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dwellordream · 3 years ago

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“It is unlikely that any king ever received more valuable assistance from his mother than did Richard from Eleanor. The new English monarch empowered her to hold England until he could arrive to take charge himself, and as a crowned queen she symbolized lawful royal authority in the kingdom until his arrival for his coronation. With her strong personality, she could dominate royal officials and assure administrative continuity. Although official records fail to reflect Eleanor’s efforts on Richard’s behalf, contemporary writers vividly depict her exertions.

One chronicler wrote, “Queen Eleanor, who for many years had been under close guard, was entrusted with the power of acting as regent by her son. Indeed, he issued instructions to the princes of the realm, almost in the style of a general edict, that the queen’s word should be law in all matters.” He concluded, “To make up for his many excesses, [Richard] took care to show his mother all the honor that he could, that by obedience to his mother he should atone for the offenses committed against his father.” Although Eleanor’s position in England’s government was not comparable to that of Philip II’s mother in France, who was proclaimed official regent while her son was away on crusade, she swiftly exerted herself on Richard’s behalf, securing the kingdom for him and remedying the late king’s abuses.

Representing royal power, she gave legitimacy to the authority of the experienced and capable chief justiciar Ranulf de Glanvill, and his writs sometimes stated their authorization “by the queen’s precept.” The respect given Eleanor as queen-mother would give her a prominent part in English politics during the turbulent years of 1190–94, when the kingdom was threatened by her younger son John, count of Mortain, and by the Capetian king. She was a prominent force in England, enforcing royal directives, prohibiting a papal legate from entering the kingdom, attesting royal charters, and attending gatherings of the king’s great council.

…A chronicler described Eleanor after her release from captivity: “Circulating with a queenly court, she set out from city to city and castle to castle just as it pleased her.” The chronicler must have chosen the uncommon term “queenly court” instead of “royal court” purposely to draw attention to the extraordinary sight of a female exercising royal authority. The queen sent representatives to all the counties of England to take free men’s oaths of fidelity to their new king. These royal agents were ordered to release captives imprisoned by the king’s will alone, not by the law of the realm, and also those held for offences against the arbitrary forest law, while those lawfully imprisoned were to be released once they found sureties for their appearance at trial.

The chronicler continued, commenting, “In her own person she demonstrated how grievous unjust imprisonment was for men, and how release aroused in them joyful revival of spirits.” He added that Eleanor freed prisoners because her own experience had taught her that “confinement is distasteful to mankind, and that it is a most delightful refreshment to the spirits to be liberated therefrom.” Certainly Eleanor could feel for those arbitrarily imprisoned by her late husband, but her proclamation was not a general amnesty emptying the jails, for conditions for prisoners’ release were specific and consistent with legal principles and practices. The monastic writer William of Newburgh, nonetheless, was disgusted that freeing them had unleashed “these pests” back onto society only to terrorize decent subjects more confidently in the future.

Another chronicler commented more favorably, recognizing her action as redressing Henry II’s despotic deeds. She curbed “the depredations of those . . . charged with the care of the forests, intimidating them with the threat of severe penalties”; he also hails her ending of Henry’s habit of housing his horses in the stables of abbeys, remarking that she “distributed them with pious liberality.” Although Eleanor’s first concern in the weeks after Henry’s death was assisting Richard’s smooth accession to England’s throne, she did not forget a widow’s duty to provide prayers for her departed husband’s soul. She assigned income of the vacant bishopric of Winchester as alms on Henry’s behalf and also made grants to the nuns of Amesbury and to the Carthusian brothers for his soul.

In old age, Eleanor was finally fulfilling the role that her English subjects considered proper for their queens, tempering the king’s harsh rule with mercy and busying herself with spiritual matters. Eleanor met Richard at Winchester soon after his landing at Portsmouth on 13 August 1189 to join his entourage. When he learned that English castles on the southern frontier of Wales were being attacked by the Welsh, his first impulse was to march immediately to their relief, but heeding his mother’s counsel, he continued on his way to Westminster for his coronation. In preparation for the queen-mother’s participation in the coronation festivities, over £100 was spent on clothing, furs, horses and their harness, and other items to ensure that she and her entourage made an appropriately splendid impression.

Her household now included a number of noble maidens in her care, among them Alix of France, Richard’s long-suffering fiancée and victim of Henry II’s lust; Count John’s betrothed, Isabelle, daughter of the deceased earl of Gloucester; and Denise of Déols, heir to the lordship of Berry and soon to be the bride of Andrew of Chauvigny, one of Richard’s Poitevin stalwarts. Andrew had ties of kinship with Eleanor through her Châtellerault ancestors, and his kinsmen had supplied officials for the counts of Poitou. Bernard de Chauvigny had served as the queen’s chamberlain during her first years in England, and Richard as count of Poitou had made Geoffrey de Chauvigny his chamberlain.

Eleanor acknowledged her ties to both Andrew and Denise by attending their wedding at Salisbury. Richard took care to ensure that his mother had adequate wealth for maintaining a standard of living appropriate for a great queen, although as duchess of Aquitaine she was already rich and powerful in her own right. The division of the duchy’s resources between Richard and his mother is unclear, but Eleanor evidently felt no constraint on making grants from Poitou’s revenues. As duke of Normandy, Richard granted his mother income from some Norman administrative agencies.

…In spring 1190, after Richard had crossed to Normandy, he summoned his mother, his brother John, his illegitimate brother Geoffrey Plantagenet, and several bishops to a great council at Nonancourt. This council’s purpose was to lay out plans for governing the new king’s lands during his expedition to the Holy Land, and he provided funds for his mother’s travel. Richard had taken the cross in 1187, and it is his leadership of the Third Crusade, 1190–92, that makes him the best known of all medieval English monarchs.

During Eleanor’s voyage across the Channel her mind must have turned to her own hardships endured on the Second Crusade more than forty years earlier, and her memories would have aroused fears for her son’s safety. Making the crossing with Eleanor were noble maidens in her entourage, among them her granddaughter Eleanor of Brittany, the unfortunate Alix of France, and the daughter of the countess of Eu. Also traveling with her was a great lady, Hawise, countess of Aumale, Normandy, lady of Skipton and Holderness in northern England, and the widow of the earl of Essex. A strong-willed lady similar to the queen-mother, a contemporary described her as “a woman who was almost a man, lacking nothing virile except the virile organs.”

Richard aimed to give her in marriage to William de Forz, one of his faithful knights in Poitou and a descendant of functionaries in the service of Eleanor and her predecessors. At the Nonancourt council, the new king made provision for his sole surviving brother during his absence on crusade. He handed over to John control of six shires in England and the county of Mortain in Normandy, and he confirmed his title of lord of Ireland, making him a dangerously overmighty subject in the British isles. Richard’s generosity to John in his strongly governed kingdom and his wealthiest French province gave his brother scope for causing trouble, although the king apparently felt confident that his weak character left him incapable of causing serious mischief.

Establishing the new count of Mortain in so powerful a position led some of Richard’s subjects to surmise that he did not expect to return from his crusade, and they feared that if he did, “His brother, already no less powerful than he and eager to rule, would defeat him and drive him out of the kingdom.” Richard’s lavish grants to John seemed an implicit declaration of his intent that John should be his heir in case of his death overseas. He saw that an explicit statement, however, would have encouraged the count’s bad behavior, as Henry II’s unhappy experience with Young King Henry had shown.

The Lionheart perhaps expected that two checks would discourage his brother from doing harm. One was their mother Eleanor’s influence, and the other was John’s oath to remain outside England during his brother’s absence from the kingdom, but neither worked as expected. First, Eleanor was away from England for several months in 1190–91, accompanying Richard as far as Chinon in Anjou, then crossing Aquitaine to Spain and across the Midi to conduct Richard’s bride to his camp at Messina in Sicily, where he was wintering before sailing to the Holy Land.

The second precaution, Count John’s promise at Nonancourt not to return to England for three years, was soon undone apparently through Eleanor’s pressing Richard to free him from his oath. She hardly knew her youngest son, who had grown up during her long captivity, and like Richard, she underestimated his capacity for trouble-making, or perhaps she expected that John’s awareness of his advantage as Richard’s presumed heir would induce him to behave himself. In fact, John surfaced “in active mischief” once his mother was far from England on her long journey to Spain and Sicily, although open moves against the regency government would begin only after he heard of his brother’s formal declaration of young Arthur of Brittany as heir late in 1190.

Once the queen-mother returned to the Anglo-Norman realm in 1191 she exerted her maternal pressure on her last-born son, succeeding in preventing him from rushing off to join Philip II following the French king’s premature return from the crusade in anger and frustration at Richard. At Nonancourt, the Lionheart named two chief justiciars to govern England jointly in his absence, but this scheme promptly collapsed on the death of one of them, William de Mandeville, earl of Essex. The king then began tinkering with his plan that ultimately would leave one of the co-justiciars, William Longchamp, bishop of Ely, solely in charge of the kingdom. Longchamp’s power rested on his control over the royal seal as royal chancellor, a sign of Richard’s confidence that in effect handed over to him the administration of the realm.

By limiting authority of the other co-justiciar, the bishop of Durham, to the north of England, Richard had given Longchamp an excuse to exclude him from Westminster, the center for royal administration. Finally in June 1190, Richard acknowledged Longchamp’s supremacy, declaring him chief justiciar of all England. On the same day that the king’s letter arrived, news came that the pope had conferred on Longchamp spiritual authority over the Church in the island kingdom as papal legate. One chronicler’s claims that Longchamp had “three titles and three heads” and that he had become “Caesar and more than Caesar” ring true.

Apparently Richard’s trust either created or encouraged an arrogance and ambition within his chancellor that would ultimately bring him to ruin. The issue of Richard’s marriage was doubtless a topic for discussion during the Nonancourt conference. It may have been at that time that he revealed to his mother his plan to marry Berengaria of Navarre, and he requested her to travel to Spain and bring his bride to him in Sicily. Among Eleanor’s weightiest concerns was the Lionheart’s marriage and the birth of a son and heir that would ensure dynastic continuity and preserve the unity of the Plantagenet holdings. She knew well the many dangers that lay ahead for a crusader king.

Years earlier, Richard had been betrothed to Alix, daughter of Louis VII and half-sister of Philip II, but he had always balked at wedding the Capetian princess, probably because of his belief that his own father had seduced her. Despite Eleanor’s anxieties, Richard himself showed few worries about the succession, confident that he would survive the dangers of an expedition to the Levant and live long enough to sire heirs. His mother was wary of the potential heirs to Richard—his sole surviving brother, John, count of Mortain in Normandy; her grandson Arthur of Brittany; and Richard’s half-brother Geoffrey Plantagenet, a cleric in minor orders.

At Messina in Sicily, before sailing for the Holy Land, the Lionheart would name his nephew, Arthur of Brittany as his heir. Eleanor considered the child Arthur unacceptable because of the ferocious hostility of his Breton mother toward her Plantagenet in-laws. Eleanor can hardly have had much sympathy for Geoffrey, her late husband’s beloved bastard son, and she opposed Richard’s honoring his father’s wishes by naming him archbishop of York. Before Geoffrey could be consecrated, he had to take priestly vows, making him less credible as a potential king, and like John, he was barred from entering the kingdom for three years.

Notwithstanding any doubts that Eleanor harbored about her youngest son’s character, she apparently viewed him as the sole suitable successor to the English throne should Richard die without direct heir, and possibly her insistence that Richard release John from his obligation of remaining outside the kingdom reflects her concern for his succession. A chronicle from the crusader kingdom maintains that Eleanor was the instigator of Richard’s marriage to Berengaria because her hatred and resentment of the king of France and his offspring led her to prevent at any price her son’s marriage to a daughter of Louis VII. This work is a continuation of William of Tyre’s chronicle that had recorded the Antioch affair that had brought public attention to Eleanor’s troubles with her first husband.

It is unlikely, however, that Richard Lionheart was “bullied into marriage by his formidable mother” or that she can be credited with negotiating his marriage to Berengaria of Navarre. Despite Eleanor’s feelings about Richard’s choice of a bride or her fears for the succession, her son’s marriage to a princess from the Pyrenean kingdom must be seen as his own plan. Allying himself with Berengaria’s father, King Sancho VI (d.1194), and her brother, the future Sancho VII, formed part of a program for stabilizing Gascony. Richard saw the match as “an ingenious diplomatic device . . . in order to cut his way through a thicket of political problems,” probably proposed by him as early as February 1190 at a great council of the Gascon nobility at La Réole.”

- Ralph V. Turner, “The Queen-Mother: Richard’s Reign, 1189–1199.” in Eleanor of Aquitaine: Queen of France, Queen of England

#eleanor of aquitaine #eleanor of aquitaine: queen of france queen of england #richard i of england #john lackland #history #english #medieval #high middle ages #ralph v. turner

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mintseesaw · 4 years ago

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Aurora | 1

aurora - n. dawn Pairing: jungkook!general x reader!princess Genre: angst, fluff, historical au, joseon dynasty au, established relationship au, secret love affair au Warnings: heavily themed angst, mentions of corresponding punishments for certain committed misdeed, cursing Word count: 7.5k Summary: A story which centers on a forbidden love in the midst of centuries-long battle of power and greed. Disclaimer: based on King Sejong’s time but is fictional and not historically accurate Note: If you are not familiar with korean historical setting, you may refer to the translations I provided at the end of some terms used in the fic that may sound unfamiliar to some.

one | two

*unedited

Fate is a mere imaginary force, perhaps, created by entities living in this world, as fictitious as happiness, as treacherous as love. While hope brings you a strong faith of anticipation to the uncertain, the endless cycle of waiting only gives you the bittersweet acceptance in return.

There was no regret behind the years of your wasted youth amidst the inescapable obligation of being an object of possession under a political truce— the truth that you have to live from the guise of a royal birth.

You kept your promise, and until time and your royal duty comes in between, you will stay faithful to your words.

Two years after ascending to the throne, King Namjoon started establishing ports and posts alongside strict military power on the borders of Joseon. However, the immeasurable extent of the rising mutiny on the northern border further pushed the ruler to multiply the military presence on each border, of which was kept hidden from the commoners to prevent stirring fear in his constituents.

The news spread like a wildfire inside the palace, and into the households of the government officials, bearing in mind the warning the message it carries, it being a confidential matter.

When the king made the official pronouncement, the princes, and military officials, alongside the ruler’s advisors, were all present in the courtroom.

Learning about the king’s decision, Prince Taehyung ought to keep the news from the princess— the youngest child of the present ruling queen, the Queen Mother, and the late king.

However, the unavoidable presence of the court ladies who are serving the royal family, made it seem difficult to hide the truth from you.

Two days after the edict was released, one of the court ladies, who happens to be a second degree cousin of General Jeon innocently shared the information to you, not knowing it will affect you, greatly. Your relationship with him has been kept for a long time, anyway.

“W-What did you say?” The same court lady, who was currently serving you a cup of tea, freezes midair as she caught up the tone in your voice. As you notice the reluctance in her expression, you didn’t wait for her to repeat what you had clearly heard the first time.

You rose from your seat with urgency, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture toward them as you quickly strutted out of your chamber. Although shocked by your sudden action, the servants quickly caught up with you, tailing behind as you took the direction to your brother’s study.

Shortly after, you arrive before his study, Prince Taehyung’s servants immediately bowed to you as form of greeting.

The prince was occupied on his canvas, determined to finish the piece before the midnight rolls when he heard Officer Sung announced the arrival of his sister. The brush locked between his fingers as he was about to stroke its end on the canvas halted midair.

When the doors flew open, he was met with your frown and a clearly disturbed disposition. He stood, abandoning his piece of work, waiting for the servants to leave them alone inside before he began talking.

“What brings you at this hour, little flower?” He asks in a curious tone. Deep inside, he already had a clue why.

“You knew, didn’t you?” You whisper, choking the tears that were threatening to pour onto your cheeks.

Taehyung stares at you for a while, surveying the hurt evident on your face before deeply sighing.

“I understand it would affect you this way.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? J-Jungkook… Tell me he isn’t part of the—“

There’s no use to keep it anymore when you already heard pieces of it. “The king designated him to lead the northern border.” He warily announces, although he knew it wouldn’t matter how cautious he’d reveal it because it would hurt you, regardless.

Your eyes widening, palms fly toward your mouth to cover your gasps, hearing the answer you hoped you wouldn’t hear.

You are aware of the suspected cases of mutiny on the borders and along the waters where traders and merchants meet. The political scholars do not keep these significant issues from you during your studying sessions, regarding the possibility of being a future queen of another nation, literacy in every field has also been supplied to you alongside your brothers, the princes and the king.

“Princess, it couldn’t be avoided. It’s Jungkook’s duty to protect our nation.” He tries to console, closing the distance to give a comforting hug.

“He is guarding the palace— the royal family… the king. Isn’t that a part of his duty?” You wept in his embrace, mumbling in despair, “He didn’t even tell me, do I not matter to him, anymore?”

“Hush, little flower. Of course, that punk loves you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t hesitate to leave the capital to carry out his duty.” He says, not releasing you. He could only hope he could take away the pain in your heart.

Among everyone living in the palace, it was only him who had witnessed how your love for his best friend has blossomed through time. Unlike Jungkook who had been admiring you from a far long ago, you shamelessly admitted your feelings for him when you were 14.

Several years later, Jungkook still owns your heart despite the complicated situation, and the path he chose to take only made it more twisted than ever. Jungkook’s father died while in his duty protecting the king against officials who once challenged the ascension. Following his father’s footsteps, he partook the military.

His decision deeply scarred you because it only means it will be impossible to marry him, unless the king has consented it. However, it is rare for a ruling monarch to allow such because it’ll only mean losing their birthright in exchange of their betrothal with a low-ranking official.

Little rendezvous, love letters and stolen kisses didn’t stop the two of you following Jungkook’s promotion as the general of the national defense a year ago. But today, the horrid thought of him being in imminent danger in the battlefield dreads you.

Prince Taehyung escorted you back to your chamber once you had calmed down. He didn’t want to leave you while you are grieving, but he figures you needed the time alone.

That night, you couldn’t sleep with the heaviness of your heart.

You need to see him.

“Your Majesty,” you softly greeted once you entered the courtroom, lowering your head with grace before lifting your eyes back up to the throne where the king was busy reading the council’s daily reports.

He lightly nods his head, acknowledging your presence. “Princess, you should be resting by now.” It was late, and you initially went to his chamber only to realize that the king was still in the courtroom, fulfilling his duties.

“As you should, Your Majesty.”

The king smiled, listening to the delicate voice of his little sister. He realizes, he missed being graced your refreshing presence. He had been used to it before, you lurking around in the bookshelves in his study while he was occupied, searching for books which he had all read, asking him numerous questions about certain literary works you had grew fond of like himself until he was too tired to answer anymore. After ascending his throne, he is only able to see his family on special gatherings, unless they purposely visit him.

“Perhaps, you have something to tell your brother?” He inquires, his eyes remain on the scroll as they skim over the texts written in the paper.

With soft monotonous tone, you proceeded to speak. “If you’ll allow me, Your Majesty.”

“Go on,”

“I read a particular decree dated three days ago. I have questions, if you will hear me, Your Majesty.” You asserted generally to avoid suspicion from the other attentive ears inside the courtroom.

It was that time when he lifted his gaze to meet your nervous ones.

He turns to the eunuch who was quietly standing on your right, his side facing you. “Leave us.” Officer Han lifted his head, surprise to hear the sudden command of the king. He quietly obeyed, gesturing to the advisors to follow the king’s order.

