#beggars can be askers

[the-cannabis-lupus]

You responded to my ask and now my brain is racing omigosh ><

I kinda wish I could meet you in person.

I wanna know what you'd do if we met....

I'm not a strong person, I'm very small (4'11" and 98 pounds)

Would I even stand a chance if you decided to do something?

I feel a little wrong to be thinking about this kind of thing but I can't stop my brain (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

It might feel wrong at first, but that's because you're still thinking about whether or not it's wrong. You're making yourself more confused for no good reason.

Focus on what you want. Not what you think you're supposed to want, what you actually crave.

If your own words are to be believed, you like when people are threatening. You like being scared. You want to meet a sadistic stranger in-person. You're flaunting how easy it'd be to manipulate your body.

But most of all, you came back. You came back just to find out exactly what would happen to you if you were the prey I were hunting.

Let me make this very clear for you. Here you are once more, asking me to fill your head with corrupted desire so you can drown out your resistance to accepting your new truth.

You've already realized you're in too deep to get out now. Now you just need to accept and embrace it.

You want me to threaten you?

Start begging for it.

[whatwasthatone]

Welcome all!

This blog was inspired by a long, long defunct series of blogs on Livejournal, in which people could describe bits of nostalgia that they couldn't quite remember the name of. Readers can comment if they remember the thing and reunite bits of lost media with those longing for them. Books, games, tv shows, songs, etc. all are fair game!

A few notes:

The more people follow this blog, the wider net we cast for our questions! The blog is still very new, so not too many people will see questions at first. If you like this idea, please reblog questions or just tell a friend about this project! Those asking questions, I will try to keep tabs on those that are not answered and reblog them on occasion to bump them to the top as we gain more followers.

If you think you have an answer to a question, please don't forget to @ the asker so they know right away!

The best way to submit a query is actually through the submit button. This is pure laziness on my part because I don't have to add unnecessary text each time I post one.

All other thoughts please put in the ask box!

I'll be starting a queue for new asks. Right now it's set at 1 and 6 pm est and we'll see how it goes from there.

This is a side blog so if I like your blog and follow you that notification will be coming from @beggars-opera

If for some reason the good nerds of tumblr can't help you with your search, r/tipofmytongue is the reddit version of this.

[hugh-lauries-bald-spot]

Hate to be that bird, dreadful business really, but would you be comfortable to share your opinion on who does what during the good old horizontal waltz in the Jooster bedchambers?

Oh YES id be more than comfortable, i have Thoughts!!

I think, for the most part, jeeves tops and hes VERY good at it. Hes fast, hes powerful, hes a little shit who can edge to save a life, hes got stamina aplently. Hes an absolute BEAST.

Bertie will always be a bottom to me, hes vocal, hes verbal, hes a beggar, and asker and a demander. I think they (sorry how bad this is gonna sound) fit together very well in that respect. Jeeves likes that desperate side of bertie, that hopeless need. But he insists on good manners from his master, and bertie is happy to oblige. Bertie gets off on being jeeves'

That being said, bertie can also be dominant, jeeves is pleased to serve his master and does it with velvet lips and devilishly talented fingers

Bertie is also an absolute madman, hes riding that thing like his whole life depends on it. He knows how to move his hips to please em both.

And youll note i said "for the most part" when it comes to jeeves topping, because i think, after a long day of doing everything for everyone, sometimes he just wants to be pleasured, and what i think Little Wooster might lack in width he makes up for in speed and a curve. Besides, jeeves sitting on him, pink cheeked and relaxed is enough to send any man into a frenzy.

I dont think, however, that bertie has the same stamina when it comes to topping, so its a bit of a one and done afair most of the time.

Bertie is also a fiend at sucking dick, total blowjob queen, absolutely loves tasting all of his man, feeling him on his tongue, and jeeves loves the absolutely debaucherous, unfeudal feeling of shooting a load in berties mouth and watching him swallow (same is true of the reverse, the keyword there is full service)

All that to say is that in every way that jeeves is careful, calculated and precise in these matters, bertie is wild, needing, and determined

Id have to get into their kinks in a whole other post i think so feel free to ask for part 2

[botanicalcanopus]

imagine a dead session that's basically an adaptation of dante's inferno

[note: the planet taken into the session becomes treachery while the black queen is holed up in fraud]

Okay I think this will be rather long but only because I am genuinely in love with how many possible ways you could use Dante's Inferno for Sburb. So bear with my rambling.

First: Holy Fuck Cool Session Idea Like it would be really cool for a 9-12 player session. We only have the small sample size of Homestuck that shows sessions tend to evenly distribute players between moons. But, like I keep iterating like a broken record Sburb literally makes Anything Possible* (yay). So whether you do one dead session like the ask says, a session of nine with each character/land/denizen being represented by one circle, or adding in some extra "circles" such as the the bottom layer with Satan where resides, Earth/mortal realm, and Heaven. Literally a fun concept to give your characters probably even more religious trauma! :D *As far as I've seen

Second: Putting the Dead in Dead (Skip to the Third Section for Ask Answer) What is a Dead Session: A dead session (for anyone new or too busy to research) is what happens when you don't prototype your kernel sprite pre-entry to the Medium. The referenced ask is in relation to Caliborn's session, which is a unique case where if a player tries to solo the game, the kernel turns into a blackhole to bring your entire planet into the session as your land. Skaia then darkens and explodes into 15 planets with a blackhole where Skaia used to be. One must then travel to and defeat either the planet's boss or all life on that planet, and place a bomb strategically somewhere (and by proxy escape said planet) to blast it into the blackhole. This is obviously a reference to the game Snooker (what is commonly called Billiards but they are actually different!) which fits English's whole Pool Ball theme. Once a planet is concurred the player will receive a follower/helper (in Caliborn's case the Leprechauns) and each planet gets progressively harder with less time to defeat the next one. If you survive this and if you survive your Denizen's Choice then you will be granted power beyond comprehension. Calliope did say that it favors Time players and that should be relatively obvious why. It is a fair bit more complex but that's the main gist!

