#gods bravest and most powerful short king

[representative-democracy]

Peglar living the Terror/Erebus fantasy by fucking that old man while everyone else just dreams of it from their empty hammocks

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[beansroasted]

BEANSROASTED                    #muselist part 1

ORIGINAL CHARACTERS

bubbles gumbert, logan lerman, candyland lore: cheerleading captain. star student. self proclaimed HBIC of marzipan college & popular sweetfluencer on cakestagram. son to wealthy doctor chewdric gumbert & his wife & candy house designer teethelia. mean. smart. spoiled.

logan popchec, brenton thwaites, candyland lore: boy next door - charm paired with good looks. dancer at the popular nightclub juicebox. candyland agent. mostly uses seduction & his physical appearance & endearing charm to gather informations. formidable actor. major flirt. seductive. self confident. physical.

makkai, mena massoud, alien: mars bravest fighter & leader of the martian troops. send to earth to observe human warfare. disguised as a personal trainer at a high class gym. expert hand-to-hand combatant, master in various fighting styles, expert close-combat weapon user, superior physical prowess. ruthless, aggressive, hot headed, short - tempered.

prince gabriel of selveria, tom holland, throne heir. dragon slayer. fairytale prince. son to king matheus & queen eleanora. trained in sword fighting, archery, horseback riding & royal etiquette. constantly travelling the lands in search for monsters to slay after his victory over a fire-breathing dragon, eager to fulfil a true heroes destiny. loves to read & care for the castles roses. beautiful. brave. charming. heart of gold.

dante striggori, lucien laviscount, socialite. future heir to the families flourishing vineyard estate, which has been in the striggori family for centuries. has a weakness for pricey satin shirts & designer labeled clothes. snobby. spoiled. cold. sarcastic.

thomas greene, darren barnett, witch. one of the few men, falsely accused of possessing magical powers & being killed, during the salem witch trials. burned at the stake, convinced god had abandoned him, prayed to satan & begged him to grant him powers, to seek revenge on those, who wronged & killed him. returned from the grave as a witch, wielding the power of spell casting, potion brewing & pyrokinesis, ready to burn down the descendants of the witch hunters who wrongfully killed him back in the day. owns a black cat called beelzebub. angry. vengeful. bitter. ruthless.

benji sunfeld, joshua bassett. zombie. Benjamin ‘Benji’ Sunfeld. turned into a zombie, due to a virus that only affected people with a particular, very special & very rare gene. feeds on human flesh, brains give him the most energy. mostly tries to feed on bad people. body will start to decay & rot, if he doesn’t consume flesh constantly. will go into some kind of frenzy & can’t control himself, if he goes too long without feeding. always cold to the touch. cute. sympathetic. charismatic.

bradford caterall, ben affleck. gentleman sleuth / private investigator. started out as an amateur detective, before working as a professional, private investigator. well educated oxford graduate. son of a rich, aristocratic widow, only referred to as lady caterall. lives in an old, inherited country house near gloucestershire, he extended, to fit his detective bureau. bibliophile, passionate chess player, pianist & amateur baker, especially during research. passionate collector of vinyls & black tea addict. observing. smart. witty.

jason gallagher, kj apa, king of the campus. former highschool prom king & king of the campus, attending college with his highschool sweetheart. stereotypical, rather dumb yet popular & praised athlete. himbo, basketball captain. openly gay. ½ of the university’s it couple. targeted by a serial killer. athletic. brave. dumb. horny. determined.

samantha leroy, madison beer, cheer captain / vampire. cheer captain of the stanton pythons. hbic, getting attacked one night, after wandering home from cheer practice. found by her p.e. teacher & adjudged dead soon after. death didn’t stop her from coming back & running for student body president though. & if she has to snap a concurrent neck now & then, that’s a price she is willing to pay to stay on top of her game. signature color is red & if she is found wearing anything that isn’t her cheer captain uniform, it definitely has some red highlights. straight a student. mean girl - ish. self - confident. ruthless. ambitious.

paul marino, milo ventimiglia, secret agent. sicilian - born, raised in germany. field agent for an italian crime fighting agency, mostly undercover missions. trained gymnast & assassin, expert hand-to-hand combatant, peak physical condition, agility & reflexes. sniper. skilled strategist & tactician. fluent in english, german, italian & japanese. decent actor. cool. collected. focused.

henry hawthorne. jensen ackles. old hollywood actor. born 1932. grew up watching & loving black & white movies, sparking his desire to become an actor. got invited to a casting for a movie in 1953, that sounded kind of fishy to him. using the opportunity, he later found out that the casting had been for an adult movie. initially wanting to decline, because he wanted to become a serious actor, he had to accepted the offer to pay his rent. starred in a few movies with women as well as men, before he got discovered by one of the actresses boyfriends, stanley grunnings, in 1956. a sleazy & greed agent, he used his connections to hollywood inner circles & arranged a casting for Henry in 1957, where he got picked for the leading role of Detective Nick Stanton in a film noir trilogy ( midnight in harlow, girl on the roof, the rippers file ). first movie became a huge success & henry became a weller- known name in the movie industry. his management paired him up with olivia frederics, an upcoming country singer, to make them hollywoods new it couple. olivia was one of the few people, henry was honest to about his homosexuality & both of them covered for each other, after she confessed she was bisexual. the character of Nick Stanton died in the third movie, the trilogy was a major success & therefore helped henry climb the ladder of hollywood success. separated from his management in 1960 because of creative difficulties & the same year, he & olivia decided to end their public relationship as well. Henry had become a bigger star until then, finally making it to Hollywood & was much happier, once he changed managements & signed with Jack Ellis management at the end of 1961. He has a habit of smoking & drinking & is quite naive & trusting.

[ravencromwell]

Thinking about this answer thanks to the flood of Atabei feels in Rue The Day. From the moment you'd answered my world-building ask about the bounds of compulsion, I'd had this crawling dread of what it heralded (in fact a version of this reblog has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for ages because I'm a gadfly essentially saying wait, but then did she *willingly* for Eliza? and fuck, never been so sad to be right.)

It must have been hideous paradox. Knowing you should let Gilly do his worst. As he says, without the siren his life would be short and brutish and he could enact so vastly less harm on others. But to also know you're just. not. brave enough to carve your heart out. That to cling to the fragile threads of sanctuary a monster grants, you'll let the rest of the world burn. Hating yourself. hating him but knowing that truth is as stark and unchanging as granite. (After all, isn't it a microcosm of what so many have done, turning a blind eye and quieting their conscience in the face of despotic rulers for a chance at normalcy?)

Which makes it matter all the more that she visited the siren, still tried offering what comfort and fellow feeling was possible; he might make her do monstrous things in service of Eliza and herself, but she would not let him strip her of compassion within those constraints.

And Eliza: I have to wonder how much of Eliza's realizations on that ship, amid the horror of how this man had *wrecked* the life. the child. *everything* she and Atabei had worked to build. was understanding herself as ultimate pawn to control her wife. Jumping as the last form of autonomy in an impossible situation: desperately hoping that by depriving Gilly of the power of her existence, she could set the wheels in motion for Atabei to make this madness cease. Didn't work, but she's still the bravest. most clear-eyed of everyone in that first cycle, imho.

God it just. means so fucking much to me that the focal points of this story are two queer women and that Kira will be the one to set her queer foremother's mistake to rights. That the "ghosts" of Eliza's house, and the strangely vivid portrait may have been doing what they could in finite ways across the centuries. That, on a broader scale, throughout the centuries, it has consistently! been Gilly's wives mitigating his awfulness by their small acts of revolution, even (and especially!) if those revolutions were domestic: Ford's mother protecting her children, instilling them with enough morals Ford understands Gilly's monstrousness and will go out of his comfort zone to help the siren. But not just! his wives; so many of the overlooked domestics, nameless Nadette's, holding onto slivers of themselves long enough to bring some spark of decency in to that hellhouse even if it seemed pointless in the moment. I am _certain it's those women who are just faces in a gallery determinedly throwing wrenches into this privileged sexist bastard's spanner, along with Areyto's own defiances, making it so that even now he's throwing mud at the wall still trying to be king instead of the "worse" of my compulsion ask already. (All your fans have their "Ash tales they wish were a book" but for my money it's Bones all the way. just so we could have those narrative style interludes you'd put in the video game: the ephemera of those women's lives, all buying enough time that Kira could face a man: still unbelievably dangerous. but *defeatable*. But then, I've low-key been hoping Kira discovers the primer she took as childish nonsense was some sort of coded journal for ages :).

1/ 2I need to talk about the perfect tragedy that is Atabei. Atabei who met this little boy that wouldn't kill the piglets! Who embraced the black girl with her magic and superstitions! And then _wouldn't _realize until it was too late that boy had changed. It didn't matter if it was the privation he'd experienced, or if there was this seed of awfulness always in him, didn't even matter if some part of him was guilty about it. She loved him so much for who he was before and what they'd shared

2/3 that love—one of the strongest forces for good—blinded her into doing great evil and I'm verklempt. I have no idea if the "ghosts" Ford mentions will play a role, or even if we'll learn *why* Eliza eventually "fell" (though I hope like hell some of Sirene's descendants play a role because her eight-year-old put-down of Guilford was the best fucking line so far I adore that child to pieces) Sure, she'd done some questionable shit—though considering abusive husband of Eliza I approve--,

3/3 and it would've been so easy to make her as resentful as Guilford, but that the hamartia of her doom was wrongly bestowed kindness is visceral and raw and perfect. God, sorry that got so long my epitaph will be 'thought nothing worth penning were it not verbose'

-

First off, sorry I didn't answer this right away. I have been mentally rereading and kicking my feet and giggling.

Secondly!

NEVER feel bad about sending long asks about Bones in the Ocean. Or any asks! That story, its world, its concepts and the types of magic, the rules... it's all taken over my brain and I am almost always desperate to just ramble endlessly about the characters and histories, especially the aspects that aren't part of the main storyline but are instead the added context around the edges of it.

Gilly always had a seed of potential awful in him, but Atabei was actually a good influence on his willingness to empathize with nonhuman creatures, because SHE did. Atabei's empathy did not extend overmuch to actual human beings, though. Even less so when it came to her love Eliza's abusive husband, who stood between the two of them and happiness and kept Eliza in a life of constant fear for herself and her daughter.

Decades later, Eliza gets far enough away from Gilly and the siren to remember herself, and to remember the daughter she left behind - she assumes to die, alone and unloved - and she 'falls' over the side of the ship. It's polite language. Everyone knows, deep down, what really happened. Especially Atabei, who never fully forgot herself, and went more than a little mad as a result of the guilt and shame and fear that overwhelmed her when Eliza was gone.

Atabei's tragedy is in aiding and abetting the evil that would ruin her life, turn her love Eliza into someone else entirely, and leave her knowing what had been done but utterly unable to speak of it, to do anything at all to stem the tide of Gilly's ambition. She used her magic when commanded, to paint the marks again, to rebuild the bars of her own cage, really.

I have thoughts on that time period, those years of her watching Gilly's children with Eliza growing up. I think she probably visited the siren, on occasion. She and Areyto probably came, at some point, to a sort of bitter understanding with each other. Each of them trapped, each of them captive and caged and knowing it, each of them used as a tool in Gilly's plans.

If this story were a video game, there would be diaries or half-erased letters stained with tears throughout the house, Atabei telling the story of her own long, dreary life, the bright spots with Eliza, the darkness that was so much stronger.

Watching her childhood friend grow into a more violent man with age and power - especially with the corruption of his slowly growing power. Watching him murder his own eldest son to take his place.

Watching the cycle start anew with the next generation, knowing even her death would not end this, as she aged but Gilly didn't.

She gave a man she cared deeply for functional immortality and far too much power.

-

But - know this - Sirene is instrumental, too, to the eventual end of Gilly's grand ambitions.

[ataleofberwickstjames]

490 Part 2

I can still hear the words of that holy man and though I am once again by the side of my fellow knights, something in me longs still for the calm quiet of his woodland glade.

Much blood has been spilled, and though we have won a great victory, we paid for it dearly...

On my return from the Forest Sauvage with Sir Thondet we rode with Uther to Lincoln, it was a strange country, flat and wide beneath the silver skies and a bitter wind blew over the fens. Though we call the Saxon's invaders, and in truth they are, what are we but the same? And who did we drive away? Giants, or simply men like us? It is only when we are out here, far from home and the familiar hills of Sarum that a knight can feel how vast and strange these lands truly are, and how small our efforts to tame them.

As we rode we talked, Sir Leo is a fine knight and a powerful warrior, and Sir Bar is loyal, but I have little time for Sir Lychar, he thinks himself a great man, but beneath his bluster I can see him for what he is, small and petty.

We were to fight the Saxon Kings Eorl and Octa, and revenge ourselves on the violence they have brought to these shores, the monks may write of good omens and portents of victory but to my comrades and me the whole business was ill-fated from the start.

It began with Thondet, the King, and Prince Madoc. Although Thondet was named leader of our shield, a high honour well reflecting the glory of his house, some trace of his madness still echoed in his mind and he spoke to the King in a manner most uncouth. For a time I feared his shame would overcome him and he would once more flee into the wild lands, but at the end he mastered himself and the King permitted us to take to the field under his banner.

I blame myself in part for what happened next, I should have seen that good Sir Thondet was not yet truly himself, but the magicks of Merlin, who brought down lightening to split the sky and Thondet's great war cry which echoed through the ranks made me forget myself and all I could think of was the glory of Berwick St. James and the joy of battle.

We charged across the field, driving the Saxon spearmen back, but Thondet doubted himself and pulled his horse up short... "The shame, the shame, it blights me still, I cannot do this I cannot..."

I confess that I struck him, hard, with the flat of my blade, the battlefield is not a place for doubt and self-reflection, but for deeds and action. "Come my friend, remember the hand of the lord reaching down to you, the words of that good man of the woods, return to yourself."

He is a man of extremes, and as if to atone for his moment of doubt he raised his blade high and urged us on, out past Uther's battle lines, to where the Saxon's pressed thickest and their bravest warriors called out wild songs to ancient gods.

In Jesu's name we could have triumphed, the first warriors fell beneath us like wheat before a scythe, and they would have broken if it had not been for those devil's in blue cloaks. Old men they were, with hard faces and grey beards, but they fought like wolves, first Adaff fell, a spear in his side, then Morganau, I fought hard but my enemy matched me blow for blow and the last thing I saw before the darkness took me was Thondet, screaming his defiance at the heavens as the Saxon's closed in on him.

I awoke to a moment of quiet, darkness and the sound of rain beating against wet stone. For a time there was nothing, and I let the silence wash over me, then pain. Lancing down my cheek, and fizzing out, like rippling echoes of Merlin's lightning up and down my spine.

There were voices in the dark, kindly at first, the soft tones of Brother Basilus as cooling water trickled down my forehead.

The battle was won, though our shield suffered grievously, Thondet survived, though the tracery of Saxon spearwork will mar his body till his dying day. And Adaff... Sir Adaff, that brave, wild warrior, fell. My tears mingled with the bloody water from Basilus's sponge. Never again would we race through the meadows of Sarum, or hunt and hawk in its dark forests.

Basilus also told us of King Uther, how he was seeking the alliance of the Duke of Carbernet, and how the court had welcomed the fair Lady Ygraine, wife of the good Duke Gorlois of Cornwall.

Later Sir Lychan came to our chamber, and his words cut deeper than Saxon blades. He accused Sir Thondet of leading us to ruin, and cursed him as neither a worthy knight, nor leader. If I could have risen I would have struck him down myself, but alas, when I tried to move those bolts of pain again rippled through me and I fell back upon my bed. He went on to tell of us of his great deeds, how after we fell he led our shield on to great glory, driving the Saxon's back and laying many of their pagan heroes low.