“I see, you’ve learned about the news. I may have to order your teachers not to let you dwell much on these political matters. You are a delicate flower in our family and I still wish to witness you blossom more.” It may be necessary for you to have a clear overview on the politics for your future fate, but the king would want you to enjoy your time as the princess in your own home before you’re married off to another prince.

“I appreciate your care, Your Majesty.” You lower your head, lips quivering.

King Namjoon leans his back on his seat, scrutinizing the figure in front of his throne. It was not too hard to recognize the state you’re in, similar to the officials he meets here when they are being questioned.

“Princess, tell me what bothers you.” There, he used his brotherly tone, the one which used to be his way to coax you to open up to him before.

You stayed silent, thoughtful on how to address the purpose of your visit. It took a while before you gain the strength to utter the name of the man you dearly love. “General Jeon… w-will lead the north?”

Hearing your words, the king’s shoulders tensed. “We have talked about this before. Did you defy your brother to proceed your affair with General Jeon?” His expression hardens at your silence.

“I-I…” You stammer, eyes wide innocently.

He throws the scroll on his table, now fully directing his attention to you, drawing a long sigh like your father once did, when you were once caught wandering outside the palace.

“You did,” He confirms to himself in a whisper, before his head tilted back as his eyes momentarily closed to control his frustration. “I must punish General Jeon on your behalf.”

Your eyes widened, chills running down your spine. “Your Majesty!” You exclaimed, horrified by the king’s conclusion to the matter.

“The Great Queen Dowager is protective of you. Grandmother will not accept an order from me to punish you, herself, for your misbehavior. You are not to get involved with any man, ______.” He reminds you. Not only was the queen dowager adores the lone princess, but their father, as well.

You are aware of that. Perhaps, it was the reason why the palace, your supposed home, became a sickening form of solitude for you. You wish you had been treated the same way as your brothers, while they grew up in a rough setting as a form of their training, you envy their mental toughness aside from their trained physical skills and strength. Perhaps, it was the reason behind your father’s endearment for you, little flower. Because you’re a weak princess.

Being favored is not a privilege when you are expected to be good at all costs. Jungkook, despite the social status that separates you both, became your sense of euphoria. He allowed you to see the glimpse of his life, the horrible and ugly side of his life. He showed tenderness in his affection towards you, but he sees you beyond your status.

Jungkook, leaving the capital to guard the borders without the assurance of making it out alive, will cause you in complete desolation.

A dull but prominent numbness spreads on the king’s heart as the air fills the suffocating silence, while seeing your welled-up eyes.

“Why the tears, little flower? You are making me feel like I’m a heartless brother.”

“Can you.. Can you stop him from leaving?” You falter, swallowing the lump forming in your throat.

“General Jeon already knew his fate, Princess. He will eventually leave the palace to be where he is— on the battlefield. Just like you are here in the palace. Why you have hoped in pursuit of his love, is beyond me.”

The tiny hope you carry before you have entered the courtroom vanishes along the feeble strength you gathered to control your emotions.

Even with your crumbling facade, he continues to speak, choosing to be a wise king rather than your caring brother. “Heed my advice when I tell you your connection with General Jeon will do more harm to him than to you. The inner court will always be merciful to you, but the state council will not be as forgiving to the young general.”

The truth struck you harshly more than ever, pain swallowing you whole as the impact of his words resonated within you. You waited until the king dismissed you.

It was wrong from the start, you have hoped for it.

Jungkook will never be yours.

In a rare circumstance, Jungkook has been staying in the Jeon household for three days straight. Because of his post at the north, the king was kind enough to give the soldiers some time off their duties, as if it is a farewell for their families. In Jungkook’s case, he doesn’t see it as his death. He sees it as his duty to protect the nation, and he’ll make sure to come back for his family, for you.

Jungkook is wiping his sword clean using a piece of rug cloth, killing some time off before coming to the palace to visit you in particular, a bunch of freshly picked peonies from his mother’s garden lying beside the stool where he was seated. He will give it to his princess when the sun sets under the guise of seeing his friend, Prince Taehyung.

His time off was duly spent through fulfilling heavy chores to help his mother. While she bought food supplies and new sets of threads and fabrics in the market for her weaving, he carried her purchases. After that, he did small repairs on the house to strengthen its foundation and trekked to the mountain to gather firewood, and luckily caught a few freshwater fish from the river along his way home.

He didn’t mind that his body is now covered with excessive perspiration or his grey faded clothes are stained with all kinds of grease and dirt there are. But when he caught sight of the familiar petite figure dressed in a simple, ivory colored hanbok in front of the household, he wished he had cleaned himself up when his mother prepared his warm bath earlier.

The thought, however, was briskly replaced with worry.

His wide doe-like eyes locking with yours. His long and glorious legs only took a couple steps to reach your hand and drag you inside before closing the wooden barrier from any possible prying eyes.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” It was the first thing Jungkook has said to you since you arrived. You’ve been standing there awkwardly for a while, watching him as he was in a deep reverie, hesitant to come inside in case Jungkook has other guests inside his home.

Your lips jutting in an adorable pout, “You didn’t receive my letter?”

You had no intention to raise the matter to him, because you’d like for him to believe you’re clueless so you could make the most of your time with him filled with good memories.

His frown slowly turns into an endearing smile at the cute display in front of him. “I did, I was supposed to meet you there. You can’t be outside, especially…” He stops mid-sentence for a moment, “I mean, you should have told me prior if you wanted to go out of the palace.” He gently prompts as he keeps a good amount of space in between, much to your displeasure.

You try to reach out his grease covered large hands, only to look up at him when he quickly steps back, maintaining the distance.

“What is the matter?” You question out of confusion.

He turns his head to the side, avoiding your curious stare. “I have not taken a bath, yet, Jagi.” He mumbles under his breath.

A smile slowly spreads in the corners of your lips, as a bubbly giggle resonates on your throat, “It’s alright, you don’t smell that bad.” You taunted, covering your nose with your palm to tease him.

“Y/N,” He whines, raising his arms alternatively to smell himself. The act only made you laugh even more, to which earns a playful glare from him.

“I’m kidding,” you managed to say when you finally recovered from your laughter, plastering a sweet smile which he could never resist.

He sighs dramatically, “What am I going to do with you?”

“Can I stay here?” You suddenly ask.

He stops in his tracks, uncertain if he heard you right. “What?”

“You’re right, I want to go out of the palace for a while. Will you accommodate me as a guest?” You shyly continue.

Jungkook stares at you in wonder. “Y/N, you know I’d gladly have you here if I only can.”

Maidens are not supposed to stay with an unmarried man under a roof, especially a princess like you.

“No one will know.” You try to convince.

“Your brother?” He prods, referring to the younger prince, his friend.

You didn’t say anything, avoiding his gaze.

“Love, you’re going to put us both into trouble.” He sighs, but silently giving in to your request.

Catching a beautiful bunch of flowers in sight behind him, you quickly averted your attention into it to change the subject, realizing there’s no point of pushing it further if he would not allow you to. “A-Are those flowers? Can I have a look?”

His eyes follow you as you’re left mesmerized with the flowers, similarly like he is to you. “They’re yours, love.”

“They are?” You repeated, lost in daze at the beauty of the light colored pink petals of the peonies.

Jungkook didn’t attempt to raise your previous concern, silently admiring you from a short distance. However close his proximity to you, it does not change the fact that you’re a thousand miles within his reach.

He’d never thought in his lifetime you would spare a single look at him, one day when you accidentally saw your brother and him were practicing through a sword fight. And when he thought it was enough for him, aware that you knew he existed, you bravely confessed your admiration to him weeks after.

Of course, he knew it was just a simple crush. He couldn’t entertain the infatuation you had with him because you were still young and your feelings would soon waver when you’ve passed the adolescence period. You would realize he’s far from the prince charming that you ought to marry, someday.

Perhaps, the memory he bears of the day he came from his military training could forever be engraved in his mind.

A bunch of letters sat on the table in his small room, to which his mother must have kept them there the entirety of his absence. Each letter was intentionally left unaddressed from the sender.

He knew. Just by the neat penmanship that indicates the person being literate, and the letters sealed inside envelopes in lavish colors tell him that the letters were from someone in a noble family. But what easily brought him to the conclusion of you having been sending the letters to his household while he was away is an image of a little peony grazing each paper just below the written intricate texts. Only the royal family and the attentive servants in the palace knew you’re the king’s favorite child, the little flower he calls in the royal family.

He’s not as fond of reading literary works like yourself. Like Taehyung, he sees paintings and portraits as the closest thing he could comprehend of in terms of art.

It took him days reading every single one of the letters, and weeks before he had come to comprehend the underlying messages of the passages deliberately written in a figurative language enough to not only make his heart hurt but his head as well.

You longed for him.

The same fucking way he has been to you. There was not a single day that passed without the thought of you crossing his mind through the years. In this time of war, he should not entertain that side which could stir weakness from him. He should be a wise soldier, and for him to be one, he should forget you and anything that reminds him of you.

Through time, he had learned to admire you from afar while intentionally avoiding your longing stares to have you thinking that he doesn’t return your affection on him. He could not let you be aware of his personal struggles in order to keep a safe distance from you, he does not have the heart to make you suffer because of the hierarchical disparity between you.

Almost a year before the king died from an illness, you were abducted by foreign rebels who had had their way inside Joseon to gather and urge commoners from the inside to stir rebellion.

The danger you had come to witness yourself at a young blossoming age led him to reconsider his thought of allowing his feelings to be confessed to you. It would not last, he reassured himself. When your feelings for him have been exhausted, soon enough you would learn to forget him.

However, he only made the situation worse. Because for the past two years, nothing has changed, making it only harder for him to let you go. His dark, selfish thoughts buried deeply in him always manipulate him to persist, even if it means you will lose the life you have, your birthright.

After he had urged you inside a small room to rest while he cleaned himself up, he took you into the capital market. Sweet delicacies inside a folded linen clasp in his hand which he bought prior to arriving in front of a women’s shop.

The pure admiration visibly painted in your face over the numerous variety of hair accessories, and pieces of jewelry laid in front of you seemed to do the trick for you. He had not ever brought you here and he regretted not taking you here before.

Over the cumulative noises from the bustling crowd, you heard Jungkook chuckle. You took a peer from your side.

“You can buy anything you like.” Jungkook encourages, not knowing the internal war zone going on inside your mind as you survey the most beautiful things you have ever laid eyes on. These bargain accessories may not be as equally expensive as your own collections, but they are surprisingly immaculate and exceptional pieces.

You sadly smile, “I didn’t think of bringing any....”

“You have me.” He beams, showing several gold coins above the few notes inside his hand. Your face lights up.

By the time you were through, he barely had any currency left in his pocket. He could have felt remorse by how much all the accessories and jewelry you purchased had cost, but the satisfied smile painted on your face as the two of you walk hand in hand while eating the sweets is enough to make himself shrug away your lavish spending.

Jungkook recalls your request. The large and calloused pads of his fingers clutch your wrist, tugging your hand softly. “You’ll go back to the palace, right?”

Your lips only protruded, saying nothing to him as you kept going forward even when he already stopped walking.

“Y/N,” He tries to call but you only pretend not to hear anything. Three long strides were enough to catch up with you, taking one of your arms to turn you in front of him in a subtle manner.

Sighing, you choose to break your silence. “I’ll find somewhere to stay—“ Jungkook already knew what you were about to say, so he cut you off.

“There’s no way I will let you out of my sight. It’s dangerous here.” He stubbornly argues back.

You weakly smile, “It doesn’t mean it’s safe there, either.”

His forehead creases, eyebrows meeting in a form of line.

The palace is the most heavily guarded state in the nation, but danger does not only pertain to swords and the opposition. It could mean other things, particularly the harm that could be inflicted among the royal family.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what it is like inside,” you briefly asserted.

Jungkook pulled you into his embrace. He is aware of the extreme constraints inside the palace.

“I’m here, you can tell me what is bothering you.” He mumbles beside your ear, his hold tightening in your silence. If only he could change his fated obligation. Leaving you would be as painful as being physically inflicted with deep wounds, only that this feeling would not heal any time soon.

“I just feel lonely. It’s natural to feel that way when you’ve been isolated since the day you were born.” You expressed, meaningfully.

“The cruel world does not deserve a pure soul like you, my love.” He murmurs breathlessly.

You pulled back, stepping away to peer up from him. Jungkook caught the look on your face.

“Jungkook—“

“You’re not going to look for another place to stay. You’re out of your mind if you even think I’ll let you alone by yourself.” He says in a dismissive tone.

He’s right, after all. You would not want him to be punished if anything were to happen to you.

It was already dark while the two of you were still left along the way toward his household. The shining stars from your view give the moonless sky a breathtaking image of darkness and sparkles. You tug his hand, as you two reached the end of the woods, encouraging him into the nearby lake you recall seeing earlier.

The protective instinct of him surveyed the grass filled expanse before he succumbs to your offer. Through the peaceful atmosphere of the nature, a soft giggle naturally releases from you.

Jungkook didn’t speak for a moment, allowing you to enjoy the majestic beauty above. If it weren’t for him, the pitch black surrounding would somehow frighten you. The breezes swishing around and through your bodies get colder as the night progresses.

Through the darkness, Jungkook could barely make out the features of your face, but the subtle shivers coursing through your body didn’t go unnoticed to him. When he clasped his hands around yours, he felt the freezing contact of your skin through his palm. This led him to shift on his seat, pulling you on his lap.

“Jungkook…”

He only hums in response, rubbing your hands together through his palms.

“Can we stay here forever?”

Jungkook‘s chuckle resonates against your back, “If you want to, we can. I’ll even give you the stars from up there.” He jests.

Entwining your fingers with his, you leaned back in his embrace. “What if…”

“Hmm?” He encourages you, attentively waiting for what you will say next.

In a subtle, almost, innocent tone, you asked. “What if I want to be your wife?”

The answer is already there, dictated by your birthright and his duty. Truly a hopeless case. But it wasn’t patience that made you wait for him for years. It is hope, an endless amount of hope that led you where you are now. Him, your soulmate in this lifetime, and the truth as the main conflict of your life.

“You may lose everything because of me. You will hate me for taking you away from your life, jagiya.”

“I wouldn’t waste my time waiting for so long if I only care about the life I have. I’m ready... I’m willing to change if you will… h-have me.” You mumble in grief.

He didn’t answer for a while, letting his tightening hold around your body to speak for itself. It took all of him not to beg for your hand, and locked you in a secret engagement because it’s the only way he can make you exclusively his.

He doesn’t want to let you go.

Jungkook never uttered a word about his departure and you silently wonder if he will ever. Perhaps, that’s how it should end for the two of you. This may be the last time you’ll see him.

You really wanted to stay longer, here, even with the darkness sucking tiny hints of light as the night progresses. However, your stubbornness failed to match his persistence to get you home, in his own home.

Once you two have gone inside his home, the thought of his mother and why she’s not around crossed your mind, though you chose not to speak of it while he prepares the dinner for the two of you. It was not long after you two had eaten and finished the stew and rice he cooked.

Your cheeks heated at the sight of him preparing your bath, embarrassed by the fact that you barely know a single chore other than preparing refreshment and herbal teas. Inside the vicinity of his home, Jungkook continues to disappear and reappear from here and there in long, rapid strides. You didn’t know what it was all about, confused at his sudden engagement to the chores. Until he laid the folded linen in your lap, that you silently realized it was for a fresh set of clothes.

He was attentive and patient as he made himself occupied while he waited for you to finish cleaning up. You’re not used to doing this in a different setting and you were relieved enough that you had dressed up alone without making a fool out of yourself.

When you opened the miniature door in the small quarter he showed you earlier, you found him on the floor crouching, preparing for your sleeping cot.

“Is this to your liking? It is not as comfortable as the beddings in your chamber and it’s—“

“Jungkook, it’s perfectly fine. Stop worrying,” You reassure, a smile slowly creeping into your face.

“It’s your first time to sleep outside—“

“It’s definitely not my first time.”

He stops dead in his tracks, blinking. “What?”

Amused by the growing confusion on his face, you prompt. “Will you stay longer?”

Jungkoo’s eyes widened a little, rubbing the back of his neck, nervously. Stuttering, “I-I… Y/N, you’re putting me in an awkward situation.”

You look at him incredulously. “We’ll only talk, you pervert.”

He tilts his head to the side, “Did you just call me…” He trails but you quickly cut him off.

“No, I meant handsome. General Jeon “Handsome” Jungkook.” A sweet smile stretches on your face.

His face slowly twists into a wide smile, shaking his head at your sweet but teasing answer. “You’re such a naughty princess.”

Two days later, the queen was bewildered to find the princess’ chamber empty. Every single servant under your care was interrogated. No one can tell where you were.

You were abducted, again. That was the only conclusion they could come up with in your unnoticed disappearance.

Except for Prince Taehyung. It would not take your servants two days to realize you’re missing. Unless, you have given them a specific order to hide your whereabouts from your family.

He immediately mounted his horse to rush to the Jeon household, to inform his best friend about the disappearance of the princess.

Somehow, along his way, there was a tiny feeling there that tells him Jungkook knew where his sister is. But seeing it himself, with his own pair of eyes, as the two of you were dazed with your own worlds, he was betrayed by his friend. He rushed towards their direction and swung his fist into Jungkook’s face.

A shriek broke out from you in utter surprise. With your trembling body, you struggle to get in between the strong, towering bodies.

“Orabeoni!”

“Fuck you, Jungkook! I trusted you!” Seethed Prince Taehyung, his hands fisting Jungkook’s collar.

“Orabeoni, please, stop it! It’s my fault,” you gasp, weeping helplessly. Taehyung was panting from anger.

“It’s all on me! It’s me who should be spanked!”

You exhale harshly, shuddering at the thought of receiving punishment from the Queen Dowager, but it’s what you deserve after putting Jungkook into this situation. And as if a magic wand was tipped in his direction, Prince Taehyung instantly stopped in his tracks, tilting his head to the side.

He releases Jungkook with a hard push, enough to make Jungkook almost lose his balance. Jungkook’s strength is incomparable. Compared to the prince in front of him, he was physically more built brought by his experience in the military. But the words that he just heard suddenly made his legs jerked, and as he regained his balance he caught a glimpse of fear in your eyes.

He couldn’t take it.

The prince stared at you. “You came to him?”

Jungkook steps in, “I took her in.” He attempts to shift the attention away from you.

Prince Taehyung darted his eyes back at him. “Shut the fuck up.” He sneers at the young general. Jungkook, however, does not seem fazed by his anger. He had seen a worse case than the wrath of a warm-hearted prince.

Jungkook’s composed disposition didn’t sit well with the prince, to which is a stark comparison to the expression you transparently give away.

Clouded with anger toward the friend he has trusted all his life, Prince Taehyung dragged you out of the state.

“Let’s go,” he utters in a harsh tone.

Jungkook watched you helplessly as you’re being taken away from his reach. He could easily fight the prince to keep you safe in his home, but it would only worsen the situation. He had already anticipated the mess he had coaxed you to partake in, but not the ire of the prince.

“Orabeoni, it’s not his fault. Please, don’t direct your anger at him. I wanted to see him before he leaves.” You attempted to explain while he continued to drag you away, far away from Jungkook’s manor.

He frowns, clearly dismayed by your escape, “You should have told me, I could have done something to cover you up.”

“I didn’t want to drag you into this mess.” You say with guilt seeping through your tone. His large strides gradually halted, turning sharply o face you.

“He took advantage of your weakness, Y/N! How do you think I’d react to see you with him all this time? In his home? Gods, were you not thinking? Do you know how your stupid actions would turn back on you?” He gritted, unable to control the emotions manipulating his mind.