Third: I'll Stop Fucking Rambling and Answer Okay so a Dante's Inferno would be a sick way to handle this and assuming that it doesn't have be exactly like Snooker each time with all 15 planets showing up (or you just get super lucky and have some pocket immediately), it would be 10 total in this session. The Player's planet brought in would be one of the layers like the asker says. The nine layers of hell, and therefore the nine planets that would be summoned would be Limbo, Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Wrath, Heresy, Violence, Fraud, and Treachery. All of these would need to be defeated in order like we've seen before, skipping 8 for last as well since that seems to be the mechanic. Now Satan in the story technically lives in the last layer (Treachery) but you can also separate him by technically putting him in a sublayer called Judecca. Soooo, if you make Satan/Lucifer/Devil your denizen you could technically have Treachery be its own planet. The Black Queen being holed up in Fraud makes sense. It was the layers of thieves, sorcerers, flatters, beggars, etc. A royal who's main job is to oversee the kingdom would have the silver tongue necessary to charm and make many fraudulent claims. My headcanons for this would be that the helpers you'd get could be something from Christian-based mythos, and since The Felt members were so broken power-wise it wouldn't surprise me if you either get young cherubs, some of the higher ranking demon princes, or some version of fallen angels as your crew. Your Land if you end up winning would be something like Land of Sin and Salvation, but the aspect doesn't have to be tied to Hope per say it just has heavy themes.

Or do whatever you want. That's just my two cents :) Cool ask, Anon.

[smeowchi]

Opinion on non artists requester asking multiple artists to draw their OC shipping with a canon character for free?

If it's all meant in good fun, and the person is being nice and respectful, then I say go for it. (+ if the person is taking requests ofc) I'm all for selfshipping/oc x canon (hell, I do it myself-), but it absolutely depends on how they go about it. If they're rude, pester people, or deny people's boundaries, then that's crossing the line. Otherwise, I'd say it's okay to at least ask, if the artist doesn't have specifics. Worst they can do is say no/ignore (in dms) or delete your ask. But when askers become beggars is where I draw the like. I'd also 100% recommend to at least, like. become friends with the person first. Because most artists don't tend to be comfortable with that, especially as a request/free art TL:DR - Depends on the situation, really! Overall, with my requests, I'm personally fine with it, as long as I can get a reference somehow, and I feel comfortable with what I'm drawing. But know that all artists may not be. (Note: if this is a part of some current drama that's stirred up that i haven't noticed, please keep me out of it!! This is just how I operate my own requests, and this cannot be said for all artists! Thank you! ^^)

[life-of-an-asexual]

Hi blog! I am an anon asker from around a year ago that was seeking advice regarding sexuality and masturbation and all that stuff. Since then, did a lot more research, still don't have all the insight in the world into my sexuality. But! I can proudly say that I am sex-averse/sex-repulsed, leaning more towards repulsed at the moment. Which is, I think, a flavor of ace that is seriously lacking rep, at least in media. I definitely don't like penetration, don't need masturbation, but I did find out (TMI I guess? But this is a blog about sexuality.) that I can, with some effort and carefully avoiding penetration and any pain I might feel from the whole thing, find some form of pleasure in it. Still don't think I'll do that whole song and dance very often and I'll probably never want to have sex, but I'm pretty okay with that. Honestly if the world could just be a little less sexual, it'd be grand but beggars can't be choosers.

Anyway, all this to say: Thanks! This blog led me to some really great resources and seeing all the other asks that just emphasized how not alone I was made me feel way better as I was navigating asexuality.

i'm glad you've embraced this part of yourself, anon! and i'm happy our blog was able to help you 💖 thanks for sharing.

~Mod Q

[megpie71]

Notes on the words "beg" and "ask"

"Beg" and "ask" are always verbs. They are doing words. You are doing something.

"Beg" in particular, is a verb with certain connotations. When you beg, you are making a request, or pleading, from the bottom of a power gradient. You don't have power - someone else does - and you are trying to get that person to decide in your favour. That is what begging means.

The declination of the verb "to beg" runs thus: will beg (future tense); is begging, beg, begs (present tense); begged (past tense); have begged (past participle); I beg (first person), you beg (second person), he begs, she begs, they beg (third person; perspective-dependent active present tense); I/you/he/she/they begged (perspective-dependent past tense). A person who begs is a beggar.

There is no noun form of the verb "to beg" in English. The noun is "a plea", "a request", or "a favour". It is not "a beg", and if I never see that particular formation ever again, this will be too soon.

Asking is more power-neutral, although asking can occur from any portion of a power gradient. If the person on the high side of the gradient is asking, it's an expression of politeness, treating the person on the low side as an equal. If the person on the low side is asking, it can be an expression of assertiveness, or disregard for hierarchy, depending on how you're writing things. Usually, asking questions is an expression of equality (this is why authoritarian people who believe strongly in hierarchy tend to strongly discourage asking questions, by the bye).

The declination of the verb "to ask" is as follows: will ask (future tense); is asking, ask, asks (present tense); asked (past tense); have asked (past participle); I ask, you ask, he asks, she asks, they ask (perspective-dependent active present tense); I/you/he/she/they asked/have asked (perspective-dependent past tense). A person who asks is an asker, or querent.

Again, the noun form of "to ask" does not formally exist. If you are asking, you're asking a question, a request, an inquiry, a query or possibly a plea (although it is more likely that a plea will be either begged or plead, because both of those verbs imply the appropriate power gradient relationships). While the idiomatic usage of "a big ask" as an adjectival phrase to convey the sense of "an inconvenient-to-fulfill request" does exist, this is not formal English, and doesn't exist in all dialects of the language. Therefore, in formal English, "an ask" is not used (and "a ask" definitely doesn't exist at all).

[maipareshaan]

I haven't been harrassed by a man in forever tho that is so weird omg it has been years, can you believe that the main problem of public touching for me rn is beggars and blessars and blessing askers what ehsnnsnsnndj.

