#(<- the 'oxford heroes' <3)

[corallapis]

But the place of all others for romance and gathering rosebuds and making hay and jumping over the moon was Sutton Courtenay. This lovely sixteenth-century manor house belonged to my Uncle Harry Lindsay and Aunt Norah. There once a year I was allowed to go before I came out. The garden was famous for its imagination and fertility. Flowers literally overflowed everything and drifted off into a wilderness. The house was furnished impeccably ‘of the date’ and lit by acetylene gas that simulated candles to perfection. We ate under a loggia from great bowls of chicken in rice and kedgeree and mushrooms and raspberries and Devonshire cream and gooseberry fool and figs — all in abundance. I would arrive carrying a letter from my mother entrusting me to Aunt Norah’s great care — not too late to bed and above all not to be alone with young men. The chief object of the visit, as I knew and as Aunt Norah knew, was to drift in a boat all day long with one of the Oxford heroes through the reeds and inlets of the Thames which flowed by the garden — a dinghy full of poetry books and sweets and parasols and bathing-dresses — and better still (or worse!) in the moonlight with the best loved. So the letter was ignored by my aunt, who was younger much than my mother and did not mind anyway if I came to no good. I loved her very dearly and miss her today. She dressed mostly in tinsel and leopard-skins and baroque pearls and emeralds, and her exquisite hands could play the piano with skill and feeling. She had what was called Gepäck — favourite poems and pieces cut shamelessly out of books and stuck into another, and she taught me to appreciate a lot that was new, as I was apt to stick in my own mud. Sutton was quite near to Oxford (my Mecca), so these yearly visits were schemed over and anticipated with ecstasy by me and by the undergraduates I so loved. Uncle Harry had bathing-dresses for twenty of them, and four dozen tennis-balls where other players used six. Never was there such generosity, for the Lindsays had no money and for this reason Sutton did not survive. The moment came when there was not enough money to control the flowers, which rose and submerged the house.

— Lady Diana Cooper, The Rainbow Comes and Goes

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

things we learn about mulder in s1

he wanted to be an astronaut when he was young, and stayed up all night when he was 14 to watch his hero do a walk in space

he's scared to death of fire because his friend's house burned down when he was a kid

he went to oxford 10 years before the start of s1, where he dated phoebe and they, at the very least, made out on arthur conan doyle's grave (but it's implied they went all the way)

he is a fan of like. all of the sports. i cannot keep up with them all, but he sure can

he had his first case at the age of 28, where an agent died because he wouldn't take a risky shot

(and he remembers everything about the man who died- his kids, their ages, what they do for fun- all of it haunts him)

((he also, at the trial for the man who killed the agent, screamed that he "should die like an animal, you son of a bitch"- so much for cool and composed spooky mulder))

he always falls asleep on his couch to the point where i don't even know if this man has a bed

before being moved to the x-files, he worked for 3 years at the behavioral science unit, where he profiled serial killers

(also literally no one wants him on the x files they just keep him around because he is too dangerous to fire lmao)

he will go out of his way to make any kids involved a case he's assigned to feel comfortable and/or laugh as a break from the Heavy Moments (probably because he remembers being questioned while very young and how awful it felt)

he believes that siblings have a psychic connection (heartbreaking when you remember his sister disappeared when he was 12 and he only has access to the memories due to hypnosis)

he refused to let his parents call him by his first name and only went by "mulder", even as a child

[hikaruchen]

I’ll keep the king when you are gone away. I’ll keep him safe from the dark things that wait. — King by The Amazing Devil

INPRNT | COMMISSION INFOS

-

Some details for archaeology nerds (Here we go again AHAHAHA)

First of all the costume Alfred wears in this pic is BY NO MEANS historical accurate, but if we really want to be 100% accurate then to my knowledge there’s a high chance that Alfred wouldn’t be wearing dresses gowns at all (whoever decided to make Alfred wear those pretty cough dresses cough in the show I wish your family to prosper for all eternity YOU’RE A HERO), so instead I just chose to design whatever clothes I want and add some Anglo-Saxon elements in it :)

1. Alfred’s earrings

Took inspiration from the 7th century Anglo-Saxon/Frankish crystal ball, now in Ashmolean Museum, Oxford. Here’s the thing, I know English men (and the monarchs) don’t wear earrings until the 16th century and earrings weren’t even popular during the Anglo-Saxon period, but once I saw Charles I wearing pearl earrings in his portrait I just can’t help but put something pretty on Alfred’s ears as well lol…Sadly I can’t find the exact size of this one but the official site says that it was used as a pendant/an amulet! Probably for pagan practices though, but it’s pretty, isn’t it? :D

2. Patterns on Alfred’s gown

Taken from the patterns on the Bewcastle Cross in Cumbria (which used to belong to Northumbria, built in around the 7th to early 8th century, aka the period Bede lived in.

3. The woven band

The pattern is taken from the Laceby band found in Laceby, Lincolnshire, dated to early 7th century. It seems both Scandinavians and Anglo-Saxons enjoy wearing tablet-woven bands? Saw this kind of things a lot in viking clothes reconstruction as well.

4. …Whatever this is

From fol. 34r in Book of Kells, the famous Celtic gospel book completed in Ireland circa 800 AD. As you can see I got lazy during drawing this lol but the illustrations in the original manuscripts are really impressive!

Now I don’t know if this is a good news or not but I’ve still got like…six wips for alhtred in hand…Good god of arts DELIVER ME

[blackberrysummerblog]

Wow, it feels like FOREVER since I posted anything. Thanks so much for the tags today @roomwithanopenfire, @meanjeansjeans, @monbons, @orange-peony, @nausikaaa, and @forabeatofadrum. And thank you so much to everyone else who’s been tagging me! I really do appreciate you all <3 It’s nice to see so many people creating! I’ve been feeling supremely UNcreative the past few weeks, but these things come and go, especially when life gets busy.

I do have some things to share! Here’s a snippet from one:

“We can send it to Oxford if you don’t want it in the flat, love,” Baz tells me as I sit on the bed and stare at the floor. He sits beside me and nudges my shoulder with his. “I can hide it away so well that you never have to lay eyes on it again.”

I let my head flop over so that it rests beneath his jaw. “Yeah, maybe.” A little snort escapes me as I grab hold of that thought. “Your dad’ll lose his rag if he finds out it’s there, imagine.”

And another:

Simon is cute, I suppose, in an apple-cheeked hero-who-saves-the-day sort of way. He’s gotten taller this year, although we’re still about the same height. You can see he was made to be broad, and he’s put on a lot of muscle. His skin and hair are nearly the same colour—a literal golden boy. Simon looks like what everyone expects for me. My magic isn’t particularly exceptional, and neither are my grades, but I’m pleasant to look at and refined—I have better manners than to be wearing shoes on the bed and letting my skirt ride up over my knickers, like Philippa is doing right now. I’m the sort of girl people expect to see on Simon’s arm. The sort of girl who will raise his perfect children.

A different one:

“Please,” I whimper. It sounds pathetic, but his smile is like the sun bursting out from behind a cloud. We kiss for what feels like hours; I’ve learned that he likes to treat making out like a mission, one whose mysteries he has to unlock and pry loose to succeed. He likes when I tell him what to do, and when I praise him for getting it right. The day I found out what ‘good boy’ could do for him was a very, very interesting one indeed. And most of all, his name. I’ll never tell him that I deliberately hold back calling him Simon lest it lose its power. “Simon,” I whisper now, with his hands on my waist, his mouth latched on my throat. “Good boy, Simon.”

And finally:

Dev’s makeup is more dramatic than mine, but I have to admit that bright colours suit him. His searing red lipstick is somewhat unfortunately applied however, having been slicked on well after getting in his cups. He still looks brilliant, full of life. A deep, abiding warmth settles into my gut as I watch my little family—it feels good to be together like this again. Dev’s free spirit is catching, and I move behind the kitchen door to pull the silver dress on, much to Fiona and Ebb’s delight.

