#alexander the great: the conqueror's path

[my-chiliarch]

Well, for a documentary that canceled ALL homoeroticism from the ancient world and myths, this still looks pretty gay to me *shrugs*

[fallowhearth]

Nanaya-ila’i and her daughter were just two of the thousands upon thousands of victims of the Assyrian Empire, most of whose names have been lost over the centuries. The Assyrian Empire was just one of the many aggressive polities that has produced victims by the thousands over the past several millennia: The Romans did no better in Gaul or Dacia. Alexander the Great razed Thebes on his way to far more expansive conquests. The crusaders who took Jerusalem in 1099 waded ankle-deep in blood, Timur Lenk left behind towers of skulls marking his conquests. Pizarro slaughtered the Inca by the score. The Nazis left behind millions of corpses. As long as grasping rulers and would-be warlords have sought to expand their power, common people have suffered the consequences, just like Nanaya-ila’i and her daughter.

But those ambitious politicians and conquerors didn’t do the dirty work themselves. They had underlings, generals and officers and common soldiers and bureaucrats, to enforce their will. Those underlings participated in acts that, by any reasonable standard of moral behavior, range from the merely distasteful to completely abhorrent. It would be comforting to think that those who murdered children, burned houses with the residents inside, committed acts of sexual violence, and enslaved the survivors were uniquely evil. It would be easier to believe that these participants had somehow forfeited their humanity somewhere along their path to organized violence. We would prefer to fool ourselves into thinking they formed a special class of malefactors separate from the farmers and shopkeepers and laborers who made up their societies as a whole. These ideas would be wrong. The agents of empire and conquest were not a marked group of sadists; they fit quite comfortably within the mainstream of the societies that produced them and benefited from their actions.

Patrick Wyman, Perspectives: Past, Present, and Future Substack, 2024

[hello-nichya-here]

If you could give zuko and azula royal epithets/nicknames, what would you call them?

Ex. William I "The Conqueror", Ivan IV "The Terrible", Alexander III "The Great", Elizabeth I "The Virgin Queen"

considering the descriptors can be positive or negative, there are lots of possibilities for them lol

To answer this ask, I'm stealing a bunch of titles from George R.R. Martin's works, otherwise it'd just be "Sister-fucker and brother-fucker" XD

Titles For Azula

Red Viper - I just like the thought of Azula killing enemies with poison, like Ursa killed Azulon, AND I like giving her cool weapons, so a poisoned spear would be awesome.

And lets face it, Azula is just a character that DEMANDS a title that suggests she's two-faced and deadly.

The Red Woman/His Red Shadow - I love, love, love, love making Azula Zuko's mistress & advisor, much like Melisandre is to Stannis (through I prefer her giving him babies that are not murderous shadow), and she'd absolutely get labelled as the evil witch who seduced the king and is leading him down the wrong path, just like Mel.

Plus, Melisandre and Stannis canonically go for moonlight walks in the books, and fuck on top of a war table/map in the show, and that is just perfect aesthetics for Zucest.

Realm's Delight/Light Of The West - Little Azula, with all of her disturbing tendencies, being called "realms delight", like she's the cutest, most precious thing in the whole world is just funny to me. And I like Rhaenyra, so of course I'd give Azula one of her titles.

And she'd definitively take a page from Cersei's book of "Give yourself a new title while you help your baby boy usurp the throne", only in this case she's stealing Kuei's throne for herself (and Zuzu).

The Queen That Never Was - Azula is just made for politics and to be a ruler, so I would not be surprised if, before her relationship with Zuko is made public and they get married, some people are still not over the fact that she never got to truly rule over the Fire Nation. Even after the whole "you're all banished" thing, I can easily see at least half the Dai Li calling her "The Fire Lord that never was" as they are all sad their favorite 14-year-old child soldier didn't get to enjoy rulling over the world.

Titles For Zuko

The Rogue Prince - You look me in the eye and tell this title doesn't fit the banished prince that had to stay away from home for three years, came back, willingly left to stand against his father/Fire Lord, and then came back AGAIN to change everything. Do it. I dare you.

The King Who Cared - Again, my love for Stannis and Melisandre heavily influenced this one. I like Zuko being the grumpy, furious, highkey entitled king that has a change of heart and decides "You know what, I need to take care of my people if I want them to respect me as a ruler" - and his "evil" mistress just comes along for the ride because she's THE most devoted woman ever.

The Peaceful - Unlike with King Viserys, this won't be a polite way to call Zuko "the cowardly/incompetent king." Like I said before, Zuko has a kind, righteous side and he is at his strongest when he embraces said side, and considering he helped end a 100 year and intends to be a merciful ruler, this just feels like a good title for him - not to mention, it will make it easier for enemies to understimate him, thinking he'll be easy to defeat, and then be brutally reminded that Zuko is being kind BY CHOICE, not because he can't ever be one hell of powerful, dangerous enemy to go against.

Sea Snake - @timur-pannonicus had Zuko be given that title after a major victory in his fanfic, and I just thought it was cool as hell. Plus I just love any connection to the three years Zuko spent at sea.

Titles For Both

The Conqueror - Zuko and Azula going the evil route, invading all the other nations and forcing the world to submit might be morally abhorent... but it's one hell of a great aesthetic and definitively makes them worthy of Aegon's title.

The Unworthy - Come on. Azula is Ozai's favorite, a prodigy, scarily competent and never "betrayed" the Fire Nation. Zuko is the firstborn, Ozai's MALE heir, won the crown and managed to help end a 100 year war. No way one of them gets crowned without half the nation/world going "BUT HIS/HER SIBLING DESERVED IT WAY! HE/SHE IS THE TRUE HEIR, NOT THIS DISGRACE OF A PERSON!"

Protector Of The Realm, Lord/Lady Of The Four Nations - Needs no explanation (but I do think Azula would only use the title of "Fire LADY" if she's rulling as Zuko's wife. If he had to marry her to win the crown, they're both having the title of Fire Lord)

Stormborn - That is just a very cool title and a future king/queen being born during an insanely dangerous storm is some epic myth stuff.

The Unlikely - Both of them are kids of the Fire Lord's second son, their uncle (aka the rightful heir) is still alive, Azula is a girl and younger than Zuko, and Zuko was fucking banished and disgraced. Nobody was making bets on either of them being crowned for a long time.

The King/Queen In Chains - Humiliating title for the sibling that lost the Agni Kai for the crown AND a thinly veiled way people have of saying "These royals are VERY kinky." Perfect for Zucest.

Phoenix King/Queen - Ozai's title was just objectively cool, Azula would totally see it as a legitimate thing just because her dad was the one to come up with it, and Zuko would TOTALLY want to be the first actually get to use that title as one last "FUCK YOU, DAD!"

Bonus

Azula has ABSOLUTELY called Zuko "The royal dum-dum" at some point, you cannot change my mind.

[ebelal56-blog]

Alexander the Great: The Final Stand

Join us on a historical journey with Alexander the Great as we explore his final stand. In this kings and generals documentary, we dive into the epic tale of one of the most legendary figures in ancient Grecian history. I stand at the precipice of history, a conqueror, a dreamer, a man whose name will echo through the ages. I, Alexander, have carved my path through the heart of empires, from the sun-baked plains of Persia to the lush valleys of Punjab. The Achaemenid Empire fell before me like a house of cards, its once-mighty walls crumbling under the weight of my ambition. I tasted victory at Gaugamela, the thrill of triumph coursing through my veins as I gazed upon the remnants of Darius’ forces, scattered like leaves in the wind. But here, at the banks of the Hydaspes, I find myself face to face with Porus, a king as fierce as the storms that rage across the skies. His elephants tower over my men, a living wall of muscle and might, yet I am undeterred. I have faced the fiercest warriors, crossed deserts and mountains, and still, I press on. The thrill of battle is intoxicating, the promise of glory beckoning me forward. Yet, as the clash of steel fills the air, I sense a tremor beneath my feet, a whisper of dissent among my ranks. My soldiers, weary from the endless march, their spirits frayed like old cloth, they look to me with eyes that once sparkled with the fire of conquest. Now, they speak of home, of the familiar comforts left behind, and I feel the weight of their longing. I am their leader, their king, yet I am also a man, and I understand their fears. The dream of India, of further conquests, begins to fade like the evening sun. I am forced to turn back, to abandon the vision that once burned so brightly in my heart. The world I sought to conquer slips through my fingers like sand, and I am left with the haunting echo of what might have been.

[libidomechanica]

Before they saw three years followd to much exist in days

By him; and tear, and shaking up     to have I drunk of her check these are coming in mine heart     aches, press me feel you wanted with more subtle there him then,     in difference immortal man, sweets you feel most shade doth be     used genteelly. Twas but

could be; saw the Veil flung off him     of ancient art where the beams have him whose shapes, the breach. When     all him, I on her trembling, sweet babes of old, old and leave     to show I’ve travelers carriage. Men sit and caught And again     subiects wrongs, and men’s, will

feel for need, and the flame, and and     bloom could trust and kind, to sit a stone—something: a cleft the     town’s open for ever puzzled Faith store with all hit or     missed me quit for lightly turns toward of Heaven, that is flames     of children’s cry my strange

she sport is like cloudy central     creatures out as there’s not help their gates with no less, and     she has twa sparkling roof with their torture me; the only     God, forward let them into capitulations do     break. When Landlord hath not

saue, murder in her joys, her     foreigned; and the appointment of our skin, thy voice, or a     spaces that them thine imagination; but oh, ambrosial     cash! Then, since then my love, love what is mard. One is she     be set down to thee: I

flye thy Brothers of me beloved     but in the nation? Rain on the sun looking we will     be about thee, butcher in true shall Stellaes grape, and door     at others doesn’t cut it. We thread’s spun out between earth can     make your lived over note.

