted sight before a silvery voice yelled.

"You the first girl to talk to him, since he was a kid. So the idiot thinks it's destiny and you are meant to be the spring goddess to his god of the underworld!"

Your eyes went up to meet his, all you had to do was stay with this man until your mother, had saved enough money to lead a comfortable life. Then you could escape and reunite with her once more. Either way he wasn't really leaving you much a choice, even if you decline he could order those two brutish bodyguards to drag you to his mansion and chain you up there. You closed your eyes tightly, he may not show it outwardly but he really was a cold-hearted monster, a fiendish salesman through and through. Dangling you and your family's fortune in front of you and pretending like he was giving you a fair choice.

"I really don't have like time to bat this around I'm kind of on a schedule I got plans for august I need an answer like now!... Going once...Going twice1" Idia declared as his once blue flamed hair began to taint a fiery orange-red.

Your eyes and mouth seemed to have made the choice for you, the second your eyes flashed open your mouth parted and said...

"ALL RIGHT!"

I've never been a gambling man, I've never had the winning hand but for you, I'd lose it all!

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meddlewithmycase · 4 years

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Anne Boleyn (c. 1501/1507 – 19 May 1536) The daughter of Thomas Boleyn, later Earl of Wiltshire and Earl of Ormond, and his wife, Lady Elizabeth Howard, daughter of Thomas Howard, 2nd Duke of Norfolk. Thomas Boleyn was a well-respected diplomat with a gift for languages; he was also a favorite of Henry VII of England, who sent him on many diplomatic missions abroad. Anne and her siblings grew up at Hever Castle in Kent. Anne's great-great-great-grandparents included a Lord Mayor of London, a duke, an earl, two aristocratic ladies, and a knight. One of them, Geoffrey Boleyn, had been a mercer and wool merchant before becoming Lord Mayor. The Boleyn family originally came from Blickling in Norfolk, 15 miles (24 km) north of Norwich.

Anne's early education was typical for women of her class. In 1513, Anne was invited to join the schoolroom of Margaret of Austria and her four wards. She caught the eye of the king of England upon her return to England to be a lady in waiting to Queen Catherine. Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn married in a secret ceremony on November 14, 1532. After her coronation, Anne settled into a quiet routine at the King's favorite residence, Greenwich Palace, to prepare for the birth of her baby. The child was born slightly prematurely on 7 September 1533. Between three and four in the afternoon, Anne gave birth to a girl, who was christened Elizabeth, probably in honor of either or both Anne's mother Elizabeth Howard and Henry's mother, Elizabeth of York. But the birth of a girl was a heavy blow to her parents since they had confidently expected a boy.

On 2 May 1536, Anne was arrested and taken to the Tower of London by barge. It is likely that Anne may have entered through the Court Gate in the Byward Tower rather than the Traitors' Gate, according to historian and author of The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn, Eric Ives. In the Tower, she collapsed, demanding to know the location of her father and "swete broder", as well as the charges against her. On the 6th of May, she wrote the king for the last time:

Sir,

Your Grace's displeasure, and my imprisonment are things so strange unto me, as what to write, or what to excuse, I am altogether ignorant. Whereas you send unto me (willing me to confess a truth, and so obtain your favour) by such an one, whom you know to be my ancient professed enemy. I no sooner received this message by him, than I rightly conceived your meaning; and if, as you say, confessing a truth indeed may procure my safety, I shall with all willingness and duty perform your demand.

But let not your Grace ever imagine, that your poor wife will ever be brought to acknowledge a fault, where not so much as a thought thereof preceded. And to speak a truth, never prince had wife more loyal in all duty, and in all true affection, than you have ever found in Anne Boleyn: with which name and place I could willingly have contented myself, if God and your Grace's pleasure had been so pleased. Neither did I at any time so far forget myself in my exaltation or received Queenship, but that I always looked for such an alteration as I now find; for the ground of my preferment being on no surer foundation than your Grace's fancy, the least alteration I knew was fit and sufficient to draw that fancy to some other object. You have chosen me, from a low estate, to be your Queen and companion, far beyond my desert or desire. If then you found me worthy of such honour, good your Grace let not any light fancy, or bad council of mine enemies, withdraw your princely favour from me; neither let that stain, that unworthy stain, of a disloyal heart toward your good grace, ever cast so foul a blot on your most dutiful wife, and the infant-princess your daughter. Try me, good king, but let me have a lawful trial, and let not my sworn enemies sit as my accusers and judges; yea let me receive an open trial, for my truth shall fear no open flame; then shall you see either my innocence cleared, your suspicion and conscience satisfied, the ignominy and slander of the world stopped, or my guilt openly declared. So that whatsoever God or you may determine of me, your grace may be freed of an open censure, and mine offense being so lawfully proved, your grace is at liberty, both before God and man, not only to execute worthy punishment on me as an unlawful wife, but to follow your affection, already settled on that party, for whose sake I am now as I am, whose name I could some good while since have pointed unto, your Grace being not ignorant of my suspicion therein. But if you have already determined of me, and that not only my death, but an infamous slander must bring you the enjoying of your desired happiness; then I desire of God, that he will pardon your great sin therein, and likewise mine enemies, the instruments thereof, and that he will not call you to a strict account of your unprincely and cruel usage of me, at his general judgment-seat, where both you and myself must shortly appear, and in whose judgment I doubt not (whatsoever the world may think of me) mine innocence shall be openly known, and sufficiently cleared. My last and only request shall be, that myself may only bear the burden of your Grace's displeasure, and that it may not touch the innocent souls of those poor gentlemen, who (as I understand) are likewise in strait imprisonment for my sake. If ever I found favour in your sight, if ever the name of Anne Boleyn hath been pleasing in your ears, then let me obtain this request, and I will so leave to trouble your Grace any further, with mine earnest prayers to the Trinity to have your Grace in his good keeping, and to direct you in all your actions. From my doleful prison in the Tower, this sixth of May;

Your most loyal and ever faithful wife,

Anne Boleyn.

This did not save her. She was beheaded with those accused of being her lover including her brother; unlike the four men sent to death, Anne was dispatched from the unkind life by the sword on May 19th. Her daughter Elizabeth was two years old; when Elizabeth became queen her mother became a martyr of the Protestant faith.

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hyena-frog · 4 years

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I personally don't understand people who think that Virginia 'can't win on her own'. As if she has to prove herself or she is 'too nice' and has to learn 'how to violence'. Just because Sevro's solution for everything is cutting some fingers or worse, doesn't mean he is always right or that Mustang's work to keep that balance and play within the designated lines is not badass or interesting. She is the only demokratic ruler and her own people gave her absolute power of decision making to end the war at any cost. What's not great about that!?

If Virginia was indeed 'too nice', she would have perished long ago - last absolute cinnamon roll we saw was Julian and we all know what Society thinks about people like him. Just because she plays by the rules, doesn't mean she has no claws - she wiped a terrorist's memories away for fuck's sake. Now that the rules have been extended, you can bet your ass that she'll take more than one page out of Nero's playbook. After all, she said it herself, she tamed herself, but it's fun to let the lion out.

Agreed 110%! I don't understand people who give Virginia shit in general tbh. I mean, how do you not fall in love with her immediately? How are you not ride or die for her from the get-go? It boggles the mind.

Those arguments, being "too nice" or being unable to win on her own, are reaching and easily debunkable. The lack of reading comprehension. 😒 If you don't like her, then whatever. I may not understand how that’s possible, but it really isn’t necessary to make shit up, you know?

Virginia can't win on her own, huh. The nerve! Where would Darrow be without her? Dead. Many times over. He would have bled out after Cassius stabbed him if Virginia hadn't helped him. And it was Virginia who brought the Howlers back from the Rim weeks in advance of Darrow actually needing them, just in case. So many things would have gone wrong in Morning Star if she wasn't at Darrow's side (and if Ragnar hadn't gone out of his way to make sure she'd be there, the absolute legend).

Perhaps it's Darrow who can't win on his own? But that sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? All of his successes were achieved through teamwork. Darrow acknowledges this many times. It's the same for Virginia. While it's simply not true that she can't win on her own, it’s also untrue that the inability to win on your own is a bad thing. The whole argument doesn’t make any sense.