I hope everyone has a great week, and if you’re planning to celebrate Thanksgiving, have safe travels and good times with friends and family <3

No pressure tags: @rimeswithpurple @valeffelees @best--dress @stardustasincocaine @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart @c0nsumemy5oul @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists @tender-ministrations @basiltonbutliketheherb @ghostpepperworld @larkral @artsyunderstudy @letraspal @cows4247 @fiend-for-culture @palimpsessed @thewholelemon @hushed-chorus @shrekgogurt @raenestee @cutestkilla @mooncello @imagineacoolusername @youarenevertooold @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @iamamythologicalcreature @beastmonstertitan @ic3-que3n @supercutedinosaurs @stitchy-queerista @alexalexinii @asocialpessimist @shutup-andletme-go @prettygoododds @ivelovedhimthroughworse @j-nipper-95 @wellbelesbian

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

Hello! So i know that I am WAY! less knowleged than u re: asiof but I have a question about the Prophecy (AA/PTWP). I did a deep dive on it and GRRM spoke repeately about handling prophecy carefully/not too literally etc 3 weeks ago at Oxford he repeated: "you cannot have a prophecy that comes true way it was written and everbody understands it(..) it has to come true in a way you didnt understand(..)so it bites you in the ass" So rather than "who has the most obvious PTWP clues" shouldnt we theorize "how will the idea of AA/PTWP backfire on the believers" or "how can a unique/unpreditable element fill the role"? Since Im assuming GRRM stance will likely apply to the biggest prophecy in the books. What do you think? do you know theories like that? If anything, I only see "the prophecy is just nonsense!!" but that is clearly also not what GRRM says: not prophecy is bogus but has to be unexpected or "bite you in the ass".

Hey! No, you're far too kind 😭

I completely agree with you, and you raise some interesting and important questions, especially when considering how these ideas reflect back on our protagonists.

The tricky thing with interpreting prophecy is that the characters are operating on second-hand, third-hand, or even more distant accounts, all filtered through their cultural understandings of what a hero should be. Their beliefs are shaped by the information available to them, which is often incomplete or distorted. This means each character's idea of who is the subject of prophecy is largely subjective, influenced by their biases and specific cultural narratives and thus might never present the whole truth! So as readers, we should be very cautious about how we interpret the declarations presented by any character as absolute truth. We will probably never know until the final book is published, and even then it might be murky at best.

I saw GRRM’s comments a few days ago, and they really resonated with me because they align with how I’ve been feeling lately, particularly regarding Melisandre's role in all of this:

“[…] It is written in prophecy as well. When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone.” (Davos III, ASoS)

It's often amusing in fandom to discuss how wrong Melisandre is, and she certainly is almost all the time. But lately, I've been wondering: what if we're wrong too? We focus so much on Melisandre misidentifying Azor Ahai, but what if she completely misunderstands her own role in all of this—and we're too blinded to notice it?

Because the issue isn't just that she's chosen the wrong person. The bigger problem is that she's fixated on providing what she believes are the necessary tools to defeat the Others. She wants to "wake dragons out of stone”, repeatedly asserting that "two kings" are needed to wake the dragon so they can serve Stannis Baratheon. This thinking leads to the burning of Shireen—because someone must die to forge the hero's weapon. Melisandre even sees herself as expendable in this grand scheme. But what if her entire understanding is flawed—not just about who the hero is, but about the very dragon she is trying to awaken?

I've been considering all this because "dragons" in the text don’t always refer to actual winged creatures—they're often symbolic descriptors for Targaryens in visions. For example, Moqorro's visions show dragons old and young, true and false; Baelor Breakspear appears as a dragon falling on top of Dunk; and a dragon egg hatching essentially symbolizes Aegon V. So if we're taking prophecy at face value, just as Mel does, we're left wondering where in seven hells she expects to find her "sleeping dragons".

But the thing is, she already has one: Jon Snow. In fact, her visions in Dance suggest that Jon is the one she is truly searching for. And I often think of these visions as moments where I go, "Oh, come on, Mel! It's not that guy; it's the other one!" Yet I've come to realize that even if she identifies Jon correctly, Mel would still face the dilemma of needing another sacrifice to "wake" Jon's dragon. However, she is likely to resurrect Jon before reconnecting with Stannis, which means that by the time she and Stannis consider burning Shireen, she may have already awakened the dragon - and thus fulfilled the prophecy.

If Jon is the awakened dragon, that adds a tragic irony to the whole situation with Mel and Shireen. Legend has it that the woman (Nissa Nissa) dies for the hero’s glory. But if Jon is the dragon, then does that make Melisandre Azor Ahai in this case? After all, we don't know much about the original prophecy so who knows how much it has been distorted over time?

But wouldn't that be such a twist? Mel isn’t a noble lady or royal; she's a former slave, a mere priestess—a tool, a guide, but not the hero. She never considered that she, a woman, could be R’hllor’s chosen. Yet she would perform an actual miracle in bringing a dragon back to life. And if, like me, you believe that Jon will be born from a funeral pyre (inverting Khal Drogo and Dany's dragon eggs), then the prophecy is turned entirely on its head.

This also raises the question: what about Shireen? What does she, an innocent little girl, die for? Why should she have to die for a dragon that is already living? Why should she have to die to exalt a false hero, when the true miracle worker is actually the "expendable" woman who stands before her? Then we have Melisandre carry the baggage of killing a child for something she had successfully completed before...It doesn't matter if she's able to perform some bastardized miracle and create a shadow dragon, because it would all be all for naught and a wasted effort. To me, this is more satisfying from a character development perspective because Melisandre is no longer a background character. She’s got POV chapters now, which means she has an arc that needs to reach its natural conclusion. It cannot begin and end in service of the men around her. She must reflect on her role and come to terms with her actions—both good (waking the dragon in Jon) and bad (sacrificing Shireen for something she had already accomplished and for a prophecy she had already fulfilled); and this could lead to some compelling writing. This might also answer your question about "how will the idea of AA/PTWP backfire on the believers?”. Because “incorrect” interpretations not only hinder progress, but the cost of human life is perhaps too high :/

Oops, so sorry for the long tangent.....

[jamesshawgames]

Relics 3 Release Announcement!

Relics 3: Ashes for Gold has been released!

In Europe’s darkest hour, an even deeper darkness is stirring. One hero stands against the triumph of absolute evil. You.

It’s 1940, and the long-feared war has broken out in Europe. Our intrepid archaeologist is working as a spy for the British, undertaking daring operations to strike at Nazi interests across Europe. But soon a new threat emerges. The Nazis have obtained a stockpile of a devastating ancient weapon, and in order to activate it they are scouring the world in pursuit of long-lost Archives which can teach them how to use it. You must get there first, overcoming the odds to beat the forces of evil and prevent them from unlocking powers with which they can sweep aside any opposition and conquer the world. Can you beat the odds stacked so heavily against you, or will you fail and plunge the world into a thousand years of darkness?

Relics 3: Ashes for Gold is the epic final instalment in the Relics Trilogy, and the sequel to Relics of the Lost Age and Relics 2: The Crusader’s Tomb. It is an exhilarating 580,000 word interactive adventure novel by James Shaw, where your choices control the story.

Step into the weathered boots of a swashbuckling 1940s archaeologist-turned-spy and travel widely in a painstakingly-reconstructed vision of the world at war, facing overwhelming odds at every turn, armed only with your fists, your wits and your motley collective of memorable friends and allies. Do you have what it takes to save the world again, one last time?

Play as male, female, or non-binary; gay, straight, bi, poly, asexual, or aromantic.

Continue to develop your romance from Relics of the Lost Age or Relics 2: The Crusader’s Tomb, or embark on a new relationship with any of the seven ROs in the series.

Fight memorable villains in a race against time to prevent the forces of evil from conquering the world, against the terrifying backdrop of world war.

Ride out into the Nevada desert in the footsteps of a legendary Old West outlaw, scour the sands of Egypt for the secrets of the pharaohs, investigate occult mysteries and Nazi traitors amid the dreaming spires of Oxford, search for sunken pirate treasure in the Caribbean Sea, unearth Inca enigmas in the wild Andes, and go deep into enemy territory in wartime Japan.

Experience epic gunfights, visceral brawls, and wild stunts in vintage vehicles.

