#Even though he can speak and think and lives in a complex social structure

[passions-and-pupils]

I’d love to see a book that goes in depth on the idea of a creature that eats humans and when they are told by a human to stop they say “how is me eating human any different than you eating cow,” and the human counters with “but cows don’t have sentience the same way we do,” but the the creature simply laughs and goes

“Awwww little human thinks he has a soul, thinks he can comprehend everything we can, how cute.”

[thana-topsy]

So wait, are you implying that Falmer babies are born like normal, but since they're raised by other Falmer, that's why they become animalistic?? But they can be raised by people, and develop normally?? I'm assuming they're born blind tho?? Genuinely, I am curious, not trying to sound accusatory :')

Ahhh my friend, it is safe to say at this point that I have dedicated nearly two years of my life to exploring this question lol. Apologies in advance. You've activated my trap card special interest.

Sarel comes from my fanfic "Halfway to the Sky", in which a mage kidnaps a Falmer child and raises him as an experiment to see if he can be taught to live as a "civilized" person. The short answer to that initial question is: yes, Sarel is just a normal elf child, though still blind.

As to the other part of your question, (if Sarel had been raised among the Falmer, would he become "animalistic"?), I'm going to answer charitably by pointing out that we are dealing with Fictional Races of People, in which our interpretations of these races are going to vary, and that's okay. First off, my interpretation is not "the correct" one. So any answer I give is just my personal take. Second, the way we are told to play the game (by the mechanics of the game) also informs our perception of these races. And lastly, there is no one-to-one allegory at play here in terms of "The Falmer represent [x] race in our world." I just wanna get that out of the way.

So, all that being said, the question always comes back to "what does it mean to be civilized"?

In the game, we are told that the Falmer are hostile and violent, so we must kill them, and that they are 'devolved', even though evolution cannot move backwards. So, to correct that second misunderstanding, the Falmer are actually evolved to better suit their current living environment, and as to the first, we (the player) are intruding on their settlements. I can only imagine anyone with a sense of self-preservation would react with some amount of hostility to the loud, shouty person carrying weapons.

To continue to use game-logic, we are shown that the Falmer construct buildings, create weapons and armor, craft potions, lay traps, enchant objects, and use magic. Already, these are things that animals, by definition, cannot do. To be a magic user, a character must have a relatively high Intelligence stat, (we see this in the older games more than in Skyrim). In order to construct settlements, people must also have the ability to work in groups and communicate. We never hear the Falmer speak to each other in-game, but the implication that they have language and a social structure is right there in what we're shown.

So, in this long-winded, roundabout answer to your original question: I do not think that the Falmer are animalistic at all. I think they are culturally different, but made of the same stuff as Joe Thalmor over there. They have a different way of living in the world, and they adapted to their environment as best they could. This does not mean that they are perfect or better. But I think that referring to them as animalistic plays into what the game tells you to think, all while giving you a lot of evidence to the contrary. They're very much a complex, functioning society of people. We just never see their side of the story.

[cookinguptales]

Y'know, I post a lot on tumblr about what a shit Guillermo is, and I stand by that. He is a marvelous little shit. But honestly I only talk about it so much because people on tumblr and AO3 send me so many messages about how he's never done anything wrong in his life. When I'm presented with the opposite, that Guillermo is uniquely awful and selfish and he victimizes the poor uwu vampires (thinkpieces that you saw a lot more often during s3) I am fully like "I STAND BY EVERY DECISION THAT FOOLISH MAN HAS EVER MADE."

Being real with you, I feel like talking about Guillermo like he's totally blameless and put-upon or like he's totally selfish and wholly evil flattens a really complex and interesting character. He's selfish and self-involved and cruel and sweet and insecure and giving. He's all those things, and I love that about him.

I love Guillermo as a character because he has these carefully constructed categories in his head, these rules and boundaries that he sticks to like glue. He contains multitudes, and it's because he carefully follows the rules he has in his own head, even when they don't make a lot of sense to others.

I think the best way to think about Guillermo's actions is to think about him having two very different sets of rules for in-groups and out-groups. He will bend over backward for people in his in-group, will be the kindest, most patient, sweetest man in the world -- but he can be downright vicious to people in the out-group.

This is a pretty common occurrence IRL, though not always to the degree that Guillermo does it... I mean, you're going to treat your best friend's birthday differently than you're gonna treat a stranger's, right? When you start seeing it happen the way Guillermo does it, though, it's often to create and preserve power. You see it in politics, high school cliques, religion, etc.

For example, let's take new religious movements (or NRMs, i.e. "cults".) They are famous for this behavior. When you create distinct in-groups and out-groups and can behave very differently towards both, you give your followers a strong incentive to stay in the in-group. It makes them feel like they're the "good" ones, the superior ones, the ones with power. The ones that belong. And when they see out-groups being mistreated, well. No one wants to be in the group with no power who's mistreated, y'know? It simultaneously gives people in the in-group a sense of community, belonging, and social superiority and makes them afraid to leave.

But really, you see it all the time. If you have a "good" group that you can never harm and a "bad" group that you can do anything to, that really helps prop up power structures in a lot of ways. Look, I'm not going to get into this too much more because you don't want a freaking academic lecture on your dash, but suffice it to say that I think Guillermo is largely using his in-groups and out-groups in this way, mentally speaking.

He has in-groups (his friends, his family, his boyfriend, the vampires he lives with) and out-groups (literally everyone else, including other vampires) and he badly mistreats the out-groups because he does not want to be one of them. I've noticed he's particularly awful to human prey that reminds him of himself (nerdy, socially awkward, powerless, virginal) and I think that's because he wants to distance himself from them. He wants to make sure no one mistakes him as being part of that group, so he very strongly pushes them into his out-group by not only killing them, but making fun of them and often making sure they suffer before they die.

And then he's even more slavishly devoted to his in-groups, partially because he does truly love them, but partially because he desperately wants to stay in those groups. Or because he's trying to protect his own hide.

I don't mean to say that every kind thing he does is calculated -- I do think he very genuinely wants to make the people he loves happy -- but there's a sort of desperation to it sometimes. When he does these kind things, sometimes it's this desperate bid to be valued and accepted by others in his in-group, which makes him feel like he's earned his place there.

I've noticed that Guillermo has a tendency to do things for people to stay in their good graces (buying his mom a fridge, doing chores for Nandor, giving Derek money) when what they actually want is his time and attention. There often is a vibe that he's trying to earn his way into a group he doesn't quite feel entitled to when actually he's already very much a part of the group and he just needs to maintain those relationships. It's insecurity, frankly, and a nervous sort of self-preservation.

In fact... I'd say that Guillermo's greatest emotional struggles often come when trying to reconcile (and protect) different members of his in-group because he's trying to reconcile (and protect!!!) the different parts of himself.

Like... when he protected Jeremy, he was protecting a friend, but also the idea that some weak, virginal nerds are not prey. He had to protect this member of his in-group, partially because he loved him, but partially because he had to protect himself by extension. If Jeremy could be an exception to the predator-prey dynamics, so could he. Some humans could be valuable.

When he protected his fellow familiars during the familiar fights, he was protecting fellow humans whom he thought had "earned" a better life (and death) than prey humans, but he was also protecting the idea that a familiar could be loved and valued. He was protecting himself and the hope that Nandor would love him.

When he protected his family, he was protecting his beloved family members, but also the idea that vampires and slayers could coexist. Of course he doesn't want his family to die, but he's also doesn't want his hopes that he can have it all to die with them.

Let's all be real with each other here. Guillermo kills humans, and he does so without compunction. He is able to utterly dehumanize prey humans because he has a vested interest in emotionally distancing himself from them. But he gets kind of freaked out when the humans that he has mentally removed from that prey group (his friends, his family, people "like him") are not placed into that same exempt group by others. And this is definitely because he wants to protect those he loves!

But it's also because it means that he isn't special, either.

Let's talk about Freddie, who I think is probably the most complicated example of all this in the entire show. (Save perhaps Derek, who could probably get an entire post to himself because he went from out-group to in-group without Guillermo's consent.) When Freddie first arrived at the house, Nandor mistook him for prey. This understandably freaked Guillermo out, partially because he wanted to protect his boyfriend and partially because it was violating Guillermo's group dynamics.

(Insert meta here about Freddie representing Guillermo's ability to have a happy life outside of the weird, insular one he'd created for himself prior to s4.)

Freddie ended up being kind of special, though, because Guillermo considered him to be part of his in-group and Nandor considered him an out-group until he realized that Guillermo valued him. And then Nandor wanted him to not just be part of his in-group, but a portion of it separate from (but simultaneously representing) Guillermo. It's complicated!!

So we had Freddie 1 who was Guillermo's and Freddie 2 who was Nandor's, but... in the end, Freddie really belonged to no one but himself, right? In the end, he very literally chose himself. He left the -group dynamic altogether.

So Freddie is moving in and out of these groups like a fuckin' oiled-up eel that Guillermo cannot keep a hold of, and that really challenges his control issues as well as his ability to feel like he belongs in the in-groups he's created. It challenges his ability to feel worthy and loved and like he belongs anywhere. It challenges his ability to have faith that he'll ever become a vampire. Suddenly he does not control these groups anymore. If anything, they're controlling him.

While a lot of Guillermo's angst at the end of s4 was about, y'know, normal heartbreak... I think a lot of that was happening, too. He was really seeing the abrupt overturning of the carefully established rules and groups and boundaries and power differentials in his head, and that made him just want to be free of the whole thing.

So he took a step out of all of his preconceptions about what he did and did not have to do to belong in these groups, and took hold of his own destiny.

...unfortunately.

Guillermo's decisions in s4, both regarding his family and his turning, really did permanently shake up a lot of the group dynamics in the show. For better? For worse? (FOR GOOD...? lmao) It's hard to say, honestly. But I'm eager to see how he irons it all out in his head!

Our able-to-self-justify-literally-anything bitch. 💜

[bookreviewcoffee]

Dune Frank Herbert

“Dune" is, without exaggeration, an era, a magnitude in literature that is difficult to overestimate. A science fiction saga, with elements of the novel of chronicles and adulthood, space opera and dystopia, metaphorical narrative full of philosophy and mysticism.

The first trilogy of the classic cycle is full of the life and life of a free people, the planetary ecosystem including the giant worms, echoes of courtly strife, the structure of organizations equally ruling the Known Universe but also dependent on the spice that is produced only on Arrakis.

High and intense text full of concentrated substrate based on religion, politics, ecology, legal and cultural issues, immediate survival, while learning about the future.

The plot is fascinating, like standing in the center of a huge temple complex in Kornak, where the desert wind brings the essence of plans within plans.

Compared to the TV series and screen adaptations, the book predetermines the accents in relation to the characters, making them full and vivid, clear in plot twists, meeting the author's intent and the logic of behavior under given conditionsThe story itself I really liked, probably partly because I generally love fiction and somehow have not read something interesting and non-anal of this genre for a long time. A lot of fiction books are based on Christianity, and this is the first book in my memory that is based on Islam.

I also like the way Frank Herbert describes the characters' looks - almost without details, leaving room for imagination. The story is not long, lively enough and colorful enough, and I have experienced this forgotten feeling again and again, when I want to return to the book to find out what is going on.One of the main themes is the opposition between the houses of Atreides and Harkonnen. In these quotes, a clear example of the difference between the houses: the Atreides pay love for loyalty, while the Harkonnens gain submission through hatred. 'How much he talks! - Hawat thought. - This is not Duke Leto, who could speak to me with a wave of the hand, a movement of the eyebrow. What a carcass! The author (maybe the translation) shows Vladimir Harkonnen as a huge carcass, which has accumulated large reserves of precious water. This is the main peculiarity of the desert Arrakis. Arrakis. A desert planet, also known as Dune. There, under the scorching sun, there float huge worms on the sand, from which it is impossible to hide. There’s a free folk out there - Fremen with blue-tinted eyes that cover even squirrels. And, most importantly, Arrakis - the only place where the spice is extracted. Spice or melange - the most important wealth in the universe. If water is commonplace on Kaladan... here, in the desert conditions, its value is high. To show your respect, love, loyalty, you must share water. Whether it's spitting or mourning the dead. One of my favorite characters is the planetologist Kynes, who dreamed of turning the desert into an oasis. His father managed to plant and implement this idea among the Freemen, and his son continued his work ... Freemen are a hardened people of the desert with their own philosophy and way of life...they were told that the work of greening Arrakis is labor-intensive and the results can be fully appreciated only by the eighth generation. Not only that, but the Freemen and the Kynes did not abandon it, but passed it on from generation to generation. Valuable and very much appreciated. Chani is a great representative of the Freemen. Honestly, I didn't really understand why Jessica didn't think she was a good match for her son, even though she thought she was a worthy representative of the Bine Gesaerit school. Chani is wise, intelligent and loving to Paul. She is such a reliable and strong support for him.In general, the novel is a very interesting story, competently combining social problems, political peripetias, religious ascents, life philosophy, many multi-layered mysteries, and I think, even some meditation.And all this cornucopia is doused in beautiful, smooth, syllable with detailed, distinctive style descriptions that include perfectly developed characters. I wholeheartedly recommend the novel, I don't know if I'll be able to experience all six books, but I'm now serious about part two. For anyone interested, I recommend that you be patient and take your time with this story, getting to know it at your own pace.

[firemenenthusiast]

tbh that post you made about archie and the braids makes me really wish there a bit more focus on Farleigh being mixed in the movie, specifically white and black and how that affects in like the standing of his family and general life if that makes sense? I just feel like it could've added more complexity and a different perspective on class, social structure, classim, etc, and how race plays a major role into stuff like that. I know that there's that one moment where Farleigh says something and Felix says "Is that was it is? Are you making it a race thing?" (I think lol) and Farleigh is visibly frustrated but I don't know if there's anything else. Like maybe it could give commentary on how nobody else understands him and struggles because of him not being white, or fully atleast. Or how Farleigh easily spotted Oliver as a outsider because he's a outsider as well, being the only black person in a VERY white family, social space, etc. I wish more of his character in general and different aspects like more of his backstory, sexuality, etc and his mind like im soooo obsessed with wondering what goes on in his head. I feel like it he was expanded on more than he would've gotten as much attention that Felix and Oliver do. Idk, as a black girl I feel like it was such a wasted opportunity to see so many things maybe like his connection to his black side or if he even has any connection? Maybe they could've done something concerning his hair like not having anyone to teach him how to take care of it like........ughhhhh. To me it feels like something briefly touched upon and then just forgotten about :/

#Farleighdeservesbetter #Farleighdeservedmorethan5minutesofscreentime 😭😭

HEY IVE MISSED YOUUU :)) and omg this is just so upsetting thinking that even in the film farleigh is just so easily disregarded and not only in that house…that’s what i’ve been trying to say like there’s so much more depth to his character and upbringing for people to generally just label him as shallow. but im glad that people that love him, (us) knows that he’s so much more than that especially given that he is being forcefully separated from his black side. im really glad you said all this from your perspective as a black person cuz i wouldn’t have known, or imagined how it is actually like for him, living like that. and yeah speaking of his sexuality the film did a lot to imply that he’s not hetero and if only it is properly set down that could make an impact to the queer community

i think we can all understand that the cattons (whether racially motivated or not) dislike or even hate his dad…cuz he was the reason farleigh’s mom went out of her designated life trajectory if that makes sense. just thinking about how frustrated he is but couldn’t do anything about it upsets me. i want him to be happy :(. but also i think the very reason farleigh’s character is underexposed is because the profile of the director 😬 (dont come for me) and also i understand that he’s not the main character. his character was just created to bring more elaboration to oliver’s actions. though we know all that i know how we think that it’d be nice to know more (or even everything if possible) about farleigh.

[zoneofsmites]

OC Speech Mannerisms

tagged by @heartbreakincident on my main (thank u, love u, this seems very fun)

Taggging @vin-ill, @aurrieattorney, @autumnfangirler, @cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal, and @froggods in return!

Using this as an exercise to further develop my mournwatch Rook!

Subject: Acheron 'Rook' Ingellvar

NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES: 1 / 2 / 3+ There is no nevarran language it seems, so he only speaks the trade-tongue. I think he recently started teaching himself Qunlat, but it's a difficult language.

TONE OF VOICE: high / average / deep This is mostly because both masc rook voices sound pretty deep already.