The idea Virginia still needs to “prove” herself despite doing so plenty of times already throughout the series is frustrating. The fact of the matter is, the success of the Rising relies just as heavily on Virginia's intelligence as it does Darrow's battle skills. The Solar Republic simply wouldn't exist without her. Fitchner never had a clear vision of what "after the Society" would look like and neither did Darrow for a long time. The war effort needs a conscience and a vision for the future, otherwise it's just endless bloodshed. Virginia helps Darrow see beyond the bloodshed. Plus, Darrow has no interest in politics. He'd be the first to admit he’s not good at the slow game of political maneuvering. But Virginia thrives in that environment. In Dark Age, Darrow even admits his current predicament is a consequence of not trusting his wife's way of running the Republic, and he vows never to do that again.

Sure, Virginia doesn't get into physical fights often, especially now that she is Sovereign. But politics is no less perilous a battlefield. I feel like because the political battlefield isn't as flashy and fast paced as a literal one, people forget the constant danger she is in, even before the Senate's betrayal. Silenius' Stiletto is a delicate tightrope act she has to perform every day to drag progress forward while keeping her opponents in check. This requires a level of self-restraint, clear-headedness, and badassery, that no other character can achieve.

Virginia is not "too nice." She is practical. And often, is it practical to play nice. Not every confrontation is best solved through violence Sevro. We all know the line: Virginia is the mustang that nuzzles the hand; people know they can work with her. That’s why the people chose her consistently for ten years, over literally everyone else in the solar system, to run this new government. And her steadfast resolve to gain Imperium legally, to not force her will on the people, proved to them again that she won’t abuse this ultimate power to end the war.

No, Virginia may be reasonable but that doesn't mean she is too nice. If she was too nice, she wouldn't have used her relationship with Cassius to protect her family. She wouldn't have shot Cassius in the throat with an arrow. She wouldn't have promised Ephraim he would "die shitting in a foreign bed" if he skipped about on their bargain to return the kids. She wouldn't have zapped the Duke of Hands' entire personality from his head. Like you said, she never would have made it this far if she was truly toothless. She's practical, and sometimes the practical solution doesn't require violence, but creative thinking.

Speaking of creative thinking, one thing Virginia doesn’t get nearly enough credit for is abolishing the death penalty immediately after Adrius was hanged. That wasn't her being "too nice" or too lenient on her caste. Yes, she feels life in prison is the moral option over the death penalty. But she knows her people. The punishment for the worst criminals in Deepgrave is a Gold's worst nightmare. Life in prison denies a Gold their desire for a glorious death, to be remembered through the ages for their deeds in battle. The Republic's justice system sends a clear message: "Mess with us, and you won't get your notoriety or fame, you'll only get obscurity and shame and sucking algae through a tube until you die naturally of old age." That to me is crueler than hanging.

Virginia’s mind is her greatest weapon, but more than that, her greatest strength is how she applies her intelligence. Her ability to read people, and to communicate, is greatly underappreciated imo. These skills require nonviolent interaction yet they yield great results. There are many examples of this. She used her natural charisma to gain Octavia's trust. She brokered an alliance with the Rim when she thought Darrow was dead. She held the Republic together for ten years despite constant, increasing animosity from the Vox. She refused to torture Lyria and was able to see she was not lying about being an unwitting pawn in the kidnapping scheme and was rewarded with information and a new ally. She figured out exactly what Sefi was planning for Cimmeria, even manipulating the situation to her advantage without Sefi realizing it. She knew Victra was going to bargain with Sefi for the kids, without being told. In her own words, this is simply what she does.

There is a quote in Iron Gold that caught my eye: "Communication is the soul of civilization." (532) Now, this line has nothing directly to do with Virginia. This is Ephraim trying to get a rise out of Gorgo. But it fits Virginia perfectly, doesn’t it? The Republic is able to exist as a civilization because it has such an amazing communicator at its center.

Virginia is such an excellent communicator that she is even able to get parties who refuse to communicate with her initially to reciprocate communication eventually. She convinces Sevro, Dancer, and even Victra to stop freezing her out and work together. She does this by speaking their "language." She knows exactly what to say or what to do to get them to finally listen to her. Revealing she already knows exactly what is going on works for Sevro, providing hard evidence of conspiracy works for Dancer, and proving her actions (showing her scars) works for Victra. This isn't to say she never makes mistakes. She shouldn't have called the Wardens on Darrow, for example, just as Darrow shouldn't have kept the meeting with the Society "diplomats" a secret from her and the Senate. But more often than not, her nonviolent communication skills yield valuable results.

As for Virginia apparently needing to learn how to use violence… While Victra and Sevro’s feelings were justified, their actions at the end of Iron Gold and the beginning of Dark Age were just wrong, wrong, wrong imo. Freezing out Virginia did nothing but delay the return of the kids. It's frustrating to think how much heartbreak could have been avoided if they'd just put their heads together from the moment the kids disappeared. And what exactly did Sevro's rampage through Luna's underground accomplish? Some dead Syndicate thorns, sure. But that tantrum put a huge target on Sevro's back. As Virginia said, one lucky sniper and boom, no more Sevro. What would Victra have done then?

While it may feel like Virginia would have achieved more if she just beheaded some people, she has a responsibility as Sovereign to consider the bigger picture. She has to consider the Stiletto. If the Vox saw her offing some fools it would have added credibility to their smear campaign. The people would have lost faith in her and think she turned into another Octavia. Whoever replaced her could use her actions to justify their own dictatorship. Violence was simply not practical for her until she legally gained Imperium. Now though… 😈

Virginia's over here playing 3D chess while everyone else is playing Connect Four, but this still isn’t enough for some people. After the clone gets the better of her, she gets flack for not being an omniscient god and just knowing her twin brother laid out a plan to clone himself ten years ago. Tut, tut, should have seen that one coming, despite the lack of evidence. If only she’d punched some people. (Can you see I hate this argument with every fiber of my being?)

In Dark Age, Ozgard says this about Electra and Pax: "She is better fighter. He is more dangerous human." (184) Well, Pax gets it from his momma. Pax and Virginia may not be able to throw devastating punches but in many ways, their intellect is what makes them the greater threat to their enemies.

Thank you for the ask!

#virginia au augustus #red rising #iron gold #dark age #iron gold trilogy #dark age spoilers #astreamikaelson13 #sorry I disappeared for like a week #I'm back writing unnecessarily long posts #my post

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dicapriho · 5 years

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Important quotes to take from this article, that sums up perfectly why Daenarys’ treatment in season 8 was so heartbreaking..(long post with bullet points for easy reading):

Game of Thrones is "a world where women are often treated as disposable objects, Daenerys outwitted and overpowered her male enemies. As the sole protagonist in her own storyline, far from the rest of the characters, she was set up to be one of the few unambiguously [female] heroic figures in the series."

"in just a few episodes, she quickly transformed from a woman who has prided herself on saving the downtrodden to one who burns the innocent."

"[Daenerys’] treatment this season from the makeup of the writers’ room: The writers and directors on the show have always been overwhelmingly male, and women were shut out of both writing and directing jobs for every episode in season 8."

"Throughout her life, Daenerys has shown a commitment to justice...She freed the slaves in Meereen... When Drogon burned one child, she chained up her other two dragons, leaving herself more vulnerable...She put her fight for the Iron Throne on pause to fight in Jon’s war against the White Walkers [in the North where she knew she would feel unwelcome]."

"She was called the “Breaker of Chains” for a reason. When she misstepped, we forgave her, as we forgave, say, Tyrion for strangling Shae." [And Jon for killing a child for betraying him!]

“Daenerys has certainly used “Dracarys” to punish plenty of people during her reign... she always gave some compelling reason for doing so.”

She first used her dragon’s fire to kill a warlock who tried to imprison her, and again against a slaver who tried to cheat her...she crucified all the masters in retaliation for them having killed slave children — but they had killed children...She burned all the Khals who were threatening to keep her as a slave or rape her, or both."

Dany’s advisors gave awful advice:

"Daenerys agreed to make Tyrion her hand because Tyrion said he “knew things”...specifically, he claimed to know how to make alliances in Westeros and exploit people’s hate of Cersei in order to put Daenerys on the throne. Except, Tyrion did…none of that."

"...when did Tyrion convince a single lord that if they joined their side, they could get a new title and nice castle and see the land’s most hated woman [Cersei] burned to a crisp? Never."

"...what Tyrion did do: Try to cut a deal with slavers that would have kept slavery legal for a longer period of time, until Daenerys decided to burn their ships instead; convince Dany not to fly to King’s Landing and burn the Red Keep, which would have resulted in far fewer Kings Landing deaths; come up with the horrible plan to capture a wight that almost got Jon killed and lost Daenerys a dragon and still didn’t earn Cersei’s allegiance; convince Daenerys to trust Cersei, who has never proven herself to be trustworthy; forget to remind Daenerys that Euron and the Iron Fleet would almost certainly be waiting near Dragonstone, thus losing Daenerys another dragon; free Jaime from captivity in an effort to help both his brother and Cersei escape death at Daenerys’ hands..."