Her children die for the earth can     overbear reluctance beach I want his dog, a lip to     Lip concerting to be bevel; by that heaven must not     fit mark to themselves, was never fleur-de-lis; because the     river. Can I then you

me eternal love with fair sex     alone. Reaping o’er tremble deaf heaven above that so     much better priestlike to free them harm. A posy of my     beloved the greater. When natured, miserable Misters,     and speech did those whose motives

were it was brought, there; false, ere     thee? Of any through to spread a landing lips. The field with     the dance overwrought, may like Alexander, to speake and     elegance, then how I lov’d their Gallic names in clamor’s     hours of the woman taught

in good dinners, gleaners, gleaners,     glean in the great conquerors is a photographs, I wish     thy dear! Dogs, or sunk, and watched me already yet to be     well that comes a place, embroidered brain? And debt, and the sadness?     Subsiding, if you

write, as much unblest on the moon-     faced. And child, with the green, and who, by night in the leaves than     breeze in acrylic fur. From Toil, he placed by the girl to     vex the path, struck, kisses on the little verse want to     strangement, pinching fine, my

wife, and saying to shine for home,     the chain, my boiling and yet again down at zero,—lo     coach, chariot, luggage at first detachment had given     thus with vigour froward children’s cry my stranger, mislaid     love away. Of two by

hardly high requiem become     a better; the foot, teach morn the Nith’s wings. Love’s safety in     Love’s the midnight and to thee, as not worthy either know     my word was gone; the Veil flung roses, neither had a meaning.     The golden seemed anew,

grows his banner. To the brown     paper. He cried alone. But the Early, like task of church     of mud and horns, nor judgments of love, I will holding well     both with the doors vnto the daily, laid. And never floats an     Europe than me. He said,

I dared reproved, and gently     he had naughty spirits rush’d through and now still she to rally     to aid this is stretching is a lass there’s for his     own, now lord is with a slightly make her. Upon my hand:     the roses, had not to

be discerne thy fingers reaching     home. Greater ward, was his beads too bountiful still faire text     best in Glory! Because me from one polish’d dove; in the     father drear flat or should be amazed to walk into their     art, survey’d the ware of

human race capture day—fond Thought!     Just open, but farther held out as it went been Hercules,     here; and all along thee! Very eyes are bears ago     or just pleasures, and Rotten Row sleeps there was love me, on     a corporal—somethinks?

[your-heart-is-a-treasure]

Alexander the Great's Last 3 Wishes.

A true story with a meaningful message.

Alexander, after conquering many kingdoms, was returning home. On the way, he fell ill and it took him to his death bed.

With death staring him in his face, Alexander realized how his conquests, his great army, his sharp sword and all his wealth were of no consequence.

He now longed to reach home to see his mother's face and bid her his last adieu. But, he had to accept the fact that his sinking health would not permit him to reach his distant homeland. So, the mighty conqueror lay prostrate and pale, helplessly waiting to breathe his last.

He called his trusted generals and said, "I will depart from this world soon and I have three wishes, please carry out them out without fail."

With tears flowing down their cheeks, the generals agreed to abide by their king's last wishes.

"My first desire is that", said Alexander, "My physicians alone must carry my coffin."

After a pause, he continued, "Secondly, I desire that when my coffin is being carried to the grave, the path leading to the graveyard be strewn with gold, silver and precious stones which I have collected in my treasury."

The king felt exhausted after saying this. He took a minute's rest and continued. "My third and last wish is that both my hands be kept dangling out of my coffin."

The people who had gathered there wondered at the king's strange wishes. But no one dared bring the question to their lips. Alexander's favorite general kissed his hand and pressed them to his heart. "Oh! our king, we assure you that your wishes will all be fulfilled. But tell us why do you make such strange wishes?"

At this, Alexander took a deep breath and said: "I would like the world to know of the three lessons I have just learned."

"I want my physicians to carry my coffin because people should realize that no doctor can really cure any body. They are powerless and cannot save a person from the clutches of death. So let not people take life for granted.

The second wish of strewing gold, silver and other riches on the way to the graveyard is to tell people that not even a fraction of gold will come with me. I spent all my life earning riches but cannot take anything with me. Let people realize that it is a sheer waste of time to chase wealth.

And about my third wish of having my hands dangling out of the coffin, I wish people to know that I came empty into this world and empty handed I go out of this world."

With these words, the king closed his eyes. Soon he let death conquer him and breathed his last.

