#【 ❝ before fate called us to our destruction ❞ 】 ✕ brotherhood. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cailjei · 4 years ago

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For the gift exchange of @worstloki . My giftee is @palletprincess . I truly hope you enjoy this!

The sound of a door creaking woke Thor from his slumber. A thin ray of moonlight passed through the drapes, illuminating the room. His gaze immediately snapped to the door. Loki stood there, his face looking otherworldly pallid under the light of Asgard’s moons. He seemed unsure of what to do.

Thor sat up in his bed. “Brother?”

There was a pause, before Loki asked timidly “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Loki stepped through the door uncertainly. “What happened?”

Loki hesitated for a moment. He casted his gaze on the floor. “I had a nightmare.”

Thor scooted over to make room for his brother, pulling off the bedcovers and patting the now empty space beside him. Loki slid under the blankets. It was impossible to see it in the dark but now that they were near each other, shoulders and arms touching, Thor could feel his brother trembling. “What was the nightmare about?”

“I don’t remember.” Loki answered a bit too quickly. It was a pitiful attempt at a lie, which was weird coming from Loki, who usually was so artful at his deceits. Nonetheless, Thor was tired enough to let it go. “It’s alright. Let’s just go to sleep.”

Thor had almost fallen asleep, when he heard Loki whisper. “It was so cold. Their eyes were glowing like embers, burning in the dark. And they came for me. The Jotnar monsters.”

Thor knew that his brother was scared of the Jotnar. It was the only threat of their nursemaid, Hilde, that had actually taken root. And ever since Hilde had understood it, she had used it ruthlessly. Every time his brother was causing mischief, Hilde would say that the Jotnar would come and steal him in the night and eat him. Loki, despite putting on a brave front would pale every time he heard it.

“They won’t come. And even if they do, I won’t let them take you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

They were suspended above the void, Loki’s fingers wrapped around one of Gungnir’s ends as Thor tightly held the other. Loki looked more vulnerable than Thor had ever seen him, since they were both children and Loki slipped into his bedchambers, in the middle of the night, seeking help to ward off his nightmares. Thor could see Loki breaking a little more every moment that passed, but he could never have guessed that Odin’s words would send him over the edge, not until he saw his expression, shifting from desperation to resignation. Loki’s fingers loosened their grip and Thor screamed as his brother let go, because there was nothing else he could do, nothing that could keep his brother from falling into the abyss. And then he was being hauled up to the bridge by Odin.

“Loki!” Thor yelled, feeling paralysed, staring over the edge, at Loki who seemed to get smaller and smaller with each passing second, as if he was being consumed by the darkness surrounding him. For a wild moment, Thor had half a mind to follow him, but the urge passed before he could realise it. Then he heard Odin uttering some arcane words in an ancient tongue. Loki’s form was enveloped by white light, and suddenly he disappeared. Thor terrified turned to his father, who was gazing onto the bridge again. He followed Odin’s stare only to find his brother, laying in a heap, prone and unmoving. Thor looked questioningly at Odin.

“It’s a sleeping spell. It will keep him calm until we can get him to the infirmary.”

Thor ran to Loki and turned him over. Loki’s face was slack, youthful in his senselessness, all evidence of his previous madness erased. He didn’t know what else to do, other than yell at Loki what the Hel he was thinking, or crush him into a hug and never let go. Since he could hardly manage the first, he had to be satisfied with the latter. So he gathered Loki into his arms, pressing him tightly in his chest and got up, following Odin to the healing ward.

The days following his failed coronation were the most difficult thing Thor had ever had to endure. It felt as though the world had turned upside down and yet he still had to pretend that everything was as it used be. He had to attend a lot of council meetings regarding inter-realm relations, as well as the fate of his brother. Odin had declared Loki to not be of sound mind and -as much as Thor hated to think about his brother that way- it made their job of defending his actions against the council and the representatives of the other realms so much more easier.

And as terrible as it was for him, he could only guess how horrid it was for Loki.

Loki who had not spoken a word since being rescued at the broken rainbow bridge. When Thor visited the infirmary, he mostly stared into the distance, ignoring him. At the rare occasion when Thor said something particularly stupid, Loki would turn and look at him with dull eyes. To be honest, Thor himself did not know how to feel about Loki and about what Loki had done. He alternated between guilt and fury and worry and sorrow.

And then there was their family secret.

Three days after the incident at the Bifrost, Thor’s parents had bid him into Odin’s study. “We need to talk to you.” Frigga had said. “It’s about your brother.” And Thor had come. His parents had both seemed awkward at first, as he took the chair in front of them. Odin spoke first. “Your brother is not our son by blood. He is our son by heart.” The words felt like one of his many practiced speeches.

Thor did not know what to say, he did not even know what to feel about it. All these years and the thought had never crossed his mind. Looking back now he could see how different his brother had always been, both in appearance and personality. And yet, Thor could not think Loki as anything other than his brother. Odin went on, apparently unaware of Thor’s shock, his gaze turning distant.

“It was years ago, during our war with Jotunheim. After I fought Laufey, I found him, abandoned in a temple, left to die of exposure. Laufey’s son. I will confess, my first thought was that I could use him, I could unite our realms through him. So I brought him home. I may have had plans for him, but soon enough they all changed, as I came to love him as if he were my own. Perhaps I erred, in hiding from him what he was. But that was not my intent. I thought him to be happy. I truly thought him happy.”

“It can’t be. He cannot be one of them. The Jotnar are monsters! Loki is... clever and witty and wily and... and not a monster!” Even as he said that, he thought of his brother, hell-bent on destruction at the Bifrost, feral and wild, crying and cackling. And on this occasion alone, Thor could imagine him blue-skinned and red-eyed, monstrous. The next moment he felt sickened by his own train of thought.

“They are not monsters Thor. Don’t ever say that again.” Frigga hissed. “He is your brother, regardless of his race.”

Thor just gaped. “All these years, you let us believe -you let both of us believe- that the Jotnar were monsters! That they were nothing more than monsters! How could you, when the one you call son was one of them-”

“We never taught you as such. But we couldn’t control the people’s opinions... And after the war the Aesir’s hearts were hardened against the Jotnar.”

“But you could have taught us otherwise. You could have taught us the truth.”

His parents had nothing to say to that. At last Odin spoke. “I will admit that we could have handled it better. But, in all honesty, I had thought that he’ll never know. We only sought to protect him from the truth.”

“So that means that he knows?” Thor asked in the end, even though he had the sneaking suspicion that he already knew the answer to his query. For there was no other explanation for his brother’s sudden bout of insanity.

“He does.” Answered Frigga.

Thor had heard enough. He excused himself and left. He had a lot to think about.

The next day, after Thor completed his obligations, he headed towards the healing chambers. Loki was there to heal, but the healers had no idea how to aid him. His magic was bound, much to his dismay. Thor visited daily, but today he was there for a different purpose. After he reached the door, he stilled himself, readying for the battlefield that this conversation will be. Then he knocked, mostly to inform Loki of his presence, and entered without awaiting for his response.

Loki lay on the bed, curled on his side, his arms wrapped around his waist and his back on the door. For a moment, he wondered whether his brother still slept, but once Thor noticed his breathing pattern he could tell that Loki was awake. Thor sat on the chair beside the bed, as usual.

“Loki, turn to face me. Please. We need to talk. It is long overdue.”

Loki did not answer him. He did not turn around either. Thor struggled not to sigh audibly. “I know what you are.” Loki’s breath hitched. “But I also know who you are. My brother, my best friend, my closest confidant. My equal.”

For the first time in four days, Loki spoke. “You must have lost what little wits you had about you if you think to call a Jotun your brother, much less your equal. I would have thought that by now, we both have learnt that I am neither.” His voice was raspy from disuse and thick with disgust.

“That is not true. As children we’ve played together and as men we’ve fought together, side by side. I know you as I know no one else. You may not be my brother by blood, but that is not the only measure of brotherhood. The Jotnar are not monsters. And you are not one either.”

Loki finally turned to face him. “And they would have it that I am mad. Whence did that sudden love for the Frost Giants came? You had no qualms about slaying them all. You said so yourself. And yet, one of them is standing right before you, wrapped in false Aesir skin and instead of making good use of your prized hammer, you call it brother and dilly-dally your time making polite conversation with it!”

Thor was momentarily stunned. He hated the way Loki seemed to think about himself. He was also unable to discern what his brother was referring to. In the end, a distant memory clawed its way on the forefront of his thoughts. “I was but a child. I didn’t know any better. And I was wrong to hold such opinions.” Loki’s eyes widened in surprise. There was a brief pause. “You shouldn’t talk about yourself that way.” Added Thor at last.

Loki chuckled bitterly. “But a few days ago, you were ready to kill them all, to start a war with them over petty insults, to make them learn their place. And in the space of a three day vacation on Midgard you changed completely. All those years, I was the only one to see your flaws, your arrogance, your temper, your impulsiveness, your tendency to act before you think and I did my damnedest to try and change them, and when that proved impossible, I did what I could to keep you away from the throne, before your hot-headiness doomed Asgard. And as if you did not already set an impossible standard, suddenly you return from your banishment, all flaws wiped away, ready to consign me to your shadow, forever this time. For how can I escape it now?”

“I wouldn’t have ruined Asgard!” Thor felt genuinely hurt that his brother seemed to hold him in such low regard. His aforementioned temper began to rear its ugly head again.

Loki laughed, hysterically. “You wouldn’t have done it all at once. But given a few centuries, I am certain-”

And Thor exploded. “You didn’t just do it for Asgard! You always were jealous of me. I never did understand why, for what petty reasons-”

Loki’s face hardened. “Of course. This is what I am, isn’t it? Everything I do is either from envy or from spite, there is always some sort of malicious intent behind my actions. Everything that’s ever wrong, it is that way because of me, it could never be you, the golden son, the flawless, glorious prince, the mightiest warrior of Asgard. This is what everyone believes, isn’t it? I am a trickster, the Liesmith, a snake in the bosom of the royal family, finally revealed for what I truly am-”

“I do not believe that.”

“And I don’t believe you. All those centuries of being dismissed as the lesser prince, my talents belittled as yours were cherished, of being in your shadow until I became one.”

“I never thought myself as your better.” Even as he said that he remembered, not a week ago, saying to his brother to know his place. He flushed. “I didn’t mean- I was just angry-”

“Ha. You always are. Angry or upset or-” Loki cut himself off and breathed deeply through his nose. “I don’t want your sentimental nonsense. I am not interested in your worthless excuses either. Go.”

“Loki...”

“Leave me be.” Loki said, his voice flat and cold, turning away and curling into himself again, in a movement that reminded Thor of a snake coiling in preparation for brumation.

Stubbornly, Thor attempted to start again the conversation, but his efforts were all for naught. In the end he left, having achieved none of his goals.

That night, sleep would not come for Thor. Certainly, it was not for lack of effort. The conversation with his brother was replaying in his mind, over and over. Sometimes, Loki frustrated him to no end. Other times he got angry on himself, for his mishandling of the situation. He tossed and turned until giving up finally when only the smallest moon was still hanging in the night sky.

It was true that his brother’s seidr was scorned since it was considered a womanly art. His cunning and keen wit were appreciated by few when applied to strategy in battle, but Loki’s preferred method of manipulating social circumstances and lying, even by omission, were thought as cowardly. ‘A warrior’s way is as straight as the sword he wields.’ Were the words of their weapon-master, Tyr. Tyr had often berated Loki for not leaving up to that standard. And Thor- he didn’t recall berating exactly, but he most certainly teased. He didn’t have malicious intentions, he didn’t want his brother to feel bad, but in retrospect, he could see how his comments, or the ones by their friends could be taken as offence, even if at the time they were received with a wicked smirk and a retaliation in the form of a snide remark, usually about the intelligence of the offending party. And, on second thought, although he held Loki in high regard, he had underestimated his brother’s talents in the past. Loki had spoke true, he had been arrogant and thoughtless. He still was, from time to time. Perhaps he ought to admit to his faults. It wouldn’t solve everything, but just maybe it could be a start, the new beginning they both seem to need.

When the morning arrived, Thor mustered the courage to go to Loki’s room again. He rapped his knuckles on the healing room’s door, ready to burst in without permission, when Loki’s tired, thin voice came to him through the wood. “Have I not make it clear enough yet that I do not desire your mindless chatter?”

Thor could not help the smile that graced his lips. If you excluded the weariness in his tone, Loki almost sounded normal, like every time Thor interrupted something he deemed important. How Thor wished everything was that simple, as it was during their youthful squabbles. “Can I enter? Please, brother.”

A sigh was heard from the other side of the door. Thor could almost imagine the exasperated expression in Loki’s face. “My wishes do not really matter now, do they?”

“Of course they do and if you truly think there is no hope to mend what is between us, then I will go. But, if you hold even a sliver of hope in your heart, let me in.”

Another sigh, softer this time. “Come in.”

Thor opened the door, standing awkwardly in the doorway. Then he ventured forth, taking the chair beside his brother. “I have thought long and hard about this. And I wanted to apologise, for I have indeed wronged you.”

If anything, Loki seemed annoyed at this. “Is this your attempt to appease me for my imagined slights?”

Thor pressed on. “I have underestimated you in the past. I failed to recognise that while our skills may differ, they are of equal importance. In fact, when it comes to ruling, cunning, diplomacy and the ability to decide with your mind rather than your heart, are perhaps more important than prowess in the battlefield.”

Loki gaped at him. “You can’t mean that. You witless oaf! I... I almost killed you! And you apologise for merely-”

“I do not believe you intended it. Had I not been a mortal, the strike would not have killed me.”

“I- I was so angry, I did not think-”

“Sshh. It is alright.” Thor hesitantly put his hand on Loki’s nape. When Loki did not pull away, but instead leaned into the touch, Thor pulled him closer still, until their foreheads touched. For the first time in this bleak week he felt something like hope. Things were not well. But they could be mended.

#palletprincess #loki #thor

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emerywrites · 4 years ago

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Child of Moonlight and Alchemy

Fandom: Tangled the Series

Summary: The Moonstone was holding Quirin hostage even after leaving the Dark Kingdom and the Brotherhood behind. It destroyed his life in every sense of the word and refused to let him go. He never expected it to give him something in return.

Rating: PG

Content Warning: canon character death, child neglect

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Haunted Quirin felt haunted. As more black rocks cropped up, their spikes taking homes and lives, it left him and the brotherhood at a loss as to how to stop it. Then there was their king, falling prey to the opal’s madness. Quirin was haunted by the shadow of sanity their king had lost, haunted by ghosts of those who were impaled in their sleep, those who were sealed in by the rock surrounding them, those that were done in by the grief of losing everything they’d known to these rocks that could not be reasoned with.

Adira took it upon herself to start looking into more mythic ways to combat them while Hector seemed to be falling into a madness all his own. Quirin preferred the more practical solution of moving their people toward the outskirts of their kingdom, away from the rocks. But what Quirin had not foreseen was being haunted by the ghost of his sister. She had tried to take the opal herself in an attempt at her own solution. It was an effort to save her husband and her son from its fate. He had tried to warn Edmund of the Queen’s plan but they were too late. Sometimes Quirin heard her voice in his dreams, calling to him. “Brother,” she said in a faraway voice as he tossed and turned one night. “Brother, go to the opal. Brother, it needs you.” Quirin awoke in a cold sweat. “Lorelei.” Quirin didn’t bother with his armor. The voice instilled in him a sense of urgency. It drove him to do nothing more than pull on a pair of trousers and grab his sword. He stumbled from his room and made his way to the Moonstone’s chamber. The guards at the doors were easily disarmed and knocked unconscious. “Brother,” he heard call from inside the chamber. Quirin burst through the doors. The opal had shed its protective shell of black rock and floated upwards. Then Lorelei was there. She stood behind the opal, looking down on it with adoration. “Isn’t it beautiful, brother?” “Yes.” He didn’t know why he’d agreed. It wasn’t beautiful to him. To him it was dangerous and horrid. He wished that the moon had never produced that opal. It brought nothing but destruction and decay. But then Lorelei looked at him with tears in her eyes. They spilled over and ran down her cheeks. On instinct, Quirin rushed forward. He crossed the bridge but stopped at the middle because Lorelei was suddenly there to meet him. He wiped away her tears with the side of his finger. They collected there and solidified into a smaller version of the moon opal. “What is this?” There was something sinister about its gleam. “You must keep it,” she told him. “There will come such a time that you will need it. Until then, hold it close to your heart.” Quirin blinked and she was gone. With trembling hands, he put the smaller opal in his pocket. The next day, Edmund ordered that the kingdom evacuate.