[edenmemes]

game of thrones (s3) starters

❝ did it ever occur to you that i might be the one who deserves your confidence and your trust? ❞ ❝ you’re lucky to be alive. ❞ ❝ it doesn't matter what we want, once we get it, then we want something else. ❞        ❝ you’ve been so kind. i’d feel terrible if anything happened to you. ❞     ❝ i'm apologizing. i’m sick of fighting. let’s call a truce. ❞       ❝ you are the finest man i’ve ever known. ❞   ❝ by what right does the wolf judge the lion? ❞       ❝ your jokes are not appreciated. ❞  ❝ no point in trying to hide behind that face. i know fear when i see it. ❞         ❝ the truth is always either terrible or boring. ❞   ❝ you are an ill-made, spiteful little creature full of envy, lust, and low cunning. ❞  ❝ as much as i appreciate a walk in the sunshine, i’m wondering why you sent for me. ❞ ❝ that’s a lovely gown, my lady. ❞   ❝ you’re very kind. someday it’ll get you killed. ❞   ❝ you're so dangerous, aren't you? saying scary things to little girls. killing little boys and old people. ❞ ❝ there it is. that’s the look. i’ve seen it for years on face after face. you despise me. ❞  ❝ do you have a family? a mother and a father you'd return to if you had the choice? ❞ ❝ there's a beast in every man and it stirs when you put a sword in his hand. ❞   ❝ you’ve come to a dangerous place full of dangerous people. ❞   ❝ the lowest among us are no different from the highest if you give them a chance and approach them with an open heart. ❞   ❝ all men must die. but we are not men. ❞ ❝ you have a taste- one taste of the real world where people have important things taken from them and you whine and cry and quit. ❞ ❝ you think you're the smartest there is. that everyone alive has to bow and scrape and lick your boots. ❞ ❝ i'm the simplest man you'll ever meet. i only do what i want to do. ❞ ❝ sometimes severity is the price we pay for greatness. ❞ ❝ you coward. a little misfortune and you give up. ❞ ❝ fighting bravely for a losing cause is admirable. ❞ ❝ big men fall just as quick as little ones if you put a sword through their hearts. ❞ ❝ plenty of little men tried to put their swords through my heart. and there's plenty of little skeletons buried in the woods. ❞      ❝ we can’t all have a king’s bravery. ❞   ❝ my sword is yours, my life is yours, my heart is yours. ❞ ❝ i think what you want most of all is to be a hero. ❞   ❝ back away. keep backing away till you're outside this establishment. then back away some more. ❞   ❝ could you do it? could you kill something? ❞   ❝ not another step. unless you want to drown in your own blood. ❞   ❝ i’ve heard some troubling tales. is there any truth to them? ❞   ❝ you’ve chosen the darkness. ❞   ❝ my enemies think they’ve destroyed me. they’re laughing at me. ❞   ❝ i would not speak to the dead. ❞   ❝ you said i should come to you with any problems. ❞   ❝ you’re a dangerous person. i like dangerous people. ❞   ❝ this is becoming one of the most boring conversations i've ever had. ❞   ❝ even the bravest men fear death. ❞   ❝ i would sit at this window everyday when the sun came up, waiting. ❞   ❝ it’s too beautiful a day to argue. ❞   ❝ it’s not easy for girls like us to dig our way out. ❞         ❝ what do i want? a little bloody gratitude would be a start. ❞   ❝ you’re clever, but you’re not half as clever as you think you are. ❞   ❝ if i wanted to kill you, do you think i'd let a wooden door stop me? ❞   ❝ the man who cut me lost more than his nose. ❞   ❝ you’re going to make me cry. ❞   ❝ you don’t have the strength. it would kill you. ❞   ❝ i’m not so easily killed. men have been trying for years. ❞   ❝ you refuse to tell me where you’re going? ❞   ❝ i got no fear of what’s out there. ❞ ❝ i don't pay you to put evil notions in my head. the ones already there don't need company. ❞   ❝ let’s not go back. let’s stay here a while longer. ❞            ❝ wait for me. wait for me and i’ll come back to you. ❞   ❝ i like to fight up close. i like to see a man's face when i put the steel in him. ❞   ❝ here, come sit next to me. i’m much less boring than these others. ❞   ❝ it’s not slander if it’s true. ❞ ❝ if blood is your desire, blood shall flow. ❞ ❝ you waste time trying to get people to love you, you'll end up the most popular dead person in town. ❞   ❝ i'm not afraid of you. ❞   ❝ i’m stupid. a stupid little girl with stupid dreams who never learns. ❞      ❝ i've never heard a kind word from your mouth. ❞        ❝ i've never had a family. ❞     ❝ i'm sorry. here i am complaining to you. ❞   ❝ i want very much for you to be happy. ❞        ❝ i'm almost as generous to those who help me than unpleasant towards those who don’t. ❞       ❝ when you are dead, i will gather your bones in a little sack and let your widow wear them around her neck. ❞   ❝ stay alive a little longer, my friend. ❞      ❝ i am sworn to no man. ❞     ❝ i love you. do you hear me? i love you. ❞   ❝ every time i come back, i’m a bit less. pieces of you get chipped away. ❞          ❝ i like you, but if you lie to me, i'll pull your guts out through your throat. ❞     ❝ i want us to be friends. good friends. ❞     ❝ i have prayed day and night for you to come to me. ❞       ❝ maybe you were as good as people said once.  /  or maybe people just love to overpraise a famous name. ❞      ❝ i want you. ❞   ❝ people work together when it suits them. yhey're loyal when it suits them. they love each other when it suits them. and they kill each other when it suits them. ❞  ❝ i did what i did for the good of the realm. ❞   ❝ you’re paying for my sins. it’s not fair or right. i’ll remember it. ❞   ❝ sorry. were you sleeping? ❞   ❝ chaos isn’t a pit. chaos is a ladder. ❞       ❝ it's you and me that matters. / don’t ever betray me. ❞   ❝ you were trembling like a leaf. ❞   ❝ if you think this has a happy ending, you haven’t been paying attention. ❞   ❝ i see a darkness in you. ❞   ❝ it’s quite flattering, really, you feeling such dread in the prospect of me getting what i want. ❞   ❝ i will not breathe further life into a malicious lie by further discussing it. ❞   ❝ you’re not doing this for your god. you’re doing this for gold. ❞   ❝ it’s not getting any easier, you know. ❞     ❝ i feel like i’m in a dream. ❞ ❝ nobody cares about what your father once said. ❞      ❝ but i promise you one thing. i won't ever hurt you. ❞ ❝ i think mothers and fathers made up the gods because they wanted their children to sleep through the night. ❞   ❝ we do not choose our destiny, but we must do our duty, no? ❞   ❝ i hope you’re better with a sword than you are a lie. ❞   ❝ is that what you think? that it's all for a reason? all these bad things happened because the gods got big plans for you? ❞ ❝ i'm just trying to say, very badly- i just- just want to say i know how you feel. ❞   ❝ men who fight for gold have neither honor nor loyalty. ❞   ❝ you don't want to be alone out here. someone worse than me would find you. ❞ ❝ if we die, we die. but first we'll live. ❞   ❝ how many men have you killed? fifty? a hundred? ❞   ❝ i don’t care what you swear because you’re a liar. you’ll lie to anyone. ❞     ❝ i want it to haunt you to the end of your days. ❞       ❝ i stole it. it's mine. if you want it, come steal it back. ❞ ❝ if you meant to murder me, then bloody well get on with it. ❞     ❝ i am a godly man. ❞   ❝ there’s no one worse than you. ❞   ❝ the god’s wouldn’t spare a raven’s cold shit for you or me or anyone. ❞     ❝ well, you rip my pretty silk dress, i’ll blacken your eye. ❞ ❝ not talking, eh? that’s a first. ❞ ❝ you’re a delight to me. ❞   ❝ show them how it feels to lose what they love. ❞ ❝ haven’t you wondered where your strength came from? your talent for fighting? ❞ ❝ i could have your tongue for saying that. ❞       ❝ you have a very suspicious mind. in my experience, only dishonest people think this way. ❞ ❝ you think a crown gives you power? ❞ ❝ every time we deal with an enemy, we create two more. ❞ ❝ it was just a bit of blood. ❞ ❝ next time you’re going to do something like that, tell me first. ❞ ❝ does fuck off mean something different where you’re from? ❞ ❝ deserve? start trying to work out who deserves what and before long you'll spend the rest of your days weeping for each and every person in the world. ❞ ❝ this will never be your home. ❞ ❝ i stopped being a child when i was nine. ❞ ❝ forgive my manners. i don’t see many ladies these days. ❞   ❝ first time i met you, you put a knife to my throat. ❞   ❝ any man who must say, 'i am the king' is no true king. ❞       ❝ you should be thanking the gods for this. this is more than you deserve. ❞   ❝ i could be your family. ❞   ❝ what i know is what i saw. and if you saw it, too, you'd run the other way. ❞       ❝ there are a lot of stories about this place. horrible stories. ❞ ❝ everyone is mine to torment. you’ll do well to remember that. ❞       ❝ i'll tell you what i prayed for this morning. let's see, for my family's health and happiness, for an end to the war, for a short winter. boring and traditional, i'm afraid. ❞ ❝ i do know some things. i know i love you. ❞ ❝ but if you don’t kill me, i’ll kill you. ❞   ❝ oh, i'm a monster? perhaps you should speak to me more softly, then. ❞ ❝ i hope i’m not a disappointment to you. ❞   ❝ i know how to skin a rabbit. ❞   ❝ you think you’re good with that bow? ❞   ❝ have you ever seen a war where innocents didn't die by the thousands? ❞   ❝ leave this place. leave tonight, i beg you. ❞   ❝ i choose my allies carefully and my enemies more carefully still. ❞   ❝ it’s getting dark. we could stay here for the night. ❞ ❝ you know i didn’t have a choice. you always knew who i was, who i am. ❞   ❝ my enemies have made my kingdom bleed. ❞     ❝ roses are boring, dear. ❞  

[auspicious-lilana]

Two Cats, One Heart (Chat Noir x reader)

Summary: Y/n Ross and Adrian Agreste are childhood best friends, they’ve been through thick and thin, including losing their mom, and dad. Since then Y/n’s mom made her live with Adrian at his mansion and forever leaving her life. Watch as their lives Change as they become the new heroes of Paris alongside Ladybug and see how Romance sprouts between the two models.

Part 1 |  Part 2 |  Part 3 | Part 4  | Part 5 

(Make sure to comment! It brings me motivation seeing them!)

{Y/n's POV}

"Have any 2 of hearts?" I asked. We were waiting on Alya's blog live stream that she posted would happen later on while Alpha and I played card games for the meantime.

"Darling, no. I'm the king of games". Alpha cockingly remarked as I scoffed. "Go fish"

"If you're so good, tell me why you lost the last 10 games we played and now I'm here beating your butt in Go fish" I confidently said as I picked up another card from the deck.

"I was only warming up for this game!" Alpha countered. "Any Queen of hearts?"

"You said that 9 games ago, go fish" Alpha picked up a card and placed it on the desktop stand he was using to hold and hide his cards.

"Well this is was my final warm-up"

"Whatever helps you sleep. Any 5 of diamonds?" Alpha huffed as he handed me the card as I smiled placing it in my pile of other matched cards. "Your pile seems awfully short of matchings" I snickered.

"Hush child, I'm just going easy on you" Alpha snapped. "A Kawami treats its owner well. Any Joker?"

"My last card. Here you go" I said happily as he placed it in his matching pile before sighing as he saw the stock empty as I smirked." I won, again"

"There's one thing you can't beat me at". Alpha confidently said.

"What?" I said curiously.

"A bet" I raised my eyebrow, signaling him to explain further. "I bet you, the pretty boy is head over heels with you, and if you ever asked him to a date, he'd say yes" I scoffed and shook my head.

"He's not into me".

"That's what she said" I rolled my eyes.

"Besides, I'm in love with someone else," I said sighing as I looked at my poster wall.

"I know, I know. Mr. I'm the best Cat, Chat Noir."

"Hang on, 'cause we're going for a ride. Freak out! What you got here is no ordinary book, it's a tenth-grade history book. And I should know, 'cause I've got this very same book. Could our very own Ladybug be a high school student, in real life?" Alya said in her live as we seemed to missed a part of it while we were talking. I looked at it in awe.

"Ladybug going to our high school?" I thought about it before I grinned. "What if Chat Noir also goes to our school too?!"

"Don't you think you know him then?" Alpha said as he reached for his brownie and taking a bite. "Why bother yourself with cocky cats  when you could be enjoying this?"

"First of all, Cocky cats last longer than a single brownie, and they are much better looking."

"Your loss"

"My only loss is my appetite right now, you are aware you're eating a week old brownie, right?"

"The older it is, the more flavory." I cringed as Alya went live again.

" OH MY GOSH, Coming to you live, Lady blog viewers, I'm at the scene even before Ladybug, Lady Wolf or Cat Noir! This is insane!" I saw an akumatized person which caught me off guard as I stared at the screen shocked with my jaw dropped.

"Love the face change," Alpha snickered. "Total improvement." I glared at him as I showed my wrist with my miraculous.

"Time to transform," Alpha groaned as he finished the brownie in one gulp. "Alpha, Tails out!"

***

By the time I got there, Chat was also there. We met up in front of the museum as we saw the akumatized victim pull the metal bars from the museum lockdown as we looked at him with a cocky grin.

"Nice of you to hold the door open for us," I said with a confident grin before Chat and I tried to attack him before he dodged and grabbed our legs, throwing us into a coffin, which closed on us.

"Well, this wasn't what I was imagining when I said I wanted us to get some alone time," Chat jokes as I blush while I scoffed.

"What did you imagine?"

"For me to know, and you to never find out." I was pressed to his chest as he placed his hands around my waist to make it less uncomfortable. Soon Ladybug pulled the coffin open as I quickly got out as Chat did too.

"Hiding behind an innocent bystander!" Chat yelled. "You're weak, Pharaoh!" Pharaoh walked through the cage with Alya on his shoulders.

"I'm way more powerful than you are." The Pharaoh used his strength to close the bars and walked away.

"And don't forget! All the latest behind the scenes are on my blog!" I heard Alya exclaim.

"Alya is sure one brave character." I sweatdropped.

"If by brave, you mean bossy, feisty, and bold?" Ladybug asked. "Yup, that's her! Come on, get us out of here, Cat Noir!"

"Cataclysm!" Chat used his power to break the bars. "How are we gonna find them?" He asked as we ran.

"Alya's got a live stream on her blog!" Ladybug said as she and I brought out our yoyo/staff to watch the live stream.

"Hi, everyone! Alya here, live blogging from the shoulder of the terrifying villain! Huge scoop to come, stay tuned!" Chat's ring began to beep constantly.

"You two go ahead." Chat said. "I'll join you guys as soon as my Miraculous is charged up again."

"Hurry," I said. "It's going to take the three of us to defeat him." Chat nodded as we ran separate ways. Chat going back and ladybug and I chasing after Pharaoh to stall.

We watched the live stream to see Alya was going to be used as an offering.

"We better hurry," Ladybug said as I nodded before we ran right into a bubble which slowed us down.

"Oh no," I groaned as Ladybug tried to pound on her. "Can't believe we ran straight into a time bubble,"

"We've got to get out of this!" Ladybug said as I chuckled. I bet we sound and look as slow as a snail in the outside.

"ladybug! Lady Wolf! this is Alya! I just found out I'm the sacrificial offering to the sun god! Please hurry!" Alya said into her live stream.

"Hold on, Alya." Ladybug muttered. "I'm nearly there," Ladybug began to run as I glanced at her bubble and started to chuckle. She looked so funny in slow-motion. I began to run, it was the most we could do before I saw Chat pop her bubble with his baton before popping mines as I stumbled and fell onto his chest as he held me.

"Thanks for waiting around for me," Chat joked as I got up with a grin.

"No problem," I played along.

"Now we need to get to Alya quickly." Ladybug said as we ran outside. We peeked outside to see Mummies blocking the view.

"We can't see the Akuma or the girl!" I exclaimed before we all went up to the roof.

"Over there," Chat pointed as we spotted the Akuma and Alya before we began to watch the live stream from ladybug's yoyo.

"Whoa, back up! Who are those goddess chicks with the black spots and wolf ears! There, on your papyrus!" Alya exclaimed.

"Ladybug and Lady Wolf. My sworn enemies!" The Pharaoh angrily yelled. "My two greatest nemeses may have kept me from carrying out my ritual 5000 years ago, but they will not stop Nefertiti from coming back to me this time! especially that annoying wolf"

"Did you say..." Alya trailed off shocked. "Ladybug and Lady Wolf, 5000 years ago?!"

"Everyone does have a past they can learn from." Ladybug said as I stood surprised. Guess you really do really learn something new every day as a miraculous holder.

"Well," Chat said inspecting me with a grin. "You don't look a day over 3000."

"Now you know why we're so much wiser than you!" Ladybug said with a grin as I frowned.

"I am not annoying!" The Pharaoh began a ritual as a beam shot from the sky as the mummies carried Alya as she struggled.

"Ladybug! Lady Wolf!" She yelled as Ladybug got serious.

"We've gotta save her before he completes the ritual or Alya will be gone, forever!" Ladybug exclaimed.

"What should we do?" Chat asked.

"You hold back the mummies while Lady Wolf and I take on the Pharaoh."

"Why do I have to deal with these freaks while you two get to slip calmly round back?"

"Because Ladybug is the only one who can capture his Akuma, I am the one he hates the most and you're the bravest one out of the three of us," I winked as Chat playfully rolled his eyes.

"Sure," He said before Ladybug swung off. "I know you don't really think that, but I'll pretend you do."

"Don't worry," I said turning around. "I genuinely do," Chat's eyes widened as I smiled before going after Ladybug.

Ladybug and I went around as Chat went to distract the mummies.

"Hey there, you bunch of bandages!" Chat yelled from his spot sitting on the street lamb. "What do you say we wrap this up!" He grinned.

"Chat noir!" Alya exclaimed.

"Seize him!" The Pharaoh yelled as the mummies ran after him.

"Is that really as fast as you can go?" Chat taunted as he leaped from one street lamb to another.

"Wait, this looks... like a trap!" The Pharaoh exclaimed a bit too late as Ladybug swung by and got Alya. "Horus! Give me your wings!" I threw a pole at him which slowed him down as I went up to Ladybug only to have Alya's phone shoved in my face.

"Thanks for saving my butt!" She exclaimed. "You all just witnessed our favorite heroines save yet another citizen."

"Oh, uh, you're welcome. But it's not over yet." I said as Ladybug nodded.