ACCENT: Yes / No Nevarran accent 100%. even if the in-game voices for Rook are just american and british. i can live my dreams.

DEMEANOUR: confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other Acheron tries to come off as approachable, but his general size, qunari-nature, and death hyper fixation autism makes his energy appear way more intimidating than he's intending it to be.

POSTURE: slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed Straight AND slumped? yes. if he's around strangers he starts slumping to seem less intimidating as he's tall for even qunari standards. otherwise he was thought proper manners so he stands straight otherwise.

HABITS: head tilting / swaying / fidgeting / stuttering / gesturing / arm crossing / strokes chin / er, um, or other interjections / plays with hair or clothing / hands at hips (but he is fidgeting with his pants/robes there) / inconsistent eye contact / maintains eye contact (TOO much. he's overcompensating for not wanting to look in your eyes) / frequent pausing (he was thought to think before he speaks and he takes that literally, but he's quiet during the pausing) / stands close / stands at a distance

COMPLEXITY

VOCABULARY: ⬤⬤⬤⬤〇

EMOTION: ⬤⬤〇〇〇

SENTENCE STRUCTURE: ⬤⬤⬤〇〇

PROFANITY

FREQUENCY: ⬤⬤〇〇〇 "it's impolite to swear, little Acheron. It's important to be polite." -his necromancer caretakers

CREATIVITY (in regards to profanity): ⬤⬤⬤⬤〇 It's creative because he was toeing the line of what his tutors considered to be swears.

BOLD ALL THAT APPLY: arse. ass. asshole. bastard. bitch. bloody. bugger. bollocks. chicken shit. crap. cunt. dick. frick. fuck. horseshit. motherfucker. piss. prick. screw. shit. shitass. son of a bitch. twat. wanker. pussy. (basically everything that isn't as egregious of a swear + add in some 'Maker's breath' here and there)

IMPORTANT QUESTIONS

DO PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING OR UNDERSTANDING YOUR CHARACTER? - almost always / frequently / rarely / never (Was thought to speaks clearly and loud enough for those relevant to understand.)

DOES YOUR CHARACTER'S INTENDED POINT COME ACROSS EASILY WHEN THEY SPEAK? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never. (im gonna say sometimes because I think he might become a bit... rambly and disjointed in his thoughts.)

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER INITIATE CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / never. (mostly if he needs something, but he's content in silence and lets people approach him)

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE THE ONE TO END CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never.

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE 'WHOM' IN A SENTENCE? - yes / no / only ironically

YOUR CHARACTER WANTS TO MAKE A COUNTERPOINT. WHAT WORD DO THEY USE? - but / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps.

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER END CONVERSATIONS? - walk away / ask if that's everything / say that's everything / give a proper goodbye / tell their company they're done here / remain quiet / they don't.

WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WOULD OTHERS ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER BELONGS TO, HEARING THEM SPEAK? - upper / middle / lower. (he was thought to sound proper, so his vocabulary + polite way of speech comes across real posh sometimes)

IN WHAT WAYS DOES THE WAY YOUR CHARACTER SPEAK STAND OUT TO OTHERS? - accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn't. (the accent mostly because he's a qunari so its odd enough that even nevarran native's outside the Mournwatch might raise an eyebrow)

[dgalerab]

Honestly I never thought about Dadzawa in the context of like... being obsessed with the nuclear family structure 🤔 that's an interesting way to think about the fandoms interest in it.

For me personally (as someone who does like Dadzawa), it's always been more of a reflection of my issues with my parents growing up and how I experienced parentification in addition to a deep innate desire to have had someone who would have literally sacrificed themself for my well being at that age like Aizawa does for 1-A. Plus I really love the dynamic between Aizawa and Midoriya. The complexity of the way Aizawa sees Shirakumo in Midoriya and how it influences the way he interacts with him and looks after him is just so interesting to explore and Aizawa acting as a parental figure to him is a vehicle in which to do that.

I'm with you on the not getting the obsession with having him adopt 1-A kids though. Don't get me wrong I'm not against him adopting if it makes sense in the context of the story being told but sometimes it feels like it happens for the sake of checking off that list of things successful adult lives need to accomplish and as a result can feel so forced. We can have Aizawa being parental and forming a deeper bond with one of his students without him needing to make them legally his. Family is deeper than some paperwork and the obsession with this possession is really uncomfortable to me. Why can't found family just be a mutual understanding and love of one another without needing to make it 'official' anymore haha.

So I definitely get where you are coming from with regards to the obsession with making the Erasermic family into a nuclear situation. I feel like it extends past the whole Dadzawa situation and into the way Aizawa and Mic are depicted. I cannot read fics where Aizawa and Mic's characters are diluted down to talkative flamboyant husband and unfeeling angry husband, not only because it does a disservice to the depth of their characters but because when people write them like that they are specifically doing it to make Mic coded to be the 'wife' of the relationship and it's so obnoxious. They can be in love and not fill the typical heteronormative roles in a relationship y'all. They are just two disasters 🫡

Sorry that was super longwinded and I hope it didn't come off as me trying to convince you to like Dadzawa because that is absolutely not what I was trying to do. I just thought the way you interpreted the interest in Dadzawa was insightful and had never considered it before and wanted to share my perspective! Also I like having in depth conversations about BNHA lmao. Hopefully that's okay! 🫶 Feel free to ignore this if you want.

oh god oh no the consequences of my actions haha

see, whenever i'm bitching and hating on fanon takes i always feel like i'm reacting to those ubiquitous "everyone knows this is canon lol" takes. i think any hc can be valid and from a place of someone genuinely exploring a potential story that speaks to them and like. let's be real canon is just not important enough to overwrite that potential, even if it's not necessarily "in character."

but i think a lot of the time you walk in to a fandom and everyone's just like yep this is The Take. and you're like. why. that's weird. and then i go and write a post being like EXCUSE ME YOU'RE ALL WRONG. and then inevitably it ends up landing on the people who are like. genuinely thinking about the characters and want to explore certain tropes and they're like. oh no. am i wrong?? and i have to be like nooooo not you you precious angel.

gonna be so real i forget it's not just my 10 reliable likers and mutuals who see my posts. ain u have nearly 3k followers pls.

anyway i think that fandom ultimately likes to have like. a lot of quick-start hcs. like a lot of the same-yness of fanon comes from the fact that sometimes it's just a social endeavor and not a literary one, and so there's a little bit of a speed dating type "here are the vibes let's chat and make things" element to fanon. but i think that also crosses over into really flat and sort of... idk if i want to say conservative but stereotypical takes? it's a fascinating phenomenon and it's both a boon of fandom bc it makes things very social and communicative and also a bit of a failing bc that sort of shortcut characterization does land on a lot of like. preconceptions that can be shallow or toxic or whatever

anyway this is a very round about way of saying tl;dr: you're totally valid and i just yell about certain attitudes being the fandom standard bc after a while my patience wears thin seeing the same take i think is wrong and i'm here on main being like NO. I DON'T LIKE THOSE STANDARDS. AND ALSO YOU'RE GOOFY.

[poptod]

The Breeding Kings, pt. 20

Description:

Notes:  WC: 7.4k

+

It wasn't long at all until he realized something was different––not specifically in you, or in his environment, but within his thoughts. Things had shifted, and the constant anxieties of where food and water was coming from next were turned to empty slots in his mind, slots you happily filled.

Against his will, he could think of little else besides you. He tried many things as well––staying away from you, keeping close to you, but he had yet to touch you in any way that really mattered. Fluttering glances and barely-there graces didn't count, nor did misplaced kisses on saner, safer areas. No, his dreams offered him no break from the annoyingly insistent thoughts, and instead supplied him with the endless imagination of an unchecked mind. Drowning in the image of your closed eyes slotted next to his in soft kisses, of your fingertips trailing across his bare waist.

But you would never do that.

He stared longingly at you through the gate he guarded, leaning on his wooden and bronze spear as you dug in the garden. Zakiti, your work partner, was travelling back and forth between where new trees had been dropped off, and where you were told to plant them.

In fact, he was so absorbed in your moving lips that he barely heard his own partner talking to him from across the gate.

"What are you, in love with Zakiti?" He asked, but he spoke in Akkadian, and Ahkmen had yet to pick up more of the complex words. One phrase you taught him was –

"I do not speak Akkadian," he said.

Luqa––or at least that's what Ahk thought his name was––just sighed, rolling his eyes and turning back to face front. Ahkmen frowned softly but turned to attention as well.

That was generally how he spent his working hours. Much like he had in the House of Life in Egypt, he wasted away the time by staring at you or thinking of you, phasing out at the thought of knowing you. He was sure his coworker was tired of his shenanigans, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about what Luqa thought.

Fortunately, neither of you had work that often, and after asking the stewardess, your schedules were matched up to have the same amount of free time at the same time. The two of you took full advantage of that, spending many of your days strolling throughout the city and trying the new foods and beers created throughout the mud brick landscape. Strips of gardens were scattered throughout the city, but none more grand than the terraces of flora making up the Hanging Gardens, whose trees leant over with their plentiful fruit. Deep green vines twisted around blue tiled ledges and tall, white pillars, the especially long ones brushing up against the people who came and went from the gardens. You had yet to actually enter any of the Hanging Gardens, but they remained a constant in the background of the city.

Many morning and evenings you spent in the brewery. Sometimes Ahk would follow you, but other times he left to temples and taverns, socializing with the locals in hopes of absorbing more of the language. His favorite time was coming to visit you at the brewery after letting you work for a few hours, as you always lit up like a beacon whenever you caught sight of him.

This time was no different––you raced up the steps, taking his hand and dragging him back down. Today, tarps had been raised above the workshop, blocking away the blearing sun, and allowing a little more comfort in the already-heated environment. Not all of the stations were filled, but your friend Tiamat was still there at your side.

"I am – I am doing a, uh, a way to make my beer, but with the barley," you stuttered out, barely coherent enough for him to understand.

"So... the really alcoholic kind?" Ahk asked uncertainly.

"Yes!!" You exclaimed, and Tiamat laughed.

"Here," Tiamat said, gesturing Ahk over to her. She dunked the cup in her hand into the frothing beer, and handed it to him when it filled with the golden liquor.

You and Tiamat waited in baited breath as Ahk slowly lifted the cup to his mouth, sipping at the warm drink with a critical look in his eye. It was sweet––almost like cider, but it burnt his throat on the way down, warming his stomach pleasantly once it was there. He looked up, and you were still watching intently.

"What do you think?" You asked, your hands clasped tight together in front of your chest.

"It's good," he said, nodding. "You know what would go great with this?"

"What?"

"Cardamom. It's a spice, I'm sure they have it here," he said, but your brow furrowed as you looked away, a confused look on your face.

Ahk looked to Tiamat and repeated, "cardamom."

Tiamat, who look equally confused, said something to you that you had to translate.

"We do not know the word in Egyptian," you said.

"Shit," Ahk muttered. "It would taste so good, though."

"Is it sweet?"

"Well, it is used in desserts," he said with a shrug.

"That is good for me. We can – uhh, we can go to a spice shop, and we can, or you can, find it," you suggested, and repeated it to Tiamat, who nodded with a brightening smile.

"Good idea," she said.

The three of you set off quickly with Tiamat leading the way, as she knew the city best after the years she'd been living within its walls. Bustling chatter filled the streets, accompanied by shuffling feet, wooden wheels, and the jarring calls of sheep and goats. Bells sometimes rung as merchants shouted out their wares, and you ducked beneath their raised arms, giggling as you followed Tiamat, while Ahkmen trailed close behind, almost always reaching out for your hand.

Tiamat was a good deal taller and buffer than you, reaching Ahkmen's height and surpassing his strength, so she was stopped by large crowds that suddenly crossed your path. You panted as you caught up to her long-striding legs, followed by Ahk also appearing and panting.

"Since the drought, a lot of our trade lines have been cut... of course, the Kassite takeover didn't help, so we've only got a couple spice shops left," Tiamat told you as she tried to look over the moving heads of the crowd. "I think most of it is grown in the King's garden now, actually."

"That is good," you said, positing it was better than nothing.

"Yes, but... I do miss cinnamon," she said with a chuckle.

You relayed what she said––minus the cinnamon––to Ahkmen as you waited for the people, who were dragging along a group of goats, to pass by.

"That ought to make our search easier," Ahk said, and no sooner had he'd finished the phrase than he was being pulled on again, your left hand clasping his and your right held by Tiamat.

Frequent turns led you from the northern-most side of the city and into the south, where the streets were less disorganized than they had been. You tried to stop Tiamat several times to look at some of the cuisine and textiles within the scattered markets, but to Ahk's relief she didn't notice you, and kept on her quick-footed pace headed for the spices.

Both you and Ahk fell into heavy pants as Tiamat finally drew to a stop in front of a large, clay storage house, staring up at the symbol carved above the entrance. Through the archway you could spy a few people moving about amongst the massive pots and jars of sandy colors.

When Tiamat made to enter, the two of you followed gingerly, looking like twins with your hands curled in front of your chests to avoid touching anything. You scanned the room as a whole before your eyes fell to one of the merchants, wrapped up in white desert attire and a large turban set on his head. He was speaking quietly to another man, so you ignored him for the time being, and returned your attention to Ahkmen.

"What is the spice you did name?" You asked in a whisper.

"Cardamom," he repeated. "It's just kind of... vaguely brown. Like split wheat."

"That is a good help," you said flatly, looking at the pyramid-like structures of spice nearly overflowing out of the tall clay vases, most of which could qualify as 'vaguely brown'.

"Cardamom," Tiamat tried the word, rolling the word unnecessarily. She turned to you and said in Akkadian, "it's a strange word, isn't it?"

"A little," you agreed with a giggle.

You and Tiamat watched as Ahk sniffed each spice individually, often having to bend down to get a full whiff of the scent. Each time he did so, he wrinkled up his nose, stepping away with a frown.

"Is it bad?" You asked on the first time he did this.

"No, it's just really strong," he said.

That was his continuing excuse for doing it at least ten more times throughout the 15 presented jugs. By the end of it, you were no closer to knowing cardamom's Akkadian name, much less actually having any cardamom.

He backed away from the jars with a frown, crossing his arms as he scanned over all of them once more.

"Nothing," he said.

"How may I help you?" Someone behind you asked, and all three of you turned to see the shopkeeper––the darkskinned merchant who wore a turban. He spoke in Akkadian, but he had an accent, one only Tiamat could pick up on.

"We're looking for a specific spice, but we only know the name in Egyptian," Tiamat said, gesturing vaguely in Ahk's direction.

"Alright," he said with a heavy brow, glancing between you. "What is it?"

You nudged Ahk and he said, "cardamom."

"Ah," the merchant nodded, "qaqullu."

Tiamat asked for him to say it again, but she didn't know the spice, and reported so with a confused look.

"I wouldn't expect ye' to, it's off from Kuru in the east," he said, gesturing out the door with a hand holding round bottle. "Route's been cut, so I haven-been able to get it."

Before you could do it, and to your immense surprise, the merchant repeated what he'd said to Ahkmen in Egyptian. Ahk had a similar look of surprise on his face.

"Do you know of any place that might have it?" Ahk asked with wide eyes. He almost didn't notice the way you grinned toothily up at him.

"You are so intense," you whispered to him.

"How do you even know that word? You asked me what soup meant just yesterday –"

"The King's garden, probably," the merchant interrupted. "But it would cost much."

"That's not a problem," Ahk said before Tiamat could respond.

The three of you bid a hasty thanks and good-bye to the merchant, who gave you an odd look as you raced out of the shop. Crowds had only grown more thick during your time indoors, meaning you could barely see past the moving bodies, and had to rely on Ahk and Tiamat for where you were supposed to go.

Tiamat led the way once more, winding back through the streets from the way you came. According to her, the King's palace was somewhat near to the center, but the gardens were held closer to the largest temple, which marked the exact center of the city. Ahkmen spied through the tall buildings a stretching tower, reaching into the sky in white stone and dark, green leaves. The closer you got, it became easier to realize that the garden resided in a massive temple complex that took up nearly half of the city dwelling on the western bank.

You stopped at a large bridge hanging over the wide Euphrates that split the city down the middle, staring at the sheer size of the rushing water compared to the thin stretches you and Ahk had travelled down. Travellers and chariots marched down the large brick street, wooden wheels pulled by strange creatures you'd never seen before. Most chariots carried one or two passengers, as well as a carriage for goods, such as food, stone, and cloth. A couple carried massive bushels of reeds. On either side of the bridge were familiar statues––the lions with the heads of men, of which you'd learned earlier were titled Lamassu. Soldiers with spears and sheathed swords stood at their sides.