[hannah-heartstrings]

Not the previous asker, but you said you had a funny story about the Elven Maiden quest. Clearly I have to ask about it, because that sounds interesting!

Thanks for the ask! I might've taken forever to post this if you hadn't. XD (I still took a while but hey.)

Kind of a long post ahead. Hopefully this story's as funny as I think it is:

Dungeons in Oblivion freak me out, I tend to avoid them, ghosts and zombies especially freak me out, I completely avoid them. I thought I was going to be brave once and do a quest where you fight ghosts in a ship, actually I was planning on running past them and seeing how far I could get. I couldn't even be that brave I reloaded the second I heard ghostly noises and battle music.

So when a beggar told me that the undercroft was said to be haunted I wanted out.

I thought I was signing up to rob the count not fight ghosts! I didn't even have anything to fight ghosts with, unless I wanted to throw novice fireballs at it, and I didn't think that would cut it.

But I'm here, it's my next thieves quest, maybe I can run past them or try the fireball, I could at least try it.

I didn't. I went back to the Imperial City to do some other quests. But as I walked into the city a guard comes up to me goes "Do you know where Armand Christophe is hiding?" and walks off. He's in hiding? That must happen at some stage of the quest. I later find him and he says "I'm in hiding from the Imperial Watch." Except he isn't??? He's standing in the middle of the street with a torch out and there's two guards on screen.

Oh no the quest broke didn't it? Looking at the bugs on uesp this whole questline looked put together with cheap duct tape. I figured I needed to hurry up and finish the Elven Maiden quest to see but even then I kept putting it off, doing Imperial Corruption and going shoplifting for my new house. But I kept thinking that if it was broke I'm going to have to go back before I accepted the quest and do all of this all over again.

I really needed to move on with it but how do I fight the ghost? Mom looked up where to find enchanted or silver weapons, once she reaches the silver sword in Bruma castle I decide that's the one, it isn't too far and I can sell to Ongar while I'm there.

So I steal the sword, (which was laughably easy the warden's room doesn't even have a door, I hope he complained about that later) and make my way to Cheydinhal.

I'm still scared but I sneak into the undercroft, watch the guard for a minute, wait till she's walking away, make a dash towards the quest arrow and-

There's the bust? Just sitting there on the Countess's coffin? I thought the undercroft would be bigger? And have ghosts?? Or something???

I grab the bust, escape, then just kind of stand there confused. At this point I'm sure the quest must be broken so I check uesp, which I probably should've done before, and find out that the ghost only appears if you try to steal from the coffin, which I didn't even consider doing because I was trying to get out as fast as possible.

I run back to the Waterfront and guards are looking for Armand Christophe who's actually hiding now. The rest of the quest continues on as normal, it wasn't broken the dialogue just updates a step ahead for some reason.

So I turned a simple quest into a big to do because I apparently react like Scooby Doo when I hear the word haunted.

It was in character though. Basically Lecrinn's a coward to justify me being one. XD

[the-cannabis-lupus]

Haii

I'm really nervous to even leave an ask but I love your blog!

I'm very jumpy irl and pretty easily scared especially of aggressive people but I also really like when people are threatening?

It's a very confusing feeling because on one hand I feel like I'd be scared of you irl but I kind of want to be...

It's a new realization for me but I love looking through your posts to fantasize 🫶

How sweet.

It's okay to be confused. I know thinking must be hard for you sometimes. But the good news is, you're already on the right track to figuring it all out.

Feel free to lurk as long as you like, doll. Drink of my poison, let it pull you deeper into fantasy, and in time, you will come to accept that fear is pleasure, and pain is the price.

[script-a-world]

I'm trying to build a wuxia world that's modern. But I'm having serious trouble with all the outdated ideas and lifestyles as well as modern understanding of science. All the mechanics as well as fighting are basically scientific, but extended and exaggerated to be made like it's magic. Problem is, modern science refutes all that. Especially about the readily known or secret everything is in the modern world. I could explain in more detail or specific ideas, but it's not easy in English.

Mod Note: The asker later sent an ask that they had found someone privately to help with their questions, but as Tex had already put the work into this response, and there may be others interested, we are still posting our reply.

Tex: Wuxia is inherently a genre of historical fantasy, so I understand the struggle with bringing it into a modern setting. Let me paste a short Wikipedia synopsis in to help orient me, with a Chinese version so you have something in a more navigable language.

The word "wǔxiá" is a compound composed of the elements wǔ (武, literally "martial", "military", or "armed") and xiá (俠, literally "chivalrous", "vigilante" or "hero"). A martial artist who follows the code of xia is often referred to as a xiákè (俠客, literally "follower of xia") or yóuxiá (遊俠, literally "wandering xia"). In some translations, the martial artist is referred to as a "swordsman" or "swordswoman" even though he or she may not necessarily wield a sword.

The heroes in wuxia fiction typically do not serve a lord, wield military power, or belong to the aristocratic class. They often originate from the lower social classes of ancient Chinese society. A code of chivalry usually requires wuxia heroes to right and redress wrongs, fight for righteousness, remove oppressors, and bring retribution for past misdeeds. Chinese xia traditions can be compared to martial codes from other cultures such as the Japanese samurai bushidō.

Source: Wikipedia in English

武侠文化是華人界特有的一種流行文化，體現於武俠類作品的盛行，乃至影響到小說、漫畫、影視、電子遊戲和音樂等各種娛樂媒介。武俠文化多以各式俠客為主角，神乎其神的武術技巧為特點，刻畫宣揚俠客精神。

Source: Wikipedia in Chinese

Both versions have a section on common elements and themes found in the wuxia genre. This is good, because it helps us break down the core of the genre, and how we can bring this out of the historical setting.

“Wu” encompasses the traditions of martial arts and its accompanying subculture. There are plenty of martial arts schools in China and other parts of the world, so it would be easy to research how they have adapted to the modern world.