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Nature When Quirin came to Corona, he had decided he was done with the Brotherhood. He wanted no more part in something that had consumed his whole life and left with nothing but heartache. He wanted a new start. Helaine swept into his life like a whirlwind. It was effortless for her. All it took was a smile and he melted. She was a brilliant alchemist who helped her village in any way she could. Everyone came to her for help. Watching her work was like watching someone create art. She delved into her own world when she pulled on her goggles. She deftly measured, poured, examined, adjusted temperatures, all in fluid movements that were second nature to her. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. One day it was a salve for the Widow Cooper’s joint pain. Another day it was adjusting the components of the soil to make it more fertile. And the next day it was building a system to warn them if a pack of wolves was coming too close to the village. Helaine’s work was never done and she liked it that way. Then Queen Arianna became ill and the king sent out a search for the Sundrop to save her. Quirin pulled on his old Brotherhood armor and went to warn him not to use it. The black rocks would seek out the magic of the Sundrop and endanger Corona. But the stubborn king wouldn’t listen. Quirin went home and told Helaine everything about his past. Up until that point he had been as vague as he could be to keep the burden of what he knew from her. It finally boiled over and he told her whatever he knew of the Moonstone and Sundrop. Then he showed her the shard of Moonstone that the vision of his sister had given him. He had put it on a chain and wore it around his neck to keep it close to him at all times. Keep it close to your heart. “I fear what will come now that King Frederic is toying with forces he doesn’t understand,” he said as he undid the clasp and handed her the necklace to examine. Helaine held up the chain and took in the smaller Moonstone that was encased in its own miniature shell the same as the one in the Dark Kingdom. “This is fascinating,” she said, voice full of awe. “If I could just study the-” Quirin snatched it back, feeling that he had just made a terrible mistake. Of course, his wife, ever the curious scientist, would be enthralled by something so otherworldly. The hurt that flashed through her eyes, made him want to soften his reaction. “I’m sorry, Helaine. But its dangerous. It killed my sister and drove her husband to madness. It destroyed my home.” “If it’s caused so much harm, then why do you keep it?” She took his hand and held it securely in her own. The comfort Quirin got from the simple gesture was immeasurable. “I know that the vision I saw wasn’t really my sister, but whether it was good, evil, or something else, it gave this to me. She said that this would be important and I believe her. This stone is my responsibility now.” Quirin regretted ever telling Helaine about his piece of the stone. It was too late by the time he found out she too had visions from the Moonstone. It showed her how to use magic and alchemy to get something they’d both so desired. Helaine replaced his piece of the opal with a fake one she’d created and got to work. Using a sample of her hair, his hair, the Moonstone and a few other ingredients that took her a month and a couple of trips out of town to collect, she was able to do it. Quirin came home one day to find her holding a sleeping baby who looked so much like her but with a streak of blue hair standing out against the dark brown of the rest of it. “What have you done?” Quirin demanded. “We have the child we always wanted,” she insisted with a smile. He ripped off the fake Moonstone and held it up. “You lied to me.” He threw it to the ground and stepped on it. “How could you do this? How could you make that thing?” “This thing is our child!” she argued. “The opal showed me that I could use it to make something so wonderful. It was a gift.” “No! Helaine, don’t you see that it tricked you? Now we have an attachment to it. If there was ever a need to destroy it-” “Don’t, Quirin.” Her voice trembled with desperation that sent him internally reeling. “This is what it wanted.” Something broke between them that day. But as the baby grew, that broken piece was patched over. It was left weak but they managed to work around it. The child slowly worked his way into Quirin’s heart. He regretted the child’s origin but couldn’t help the fondness he began to feel. They lied to the village and told them that they found the child left nearby, on the outskirts of the forest. There were rumors and questions that slowly died out over the years. The boy fell just as deeply in love with science and alchemy as Helaine. Though Quirin was happy to see that he did have an appreciation for farming too. But as much joy as the boy brought them, Quirin felt like he was holding his breath, waiting for the payment that would come for such a crime against nature. He refused to even let his guard down enough to call the child his son. The Moonstone wasn’t a kind and benevolent creature. It wasn’t going to give them something so beautiful as a child without a sacrifice.

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Nurture Then Helaine fell ill. It was something no doctor could explain. She slowly deteriorated before their eyes, over the course of three months. Quirin and the boy sat by her side, comforting her as best as they could. After she was gone, Quirin couldn’t bear to look at the child. That was the cost. Helaine made them a child by using something as volatile as the Moonstone and it killed her. Watching her die only reminded Quirin that the moonstone had tricked Helaine into it to gain a form as sympathetic as a child. He wouldn’t fall for it. A week past that he ignored it. But the continuous, “Daddy, what’s wrong?” and “Daddy, did I do something bad?” and “Daddy, please talk to me!”, were close to breaking him. He couldn’t kill it, that much was clear to him. But if the Moonstone wanted him to keep it close, then maybe he needed to get it as far away from him as possible. He packed up a cart and the boy, then drove to the capital. Quirin walked him all over town, trying to figure out what to do. Everyone was kind enough, someone would care for him, wouldn’t they? Or maybe he needed to go further. The boy may be able to tell them how to get him back home. As Quirin pondered this, he didn’t even notice the boy wander off. Once he looked around for him, the boy was nowhere in sight. He should have felt relief but all that washed over him was dread and fear. Quirin got the attention of a man selling flowers from a cart. “Sir, my son wandered off. Have you seen him? He’s only five-years-old. He has brown hair with a blue streak in it.” He ran around asking everyone he saw if they’d seen his son. It wasn’t until he was asking the fifth person that he realized he’d been calling the boy his son. When someone was finally able to show him into a shop where an old lady had been keeping an eye on the boy, he was overwhelmed with relief. The boy was licking a lollipop seemingly unaffected by the ordeal. Tears stung Quirin’s eyes as he kneeled down to hug him. “I am so sorry, Varian.” Quirin pulled away when he realized Varian wasn’t hugging him back. Varian looked up at him with a confused expression that slowly shifted into a distraught one. “Why were you mad at me?” “I wasn’t mad.” Was that a lie? He didn’t know how to explain something like this to a child. “There is no excuse for how I treated you. I made a mistake.” Too many mistakes. “I hope that you can forgive me.” Varian nodded fervently and hugged him, dropping his lollipop in the process.

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Truth The black rocks encroached on Corona, leaving Quirin at a loss. Varian had been his child for a little over fourteen years and there was no way he was going to risk losing his son. The Moonstone perfectly entwined itself into his life and there was no going back. He had accepted the fact that he would do anything to protect Varian. So, he pretended that the rocks were not a problem. He avoided them and downplayed them until he couldn’t any longer. Then he went to lengths to move their whole village just to protect his son. But Varian didn’t understand. How could he? He didn’t know the horrible truth about what he was. He didn’t know that he was the same as the thing causing all of the destruction they were seeing. He could never know. Maybe it was in Varian’s nature to be drawn to the rocks. Maybe he couldn’t help but go against Quirin’s orders to stay away from them. Either way he experimented on them in defiance of Quirin’s words. As Varian ran to go get help Quirin knew he couldn’t let his son go on not knowing. With there being no solution in sight, Varian needed to know what he truly was. He silently begged Varian to return so he could tell him before being entombed in the amber growing up from the rock. When the table was pushed near him along with the paper and quill, he got to work. He quickly wrote down the explanation of only the necessary information. It was blunt and lacked any comfort or emotion. Quirin didn’t have the time to include reassurances and gentle words. Could he really leave Varian with nothing but the cold, harsh truth? At the very bottom, Quirin quickly jotted in. I’m proud of you, son. I always have been.

#cw death #cw child neglect #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tts #rta #varian #Quirin #tts fanfic #rta fanfic #fanfiction #moon!Varian #moon varian #emerywrites fanfic

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ashleysitalianlitblog · 3 years ago

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My Brilliant Friend (HBO Tie-in Edition): Book 1: Childhood and Adolescence

From the famous Italian author Elena Ferrante, the story is about a poor but vibrant neighborhood on the outskirts of Naples, Elena Ferrante’s four-volume story spans almost sixty years, as its main characters, the fiery and unforgettable Lila and the bookish narrator, Elena, become women, wives, mothers, and leaders, all the while maintaining a complex and at times conflicted friendship. This first novel in the series follows Lila and Elena from their fateful meeting as ten-year-olds through their school years and adolescence. This book is now turning into an HBO MAX show and it’s a young adult classic in modern-day Italy

The Story of a New Name (HBO Tie-in Edition): Book 2: Youth

The follow-up to My Brilliant Friend, The Story of a New Name continues the epic New York Times–bestselling literary quartet that has inspired an HBO series and returns us to the world of Lila and Elena, who grew up together in post-WWII Naples, Italy.

In The Story of a New Name, Lila has recently married and made her entrée into the family business; Elena, meanwhile, continues her studies and her exploration of the world beyond the neighborhood that she so often finds stifling. Marriage appears to have imprisoned Lila, and the pressure to excel is at times too much for Elena. Yet the two young women share a complex and evolving bond that is central to their emotional lives and a source of strength in the face of life’s challenges. In these Neapolitan Novels, Elena Ferrante, “one of the great novelists of our time” (The New York Times), gives us a poignant and universal story about friendship and belonging, a meditation on love and jealousy, freedom and commitment—at once a masterfully plotted page-turner and an intense, generous-hearted family saga.

Adua

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100 Strokes of the Brush Before Bed

An instant blockbuster in Italy that went on to become an international literary phenomenon, 100 Strokes of the Brush Before Bed is the fictionalized memoir of Melissa P., a Sicilian teenager whose quest for love rapidly devolves into a shocking journey of sexual discovery.

Melissa begins her diary a virgin, but a stormy affair at the age of fourteen leads her to regard sex as a means of self-discovery, and for the next two years she plunges into a succession of encounters with various partners, male and female, her age and much older, some met through schoolmates, others through newspaper ads and Internet chat rooms. In graphic detail, she describes her journey through a Dante-Esque underworld of eroticism, where she willingly participates in group sex and sadomasochism, as well as casual pickup

The Scent of Your Breath

Melissa P.’s fictionalized memoir, 100 Strokes of the Brush Before Bed, became an international literary phenomenon, selling over two million copies worldwide and provoking a warning from the pope. The Scent of Your Breath, the second installment in her series of confessions, is a tale of obsessive love and destructive passion.

Melissa is now a successful writer in Rome, living with her new lover, Thomas. With his soft body and feminine eyelashes, he is sensual, patient, and comforting—the antithesis of all the men who came before. But as soon as she meets Viola, a young woman from Thomas’s past, Melissa is consumed with jealousy. Written as a confessional letter to her mother, the story that follows is one of dark obsession, violent lust, and soul-destroying talent, teeming with the ghosts and dragonfly-women Melissa is convinced are trying to steal her man and bring about her ruin. The Scent of Your Breath blurs the boundaries between reality and fantasy and delves deep into the disturbing yet strangely familiar mind of a teenage girl terrorized by love.

Three O'Clock in the Morning Is by Italian author Gianrico Carofiglio the contemporary heart-waring piece is about Antonio is eighteen years old and on the cusp of adulthood. His father, a brilliant mathematician, hasn’t played a large part in his life since divorcing Antonio’s mother but when Antonio is diagnosed with epilepsy, they travel to Marseille to visit a doctor who may hold the hope for an effective treatment. It is there, in a foreign city, under strained circumstances, that they will get to know each other and connect for the first time. A beautiful, gritty, and charming port city where French old-world charm meets modern bohemia, father and son stroll the streets sharing strained small talk. But as the hours pass and day give way tonight, the two find themselves caught in a series of caffeine-imbued adventures involving unexpected people (and unforeseen trysts) that connect father and son for the first time. As the two discuss poetry, family, sex, math, death, and dreams, their experience becomes a mesmerizing 48-hour microcosm of a lifetime relationship. Both learn much about illusions and regret, about talent and redemption, and, most of all, about love. This heartwarming story has captured the modern Italian audience.

Lost Words

Winner of the Viareggio Prize, a vivid portrait of Italy on the brink of social upheaval in the 1970s.The author Nicola Gardini, writes about the Inside an apartment building on the outskirts of Milan, the working-class residents gossip, quarrel, and conspire against each other. Viewed through the eyes of Chino, an impressionable thirteen-year-old boy whose mother is the doorwoman of the building, the world contained within these walls is tiny, hypocritical, and mean-spirited: a constant struggle. Chino finds escape in reading. One day, a new resident, Amelia Lynd, moves in and quickly becomes an unlikely companion and a formative influence on Chino. Ms. Lynd—an elderly, erudite British woman—comes to nurture his taste in literature, introduces him to the life of the mind, and offers a counterpoint to the only version of reality that he’s known. On one level, Lost Words is an engrossing coming-of-age tale set in the seventies, when Italy was going through tumultuous social changes, and on another, it is a powerful meditation on language, literature, and culture.

Things That Happened Before the Earthquake

The book by Chiara Barzini describes a story about Mere weeks after the 1992 riots that laid waste to Los Angeles, Eugenia, a typical Italian teenager, is rudely yanked from her privileged Roman milieu by her hippie-ish filmmaker parents and transplanted to the strange suburban world of the San Fernando Valley. With only the Virgin Mary to call on for guidance as her parents struggle to make it big, Hollywood fashion, she must navigate her huge new public high school, complete with Crips and Bloods and Persian gang members, and a car-based environment of 99-cent stores and obscure fast-food franchises and all-night raves. She forges friendships with Henry, who runs his mother's movie memorabilia store, and the bewitching Deva, who introduces her to the alternate cultural universe that is Topanga Canyon. And then the 1994 earthquake rocks the foundations not only of Eugenia's home but of the future she'd been imagining for herself.

I'll Steal You Away

Italian literary superstar Niccolò Ammaniti’s novel, I’m Not Scared, prompted gushing praise, hit international bestseller lists, and was made into a smash indie film. In I’ll Steal You Away, Ammaniti takes his unparalleled empathy for children, his scythe-sharp observations, and his knack for building tension to a whole new level. In a tiny Italian village, a young boy named Pietro is growing up tormented by bullies and ignored by his parents. When an aging playboy, Graziano Biglia, returns to town, a change is in the air: Pietro decides to take on the bullies, his lonely teacher Flora finds romance with the town’s prodigal son, and the inept janitor at the school proclaims his love for his favorite prostitute. But the village isn’t ready for such change, and when Graziano seduces and forgets Flora, both she and Pietro’s tentative hopes seem crushed forever. With great tenderness, Ammaniti shines light on the heart-wrenching failures and quiet redemptions of ordinary people trying to live extraordinary lives.

Heaven and Earth: A Novel Every summer Teresa follows her father to his childhood home in Puglia, down in the heel of Italy, a land of relentless, shimmering heat, centuries-old olive groves and families who have lived there for generations. She spends long afternoons enveloped in a sunstruck stupor, reading her grandmother's paperbacks.

Everything changes the summer she meets the three boys who live on the farm next door: Nicola, Tommaso and Bern—the man Teresa will love for the rest of her life. Raised like brothers on a farm that feels to Teresa almost suspended in time, the three boys share a complex, intimate, and seemingly unassailable bond.But no bond is unbreakable and no summer truly endless, as Teresa soon discovers.Because there is resentment underneath the surface of that strange brotherhood, a twisted kind of love that protects a dark secret. And when Bern—the enigmatic, restless gravitational center of the group—commits a brutal act of revenge, not even a final pilgrimage to the edge of the world will be enough to bring back those perfect, golden hours in the shadow of the olive trees.