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

‘Beloved Osho, are these illusions of God and ego one and the same?’ Yes. The moment ego is found illusory, immediately God also disappears. Ego is an imaginary center in individuals, and God is the imaginary center of the whole universe. They are related to each other, dependent on each other. Neither God can exist without ego in you, nor can ego exist without God there above, in heaven. God is the ego of the whole. It is not a coincidence that all the religions emphasize both together—God and you. They try to make your ego more and more—at least in appearance—a reality. To make the ego they have all kinds of disciplines: you have to do this, you have not to do this—because the ego cannot exist when you are not doing anything. It is just as if you have a torch of fire in your hand; if you go on moving it round and round fast enough, you will see a circle of fire—which does not exist. It is illusory, you just cannot see the gaps. It is just a single fire, a flame, but moved fast it becomes a circle. That circle is simply not there. Stop moving your hand and the circle disappears. All the religions go on teaching you, ‘Do something—fast, exercises, prayers; go to churches, mosques, synagogues. Read the holy scripture every day.’ These are all methods to create the ego in you. The torch goes on moving and goes on creating the illusory circle. And when you start feeling that you have a center in you, it becomes very easy for you to believe that there must be a center to the whole. If each individual is moving on a center, then the whole existence must be moving on a center, and that center is God. Ego strengthened in you creates the belief, the faith in—God, and makes it look very logical. What I am doing here is just the opposite. I want you first to learn moments of non-doing, moments when you simply are, not doing anything—the torch has stopped moving in a circle—and you are amazed. The moment you are silent, not doing anything at all, suddenly, in a strange, mysterious way, the old you has disappeared, evaporated, and a new feeling of being arises. The ego is separate from others, has to be. It has its own territory. The bigger the territory, the bigger ego you can have. If you become the president of America, of course your ego becomes millions of times bigger. You have much money, and you go on and on accumulating money—that feeds the illusion; your territory, your power, goes on increasing. I want you to know a state of utter nothingness. That is your reality. The child is not born with an ego. Ego is being taught by the society, religion, culture. You must have watched little babies: they don’t say, ‘I am hungry.’ If the baby’s name is Bob, he says, ‘Bob is hungry. Bob wants to go to the toilet.’ He has no sense of ‘I.’ He indicates himself also in the third person. Bob is something that people call him, so he also calls himself Bob. But a day will come… as he grows you will start teaching him that this is not right. ‘Bob is the name for others to call you; you have to stop calling yourself Bob. You are a separate personality, you have to learn to call yourself ‘I.’’ The day Bob becomes ‘I,’ he loses the reality of being and falls into the dark abysmal pit of an hallucination. Once he calls himself ‘I’ there is a totally different energy functioning. Now the ‘I’ wants to grow, it wants to become big; it wants this, it wants that. It wants to rise higher and higher in the world of hierarchies. It wants a bigger territorial imperative. If somebody has a bigger ‘I’ than you, it creates an inferiority complex in you. You make every effort to be superior-than-thou, holier-than-thou, bigger-than-thou. Now your whole life is dedicated to one stupid thing—which does not exist in the first place. You are on a dream path. You will go on moving, making your ‘I’ bigger, and bigger. And it creates almost all your problems. Even Alexander the Great had immense problems. The ‘I’ within him wanted to be the world conqueror, and he had almost conquered the world. I say almost for two reasons. In his time, half of the world was not known, America was not known. Secondly, he entered India, but he could not conquer India; he returned from the boundaries. He was not very old, he was just thirty-three. But in these thirty-three years he had been simply fighting, fighting, fighting. He had become sick, bored with the fight, killing, murder, blood. He wanted to go back home and rest, and even that was not fulfilled. He could not reach his home in Athens. He died just one day before he was supposed to reach Athens; Athens was only twenty-four hours away. But his whole life’s experience—growing richer, bigger, more and more powerful, and then also feeling an utter helplessness, not even capable of postponing his death for twenty-four hours… And he had promised his mother that once he had conquered the world he would come and put the whole world at her feet as a gift. No son had done that for any mother before, so it was something absolutely unique that he was going to do. But he felt helpless, surrounded by the best physicians. They all said, ‘You cannot survive. This twenty-four hour journey… you will die. It is better to rest here, perhaps there is a chance. But don’t move. We don’t see much chance even for resting—you are drowning. You are getting closer and closer, not to your home, but to your death; not to your home, but to your grave. And we cannot help. We can cure sicknesses, we cannot cure death. And this is not sickness. You are almost like a spent cartridge. In thirty-three years you have spent all your life energy in fighting this nation, that nation. You have wasted your life. It is not sickness, it is simply that your life energy is spent, and spent uselessly.’ Alexander was a very intelligent man. He was a disciple of the great logician and philosopher, Aristotle; Aristotle was his private tutor. He died before reaching the capital. Before his death he told his commander in chief, ‘This is my last wish, and this has to be fulfilled.’ What was his last wish? A very strange wish. The wish was, ‘When you carry my coffin to the grave, you have to keep both my hands hanging out of the coffin.’ The commander in chief asked, ‘What kind of wish is this? Hands are always kept inside the coffin. Nobody has ever heard of a coffin being carried to the grave with the hands hanging out!’ Alexander said, ‘I don’t have much breath to explain to you, but in short, I want to show to the world that I am going with empty hands. I was thinking I was becoming bigger and bigger, richer and richer, but in fact, I was becoming poorer and poorer. When I was born I had come into the world with my fists closed, as if I was holding something within my fists. Now at the moment of death, I cannot go with my fists closed.’ To keep your fists closed you need life, some energy. No dead man has been able to keep his hands closed. Who will close them? A dead man is no longer there, all energy is gone—the hands open of their own accord. ‘Let everybody know that Alexander the Great is dying with his hands empty, just a beggar.’ But I don’t see that anybody has learned from those empty hands, because people after Alexander have continued to do the same in different ways. Man’s ego is the source of all his problems, all the wars, all the conflicts, all the jealousies, fear, depression. Feeling oneself as a failure, continuously comparing with others makes everybody hurt—and hurt tremendously, because you can’t have everything. Somebody is more beautiful than you, that hurts; somebody has more money that you, that hurts; somebody is more knowledgeable than you, that hurts. Millions of things are there to hurt you, but you don’t know, it is not those things that are hurting you, because they don’t hurt me. They are hurting you because of your ego. Ego is constantly trembling with fear, knowing perfectly well that it is an artifact, an artificial device created by the society to keep you running, chasing shadows. The politicians are happy, they want you to go on running. This game of the ego, reaching higher and higher, is politics. The priest is happy, you go on asking for his blessings. One of my friends was a cabinet minister in Indira Gandhi’s time. When his election was coming near, he was very much afraid whether he was going to win again or not. And now, being a cabinet minister, he was hoping someday to become the prime minister. And to lose the election and again be just nobody was very painful. He came to me. He said, ‘I have never asked anything from you, but this time, you bless me. I want to win this election. There is every possibility that I will go higher in the cabinet. Perhaps I may become the deputy prime minister.’ I said, ‘You have come to the wrong place’—because in India people go to the saints for blessings. I said, ‘You have come to the wrong place. If I really give you a blessing, you will fail utterly in your election.’ He said, ‘What do you mean? What kind of blessing is this?’ I said, ‘Your becoming a cabinet minister, a deputy prime minister, or even a prime minister, is not really a blessing to you. You are going in an hallucinatory direction. My blessing will bring you back to your reality.’ In India, many couples, when they got married, used to come for my blessing. And Vivek used to tell them, ‘Don’t ask for his blessing, because his blessing means divorce’—because she had seen, year by year, whoever had asked for my blessing was finished, asking for my blessing was the end of the relationship. But they could not understand it. They had come to ask the blessing that for their lives they remain devoted to each other, that their love goes on growing, their love should not know any end, it should be endless. But this is illusory. Everything that is born, dies. And the more beautiful a thing is, the more delicate it is. Love is a beautiful flower; it withers very easily. Yes, a relationship you can carry—that is legal, social—but it will be a burden when the love between you has stopped flowing. You will torture each other in every possible way. My blessing can be that you enjoy the moment to the fullest, and if in the next moment you feel the bridge has collapsed, then say good-bye to each other—at least in a friendly, compassionate way. The ego and all its games… marriage is its game, money is its game, power is its game. All the games are the games of ego. The society up to now has remained playing games; it is an ongoing Olympics all over the world. Everybody is fighting his way upwards, and everybody else is pulling his legs down, because at the Everest peak there is not enough space for you all to stand. It is a cut-throat competition. And it becomes so important to you, that you forget completely that this ego was planted in you by the society, by the teachers. From the kindergarten to the university, what are they doing?—strengthening your ego. More and more degrees go on being added to your name, and you start feeling bigger and bigger and bigger. Ego is the greatest lie—which you have accepted as a truth. But all vested interests are very much in favor of it, because if everybody becomes aware of egolessness, this whole Olympics going on around the world will simply come to a standstill. Nobody will want to climb Everest, they will enjoy wherever they are. They will be rejoicing. The ego keeps you waiting: tomorrow when you succeed, you will rejoice. Today, of course, you have to suffer, you have to sacrifice. If you want to succeed tomorrow, today you have to sacrifice. You have to deserve success, and for that you are doing every kind of gymnastics. And it is only a question of a little time to suffer, and then there is rejoicing. But that tomorrow never comes. It has never come. Tomorrow simply means that which never comes. It is postponing living. It is a beautiful strategy to keep you suffering. Politicians want you to suffer, priests want you to suffer, your educational system wants you to suffer. They all teach you that sacrifice is great: Sacrifice—only then will you be able to find something to rejoice in; sacrifice is the way. I say it categorically, No! Sacrifice is the invention of the cunning people. There is no need to sacrifice anything because all that you need to rejoice is already here within you. But the ego cannot rejoice in the present. It cannot exist in the present; it exists only in the future, in the past—that which is not. The past is no more, the future is not yet; both are non-existential. Ego can exist only with the non-existential, because it itself is non-existent. In the present, pure moment you will find no ego in you—simply a silent joy, a silent and pure nothingness. But the priest is afraid: if you come to know this nothingness, you will know immediately there is no God, because if you can exist without any crystallized center, why cannot the whole existence exist the same way? God is nothing but your ego multiplied by everybody else’s ego. God is the biggest ego in the world. God is the greatest hallucination man has suffered, and is still suffering. If you want your ego, then you have to keep your belief in God intact. They remain together, they go together. Many questions have come to me, asking why I insistently destroy people’s belief and faith in God. It is pure arithmetic: without destroying God I cannot help you to destroy your ego. If there is no God and existence can remain flowing, moving, growing, expanding; nobody is controlling it, nobody is maintaining it, it is autonomous… That’s what I mean when I say there is no God. I am saying existence is autonomous. Trees are growing of their own accord, birds are flying of their own accord, the sun is rising of its own accord. And it is beautiful that nobody is behind this beautiful existence, turning it into a puppeteer’s show. That’s what the religions teach—all the religions without exception—that you are only a puppet. With God there, you cannot be anything more than a puppet. The strings are in his hand. They have a proverb in India that not even a leaf moves without God’s permission. Nothing happens without God’s permission, so this whole existence is a permanent slavery. And it is very strange, the same people who say, ‘Not even a leaf moves without his support…’ Then how do people commit murder? Then how do people commit rape? Then how do people become thieves? If not even a leaf moves without him, the murderer is not responsible, the rapist is not responsible. If anybody is responsible, it is the puppeteer. But strange… you will be punished for an act over which you have no control. You will be thrown into hell because God managed to make a murderer of you. It is God who manages Genghis Khan, Tamerlane, Nadir Shah, Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler, Mussolini. It is God. If one million Jews are killed by Adolf Hitler, religions have no guts to say the truth: that it is God who is pulling the strings of Adolf Hitler—the poor puppet—and he is killing people. Religions want you to be responsible for your acts on the one hand, and on the other hand, God has created you, and everything that is in you is created by God. I have asked many saints, ‘How do you reconcile this contradiction?’ and I have never received any answer. They said, ‘It is beyond human comprehension.’ You can comprehend God, that he created the world. You can comprehend that a particular sin will throw you into hell, another particular act will take you to heaven. You can comprehend everything else… I have seen in India, in temples, there are maps hanging which show where hell is, where heaven is, where God lives, his house. These idiots who made these maps didn’t know anything about America, because those maps were made thousands of years ago. Even now they are hanging—without America! They knew about heaven and hell, and they didn’t know anything about this very earth on which they were living. Your ego is just an idea implanted in your mind. It is poisonous. Your ego keeps driving you madder and madder. What I call meditation is nothing but a great decision on your part to have a few moments at least when you are not doing anything—not even thinking anything, because that is also an act. You simply are. In that simple existence you will find no ego inside you, and it will bring such clarity. Because all the turmoil of the ego is no longer there, your vision takes wings, you can see that God is nothing but the ego of the whole universe. If you can exist, breathe, be, and there is no sense of ‘I,’ it makes clear to you that there is no need for any God, that there is no need for this slavery under which we have all lived for millennia, that you are not a puppet, that you are an individual. And nobody is responsible for your acts, remember. That is very significant. Why did people decide to remain slaves for so long? Why did they continue to believe in God, repressing their doubts and queries?—for the simple reason that the presence of God makes you irresponsible. He is the all-knower, he is everywhere; you are just to follow his commandments. And there are people like Moses who say that they have seen God, heard him, and they bring stone tablets with commandments written on them. They say, ‘This is God’s own handwriting.’ Of course, he knew only Hebrew, that’s why he wrote the commandments in Hebrew. And he gave his commandments to Moses because the Jews are his chosen people. This fiction that Moses created is responsible for all the miseries Jews have suffered all through history. If you carry the idea that you are the chosen people of God, then naturally you are superior to everybody. As a by-product you are making everybody your enemy. And the Jews are still carrying the same idea. God has been used by priests and prophets and messiahs to keep you deluded, deceived. But why did you accept all kinds of nonsense? There is a reason: it relieves you of all responsibility. When you are with me, I make you responsible for every act. And if there is no God, and you are a free individual, naturally you have to be very alert and awake, because there is no one protecting you from on high. Even Jesus was under that delusion. On the cross he was crying, ‘God, my Lord! Have you forsaken me?’ He was thinking that God was behind him; that was giving him an illusory strength and power. His authority was because he was God’s messenger. Jesus was fully convinced that on the cross God was going to come down and prove to the whole world that Jesus was his only begotten son; and those who were crucifying him would suffer in hell for eternity, and those who were with him would be raised in glory to heaven, to enjoy it forever. These deluded people are your messiahs. These people need psychiatric treatment! Instead of putting them in a madhouse, you have been worshipping them. Why? The same reason: they relieve you of a great thing—responsibility. They take your responsibility on their own shoulders; and of course, they have a direct communication line with God. I want you to be silent, meditative, searching inside yourself, looking… is anyone there? And you will be surprised—there is no one, just pure existence, autonomous. There is no entity in you. You are part and parcel of the whole existence. You are connected to the trees and to the rivers and to the ocean in a thousand and one ways—visible, invisible. You are not separate. Can you remain alive without breathing? Perhaps for a few seconds you can manage, because you have a certain storage of oxygen in your lungs. So it is not a big deal that you can keep your nose closed and you can dive in water for a few seconds. But soon you start feeling suffocated; a little more and you will be finished. What are you doing when you close your nose? You are disconnecting yourself from the atmosphere, the air, that surrounds you. It is invisible, but it is very tangible. You can feel it with your hand. You are constantly taking it in, sending it out. It is there. Eighty percent of your body is water—and not just water, but sea water. That’s why you are constantly in need, not only of ordinary water, you have to have sea water. That’s why salt is one of the most necessary things in the world. In your body, inside, it is exactly the same combination of salt water and other chemicals as in sea water. When you go to the beach, why do you feel a sudden joy? The salty breeze, the vast ocean. the waves… Why do you suddenly feel more alive? Because you are part of it. Eighty percent of you is part of the ocean! There is a certain need for your body, once in a while, to be close to the ocean so you can renew your love affair with it. Why do you feel good looking at the green trees? When you go to a lush, green forest something in you starts dancing. The cool breeze, the green color surrounding you… Do you know that trees are constantly supplying you with oxygen, that you are constantly supplying carbon dioxide to the trees, that you are not separate—you are connected by very invisible bridges. On the full moon night, you can see the ocean is affected: its waves are bigger, as if it wants to touch the moon. Something in the ocean is stirred by the full moon. It is now an established scientific fact that your great oceans—the Pacific, the Atlantic, the Indian ocean—all your great oceans are really the places from where the earth was removed to make the moon. In the beginning the earth was not solid, and when something is not solid and is moving, spinning, it will throw off a few parts of itself automatically because they are loose, they are not solid. The earth has thrown off millions of its parts. When you see a star falling in the night, it is not a star, it is just some part of the earth that has been floating beyond the gravitation of the earth and has come back into the area of gravitation. Two hundred miles around the earth is its area of magnetism. Every night thousands of those stones enter, and this has been going on for millions of years. Still they are not exhausted. The biggest part thrown off by the earth, was the moon. Of course, if such a big part drops out, it leaves big holes on the earth. These holes became oceans, water collected in them. On the full moon night something in the earth remembers, something in the ocean stirs. They are still in communication. And you must remember that on the full moon night you also feel very good. Poets for centuries have been writing poetry about the full moon. Singers have been singing, musicians have been playing on their instruments to the glory of the full moon. Why does this full moon attract you? Because you are also eighty percent ocean. More people go mad on the full moon night than any other night. More people commit suicide on the full moon night than any other night. More people have become enlightened on the full moon night than any other night. It cannot be just coincidence—for millions of years the same thing… Gautam Buddha was born on full moon night; he became enlightened on full moon night—the same full moon night, the same month. And he died on the same full moon night, the same month. He must have been really in deep communication with the moon. It is not visible; everything need not be visible. We are connected with the whole universe. The moment your ego disappears, this connection with the whole becomes absolutely certain. There is no need to worship—you are then worshipping yourself. There is no need to pray. To whom are you praying? Then what is left for you is to rejoice, to enjoy all the gifts of existence. They are your inheritance! They belong to you, you belong to them. There will be a totally different humanity if all the egos disappear. This whole earth will become a disco—Zorba the Buddha. People will be dancing, singing, enjoying. And there is so much to enjoy that who bothers about having a big post in the government? A few idiots may do that, but nobody will be jealous of them. And if you are not jealous of them, their joy at holding the big post of the president or the prime minister will be finished. Nobody cares! Ronald Reagan passes by and you don’t even say ‘Hi.’ Sooner or later those idiots will also come to their senses. What has happened? Nobody is recognizing them, nobody is bothering who they are. And everybody is so blissful. Ego disappearing, God disappears. Ego disappearing, hope disappears, despair disappears. Ego disappearing, there is no hell, no heaven. Ego disappearing, you become part of the universe, as you really are. To me, this is enlightenment, this is liberation. Nobody can do it on your behalf. That’s why I say people like Jesus are talking nonsense—that they have come to save others, they are saviors. And it is not only Jesus, all the religions have their own buffoons. Nobody can do it for you, you will have to do it for yourself, you will have to take the responsibility. Whatever the society has forcibly implanted in you, you have to undo it. Silence does the miracle. That’s why I say, yes, absolutely yes: your ego and God are not separate. God is the ego of the whole; your ego is the ego of the part. And the vested interests would like you to continue carrying the ego, because if the ego disappears, God disappears. All churches, all temples, mosques, gurudwaras, will have to be turned into discos where people come to dance and sing and play. That will be true religion.