The frequency of soldiers and guards increased as you approached the walls surrounding the temple of Marduk, whose name you only knew after extended conversations with both Tiamat and Zakiti. Ahkmen wasn't aware of the name, but that didn't stop him staring at the temple's might, six terraces building the material of humans into the unearthly heavens.

However, the temple ended up not being your final destination. Tiamat led you past the tower and to the south, running down a wide street that led directly to one of the city's outer walls. Once you stood at the wall's base, she took a sharp turn to the left, and took you to one of the city's entrances across the moat of water.

Across he bridge lay farms and smaller houses, as well as another wall––though much smaller––that had been built to fortify the growing city. The sun shined a bright white overhead, allowing the dewdrops on trees to shine and glitter across the small, town-like reaches.

"There," said Tiamat, pointing out to a shaded area protecting rows of plants. Some of them had tarps set out above them, but others had more permanent shade, effectively hiding a good number of rows from view.

Ahk squinted in the bright sun to try and make out the different types of plants growing there.

"Are we allowed to actually go into the garden?" Ahk asked, a question you relayed to Tiamat.

"I've never been," she said, and began forward across the bridge. "So I'm not actually sure."

You translated the general idea again.

"Well, I've run this much now," Ahk said with a sigh, placing his hands on his hips. "Ought not to give up now."

The overbearing scent of mixed spices was quick to hit you, and the three of you slowed down as your noses burned. A few people were standing outside an open archway, the darkness inside containing several more people, and barrels worth of spices. To the left of that the growing continued in shadow, while sunloving plants enjoyed the last light of the day.

Ahkmen accidentally met the eyes of one of the people flanking the entrance, causing his gaze to shoot back down to the ground. The doorway, like many in Egypt, was raised partway off the ground to avoid tracking dust and sand into the building. He stepped over the frame, and stood blindly while his eyes adjusted to the major change in light. His squinting was disturbed when you bumped into him, muttering some sort of apology before you pressed your side to his, scanning the quiet room with a look of near menace.

Tiamat appeared to be in a similar state of apprehension, scanning the room in hopes of finding out whether or not you were allowed to be in there at all. You and Ahk hadn't noticed, but the symbol of the King was carved clearly above the small house, and those who stood nearby were dressed in deep colors of red, purple, and green––a stark difference from the farmers who dwelled in much simpler homes outside.

Your awkward glances eventually caught the eye of a much older man, whose beard curled magnificently between robes of green and silver silk. His dark, bushy brow furrowed as his eyes fell specifically to you––a sort of anger, or perhaps confusion, overtook his curiosity and he stepped forward.

"My name is Sagar," the man said, taking your hand and bowing his head slightly. You stiffened, and Ahk quickly came over to your side, wrapping an arm around the back of your waist.

"Hello, I, uh – I am here with my friends," you replied in Akkadian, joined soon on the other side by Tiamat.

Compared to you and Ahk, Tiamat looked a great deal older as well––neither of you had gotten the chance to ask her age, but considering you were about as short as a 10 year old, and Ahk was twiggy as a 12 year old, it created a considerable difference. You assumed this was why Sagar very suddenly averted his attention to Tiamat, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. Like you, Tiamat grimaced, her shoulders tightening.

"How may I help you?" Sagar asked, his voice low and weathered against your softer ones. Tiamat stuttered before she found an answer.

"We are looking for a spice, qaqullu," she said slowly.

"You must be a woman of noble bearings," he said with a smile.

"Well –"

"No," you answered for her. "But he is."

You pointed to Ahk with your thumb, who shot you an offended look before he confronted Sagar.

"I do not speak Akkadian," Ahk said, easily recalling the only phrase he knew in Akkadian.

Sagar looked him up and down, almost hesitant to speak.

"Egyptian?" He asked.

You nodded, somewhat impressed considering Ahk was trying to wear more Babylonian clothes, but Ahkmen just looked unsettled, shifting his weight between his feet.

"I've been helping them look for cardamom for their beer," Ahk explained quietly.

"If you have the means to pay for it, the King does have seeds. The price has gone up, though," he added, "due to some... outer pressures."

"You mean the trade network?" Ahk asked, kinking a single brow.

"I'm afraid so. It'll be several gold bands or sacks of grain."

Several?? Ahk's eyes bulged as he heard the price. While he was regaining his words, his mouth fallen open, Sagar translated the sentence back into Akkadian for Tiamat.

"Mother of Gods," Tiamat blurted out. "We'll, uh – we'll be right back."

She herded the two of you out the door––which wasn't a very hard task––and took you round the corner so the doorway was no longer visible.

"I don't think I have that much grain and I certainly don't have that much gold," she said quickly, her eyes flickering between you and Ahk despite the fact that he couldn't understand her.

"We have many gold," you said, retaining most of your optimism easily.

"Okay, wait, we don't have that much gold," Ahk said as soon as he vaguely translated what you said. He turned to you and continued, "we still need to get through Elam and into Harappa. And we'll still need a lot of money once we get there so we don't starve after, like, three days of being in the city."

"Hmm..." you hummed quietly, your brow knotted together as you picked at the skin on your chin.

The two of them waited for you while you thought deeply, staring at the ground.

"We can steal," you suggested after a moment of silence.

"Again??"

"You say it all the time, that it is fun to steal, and from Kings," you said rather loudly, causing Ahk to shoot forward and silence you with a hand held tight over your mouth, simultaneously pushing you against the nearest wall.

"That man in there knew Egyptian, and I'm pretty sure he works for the King," he said quietly.

You stared at each other, iron in your gaze and steel in his.

"What is happening right now?" Tiamat asked, and at that point you recalled that, once more, you were not alone. Ahk had a similar reaction, backing up as his hands zipped behind his back.

You explained the short conversation to her, at which point she nodded with much the same expression as Ahk's when he thought deeply.

"What's the King like?" Ahk asked, knowing little more of the man other than his name. You translated.

"His name is Gidar," she began, allowing you to translate each sentence before she continued. "He is quiet, keeps to himself. He has funded building and farming projects, though, and he upholds the law, so no one really bothers him."

"Are his punishments violent?"

That one took you a little longer to figure out––you didn't know the Akkadian word for 'violent' or 'punishments,' so instead you said something more along the lines of 'does he kill or hurt people who do bad'.

"Like stealing?" She asked.

"Sure," you said with a shrug.

"He will cut off your hands and kill you."

"... oh," you mumbled, grimacing as you turned to Ahk and translated.

"Well, then we better not get caught," he said, placing his hands on his hips.

You glanced to Tiamat with an odd look.

"I do not think that is something we can ask her to do," you whispered, leaning into Ahk.

"Probably not," he said after a moment's thought. "Tell her to go back to the brewery. We'll be back there soon, I think."

"Today?" You asked, your eyes wide.

"Tonight," he nodded.

Late afternoon, and the warm, fiery colors it brought sunk into the horizon, and the stars chased after that light, appearing easily in the sky surrounding a simpler town than the centers of Karanduniash. Only small torches burnt outside the main walls, usually hung by entrances to the clay huts built up from the earth. Some houses were illuminated brightly by fire places, casting squares of light onto the ground from windows, but many were climbing up onto their roofs with rugs and blankets.

You watched the evening progress from a spot near the King's spice garden which, now that you'd stared at it for a couple hours, looked incredibly inconspicuous for such a rich store. An alleyway hid you from sight of the caretakers inside the garden, and a silver earring from Ahk allowed you a hearty, thick stew, steaming with warmth in your bowls.

With a grin you clinked your wooden bowls together before raising it up, forgoing your spoon in favor of slurping the soup. He chuckled, matching your behavior as he glanced past your shoulder, to the garden, and then ultimately to one of the nearby houses in his line of sight.

More people up on the roof––smoke billowed into the air, long shadows and brightly lit faces indicated the bonfire now burning on the rooftop. A couple louder shouts, though still not loud enough for him to understand, and laughter came from there. Ahk recalled with jarring suddenness nights spent on his friend's roof's, cooking fish and warming beer over flames. Fireflies sometimes drifted through the streets below, but what always stood above were looming palm trees, silhouetted against the evening sky rife with stars.

All he could see of the stars was through the thin gap between the houses where you now sat, as anything outside of looking directly up was fuzzed by torchlight. At least the scent of stew still tempted him; he turned his direction back to his food and felt considerably better after finishing.

"I think we take hot stew for granted," he said after a full minute of staring at his empty bowl.

"It is hard to make when we move," you said quietly.

"Really?"

"Yes, you... you need spices, and – and wheat, or barley, or it will be hot fish water," you said in complete seriousness, looking up to him with a critically thinking eye that sent him into laughter.

"Hot fish water??" He repeated, a wide, sweet smile across his face that had you blushing.

"That is what that is!"

"Okay, okay," he chuckled, "keep quiet, my dear."

"I am not your deer," you said flatly, and returned to the last of your stew.

His heart beat painfully, warmth following that pulsing depth. His smile fell, as well, as imagination––and longing––seized him, and he very nearly pulled you into his lap. Instead he dug his nails into his palm, and proceeded to thoroughly imagine the entire scenario, were he not a coward.

He would take your hands and pull you in. You would follow without hesitation, slotting your knees on either side of his hips, and resting yourself on his thighs. Then you'd ask why he did this, and he would say something suave––something like 'just wanted to see you better'. He'd raise his hand and push the hair out of your face to see your dark, inky eyes, and the red mark above your brow. And he would ask–

"How did you get that mark on your forehead?"

You paused your eating and Ahk stiffened, realizing he just spoke aloud his thoughts.

"My parents did give it to me," you said quietly as you set your now-empty bowl aside. "It was... on my mother, not there forever. It – it came off, but they did want me to always have my third eye open. And they hit it in with sindoor."

"Sindoor?"

"It is from Harappa, I think... I do.. I remember that, in that time, I was in stone homes, with flags of red and gold, and the food.. was very sweet. I think that it is Harappa, what I remember," you said, slowly coming to terms with your own memories.

"You remember your time there?" Ahk asked, raising his brow.

"Only a little," you said with a shrug. "But the mark is where everything is made, by Gods, by us. It is..," you sighed deeply, "I do not know how to say it in Egyptian."

"Oh," he said. His knees pulled ever so slightly closer to his chest, scraping his sandals on the rough gravel. "Can you draw it?"

"... maybe?"

You moved to your knees, searching your immediate surroundings for a stick or rock.

The stick dragged through the loose dirt, forming shapes that soom became ideas––one triangle to represent bread, beside two, and then a blank, empty space you circled.

"It is... nothing. It is when you have no bread, that is a number too," you said, watching Ahk carefully to guage if he fully understood. "Because the life does not.. fully live, without our math."

"The absence of something isn't a number," Ahk said with a frown, his intense gaze switching from the image to you.

"I do not know," you mumbled, pulling your knees to your chest. "It is only what my parents did say."

The stray expression on your face was solidified with wandering eyes, trailing off to the side of the alley wall. Ahk was still in a state of stupefaction, staring at your features––the curl of your lashes, or the warmth of your lips, whose mirage always found his cheek in dreams and fantasies.

Before he knew it he was leaning forward, at last reaching out for you, fingers numb with nervousness scraping against the earth. You still wouldn't look to him, but he continued, thoughtlessly, to creep closer, his hand hovering close enough to your waist to feel your heat.

"The man is leaving," you whispered, the words acting like ice over Ahkmen's brain.

He quickly withdrew, clearing his throat and tracing your eyeline back to the King's garden. There was, in fact, a silhouette of a man leaving the garden hut, settling a tarp over the door and its' symbol before he disappeared from view.

"Give it a few minutes," he muttered back, his eyes set dead upon the disappearing figure. "He might come back."

Ahkmen sat back down on his butt, the pebbles beneath him scratching as he adjusted himself against the wall. You glanced to him for a moment, offering a small smile when you saw his furrowed brow, lessening his anxiety if only minutely.

The two of you talked quietly for a little while longer, keeping up your cover as vagrant friends, until Ahk was assured the guard wouldn't be returning. He kept a continuous eye on the garden, and was quick to move to his feet after he decided it was safe. Your hand slipped into his without him asking, a grip he solidified as you jogged, looking up and down the street you crossed.

No one.

The flap the man set over the doorway was a meek form of protection, and was easily bypassed with nothing more than your hands. It rippled behind you as you entered, but soon fell silent, hiding you and Ahk from view of the street.

Inside the garden's storeroom was even darker than the night outside––the flap blocked out the light of torches, and a ceiling concealed the sky. You squinted as you tried to see, eventually making out the shaky forms of closed caskets and containers. Most of them had lids made of pottery, but some had nets wrapped around the high necks, secured tightly into place with complex knots.

"You must see for it," you whispered to him. "I do not know the smell, or the look."

"I don't really know how it looks either, I'll be honest with you," he said. "I've only ever seen it fully processed in one of the kitchens."

"Why did you not say that?!" You hissed.

"I didn't think it would be a problem!" He whispered harshly.

"You –" you sucked in a breath, "– you find the thing, I will go see that we are not found."

"Yes, dear," he said in a drawling tone he had used many times for those two words.

Before he knew it his back was slammed against a wall, sending pain shooting up his spine and into his cranium. He nearly let out a pained cry, but your hand zipped up to cover his mouth, your other arm keeping his chest pinned to the wall. He stared wide-eyed down at you, shocked at the force you so easily used.

Your fingers over his lips.

Your hand on his chest.

Your leg slotted between his.

His cheeks were set ablaze.

"You do not get the bad part of the times in Egypt, when you did steal and make fun with guards," you said, glowering up at him. "But this is not a place where you are rich. You can not pay for innocence. Not here. And this price is death if we are seen, like it is always for me, in Egypt and Babylon."

He gulped down the knot in his throat, only breathing when you gently pulled away. You still glared at him, but it was less intense, and you put more distance between you.

"Do see the cardmoms," you mumbled before you left.

The flap settling back into place was the last sound he heard from you, your fabric shoes allowing you to pad quietly away without making any noise. An intense, overpowering silence followed, darkened hands rubbing it like lavender upon his skin, familiar and uncomfortable.

He spent the following hour or two searching through the assorted jars, carefully raising up mud lids or untying thick rope. Many of the spices were ones he'd tried before––some reminding him of Egypt and others bringing memories of the few countries he travelled to during his time as Prince. Now he was stealing not just for fun, but because he had to. He couldn't afford what he was taking.

Cardamom, who carried a sweet, fruity scent, ended up being at the opposite end of the room, making it one of the last he inspected. Its' scent was also incredibly distinct, and the moment he found it he knew most certainly it was cardamom. He grinned.

It wasn't the seeds, either––it was the actual powdered spice, meaning it was already ready to put in the beer. But there was very little of it, the whole of the container being around the size of his head.

He sighed almost wearily, leaning sideways against the wall.

If you were still here, he could've apologized, and you'd both probably be gone by now. As he phased out at the thought of you, he mindlessly stroked the clay pot.

Approaching footsteps broke his trance. His eyes shot up, automatically tucking the cardamom into his clothes and running off into the night garden, in which the medicinal herbs were grown. He sucked in a sharp breath, realizing acutely that he was now ankle deep in wet earth, though fortunately, in-between the rows instead of on them.

The tarp at the garden's entrance flapped again as the stranger entered. There was little protecting him from being discovered now, and he fled off to the sun garden, careful to not slosh his feet in the mud. It was then, when mud had splattered up to his calf, that he remembered his leather shoes were still inside the storeroom, waiting to be discovered.

Thoughts flew wildly around his head, his quick-thinking talents melting away into timed panic. Wide eyes flickered from the archway between the shadow garden and the storeroom, and then to the arch leading into the sun garden, then back to the stranger, who pivoted on their heel.

He fled into the next room the moment the steps even hinted of growing louder, pressing his back against the opposite wall, his chest heaving up and down.

Again his frantic eyes searched the room for anything that might aid his escape. Tarps were stretched taut between wooden poles, blocking access to the outside, but allowing sunlight to stream in. He looked up and realized with sickness that the only way out was up.

Digging his teeth into the inside of his cheek, he tied fabric around the clay pot, ensuring it wouldn't fall from his grasp. He tensed his muscles, preparing himself mentally before he jumped up and grasped the top of the pole with his fingers.