An unforgettable story of enduring love, the bonds between men, and the all-too-human search for meaning, Heaven and Earth is Paolo Giordano at his best: an author capable of unveiling the depths of the human soul, who has now given us the old-fashioned pleasure of a big, sprawling novel in which to lose ourselves

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all-things-are-nothing-to-me · 4 years ago

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Why We Fight

When you express your opposition to the established order, you are often flooded with questions, immediately called upon to justify your opposition on multiple grounds: Why do you see the state/capitalism/civilization as inherently oppressive? How would you feed/clothe/treat people without industrial technology? Wouldn’t anarchy devolve into looting and violence? What about the children?

The questions are endless, and soon you might find yourself stuck in defending your positions from all sorts of absurd questions and accusations to the point that you lose track of your actual reasons and motivation for opposing this shitty society in first place. Not only are we expected to have a working model of an alternative society in our heads (a futile exercise), we also have to explain how such an alternative model would be a better for humanity or at least for society.

Leaving aside the pointlessness of planning imaginary societies that would supposedly replace the current one after a revolution which never arrives (and which wouldn’t turn out like expected anyway), why should we be expected to define our critique of society in terms of what is best for society or for humanity? Why should I concern myself with society/humanity as a whole at all? And why should I be expected to justify my opposition on such grounds when I might have my own motives which might have absolutely nothing to do with such things?

Such concerns are a product of the humanism that emerged out of the enlightenment. Without god, humans were placed at the center of the world, and a myriad of voices emerged claiming for the progress of mankind, for a brotherhood of men and for other such nonsense.

The thing is: I don’t give a damn about humanity, whether we are talking about the totality of all living humans or about an abstract and reified concept of humanity. Despite being quite good at abstract thought and wrecking ecosystems, humans are no more special than algae and jellyfish, and I see not reason to concern myself with the fate of humankind.

Neither do I care much about the fate of all of those that are stuck in this wretched society, which is only united as such (and mediated) through impersonal and artificial institutions and machines. How could I even pretend to truly care about people that I have absolutely no personal relationship with? Why do I need to explain how each and every group of people composing society would have their needs fulfilled without industrial society before acting against it?

And most importantly: why do I need to justify myself at all when industrial society is breaking, taming, robbing, caging, destroying, controlling and ruining everything and everyone I love?

As someone raised in the depths of the industrial best, I can feel the shackles that constrain me whenever I try to move. Everywhere I go, I am being watched, tracked and monitored (as I have been since the day of my birth). I am always being judged according to arbitrary rules that were created without my consent and are enforced through the threat and application of institutionalized violence.

I am constantly being exposed to industrial poisons that permeate the air, the water and the earth, not to mention the disorienting and mind-numbing assault on the senses that results from the ugliness of the machines and the machineworld. As I try to fulfill my desires, I realize that almost all avenues for such fulfillment are mediated by money, which requires that I commodify myself so I can reach for other commodities. Other avenues are often illegal and put me at risk of injury and/or arrest.

Yet, even in this shitty world, there is much that I love. I love myself and my individuality in all its contradictions for a start. I love my thoughts, emotions and my flights of fancy, and I love sharing them with my affinities. I love my body and I love to walk, run, dance, sing, climb, fight and fuck.

I love my comrades and I love how they enrich my life, inspire me and strengthen my own individuality. I love particular places that have shaped and still shape me, even some places within the hellish cities that I have inhabited. I also love rivers, trees, birds, mountains, jaguars, snakes and funghi.

There is, however one issue: not only myself but everything I love is under siege. My friends are mutilated, tired, caged, depressed, anxious, and stuck between trying to survive industrial civilization and seeking for some semblance of meaning and dignity. Their pain hurts me too, and fills me with the desire to destroy its source.

Every wild place I know is being encroached by industrial civilization, and the places that have already been encroached are witnessing the destruction of every small vestige of wildness. Rivers I have bathed in as a child smell of sewage now, and it saddens me to watch the floating debris make its way downstream. Patches of forests, shrub-land and grasslands that have often provided me a haven in some of the industrial hellholes I have lived have vanished, making way for apartments, stores and parking lots. The singing of birds that lifts my spirits is slowly being replaced by the sound of machines.

Industrial civilization has no brakes. It moves forwards relentlessly on its suicidal path annihilating and/or absorbing everything that stands in its way. It will continue to do so unless it is stopped or collapses. Leftists “radicals” will say that this isn’t a feature of industrial civilization. Blame it all on capitalism! We only need a marxist/anarchist revolution to stop the destruction and turn the “forces of production” into forces of liberation. Or so they say...

Even if such ridiculous ideas had any credibility to them, I’m not waiting for their never-coming revolution/salvation while everything I love is being destroyed. Instead, I chose to fight right here and right now. And I’m not fighting for an abstract idea of revolution, a reified wildness or an artificial “brotherhood of men”. Such abstract ideas are poor sources of motivation and strength, and only encourages the sort of self-sacrifice that turns the struggle to reclaim our lives into another prison. Instead, I fight for myself and for real people, places and living and nonliving entities that are a part of me as much as I am a part of them. And for us, I am willing to fight to the end.

#guará #post left #nihilism #communism #leftism #anarchism #individualist anarchism

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darksaiyangoku · 4 years ago

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Avengers Age of Heroes Teaser: Scott’s Last Stand

Cyclops: Agh!!! *gasps and pants*

Quicksilver: *snickers* So this is the best that Xavier has to offer? How pathetic.

*zoom*

Cyclops didn’t have time to react, he was just too slow. From every angle, Quicksilver punched, kicked and slammed him to the ground. The pain was excruciating and he vomited a trail of blood. What hurt the most, however, was seeing his teammates utterly humiliated and defeated by The Brotherhood. Cyclops had failed.

*zoom* SLAM!

Pushed up against the walls, Cyclops saw the imposing figure of Quicksilver standing before him.

Quicksilver: You know it didn’t have to come to this, but you unfortunately chose the wrong side. No matter what you do, no matter how many people you save, nothing is going to change. They’ll never like you and they’ll never accept you. You’re not human, Scott. None of us are. So let’s stop fighting fate. Let us reclaim our rightful place above these pitiful weaklings.

Cyclops clenched his fists. He wasn’t going to fall for the same tricks that the Brotherhood used against Lance, Fred, Rahne, Madelyn and Mortimer.

Cyclops: No. *reaches for his visor* Humans aren’t perfect, but neither are we. A world where humans and mutants can coexist is a world worth fighting for. *removes visor* This is for my team. My friends. My family.

Jean: *calling out* Scott, no!

Quicksilver: … Oh crap. *turns to his team* GUYS, WE NEED TO LEAVE NO-

Cyclops opened his eyes and a burst of red energy hit Quicksilver in the back, knocking him over and burning him. Both the Brotherhood and Blue X-Team scrambled in shock and horror as Cyclops’s optic blasts destroyed everything in sight. In the calamity, Angel’s left wing was seared.

Angel: *screaming in pain*

Nightcrawler/Jean/Rouge/X-23: WARREN!!!!

Iceman: *surrounds the team with an ice barrier* Damn it! If this keeps up, the building’s gonna collapse on top of us. Laura, you gotta go and put the visor back on him!

Nightcrawler: Laura?! Are you insane?!

Jean: Bobby’s right! She’s the only one that can survive Scott’s optic beams head on! Come on, Laura! You’re our only shot at this!

X-23: *nods*

X-23 left the protection of the barrier and ran towards Cyclops. Hearing his screams made her heart ache, he was suffering just as much as all of them. Maybe worse. With her claws out, she blocked the oncoming assault of the blast at full force. The blast was pushing her back, but she pressed onwards. Step after painful step, his screams became louder. Seeing his visor, she quickly grabbed it and called out his name.

X-23: Scott!

Cyclops: *gasps*

X-23: It’s me, Laura! I’m right here with you! The Brotherhood are long gone, the mission’s over! It’s just us now!

Cyclops: *screaming*

X-23: I know how much they’ve hurt you, how much they’ve hurt us. But we’re okay. So please Scott, close your eyes and stop. *places hand on his cheek* For us.

Cyclops: *slowly closes his eyes*

X-23 put the visor back on and stepped back a little. Cyclops opened his eyes to find X-23 standing in front of him, surrounded by rubble and ruins. He couldn’t believe the destruction he had caused. From below, he could see his team helping Angel with his burnt wing, no doubt from his optic beams. Cyclops fell to his knees in sorrow. All he wanted to do was to protect his friends, but now they’ve suffered because of him. Tears began falling from his eyes.

Cyclops: ...I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

X-23: *hugs Scott* Shh, it’s okay. We’re all okay.

X-23 held him close to her. It was a terrible ordeal to live with the guilt of hurting those you care about. Tears started falling from her eyes too. How can she call herself a hero if she couldn’t even protect the boy she loves the most?

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eskalations · 4 years ago

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Could a retired sniper even become a loving mother after all she had seen and done?

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(Day 3 "Old Wounds" - Royai Week 2020)

A/N: Here's my entry for Day 3 of Royai Week for the prompt "Old Wounds". I didn't really know where this was all going until it suddenly became a comprehensive retelling of everything that happened post-canon. I know the fandom likes to headcanon that Roy and Riza have a little boy named Maes, but I really wanted to give them a child who had her own name and identity. Plus, Roy Mustang with a little girl is an absolute weakness of mine.

I also have him calling her Lizzie because I’m a sucker for Pride and Prejudice and can just imagine how sweetly he would say it (much like Darcy says ‘dearest, loveliest Elizabeth) *swoon*

I hope you enjoy!

"Mommy?"

Riza was awoken from her slumber by a small voice and a tugging hand. She blinked her eyes several times, trying to regain her bearings in the near darkness of the room. Glancing at the window over the form of her sleeping husband, she noticed that the moon was still high in the sky.

'It couldn't be more than midnight,' she thought to herself, rubbing a weary hand over her eyes in an attempt to clear her vision.

"Mommy?" It was then that she remembered the reason for her sudden wakefulness. The tiny voice that she knew and loved so well was trembling with an escalating fear, the tugging hand at the back of her nightgown pulling a bit more roughly than before. Sensing the desperation in her plea, Riza turned around to face the small child.

"Elizabeth?" She asked, her voice coarse with sleep. A pair of dark, swollen eyes peered up at her from over the edge of the bed. "What are you doing up?"

"Nightmare."

Riza could tell that her daughter's sleep had been less peaceful than normal, just by the way her wild, dark hair was pulling out of her braid – evidence of the tossing and turning she had done before running to her parent's room. In the dim light of the moon, she could also see the fresh tear marks that marred her daughter's cheeks. The sight broke Riza's heart.

"Come here," Her mother quietly beckoned, reaching her arms out towards the three-year-old. Elizabeth stood on her tip toes as warm hands were placed under her arms. Once the young girl was settled between both her parents, Riza wrapped her up in a warm embrace and nuzzled her face into her shoulder.

Elizabeth was not the type of child to seek out her parents' comfort in the middle of the night, so this type of behavior was incredibly unusual for her. Whatever she had dreamt about must have really frightened her to have her traversing the dark halls of their home in the middle of the night.

"Lizzie?"

Riza cringed at the sound of her husband's sleepy voice, knowing that he needed to be up early in the morning for a meeting with his generals. But a tiny pair of cold feet had made their way to the exposed expanse of his back, waking him from his deep slumber and alerting him to his sweet daughter's presence.

The woman watched as her husband turned over – eyes heavy with sleep but concern evident in their dark depths. At the sound of her father's voice, Elizabeth buried her face even deeper into her mother's neck, fighting back the tears that forced themselves forward at his gentle tone. Riza glanced over their daughter's head, meeting his questioning gaze with a concerned one of her own.

If you had told them ten years ago that they would be sequestered together in a lovely home, married, and snuggled up with their daughter – they would have laughed at the sheer idea of it. Two killers, as horrible as them, could never repent enough to ever deserve the happiness that most human beings sought. It just wouldn't be fair after how many lives they had taken that they would get the chance to be together.

But life was full of surprises.

The first surprise was the pardoning of them for their crimes in relation to Ishval. Though they argued with Grumman over his decision to sign the papers to forever have them excused for their actions on the frontline, they couldn't find it in themselves to argue with the Ishvalan Elders. The Elders had asked that they, and whoever else had taken part in the efforts to rebuild Ishval, be pardoned on the grounds that, they would continue to commit their time and energy to ensuring something like the Ishvalan Extermination campaign never happened again.

While both Riza and Roy did not believe they deserved to walk free after all they had done, they swore that for as long as they were in a place of power, the Ishvalans would not be persecuted again. Roy took it one step further and even began lobbying for laws against hate crimes that would bring an ample amount of punishment to anyone who participated in them. They still had not forgiven themselves for their actions – however, they were adamant in their resolve to provide Ishval with whatever help they needed. If they wanted them alive and working, then that's what they were going to do.

The second surprise was Grumman's dissolvent of the Anti-Fraternization Laws. After having sat in the Fuhrer's chair for nearly three years, the old coot had decided that he had had quite enough of the laws that dictated a soldier's personal life, and chose to abolish those along with a few others. The moment those laws had been dissolved, the entire military seemed to turn their eyes towards Mustang and Hawkeye – but the two of them had far too much to do than worry about dating and marriage. Besides, they quite liked the secret nature of their relationship.

The third surprise was Roy Mustang's decision to not run for Prime Minister after power had been shifted to Parliament. The general public was shocked that the young upstart, who at the time was still a fresh-faced thirty-five, had decided not to move along with the power. Even Riza could hardly believe his decision to pass up the opportunity – that was, until he explained it to her.

'I'd rather become Fuhrer and be able to control the military than become a politician,' Roy had shared with her one night over supper. 'I know I would be decent at it, but I would rather focus on ensuring that the military never fall back into corruption than sit in on meetings where all they talk about are laws. I need to be doing something. I need to be in the Fuhrer's chair to make sure that the military will never be used to cause so much destruction ever again.'

The fourth surprise was Grumman's campaign for Prime Minister and his ultimate winning of the title. It was the first democratic election that Amestris had held in over two hundred years, the voters all agreeing that if they had liked the old General as a Fuhrer, they would most likely like him as a Prime Minister. Roy couldn't have been happier with the turn of events, now knowing that someone he trusted would be in control of Parliament.

That only left one thing to be decided. Who was to be Fuhrer?

Having jumped the ranks easily after his participation in 'The Promised Day', it came as no surprise to anyone that the newly minted General Mustang would not hold on to that title for long. Upon his 'promotion' to Prime Minister, Grumman had announced Mustang as his desired predecessor. There were few naysayers who remarked that the title truly belonged to Olivier Armstrong – however, the majority of the military found no reason to argue with the decision to give Mustang the chair. Besides, Armstrong preferred her title of "Queen of the North" to Fuhrer and wouldn't have it any other way. Briggs was her's; Mustang could have Central.

It was only after Roy Mustang had officially become Fuhrer that the idea of marriage finally became a possibility. With Roy's climb to the top done, he saw no reason for Riza to continue to stand behind him, and voiced his desire to have her stand beside him instead. The First Lady of Amestris would have many responsibilities of her own and he couldn't imagine any other woman filling that role but her. It took a while for Riza to agree to their union – still having lingering doubts after all she had done in Ishval – however, eventually Roy was able to wear her down.

Their wedding had been a spectacle, much to both their displeasure. They would have been happy with just a small ceremony and a few friends – but given Mustang's position as Fuhrer, they had no other choice. The whole of the military was there along with Fullmetal and his rambunctious brood of children. Though Roy was too proud to say anything, Riza knew that he greatly appreciated Ed setting aside his business in Resembool and making the time to attend the ceremony. Even Al, in his Xingese inspired get up, was able to make it as well.

After the wedding was done – the real work begun.

Roy settled in nicely to his new position, taking to his fuhrership like a duck took to water. Riza also had an easy time falling into her new role upon her retirement from the military. She enjoyed the opportunity to participate in projects that would assist the lower income families across Amestris and found that she had a real passion for projects that involved children.

Speaking of children…

At the age of thirty-five, Riza had begun to assume that her and Roy would never be blessed with a child. Naturally, she was disappointed – but she couldn't really say she didn't understand the reasoning behind fate's cruel decision.

That was when – a month after her thirty-sixth birthday – the sickness began.

To say she was terrified was an understatement. She had spent so long assuming that her and Roy would never have a child, that she hadn't even begun to think about what to do if they did have one. Could a retired sniper even become a loving mother after all she had seen and done?