Make choices that will determine the future of the world as you close in on an ancient weapon of unimaginable power.

The game is FREELY AVAILABLE on Itch.io, at the following link: https://jamesshawgames.itch.io/relics-3-ashes-for-gold

If you want to play Relics 1 and 2 to get up to speed, they are currently available through Hosted Games.

[queereads-bracket]

Queer Fantasy Books Bracket: Round 3

Book summaries below:

The Captive Prince series (Captive Prince, Kings Rising, assorted short stories) by C. S. Pacat

Damen is a warrior hero to his people, and the rightful heir to the throne of Akielos. But when his half brother seizes power, Damen is captured, stripped of his identity, and sent to serve the prince of an enemy nation as a pleasure slave. Beautiful, manipulative, and deadly, his new master, Prince Laurent, epitomizes the worst of the court at Vere. But in the lethal political web of the Veretian court, nothing is as it seems, and when Damen finds himself caught up in a play for the throne, he must work together with Laurent to survive and save his country. For Damen, there is just one rule: never, ever reveal his true identity. Because the one man Damen needs is the one man who has more reason to hate him than anyone else… Fantasy, romance, secondary world, adult, series

The Watchmaker of Filigree Street by Natasha Pulley

1883. Thaniel Steepleton returns home to his tiny London apartment to find a gold pocket watch on his pillow. Six months later, the mysterious timepiece saves his life, drawing him away from a blast that destroys Scotland Yard. At last, he goes in search of its maker, Keita Mori, a kind, lonely immigrant from Japan. Although Mori seems harmless, a chain of unexplainable events soon suggests he must be hiding something. When Grace Carrow, an Oxford physicist, unwittingly interferes, Thaniel is torn between opposing loyalties. The Watchmaker of Filigree Street is a sweeping, atmospheric narrative that takes the reader on an unexpected journey through Victorian London, Japan as its civil war crumbles long-standing traditions, and beyond. Blending historical events with dazzling flights of fancy, it opens doors to a strange and magical past. Fantasy, historical fiction, mystery, science fiction, adult

[litcest]

Incest and the Medieval Imagination, by Elizabeth Archibald: Chapter 1: Medieval Incest Law—Theory and Practice

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

This is a departure from the typical books I talk about. Usually, I cover fiction books involving incestuous narratives. This time, I'll be talking about a book that analysed incest stories from the medieval period.

Incest and the Medieval Imagination was published in 2001 by the Oxford University Press and is well regarded in the academic community, with both The Medieval Review (from the Indiana University) and Studies in the Age of Chaucer (from the The New Chaucer Society) praising the research and scholarship demonstrated by Archibald.

Elizabeth Archibald herself is also worth of praise, having a PhD in Medieval Studies and having lectured in Cambridge, King's College, University of Bristol and University of Durham, among others. Other than Incest and the Medieval Imagination, Archibald has written several books regarding the Arthurian Cycle, Middle English romances and medieval culture.

The first chapter is shorter, as it explores incest Church laws in Europe, how they changed over time and how the closely they were followed by the peasantry and nobility.

Chapter 1: Medieval Incest Law—Theory and Practice

Staring around the 6th Century, Church Law forbade marriage and intercourse not only between biological family members (up to the seventh degree), but also between legal (such as in-laws) and spiritual (such as godparents) ones. However, those rules were often broken, mostly because it was difficult to keep track of all of those relationships. These laws were changed by Fourth Lateran Council of 1215, which decided that the forbidden relationships were only to the fourth degree.

However, just because those were the laws, it doesn't mean they were followed. Clerics themselves often offered dispensations so that aristocratic family could marry their cousins.

"Failure to recognize an attractive sister is a frequent problem in folklore and literature, but was it really so common in real life?"

While in literature we often see the trope of laying unknowingly with one's parents or siblings, in real life this was more frequente occurrence between longer distance relatives, such as cousins or "spiritual" relatives. Normally, if the consanguinity was discovered after the marriage, the couple would be allowed to remain married as:

"It is more tolerable to leave some people married in contravention of the laws of man than to separate those who are legitimately married, in contravention of the laws of God."

A common belief was that incestuous unions would result in deformed children. Not because of biology or anything like that, but because of divine punishment. Curiously, we don't see a reflection of this belief in literature.

"In exemplary literature, many children of incestuous liaisons are killed at birth because they are a social embarrassment and a sign of sin; in real life, they may also have been killed because they were deformed. In fictional texts, however, those who survive infancy often turn out to be heroes or saints rather than monsters, as we shall see in the chapters that follow."

[orionlakehastodie]

Why I Love Maxton Hall (And Why James Is Not The Toxic Hero People Paint Him Out To Be)

If you've been in this Tumblr page for a very long time you will find that I love contrasting characters.

I love Kylo Ren and Ben Solo but I hate Snape (James is the superior Potter)

I love Peter Kavinsky but I hate Jeremiah Fisher (Team Conrad all the way)

And while many may argue that it's contradictory the boys I love, sometimes the bad boy, sometimes the good one, I do think that there is something inherently similar in Ben Solo, James Potter, Peter Kavinsky, Conrad Fisher and now James Beaufort - it is that innate shard of light and softness that shines through all the bad.

It's in the way that their actions may be perceived as evil or toxic, but they were actually doing it for a purpose: -James Potter was a bully but he only bullied those who were bullying others who were weaker. He bullied freaking death eaters and defended the weak. He sided with Remus Lupin and Muggles for Merlin's sake -Ben Solo killed all those people because he was brainwashed by freaking Palpatine, and his uncle tried to murder him, and his parents cast him out. Despite that he died to save the galaxy and the girl he loved -Conrad was hurting because his mom just died and he's always been there for Belly. ALWAYS

It's the same with James Beaufort, who let's be honest, before this moment was staying on his lane, and bullying no one. He only picked on Ruby because he was protecting Lydia. It was not for sport or because she was poor, it was because she was a threat to his sister. And once he found out that she was not ever going to tell on Lydia, he was intrigued by her.

His friends are also super non-toxic. They're boys and loud and brash, but ultimately they were decent people who didn't judge him for "dating a scholarship poor girl". Alistair stuck by him even though his sister is like obsessed with James, because Alistair understood that Ellie is only in it for the name, not the man.

The other thing that I really love about these men are the fact that their women (maybe with the exception of Conrad) love them fiercely and will probably kill anyone who says a bad thing about their tall, soft hearted, tortured heroes.

I think it's often overlooked when the male characters are so passionately and completely and irrevocably in love with the women, how much the women are equally passionately and completely in love with the men.

One of the things I love the most with Ruby is how much she does consider what James wants. She loves Oxford but instead of forcing James to use his privilege to just go to Oxford, she encourages him to find what he's passionate about, even if it means not going to Oxford and I think that's a really beautiful thing because it shows she loves James and not James Beaufort. I honestly think I can't be with someone without an advanced university degree, and part of the draw of James for me is the fact that he's rich, and smart and can go to Oxford, but Ruby doesn't care for any of that. She cares about James, and if James is happy (and this is why James fell for her and not for someone like me who cannot see beyond his looks and his titles and his wealth)

I know bad things happen in book 2 and 3 but I hope they clean up the writing and keep this pure James trait, that he may lash out because he's hurt but he will never ever deliberately hurt Ruby.

And I hope they keep Ruby's love intact too, that she will always have his best interest at heart, and that all she wants is for him to be happy.

[hyakinthou-naos]

Hello! I would like to ask if hyacinthus could be worshipped as a god? I saw a post saying that he could be a pre-Hellenic god.

Thank you :3

Khaire Anon,

Thank you for your question! I would like to start by saying this answer is LONG overdue, and that I apologize for the delay in my response.

As an introduction to this topic, any Ancient Greek mythical figure can be worshipped as a divinity if you feel inclined to do so. There are many examples of Hero Worship and Hero Cults throughout the ancient world and the modern-day; two examples are Penelope from The Odyssey and Ajax, son of King Telamon and Periboea (source: Wikipedia).

When speaking specifically of Hyacinthus; he is indeed an example of a mythic "hero" who was worshipped and honored in Hellenic Greece. While he was not viewed as a God in his role as Lord Apollo's consort, he was worshipped and honored alongside Lord Apollo - specifically in Sparta (source: Encylopedia Brittanica).