"Not until--"

"Not until Ladybug destroys the pendant containing the akuma, and turns everything back to normal" Alya cut off Ladybug. "I pay attention"

"The Pendant!" The two heroines exclaimed. "Good eye!"

"Ah!" Alya yelled as Pharaoh knocked Ladybug and I off the building as Ladybug used her yoyo to ease her fall as I balanced myself with my staff. Ladybug soon caught Alya's phone as The Pharaoh carried her.

"Help me! Ladybug! Lady Wolf!" She yelled as Ladybug and I were fighting off the mummies as the Pharaoh placed Alya on the light beam. We then saw a car about to be thrown at Chat as Ladybug used her yoyo to pull him out of there.

"Chat Noir!" She yelled. "This way!" Chat Noir followed us as we ran inside the bus, Chat going under as the two of us got out quickly once locking the mummies in the bus as Chat flipped it over with his staff.

"We have to save Alya before she gets to the circle of darkness." Ladybug said as we nodded along as we ran towards the beam only to be stopped my the Pharaoh.

"You will not stop me from bringing Nefertiti back!" He growled. "I'll finish you off! Anubis, bring me mummies!" He began to shoot beams at us as we had to keep dodging it. Ladybug used her yoyo to tight him up for a small distraction as Chat and I used our staffs to leap over him as we began to quickly climb up the glass pyramid with our claws. "Horus, Give me your wings!" Pharaoh began to fly, dragging Ladybug in the air as Chat and I ducked low as he flew up ahead. Ladybug reached to his back as she broke the string of the pendant and threw it down.

"Chat Noir! Lady Wolf! The pendant!" We pounced down as we ran towards the falling pendant as Ladybug already jumped off his back using the yoyo to safely land as all three of us ran for the pendant only for Pharaoh to beat us to it as he stood next to it, stopping us in our trails.

"Sekhmet, give me your strength!" The Pharaoh used his strength to cause a sonic wave which knocked us down as we were soon surrounded by mummies. "It's over," He picked up his pendant.

"Ladybug!" Alya yelled. "Save me!"

"Oh, Ra, god of the sun, accept this humble offering and return the princess to ME!" The Pharaoh chanted.

"Lucky Charm!" Ladybug said as a polka dotted box containing Lady Wolf outfit set was in it. "A Lady Wolf outfit?"

"That's our last hope?" Chat asked. Ladybug used her thinking vision and the bracelet in the costume caught her eyes.

"This offering isn't good enough for Nefertiti!"

"Hey! Thanks a lot!" Alya defensivly yelled.

"Too late, Ladybug!" The Pharoah said. "The ritual has begun!"

"Set Alya free and sacrifice Lady Wolf instead!" Lady Wolf gasped as she stared at her.

"Hey!" Ladybug didn't look at her as she gave her a identical bracelet of her miraculous behind her back as Lady Wolf grinned slightly as she swiped it, swiftly covering her real bracelet with the fake one. "Wouldn't that be the sweetest revenge? 5000 years later! After all, Me and Lady Wolf are the ones who kept Nefertiti from you all these years! And you always said she was the most annoying!"

"It's true that she'd make a much more precious offering than this mortal." Pharaoh took Lady Wolf's hand. "Horus, give me your wings!"

"Seriously?" Alya said as Pharaoh threw her off the beam as Ladybug caught her. "Excuse you, but I make excellent sacrificing material!"

"You win, Pharaoh..." I pretend to take off my bracelet, then tricked the Pharaoh and grabbed his pendent without his knowledge. " You want my miraculous? Go get it!" She threw her fake bracelet. Pharaoh went after it only to find it's fake a bit too late.

"A toy?" The Pharaoh screeched. "You tricked me!" Lady Wolf punched the pendant and threw it down for Ladybug to get the akuma.

"No more evil doing for you, little Akuma! Time to de-evilize!" Ladybug caught the akuma. "Gotcha!" Ladybug purifed the Akuma before releasing it. "Bye, Bye, little butterfly!" She then threw the lucky charm in the air. "Miraculous Ladybug!" Everything began to turn back to normal as Lady Wolf slid down the glass pyramid.

"Thanks, Ladybug! But, uh, I still gotta ask: how old are you, really?"

"Much older than a high school student, that's for sure!" Ladybug swung away.

"Don't you wanna know how old I am?" Chat asked as he smirked.

"Looks like I'll be able to tell for myself." Alya pointed at his ring to show he was about to turn back as he panicked and ran off as Lady Wolf and Alya chuckled.

"Well, that's my cue to leave." I left without another word as I headed back in my room before changing back.

"Man am I tired." Alpha complained as he tiredly flew to the plate of brownies left on her desk.

"How come you never told me you annoyed more people than just me?" I asked.

"What do you mean annoyed?"

"Well, during the fight. there was another Lady Wolf 5000 years ago."

"Oh,"

"Was there really more Lady Wolf's before me?"

"Many,"

"At least now I know I'm not the first to be stuck with you," I playfully sighed.

"What's that supposed to mean!" I chuckled as I sat down on my chair.

"Nothing."

"Y/n!!!"

[words-writ-in-starlight]

some s3 Magnus Archives thoughts

HEY FOLKS! I’VE SHOTGUNNED THREE SEASONS OF THIS PODCAST IN SEVEN DAYS! DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME!

JONATHAN FUCKING SIMS

I love him.  He’s so desperate to not be a monster.  He’s so far down the road already.  He’s so sure that everything is his fault and that makes him such easy prey for everything that’s interested in ripping out his guts.  Please Jesus take backup with you more often Jon, I’m worried about you.  There’s probably more I have to say right now but I’m currently obsessed with the dreams that Jon’s apparently been hiding from everyone because that episode.  It was everything I’ve ever wanted.

The moment of Jon just...deciding to trust his people, because he needs to be kept human and he’s tired of distrusting them, that shit ruined me.  Can’t wait to see what happens when the Institute is under the control of the Lonely and everyone starts drifting away from their Archivist just as he tries to cling to them to stay a person.  GOD I love him, he’s probably one of my favorite characters in...anything, to be honest.  Remind me to torture Jon in a fic.

ELIAS FUCKING BOUCHARD

The more horrifying stuff Elias does, the more attractive my mental picture of him gets.  I went from “ah, a bureaucrat” to “ah, a snack in a suit” remarkably fast when he started going full Omniscient Heartless Horror on his employees.  I have literally nothing to say in my own defense.  This is particularly upsetting to me because, having had incredibly over-involved bosses with control of the CCTV cameras, I profoundly sympathize with Melanie’s desire to rip his fucking throat out.

Oh, also, I know everyone is into Elias as In Charge Of Everything, but this popped fully formed into my head last night and I don’t know where I’d put it or what I’d do with it or what fic it’s destined to be attached to, but I DO know I’m very serious about it.

Jon is--he is so angry, and it’s his own anger and it’s the Archivist’s anger and it’s the anger of a thing that is created to Know and is being denied Knowledge, and so he storms forward and snarls, “What is your goal here, Elias?”  

The compulsion is usually no more than a prickle, painless, almost unnoticeable, but now it rips its way out of his throat like Jon is speaking lightning.  He is sick of this, Jon will not be lied to, the Archivist will not be put off--

Elias closes his eyes as the compulsion hits him, a smile shaping his lips as he lets out a short breath, almost startled, and Jon Knows that he loves this.  Jon Knows, all-consuming and too immediate to look away, that Elias loves their awful god true and pure, loves Jon with the adoration of a priest about to slit his own throat on an altar, and when Jon is like this, tearing the truth out of Elias’ blood and bones, Elias loves the feeling of being flayed open by the true pupil of the Eye.  

“The goal,” Elias hums, opening his eyes.  Jon stares back, meets Elias’ eyes fearlessly, and Knows that Elias is looking nowhere else.  Elias is staring into Jon’s eyes, into the eternal black of the pupil, and feeling like he could kneel under the Archivist’s merciless gaze forever.  Elias is the priest of a mad god and Jon is altar and congregation and messiah all rolled into one, and Elias wants to hit his knees and live here.

Jon Knows it.

“The goal is simple, Jon,” Elias says, still smiling that smile, half his usual collected calm, half something not unlike bliss.  “You gain power.  You serve the Eye.  And I serve you.”  A pause, and Elias lets out a breath, almost a sigh, as if he’s testing Jon’s compulsion, seeing if he’s quite free yet.  Then: “Forever,” he adds, and the compulsion snaps.

MARTIN FUCKING BLACKWOOD

Martin burning the statements was a fucking power move of a distraction and honestly I adore him.  Like, I would like to be on record that I think Martin is one of the bravest motherfuckers in this entire show, to bait Elias like that even though he knows what Elias is going to do to him.  That shit fractured Melanie on a pretty extreme level and Martin volunteered.  I’d better not hear any of you chucklefucks talking shit about my boy, he might be scared a lot (Martin’s part of Testament was fucking...good...I understand that this is a horror podcast and that therefore everyone is going to be miserable a lot, but please let Martin and Jon know a little fucking support from each other) but he has nerves of steel and I’m proud of him.

TIM AND BASIRA AND DAISY

I lumped them all together because I have similar shades of feeling about the tragedy of it all.  Tim who’s been living a long, slow self-destruct ever since s1, and whose last words to Jon are “I don’t forgive you--but thank you,” and if you don’t think I believe that the Eye shows that to Jon when it’s looking to keep him in line, you don’t know me very well, my friend.  Basira, who wanted out of this, who wanted to be free of this, who so very nearly fought her way out of the Unknowing with pure grit and willpower, and who is going to be trapped and marked by this nightmare she wanted out of forever, until the day that willpower finally meets something it can’t fight.  And Daisy, my vicious love, hunter and killer and wild thing so barely tamed to Elias’ orders, even with Basira like a choke collar around her neck, who is trapped at the bottom of that fucking coffin.  I’ve never heard of something so utterly antithetical to a person’s soul.

MELANIE FUCKING KING

I know Melanie eventually ends up...shall we say, aligned with the Slaughter, which I assume is a natural consequence of being shot by a ghost.  I understand that this is, objectively, a bad thing, but honestly the Slaughter is fucking fascinating to me and I would love to see her have some long term effects there.  The Slaughter soldiers who broke the previous Unknowing are so well described, in all the chaos and the not-knowing and the unfamiliar, the line He was a soldier and he was nothing but a soldier; his blades were blades and forged for killing and his mouth was a mouth and made to order death hits like...comfort?  It’s VERY good, there’s something in my queue about my obscure headcanons re: Melanie and the Slaughter.  I love Melanie at her most furious, snarling into a tape recorder about how the only thing to do with a person like Elias is kill him with her bare hands.  In fact I love a lot of things about Melanie, including that she was apparently ready to throw the fuck down with anyone, anywhere, even before she got hooked into an IV drip of pure rampant violence, but that’s just the thing that’s at the top of my list right now.

THE FUCKING EYE

I still really want the Eye to eventually have to choose between its favorite pet and its loyal servant, that’s what I want, it would fuck everyone involved up so bad.

[bighound-littlebird]

The Alarm that Never Sounded: GOT's treatment of the SanSan Romance

by Miodrag Zarkovic

Originally posted here.

When adapting female characters from ASOIAF into the TV show "Game of thrones", David Benioff and Dan Weiss aren't unlike Robert Baratheon: if they can't disrobe it, they're bored with it. Their rendition of Melisandre, for example, isn't an intimidating and imposing practitioner of dark and supernatural powers, but rather a seductress who's able to make people obey her only if she rewards them with sex (Stannis, Gendry) or gold (Brotherhood without Banners). One more example would be their rendition of Margaery Tyrell, who was turned from a teenage girl with a perfect facade and somewhat mysterious foundation, into a promiscuous lady willing to do anything – even have sex with both her brother and her husband simultaneously, as she proposes to the latter in Season 2 – in order to achieve her personal political ambitions that are literally limitless.

With that in mind, Sansa Stark never had a chance to be properly adapted in the show created by D&D. Now, the word 'properly' has a rather wide range of possible meanings, and this essay will attempt to examine at least some of them, but, for now, let's say that the most obvious aspect in which TV Sansa was shorthanded is her screen time. In "A Clash of Kings", the book that was the basis for the Season 2 of GoT, Sansa's POV chapters, along with Tyrion's, are the only ones that depict what's happening in King's Landing, the capital of The Seven Kingdoms and the center of political power in the story. This goes for the first two thirds of "A Storm of Swords" as well, e.g. until the moment Sansa escapes from King's Landing. In short, her chapters couldn't help but be of paramount importance in the narrative sense. In the show, however, Sansa's significance is greatly decreased, and not only because the show doesn't follow the "POV structure" of the novels, but because she's reduced to nothing but a prized captive for the Lannisters.

Yes, TV Sansa is a minor, and she's played by a minor, named Sophie Turner. Her age, due to the laws that forbid the usage of underage children in explicit sex scenes, prevented D&D from using Sansa in a way they adore. And her age couldn't be drastically changed without drastic consequences on her overall arc which is, in ACOK at least, built around her first period. That's why, for example, D&D couldn't cast Natalie Dormer – one of their favorite ASOIAF characters, by the way, because they did alter Margaery to suit the actress, instead of the other way around – in the role of Sansa, because Dormer, while certainly looking younger than she is, could never pass as a minor.

And that would probably be the only thing that makes Sansa off-limits for Natalie Dormer, or some other actress D&D adore, to play her in D&D's adaptation. Everything else would've been doable. Had George R. R. Martin not put her first period in the books, Sansa's age, promiscuity, vocabulary, even wardrobe, would've been changed accordingly to suit D&D's vision of a progressive Westerosi woman, which means the first three would've been amplified, while the fourth one – wardrobe – would definitely be reduced and freed from all the unnecessary parts. She'd probably even hook up with some rogue brute at some point; when she'd find the time for him, that is; after she's done with Joff, Tyrion, Lancel, and god knows who else, she'd certainly figure out cynical killers can occupy her bed just as good as other available men can.

Speaking of cynical killers – enter Sandor Clegane. One more character that, alas, couldn't be played by Natalie Dormer, and therefore not of particular interest to D&D. Sandor in the novels is a truly memorable fellow, who slowly but steadily grows in readers' eyes as the story progresses. At the beginning, he's nothing more than a merciless brute used only for killing people Lannisters want dead. Very soon, however, a reader finds out there might be some traces of soul under that rough surface. More and more we find out about Sandor, more and more intriguing and understandable he gets. Even – more likable.

Now, what makes him likable? The stories Littlefinger tells to Sansa?! Of course not. The stories Sandor himself keeps telling to Sansa are what fleshes him to the extent that was probably impossible to predict at the beginning of the series. Through his conversations with Sansa, we find out every important thing there is to know about him. Later on, when he hangs up with Arya, Sandor is already a fully developed character, whom we aren't discovering any more, but rather following. And he became like that precisely through his exchanges with Sansa.

The show went the other way, and a pretty odd way, at that. D&D decided it was better for Littlefinger to deliver the story of how Sandor's face got burned, and that decision carries some very serious consequences in regards to characterization. For example, Littlefinger appears as someone who does know the secrets of King's Landing, but, at the same time, as someone who doesn't hesitate to share those secrets with persons he doesn't have any control over. Yes, he warns Sansa not to tell anyone about the story; but, he warns her because, and here comes the funny part – Sandor is going to kill her.

Now, why isn't Littlefinger afraid Sandor's going to kill him? After all, isn't that the logical question because it's Littlefinger who offers Sandor's secrets to others? It seems there are only two possible answers: 1) Sandor is not that scary and dangerous as Littlefinger claims, or 2) Sandor is a dangerous fellow, but Littlefinger is the bravest individual alive, because he goes around telling the secrets of people that physically can literally eat him for breakfast; and he isn't shy even, because he doesn't fail to warn Sansa how dangerous is the situation he himself dares so boldly.

Whatever conclusion a viewer draws from there, something is going to be radically changed from the source material. Quite possibly, in fact, a lot of things are going to be altered. After the said scene, both Littlefinger and Sandor are drastically different than their book origins. And the characters we ended up with in the show, are not nearly as complex and intriguing as their book counterparts. This is especially true for Sandor, who's nothing if not scary and dangerous. He is supposed to frighten the living hell out of everyone who isn't his older brother. If you take that away from Sandor, you're only left with his tender side.

But, even his tender side was almost entirely removed from the show. This time, not only by Littlefinger, but also by Tyrion: in the throne room, when Joff orders Kingsguards to undress Sansa, Sandor stands there silently. His face expression suggests he isn't pleased with what he sees, but that's it. He doesn't stand up to his king with firm "That's enough" as in the book. It is therefore on Tyrion exclusively to deny Joffrey the pleasure of torturing the girl whose only crime was that she saw him in a moment of unflattering weakness. As in the books, TV Tyrion enters the room with his sellsword and he defends Sansa from Joff, but the important difference is that in the show it looks like Tyrion is the only one both willing to oppose Joffrey and capable of doing it. In the novel, we can sense that Sandor is ready to do the same thing, only, in his case, it comes with a much bigger risk, which is not without importance.

So, in this particular case, Sandor was sacrificed for the sake of TV Tyrion. TV Littlefinger, however, wasn't forgotten in that regard, because, once again, he's fed with lines that originally belong to Sandor. In the finale of the second season, it is Littlefinger who tells Sansa to look around and see how much better than her all those liars are. Just as the last time around, this change serves neither Littlefinger nor Sandor: the former's creepy-mentoring side is exposed much earlier than it would be logical, while the latter is robbed of yet another moment in which he shows how much he cares for Sansa and how protective he is toward her.