There was one thing she knew for sure though – and that was that Roy Mustang would make an excellent father.

From the moment he knew of their child, he immediately accepted the "dad" role. There was not a single doctor's appointment that Riza went to alone. Not one morning did she spend her time on the cold tile floor of their bathroom alone, Roy always there holding her hair and whispering loving words of comfort. He was so gentle, so concerned, and so excited – fully accepting the good fortune they had been given and thanking whoever may have resided above for the blessing.

As time went on, and Riza grew bigger, her anxiety developed into her own sort of excitement. She was still scared – oh was she scared – but after having felt the baby kick for the first time, she could no longer question whether she would be able love this child enough. With that one little movement, she had realized that she already loved this baby more than anything – and no past of her's was ever going to negatively affect the future of her child.

Mustang's men, still loyal to the man as ever, had placed bets on what the gender of the baby would be, despite Riza's annoyance in regards to the whole affair. Being the total men they were, they all bet that the child would be a boy.

'Powerful men like the Fuhrer have boys,' Breda had told her once, positive in his assumption. 'Your little kicker is going to be a boy – I'm sure of it."

The only person who dared bet against the 'boy theory' was Prime Minister Grumman himself. He said that he had no inclination one way or the other, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity to bet against the majority.

'I like to take my chances.' He had commented when asked about the rationale behind his bet.

Little did the man know that he would be walking away from Central Regional Hospital about thirty-thousand cens richer the day that Riza went into labor.

It was a girl.

Though her and Roy had never spoken about what they believed their baby would be, they had been convinced by their men that this child just had to be a boy. But man, were they wrong.

Elizabeth Mustang entered the world as pink as the blanket they used to swaddle her. With a small nose and heart-shaped lips, she was definitely her mother's daughter – however, she took more after her father. Even at birth, she possessed a head full of thick black hair and eyes as dark as the night sky. She was beautiful. She was perfect.

The men had been disappointed at first, but once they saw the newborn's face, their hearts were no longer theirs's. Elizabeth was going to be one spoiled little girl.

It wasn't until everyone had cleared out, and Riza and Roy were left alone with their daughter, that a thought occurred to the very tired, new mother. As she watched her husband cradle Elizabeth in his arms, his body naturally swaying in an attempt to comfort her – she realized why men like Mustang and Hughes were blessed with daughters rather than sons.

It was because they needed them.

Already, Riza could sense a change in Roy. His eyes held a sparkle in them that she had only seen a few times in her life, and she knew exactly what it meant. He had a new purpose. He was going to be the best man he could be for this little girl and protect her from all the evils that lurked in the world. Roy was a man that needed purpose in his life – he was too driven to live without it – and in Elizabeth he found a lifelong purpose that he was only happy to fulfill.

The goofy grin that appeared on his face as Elizabeth gurgled and twitched, had tears forming in Riza's eyes. In that moment, he looked more like Hughes than he ever had before.

The look he gave his daughter on the day of her birth was the same one he was giving her now. It was a promise, a promise to protect her from any harm she could possibly imagine. Riza was brought back from her reverie by her husband's sweet voice, beckoning their daughter again.

"Lizzie, what's wrong?" He asked the girl gently, placing a hand on her small shoulder in a show of support. Riza could feel the child's tears against her neck, the small puffs of air escaping the girl's mouth in her panic causing her mother's heart to ache. She had never seen Elizabeth this worked up.

"Elizabeth?" Riza asked, pulling the girl back from her neck so that she could see her face. The small girl tried her hardest to latch on to her mother, not wanting to be moved from her spot, but she was fighting a losing battle. "Elizabeth, what has gotten into you?"

"Scary," The little girl mumbled, her bottom lip trembling. She gazed up at her mother with puffy, dark eyes. "Too scary. I couldn't – I couldn't – find you. Fire."

The child's words were near incoherent with her breathing as rapid as it was, but both Roy and Riza were able to decipher the last word she had mumbled. Fire?

"Lizzie," Roy stroked the messy black braid that lay haphazardly down his daughter's back. Both his touch and tone were gentle. "It was just a dream. There's no fire."

"Daddy hurt."

Roy's brow furrowed in confusion. His hand went back to its previous place on her shoulder and he turned her over to face him. Reluctantly, the girl disengaged from around her mother's neck and laid flat on her back.

"I'm not hurt." The man insisted, gently pushing a few unruly strands of hair back from her face. He even gave her a soft kiss on the forehead for good measure. Usually these soft ministrations would be enough to calm his daughter down – but tonight, it just set off another round of tears.

"Burn."

"Burn?" Roy asked, taken aback by the fresh set of tears rolling down her cheeks. "What burn?"

At this point, Riza turned on her stomach to reach for the bedside lamp. With neither her husband or her sleeping, there was no point in leaving the room shrouded in darkness.

With the light now on, Roy had to squint to see the face of his small daughter. Although he had regained his sight many years ago, his eyes were still sensitive to light. Once he was able to blink away the pain from the unwanted intrusion, he focused back on the girl. Though the light seemed to calm her slightly, she was still pale as a ghost and crying.

"Burn." The young girl finally answered, lip wobbling as she attempted to speak clearly. "You're burn, Daddy. It hurts."

Ah, that explained it.

When Roy had put her to bed that night, he had foregone his shirt in favor of a light robe. It was summer and their home stayed warm in the evenings due to its position in relation to the sun. Though Elizabeth had seen him multiple times without a shirt, it was the first time she had taken notice of the large burn on his side.

Roy had thought nothing of it – just telling Elizabeth that it was a burn he had received in his earlier years with the military. Being the Flame Alchemist's daughter, Elizabeth knew about fire and what happens if you touch it. Knowing this, Roy had simply brushed off the situation, kissing her on the head and tucking her in for the night.

He never even thought to reassure Elizabeth that it no longer hurt (well, it still ached – but not bad).

"Lizzie," He murmured, moving closer to the toddler. "Daddy's burn doesn't hurt anymore. Everything's fine."

At these words, his daughter stopped mid-hiccup. With small fisted fingers, she rubbed at her eyes, before looking up at him in confirmation.

"No hurt?"

"Nope!" Roy told her, smiling widely before turning over on to his back, the sheet sliding down to his waist and exposing the old wound. "See? I can even touch it!"

Elizabeth watched as the man took two fingers and prodded the puckered skin of his side. She watched his face for any sign of pain, but there was none. From her side of the bed, Riza breathed a sigh of relief, believing this was confirmation enough to soothe the child after whatever nightmare her mind had managed to conjure up.

"Mommy's?"

Roy's brows furrowed in confusion at the question, his fingers pausing over his skin. "Mommy's what?"

"Burn. Mommy has burn."

So much for not allowing her past to affect her daughter's future.

Riza was normally so careful with her back, only ever exposing it on hot, summer nights when she opted to wear a nightdress instead of one of Roy's old shirts to bed. Elizabeth had never had reason to see it, her mother's blonde hair reaching just past her shoulders once again and covering up the small sliver of tattoo that resided at the base of her neck.

However, when the young girl had crept into their room that night, she must have seen the burn that lay on her mother's shoulder blade, and recognized it as the same wound she saw earlier on her father. Whatever nightmare she had – doused in fire, surely – must have only been made worse once she chose to seek comfort from her mother, only to be met with a back full of scars.

"My burns don't hurt, Elizabeth." Riza assured her – one hand coming up to gently play with the sweaty locks that lay on her forehead. Oh, how she loved this child. "Daddy and I are all better now."

"Really?" The toddler asked in a sweet voice, her tone hushed. The hopeful look in her eyes was enough to almost make Riza cry. Such a big heart, for such a small girl. How did two killers create this?

"Yes, really." Riza leaned in to kiss her cheek, taking her thumb and wiping away the last remnants of tears that lay on her pale skin. "Mommy and Daddy will never let the same thing happen to you. You're safe with us."

Roy regarded his daughter with a tired smile, nodding at his wife's words. "You have nothing to worry about, Lizzie. Old wounds are old wounds."

Though her toddler brain couldn't comprehend what he was saying in the last part – the young girl nodded, accepting her parents' reassurances. This had Riza breathing a sigh of relief, hopeful that they might be able to go back to sleep.

At that exact moment, Elizabeth's mouth opened in a yawn – the excitement of the night finally catching up to her. The sleepy expression on her face was too adorable for her parents to ignore, both looking at her fondly as she snuggled down into the pillow between them.

Riza had already turned over on to her stomach, arm reaching out to flick the switch of the lamp off – when she felt a tiny pair of warm, chapped lips graze over her back. Tilting her head back, she watched as Elizabeth repeated the gesture by placing a small kiss right over the burn mark on her father's belly.

As if she didn't realize how much of an affect her actions had on her parents, the small girl snuggled down in the blankets once more and was out like a light before her mother could even turn the lamp off.

Roy looked over at her, shock written across his features. She imagined she looked much the same.

Once they had gotten over their initial surprise, both settled back into bed, praying that sleep would come easy with the busy day they had ahead. After she turned the light off, Riza lay facing away from her husband and daughter. She didn't want either of them to see the silent tears that now streamed down her face.

If she had turned around, she would have noticed a slight telltale shake in Roy's shoulders, as well. It wasn't the first time she had thought about it that night, but she found herself asking the same question again.

How did two killers create this?

#royaiweek20 #royai #roy mustang #riza mustang #fma #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai fanfiction #fma fic #fma fanfiction #fma fanfic #royai child #royai week

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bestworstcase · 5 years ago

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i guess it’s still farran yells into the void about poetry hour because i’m still obsessing over the incantations except bitter snow this time. specifically the sun/moon incantations and the decay incantation, the healing incantation is the same.

(but farran, you ask, why would you change them? because LORE, that’s why)

(and also because i love to torture myself i guess)

incantations in general

the 5/5/5/6 trochaic pattern is a convention originating with the moonstone cult in aphelion. in the original aphelionese [which doesn’t really exist yet] they don’t rhyme; the ABCB rhyming scheme is something demanitus did when he translated them into his own language and then replicated when he began to create his own incantations.

there are other incantations from all over the world that follow different patterns. most of them relate to the moonstone, or more specifically to the black rocks, and in general incantations originate wherever a) black rocks break the surface and b) the people living there realize that they respond to song. sundrop incantations are much rarer, since there’s only one sundrop flower, and are mostly found in regions and cultures with a significant underground presence—i.e., where people are more likely to come into contact with the sundrop’s roots.

if i ever get so deep in this that i start writing other incantations please kill me

the moonstone incantations

for the purposes of bitter snow these are the “original” incantations. i’m not sure they’re the oldest but they’re quite old and they have the distinction of being the only incantations crafted by people who had immediate, direct access to the power being invoked. most incantations, as i said, developed out of interaction between people and the roots of one of the drops, with only an indirect connection to the drops themselves; the aphelionese incantations, by contrast, developed out of the cult’s understanding of what the moonstone actually does, and directly invokes its power. so they’re much more potent.

anyway.

the decay incantation

opal in the dark grant the night to me let the shadows burn and set the spirit free

wither and decay end this destiny break these earthly chains and set the spirit free

in bitter snow lore, the purpose of the moonstone is to control the “shadows” of the sundrop’s power, which it accomplishes by transforming them into the black rocks. these shadows are the natural opposite of the sundrop, so they’re associated with darkness, destruction, corruption, and rot.

so the literal function of this incantation is to release the sundrop’s shadows from the inert stone form and place them under the caster’s control. (as i’m sure you can imagine, this is catastrophic when it goes wrong.) if the first verse is recited by itself it invokes the sundrop instead—this is unintended and also catastrophic. in either case it’s volatile magic.

the moon incantation

i outright rewrote this one for bitter snow, not because the original is bad, but because the original is very tailored to cassandra’s usage of it in cassandra’s revenge and i wanted something more in line with my lore.

crescent high above watching from the skies set the stars ablaze and by your light i’ll rise

let me shake the seas wake me from my lies lend to me your wings and by your light i’ll rise

unlike the decay incantation, this one is calling upon the moonstone’s own power, which is associated with change, transformation, and movement. so it begins with an invocation to the moon and focuses on characteristics associated with the moon (the appearance of stars; the movement of tides; clarity of thought*, light, rising and flight).

(*this is an inversion of the irl folklore associating the moon with madness; in aphelion, with its cultural admiration of the moon, it makes sense to me that the moon would still have folkloric links to the mind but in a positive way. i think the underlying logic here is that it’s easiest to see clearly at night if the moon is full, therefore the association becomes moonlight = clarity.)

it’s also very much a prayer. in canon the sun/moon incantations grant whoever possesses the drops complete control over their power, but i don’t think that is remotely the intention for this incantation in the bitter snow ’verse; the people who crafted it were people who worshipped the moon and the moonstone, and the basic idea here is “loan me your power so i can edify you with it.” possession of the moonstone is irrelevant. even proximity to the moonstone is irrelevant as long as the caster has some preexisting connection to it i.e. the kind of link created by worshipping it.

of course, for both of these incantations, the closer you are to the moonstone on a... spiritual? level, the more potent its effect will be. e.g., members of the brotherhood would get a much stronger kick from using the moon incantation than your average aphelionese farmer with no special connection to the moonstone, and for someone like cass—who becomes its avatar—the incantation is essentially god mode. likewise, the bigger the kick the harder the crash, so our farmer might feel a bit tired once it ebbs but the brotherhood member would be need a few days to recover and cass is just laid out after.

the sundrop incantations

these incantations are the ones demanitus wrote for the sundrop based on his understanding of the aphelionese moonstone cult and their incantations. they’re modeled off the aphelionese incantations, but they lack the religious context because demanitus focused on the power of the drops and wasn’t especially interested in the worship aspect.

the healing incantation

this is the only incantation in bitter snow that’s 100% untouched canon.

flower, gleam and glow let your power shine make the clock reverse bring back what once was mine

heal what has been hurt change the fates’ design save what has been lost bring back what once was mine

demanitus wrote this one first. i sort of imagine him attempting a direct, literal reverse of the decay incantation but eventually giving up in frustration because, unlike the decay incantation, he could never get it to work at range.

the reason for this is that the decay incantation unleashes the shadows, which are everywhere—literally, they are at the core of the world, the black rocks spread across the whole globe, and the metaphorical “light” of the sundrop’s magic is always creating more—whereas the healing incantation calls on the sundrop’s magic directly and without any preexisting connection with the caster, its magic cannot be drawn from a distance.

i think a devout priest of corona’s sun cult could have used this incantation at range before frederic uprooted the sundrop, but being eaten and then inhabiting rapunzel sort of... scrambled everything. however, i don’t think demanitus and the sun cult got on very well [because he didn’t care about the religious aspect at all] so he never shared his incantations with them.

gothel did use this incantation from a distance, because her familiarity with and regular use of the sundrop flower created that preexisting connection that is required. however, the effect is weaker from farther away—it’s like heat from a fire where closer = warmer—so in bitter snow, gothel’s regular use of the incantation at range was a matter of daily maintenance, preserving her health and allowing her to age normally, while she made trips to the flower itself to de-age herself every half a century or so.

in the bitter snow ’verse, the sundrop flower was found and uprooted a week before rapunzel’s birth, and then there’s a six month gap between her birth and gothel’s kidnapping. i think gothel goes about three months without realizing that her daily recitation isn’t... working anymore—i picture her cutting herself chopping vegetables or something and trying the incantation and then being like “...fuck” when it doesn’t heal—and then it takes her another three months to figure out what happened and plan her infiltration of the palace.

in bitter snow, the sundrop being uprooted and then absorbed into baby rapunzel damaged it. to return to the light source metaphor: the magic of the intact sundrop is the light from an electric lamp—steady, bright, casting a regular and predictable shadow—but after the flower is uprooted, the sundrop’s roots stay in the ground while its magic ends up in rapunzel’s hair, and the magic channeled through her hair is more like the light of a candle flame—fragile, dim, casting a flickering and unpredictable shadow.

the sun incantation

the canonical sun incantation worked with the bitter snow lore better than the moon one did; however, since demanitus modeled his sun incantation on the aphelionese moonstone incantation, i wanted the sun incantation to more directly mirror my version of the moon incantation. so instead of rewriting it outright, i took the bits of the canon sun incantation that worked well for me and remixed them.

jewel of the sky blazing high and bright burn away the dark and let my hope ignite

purge my heart of fear restore my fading sight strengthen me with fire and let my hope ignite

for this one, i imagine demanitus attempting to replicate the aesthetic of the moon incantation without quite grasping its religious implications; he looks at the moon incantation and sees a poetic invocation of the moon followed by a request for power but misses how the moon incantation reflects back on and extols the moon itself, so demanitus’s sun version lacks that element of giving anything back. a command, rather than an exchange.

this one, he considered a success, because he was able to make it work even without having found the sundrop flower itself. what he didn’t realize is that he was able to do so because of how extremely potent this incantation really is—so potent that even somebody like demanitus, who had never even seen the sundrop flower, was able to use it with noticeable effect.

on a functional level, the purpose of the reflection back to the moon in the moon incantation is to create a whole circuit between the moon and the caster, so that all that power has somewhere to go after the incantation is finished. this sacrifices some power in exchange for making the incantation much safer to use, because the power flows through the caster. they can hold onto it for a while after completing the incantation, but it’s hard, and it requires considerable force of will to do so, because the magic wants to complete the circle by flowing out of the caster and back to the moon.

demanitus’s sun incantation, by comparison, creates a straight line: power flows from the sun and into the caster, who then becomes a vessel for it. with this incantation, the magic gets dammed up inside the caster, which is what makes it so potent, but it also wants to stay there, and must be forcefully pushed back the way it came when the incantation is finished. and that’s dangerous, because it’s simply too much power for a human body to contain. this is why the sun incantation takes such a severe physical toll on its casters (unless they’re like demanitus, have no other link to the sundrop, and are getting only a tiny fraction of the potential output).