He would later regret losing his control but he needed to say something, after what he had done for the two of you. He did his best to protect you and this affair. You just wasted all of your chances. It’s nearly over now.

“Im sorry. He didn’t. I-I... we didn’t do anything.” You blinked, finally realizing the mayhem you had caused.

“You should be, everyone will assume otherwise.” The prince only whispers through the air before bringing you home to the grieving queen.

When the royal prince and princess entered the palace, the queen’s eunuch who was awaiting for their arrival, immediately relayed the queen’s order to the prince. You didn’t know what it was about, until he led the way into the queen’s quarters.

In your admittance to her chamber, you were met with her anguished state, the servants immediately leaving the three of you inside to give you privacy.

Guilt courses through you, painfully listening to her worries. Her soft cries welled up your own . And you’re thankful that your brother was with you the whole time. Amidst his fury, he’s the one between you two who is in the right state of mind to console the queen while you were mentally breaking down.

Despite the queen’s effort to keep your escape a secret from the palace, the king had immediately learned of your return. Soon after, Officer Han came to her quarters carrying the king’s message.

You may have anticipated the king’s disappointment over your reckless action prior to entering his chamber. But nothing could have prepared you of what you would have your eyes to endure as the doors reveal the vicinity of the chamber.

Color immediately drains out of your face, your shrinking strength stutters your steps on your entry. Jungkook remained unmoving on his knees under the mercy of the king’s death glare.

The deafening silence becomes too much to bear, agonizingly waiting for the king to tell his piece of predictive condemning of your recklessness.

King Namjoon’s immeasurable dismay over learning the rumors has affected his rational capability to keep his focus on the more disturbing issues in the nation, particularly the rising tension in the borders. This matter should be the least of his concern, but his brotherly instincts ruled out the wise king in him. He deeply cares for his family, that includes his sister.

Your eternal faith over the young general’s affection may only validate his reasoning of refusing betrothal in a similar situation from his parents. The late king dearly loved the queen all his life, and until his last breath, his mother’s welfare was his dying wish, but to his surprise, it also included the princess’ happiness.

Seeing you in the trouble you have willingly created, he wondered what his father would do if he were alive. But he needed not to think further, because it is without a doubt that his father would be merciful to his favorite child. Perhaps, he should set his father’s wish aside for now and allow the princess to reflect on her lack of regard to her royal duty.

After a moment of deafening silence, King Namjoon’s painfully calm voice fills the frightening atmosphere.

“I warned you about this, princess.” He begins, the grief in his eyes flashes in a second before it vanishes with the coldness of his stare.

“Do you understand the gravity of your actions, Y/N?” He prods further, and somehow, his tone strangely sounds like the younger prince bearing the same amount of agony and frustration.

Your eyes only remained glued on the flooring, frightened to even dare speak or meet his eyes. You are already aware that what you did has stirred rumors inside the palace. And being here only meant you and Jungkook will face the inevitable consequences.

“General Jeon, I hope you understand my disapproval of you is nothing personal. I will make this easy for you as a relevant official in the military. I will let this thing go if you deny the rumors that you took advantage of the princess’ vulnerability.”

Your breath shortens, eyes squeezing shut, mortified by the severity of the situation. A weird feeling sits there in the corner of your heart, disturbing your thought process.

Despite the predictable outcome, Jungkook did not regret it ever happening, or allowing it to happen. However, your well-being matters to him other than his selfish reasons. To preserve the purity of reputation from the scrutinizing eyes of the palace women is all he cares of, as these predators could challenge your title for their personal interests.

Barely affected by the king’s wrath, he embraced his fate in the hands of his nation’s ruler. And as he finally spoke, he only proved your instinct right.

“My apologies, Your Majesty. I will gladly accept any punishment you may order, but I cannot deny that I took the Princess in my household.” Jungkook answered with a controlled tone.

Your eyes darted back at him, appalled by the manner of his admission as if it were his pure intent, “Jungkook! That’s a lie, I came to you!” You quickly interfered, convincing him otherwise. Panic audibly hinted in your voice, and even with your silent plea for him to take back his words, he dares not spare a single glance back to you.

With trembling hands, you turn to face the merciless king. You wish you could see the brotherly side of him, the one that cares for you. The one in front of you is nothing like your brother, but a king you wish he wasn’t.

Your lips quivering as you protest, “I chose to flee on my own accord, Your Majesty. He didn’t force me.”

But even with your words, his dark scrutiny was already fixated at the young general.

“Very well, then. Your betrayal to your king would only conclude your willful commitment to treason. Am I right General Jeon?”

Despite tracing no single emotion in his expression, his chilling voice manifests his anger.

Your frightened eyes went round. “Jeonha!”

Without hesitation, Jungkook willingly succumbs. “If it is your will, Your Majesty.” He expresses, refusing to see the horror in your eyes. If it means you will be pardoned from this mess, he will accept anything on your behalf.

A sharp gasp left your mouth, “J-Jungkook, w-what are you saying? You had nothing to do with this, it’s my fault—“

“Han!” You hear the king’s booming voice that made you stop.

Upon the eunuch’s entry, the king concluded your fate. “Escort the princess in her chamber. You are to make sure she doesn’t leave her chamber until I tell you. No one is allowed to see her but me, do you understand? I will deal with the queen dowager, myself.”

The shimmering tears in your eyes trickle down through your cheeks, “Orabeoni,” you helplessly plead, meeting his sharp glare, abhorring his callousness.

You could care less if you would be given a heavy spanking from the queen dowager, but Jungkook certainly didn’t commit treason. The king is not a fool to not understand that the scandal was caused by your selfishness but he chose to dismiss the truth.

Your eyes eagerly sought for Jungkook’s as you were being taken away. You need to see him, at least, for the last time. Jungkook didn’t turn on your way, not even when you disappeared from their sight.

After you were escorted out in the courtroom, the king simply ordered General Jeon to go back to his household and prepare for the military’s forthcoming departure. Even with utter confusion, Jungkook left the palace bearing the last image he had caught glimpse of you— he only hoped his last memory of you wouldn’t be replaced by your beautiful, bright smiles. He would have his way to see you, again.

The catastrophe has shattered you into pieces, and as painful as it deeply wounded you, you didn’t know it was all part of the king’s act to teach you a lesson.

The palace became tense for the past few days. True to the orders of the king, no other members of the royal family were able to reach out to the princess. Not until the worry of the queen became too much for her to bear. Realizing that the king does not have an intention to lift the punishment just yet, the queen begged the king, his son, to allow you to serve the extent of your punishment in her state in the east where your maternal grandparents live.

Whether or not the king has approved of it, you have no power to defy his order, regardless.

Few hours had passed since you had departed from the palace, the moving palanquin seemed to have stopped, until it flew open, revealing your personal servant and from behind— Jungkook!

Your servant stepped back, giving Jungkook a room to see you closer. What is he doing here?

“Jungkook, w-what are—“

“Hush, my love. I’m alright.” He reassures in between rapid intakes of breaths.

“You’re leaving…”

He surveys your face, brushing your stubborn tears away with his fingers, frowning. “I am, but your tears are piercing my heart, jagiya. You’re crying as if I won’t come back.”

You have high hopes he’ll survive the battle, but there’s clearly no hope for the two of you. You could sacrifice your title for him, but you can’t afford any adversity coming back at his tail for your selfishness.

“You’ll wait for me, Y/N?”

I will only give you misfortune, you silently thought further.

His forehead rests against yours, his eyes clenching shut as a painful smile stretches on his face. “I know… I understand you can’t. But I’d like to think you’ll be waiting for me when I return.”

With your harsh multiple nods, a sob uncontrollably releases from your throat, and another, and another, until the pain in your chest trickles up through your throat that your cries couldn’t be stopped any longer.

“Please, come back to me, Jungkook. I-I… I’ll be a good princess. I will go to the temple everyday to pray for you. And… If you… If you realize you don’t want me anymore— it’s fine,” you weakly smile, “I just need you to come back alive... for your mother, for Taehyung—“

“Marry me.”

Your heart suddenly stops, “W-What?”

“Be my wife.” Jungkook repeats with firm persistence.

“Jungkook, h-how— you’re leaving…” You stammer with the right words. He can’t, no serving military soldier in Joseon can marry the princess. Your brother made it clear to you.

But for the first time, Jungkook lied and promised you his world, the only thing you will never have in this lifetime. “When I return, I’ll marry you, if you’ll have me.”

With all the strength left in you, you nodded. “I’m yours, Jungkook.” You promised back, failing to recognize the obligation it weighs in your future.

Jungkook plants a longing, bittersweet kiss in your lips before he parts from you. Your eyes attentively watch his figure skillfully vanish from your sight.

I’ll wait for you.

terms

orabeoni - endearment used for older brother/sister jeonha - your majesty inner/internal court - a separate body in the palace governed by the female members of the royal family responsible to control the palace women’s affairs to which the king cannot intervene about queen mother - endearment used for the king’s mother/queen dowager great queen dowager - mother of the deceased king palanquin - a covered litter/large box with two horizontal poles carried by humans as a means of transportation

credits to the rightful owner (Jeesung Kim) of the image used

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #jk x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #jungkook au #bts historical au #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts joseon dynasty au

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southeastasianists · 4 years ago

Link

Making movies about lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender can be daunting under Singapore’s restrictive censorship laws, but that didn’t stop one filmmaker from doing so in his directorial debut. Getting his work to the big screen, however, was a whole other obstacle to overcome.

It only took one month for Jet Ho to conceptualize, write, cast and film Aqua Man, a short film about a young Singaporean boy that looks at the hot-button topic of gay conversion therapy. But that was just the beginning of his struggle for anyone to see it. Because it touches the media third rail of homosexuality, his story of student Jun Jie, his distressed mom, and Bible-armed pastor was rejected at least 15 times, by Ho’s count, by streaming platforms and film festivals.

“It [was] quite fast to film, but it took me a very hard time to promote the film,” Ho told Coconuts. “It basically was rejected everywhere from the start until I decided to just launch it on YouTube and give it some justice to itself.”

There’s no Jason Momoa here coming to the rescue, so why Aqua Man? Aqua sounds similar to a derogatory Hokkien term for gay men, Ah Kua, which literally means transvestite. In Ho’s film, actor Josh Lim is the titular character, who comes home one day to find his mother has brought a pastor to pray the gay out of him with a praying ritual form of conversion therapy.

It’s a timely topic as Singaporeans clash over extending or suppressing LGBT rights and recognition in an uneven struggle that has seen one side given a voice over the other.

Because of the subject matter, Aqua Man could never be shown on television, as films featuring characters who are gay – an “alternative sexuality” to government censors – is automatically rated 21 and up.

That restriction, most often applied to movies containing nudity, was not something Ho was OK with. After all, he wanted to reach those who would most identify with his protagonist.

“It is a societal problem that starts out even with kids at a very young age,” Ho said, referring to the younger generation who struggle with their sexual identity. “This has got nothing to do with explicit pornographic material, that perhaps needs a higher age rating.”

So in December he premiered his film on YouTube, where it has struggled to find a large audience.

Unseen …

The commercial photographer for the National Museum and National Geographic channel said he was motivated to make his movie by the lack of a quality queer representation in Singaporean television shows and movies.

Queer characters portrayed as regular people are unheard of on national television, where they are relegated to cross-dressing tropes by the likes of Jack Neo and drag queen Kumar, or are sources of comic relief, such as transgender comedian Abigail Chay.

There is some good – last year’s depiction of a family man turning to drag culture to feed his family was nominated for two Taiwanese film awards – and a whole lot of ugly, such as Mediacorp TV series My Guardian Angels, which portrayed a gay character as an STD-infected pedophile.

“They just include this character and always hint him in a very bad light or bad influence, driving a misrepresentation of the LGBT population in Singapore,” Ho said. “Let’s say Disney has one gay character in a movie and it is premiering in Singapore. I can tell you a lot of people will make a big fuss out of it.”

Indeed Disney’s Beauty and the Beast did kick up some dust in 2017 from church councils, which denounced the film winning a PG-rating despite the inclusion of a gay character.

That said, Singaporeans are more open to discuss gender identity today than two decades ago, Ho said, noting that Aqua Man is set nearly 20 years ago, a time he thinks Singapore’s cultural conservatism was at its peak.

Now, in 2021, arch-conservatives appear to feel they are on the defensive, denouncing “woke cancel mobs” over arguments that seem to have moved on from their point of view as negative LGBT views continue to tick down. Singapore’s strain of evangelical Christianity remains a potent force, and the intersection between faith and family is an area Ho mined for his film.

“Sometimes when the parents face such a problem that is already existing in our very conservative society, they often find a solution with the church or with religious institutions but the answer to whether it is the right or the most moral approach, nobody is there to judge,” Ho said. “I find this dilemma in the film very interesting because there is no right or wrong answer.”

Ho, who is not Christian, had only heard stories of conversion therapy. So, prior to filming, he dove a little deeper into the topic by attending weekly sermons at churches and interviewing pastors in hope of portraying them more accurately. He sounded grateful for the opportunity.

“I don’t want to put any church or any organization in bad light, I want to make the whole film look as authentic as it is. With the church, I was very thankful to come out with this concept,” he said, describing them as “loving” and “very understanding.”

… but not unheard

Aqua Man could have reached a wider audience and been better funded were it not for the strict laws, believes Ho, who forked out S$16,000 (US$12,000) to make it. Even film festivals and competitions turned him down.

“The main problem was when I tried to send out to a few film competitions, I wasn’t notified on whether I lost or anything. Locally, like streaming platforms I actually send out a few emails to their main email and even directly to people who work there but I received zero emails,” he said. “That’s how serious it is, they are so repulsive against LGBT-centric films.”

Ho submitted his film to the Singapore International Film Festival and HBO Asia’s Invisible Stories series, which is marketed as surfacing untold Singapore stories. They were among the more than dozen platforms he says rejected or ignored his inquiries. But he took comfort in one HBO representative’s note.

“Even though we didn’t win anything, it was actually a great relief because she personally wrote an email to us, and that’s the only reply that we got. At first, I really thought the film was so bad and negative to the extent that it doesn’t deserve a place or it doesn’t deserve anything,” he said.

Though direct to YouTube wasn’t his first choice, Ho was gratified by the response he got.

“After the film was produced, it was very astonishing to find that many people actually reach out to say that this happened to them personally so it became a true story that I wrote. Initially, I just dictated the story and something I think will be interesting to show but it became a true story, told by people who watch the film,” he said.

Local LGBT group Oogachaga had also shared the movie on its online platform.

And it’s not the end of the road for Ho, who is still pushing for Aqua Man to reach a wider audience. He’s also writing another script and pledging to continue chasing stories on social issues such as transgenderism, racism, and abuse.

“Singapore has to have its own culture when it comes to filmmaking, our culture is our identity. We should portray more and show more, we shouldn’t hide it we should embrace it and move forward,” he said. “Trying to conceal the whole LGBT-centric material is not going to be helpful for us to progress into a more empathetic society.”

#Southeast Asia #Singapore #LGBTQIA Issues #Movies #Aqua Man

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 4 years ago

Text

The better to taste you with, sweetheart

(Hayffie trick-or-treat 🧡 🔥 NSFW. Sexual content. Thanks @chocolateshipcookieblog for the prompt. This fic is a bit all over the place, but so is Halloween, so I just went with what came up. District 12 started feeling a little like Stars Hollow, so I kind of embraced that too. Now I can’t look at a lollipop without picturing it in Effie’s mouth, and I’m not complaining 🍭. Writing this was fun and touching.)

***

A fire burned in a wood stove in the corner of the Hob where people gathered for the town hall meeting. The large brick building held the chill of early autumn. Effie shivered, regretting her decision to wear only a sweater rather than a coat. She huddled close to Peeta. Sae’s granddaughter held Effie’s hand in a childlike way, swinging her arm periodically. Effie didn’t mind the connection with the unusual woman who was her neighbor now. That evening she appreciated the warmth of her hand.

“I told ‘em they were buildin’ this place too big,” Greasy Sae said matter-of-factly, not caring if the mayor or anyone in particular heard her or not. “A body gets cold in here no matter the size of the crowd.”

“Sure beats the heat in summer,” a man behind them said.

Effie peered over her shoulder and recognized him as one of the spice traders. “Spice” was a term used loosely in 12 to refer to dried roots, stems, bulbs, barks, and herbs, including tabacco and cannabis.

“Summer gets real hot.” He glanced at Effie from her forehead to her shoulders, then his eyes shot back up without gazing further. It was a look she knew well now. In 12, no one in his right mind stared wantonly at Haymitch’s girl, at least not openly, even when they were drunk or stoned.

The town hall had drawn a decent size crowd. More folks started showing up at those meetings once the council stopped hosting them every month and switched to quarterly. The people of each district had representatives and a governor, but those positions dealt with broad political issues, leaving local issues to be facilitated by a mayor and a town council.

It was Effie’s first autumn since letting go of her apartment in the Capitol, and Peeta was a dear to be joining her that night since she hadn’t wanted to go alone. She figured the only way she’d stop feeling like an outsider in 12 was to walk the line awhile between being present and being nonintrusive. She had a lifetime of experience walking lines much finer and more perilous than that one, so the task suited her.

The Hob filled with the fragrance of coffee brewing. People in attendance sipped mugs of it and devoured the muffins Peeta brought, baked with fruit from pawpaw trees. Katniss had encountered a grove of them in the woods. The fruit dropped in late summer and early fall, and Katniss gathered up what she found after hunts.

The mayor called the meeting to order and proceeded with the usual agenda: reconstruction updates, old business, new business, and so on. Effie was fairly bored until some new business sparked her interest.

“Since last year’s revival of All Hallows’ Eve was well received,” the mayor said, “The council invites all to attend this year’s festivities which will be held on the last night of October. We’ll have a bonfire again at the meadow’s edge to honor the departed. In the first two hours after sunset, everyone is encouraged to participate in the ancient tradition of guising.”

“Guising?” Effie murmured the question to Peeta.

He whispered back, “Dressing up in costume — mostly creatures from old stories. And going door to door after dark for treats — sweet foods, coins for children, liquor for adults.”

Costumes, sweets, money, alcohol... that sounded to Effie like regular living in the old days of the Capitol. But this tradition, one night each year under the cover of darkness, was something unique. In the Capitol they’d only celebrated national holidays.

The mayor continued, “Spread the word... anyone planning to offer treats, please remember to light a lantern or a candle on your doorstep in order to avoid the — confusion — we had last year.”

“Confusion?” Effie quietly asked Peeta again.

“Pranks on people who were home but not answering their doors: knocking late into the night, tossing a few eggs at windows, minor mischief.”

Effie could guess who probably refused to answer his door. This year that was going to change if she had anything to say about it, which of course she did.

***

On the last evening in October, Haymitch slouched on the sofa in front of a fire with his feet propped up on the coffee table. The flames burned low, but he felt too lazy to add another log. He reached instead for his glass of whiskey.

He could already hear people gathering near the meadow. Bonfire, music, dancing... traditions to honor the dead. Folks were saying that a long time ago All Hallows’ Eve was celebrated as some “sacred” night when the “veil between worlds” is thin and the dead are close. Katniss had a few memories of her father telling *ghost* stories that his mother used to sing about. The old lady had been a strange one for sure. To Haymitch it all seemed like load of horse shit since “dead” meant decayed to bones, then nothing and gone forever.

“Traditions” for Haymitch had always meant the ones that happened under Snow’s control. Reaping Day had been the big “holiday.” Work paused and citizens dressed up. Those were government orders. Eventually people shamed their neighbors who didn’t stop working and didn’t wear nice clothes. They no longer needed government to do the punishing about not following traditions because people did it to each other. Families whose children didn’t get reaped celebrated quietly, behind closed doors, reserving special food for the occasion if they could afford to do so. *Holiday traditions* didn’t sit well with Haymitch.