"Don’t even get me started on Varys, who didn’t write a single letter to a single lord to gain intel against Cersei or an ally for Dany but did find time to spread the word about Jon’s true parentage...”

“Tyrion and Varys were supposed to be her helpers. They failed her. Instead of owning up to this and realizing the part they have both played, Tyrion and Varys begin to worry that Daenerys is a flawed ruler exactly because she’s losing faith in them over their terrible decisions."

On the Sansa v Dany struggle:

"...The writers of the show cited much more petty reasons for their [Sansa and Dany's] conflict: “[Daenerys is] also very pretty, and how much does that factor in? Sansa starts off this season very suspicious and not at all friendly with Dany.”"

Her Isolation:

"In the last few episodes, Daenerys finds herself envying the love that Jon’s people feel for him...it’s destabilizing for her to arrive in Westeros and find that people are not eager to see her. Why, exactly, the Northerners don’t appreciate her dragons — without which they could not have defeated the Army of the Dead...."

"Daenerys rightfully glowers at Jon as his countrymen celebrate the fact that he mounted a dragon a couple of times when Dany has been riding one for years [Not to mention she is the first Targaryen in hundreds of years to have successfully mothered & raised/trained dragons]...In a mission to make Dany feel as isolated as possible, the show killed off her closest advisors, Jorah and Missendei."

"Daario is controlling Slaver’s Bay in her absence. Yara Greyjoy is sworn to her. In theory, the new Prince of Dorne would be allied with her since Daenerys struck a pact with Ellaria Sand. Daenerys could have called on any of these allies when she faced Cersei’s army but didn’t — simply because the show needed her to be alone ."

On Missandei:

"Game of Thrones fridged Missandei. There’s no other way to put it. Her capture and death happens just so Daenerys would feel isolated. The fact that the writers turned the only major black female character on the show into a device to motivate Daenerys feels even more cringeworthy."

"The fairly quick transition from complicated hero to totally mad villain leaned heavily on an oft-repeated line: “every time a Targaryen is born, the gods toss a coin”. But should Daenerys’ Targaryen blood necessarily doom her? After all, Jon is half Targaryen, too. So why does he get to sit comfortably on the other side of the coin?...The show has long been obsessed with various characters’ struggles to shake their family’s legacies. Tyrion killed his own father and joined Team Daenerys, only to betray Daenerys in order to help his family again."

"Daenerys has long tried to differentiate herself from her father, the Mad King, only to become her father’s daughter."

"...the show’s most recent plotting flaws was Varys’ rushed decision that Daenerys was a terrible enough queen that he would endeavor to poison her — quite a stretch for a man who served under King Joffrey...Remember that Varys once wanted to put Dany’s brother Viserys, a demonstrable megalomaniac, on the Iron Throne."

"...when Varys found out Jon was a Targaryen, he began openly conspiring to undermine and overthrow Daenerys...He accused her of being paranoid while simultaneously conspiring against her, which means she had every right to be suspicious...Again, it’s a failure of the show that the man who was once revered as Master of Whispers walked up to Jon in the middle of a crowded beach and suggested he usurp Daenerys."

"Other rulers we think of as heroes in this story have executed men for less than attempted murder: Robb Stark executed Rickard Karstark for killing the Lannister hostages, against Robb’s orders...Ned Stark executed someone for abandoning the Night’s Watch...Jon Snow executed the men who succeeded in murdering him (before he was resurrected) including Olly, a young boy."

"...Jon betrayed Daenerys’ trust by telling his family, and Tyrion betrayed her — twice. Davos also betrayed her too for totally inexplicable reasons by helping Tyrion smuggle Jaime to Cersei...Her advisor’s lie to her and gaslit her, plain and simple. And yet the way that Daenerys’ destruction of King’s Landing is shot, we are supposed to see her as the irrational one and Tyrion as one of the victims of her terror."

"...either due to time restrictions or lack of source material or just plain lack of creativity, the show took shortcuts this season...And those shortcuts tended to rely on the laziest of sexist stereotypes about crazed, power-hungry women."

"Maureen Ryan at the Hollywood Reporter put it best: “Inescapably, infuriatingly, what we’re left with is apparently the central message of Game of Thrones: Bitches are crazy.” "

"...Had [Dany's] paranoia been seeded many episodes ago and grown over the course of several seasons, it would be an epic Shakespearean tragedy. Instead we must infer this descent based on her frizzy hair."

"Worse, the moment when she seemingly decides to rule with fear, not love, comes after she’s romantically rejected by Jon...” [Suggestible that the lack of requited love is a strong enough reason for a level-minded strong woman to fall into a pit of craziness, despite all the good she has ever done and vows to continue doing..]

"Varys suggested that Jon would be a better ruler exactly because he did not want to rule. Figures in mythology and history ranging from Moses to George Washington to Harry Potter have been heralded as heroes because they came to power reluctantly. Those figures also tend to be male. How do our stories cast women eager for power? As evil queens. And now Daenerys is a cliché."

"There have been a lot of problematic characterizations of women this season, as revealed by the writers’ own commentary surrounding the episodes...Sansa essentially parroted what the writers have been saying for years about her rape by Ramsay Bolton — that it made her stronger...and the showrunners called Cersei, one of the smartest, most vicious characters on Thrones, “just a girl who needs the comfort of a man..”

"...in the end, Daenerys cycled through several tired stereotypes: Another evil, power-hungry queen literally shot with a dragon’s wings behind her; the crazy lady that a noble man has to heroically overcome..."

Like Cersei, Dany was a character introduced in the first episode, who ws incredible meaningful in the narrative of Game of Thrones. Instead of going out with a bang, Daenerys’ death wasn’t a bang like she truly deserved, but a whimper and forgotten to emphasise the man’s conquer and victory.

#game of thrones spoilers #anti got #daenerys targaryen #got spoilers #long post #sexism #anti d&d

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tsukumosanaappreciationblog · 3 years

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Why Byakuya Togami Is A Misunderstood Character

In the Danganronpa community the antagonists of each game remain fan favorites and Togami is no exception however the difference in how they are perceived is how much focus is put in their ideology. While people love Komaeda and Kokichi everyone focus on their ideology for example people will praise Komaeda for his belief in absolute hope regardless of the methods which is a interesting ideology but with Togami people tend to boil him down to being a run of the will arrogant rich kid which I think is a shame because there is depth beneath the surface that gets under explored. Togami is my favorite antagonist in the series and my second favorite character in the series behind Ibuki so in this essay I hope to spread light on why I think he’s a great character.

One reason I love Togami is because he is the only antagonist to get a proper character arc from the beginning of the game to the end of the game. Just because a character has an arc doesn’t make a character inherently better than characters without an arc but I think his was well handled. Some people think of it as an arrogant character learning some humility while still being arrogant but I think was more of a major change to his worldview than that but to understand his change of worldview we have to understand his worldview in the first place.

Togami as a person sees all people as inherently selfish and as much as they would like to think of themselves as selfless there just lying to themselves. As an example there’s this quote from chapter 2 "Did you already forget? This isn't a co-op game. It's every man for himself. What good does it do me to go out of my way to help you?”. Though the gaming comparison seems a bit out of character in retrospect it does offer insight to his ideology. I think it serves as an interesting extreme to the distrust one would feel in a setting like Danganronpa. Speaking of parallels I think he serves as a great foil to Makoto. Makoto is optimistic and trusting to a point of naivete whereas Togami’s relentless cynicism makes it so he doesn't trust anyone. There is also a contrast to Makoto’s humility and Togami’s arrogance. Putting aside Togami’s role as a foil, there is another important component to Togami’s personality: his desire to keep winning. This can be seen in this scene from chapter 2 "Shut up. I would never stoop to the level of a childish criminal like you. Let me just say this... After I have achieved complete victory...you're up next. I'm going to find you and kill you. Understand? In the name of the Togami family, for which victory is a foregone conclusion... I swear, whatever it takes...I will kill you!". What stands out here is the fact that he says that in the name of his family which means that due to him being a member of the Togami family he was raised to value victory so he wishes to win the killing game by any means necessary. Another interesting point is he does legitimately see the killing game as a game with the expectations of the masterminds and arguably Kokichi .Kokichi fans will say he hated the killing game but he definitely seemed to be having fun during the first three trails and to a lesser degree chapter 4 but that’s a can of worms for another day. With Togami it’s far less ambiguous when he specifically states "But it *is* a game. It's a game of life or death, which can have only one winner. That's all there is to it.”