#bitter snow #M A G I C #and poetry

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twilightvolt · 5 years ago

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My Favorite Anime OPs and EDs from 2010-2019

No one asked for this, but i’m doin’ it anyway cuz there’s so many songs out there that i’ve never heard anyone talk about. like, y’all sleep on Yu-Gi-Oh! apparently. lmao

Going by release year, here’s all the OPs and EDs i can remember that i luv (and still do to this day). i may or may not have gotten all the years right. hell, i’m not even sure i got the OP and ED numbers right.

It’ll go by: Song Name - Artist (Name of Anime and Which OP/ED it is) an asterisk means i REALLY like it above the rest.

Hopefully this’ll help introduce you to some new jams you missed out on! ^ ^

2010

Going My Way! ~Road to Tomorrow~ - Masaaki Endoh (Yu-Gi-Oh! 5Ds OP5)*

Close to You - ALvino (Yu-Gi-Oh! 5Ds ED4)

Future Colors - Plastic Tree (Yu-Gi-Oh! 5Ds ED5)

Gravity 0 - Aqua Timez (Star Driver OP)*

Never Give Up! - Sonar Pocket (Digimon Xros Wars OP)*

Period - Chemistry (Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood OP4)*

Rain - SID (Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood OP5)* THE. FEELS.

Uragiri no Yuuyake - THEATRE BROOK (Durarara!! OP)* Y’all remember this one? Lmao

Trust Me - Yuya Matsushita (Durarara!! ED)

Ice Cream Syndrome - Sukima Switch (Pokemon Zoroark: Master of Illusions ED)*

My Soul, Your Beats! - Lia (Angel Beats OP) WAIT HOLD ON, ANGEL BEATS WAS THIS DECADE? I THOUGHT THAT WAS 2009 OR SOMETHING. DAHEQ?

ChAngE - Miwa (BLEACH OP12)

Calling - FLOW (Heroman ED)*

SHIVER - the GazettE (Black Butler II OP)

2011

Samurai Heart (Some Like it Hot!) - SPYAIR (Gintama ED17)* And on this day I realized….SPYAIR is lit.

New World - Twill (Digimon Xros Wars OP2)

Masterpiece - Mihimaru GT (Yu-Gi-Oh! ZEXAL OP)

Boku Quest - Golden Bomber (Yu-Gi-Oh! ZEXAL ED)* I luv watching the actual ending sequence. It fits my cyber aesthetic to a T.

BRAVING! - KANAN (Yu-Gi-Oh! ZEXAL OP2)

Setsubou no Freesia (Longing Freesia) - Daizystripper (Yu-Gi-Oh! ZEXAL ED2)* I’ll be completely honest, this song has been my favorite anime theme over most, if not all others, ever since. It’s kinda held a special place in my heart as it’s got memories of what transpired during 2012 that i don’t think i’ll ever forget. From the summer trip we took down south to me creating my very first OCs, Takuya and his Charmander partner Drake, on paper, i’ll luv this song with all my heart. ^ ^

Lovers - 7!! (Seven Oops) (Naruto Shippuden OP)

Counter Identity - UNISON SQUARE GARDEN (Soul Eater Repeat Show OP)*

Ai Ga Hoshii Yo - Shion Tsuji (Soul Eater Repeat Show OP2)* WANTCHU WANTCHU, I WANT CHUU~

SHINING STAR - 9nine (Star Driver OP2)*

Crossover - 9nine (Star Driver ED2)

Sky's the Limit - Shihoko Hirata (Persona 4 the Animation OP)

We’re Not Alone - coldrain (Rainbow Nisha Rokubou no Shichinin OP)

One Reason - Fade (Deadman Wonderland OP) I can bet you right now half of y’all forgot about this show. I mean i did. Lol

Mayonaka no Orchestra - Aqua Timez (Naruto Shippuden ED16)

Hacking to the Gate - Kanako Itou (Steins;Gate OP)* THIS SONG CLEARED MY SKIN AND RAISED MY GRADES.

Ranbu no Melody - SID (BLEACH OP13)* That main chorus tho. N o i c e .

LISTEN TO THE STEREO!! - GOING UNDERGROUND (Katekyo Hitman Reborn OP8)*

Core Pride - UVERworld (Blue Exorcist OP)

2012

Mask - Aqua Timez (BLEACH ED30?)

Soul Drive - Color Bottle (Yu-Gi-Oh! ZEXAL OP3)*

Wild Child - Moumoon (Yu-Gi-Oh! ZEXAL ED3)* Whenever I hear this song, I either think of school shenanigans or, if school isn't a thing in their world, a high school AU. Lmao

Unbreakable Heart - Hideaki Takatori (Yu-Gi-Oh! ZEXAL OP4)

Artist - Vistlip (Yu-Gi-Oh! ZEXAL ED4)*

Stand By Me - Stereopony (Eureka Seven AO ED)* Ok I know some people don't wanna remember AO, but hear me out here. Lmao

Brave Blue - FLOW (Eureka Seven AO OP2)*

Key Plus Words - Shihoko Hirata & Yumi Kawamura (Persona 4 the Animation OP2)

Harukaze - SCANDAL (BLEACH OP15)*

Crossing Field - LiSA (Sword Art Online OP) I like making SAO jokes as much as the next guy, but let's be real here. Crossing Field was still a pretty good song.

STAND UP! - Twill (Digimon Xros Wars Hunters OP)* Hunters sucked, but the OP slaps.

Kyomu Densen - ALI PROJECT (Another OP) This show gave me a temporary fear of umbrellas, but this OP is good.

Complication - ROOKiEZ is PUNK’D (Durarara!! OP2)

Light My Fire - KOTOKO (Shakugan no Shana III Final OP)

Mite Mite Kochichi - Memoiro Clover Z (Pokemon Best Wishes ED3)

2013

Dualism of Mirrors - Petite Milady (Yu-Gi-Oh! ZEXAL OP5)

GO WAY GO WAY - FoZZtone (Yu-Gi-Oh! ZEXAL ED5)

Challenge the GAME - REDMAN (Yu-Gi-Oh! ZEXAL ED6)* I swear to god, this should’ve been the final OP rather than Wonder Wings. I really don’t like that song.

Oh, and if you wanna hear more of the lead singer's voice, he's the lead singer of GIRUGAMESH. They didn't do any anime songs while they were still active afaik, but totally check it out if you like J-Rock.

Sakura Mitsutsuki & Genjyou Destruction - SPYAIR (Gintama OP13 and Gintama: The Final Chapter OP)*

After Cherry Blossoms (all quartets lead to the?) - UNISON SQUARE GARDEN (Yozakura Quartet: Hana no Uta OP)*

Non-Fiction Compass - UNISON SQUARE GARDEN (Yozakura Quartet: Tsuki ni Naku OP)

Sayonara Memory - 7!! (Seven Oops) (Naruto Shippuden ED)

BLOODY STREAM - Coda (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Battle tendency OP)* I mean, how could i NOT put this song on here? Lmao

Be An Arrow! - Rica Matsumoto (Pokemon Best Wishes! OP2)

Natsumeku Sakamichi (Summerly Slope) - Daisuke (Pokemon Best Wishes DA! OP)* While the Black & White series was absolutely terrible, I can thank it for spawning some nice OPs.

Egao - Ikimono-gakari (Pokemon Genesect and the Legend Awakened ED)

Take Your Way - Livetune adding Fukase (From SEKAI NO OWARI) (Devil Survivor 2 the Animation OP)* I swear I will never get tired of this song.

Be - Song Riders (Devil Survivor 2 the Animation ED)*

Watashi no Bara wo Kaminasai - ALI PROJECT (Rozen Maiden 2013 OP)

Moshimo - Daisuke (Naruto Shippuden OP)

Burn My Dread ~Spring of Birth~ & More Than One Heart - Yumi Kawamura (Persona 3 the Movie #1 Spring of Birth OP and ED)*

Eden - Aqua Timez (Magi: the Kingdom of Magic ED)*

Out of Control - Nothing’s Carved in Stone (Psycho Pass OP2)*

HERO -Kibou no Uta- - FLOW (Dragon Ball Z: Battle of Gods ED)

2014

Silhouette - KANA BOON (Naruto Shippuden OP16)* Everyone rise for the weeb national anthem.

BelievexBelieve - Bulletrain (Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V OP)

ENAMEL - SID (Black Butler: Book of Circus OP)

Masayume Chasing - BoA (Fairy Tail OP15)

STRIKE BACK - BACK-ON (Fairy Tail OP16)*

Burn! - Bulletrain (Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V OP2)

DAYxDAY - BLUE ENCOUNT (Gintama OP)* Before Polaris, there was this. lol

Goya no Machiawase - Hello Sleepwalkers (Noragami OP)* I swear Noragami has great taste in OPs. lmao

Fate is in Our Hands - Lotus Juice (Persona 3 the Movie #2 Midsummer Knight's Dream OP)* Y'all know Lotus Juice makes EVERYTHING badass.

One Hand, One Heartbeat - Yumi Kawamura (Persona 3 the Movie #2 Midsummer Knight's Dream ED)* I swear I literally feel like crying every time I hear this song. It's just that powerful.

Unravel - TK from Ling Tosite Sigure (Tokyo Ghoul OP) Ok, lemme explain. I used to hate this song cuz I thought TK's singing voice was whiny as hell. But after a long, LOOOOONG time, it finally started to grow on me. I think it's because of all the song covers I've listened to and, after understanding the meaning behind the lyrics, I appreciate this song a bit more nowadays.

V (VOLT) and MEGA V (MEGA VOLT) - Yusuke (Pokemon XY OPs 1&2)*

daze - Jin ft. MARiA from GARNiDELiA (Mekakucity Actors OP)

Monochrome - Dancing Dolls (Soul Eater NOT! OP)

2015

Saigo Made ii - Aqua Timez (Gintama ED15 i think?)

Kyouran Hey Kids! - THE ORAL CIGARETTES (Noragami Aragoto OP)* IN THIS HOUSE, WE JUST WANNA HOLD YOUR HAAAAAAND~

Getta Ban Ban (Mad-Paced Getter) - Tomohisa Sako (Pokemon XY OP3)*

XY&Z - Rica Matsumoto (Pokemon XY&Z OP)*

Raise Your Flag - MAN WITH A MISSION (Gundam Iron Blooded Orphans OP)*

Hello, World! - BUMP OF CHICKEN (Kekkai Sensen OP)*

Sugar Song and Bitter Step AKA the song everyone makes fan animated parodies of it’s opening sequence - UNISON SQUARE GARDEN (Kekkai Sensen ED)

Kirifuda (Trump Card) - Cinema Staff (Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V OP4)

Speaking - MRS. GREEN APPLE (Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V ED4)* before Great Escape from Attack on Titan and Inferno from Fire Force, there was this OP and ED. both of which i feel are better songs. lmao

Tweedia - Rei Yasuda (Pokemon Hoopa and the Clash of Ages ED)*

Diver - KANA-BOON (The Last: Naruto the Movie ED)*

Butter-Fly 2015 - Kouji Wada (Digimon Adventure Tri. OP)

Sono Chi no Kioku ~End of the World~ - JO☆STARS ~TOMMY, Coda, JIN~ (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders OP2)

Lapis Lazuli - Eir Aoi (Arslan Senki ED)*

Clattanoia - OxT (Overlord OP)*

L.L.L. - MYTH & ROID (Overlord ED)

Nazo 2015 - La PomPon (Detective Conan OP41)* Hearing this brought back memories of hearing the original during my childhood back when Cased Closed was still a thing.

Just Fly Away - EDGE of LIFE (Gundam Build Fighters Try OP2)

Flyers - BRADIO (Death Parade OP) Like Another, this was one of those where i wouldn’t have touched the show itself if my anime club didn’t watch it.

X.U. - Hiroyuki Sawano (Seraph of the End OP)*

Hikari - ViViD (Magi: the Kingdom of Magic OP2)

2016

DiVE!! - Amatsuki (Digimon Universe: Applimonsters OP)*

Ai - Ami Wajima (Digimon Universe: Applimonsters ED2)

The Day - Porno Graffitti (My Hero Academia OP)

HEROES - Brian the Sun (My Hero academia ED)

RAGE OF DUST - SPYAIR (Gundam Iron Blooded Orphans OP2)*

Believe in Myself - EDGE of LIFE (Fairy Tail OP21)*

CRAZY NOISY BIZARRE TOWN - THE DU (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Diamond is Unbreakable OP)

Chase - batta (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Diamond is Unbreakable OP2)* Screw the haters. This song is a bop.

Great Days - Karen Aoki & Daisuke Hasegawa (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Diamond is Unbreakable OP3) As you can see, i luv all of Jojo Part 4’s OPs. lmao

Kaze no Uta - FLOW (Tales of Zestiria the X OP)* Zestiria may have been the most uninteresting experience i’ve had in the Tales series, but at least it’s OPs are straight fire.

Dream Lantern, ZenZenZense, Sparkle and Nandemonaiya - RADWIMPS (Various themes from Your Name) I'm still miffed that they didn't kiss at the end. >:v

Re:Re: - ASIAN KUNGFU GENERATION (Erased OP)

Brave Shine - Aimer (Fate/Stay Night Unlimited Blade Works OP)*

Starting Over - Mr. Children (The Boy and the Beast ED)* Mamoru Hosoda never ceases to make me smile and/or cry, huh?

GO - BUMP OF CHICKEN (GRANBLUE FANTASY the Animation OP)

KINGS - angela (K Project OP) i don’t even know how i remembered this one. I watched K at my local anime club years ago cuz one of my friends suggested it. I barely remember what it was about, though. ^ ^’

Vision - Kusou Linkai (Yu-Gi-Oh ARC-V ED5)

Light of Hope - Unknown Number (Yu-Gi-Oh ARC-V OP5)

Pendulum Beat! - SUPER DRAGON (Yu-Gi-Oh ARC-V OP6)*

2017

Peace Sign - Kenshi Yonezu (My Hero Academia OP2)* SURE IT’S POPULAR, BUT IT’S POPULAR FOR A REASON.

Datte Atashi no Hero - LiSA (My Hero Academia ED3)

Little Pi - Ange☆Reve (Digimon Universe: Applimonsters ED3)

Perfect World - Traffic Light (Digimon Universe: Applimonsters ED4)*

With the Wind - Hiroaki “TOMMY” Tominaga (Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS OP)* I’ll be honest, this one took some getting used to, but now i luv it!

Fake Town Baby - UNISON SQUARE GARDEN (Kekkai Sensen and Beyond OP)

Tonari Au - THE ORAL CIGARETTES (Sakurada Reset ED)*

Rain - SEKAI NO OWARI (Mary and the Witch's Flower ED)* I really liked the movie and I just luved the fantasy vibes given off by the instrumentals in this song.