Steps continued to get closer, now treading through the silted earth and sparking a dreadful terror that shivered down his neck in much the way it had when you slammed him against the wall. He scrambled up, his bare feet digging into the splintered pole before he threw himself over the other edge of the tarp. A loud thud came from him as he fell on his back––once more injuring it––bringing from him a pained groan.

Footsteps grew even closer, marking the sign of running feet that had Ahk clambering to his legs, cradling the cardamom to his chest as he ran. Bits of gravel and hay dug into his bare feet, bringing with them sharp pains that had Ahk convinced he was bleeding. When he looked behind himself, however, he found no trail, and slowed his sprint as he crossed the gate into the main city.

Deep breaths wracked his chest and he collapsed partways, leaning the weight of his upper body on his knees, fingers splayed out on the heated skin. He quickly looked behind him to be sure, and after finding nothing continued on into the city. It would take a while before he reached the brewery.

He paused in an alleyway for a short few minutes, checking the state of his heel and finding it alright. Reddened and dry, but unpunctured, despite the pain being sent through his muscles. With a sigh he leaned back, closing his eyes.

What a nightmare.

He could not pull his thoughts from the image of you angry, blazing with an inequality that had clearly been irritating you for a while. Even with his lie he alienated himself from you.

You would forgive him, but not for the reasons Ahkmen wanted you to. You'd forgive him because you had to, because the only other option was fending for yourself through another country and a half until you got to Harappa, where even there safety wasn't assured. But you wouldn't forgive him because you loved him, or because you knew he could do better. Horrible guilt flared in his chest, turning to bile in the back of his throat.

Whether or not you intended this reaction, it was there nonetheless, and Ahkmen did his best to force it down with logic. It wasn't a big deal. He could do better. And, he supposed, he got the cardamom, so that had to count for something.

His hands were still wrapped around the pot discreetly when he entered the vacant city plaza, heading quickly down the steps into the brewery. From the entrance he could hear the soft sounds of burning fire, and when he pulled away the door he noticed immediately warm light and soft voices, stirring with a mixer that clunked gently against the side of the cauldron.

The two of you went quiet when Tiamat noticed Ahk standing awkwardly at the doorway. He glanced between you before reaching into his clothes, pulling out the cask of cardamom so highly coveted in the last couple hours.

Tiamat gasped, a wide grin instantly spreading across her face. Your mouth fell open in shock.

"You did get it?" You asked, stepping around the boiling pot to stand in front of Ahk.

"Yeah," he said, still reeling from his escape. "Almost got caught. I had to jump over the tarps 'round the sun garden."

"Jump??" You asked.

"Well – more vaulting over them," he said. That didn't clear it up at all, but you were grateful anyways.

He sat in the corner of the limestone room, watching you and Tiamat mix a handful of the spice in the large cauldron, and testing the scent as you stirred. You continued to talk in hushed whispers of Akkadian, your shadows casted long against the low fire. Sleepiness was already beginning to take over him, leaning his head back against the cool wall, and letting his eyes slip shut.

When he came to, Tiamat had gone, and you were left alone to tend to your beer. You still stood atop a box that lifted you up to look over the jug, slowly stirring the thick mixture. Your face was flushed from the heat, and the strands of your hair that fell in front of your eyes casted shadows on your cheeks and brow.

After a yawn and a stretch, he lifted himself to stand, and shuffled over to your side.

"I'm sorry for endangering you," he said quietly, hesitant to look and even more hesitant to touch.

"I do not know that word," you said without looking up.

"Putting you in a place where you might get hurt."

"Oh," you glanced up to him, but didn't linger before you returned to the vat. "It is okay. I know you do not know very much better."

"It's not really okay, I should've thought beyond my own nose."

"A little," you agreed before falling silent.

After a minute he asked, "is there a way I can make it up to you?"

"You had the cardamom, that is good," you chuckled. "But you almost got caught?"

"Ah, that," he said with a long sigh that made you giggle again.

He recited to you the events of the evening that progressed after you left. He conveniently left out a few details––such as almost crying because he'd upset you––but included how he'd injured himself, how the garden official was hot on his trail, and how he accidentally left his shoes in the storeroom. You nodded along.

A beat of silence passed after his story ended, broken only by the bubbling of beer.

"You are filthy," you said.

"Thanks," he said with a frown.

You set a lid over the cask, feeding the fire only a little more before you stepped down from the pedestal.

"I know where we must go," you said, stopping in front of him to look up and meet his eye.

"To bed?" He asked hopefully.

"No."

His heated skin finally calmed down enough to feel a cool breeze as you led him out of the brewery, and back into the empty town center. For a few minutes you walked in silence, and every now and then you'd turn down a street, directions he thoughtlessly followed.

The scent of water hit him before he saw it, and soon the brick path led out to a crystal-white terrace, holding descending steps on either side of the raised platform. Below sloshed the inky waters of the canal, reflecting his warped features. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but was halted when you took his hand, gently pulling him down the glazed brick steps. Their tops were white, and the rims beneath carried a familiar shade of blue.

Olive-colored trees grew on the riverside, barely reaching any taller than the platform that now stood proud above him. Only a single other person was there––a bald man drifting on a skiff at the other bank of the river. He was easy to ignore, which you did gladly, and continued to pull Ahk to the riverside.

"You have dirt," you said, scanning him up and down. "And here is where you do clean your body. This is your forever. No more of the home baths, and your smelly things."

"You mean my lavender?"

"Etuvaka. You know what I say," you said with a stern look.

"I know," he said quietly, sitting on the ledge of the stone dock with his feet swinging in the water.

You took a seat beside him, slipping off your shoes and rolling up your pants before you dipped your legs in beside his.

"How are your feet?" You asked.

"Alright," he said as he massaged the bottoms of them. "I thought they were bleeding, but they aren't, so I must be alright."

"Take your clothe off," you said, suddenly moving up to your knees and scooting behind his back.

He chuckled but undid the tie around his waist, pulling the green shawl off his shoulders. It fell easy to the crook of his elbow, and you tugged it down further, eventually pulling the fabric out from being tucked into his skirt, and tossing it aside to the marble floor.

"You have... color," you said quietly after a moment of just staring at his back.

"Sort of dark? Like dirt?" He asked, attempting to look over his shoulder at you, but settling for staring at the wall beside him.

"A little," you said.

Your fingers touched the top of his spine, trailing down the bumps and ridges showing prominently through the skin of a man overworked and weary. When you pressed harder, even slightly, he hissed and jerked away.

"Careful there," he said, clearing his throat to mask his whimper.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

Ahk continued to wash his feet and legs free of the mud while you stayed knelt behind him, your touch brushing against him every so often. He finished rather quickly, but enjoyed your hesitant fingers so greatly that he pretended to keep washing himself, hoping to feel you at his back and shoulders again.

"You are Shu fully equipped," you began to murmur, your palms settling on his shoulders and digging softly into the skin. "You have not been taken to the God's place of execution, for you are covered with the kenu-garment. You were not made to enter into the God's place of execution, for you are the Great One, baboon-shaped; you have not entered into the God's place of execution, the knife has no power over you."

He sat in silence for another moment, his mouth hanging subconsciously open.

"That was... perfect Egyptian," he turned around, dragging water on his leg, "where did you learn that?"

"My time in your class, in Memphis, was not for nothing," you said with a giggle, as though it was inconsequential, as though you were normal. "It is one of your spells, for being killed by a King. It is best, because that is your crime."

He could do nothing but stare, confounded.

"I could fall in love with you," he blurted out, watching with dread as your expression fell.

You pursed your lips softly, your gaze falling to the river behind him. To his credit, he hadn't given everything away, though by the look on your face he might as well have.

"I am not a person that people fall in love with," you said quietly.

[heinzpilsnergonewild]

Vegeta’s Character Analysis Looooooooooong Read

Oh my, what can I say? I just really love to write long essays in a language that isn’t even native to me, lol.

Well, nobody’s perfect, I guess. ... Were you expecting a Cell joke here? I may not be perfect, but that doesn't mean I have to be that predictable.

Ahem, anyway.

This isn't exactly a psychological analysis of the character - more like, hmm, a storytelling analysis. Or something in between, really.

You may not find anything fundamentally new in this text, but I definitely had fun writing it, haha.

It's mostly amateur. I have a useless psychology degree, but not a literature one.

My classic rant about vegebul fics is included, of course.

Summary: proper psychological analysis requires a single continuous personality, which Vegeta simply doesn’t have.

The more I think about Vegeta, the more I come to the conclusion that he is only pretending to be a consistently evolving character.

In fact, he's a bit like 10 different characters in one, which abruptly replace each other (and that's without considering the difference caused by the voice actors’ approach and the changes in his looks). Essentially, Vegeta's a collection of disparate images, arbitrarily lined up by Toriyama and hastily glued together. And the beginning of this line is so far from the end of it that these two extreme images cannot be perceived as belonging to the same person. Well, because human psychology just doesn't work that way.

(Not that Vegeta is unique in this respect – it’s a common feature of characters in long stories that authors compose as they write. Still, his case is quite extreme and interesting as example.)

I mean, take Vegeta in the Saiyan or the Namek arc. He's a complete psychopath. He clearly doesn’t suffer at heart from the unnecessary violence (as, for example, Guts from Berserk). His behavior looks like something natural for him, not an unhealthy defensive reaction. He enjoys it, he smiles happily, killing and torturing weak innocent people. And such a degree of psychopathy is not something that can be healed by a couple of deep personality crises or years of peaceful family life. Vegeta's redemption arc works through strong emotional impact and forgetfulness of the audience, but makes very little sense when viewed in retrospect.

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

Perhaps the biggest, hmm, splitting of the personality occurred with Vegeta right after the Namek arc. Toriyama had already made a small retcon of the character’s motives before (to include Vegeta in the context of the Freeza army after the Saiyan arc), but it didn't feel that drastic.

You see, until Vegeta was invited to Bulma’s house…..

(Gosh, Toriyama, you could’ve done it more subtly, really. Vegeta killed Yamcha, threatened to kill Bulma, gutted Zarbon in front of her eyes, slaughtered an entire Namekian village... Oh well.)

…Ahem, anyway, right up to Bulma's invitation, Vegeta looked to me like a character who, hmm, has a life of his own? I mean, you have always felt that his motives and behavior were generated by the bizarre social system, not related to the little world of Goku and his friends. Simply put, Vegeta was a natural product of the big space civilization, an organic part of it. His whole personality was formed by it, all his plans, motivation and ambitions were associated with it. And although in the Saiyan arc, he gave the impression of an independent entrepreneurial chief at the head of a small hierarchy, in the Namek arc it was revealed that Vegeta is actually far from independent. He lost his throne and his people, he was in slavery to the tyrant all his life, and wants to take power for himself. So, his social background and the motives caused by it post factum get much more complex. But in short, Vegeta wanted a highest possible position in the hierarchy he knew. In this way, he was… social? His belonging to the Saiyan race was only a small (although important) part of the overall picture. Because the Saiyans were dead, but the Freeza Empire was alive.

But when Toriyama realized Vegeta's popularity and decided to keep him in the story after Namek, it came as a blow to the character's personality. Apparently, the author simply couldn't come up with an elegant way that could keep the character in all its complexity around, and therefore did a very clumsy thing. He roughly cut Vegeta out of his social context and almost forcibly glued him to the main character group like a poorly done appliqué. But although you see rough edges and glue drips, the story moves on rapidly, distracting you with Freeza and Future Trunks, and you don't stop to think about what happened. This is how, almost imperceptibly, Toriyama changed Vegeta's motives (and, consequently, the basis of his personality). Yes, Vegeta's saiyan pride was also significant part of his character previously, but when it became his sole and central motivation after Namek, you feel like a very big and important piece of him has been arbitrarily cut off. This wouldn't have happened if Toriyama had followed the logic of previously established social motives, rather than his desire to make Vegeta a convenient figure. Now, bound hand and foot by the author, the character is forced to behave as the plot requires.

Still, all this can be justified by the fact that Vegeta experienced a deep emotional shock as a result of death, which forced him to rethink his life priorities and wait for Goku (especially in the manga, where he just lived with Bulma for a whole year after Namek, without even trying to use dragonballs) ... And then he waited for the androids (despite the final death of Freeza and his father, which was an excellent chance to try to take over the decapitated empire). Anyway, this rationalization doesn't negate the fact that the character, as a result, has lost a significant part of the fire that he demonstrated in the Namek arc. His new energy, the energy of obsession with surpassing Goku, turns him into a new character – bitter, marginalized and focused on training.

(Ironically, the very splitting that made him a less attractive character in my eyes allowed vegebul to take place. After all, imagining the romantic relationship of the nice Bulma and Vegeta at the height of his villainous ambition is really difficult. That just would be a psychologically implausible story.)

In the Android and Cell arcs, after brief glimpses of the SSJ superiority, Toriyama turned Vegeta into a plot tool, whose personality flaws he could use to spoil the situation favorable for the heroes. As a result, Vegeta continued to be an angry and unhappy character who has lost most of his charisma, but on top of that, he also started to be really annoying. ... Still, also kinda amusing thanks to his truly impressive inability to draw obvious conclusions from the ego bruises he gets.

(If you ask me, the character's biggest contribution to the Cell arc was to ignore the existence of condoms, lol. Although strictly speaking even it was an achievement of Future Vegeta (RIP). But seriously, Vegeta's relationship with Trunks turned out to be one of the few things that I was really interested in about this part of the story.)

And then there was Goku’s death and the 7-year-gap. ... At the end of which Vegeta still didn't look like a happy man who has found his place in the world. Even though he had seven whole years (and a spaceship) to change something. I mean, this is the case when it'd be logical to expect changes in the character, but for some reason they didn't really happen (or they did, but veeery quietly and unstable). I mean, Vegeta trains with Trunks, yes. And he's married to Bulma now, apparently (which we learn only at the end of the arc though). And he hasn’t killed himself yet, which means that he sees some meaning in his existence. Hurray, I guess?.. The problem is that when we first see Vegeta after the timeskip, he keeps walking around with such a sullen expression, as if Goku had died just yesterday. (Remember Vegeta in the Saiyan arc? He smiled quite often. For the wrong reasons, but hey.) Basically, Toriyama tried to sit on two chairs at the same time here - 1) keep Vegeta as recognizable as possible (because he hasn't decided what to do with him yet) and 2) keep him around (which doesn't make sense for the character if he hasn't undergone significant changes during the timeskip). And the result of this hesitant approach is an undesirable effect - it feels as if Vegeta hasn't built a new life for himself all these years, but only waited for Goku to return.

As if the man is unable to evolve without Goku's influence. Until Kakarot does or says something, or is just around, everyone else in Vegeta's life and his own reflection has little or no meaning. Old social ambitions? His wife and child? New insights gained from life on Earth? Pffft. Goku is able to destroy the seven years’ worth progress (no matter how small it may seem) in one day, and at the same time, one fight with him is enough for Vegeta's character development to jump forward explosively. It sounds like a solid ground for shipping, but In fact it’s just a direct consequence of the author's poorly chosen narrative structure.

The thing is, Toriyama tend to avoid romance and slices of life, and shows Vegeta's personality mainly through fights and their consequences. And at the time Goku just turned out to be the only significant character for Vegeta, the fight against whom could be used as an excuse to develop the character in front of the audience. Well, Toriyama couldn't get Vegeta to fight Bulma or himself, you know.

I believe that the plot structure chosen by the author (rapidly changing action events immediately after a long timeskip) is not a very good basis for a redemption arc. For a good redemption, a character had to have screen time during which small changes accumulate gradually, between the big points. And Vegeta simply didn't have it. Besides, the scheme by which Vegeta develops is really messy. Because at first, Toriyama kinda froze his development at the neutral point (thereby partially devaluing the influence of Vegeta's family on him). Then in one moment, the author abruptly reversed even this the-end-of-the-Cell-arc development with Majin Vegeta (this time completely devaluing the family factor, because the betrayal was Vegeta’s conscious decision). God, how I hated the Majin Vegeta idea. And in the next scene, the author made a quick retcon, which gave the family’s influence the status of a ground for Vegeta’s personal growth again for no apparent reason. It's as if a huge bundle of family values was post factum squeezed into the character in defiance of everything that we just saw with our own eyes. This is a complete narrative mess.