You may be asking okay I understand his ideology but why does he think this way? I’m glad you asked because if you played his free time events you get a clearer picture. I’m going to transcribe most of his fifth free time event because it gives us the most information on his backstory. ”It has to do with the secret to the Togami family's prosperity. Our success comes from our family's rather...peculiar inheritance system. You see, our family head never takes a wife. Rather, he couples with exceptional women the world over, in order to bear as many children as possible. They then make the children compete, and only one can come out on top. And whoever it is...earns the right to become the next head of the family. For my battle, there were fifteen of us in total. When all was said and done, only one was still standing—the youngest brother. Me. In the entire history of the Togami family, the youngest male had never won. So, now do you understand? I won my title in open combat. *That* is how l became the Ultimate Affluent Progeny. I was not born into greatness. I had to earn it. I put my life on the line, and I *earned* the right to be called the chosen.”-Togami “You put your life on the line...? Then...what about your siblings?”-Makoto Dead. I don't mean that literally, of course. They become dead to the family, unfit for the name of Togami. Of course, for them it really is like death. They're forced to become one of the 99%.

That was a lot to take in so let’s break down what all of that actually means and how it affected Togami’s character. First the section where he had to compete with fifteen of his siblings to gain the inheritance. His cutthroat desire to win stems from the fact that he needed to compete with such high stakes from a young age. With the inheritance system he was made to have a survival of the fittest mentality which explains in behavior in game. He described those who didn’t get to inherit the Togami name as dead which shows the absolute value he puts into winning. The fact that he won this competition also is responsible for his superiority complex because he managed to overcome such adversity he sees himself as better than the 99% of people that live normal lives. Once you put it into perspective Togami was a product of his environment which really humanizes him but I don’t blame people for missing optional content.

Now let’s move on to the turning point for his character chapter four. In the book Creating Character Arcs By K.M Weiland she explains that to create a positive change arc there is a misconception about the world or themselves that they believe and external forces change that idea so they must accept reality. In this case the lie Togami believes is that all people are inherently selfish and the reason he stopped believing that is because of the selfless actions of Sakura and Hina. Sakura’s sucide was because she wished to stop the in-fighting caused by her being revealed by the traitor along with the fact she wanted to save her dojo. Togami despite being intelligent couldn’t figure out that it was a sucide because of the way he views people. In a similar fashion he also couldn’t figure out that Hina wasn't the true killer because he couldn’t see why anyone would be willing to sacrifice their own life for the sake of a friend. These truly selfless acts made him change his worldview which can most clearly be seen with the quote “"This is a life-or-death elimination match. The only way to survive...is to win. There can be no doubt that those are the rules of the game. Which is why...I am bowing out of the game. Sakura and Hina were both willing to sacrifice their own lives to deny the reality of the game. Thanks to them, it would appear the others have cast aside their fear for this game. There's no point in participating in a game which has lost that sense of excitement. Which is why I will no longer be participating in it. Now I have only one thing to look forward to. And that is to heap the harshest possible punishment onto the one who thinks they can control me!” Although the way he phrased it was backhanded, this showed genuine faith in people and will no longer participate in the killing game which is major development for him. It also helps prove while does get him into trouble sometimes like that time he got framed by Sayaka that Makoto’s belief in people is not misplaced.

In conclusion despite him often being dismissed as another arrogant antagonist Byakuya Togami is an interesting character with an interesting way of thinking that helps him serve as a foil to the protagonist ,an often overlooked backstory that humanizes him and give proper explanation for his actions along with a great character that the other Danganronpa antagonist lacked that he stands out as a stellar character in a game series with an already excellent cast. I hope this essay gave you a new found appreciation for the character.

#danganronpa #byakuya togami #dr1 #long post #tw sucide

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lifeofresulullah · 1 year

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The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): Before His Birth, His Birth and His Childhood

The Prophet is Given to a Foster Mother: Part 1

The universe, which rejoined its master was joyful. The heart of the Arabia, which harbored the person that would provide the heart of the humanity with light and peace, was very excited.

Makkah, in which the unmatched event of the universe took place, was so excited and joyful that it was as if it wanted to fly to the lofty realms.

The fortunate Amina could only suckle her glorious child for week. After this, Abu Lahab’s handmaiden, Lady Suwayba became the wet nurse of the Master of the Universe and suckled him for days.

After his death, he was seen in a dream where he was found screaming in the severe punishment of hell. They asked him: “Why are you screaming? What is the matter?”

The Custom of Giving Babies to Wet Nurses

The Arrival of the Women from Bani Bakr’s Tribe to Mecca

The Holy Prophet (PBUH) was being nourished by Lady Suwayba.

Abdulmuttalib asked, “Where are you from?”

Halima: “I am a woman from the Bani Sa’d Tribe” (Sons of Fortune/Luck)

Abdulmuttalib: “What is your name?”

She answered, “Halima”.

Her husband, Harith, supported her view and said, “There is no harm in taking him. Perhaps Allah will endow us with prosperity and blessings thanks to him”.

Upon this, they returned to Abdulmuttalib.

Abdulmuttalib took Halima to Hazrat Amina’s modest home which the Beloved Prophet (PBUH) illuminated.

Halima was in a state of amazement. She immediately warmed up to this child so much that she could not bear to wake him up!

At that moment, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) opened his eyes and replied to Halima’s kisses with a sweet smile. They got along with one another.

The First Abundance

Our lovely Master (PBUH), who had captivated Halima’s heart, was now in her arms.

Yet, what was this? The breasts that had lacked milk for days were immediately filled with milk as soon as our Holy Prophet (PBUH) began to suck from them.

Halima was surprised and her husband, Harith, was in a state of amazement.

Her right nipple was in our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) mouth and her left nipple was in the mouth of his new foster brother, Abdullah, who was Halima’s son. From then on, the Holy Prophet (PBUH) would always drink from the right breast.

The Camel’s Breasts were filled with Milk

Halima was not willing to put the radiant orphan (PBUH) down from her lap for one second. They immediately bid their farewells to Abdulmuttalib and Hazrat Amina and departed from Mecca.

Teardrops were combined with Amina’s sadness. She had virtually become a cloud as she followed her radiant child.

That night, the Harith family had a peaceful sleep outside Mecca. When the morning came, Harith ran to milk their camels. Every nipple he touched had become a fountain of milk. He called out to Halima in amazement: “Oh Halima, know that you have taken a very holy and auspicious child!”

Halima affirmed her husband’s statement: “By God, I hope he is”.

Mecca was left behind.

Halima was riding on a female donkey and had the Master of the Universe (PBUH) in her arms. What happened to the weak, frail donkey that had fallen behind her friends? Where did this speed and steadiness come from? It was as if she was not the same donkey that Halima rode on her way to Mecca.

When she passed and left all the animals in the procession behind, Halima’s traveling companions were surprised and asked with astonishment, “Oh, Abu Zuaib’s daughter, shame on you. Why do you not wait for us? Or is the donkey that you are riding not the same as the one that you rode when you first came?”

The donkey was the same donkey. The only difference was that there was someone else on her, and he was the Master of the Universe (PBUH). The honor of carrying him (PBUH) had exhilarated that weak and frail animal.

“No, by God she is the same donkey; in fact, I’m not directing her. She is going steadily on her own. There is something strange about this”.

It was a shame that nobody from the procession was able to discern the reason for this difference and from where it came.

Yes, all of these occurrences were open proofs that this radiant-faced infant (PBUH) would embrace the future with his grandeur!

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) in the Homeland of the Sons of Sa’d

Halima and her husband returned to their homeland after these peculiar occurrences.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) would now remain in the land of the Sons of Sa’d.

At that time, an intense drought and famine were prevalent in the area. The soil’s abundance had been cut-off, the wells and fountains did not have water, faces were pale, and the animals did not have the strength to stand on their feet.

However, the view suddenly changed when the Holy Prophet (PBUH) arrived. Before his arrival, the animals were not able to find any grasses to eat but now they were filled to repletion. Their breasts were overflowing with milk and like a fountain of mercy, they were pouring it continuously. There were no longer any pale faces in Halima’s home.

The other inhabitants of the area were still experiencing a famine and were continuing to suffer in a circle of hardship. Their animals were still frail, weak, and did not provide adequate milk.

It was as if those who did not accept our Holy Prophet (PBUH) for being an “orphan” were being punished by having to remain in deprivation.