Osho (From the False to the Truth)

[veenaspakistanlitblog]

Five Interesting Pakistani Nonfiction Books

The Reluctant Fundamentalists by Mohsin Hamid (Summary from Amazon)

     1. https://www.amazon.com/Reluctant-Fundamentalist-Mohsin-Hamid/dp/0156034026

Changez is living an immigrant’s dream of America. At the top of his class at Princeton, he is snapped up by the elite valuation firm of Underwood Samson. He thrives on the energy of New York, and his budding romance with elegant, beautiful Erica promises entry into Manhattan society at the same exalted level once occupied by his own family back in Lahore. But in the wake of September 11, Changez finds his position in his adopted city suddenly overturned, and his relationship with Erica eclipsed by the reawakened ghosts of her past. And Changez’s own identity is in seismic shift as well, unearthing allegiances more fundamental than money, power, and maybe even love. The Reluctant Fundamentalist is a riveting, brilliantly unsettling exploration of the shadowy, unexpected connections between the political and the personal.

     2. Moth Smoke by Mohsin Hamid (Summary from Goodreads)

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/440777.Moth_Smoke

When Daru Shezad is fired from his banking job in Lahore, he begins a decline that plummets the length of this sharply drawn, subversive tale. Before long, he can't pay his bills, and he loses his toehold among Pakistan's cell phone-toting elite. Daru descends into drugs and dissolution, and, for good measure, he falls in love with the wife of his childhood friend and rival, Ozi—the beautiful, restless Mumtaz. Desperate to reverse his fortunes, Daru embarks on a career in crime, taking as his partner Murad Badshah, the notorious rickshaw driver, populist, and pirate. When a long-planned heist goes awry, Daru finds himself on trial for a murder he may or may not have committed. The uncertainty of his fate mirrors that of Pakistan itself, hyped on the prospect of becoming a nuclear player even as corruption drains its political will.

     3. I Am Malala: The Girl Who Stood Up for Education and Was Shot by the Taliban by Malala Yousafzai (Summary from Goodreads)

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17851885-i-am-malala

When the Taliban took control of the Swat Valley in Pakistan, one girl spoke out. Malala Yousafzai refused to be silenced and fought for her right to an education. On Tuesday, October 9, 2012, when she was fifteen, she almost paid the ultimate price. She was shot in the head at point-blank range while riding the bus home from school, and few expected her to survive. Instead, Malala's miraculous recovery has taken her on an extraordinary journey from a remote valley in northern Pakistan to the halls of the United Nations in New York. At sixteen, she has become a global symbol of peaceful protest and the youngest-ever Nobel Peace Prize laureate. I Am Malala is the remarkable tale of a family uprooted by global terrorism, of the fight for girls' education, of a father who, himself a school owner, championed and encouraged his daughter to write and attend school, and of brave parents who have a fierce love for their daughter in a society that prizes sons. 

     4. The Khyber Pass: A History of Empire & Invasion by Paddy Docherty (Summary by Amazon)

https://www.amazon.com/Khyber-Pass-History-Empire-Invasion/dp/1402756968

Combining personal travelogue with history, Paddy Docherty chronicles the story of the Khyber Pass, the gorge separating Afghanistan from Pakistan and northern India that has been the path of invasion for generations of aspiring conquerors. Docherty paints a fascinating historical portrait of mountain warriors, religious visionaries, artists, scientists, and figures from Alexander the Great to Genghis Khan—and examines the Pass’s modern significance as a lawless region of gunsmiths, drug smugglers, Taliban fighters, and Al Qaeda operatives.  Through his own travels in this frontier region (from Pakistan through the Khyber to Kabul), Paddy Docherty brings the Pass’s epic history into the 21st century.

     5. Pakistan: Between Mosque and Military by Husain Haqqani (Summary by Amazon)

https://www.amazon.com/Pakistan-Between-Military-Husain-Haqqani/dp/0870032143

Among U.S. allies in the war against terrorism, Pakistan cannot be easily characterized as either friend or foe. Nuclear-armed Pakistan is an important center of radical Islamic ideas and groups. Since 9/11, the selective cooperation of president General Pervez Musharraf in sharing intelligence with the United States and apprehending al Qaeda members has led to the assumption that Pakistan might be ready to give up its longstanding ties with radical Islam. But Pakistan's status as an Islamic ideological state is closely linked with the Pakistani elite's worldview and the praetorian ambitions of its military. This book analyzes the origins of the relationships between Islamist groups and Pakistan's military and explores the nation's quest for identity and security. Tracing how the military has sought U.S. support by making itself useful for concerns of the moment—while continuing to strengthen the mosque-military alliance within Pakistan—Haqqani offers an alternative view of political developments since the country's independence in 1947.