But... oddly enough, Vegeta's redemption still manages to work, and work spectacularly. My guess is that it's because by that time the audience is already SO sick of Vegeta, frozen in his bitter anti-heroism, that it desperately wants the author to finally do something new with the miserable guy. Well, at least get him out of his misery. So people are willing to accept it in any possible form.

... And the author chose the form of a powerful emotional catharsis. The explosion was legendary, haha.

I don't even know if this is a good reason to call Toriyama a genius (after all, he found a very clever way out of a difficult situation, in which he found himself thanks to his own bad decisions.)

The only thing I'm sure of is that despite everything I was very sad because of Vegeta's death. I didn't even realize that I had become emotionally attached to this asshole until he made such a spectacular exit, lol. As if something had broken inside of me, and all the analyticity of my mind couldn’t prevent it. I was surprised when I found myself crying really hard - usually my emotions don't reach this level due to fictional stories. (Well, maybe it was due to the fact that my own father was dying of cancer at that time, and the moment just triggered my emotions. ... Oops, it seems a little too personal, doesn't it? Well, at the end of the day, this fact is an integral part of my unique dbz experience. Come to think of it, in dbz, fathers die regularly).

But while this scene greatly affects emotions and forces a new viewer (or reader) to truly reconsider their attitude towards the character for the first time, the absence of a neat gradual movement towards this moment weakens its influence somewhat.

At this point, Vegeta’s character splits once again (perhaps the last time within DBZ). You simply cease to understand who this man really is and who he was before.

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

Now, when I look at all the images of Vegeta in general, I come to the conclusion that I like this character the most in the first two arcs and in the end of the last arc. Two directly opposite moral poles.

(Funny enough, because my initial reaction to Vegeta and Nappa was annoyance: "Well hello, the next stereotypical villains who like to chat and laugh maliciously instead of simply killing their victims." (Still, against the background of Freeza, Vegeta turned out to be a much lesser evil in every sense, haha). You see, usually I'm not a person who likes villains. Basically, I only distinguish such characters from others as a result of romance or redemption. It’s only after that I begin to see aesthetics in their villainous charisma as well.)

And now, in retrospective, I believe that at the beginning of the story Vegeta is at the maximum of his vitality and charisma. Especially compared to his ever-crisis moody version (who supposedly lives happily with a loving family). In the Saiyan arc, he's objectively the most powerful character (Freeza didn’t even exist in Toriyama's head at the time). Vegeta is domineering, playful and unpredictable, but most importantly - his self-confidence is fully justified. Oh well, it was good while it lasted. He's really in control. These are, if I may say so, quite exciting qualities in a man, haha. Even if he looks like an evil dwarf in stupid armor and bullies some weaklings. I'd even say his demeanor in the Saiyan arc (especially with the voice of early Horikawa) is suspiciously easy to translate into a sexual context (well, until he loses control and gets hysterical, lol).

The Namek arc, placing Vegeta in a broader context, somewhat spoiled his original image (after all the big words, it turned out that he was running errands for Freeza all this time), but gave him a more interesting background and a strong drive. He had ambitions and a socially significant goal, and he actively and passionately fought for them against a clearly superior enemy. In addition, his inability to defeat Freeza by brute force forced him to use his brains from time to time, and not just pull another power up out of his ass, as is now traditionally done in DragonBall. (Needless to say, I consider high intelligence to be one of the most attractive traits). All this made his position in the plot as interesting as possible. He literally sparkled with energy.

Well, we know what happened next. Brain Death, an eternal chase after Goku, and an off-screen family life on a backwater planet that Vegeta is supposedly happy with. Until he suddenly became a really beautiful character without a proper justification for this (well, at least the explosion was spectacular). Really, I like the general concept of redemption, and yet... the way Toriyama portrays it in the story just doesn't work convincingly enough for me.

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

Another point I’d like to cover in this already too long essay ahhh I'm a monster is Vegeta’s personality in fanfiction.

Reproducing (?) Vegeta is a bit like playing with a lego set - his personality and behavior is always the result of a conscious reconstruction, which is based around a specific point on the long contradictory line. Depending on which end of the spectrum the chosen point is, the author is forced to shade facts related to the opposite end, or to give new context to Vegeta's past (or future) actions. It's always noticeable when the author extends the later, sympathetic Vegeta's image to an earlier segment of the story. Apparently, it's possible to kill the person who raised you (with an evil smile on your face) just because the situation was too stressful lol. Likewise, when the authors allow Vegeta to remain a charismatic psychopath, the story wouldn't work without ignoring some parts of the later canon.

(And, of course, there is always a "medium" type of Vegeta - Vegeta from the 3-year-gap, whose personality is almost entirely based on anime fillers. Yay, here comes the promised vegebul rant

Honestly, I'm pretty tired of this "gravity room exploded again woman grrr" type of Vegeta.

Because if you take the manga, we have no idea how Vegeta actually behaved with Bulma and her parents, what his training regimen was, and what he did in his free time besides unprotected sex. People elevate his rudeness and irrational self-torturing to the absolute because of all these filler patterns, but this is just one of the possible versions of the events and the character's behavior during this time (albeit partly canonical). But... there are also alternatives. There are smart Vegeta, curious Vegeta, civilized Vegeta. Honestly - I don't think Bulma would've married him later if there was nothing in his personality that’d make communication with him enjoyable. I mean, she's a rich modern woman, she doesn't need a husband just for convenience and Vegeta is a marginal freeloader anyway. And if we subtract good looks (which people often attribute to Vegeta) from the equation, then the idea that he has no interest in anything other than training and cannot maintain an interesting conversation becomes completely unconvincing. Toriyama clearly didn't attach much importance to the fact of their marriage, and generally avoided romantic scenes as if they were on fire (and, perhaps, did the right thing), but these two just had to be capable of adequate and mutually pleasant personal interaction in order to take this step.

In general, Toriyama's lack of attention to most aspects of the characters' lives other than fighting and training, on the one hand, can be considered a drawback of DBZ, but on the other, it creates a lot of room for fans' imagination. But not everyone uses it. Most authors generally repeat the same tropes over and over again and don't try to look at the three-year-gap from a new angle, although the canon provides all the possibilities for this. Because of this, fics in this genre often seem boring. But in fact, it's not the setting itself that is boring, but only dusty formulas in the heads of the authors.)

Ahem, so where were we?.. Oh yes.

Actually, Vegeta's inconsistency is a very handy character trait for the authors, as it minimizes the chance of accidental OOC. Indeed, it's quite difficult to make someone to behave out of character if he has many different canon versions of himself, lol. On the other hand, this leads to the fact that the character seems to... kinda disintegrate. You never see his whole face, because he simply doesn't have it. As a result, Vegeta turns into a mosaic that must be reassembled each time. And I keep staring at this crazy kaleidoscope like an idiot.

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

Well, that's... quite a lot of contradictions in my relationship to Vegeta, haha. Still, life without contradictions would be somewhat boring, I guess.

Thanks for your attention I suppose?..... lol, as if someone really got to this point

The End.

P.S. 1: The antisocial version of Vegeta who doesn't understand stupid human rituals and hates crowds, but puts up with it for the sake of his family is my spirit animal, haha. This is just so damn relatable to my autistic personality. Maybe I'm an alien myself.

P.S. 2: Actually, my favorite dbz character is Piccolo. Yep.

[thinkveganworld]

Is it possible for the human race to evolve beyond war, extreme income inequality, corporate money’s control of political systems, and other anti-democratic trends? Some people say even hoping for such evolution is too idealistic, even impossible. Others have said if humanity doesn’t evolve it will soon self-destruct. Martin Luther King once said society has to begin to either “love or perish.”

The U.S. today is rapidly becoming more an oligarchy than a democratic republic, and this oligarchy is polluting the environment, siphoning money from the poor and middle class, and dismantling civil liberties and democracy at an ever-accelerating pace. This trend won’t end well.

As our politicians hurtle downhill, the U.S. will experience many disasters and an eventual fatal crash. Many citizens feel their corrupt politicians of both major parties have taken so much power that the people can’t possibly play a significant role in improving the U.S. political system today.

Ordinary Americans often say we oppose our government’s perpetual wars, regressive tax system, extreme income inequality and other ills, but many say it would be impossible to reform the present system. I think meaningful change is possible based on what history has shown us.

The world has always included people who think it’s possible for the human race to evolve and others who say fundamental change isn’t possible. We’ve always had war and greedy politicians. Still, in some parts of the world at given moments in time, human beings have taken sudden leaps and left behind certain inhumane practices. If that weren’t true, we’d still have rampant blood sacrifices, witch burning and the same widespread use of slavery in the same areas of the world where they once existed.

Today some populations still practice those things, but many have evolved beyond them. The changes that happened started with a sort of “tipping point” where enough people acknowledged that a social ill such as slavery should end.

The more enlightened views, anti-slavery, anti witch-burning, etc., picked up speed, and the public took action to move beyond the old way. In a sense, the condoning of slavery, etc., became obsolete and unthinkably cruel. There is no reason to cling to the belief that the U.S. today can’t make perpetual illegal war and other egregious political abuses obsolete.

During the 1860s in the U.S. more and more people began to acknowledge slavery was unacceptable and started to challenge the power structure. Once the public conscience was awakened, people organized abolitionist groups, created the Underground Railroad, and spoke out publicly. Influential writers such as Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau spoke out often against slavery. A slave, Frederick Douglass, wrote prolifically and gave passionate speeches.

If those abolitionists and writers had not believed a big leap in human evolution was possible, they would never have made the effort to organize or speak out. Their action started with their confidence that abolishing slavery was possible, and it’s not that they didn’t know what they were up against.

In his May 11, 1847, speech before the American Anti-Slavery Society, “The Right to Criticize American Institutions,” Frederick Douglass talked about the country’s entrenched pro-slavery power structure. He acknowledged that the U.S. government was then so committed to maintaining the atrocities of slavery for financial reasons that he would need to appeal to authorities outside the government to help end slavery.

There are relevant parallels in America today. People who want to help end our country’s continual illegal wars and corporate money’s control of our political system are in a position similar to the one Douglass described.

Douglass said, “Where, pray, can we go to find moral power in this nation, sufficient to overthrow Slavery? To what institution, to what party shall we apply for aid? . . . [Slavery] is such a giant crime, so darkening to the soul, so blinding in its moral influence, so well calculated to blast and corrupt all the human principles of our nature . . . that the people among whom it exists have not the moral power to abolish it. Shall we go to the Church for this influence? We have heard its character described. Shall we go to politicians or political parties.”

He added that instead of helping end slavery, the church, politicians, press and political parties were “voting supplies for Slavery—voting supplies for the extension, the stability, the perpetuation of slavery in this land.”

Today, U.S. politicians, press, political parties and most spiritual leaders keep voting for (by supporting or passively tolerating) perpetual war, income inequality and other injustices. Average citizens who see we need to evolve beyond these maladies feel they have nowhere to turn, just as Douglass did.

However, in the same speech, Douglass also said that although the pro-slavery government was very powerful, there was one thing it couldn’t resist. He said, “Americans may tell of their ability, and I have no doubt they have it, to keep back the invader’s hosts . . . of its capacity to build its ramparts so high that no foe can hope to scale them . . . but, sir, there is one thing it cannot resist, come from what quarter it may. It cannot resist truth. You cannot build your forts so strong, nor your ramparts so high, nor arm yourself so powerfully, as to be able to withstand the overwhelming moral sentiment against slavery now flowing into this land.”

It turns out he was right. It wasn’t that public opinion alone ended slavery, but it was a game-changing factor, just as strong public sentiment against the Vietnam War played an important role in its resolution.

At various points in history, when the people reached a tipping point and became fed up with given injustices, they started to be vocal and organize to move humanity in a healthier direction. Their collective efforts did change things for the better. Humanity evolved.

Even though U.S. politicians have unprecedented power to do evil and squelch dissent, the public can step up its efforts to speak, write and organize to help us evolve beyond perpetual war, devastating income disparity, and the country’s anti-democratic drift. Writers and other public figures can help by clarifying what is going on and urging the few politicians with conscience to join us in finding solutions.

Throughout history the big evolutionary leaps, including moves away from slavery in certain parts of the world, started with the widespread public attitude that change was both imperative and possible. It is imperative and possible for the U.S. to change its war-for-profit paradigm and its condoning and allowing the other government corruption covered here.

A fitting excerpt from the Declaration of Independence says: “Mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed.” People will put up with a large amount of abuse from their government before they make any effort to change it for the better.

It could be the U.S. public hasn’t yet reached a tipping point and will give in to a feeling of powerlessness. There is never a shortage of “can’t do” dialogue, and the pessimists have a point. We’re faced with daunting challenges.

However, as one of my favorite “lefties,” the late historian Howard Zinn once said, “To be hopeful in bad times is not being foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of competition and cruelty but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness.

“What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places—and there are so many—where people have behaved magnificently, it energizes us to act, and raises at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction. And if we do act, in however small a way, we don’t have to wait for some grand Utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.”

Can humanity evolve beyond continual war and rule by the worst among us? Yes and no. We can do it if enough of us begin to see we need this evolution in order for our species to survive, and if we start to believe change is doable and take action. We can’t evolve, and probably won’t survive, if most of us stay in denial about the need for change, give in to a sense of powerlessness and do nothing. Frederick Douglass’s idea that powerful evil political forces can be overcome via the truth and public moral sentiment, and Martin Luther King’s view that humanity must ultimately either love or perish, are keys to sorting out which path we should take.

[passionate-reply]

I swear, you get caught eating barbequed iguana once, and you absolutely never live it down. That’s what happened to Wall of Voodoo, who are known almost exclusively for their quirky novelty hit “Mexican Radio.” But the rest of the album it appeared on is surprisingly serious, and actually rather dark. Find out all about it by watching my video review, or reading the transcript below the break!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! On today’s episode, I am once again diving into the realm of alleged “one hit wonders” who had a lot more going on than just one song. This time, it’s Wall of Voodoo, and their 1982 LP, Call of the West. It’s a shame, if you ask me, but most people who have heard anything at all by Wall of Voodoo know them for what is probably the least interesting song anywhere on this album: “Mexican Radio.”

Music: “Mexican Radio”

Get caught eating barbecued iguana once, and you never live it down, I suppose. “Mexican Radio” isn’t a terrible song, but I do think it’s the least effective expression of this album’s core themes on offer. As its title implies, Call of the West is a semi-concept album, focused around the mythic image of America and the Far West. It was actually Wall of Voodoo’s second LP--a followup to their 1981 debut, Dark Continent. Despite that title, it isn’t an album about Africa, but rather one that has a lot of thematic common ground with Call of the West: blue-collar angst, disaffected and brutal masculinities, and a whiff of things strange and surreal.

Music: “Two Minutes Till Lunch”

Aside from the themes, the basic musical structure of tracks like “Two Minutes Till Lunch” is reminiscent of the style of Call of the West as well: dense, clattering mechanical rhythms, ghoulish flourishes of harmonica, and frontman Stanard Ridgway’s unmistakable, dipthonged speak-singing, seemingly delivered exclusively through the side of his mouth at an odd angle. But Dark Continent is a bit harsher overall, with more of a foothold in the punk side of post-punk. Call of the West is an album in the full flush of New Wave: quirky, tongue-in-cheek, and not afraid to lay down a bit more synthesiser. While “Mexican Radio” reads as almost disposably gimmicky, like a musically competent novelty song, I think the other tracks on the album strike more of a balance between wicked irony and being unironically enjoyable.

Music: “Tomorrow”

“Tomorrow” is, by far, the track on this album that I think most deserves to have been its big hit single. Despite its privileged position as opening track, an affable, lightly electronic soundscape, and rather singable pop hookiness, it was actually never released as a single at all! I think “Tomorrow” does a great job at being something very fun, but also something a bit daring and artistic. It’s easy to love a sort of relatable, goofy song about procrastination, but its “apocalyptic” finish turns it into something a bit more profound. I think Call of the West shines even more once we get away from three-minute pop songs and into the album’s more atmospheric tracks.