“Manners!” Effie scolded as she approached from the kitchen and saw his bare feet on the coffee table.

“Loosen your corset. There’s a coaster right here.” He said it without looking at her.

Not wanting to start an argument just then, she bit her tongue as she moved toward the fireplace. “I’m not wearing a corset tonight.”

His peripheral vision caught a flash of red, and he turned to watch her. She wore a velvet cloak buttoned down the front. She pulled off a long satin glove before grabbing a log to throw on the fire.

His eyes passed over her from head to toe then back up again. “What’s this?” he asked, with a smile on his face.

She slipped her glove back on and confronted him with her hands on her hips. The hood of her cloak was pulled up, and her hair peeked from beneath, framing her face in blonde curls. Her makeup was light, apart from her lipstick which was as crimson as blood.

“My costume, for guising.”

His expression was a mix of intrigue, amusement, and irritation.

“I told you weeks ago that we’re going, and I mean it! Posy’s already on her way over here. I’m paying that girl a small fortune to hand out cookies and quarters and whiskey, so Hazelle doesn’t have to wash dried egg off YOUR window panes tomorrow like Peeta said she had to do last year.”

“Whiskey?! I didn’t agree to give out liquor to freeloaders.”

“Everyone is doing it. You’ll be receiving as much as you’re giving away.” Effie sat beside him on the couch, crossing her legs so the cloak parted near the fur-lined hem where she’d left a couple of buttons unfastened. Above knee-high boots, her thighs were covered in lace stockings.

“You’ll be wearing that?” His mouth watered for treats other than food and drink.

“All evening.”

He reached out to her thigh, but she smacked his hand before he could touch her.

“What the hell!” He sat up straight, aroused by the sting of the slap as much as by her appearance.

“You get to touch me when we’re out of the house, not before!”

“That’s extortion.”

“That’s PATIENCE... and holiday spirit!” She softened the blow by adding, “...I’ll be touching you too — if you want.”

Yeah, I want. “No corset? Hmmm. So what are you wearing under that cloak?”

“You’ll see tonight — after we visit everyone, and we’re home.”

“That’s more extortion!”

“That’s more patience.”

“And what am I supposed to wear?”

“It doesn’t matter, honey. With me dressed like this, they’re not going to be looking at you.”

***

Twilight was fading, and the last trace of blue drained from the sky. Effie had never seen more stars than she did when looking up from the clearings of 12. She slipped a flat round disk of hard candy from a wax paper sleeve and held it up by its wooden stick.

“Shine the lantern on it,” she directed, “I want to see the color.”

The lantern swung casually at Haymitch’s side. He didn’t lift it up. “Why’d you insist on us bringing this thing when we could each be using a flashlight? Or better yet, sitting at home where there’s electricity. Or lying in bed pretending we’re not home.”

“If we’re in bed, then people coming to the door are going to know we’re home. I wouldn’t be quiet, and you’d wind up smothering me with a pillow.”

“That sounds accurate.”

“Besides, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Too dark to find it.”

“What’s too dark — the night or you?”

“Both.”

She stopped walking, and he followed suit. With him it was always easier to catch flies with honey. She slid the basket of gathered treats over her wrist. It was growing heavy with pastries, fresh and dried fruits, nuts, and confections like taffy from the sweet shop in the Hob.

She reached above the zipper of his coat and stroked the hollow between his collarbones. “I like the darkness in you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere when I’m freezing my ass off.” Her fingertips were warm, red satin against his throat. The gloves stretched from her hands to her elbows. When she’d pulled them on earlier that evening, he wanted her to touch him right then.

“Let’s see...” She moved her hand away. When he was about to protest, she nestled her body against his and slipped her gloved fingers beneath his coat, into the back waistband of his pants. “Your ass is still here, and it’s not frozen.”

She teased his flesh without grasping, drawing him out with her, not home for sex. He felt the difference. If he wanted something now other than this “guising” nonsense, then he’d need to do some coaxing of his own.

He encircled her waist with one arm and murmured against her temple. “Why do you need a lantern when you can just taste the thing?”

With her hand in his pants, her mind started spinning things she wanted to taste. The heels of her boots brought her mouth up close to his. He smelled like the wool hat and sweater he’d dug out from the cedar chest, the ale they’d been given at the previous house, and bites of chocolate.

“What ‘thing’ would I be tasting?”

“That lollipop ...unless you have something else in mind.”

Even as she clenched the thin wooden dowel, she’d forgotten it. “A lick would be good...” She touched the tip of her tongue to the corner of his mouth. “...But maybe I’ll need to suck on it awhile.”

Reluctantly she slipped out from the warmth of him and pulled away, transferring the basket of treats back to her hand.

He lifted the lantern, otherwise it would have been too dark to watch her suck on that stick of candy, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to miss that.

She opened her mouth slowly and met the lollipop with her tongue, then lingered a moment before drawing the candy inside. She pursed her lips around the stick, and her cheeks sucked in. Her tongue moved side to side awhile, savoring the flavor. When she pulled the stick out, her lips were still puckered. The candy followed, glistening in the lantern light.

Her mouth turned up at the corners. “It’s okay to blink now,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “So how does it taste?”

“Find out for yourself.”

She held out the lollipop, but he didn’t take it. Instead he wrapped his hand, gloved in leather, around her satin-clad one. He tugged her toward him, and tasted her. She was sticky sweet, like white sugar sprinkled over warm berries.

The kiss sent the sweetness coursing through her. Her breath came out in a rush over his tongue. He felt it everywhere.

“Damn, Effie. Let’s go home. I wanna take off your cloak. I can hardly feel anything with these gloves on.”

He was tempting, but she steeled herself against temptation. “Not yet. We haven’t been to the mayor’s house or the bonfire.”

“The bonfire? Shit. You didn’t say anything about that.”

“It was implied.”

In the lantern light, she watched him scowl.

“Implied...” she leaned in again and murmured against his neck, “...Like the sex we’ll be having later. I didn’t say anything about doing that either, but you know we will.”

“Fine. ...While I’m waiting, feel free to keep sucking on that candy.”

Effie slid the basket over her wrist again, laced her fingers with his, and enticed him with the lollipop between her lips as they strolled on.

***

“Ah, what do you know! It’s Haymitch Abernathy, out on All Hallows’ Eve. Effie, you’ve accomplished a miracle.” The mayor poured them each a cupful of brandy.

“This is WONDERFUL, Taylor. It’s the council that’s accomplished a miracle.” Effie sipped the drink. The ability to make small talk with anyone was a long rehearsed part of her skill set.

“You are dazzling in red. Why don’t you wear that color more often?”

“I save it for special occasions.”

“Haymitch, who are you supposed to be? ...The woodcutter?”

“I’m pretending to be a nice guy.” He downed the brandy in a single gulp.

“Ah, a wolf in sheep’s clothing! Well, ‘nice guy’ looks much better on you than the *grumpy old man* costume you wore last year.”

“Very funny...”

Effie half-expected the words to be followed by a snide “sweetheart.”

The mayor dropped a brown paper package tied with blue ribbon into Effie’s basket of treats. “Fudge. From the sweet shop. After last year’s pumpkin explosion, I’ve sworn off baking.”

“When I visit Peeta or Sae’s kitchens, they make me sit on a stool and drink coffee.”

“That’s not a bad deal.”

“I agree.”

The mayor glanced around, then whispered, “Truth be told, I overcooked the pumpkin intentionally, figuring I’d be spared future requests for baked goods. But the explosion was a surprise.”

“My lips are sealed.” Effie finished her drink, and they handed the glasses back to the mayor.

“I’m heading to the bonfire. How about you two?”

“We were just about to—“ Effie started, but Haymitch interrupted with his hand on her back.

“—make another stop. Maybe we’ll see you later.”

***

“What other stop?” she asked when they were walking on the road again.

He slid his hand up her back and grasped the nape of her neck, caressing her through the velvet. “I didn’t get all *dressed up* tonight to spend time with the mayor. I wanna be with you.”

She wrapped her arm around him and hooked her thumb on his waistband. “I want to be with you too. It’s almost too bad there are people crawling all over town tonight.“

“Come here.” He lead her around the side of the Hob.

“I am NOT making out with you behind the dumpster!”

“Keep going. I know what you like and what you don’t.”

The back of the building was steeped in shadow. There were a couple of pallets stacked high with wood for the stoves. He lead her along the narrow passage between them to a spot sheltered under the eaves.

He took the basket from her hands and set it on the ground along with the flickering lantern. She smiled as she backed up against the brick wall. “Do you bring all the girls here?”

“Just you... Red.” He pulled off his gloves and dropped them beside the basket. “I’m done waiting to touch you.”

He held her hips and pulled her lightly against him. One hand shifted to the small of her back. The other brushed her bottom lip with his thumb. The crimson color lingered elsewhere now, on the rims of unwashed liquor glasses and a discarded lollipop stick. Her lips parted, naked and soft.

“I want this mouth on me.”

“Where, honey?” She was already inching down the zipper of his coat.

“You choose.”

She snuggled against his sweater. His body was warm and hard, and she immediately wanted more than what she felt was accessible in the shadow of the Hob.

Her hands touched him first before her mouth. Satin fingertips traced around his coat collar, pushing it low. She sucked the tendons on the side of his neck, up to his jaw and back. Then she bit down.

He flinched, groaning in a mix of pain and pleasure. He gripped her wrists, holding her against him rather than pushing her away. “Is that how you want to play this?”

“Uh huh,” she mumbled against his neck, kissing gently now. “I’m making some marks. Everybody in this town is treating me like I’m *yours*. If that’s how it’s going to be, they should know you’re mine too.”

“I haven’t been telling ‘em anything.”

“They know it just the same.” She plucked kisses like a rope around his throat, then bit him on the other side.

He let it all happen, anticipating the sensations, and flinching again. He nudged her against the wall, letting her feel what she was doing to his body. “You know, I can get you off right here,” he said.

The same force that spent a decade pulling her to 12 was tugging at her now. Everything inside her melted like that lollipop in a mouthful of hot brandy. The temptation was too much. “We have to be quick. Anyone might find us.”

“So what? If they see you fucking me, that’ll offer ‘em more clarity about us than you biting up my neck.”

“Haymitch, there are children!”

“So we’ll keep our clothes on and stay quiet... mostly. No kids are gonna be scarred — not even you, sweetheart.” He toyed with the top button of her cloak.

“How do YOU want to play this?” she asked.

“I wanna see you.” He unhooked the buttons, keeping his eyes fixed on hers, waiting to take in the sight of her all at once, whatever it might be.

After the last button was unfastened, she didn’t wait for him to open her cloak. She did it herself.

Damn... She’d been walking all over town wearing nothing under that thing except a white neglige and a thong. Both were made of some sheer fabric that hid little to nothing of her. The thin silk straps around her hips matched the ones over her shoulders.

“Effie...” He wanted her. Every bit of her. And he knew the thing that people had been thinking was true. She had him. Nothing was changing that, unless he drank himself to death, or she left him — whichever came first. Later, when more blood was flowing to his brain, he might be afraid of that awareness. But for now he was hers.

“Surprise.” She beamed. “You better come closer, or I’m going to be the one freezing my ass off.”

His arms went around her within the cloak, and he crushed her against him, taking in the sensations of her with his hands and mouth.

Her palms skimmed up his back under his shirt. “Closer...” she urged.

“You first.”

She’d spent a long portion of her life in gloves. Her fingers were nearly as dexterous within fabric as they were bare. She opened his pants and pulled his dick into her hands, working him between her palm and fingers. He thought about letting her make him come like that. But he wanted to be inside her.

His hands were warm when they slipped into her thong, bracketing her with fingers in her folds and spiraling just above. When he touched her, everything quickened. She stroked him with insistence and moved against his hands with rapid cadence.

Far too much noise was coming from her throat. “Where’s that pillow so I can smother you?” he teased.

“Just fuck me,” she pleaded, “Now before we’re arrested.”

He untangled his hands from her thong. She lifted one of her legs, and he hiked it up in the crook of his elbow, flattening his palm against the wall. The heels of her boots brought her up to a perfect height to fuck like this. She slid her thong to the side, and he dipped within her — plunging, stirring. She met his thrusts with her own.

He clutched her waist and pressed her against the bricks, commanding stillness. “Don’t move your hips.”

“What!” she huffed, “Fuck you, Haymitch! I’m so close.”

“PATIENCE,” he teased with her inflection in his voice, “Wait for it, and it’ll be better. You know I’m right.”

She knew.

He was close too. She was all satin and velvet inside and out. Her breasts brushed against his sweater. It was so much.

She was crying out, and “Shhh” was accomplishing nothing. He covered her mouth with his palm. His pinky pressed against her nostrils. She could breathe, but barely. They’d played this game before. Adrenaline surged through her body as she came undone. She clung to his neck as her thighs shook. Her whimpers passed through the closed slits between his fingers. Her eyes were wild in shadow, never leaving his.

“I know, honey. I’m right here... Oh, fuck. I know... Goddamn it... Effie...” He heard her name several times as he climaxed. He must have been the one saying it, since his hand was still covering her mouth.

When he let go of her, she sucked in the night air, still clutching his neck. She was high. So high like this.

“Are you okay?” He panted.

She caught her breath. “The mayor, Greasy Sae, the damn spice trader, they’re all right... I’m yours. I just am. It’s like breathing. Even when it’s hard to do, I’m still yours.” — It was the closest she would come to a declaration of love.

Her words moved through him like the music he heard in the distance. He was chuckling, not knowing exactly why. Release mostly. The lantern flickered near their feet. The hood of her cloak had slipped back, and her curls were stretching into wisps, fatigued like his body. She was so beautiful.

“I’m pretty sure my neck is bleeding now, so apparently that makes me yours too.”

“Oh...” Oxytocin was working its magic, and she filled with empathy. She pushed the coat off his shoulders so she could see. Her teeth marks were there, but no blood was dripping. She slapped his chest. “You’ll live.”

They pulled apart far enough to put themselves back into a semblance of order: readjusting, covering, zipping, and buttoning up. Then he held her until she was warm enough to move out again into the night.

***

They returned to the road, rather than cutting through the meadow. Yeah, “dead” meant decayed to bones, then nothing and gone forever, but Haymitch still didn’t want to be walking across a mass grave, no matter how thick the grasses were growing, no matter that flowers would pop up in spring.

Effie felt the energy of the evening diffusing. Sparks from the bonfire floated away on the breeze with red maple leaves. Haymitch carried her basket in the crook of his elbow where her leg had been settled a short while before. In that same hand he held the lantern. Both of her arms wrapped around his free one, the way he held her sometimes in sleep.

That night, children who had never known the Games wore their blankets around their shoulders to be heroes or over their heads to be ghosts. They cuddled their blankets in their arms as they grew tired and snuggled against their parents, or whoever they had left to love them. Effie’s Nana had held her like that, once upon a time. Many years passed before she experienced again that quality of feeling.

She squeezed Haymitch’s arm tighter, and her eyes filled with tears. If someone had asked her all the reasons why, she couldn’t have told them. Some emotions are too layered to translate into words on cards. They’re unexplainable to an audience of even one.

She paused. “Let’s go home.”

“No bonfire?”

“Not tonight.”

“Okay. Ain’t nothing there that you and I don’t already have right here.” — It was the closest he would come to a declaration of love.

Whether they were taking the path of pins or the path of needles was irrelevant. The thing they had — the one that drew him out and filled her up —was always leading them the same place.

“Let’s stop first at the kids’ porch.” Effie added, “Peeta told me he was dressing up in Katniss’s hunting jacket, and he was going to try to wrangle her into wearing one of his aprons.”

“That I’d like to see... But don’t go getting any ideas.”

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t be caught dead in that hat of yours, and there’s no way I’m letting you borrow this cloak.”

“The mayor did say I look dazzling in red,” he joked.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint the mayor. ...I’ll let you wear my lipstick.”

“Only if you kiss it onto me then kiss it right off again.”

Some *traditions* might not be so bad after all.

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newstfionline · 3 years ago

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Saturday, July 31, 2021

Biden to allow eviction moratorium to expire Saturday (AP) The Biden administration announced Thursday it will allow a nationwide ban on evictions to expire Saturday, arguing that its hands are tied after the Supreme Court signaled the moratorium would only be extended until the end of the month. The White House said President Joe Biden would have liked to extend the federal eviction moratorium due to spread of the highly contagious delta variant of the coronavirus. Instead, Biden called on “Congress to extend the eviction moratorium to protect such vulnerable renters and their families without delay.” By the end of March, 6.4 million American households were behind on their rent, according to the Department of Housing and Urban Development. As of July 5, roughly 3.6 million people in the U.S. said they faced eviction in the next two months, according to the U.S. Census Bureau’s Household Pulse Survey.

Evacuation flight brings 200 Afghans to US (AP) The first flight evacuating Afghans who worked alongside Americans in Afghanistan brought more than 200 people, including scores of children and babies in arms, to resettlement in the United States on Friday, and President Joe Biden welcomed them home. The evacuation flights, bringing out former interpreters and others who fear retaliation from Afghanistan’s Taliban for having worked with American service members and civilians, highlight American uncertainty about how Afghanistan’s government and military will fare after the last U.S. combat forces leave that country in the coming weeks. Family members are accompanying the interpreters, translators and others on the flights out. The commercial airliner carrying the 221 Afghans in the special visa program, including 57 children and 15 babies, according to an internal U.S. government document obtained by The Associated Press, touched down in Dulles, Virginia, just outside Washington, D.C.

Not in control (NYT) Consider these Covid-19 mysteries: In India—where the Delta variant was first identified and caused a huge outbreak—cases have plunged over the past two months. A similar drop may now be underway in Britain. There is no clear explanation for these declines. / In the U.S., cases started falling rapidly in early January. The decline began before vaccination was widespread and did not follow any evident changes in Americans’ Covid attitudes. / In March and April, the Alpha variant helped cause a sharp rise in cases in the upper Midwest and Canada. That outbreak seemed poised to spread to the rest of North America—but did not. / This spring, caseloads were not consistently higher in parts of the U.S. that had relaxed masking and social distancing measures (like Florida and Texas) than in regions that remained vigilant. / Large parts of Africa and Asia still have not experienced outbreaks as big as those in Europe, North America and South America. / How do we solve these mysteries? Michael Osterholm, who runs an infectious disease research center at the University of Minnesota, suggests that people keep in mind one overriding idea: humility. “We’ve ascribed far too much human authority over the virus,” he told me.

Diasporas at the Olympics (Foreign Policy) Cuban athletes at the Tokyo Olympics are evidence of the exodus from the island over the years. By the Cuban sports journalist Francys Romero’s count, more than 20 athletes at the Olympics were born in Cuba but became naturalized in and are now playing for other countries. That’s a group almost one-third the size of Cuba’s own delegation.

Peru’s politics (Foreign Policy) Peru’s new President Pedro Castillo chose Guido Bellido, a congressman and fellow member of his Marxist Free Peru party, as his prime minister as part of a cabinet announcement on Thursday, setting up a tense confirmation battle with the country’s opposition-led Congress. Bellido courted controversy in a local media interview in April when he expressed sympathy for members of Shining Path—a Maoist guerilla group who fought a bloody insurgency during the 1980s and 1990s.