Outside of Hellenic Tradition, many scholars support the theory that Hyacinthus' worship predates the introduction of the Greek Pantheon in Corinth and Sparta.

"Hyacinthus was undoubtedly a pre-Hellenic god. [...] Certain aspects of his own cult suggest that he was an underworld vegetation deity whose death was mourned like that of Adonis." - Source: Encylopedia Brittanica

The Oxford Classical Dictionary states that Hyacinthus was a Dorian divinity whose cult was merged with Lord Apollo (source: Oxford Classical Dictionary). With him being associated with Dorians, Corinth, and Sparta - it would be good to learn more about Corinthian and Laconian history and worship practices (the worship calendar for Laconia and Sparta are often conflated as one and the same). This Wikipedia page provides a great jumping-off point if you want to learn more about the ritual calendars of non-Athenian Greek regions

The Wikipedia page for Hyacinthus states that:

"Hyacinthus personifies the sprouting vegetation in spring, which is killed by the heat of the summer. The apotheosis of Hyacinthus indicates that, after attaining godhood, he represented the natural cycle of decay and renewal."

The citations for these claims are from print sources that I am not able to verify at this time, but Encylopedia Brittanica and other sources seem to also support these claims so I feel comfortable providing the information.

So the short answer is, yes! Hyacinthus can be, and has been, worshipped as a God. He can be worshipped alongside Lord Apollo or separate from him.

For more information about Hyacinthus from a strictly Hellenic perspective, you can view his page on Theoi.com

If you have any additional or follow-up questions please don't hesitate to reach out!

Eirene - peace and farewell,

- Aön

[cetaitlaverite]

Why All This Music?

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

A/N: i'm back!! it's been a while since i've written anything, so i'm both excited and a little bit nervous about all this, but i thought i'd share it all the same. without further adieu, i'm incredibly pleased to introduce you to freddie, the latest of my loves. i hope you'll love her too <3

(the link to the masterlist is here)

01. Hotshot Wireless Operators

The evening was hot, the air was thick, and Freddie was blushing just as much because of the humidity as because of the attention.

She had been back at RAF Thorpe Abbotts for all of a day after her three days of leave and already she was being lorded as a hero. Secretly, she thought the reason for the celebrations was more because of the relief to have something worth celebrating than it was because of her actual achievement, but regardless all of the WAAFs in her section had their dress uniforms on, their hair pressed into pristine curls, and their arms around Freddie’s shoulders as they steered her in the direction of the officers’ club, as though a measly three days back home in Oxford had made her forget.

Warm, excited voices were insistent in her ears, different sets of hands tugging at her jacket or her curls or her hands, vying for her attention. She’d never felt like more of a celebrity.

“- going to be so excited when they hear, Freddie! You’re going to get a promotion to be sure!” one of the girls, Paddy, was exclaiming.

“Then you’ll be a flight officer!” added Amy, sharing a grin with Paddy. “Really, you should be a squadron officer - goodness knows you’re far more qualified than Jones is - but how fancy does ‘Flight Officer Leroy’ sound?”

Freddie shared a look with Millie, close on her left hip as always, and had to look at the grass in front of her so she wouldn’t laugh. The lack of light because of the blackout made it difficult to see anything, much less the dark ground ahead of her, so she focused on what might as well have been the abyss beneath her feet and let the conversation carry on without her.

“If she gets promoted, Freddie’ll be a translator, not a wireless operator anymore, so I don’t suppose she’ll be with us at all, girls,” Millie said as gently as she was able, offering a conciliatory smile to Paddy and Amy.

“But you’ll still be at Thorpe Abbotts, won’t you, Freddie?” questioned a timid voice from the back of the group.

Freddie turned to find Emma, their newest addition, freshly eighteen and conscripted to the role of aircraftwoman second class. She was as shy as they came and made a habit of making herself invisible, but Freddie couldn’t deny her fondness for the newest WAAF in their ranks.

Freddie offered her a tiny smile, hoping it was maybe just a little bit reassuring. “I’ve not heard anything about a promotion at all yet, Emma, so all of this is just conjecture.”

“Are you girls planning on making a night of this walk? Jesus Christ!” called a loud voice from far up ahead, standing in the doorway of the officers’ club. “We said we’d get here for 2000 hours yet you lot have taken damn near half an hour just to walk here!”

Millie laughed, completely unashamed, and called back, “What, have you got somewhere you need to be after this, Jem?”

In spite of her heckling, Millie looped her arm through Freddie’s and picked up the pace, forcing the rest of their group to do the same.

“Honestly,” Jem was tutting when they got within hearing distance. “‘Let’s go out and celebrate!’ you all said, and then the only celebrating you look prepared to do is out on the lawns!”

“Oh, Jem, they’re excited!” Freddie appealed to her with a grin. “Let them be. There’s so little to be excited about these days.”

Jem rolled her eyes affectionately and pushed her way into the midst of the group, taking up her post on Freddie’s right while Millie retained the left.

“Well, we can all be excited inside, can’t we? Where there’s music and beer and fresh meat.” Alongside this last statement she wiggled her eyebrows.

At this, Millie perked right up. “Oh, yeah! I forgot you haven’t met the new crews yet, Fred. They came the day after you went on leave, which is such a shame, because that was also the day Dye made twenty-five. Anyway, we all met them in the officers’ bar and a couple aren’t too sore on the eyes.”

Freddie laughed. “Got your eye on any of them, Mils?”

Millie shot her a wink. “Of course.”

Freddie was still smiling widely when Jem pushed the door to the officers’ club open for them. All at once, a wave of warmth and chatter washed over her, bringing that flush back into her cheeks with full force, especially when Paddy and Amy started to cheer for her again. They had, it seemed, made it their mission to make sure absolutely everyone in the officers’ club knew that there was cause for celebration tonight and that the cause herself was among their ranks.

“Everybody clear away from the bar!” Paddy was calling in that thick Northern Irish drawl of hers - the one which, incidentally, had gifted her her nickname. “We have nothing short of a war hero in tow and we’re expecting a Victoria Cross in the post any day now!”

“Ladies!” called Bucky Egan, rising to his full height from where he’d been leaning on the bar. “There you are. We been missing you!”

“Looking this good takes time, Major,” Millie told him with a conspiratorial pat to his shoulder.

“Not for you, Millie - you wake up looking just like this, I bet,” cut in Benny DeMarco with an easy smirk.

“Think about what I look like when I wake up often, do you, Benny?” Millie wondered around a roll of her eyes and a poorly concealed grin.

“Every second since the moment I met you,” he replied with a wink.

Millie laughed. “Noted, Benny. Noted.”

“So who’s your war hero?” wondered Buck Cleven, leaning back lazily against the bar.

“Yeah,” added Bucky. “And why do we gotta clear the bar for him?”

“For her,” Jem corrected, looking like she was ready to pull up her sleeves and start elbowing her way past them. “Freddie’s our war hero.”

“Or heroine, I suppose,” added Amy.

Freddie was already blushing furiously, but when the eyes of all of the airmen gathered, both those who had engaged in the conversation and those who hadn’t, swivelled to her, expectantly awaiting an explanation of what she’d done to earn her title, her cheeks felt like they were on fire. “It was nothing, really -”

“It was not nothing!” Paddy exclaimed immediately. And with that she leaped into a dramatic retelling. “After a dogfight, a German fighter must’ve gotten himself disoriented. He was flying over England but had convinced himself it was France. When I started receiving him on the radio I had no idea what to do, of course, and I started panicking and damn near started crying because I was so scared. But then Freddie - who, it turns out, speaks perfect German - took the receiver from me and started directing this German fighter in like she does it everyday. Cool and calm as you like, she guides him in, and then the second he’s down we’ve got him caught and captured and his plane is being taken in for analysis and now we have the newest German fighter in our hands to find out how it works.”

Amy was grinning and she leaped in to add, “Say what you like, but our RAF fighters are going to owe a lot to our Freddie when they know how to dogfight these new German Messers because we have one of them.”