“Xia” is a bit harder. The Chinese version stops at the definition that it is a Confucian value, whereas the English version breaks the definition down into more items. Let me copy down what the English version states in its “Code of xia” section:

The eight common attributes of the xia are listed as benevolence, justice, individualism, loyalty, courage, truthfulness, disregard for wealth, and desire for glory. Apart from individualism, these characteristics are similar to Confucian values such as ren (仁; "benevolence", "kindness"), zhong (忠; "loyalty"), yong (勇; "courage", "bravery") and yi (義; "righteousness").[11] The code of xia also emphasises the importance of repaying benefactors after having received deeds of en (恩; "grace", "favour") from others, as well as seeking chou (仇; "vengeance", "revenge") to bring villains to justice. However, the importance of vengeance is controversial, as a number of wuxia works stress Buddhist ideals, which include forgiveness, compassion and a prohibition on killing.

These attributes, as well as the mentioned Buddhist ones, can also be found in works set in modern times.

One core tenet, Jianghu, is emphasized in the Chinese version that it is an idea rather than a tangible location. Below is the original Chinese as well as the Google Translate version in English:

江湖不是一個實際存在的場所，在武俠文化中，江湖則是俠客們的活動範圍，「江湖」強調了它的變動性及危險性，「綠林」顯示了他的違法及不合理性，「武林」則限制了他屬於「武人」的屬性。

這個世界即使偶與歷史背景做結合，但虛構的成分仍然很濃厚，「這場域，自成一格，既模擬現實世界，又別闢蹊徑，擁有自足而完整的範疇、規律，與現實世界大相逕庭，基本上是由作者、讀者在某種默契下『虛構』而成。」

抽離歷史情境而虛構，從另一個角度而言，卻也等同於束縛的鬆綁，無論是經濟、政治、社會、法律的歷史實情如何，都無須顧慮，只須假借個虛擬的「古代」，作者只須擁有歷史常識（不是知識），即足以盡情馳 騁在此一想像的空間，將重心置放在英雄的江湖事業、兒女情長及恩怨讎報之中。

虛擬的「江湖世界」，除了存在「俠客」之外，也出現了大量的外來人物，「如文人社會中的書生、官吏、僚佐；宗教社會中的僧人、尼姑、道士；農村社會中的漁夫、樵子、農人；商人社會中的商賈、仕紳；其他如乞丐、妓女、兒童等。」這些三教九流的人物充實且豐富了新的江湖。經過了歷代小說家的改造，新的江湖走出了歷史，成為了一種虛擬但完整的社會型態。

江湖世界中的人物遵守正邪之分和實力至上的原則，同時也藐視世俗禮法，是自由自在的獨立個體，一般而言分為兩類：一是獨行俠，二是集團人物。前者獨來獨往，不受他人約束，後者統屬在某一具有成文或不成文規範下的「集團」，也就是所謂的「幫派」。

Google Translated English:

Jianghu is not an actual place. In the martial arts culture, Jianghu is the range of activities of the knights. "Jianghu" emphasizes its variability and danger. "Green Forest" shows his illegality and irrationality. "Wulin" "Restricts his attributes as "Martial Man".

Even if this world is combined with historical background, the fictitious component is still very strong. "This domain is self-contained. It not only simulates the real world, but also has no other way. It has a self-contained and complete category, law, and real world. Very different, basically made by authors and readers under some kind of tacit understanding."

From the historical context and fiction, from another point of view, it is also equivalent to loose bondage. No matter what the historical facts of the economy, politics, society, and law, there is no need to worry about, just fake a virtual "ancient", The author only needs to have historical common sense (not knowledge), which is enough to ride the space imagined here, and put the focus on the hero's cause and effect, the love of children and the complaint.

In addition to the existence of " knights ", there are also a large number of foreign characters in the virtual "Jianghu World", "such as scholars, officials, and bureaucrats in a literati society; monks, nuns, and priests in a religious society; and fishermen in a rural society. , Woodcutters, peasants; merchants, gentry in the merchant society; others such as beggars, prostitutes, children, etc." These three-religious figures have enriched and enriched the new rivers and lakes. After the transformation of novelists in the past, new rivers and lakes have gone out of history and become a virtual but complete social form.

The characters in the Jianghu world abide by the principles of righteousness and evil and the supremacy of power, and also despise the secular etiquette. They are free and independent individuals, generally divided into two categories: one is the lone traveler, and the other is the group characters. The former travels alone and is not bound by others, while the latter belongs to a "group" under written or unwritten norms, so-called " gangs ."

This reflects well the core definition of the wuxia genre, as well as highlighting that its historical format is not strictly necessary. A modern setting is quite possible!

There are more themes and concepts covered in the Wikipedia articles, but for now the main definition of the genre has been covered.

The issue of “scientific” versus “magical” is a complex one to tackle, specifically because many of the subgenres in martial arts films (or literature) rely upon a suspension of disbelief in some element or another. Usually this relates to either the plot - lending an element of the ridiculous - or the style of fighting - lending an element of skepticality.

This is usually because the goal of the story matters more. In wuxia and related genres, this is due to a moral compass being instilled in main characters, and functions as one of the main driving forces behind the plot. This is something popular of many action films, ranging from John Wick to Kill Bill to Kingsman. Morality is a popular element in storytelling, though admittedly popularity often rests on how visually appealing it is (something more difficult with text).

Because of this, it ultimately does not matter how realistic the fighting is or is not - so long as the main concepts are covered, then you have a wuxia story. That being said, martial arts often stretches the preconceived notions of what a human body can do; with sufficient training, things like high jumps (x, x) and triple kicks (x, x) are well within the realm of believability.

Ninja Assassin has realistic martial artistry, but it bends believability under the assumption that an audience’s preconceived scope of potential is very narrow. The same goes approximately for The Grandmaster (2013), albeit from a literally historical perspective while being set in the mid 20th century.

Some popular films that you could use as a reference for varying degrees of suspending disbelief are: Kung Fu Hustle (2004), The Night Comes for Us (2018), The Karate Kid (either version), and Fatal Contact (2006).

In terms of moving around the “fantasy” part of wuxia to something similar, The Matrix series accomplishes many wuxia themes, and some rather pointedly, while occupying a futuristic setting.