Sansa is a case on its own, as far as wrong adaptations are concerned. She's in the league with her mother Catelyn Stark, as two Stark women that were literally butchered in the show. The thing two of them have in common is the nature of their complexity: opposite to other female characters in ASOIAF, like Dany or Arya or Asha or Brienne or Cersei, Cat and Sansa aren't interested in hurting their enemies with their own hands, or, in the case of Dany, with her own dragons (this goes for Cersei, too, even though she's the one ordering the suffering of others, not committing it: her aggression is always personal, as we can sense in the first three novels). And, what's more, Sansa isn't interested in hurting anyone, actually. Cat does have an aggressive side in her; it's female aggression all the way, but aggression it is. Sansa, on the other hand, almost never desires other people to suffer in any way. There's only one noticeable exception: Joffrey. She does think on one or two occasions how nice it would be if Robb put a sword in Joff, and, by extension, she wishes Lannisters are defeated in the war against her family. However, we have to consider the situation she finds herself in at those moments – imprisoned by the Lannisters and at Joff's 'mercy' all the time; small miracle she wishes them ill. I've never been a girl arrested by the grave enemies of my family, but if I was, I'd definitely pray for their most horrible deaths every single night. And, we have to remember that, after Joff's death, she fails to feel happy over it, even though she tries to a little.

Therefore, it maybe isn't a stretch to say Sansa is probably the one character that is most unlike the author himself. Other major characters, especially POV ones, do resemble Martin at least partially. For males, it's obvious: even though GRRM never fought in a war, nor had any military training whatsoever, men are men; even in our day and age, no male is a complete stranger to war; while depicting all those dramatic battles and duels was quite an achievement (which no personal experience would make any easier, truth be told, because in ASOIAF the combat as a phenomenon is illustrated from any number of angles, each among them presented with an abundance of details), ultimately it was in himself where Martin could find a lot of answers about his male characters, whose position in a society is never independent from their combat prowess or lack of it. Female characters, on the other hand, had to be trickier, just like they always are for male authors – let's admit it, they are not that good in creating great females, just like women writers usually don't produce male characters that are a match to their female characters nor to the male heroes created by male authors. In our day and age, these "gender rules" are rarely spoken of, but they continue to exist, due to gender predispositions that are nowhere as strong as in the mind of an individual. There are exceptions, as in good male characters created by women and vice versa, but they are in a clear minority compared to underdeveloped or unrealistic characters whose only "fault" was that they didn't share the sex with an author. And in that regard, ASOIAF could very well be unparalleled: it is perhaps impossible to find any other story that features nearly as many memorable male and female characters both, as ASOIAF does (truth be told, that fact alone should be enough to inspire analysts and scholars to look at ASOIAF at a different, more demanding light, and not as a genre piece).

Martin's girls, however, aren't completely unlike the man who came up with them. Most of them are willingly participating in "men games", e.g. power-plays and/or wars, which makes for a precious connection to a male mindset of the author. They are thinking and behaving as women (or, in the case of Arya, and Dany to an extent, as girls), but all of them are interacting with something that, in all its glory and misery, can roughly be called "a man's world". Some of the most beautifully written chapters in the series are delivered from female POVs – The Red Wedding and Cersei's "Walk of Shame" come to mind right away; but, in a thematic sense, those and other female chapters don't differ too much from male POVs.

Except for Sansa's chapters, which unmistakably belong to something we can roughly call "a woman's world". Chapters of both male and female POVs in ASOIAF are often rich with testosterone, but Sansa’s ones are almost entirely driven by estrogen: look no further than her captivity in King's Landing, that actually is, as already said, focused around her first period – that decision solely should bring a lot of respect for Martin, because he had to know going that road is never easy for a male writer.

And the funniest thing is, it all fits. Sansa's storyline is distinctive in tone, but not odd. It is a legitimate part of the general plot of ASOIAF. In fact, as her story progresses, Sansa becomes more and more important for The Game, even though she showed no clear inclination to participate in it so far, but at the same time, Martin keeps Sansa away from all those "male" aspects he decorated other female characters of his saga.

And on top of everything, we're presented with her love story, a romance with no other than the man who, prior to discovering some delicate feelings for Sansa, could pose for an ideal brute of Westeros. At the beginning of the story, Sandor Clegane could be perceived as the exact opposite of Sansa. As someone who has no business whatsoever in her world, just like she has none in his. But, with some craft wording and master subtlety, Martin succeeds in illustrating the flood of emotions that go both ways in their relationship. Those emotions are never easy, nor appropriate, let alone allowed – even by Sansa and Sandor themselves! – but they're hard to be denied.

The complexity of their multilayered characters, of their respective positions in a society and in an ongoing war, and of their relationship that resists all known clichés, represent some of the strongest evidence that ASOIAF is much more than a genre piece. There's a lot in these novels that escapes genre boundaries, but nothing more evidently than SanSan. Stuff like that is not your usual fantasy element, no matter how flattering fantasy can be as a label (Homer, Shakespeare, Tolkien – to name just a few all-time greats that created unforgettable stories with supernatural aspects in them). Any author who comes up with that kind of love story involving those kind of characters – and with a legion of other characters, and with no less than four different religions, and with themes of honor, redemption, identity, bravery, equality, ancestry, legacy, freedom, revolution... – deserves to be analyzed not as a genre writer.

Now, one can only imagine what kind of enigma Sansa and Sandor were for Benioff and Weiss. And it pretty much remained unsolved, because, when faced with all the complexity of these two characters, Benioff and Weiss decided to remove it almost entirely, along with their relationship that is reduced to occasional and odd mentioning of 'little bird'. TV Sandor was simplified to a one-note brute that goes around TV Westeros and lectures people about the pleasures of killing, a one-note brute he never was in the novels, not even in the beginning of the saga. TV Sansa, on the other hand, was denied her book complexity by shutting down all her layers, one by one. For example, Benioff and Weiss completely removed her decision to go behind her father's back and inform Cersei of his plan. They simply refused to go down that road. They did something similar to Catelyn, whose infamous line to Jon they didn't remove entirely, but did replace it with a much softer one. It is pretty safe to assume that Cat's and Sansa's complexity did bother Benioff and Weiss from the get-go.

What's also removed from the show is Sansa's agency, primarily represented in the novels by her secret meetings with Dontos, a disgraced knight she herself saved from Joffrey. In the show, we got only the saving scene; it was filmed and executed clumsily, but it was there at least. However, until recently, nobody could be sure Sansa did save Dontos, because the man disappeared afterwards (he was briefly seen as joggling balls in "Blackwater" episode, in the scene in Cersei's chambers, but he was unrecognizable for the vast majority of audience). It is reported, though, that Dontos will be returning in Season 4, so yes, Sansa did save his life after all. But, even when he returns, Sansa's attempts at escaping will be two seasons younger than they should've been at that point, and it's hard to see a way D&D can remedy that neglect.

Show-lovers often defend D&D in regards to Sansa, by saying her personality is a difficult and tricky one for portraying on screen, because even in the books she's introverted. Now, maybe she isn't the most extroverted character ever, but she's pretty far from reclusive, as she does communicate with the outside world a lot at the beginning of the series, before she's imprisoned. And even while in captivity, she can't help but communicate with Sandor and Dontos. What's more, around two of them she is her true self, which provides a wide array of possibilities for a good and informative dialogue that, in an adaptation, could compensate for the lack of inner thoughts. With Dontos, she's open not only because she saved him, but also because he explicitly offers his help (and, truth be told, it is he who enabled her to leave King's Landing eventually, so, even though he wasn't exactly honest with her concerning his motivations, her trust wasn't as misplaced as it may seem at first). And with Sandor, she's open for no particular reason – other than those subtle, emotional forces, that both of them can't help but follow and eventually become the closest and most intimate beings to each other.

The way Martin incepted and developed the barely visible, but undeniable romance, between Sansa and Sandor, is nothing short of literary brilliance. With so few words and interactions, he managed so much. The vast majority of readers are aware of restrained attraction they mutually feel, even though they didn't share a single physical aspect of the romantic relationship.

Martin is indeed a master of subtlety, as evidenced by what looks like the endless amount of carefully hidden clues that point to any number of narrative puzzles, realization of which do make an entire story much richer than if taken at face value. And he's never more subtle than with two romances: Rhaegar/Lyanna and Sandor/Sansa. Now, the respective nature of subtlety of those two romances is rather different. With Rhaegar and Lyanna, a reader is – through Robert's retelling – offered a version that is actually the very opposite of what probably happened, and only later a reader can pick up clues here and there, and finally figure out the story of a fatal attraction between the two. But, the clues are presented throughout the text, so much that, even if you don't decipher everything after the first read, at the end of "A Game of Thrones" – the first book of the series – you'll probably sense that Robert's view on events wasn't exactly accurate.

The story of Sansa and Sandor is a very different one. Their relationship is never as much as addressed, even by themselves. Sandor isn't a POV character, and he's not exactly open to people, so his silence on the matter isn't unexpected. But, Martin didn't address their romance even in Sansa's chapters, which are typically packed with inner thoughts of the POV character. It looks like Martin decided to do it the harder way and make their romance somewhat a mystery even for Sansa, which, in hindsight, does seem to be the most logical way: what teenage girl would be fully aware of a romance that "inappropriate", and experienced in those dire circumstances?! As a result of that decision, the readers got a completely fascinating depiction of a romance, that can be described as a train you hear from miles away: at first, you can't even tell is it a train or some similar sound, but slowly, with every second, you're more and more certain that your ears didn't trick you, and very soon the train is so loud that it is the only thing you can hear at all. In the novels, a reader may find something strange at first, when Sandor shares the secret of his burned face with Sansa. Some alarm may be turned on deep inside. And it becomes more apparent each time two of them share a page, with a culmination during the Battle of the Blackwater Bay, when Sandor, after he decides to desert the Lannisters, visits Sansa in her room and offers to take her home to Winterfell.

It might be the only instance in the entire series where Sandor did ask anyone's approval, which does speak volumes about his feelings for Sansa. Considering the manner in which Martin described this romance, Sandor's actions on that day was as good as a confession of his deep attraction to her. Sansa, on the other hand, doesn't have a single moment which could be pointed at as a prime evidence of her undeniable love for The Hound, but this doesn't mean her feelings toward Sandor aren't palpable. It's one more mastery of the writer: through her frequent (and skewed, but in a telling way) memories on the last time she saw Sandor, he was able to show her feelings resonating more and more inside her.

In the show, Martin was denied a chance to do the same thing, even though he wrote the "Blackwater" episode in Season 2. Thanks to the already destroyed storyline, and to god knows how many changes, and to D&D's decision to remove from the final cut some scenes Martin referred to with his scenes, the one between Sansa and Sandor near the end of that episode, served more as a greeting to book-fans who like SanSan in the source material, than as a goodbye between two not unlike souls who shared much, and could have shared a lot more, and maybe are going to if they meet again. In that scene, Rory McCann was visibly better than usual as Sandor, and Sophie Turner was as good as usual, but, just like with anything ASOIAF, the scene doesn't have nearly the same impact and importance if taken out of context.

The exact context of their SanSan is yet to be fully revealed in the books, too. Because of the already mentioned subtlety – a quality that seems to intimidate showrunners Benioff and Weiss, who, in their turn, do retaliate with their on-screen war on subtlety (just recall what they turned other romances into; for example, the romance between TV Jon "Not The Brightest Kid In The Block" Snow and TV "I Know Everything And Therefore I Can't Stop Talking" Ygritte) – Sansa's and Sandor's love story is by no means an open book. Their romance has its own share of mystery, one of which may be: what inspired those two persons to feel so strongly for each other? Personally, I always thought their mutual attraction isn't only based on a "beauty and the beast" model. There is that, but in their case it goes deeper. If that was the engine behind his emotions, Sandor had more than enough opportunities to find a beauty for his beast long before Sansa entered his life. With Sansa, I'd say their mutual attraction is rooted in their personalities. For example, if you take away Sandor's aggression, he also isn't interested in hurting others. He's naturally talented for violence, and he lives in a society that respects that kind of talent, and that is why he's violent for a living, but at the end of the day, the suffering of others isn't any kind of reward for him. Possibly, because he isn't interested in other people that much. Though, when he is interested in someone, the interest is as strong as they come.

(We don't know at this point, but it's not a stretch to imagine that his reaction to the news that his hated brother was killed wasn't unlike Sansa's reaction to Joff's death. "Am I glad he's dead? Well, not exactly, even though I wanted him killed.")

Sansa may very well be like that, too. That would be one of the possible explanations of her AGOT actions. Like the rest of the Starks, Sansa is a complex character that has some issues of her own, without which neither she nor the other Starks would be such memorable characters as they obviously are; it is the fact that they are both willing and strong enough to fight those issues, that Starks stand out for. Without going into details (as if I could!), I expect that in the remaining novels Sansa is going to face the reasons that made her go to Cersei that damned night and with the consequences of that action. And whatever comes out of that soul-searching will be inevitably combined with her claim to Winterfell that Littlefinger brought up in AFFC. And that combination is going to elevate Sansa's arc to even bigger and more important levels than so far, even though so far she was the one Stark that was most engaged – unwittingly, but still – in the bloody dynastic war for the Iron Throne.

And she'll have to cross paths with Sandor Clegane, one way or another. Their relationship was so meticulously built up, it simply has to get some sort of a closure. What that closure is going to be is impossible to predict, because we are talking of one George R. R. Martin, a writer who managed to shock us as he pleased more than a few times.

What is also impossible, is to take anything that did or didn't happen in the show as any indication at what the closer may or may not be. There isn't a storyline in GoT that wasn't drastically changed, and weakened in the process, but Sansa's arc, along with her relationship with Sandor, is among the biggest victims of D&D's inability to adapt.

Whether you happen to like what Benioff and Weiss put in the show, or don't, you'd be advised not to recognize any significance in their decisions for further developments in ASOIAF. Just like show-lovers tend to remind everyone else, GoT and ASOIAF are two entirely separate beasts. And book Sansa and book Sandor, along with everything Martin has in his store for them, can be really glad about it.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Fear the Light

Winds howled as they traveled through the crumbling ruins that lay at the edge of the desert. Carved into the stone of the earth itself, the eternal sun had scorched the ancient limestone pillars leading up to the entrance. Statues sculpted into the likeness of a god-king flanked them, eroded by the passage of time.

Gusts of dry, unforgiving wind carried sand and dust and continued to weather this once majestic monument. Faded was the glory they once held.

Bleached skulls and bones littered the grounds within the entrance, where rays of light still reached. But these remains had been left behind in a new age. An era in which the royal soul laid to rest in this tomb had transformed from esteemed ruler into a beast of unspeakable horrors and insatiable appetite.

It had been thousands of years since the moon had vanished from this world. It had been millennia since the night itself had ceased to exist. An unfathomable amount of time for mortals, and a terribly long time for those who transcended their mortality by means unnatural.

Such as the one who had been interred here. To him, bearing witness to the passage of time used to be a luxury. Now, he considered it an unbearable burden and a self-inflicted curse. He lingered in the darkness of these ruins, sprawled out inside an open sarcophagus. His bony fingers ended in long, sharp claws that idly scraped over the stone of the lid that lazily leaned against the sarcophagus’ side.

The claws scritched and scratched and then stopped.

He rose from his grave, sitting up and fiercely gripping the edge of the sarcophagus with those claws. Two hollow eye sockets stared out through the darkness. An immortal hatred burned where eyes used to be, tiny flames that sprung from the magic of this being’s twisted essence, minuscule lights from which neither heat nor soul emanated.

They peered through the decaying halls of this once magnificent tomb, knowing that someone—or something—had intruded within the dead king’s demesne. He crept over the edge of the sarcophagus and crumpled to the dusty floors where he stood back up, and stumbled forwards through the darkness, rising to full height once more.

A whole head taller than he had been in life, he had chosen this existence—this unlife—for himself. Not to be trapped within these unhallowed halls, but to transcend the limitations and boundaries of life that common mortals were naturally bound to. To defy the pull of the river of souls, to overcome the mortal coil had been his greatest achievement. It had taken so much to reach this state of being.

It had taken so many sacrifices.

Many of them were buried in this very tomb with him. He lurked, lurched through these halls, past their smaller and less ornate sarcophagi lining alcoves in the walls. Their remains lingered, though none of them shared his immortality. Most of them had willingly shed their blood and thrown away their lives for the sake of their god-king, loyal subjects who wanted to know that their fearless and infallible leader would never cease to lead their homeland to prosperity.

Oh, how that destiny had been warped. How the cruel twists of fate had disfigured those plans laid out to their once proud nation.

Now, King Sin-Zaidu stumbled through the defiled halls of his own desolate tomb. The bones of the unfortunate littered the floors, rattling and clattering as he walked through them, approaching the entrance with each step.

A growl echoed through the halls, claws of a wild beast scraped over the hewn stone grounds from there. The dead king drew closer and closer to these sounds, drawn by the spark of life that could return a false image of life to his withered vampiric body. A living creature had made its way inside the tomb, and the dead king could taste its heartbeat—he could sense its life force.