“Yeah, well, we’re hoping we’ll know a lot about the German Air Force in general when the brass have finished interrogating the Jerry who fell for the whole charade,” commented Jem with a wry grin.

“Well,” started Bucky, with a wide grin of his own, clapping his hands together, “seems like maybe you really do need a drink, Fred.”

Freddie’s eyes had long since found the floor, embarrassed by the fussing, and only now did she look up to shrug.

“No,” Millie said, pointing a finger at Bucky. “I’m buying her first drink, not you.”

“Millie, you’re so mean to me,” Bucky teased her.

“Go find a corner and cry about it,” Millie replied easily. Turning to Freddie as she started to push through the gathered airmen, she asked, “Beer?”

“Lemonade,” Freddie corrected.

Millie scowled. “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean ‘no’,” Millie answered steadily. “I’m not buying you lemonade.”

“Why not?!”

“You can have beer or you can have wine.”

“I’ll buy it myself, then.”

“Freddie,” Millie said slowly, placing both hands on her shoulders very seriously, “you are not allowed to drink lemonade tonight. Okay? I’m getting you a beer.”

“But I don’t want beer,” Freddie protested, frowning.

“Fred, you can’t drink lemonade,” Bucky re-entered the conversation.

Freddie turned to him with raised eyebrows and arms crossed. “Why not? Buck doesn’t drink!”

“Yeah, and it’s my least favourite thing about him,” Bucky countered.

“John, leave her alone -” Buck attempted to chastise him.

Millie gave Freddie a meaningful look before she turned away from her and pushed through the crowd to make a space for herself at the bar.

“I just want lemonade,” Freddie muttered, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Freddie, tell me you’re not trying to drink lemonade again,” Jem cut in.

Freddie threw her hands up in exasperation. “What’s wrong with lemonade?!”

“You’re practically a war hero, Freddie - you have to drink beer! That’s what all the hotshot pilots drink when they come back from some flash mission -”

Bucky cut right across Paddy, “That’s what all of us ‘hotshot pilots’ drink all the time, Paddy.”

Freddie turned to them both with her chin tilted up. “Well, I am not a hotshot pilot.”

“Just a hotshot wireless operator, right, Fred?” Bucky teased.

“Exactly,” Freddie agreed. “And hotshot wireless operators drink lemonade.”

“No, we don’t,” Jem laughed.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” spoke a voice from behind Freddie. It wasn’t a voice she recognised, and she liked to think with all of her accumulated experience talking to both the pilots and the radio operators over the radio to get them safely out of the base and then back again she recognised voices rather well.

Turning, she found a pair of earnest blue eyes and a shy smile tilted above a proffered glass.

“Hi,” Freddie greeted softly in what was almost a chirp.

“Hi,” the man - one of the new pilots, by the looks of his insignia - replied. He shook his head a little bit, as though to clear it. “I hope you don’t mind, ma’am, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation and I thought - well, here’s your lemonade.” He offered the glass to her again.

He was handsome, this pilot who had bought her lemonade when no one else would. Not necessarily handsome in a film star, striking way, but in a gentle, endearing way. The kind of handsome which made her heart flutter instead of stop - which was quite lovely, really, because a lot of things made her heart stop these days and none of them were good.

“Oh,” Freddie mumbled, accepting the glass of lemonade from him. It was icy cold to the touch but his fingers were warm where they grazed lightly against hers. “Thank you,” she told him.

He smiled again and her breath got a little bit stuck in her throat. “Nothing at all, ma’am.”

She wasn’t sure what to say next, didn’t want him to leave but didn’t want to force him to stay. But when he inclined his head in farewell first to her, then presumably to Buck and Bucky still stood leaning against the bar beside her, she was so desperate to get him to linger, even if just for a few more words, that she blurted, “I’m Freddie.” Her voice came out sounding high pitched and girlish to her own ears. She wanted so badly to grasp at the air and shove the words back into her mouth that she might even have given it a try if he hadn’t smiled at her again.

“Nice to meet you, Freddie,” he answered her. “I’m Rosie.”

“Rosie,” she repeated with a shy sort of smile. “That’s a sweet name.”

Rosie smiled wider. She had dimples. “Thank you, ma’am. Comes from my last name - Rosenthal.”

Freddie nodded, stuck on his smile. “You don’t have to call me ‘ma’am’,” she replied after a beat in which she realised she was probably supposed to be speaking. “Just Freddie is fine. That’s how everyone knows me.”

“Alright,” Rosie conceded. “Freddie it is.”

Freddie couldn’t seem to look away from his eyes. She was sure she’d never seen eyes so blue. Even in the warm, low lighting of the officers’ bar they were somehow still glowing, bright and kind and alive.

“So, uh,” Rosie started, with a certain degree of awkwardness.

Freddie forced her eyes away from his, conscious she must have been staring.

“They said you were on leave?” Rosie finished, fiddling with the pint of beer in his hand.

“Yes,” Freddie confirmed, fiddling with the straw in her drink to give herself something to focus on other than the beautiful, striking blue of the pair of eyes currently awaiting her answer. “I went home for three days, to Oxford.”

“That must’ve been nice,” he replied. He hated how he suddenly had so very little to say. She must have thought he was so, so boring.

Freddie couldn’t help it. She giggled at the awkwardness.

“Yes,” she replied again. “Yes, it was wonderful. Strange to be home, to be sure - I haven’t visited since Christmas - but it was especially lovely to see my dogs again. I don’t get any letters from them, see.”

Rosie chuckled lightly, nodding along with her, relieved at the release of the uncertainty. “Right,” he said. “They’re not big on writing letters, then?”

“They’re dogs of few words,” Freddie agreed with a grin.

“How many do you have?” he questioned next.

“Dogs?” Freddie wondered. “Two. The big one’s Bruno and the little one’s Earnie, both boys. A German Shepherd and a Westie.”

“What are they like?”

Freddie’s eyes glinted. “Trouble.” She loved talking about her dogs.

“I always wanted a dog,” Rosie confided in her, tilting his head to the side and slightly down to let him meet her eyes more easily. Well, more easily for him; the increased eye contact was torturous for her. “But where I’m from, in Brooklyn, we always lived in an apartment. No pets allowed.”

Freddie gasped. “That’s tragic.”

Rosie grinned. “I know. Someone oughta fix that rule.”

She sipped on her lemonade, nodding, contemplating. Instinctively, her eyes found the floor.

Rosie watched her, tapping his fingers against his glass of beer.

He opened his mouth to say something more - desperate to say something, anything, really, that might get her to smile again. Those dimples of hers - if he hadn’t signed up to go to war already he knew he would’ve enlisted just on their behalf.

But whatever he was about to say never made it out. It was for the best, probably, since he couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t have been something incredibly forward, some grand statement about her startling prettiness which she was bound to have heard a million times before. Instead, he was swiftly cut off by Millie, returning from the bar with a pint of beer in each hand. “Fred, I got your beer, and you are going to like it, god damn it, even if I have to pour it down your throat myself.”

Freddie flushed and turned to Millie, conscious of Rosie’s eyes on her profile, and watched as realisation dawned on her best friend’s face. “Oh.”

“I have lemonade,” Freddie said. She wanted to punch herself in the face for that one. All that progress she’d made in proving herself decidedly not a weirdo and she was right back where she started.

Millie laughed, her eyes flicking between Freddie and Rosie. “Is that right? And who do I have to blame for it?”

“That would be me, ma’am,” Rosie answered, and Freddie noticed a glint in his eye.

“Rosie,” Millie replied with a tut, proving Freddie’s assumption correct that the two had already met. “Now why would you do that? You’ll only encourage her!”

Rosie shook his head with a light little laugh and Freddie’s chest deflated. “Got your eye on any of them, Mils?” she recalled herself saying not thirty minutes before. And Millie had replied, “Of course.” And why wouldn’t she have her eye on him? Why shouldn’t she? If Millie deserved anything in her life it was a Rosie. True, Freddie didn’t know him all that well, but that earnestness in his eyes, that uncertainty with which he’d approached her just to do something kind, told her everything she needed to know about the type of man he was. A type of man worthy of her Millie.