Music: “Hands of Love”

While the heavy use of rhythm machines is a hallmark of the album overall, and stands out given its rarity on such an early and rock-oriented album, “Hands of Love” is probably the composition centered most tightly around the instrument. Aside from that, what I think always brings me back to this track is the vague, shadowy quality of its lyrics--some details are familiar, but the overall picture is hauntingly unnerving. Several tracks on Call of the West present the theme of loneliness and social isolation, toying with the American myths of rugged individualism and the empty expanse of the West. “They Don’t Want Me” tackles outright rejection by others in a direct manner, whereas the narrator of “Tomorrow” ruins their own relationships through fecklessness. “Mexican Radio,” of course, introduces a character so desperate for companionship that they seek it in a language they don’t even understand. But I think “Hands of Love” reigns supreme here, with its motif of hands losing their grip...perhaps losing their grip on reality.

Besides the loneliness resulting from the spread-apart American landscape, other tracks on the album address the lifestyles of the down and out--people who have put their faith in an “American Dream” of independence and self-reliance, but failed to achieve prosperity. We meet compulsive gamblers in “Lost Weekend,” a doomed secret agent in “Spy World,” and, on “Factory,” perhaps the album’s most riveting character of all: a factory labourer whose work has disabled him both physically and mentally.

Music: “Factory”

Like so many exploited workers in America, the narrator of “Factory” has no class consciousness, and seems unable to imagine a better or different life for himself, or strive for anything more than the banal comforts of consumerism. But he tells of a phantom itch in his missing thumb, which we might interpret as a metaphor for the vague, gnawing idea of other possibilities...particularly as he remarks that as a child, he was told he could be anything he wanted. The arrangement of this track buries Ridgway’s lead vocal to an extent, though never so much that we can’t make out its harrowing lyrics. I imagine it’s a representation of how suppressed the narrator’s internality and sense of self has become.

On the cover of Call of the West, we find a mysterious, crooked door, which is just slightly ajar, inviting us into this album’s strange world. It’s the only feature in a desolate red desert-scape, besides the outline of some bluffs against its horizon. It could be the landscape of Mars just as easily as it could the wide-open emptiness of the Far West. Just as the album’s title implies being welcomed or beckoned into the mythic West, the cover art is darkly inviting to the viewer.

While I don’t normally discuss the visual identity of albums outside of their front cover, I do want to make an exception for Call of the West, whose liner notes show the interior of the implied dwelling, decorated with a slew of peculiar trinkets: a taxidermied crocodile, a spilling bottle of liquor, a statue of a buffalo, and what appear to be antique slave shackles. There’s a lot of rich symbolism here, and I think it’s a beautiful addition to the album’s themes, but I never saw it until I owned this album on vinyl! In the age of digital music, we often lose some of these more complex touches when “album art” is reduced to a single square image, and that’s quite unfortunate.

Despite having a relative breakout hit, Call of the West would prove to be the final album Wall of Voodoo released with their original lineup. Frontman Stanard Ridgway would pursue a solo career, scoring a surprise hit in Germany with his 1986 single “Camouflage,” a ghost story set during the Vietnam War. He’s remained active as an independent artist through the 2010s. The rest of the band kept the name Wall of Voodoo alive for the remainder of the 1980s, replacing Ridgway with Andy Prieboy.

Music: “Camouflage”

My favourite track on Call of the West is its title track, which is the final track on the album. Like a lot of title tracks, it’s lengthy enough that you can really sink your teeth into it, and serves as a sort of summation of everything that’s happening throughout the album. It’s got cowboyish guitars, yipping coyotes, and a striking transition to a spoken-word bridge, which flows naturally from Ridgway’s unmannered vocal style. That’s all I have for today--thanks for listening!

Outro: “Call of the West”

[poisonedapples]

POLYGLOT LOGINCE POLYGLOT LOGINCE POLYGLOT LOGINCE!!!

Roman lived in France until he was 15 when his parents had to move to the US for job reasons. By that point he had learned a pretty good amount of English from his school and social media, so he didn’t struggle as much as his parents did with the language barrier. Though he does have a pretty prominent French accent in all of the languages that he speaks

While he was in school he also learned some Spanish (considering he lived pretty close to Spain’s border), but his Spanish wasn’t as good as his English. Though he absolutely adored the language and wanted to learn more of it, so he practiced a lot in his spare time. But through Spanish he realized that Italian and Portuguese are very similar, and he became determined to basically do a “gotta catch em all” with romance languages

Now, he’s fluent in French, English, Spanish, Italian, and Portuguese, but is also advanced in his Catalan and Romanian. He’s a beginner in Galician still, since there’s so few resources for it

Logan had to pick a language in high school for College Transcript reasons, and decided that since Mandarin is the most used language in the world and China holds a lot of production power, that he would choose that class. But he actually ended up falling in love with the challenge, and studied a lot outside of class. By his senior year he was in Mandarin 4, and he was a world’s ahead of the other students because of how much he loved it and practiced

He decided to major in Mandarin in college (fuck computer programming, dad) and decided that he wanted even more of a challenge than Mandarin was giving him. If he loves Mandarin this much, then surely he can love more languages similar to it, right?

That’s how he found Korean, Japanese and Thai. Then he decided he wanted to know more alphabets and went absolutely ham on as many as he could see that he thought could be challenging and that he would enjoy learning about. Which is how he picked up Arabic, Greek and Russian

Logan is fluent in English, Mandarin, Korean, Greek and Arabic. He’s fairly advanced in Thai and Japanese, but his Arabic needs more work and he is still beginning in Russian. Though in the future, when he improves, he also would like to pick up Hebrew because of its history

Roman was fluent in more languages than Logan when they first met, and Roman was also a Spanish and English double major, so Logan was kinda jealous at Roman being better at this stuff than him. They had some petty exchanges since their personalities clashed some, but they bonded over their mutual love of language learning and eventually became decent friends

Logan thought it was cool that Roman was so good at the languages he knew, and Roman thought it was cool that Logan was fluent in languages that Roman couldn’t even pretend to be able to read. So their friendship and mutual passion became a slight infatuation until that became not so slight at all oh no Patton I’m really gay-

Now, after a couple years of dating, they’ve both memorized the little flirts and pickup lines the other with say in one of their languages. Logan blushes every time Roman just hugs him and says “te quiero” a million times. Roman gets weirdly sappy when Logan starts rambling about intelligible stuff in Thai. They are in LOVE

Roman and Logan have also started learning ASL together. Roman loves it because it looks like dance, and Logan loves it because of the complex grammar structure and its usefulness. So whenever they wanna have a private conversation, they’ll start signing to each other

Logan also thinks it’s highkey kinda cute when Roman starts mumbling to himself in French. He’s gay

Roman has also called Logan during his lunch break at his work only for Logan to start talking in Mandarin cause he didn’t consider switching back yet

Roman likes to fuck with him and respond in Romanian. It makes Logan’s brain reprocess like “...Wait, fuck-”

They’ve also become almost completely unintelligible to everyone else around them. They switch words so often and have such a weird mix of accents and grammar structure that not only is Roman a translator in general, he’s apparently a Logan translator now

That’s another thing. Logan’s a college Mandarin teacher, and Roman does a wide variety of translating jobs, both in person and while translating texts. His favorite jobs though, are when he interprets for little kids moving to the US who don’t know English yet. He mostly meets Spanish speaking kids (especially in Florida), but occasionally he’ll meet someone who knows French and he’ll get so excited

In conclusion: Roman and Logan are gay little language learners who live in an apartment with plants and cuddle while reading books in different languages and THEY ARE IN LOVE, DAMNIT

[max1461]

Just read Scott Alexander’s post on “conflict theorists” vs. “mistake theorists” and, hmm. I have several thoughts. First, to summarize the concept for anyone who hasn’t seen it before: Alexander links to a reddit post by user u/no_bear_so_low, who originated the idea, saying

There is a way of carving up politics in which there are two basic political meta-theories, that is to say theories about why different political ideologies and political conflict exist. The first theory is that political disagreements exist because politics is complex and people make mistakes, if we all understood the evidence better, we’d agree on a great deal more. We’ll call this the mistake theory of politics. For the mistake theorist, politics is not a zero-sum game, but a matter of growing the pie so there is more for everyone. The second theory is that political disagreements reflect differences in interests which are largely irreconcilable. We’ll call this the conflict theory of politics. According to the conflict theory of politics, politics is full of zero-sum games.

u/no_bear_so_low claims that both the far left and far right are more amenable to conflict theory than liberals are, who lean more towards mistake theory. Alexander seems to agree, though in his own post he’s speaking mainly about Marxists in particular. He summarizes the concept as follows:

To massively oversimplify:

Mistake theorists treat politics as science, engineering, or medicine. The State is diseased. We’re all doctors, standing around arguing over the best diagnosis and cure. Some of us have good ideas, others have bad ideas that wouldn’t help, or that would cause too many side effects.

Conflict theorists treat politics as war. Different blocs with different interests are forever fighting to determine whether the State exists to enrich the Elites or to help the People.

In addition, Alexander subdivides the categories further into “hard” and “soft” versions:

Consider a further distinction between easy and hard mistake theorists. Easy mistake theorists think that all our problems come from very stupid people making very simple mistakes; dumb people deny the evidence about global warming; smart people don’t. Hard mistake theorists think that the questions involved are really complicated and require more evidence than we’ve been able to collect so far [...]

Maybe there’s a further distinction between easy and hard conflict theorists. Easy conflict theorists think that all our problems come from cartoon-villain caricatures wanting very evil things; bad people want to kill brown people and steal their oil, good people want world peace and tolerance. Hard conflict theorists think that our problems come from clashes between differing but comprehensible worldviews.

So what do I think about all this?

Well, it seems to me that this framework is (a) a fairly reasonable descriptive dichotomy, in the sense that, yes, a lot of people do genuinely seem to fall into one of these two camps, and (b) a horrible dichotomy on which to base any prescriptions about political meta-theory, in that these are both awful (and obviously wrong) ways to think about the world. Now, Alexander doesn’t explicitly give any such prescriptions, but he does describe SCC as “hard mistake theorist central”, and generally speaks of mistake theory in approving terms, while speaking of conflict theory in disapproving ones. I think this is bad.

At a base level, my problem with both these “theories” is that they’re, in some sense, just too optimistic.

I agree, for example, with the hard mistake theorist sentiment that the world is full of extremely challenging technical problems, that these problems can be the source of real human suffering, and that the only way to address these problems is through data collection and empirical analysis and hard technical work. And I agree that this will often produce unintuitive conclusions, that run against people’s gut sense of what the right policy might look like. I agree that the state is diseased. I do not agree that “[w]e’re all doctors, standing around arguing over the best diagnosis and cure.” People, it turns out, often do have genuinely different and irreconcilable values, and genuinely do envision different ideal worlds. In addition to that fairly mundane observation, there genuinely are a lot of bad actors, who are just in the game for their own benefit. The world is full of grifters, schemers, and petty (or not so petty) tyrants; on an empirical level that’s just not something you can deny.

On the other hand, I agree with the easy conflict theorist sentiment that, e.g., “bad people want to kill brown people and steal their oil.” There’s plenty of pretty immediate proof of that to be found if you look into the history of colonialism¹, or the slave trade, or US foreign election interference in the twentieth century. Actually, just so I’m not pissing anybody off by only mentioning “western” examples, I’ll include the Khmer Rouge and the Holodomor and comfort women and uh, you get the picture. For god’s sake, the Nazis really existed, and yeah, they really believed all that Nazi shit. In retrospect they may seem like implausibly evil cartoon villains, but in fact they were real flesh and blood humans, just like the rest of us. You think that was just a one-off?

And on a much more mundane note, sometimes (actually, very very often), ordinary people just have incompatible ethical axioms. Sometimes people have genuinely different values, and there are no rational means to sort out which value-set to choose. I suspect this is at least part of the reason for the rationalist community’s skew towards mistake theorizers, in that their favored intellectual tool has more-or-less nothing to offer when it comes to selecting your values (=ethical axioms, =terminal goals, etc). I mean, of course rationality is good for diagnosing contradictions in your value set, but it can’t tell you how to resolve those contradictions. That’s the domain of intuition, empathy, and aesthetics, were data cannot light your way.

However, I do not agree with the conflict theorists’ underlying sentiment that if “the good people” were just in charge, everything would be better. After all, there are all those pesky technical problems with unintuitive solutions getting in the way, requiring all kinds of expertise and thorough empirical study and uh, plenty of them might not even be solvable.² This is a huge deal. It’s incredibly easy to have the best of intentions and still make horrible mistakes by virtue of just... happening to have the facts wrong. Not through malice, or self-interest, or even some nicely-explainable sociological bias like white fragility or whatever. Just because problems are hard, and sometime you will fail to solve them. Even when people’s lives and livelihoods are at stake.

Here’s a handy latex-formatted table for your comprehending pleasure:

lol, we live there.

So this all sounds a bit pessimistic and, well, I suppose it is. I think we have a responsibility to acknowledge the gravity of our situation. We could, conceivably, live in a world that was structured according to either the conflict theorist’s vision or the mistake theorist’s vision, but we don’t. We live in a much scarier world, and if we don’t face that terrifying reality head-on, we’re not going to be able to overcome it.

Now, in general, I’d say I spend a lot of my internet-argument-energy-allowance trying to persuade [what I perceive to be] overly conflict-theorizing leftists in the direction of a greater recognition of the genuine technical difficulty of the problems we face. It's probably worth making a separate post about why I think a “denial of unintuitive solutions” is so common on the left, but I’ll just mention here that I think it relates to what I once jokingly called the “Humanistic gaze”. That is, the bias to view everything quite narrowly through the lens of the humanities, and to view all problems as fundamentally sociological in nature. When the world is constructed entirely by humans and human social relations, there’s a level at which nothing can be unintuitive. After all, an intersubjective world must ultimately be grounded in subjective experience, and subjective experience is literally made of intuition.

I usually don’t spend much time pursuing the dual activity (trying to argue liberals out of [what I perceive to be] an overly mistake-theorizing perspective). This is largely because, well, I think the optimistic assumption that mistake theorists make —that most people have basically compatible goals, and that relatively few people are working out of abject self-interest or hatred or whatever— is so obviously false that it doesn’t warrant as much genuine critique as it warrants responding with memes about US war crimes. The principal of charity is best extended to ideas, not people or institutions. You can take the neocons’ arguments seriously without extending charity to the neocons as agents.

The post concludes with Alexander writing

But overall I’m less sure of myself than before and think this deserves more treatment as a hard case that needs to be argued in more specific situations. Certainly “everyone in government is already a good person, and just has to be convinced of the right facts” is looking less plausible these days.

And uh, yeah. Indeed.

So, in conclusion: is politics medicine, or is it war? No, it’s politics.

There are disagreements, and conflicts of interest, and coalition building, and policy-wonkery, and logistics. There is, as with anything involving the state, the implicit threat of violence. (That’s where the state’s power comes from, remember? Whether it’s their power to tax, or their power to enforce individual property rights to begin with. Their power to regulate or build infrastructure or legally construct corporate personhood or whatever. There’s more than a bit of game theory involved, sure, but the rules of the game are set through the armory.) Every scholarly technocrat with double-blind peer reviewed policy suggestions still ultimately just decides who the guns get pointed at, if at several layers of abstraction. Every righteous people’s vanguard is still bound by the mathematics of production and the dynamics of a chaotic world. There are no easy solution, not conceptually easy nor practically easy. And unless we recognize that on a very deep level, we have no chance of fixing anything.

[1] I’d quote my go-to example here, of the truly ghastly stories relayed to linguist R. M. Dixon by the Dyirbal people of Australia about their subjugation at the hands of white settlers, but unfortunately I don’t have his book with me at the moment. Also this post would require several additional trigger warnings.

[2] I mean, after all, there are only countably many Turing machines, and the set of all languages with finitely many symbols has cardinality 2^(aleph_0)!

[jaskier-cult]

Witcher / Eragon

A Jaskier-centric Eragon AU with Jaskier as the first dragon rider in centuries. Witcher still exist, and Geralt is just trying to get this stupid bard he met (and who someone hatched a dragon egg on fucking accident) to Kaer Morhen before King Stregobor finds out that there’s another Rider to challenge his reign. 

I got this idea from this fanart, by the lovely @polarisss

In this au, dragons are not equal in mental prowess to a human; they’re sentient and respond well to their riders, and can communicate their emotions through mental links, but they cannot speak or act like humans. They’re kind of like really intelligent dogs or horses. And they’re magical. 