The upland folk was about to burst from curiosity when they saw this situation before their eyes. They could not understand what they saw. They were blaming their shepherds and were scolding them: “How do Halima’s sheep get full? As they walk, milk continuously drops from their nipples. Who knows where she is grazing her sheep? Why do you not go to the place where she goes and graze your sheep there!?”

The shepherds knew for certain that their employers were being unfair in blaming them. The place where Halima was grazing her sheep was no different from where they were grazing theirs. For this reason, the shepherds were disputing this, however their objections made no difference. This time, their employers added:

“Very well, how is it that while the sheep in your herd are having difficulty carrying themselves due to starvation, hers are being satiated and are returning with milk-filled breasts?”

Neither the shepherds nor their employers were able to find the answer to this question. All they could do was look at one another with wonder and bewilderment.

However, there was a reason for this and at that time, nobody other than Hazrat Halima and her husband knew what it was. When the shepherds came and asked what the reason was, Halima gave them this answer:

“By God, this is not about pasture or grass. This work is one of the many secrets of the Lord. Everything began on our return from Mecca!”

Of course, the shepherds were not able to understand much from these words; thus, they were unable to get rid of their curiosity.

This was the secret that the prairie folk were unable to conceive:

Since Halima had displayed generosity in accepting our Holy Prophet (PBUH), who is the most beloved to the Possessor of the Universe, Allah, her household was generously being endowed with gifts from His mercy.

Halima and her husband were very well aware of this and for that reason, they looked at this radiant infant in a different light. So to speak, they would protect him from a flying bird and the rising sun as they fluttered around him with great love and care.

The Upland was freed from the drought

The drought and famine that were prevalent in the land of the sons of Sa’d had still not ended. Every week, the upland folk continued to recite a prayer for rain in accordance with their own beliefs and customs. However, they returned sad and empty-handed each time.

It was a Friday.

The entire tribal community went on top of a hill and took their milkless sheep and hungry camels along with them for the purpose of praying once more for rain. After they sacrificed their animals, they began to pray. They were begging and invoking the Lord of the universe to send rain. Even though they had been praying for hours, a single raindrop did not fall.

Our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) wet nurse, Halima and her husband, Harith, were also in the crowd. Halima would always protect the Master of the Universe (PBUH), and for that reason, she did not bring him among the crowd and had left him at home with his foster brother, Unais.

The end of the prayer was reached. Everyone was hopeless, exhausted, and was preparing to leave. In the meantime, a woman, who was one of Halima’s neighbors, approached the priest upon the completion of his prayer, and said: “Oh Priest, we prayed so much; however, we received no result. If there was someone favorable and auspicious among us, then maybe the Lord of the universe would accept our prayer”.

It was as if the priest was bothered by the old woman’s words and said, “All we can do is pray to Him; however, we are not able to know His plan. Only He knows what is right and what is favorable”.

This time, the old woman shared her real intention: “I know, what you have said is true; however, I meant to say something else. In our neighbor Halima’s home, there is child from Mecca. Ever since he came, Halima’s home has been overflowing with abundance. It appears like he is a very favorable and auspicious child”. Maybe his presence will bring us luck and the Lord of the universe may accept our prayer by granting us rain for his sake”.

At first, the priest was hesitant, but consented to the idea of our Holy Prophet (PBUH) being brought after the woman insisted.

The old woman looked for Halima and once she found her, she explained the offer that she had made to the priest.

Halima found this idea as being feasible since she was the one who saw what an auspicious and favorable child he was the most. She quickly ran home and once she arrived there, she hugged our Holy Prophet (PBUH). Afterwards, she bundled him and covered his face with a cloth to protect him from the impact of the burning sun. Then, the two went outside.

The sun was severely thrusting its flaming arrows towards the face of the Earth. It was as if blazing fire was rising from the ground. After leaving the house and having walked for a bit, Halima’s eyes noticed something strange. A cloud had been following them. At first, she did not pay much attention and said “could be” to herself while she continued walking; however, this cloud did not leave. In fact, it had undertaken the duty of protecting them from the sun’s boiling heat by acting as an umbrella. Inevitably, she was overcome with wonder and was surprised, and on the one hand, she was happy. It was no longer necessary to cover the radiant infant’s face with a cloth. When she lifted the cover, his cute eyes looked at her very sweetly and it was as if his smile was saying, “That cloud is shading me”.

They continued their way underneath the cloud that acted as an umbrella, and mixed in with the crowd once they arrived at their destination. Although the priest had been initially uncomfortable when the request was made, he was now greeting the two with a smile because he had seen a cloud from afar shading Halima and her companion as soon as they had left their home.

The priest took our Holy Prophet (PBUH) from his wet nurse’s arms and shouted to the crowd: “Oh, people! This is the child from Mecca that brings blessings to whichever household he is found in. Altogether, let us pray for the Lord of the Universe to deliver rain with the love and kindness that He has towards this favorable child”.

Everyone opened their hands once more and their lips began to excitedly recite a new prayer.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) stood like a ball of light in the priest’s arms and while everyone was begging Allah the-Almighty, he was looking at the sky with hopefulness as his eyes emitted an intense light. The priest was captured by this radiant infant’s large and eminent black eyes that were incomparable in beauty and he forgot everything at once.

The final moments of the waiting period that persisted for months with sadness and longing were finally nearing. The tiny cloud above of Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) was seen to have begun expanding and spreading across the horizon. In a short period, that tiny cloud abandoned its location in favor of becoming a huge cloud that covered the entire sky. Instantly, screams of happiness were combined with sounds of prayer. The coming of clouds meant that the arrival of rain was near, and a short while later, the area resonated with shrieks of happiness. “Rain….!!! Rain….!!! Rain….!!!”

Yes, two weeks of deprivation was enough for the Sons of Sa’d to understand the nature of the warning. For the sake of this radiant infant, clear and sweet raindrops began to harmoniously fall from the trove of God Almighty upon their homeland. Supposedly, mercy had embodied the form of rain and was pouring on the face of the Earth as it bestowed hope upon the hopeless people. Because of the drought, the face of the Earth had cracked, but it displayed its happiness too by releasing a sweet fragrance.

This community still did not know the secret as to why their continuous prayers for months on end were not accepted until that day. It was a secret that would remain a secret. The cause of such mercy was just yet a baby in the eyes of the people. In reality, Hazrat Muhammad (PBUH) was the Prophet of all Prophets, was recognized as the Beloved of Allah by the angels and Allah Himself, and was the Sun of both realms.

The mercy that brought smiles to the homeland of Sad’s sons continued for a week with intervals in between.

The soil was saturated all the way to its pith by the rain. The grass sprung up again, the trees sprouted young and fresh buds, crops grew tall, and the breasts of sheep began to be filled with milk.

Among the people, only a few understood the reason for the arrival of rain.

They said, “This child is very auspicious and beneficial” among themselves.

The weather was clear and nice in the pure and wide desert. It was a suitable condition for the children to have a prompt and healthy growth.

Our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) growth was different from that of the other children. He began to speak when he was eight months old, spoke smoothly and without error when he was nine months old, and was strong and robust enough to throw arrows like the other children when he was ten months old.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) stopped being breastfed when he reached two years of age. Until that time, Halima and the upland folk had been fully endowed with a rain of abundance, mercy, and bounty.

Even at this age, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) possessed a far greater beauty, charm, and superior manner of conduct than his peers. He was earnest and dignified like a grown adult.

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sirensmojo · 4 years

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Redamancy, 2: Love Me

Summary: You’re a princess and have to stay in Kattegat cause your father is a new ally of King Ragnar, your beauty catches Ragnarson’s eyes but you solely show interest in Ivar The Boneless. No one understands what you see in him and your father shares he’d rather see you with a “healthy” son of Ragnar as much physically as mentally but you pit yourself against him and everyone else.

Warnings: fierce reader, strong language, mentions of sex

Word Count: 3,046

❰ Previous part II Masterlist

Your father was sermonising to you on how indelicate and rough the Vikings were. “You can’t be serious Y/N” “Yes I am, father” He looks at you with disdain “I swear to God you lost your mind Y/N!” he started to vigorously shake his head. “Don’t swear to God he never asked you” you started to get irritated. “We talked about that, numerous times...!”

“And I always told you I must feel things on my own to make a decision, that’s what I did” you retort. “That decision where you want to marry the crazier son of Ragnar? Oh Lord what did I do to receive such punishment ...” your father overdramatically says as he raises his hands towards the sky.