In front of her, the jovial conversation between Rosie and Millie raged on. “I just figured,” Rosie was saying, explaining why he had bought Freddie’s lemonade, “war heroes should get to choose what they have to drink, otherwise what’s the point of being one?”

Millie laughed along with Rosie’s joke and Freddie’s eyes sought Benny. “Benny,” she started, quiet, and that was all she needed to say.

“Over in that corner,” Benny told her with a kind but secret smile, inclining his head towards a darkened corner with an unoccupied table close to the wall and a Siberian Husky lying quietly beneath one of the chairs.

Freddie let out all of her breath and gave him a smile. “Thank you,” she told him quietly, and slipped away while Millie and Rosie were still joking about whatever it was they were joking about.

Freddie found refuge with Benny’s dog, Meatball, often when she felt overwhelmed. Meatball was a nice mix of her two dogs back home in having the pale coat of her West Highland White Terrier and the large stature of her German Shepherd and he always served to make her feel a little bit more settled when the world felt just a little bit too unstable. He always accepted her kindly and with little fuss, too. Perhaps he was used to her by now or perhaps he simply appreciated her attention when those who would usually give it to him were off dancing or searching for dance partners or engaging in all kinds of drunken revelry.

Freddie forwent sitting atop the chair Meatball had claimed as his shelter and instead sat beside him on the floor. The table and chairs were pristine and untouched; she figured the last time human feet had ventured to this part of the room was when the cleaner had passed through earlier.

“I’m feeling overwhelmed again,” she confessed to Meatball, fingers curling gently into the hair around his scruff.

Meatball spared her a quick glance before resting his head in her lap. Freddie smiled softly and stroked over his head.

“Thanks for letting me share your little corner,” she added. A place she felt she better belonged. Better to take refuge in dark corners and let the others have a chance, she told herself. She’d already had hers, no matter that she’d lost it.

Freddie didn’t realise she had an audience. Over by the bar, several pairs of eyes had watched her go and were now watching her fuss over Meatball.

Rosie’s eyes sought Millie’s and she smiled sadly, shaking her head. “It wasn’t anything you said,” she reassured him. “Or anything you did. You just need to be patient with our Fred.”

“She’s not one for romance, is all,” Bucky put in, halfway through turning back to the bar to order another beer. “Wouldn’t take it personal if I was you, Rosie.”

Jem scoffed, loud and outraged and all but infuriated. “She is one for romance. What a thing to say!” When Bucky didn’t turn back to her, she grabbed him by the lapel and forced him to. “It’s not my place to say why she is the way she is but maybe you’d know if you hadn’t been so dismissive the first time she turned you down for a dance.”

“She turns down everyone for a dance,” Bucky dismissed Jem. “I, for one, ain’t losing sleep over it.”

Jem stared at him coldly and Millie let out a sigh. “Sometimes,” Millie said, and all of a sudden she sounded exhausted, “you Americans would do well to remember there was a war going on before you entered it.”

“And what the fuck’s that supposed to mean, Mils?” Bucky demanded.

Millie turned cool, bored eyes on him. “You’re a smart guy, Bucky. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” With that, she crossed the room to Freddie, both beers still in hand, and sat down on the floor beside her. Wordlessly, she commenced sipping at each beer in turn and listened to whatever it was Freddie had to say, while the rest of the group turned back to each other and tried to talk about something else.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

*sigh*

open the can leah. who is olive. what is this horror. will i regret this. yes

Okay, so you picked the absolute worst character to ask for. Cos like I wanna spill everything, but I also feel like I would actually die of embarrassment if I opened my mouth to mention her. Infinite spoilers below, I seriously need to actually write her story in some way other than just her being a psychopath.

****

She shows up in Grass, whatever this is, and Fast Food. Actually of all my characters, she's got the most unrevealed content. Like not counting the stuff that's badly written, she's got some 15 thousand words/3 short stories.

Why an I so twitchy about sharing any content of her? Because her characterisation's a mess. You see, keeping one single character stable through 10 odd years of Leah-growth is not easy. But I will try to explain her in a way that makes sense. In the meanwhile, treat nothing I say here as true canon <3

Her original conception was as a doctor who worked in places in extreme poverty. Driven to desperation by the state of the world, she sold her soul for the power to change her patients' fate, essentially turning herself into an Oracle.

Now, if you know anything about the Oracles, you'll know they're 4th wall breakers. Olive discovered that she was in a story, all her precious patients were nothing more than background characters callously tormented for her personal development. Now, a proper heroic protagonist would go 'Yeah, so what? I'll still help them anyway!'

Unfortunately, Olive is not a hero. So instead she decides their suffering does not matter, because they are no longer people. This is a very, very bad opinion for a now nearly omnipotent being to have.

So she goes on a psychotic rampage that her fellow Oracles try to turn a blind eye to, selling more and more of her soul for greater power. This does nothing good for her perception of life, and she eventually realises that the other Oracles, including her, are all equally shallow. Naturally this does nothing good to her sanity.

Enter: Batshit fucking crazy bitch. Because the world is evil, has no meaning, and she hates everyone, she ran away to a pocket dimension of torture and evil for all eternity.

That's the irony in Grass. Olive picked another nameless, faceless person to torture, and in doing so, got the world's cruellest slap to the face. That last line? About her being less of a person than anyone she could ever hurt? That was directed at Olive. Olive heard it. Olive knew. And somewhere deep in her sold-off heart, it hurt her.

I just love her so much. She's tragic and evil and has the dumbest Oxford accent and is about 160cm tall. Peak villainess.

Anyways: Picrew dump!! I swear I had more of her but I can't find them for the life of me :( Might be on my old phone lol

[dailyanarchistposts]

Footnotes 1 - 100

[1] Audre Lorde, Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches (Berkeley: Crossing Press, 1984), 4.

[2] Raoul Vaneigem, The Revolution of Everyday Life, trans. Donald Nicholson-Smith (Seattle: Rebel Press, 2001), 26.

[3] Michel Foucault, “Preface,” in Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia, by Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1983), xi–xiv.

[4] The concept of the “public secret” originated with situationism, and we borrow it from the Institute of Precarious Consciousness, in their suggestion that anxiety is a public secret of contemporary capitalism. See Institute for Precarious Consciousness, “Anxiety, Affective Struggle, and Precarity Consciousness-Raising,” Interface 6/2 (2014), 271–300.

[5] Alfredo M. Bonanno, Armed Joy (London: Elephant Editions, 1998), https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/alfredo-m-bonanno-armed-joy.

[6] See, for instance: John Holloway, Change the World Without Taking Power: The Meaning of Revolution Today, 2nd Revised Edition (London: Pluto Press, 2005), 19–42; The Invisible Committee, To Our Friends 216–219.

[7] The concept of sad militancy comes to us from Michel Foucault and Colectivo Situaciones. See Foucault, “Preface”; Colectivo Situaciones, “Something More on Research Militancy: Footnotes on Procedures and (In)Decisions,” in Constituent Imagination, ed. Erika Biddle and Stevphen Shukaitis (Oakland: AK Press, 2007), 73–93.

[8] Brian Massumi, “Translator’s Foreword: Pleasures of Philosophy,” in A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia, by Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987), ix–xv.

[9] Zainab Amadahy, “Protest Culture: How’s It Working for Us?,” Rabble.ca, July 20, 2010, http://rabble.ca/news/2010/07/protest-culture-how%E2%80%99s-it-working-us.

[10] This phrase is often attributed to Frederic Jameson who wrote “Someone once said that it is easier to imagine the end of the world than to imagine the end of capitalism.” See Frederic Jameson, “Future City,” New Left Review 21 (2003), 77.

[11] Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1983), 38.

[12] Audre Lorde, Sister Outsider (Trumansburg: Crossing Press, 1984), 53.

[13] “The Wild Beyond: With and for the Undercommons,” in The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning & Black Study, by Fred Moten and Stefano Harney (Wivenhoe: Minor Compositions, 2013), 10. http://www.minorcompositions.info/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/undercommons-web.pdf.

[14] Gilles Deleuze and Claire Parnet, Dialogues II, (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007), 61.