[reignsan]

The Prelatis show Richard the events of Zero via their illusions, hoping to demoralize him by showing him the ways it broke Artoria, since he’s the world’s biggest King Arthur fanboy.

Instead he proceeds to go on a huge joyful fanboy rant about how much he loves her and thanks the Prelatis for what they showed him.

Long post warning. Translated by You on Beast’s Lair:

AYAKA was horrified. Saber who usually had a lot of say hadn't spoken a word since the king in blue appear. There were no words of praise or gasps of surprise, it was almost as if she couldn't feel Saber's presence even if he was just across from her. The figure of the king who did not obtain anything, the king who was treated as a magus' hunting dog, who euthanized the weak of the edge of death, and at the very end betrayed when she was about to fulfill her wish. What was going through Saber's mind when he saw that? AYAKA had to speak, but she couldn't think of anything to say to him. However, beside AYAKA, the silent Saber raised his voice. "Francesca Prelati" Hearing that voice AYAKA reflectively turned. Saber's face was completely blank but she felt as though some glistened in his eye. Maybe it was her imagination or maybe they tears of despair from from the shock. But, it was the reverse. Upright, Saber gave this illusionary world a bow of the highest grade. "The person who edited this illusion should know the weight of king bowing to another." "Saber?" In front of the bewildered AYAKA, Saber spoke the words that echoed from his soul. "However, from the bottom of my heart, I would like to express my gratitude for teaching me this new heroic tale of the great Knight King!" Growing aware of the emotions that were bubbling up from his words, not just AYAKA, but also the Prelatis started showing signs of confusion. He was overwhelmingly... delighted. 　 If those were tears that glistened in his eyes, it seems they were from gratitude and delight. "Saber... what?" "AYAKA.... look at the Knight King... Don't you see a hero?" "Eh?" "As for me, Ayaka. I already know the legend of the Round Table, how the king is betrayed, how unreasonable things happened, how at the last moment she was worn-out and lost everything. But, I admire even those parts." As AYAKA tilts her head, Richard begins to speak slowly as if a boy talking about his favorite baseball team. "And its not like the other two kings denied the Knight King's answer in the banquet." "Eh? But, with that much shouting..." "Think carefully. It was just because Alexander the Great was angry. He never denied the Knight King's royal path. There was a lot of talk about her being a figurehead idol, but he never denied the idol herself. It's simple, he was saying "I'll acknowledge your achievements but I don't like it."" Far from distracted, Richard spoke much more calmly than ever and AYAKA said surprised. "Is that... so?" "This is second-hand from my mother but, "The king does not walk the royal path; the people who walk that path are known as the nation." Depending on the era and the geography, the nation and vassals' moods, morality and everything else easily shifts. That's why there's no right answer to that conversation, and above all, the three who participated are the ones who should understand that the most. We are trying to infer their reasoning, not determine how right they are." While grandly standing, Richard offered a joke to AYAKA. "Well, there was one thing our Knight King lacked compared to the others. Her voice was too small! I would approve and deny any king's intentions! After all, it's natural for who was born in a different land, in a different time to have their own royal intentions! But the guy who said "I was the one who was right!" at the end was strong. He reminded me of that Crusader, Phillip. Seeing this, the Prelati's voices became dyed in bewilderment. "Okay, I'm going there. Shouldn't you be more serious about insulting the other two kings or be in despair at Arto-chan to the point that your extra skin falls off?" "By the way, aren't you surprised King Arthur is a girl?" Erasing all emotion from their voice, they spoke with confidence. "Of course.. You already know." "The magecraft entangled with the true King Arthur... no, Artoria Pendragon's legend. You somehow reached it, didn't you? Looking away from the doubting Prelatis, Richard stretched his entire body. "I see. So that was really your goal. Do you want to know how far I've stepped into the history of the Knight King? I'm afraid to say I haven't been to the tower where Merlin's imprisoned." Then, his expression left his face and looked up at the sky in deep, deep thought. "Ahh... but that was really wonderful... Alexander the Great, Goldie, and my ancestral king... Everyone was a "King" beyond imagination." "Saber?" AYAKA spoke because she was worried. Saber was not shocked, but instead stopped moving and started monologuing. Saber slowly turned back down to her and said, "AYAKA" "W-What?" "AYAKA's determination... I'll accept it." "Eh?" In front of the blankly staring AYAKA, Saber spread his arms out wide, making no effort to hide his damaged armor. "One more time... I want our meeting to have had meaning." With a theatrical bow, Richard takes AYAKA's hand in one flowing movement. "I ask you..." The king and the girl standing in a solemn castle in the middle of a forest blended into the landscape with beautiful harmony. Just like a verse in a heroic tale told in many legends. "Are you my Master?"

[...]

Running to meet the materialized "death" that was filling the city, Saber's heart soared. -As legend, King Arthur was his ally. If he relaxed his trembling heart a little, he may shed tears of joy. Her actions deserved praise. Whether it was the thread from those she trusted or her own thread, she had re-spun it herself over and over, making sure the fluttering flag of our country would never break. The body moved unconsciously, clearing away two, three giant skulls. -Of course, if I had taken a different path, I might not choose to redo everything. His movements sped up as he cut down each skull. By the time he killed more than ten, he had already reached his maximum speed when he was fighting the golden Heroic Spirit. -But so what? Such a thing is trivial. That's just a difference in values. As Saber struggled forth, one by one the knights and archers that made up his retinue smashed into the surrounding giant skulls. "Without talk of morality, I'll praise your conviction!" He realized he was shouting. Unable to contain the overflowing thoughts, he shouted in delight as he ran up the hotel at high speed. "That's why I admire you! No matter how angry the Conqueror King! No matter how mocking the ancient Hero King!" Richard actually understood the source of the Conqueror King's anger. He was fond of Alexander but could not deny King Arthur's will. After all, the royal path the Lionhearted King walks is completely different from those three. That's why he celebrates. It is belief in the ideal the Knight King embraced that forms his chivalry. "I will affirm my chivalry, spun from my ideals, until it results in the fruits of my subjects returning to nothing. That is my tyranny; the poof of my kingship!" Richard asserts that he believes the Knight King's "sacrificing oneself for her ideals" is "tyranny" and proclaims it commendable. Hearing that voice, the police look on in wonderment. AYAKA lets out a big sigh, "how just like him," and smiles. "...But o' Great King Arthur. You've been worrying too much about one thing." Saber's face was slightly clouded as he stated his concern, and as if offering counsel to someone not present, recited his thoughts. "O'Ancestral king to mine chivalry! You have not noticed! The country the Round Table constructed, the Round Table destroyed, does not need to be remade!" "For King Arthur has guided us to Avalon!"

[...]

Having run up to the rooftop of the next tallest building behind the Crystal Hill, Saber gave himself a second to catch his breath. "My great ancestral king! I'll prove to you!" In front of him was a remarkably giant, jet black skull. It was made from fusing many of the giant skulls together. From its back bloomed an uncountable number of bones so it resembled Avalokiteśvara. In front of the grotesque monster, Saber had no fear and continued to carve praise for King Arthur onto the world. "The royal path you walked was never wrong!" Saber kicked off from the rooftop and soared high into the sky. "The pride and the royal path the Round Table left us is what created us. Their tragedy and ruin shaped our souls! The glory of humanity, chivalry, is eternal. It shall never fall. Let me sing that to the Round Table and yourself!" As he passed through the encroaching jet black flame, Saber fired a slash of light with all the power he possessed. "We who admire you have lain eyes upon it! O'Ancestral King Arthur please keep watch!" While singing the wish he carried at the top of his lungs. "I may have already lost my qualification but..." After a momentary self-depreciating smile came a shout studded in the radiance of a wish entrusted to someone he had not yet seen nor heard. "One day, someone who isn't me will finally reach utopia (you)! Ahh, yes! The history of planet you spun will surely deliver the place your body lays a peaceful breeze! And until the sound of that blessing plays -!" "With the Holy Grail's power - I shall sing humanity's victory song so that it even reaches the depths of utopia (Avalon).

[heroicadventurists]

DC Villains: An opportunity for success

Now that Joker is the most profitable comic book movie in history, DC has an opportunity to differentiate itself from the MCU and other studios by focusing on villian origin stories. While the MCU is wonderful, their villains could be utilized better. Out of 23 films, only 6 of their main villains were really memorable to me (this is subjective of course). Standouts include Loki, Killmonger, Hela, Thanos, Ghost and Vulture. These characters were charismatic, intelligent, relatable, powerful and evil. They were worthy adversaries and made the protagonist look great in victory. However, out of those 6 characters, 3 are dead (I'm still holding out hope for Killmonger) and 2 (Ghost & Loki) are reforming.

Presenting compelling villains with well fleshed out back stories will only raise the stock of the DC heroes. For example, if DC were to include Joaquin's Joker in The Batman movie, people would be more invested in Robert's Batman because we are already invested in his antagonist.

DC seems to be heading in the direction of producing villain focused movies as Black Adam begins filming in July 2020, and if The Birds of Prey is successful, a Gotham City Sirens spinoff is expected to be the follow-up.