You tried your best not to roll your eyes at him and instead you took a deep breath in. “First of all, I did not mention I wanted to marry him” “So what is it? A fling? There is no such thing as a fling in Christianity Y/N” he lets out a sigh but slowly started to calm down.

“Can you think things out of the Church for once, please? And secondly, you don’t know anything about him, as a matter of fact, you never tried to talk with him. All you do is listen to what people say and I’m telling you, this will be the death of you, father”

Suddenly, as if you brightened the fire dormant inside of him, he lifts his eyes to intently look at you and frowns. “Are you out of your mind? Don’t you listen to what you say Y/N?” and you shrug.

“I know nobody else will tell you, so I had to say it” He exhaled whereas one of his hands was running down his face. “You’re mother used to talk to me the way you do, but I’d never expected to find so much of her in you” he sadly says and you place your hand on his shoulder.

“Father, I would never tell something to hurt you. All I want is allowing you to see things differently. There is always another way to look at things and to take the best decision I believe we must take into consideration all the options. I know I maybe am wrong for believing Ivar is trustworthy but mother raised me to always follow my guts and I must follow her teaching to honor her”

“Do you mean you are deeply feel something for the Viking?” he asks and you nodded. A tiny smile appears upon his face “Trust me” you added as he was looking at Ivar form afar. “I am weak when it comes to you Y/N” he murmurs shaking his head. “Being vulnerable does not mean being weak father, and you have found your common feature with the man” you glanced at Ivar that was talking with his brothers.

Even if you talked with your father and he started to accept your feelings for Ivar you knew it wasn’t over. He will surely come again and complain about how you betray the christ for loving a pagan, nevertheless, you were glad he didn’t take the situation too badly. Usually, he dramatizes things at such a high level, but this went pretty well. When you finished talking both of you go back to the table with the King and his sons.

“Y/n,” Ivar said when you sat down, leaning into your ear so only you could hear. You turned your head to face him as he motioned the door and you go out. “Your father will leave soon, in maybe four days or five it will be two full moons since you and your father came in Kattegat” “He will leave alone Ivar, I must stay”

“Why is that?” he asked with round eyes as you lift your hand to his face to slowly stroke his cheek. He leaned into your touch closing his eyes and you smiled. “He does not approve me” he murmurs “He does not know you” “You always say that people don’t know me”

“I speak the truth” you firmly say and he lets out a long sigh. “I must admit I’m scared the gods see I’m not worthy of you and take you away” “I’m here because I want to, the gods have nothing to do with that” Ivar chuckles at your words and raised his brows.

“I hope they’re not listening to your ‘blasphemy’ as you Christians say” “The only blasphemy is to think they own our freedom” you respond and he glanced at you. “I love how fearless you can be, it reminds me a bit of my father” he looks at you with lust and sorrow. “Can we walk a little? I think people of Kattegat stopped talking about how you don’t deserve me” you teased and he motioned his hand towards the street “You go first”.

After an hour of your daily walk with Ivar, you go back to the great hall and you sat next to your father still exchanging greedy stares with the Viking “Are you sleeping with him?” you heard a familiar voice murmuring “Father!” you looked at him with wide eyes.

People around the table looked at you confused and you cleared your throat giving them a small smile. “I’m sorry it’s just... Vikings don’t have the same customs as we do” “Thank you I’ve learned something new I didn’t realize they are different” “They’re heathens and venerate false gods!” he hissed. “Say that louder and they’ll get you killed. They didn’t like you in the first place, they tolerated you” “King Ragnar likes me” you raised your brows at your father.

“King Ragnar also liked a Christian named Athelstan and still he’s dead, killed by the best friend of Ragnar himself: Flock, the boat builder” you shrug and you can see his face crumples. “You’re here to forge a bond of trust between Francia and Norway but you don’t even know what’s going on here” you shook your head.

“Don’t act like you belong here Y/N, we’re Christians they’re Pagans, you don’t like me to remind you but you always seem to forget it” and you glanced at the Vikings around the table. “Can you stop saying that? I will not be able to stop them from killing you! You’re the one looking for trouble!” you warn him and he exhales “Alright“ he rolls his eyes. “And yes I do belong here” you added. “Have you lost your mind?” he retorts.

“I am the only one involved in this peace treaty” you highlight intently looking him in his eyes and that made him silent. When you look away to ease the tumultuous thoughts running wild in your head your eyes meet Ivar’s and you can see he was looking at you for a long time now, he may be even understood what your father and you were talking about.

After the meal, you directly joined the chamber you now share with the younger Ragnarson and took a bath. About an hour later, you were putting on your nightdress when he entered the room. He didn’t say anything hobbling to the bed and getting comfortable.

He gets undressed when you sneaked under the sheets, once you were close enough you put your head on his chest and let out a long sigh. Nothing could compare to the warmth of his embrace and it was exactly what you needed after all the worries your father aroused in your mind.

“My father told me that yours liked him” “It’s good for your people, not mine” he harshly responded. “Why is that?” “We are Vikings, we fight for lands, we don’t negotiate” he curtly spit “I will remember” you calmly say as a relaxing silence sets in.

“Would you fight for me?” you suddenly asked “You’re a land now?” he chuckles and you straighten up to look at his eyes “I fight with you, isn’t that enough?” he responds and as you drown into his deep blue eyes that always had the same effect on you, you straddle him.

“Nothing is enough when it comes to you Ivar” you murmur as your face dangerously came nearer his, his eyes didn’t leave yours whereas his hands dawdled on your hips. You eagerly crashed your lips to his and began to grind down on him, your hips waved against his growing bump and he shyly slides his hand on your butt.“Do you want this as much as I do Ivar?” you murmur “Stop talking if it’s to say some stupid shit” he answered and you simply chuckle.

Whereas his touch became more and more greedy you slowly started to moan in his mouth as he kneads your skin in between his fingers. “I know your father talked to you about me” he finally lets out “So that’s what was your mind” you mutter in between two kisses.

His fingers unraveled the laces of your dress as his lips leave feverish kisses in the hollow of your neck. “It was just him telling me you’re a heathen and that Vikings are barbarian and not valuable... Even though I told him saying those types of things would be a great motive to murder him” you hardly succeed to let out as your heart was pounding in your chest whereas air was harder and harder to find.

As a response, Ivar simply groans too occupied with your breasts making your buds hard. “He even said you fuck here and there” you chuckled and his fingered reached your soak wet folds stopping you in your tracks as a whimper escaped your lips.

“If only he knew about his own daughter,” said Ivar with a cheeky smile “He still fiercely believe I am a Christian so...” you managed to whisper even if your whole body was melting under Ivar’s touch.“Have you ever ever been?” “I doubt it, it was more of searching for comfort whenever I could and Christianity was here. I was not looking for salvation, just a little faith in anyone or anything... My belief was never genuine but my will to stop from hurting was”

And with your last words, Ivar entered two of his fingers into you owning a scream of pleasure from your lips “No heartbreak no more, that I can guarantee” he simply mutters and your grab his head, searching for his lips.

***

That night full of love made you wake up late but when you saw your Viking still laying by your side, you couldn’t resist lazing around some more. Your fingers running on his braided hair made him open his eyes as he lets out a groan. “If you’re up before me that means it must be truly late” he murmurs to himself and you chuckle.

“This is how you greet me?” you slowly asked whereas his eyes were fluttering. “I am sorry for being rude but I’m a Viking what did you expect of me?” he yawned and you put your head on his chest “Nothing love” you mutters closing your eyes

“Being barbarian is what I know how to do best” he added not fully awake. “Well you’re a good Viking and I’m a bad Christian I suppose” and his hand came nearer your face to cup your cheek. “Maybe that makes you a Viking?” he mutters inches away from your lips.

“Being bad at something doesn’t make me good by default at its opposite” and he flops backward groaning “Too much deep talk too early Y/N, don’t you have an off button?” he asks and you pinch his skin.

“What does that even mean! That I talk too much?” you shout and he grabs your wrist as he straightens up. “You’re so dauntless I want to shut down that admirable trait of yours” “What?” you ask being fazed.“You think you can pinch me and I’m going to sit here consenting to it?” he raised a brow as you tilt your head “Oh... What are you going to do anyway?” you shrug.

He suddenly grabbed your neck expecting you to be surprise and surrender. He slowly tightened a little more his grip. You intensify your gaze and slide one of your hand under your pillow to grab one of your knives then you abruptly raised your hand toward his head before pressing the cutting edge against his neck.

“Fuck you pet, what do you do with that?” he calmly lets out like a drop of his blood runs down your knife. He finally lets go of your neck and exhaled completely defeated. “Just in case you want to kill me... Or conversely” you lightly respond before letting go of his neck, you bring the knife to your lips and let out your tongue to lick the blood looking him in the eyes.