While I don’t know if this precisely answers your question, particularly in regards to the technical feasibility of martial arts as popularly demonstrated in wuxia, I would be more than happy to expand on my answer if you wish.

[come-to-the-day]

Sorry, didn’t mean to be push you around.

Well you should maybe start thinking a bit more about how you write things. Especially when you go ask someone you don’t know for a favor - you take care of how you formulate your ask. That’s one of the most basic rules of interacting with people - never give them orders unless you’re in the position to do so. And an anonymous asker online? You’re in no position of giving orders. 

In fact, I will take a time to tell something to all of you anonymous askers that give orders, boss around or harass people online. You’re in no position of demanding. You’re in no position of ordering. You’re in no position of commanding. You are beggars. You are. I am myself when I send an ask to someone. Askers depend on the favors, the good will and the effort of the one who is asked. So don’t start thinking of yourself as patrons - if you want to ask people stuff, go on Patreon, or do commissions. Asking for stuff by the Ask button? That’s the Tumblr version of begging. Askers can easily be ignored. Myself I could (and I did once or twice) erased asks, merely ignored them. But I usually answer them all. Because I want to. Anyway... so yeah in the future, to anyone who wants to send an ask? Do not give me orders. You have no right to. 

[ventrue-rosary]

13 for Amaranthe and Bal? (alternatively the kids ;D)

I’m mashing up these two prompts..well…because I can!

Amaranthe and Autumn are mine. Vander belongs to the asker, Winter and Balthazar to people who aren’t on tumblr

Her mentor prepared her for the difficult life of a blood hunter. Her mother had prepared her for the unpleasant realities facing a ruler. No one prepared her for parenthood.

Of course, common sense tells her caring for not just one, but two newborns would be challenging, to say the least.

But now on her third sleepless night, she was cursing all her mentors in life, all the gods she could name from memory and even herself as she tries to soothe her twins back to sleep. But she is only one woman, and they were two restless and unhappy babies.

‘Please, settle down,’ she whispers, feeling a tear slide down her face. ‘Please just sleep.’

Autumn and Winter finally fall asleep as the sky changes to a pre-dawn grey. Curled up together in their cot, facing one another, she might think it cute were it not for the restless nights they cause.

Amaranthe lingers for a few minutes, just in case they awaken before she silently slips out of their room  into her own, immediately face-planting the bed.

She barely falls asleep when wailing awakens her from the adjacent room. She groans into the pillow, mentally preparing herself to leave the comfort of her bed. She barely registers the shifting of weight on the mattress as Balthazar absconds the bed, entering the twins room. Amaranthe slips back into a deep sleep.

///

‘We need help,’ Balthazar says as she stares listlessy at her breakfast. ‘Amara? Did you hear me?’

She looks up at him from her plate of food. ‘Hm?’

‘I said we need help.’

‘I thought we agreed to raise and care for them ourselves.’ She’s being stubborn, she knows. They are new parents, they need assistance. But she feels oddly jealous of her children. The thought of another woman rocking them to sleep or suckling them at her breast fills her with anger.

‘We did, but we can't do this alone. We should hire a nanny.’

Amaranthe sighs and rubs her exhausted She’s too tired to argue. ‘Alright fine. Well get a nanny.’

As expected, many clamour for the position. Most don't even make it past the Council to secure a meeting with the Queen and Prince-Consort.

One eventually meets them, a striking young woman in a white shirt with a long train, black pants, ash blonde hair and red eyes.

Looking over the documentation of her previous experiences, Amaranthe is nothing short of amazed, though she intends to verify their legitimacy.

‘Your experience is impressive,’ Balthazar remarks. 

‘Yes it almost beggars belief,’ she mutters, placing them aside to give the candidate her full attention. ‘Odile, was it?’

‘Odette,’ she corrects with a saccharine smile.

‘My apologies.’

She shakes her head, still smiling. ‘A Queen apologises to no one. If I may, I just want to say I think it’s very brave what you’re doing.’

‘What do you mean?’

Odette leans forward as though sharing a secret, and she certainly shares a far too generous view of her cleavage, which is certainly not missed by Balthazar.

‘Most parents are too proud to admit they need a little help. I think it's great you realised your limits and reached out for help.’

Amaranthe feels a flicker of irritation that grounds her teeth together.

‘I mean....’ Balthazar leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. ‘We could have totally handled it. If we wanted to.’

Odette grins impishly. ‘Of course.’

‘My Council was impressed by you,’ Amaranthe interjects as the stares linger on each other for a bit longer than she is comfortable with. ‘And your experience speaks for itself. But that doesn't mean you are the ideal candidate. That is something me and my husband will have to discuss. If you wouldn't mind waiting outside.’

‘Oh, of course. Take all the time you need.’

She struts rather than walks across their chamber, the gait drawing attention to her long legs. Amaranthe might just throw up.

Balthazar looks to her with confusion. ‘What's to discuss? She's great.’

‘Oh, please.’ She rises from her chair, her agitated mind agitating her limbs. ‘Did you even listen to a word she said? Or were you too busy staring at her tits?’

‘I’m sorry, what?’

‘You were staring at her, don't deny!’

‘Well yes she was addressing us, what do you expect me to do, stare out the window?’

Amaranthe shakes her head. ‘You know what I mean.’

Balthazar sighs, rounding the table towards. ‘Ok maybe I looked. She has a voluptuous frame, hard to miss.’ He grabs at her dress with a devilish grin. ‘But it’s nothing compared to yours.’

Amaranthe rolls her eyes with a huff.

‘You’re adorable when you're mad, you know that?’

‘And you're an ass.’ Amaranthe wrenches her dress free and snatches Odette’s papers from the table. She turns to Balthazar with a sigh. ‘Well put her on a trial basis while I check to see if these are forgeries or not. When the results come back we’ll make a decision then.’

‘Amara, if she makes you feel uncomfortable--’

‘I’m not a child, don't speak to me like I’m one. Unless I have reason to worry about her presence here?’