This desiccated walking corpse with a sinister void where a soul used to be now hungered. Shriveled and dried up, he longed for strength once more. He longed to feel that bounce to his step that he once possessed both in life and unlife, a faded vestige of his virility that had withered away over the millennia.

Long gone were the days when his loyal subjects would send their most valuable and vigorous young, serving them up to their king as sacrifices. The lengthy and ornate rituals leading up to eviscerating these innocent souls and feasting on their blood had become a distant memory for Sin-Zaidu.

In his glory days, even after the sun had turned eternal, he would never even have considered drinking the blood of mere beasts. His vanity would not have allowed such. Undignified acts had always been beneath him, for he had sought to keep his existence pure and his pride unfettered.

Now that the passage of time had ravaged him and the ages had rendered his existence into a dark and cautionary tale that most of his subjects’ descendants merely considered myth, he had discarded every last standard. Not even grave robbers dared venture here anymore.

The thirst of blood had turned him feral, and the deprivation of the crimson life force had turned him into a husk of his former might.

Now, he only had ears for the thrum of a living being’s pulse. The closer he crept to the entrance, the more vibrant it felt. The beast circled on the stones, sniffing and snorting as it explored the entrance and searched through the bones for carrion that it could feast upon. Sin-Zaidu paused, listening and conjuring up his awful powers to read the very essence of the creature he would now feed upon. It was confused, injured. It bled.

It drove King Sin-Zaidu wild with thirst.

Most animals avoided this place. Most natural creatures had a natural sense to avoid his desolate abode. For miles around the statues flanking its entrance, no hawks cried throughout the skies. No serpents slithered between any rocks in its vicinity. Not even vermin swarmed underneath the sands. Life itself knew better—all steered clear of this sinkhole of evil.

The vampire-king’s claw clutched the corner of an open portal leading into the antechamber. He peered at the mighty beast within.

It was a behemoth of exceptional power. Greater than ten horses put together, with rippling muscles that enabled the creature to tear cattle apart like dry parchment. Its fanged mouth measured so big that it could swallow half a man in its maw without chewing. Pitch-black horns jutted out from the mane of dark fur on its head. The chimeric monster pawed at the remains on the ground.

Blood dripped from its side, spilling from a gaping gash. What exactly had inflicted the injury, the ancient vampire could not tell. Nor did he care to. He only had eyes for the life force dripping down. The behemoth had left a trail of blood leading outside.

Sin-Zaidu watched, paralyzed with lust for the blood. He weighed his options with care, fighting back the frenzy that began clouding his mind, obscuring his judgment and making it difficult to coldly calculate how he would overpower the monstrous intruder.

He raised his bony hand and began uttering incantations he had not spoken in centuries. Raspy whispers slipped through blackened teeth and mummified lips. A spark of blood-red fire danced in his palm, casting flickering shadows from his claws as they wiggled with the precision required to summon dark powers.

The beast reared its head and growled, glaring at the desiccated walking corpse. Unlike other predators, it possessed no qualms in attacking the undead—among the dunes and mountains of this land, it was the apex predator. It lowered its head, menacing the god-king with the spear-like horns protruding from its head. It scraped against the floor with a mighty claw, much like a bull preparing to charge.

The whispers from Sin-Zaidu’s mouth gave way to an insane cackle.

Bones of the fallen began to rise from the floor, animated by faint blue glowing lights and reassembling into vaguely humanoid shapes, and standing tall even without flesh or muscle or tendon to hold them together.

The behemoth growled again, claws scratching the stone grounds as it swiveled, taking notice of the army of walking skeletons forming around it. The animated bones wasted no time and lunged at the creature, clawing at it with bare-boned fingers and broken jaws that clattered as they chomped and the skeletal remains that rattled with each step.

The swarm of walking dead jumped and grasped and climbed and ripped and bit and tore. The beast whirled around, shattering dried old bones and flinging the skeletons away like broken toys. Its giant paw smashed through them as if they had little to no substance. The injuries they inflicted resembled mere scratches on the toughened skin of a hardened warrior.

But they were many. And unlike mortal men, the walking skeletons felt no fear. They attacked the beast with reckless abandon, oblivious of their final unnatural existence being cut short as the creature smashed them to dust, destroying them in droves. A chorus of cracking and shattering bones filled the hall, underscored by ferocious growls that could curdle the blood of the bravest souls.

When most of the attacking skeletons had been destroyed, the beast reared back once more and jerked its head back, releasing a deep and rage-filled roar. These puny undead were no match for it.

They had merely bought time for Sin-Zaidu to finish conjuring even greater magic. His clawed hands clasped together, quenching another red flame between them, and he released the spell he had been weaving all the while since animating the skeletons.

Slimy tentacles—glistening and shiny in the dim light, with an absence of color rendering them even darker than black—shot out from the cracks in the floor, whipping and flailing about until they found purchase on the behemoth’s body, wrapping around it and dragging it down with unspeakable and terrible strength.

The beast roared but the force of its head slamming into the cold floor stifled it, transforming it into little more than a pained growl. The tentacles bound it, bent limbs into unnatural angles until living healthy bones cracked and even one of its deadly horns broke off. Amidst the sea of tentacles erupting from the tomb’s grounds, seemingly out of nowhere, this unstoppable behemoth was caught, being strangled and crushed to death.

Staggering and stumbling, Sin-Zaidu approached the helpless beast. More cackling escaped him. The thrum of the beast’s heartbeat raced with panic, intensifying with each step that the undead god-king took towards it. Although the creature dwarfed his own size, his presence transported a tangible menace. The behemoth’s growing fear satisfied his sadistic streak.

His cackling stopped, and lifeless breaths rasped out of the vestigial lungs of his mummified body. Breaths of greed and thirst.

The blood was so close that he could taste it. Smell it. Even though the natural senses of his withered body had long dulled to the point of non-existence, the dark force that maintained his unlife sensed the life force that he so desperately longed for.

Sin-Zaidu lunged forward with a sudden surge of otherworldly power. He sank his claws and fangs into the fur and flesh of this beast. He ripped, tore, bit, chewed, and feasted on the blood. It sprayed, flowed, trickled.

The more he drank, the more color returned to his vision. The more he could feel the pulse of the world itself. The movements of the stone deep down, the fire of the earth, the clouds drifting above, the rumble of the distant floating islands in the sky.

The more he drank, the less life the beast possessed. Its struggles to break free from the tentacles waned. Its limbs went limp. Sin-Zaidu cared not, instead drinking more and more, draining the creature of its very lifeblood. Too greedy to care about all the blood that splattered to the ground, he instead marveled at the spectacular carnage he wrought.

The tentacles retracted, wriggling and writhing while they slithered and disappeared back through the cracks between the floor plates from whence they had emerged.

Sin-Zaidu’s lips smacked, teeth gnashed, ripping the beast’s neck to shreds in his disgusting feast. His body absorbed the life force with incredibly velocity. A fullness returned to his lips. Mummified skin turned lively once again, replete with a healthy bronze color. The blackened claws retreated into his fingers and took the shape of normal fingernails once more, and his fangs shrank down till only his sharp canines might have betrayed any vampiric nature, framing a set of pristine white teeth.

He wiped at his mouth with his forearm, only smearing the blood even more into a mess upon his face and skin. Nearly bathed in blood, the fog of greedy, unstoppable hunger slowly lifted from his mind.

He took a moment to stare at his hands, both palms and backs, flexing his fingers and clasping them shut. He felt alive again, almost like he used to in his original life, in his youthful prime and long before his ascension to undeath.

When reality set in and he remembered the reality of his situation, he sneered at the remains of the dead behemoth on the ground before him, crushed amidst this sea of bones of both man and monster alike.

“What is a beast, but a creature driven by base needs?”

The question echoed throughout the hall. Not King Sin-Zaidu had spoken its words, but a figure just outside the entrance. Sitting in the sunlight. Light from the eternal sun shone down behind him, turning the man outside into an eerie silhouette.

In front of the man, a bloodied spear rested on the sandy grounds. His left hand bobbed up and down from a bent knee, as he lounged with his other leg curled underneath him.

Sin-Zaidu glowered at him. What kind of wretch had the gall to insult him thus?

“In spite of your appearance now, you are little more than beast. Incapable of emerging from your own tomb. A prisoner of the light, trapped in a prison of your own making. Pathetic,” rang more words from the stranger, delivered with an unusual accent that the god-king could not identify.

Although out of reach for Sin-Zaidu, he could have wielded magic to harm and kill him from afar. Curiosity trumped his pride and desire to slay this man on the spot, so he decided to hear him out.

He smirked and asked, “Who dares speak to King Sin-Zaidu with such impudence?”

The stranger’s hand stopped bobbing.

“I am Tezcatl,” he replied. “And I speak not out of contempt for you, but out of pity.”

Unlike the raspy cackling from earlier, new vigor filled Sin-Zaidu’s body—a hearty bellow erupted from his bowels.

“You pity us? For our terrible might? You still have a chance to flee, and imparting you with such wisdom is a testament to our generosity, you fool.”

The man named Tezcatl rose to his feet, picking up the spear in the same motion. He turned and pointed with it to the azure ocean of sky overhead, dotted with floating islands and fluffy white clouds, joining at the horizon with the ocean of sand and rocky crags below. Cracked and flaking paint of a single eye marked the stranger’s forehead. He was clad in simple, rugged garb, weathered by long travel, barefoot, and with no ornaments or jewelry to mention.

“No, I pity you because of the injustices of this world. And how they have shackled you. Liberty—a right that all men share, both kings and slaves, both hunter and beast, both living and dead—was taken from you when human arrogance stole the moon and the night from the sky,” Tezcatl said. The calm in his voice rose into more and more fervor with each beat.

His audacity and confidence mesmerized Sin-Zaidu. For millennia, the god-king had only spoken to those who feared or served him. This man named Tezcatl served none.

He almost admired his irreverence and it stunned him with an unfamiliar silence.

“I seek to liberate these lands by returning the moon to its rightful place. I seek to restore the night,” Tezcatl preached. He took in a sharp breath of air. “If I succeed, you will be free to reign over your lands once more and roam as you see right for yourself. Others may rebel against you, but it is then a matter of might who is right, in the end. However, you will need not fear the light, ever again.”

Sin-Zaidu’s mien darkened, as he knew this course of conversation. Even the most confident petitioners always had a request. Something that they wanted. After a long speech, no matter how rousing or flowery, followed the inevitable demand.

But Tezcatl remained silent. The defiance inherent in this man’s presence was palpable. Only the pulse of his heart and the blood flowing through his veins distracted Sin-Zaidu. So he asked.

“What do you seek from us?”

Tezcatl’s nostrils flared. He stared back at Sin-Zaidu with a roaring fire behind his eyes.

“I seek to learn of all the magic you wield. Forgotten sorceries, forbidden knowledge. If you teach me, I will be an instrument in returning you your right—your right to freedom.”

A howling gust of wind swept up sand, hurling it past the god-king’s visitor, ruffling his thin braids of hair. Tezcatl stood still, stoic and oozing confidence.

The king sensed the truthfulness in this man’s words, in his tone. He could hear it in his heartbeat. Nervous of the danger inherent in speaking to a vampiric monster such as himself. But believing deep down that he would succeed.

Sin-Zaidu’s lips curled into a smile. The god-king would accept this offer.

Even with all this power, he could not accomplish what this man spoke of. He never would have dared to even dream of restoring the night to these scorched lands.

Now confronted with this possibility, he discovered a new desire, even greater than his thirst for blood. Sin-Zaidu wondered if it only had to do with recently feasting on the behemoth.

He turned to look back at the broken beast, lying in the shadows where he dwelt, and the pool of blood spreading out underneath it. The wound in its side—could it have been inflicted by this Tezcatl’s spear?

He peered back at the man. Tezcatl’s steely gaze rested upon him all the while.

“Yes,” said Sin-Zaidu. “We will show you the ways. We shall teach you the sorceries of blood.”

Tezcatl closed his eyes and bowed his head in response. He sprung into motion, approaching the darkness of the tomb, each step driven by certainty and determination.

Just as fearlessly as his new pupil entered the shadows, Sin-Zaidu hoped that, one day, he would exit his tomb with the same fearlessness.

A day in the near future.

—Submitted by Wratts

[luluxcreations-blog]

Chosen Path: Chapter Two

Chapter 2: The Underworld

Seventeen years had passed since the Pirate King's execution and in those years, chaos and all its friends ruled the world. It has been said that the Pirate King's death was their undoing, because what followed afterwards was disaster. But as it was, history tended to repeat itself; humans tended to never learn, especially the nobles. The more gangs rose up, the more the nobles wanted them gone, even going so far as to burn the people alive. The most dangerous place to be was Edge Town in Goa Kingdom; there the nobles had plotted many times to eliminate the dirty scum that lived there. Everyone in that town was considered a criminal, a gangster. Even children were looked upon with disgust. Truly, Goa Kingdom was the one kingdom that was leading the extermination of non nobility. Those living in Edge Town who weren't strong enough or smart enough were eliminated quickly. But still, even then gangs kept coming and coming to this kingdom to find the legendary treasure left by the Pirate King.

Out of those gangs, it was said that three of the four strongest lived in Goa Kingdom, while the fourth was the ruler of their own country. The most powerful gang was the Whitebeard Gang, their leader being Whitebeard himself. They were said to be the closest to reaching the One Piece. The second and third of the four were said to be tied. Was that true? No one actually knew, but no one would ever rise up to challenge these two powerhouses. The Red Haired Gang and the Beast Gang, just one look from them had even the bravest people running. The Red Haired Gang were lead by Red Haired Shanks, a one armed man who was said to be a monster even with one arm. The Beast Gang were lead by Kaido of the Beasts, this man was said to be immortal. Nevertheless, almost no one had ever challenged them. The last strongest gang was the Big Mom gang, lead by Big Mom, Charlotte Linlin. Their base was on Whole Cake Island, a country that Big Mom had taken over.

These four monsters were called the Yonko. Each of these Yonko have territories all over the world, including in the town of Edge Town. Edge Town is a mostly lawless area, though in the recent decade that has changed; the Yonko have become the protectors of their areas. However, Edge Town had been split into five parts, not four; the last area was known as a completely lawless area, which was where all of the other gangs had their bases. Edge Town was set up like that so that the Yonko wouldn’t be pissed off by the activities of the lesser gangs; in reality almost no gang wanted to fight these beasts. Even the government feared them greatly and would surely think twice about going against them. Though, the question still remained whether the government and marines were willing to stand by and let one of these Yonko become the Pirate King. If not, then would they even have a slim chance of beating them or would destruction be their path?

x~Chosen Path~x

Luffy licked his lips as the delicious aroma flowed into his nostrils and bolted up in bed with drool going down his chin. "Meat!" He cried out as he looked around his room searching for the delicious food that he was sure was there, only to pause in confusion when he saw that he didn’t actually wake up in his own room. "Where am I?" He didn’t remember going out last night, but then again he didn’t really remember a lot of things that he did. Something caught the boy's eye, making him tilt his head and study the object. "Oh, I know!" He remembered as he stared at the photograph of Ace and himself when they little. "This must be Ace's room." He had a nightmare last night and crawled into his big brothers bed out of fear; said big brother of course let him in without a problem. His big brother was such a great guy!

Sitting up, he threw his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. He was ready to face the day! Well, almost. He looked down and sighed when he saw that he was still in his pajamas. There was no way he could go to Edge Town looking like that! He would probably get mugged or at least threatened there. Shaking his head, he headed off to his own room across the hallway and went straight into his closet. On the left side, there were all these stuffy noble suits and clothes that made him wrinkle his nose in disgust. Those were the clothes that Shanks bought him and made him wear them on occasion. On the other side were the clothes that both Ace and he picked out for their casual wear. Going straight for the right side, he took out a pair of blue shorts with cuffs on them, a white tank top, and a red hoodie. Put the clothes on himself, he nodded in approval as he looked over, before going to his desk and picking up the Straw Hat on it. There's no way he would go out without it, it was his treasure after all. The treasure that Shanks had given to him the first time they met. He put the hat onto his neck like a necklace and tucked it into his hoodie. And lastly, he put on his sandals.

When he was finished, he went straight for the kitchen with a big grin on his face. "Ace, meat!" He yelled at the other make as he sat down at the kitchen table and pounded on it. "I'm so hungry!" He declared as he over at his older sibling. Said sibling just chuckled and shook his head as he continued to cook. The older boy had always taken care of him, especially when Shanks was away; he figured it was probably because of their late mother. But then again, Ace was weird sometimes. He chuckled at that thought as he continued to watch the older man. "Ne, when do you think Shanks is going to be back? He's been gone for a whole month now!" He complained as thoughts of his godfather flew into his mind. Ever since they met, the redhead had always gone on his "business" trips, though he would be gone for more than one month. He was the main caretaker for the two brothers, though Garp did stop by once in a while, especially when Shanks was away. But still, Luffy missed him a great deal.