“It was obvious something must’ve been wrong with you to hang around with me” he smirks and leaned into a greedy kiss. “So that’s how I turn Ivar The Boneless on, isn’t it?” you asked straddling him simply letting out a groan.

You were a moaning mess, slowly reaching your climax when someone banged at the door “Don’t you hear we’re occupied!” you scream as loud as you could totally out of control. Ivar looked bewildered at you before shaking his head.

“What is it?” he shouts way more calmly than you. This time the door opens and a guard enters the room but that didn’t stop you from moving your hips back and force to the Viking’s body. Your high pitched tone moans quickly took up again and the Ragnarson tried his best to give some attention to the guard.

“My prince, your brothers, and your father are waiting for you...” he lets out. He was trying not to look at you but he was too mesmerized by your brown and long mane running down your feminine and naked features that you usually hide into a bun. You finally reached your climax as your walls clenched around Ivar that lets out a hoarse groan.

Once you got what you wanted you free him and lay on your back oh his side without even paying attention to the man standing by your bed. “Fuck...Tell them I’m coming” confusedly said Ivar.

The guard left while Ivar straightens up “You know he will tell everyone how beautiful the french Princess is ?” he began. “Meaning my father will soon know the Viking he values least fucked his Christian and only daughter” you finish his sentence. He started to get dress shaking his head.

“You made it more complicated than it needed to be” he said and that made you chuckle. “So you’re the wise one now?” you teased him and you leave kisses on his neck “They are going to kill me if you keep holding me back, you know that?” “I don’t care, I will find a way to bring you back” you murmur between two kisses. He chuckles and shook his head, he then grabs his crutch and stood up.

***

After dressing up you join the great hall and bump into the King and his sons accompanied by your father. You didn’t expect them to still be here as you took about an hour to get out of bed.“Y/N” King Ragnar greets you as you came closer “King Ragnar you nodded”

“Call me Ragnar, I heard you’re officially family now” he gave you a cheeky smile. “Everybody heard ” snickers Sigurd as his brothers tried to muffle their laughter. Your father was looking away as he didn’t really know what he should do.

“You heard?” you repeated and he glanced at Ivar, you suddenly remember being a moaning mess this morning and clear your voice. “What are you doing ?” you asked ignoring his comment. He didn’t say much else about his son and you. “You see, this is a map-” he started. “I know what a map is” you interrupted him with a snappy tone and he raised his brows looking at Ivar as if he waited for him to tell you something. He was acting like such a kid...

Actually, he often acted like that and that reminded you of your own father. “We planned on raiding in Wessex again, what is the best way to get more benefits from King Aethelwulf according to you?” he picks up as he turns suddenly serious.

“We should go there and manifest our intention not to fight and negotiate” interrupted your father and Ragnar glanced at you as if he waited for you to confirm the words of your father. “We are Vikings, we fight for lands we do not negotiate” you simply said, Ivar looked up to you with a proud look.

“Furthermore, if I remember correctly you had a colony there and Ecbert slaughtered your people, maybe we should just attack them and make them taste of their own medicine as soon as our feet touch Wessex’s land, but for that part, the cripple got more ideas than I” you shrug and Ragnar nodded in approval.

“You are a greater help than all my sons reunited,” said Ragnar before glancing at your father as to let him know we will follow this plan rather than his. Your father was still choked about how much you knew of the Vikings and looked at you in amazement.

As for the Ragnarsons, they glanced at each other before all looking at you “You said that Ivar knew better about a battle plan, what do you mean?” asked Hvitserk. “He knows more than you know” you shrug once more.

“He’s very observant and can anticipate a person’s choice” and they all looked over Ivar. At this moment he only had eyes for you and his lustful stare could only confirm the things he was felling for you.

#ivar #ivar x reader #ivar's heathen army #ivar the boneless #vikings ivar #vikings #viking imagine #vikings imagine #vikings fandom #ragnarsons #hvitserk #sigurd #ragnar lothbrok #ragnar lodbrok #king ragnar #ivar lothbrok #ivar lodbrok #ivar imagine

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gascon-en-exil · 3 years

Text

A Game of Thrones 10th Anniversary Season Ranking: Part 2

Link to Part 1

Time for the bottom half of the list. The four seasons here will surprise no one, but the order might.

#5 Season 6

You can tell what I most what to talk about here...but there's an order to these things.

S6 actually has a bunch of great ideas, but they drown beneath the most slapdash plotting and character work the show has seen yet in order to set the stage for the narrower conflicts of the last two seasons. It's notorious for bringing back characters who haven't been seen in a season or longer only to kill them off (Balon Greyjoy, Osha, Hodor, the Blackfish, Rickon, Walder Frey) or awkwardly graft them back into the main plot (Sandor Clegane, Bran). There are plot threads that ought to be compelling but are too rushed in execution, like the siege of Riverrun, Littlefinger's hand in the Battle of the Bastards, or Daenerys's time back among the Dothraki and then finally getting the hell out of Meereen. Arya hits on the only interesting part of her two-season sojourn in Braavos - a stage play, of all things - only for it to stumble at the end with a disappointing offscreen death and some incomprehensible philosophy ahead of the start of her murder tour of Westeros. There's also so much cutting off the branches, enough to be conspicuous; the final shot of Daenerys leading an armada of about half the remaining cast she assembled partially offscreen says that better than anything else. Well, not anything....

Highlight: Without exaggeration, the opening of S6E10 is easily my favorite sequence in all of GoT. The staging, the music, the mounting suspense even as it becomes increasingly obvious what's about to happen, the twisted religious references particularly in Cersei's mock confession to Unella, Tommen throwing himself out a window because he can't deal with the reality of how terrible his mother is, how Cersei gives absolutely no fucks whatsoever about murdering hundreds of people at once in a calculated act of vengeance largely prompted by her own poorly thought out actions - I love it all. It's the single most masterfully-executed act of villainy in the whole show - Daenerys torching King's Landing probably has a higher body count, but the presentation there is all muddled - and if I had any doubts about Cersei being my favorite multi-season major character they were silenced in this moment. The explosion of the Sept doesn't sit perfectly with me, because I liked the Tyrells and because of what I said about deaths like theirs and Renly's in the previous post under S2, but I think that unease only cements the strength of this sequence. It's an overused phrase in fandom these days, but GoT at its best is all about moral greyness that gives its audience room for multilayered reactions. Cersei nuking the Sept and making herself the sole power in King's Landing, which in a sense is just a more overt example of the kind of character/plot consolidation elsewhere represented by Daenerys's armada, is one of those events that's impossible to approach from a single angle if you care about any of the characters involved. And hey, it's not in the books (yet, presumably), so unlike Ned's death or the Red Wedding the GoT showrunners can take the credit for realizing this one.

Favorite death: Even leaving aside the Sept and related deaths there's a lot of good ones to choose from in S6. Ramsey is cathartic but too gory for me, Osha's was a clever callback but a little delayed, it's hard to pin down specific deaths when Daenerys incinerates the khals, and Arya only gets half credit for Walder Frey and his sons when she saves the rest of the house for the opening of S7. I'm thinking Hodor, not so much because I enjoy his character or the manner of his death but because it's a clever bit of playing with language (that must have been hell to render in other languages for dubbing) wrapped up in some entertainingly murky consent issues and some closed time loop weirdness. It's all very...extra? Is that the word for it?

Least favorite death: Offscreen deaths continue to be mostly letdowns, in this case Blackfish and the Waif. Way to botch the ending of Arya's already near-pointless Braavos arc, guys. Speaking of Arya, this spot goes to Lady Crane, whom the Waif somehow kills with a stool or something. It's a dumb way to send off an entertaining minor character.

#6 Season 8

I swear that I'm not putting S8 this high solely because of Jonmund kind of sort of happening. I've never been very interested in either of them and the sex would be far too bear-on-otter to suit my pornographic preferences, but even so the choice to close out the series with them is hilarious.