‘Of course not! You're being ridiculous.’

‘And you're being insensitive.’ The door slams behind her, ending their debate.

Glancing down each side of the corridor she sees no sign of Odette, but spots the twins door, now ajar. She runs in to Odette bouncing Autumn on her hip, cooing gently to her.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry! I heard this little cutie fussing so I came in to see if I could soothe her. Your children are so adorable. I can tell this little Princess is going to grow into a beauty like her mommy, aren't you?’

Odette continues cooing to Autumn, who babbles in response, grabbing a fistful of her shirt.

‘I think she likes me.’

‘Well, good news: my husband and I decided to give you a trial run. I guess it starts now since you took it upon yourself to tend to my children.’

Odette squeals happily. Autumn tries to replicate the noise. Even in her annoyed state, Amaranthe has to admit its cute.

‘Thank you, I won't let you down.’

‘I hope not.’ Amaranthe gives her children one last lingering look, the loves of her life she is about to leave in the care of a stranger. A qualified one mind, but still a stranger. ‘Right, I’ll leave you to it.’

Odette beams at her, then turns her attention back to the twins, placing Autumn down to pick up Winter. Amaranthe closes the door, and seeks out her spy master.

///

Amaranthe finds Vander in the garden, his usual haunt, playing with Elora. She watches for a few seconds, going unnoticed by the pair until she can wait no longer.

‘Vander?’

He turns to face her, scratching under the chin of the blood hawke perched on his forearm.

‘May I request a favour?’ she continues.

‘Of course, what do you need?’

She holds out the papers of Odette’s past positions. ‘Can you tell me if these are forgeries?’

Vander leafs through them curiously. ‘What’s this for?’

’A new hirling. They would have already been vetted by the Council members but I want  you to double check.’

‘I’ll look into it right now. It shouldn’t take long.’

‘Thank you.’

Vander gives her a nod and steps past her, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She exhales deeply, bitterly recalling her argument. Though still angry, she can hardly stay that way with the father of her children. She checks her reflection in the waters of the fountain. Dark bruises under her eyes, loose, limp hair, and remnants of pregnancy-fat clinging to her waistline. She almost can’t blame his attention being drawn elsewhere. Almost.

Amaranthe dashes the reflection with her fist, and sets off back to their chamber.

///

Balthazar is pacing as she returns wearing a look of deep contemplation and regret. He stops when she enters. They stare at each other for a long time

‘Hey.’

‘Hey.’

More awkward silence.

‘Oh, uh, these are for you.’

He hands her a bouquet of amaranthus, lillies and forget-me-not.s

She smiles, bring the flowers up to her nose to inhale their sweet scent. ‘You picked these for me?’

‘A peace-offering.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Mmhmm.’

She crosses the room to her bedside cabinet, placing the flowers in a vase. ‘I also wanted to apologise.’

‘Oh?’

‘I um, may have overreacted. I shouldn’t have accused you like that. Besides she is beautiful and I’m...’ Her words trail off, stifled by her own shame.

‘You’re what?’

She jumps as she heard his words whispered in her ears, his body only inches from her own. Turning to face him, she sees his eyes staring down at her with a dark, intense look.

‘I--I um...’ She stumbles over her won words as he pulls her close to his body, kissing her gently in the lips as he backs her towards the bed. The back of her knees hits the mattress. Balthazar pushes her down onto it before kissing her passionately as he settles down on top of her.

///

A different sound awakens the sleeping couple that night, a frantic knock on their door. Amaranthe ignores it at first, snuggling down further into Balthazar’s arms. But it sounds again, louder.

With a groan Amara leaves Balthazar’s embrace and the bed, pulling on his discarded shirt as she makes her way to the door.

She opens it to a frantic Vander.

‘Vander, it’s late what--’

‘I looked into what you asked. The documents are not forgeries, but the daughter of each of these families Odette worked for went missing after she left. I--’

Amaranthe doesn't wait around to hear the rest. She sprints towards the nursery, her legs not moving fast enough for the nauseating worry devouring her stomach. Winter wails loudly as she reaches the door, only further panicking her.

She flings open the door. There Odette stands in a revealing white dress, its high slit revealing black stockings. A wide-brimmed hat obscures her scarlet eyes, which flicker up from Autumn to Amaranthe.

‘Figured me out, handsome?’ she calls to Vander, her voice dripping with sex appeal. ‘It matters not. Autumn is mine now.’

‘Put her down and walk away, bitch.’ Amara snarls as her rite flickers down her trembling hands.

‘Are you really in any position to make demands?’ Odette holds one sharp, crimson-painted nail to Autumn’s throat. She wraps her fist around Odette’s finger.

‘You wouldn't dare!’

‘Do you really want to test that, lovely one?’

Vander aims an arrow. ‘There are none more skilled than a bow with me. I bet this arrow could pierce your wicked heart before you could put a scratch on her.’

Odette grins, looking right through Vander. Then she throws up her free arm. Both Amara and Vander are picked up from ground and flung against the wall, Odette’s magic keeping them pinned there. Vander’s arrow, loosed at the moment of impact, flies harmlessly over her shoulder. Both twins are crying loudly now, their cries breaking her heart. She struggles against the magic keeping her pinned, wanting to run to get children and protect them, but she isn’t strong enough.

Odette looks over Amara’s shoulder as thundering footsteps approach.

‘That's my cue to leave. But don't worry, I’ll take good care of her. I’ll be the mother you never could be.’

With a snap of her fingers, Odette vanishes with Autumn. Amaranthe and Vander drop to the ground. Balthazar immediately runs to Amara, helping her to her feet.

‘What happened?’

The shame and guilt keeps her eyes glued to the ground, watching her tears fall onto the carpet.

‘I lost our baby.’ Her words are a broken whisper.

In the surreal silence, as everyone struggles to come to terms with what transpired, Winter cries escalate to screams.