If DC were to truly commit to supervillain movies moving forward, here are three villains I feel can carry an amazing solo film:

Vandal Savage

Vandal began his days in 50,000 BC, as a caveman named Vandar Adg. He was bathed in the radiation of a mysterious meteorite, which gave him incredible intellect and immortality. 

He claims to have ruled hundreds of civilizations under hundreds of names: Khafre, Cheops, Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Genghis Khan, Blackbeard, and Vlad the Impaler, to name a few. He also terrorized Victorian era London as Jack the Ripper. He has also worked as close friends and advisers to the likes of Erik the Red, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Otto von Bismarck and Adolf Hitler. He also led the Spanish Armada in its attempted invasion of England (suggesting he may have been Alonso Pérez de Guzmán). He was the court physician in France and even used the royal family for syphilis experiments.

Basically there are a lot of intriguing stories you can tell with Vandal and if you build him up in a solo film(s), the hero who defeats him will look all the better for it.

Ra's Al Ghul

Like Vandal, Ra's has been around for centuries but where Vandal is just a sadistic savage, Ra's is a hero in his mind.

According to Birth of the Demon, Ra's al Ghul was born over 600 years to a tribe of Chinese nomads settling in the desert somewhere in North Africa. He developed an interest in the sciences at an early age and abandoned his tribe to live in the city where he pursued a life as a researcher.

Using Lazarus Pits to extend his life, Ra's spends the next several centuries journeying the world. He fights in the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars, becoming a formidable warrior. As the world entered the modern age and industrialisation began to cover much of the Earth, Ra's grew to despise humans, who he believed were destroying the world's natural beauty, setting him on a path of eco-terrorism. 

Sinestro

Sinestro was born on the planet Korugar in space sector 1417. His dedication to preserving order originally manifested in his previous career, an anthropologist specializing in reconstructions of ruins of long-dead civilizations. One day while he was on one such site, a Green Lantern named Prohl Gosgotha crash-landed into the site, injured and apparently dying. He quickly gave his ring to Sinestro, just in time for Sinestro, who barely even understood what the ring could do, to defend himself from the Lantern's pursuer: a Weaponer of Qward; however, Sinestro had to destroy the ruins he had spent time restoring in order to crush the Qwardian. Afterwards, Gosgotha turned out to still be alive and asked for his ring back to keep him alive long enough to get help. Sinestro, knowing this would mean not being a Green Lantern himself, instead let him die and took over his post. The Guardians were unaware of his actions.

Sinestro began using the power of the Green Lantern to instill fear rather than combat it and the Guardians banished Sinestro to the antimatter universe, a counterpart to the "real" universe made up of "negative matter". Sinestro believed himself to have been wronged by his former masters and now hated them. Creating a yellow power ring for Sinestro to use, the Weaponers sent him back to the "positive matter" universe to seek his revenge. Sinestro quickly became the Green Lantern Corps' most powerful nemesis, partially due to a weakness in their power rings that prevented them from directly affecting the color yellow. 

The more successful the villain, the more successful the picture. - Alfred Hitchcock

Which villains would you like to receive a solo film?

-Villain biographies from wikipedia

[deerheadlights]

Chapter 5: Lady of Olympos Bay

“He’s a good boy, his edges just don’t fit with this isle.” Tydeus’s gaze didn’t waver from the sea as the fisherman spoke.

“I’ll try to bring him back in one piece. Best I can do as a guest friend.”

When had he taken on so much responsibility? Alkyone was a given, but that Persian, a horse, and now this boy? What was he, a nursemaid? It was true, he hadn’t savored going to Athens alone, for a man of his (previous) means, this living rough was starting to wear, even in war time he had had a hypastist to do menial tasks. Nothon’s a poor substitute.

“Could you let us know where your shrine is, so we may give thanks for our lives?”

“The Lady of Olympos Bay has an alcove by the sea cliffs, Glaukos will go with you to leave some of the gold.”

“My thanks.”

I better check on that Persian now that I’m a nursemaid. Tydeus ducked into the house to find him sitting up looking… confused, as one of the fisherman’s daughters looked at him like he was  a demon. When he saw him he looked reassured. “Sir… when are the others going to get here… or will we be going to meet them?”

“Well Alkyone is resting, and you’ll be resting too. And you are…?”

“You mean you don’t know my name? Then how did you know to guide me across the river?” Tydeus gave him a hard look. “Guide you? That was the Aegean Sea, boy”

“That… that was that not the River of Ordeal?” Tydeus gave a heaving sigh and paused for a time. “What, did you think you were dead?” A complete change came over the Persian’s demeanor. I’ve never seen anyone so upset about not being dead.

“I’m captured? Wait, so how can you speak Persian? I should have known when you gave away my plaques, I thought it was just losing-- I -- I won’t tell you anything, Yauna!” Should have just let him keep believing he was dead.

“Listen, I don’t care about Persia, I just want Alexander the Macedonian wiped of the face of the earth. And don’t you want that too?” Tydeus continued, “So if you know anyone who would be amenable to financing some Greek rebellions…”

“Aren’t you all Yauna? Why would you be working against him. I’m not falling for such a simple trick.”

“I’m not a Yauna - Ionian. I am Tydeus, son of Medon, a Boeotian of the mainland, and I am definitely not some Macedonian hill man. Alexander razed Thebes, killed my people and I want revenge!”

“Oh, Thebai, that city that helped King Khshayarsha during the Yauna Rebellions… I guess that’s more plausible.” The Persian sighed “I am Marduniya, son of Arsama, who I saw die, of the clan of [name plz] that has lost at least 3 other men. I don’t know about the satrap of Varkana, but if the Great King is injured… it was already hard enough to get everyone to fight together, I heard talk in the camp… anyway, if we can barely work together I don’t see how we can work with Yauna across the sea.” Just what I didn’t want to hear.

“Now that he’s freed Ionia he may turn back.” Tydeus said mostly to himself. Marduniya shook his head.

“No conqueror turns back after a win.”

 ----

 Alkyone slept the whole day and night away. When she awoke the next morning, they were getting ready to leave. She had shovelled some fishy kerkyon into her mouth as gracefully as she could and went out to see Tydeus bundling some meager provisions on the horse. “Do we need that much, the lady told me Rhodes is just a few hours away.”

“I’m not going to Rhodes.”

“What, what do you mean?!” Tydeus turned around with a look and Alkyone cringed. That may have been a bit hysterical, but I don’t want to be alone again!

“Things have gotten serious, I have to go to Athens to inform our old friends, and I’ll attract less attention alone. Nothon and Lethos will take good care of you.”

“I see… be safe.”

“I won’t be there long, just to deliver the news, should be in Rhodes before the second week is up. I gave Nothon a longer time table, just to get him off my back.”

Still plenty of time for things to go horribly wrong. Alkyone pushed the thought away.  Tydeus continued:

“We’re going to make offerings to the Lady of the Bay on the way to the harbor, so we don’t have a repeat of our last time at sea.”

“I promised Poseidon and Aeolus a goat each if we didn’t have a storm, so they’re not getting anything from me now. Not that this place has any goats for miles.” Alkyone sniffed. After so many of her petitions to the gods ending in the opposite result, she was starting to feel a bit cynical.

“There’s a few shepherds up on the hills if we need some goats,” One of the fisherman’s sons appeared holding some cheese curds.

“Do we need anything else, sir?” he addressed Tydeus.

“Your best cloak would be good for Athens.” He ducked back inside.

“I thought you said you’d attract less attention alone,” Alkyone narrowed her eyes.

“Well, being too alone can be suspicious as well.”

 The boy got hugs from his mother and sisters before they all set out on the path towards the harbor. Marduniya was remarkably better, though he was walking about in a drabber shirt after they had left his purple tunic as payment for all of the homespun cloaks they were bringing with them. “Are you sure we shouldn’t tie his ankles together or something?” the boy, Glaukos, asked. “No, he wants to go to Rhodes more than he wants to stay on Karpathos, and he doesn’t have the resources to do it on his own.” Tydeus said, before switching to Persian and saying something that earned him a glare and a short reply. Alkyone had understood the words Greek, Persian, their own and fool, but not the rest. In Sardis Tydeus had tried to teach her a little, and many people spoke it in their everyday business so that it was easier to absorb, but he had gotten busy and Alkyone was loath to talk to people alone. Is Marduniya coming to Rhodes? Tydeus could hardly bring him to Athens if he was trying to be discreet.

 The path moved down the hillock that the little village was on, towards towering cliffs carved out by the sea. There was a cavern with a few fingers’ width depth of water on its floor that Glaukos led them into. The edges of the wall were rimmed with crystals of salt, the veined light colored stone of the cliffs was carved into a statue of a Nereid. Some flowers, a few twists of white wool and a charred bone lay on her altar. They put their cloaks over their heads and stood solemnly while Tydeus intoned a prayer, “Thank you lady, for bringing us to safe harbor from your father’s wrath, we give you thanks, and offer you these tokens for a safe journey.” He placed another gold plaque on the altar, and Glaukos followed suit. Alkyone set down some of the copper bells that had been attached to her shawl. The storm had pulled off so many she figured the sea may as well take the rest. When Marduniya reached in his pocket she saw Tydeus tense up, but he just took out a big silver earring. It had a ribbed edge with a recumbent ram in the middle. He put it down and this time Alkyone was able to understand his gist, “One gray ram now, Anahita, you’ll get the other one later.”

“And here I thought I had searched his pockets well enough, should have known from the holes in his ears.” Tydeus shook his head.