Baton Road - KANA BOON (Boruto: Naruto Next Generations OP)* Y'all say Boruto is trash, but at least the theme songs still boppin'.

Boku wa Hashiri Tsuzukeru - Melofloat (Boruto: Naruto Next Generations ED3)

FEED THE FIRE - coldrain (King’s Game OP)* Thank you Fire Force for introducing me to this wonderful band. ;w;

2018

PAiNT it BLACK - BiSH (Black Clover OP2)* Never thought I'd ever find a band actually named bish. Lmao

Black Rover - Vickeblanka (Black Clover OP3)

Guess Who is Back - Kumi Koda (Black Clover OP4)* Now, if this ain't a bop fit for a triumphant return like "SURPRISE BISH I'M BACK." then idk what is. Lmao

Gamushara & Tenge Tenjou - Miyuna (Black Clover OP&ED5)* i’m mainly referring to Gamushara, but i luv Tenge Tenjou too.

ODD FUTURE - UVERworld (My Hero Academia OP4)*

Make my story - Lenny code fiction (My Hero Academia OP5)*

The Future is Now - Straightener (Digimon ReArise OP)* Yes, I know I'm cheating cuz it's a video game, but it's an opening sequence much like an anime, so yeah.

Breath - Porno Graffitti (Pokemon the Power of Us ED)

Katharsis - TK from Ling Tosite Sigure (Tokyo Ghoul OP3?)*

Here - JUNNA (The Ancient Magus Bride OP)

Renai Circulation - Kana Hanazawa (Bakemonogatari OP4) Imma be honest, i found this song through those Coldplay mashups and other memes. Lmao

I Wanna Be - SPYAIR (Gintama Shirogane no Tamashii Hen OP)

Hana Ichi Monme - BURNOUT SYNDROMES (Gintama Shirogane no Tamashii Hen ED)*

2019

Hana ga Saku Michi - THE CHARM PARK (Black Clover ED7)* I SWEAR NO ONE’S COVERED THIS SONG YET AND I’M SAD. I LUV THIS SONG.

Inferno - MRS. GREEN APPLE (Fire Force OP)

Veil - Keina Suda (Fire Force ED)* This ED gives me feels and i luv it. ;w;

MAYDAY - coldrain (Fire Force OP2)* This sounds like a song i’d hear at Hot Topic and i feel blessed. lmao

Nounai - Lenny code fiction (Fire Force ED2) I swear this anime doesn’t have a single song i don’t like. I’m not kidding. lmao

WILD SIDE - ALI (BEASTARS OP)* IN THIS HOUSE, WE DO NOT SKIP THIS OPENING I STG.

Le Zoo - YURiKA (BEASTARS ED)

Nemureru Honou (Sleeping Instincts) - YURiKA (BEASTARS ED2)*

Kawaki no Ameku - Minami (Domestic Na Kanojo OP)

Polaris - BLUE ENCOUNT (My Hero Academia OP6)* THIS IS THE BIGGEST BOP SINCE PEACE SIGN OML

Touch Off - UVERworld (The Promised Neverland OP)* This show was too creepy for me to continue, but I luv it for what it is. Also NAA NANANANANANAA NANANAAAA~

Sangenshoku - PELICAN FANCLUB (Dr. Stone OP2)* Sorry, but Good Morning World didn’t totally do it for me. I luv this OP way more tbh.

Suisou - Megumi Nakajima (Hoshiai no Sora OP)* The bits before the chorus are just so good.

1•2•3 - After the Rain (Pocket Monsters 2019 OP)

Dark Crow - MAN WITH A MISSION (Vinland Saga OP2)

MOTOR CITY - Kenichi Asai (No Guns Life OP)

Game Over - DATS (No Guns Life ED)

#rambles #anime talk #favorite anime openings and endings #MY JAM #i really had to dig deep into my memory banks for this one #and do my research to make sure i got things right #i most likely forgot quite a bit still #feel free to tell me how trash my tastes are

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aboutnorsemythology · 6 years ago

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Loki`s truths

Ægir, who was also called Gymir, had prepared ale for the gods, after he had got the mighty kettle, as now has been told. To this feast came Othin and Frigg, his wife. Thor came not, as he was on a journey in the East. Sif,

Thor's wife, was there, and Brag, with Ithun, his wife. Tyr, who had but one hand, was there; the wolf Fenrir had bitten off his other hand when they had bound him. There were Njorth and Skathi his wife, Freyr and Freyja, and Vithar, the son of Othin. Loki was there, and Freyr's servants Byggvir and Beyla. Many were there of the gods and elves

Ægir had two serving-men, Fimafeng and Eldir. Glittering gold they had in place of firelight; the ale came in of itself; and great was the peace. The guests praised much the ability of Ægir's serving-men. Loki might not endure that, and he slew Fimafeng. Then the gods shook their shields and howled at Loki and drove him away to the forest, and thereafter set to drinking again. Loki turned back, and outside he met Eldir. Loki spoke to him:

1. "Speak now, Eldir, | for not one step Farther shalt thou fare; What ale-talk here | do they have within, The sons of the glorious gods?"

Eldir spake: 2. "Of their weapons they talk, | and their might in war, The sons of the glorious gods; From the gods and elves | who are gathered here No friend in words shalt thou find."

Loki spake: 3. "In shall I go | into Ægir's hall, For the feast I fain would see;

Bale and hatred | I bring to the gods, And their mead with venom I mix."

Eldir spake: 4. "If in thou goest | to Ægir's hall, And fain the feast wouldst see, And with slander and spite | wouldst sprinkle the gods, Think well lest they wipe it on thee."

Loki spake: 5. "Bethink thee, Eldir, | if thou and I Shall strive with spiteful speech; Richer I grow | in ready words If thou speakest too much to me."

Then Loki went into the hall, but when they who were there saw who had entered, they were all silent.

Loki spake: 6. "Thirsty I come | into this thine hall, I, Lopt,(1) from a journey long, To ask of the gods | that one should give Fair mead for a drink to me.

7. "Why sit ye silent, | swollen with pride, Ye gods, and no answer give?

(1)Lopt: like Lothur (cf. Voluspo, 18) another name for Loki

At your feast a place | and a seat prepare me, Or bid me forth to fare."

Bragi spake: 8. "A place and a seat | will the gods prepare No more in their midst for thee; For the gods know well | what men they wish To find at their mighty feasts."

Loki spake: 9. "Remember, Othin, | in olden days That we both our blood have mixed; (2) Then didst thou promise | no ale to pour, Unless it were brought for us both."

Othin spake: 10. "Stand forth then, Vithar, | and let the wolf's father Find a seat at our feast;

(2) Loki speaks of an oath of blood but never mentions a brotherhood, this was erroneously interpreted and perhaps it makes reference to verse Volusp, 18 that refers to the creation of men.

Lest evil should Loki | speak aloud Here within Ægir's hall."

Then Vithar arose and poured drink for Loki; but before he drank he spoke to the gods:

11. "Hail to you, gods! | ye goddesses, hail! Hail to the holy throng! Save for the god | who yonder sits, Bragi there on the bench."

Bragi spake: 12. "A horse and a sword | from my hoard will I give, And a ring gives Bragi to boot, That hatred thou makst not | among the gods; So rouse not the great ones to wrath."

Loki spake: 13. "In horses and rings | thou shalt never be rich, Bragi, but both shalt thou lack; Of the gods and elves | here together met Least brave in battle art thou, (And shyest thou art of the shot.)"

Bragi spake: 14. "Now were I without | as I am within,

And here in Ægir's hall, Thine head would I bear | in mine hands away, And pay thee the price of thy lies."

Loki spake: 15. "In thy seat art thou bold, | not so are thy deeds, Bragi, adorner of benches! Go out and fight | if angered thou feelest, No hero such forethought has."

Ithun spake: 16. "Well, prithee, Bragi, | his kinship weigh, Since chosen as wish-son he was; And speak not to Loki | such words of spite Here within Ægir's hall."

Loki spake: 17. "Be silent, Ithun! | thou art, I say,

Of women most lustful in love, Since thou thy washed-bright | arms didst wind About thy brother's slayer."

Ithun spake: 18. "To Loki I speak not | with spiteful words Here within Ægir's hall; And Bragi I calm, | who is hot with beer, For I wish not that fierce they should fight."

Gefjun spake: 19. "Why, ye gods twain, | with bitter tongues Raise hate among us here? Loki is famed | for his mockery foul, And the dwellers in heaven he hates."

Loki spake: 20. "Be silent, Gefjun! | for now shall I say Who led thee to evil life; The boy so fair | gave a necklace bright, And about him thy leg was laid."

Othin spake: 21. "Mad art thou, Loki, | and little of wit, The wrath of Gefjun to rouse; For the fate that is set | for all she sees, Even as I, methinks."

Loki spake: 22. "Be silent, Othin! | not justly thou settest The fate of the fight among men; Oft gavst thou to him | who deserved not the gift, To the baser, the battle's prize."

Othin spake: 23. "Though I gave to him | who deserved not the gift, To the baser, the battle's prize; Winters eight | wast thou under the earth, Milking the cows as a maid, (Ay, and babes didst thou bear; Unmanly thy soul must seem.)"

23. There is no other reference to Loki's having spent eight years underground, or to his cow-milking. On one occasion, however, he did bear offspring. A giant had undertaken to build the gods a fortress, his reward being Freyja and the sun and moon, provided the work was done by a given time. His sole helper was his horse, Svathilfari. The work being nearly done, and the gods fearing to lose Freyja and the sun and moon, Loki turned himself into a mare, and so effectually distracted Svathilfari from his task that shortly afterwards Loki gave birth to Othin's eight-legged horse, Sleipnir. In such contests of abuse a man was not infrequently taunted with having borne children.

Loki spake: 24. "They say that with spells | in Samsey once Like witches with charms didst thou work; And in witch's guise | among men didst thou go; Unmanly thy soul must seem."

Frigg spake: 25. "Of the deeds ye two | of old have done Ye should make no speech among men; Whate'er ye have done | in days gone by, Old tales should ne'er be told."

Loki spake: 26. "Be silent, Frigg! | thou art Fjorgyn's wife, But ever lustful in love; For Vili and Ve, | thou wife of Vithrir, Frigg spake: 27. "If a son like Baldr | were by me now, Here within Ægir's hall, From the sons of the gods | thou shouldst go not forth Till thy fierceness in fight were tried."

Loki spake: 28. "Thou wilt then, Frigg, | that further I tell Of the ill that now I know; Mine is the blame | that Baldr no more Thou seest ride home to the hall."

Freyja spake: 29. "Mad art thou, Loki, | that known thou makest The wrong and shame thou hast wrought; The fate of all | does Frigg know well, Though herself she says it not."

Loki spake: 30. "Be silent, Freyja! | for fully I know thee, Sinless thou art not thyself;

Both in thy bosom have lain."

Of the gods and elves | who are gathered here, Each one as thy lover has lain."

Freyja spake: 31. "False is thy tongue, | and soon shalt thou find That it sings thee an evil song; The gods are wroth, | and the goddesses all, And in grief shalt thou homeward go."

Loki spake: 32. "Be silent, Freyja! | thou foulest witch, And steeped full sore in sin; In the arms of thy brother | the bright gods caught thee When Freyja her wind set free."

Njorth spake: 33. "Small ill does it work | though a woman may have A lord or a lover or both; But a wonder it is | that this womanish god Comes hither, though babes he has borne."

Loki spake: 34. "Be silent, Njorth; | thou wast eastward sent, To the gods as a hostage given; And the daughters of Hymir | their privy had When use did they make of thy mouth."

Njorth spake: 35. "Great was my gain, | though long was I gone, To the gods as a hostage given; The son did I have | whom no man hates, And foremost of gods is found."

Loki spake: 36. "Give heed now, Njorth, | nor boast too high, No longer I hold it hid; With thy sister hadst thou | so fair a son, Thus hadst thou no worse a hope."

Tyr spake: 37. "Of the heroes brave | is Freyr the best Here in the home of the gods;

He harms not maids | nor the wives of men, And the bound from their fetters he frees."

Loki spake: 38. "Be silent, Tyr! | for between two men Friendship thou ne'er couldst fashion; Fain would I tell | how Fenrir once Thy right hand rent from thee."

Tyr spake: 39. "My hand do I lack, | but Hrothvitnir thou, And the loss brings longing to both; Ill fares the wolf | who shall ever await In fetters the fall of the gods."

Loki spake: 40. "Be silent, Tyr! | for a son with me Thy wife once chanced to win; Not a penny, methinks, | wast thou paid for the wrong, Nor wast righted an inch, poor wretch."

Freyr spake: 41. "By the mouth of the river | the wolf remains

Till the gods to destruction go; Thou too shalt soon, | if thy tongue is not stilled, Be fettered, thou forger of ill."

Loki spake: 42. "The daughter of Gymir | with gold didst thou buy, And sold thy sword to boot; But when Muspell's sons | through Myrkwood ride, Thou shalt weaponless wait, poor wretch."

Byggvir spake: 43. "Had I birth so famous | as Ingunar-Freyr, And sat in so lofty a seat,

I would crush to marrow | this croaker of ill, And beat all his body to bits."

Loki spake: 44. "What little creature | goes crawling there, Snuffling and snapping about? At Freyr's ears ever | wilt thou be found, Or muttering hard at the mill."

Byggvir spake: 45. "Byggvir my name, | and nimble am I, As gods and men do grant; And here am I proud | that the children of Hropt Together all drink ale."

Loki spake: 46. "Be silent, Byggvir! | thou never couldst set Their shares of the meat for men; Hid in straw on the floor, | they found thee not When heroes were fain to fight."

Heimdall spake: 47. "Drunk art thou, Loki, | and mad are thy deeds, Why, Loki, leavst thou this not?

For drink beyond measure | will lead all men No thought of their tongues to take."

Loki spake: 48. "Be silent, Heimdall! | in days long since Was an evil fate for thee fixed; With back held stiff | must thou ever stand, As warder of heaven to watch."

Skathi spake: 49. "Light art thou, Loki, | but longer thou mayst not In freedom flourish thy tail; On the rocks the gods bind thee | with bowels torn Forth from thy frost-cold son."

Loki spake: 50. "Though on rocks the gods bind me | with bowels torn Forth from my frost-cold son,

49. Skathi: the wife of Njorth, and daughter of the giant Thjazi, concerning whose death cf. Harbarthsljoth, Bowels, etc.: according to the prose note at the end of the Lokasenna, the gods bound Loki with the bowels of his son Vali, and changed his other son, Narfi, into a wolf. Snorri turns the story about Vali being the wolf, who tears his brother to pieces, the gods then using Narfi's intestines to bind Loki. Narfi--and presumably Vali--were the sons of Loki and his wife, Sigyn. They appear only in this episode, though Narfi (or Nari) is named by Snorri in his list of Loki's children

I was first and last | at the deadly fight There where Thjazi we caught."

Skathi spake: 51. "Wert thou first and last | at the deadly fight There where Thjazi was caught, From my dwellings and fields | shall ever come forth A counsel cold for thee."

Loki spake: 52. "More lightly thou spakest | with Laufey's son, (3) When thou badst me come to thy bed; Such things must be known | if now we two Shall seek our sins to tell."

(3) Loki Laufeyjarson post

Then Sif came forward and poured mead for Loki in a crystal cup, and said:

53. "Hail too thee, Loki, | and take thou here The crystal cup of old mead; For me at least, | alone of the gods, Blameless thou knowest to be."

He took the horn, and drank therefrom:

54. "Alone thou wert | if truly thou wouldst All men so shyly shun; But one do I know | full well, methinks, Who had thee from Hlorrithi's arms,-- (Loki the crafty in lies.)"

Beyla spake: 55. "The mountains shake, | and surely I think From his home comes Hlorrithi now; He will silence the man | who is slandering here Together both gods and men."

Loki spake: 56. "Be silent, Beyla! | thou art Byggvir's wife, And deep art thou steeped in sin; A greater shame | to the gods came ne'er, Befouled thou art with thy filth."