[15] Dean Spade, “On Normal Life,” interview by Natalie Oswin, Society and Space (January 2014), http://societyandspace.org/2014/01/15/on-6/.

[16] “Joy—Definition of Joy in English,” Oxford English Dictionary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/joy.

[17] Rebecca Solnit, “We Could Be Heroes,” EMMA Talks, Vancouver, February 17, 2016. http://emmatalks.org/session/rebecca-solnit/.

[18] Sara Ahmed, The Promise of Happiness (Durham: Duke University Press, 2010), 192.

[19] Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, “Indict the System: Indigenous & Black Connected Resistance,” LeanneSimpson.ca, http://leannesimpson.ca/indict-the-system-indigenous-black-connected-resistance/ (accessed November 28, 2014).

[20] Our interpretation of Spinoza’s concept of joy comes from many sources, but one of the most helpful is Mary Zournazi’s interview with the affect theorist Brian Massumi, in which he distinguishes joy from happiness. See Mary Zournazi, “Navigating Movements: A Conversation with Brian Massumi,” in Hope: New Philosophies for Change, by Mary Zournazi (New York: Routledge, 2002), 241–242.

[21] Gustavo Esteva, interview by carla bergman and Nick Montgomery, email, April 26, 2014.

[22] Silvia Federici, interview by carla bergman and Nick Montgomery, telephone, January 18, 2016.

[23] Lorde, Sister Outsider, 57.

[24] adrienne maree brown, interview by Nick Montgomery and carla bergman, email, November 11, 2015.

[25] This reading of Deleuze is indebted to conversations with Kim Smith and the reading she has developed of Susan Ruddick. See Susan Ruddick, “The Politics of Affect: Spinoza in the Work of Negri and Deleuze,” Theory, Culture & Society 27/4 (2010), 21–45.

[26] Bædan, “The Anti-Social Turn,” Bædan 1: Journal of Queer Nihilism (August 2012), 186.

[27] This notion of wisdom is drawn from Claire Carlisle’s helpful explanation of Spinozan wisdom as something akin to “emotional intelligence.” See Claire Carlisle, “Spinoza, Part 7: On the Ethics of the Self,” The Guardian, March 21, 2011, https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/belief/2011/mar/21/spinoza-ethics-of-the-self.

[28] Marina Sitrin, interview by Nick Montgomery and carla bergman, email, February 4, 2016.

[29] “Militant,” Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Militant&oldid=754366474 (accessed December 12, 2016).

[30] Melanie Matining, interview by carla bergman and Nick Montgomery, in person, May 6, 2014.

[31] Jackie Wang, “Against Innocence: Race, Gender and the Politics of Safety,” LIES Journal 1 (2012), 13.

[32] Idem, 10.

[33] Glen Coulthard, interview by carla bergman and Nick Montgomery, in person, March 16, 2016.

[34] Ibid.

[35] Kiera L. Ladner and Leanne Simpson, eds., This Is an Honour Song: Twenty Years since the Blockades (Winnipeg: Arbeiter Ring, 2010), 1.

[36] Deborah B. Gould, Moving Politics: Emotion and ACT UP’s Fight against AIDS (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009), 178.

[37] Sebastián Touza, interview by Nick Montgomery and carla bergman, email, February 2, 2016.

[38] Sebastián Touza, “Antipedagogies for Liberation Politics, Consensual Democracy and Post-Intellectual Interventions” (PhD dissertation, Simon Fraser University, 2008), 136–7. https://www.academia.edu/544417/Antipedagogies_for_liberation_politics_consensual_democracy_and_post-intellectual_interventions.

[39] For a fuller discussion of these dynamics, see Marina Sitrin, Everyday Revolutions: Horizontalism and Autonomy in Argentina (London: Zed Books, 2012).

[40] Margaret Killjoy, interview by carla bergman and Nick Montgomery, email, March 8, 2014.

[41] Anonymous, “Robot Seals as Counter-Insurgency: Friendship and Power from Aristotle to Tiqqun,” Human Strike, https://humanstrike.wordpress.com/2013/08/27/robot-seals-as-counter-insurgency-friendship-and-power-from-aristotle-to-tiqqun/ (accessed August 27, 2013).

[42] brown, interview by Nick Montgomery and carla bergman.

[43] The turn of phrase “making kin” comes to us from the feminist philosopher Donna Haraway. See Donna Haraway, “Anthropocene, Capitalocene, Plantationocene, Chthulucene: Making Kin,” Environmental Humanities 6/1 (2015), 161.

[44] Idem, 163.

[45] “Freedom—Definition of Freedom in English,” Oxford English Dictionary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016). https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/freedom.

[46] Douglas Harper, “Free (Adj.),” Online Etymology Dictionary, http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=free (accessed November 30, 2016).

[47] Ibid.

[48] Editors of the American Heritage Dictionaries, eds., Word Histories and Mysteries: From Abracadabra to Zeus (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2004), 103.

[49] Invisible Committee, To Our Friends, trans. Robert Hurley (South Pasadena: Semiotext(e), 2015), 127.

[50] Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan (Oxford: Oxford Paperbacks, 2008), Chapter XIII, Of the Natural Condition of Mankind.

[51] This short account of the Age of Reason is drawn primarily from Silvia Federici. See Federici, Caliban and the Witch: Women, the Body and Primitive Accumulation (New York: Autonomedia, 2004), 133–62.

[52] Some books we have found helpful include Jane Bennett, Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things (Durham: Duke University Press, 2010); Gilles Deleuze, Expressionism in Philosophy: Spinoza, trans. Martin Joughin (New York: Zone Books, 1992); Moira Gatens, ed., Feminist Interpretations of Benedict Spinoza (University Park: Penn State University Press, 2009); Antonio Negri, The Savage Anomaly: The Power of Spinoza’s Metaphysics and Politics (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1991); Tiqqun, Introduction to Civil War, trans. Alexander R. Galloway and Jason E. Smith (Los Angeles: Semiotext(e), 2010).

[53] Our reading of Spinoza is drawn primarily from Deleuze and those he has influenced. For helpful introductions to this lineage, see Gilles Deleuze, “Lecture on Spinoza’s Concept of Affect” (Lecture, Cours Vincennes, Paris, 1978), https://www.gold.ac.uk/media/deleuze_spinoza_affect.pdf; Michael Hardt, “The Power to Be Affected,” International Journal of Politics, Culture, and Society 28/3 (September 1, 2015), 215–22; Brian Massumi, Politics of Affect (Cambridge: Polity, 2015).

[54] “Ethics—Definition of Ethics in English,” Oxford English Dictionary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/ethics.

[55] Deleuze, “Lecture on Spinoza’s Concept of Affect.”

[56] This anecdote is based on conversations and exchanges with Kim Smith.

[57] Invisible Committee, The Coming Insurrection (Los Angeles: Semiotext(e), 2009), 32.

[58] Haraway, “Anthropocene, Capitalocene, Plantationocene, Chthulucene.”

[59] Ivan Illich to Madhu Suri Prakash, “Friendship,” n.d.

[60] This is drawn from Anonymous, “Robot Seals as Counter-Insurgency.”

[61] Coulthard, Interview with Glen Coulthard.

[62] See for instance Maria Mies, Patriarchy and Accumulation on a World Scale: Women in the International Division of Labour (London: Zed Books, 2014); Andrea Smith, “Heteropatriarchy and the Three Pillars of White Supremacy: Rethinking Women of Colour Organizing,” in The Color of Violence: The Incite! Anthology, INCITE! Women of Colour Against Violence, eds., (Oakland: South End Press, 2006), 66–73; Andrea Smith, Conquest: Sexual Violence and American Indian Genocide (Cambridge, MA: South End Press, 2010); Federici, Caliban and the Witch.

[63] Silvia Federici, “Preoccupying: Silvia Federici,” interview by Occupied Times, October 25, 2014, http://theoccupiedtimes.org/?p=13482.

[64] Dean Spade, “For Lovers and Fighters,” in We Don’t Need Another Wave: Dispatches from the Next Generation of Feminists, ed. Melody Berger (Emeryville: Seal Press, 2006), 28–39, http://www.makezine.enoughenough.org/newpoly2.html.