So, I was violently hit with the idea of this crossover / au, and I had to write the bare bones of it or I swear I would die. Enjoy or don’t, lol 

Dragons were sentient and far more intelligent than most, but not of equal intellect with elves, and so when the elves arrived on the Continent, they viewed them as mere animals. One elf made the mistake of hunting and killing a dragon for sport and presented it to their monarch as a trophy. This angered the dragons, when they found one of their pack dead and their hide being toted around by the two-legged foreigners in their land. The elf was hunted down by the pack of the dragon killed, but more elves continued to hunt down smaller dragons, to prove their strength and power. Surviving a dragon’s revenge became noteworthy and a great tale to tell around the dinner table.

Over time, though, the dragons started to encroach on the territory the elves had claimed, the further they went for revenge. Then one day, a whole band of elves killed the alpha of a dragon pack, unaware of just who they killed, and the whole pack of dragons attacked without mercy. 

Unable to communicate with the dragons or draw a peace treaty, because the dragons could not utilize language or complex thinking the same way as them, the elves were forced to defend themselves.

This started a bloody war, called The Dragon War, between the elves and the dragons. The elves were smart and fast and could utilize magic, but the dragons were big and strong and merciless, and unknown to the elves, could also wield powerful ancient magic, drawn straight from the land. Dragons lived in packs, but they could communicate among each other, and most dragons became aggressive.

It wasn’t until one day, when an elf called Buttercup came across a lone dragon egg. It had been abandoned in a ruined nest, most likely a victim of a battle between dragons and the elves that had attacked the nest (for elves had taken to trying to wipe out the dragon species at this point).

The elf, in awe with the bright white egg, couldn’t bring himself to kill the dragon inside.

He brought it back to his village in secret, and he nursed the egg for months on end, hoping that the cracked little egg could still hatch despite the trauma it had received in the battle.

To his delight, the egg broke on a full moon, and out popped a baby dragon.

Buttercup named it Vaeta, the word for “hope” in the Ancient Language.

The dragon was small – barely the size of a house cat – and was weak and vulnerable. It bore no scales, couldn’t breathe the elements like the adults of its kind, and had tiny razor baby teeth. Buttercup had no idea how fast dragons grew, and he quickly found out just that – they grew like weeds. Within a week the baby dragon was the size of a sheep dog and was beginning to form beautiful scales. Its appetite was ravenous, and it learned to hunt easily. Buttercup learned that Vaeta was a girl.

Despite its instincts obviously forming, the baby dragon stuck close to Buttercup, and would whine like a dog when left for copious amounts of time.

Vaeta also protected Buttercup from things she deemed as “threats” and would curl up in bed with her elf at night. Buttercup kept her well hidden, until his small village was attacked by other dragons, and Vaeta, far smaller than the other dragons attacking, reared up in the air for the first time and scared off the foreign dragons that were hurting her elf.

The rest of the village was wary of trusting Vaeta, and Buttercup bore the brunt of the blame; should she do anything to harm elves, it was his head on a pike, draped with her hide.

Nonetheless, Buttercup soon found a new purpose in life – to stop the Dragon War.

He figured if they could raise elves and dragons together, they could stop the aggression. The more the wild dragons saw the elves making nice with their dragon kind, the less they would attack. After all, dragon packs didn’t attack other dragon packs.

So, slowly, using Vaeta as a go-between, Buttercup was able to tame smaller dragons.

Vaeta soon fell pregnant and laid a clutch of nine eggs within ten months. The elves had no way of knowing if this was a normal pregnancy for dragons, or if the clutch was healthy or large.

The eggs all hatched, in varying shades of silver and black. Out of nine four were female, called Jasny, Niebo, Pływ, and Magia; five were male, called Srebro, Drzazga, Noc, Palić, and Stal. The elves were quick to try and tame them, only to find out the hard way that they weren’t like dogs and cats. They were even more intelligent than their horses, too. Buttercup ended up helping his dragon, Vaeta, raise her hatchlings with other nursing elves, and then Buttercup set off across the Continent with his dragon to try to stop wild dragons from attacking.

For years, Buttercup studied dragons and took notes and realized the hierarchy they held, their social groups, their intelligence – he was astounded. But then he made the discovery of a lifetime; the dragons, though they lived in individual packs, much like wolves, had a reigning monarch above all. They had a queen. And if he could appease the queen dragon, making the other dragons friendly would be child’s play from there.

Eventually, it came to Vaeta challenging the dragon queen for Buttercup.

Unfortunately, she died a bloody death.

The queen of dragons, impressed with the ferocity of the foreign dragon who clung to an elf like he was her mate, spared Buttercup’s life. She admired the loyalty of the dragon, though unguided it was to a two-legged hunter who hurt their kind. The queen also mourned, for she never wanted to kill one of her own kind for an elf. In grief, also watching a grieving and crying elf, she drew upon the land’s magic and nosed Buttercup with her giant scaled snout. The resulting magic was huge.

It was bonding magic. A treaty to be recognized by all parties; no more blood was to be shed between the scaled and the soft, or shall they suffer tenfold the torture they inflicted. This magic treaty also entailed the queen dragon stepping down, so no dragons’ packs would dare.

The elves took this magic and added structure to it, binding all the new dragon eggs to a counterpart.

This was how the Dragon Riders (Shur’tugal in the Ancient Language, or Argetlam meaning “silver hand”) were created.

The Dragon Riders were a coalition of elves and dragons formed at the end of the Dragon War to forge peace and order between the two races. The Riders were created because treaties between the two races would prove useless to stop fighting; a signed piece of paper meant nothing to a dragon. So, an irrevocable bond was wrought by the elves and the dragons: the elves provided the structure of the spell and the dragons provided the strength, thus creating the Dragon Riders.

When a fleet of humans sailed across the sea thousands of year later, they too were added to the elite order of the Dragon Riders. The role of the Riders became more than uniting the elves and dragons; they became keepers of the peace and fighters of monsters throughout the Continent (previously called Alagaësia by the dwarves who lived there first) and were respected and honoured by the people they served.

Unfortunately, Stregobor happened.

Born in the ancient province Inzilbêth, and one of several siblings (Aleksander, Szymon, Edyth, Casimir, Ozella, Sylwia, [Stregobor], Valerie), Stregobor was accepted into the ranks of the Dragon Riders at the young age of ten, after being traditionally tested for great potential. He quickly excelled in all areas of combat and spellcasting, which filled him with pride, arrogance, and vanity.

Although some of his fellow Riders were wary of his swift rise to power, the majority of the order neglected caution, ultimately leading to their downfall.

Stregobor was chosen by a dragon and became a Rider in his early years.

His dragon Smokwia (derived from Polish “smok” for dragon and “kwiat” for flower), was killed by urgals some years later in a careless accident, when she was not yet full grown.

Stregobor was mad with grief and hatred, and he asked the Dragon Rider council to grant him another dragon. But that wasn’t how it worked – the dragon chose the Rider, only hatched for the person destined for them – and forcing that had consequences. The council refused, sensing his mental instability, cut him from the Dragon Rider ranks, and sent him away.

With his request denied, Stregobor took it upon himself to steal another dragon egg.

He convinced another Dragon Rider named Morzan to leave the gates open to the place where the eggs were stored. Stregobor stole a dragon egg. Then, he forced this dragon, whom he named Zwieraln (derived from Polish “zwierzę” for animal and “idealny” for perfect), to hatched and serve him by dark magic.

He formed the Forsworn, a group of thirteen dragon riders and their dragons loyal to only him, and he killed all the other dragons and riders in existence through ambush, propaganda against Riders, and years of spies and long-fought battles. He made sure to smash all the eggs he could find, so that no one else could ever rise above him in power – or so he thought (for there were those who risked neck and tail to save and hide the last few dragon eggs).

Stregobor proceeded to create a kingdom of his own that most of all the Continent’s people called The Empire of Nilfgaard, through which he ruled most of the Continent (with few exceptions of other strong kingdoms, like Cintra).

With the Dragon Riders wiped out, there was suddenly an influx in monsters that no mortal man could battle, and so people set out for a new form of protection against magic and monsters (because obviously Stregobor wasn’t doing that). That’s how witchers came into creation, when those with too much power and those too desperate came together to create the Order of Witchers and Trial of Grasses, to form perfect monster-fighting machines, and whom would not wield as much power as a Rider so that the humans wouldn’t have to fear being oppressed (for many still believed Stregobor’s propaganda against Riders; they thought the Forsworn were the only “untainted” Riders).

Geralt, at a young age, was abandoned in Carvahall to be raised as a nobody and farmhand by his mother Visena, who was a druid and magician in affiliation with Stregobor in the Nilfgaard Empire. He was eventually adopted by Vesemir when the old witcher realized who he was, and the ties he had; also, Vesemir realized he was Geralt’s real father, an old Rider from the time before Stregobor’s reign turned into a witcher.

Vesemir had no idea that Visenna was pregnant, let alone that she gave birth to a son, and promptly took Geralt in under the pretense of him being a Child Surprise.

The older witcher never wanted his son to become a witcher like himself, but he couldn’t stop the school from taking his boy and training him, preparing him for the Trial of Grasses. At least the young boy was able to befriend Eskel, another boy already at the keep.

They went in to take the Trial of Grasses together.

Both came out a little worse for wear, but alive.

Cat-like eyes, Geralt with white hair.

Lambert was later found almost dead at the edge of Carvahall, a real Child Surprise this time, and was also taken in to be trained into a witcher. He also survived the Trial of Grasses.

Then the witcher schools were burned and raided because people were worried about the “mutants,” because another king with too much power decided they weren’t needed anymore, and they were almost all wiped out like Dragon Riders.

Vesemir mourned the loss of another of his families but was beyond glad for the ones who survived because they were still out on The Path; he was the only witcher to survive the sackings.

Vesemir also still mourned his dragon he had lost so long ago in the raids, one that was grey and silver, a male called Jaciel (derived from Polish “przyjaciel” which means “friend”).

Queue the scene in Posada, with Jaskier approaching Geralt out of interest and eventually recognizes him as “The Butcher of Blaviken.” (The same events transpired in Blaviken, except Stregobor had sent others to kill Renfri because she was a threat to his crown, and also boasted about carrying dragon eggs, which she claimed would hatch only for those against the king of Nilfgaard [which wasn’t true, she didn’t have any eggs]; he used the excuse of her being born under the Black Sun, sent assassins, was going to capture her and torture and experiment on her for her magic and questionable birth, and Geralt coming by and murdering her whole gang and her included was just a happy little accident that meant he didn’t have to fight off any accusations on his part). Anyway, Geralt is known to oppose Stregobor, but isn’t actively trying to usurp him, so he is free to go around and do his witcher duties, but he is heavily hated for opposing the, “oh so gracious and powerful king, and murdering innocents in droves.”

So, Jaskier recognizes him, and being a young half-elf noble (being the son of the queen of elves, and the son of a high-ranking human noble), is yearning for adventure, and follows this guy to the end of the Continent because, “oops, I fell in love with him.”

But the two of them are captured on a contract by a group of rogue elves outside of Ellesméra (the “forest of elves,” and while there is one united queen, there are several noble families and different elven territories), reduced to few in numbers because of racist humans, and they don’t recognize who Jaskier is (as Julian Alfred Pankratz [human name], Julek Dìoiasaeil of Ellesméra [elven name], child and heir to Queen of the elves, Meira Banrighflùr of Ellesméra).

[Quick side note, Jaskier knows he’s half elf, and personally knows his mother, but does not know she’s elven royalty? Like, he knows her as “Meira” and “mother,” and only knows enough elven heritage to know about his roots and biology, but that’s it. He grew up as a human with his viscount father].

And the rogue elves reveal that the reason they left Ellesméra and set out on their own was because when Stregobor was toppling the Dragon Riders and smashing the eggs, they [as a highly ranked noble elven family, Filavandrel being the head of the family] were entrusted to protect and hide one of the last clutches of dragon eggs from the Forsworn; unfortunately, they were not successful, and in their escape they were only able to recover one cracked egg, and even then they weren’t sure it would hatch because of the trauma, or if the dragon inside was still alive.

Jaskier was struck with grief from their story (because he grew up under the Nilfgaard Empire, left to study at Oxenfurt in another kingdom, and didn’t know of Stregobor’s evil).

So, the elves gift Jaskier a magical lute and ask for him to sing of their demise so the king may never come looking for them, and in return for Geralt’s help and coin, give Geralt the last known dragon egg in existence, hoping it would find a safe home at Kaer Morhen, away from Stregobor.

Only, Jaskier cradles the egg one night at camp, and in the middle of the night the witcher and bard wake to it fucking hatching for him.

Of course, right?

Suddenly they have a new objective; get to Kaer Morhen as fast as fucking possible, or so god help me Jaskier, someone will see your bright fucking dragon and then we’re all dead.

This au is also staring Yennefer, taking the place of the mysterious Angela with a werecat, who I’m choosing to make half-elf like Jaskier, and who also likes to spread chaos everywhere she goes (and she’ll have less magic, but is just as badass, and is a genius with potions and knows the Ancient Language).

Jaskier’s dragon is blue and beautiful and is a male he names Dandelion, or some shit like that.

Also, this would be a geraskier (Geralt x Jaskier) fic, because obviously.

Anyone who feels like writing a fic, I’m WAYY too lazy, and I also might post more headcanons if anyone wants more??

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I noticed you did post to acknowledge the death of Uderzo, the co-creator of the Asterix comics. I have to ask Tintin or Asterix? Which one do you prefer?

It’s like asking Stones or Beatles? I love both but for different reasons. I would hate to choose between the two.

Both Tintin and Asterix were the two halves of a comic dyad of my childhood. Whether it was India, China, Hong Kong, Japan, or the Middle East the one thing that threads my childhood experience of living in these countries was finding a quiet place in the home to get lost reading Asterix and Tintin.

Even when I was eventually carted off to boarding school back in England I took as many of my Tintin and Asterix comics books with me as I could. They became like underground black market currency to exchange with other girls for other things like food or chocolates sent by parents and other illicit things like alcohol. Having them and reading them was like having familiar friends close by to make you feel less lonely in new surroundings and survive the bear pit of other girls living together.

If you asked my parents - especially my father - he would say Tintin hands down. He has - and continues to have in his library at home - a huge collection of Tintin comic books in as many different language translations as possible. He’s still collecting translations of each of the Tintin books in the most obscure languages he can find. I have both all the Tintin comic books - but only in English and French translations, and the odd Norwegian one - as well as all the Asterix comic books (only in English and French).

Speaking for myself I would be torn to decide between the two. Each have their virtues and I appreciate them for different reasons.

Tintin was truly about adventure that spoke deeply to me. Tintin was always a good detective story that soon turned to a travel adventure. It has it all: technology, politics, science and history. Of course the art is more simpler, but it is also cleaner and translates the wondrous far-off locations beautifully and with a sense of awe that you don’t see in the Asterix books. Indeed Hergé was into film-noir and thriller movies, and the panels are almost like storyboards for The Maltese Falcon or African Queen.

The plot lines of Tintin are intriguing rather than overly clever but the gallery of characters are much deeper, more flawed and morally ambiguous. Take Captain Haddock I loved his pullover, his strangely large feet, his endless swearing and his inability to pass a bottle without emptying it. He combined bravery and helplessness in a manner I found irresistible.

I’ve read that there is a deeply Freudian reading to the Tintin books. I think there is a good case for it. The Secret of the Unicorn and Red Rackham's Treasure are both about Captain Haddock's family. Haddock's ancestor, Sir Francis Haddock, is the illegitimate son of the French Sun King – and this mirrors what happened in Hergé's family, who liked to believe that his father was the illegitimate son of the Belgian king. This theme played out in so many of the books. In The Castafiore Emerald, the opera singer sings the jewel song from Faust, which is about a lowly woman banged up by a nobleman – and she sings it right in front of Sir Francis Haddock, with the captain blocking his ears. It's like the Finnegans Wake of the cartoon. Nothing happens - but everything happens.

Another great part is that the storylines continue on for several albums, allowing them to be more complex, instead of the more simplistic Asterix plot lines which are always wrapped up nicely at the end of each book.

Overall I felt a great affinity with Tintin - his youthful innocence, wanting to solve problems, always resourceful, optimistic, and brave. Above all Tintin gave me wanderlust. Was there a place he and Milou (Snowy) didn’t go to? When they had covered the four corners of the world Tintin and Milou went to the moon for heaven’s sake!