Death toll in Turkish wildfires rises to four, blazes rage on (Reuters) The death toll from wildfires on Turkey’s southern coast has risen to four and firefighters were battling blazes for a third day on Friday after the evacuation of dozens of villages and some hotels. More than 60 wildfires have broken out across 17 provinces on Turkey’s Aegean and Mediterranean coasts this week, officials have said. Villages and some hotels have been evacuated in areas popular with tourists, and TV footage had shown people fleeing across fields as they watched fires close in on their homes.

Three Jehovah’s Witnesses sentenced to six or more years in Russian prison for their faith (RNS) Three Jehovah’s Witnesses in Russia were convicted and sentenced to prison for practicing their faith on Thursday (July 29). Vilen Avanesov, 68, was sentenced to six years, and his son Arsen Avanesov, 37, along with a third defendant, Aleksandr Parkov, 53, were both sentenced to six-and-a-half years. All three men have already spent more than two years in pretrial detention. “These men should never, ever have had to spend a minute in prison, and yet they’ve been locked up for two years,” said Rachel Denber, deputy director of Human Rights Watch’s Europe and Central Asia division. The three Jehovah’s Witnesses were detained in Rostov-on-Don in May 2019 and accused of continuing the operations of a Jehovah’s Witness organization that had been liquidated. All three were charged with organizing extremist activities. In January 2020, Arsen Avanesov was also accused of “financing extremist activities” by collecting donations to rent a room to meet with other Jehovah’s Witnesses. Near the trial’s conclusion, Arsen Avanesov spoke of his devotion to God: “I dedicated my life to him and did it sincerely. … I don’t want, I can’t and will not give up my promise.” The sentences for the three men are considered particularly harsh in a country where rape is punishable by three years in prison and kidnapping by five. The sentencing follows a 2017 ruling that categorizes the religious group as “extremist.”

Myanmar leaders ‘weaponizing’ COVID-19, residents say (AP) With coronavirus deaths rising in Myanmar, allegations are growing from residents and human rights activists that the military government, which seized control in February, is using the pandemic to consolidate power and crush opposition. Supplies of medical oxygen are running low, and the government has restricted its private sale in many places, saying it is trying to prevent hoarding. But that has led to widespread allegations that the stocks are being directed to government supporters and military-run hospitals. At the same time, medical workers have been targeted after spearheading a civil disobedience movement that urged professionals and civil servants not to cooperate with the government, known as the State Administrative Council. “They have stopped distributing personal protection equipment and masks, and they will not let civilians who they suspect are supporting the democracy movement be treated in hospitals, and they’re arresting doctors who support the civil disobedience movement,” said Yanghee Lee, the U.N.’s former Myanmar human rights expert and a founding member of the Special Advisory Council for Myanmar. “With the oxygen, they have banned sales to civilians or people who are not supported by the SAC, so they’re using something that can save the people against the people,” she said. “The military is weaponizing COVID.”

North Korea began the summer in a food crisis. A heat wave and drought could make it worse. (Washington Post) At the beginning of the summer, North Korean leader Kim Jong Un described the country’s food situation as “tense” after border closures caused by the coronavirus pandemic and crippling floods. By midsummer, a cycle of grinding heat and record-low rainfall could be a sign of a greater food crisis and hunger ahead. Temperatures in North Korea have climbed as high as 102 degrees in some areas this week—a shock in a country where temperatures do not often break 100 degrees. The heat wave has been compounded by a growing drought. North Korea had gotten 21.2 millimeters, or less than an inch, of rain as of mid-July. It is so hot that state media reports have been repeatedly warning residents about the dangers of dehydration and low sodium levels, especially for the elderly and those at risk of heart disease or stroke. They are urging residents to stay out of the sun, eat more fruits and vegetables, and drink more than two liters (about two quarts) of water per day, according to NK News, which monitors North Korea’s state media.

Hong Kong protester given 9-year term in 1st security case (AP) A pro-democracy protester was sentenced Friday to nine years in prison in the closely watched first prosecution under Hong Kong’s national security law as the ruling Communist Party tightens control over the territory. Tong Ying-kit, 24, was convicted of inciting secession and terrorism for driving his motorcycle into a group of police officers at a July 1, 2020, rally. He carried a flag bearing the banned slogan, “Liberate Hong Kong, revolution of our times.” Tong’s sentence was longer than the three years requested by the prosecution. He faced a possible maximum of life in prison. Tong’s sentence is a “hammer blow to free speech” and shows the law is “a tool to instill terror” in government critics, Amnesty International’s Asia-Pacific regional director, Yamini Mishra, said in a statement. The law “lacks any exemption for legitimate expression or protest,” Mishra said. “The judgment at no point considered Tong’s rights to freedom of expression and protest.” Defense lawyers said Tong’s penalty should be light because the court hadn’t found the attack was deliberate, no one was injured, and the secession-related offense qualified as minor under the law.

New Zealand rated best place to survive global societal collapse (Guardian) New Zealand, Iceland, the UK, Tasmania and Ireland are the places best suited to survive a global collapse of society, according to a study. The researchers said human civilisation was “in a perilous state” due to the highly interconnected and energy-intensive society that had developed and the environmental damage this had caused. A collapse could arise from shocks, such as a severe financial crisis, the impacts of the climate crisis, destruction of nature, an even worse pandemic than Covid-19 or a combination of these, the scientists said. To assess which nations would be most resilient to such a collapse, countries were ranked according to their ability to grow food for their population, protect their borders from unwanted mass migration, and maintain an electrical grid and some manufacturing ability. Islands in temperate regions and mostly with low population densities came out on top.

Ethiopian roadblock (NYT) Aid workers in Ethiopia claim that an unofficial Ethiopian government blockade has cut off the only road into the conflict-torn region where millions of Ethiopians face the threat of mass starvation. A relief convoy headed for Tigray came under fire on the road on July 18, forcing it to turn around. On Tuesday, the World Food Program said 170 trucks loaded with relief aid were stranded in Semera, the capital of the neighboring Afar region, waiting for Ethiopian permission to make the trek into Tigray. The blockade is intensifying what some call the world’s worst humanitarian crisis in a decade. The crisis comes during an intensifying war, which has deepened ethnic tensions and stoked fears that Ethiopia will collapse. The United Nations estimates that 400,000 people there are living in famine-like conditions, and another 4.8 million need urgent help. The Ethiopian prime minister, Abiy Ahmed, who won the 2019 Nobel Peace Prize, said last week that his government was providing “unfettered humanitarian access” and committed to “the safe delivery of critical supplies to its people in the Tigray region.” However, Mr. Abiy’s ministers have publicly accused aid workers of helping and even arming the Tigrayan fighters, leading to aid workers being attacked at airports, and even killed.

#headlines #news

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years ago

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Title: the kind that was burned first [chapter 3 & 4] Summary: The one where Anakin and Obi-Wan traveled back in time and don’t inform anybody of it.

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#3 Qui-Gon Jinn

Qui-Gon would always be proud of Obi-Wan. He had been a fool when his Padawan was young, having been unable to see his potential. Obi-Wan had grown into a formidable Knight and Master, little Ahsoka certainly was a credit to his skills. She was strong and wise, even compared to the other war-time Padawans as they had shamefully begun calling the youths who hadn’t seen anything but the battlefield.

The fact that Obi-Wan had accepted a seat on the Council would always be an issue between them, but lately Qui-Gon felt like it didn’t matter as much as it once used to. Obi-Wan had always been strict about following the code, likely something that stuck with him from his last year as an Initiate, but in the past months he hadn’t just been lax about it, he was outright breaking it. Everybody was busy trying to find their place in the order and peacetimes again, so Obi-Wan’s behavior got sort of ignored, or tolerated. Either way, his Padawan didn’t seem to care too much.

“Good morning, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon greeted his former Padawan.

Obi-Wan had taken to spending a lot of time in the Room of a Thousand Fountains with young Anakin and his children. Little Luke and Leia were a delight to be around. They had recently learned how to crawl and were causing the appropriate amount of trouble. Neither their father nor Obi-Wan were particularly interested in putting them in the crèche with the other children, so mostly they were watching them by themselves. Ahsoka helped out as well, dragging her friends with her into babysitting. It was fun to see the Padawans fumble with the children when neither were even particularly fussy babies. Truth be told, Qui-Gon had never seen them throw a tantrum or cry for long. They always appeared to be very happy and content.

“Good morning, Master,” Obi-Wan said.

He smiled at Qui-Gon and motioned for him to sit down on the grass next to him. Qui-Gon obliged and allowed himself to enjoy his Padawan’s presence as it had been a while since there were enough hours to spare for some actual peace and quiet. Obi-Wan didn’t say a word, he just continued observing the twins and their father.

Anakin was lying on the grass as well, barefoot and shirtless, while the twins were crawling all over him. His chest was slowly rising and sinking again, he was sound asleep. Like everyone else, Qui-Gon had been and still was curious about Anakin’s origins. As a Jedi, Qui-Gon was no stranger to scars and Anakin had a lot of them. Most of them were quite old and spoke of life-threatening injuries like you wouldn’t normally find on Core Worlds.

After a couple minutes of silence, Obi-Wan suddenly got up and walked over to the three. In the same moment, the twins began crying, heartbroken and so fearful, their emotions resonated in the Force. That however couldn’t even begin to compare with the onslaught of fear, anger, worry, devastation and pain that assaulted Qui-Gon’s senses after. It threw him off balance so harshly that it took him a moment to recognize it was coming from Anakin. The man wasn’t moving at all, not a single muscle twitched. The children continued on crying as Obi-Wan sat down next to them. He put his hands on Anakin’s temples and lowered his head so that their foreheads were touching.

He was whispering to Anakin, but Qui-Gon couldn’t make out the words he was saying. He thought he caught memory flashes of flesh burning, betrayal, and regret, but they passed so soon, he couldn’t really make out a proper image.

Slowly, very slowly, the oppressive aura lifted. It got easier to breathe again and Qui-Gon could stretch out his senses. They were very deep in the room, hidden away in a small corner hardly anyone ever came to. Perhaps they had chosen this spot not to hide away but to spare others this experience. Qui-Gon wondered how regularly these fits happened that they were so prepared for it. He was just glad nobody else was around. A Padawan experiencing this torture would certainly get caught up in a flashback of the war. No wonder the children had begun to cry. Something horrible must have happened to Anakin, but Qui-Gon didn’t think it was his place to ask.

Anakin opened his eyes, tears still running over his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Shh,” Obi-Wan replied. “I’m sorry, dear one. Never again, I promise. I’ll never leave your side again.”

“I-“ Anakin’s eyes darted to the crying twins, then widened in horror. “They can’t be here. You have to take them, hide them somewhere safe!”

“Anakin-“ Obi-Wan began to say, but the other man wasn’t listening, too caught up in whatever dream he had awoken from. He got to his feet and stepped back from the group.

“My own daughter,” Anakin said and took another step back. “And I cut off his hand-“

“It hasn’t happened here,” Obi-Wan sternly cut him off.

Anakin wasn’t deterred. He was caught up in his panic like a cornered lothcat, ready to lash out if he couldn’t disappear.

“No, but I remember it anyway. Just- I can’t do this today.”

And with those words, Anakin turned around and stormed out of the area. Obi-Wan sighed and picked up the twins instead, humming soothingly. They buried their heads in Obi-Wan’s tunic and their crying subdued into silent sobs. The whole exchange couldn’t have taken longer than a minute, but to Qui-Gon it felt like decades had passed, draining his Padawan entirely. The war had exhausted all of them but only rarely had Qui-Gon seen Obi-Wan show openly that he was weary to the bone.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan apologized unnecessarily to him. “Today hasn’t been one of the better days.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon replied. “Your companion is haunted by many ghosts.”

Obi-Wan glanced into the direction Anakin had disappeared to. If not for the children in his arms, Obi-Wan would probably chase after him. Whatever was going on behind the scenes, the two of them needed to talk about it soon. If this episode really wasn’t even one of the worse ones, Anakin needed serious help, more than a Knight could provide. He needed a mind healer. Qui-Gon wasn’t going to voice his concerns though. It wasn’t his place. He could, however, support his Padawan in different ways.

“Do you think Luke and Leia would enjoy a trip to the planetarium?” Qui-Gon mused. “I’ve been meaning to stop by there again as I haven’t been in a while. I can take the two off your hands for a few hours.”

“Master, there’s no need. I can take care of them on my own.”

As if to prove his point, Luke and Leia stopped sobbing entirely and instead began cooing and babbling.

“I am not questioning your abilities. I am merely stating that I have time and wouldn’t mind spending some time with-“ Qui-Gon halted to find an adequate term, but after concluding he couldn’t find a better synonym, settled on the truth, “-your children. It is no bother.”

Obi-Wan looked conflicted and Qui-Gon was reminded of all the times he used to play around with his Padawan braid when he was nervous. He hadn’t thought of it in years, but the memories weren’t unwelcome.

“In fact, I believe I will enjoy it,” he added. “The two are very strong in the Living Force, you must have noticed.”

Obi-Wan’s expression softened and he even smiled in amusement.

“What do you say?” He asked the twins. “Do you want to spend the morning with your grandmaster instead?”

Of course, the twins couldn’t reply, but they also didn’t protest when Obi-Wan handed them over to Qui-Gon. They were confused, but then quickly entertained themselves by attempting to reach for his hair. Qui-Gon should probably braid the loose strands so avoid getting his hair pulled.

“Thank you, Master,” Obi-Wan said.

“Go help your friend, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon just replied. “He needs you.”

And going by the speed Obi-Wan rushed after Anakin, he needed him just as much. Qui-Gon waited another few minutes, then set out to take the twins to the planetarium; and if he made a few stops across the whole temple until it was lunch time and Obi-Wan and Anakin came to collect Luke and Leia, then that was his business.

#4 Padmé Amidala

Padmé was once more regretting that was she was the overachiever of her family. None of them did well with idle work. Her father had worked with refugees of which some had detonators in their bodies, her mother had been the mayor of their home village, Sola had her eyes set on reforming the educational system of Naboo and Darred was a prominent lawyer. Nobody in her family had set their goals low, but Padmé had to go out of her way to become first Queen and then Senator and now she was overworking herself trying to get a grip on all of Palpatine’s machinations.

His manipulations had run so deep, there were nights where she and her handmaidens, sisters in all but blood, stayed up until the early morning hours, letting off steam and trying to figure out how to fix it. There were days when Padmé thought they might not be able to fix it, that the Republic would be better off if they cut it completely and built it up anew from the ground up. Padmé knew she couldn’t dwell on those thoughts, they weren’t productive, but she found herself tapping into that body of thought more often than she was comfortable.

One thing that never did fail to comfort her was the steady presence of the Jedi. They had been shook to the core just as much as every other institution, but they appeared to adapt to this changed atmosphere much more quickly than the Senate. The Jedi were fewer people, governed themselves differently, but after the past nine long months, they had returned to some sense of normalcy. The clones, those that had decided to stay at least, were making their way through the temple as if they had never belonged anywhere else.

Two of them welcomed her kindly at the Temple’s entrance. She was a known figure to the as she had fought visibly and openly for their rights for years. The two guards wore blue tabards over their tunics and armors, they must have been part of Master Jinn’s 501st then. Out of all the battalions, she might know them best. Master Jinn’s creative problem-solving style had often made him her companion during her missions.

“Senator Amidala,” one clone greeted her. “Meeting with the Council again?”

“Yes,” Padmé replied. “Would you be so kind as to inform the Council?”

The clone saluted and allowed her to step into the Temple. She was one of the few Senators who actually bothered to work more closely with the Jedi. Their standing hadn’t been great in the first place, but now people were asking how the Jedi hadn’t known about the Sith Lord when it was their job to protect the Republic. People wanted answers and they were calling for blood that shouldn’t be shed. Padmé had been the target of such accusations as well. It wasn’t fun.

She made her way up to the tower where the Council resided. She’d been working with them intimately to finally finalize the clone’s citizenship as well as sort out how the Jedi would react to future demands of the Senate. The Order had suffered greatly, their losses not exactly visible for people who didn’t know them well, but she’d been here when she was but a little girl playing Queen herself. Their rooms used to be fuller, the amount of Jedi with visible injuries less.

Padmé stepped onto the floor the Council room was on. The hallways were empty with the exception of a young man walking up and down with two babbling toddlers. Their steps were not entirely steady yet, they must have just begun learning how to walk. It was enlightening and disheartening at the same time to see such young children in the Jedi’s care. From the whole Cad Bane fiasco she’d learned that the Jedi didn’t usually take anyone younger than the age of two unless there were troubling circumstances surrounding their home life.

“Dadadada,” one of the children babbled.

The man leading them, a Knight going by his lack of braid, laughed. “Yes, I’m here, Leia. And we are waiting for Obi-Wan to be done. Can you say Obi-Wan?”

“Bah!” The other toddler squealed excitedly. “Bah! Bah! Bah!”

“Oh-Bi-Wah-N. Where are you getting that ‘Bah’ from, Luke? Repeat after me, Obi-Wan. C’mon, show your sister how it’s done.”

The Knight emphasized every syllable, but the child just happily continued on rambling as he had before. The Knight just sighed and slowly maneuvered the children around again so they were walking into her direction.

Padmé couldn’t help herself, she laughed.

The Knight probably hadn’t noticed her before as his head whipped up quickly.

“I apologize,” Padmé said. “But those two are quite adorable.”

“Yes, they are.”

The Knight’s reply was short, standoffish. Nothing unusual for a Jedi, but his demeanor was world’s away from the open kindness he had shown the children. Padmé attempted not to take it personally.

“I’m-“

“Senator Amidala, I know.” He wasn’t looking at her, not really, and instead turned to glance at the Council chamber doors. “Are you here for a meeting?”

“Yes,” Padmé replied. “I overheard you speaking, are you here to talk to Master Kenobi as well, Master…?”

The Knight swallowed. “Skywalker. My name is Anakin Skywalker.”

Right. He didn’t seem all that interested in conversation, so Padmé decided to just take a seat at the nearest chair and wait for the Council to call her inside. She knew their sessions could take longer sometimes and had brought her datapads to keep busy. These days she didn’t have a single minute to spare.

Knight Skywalker had returned to his task of walking up and down with the children, though by now he appeared to be much more nervous than before. It made it hard to work or concentrate.

One of the children, the dark-haired one he had called Leia, was tugging at his hand and reaching for her.

“Leia, darling, no-“

Little Leia apparently didn’t appreciate being told ‘no’. It reminded Padmé charmingly of her own nieces.

“It’s alright,” she told Skywalker. “I don’t mind it.”

But he, rather obviously, did mind it. In the end, Leia won though and slowly made her way over to Padmé.

“She’s a curious one,” Padmé said, making faces for the little girl, causing her to giggle.

“She really is. Luke is more careful, but I think that’s just because he focuses more on other’s emotions. Leia has better control of her own, doesn’t get spooked as easily too-“ Skywalker cut himself off. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t need to hear this.”

And yet Padmé felt like she ought to. “It’s nice to hear something different than just politics all day,” she said. “Tell me more?”

Skywalker still didn’t look at her properly, but he did begin talking about the twins and their many adventures. They were the youngest in the Temple currently and growing faster than he or Master Kenobi could keep up with apparently. It took a while for Padmé to question that.

“You are their father, right? Forgive me if I am rude, but I thought Jedi didn’t have families,” she finally said.

“They don’t,” Skywalker replied. “But they are my children and I’ll always be their father.”

“Then Luke and Leia are very lucky children,” Padmé said. “They are very happy.”

Now Skywalker did look at her and it felt a little like he was trying to read her mind. Jedi couldn’t, that she knew, but it still felt like he was staring right through her.

“Are you happy?” He asked her.