Then came Thor forth, and spake:

57. "Unmanly one, cease, | or the mighty hammer, Mjollnir, shall close thy mouth;

Thy shoulder-cliff | shall I cleave from thy neck, And so shall thy life be lost."

Loki spake: 58. "Lo, in has come | the son of Earth: Why threaten so loudly, Thor? Less fierce thou shalt go | to fight with the wolf When he swallows Sigfather up."

Thor spake: 59. "Unmanly one, cease, | or the mighty hammer, Mjollnir, shall close thy mouth; I shall hurl thee up | and out in the East, Where men shall see thee no more."

Loki spake: 60. "That thou hast fared | on the East-road forth To men shouldst thou say no more;

In the thumb of a glove | didst thou hide, thou great one, And there forgot thou wast Thor."

Thor spake: 61. "Unmanly one, cease, | or the mighty hammer, Mjollnir, shall close thy mouth; My right hand shall smite thee | with Hrungnir's slayer, Till all thy bones are broken."

Loki spake: 62. "Along time still | do I think to live, Though thou threatenest thus with thy hammer; Rough seemed the straps | of Skrymir's wallet, When thy meat thou mightest not get, (And faint from hunger didst feel.)"

Thor spake: 63. "Unmanly one, cease, | or the mighty hammer, Mjollnir, shall close thy mouth;

62- Thor`s journey to the Land of the Giants

The slayer of Hrungnir | shall send thee to hell, And down to the gate of death."

Loki spake: 64. "'1 have said to the gods | and the sons of the god, The things that whetted my thoughts; But before thee alone | do I now go forth, For thou fightest well, I ween.

65. "Ale hast thou brewed, | but, Ægir, now Such feasts shalt thou make no more; O'er all that thou hast | which is here within Shall play the flickering flames, (And thy back shall be burnt with fire.)"

And after that Loki hid himself in Franang's waterfall in the guise of a salmon, and there the gods took him. He was bound with the bowels of his son Vali, but his son Narfi was changed to a wolf. Skathi took a poison-snake and fastened it up over Loki's face, and the poison dropped thereon. Sigyn, Loki's wife, sat there and held a shell under the poison, but when the shell was full she bore away the poison, and meanwhile the poison dropped on Loki. Then he struggled so hard that the whole earth shook therewith; and now that is called an earthquake.

Complete analysis in process

#loki #lokasenna #About Norse Mithology

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eretzyisrael · 7 years ago

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Bret Stephens on Israel's robust willingness to defend itself

Familiar scenes - from seven years ago [Image Source]

In a punchy New York Times column published this past Friday ["Jewish Power at 70 Years"], Bret Stephens starts out talking about a hate crime - with an intriguing twist - in today's Germany. But then he heads off in the direction of the Middle East and the challenges posed to Israelis by the people on the far side of our borders.

Here's a first extract:

On Friday, Palestinians in Gaza returned for the fourth time to the border fence with Israel, in protests promoted by Hamas. The explicit purpose of Hamas leaders is to breach the fence and march on Jerusalem. Israel cannot possibly allow this — doing so would create a precedent that would encourage similar protests, and more death, along all of Israel’s borders — and has repeatedly used deadly force to counter it. The armchair corporals of Western punditry think this is excessive. It would be helpful if they could suggest alternative military tactics to an Israeli government dealing with an urgent crisis against an adversary sworn to its destruction. They don’t. It would also be helpful if they could explain how they can insist on Israel’s retreat to the 1967 borders and then scold Israel when it defends those borders. They can’t.

He's right. We're old enough to remember the coordinated Arab assaults on multiple Israeli borders seven years ago in conjunction with Naqba Day- May 14 and 15, 2011 and around the same time as the ill-fated and unfortunately-named Arab Spring.

A BBC report at the time ["Palestinian protests: Arab spring or foreign manipulation?", BBC, May 15, 2011] said the not-so-peaceful "protestors"

undoubtedly embodied the same kind of risk-taking, confrontational people-power ethos that has fired the revolts in many parts of the Arab world.

How did that risk-taking confrontation play out?

Lebanon

In Lebanon, some 30,000 people were pulled together by the organizers near Lebanon's Israel border and walked towards it just opposite the northern Israeli town of Avivim. Soldiers of the Lebanese army first fired into the air to deter them. But then, as they headed recklessly into and across a border minefield throwing stones towards the Israeli and shouting into the hills for a "right of return", the Lebanese forces shot at them with assault rifles and tear gas. Before the retreat was completed, 11 participants were dead and about 100 injured.

Egypt

On the Egyptian border, thousands were reported to about to make their way from Cairo, Alexandria, Suez and other points of origin toward the Rafah crossing with Gaza. But the military regime then in power intervened, warning bus companies not to answer the convoy organizers' requests. The few buses that did set off were stopped by the military and in the end, according to Ma'an, only some 80 individuals equipped with flags and an arsenal of angry demands and slogans got to the border.

Fatahland

According to Wikipedia, around 300 West Bank "protesters" assembled at the Qalandiya Crossing - a busy crossing point - to demonstrate, forming human chains, staging sit-downs, hurling rocks. About 120 were said to be affected by tear gas, stink-spray and other crowd-dispersal means. BBC: "Clashes at the Qalandiya checkpoint in Ramallah continued for hours, with dozens of Palestinians injured. Palestinian protesters threw stones at Israeli security forces, who fired tear gas and rubber bullets."

Jordan

In Jordan, about 500 Palestinian Arab Jordanians were prevented by Jordanian army and police forces from doing harm at the Allenby Bridge, the major crossing point into the West Bank and Israel. They used tear gas and other similar tools and some 25 people were reported injured, including 11 Jordanian police. A Ma'an report said the Hamas-aligned Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood and what Ma'an called "the powerful Islamic Action Front" termed this "shocking" and turning reality on its end demanded "an end to such policies that have harmed Jordan's image".

Syria

On Israel's Syria border, 20 buses of "protestors" arrived from Damascus on Naqba Day, May 15, 2011. According to the BBC, the IDF said it "had only fired warning shots as a large number of protesters tried to breach a border fence near the village of Majdal Shams. But reports said at least two people had been killed and dozens injured. Israel's army says this is a "serious" incursion. Brig Gen Yoav Mordechai said soldiers were still trying to control the crowds and that dozens of protesters had crossed. The army has reportedly sealed off Majdal Shams and is carrying out house-to-house searches for "infiltrators"... "We are seeing here an Iranian provocation, on both the Syrian and the Lebanese frontiers, to try to exploit the Nakba day commemorations," Gen Mordechai said... Syria denounced Israeli actions in the Golan Heights and Lebanon as "criminal", Agence France-Presse news agency reported. "Israel will have to bear full responsibility for its actions," the foreign ministry said." The NY Times said "some 13 Israeli soldiers were lightly wounded from thrown rocks." And Ynet quoting an IDF enquiry, said "nearly 1,000 Syrians approached the fence, with Syrian border forces unable – or unwilling – to stop them. About 300 protesters, including children, rushed the fences and crossed over onto Israeli soil..."

Some weeks later, those May 2011 events in Syria were revealed to have actually been planned ahead of time by the Assad regime. This is all documented in an expose ["Report: Document Reveals Nakba Day Clashes Planned by Syria Government", Haaretz, June 14, 2011]. The bused-in attackers had attempted to breach Israel's border which was the plan. The Haaretz report quotes a Syrian government memo: "Permission is hereby granted allowing approaching crowds to cross the cease fire line (with Israel) towards the occupied Majdal-Shamms, and to further allow them to engage physically with each other in front of United Nations agents and offices. Furthermore, there is no objection if a few shots are fired in the air." There are clear parallels with what's happening now on Israel's Gaza frontier.

Then in June 2011, again on the Syria side of its border with Israel, large numbers of assailants purporting to "protest" were again bused in from Damascus. A Jerusalem Post report quoted Syrian officials saying 23 were killed and 350 injured "as they attempted over the course of several hours to breach the barbed-wire border".

...

The Bret Stephens essay dwells as well on the intriguing case of Adam Armoush. Thought, when the story initially emerged, to be a young German Jew, he is in reality a 21-year-old Israeli Arab living in Germany

who, on a recent outing in Berlin, donned a yarmulke to test a friend’s contention that it was unsafe to do so in Germany. On Tuesday he was assaulted in broad daylight by a Syrian asylum-seeker who whipped him with a belt for being “yahudi” — Arabic for Jew. The episode was caught on video and has caused a national uproar... There were nearly 1,000 reported anti-Semitic incidents in Berlin alone last year...

Stephens then connects Israel and Europe:

To be Jewish — at least visibly Jewish — in Europe is to live on borrowed time... There’s a limit to how many armed guards can be deployed indefinitely to protect synagogues or stop Holocaust memorials from being vandalized... There are many reasons to celebrate the date [of Israel's 70th anniversary a few days ago], many of them lofty: a renaissance for Jewish civilization; the creation of a feisty liberal democracy in a despotic neighborhood; the ecological rescue of a once-barren land; the end of 1,878 years of exile. But there’s a more basic reason. Jews cannot rely for their safety on the kindness of strangers... Hence Israel: its army, bomb, and robust willingness to use force to defend itself. Israel did not come into existence to serve as another showcase of the victimization of Jews. It exists to end the victimization of Jews... Though not Jewish, Adam Armoush was once one of the nonchalant when it came to what it means to be Jewish in the 21st century. Presumably no longer. For Jews, it’s a painful, useful reminder that Israel is not their vanity. It’s their safeguard.

Well said.

This Ongoing War

#Israel #BBC #Gaza #Hamas Lebanon Ma'an News Agency #NYTimes #Qalandiya #Syria

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nugoose · 7 years ago

Text

9 Fools : Chapter 3

A Not So Dark Wizard

Description : this takes back to ye olde times × modern feel

Characters : stray kids × OC

Theme : adventure, fluff (?) , comedy

1 2

Chapter 3.

Sunday morning

“Fools. That’s what people call us. 9 fools. It was indeed a foolish act to name ourselves fools. But our acts and contributions were far from what we were called. We started from random individuals chan met in the city, and outside. Some was being chased by guards, some he met adventuring the woods, but all of us were recruited by chan because we answered the 1 question that he always asked, have you been to the mirakhan’s forest.”

“mirakhan as in the dead forest?” Aster asked to the boy with a skinny face and dark clothing. A very contrast theme with her who was wearing bright colours from head to toe. Changbin continued. “yeah i don’t understand why at first.”

“what was your answer?” She gets excited. She really didn’t expect, nor hope to meet the 9 fools again, mainly because most of them either trespass her garden or ruin her flowers, but i guess fate has her stuck with them. Changbin on the other hand is a friend that she would kindly accept. One of the reason is the fact that he was a wizard, and she has interest in his magic. “oh me? I answered yes of course. What kind of dark wizard am I if-“ Changbin got cut off by Aster snickering. She thought that it was such nonsense the fact that Changbin was a dark wizard whereas he is a real softy , and acts cute all the time. He send her a death glare that made her rethink her thoughts. “anyway. What kind of wizard am i if i have never been to the mirakhan forest. I basically train there with my father.” This got Arest’s attention. Her ears perks at the mention of his training.

Mirakhan Forest is a place where everyone would avoid. Once you enter, you don’t go out. Only the lucky ones manage to survive and retell the tale of the forest. It was incredible knowing Changbin train in the forest, it concludes that he goes there often. And this struck Aster about an unknown fact. “wait. So you’re saying that you got accepted after you said yes to his question?”

He raised a brow “uh i guess?”

“so that means all 9 of you has gone to the forest??”.

Remembering his comrades stories, almost everyone said yes except chan. “chan was the only one who didn’t say yes- well i mean not yet. I haven’t ask him yet.” He pondered over why he hasn’t ask him yet.

Aster shooks her head, before glancing to Changbin who was deep in his thoughts “you haven’t told me why all of you chose fools as the team name.”

A hint of nervousness shows in his eyes before he faked a serious face. He placed his fingers to his nose bridge. Cue the dramatic background music. “it holds a very deep meaning. In which makes our brotherhood bonds stronger-“

“Chan came home drunk and got pissed with us, calling us fools countless time before scribbling on the team’s contract with a big ‘FOOLS’” a man who has the face of a perfect sculpture shows up from behind the shop. He had thick plush lips and a mole under his eyes. A tall frame and a great proportions. He was 9 Fools black horse, Hwang Hyunjin.

Slowly he drapes his arms around Changbin’s shoulder, towering the older one. “So i added the 9” he claimed proudly. Showing his toothy smile to Aster, a smile that can make any girls swoon of her feet. But not for her. She has lived long enough to know all the pretty boys in town.

Changbin slaps Hyunjin’s arm causing him to wince in pain. “you’re late. And why’d you have to expose us like that?! Ugh. And where the hell is jisung and felix?” he glared at him. Changbin has been waiting for Hyunjin, 2 of his comrades for over an hour. The reason is none other then the task they were given by the king. It was like an errand for them, but a challenge for normal citizens. Hyunjin gave him a peace sign while giggling. “i got lost?”

‘son of a-‘ with a swish of his black staff, Changbin sent Hyunjin flying to the flower bed as he cries for his mom. Aster’s flower bed. “Hey!” she cried.

If it was other members of the Fools, she would unleash her rage, but yet again her reason stays the same. Changbin was a man with power so she decided to held it in.

Patting the dirt off himself, Hyunjin sends a glare to Changbin. Motioning him to apologise to Aster who was doing a breath therapy to calm her nerves. They heard her mumble under her breath “it took me 2 weeks to finalise the flowers but its okay. Hold it in- hold. It. In”

“A-aster I’m sowy?” Changbin sheds all his darkness away to give her the cutest puppy eyes he could make. This earned him a knee kick on his butt by Hyunjin. “sowy? Really??” he whispers. The older one replied by shinning his stomach. “shut up. Let me do my thing” Changbin whispers back.

“what’s going on here” 2 young looking boys walks towards their path with a worn out look. Jisung, a boy who looks like a mash of chipmunk, and a hamster was walking ahead of the other who was on four of his limbs. “please. Slow. Down.” Felix cried. His hair was light brown and freckles more visible than Aster’s was around his nose.

Jisung ignored his friend’s cry of desperation. He was too focused on the situation in front of him. It was an easy guess for Jisung though. With Hyunjin and, Aster palming their own face, and Changbin trying to be cute. He must’ve done something wrong again.

Changbin didn’t have time to teach the younger ones a lesson for being late. Too preoccupied with the girl with the red face trying to calm her nerves knowing more destruction is coming

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Currently planning on making the enemy. should it be an easy enemy or straight to the big boss? Ch. 4 will be about the youngest!

#stray kids #stray kids scenario #stray kids au #bang chan #kim woojin #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #story #fanfic #adventure #comedy #oc

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olowan-waphiya · 4 years ago

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“Our grief for the Earth is the measure of the depths of our love. And Love is the material of transformation.”

From my frantic napkin writing:

Plants are the oldest teachers.

Humans are not on top of the planet’s hierarchy, we shouldn’t be. But we are the little siblings of creation.

We must learn from intelligences other than our own; western science calls this ‘biomimicry’, creating technology that mimics nature, such as machines to pull carbon (and other fossil fuels) from the air. But, we already HAVE this. PLANTS, already do this for FREE and they do it better.

More plants! Less fossil fuels. Keep it in the Ground!

Plants are already doing all they can right now. They are not sitting in board meetings or arguing over costs. They’ve kicked into over drive and they produce more and more of themselves with diverse genetics.

This is where we support native farmers and growers of all kinds.

Plants are amazing but they can’t do it alone. We’ve surpassed the point where they can fix our problems for us.

We must PAY ATTENTION! And we must support personhood for All Beings! We must consider the rights of the land. A tree deserves as much and more consideration than a corporation, which has personhood when a tree does not.

What does the Earth ask of us?

Be grateful for what we are given. And Take Only What is Given.

Ex: The coal and minerals that are buried DEEP within mountains that require extreme methods to access it are NOT GIVEN. So we should not take it. And always ask before taking, observe the land, see if it can afford to give what you take.

Reciprocity. Reciprocate the gifts given. However you can...[pick up trash, give plants water, spiritual gifts, etc].

There is a prophecy. The Seven Fires prophecy.