Ace listened to his brother as he continued to make Luffy his omelet, it had everything the boy had wanted inside it. It was filled with different meats that both Shanks and their grandpa brought home after they went to the market. He didn’t know when it started exactly, but Luffy… he was his most important person in the world and seeing that bright smile on his face was worth everything. And even though he wasn’t his parent, he was hell bent on taking care of the boy no matter what challenges come their way. Luffy was the only real family he had left, besides Pops and his crew. "Here you go, Luffy. A meat omelet, enjoy!" He told his baby brother as he served both plates with their breakfast and sat down across the other boy with a smile on his face.

In reality, they had different dads, not connected by blood of course. Luffy had Shanks, the man who he considered his dad as he didn’t know his true father, and if he had anything to do with it, he never would. Ace on the other hand, he had Edward Newgate, the only man he considered his father. The man was the leader of his gang and the only person who was there when he was questioning even his entire existence. As he ate his omelet, he watched the other boy with furrowed eyebrows, hoping that the other boy wouldn’t catch on. He wondered how Luffy would feel if he found out that Ace was part of a gang, or even Shanks? He truly hoped that he wouldn’t have to find out soon. "Don’t know, but my guess is that he'll be here within a couple days. He'd never leave you alone for too long." Red Haired Shanks, he was a noble by blood, and a leader of a gang by choice. He had made the choice to become a gang leader long ago, even before they were even born and because of that, he had to travel a lot. It was a miracle that the red haired man even stayed for as long as he had. But he loved Luffy, even loved him as a son even if they weren't as close as his brother was to him. Still, Luffy loved him dearly and that’s all that really mattered.

"I hope he comes back soon!" The other boy whined as he continued to eat his food with a pout on his face. He didn’t really understand what was so important that he had to keep leaving them. He loved staying with his brother, but Shanks was important to him, as well. He was his only father figure, the only man that stayed constantly in his life since he was seven, besides his grandpa and Ace. He hoped the older man was alright wherever he was and that he came back as soon as possible. "This food is good!" He licked his lips as he ate the last piece of omelet on his plate, before he looked at his brother's plate and saw that the older boy had also finished his breakfast. He stood up from his chair and grinned as he put his hand on his hips. "Ne, Ace, I'm going to go to Edge Town, are you going to hang out with Sabo today?" Their childhood friend Sabo was like them, he hated the nobles even though he was one himself. He had always loved hanging out with the other man just as much as he loved hanging out with Ace. The three of them had many adventures together when they were young, and even now they hung out together when they weren't busy. It was too bad though, today he already made plans with his crew.

Ace smirked at the younger boy before he stood up and picked up the dishes and forks after them, moving to the sink to wash them after themselves. God knew that Luffy would never do it; he had to clean up after the kid constantly, not that it mattered much really. When he was finished he came over to the other boy and smiled as he patted the other boy's hair. "Don’t worry, when I see him, I'll make sure to let him know that you'll hang out with him next time." Truthfully, they were just going to get some lunch together and talk about things, but other than that he also had to go into Edge Town to meet up with his crew. Ace knew that Luffy had a crew of his own, when they were younger all that kid could ever talk about was becoming King of the Pirates. And even though he planned on making Whitebeard king, he wished the best for the other boy. But still… "Hey, Lu, make sure to stay away from the docks today, alright? I heard that some dangerous gangs were coming in today." These were dangerous times, especially for rookies. He didn’t want the boy getting hurt and causing trouble. There was also his identity he had to worry about; if he was ever discovered to be Monkey D. Luffy, a noble of the Monkey Family and Straw Hat Luffy, the gang leader of the Straw Hat Gang, he didn’t think that even his status as a noble would save him from the same fate that befell their uncle.

"Don't worry, Ace!" The smaller boy smiled brightly, before he turned to go towards their foyer and out the door. He pulled up his hood over his head and hid his noble insignia inside his pockets, knowing full well that this was the only way he would be able to return to his home. The guards would never let him in without it, since all of the residents of Edge Town were prohibited from entering their "paradise". He didn’t understand any of that, though. It was all just so bizarre! Why did it matter if they were nobles or not, it just didn’t make sense to him at all. Shaking his head, he got rid of his thoughts as he raced through the front door and went straight out, almost crashing into Garp who was about to come inside. "Bye, Gramps!" He yelled back at the older man as he continued to run through the town.

"Luffy?!" The old man asked in surprise as he watched his grandson leave and in those clothes, no less. It could only mean one thing. He sighed and shook his head as he went inside to find his other grandson sitting on the couch while lighting a cigarette. He walked over to the boy and sat right next to him as he eyed the two bottles of sake on the table in front of them. He really needed a drink that was for sure. "I wish that you two would have become great marines instead of becoming criminals and endangering yourselves." When that red haired gangster took the boys in, Ace was ten and Luffy was seven, he had sincerely hoped that the man wouldn’t let them become gangsters themselves. He cared about them, just as much as he cared about his son, maybe even more. But what was he to do now, he couldn’t fix the situation no matter how hard he tried. They were both members of notorious gangs, there was no way either of them would be able to become marines. Not unless they died and somehow came back to life. "Did you see Luffy's latest escapades?" He asked as he looked down on the floor.

The black haired male took a deep drag of his cigarette and closed his eyes in thought. "Look, old man, there's no way that either Luffy or I would ever be able to becomes marines. We have the blood of two demons running through our veins, the two biggest criminals in the world." Even if they did want to become marines, they would be executed just like their uncle was. Even their mother was almost put to the death, because they didn’t want Gol D. Roger's bloodline to continue. But it was all for naught, their mother died anyways after giving birth to his brother and all because of those bastards. He blamed them all for her death, especially his father. The man wasn’t even there to see their beautiful, sweet, kind mother die. No, he didn’t care enough to be there, he didn’t even care about them. When he was just a toddler, he had seen the man maybe three times? After Luffy was born, he never saw the man again. He didn’t understand how their mother could love that man at all. Speaking of his precious little brother… "Of course, that boy is something else. He has already earned a bounty of three hundred million beri, I think that calls for a celebration." He smiled at that and eyed the sake sitting on the coffee table in front of him, before picking it up and taking a swig.

Celebration, huh? He guessed that to his grandsons, a bounty was something of a reward. It was too bad that he just didn’t think that way. He was really getting too old for all of this, first his son, now these two. What Ace said about his father and uncle was true, as much as he loathed admitting it. The world had feared another pirate king from emerging, if they ever found out that someone with Roger's blood survived… well, let's just say that Dragon had the right idea of moving Rouge to Foosha Village, he just wished the woman survived the entire ordeal. Child birth was a nasty business for those living in Edge Town or other poverty stricken areas. He didn’t pity her, though. No, he pitied the sons that she left behind. After everything that happened with their family, it was these two boys that have suffered the worst for their family's sins. It was exactly why even though he severely disliked that red haired bastard that he let the man take care of the two. He had seen it with his own eyes, Shanks loved the two boys as if they were his own. He couldn’t have hoped for better and that was something that he would never admit out loud. Shanks was a great father; now if only his own son was, as well. "Ace, I've been meaning to talk to you about your father-" He started, but sighed when he was cut off.

"Don’t ever talk about him again, not in front of me or Luffy." He bit out angrily as he clutched the alcoholic drink in hand. The old man knew how he felt about that man. He was a deadbeat father and a shitty lover to boot. Nothing, but a nuisance with demon blood in his mind. He knew what he was, a revolutionary, someone who was trying to change this world. He called bullshit on that excuse, it was nothing but an excuse that he kept telling himself and others. He wasn’t even there for them, how could he expect to be there for the entire world?! Just the thought was ridiculous! And his grandfather was sitting there, trying to make up whatever excuses that he had out of his ass. Well, that wasn’t going to work. "My only father is Whitebeard and Luffy's is Shanks. And you know that, don’t play around, Old Man." He stood up and grabbed the black hoodie on the couch, before going straight for the door. "That man will never be our father!" He declared as he left, slamming the door shut on his way out.

Garp sighed as he looked up at the ceiling with a troubled and sad look on his face. "What am I going to do with them, ne, Rouge?"

x~Chosen Path~x

Walking through the gates of High Town which lead right into Edge Town, it was as though he was walking through a portal. High Town held such a beautiful outward appearance, flowers everywhere. It was truly a paradise that the nobles got to enjoy. On the other side, just as he walked through the gate with his hoodie pulled, it was the complete opposite. The buildings were torn, the ground was littered with trash everywhere, and people were sitting outside, in their torn and old, dirty clothes. Most of them were homeless and hadn't had anything to eat in days, much less hours. He could see their bones sticking out of their skin, the hollowness of their cheeks, and most frighteningly of all, the dead look in their eyes. They knew, all of them knew, that they were going to die and no one was going to help them. It was times like these that he really hated being a noble, because while he got all the luxuries and as much food as he wanted without a worry in the world, these people had absolutely nothing.

Shaking his head to get rid of his thoughts, he pulled down his hood and slipped his straw hat onto his head. There was no need to get upset; he had seen this almost every day, so it was nothing new. Though that didn’t make it right, he couldn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t exactly give these people money or food, because then he'd be found out as a noble; and if that were to happen, it would be all over. His life as Straw Hat Luffy would be finished and he wasn’t ready for that. He made a promise that he would become Pirate King and he intended to keep that promise.

Finally, seeing their hideout, his grin widened as he opened the door and entered inside. "Oi! Nami! Sanji!" He was sure that out of all of his gang members, these two would be there; it was almost guaranteed in fact. Nami lived with her sister Nojiko on Cocoyasi St. which was of course in the lawless area and had seen their own share of problems, because of that. Sanji on the other hand, had lived in the Whitebeard Gang's territory so they fared much better. His adoptive father had even owned The Baratie, a restaurant that had a reputation of being one of the best, even if it was in Edge Town. However, his adoptive father Zeff had always encouraged Sanji to follow his dreams. Licking his lips, he tilted his head when he finally spotted all eight of his gang members sitting around on the couch. "Ne, did you hear? Something exciting is happening at the docks!" His brother confirmed it, some gang was coming there and it wasn’t a small time gang either. It made him so excited to find out which gang was coming!

"Luffy!" The orange haired girl scowled at him and crossed her arms; he could practically feel the anger coming off of her. When he turned to look at the other Straw Hat members, all of them were frowning, not one person was excited as him. It made him pause and tilt his head in confusion at that. Normally, they would get annoyed, but nonetheless would go along with his plans. So, the question still remained, why not? He knew that Ace told him not to go there, but as much as he loved his big brother, the other boy was too overprotective of him sometimes. His crew members weren't supposed to be like that, they were supposed to go along with his ideas as he's the leader of his gang; and besides, what was so bad in going to check out the new gangs that were coming? "You didn’t hear? The marines are stationed at the docks and are ordered to capture any gangs they see."

He blinked in confusion as he looked around at his whole crew. "The marines?!" He couldn’t understand why the marines were even stationed at the docks, it was all so strange! Usually, the marines stayed away from both Edge Town and the docks, it was even more so particular for them to actually get orders to capture any gangs they see. The fact of the matter was that everyone knew, unless you were notorious you were left to die on the streets like a rat. Only the most notorious gangs and gang leaders got the privilege of being captured, then of course being sent to Impel Down, the underwater prison. However, this was a really unusual situation and he could tell that something else was going on; something was wrong, really wrong. And with Ace so worried before, it made him really wonder what was going on exactly? "What's going on, guys?"

Sanji cleared his throat as he sighed and pulled out his cigarette, before looking up and straight into Luffy's eyes. "From what we heard, there are eight gangs coming here, each of them has a leader that's worth more than a one hundred million beri bounty." The other man grimaced as he took a drag of his cigarette and blew out some smoke as he looked back at his leader thoughtfully. "With you and the mosshead over there, that's going to make eleven Supernovas, that's what they're calling you all, you know." Supernovas? Luffy never heard of something like that before and nine other individuals with more than one hundred million beri, not counting Zoro? That was so exciting! He really wanted to meet them! It made him wonder just how strong they were; after all having more than one hundred million beri was a big deal, at least for him. And to have them all on in Goa Kingdom? That was like a dream come true! "Luffy, before you get any ideas, there's more to it than that."

He opened his mouth to completely dismiss the notion of there being something more to it and went to sit down on the couch right next to Usopp. "Don't worry about that! Don't you get it? There are eight more gangs who are just like us!" He grinned happily as he looked at his gang with excitement in his eyes. It made him so happy to know that he's going to have more rivals to find the legendary treasure! Though, in the end he's the one who was going to find it and become the Pirate King! His dream, his complete freedom, he would definitely achieve those things, even if he died trying he would still become Pirate King! His friends worrying about the details of the other Supernovas coming here was just plain annoying. What did it matter if they came here to find the One Piece?! They should have more faith in him that he was going to find it. Giving them an annoyed look, he reached for the chicken leg sitting on the coffee table along with mashed potatoes and some vegetables he didn't care to know about. "So good!" He cried out as he bit into the leg and licked his lips at the blissful taste that came from eating it. Sanji was such a good cook! He even always knew when he would show up so he was always prepared a meal for him. He had such a good crew!

Nami growled at him and gave him a mean glare as she stood up, though before she could start yelling at him, Robin intervened between them. She cleared her throat and turned to look at her captain with a grave expression on her face. "Captain, I'm afraid that what Mr. Cook and Ms. Navigator actually mean is that there's a reason that these crews are coming to Goa Kingdom." The young captain looked up at her with a questioning look on his face and furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to listen to what she was saying. Judging by the look on her face, though it wasn’t good; not in the least. Something was going on and while he wanted to have fun, something told him that this was going to be very bad. And in this kingdom, the bad was always horrific. Taking the meat out of his mouth, he gave frowned and gave her his full attention. "In two weeks time, it will be the twenty fourth anniversary of the Pirate King's death, from what I've heard, Saint Jalmack ordered all of the marines to burn down Edge Town and all of the scum in it." His entire crew looked away from him, all of their expressions were serious and dark, even his own expression had turned serious as he looked at his friends. "The Yonko…they won't take this sitting down. It means there will be war."

Luffy's eyes bulged as he let out a heavy breath and dropped his meat on the ground in shock. "W-what did you just say?!"

x~Chosen Path~x

Footsteps echoed on the ground as a figure walked down the dreary hallway, voices could be heard discussing a new development in the making. Even the figure had a dark look on his face as he finally reached the room and crossed his arms. "Oh, good you've already started the meeting."

The leader in the room turned to look at him and gave him a dark smile. "It's so good of you to finally make it. Tell me…what did you find out about Whitebeards plans, Sabo?" The leader turned to look at the figure very carefully, watching him for clues of deceit. "Surely, Whitebeard won't take this new…development lightly. There will be war, I can almost guarantee it."

[hermanwatts]

The Black Moon Chronicles: Beginnings

God might not play dice with the universe, but the devils do.

In The Black Moon Chronicles: The Sign of Darkness, written by François Marcela-Froideval and drawn by Olivier Ledroit, Lucifer grows tired of his generals throwing matches in their little games. So he engineers a game in the mortal world where none of the players can deliberately lose. A Chosen One prophecy and the fall of an empire would do nicely. But what man will be chosen?

He might be a nameless lancer out in the woods, little more than a highwayman in armor. Call him Wismerhill after his home town, or Wis for short. It’s as good a name as any. But this half elf has an unknown past and hints of more sinister gifts, as the rogue Heads-or-Tails discovers in their first meeting. Wis may be sheltered and naive, but he falls into bad company with the mercurial rogue, whose personality shifts based on which of two magical swords, good or evil, he currently wields. The two fast friends embark on a series of petty crimes and capers. But the eye of the half-ogre Gorghor Bey soon settles upon Heads-or-Tails’ swords.

The swords, however, are attached to Heads-or-Tails, and it is only by the whim of Gorghor Bey that the two highwaymen keep their heads. Now fighters for the half ogre warlord, Wismerhill and Heads-or-Tails join the Gorghor Bey’s invasion of the Empire. Caught up in a whirlwind of fighting, training, and loving, Wis quickly distinguishes himself as a valued aide, able to read the winds and save the horde from multiple ambushes as they raze the hinterlands of the Empire. But such a display of military power cannot go unchecked, so the Empire sends the Army of Light after Gorghor Bey. And other, more sinister forces have taken notice of the chaos for their own ends.

The Sign of Darkness serves as the ever-popular origin story for the twenty volume Black Moon Chronicles. This French dark fantasy series has given birth to two spin-off series and even a video game. The emphasis here is on dark fantasy, if the slight elven warrior with an evil magical sword was not a clue. Wis is fighting on the side of orcs, ogres, and barbarians against the setting’s version of Gondor, and there is no mistaking these invaders for the side of Good. At best, Wis and his companions act as anti-heroes who are a little too comfortable with the terrible acts they commit. But those acts are in the future. The Sign of Darkness is comics’ answer to The 36th Chamber of Shaolin, an extending training montage pushing Wis from a nameless tough to a champion on the run. He has yet to be swept up into the various gambits playing out for control over the Empire.

The setting is familiar, with a gleaming white Empire as the bastion of church and civilization standing against a tide of invading barbarism. This time, we see it from the invaders’ point of view, without the expected propaganda of imperial hypocrisies that a contemporary version of the story would demand. Some people just want to watch the world burn. Those willing to light the match fight for Gorghor Bey. The resulting chaotic, orkish invasion is so familiar, as are Wis’s winds of magic, that it would not be a surprise to discover that Games Workshop plundered the Black Moon Chronicles as they did The Lord of the Rings for their Warhammer Fantasy setting. As of yet, the Black Moon Chronicles does not revel in the destruction and cruelty to the same degree that a grim dark world where there is only war has, or with the exquisite artistry of a Melniboné. Instead, a strong dose of self-deprecating humor keeps the excesses away.