I really don't need to elaborate on why S8 is down here; everyone who's ever watched the show has done as much in the nearly two years since it wrapped up. I do however need to explain why I've ranked not one but two seasons below it. My biggest argument here is that I don't believe it's fair to critique S8 for problems it inherited from earlier seasons. A non-comprehensive list:

Mad Queen Daenerys: unevenly built up beginning from S1 and continuing in some form through every following season

The questionable racial optics of Dany's army: also seeded as early as S1 and solidified by S3 with the Slaver's Bay arc

Cersei only succeeding because she makes stupid decisions and then lucks out until she doesn't: apparent from S1, directly lampshaded by Tywin in S3, fully on display with the Faith Militant arc of S5-6

Jaime not getting a redemption arc or falling in love with Brienne: evident with his repeated returns to Cersei throughout the show as one of the most consistent elements of his character, particularly in S4 and during the siege of Riverrun in S6

Tyrion grabbing the idiot ball/becoming a flat audience surrogate mouthpiece: started in S5 around the time the showrunners ran out of book material for him and wanted to make him more of a PoV character and his arc less of a downward spiral, although I've seen arguments that changes from the books involving his Tysha story and Shae set him on this trajectory even earlier

The hardening of Sansa's character: began in earnest in S4 and never let up from there

The strange ordering of antagonists: set down by S7's equally strange plot structure - the Night King had to come first with that setup

CleganeBowl and the dumber twists: from what I've heard the whole thing of writing around fans on the internet guessing plot twists started pretty much when the book content ended, so S5-6 maybe?

Yes, there's plenty to criticize about S8 on its own merits...but just as much that was merely the writers doing what they could at that point with deeply flawed material.

Highlight: This may sound cheesy, but the better parts of S8 are almost all the cinematic ones, whether that's E2 being a bottle episode with tons of poignant character send-offs before the big battle, a handful of deaths with actual satisfying weight like Jorah's and Theon's, and an epilogue that incorporates both closure for individuals and the broader uncertainty of messy socio-political systems that GoT has always been known for before working its way back to the Starks at the very end for some tidy bookending. Even imperfect moments like the Lannister twins' death and the resolution of Sansa's character felt weighty and appropriate based on what had come before.

Favorite death: Forget about the audio commentary attempting to flatten Cersei's character; Cersei and Jaime Lannister have an excellent end. Cersei especially, as the scenes of her stumbling her way down into the catacombs as the Red Keep crashes down around her really show off how her world is abruptly falling apart and how she retreats into her own self-interest at the end in spite of her demise being at least partially of her own doing. There's some stupid moments associated with these scenes, like Jaime dueling Euron to the death and CleganeBowl, but I can excuse those when the twins end up dying exactly where you'd expect them to: in each other's arms, in a ruined monument to their family's grand ambitions that, like Casterly Rock itself, was taken from another family.

Least favorite death: Quite a few dumb ones in S8 have become forever infamous. Missandei sticks out, and for me Varys too just as much because of how the writing pushes him to do the dumbest thing he could possibly do purely for the sake of killing him off ten minutes into the penultimate episode. But no one belongs here more than Daenerys Targaryen, killed at the height of a rushed and uncertain villain reveal by a man who takes advantage of their romantic history (who is also her family, because Targaryens) to stab her in a moment of vulnerability - pretty much only because another man tells him that Daenerys is the final boss. Narratively speaking that might be the case, but even so this is the end result of multiple seasons of middling-to-bad buildup. Not even Drogon burning the symbolism can salvage that. Also Fire Emblem: Three Houses did this scene and did it better.

#7 Season 5

...Yeah, we're going to have to go there.

Sansa's rape is not a plot point that personally touches me much. It's terribly framed in the moment and the followup in later seasons is inconsistent at best, but it's not a kind of trauma I can relate to. On the other hand, in the very same episode Loras is tried and imprisoned for homosexuality, and Margery faces the same punishment for lying for her brother. That hits much closer to home, not just for the homophobia but also for the culture war undertones of the not!French Tyrells persecuted by a not!Anglo fanatic who later reveals himself to be the in-universe equivalent of a Protestant. The trial is just one part of Cersei's shortsighted scheming, just as Sansa being married off to Ramsey is part of Littlefinger's, and both of them get their comeuppance in the end...but it's unsettling all the same. I especially hate what the Faith Militant arc does to King's Landing in S5, swiftly converting it from my favorite setting in GoT to a tense theocratic nightmare that only remains interesting to me because Cersei is consistently awesome. What's more, pretty much everything about S5 that isn't viscerally uncomfortable is dragged out and dull instead: the Dorne arc, Daenerys's second season in Meereen, Arya in Braavos, Stannis and co. at Castle Black. The most any of these storylines can hope for is some kind of bombastic finale, and while several of them deliver it's not enough to make up for what comes before, or how disappointing everything here builds from S4. S4 has Oberyn, S5 has the Sand Snakes - I think that sums up the contrast well.

Highlight: S5 does get stronger near the end. As much as his character annoys me I did like the High Sparrow revealing his pseudo-Protestant bent to Cersei just before he imprisons her, and there's a cathartic rawness to Cersei's walk of atonement where you can both feel her pain and humiliation and understand that she's getting exactly what she deserves (and this is what leads into the climax of S6, so it deserves points just for that). The swiftness of Stannis's fall renders his death and that of his family a bit hollow, but it's brutal and final and fittingly ignominious for a character with such grand ambitions but so little relevance to the larger story. The fighting pits of Meereen sequence is cinematic if nothing else, and even the resolution to the Dorne arc salvages the whole thing a tiny bit by playing into the retributive cycles of vengeance idea (and Myrcella knows about the twincest and doesn't care, aww - no idea why that stuck with me, but it's cute all the same). Oh, and Hardhome...it's alright. Not great, not crap, but alright.

Favorite death: I don't know why, but Theon tossing Myranda to her death is always funny to me. Maybe because it's so unexpected?

Least favorite death: Arya's execution of Meryn Trant is meant to be another one of the season's big finale moments, but the scene is graphic and goes on forever and I can't help but be grossed out. This is different from, say, Shireen's death, which is supposed to be painful to witness.

#8 Season 7

I can't tell if S7's low ranking is as self-explanatory as S8's or not. At least one recent retrospective on GoT's ruined legacy I've come across outright asserts that S7 is judged less harshly in light of how bad S8 was. If it were not immediately obvious by where I've placed each of them, I don't share that opinion.

Because S7 is just a mess, and the drop-off in quality is so much more painful here than it is anywhere else in the series except maybe from S4 to S5 (and that's more about S4 being as good as it is). The pacing ramps up to uncomfortable levels to match the shortened seasons, the structure pivots awkwardly halfway through from Daenerys vs. Cersei to Jon/Dany caring about ice zombies, said pivot relies largely on characters (mostly Tyrion) making a series of catastrophically stupid tactical decisions, and very few of the smaller set pieces land with any real impact as the show's focus narrows to its endgame conflict. As with S6 there are still some good ideas, but they're botched in execution. The conflict between Sansa and Arya matches their characters, but the leadup to that conflict ending with Littlefinger's execution is missing some key steps. Daenerys's diverse armada pitted against Cersei weaponizing the xenophobia of the people of King's Landing could have been interesting, but there's little room to explore that when Cersei keeps winning only because Tyrion has such a firm grip on the idiot ball and when Euron gets so much screentime he barely warrants. Speaking of Tyrion's idiot ball, does anyone like the heist film-esque ice zombie retrieval plotline? Its stupidity is matched only by its utter futility, because Cersei isn't trustworthy and nobody seems to ever get that.

And how could I forget Sam's shit montage? Sums up S7 perfectly, really. To think that that is part of the only extended length of time the show ever spends in the Reach....

Highlight: A handful of character moments save this season from being irredeemable garbage. As you can guess from my screencap choice, Olenna's final scene is one of them, even if Highgarden itself is given insultingly short shrift. S7 also manages what I thought was previously impossible in that it makes me care somewhat about Ellaria Sand, courtesy of the awful death Cersei plans for her and her remaining daughter. The other Sand Snakes are killed with their own weapons, which shows off Euron's demented creativity if nothing else. I like the entertainingly twisted choice to cut the Jon/Dany sex scene with the reveal that they're related. And, uh...the Jonmund ship tease kind of makes the zombie retrieval team bearable? I'm really grasping at straws here.

Favorite death: It's more about her final dialogue with Jaime than her actual death, but again I'm going to have to highlight Olenna Tyrell here for lack of better options. She drops the bombshell about Joffrey that the audience figured out almost as soon as it happened but still, makes it plain what I've been saying about how Jaime's arc has never really been about redemption, and is just about the only person to ever call Cersei out for that whole mass murder thing. There's a reason "I want her to know it was me" became a meme format.

Least favorite death: There aren't any glaringly bad deaths in S7, just mediocre or unremarkable ones. I still think the decision to have Arya finish off House Frey in the season's opening rather than along with their father at the end of S6 was a strange one that doesn't add much of dramatic value.

#Game of Thrones #GoT

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