 Olympos compared to the hustle and bustle of Thebes, Athens, Sardis, and even Cyprus was basically a ghost town. But there were some respectable biremes in harbor they were able to acquire the services of. “We weren’t going to go to Rhodes until tomorrow… but if you can give my eyes something shiny to clap on we could move ahead of schedule.” was a familiar refrain of these shipping captains. But it was done, and soon they would be saying their farewells. “You’re sure you don’t want to come with us?” Nothon asked Tydeus, “The boss will have sent news to Athens for sure.”

“With these men it’s best that I talk to them face-to-face.”

“Yeah, you’re a great talker,” Nothon chuckled. I’m sure Tydeus has had it with this rude man, and so have I, thought Alkyone, maybe he will shape up around his “boss”.

“You had best be a good talker, if you’re going to wrangle a young lady and Persian across the sea.”

“Don’t you worry, Lethos will be quite attentive to the young despoina’s safety, and we know that no one likes a banged up hostage.” Alkyone hadn’t actually met Lethos, he had only met with Tydeus once before they went to Cyprus, but she found herself worrying about his attentiveness. What’s wrong? If a rich nobleman likes you at this point, it’s the opposite of a problem! “Be safe, both of you,” Alkyone repeated to Tydeus and Glaukos. She wished she could give Tydeus a hug, but in public that would be inappropriate. Compared to everyone else, Glaukos looked positively giddy. Lastly Tydeus addressed Marduniya. Alkyone couldn’t parse much of it, but he gave a solemn nod. At last they had reached the dock, the boat peacefully swaying by the quay. She stepped on the gang-plank. I’m serious Poseidon and Aeolus, two goats each if we get to Rhodes safely!

[fuwafuwamedb]

Flight or Capture (Fem Waver, Iskander, Gudako, Alexander)

“Y-You really don’t mind me?”

She looked towards the mane of the horse, unable to focus as she felt her face heating up.

“I can stay by your side?”

“You’ve been through many battles with me. What are you talking about? Up until now, we’ve faced against many enemies as I? You are my friend. So hold your chest up high. As mine. Watch as I follow the first of those orders.”

Waver stared at her drink, her face burning as she heard the man from her thoughts laughing and drinking with a handful of other servants.

To think she would be summoned with that great fool.

What was worse, she had Grey and Reines here. It seemed that, since she had de-aged with her ascensions, they hadn’t caught on the rather small chested person next to them wasn’t a boy but was in fact the great Melloi II.

I need to get out of this room before those two or that man sees me.

The thought was immediate. Deep.

It had been far too long since she had been Iskander’s servant. Although the piece of cloak she had preserved and protected had become a full cloak for her to hold when she had arrived and ascended levels, she still found herself uncertain about speaking to the man.

Which was why, before her servants realized she was who she was and before he realized she was here, she needed to leave.

Grey and Reines weren’t looking to her yet.

There was time.

Waver slipped from her chair, setting down some QP and tiptoeing towards the door. She didn’t sense anyone looking her way.

She was going to make it.

“Grey,” Reines’ voice rose up. “It would seem that my big sister is trying to leave without saying hello to us.”

She winced.

“Ah!” Gudako was laughing behind her. “I forgot. Everyone! I didn’t introduce our latest servant! We got her last week and I raised her level up quickly! She’s going to help us out a lot more from here on out!”

No!

Waver hurried towards the door, stopping short at the servant that blocked her path.

Adorned in Iskander’s army’s colors, the boy grinned at her, holding out his hand.

“Hello, my lady!”

Waver winced.

“Hmm?” The boy leaned in closer, looking up at her. He had the same smile that Iskander had, making her face heat up at the sight of it. “I’m the great conqueror Alexander! What is your name?”

“Iskander?!”

She gaped at him, listening to him laugh and nod.

“I’m a bit younger,” he explained, “but I was summoned after my older self!”

“WAVER!”

Caught.

Glancing back, she could hear Reines laughing. Grey was staring over at her in surprise as the great conqueror abandoned the arrogant golden king and green haired person to come towards her.

“WAVER VELVET! When did you get here!”

She found herself pressed up against the conqueror’s chest, hugged by the man as his younger self chattered on with questions.

“Can I hug her next? She’s a caster, isn’t she? Do you train yet? We should train together!”

She couldn’t breathe.

Her heart was racing.

“Ah, look.” Reines smirked, pressing a hand to her face. “My big sister and the great Melloi II did indeed have a crush on her infamous servant.”

A crush?!

She hadn’t…

She could feel the man kiss the top of her head and felt her embarrassment deepen.

“ISKANDER!”

I didn’t like him like that!

The man was laughing again, patting her back as he began to tell the room about his cute little master from the grail war.

I did like him.

The thought came like a flash of lightning, accompanied by a clap of shock to her system.

She still did.

Oh no.

[warsofasoiaf]

Was Daeron I inspired by Alexander the Great? If so, is it safe to assume that his ambitions of conquering Dorne were because he was taught through the historical presentation of his ancestor Aegon I that there is glory to be found in conquering another nation or nation (s)? He was foolish to start a war, but he was also a teenager without regency due to his uncle Viserys II's bad experiences with it and therefore was allowed to do as his pleased, including indulge his greatest ambitions.

Daeron I was inspired by young conquerors, one of whom was Alexander the Great. Specifically, his use of the unseen goat path mirrors Alexander’s use of unconventional movement and invokes the trope of the young, clever, capable general who sees more than the status quo of the older, established, more conservative generals that make up his council.

I think Daeron I’s drive to conquer Dorne was out of a desire to project strength with the death of the dragons and provide an alternative to the dracocracy that had been established by the Targaryen dynasty. With the Dance and the bloody civil war, the loss of the dragons meant that the Targaryens needed a new sense of what their monarchy meant. Daeron chose military conquest, that where before the Targaryen might have relied on dragon power, this would be a kingdom where the king was the vigorous head of a commanding army. It would project strength and solve the problem of the persistent border violence between Dorne and the Marchers. 

Thanks for the question, Anon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[ostrumregalis]

Justinian probably had the wildest, yet most skilled court of people in the history of ever. Keep in mind, Justinian is one of the most well-recorded people in history BECAUSE of the people he had around him. And one person in particular, who wrote his entire biography...

...Who else happened to write weird fanfiction about him being an actual demon who could take his own head off. Historians found this Secret History more than a millennium after Justinian’s reign. Where else are you going to find shit like that by the same guy who wrote his biography?

Aside from that guy, there was five main players in his court. Narses the Eunuch, John the Cappdocian, Tribonian, best boy Belisarius and Justinian’s darling wife, Theodora. All of them were one hell of a character. Seriously. I’ll go through em’ all briefly but GIRL DAMN where they weird.

Narses was a eunuch, so he was one of Justinian’s most trusted generals as he could not usurp him due to not being able to produce an heir. This guy was sneaky, and worked in the shadows. Bribing officials, and helping quell the Nika riots. He was also the one who would finally secure Rome for Justinian the second time around... but he was also kind of a dumbass that cost them Rome the first time because he kept arguing with the other general, Belisarius who I’ll get to later.

John the Cappadocian was perhaps the greatest tax collector in the history of ever. When Justinian was handed the empire, the rich would avoid taxes and the poor couldn’t afford to pay. And this man was ruthless, even resorting to torturing nobles. He kept Justinian’s entire reign funded. And mind you, Justinian was a BIG spender. Constantinople was nearly burnt to the ground, Justinian comissioned the Haiga Sophia, defended himself from the Vandals from the north, defended the Empire from the Persians from the east, took back North Africa, and THEN took back all of Italy and Rome itself. And this was all in close succession. So this dude had miraculously filled the Roman treasury without pissing everyone off too much... but he was also prone to be bribed, and was known for his debauchery. Hell, he was part of a plot to usurp Justinian when the Emperor contracted the black plague. Theodora kicked him out tho.

Now Tribonian... this man was a legend of law. So everyone who studies civil law, this guy is the great great great great great x100 daddy of all civil law. This guy managed to condense nearly a whole millennium of muddled up Roman law into 50 books and made every single judge and lawyer follow it. He did this all in a year and half. What a fucking legend... but he was also a rabid pagan in a predominantly Christian world. And, you guessed it, was also prone to being bribed. But man, we still follow the foundation this guy built to this day. All modern Civil Law is based upon his work in the Corpus Julis Civilis. 

I call Belisarius best boy because this guy did what Alexander the Great and Naopleon themselves... but on a budget. His strategies were almost cartoonish and they fucking worked. He would light up more bonfires than there were people so that he could trick the enemy into thinking that he had a bigger force than he actually did. He beat an army of 50,000 against his army of 25,000 through clever tactics and an iron will. He was known for his heavy cavalry who were absolute tanks that could tear a path in just about any army and best of all, he did this:

"Belisarius told his men that everything they took was to be paid for. That they were not conquerors, but liberators. And that the populace was to be treated like Romans because they were Romans"

And if you know anything about crusaders or vikings, they took just about every opportunity to plunder. This man turns nearly unbeatable situations into his victory... above all else, he was a man of complete honesty. He was responsible for taking back Rome and defending it from the north the first time around with only a smaller army of around 5,000 people. But the way he took it back... was through dishonesty and wickedness. The one time he did employ such underhanded tactics came to bite him in the ass because Justinian, who was his best friend and had the utmost trust in him, grew to distrust him. In the end, he was stripped of his rank and the cracks in the Byzantine empire started to show....

Theodora... I’ll save for another time because this post is already getting long as shit. I’ll make one about her and Justinian, their budding romance, and how much of a clutch Theodora was because this woman wasn’t just a pretty decoration to whatever Emperor like most... she held the empire together, and was just as much as a ruler than Justinian was.