Padmé carefully schooled her face into a neutral expression. It was a difficult question. Of course, she wasn’t happy that she had helped a Sith Lord come into office. Everyone was suspicious of her, Padmé would be lucky if she was still in the Senate by the end of the year. Now that it was clear that Palpatine had played both sides, not even Padmé’s many speeches against him amassing power could protect her against the silent accusations. The Senate was working much to slow, she didn’t have any time for herself or her family.

So, no. Padmé wasn’t really happy, but what choice did she have?

“I am glad the internal investigations are finally picking up,” Padmé answered diplomatically.

Skywalker shook his head. “No, I meant are you, personally, happy.”

She didn’t see how that was any of his business, but there was a desperation to his question that she felt compelled to answer.

“I am,” she said. “The war is over, the fighting can stop and I can-“

Figure out who I am when I’m not representing millions of sentients, but just myself.

The doors to the Council opened and Master Kenobi greeted them. He looked at her, then at Skywalker and back again at her, now frowning.

“Anakin, is everything alright?”

Skywalker rose from his seat next to her. “Yes, I needed this. You were right, I put this off too long.”

Kenobi observed him a little longer, then sighed. “Alright, if you say so. Was there a reason you were waiting for me?”

“Yes!” Skywalker smiled now. It made him look a lot younger. “Watch this.”

He helped Luke and Leia to their feet and took a small step, the twins following after. Kenobi’s eyes widened and he moved closer to Skywalker, taking Luke’s hand in his instead.

“They’re walking!”

Skywalker was positively glowing. “Yes, Senator Amidala was the first to see it beside me.”

Oh, she hadn’t known that. “The first time, really?”

“Yes,” Skywalker said as Kenobi walked around the hallway with the two, utterly besotted. “Ahsoka’s going to be jealous, she’s wanted to be here for it.”

“Did you record it?” Kenobi asked.

Skywalker rolled his eyes. “Who do you take me for? I don’t want to miss out on anything.”

He sounded so determined saying it, like he’d do everything to ensure it. Padmé couldn’t recall the last time she had heard such a passionate declaration in the past weeks. If Knight Skywalker could be so certain, then perhaps she should be as well.

“I hate to take you away from this, Master Kenobi, but I believe we have a meeting?” Padmé said.

Kenobi gave the children back to Skywalker, looking a little sad. “We do, if you would, Senator?”

Padmé entered the Council chambers, newfound strength running through her veins. She had survived being the target of more people than she could count, she would see the Republic through this crisis and she’d force them to listen to her.

#star wars #obikin #Anakin Skywalker #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #fanfic #padmé amidala #luke skywalker #leia organa

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insanityclause · 4 years ago

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I've only just been introduced to Zawe Ashton and she turns to me and whispers, "Let's make a run for it!" The actress has been holed up in her publicist's office for the past few hours. Her minders are just out of earshot. "I need some natural light," she says as we scarper out the front door and head down a Soho street to a cafe. "I'm going to get into so much trouble," she laughs.

Ashton is very much a woman on the move. And she likes to do her own thing. We might know her best for her portrayal of the wannabe punk Vod in Channel 4's student-life sitcom Fresh Meat but there is far more to her than acting. She also directs, produces, and writes. Over the past decade she's been energetic in theatre and film, and soon she's going to be published. There's just no holding her back, and here she is again, coffee ordered, keeping one step ahead.

She is down from Manchester, where she's been filming the fourth – and final – series of Fresh Meat. Sam Bain and Jesse Armstrong's brilliant creation has helped turn Ashton into one of television's most striking new actresses, but now she is moving on. A new Channel 4 comedy drama – Not Safe for Work, which begins at the end of the month – is going to show Ashton in a very different light.

Following the chaotic personal and professional lives of a group of dysfunctional government employees who have been forced to relocate from London to Northampton, Not Safe for Work sees Ashton playing Katherine, a recently divorced woman coming to terms with her displacement from the capital and having to live in a flatshare at an age when she thought she'd be having babies.

At first the show might seem like a big departure from Fresh Meat; Ashton is playing a proper grown-up, who wears a suit and actually washes. It's a role in which she speaks in her natural voice, too; still low but not as deep as Vod's. But look closer and it's evident that many of the issues facing Katherine and her co-workers are not that far removed from those affecting Vod and her fellow students at the fictional Manchester Medlock University; all are just trying to find their place in a world where things seem less certain than they used to. They're part of a new lost generation immediately recognisable to Ashton.

"My first impressions of Katherine were how on-the-money her struggles are in terms of a lot of people I know," she says. "That postgraduate-in-the-age of-austerity sort of thing. I know people who are moving back home, who can't afford to live in London any more, have long-term relationships breaking down, and are suddenly single in the age of the internet and wondering if they can still meet anyone at work. It felt really well observed."

Ashton has just managed to buy her own place, describing herself as "very, very, very lucky" when so many people her age (she is 30) and older are in no position to. "Living with the notion that you might never have a permanent spot in the world is really quite a powerful metaphor," she says. "I feel it really looms large and it becomes a symbol of lots of other things." Whether it's your career, your relationship, or your home, for people of a certain age, Ashton suggests, nothing seems permanent any more. "There used to be this lovely kind of linear flow."

Not Safe for Work was created and written by DC Moore, a former star of Channel 4's new-talent strand Coming Up, who, like Ashton, attended the Royal Court Theatre's prestigious Young Writers' Programme. A superb cast also includes Sacha Dhawan as Katherine's coked-up boss, and Sophie Rundle as The Most Irritating Girl In The Office. Ashton is not wrong about the show capturing the cultural zeitgeist.

Public-sector cuts are the reason for Katherine's relocation to Northampton so there are implicit politics in Not Safe for Work, but that's not an area Ashton wants to get into. She won't tell me how she voted in the recent election – she offers a firm but jovial "No comment" – but on cuts to the arts she is as forthright as you would expect from someone who, as a child, paid £2.50 to attend weekend drama classes at the Anna Scher theatre, a community-based drama school in Islington, which in its time has also welcomed Kathy Burke and Dexter Fletcher through its doors. Later she joined the National Youth Theatre, itself a registered charity, and she worries about how the next generation will be able to develop if such inclusive facilities disappear. "For students who are attempting to have their life be about something that isn't vocation based, it's harder to just explore your depths," she suggests.

Ashton's family were always supportive of her decision to work in the arts. The oldest of three children, she grew up in Hackney. Her mother, Victoria, had emigrated from Uganda as a teenager and became a teacher in London. Her English father, Paul, also worked as a teacher before moving to educational programming at Channel 4. The considerable amount of time she spends with them is, she admits, "embarrassing". Her newly purchased home is close enough that she can call by whenever she wants.

It was Victoria, in particular, who encouraged young Zawe – pronounced Zow-ee – to try out acting, and she bagged her first role when she was eight, as an extra crossing the road in the Channel 4 sitcom Desmond's, which happened to be Ashton's favourite show at the time. She went on to win parts in children's television programmes that included The Demon Headmaster before graduating to, among other things, Holby City and Casualty. She made her big-screen debut in St Trinian's II: The Legend of Fritton's Gold. Prior to Vod, perhaps her finest moment was in Dreams of a Life, a documentary about Joyce Vincent, a 38-year-old woman whose decomposing body had lain in a north London bedsit undiscovered for three years before it was found in 2006 by council workers. Ashton played Ms Vincent in the recreation scenes, her performance winning her a nomination in the Most Promising Newcomer category at the 2012 British Independent Film Awards.

Later that year she also won the award for Best Breakthrough On-Screen Talent at the Creative Diversity Network for her work in Fresh Meat. With Vod, just as it is with Katherine, the fact that Ashton is mixed race is never made out to be an issue that needs to be addressed in storylines. It simply isn't mentioned. Anyone of any ethnicity could have played these characters. Was that a sense that she had strived to achieve? "I'm glad it seems effortless," she says. "It's something that I've worked really hard at. I think I've always felt that I want to do a very specific type of work and I've made informed decisions. You know, hopefully be part of a quiet movement or revolution." She pauses to giggle. "Without sounding too Che Guevara about it."

She says that as a child she would hand back scripts to her mother and tell her that she didn't like how certain characters were represented. At the same time, she doesn't want her background to be ignored. "I don't want to be 'de-ethnicised'. I hate it when people say, 'Oh I don't even think of you as a woman', or, 'I don't even think of you as a black woman.' Well what do you think of me as then? A loaf of bread? But any actor of any race can tell if a part is well written or not. It's really just about reading stuff that feels well-observed and truthful."

I spoke to DC Moore, Not Safe for Work's creator, about Ashton as both writer and performer. "She really responds to scripts," he said. "There was the odd moment when she sniffed out something that didn't feel right. There's always a difference in someone who performs if they also write. It really informs the conversation. And similarly if you're a writer who has done a bit of acting. It helps to understand the processes."

In the past Ashton has directed two short films and written plays. She has just delivered another, For All Those Women Who Thought They Were Mad, to the National Theatre. She wrote it six years ago for the Royal Court and it was shortlisted for the Young Writers' Festival but nothing ever came of it. It has now been updated and she hopes it will finally make it to the stage.

Then there's the feature film that she is writing and will direct, details of which she says she can't tell me. You get the impression that in the current climate, Ashton is keen to create her own circumstances and opportunities. As with so many of her peers, she pursues numerous outlets because who knows when one might be taken away? Moore says he understands that urge. "It broadens your scope to take on so many things, but it also means you've got other ways of playing what is essentially a big game. It's a wise move."

And there's yet more coming from Ashton. One of the things she is most excited about is the book deal she recently secured. "How can I describe it?" she says. "You know these books of essays by female voices that are very in vogue ? Well it's not that!" She laughs. "It's a mixture of fact and fiction and kind of based on some of the awful character breakdowns that you sometimes receive as an actress – that are really two-dimensional."

Acting, screenplays, directing, books. I can't help but marvel at how prolific she is. "It's quite funny because it's so much more natural in the States to do so many things and, having spent a bit more time there, you just fit right in if you do many, many things. I'm just coming to terms with the fact that I will always do lots of different things and I can't really stay in one place too long."

Our time is over. Ashton politely excuses herself to return to the office and, presumably, call off the search party. Through the window I see her rushing up the street. Will she find her permanent spot in the world? Who knows. Maybe she'll never need to.

#Zawe Ashton #career #Character Breakdown #for all the women who thought they were mad #interview #2015

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howwelldoyouknowyourmoon · 4 years ago

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The Cheon Il Guk Constitution, Personal Freedoms, and Meritocracy

▲ A recent statue of Hak Ja Han at the $1billion Cheongpyeong Palace. She is the figure larger than anyone else. Jesus, and probably Sun Myung Moon, are lesser figures who are paying homage to Hak Ja Han. She claims to be the Only Begotten Daughter of God. She is holding a scepter which denotes her dominion, or authority, over a physical kingdom.

Scepter definition: a staff or baton borne by a sovereign as an emblem of authority.

_________________________________________

The Cheon Il Guk Constitution is the document meant to govern the nation(s) whose national governments publicly accept Rev. and Mrs. Moon’s supposed position as the True Parents of humankind: essentially, for whichever nation(s) the church “takes over”, for lack of a better term. Because the worldwide UC is currently focused on the goal of “Vision 2020”, in which at least one nation fulfills this goal, this document is very important. It is the law of the land that would govern such a nation.

In reading this document, I have found that there are some troubling sections, which follow:

“Article 23: Forfeiture and Recovery of Rights

Some or all of the rights of a Cheon Il Guk citizen shall be forfeited in the event that he or she is found to have committed any of the following: 1. An act disavowing God and True Parents 2. An act disavowing the identity and ideology of Cheon Il Guk 3. An act disavowing the Cheon Il Guk Constitution 4. An act that the substantial establishment and completion of Cheon Il Guk”

“Article 24: True Parents’ Family 1. True Parents’ family is defined as True Parents’ direct descendants and their spouses. 2. The value of members of True Parents’ family is legitimized through their relationship of absolute faith, absolute love, and absolute obedience with True Parents.”

“Article 30: Chairperson and Vice Chairperson [of the Cheon Il Guk Supreme Council] 1. The Chairperson shall be appointed by True Parents from among True Parents’ family members, and shall concurrently serve as the World President of the Cheon Jeong Won (Cheon Il Guk Government). 2. The Vice Chairperson shall be appointed by True Parents…”

(Note: In Article 28, the Cheon Il Guk Supreme Council is defined as, “The supreme decision-making organ of Cheon Il Guk..”)

_________________________________________

These excerpts elicit several questions: • Doesn’t Article 23 violate the principles of freedom of speech and freedom of religion? This Constitution is stating that those who publicly disagree with the Church will have their rights revoked.

• Considering that the Cheon Il Guk Constitution is designed to be used for decades, centuries, and possibly millennia to come, how can True Parents appoint the Chairperson and Vice Chairperson once True Mother passes away? (Additionally: how can anyone be sure that True Mother is accurately interpreting Rev. Moon’s will from the spirit world, assuming that the spirit world exists?) Will someone, or some group of people, be vested with the supposed authority and ability to channel True Parents’ wishes from the spirit world? How can anyone be sure that this person or group is conveying True Parents’ will accurately?

• Why can the Chairperson only be chosen from True Parents’ family (i.e., True Parents’ direct descendants and their spouses)? This flies in the face of the concept of a meritocratic society. Moreover, haven’t the scandals and feuds involving the True Children (e.g., Hyo Jin’s drugs and extramarital sex, Hyung Jin / Kook Jin / Hyun Jin’s opposition to True Mother) dispelled the notion that the True Children are somehow superior to regular members?

What’s most troubling about all this is that the Constitution most likely received approval from Mrs. Moon. Remember, this constitution is meant to be used for whichever country fulfills the goal of Vision 2020 and acknowledges Rev. and Mrs. Moon as the True Parents of humankind. Considering that Vision 2020 is the primary objective being worked toward throughout the worldwide UC, and was instituted directly by Mrs. Moon, it is extremely unlikely that Mrs. Moon did not review the Cheon Il Guk Constitution before it was released. (And if she didn’t review this Constitution, that is also very troubling.) That Mrs. Moon approved a constitution that (a) seems to blatantly violate individuals’ freedoms of speech and religion, and which (b) institutes a variation of monarchy, casts doubt upon her status as the True Mother of humankind.

_______________________________________

The Impact of Cult-like Behavior on Democracies

The Cheon Il Guk Constitution: Isolationist Dogma

The CIG constitution is the paperwork for what Fraser and every Moon org critic has warned was the Moon organization’s goal all along 

Church and state: A personal and public tug of war

Sun Myung Moon: “church and the state must become one” 

United States Congressional investigation of Moon’s organization 

Politics and religion interwoven 

The Resurrection of Rev Moon

#Hak Ja Han #Only Begotten Daughter of God #Female Jesus

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may8344 · 4 years ago

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The Journey of a Forgotten Soldier (Levi x OC)

Finally, I’ll now be caught up with this fanfiction on Tumblr, Wattpad, and AO3. Updates are still going (try) to be on Thursday at 6pm CT.

Relationships:

Alana Frey (OC)Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Original Female Character(s)Levi Ackerman/Alana FreyFurlan Church/Original Character(s)Furlan Church/Alana Frey

Characters:

Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)Furlan ChurchIsabel MagnoliaAlana Frey (OC) - CharacterErwin SmithHange ZoëPetra RalGunther SchultzEld JinnOluo BozadoKeith ShadisSpecial Operations Squad | Squad Levi

Additional Tags:

Graphic Description of CorpsesBlood and InjuryViolenceMurder

Summary:

Alana Frey, a girl born in the Underground City, longed to see the true sunlight every morning that she would wake up. Alongside her comrades: Furlan Church, Isabel Magnolia, and Levi, Alana’s life as a thug continued with no way around it; until the sudden day she and her companions were offered the deal of a lifetime.

“Once you complete this job, not only will you be generously compensated for your work,

but you will also earn the right to live above ground.”

Word Count: 2.2k

CHAPTER 5: The Survey Corps

A couple of weeks prior to the quartet’s capturing, an important meeting had taken place. Erwin Smith was accompanied by the Commander of the Survey Corps, Keith Shadies, and the Supreme Commander of the three military branches, Darius Zackly, who sat at his desk.

“I cannot accept that!” Kieth yelled in disagreement at Zackly. However, he paused, discouraged by the look he earned from the Supreme Commander. “Sir, have you looked at the proposal I sent you? If it’s put into practice, we should be able to drastically reduce the number of Survey Corps deaths outside the Walls.”

In a low, grumbling voice, Zackly lightly touched the packet of papers that sat on the wooden desk in front of him. The papers had contained a whole new proposition for the regiment. “Commander… Keith Shadis. Of course I’ve reviewed your request.” His gaze made its way to the younger blond who stood further back. “This ‘long distance enemy scouting formation.’ I hear you developed it, Erwin.”

“Yes sir.”

“It’s ingenious. I mean that sincerely.” He put a hand to his chin in thought, his finger’s ruffling his gray beard. “On previous expeditions, the corps focused entirely on how to defeat the Titans it encountered. But your proposal puts greater emphasis on how to reduce the number of Titan encounters. This totally original thinking is most admirable.”

“I am honored that you would say so, sir.”

Humanity lived inside of three fifty meter tall, concentric, stone walls: Wall Maria, Wall Rose, and Wall Sina. On the outside of their protection, monsters known as Titan’s roamed around, eating any human in sight. They ranged from three to fifteen meters tall and mostly resemble humans but with... deformities. Most walk on two feet, and some on all fours.

Three Regiments were created in order to keep humanity alive. The Garrison Regiment is the group that maintains and patrols the Walls. If there were to be any emergency, they would help evacuate the citizens to a safer area. Their badge bore two red roses.

The second is the Military Police Regiment. They keep order within the Walls and dedicate themselves to protect the King or Queen. Only the top ten training cadets get the option to join them. Despite having the best recruits, they are often known as corrupt and incompentent due to them staying deep within the Walls and far from the dangerous Titans.

Finally, there is the Scouting Regiment. This division is tasked with reclaiming the treacherous land beyond their outer wall, Wall Maria. Despite being very well trained, they suffer many losses and poor results in their reclamation. More often than not, they are under the constant threat of being disbanded by the government.

“If we use conventional formations together with this new formation… we should be able to embark on even further-ranging expeditions with fewer casualties.”

The brown haired Commander spoke once more, “General. If you understand it, then why…”

“I can’t get approval of the council.” He replied bluntly. “For a long time, many members have opposed continuing the expeditions beyond the Walls. In the past, I’ve managed to persuade them to provide funding. But now, even the public doesn’t particularly believe in sending you beyond the Walls.”

“Of course. We know that.”

“Now I have Councilman Lovof demanding the outright dissolution of the Corps. He has great influence even in the house of peers, and has a lot of cronies who sympathize with him.”

Commander Shadis began to raise his voice. “But, sir! If we stop here, all of our sacrifices up till now will be in vain! If we use Erwin’s formation, we’re sure to-”

“Keith. Please understand.”

Erwin spoke out, his voice calm and collected, “Have they already decided to suspend our activities?”

Zackly sighed as he stood from his chair. Peering outside of the window, he responded quietly. “The council won’t vote on it for another five days, but… there’s probably no way to stop it.”

“Understood, sir.”

Commander Shadis and Erwin retreated from Zackly’s office and into the horse-drawn carriage awaiting them outside. The men sat across from each other on the nicely cushioned seats. Light clomping from horses could be heard from the outside as they began moving towards their next destination.

After a bit of silence, Erwin spoke up, “It was just as you suspected, Commander.”

“...Yes. So the leader of the dissolution faction really is Nicholas Lovof...”

“According to the information I’ve gathered, Lovof has connections to the Lang Company which is delivering goods to the Military Police Brigade. He must be hoping to redirect the funds that will be freed up by suspending our expeditions.”