[in-elysium]

Oh, I always wondered whether it was a reference to the Oracle at Dodona as well! When Odysseus-as-beggar is passing on news to Penelope in book 19, he says "Odysseus himself... had gone to Dodona to find out the will of Zeus from the great oak tree that is sacred to the god". It was a more private oracle than Delphi (some of the questions have survived inscribed on lead tablets, and askers included slaves asking if they should try to escape or women asking questions themselves, whereas Delphi was very focused on poleis asking for oracles of public importance and with great ceremony- see the athenian prophecy during the persian wars) which seemed fitting for such a quiet, private moment! It's so cool how many different interpretations there can be of a single symbol!

Is there a reason that the tree in UDAD was an oak tree? Not sure if you’ve talked about this already but my friend was talking about how they were confused as to why it was an oak tree and not an olive tree or something.

I didn't know but it interested me so I bellowed into the aether HEY CLASSICS BOY and Kofi came forth

So I think the takeaway is 🤷🏽‍♂️🤷🏻‍♀️ but also that oak crops up, oddly enough, probably more than olive in Ancient Greek stories. I did a brief search of trees in the Odyssey and while there are mentions of olives the fruit, almost all named wood and trees I found were oak or poplar (but usually in the context of wood not trees - there's a large tree outside the shepherd's hut where Odysseus stays when he gets home and where the hound comes to die at its master's feet, but it's not specifically any sort of tree, I don't think) That's the best I've got, I'm afraid.

[Description: two screenshots of Facebook Messenger containing the following conversation:

Ruth: classics boy what's the deal

Kofi: So it wasn’t my idea (I think it was Jonny’s) but there are a few possible points to make

1)The oak is the dominant tree in the Ancient Greek landscape.

2) It may be a reach, but given the dominance of oak, it may have been an important hardwood for ship building. There are doubtless better informed people than me on this though

3) Some versions of the story have Odysseus leave Ithaca in his old age on one last journey and he finds a nice tree to die under

4) There’s at least one version where Tiresias’ shade prophesies that Odysseus’s final act before death will be to plant his oars like a tree, symbolising the end of his journey

Ruth: I am pretty sure oak is a big shipbuilding tree, I think the Argo is oak? I know the Norse were real into oak ships (Kofi has given this comment a thumbs up)

Kofi: Don’t know about the Argo but I think it’s likely

Hey, to be fair though this is a sure sign that “tree” was fairly synonymous with “oak” for ancient Greeks

Oak is Drys

Tree spirit is dryad"]

[hannahwayward-blog]

Kolkata Day 4: “All This Weird Beauty, Thrown Right at Me”

Tuesday, my fourth day in Kolkata, dawned far too early as I had fallen asleep at 4:00 the previous afternoon. After unsuccessfully trying to sleep, I finally made my way downstairs for the hotel’s breakfast around 8:30. Much to the enjoyment of the waiter, I ordered a “real Indian breakfast” of tortilla-like breads and potatoes in sauce. Taking my banana for the road, I headed to New Market for some retail therapy, which I felt was well-deserved after the long journey to Dakshineswar on Monday.

New Market is the oldest indoor shopping mall in the world, built around the S. S. Hogg meat market. Going as a Caucasian Westerner is intimidating, even in a group, but going alone was exhausting. As soon as I arrived after the quick walk from my hotel, I was accosted by porters telling me to follow them to the best shops, saying that they would give me the best prices, vying for my patronage. I shunned them, but one relentless older man followed me, and so I let him lead me to an “emporium.” This shop turned out to be the same shop from which I’d bought scarves, a ring, and a tapestry during my last trip to Kolkata, and which had benefited greatly from my DukeEngage group’s almost-weekly visits. Notorious amongst us for the insane prices they tried to charge and aggressive haggling required, I declined to buy anything here and asked my porter to show me to a place to buy shoes. The shop seemed familiar, and may have been the place from which I bought handmade flats last time. I was looking for a pair of leather, closed-toe sandals to add to my travel wardrobe, since the only shoes I’d packed were my trusty Chacos. I found a pair I liked, and after some back and forth, paid Rs. 1900 for them - about $30 USD. This was more than I’d intended to spend the entire day, but I liked the shoes and lacked the strength in numbers to feel empowered to haggle more.

From the shoe shop we went to a store selling pants, scarves, skirts, and other fabrics. I knew I wanted a pair of black pants and a black “om” scarf, similar to the white and red one I’d bought during my first visit. Somehow I ended up paying Rs. 1500 for the pants (WAY too much, and I don’t even like the pants that much - they’re way too ~white girl visits India ~ with multicolored elephants and bells on the drawstrings) and Rs. 1000 for the scarf. Feeling elated, but also a little defeated, I left the market accompanied by the porter and paid him my balance after visiting an ATM.

I wanted to take photos inside the market, so after he set me on a course back to Sudder Street I turned around and headed back inside. I spent probably 15 minutes taking photos of the meat market and the surrounding streets before a young man began following me. Usually I can deter the followers by a shake of my head, a stern “na,” or simply ignoring them, but this man was not to be dissuaded. He kept asking for a “shelfie” with me, which I declined, and continued to tail me as I wove through the meat stalls. I was feeling a bit unsettled, when I saw what I thought would be salvation - a mid-20s, Caucasian man buying beef. I hustled over to him and struck up a conversation, but the man was more of a boy, and totally oblivious to the hints I was dropping that I was being followed. My “daddy,” he told me, “works for Exide, the battery company, and we’ve lived here a year and a half. Enjoy your time here” And with that, I was left with my trailing Bengali man again. Luckily, my porter soon found me and I told him I was being tailed. He quickly ushered me out of the market, told me I shouldn’t be there by myself, and sent me on my way yet again.