[65] bell hooks, Outlaw Culture: Resisting Representations (New York: Routledge, 2006), 249.

[66] Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, “I Am Not a Nation-State,” Indigenous Nationhood Movement, November 6, 2013, http://nationsrising.org/i-am-not-a-nation-state/.

[67] Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, interview by Nick Montgomery and carla bergman, email, November 2, 2015.

[68] Raúl Zibechi, Territories in Resistance: A Cartography of Latin American Social Movements, trans. Ramor Ryan (Oakland: AK Press, 2012), 39.

[69] Idem, 41.

[70] Silvia Federici, “Permanent Reproductive Crisis: An Interview with Silvia Federici,” interview by Marina Vishmidt, July 3, 2013, http://www.metamute.org/editorial/articles/permanent-reproductive-crisis-interview-silvia-federici.

[71] Mia Mingus, “On Collaboration: Starting With Each Other,” Leaving Evidence, August 3, 2012, https://leavingevidence.wordpress.com/2012/08/03/on-collaboration-starting-with-each-other/.

[72] Gustav Landauer, Revolution and Other Writings: A Political Reader, ed. Gabriel Kuhn (Oakland: PM Press, 2010), 214.

[73] Idem, 90.

[74] Idem, 101.

[75] Idem, 91.

[76] scott crow, Black Flags and Windmills: Hope, Anarchy, and the Common Ground Collective, 2nd ed. (Oakland: PM Press, 2014), 199.

[77] Richard J. F. Day, Gramsci Is Dead: Anarchist Currents in the Newest Social Movements (Toronto: Between the Lines, 2005), 127.

[78] Richard J. F. Day, “From Hegemony to Affinity,” Cultural Studies 18/5 (2004), 716–48.

[79] Subcomandante Insurgente Marcos, Ya Basta!: Ten Years of the Zapatista Uprising, ed. Ziga Vodovnik, (Oakland: AK Press, 2004), 77.

[80] Gloria Anzaldúa, “(Un)natural Bridges, (Un)safe Spaces,” in This Bridge We Call Home: Radical Visions for Transformation, Gloria Anzaldúa and AnaLouise Keating, eds. (New York: Routledge, 2002), 3.

[81] Zainab Amadahy, “Community, ‘Relationship Framework’ and Implications for Activism,” Rabble.ca, July 13, 2010, http://rabble.ca/news/2010/07/community-%E2%80%98relationship-framework%E2%80%99-and-implications-activism.

[82] Coulthard, Interview by.

[83] Glen Sean Coulthard, Red Skin, White Masks: Rejecting the Colonial Politics of Recognition (Minneapolis: University Of Minnesota Press, 2014), 31.

[84] Coulthard, interview by Nick Montgomery and carla bergman.

[85] Leanne Simpson, Dancing On Our Turtle’s Back: Stories of Nishnaabeg Re-Creation, Resurgence, and a New Emergence (Winnipeg: Arbeiter Ring Press, 2011), 32.

[86] Luam Kidane and Jarrett Martineau, “Building Connections across Decolonization Struggles,” ROAR, October 29, 2013, https://roarmag.org/essays/african-indigenous-struggle-decolonization/.

[87] Harsha Walia, “Decolonizing Together: Moving beyond a Politics of Solidarity toward a Practice of Decolonization,” Briarpatch, January 1, 2012, https://briarpatchmagazine.com/articles/view/decolonizing-together.

[88] Coulthard, interview by Nick Montgomery and carla bergman.

[89] Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche, Thus Spake Zarathustra: A Book for All and None, trans. Thomas Wayne (New York: Algora Publishing, 2003), 42.

[90] Coulthard, interview by Nick Montgomery and carla bergman.

[91] Mingus, “On Collaboration.”

[92] Simpson, interview by Nick Montgomery and carla bergman.

[93] Ursula LeGuin, “Ursula K Le Guin’s Speech at National Book Awards: ‘Books Aren’t Just Commodities,’” The Guardian, November 20, 2014, https://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/nov/20/ursula-k-le-guin-national-book-awards-speech.

[94] scott crow, Black Flags and Windmills: Hope, Anarchy, and the Common Ground Collective, 2nd ed. (Oakland: PM Press, 2014), 173.

[95] adrienne maree brown, “That Would Be Enough,” adriennemareebrown.net, September 6, 2016, http://adriennemareebrown.net/2016/09/06/that-would-be-enough/.

[96] VOID Network, “VOID Network on the December 2008 Insurrection in Greece,” B.A.S.T.A.R.D. Conference, University of California, Berkeley, March 14, 2010, https://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2010/03/18/18641710.php.

[97] Many works within this current remain untranslated into English; however, there are a few English sources. In particular, we learned a lot from Sebastian Touza’s PhD dissertation and our interview with him. See Colectivo Situaciones, 19&20: Notes for a New Social Protagonism, trans. Nate Holdren and Sebastian Touza (New York: Minor Compositions, 2012); Deleuze, “Lecture on Spinoza’s Concept of Affect”; Marta Malo de Molina, “Common Notions, Part 1: Workers-Inquiry, Co-Research, Consciousness-Raising,” European Institute for Progressive Cultural Policies, April 2004, http://eipcp.net/transversal/0406/malo/en; Marta Malo de Molina:, “Common Notions, Part 2: Institutional Analysis, Participatory Action-Research, Militant Research,” European Institute for Progressive Cultural Policies, April 2004, http://eipcp.net/transversal/0707/malo/en; Touza, “Antipedagogies for Liberation Politics, Consensual Democracy and Post-Intellectual Interventions”; Touza, Interview with Sebastián Touza.

[98] Touza, “Antipedagogies for Liberation Politics, Consensual Democracy and Post-Intellectual Interventions,” 210.

[99] Nora Samaran, “On Gaslighting,” Dating Tips for the Feminist Man, June 28, 2016, https://norasamaran.com/2016/06/28/on-gaslighting/.

[100] Matt Hern, “The Promise of Deschooling,” Social Anarchism 25 (1998), http://library.nothingness.org/articles/SI/en/display_printable/130.

[urbanknightart]

Some more Dark Ages brainrot sketches!

1) Shame! Father Emir has a problem with self flagellation, went to a council meeting with a permanent 3 dmg and -1 dice. And killed it.

2) Emir and Tertius, being trashy as usual

3) Hengist! Local Nos sheriff

4) Kresimir, local dragon, rowing a boat with a pole

5) Aurelia the Oxford plum pudding pig and her babies

6) Our adopted Fae daughter Amica accidentally got stripy when someone asked her to pretend to be a cat.

7) Leo and Godwin, two ghouls being super cute!

8) Gelert, sheriff's dog, local hero

9) Tiny comic of a super sweet emotional moment between Father Emir and his ghoul Æthelfrid. Talking about feelings is hard.

Story ran and NPC's owned by the amazing @spell-fox , Leo owned by @cynical-tuba

[samseaaa]

I’m kinda curious about something, do you usually write down the key points that you want to add in each chapter before deciding on the next or are you the type to go with the flow kinda writer?

A bit of both! I write down the beginning/middle/end and then split that plot into chapters, but sometimes the writing will take a new direction.

I usually like having a plan because then I can fully understand the world and characters. It also gives me ample opportunity for foreshadowing.

For my original book however, I was taught during my Oxford short course to use the Act/Turning point format, which goes as follows:

Act 1:

Exposition, character introductions, build up etc etc,

Turning point: mini climax that leads into the next act, what pushes the story on

Act 2:

Reaction to turning point, middle bulk of the story

Turning point: discovery of the Big Bad

Act 3:

Reaction to big bad, and build up to how to the heroes stop it, confront the big bad

Turning point 3: big bad resolution

What I also used before that was KM Weiland’s plot outline which you can find here. It’s a lot more cohesive, but I found it super helpful with getting the gritty plot details down. It’s great for avoiding plot holes!

[roastie]

aorry i have been following you for a while and i love uou and i just wanna know like you really went to oxford? you're my hero

i like totally FR did for 3 entire years BUT i am Not ur hero bc i also totally FR dropped out before finishing yayay. follow ur dreams though anon