What I loved about Asterix was the style, specifically Uderzo’s visual style. I liked Hergé’s clean style, the ligne claire of his pen, but Asterix was drawn as caricature: the big noses, the huge bellies, often being prodded by sausage-like fingers. This was more appealing to little children because they were more fun to marvel at.

In particular I liked was the way Uderzo’s style progressed with each comic book. The panels of Asterix the Gaul felt rudimentary compared to the later works and by the time Asterix and Cleopatra, the sixth book to be published, came out, you finally felt that this was what they ought to look like. It was an important lesson for a child to learn: that you could get better at what you did over time. Each book seemed to have its own palette and perhaps Uderzo’s best work is in Asterix in Spain.

I also feel Asterix doesn’t get enough credit for being more complex. Once you peel back the initial layers, Asterix has some great literal depth going on - puns and word play, the English translation names are all extremely clever, there are many hidden details in the superb art to explore that you will quite often miss when you initially read it and in a lot of the truly classic albums they are satirising a real life country/group/person/political system, usually in an incredibly clever and humorous way.

What I found especially appealing was that it was also a brilliant microcosm of many classical studies subjects - ancient Egypt, the Romans and Greek art - and is a good first step for young children wanting to explore that stuff before studying it at school.

What I discovered recently was that Uderzo was colour blind which explains why he much preferred the clear line to any hint of shade, and it was that that enabled his drawings to redefine antiquity so distinctively in his own terms. For decades after the death of René Goscinny in 1977, Uderzo provided a living link to the golden age of the greatest series of comic books ever written: Paul McCartney to Goscinny’s John Lennon. Uderzo, as the Asterix illustrator, was better able to continue the series after Goscinny’s death than Goscinny would have been had Uderzo had died first, and yet the later books were, so almost every fan agrees, not a patch on the originals: very much Wings to the Beatles. What elevated the cartoons, brilliant though they were, to the level of genius was the quality of the scripts that inspired them. Again and again, in illustration after illustration, the visual humour depends for its full force on the accompaniment provided by Goscinny’s jokes.

Here below is a great example:

There’s a lot of genius in this. Uderzo copied Theodore Géricault’s iconic ‘Raft of the Medusa’ 1818 painting in ‘Asterix The Legionary’. The painting is generally regarded as an icon of Romanticism. It depicts an event whose human and political aspects greatly interested Géricault: the wreck of a French frigate, Medusa, off the coast of Senegal in 1816, with over 150 soldiers on board. But Anthea Bell’s translation of Goscinny’s text (including the pictorial and verbal pun ‘we’ve been framed, by Jericho’) is really extraordinary and captures the spirit of the Asterix cartoons perfectly.

This captures perfectly my sense of humour as it acknowledges the seriousness of life but finds humour in them through a sly cleverness and always with a open hearted joy. There is no question that if humour was the measuring yard stick then Asterix and not Tintin would win hands down.

It’s also a mistake to think that the world of Asterix was insular in comparison to the amazing countries Tintin had adventures. Asterix’s world is very much Europe.

Every nationality that Asterix encounters is gently satirised. No other post-war artistic duo offered Europeans a more universally popular portrait of themselves, perhaps, than did Goscinny and Uderzo. The stereotypes with which he made such affectionate play in his cartoons – the haughty Spaniard, the chocolate-loving Belgian, the stiff-upper-lipped Briton – seemed to be just what a continent left prostrate by war and nationalism were secretly craving. Many shrewd commentators believe that during the golden age when Goscinny was still alive to pen the scripts, that it was a fantasy on French resistance during occupation by Nazi Germany. Uderzo lived through the occupation and so there is truth in that. Perhaps this is why the Germans are the exceptions as they are treated unsympathetically in Asterix and the Goths, and why quite a few of the books turn on questions of loyalty and treachery.

Even the British are satirised with an affection that borders on love: the worst of the digs are about our appalling cuisine (everything is boiled, and served with mint sauce, and the beer is warm), but everything points to the Gauls’ and the Britons’ closeness. They have the same social structure, even down to having one village still holding out against the Romans; the crucial and extremely generous difference being that the Britons do not have a magic potion to help them fight. Instead they have tea, introduced to them by Getafix, via Asterix, which gives them so much of a psychological boost that it may as well have been the magic potion.

I re-read ‘Asterix in Britain’ (Astérix chez les Bretons) in the light of the 2016 Brexit referendum result and felt despaired that such a playful and respectful portrayal of this country was not reciprocated. Don’t get me wrong I voted for Brexit but I remain a staunch Europhile. It made me violently irritated to see many historically illiterate pro-Brexit oiks who mistakenly believed the EU and Europe were the same thing. They are not. One was originally a sincere band aid to heal and bring together two of the greatest warring powers in continental Europe that grotesquely grew into an unaccountable bureaucratic manager’s utopian wet dream, and the other is a cradle of Western achievement in culture, sciences and the arts that we are all heirs to.

What I loved about Asterix was that it cut across generations. As a young girl I often retreated into my imaginary world of Asterix where our family home had an imaginary timber fence and a dry moat to keep the world (or the Romans) out. I think this was partly because my parents were so busy as many friends and outsiders made demands on their time and they couldn’t say no or they were throwing lavish parties for their guests. Family time was sacred to us all but I felt especially miffed if our time got eaten away. Then, as I grew up, different levels of reading opened up to me apart from the humour in the names, the plays on words, and the illustrations. There is something about the notion of one tiny little village, where everybody knows each other, trying to hold off the dark forces of the rest of the world. Being the underdog, up against everyone, but with a sense of humour and having fun, really resonated with my child's eye view of the world.

The thing about both Asterix and Tintin books is that they are at heart adventure comics with many layers of detail and themes built into them. For children, Asterix books are the clear winner, as they have much better art and are more fantastical. Most of the bad characters in the books are not truly evil either and no-one ever dies, which appeals hugely to children. For older readers, Tintin has danger, deeper characters with deep political themes, bad guys with truly evil motives, and even deaths. It’s more rooted in the real world, so a young reader can visualise themselves as Tintin, travelling to these real life places and being a hero.

As I get older and re-read Asterix and Tintin from time to time I discover new things. 

From Asterix, there is something about the notion of one tiny little village, where everybody knows each other, trying to hold off the dark forces of the rest of the world. Being the underdog, up against everyone, but with a sense of humour and having fun, really resonated with my child's eye view of the world. In my adult world it now makes me appreciate the value of family, friends, and community and even national identity. Even as globalisation and the rise of homogenous consumerism threatens to envelope the unique diversity of our cultures, like Asterix, we can defend to the death the cultural values that define us but not through isolation or by diminishing the respect due to other cultures and their cultural achievements.

From Tintin I got wanderlust. This fierce even urgent need to travel and explore the world was in part due to reading the adventures of Tintin. It was by living in such diverse cultures overseas and trying to get under the skin of those cultures by learning their languages and respecting their customs that I realised how much I valued my own heritage and traditions without diminishing anyone else.

So I’m sorry but I can’t choose one over the other, I need both Asterix and Tintin as a dyad to remind me that the importance of home and heritage is best done through travel and adventure elsewhere.

Thanks for your question.

[k-rising]

Jaehyun's birth chart analysis

DISCLAIMER: This is just a part of the analysis of the idol’s natal chart, which wants to show a deeper perspective on the idols life. This analysis is carried out thanks to the data that appears in the birth chart. These are my interpretations of the signs and how they work based on my experiences with them. Everyone has different opinions and all interpretation and experiences within is valid. The point of this post is to entertain. [This idol has confirmed his birth time].

Pisces Rising

jaehyun goes with the flow

an a r t i s t

lover of peace

OPEN MINDED

he can be quiet and shy one day and the next one he’s VERY talkative and passionate

soft personality

sees the world the way he wants to see it

making decisions isn’t his strong point tbh

avoids cold, hard facts and harsh realities

doesn’t like organization or structure

heads in the clouds 24/7

has an irresistible charm that comes in a quiet way

SOFT AURA

both his appearance and mannerisms are usually quite intriguing to people

Aquarius Sun (12th house)

again… OPEN MINDED  

values personal freedom !!

any attempt to box him in will fail, tho

VERY STUBBORN

VERY fixed in his opinions

jaehyun is curious

observant

doesn’t like when people are prejudice and bias

very clever

witty

values frankness

he’ll try to encourage his friends to be open and forthright

will treat people equally

being an aquarius makes him quirky and "different”

he also likes having friends who are like that!

tends to avoid the spotlight

even though he’s a public figure, he’ll try to hide his true self

shines when he serves others in some way

Square between Sun and Moon

jaehyun has an internal struggle between his needs and his wants :(

is VERY indecisive

questions himself often

he’s always aware of the opposing point of view

Opposition between Sun and Lilith

there’s a self-destructive side to him that should be managed by confronting his fears

Taurus Moon (2nd house)

calm

familiarity is important in this position !!

building a solid and comfortable home helps him to feel safe

DON’T TRY TO PUSH JAEHYUN INTO DOING SOMETHING HE DOESN’T WANT

STEADINESS

as I said before, tends to avoid messy or unpredictable situations, crises, and emotional displays

focusses on creating a reliable and secure life around him

VERY ROMANTIC

his affections are strong and deep

he’s sentimental and warm

tends to protect himself and his own interests

jaehyun will rarely make a move without first determining that the other person feels the same way about him

it takes A LOT to really get to him

he isn’t the most adaptable person when his routine is interrupted

his needs are strong but quite simple at the same time

LOVES LUXURY !!!

jaehyun is loyal and capable

might hold onto people quite tightly

often looking for admiration

can be quite dependent on others for positive feedback

tends to hold back and wait before expressing himself

Square between Moon and Venus

his romantic desires and his emotional needs tend to create tension

he may not know what he wants

uncomfortable with emotions

Trine between Moon and Neptune

good at working with groups

perceived as mysterious and glamorous

very imaginative

may have a victim complex

Aquarius Mercury (12th house)

has a quiet way of stirring others up

very quick to contradict others

offers a different perspective

enjoys intellectual debates

likes practical jokes

raising eyebrows is an habit for this placement too, tho ;)

very fair and objective

jaehyun may have difficulty expressing himself

he doesn’t talk much

speaks when he’s in the mood to do it

discrete

philosophical

he might be an excellent confidante

keeps secrets very well

prefers not to focus on facts

learn best when ideas are presented visually, emotionally or imaginatively

learning to communicate clearly is a challenge for jaehyun

this could help him to end his feelings of guilt, of being misunderstood, and to attracting unpleasant situations

Conjunction between Mercury and Venus

looks on the bright side of life

optimistic

likes beauty, art, travelling

good at talking

he's also good at charming others

Trine between Mercury and Mars

likes debates

has good judgment

very determined

has lots of energy when it comes to work

Conjunction between Mercury and Jupiter

has big ideas

is tolerant

has a strong sense of justice

he also has good judgement

enjoys literature and learning

will be successful socially

Sextile between Mercury and Saturn

is precise or strives to be mentally organized

has the patience to work towards a goal slowly but surely

Conjunction between Mercury and Uranus

perspicacious

ingenious

spontaneous in his friendships

knows how to turn situations around positively

Aquarius Venus (12th house)

he wants people to see him as unique, rebellious and a little provocative ;)

jaehyun is attractive when he’s acting a little aloof, tho

attracted to unusual or unconventional relationships

can appear quite standoffish at times

is threatened by restrictions of any kind

emotional people may be put off by his detached manner in love

he wants people to love him for his intellect !!

jaehyn values lovers who’re also good friends

pleasing jaehyun involves letting him know how interesting he is

he’s very proud of his unique ideas and visions

his partner has to dream along with him

even though he likes being in a relationship, jaehyun also needs his own space

he may have secret love affairs :0

it’s difficult for him to defining his boundaries tbh

but he can get hurt in love rather easily

can also feel used

attracted to people from all walks of life

finds attractive a person who has an unusual background or quirky personality

being openly affectionate and trusting others doesn't seem safe to him at all

jaehyun may feel his love won't be appreciated or it won’t be reciprocated

maybe he has fallen in love with many people who are quite unavailable to him

love and sacrifice is SO important for him

he values self-sacrifice and a giving attitude in a partner

jaehyun can be quite mysterious to people, because he keeps his romantic needs hidden

he isn't punishing himself, it's just that he doesn't feel worthy to be in a public relationship

Trine between Venus and Mars

jaehyun is a PASSIONATE lover

has a strong temperament

is driven by connection and enjoying each other's company

Conjunction between Venus and Jupiter

has good relations with his social circle

jaehyun may fall in love easily

he has a successful professional life :’)

people usually trust him

Conjunction between Venus and Uranus

again, scared of losing his liberty

marriage may not be for him

jaehyun has that little something that attracts others, tho

even though he’s romantic, he’s also a little detached or unpredictable

jaehyun can see through insincerity in others

in relationships, tolerance is the most important thing to him

his sexual preferences can be quite unconventional too

long-distance relationships might attract him

Libra Mars (7th house)

reflects about things before he acts

defends himself and others

has the need to balance everything !!

jaehyun always play innocent when he’s challenged

PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE

he doesn't want to be mean or unfair

he’s great at solving conflicts

he might like being dominant not only at work, but also in his relationships

there’s also a tendency to take other people’s actions too personally

having a partner makes him feel sure of who he is

jaehyun wants things to be reciprocate

Trine between Mars and Jupiter

jaehyun is jovial, frank and sincere

HE LIKES SPORTS AND DOING OUTDOORS ACTIVITIES

he may have many children or projects and ventures :)

he doesn’t think about failing, even though success isn’t as important to him as enjoyment and happiness

SO COMPETITIVE

Opposition between Mars and Saturn

jaehyun is often attracted to doing something if there are problems attached

likes to overcome obstacles

Trine between Mars and Uranus

impulsive but bold

very open to new methods and different ways of doing things

Trine between Mars and Neptune

his feelings are dominated by wisdom and intuition

likes odd people

can often use a gentle approach to pursuing his desires

Sextile between Mars and Pluto

AMBITIOUS

has a great capacity for work

will stick out with his plans to the end

committed and determined

possibly impatient when his members do things only halfway or half-heartedly

generally confident about his own talents

persistent when pursuing a goal

Aquarius Jupiter (11th house)

attracts good fortune when he is tolerant, fair, impartial and cooperative

wants to show unique perspective or skills

Conjunction between Jupiter and Uranus

he quickly sizes up a situation and knows what's going on at a glance

Aries Saturn (1st house)

he must learn to develop self-confidence

jaehyun can be self-conscious in new situations, especially when young

first reactions to new ideas or plans are somewhat negative

doesn’t speak too much

he doesn’t waste energy unnecessarily

GOOD MEMORY

Aquarius Uranus (11th house)

may get over excited at the start of a task that interests him

his friends can be extravagant, original and intellectual

Sextile between Uranus and Pluto

brings transformation and change into other people's lives

enters others lives unexpectedly and makes an impact

has a creative mind

Capricorn Neptune (11th house)

wants to belong to a group of like-minded people or to connect with a higher purpose

Sagittarius Pluto (9th house)

sexuality and love are idealized

Leo Lilith

VERY provocative, captivating and sexually appealing

jaehyun can get impatient when his needs aren’t satisfied

he may have felt bad for wanting attention or for seeking to be better than others

Virgo North Node (7th house)

his challenge in life is to be proactive and live an orderly and practical life

developing and following healthy and practical routines

needs to develop organization, promptness and pay attention to details

𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐨 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐭

likes a partner who has a wry sense of humor

someone who seems organized and analytical

his s/o may bring him an element of groundedness that migh seem attractive for jaehyun

𝐒𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐂

unique

jaehyun wants a career that allows him to express his individuality and independence

capable of making a mark on his job

always ready to absorb new knowledge

enjoys exploring new ideas

𝐆𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐈𝐂

he might like talking to himself a lot

enjoys stimulating conversations with people who are close to him

jaehyun also seeks for mental activities to busy himself with

𝐀𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐮𝐦 (𝟏𝟐𝐭𝐡)

aquarius are known for being social, but with his 12th house stellium it makes him an introvert person

likes isolation

he can also have a pretty short fuse for dealing with people, tho

very sociable, but will isolate himself later

very chill on the exterior, but irritated on the inside

when he gets annoyed you will notice it

might have issues with embracing his emotions

doesn't like talking about how he really feels

tends to rationalize everything !!!

sooooo talented

loves music and arts so much

it takes a long time to fall in love, because he sees everyone in a friendly way

ones he finds the perfect lover, jaehyun will commit

humanitarian