“Is your information reliable?” Commander Shadis questioned, shocked by the details.

“Lovof sent someone to infiltrate the Survey Corps and report on it from the inside. That spy is our source. I believe the information is highly credible.”

“And if that’s true, what do we do about it? Do we appeal to the Commander in Chief? I think that, to some extent, General Zackly is already aware of it.”

“It’s likely that there are circumstances preventing him from going public.”

Their driver slowed the horses to a stop as he hopped off of his seat and made his way to the door of the vehicle. Disrupting the two soldiers’ conversation, he opened the door and notified them that they had reached their destination. “We’ve arrived, sirs.”

Commander Shadis gave him a nod, but sighed at Erwin. “I see. I’m useless with these political intrigues.” He began to step out of the carriage, but stopped as the blond called out to him.

“Sir, would you leave this matter to me?”

“What’ll you do?” Commander Shadis turned his head over his shoulder, intrigued by the sudden request.

“I have a few ideas.”

“Ideas?” Shadis continued to walk out of the carriage.

“Even if you did have contacts in the nobility, they’re not the type to be convinced by words alone.”

“You can’t mean… Lovof himself?”

“Sir. Please don’t ask me any more than that. All of these decisions must be mine alone.”

“Erwin… you’re planning to use some shady method to force Lovof to change his position, aren’t you? Even if it is for the sake of the expeditions beyond the Walls, for a young man like you to…,” He paused, worried thoughts filling his mind for his subordinate, “The palace is a bed of vipers. Do you have a way to get out in one piece?”

“Sir.” Erwin stood up, standing in the doorway of the carriage. One of his hands held onto the side and his foot rested on the small running board. His face was stern and determined. “When I entered the Survey Corps and fought the Titans face-to-face, I learned exactly how perilous humanity’s situation really is. Wealth, authority, lofty ideals. If the Titans make it inside of the Walls, all of them will disappear in an instant.” His voice suddenly rose, “And that is why… no matter what four means we must use, we can never abandon our efforts to take this world back from the Titans. Come what may!”

The commander stared at Erwin in shock and his thoughts were scattered. It took him a moment to decide what would be the best course of action. “...very well. I will leave it all to you. No matter what, we must hold onto our hope for the future.”

“Yes, sir. And at the council meeting five days from now, we will lose the first arrow in that fight.”

Days later, both Keith Shadies and Erwin Smith were called to Darius Zackly’s office once again. The older Supreme Commander readjusted his round glasses as his eyes focused on Shadis. “It passed. I never would have imagined that Councilman Lovof would change his mind. Keith, do you have any idea why he did?”

“No, sir, not personally.”

Zackly eyed him with suspicion before turning towards Erwin. “I see. There are still many voices calling for dissolution. This time, you got the go-ahead, but I can’t guarantee there will be a next time. You’ll have to produce significant results this term if you want to change the situation.”

“Yes, sir! We’ll do our utmost!” Both Scouts declared.

“General,” Erwin added, “what about the matter we asked about the other day?”

“Hm? Oh. You mean the plan for the underground operation? I passed it along to the Military Police.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But, Erwin, no matter how good they may be with Omni-Directional Maneuvering Gear, are you sure street thugs will be of any use outside the Walls?”

“Sir, I happened to see them with my own eyes recently. I believe their skill cannot be overestimated. The man who seems to be their leader, in particular, is on a level beyond even that of even a Survey Corps veteran.”

“Is that so? Remarkable.”

“I intend to make use of anyone who has even the smallest potential during this expedition. But first while I’m close by, I plan to make contact.”

[~]

“This is humiliating, plain and simple!” A voice boomed as his fist slammed against a table.

Deep within the capital city of Mitras, securely within Wall Sina, an important meeting was held. Five figures sat at the wooden table inside an older, rundown building shaped like a castle. Each person wore a military uniform with the Survey Corps' badge attached to both shoulders and the front left pocket of their brown jacket. Both Erwin Smith and Keith Shadies were in attendance.

The angered Captain continued his ranting as he turned to Commander Shadis. “Are you honestly telling us to accept criminals into our fold when we’ve always held dutifulness in the highest regard!? The morale of the men will plummet if we allow those bottom feeders to join the ranks!”

“I agree with Flagon,” another admitted. “And to suggest we take these criminals with us on the next reconnaissance mission…”

“I understand your concerns. But I can personally vouch for their ODM Gear skills,” Erwin said, staying calm and collected as always.

Their Commander was the one who had the final decision on the matter. He was a man in his later years, amber eyes sunken in, with wrinkles and a receding hairline. He was positioned at the end of the table with his arms strongly crossed. “The new formation that Erwin has been working on is ground-breaking. It takes the emphasis away from how best to kill Titans, and places it firmly on how best to avoid them. I believe it’ll greatly reduce the number of casualties we sustain.”

Continuing his argument, Erwin spoke up, “This formation is likely to become accepted as the norm for our forces.”

“What those cretins lack are discipline and manners. It shouldn’t take too long to drill it into their skulls. They seem to have brains in their heads. Right, Erwin?”

“Correct.”

Coming to a conclusion, Commander Shadis stood from his chair. “Meeting adjourned.”

[~]

“Attention!”

The clattering of boots rang through the air in response. About fifty military soldiers were each lined up in an orderly fashion of rows awaiting commands.

Commander Shadis’ deep, authoritative voice rose as he continued. “Starting today, these four will be fighting alongside all of you! Introduce yourselves!”

Isabel, Levi, Furlan, and Alana each were dressed in a military uniform as they stood in front of the soldiers on a pedestal type area. However, Levi wore a white cravat around his neck.

“Name’s Levi.” Levi had his arms crossed and spoke with complete indifference. He wanted absolutely nothing to do being here, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. This act caught the eyes of almost every soldier and they stared in disbelief at his disrespect.

“Levi, the first thing you need to learn is some goddamn discipline.” Shadis responded in annoyance. “Next!”

Isabel proudly stepped up, head held high. With a solid voice and her thumb pointing towards her, she spoke, “I’m Isabel Magnolia! Nice to meet ya!”

“My name is Furlan Church.” Furlan introduced himself with a saluted fist on his chest, palm facing down. His eager smile lined his face, and then he turned to Alana who was beside him.

Unlike her friends, Alana lowered her chin as she cowered away and her left hand gripped onto the charm on her necklace. Strangely enough, the girl was afraid of the crowd. With a soft, welcoming nudge from the blond, she mumbled. “Alana… Frey.”

“Speak up, soldier!”

She raised her voice and repeated herself. “I’m Alana Frey!”

“Flagon, these three will be assigned to your squad. Look after them.”

“M-My squad, sir?” Flagon, the dirty blond haired captain, looked up to his superior in shock. Just earlier that day, he had been arguing the idea of having them here in the first place.

“Any objections?

“N-No… But shouldn’t Erwin…”

Shadis cut him off immediately. “Erwin is tasked with overseeing all the soldiers. The new recruits will be your responsibility. Is that understood?”

Flagon quickly saluted his commander; right fist on his chest, palm upwards, and the other behind his back. It was the sign of ‘devoting your hearts’. “Yes, sir! Understood!” Even with his words, it was clear that he was uneasy about all of this.

Especially under Levi’s glare.

---

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #levi #levi ackerman #fanfic #levi x oc #OC #attack on titan fanfiction #levi ackerman x oc #furlan church #isabel magnolia #alana frey

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polandspringz · 4 years ago

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What do you think would Ozpin do in the current situation, he's been a king of a kingdom and stopped a war before at least once.

I’m super sorry I’m months late getting to this ask! I legit forgot to finish answering the RWBY asks I requested for! Well, I’m doing it now I guess, lol.

I think, based on how we saw Ozpin present himself early in volume 1 during the orientation speech, he would likely be acting very similar to how he did in volume 6. If Ozpin had not died, and reincarnated into Oscar, and instead was journeying along with the main cast, he would still be trying to shoulder the burden of Salem being “unbeatable”, but he would have more respect than he is getting in Oscar’s body. He also wouldn’t be able to hide from the problems Team RWBY argued with him about unless he physically fled, which he wouldn’t do, unless he decided to do so and challenge Salem head on again.

In terms of the war that’s about to be unleashed in Atlas though, regardless of if he still had a seat on the council (if I remembering that right? Was Ozpin on the council? I know James mentioned having 2 seats during Volume 4), I could see him firmly fighting with Ironwood about his actions. It seems obvious, but if Ozpin had been in his old body and not in Oscar’s, I think neither Qrow or Ironwood would have ever picked a fight with him or laid a hand on him. Part of the reason Qrow shoved Ozpin in Volume 6 and Ironwood shot Oscar in Volume 7 was because they don’t see him as Oz, and he’s a child, and therefore they can easily overpower him. If Ozpin was physically there, besides Ironwood’s slow mental breakdown over the course of the volumes, I believe both would hold their tongues and eventually concede/stop arguing with him. James, however, I could see still working in the shadows to continue his plan, leading to the events of the end of Volume 7, ordering for all of the main cast to be arrested.

Now, that I’ve got that out of the way, I can actually answer your question! If Ozpin was present to confront James after he disobeyed him and started a war with Salem, here is what I believe Ozpin would do: Ozpin is self-sacrificing because he knows he will reincarnate, but also because he blames himself for letting Salem get this far. I think to reverse the mistakes, he would charge towards Salem (as she comes to Atlas) on his own, leaving Team RWBY and ORNJ behind. When Ironwood declared martial law, to calm the public, Ozpin would find a way to get into the broadcast system to deliver a reassuring message. He would be the one to calm them and prevent them from, or at least lessen, rioting against the government. He would do so in a way that doesn’t force compliance though, I’m not saying he would advocate against being silent against James. He would likely instruct them on where to go, maybe direct them all to go towards the Amity Tower for evacuation, and he would definitely work with Robyn to do so. This would all be set up to broadcast with Robyn leading the evacuation, and the rebellion for those who would stay back to protect the city and fight against Ironwood (who I imagine would send others to stop them from following Ozpin’s orders). Above all else, Ozpin would first prioritize the safety of civillians.

However, this broadcast would be prerecorded/broadcasted from a remote location (maybe the Tower itself), and while this is happening, and James is at a loss for how to stop Ozpin and trying to find where he is, Ozpin would be working his way towards Salem. I definitely believe Ozpin would not tell the students about this either, because as he told Glynda, he hoped they would never have to fight a war. He would have them travel with him and help him in collecting the relics, but by the time this all went down in Atlas, with Salem so close, I truly believe Ozpin would believe the only way to temporarily stop Salem again would be to put his life on the line. He could easily get the staff of creation because I imagine he has access to all the vaults, but he would have to do it while Ironwood is distracted. I can just envision the city falling as Ozpin charging is to fight Salem and sacrifice his life once more to give his students another day to fight. As the king, he was obviously stronger and led his people well with a sword (that appears to be the relic of destruction), I could see him using all of his power again to just get Salem to retreat.

Based on the conflict in the story right now, I don’t believe he would have any other option. There’s no way to stop the war with how the story is at now, and Ozpin would know this. He would likely entrust to Ruby a note of instructions following his death, and James upon finding out he was the reason Ozpin died because he didn’t listen and brought Salem straight to them, would be completely broken and a mess, but Ozpin would do enough to give his students time to pick up the pieces and move forward. Then, he would reincarnate, and hoping Ruby followed his instructions, would rush to meet them again (if he reincarnated soon enough, that is).

#lowkey might turn this into a fic now #NO ONE STEAL IT ILL GET TO IT LOL #rwby #ask poland #rwby spoilers #oscar pine #ozpin

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alexsmitposts · 4 years ago

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Why Nagorno-Karabakh and Why Now? Several months ago, I wrote that things had been tense on the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict zone since the collapse of the USSR, but only now are we hearing of a resumption of active hostilities, the deployment of heavy weaponry and heated engagements. Observers on the ground have no doubt that the heaviest fighting in years is going on, and this is only the early stages of what may develop into a larger geopolitical conflict, involving proxy sources. Each side is posting videos of their forces destroying the heavy armour of the other. Both Azerbaijan and Armenia may be playing to a domestic audience by mobilising, but Turkey is involved too. As ever, anything involving military aggression in support of an ally also plays well for a Turkish domestic audience. Outside meddling in the Azerbaijan-Armenia conflict is nothing new, and one should keep in mind that much is below the surface. Different actors have different reasons for wanting this conflict to either remain frozen or escalate, and what happens will be governed by how much these actors respect each other, or don’t. Moscow and Washington may be happy for the conflict to stay frozen, as they can then pursue their own agenda, goes the traditional theory. Those who don’t like either Moscow or Washington, either now or historically, see a potential geopolitical victory over both sides in resolving the conflict by force when the big boys have failed to do so. All the while neither country fully develops, and the status quo is maintained, at least in the case of Azerbaijan. After thirty years, negotiations have not worked and the populace of Azerbaijan is tired, seeing others spout off about “territorial integrity” while not being interested in restoring its own. Mutual Cards House Select Committee on Intelligence Chair Adam Schiff (D-CA) was the first US Congressman to condemn Azerbaijan’s alleged pre-emptive attack back in July, saying, “I am very concerned by the recent provocative and destabilising actions taken by Azerbaijan in recent days along the Armenian border, including the shelling of Armenian soldiers.” His diatribe continued with “how these actions must also be viewed in the context of Azerbaijan’s consistently bellicose rhetoric towards Armenia and Artsakh, and its refusal to allow international monitoring of their borders. I urge the State Department to make clear to all parties the need for restraint and diplomacy, and reduced tensions.” Making such statements about one side of a conflict is hardly going to reduce tensions. But Schiff is talking to Armenian donors to his campaign chest, and Armenian voters in his district. The Armenian lobby has always been better organised than the Azeri one, another factor which might propel Azerbaijan to war against what it sees as the rest of the world. But that very imbalance of international support can be used to win friends. Back in the 90s MEGA Oil, a US-CIA proxy company, was importing fighters from Afghanistan to fight on the side of Azerbaijan to keep some balance on the battlefield. The Azeris could not fight, as they lacked training and equipment, and seemed to have no taste for it. But an Armenian victory would have benefitted Russia, its greatest ally, more than the US, and, however, much the US listens to Armenians, it wouldn’t want that perceived threat to its own interests. Turkey obviously supports Azerbaijan, as it is a fellow Turkish nation. Once again, the Turkic Council, this little-known international forum few are interested in, is showing that it is more ruthless than any other in achieving its aims, which are ultimately about the religious and ethnic cleansing of the highest order. Turkey now needs to relocate Syrian operatives and other US/Saudi trained and paid “freedom fighters,” and is glad the opportunity this long-frozen conflict presents. With all sides playing what appears to be a very big game of chicken, a sudden influx of mercenaries with nothing else to do is certain to change the situation in Turkey’s favour—or at least that was the plan. All Of A Sudden The conflict has been more or less frozen since 1994 when Armenia occupied not only Karabakh itself, which is ethnically Armenian, but several districts surrounding it, which are not. Armenia argues that this has actually prevented further conflict, but the US used the same argument to destroy the Native American population, and Argentina’s “disappeared” died of the same logic. Things are spinning in a different direction now with offensive fighting, and pro-war rallies in Baku. Several weeks prior to the start of fighting in July I personally saw lots of Green Evergreen containers, freight forwarding company, crossing the Georgian border. Border guards and customs officials both told me that it was not possible to check them, but agreed that weapons were within. I wouldn’t put anything past Ankara either, despite the danger of Turkish engagement in the Caucasus inviting an immediate and strong response from Moscow. The two governments have already locked horns in Syria and Libya, but this has not dissuaded Turkey from pursuing an ever more openly aggressive international agenda. Sheep in Wolves’ Clothing The bits and pieces I have read about who has started it this time just don’t add up. What is written says nothing, which is why I am all the more suspect, especially about pro-war protests. Take for example, “… thousands of protestors rallied earlier in the centre of Baku, calling on the government to mobilize troops and retake Nagorno-Karabakh. News outlets estimated that 30 to 50 thousand protestors gathered in front of the parliament building.” Why now, and why is this one of the international news items chosen to be reported? If the Azeri are tired of this frozen conflict, tens of thousands of them are not going to come into the streets demanding further engagement with it unless they think they can end it on terms they find acceptable. So, who has guaranteed what, and why are they bothering? However, the move towards conflict is still more likely to have come from the Azeri side. Armenia has done pretty well out of international sanctions and blockades imposed since 1994. These have enabled it to remain friendly with Russia, its only real supporter, and find a way for good terms with the West, without compromising its national independence. No other regional state can do this, but if the conflict ended, Armenia would have to find a wider group of friends and sink back into the pack like the rest. It is money paid by US and Turkish defence contractors, and therefore by the US government indirectly, which is painting the conflict in a new light. Azerbaijani oil prices are low, Dutch Disease is running rampant, there is little diversity in the economy and corruption is well-ingrained and supported by networks of patronage (especially the ruling family). Armenia has similar problems. The Pashinyan government has been highly criticised by a wealthy and influential political and business figure, Gagik Tsarukyan, and some legal and political backlash has been felt in this case. The trial of former president Kocharyan is also sputtering along in fits and starts, and a major reform package directed at the country’s Constitutional Court has also brought up significant controversy. But none of that dents Armenia’s dependence on Russia, and the benefits it is gaining from that which the US never wanted it to. It seems the US wants Armenia back in the pack, and this is the way of getting it there. Certainly, it will act as this is a regional affair to be sorted out by the local players, diplomatically or by brute force. Old Hands Make Light Work Who might be linking these indirect US government funds to the Azeri side? No one is ever likely to put their head above the parapet. But as often happens in this region, the name Matthew Bryza is one which keeps coming into the frame. Bryza was once the US Ambassador to Turkey, and subsequently Azerbaijan. He is married to Zeyno Baran, a Turkish-born foreign policy analyst at the Hudson Institute. She has worked with Neo-Con think tanks in the past, which is why Bryza kept insisting in interviews that he no longer worked for the (Bush) White House but for the State Department, even when he was not being asked a question about this. In 2005 Baran told a US Senate hearing that she opposed the Congressional resolution on the Armenian Genocide, a position generally seen as partisan as that of Richard Verrall’s book on the Nazi atrocities, “Did Six Million Really Die?”At the same time, Bryza was busy telling reporters that Turkey was his “second home,” and was removed as Ambassador when he too made statements opposing the Armenian Genocide. Bryza is no longer a diplomat. He claims to earn his living as a consultant on “business and democratic development,” which is a not very subtle way of saying that he is still finding new markets and areas of influence for his friends, but is no longer restricted by diplomatic protocols. But he is still a regular visitor to Turkey and is a board member of Turcas Petrol, which is linked to the Party of War in the US and the corporate interests behind it. His explanation is that Turcas is “a private company that is traded on the Istanbul stock exchange” but “has no affiliation of any sort with the Turkish Government (or the Azerbaijani Government). In fact, the Turkish Government’s energy policies often work against the commercial interests of Turcas.” This is despite the fact that Turcas is an affiliate of SOCAR, the Azerbaijan state oil company. Through this, the Azerbaijani and Turkish governments either own, fund or sponsor most business in the Caucasus, thereby buying off many politicians along the way. In Georgia in particular, you see a connection with SOCAR (share ownership, personnel, supply) whenever you look at the lists of business owners, or investigate the many businesses whose known real owners do not appear on the published lists. This helps explain why Georgia, having partly reformed itself since the Saakashvili years, is no longer the regional arms smuggling hub but has simply exchanged illegal arms for semi-legal oil. Turkish and Iranian business interests have been subject to investigation in Georgia on charges of oil smuggling. New, modern-day versions of MEGA Oil, US-funded companies, have inevitably been involved. These include Frontera Resources, a company which once ostensibly left Georgian, but re-entered it when a new US Ambassador was appointed. Following this, the Government of Georgia suddenly decided not to terminate its contract with Frontera Resources Georgia Corporation, under hard US pressure, and allowed the company to continue operating in part of the original contract area, where oil has been produced since Soviet times. The justification used for this at the time was that this was necessary, “especially in times of low oil prices and heating up conflicts.” The phrase “heating up” cannot refer to new conflicts but to dormant ones which are starting again. Making such a comment casually, when talking about a seemingly unrelated issue, is an old trick for establishing in the minds of listeners that everyone knows a conflict is going to heat up again. Which conflict is being referred to, and to whom is it inevitable that the fighting will resume? You Know Who Still Knows Too Much Do we have anything else which will support this assertion? In the words of an old radio show, “It’s That Man Again.” If the US is up to something by proxy, it always chooses the same, compromised mouthpiece. The aforementioned Mikheil Saakashvili, the President of Georgia when Bryza was the US envoy to the region, can’t live in Georgia anymore because he is wanted there on a multitude of criminal charges. Having been ratlined out to Ukraine and given a job in its government, he was also expelled from there facing more criminal charges. He has since lived in Poland and Hungary, also US allies like the other two countries, where he likewise faces multiple criminal charges. Saakashvili has more criminal indictments against his name than Al Capone and Pol Pot put together. Yet his US protectors (for now) present him as a politician and buy him column space in newspapers that otherwise don’t care about him, or are sick of seeing his name. Misha has suddenly reappeared from wherever he is hiding now with the following statement: Nagorno Karabakh is Sovereign Territory of the Republic of Azerbaijan and nothing will change it. What does he have to gain by saying this, especially now, given how many Armenians live in Georgia, and he ruined his own relations with Azerbaijan by making advances to Aliyev’s wife? All Saakashvili has to live for is the continued protection of his handlers. They want to build a climate of opinion in which everyone expects Azerbaijan to go to war with Armenia over the injustice of the Armenian occupation. The Azeri government and people may not be interested, but they can easily be blackmailed or at least manipulated by international opinion pointing fingers at them for not doing what they expect, as if they are not worthy of support, independence, or office. However strong the Armenian lobby is, the US interest is paramount. An ongoing war, and funding committed to it, always ensures policy continuations in election years, regardless of who wins those elections. The US wants this war, and its Armenian lobby will donate more to politicians who blame Azerbaijan for it, in the hope of getting more US themselves in return if Azerbaijan is successful. The only question is how much Turkey will be blamed for pulling the trigger when it is all over.