Again feeling defeated, I made my way over to Cafe Coffee Day with the help of the map on my phone (and no help from my porter or any locals, who didn’t seem to know what it was). There, I had a latte, and spoke very bad Bangla with the waitress and the host. After spending some time collecting myself, I decided to head over to the Mother House. It appeared that the walk would take about an hour, and I pulled out my camera and went on my way 

The walk was pleasant -- there had been a tremendous thunderstorm on Monday night, and the day was cooler (still in the 100s, but cooler) and cloudy. I took pictures of beautiful, crumbling colonial palaces, walked by shop after shop selling foods and drinks and sweets - and stopped for my favorite Bengali sweet, the dripping, luscious gulab jamun - and felt completely at home amidst the heat and the filth and the bustle. When I arrived at the Mother House, it turned out I had stopped at the wrong place, it was actually a branch of the Missionaries of Charity; the Mother House was further down the road. A young street girl, 19 years old when I asked her age, offered to walk me to the real Mother House. I knew as soon as we started walking that this was going to end in a scam, but I was exhausted from fending off beggars and yellers and askers and attention-grabbers and so I let it happen.

Her name, she said, was Kokomoni. She was married with a one year-old child, she said, and her husband, much older, had fallen out of love with her and was interested in another woman. She worked at a hotel as a cleaner. Recently, she hadn’t been able to produce enough milk for her child, and so “please, ma’am,” she asked, “please buy me some powdered milk. No money, just milk.” Sigh. Upon doing some research once I arrived at the Mother House, after buying her the milk (which cost Rs. 350!!), I did some research. Apparently this is a classic scam, and the milk is shortly exchanged for cash, of which the shop owner takes a cut.

Not only had I just been ripped off, but the Mother House was closed. Double sigh. And my phone had just run out of rupees. Triple sigh. I was exhausted - tired of being stared at whistled at and yelled at, tired of sticking out. I sat on the stoop of the House for a bit, collecting myself yet again, and then decided to go down to my old neighborhood.

From Park Street, I took the metro down to Kalighat. My first order of business was to purchase a chicken egg roll from our beloved Bavarchi, one block up from our old home. To my dismay, Bavarchi was closed! There were two new restaurants in its place, one Chinese and one offering rolls. I got a chicken roll, which was almost (but not quite) as good as the ones I was used to. Chicken rolls in West Bengal aren’t the Chinese type that comes to mind, but deep fried naan-esque bread rolled around kabaab-cooked chicken and veggies. I ate it as I walked through the neighborhood and made my way down to Rabindra Sadan Lake, where I spent an uneventful hour or two walking the lakeside path.

When I left the lake, I decided to head to the Gariahat street market to get mehendi (henna), since I remembered having it done outside the Spencer’s grocery store there six years back. As I waited beside I chai stall to cross the street, I saw teeny little kittens darting around the stall’s wheels. I squealed, and a older lady sitting on one of the benches grinned. As I knelt down to try to entice one of the kittens to come closer, the woman was more successful, and lured a kitten to her only to snatch it up by the scruff of the neck and hold it out to me. Thrilled, I cuddled the distraught kitten for a moment before setting it down, thanking the kind lady with “dhono badh” (that’s a very butchered, phonetic spelling), and crossing back up to Rash Behari road.

I walked through Kalighat and the fruit and veggie market, then through rows and rows of saris and salwar kameez and backpacks and umbrellas before finding an entire row of mehendi stalls. I plopped down on one and told them I could spend 100 Rupees only - last time we got mehendi we got gloriously swindled into paying like 1500 apiece - to which they agreed. Apparently, each side of a hand costs Rs. 50, so I got the palm of each hand painted and then sat with the stall owners, Olima and Ashok, for a bit while my hands dried. They laughed with me as I sputtered out different phrases in broken Bangla, and taught me the words for big cat and little cat as we watched a cute orange and white kitten weave in and out of the stalls. The neighboring stall sold hair clips and bindis, and the young boy running the stall watched in amusement as I worked on “choto biral” (small cat) and “bolo biral” (big cat).

I took the metro back up once my mehendi was dry-ish, used another roadside bathroom stall for Rs. 2, and arrived back at my hotel around 6:00. My plan was to sleep early since I had been awake so early, but I was super hungry. Begrudgingly, I ordered the overpriced room service, and called it a night pretty late. 

The phrase that kept repeating itself during my self-guided walking tour of the city was (don’t judge me) Lady Gaga’s “Beautiful, Dirty, Rich.” Kolkata is the most beautiful city I’ve ever seen, and it’s difficult for me to describe why to people who haven’t been. The old world colonial buildings are streaked with dark lines from years of torrential downpours, and the newer buildings are painted in bright reds and blues and yellows. All of this clamors for space amidst the jungle, which fights against the city to overtake it, striking a tenuous balance of lush and green and industrial and manmade. The city  busy and loud, and no one can argue that it’s clean. Excrement from hordes of homeless people and from goats and cows and cats and dogs, garbage and food due to the lack of a strict municipal garbage system; the aromas of street food and sweets; and the sweat of millions of bodies all mix together to create an aroma that is, at best, disturbing, and at worst, gag-inducing. Piles of garbage line the streets and the air is full of haze from the gasoline of thousands of taxis and autorickshaws and motors and cookfires. And yet - every person, especially the women, greet me with a smile. People talk loudly and animatedly and argue and hold hands and sing. Indian music blares from car radios and the speakers of the shops. It’s intoxicating. It’s beautiful, dirty, and rich in every sense except for financially. There’s nowhere else like it. I’ve said hundreds of times that it’s exhausting, and it’s even moreso traveling there alone. Without the solidarity of travel companions, I stand out that much more. I am never alone and never not being stared at. I never blend in. As a friend in Bangalore helped me articulate, I know the city, but the city doesn’t know me. It’s almost unnerving at times, but still, the city has its hooks in me. I love it more than I’ll ever be able to convey, even when I hate it - and sometimes, I loathe the filth and the heat and the crowdedness. But I still love it, and it will always feel like another home.

[the-cannabis-lupus]

please hurt me please hurt me please hurt me please hurt me please please please please

Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise to return to...

It certainly takes perversion to beg a complete stranger to hurt you.

It takes a special kind of depravity to beg a complete stranger who's only had any real internet presence for around 24 hours, and every word of that presence has been moral poison.

It's beginning to sound like you don't even want your body to be found.