The Black Moon Chronicles uses an interesting design choice. Those characters and objects which are evil, or, in the case of Wis’s powers, chaotic, have rougher, dingier, uglier art. Clean lines and beauty are reserved for the good, whether that be the Army of Light or Feidreiva, Wis’s unlikely lover who spends less time clothed than French fanservice favorite Laureline. And as Gorghor Bey changes from Wis’s captor to mentor, his portrait smooths. But the real star of the artistic show are the big battle set pieces. Ledroit conveys in his art both the immense scale of massive armies as well as the immense chaos of battle. The only portrayal that comes close is The Return of the King‘s field battles.

I am intrigued by the potential in The Black Moon Chronicles: The Sign of Darkness. It is just the opening act, and the villains and main conflict of the story have yet to be revealed. Fortunately, the full 20 volume series is offered on Kindle Unlimited, making it easy and affordable to follow along Wismerhill’s journey under the Black Moon.

Of all the terrifying warlords to wreak destruction across the empire, few can match the savagery of Ghorghor Bey. His name alone can cause even the bravest of soldiers to tremble in their boots, and noble lords and ladies throughout the land pray that he never comes knocking at their castle doors in search of gold, booze, and maidens. But few know the tragic story behind this fearsome warrior’s rise to power. From his harrowing childhood to his first love(s), his devastating heartbreaks and crushing victories, read on and discover how a naïve young half-ogre would go on to become Ghorghor the Terrible.

I’ve been rather taken with the Black Moon Chronicles, the French dark fantasy comic from François Marcela-Froideval, Olivier Ledroit, and Cyril Pontet that uses humor to soften the horrors of a decadent Melniboné-style empire falling to the apocalypse. At turns aiding and resisting the fall into soul-devouring horror is the half-elf Wismerhill, the unwitting pawn of the evil Black Moon. But how did fate draw Wismerhill’s companions to him? And who better to start with than the jovial giant, the fearsome half-ogre warlord now know as Ghorghor Bey?

The first of The Black Moon Arcana serves as a direct prequel to The Black Moon Chronicles: The Sign of Darkness, detailing the rise of Ghorghor Bey from outcast to the scourge of the Empire as he is in the days before he meets Wismerhill. While the prequel sheds little new light into the twists and turns of the Black Moon’s world-dooming invasion or Ghorghor’s revolving-door relationship with death, it is a welcome insight into a beloved character who tends to get only a panel to two to mug in each new volume.

However, this prequel checks the boxes on the standard villain’s back story. Stop me if you’ve heard this before. A half-ogre child born from rape and unwanted pregnancy cruelly shunned by his adopted father and the rest of the village. When his mother dies, the half-ogre is expelled from the village and forced to live on his own–

Yes, I thought so too.

The boy, Ogur, falls in with the circus, where he finds acceptance and love among the freaks and performers. He learns the strongman routine and finds the loves of his life in a pair of Siamese twins. Here, he has the family he was denied.

Until a lord double-crosses the circus. The lord enslaves most of the circus, and drives Ogur and the rest of the freaks into the swamp. While there, a Divorak swamp kraken attacks, devouring Ogur’s loves. Ogur slays the monster, and swears a blood oath to avenge his friends and lovers. And when he slays the leader of a band of highwaymen, Ogur has the opportunity he has sought, as the highwaymen give him their allegiance. Now calling himself Ghorghor Bey, the half-ogre raises his standards, and rogues, orcs, and ogres rally to him. The new warlord scourges the local nobles, returning the brutality that the lords had visited upon him. Yet he never loses the whimsy that surrounds him, a brutal whimsy that never turns to cruelty. You may die in Ghorghor’s jests, but you will not die slow.

Finally, the warlord returns to the lands of the lord who wronged him. Ghorghor Bey single-handedly breaches the castle and, one by one, pitches the defenders over the walls. No quarter will be given until he frees his friends. After the lord is slain and the chains on the circus performers broken, Ghorghor Bey turns his fury against the nobility, scourging the Empire in the first of many apocalyptic invasions that will tear it apart. And, along the way, he runs into two bandits, the mad elf Heads-or-Tails and magic-touched Wismerhill…

As I said, standard villainy fare. But the Black Moon Chronicles tries to make a distinction between being bad and being evil, between falling and fallen. Ghorghor Bey is undoubtedly bad, driven to his own cruelty by the cruelty of others, but he never crosses into the demonically evil. That terror is saved for Wismerhill. And for unrepentant, soul-devouring evil? Wait until we meet Haazel Thorn.

There is a rough honor to the brutal and cunning Ghorghor Bey, who later becomes Wismerhill’s trusted lieutenant. There’s also the bit of the clown, of intelligence, whimsy, and the subversion of expectations, including a surprising gentleness. The performer never left the warlord, as he can be found mugging in the background of many a panel. But the one thing he is not is the dullard brute that many ogres are portrayed as in fantasy. That Ghorghor Bey is given a chance to shine once more outside Wismerhill’s shadow is welcome. I just wish there was more meat to these formulaic old bones.

So, at the start, The Black Moon Arcana is for the fans already invested in the signs and portents of the Black Moon. But maybe when we get to the true holy knight Parsifal, the story will pick up. In the meantime, please check out the more palatable Elric-type story that is the Black Moon Chronicles.

The Black Moon Chronicles: Beginnings published first on https://sixchexus.weebly.com/

[the-foxwolf]

Places to Go and Stories to Tell: The Wild West, Oceania, Feudal Japan, and Vikings

The Foxwolf is back! As an avid Vorthos and a natural storyteller, I’m excited to once again share my talents with you all. 

This article lists four places I think the Magic Story could go and the type of story I’d like to see in each of those worlds. This exercise would be a little dry if I just listed things out. I figured it would be more fun, and expressive, to give you all a short glimpse of what a story there might look like. This article is a little different than the kind I normally do. But I’m fairly confident that if you sit down to read it, you’ll find you enjoy it. Let me know what you think! And enjoy!

It’s good to be back. Writing. Sharing my love for story telling again. 

Gather `Round Everyone! It’s Story Telling Time!

(Omniscience: Magic 2013) (Art by Jason Chan)

Format

     As you read through you’ll see the header for a section with a setting and some defining characteristics of that setting. I’ll then move into describing what that world might look like, the characters it might have, the environment and conflicts within the world, and the potential storyline I could easily see happening in said environment. It’s an easy, fun read, that provides you my thoughts on what I see coming in Magic’s future.

Wild West: Spellslingers and Railroads

      Sheriff Chandra steps out of the saloon, appreciating how the rising sun paints the sky into a canvassed pastel orange. Chandra breathes in the dry desert air of this dusty Frontier town. She lets it out slowly, eyes closed, hands on her hips, the warmth of the sun caressing her face, and takes in the world around her with all her senses. The Frontier air is charged with sensations and emotions. She can taste the unbridled hope and opportunity the Frontier has to offer; her skin shivers at the feeling of the electric static of the thrill of discovery all around her; the lizards scuttle across the floorboards beneath her boots and the jackalopes scurry into the brush at the sound of her clinking spurs; the sweat of the hard working people doing their best every day to thrive in this harsh world; all these things flood her senses and for a brief moment, she is lost in the romanticism of it all.       But that moment quickly fades. She knows that the Frontier isn’t the romantic dream the East makes it out to be. The rolling tumbleweeds who witnessed the bloody fate of the evicted natives whose promises of peace were betrayed by greed, protest by clumsily beating around the town- uselessly silent. Eagles and vultures circling above the town screech, echoing the pain the land itself feels with each new drill the Aether Barons order constructed. The Rail Monger’s train tracks are greased with the sweat of the imported indentured goblins and the tears of the settlers who are extorted into poverty by the extreme shipping costs.      Chandra takes off her hat and presses it gently against her chest in a moment of respectful silence. She puts it back and taps the badge, the sigil of the Gatewatch, on her cowhide jacket twice, reminding herself of the oath she made just a few years ago:

“Every world has its tyrants, following their own desires with no concern for the people they step on. They’re no different from the Eldrazi....If it means that people can live in freedom, yeah, I’ll keep watch...” 

(Oath of Chandra: Oath of the Gatewatch) (Art by Wesley Burt)

     She whistles for Ashaya, the Sun Stallion and watches as a beam of sunlight materializes into the majestic, noble, horse Nissa had taught her to summon. Chandra mounts Ashaya and checks her Spell-Slinger Gauntlets. With a flex of her hand, a small mote of concentrated Red Mana puffs into existence at her fingertips and proceeds to start circling her extended index finger. This tiny mote of energy could burn through bone like a hot knife cuts through butter. With another flex of her hand, she extinguishes the mote.       Satisfied her equipment is in order, she taps on Ashaya’s neck, motioning him towards the plateau to the West, near where the Sun Foot Tribe was last seen. “My mom always believed that I could be a leader. I’m starting to believe she’s right. Let’s go make my mother proud, Ashaya.”

Oceania: Islands and Atlantis

     The salty sting of the sea air carried upon the cool breeze tickles Nissa’s nose as she sits quietly just within reach of the lapping ocean waves. In the distance she can hear the rhythmic drums and the upbeat flutes of the islanders as they celebrate their annual Fire God festival. The scent of roasted swine rises from the thin grey cooking fires at the center of the nearby village. Above, a sea gull screeches and below, the ocean once again rolls in around Nissa, playfully embracing her as she meditates. Searching the soul of the world, she senses the snuffing out of another island-searing lava scorching it down to the sands, leaving only obsidian behind. The second island, this week. The fifth this month.      Jace finalizes his inspection of the ship the islanders so happily helped him build. Though they have never built anything quite like it, Jace was able to telepathically share the shipbuilding skills and knowledge he learned on Ixalan. They have enough supplies to last them well over a month. He glances at Nissa and decides not to disturb her. Instead, he heads into his cabin and once again presses his palms against the table, already starting to wear in those places by the constant pressure and practice, and gazes upon the chart before him. Though it had required a lot of sailing in ships he was far less familiar piloting, he and Nissa had managed to visit enough islands for Jace to glean a fairly accurate map from the collected thoughts of the most experienced sailors of each village. But now they were ready. At every stop, Nissa spent most of her time meditating, searching the sea floor, communing with the world’s soul, seeking for the sunken city of Atlantis. Between all her hard work and all of Jace’s research, they are close to finding its exact position.   

(Island: Magic 2010) (Art by Fred Fields)

   But their time is running short. Volcanoes, both underwater and those above, that have been silent and slumbering for millennia are awakening with a tremendous violence. Entire islands have been washed away. Others have been buried beneath molten rock. If the stories sung in the songs of the Slumbering Fire God are true, then the only way to stop these devastating disasters is to find Atlantis and search the secrets therein for a way to calm the unruly world.      Of all the worlds Jace had ever learned about, of all the worlds Nissa had ever touched, this one was the most innocent. Yes, every village has its quarrels and grudges and power struggles. And on the rare occasion neighboring islands might even go to war against one another. But compared to many of the worlds the Gatewatch had operated in... well...saving this one had a personal stake for them.      Jace looks up toward the far end of the island and sees a boat, similar to his own, approaching. Finjamin! The merfolk biomancer who had gone to Ravnica to implore the Gatewatch for their help had gathered the bravest souls from the archipelago. Not one of them could possibly have been older than two dozen years. Yet they dared to brave the seas in search of the sunken city, from whence no explorer had ever returned from whence they had sought to find.      Nissa smiles, sensing the ship approaching before she sees it. She stands and dusts the sand from her skirt, saying, “See what we are here for, Jace. For the life of every plane, and every life it nurtures.”      The telepath nods and takes a moment to look beyond the mission, to see the world they were here to help save. He smiles. “For the people.” He says to himself, leaning on the rails. “Let‘s go find Atlantis, Nissa. Let’s save the world.”

Feudal Japan: Ninjas and Samurais 

     Liliana walks upon the wooden floor of her courtyard, along the coy ponds, and amidst the blooming Cherry Blossoms. The running water between the several ponds babbles a soft melody in the background. She reaches up and plucks a flower from a branch. The necromancer smells it and allows herself to smile for just a moment...before slowly proceeding to tear it apart, one petal at a time until at last she crumbles the remains in her black, silken, gloved hands, and scatters the remains in the gentle breeze. A soft, warm, orange from the setting sun colors the sky and graces her face as she heads back into her palace. The smell of incense greets her as she slides open the doors and walks in. Running her hand along the wooden walls, her mauve silken kimono’s skirts brushing gently against the floor, she heads to the shogun’s war room. She slides open the door and sees Gideon raptly paying attention to a demon masked messenger proclaiming nonsense about ‘the glory of Shogun Lix’ and ‘total surrender or total destruction’. Nothing important. Liliana watches Gideon miraculously keep a stoic face of seriousness throughout the entire speech. Gideon looks good with his long hair in a pony tail. But the hunk of meat is still the same man he’s always been. Stoic. Righteous. Selfless. Unyieldingly boring. But at the very least, pretty to look at. When the messenger concludes, Gideon politely dismisses him with the promise of a safe passage out of his realm.      Gideon turns to face her once they’re alone and says, “Have your ninjas found the Blade of Kings?”

(Tatsumasa, the Dragon’s Fang: Champions of Kamigawa)  (Art by Martina Pilcerova)      “They have. Shogun Fa has been hiding it this entire time. How much trouble we could have saved had we just gone and wiped them out earlier like I suggested.”      “You know that was never an option. The only reason we’ve fought the other Shoguns is because-”      Yeah, yeah. ‘It was an absolute necessity with no other possible solution‘.“ She quoted. “I’ve heard your speech. But you have yet to understand that when Ob Nixilis is the enemy, there are no neutral parties, soldier boy. In some form or other, everything that doesn’t directly stand against him is his pawn.“      Gideon furrows his brow but doesn’t disagree. Instead he turns around and leans on the table with his elbow. “This is the closest we’ve ever come to stopping him, Liliana. We’re so close. By all accounts, Ob Nixilis should have defeated us by now. He surpasses my tactical talents by miles. But with you reanimating every samurai that our forces lose or kill we’ve managed to keep the scales balanced. For now, at least..”      “Don‘t feel bad, Gid-boy. He‘s called you his arch-nemesis. Surely that counts for something.”      He scoffs but his mood lightens. “Has Narset discovered what the Blade of Kings is yet?”      “She mentioned something about it being able to sever mana lines and eradiate magic and other weapon-of-ultimate-power type of things. So serious that one... I don’t like her.”      “Narset is normally a very serious woman. And you know why she’s here. Jace can’t be everywhere at once and you chose to come here rather than to join him on Oceania. But that’s neither here nor there. Focus, Liliana. We can’t let a weapon so powerful fall into the wrong hands.“      “That happy little world was just a little too sunny for me... And personally, Gideon, I could care less if we, or anyone else really, get our hands on that weapon or not. I just want the satisfaction of having taken it from under Ob Nixilis’ pointy demonic nose.“

Nordic: Barbarians, Vikings, and the Norse Gods 

     Up in Valhalla the gods are faced with, for the first time, the fear of mortality. Ragnarok is coming. All the omens and portends prophesized by the oracles ages ago have begun to manifest. The Great Chill has lasted for nearly two years now. The Hell Hound raids have drastically increased in number and ferocity. The mountains rumble and groan and quake. Astrid of the Grey-Claw clan, daughter of the chieftain, humbled herself and came to Ravnica to plead for the Gatewatch’s help. Ajani sees in her what he saw in Elspeth. A warrior looking for a home to feel safe at. Young. Beautiful. But above all fierce and brave. He happily swore his service.       Ajani, Astrid, and her Relentless Crew board their longboats, sailing to the North, into the ever colder waters of the Poles. Even though the Great Chill has buried much of this world in snow, Ajani can see that this world was once beautiful. Yet the gods offer no help to save it. Instead, they bicker amongst themselves as they decide whether to fight against destiny or stand out of the way and hope that Ragnarok, whatever it may be, spares them. The gods are always useless.       In the few times they stop to rest, Ajani listens to The Relentless Crew sing songs of the world before it was covered in snow. They drink heavily, and they dance merrily, and they laugh heartily. Astrid enjoys the merry making as much as her loyal crew do. Seeing the vibrant life in their eyes, Ajani knows he can’t let this world down. He won’t watch another life as full and as rich as Astrid’s meet Elspeth’s fate. Ajani’s heart couldn’t take it.      They sing of their homeland: Beloved tundras, irritating rams, babbling creeks, tranquil lakes, lush green lands, glory, and joy, and love. The world is cold, but the love the people have for it make it warm. Whatever Ragnarok is, it’ll face the best this world has to offer. 

(Mountain: Khans of Tarkir Variant 2) (Art by Titus Lunter)

     Stirring beneath the mountains of the North are horrors that worship and praise the coming of the apocalypse. Ragnarok, Phyrexia’s greatest Dragon Engine, is almost done repairing itself. It was created to destroy Urza Planeswalker-- and it nearly succeeded had the planeswalker named Serra not intervened. When repairs finish, Ragnarok will destroy this icy world on which it was trapped for so long and then it will go find whatever remains of Phyrexia. With its Planar Matrix, it will warp itself between through the Blind Eternities until it finds whatever remains of its masters. Once reunited, Ragnarok will deliver the Glory of Phyrexia across the multiverse, unimpeded! RISE RAGNAROK! RISE!