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dwellordream · 3 years ago

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“In terms of direct military influence, perhaps the most visible role that certain medieval woman achieved were positions of command over an army or militant force. This fact alone is remarkable, especially given the aforementioned patriarchal nature of society and fact that war was an activity dominated by men at all levels throughout the High to Late Middle Ages, and leads us to ask several questions relating to women’s role as military leaders.

Foremost is the question of how women were able to attain the command of an army or other important leadership position in the first place. What circumstances enabled them to take command? Could they make effective leaders? How did contemporaries respond to such women? The answers to these questions enable a broader understanding and awareness of how women functioned as military commanders.

Firstly, however, it is worth touching upon the position of women with regards to secular law, since such law defined the social limitations of medieval women’s public authority. While these laws varied from one place to another, sometimes significantly, and were also influenced by whether women were single, married or widowed, as well as the level of society to which they belonged (making a full examination of this complex topic beyond the scope of the present work), there can be little doubt that throughout England and France during the High to Late Middle Ages women had a lower legal standing than that of men. They were barred from holding any public office, including any governmental positions and did not have the right to participate in town councils or any representative assembly.

Under these laws women were essentially restricted to the private domestic sphere and were not supposed to serve the king ‘either in the army or in any other royal service’. Indeed, for married women, their legal identity was subsumed into that of their husband, and as a result the husband legally had full control and responsibility for all the possessions of his wife, including all land or property she may have brought to the marriage. Furthermore, married women most often required their husbands’ consent before they could litigate on any matter (except in case of rape or bodily harm) and were represented in law by their husbands – unlike widows or single women, who could litigate on their own behalf and represent themselves in court.

At the same time, however, marriage also had the potential to give women significant military responsibility. In order to appreciate why, it is important to understand how women, as wives, fitted into the particular social structure of the medieval household and also how the system of marriage worked. These elements of marriage are examined briefly below with the focus on women who were part of the upper aristocracy, or nobility, not only because it is possible to form some idea about the married life and responsibilities of noblewomen, but also because war was a profession of the upper class.

As an institution, marriage was an accepted part of medieval life. For noblewomen in particular marriage meant many things, but rarely did it mean love. Marriage was a business conducted between families for political or economic reasons – or both, and in which, at least among the nobility and others in high society, women had little input. Once married, however, noblewomen took on many responsibilities integral to helping run the household and aided in many of the duties necessary for it to function effectively. These duties included everyday activities such as supervising the supplies of the house, directing the activities of servants or serfs, as well as administering household revenues and using them to dispense dues or gifts.

In cases of emergency (for instance, if besieged) women could also be made responsible for the defence of the castles in which they lived, especially when their husbands were absent or deceased. Moreover, the nature of the union of marriage, in which husband and wife were united as one in the marriage alliance, assured that women, if they took on this additional public responsibility, were not breaking the ‘socio-political or the gender logic of their day’; instead it was merely a ‘natural extension’ of their duties as domina or lady of the household. This social acceptability enabled married noblewomen in this position to circumvent the restrictive nature of their legal rights, as outlined above.

It is also important to consider the relationship between the household and the makeup of militant forces. Western European noblewomen and those in the Holy Land at this time lived in societies where the basic fighting group was small and based on ties of kinship; hence knights, squires and other fighting men were usually drawn from and closely tied to their local lords’ households. Consequently, it has been argued, noblewomen who lived and worked in the household had a greater chance of interacting with these men, as well as possibly overhearing or being part of military discussions, and thus may have had a greater awareness of military concepts.

This in turn may have aided noblewomen when they were called upon to defend their estates and facilitated their acceptance by the men whom they commanded. Conversely, however, it has also been argued that the increasingly centralised nature of government and the rise of professional armies during the thirteenth and especially fourteenth century may have combined to decrease the chances for female political (and consequently military) involvement, although this view has more recently been called into question. In any case, even if this trend did exist, there is still no doubt that throughout the High and Later Middle Ages marriage offered noblewomen an opportunity to assume a legitimate and important military role in defending their husbands’ property when and if the situation arose.

Several medieval accounts within England and France attest to women’s military command in this capacity. In 1075, for instance, the wife of Earl Ralph of Norfolk and Suffolk held his castle at Norwich while he fled for the coast, once he realised that a revolt which he had helped instigate against King William I (1027- 1087) had failed.

Similarly the Norman chronicler, Orderic Vitalis, in his Historia Ecclesiastica, described how in July 1092, Radegunde, the wife of one Robert Giroie, attempted to hold her husband’s fortress at Saint-Céneri in Normandy from an attack by Robert of Bellême, earl of Shrewsbury, whilst her husband was away aiding the future King Henry I of England (c.1068-1135). When rumour spread that her husband had died, defections from her side forced her to surrender, and Orderic placed responsibility for the surrender in her hands.

Likewise, in 1121 Hugh of Montfort’s wife was made responsible by him for defending the stronghold of Montfort-sur-Risle in Normandy against Henry I’s advancing army, while Hugh, who had conspired against the king, fled. Also notable was Margaret of Flanders, who married Baldwin V count of Hainaut in 1169 and was forced to fortify and defend his castles, not just once but many times, due to repeated attacks by unfaithful, ambitious vassals.

Nor were accounts of women left to defend their husband’s possessions limited to France or England. In the Holy Land Lady Eschiva of Tiberias commanded the castle of Tiberias’ defence against Saladin’s forces in 1187 (her husband, Raymond of Tripoli, was absent fighting with the Christian army), the same year that Maria Comnena, widow of King Amalric, defended Nablus from Saladin’s army because she had received the city as dower from Amalric. In all these cases women were forced to take on a military responsibility as a direct result of the marriage alliance, often in the face of considerable enemy pressure and irrespective of whether they were actually able to manage the task ahead effectively.

At the same time, however, it seems some noblewomen did cope ably after having military responsibility thrust upon them by their husbands. In 1148 Countess Sybilla of Flanders, for instance, successfully led her troops against an invasion by Count Baldwin of Hainault on behalf of her husband, while he was absent on crusade. Robert Guiscard’s wife, Sikelgaita, accompanied him on campaign in Italy in the 1080s and supposedly helped prevent retreat of his forces during one battle by charging at them with a spear, convincing them to return to battle.

Simon de Montfort, leader of the Albigensian Crusade, displayed an even greater reliance on his wife Alice de Montfort, whom Laurence Marvin has described as ‘one of his most trusted lieutenants’. Not only was she mentioned bringing a party of knights to meet up with Simon, but she also made up part of his war council and was active in contributing towards its decisions, even acting as castellan to Narbonnais Castle in Simon’s absence during the second siege of Toulouse in 1217. In her case, while it is not known if she commanded men in battle, she does appear to have played an active and important role in supporting her husband’s military strategy.

Most remarkable and successful of all, it might be said, was Nichola de la Haye, hereditary castellan of Lincoln castle. Nichola was the daughter of Richard de la Haye, sheriff of Lincolnshire, from whom she inherited her rights as castellan, and through whom her husbands’ received the title of constable. In 1191, as a response to her husband Gerard of Camville’s quarrel with William Longchamp, Chancellor and Justiciar of England, Nichola was besieged at Lincoln castle while her husband was absent. Commending her efforts, the chronicler Richard of Devizes noted that Nichola, ‘whose heart was not that of a woman, defended the castle manfully’.

Over twenty years later, in 1217, she again led the successful defence of Lincoln castle when it was besieged by forces loyal to Louis VIII of France (1187-1226), as part of his failed attempt to claim the English throne. In a further sign of her resolute nature, she still had to fend off later attempts by, William, the earl of Salisbury, to force her eviction from the castle. These defensive efforts reflect her loyalty to King John (1167-1216) and, at least in the case of the siege of Lincoln in 1217, aided King Henry III’s cause immensely by effectively ending any chance of Louis VIII succeeding in his rival claim to the throne.

Her experiences in defending the castle clearly illustrate that Nichola was more than capable of organising military defensive measures in the face of multiple attacks. Furthermore, though she had to pass on the title of constable to her husbands, her evident suitability as castellan is highlighted by King John refusing a request from Nichola that she be allowed to give up responsibility for the castle on account of her age, following the death of her husband Gerard in 1215. Evidently, even men recognised her capability in her role as castellan.

The offspring of marriage also influenced women who were forced to defend their property. Consider the actions of one Juliana, an illegitimate child of King Henry I by a concubine, after her husband Eustace (a vassal of the king) was incited to claim the ducal castle at Ivry on misguided advice. Henry, wishing to retain Eustace’s trust, sent a hostage to him while keeping the couple’s own daughters as his own hostage, but for reasons unknown Eustace had his hostage blinded. Henry then turned over his hostages to the father of Eustace’s now blind hostage, who took his revenge by putting out the daughters’ eyes.

On learning of this action Juliana and Eustace rebelled, and while Eustace secured their other castles, Juliana fortified herself within their fortress at Breteuil. Henry, learning of these developments, soon laid siege to the castle at Breteuil in February of 1119. Orderic then recounts how Juliana, under the pretence of wanting to meet with her father, fired a crossbow at Henry when he appeared for their meeting, but missed ‘since God protected him’.

Powerless to hold out against the siege and with no help on the way, she surrendered the castle, but being unable to leave freely by the King’s orders, ‘the unlucky Amazon got out of the predicament shamefully as best she could’ by leaping off the castle walls into the moat, before fleeing to her husband. In this case, marriage and family combined to play an important role in driving Juliana to defend her property from other family members. Moreover, the use of phrases such as ‘God protected him’ and ‘unlucky Amazon’ suggest Orderic disapproved of Juliana’s actions, and highlight how chroniclers sometimes used certain emotive words or phrases to portray an incident in a certain light.

This use of emotion by Orderic is well illustrated in a second case involving a woman in an important military position. In 1139, Matilda of Ramsbury, commander of the stronghold of Devizes and mistress to Roger, bishop of Salisbury, was forced into action when King Stephen (c.1096-1154) besieged Devizes on suspicion that rebellious forces stirred up by Roger and his nephews were hiding there. Attempting to force its surrender, Stephen brought out Bishop Roger’s son (by Matilda) and ordered that he be hanged unless Devizes surrender.

According to Orderic, when Matilda saw her son about to be killed she apparently cried out ‘I gave him birth, and it can never be right for me to cause his destruction’, whereupon she handed over the castle to the king, thus forcing the surrender of the castle’s garrison. Orderic’s inclusion of Matilda’s outburst, however, conflicts with other sources which do not mention this incident. William of Malmesbury’s Historia Novella, written only a few years after the incident, omits all mention of Matilda when describing the castle’s surrender, as does the Gesta Stephani, Henry of Huntingdon’s Historia Anglorum, and Roger of Wendover’s much later Flores Historiarum.

Nevertheless, Matilda’s role as guardian of the keep at Devizes reveals that she did have command of the castle and thus would have played a central part in any decision to surrender, even if the actual specifics of her involvement in the bishop’s surrender remain unclear. Given that the other sources omit her outburst, Orderic’s version of events appears less tenable, which only goes to show that we should be aware of possible distortions in chroniclers’ portrayal of women in a position of command.

Amongst the upper nobility, marriage also offered some women an opportunity to demonstrate military leadership of their own initiative. One unusual case comes from 1321, when Isabella of France (c.1295-1358), queen consort to King Edward II of England, was involved in an incident in which she ordered her marshals to force an entry into Leeds castle, after she was denied lodging there for the night by Lady Badlesmere (whose husband had been supporting Edward’s enemies and who held the castle). In response, Lady Badlesmere ordered her archers to fire on Isabella’s men, killing six of them, and forcing the Queen to retreat. Lady Badlesmere and the rest of her family were later imprisoned by Edward for their actions following a siege of Leeds castle.

What make this incident remarkable is that two women were commanding military forces against one another, one defending her husband’s property, the other ordering the attack which began the whole skirmish. For Isabella at least, this was not her only initiative that required military force: just five years later, in 1326, she helped plan an invasion of England with the support of French nobles and disposed of her husband King Edward, ruling as regent for her son Edward III alongside her lover Roger Mortimer.

Perhaps one of the most striking examples of military initiative by a woman forced to defend her husband’s domains, however, is that of Jeanne de Montfort (c.1295-1374), Countess of Montfort and wife to John IV of Montfort (1295-1345), later Duke of Brittany. She is noted for her actions during the siege of Hennebont in 1342, during the Breton War of Succession between the houses of Blois and Montfort for control of the duchy of Brittany. The Countess was in Hennebont along with other lords when an army led by Charles of Blois, the rival claimant to Brittany, laid siege to the town in response to her husband’s refusal to surrender the duchy to Charles, as determined by the judgement of the King and peers.

On the third day of the siege the French lords launched a determined assault on Hennebont, motivating the Countess (who led the defence of the city) to ride through the streets urging on the townsfolk to defend the city, encouraging damsels and other women to ‘cut short their kirtles’ and carry ‘stones and pots full of chalk to the walls’, that they might be cast down on their enemies. Leading by example, the Countess then rode out armed, together with three hundred horsemen, and led the charge into the French camp while its inhabitants were away fighting, destroying it by setting the tents on fires, before escaping to the castle of Brest, rearming, and returning to Hennebont to defend it from another assault. The Countess’s courageous defensive actions proved crucial to allowing the defenders, men and women alike, to hold off the besiegers until English forces arrived by sea and relieved the siege.

Two things are worth noting about this incident. First, the involvement of women – young and old – in the defence of the town, which reflects the support roles medieval women often fulfilled whilst their men-folk were fighting. Second are Jeanne’s efforts in leading the defence of Hennebont as well as the attack on the French camp, for though she may not have actually fought the enemy with her own hands, hers is nevertheless an extremely unusual case in that we have a woman who actively commanded and participated in a military attack.

It is little wonder then that Jean Froissart, the great fourteenth century chronicler, evokes a masculinised image of Jeanne as a woman who had ‘the courage of a man and the heart of a lion’. While his description is intended as a compliment, it nevertheless illustrates how even the most competent of medieval militant women were sometimes described as having male attributes.

Alongside marriage, a noblewoman’s inheritance could also, on occasion, play an important role in facilitating female military leadership. Female inheritance (of land) usually took the form of dowries which the bride’s family gave to their daughters upon marriage. Upon divorce or widowhood, dowries served as women’s inheritance and provided them with a living, since the practise of male primogeniture throughout much of Western Europe made it unlikely that women would inherit all of the family property and any seigniorial (or ruling) power that may have come with it. Even if women did happen to inherit such property, they were certainly not expected to perform military service by involving themselves in its defence.

And yet, some women did exactly that. Shahar gives the example of Mahaut, Countess of Artois (1268-1329), who inherited her father’s county in 1302 and who, according to Shahar, ‘crushed all attempts at rebellion by vassals.’ A more personal struggle was that of the widow of Arnoul II, count of Guînes, who waged war on her own son Baldwin III – Arnoul’s heir – for two years from 1220 to 1222, apparently because he did not cede to his mother control of certain properties to which she was entitled as widow.

Then there was Giralda of Laurac, to whom belonged the castrum (defensive fort) at Lavaur in southern France and who, along with her brother Aimeric of Montréal, led its defence when it was besieged by Simon de Montfort, leader of the Albigensian Crusade, in 1211. Upon its capture by Montfort’s army, Giralda was unceremoniously thrown in a well and crushed by the heavy stones thrown upon her. Marvin has suggested that the reason she was executed was because she actively commanded men during the siege, although Jones believes it is more probable she was executed for heresy instead. In any case, the key point is that while it may not have been common for women to become involved in the military defence of their inheritance, given the means and sufficient motivation, some women did fight to prevent the loss of that inheritance.

At the same time, not all women were limited to defensive actions. Indeed, when a woman’s inheritance was extremely large and entailed extensive ruling privileges, as might occur with a woman of the high nobility, she was more able to exercise leadership and initiate offensive military action. Thus, for instance, in January 1229, Blanche of Castile (1188-1252), widow of King Louis VIII and regent for her son Louis IX, commanded a successful attack on rebels based at the castle of Peter Mauclerc, count of Brittany, as part of her efforts to quell rebellious lords who had allied themselves with the English king Henry III’s supporters in western France.

Further afield in the Holy Land, Melisende (1105-1161), daughter of King Baldwin II, inherited the kingdom of Jerusalem after his death, and ruled the kingdom independently for nearly a decade after her husband’s death in 1143, largely excluding her son – Baldwin III – from government. Even after Baldwin gained power forcefully from Melisende, she still had much influence in government, and in 1157 she played an important part in organising a military expedition to recapture a stronghold across the Jordan, assisted by one Baldwin de Lille. In both these cases, the women involved were able to use the authority derived from their inheritance to take a leading role in a military action.”

- James Michael Illston, ‘An Entirely Masculine Activity’? Women and War in the High and Late Middle Ages Reconsidered

#medieval #warfare #high middle ages #late middle ages #james michael illston #noblewomen #isabella of france #blanche of castile #alice de montfort #i don’t wanna hear SHIT about how medieval women had no involvement in war

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