The end of it goes: In the time of the Seventh Fire New People will emerge. They will retrace their steps to find what was left by the trail.

{....}

It is this time that the light skinned race will be given a choice between two roads. One road will be green and lush, and very inviting. The other road will be black and charred, and walking it will cut their feet.

In the prophecy, the people decide to take neither road, but instead to turn back, to remember and reclaim the wisdom of those who came before them. If they choose the right road, then the Seventh Fire will light the Eighth and final Fire, an eternal fire of peace, love, brotherhood and sisterhood. If the light skinned race makes the wrong choice of the roads, then the destruction which they brought with them in coming to this country will come back at them and cause much suffering and death to all the Earth's people.

We will need courage, creativity and wisdom. We will need to relearn stories from the past.

She also told this really amazing story about two boys gambling with the fate of the world and how all of creation cried out trying to prevent the end of everything. And how right now, because of us, because of capitalism, so many of these persons [trees, animals, insects, microbes etc] are weak and voiceless.

We must raise our voices in the song that will save us.

The plants are working as we speak. An Annishabe song about the prophecy starts,

Ambe maj tada- Come on, let’s get going!

Robin Wall Kimmerer, author of Braiding Sweetgrass, does an amazing speech~

Thought some folks would be interested in this! This event is called Planet on a Precipice, all about climate change and her speech is called ‘ What Does the Earth Ask of Us? ‘

This is the video for her keynote speech! I literally weeped and wrote frantic notes on a napkin. The video apparently expires Oct. 20th. But, I might try and save it because she’s such a genius.

Keep reading

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saintsnsinnersbdb · 6 years ago

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Leethall’s Decision

Leethall more or less collapsed back on the gurney as he came back from his workout in the gym with Payne. Some female she was, very unlike what Leethall had seen both in his family and among the few civilians he had met during his lifetime. It was as if she was more male than female, yet she maintained a sort of odd femininity. Not that he held that against her at all, it was just something he wasn’t very used to. He had a deep respect for how good of a fighter she was. She had an impressive form and plenty of strength in her and there was nothing he could say to her technique. In fact she was a better fighter than himself. He’d hate to make an enemy out of her, that was for sure.

After their workout, he had taken a long hot shower and changed into more spare clothing he had found laying around. He had no clue whose they were and he didn’t really give a shit. He had more pressing issues to worry about than whose threads he had swiped from the locker room. Leethall looked over the trashed hospital room, surprised at just how much damage he had caused. The machines had several dents in them and the floor was covered in pills, medical tools and even bandages. His conscious told him to clean up a little, but the rest of him rebelled against that idea with renewed passion. Plus, his body was sore and aching from the workout, so he was in no shape to start doing squats and bending, never mind the heavy lifting to get the machines back up to their standing position. As the seconds flew by, Leethall could feel the walls of the medical room closing in on him. He wasn’t claustrophobic, but with the added knowledge of sharing a roof with his blooded father and the new mate of the bastard along with the knowledge that the brotherhood and even the king of the race were also close by, he felt like an ant about to be stepped on by a shitkicker with daggers attached to the sole. No, he had to get out and get some fresh air. Maybe even find his stolen bike, hotwire it and drive off. According to the clock, the sun was about to set, so it would be safe for him to go out. Question was if he could actually get out of this fucking place without really getting noticed or leave a trace behind. The brotherhood was resourceful, and it was unlikely they’d happily let him go back to killing loose lessers with a smile and a ‘Go get them, tiger’ attitude. Still, with his blooded father confirmed as a brother, that was even alive, maybe things didn’t have to end in bloodshed. Not that Leethall was even remotely interested in bonding with the bastard or trying to play family after so many years of not even knowing his name, let alone his face. As Leethall stood there thinking, a memory unearthed itself in his mind and flashed before him. It was shortly after his transition, he had been spending time with his Mahmen, sitting by her side one night when her health had first started to decline. She had told him, he had his father’s eyes. Leethall had to admit, when he looked at his own reflection, his own eyes and those of Rhage were the same. The exact same, or close to the same at the very least. She really had been grateful to Rhage until the very end, hadn’t she? Maybe that was also why she made Leethall promise not to search for the brotherhood in the name of vengeance. Among her last words had been “I wish no evil upon thine blooded father, son of mine. He bestowed upon me the gift that is you”, had her exact words been.

She had always been like that, kind and forgiving. Looking at the brighter sides and finding positives in everything. Had she ever been attacked by lessers, Leethall knew she would somehow find a good thing to come out of it. Like making her braver by having her face a fear. Fucking hell, he missed his Mahmen sometimes.Till the very last, she had been insistent on Leethall not seeking revenge, but rather do what he could to protect the race. And he had done just that, being careful to avoid the brotherhood. Rumor had it they were touchy about non-brothers exterminating lessers and Leethall had no interest in staring down the business end of a gun or a dagger. He was still chasing loose lessers, after all. If she could see him now, she would probably tell him to give his father a chance, get to know him and maybe even learn from him. Still, the only thing Leethall wanted to do was punch the everloving fuck out of his father’s annoying facehole and walk away without ever looking back, and simply going back to awaiting the day either a lesser or a brother put him out of his misery. Whichever skinned his ass first.

Though, the brotherhood killing him was less of an option now, wasn’t it? With Lethall’s lineage being confirmed with blood tests, there was no way they’d actually let him leave him to his own devices, was there? Surely, they would want him to also become a brother, or at least one of the supporting fighters he had heard rumours about. Trainees, they were called if memory served. Like fuck that was going to happen. The brotherhood had a very long time ago made it clear that they were exclusive and undesirables like Leethal were just that. Undesirable and henceforth not welcome among them. They had made that perfectly clear when Leethall had sought them out years ago, right after the death of his mahmen. He hadn’t interacted directly, but rather heard a good number of rumours about how reclusive and shut off the brotherhood had become, not welcoming anyone among them, especially when Wrath had refused to take the throne. As Leethall’s mind raced, he could feel his temper flaring up again, his muscles tensing up and complaining through deep aches that they were not satisfied with Leethall’s mood whatsoever.

He had decided a long time ago that since the brotherhood had closed themselves off, he wouldn’t bother trying to do things properly. He’d be rogue and do what he could as long as he was alive, venturing outwards to protect the outskirts rather than stay in the city. That was firm brother territory and a super highway to death via punishment. You didn’t meddle in brotherhood business without consequences after all. Though, Leethall had to admit, these consequences were worse than any torture they could put his body through. They had revealed his father’s identity to him, thereby forcing him to recognise his heritage and even confront the dark and sinister feelings he harbored towards the damned prick. What was even worse, was that his father clearly wanted to make amends and even bond, have Leethall become a son of sorts, which was all sorts of ridiculous and rage-inducing. Leethall heaved a soft sigh, mumbling to himself to gain a better control of the thoughts being hurled around in his mind like a hurricane. Memories of some of the things his mahmen had told him kept rising to the surface and pound him straight in the frontal lobe. “Mine son, create thyself a family, however possible. T’is an important element in this our blessed life granted by the scribe”, her words had been. She had always cared about family, even if she was seen as tainted and discarded by the general vampire society. Her family had never truly denied her, but sheltered her and kept her location quiet. Leethall had heard his aunt and uncle discussing the secrecy not long before his mahmen had died. He had a feeling she knew she was being kept hidden from society, like a scar covered with clothing. He still remembered Rhage’s words to him. He tried finding her, and no one would tell him anything. Given the secrecy of the family, that could be true. Maybe the family of his mahmen had refused to tell him anything, treating it all as if she never existed. It wouldn’t surprise Leethall one little bit. They were ashamed of her fate, and by extension they were ashamed of Leethall. That was one of the main reasons he had left his family behind. Left society behind. He was a reminder of shame, unworthy of anything other than solitude and violence.

Maybe he was pushing away the prospect of a new family-thing because he knew he was unworthy of it all. His mahmen’s family had made that much perfectly clear. But as long as there were traces of him, he knew he couldn’t just run off from the brotherhood. They’d hunt him for eternity, and he knew that. Maybe he could get that family feeling his mahmen had always talked about… But it was more likely he would get frustrated and angry. Running away was easier. A whole hell of a lot easier. But the fate running would bring along was perhaps too tough for him and it might be time to realise that. With how things had turned out and the brotherhood finding him, he couldn’t possibly go back to living in the outskirts of Caldwell and simply hunting the lessers hiding from the brotherhood. There was just simply no way that could ever be allowed unless of course Wrath, son of Wrath, had started shitting rainbows and sing merry show-tunes rather than give out royal orders and decrees.

Despite all the negative thinking, Leethall had found something rather interesting among the shit going on. The female, Mehgan, that he had met a few times now had slowly started invading his thoughts more and more. There was just something about her he couldn’t shake of him. Her gentle nature and her smile made him pause and want to calm his own anger. Just so she wouldn’t have to see him being his destructive and dismissive self. She was so different from others he had met, willing to look him in the eye and treat him like a person, rather than an embarrassment and a taint. Hell, even if he wanted to run away, he’d miss her. And he just couldn’t offer her a life on the road, it would be too risky and she’d be miserable, he was sure of it. She deserved so much more and better than he could ever offer her, but he still would love to see her more, if he could. Fact was, if he wanted to see more of her, he’d have to stick around, which meant he also needed to act a little more responsible. Starting with facing perhaps the scariest creature on the planet. The king.

#LeethallsDecision #FamilyProblems #PartEleven #SaintsNSinners #BDB #SASBDB

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chroniclesofawkwardness · 6 years ago

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Page 61

From the time I was very young, I had an obsession with leveling up. Somehow, someway, I had to be better, I was never quite good enough. There was always someone bigger, faster, smarter, or stronger than me.

In first grade, we got certificates based on how many rules we’d followed that week. More often than not, I had to settle for the Boss award instead of the top prize, the Superstar. I broke the same rule every week by talking without raising my hand. I can’t say if I was genuinely trying not to give a fuck as a seven-year-old, but it’s more likely I was genuinely disappointed since I’d come so close to perfection only to fail again and again. I wish I’d accepted long ago that Lucy only loves Charlie Brown when he’s trying to kick the football.

Even when I had more control of my destiny by engaging in my favorite childhood pastime, playing Nintendo (When did it become classic?) I still had to deal with the temptation of risk vs. reward. You start out small. If you manage not to run headlong into the first Goomba (Kuribo in Japan) you see, you have the option of giving your character an 8-bit concussion by voluntarily jumping up and smashing a mystery box (marked with (?)). One of the first rewards is a mushroom that, if you touch it, significantly increases the size of your character.

Maybe the intention of the game’s creators was to show that bigger is better or to simply give the player a reward almost immediately so he or she would keep playing. If only I’d known how much my early life would turn out like one of the side-scrolling video games I gave so much of my time to. I believed that if I played by all the rules, kept going straight ahead, and timed my jumps just right, I’d zip down the flagpole like Mario, and be rewarded with fireworks for my accomplishments. Yet even a video game from the 1980s, the decade of material excess and Reagan famously turning the bull loose, had ways of tempering one’s enthusiasm, of keeping you hooked. The princess was almost always in another castle.

In first grade it was certificates. In second grade it was learning to write in cursive. In third grade it was marbles in a jar, and so on. We were all Pavlov’s dogs, salivating at the ring of a bell. Nobody knew what was really going on. Nobody knew that we were being conditioned how to talk, act, and think. There’s nothing wrong with celebrating an achievement, but life gets messy when the celebration becomes the focus rather than the hard work that led up to it. I used to believe the validation of a “Good Job!” scratch-and-sniff sticker or the clink of another marble in our classroom jar was good enough, but I also once believed in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and Jesus.

Why is it that when I think of the happiest moments of my life, they are all tied to some sort of achievement, some sort of validation that I was right?

In high school, I was convinced that I’d answered every question correctly on the 1998 National Latin Exam for Latin II. I’d just wanted Sister Dympna to be proud of me. My heart sank when the initial results came back, and I found out I’d answered only 39 of 40 questions correctly. Sister had been telling us for months that if someone got a perfect score, Latin II was usually when they did it. I was so taken aback by the initial return that I almost immediately began to insist someone recheck my exam by hand. I still remember the day they called me into the guidance office after what seemed like an emperor’s reign of anxious waiting. Mrs. Shields told me that my score was, in fact, perfect, and I was the first student in school history to accomplish such a feat. I wanted to run down the hallway screaming, “Fuck Yeah!” to anyone within earshot, but I didn’t. Instead, I remembered the story of Cincinnatus. Sister Dympna, one of the installers of my try-hard driver, once told me Cincinnatus was a simple Roman farmer who was twice offered a dictatorship, only to turn it down both times in favor of returning to his plow. Like Cincinnatus, I deferred my glory and returned to English class.

Chances are, the story of Cincinnatus isn’t true. It’s probably nothing more than a tale Roman parents told their children in the hope of turning them into humble, obedient, and dutiful citizens. These parents, of course, had no idea that the same tale would be passed down through the ages for more than 2,000 years.

When I defended my master’s thesis nine years later, I thought I’d pulled out all the stops. Never one to skimp on Balkan hospitality, I put on a suit and lugged around a backpack with a coffee pot and Napolitanke wafers (thanks Croatian confectionary company, Kraš) for the members of my defense committee. I had to level up to the next sequential academic abbreviation behind my name if I wanted a chance to work for any number of alphabet agencies within the government. I had to find a way to atone for destroying my own section of Brazilian rainforest by printing out my thesis so many times. If I noticed an ill-timed comma, a misplaced dash, or an extra space at the end of a line, a war of attrition was on. Instead of not giving a fuck, I started giving too many.

After my defense, I had to sit out in the hallway for what seemed like another eternity while the committee deliberated my fate. Dr. H. (finally) telling me that I’d passed was one of the happiest moments of my life. When the second year of my two-year master’s program started, I wasn’t even sure if I’d get funding to pay for it. There were fifteen fellowships available that year. I’d gone from being one of the first ones out (no. 18) to one of the last ones in. And now, there I was, at the top of another flagpole. After picking up my diploma, I must have sat in the papasan chair that my mom’s now-ex-husband would later use for cumshot target practice holding that precious, validating piece of paper in my hands for fifteen minutes of contented silence. It’s the kind of silence only accomplishment can bring, before the panic of not knowing exactly what to do next sets in.

I can’t remember the first time I noticed an at on page 61 of my thesis where an at didn’t belong. I was crushed. I couldn’t believe I’d missed it while I was chopping away at the rainforest. My crowning achievement (there’s that A-word again) had been forever tarnished by a renegade preposition that had somehow managed to steal itself away from the obsessive, approval-seeking eyes of its creator. I had flashbacks to my freshman year of undergrad when I’d left a works cited page off the first paper I’d ever written for English class. Both oversights were poetic justice in works of academic prose. (Im)perfect bookends to six years of higher education. I had visions of becoming the laughingstock of the department, the butt of a sick joke by future generations of curious graduate students searching for scholarly works on the soundtrack to the demise of brotherhood and unity, the destruction of the failed idea of Yugoslavia.

I beat myself up for years over that at. Whenever someone would tell me it’s no big deal, I’d turn on my default, self-deprecating sense of humor and say things like, “But I know it’s there.” No one has ever called me a dumbass over a two-letter word that should have been deleted long before Dr. H. signed the title page of my thesis. I did it to myself. It took me a long time to not internalize my own imperfections, and simply learn from my mistakes rather than defining myself by them. First, it was certificates, then learning to write in cursive, then marbles in jars. I’d had enough.

I’m not quite at the point where I can just laugh about the error in page 61, but I don’t beat myself up over it anymore. I know it’s there, but I don’t let it tarnish my A-word. It’s okay to strive for perfection, but obsessions make life messy. They say if you really want to know how you got to feel and think a certain way about things, you should write a book about them. I’ll keep going after the sixty-first page. There’s lots more to be said. If the devil’s in the details, I’ll side with Tom Waits, who pointed out in Heartattack And Vine: Don’t you know there ain’t no devil/That’s just God when he’s drunk. I’d been drunk on chasing perfection for too long. I’m still not sure about Jesus, so you won’t find me in church on Sundays. You might find me at a keyboard, pounding away at tales of imperfection rather than imperfection itself. Instead of trying to be perfect, I’ll just be. I can live, and write, with that.

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