Power couple, I swear. 

[diveronarpg]

In fair Verona, our tale begins with ALEXANDER RALLIS, who is TWENTY-EIGHT years old. He is often called ANTONY by the MONTAGUES and works as their ADVISER. He uses HE/HIM pronouns.

It’s often been said that two things—one beyond his control and one under his control alone—define a man: his name and what he chooses to do with it. In this way, Alexander Rallis has always borne the mark of greatness, and in this way, he’s always come dangerously close to making a LIAR of fate. He was nothing short of mediocre as a child, the youngest and plainest of four over-achieving sons and so careful with his words that those who knew no better thought him mute; and even as he grew into an intelligent young man and shrugged off his reservations like a winter coat, he fell into the same habits that had felled men far more promising than he—drinking until he forgot the name he’d failed to live up to, waking up in the arms of women whose names he hadn’t cared to learn, and sobering up to do it again the following night. He was unremarkable until he wasn’t and played it safe until he didn’t. The youngest Rallis son had lived between shades of grey all his life: too cautious to make an impression and then too impulsive to make a GOOD one, but by the time he sobered up long enough to join the Montagues—something his brothers had been too morally righteous to do—he’d learned to toe the line with precision, to reap the benefits of both extremes and suffer the consequences of neither. Half a hedonist and half a CONQUEROR, he was—and still is—often one night shy of his own ruination and a pull of a trigger away from someone else’s, but in a city full of gluttons and assassins, he was an anomaly, a man to be revered—a man who could be both, and that made all the difference. The city has never known balance—not of wealth, not of desires, and certainly not of power, but somehow, whether by some stroke of luck or GENIUS, he’d managed to master all three. It was this mastery that saw him become one of the most prominent captains of his age, not for his proficiency in something as primal as violence, but for his refined knowledge of the art of war and all its nuances. Formidable enough to put his historic namesake to shame and benevolent enough to command both respect and admiration, he’s one of the most successful advisers the city has ever seen—the pride of the Montagues and the thorn in Cosimo Capulet’s side—and he’s only getting BETTER. He’s never been more at home in Verona than he is now, a colonel in a civil war that’s been brewing for centuries, but a man like him knows to never get too comfortable, for those situated at the top of a house of cards are every bit as vulnerable as those at the bottom; the martyr for which his side fights is a solemn reminder of that. More than that, though, the recent murder of Alvise Vernon has left the Montagues without an underboss and made their advisor the second-most powerful man on the west side of the Castelvecchio bridge. He’s got his work cut out for him, certainly, but he excels under pressure—a valuable skill, as the stakes are higher than ever before. He stands to gain the world at his fingertips if he succeeds and a punishment far worse than death if he doesn’t, and while that might intimidate a lesser man, cowardice has never made itself at home in his heart. It’s a damn shame, the way it all played out—Alvise was a worthy colleague and something akin to a friend—but above all, it’s an opportunity to pick up the pieces, and he’s nothing if not an OPPORTUNIST. So, ready the stage and prepare the maestro, for the great Alexander Rallis about to be presented on the great stage of Verona for all to hear and all to FEAR. He’ll win this war if it kills him, but a name like his will never die.

PANDORA PHAN & HENRY ZHANG: Competition. He counted himself lucky to be in their company before tragedy befell the Vernons, and all wariness aside, he still does; they’re two of his most reliable captains, and without them, much of the plans he’s made would never come to fruition. But he’s not the only one who can see their potential; Damiano, too, has taken notice of the pair, and Alexander will be damned if he slips up and gives either of them the chance to take what he feels is rightfully his—what he’s earned. They’re on the same team—part of the same family, fighting the same common enemy—he hasn’t forgotten that, and he has no intentions of playing dirty, but even on the home front, Rallis doesn’t lose. This time won’t be any different, and on the off-chance that he is, he refuses to go down without a fight. VIVIANNE SLOANE: Rival. Failure to acknowledge the strengths of one’s enemy is failure to prepare to defeat those strengths. Alexander has been in enough war rooms to know that pride and arrogance have lost more battles than sheer weakness ever have, and it’s for that reason that he regards the Capulet underboss not as someone to be looked down upon—disregarded, underestimated—but an equal. Acting now as Alvise’s interim successor, he must take an entirely different approach to the conflict that’s shaken the city to its core, and that means taking an entirely different approach to the woman manning the helm of the enemy ship—the puppeteer. He respects her in a way only a man like him could—with a detached sort of ruthlessness. They might’ve been friends if they’d both sold their souls to the same side of the bridge, but the time for might have beens is over; all that’s left is what will be, and Vivianne Sloane will be a woman defeated.

RAFAELLA CAPULET: Fiancee & Childhood Friend. They are bound together by nothing more than a piece of paper and two signatures. Rafaella has elected to disregard it and banish him the same way she had banished her allegiance to the Montagues but Alexander has not forgotten. They were both technically children when the agreement was made for them to be wed in a, at the time, much-needed display of unity between their families. Alexander had cherished the friendship they shared and was confident that he would find a way to prevent the arrangement from becoming an inconvenience but Rafaella had despised the imprisonment of it and was so overcome by her disdain towards her family’s decisions and those they served that she had ended up crushing everything that she had and rebuilding a life elsewhere. Alexander often wonders if she still acknowledges being bound to him, wonders what might transpire if they crossed paths again after all these years. He only knows one thing for certain; he won’t allow anything, cherished or not, to stand in the way of his progress.

MATTHIAS WARREN: Trump Card. Matthias is a serpent but if their consultation sessions together have proved anything to Alexander, it’s that he’s one whose strikes are predictable. Although he has the mob’s best interest in mind—and it was the reason he’d approached Alexander in the first place—it’s quite apparent that avenging his father takes priority and although the Rallis man had been unsure of what he might gain from advising Matthias, he quickly learned that it might not be a losing deal, after all. If framed in a certain light, Matthias’s plan could quickly turn from a personal side project into a reckless display of insubordination. Alexander would be the lucky individual who’d happen to come across this information in the narrative he’ll spin. If he presents it to the boss and helps eliminate the threat, well, his position would progress through the ranks in nothing short of leaps and bounds. It’s an opportunity too promising and too foolproof for him to let go of for the sake of something as trivial as the Warren man’s trust or the risk of earning his disdain.

Alexander is portrayed by JON KORTAJORENA and was written by BREE. He is currently TAKEN by JEN.

[burdensword]

He's heard of her struggles, he knows the self destructive path the King of Knights walks. While he views her beliefs as foolish, at least the way she goes about it, he knows of the good intention behind it all. No words are said but he does pull Saber in for a rather tight hug & every time she tries to pull away his grip only tightens as his hand gently rubs her back. His heartbeat is calm as the King of Conquerors can only hope this somewhat helps what causes immense pain in her heart.

                        【♛】——   A TREMOR TRANSPIRES THROUGHOUT THE KING’S HAND from laying emerald irises before it. Each digit ceases movement until the King of Knights forces a tightened grip. She handled this dread without issues, dealt with it alone as a proper King should. Those burdens weren’t for anyone else to bear witness nor can she expect them to take them away. The King refuses to let go, refuses to suppress those sentiments no matter how ‘  free  ’ she has finally become. Saber nearly quivered underneath her mouth but restrained those eyes from squinting a single tear. The weakness laying through the King’s face is unbearable …   understanding how she can’t afford to show signs of weakness. Footsteps halt their next step, laying against the wall within these empty hallways of Chaldea to sense a cool sensation around her cheek. Her tears finally began streaming down after keeping an effort to hold them back. The memory played back to that lonely hilltop, the corpses of her army surrounding the King, only waiting for a voice to call forth the King of Britain into war once more.

                        THE CYCLE NEVER ENDED AS THE KING SOON ABANDONED HOPE, abandoned any miracle to reach out but her desperation was strong. Her determination to set foot into this self-destructive cycle was addictive like a drug. Saber wouldn’t abandon her ideals, no matter how many voices wished to mock her. Tossing away any victory among the past life the King endured, emerald irises were quick to gaze at the armored hand. Excalibur’s image burns within her palms as a norm, for the warrior is destined to repeat it. Yet she’s forgetting what the King truly fought for whenever thinking about the pain. Those scars won’t ever abandon the King of Knight’s memory …   neither will she forget the people who shaped them. Before turning away to head back into her dorm, familiar steps draw near and stands in front of the small King. Saber tilts her head up to notice the red cap of ALEXANDER the Great ———— how humiliating, she ponders.

                        ARMS ARE QUICK TO WIPE A KING’S TEARS FROM THOSE EYES but they resume their flow. She attempts to offer an explanation through their trading silence, letting emerald irises continue to cry. The King of Knights delivers a shaking tone though is met with a surprising embrace. Muscular arms wrap around Saber’s form, pulling the King into his body without hesitation. Eyes widened intently from this gesture and quick to react with hands pushing against the other King’s chest. Yet arms refused to break apart from the King’s shaking body, only to tighten more. She hadn’t grown used to affections that soften someone as Arturia into a melting state …   a state where she’ll calm herself. Tears began to stain through the attire he was wearing, making it obvious the King was crying. She didn’t understand why he resorted to doing this though her body is starting to calm down underneath those rubs applied against the King’s back.   ❝   W—Why do you embrace me like this, Alexander? I believed you have called me foolish for how I stood for my ideals. These are …   ❞   The soothing sounds of the King of Conqueror’s heartbeat calmed her own body, surrendering to him.

                                                               I cannot weep, I ————                                                         I cannot permit myself to be this way.

♛  // @conqucst .