Conclusion

That’s all I‘ve got for today, folk! Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think about this type of article. Don’t worry. My informative articles, opinion pieces, and essays will remain as they are. I just want to get a feel for how much my audience has patience for this type of stuff.

For more from me, at Story Telling Time, hit that “Follow“ button. If you enjoyed what you read, spread the world and hit that “Reblog“ button. Once again, thanks for reading. See ya next time!

[crimson-errant]

Dark Souls: Fighting Prowess

@astoran-exemplar​ this was supposed to be that headcanon you asked about Astora ages ago, but my mind likes to wander on different topics so this happened lol.

Warrior nation headcanons to pass the time.

Astora, the Noble, the Tactician

The epitome of class and nobility, not unlike heroic kingdoms as described in poems and fairy-tales. They are a people of noble blood, defined by chivalric concepts typical to the honors that come with knighthood, something I imagine to be quite important in their culture.

Astoran warriors are trained from childhood both academically and physically, becoming two equal parts thinkers and fighters. Historically, many of the greatest tacticians and generals have been Astoran in origin.

Astoran combat practices revolve primarily around the use of conventional arms and a relatively simple yet effective form of martial arts with little in terms of flair, at least outside of ceremony. But the true strength of an Astoran warrior comes not from the flourish of their steel, but from their keen adaptive mind. A single strike is as important as the control of their very breathing, as every action is a calculated motion, an important set piece to the larger strategy.

Balder, the Skillful, the Duelist

Known in canon as the brave men and women who stood beside the legendary King Rendal, he and the knights of Balder were known to be the most skillful swordsmen of their age, the lot of them legends in their own right.

I imagine them to be calculated fighters, but not exactly in the same way Astorans are. Their prowess comes from complete mastery over that craft -- the ability to read and counter any martial form. Put simply, they’re the greatest swordsmen of their time.

Berenike, the Powerful, the Conqueror

Said to be born of Giants and Men, the mighty Berenfolk of Berenike are warriors unlike their sister nation of Balder. They are born to a frigid land of relentless winds and endless winters, with frozen beasts as savage as the demons of izalith. 

The Berenfolk are conquerors, and rightly feared by the world, for they have waged war with nearly every kingdom and country of their age. No land is left unscathed by their thundering march. Perhaps they would have taken this realm ages ago if not for Balder’s staying hand.

Fittingly, Berenike warriors wield only the heaviest of arms and armament: Heavy Plate Armor, Great Hammers, Greatswords. No tool is too big. As it stands, their preferred method of problem-solving involves crushing it under needlessly excessive amounts of weight.

Catarina, the Brave, the Adventurer

For every tale recounting both legend and hero, forever constant is the glory and name of Catarina. Though it may seem odd to see these cheerful folk as ones to live by the sword, never doubt the reality that those of Catarina are the bravest in this entire caliber. 

I like to think of them as more bard-like -- they’ll sing of their own exploits as much as those of the company they keep. After all, no tale is worth telling without those to be merry with.

They might not be the strongest nor the most agile, but they are fighters through and through, and there is no prouder warrior than one of Catarina.

Forossa, the Fearless, the Mercenary

More mercenary than military; A motley bunch of brigands, brawlers, and fighters of all shapes and sizes, uniformed only by the steel on their hearts and the coats on their shoulders -- and unified by the most glorious of battle cries fit to beckon their very gods of war. And maybe a stiff round of drinks.

Their method of fighting is about as varied as their weaponry, maybe similar only by how reckless they are. Viking warriors would be the short description.

[ladystylestores]

‘My Nigerian great-grandfather sold slaves’

Slave Driving In Africa In The 19Th Century. From Africa By Keith Johnston, Published 1884.

Amid the global debate about race relations, colonialism and slavery, some of the Europeans and Americans who made their fortunes in trading human beings have seen their legacies reassessed, their statues toppled and their names removed from public buildings.

Nigerian journalist and novelist Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani writes that one of her ancestors sold slaves, but argues that he should not be judged by today’s standards or values.

Short presentational grey line

My great-grandfather, Nwaubani Ogogo Oriaku, was what I prefer to call a businessman, from the Igbo ethnic group of south-eastern Nigeria. He dealt in a number of goods, including tobacco and palm produce. He also sold human beings.

“He had agents who captured slaves from different places and brought them to him,” my father told me.

Nwaubani Ogogo’s slaves were sold through the ports of Calabar and Bonny in the south of what is today known as Nigeria.

People from ethnic groups along the coast, such as the Efik and Ijaw, usually acted as stevedores for the white merchants and as middlemen for Igbo traders like my great-grandfather.

They loaded and offloaded ships and supplied the foreigners with food and other provisions. They negotiated prices for slaves from the hinterlands, then collected royalties from both the sellers and buyers.

Several European nations had slave compounds in what is now Nigeria

About 1.5 million Igbo slaves were shipped across the Atlantic Ocean between the 15th and 19th Centuries.

More than 1.5 million Africans were shipped to what was then called the New World – the Americas – through the Calabar port, in the Bight of Bonny, making it one of the largest points of exit during the transatlantic trade.

Graphic showing the slave trade

Short presentational grey line

The only life they knew

Nwaubani Ogogo lived in a time when the fittest survived and the bravest excelled. The concept of “all men are created equal” was completely alien to traditional religion and law in his society.

“Assessing the people of Africa’s past by today’s standards would compel us to cast the majority of our heroes as villains”https://ift.tt/2HfCbR7;, Source: Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani, Source description: Nigerian journalist, Image: Statue

It would be unfair to judge a 19th Century man by 21st Century principles.

Assessing the people of Africa’s past by today’s standards would compel us to cast the majority of our heroes as villains, denying us the right to fully celebrate anyone who was not influenced by Western ideology.

Story continues

Igbo slave traders like my great-grandfather did not suffer any crisis of social acceptance or legality. They did not need any religious or scientific justifications for their actions. They were simply living the life into which they were raised.

That was all they knew.

Short presentational grey line

Slaves buried alive

The most popular story I’ve heard about my great-grandfather was how he successfully confronted officials of the British colonial government after they seized some of his slaves.

“My great-grandfather apparently did not consider it fair that his slaves had been seized”https://ift.tt/2HfCbR7;, Source: Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani, Source description: Nigerian journalist, Image: White traders inspect African slaves during a sale, circa 1850

The slaves were being transported by middlemen, along with a consignment of tobacco and palm produce, from Nwaubani Ogogo’s hometown of Umuahia to the coast.

My great-grandfather apparently did not consider it fair that his slaves had been seized.

Buying and selling of human beings among the Igbo had been going on long before the Europeans arrived. People became slaves as punishment for crime, payment for debts, or prisoners of war.

The successful sale of adults was considered an exploit for which a man was hailed by praise singers, akin to exploits in wrestling, war, or in hunting animals like the lion.

Igbo slaves served as domestic servants and labourers. They were sometimes also sacrificed in religious ceremonies and buried alive with their masters to attend to them in the next world.

Slavery was so ingrained in the culture that a number of popular Igbo proverbs make reference to it:

Anyone who has no slave is his own slave

A slave who looks on while a fellow slave is tied up and thrown into the grave with his master should realise that the same thing could be done to him someday

It is when the son is being given advice that the slave learns

The arrival of European merchants offering guns, mirrors, gin, and other exotic goods in exchange for humans massively increased demand, leading people to kidnap others and sell them.

How slaves were traded in Africa

A Group Of Captured Africans Being Led Away By A White Slaver. From L’univers Illustre Published In Paris In 1868.

European buyers tended to remain on the coast

African sellers brought slaves from the interior on foot

Journeys could be as long as 485km (300 miles)

Two captives were typically chained together at the ankle

Columns of captives were tied together by ropes around their necks

10%-15% of captives died on the way

Source: Encyclopaedia Britannica

Short presentational grey line

Resisting abolition

The trade in African people continued until 1888, when Brazil became the last country in the Western hemisphere to abolish it.

“We think this trade must go on.That is the verdict of our oracle and our priests”https://ift.tt/2HfCbR7;, Source: King of Bonny, Source description: 19th Century, Image: Image of slave

When the British extended their rule to south-eastern Nigeria in the late 19th Century and early 20th Century, they began to enforce abolition through military action.

But by using force rather than persuasion, many local people such as my great-grandfather may not have understood that abolition was about the dignity of humankind and not a mere change in economic policy that affected demand and supply.

“We think this trade must go on,” one local king in Bonny infamously said in the 19th Century.

“That is the verdict of our oracle and our priests. They say that your country, however great, can never stop a trade ordained by God.”

The Missionary Society was formed in London in 1799 by British anti-slavery campaigners

As far as my great-grandfather was concerned, he had a bona fide trading licence from the Royal Niger Company, a British company that administered commerce in the region in the last quarter of the 19th Century.

So when his property was seized, an aggrieved Nwaubani Ogogo boldly went to see the colonial officers responsible and presented them with his licence. They released his goods, and his slaves.

“The white people apologised to him,” my father said.

Short presentational grey line

Slave trade in the 20th Century

Acclaimed Igbo historian Adiele Afigbo described the slave trade in south-eastern Nigeria which lasted until the late 1940s and early 1950s as one of the best kept secrets of the British colonial administration.

While the international trade ended, the local trade continued.

“The government was aware of the fact that the coastal chiefs and the major coastal traders had continued to buy slaves from the interior,” wrote Afigbo in The Abolition of the Slave Trade in Southern Nigeria: 1885 to 1950.

He added that the British tolerated the ongoing trade on political and economic grounds.

British traders were at the heart of the slave trade, before the UK government abolished the trade

They needed the slave-trading chiefs for effective local governance, and for the expansion and growth of legitimate trade.

Sometimes, they also turned a blind eye rather than jeopardise a useful alliance, as seems to have been the case when they returned Nwaubani Ogogo’s slaves.

That incident deified Nwaubani Ogogo among his people. Here was a man who successfully confronted the white powers from overseas. I have heard the story from relatives, and have read about it.

It was also the beginning of a relationship of mutual respect with the colonialists that led to Nwaubani Ogogo being appointed a paramount chief by the British administration.

He was the government’s representative to the people in his region, in a system known as indirect rule.

How the UK abolished slavery. [ 1833 Parliament outlawed slavery in most British colonies ],[ 1834 Law took effect ],[ 800,000 slaves were freed ],[ £20m allocated to pay for “damages” suffered by owners ],[ 0 compensation for freed slaves ], Source: Source: Encyclopaedia Britannica, Image:

Records from the UK’s National Archives at Kew Gardens show how desperately the British struggled to end the internal trade in slaves for almost the entire duration of the colonial period.

They promoted legitimate trade, especially in palm produce. They introduced English currency to replace the cumbersome brass rods and cowries that merchants needed slaves to carry. They prosecuted offenders with prison sentences.

“By the 1930s, the colonial establishment had been worn down,” wrote Afigbo.

“As a result, they had come to place their hope for the extirpation of the trade on the corrosive effect over time of education and general civilisation.”

Short presentational grey line

Working with the British

As a paramount chief, Nwaubani Ogogo collected taxes on behalf of the British and earned a commission for himself in the process.

He presided over cases in native courts. He supplied labourers for the construction of rail lines. He also willingly donated land for missionaries to build churches and schools.

“My great-grandfather is renowned for his business prowess, strong leadership, immense contribution to society, and advancement of Christianity”https://ift.tt/2HfCbR7;, Source: Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani, Source description: Nigerian journalist, Image: Church

The house where I grew up and where my parents still live sits on a piece of land that has been in my family for over a century.

It was once the site of Nwaubani Ogogo’s guest house, where he hosted visiting British officials. They sent him envelopes containing snippets of their hair to let him know whenever they were due to arrive.

Nwaubani Ogogo died sometime in the early 20th Century. He left behind dozens of wives and children. No photographs exist of him but he was said to have been remarkably light-skinned.

In December 2017, a church in Okaiuga in Abia State of south-eastern Nigeria was celebrating its centenary and invited my family to receive a posthumous award on his behalf.

Nwaubani Ogogo donated land to Christian missionaries

Their records showed that he had provided an armed escort for the first missionaries in the area.

My great-grandfather was renowned for his business prowess, outstanding boldness, strong leadership, vast influence, immense contributions to society, and advancement of Christianity.

The Igbo do not have a culture of erecting monuments to their heroes – otherwise one dedicated to him might have stood somewhere in the Umuahia region today.

“He was respected by everyone around,” my father said. “Even the white people respected him.”

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[ashafriesen]

500 Plus Unique Indian Baby Names 2020

500 Plus Unique Indian Baby Names 2020

Your name is something you have have to live with the rest of your life so it becomes very important for the parent to choose a name for their baby carefully. I was called ‘Anamika'(one without a name) for the longest time because my  parents could not select a name. Since we believe in the power of names and since we don’t want you to live in this mystery we have again taken the pains to create a new list for unique Indian Baby Names 2020 for you guys with their meanings. Hope you make the best choice :);

 NAMES OF BOYS: UNIQUE INDIAN BABY NAMES 2020

AARAV: Peaceful.

 AARUSH: Calm, Brilliant, First Ray.

ADVIK: Unique.

AYAAN: Gift of God.

ANIRUDH: Boundless.

AAKESH: Lord of Sky.

ABHIK: Brave.

AKARSH: Divine.

ANISH: Sun God.

BHUVI: Earth.Heaven; Bliss. Land

BHAVIN: To exist, winner.

CAITYA: Pertaining to the mind

CHARVIK: Intelligent

CARTER: Carrier

CHINMAY: Lord Ganesha.

CHAYAN: Choose in preference to another.

DIYAN: Leader, lamp

DAKSH: Capable, Fire, Gold, Excellent, Talented.

DAAMAN: Self Controlled

DAARSHIK: Perceiver

DAARUK: Charioteer of Krishna

DAARUN: Strong male

DEVANSH: Demigod, Part of God.

DHIR: Perseverance.

DARSHIT: Pay respect.

DIVYANSH: Divine part.

DHRUV: Pole Star.

DABEET: Warrior

DAESHIM: Great Mind

DAISHIN: Great Truth

DIVIT: Someone who has conquered death

DYAB: One who preserves

DIV: Gentle

DISHT: Settled

DJAMEL: Beauty

EDHAS: Happiness

EHAN: Expectations.

EESHAN: Lord Shiva.

ERISH: To cherish.

EHIT: Ever Smiling.

EKANSH: Complete, Whole.

ESAIKO: Lord of music

EDI: A herb

EKA- Lord Vishnu

EKESA- The Sole God

EILA: Mother Earth

EKAVIR: Bravest 

EKRAM: Honour

ESHIT: Desired

EKACHIT- Possessing one’s mind

EKANA- Lord Vishnu

EKAYANA- Worldly Wisdon

EKISA- One God

EAHAAS- feeling

FALISH- Indian Tulip

FALAK- Heaven

FANEESH: Lord Shiva

FREY: Exalted One.

FRAVASH: Guardian Angel.

FUAD: Heart.

FAIYAZ: Artistic.

GADDIn- Lord Krishna

GUHAH- Garud

GIRIK- Lord Shiva

GRAHISH: Lord of Planets.

GARV: Pride.

HANUL- Haveing Strong Teeth

HANUSH- Happy

HREDHAAN: One with Great Heart.

HEMISH- Lord of the Earth

HIREN: Warrior, Unique, Priceless.

HARRY: Army Man

HANEESH: Ambition, Lord Shiva.

HANSIN- The Universal Soul

HARIN- Pure

HERAMB- A respected and calm person

HANSH: God alike.

IKSHAN: Sight

IJAY- Lord Ganesha

ISAM- Self Made

IRAVAN- King of the ocean

ISAIKO- King Of Music

INDVEER: Indian Lotus

IBHANAN- Lord Ganesha

IDHANT- Luminous

INU- Charming

IJAY- lord Vishnu

INAS- Capable

ILESH- Lord Of The Earth

INDUJ- Planet Mercury

ISHAN: The Lord Sun, Guardian of North East.

ISHANT: Cute Baby, Lord Shiva.

IRISH: Lord of the Earth.

ISHIR: Fire, Powerful, Refreshing.

JAGAT: World.

JAI: Victory.

JAIAN- Victorious

JYRAN: Lost Love

JIVAJ: Full Of Life

JAIVIN: Honest

JANAV: Lord Krishna

JANYA: Born

JAYAN: Victorious

JIVIN: To give life

KAHILL: Best friend

KAIF: Mood

KHASHI: Pious

KINAl: Extremes in fortune

KEYUR: Armlet

KANISH: Caring

KAIRAV: White Lotus

KANV: Name of a saint

KAVISH: King of poets

KUNSH: Shining

KVANH: Melodious sounds

KRISH: Compassionate, Harvest

KARTIK: Inspiring with Courage and Joy.

KAPIL: Another name of Lord Vishnu. Fair Complexioned.

KIAAN: King, Ancient, Generations.

KUVAM: Sun

LARAN: Psychic powers and abilities

LAVI: Lion

LOGU: Blessing of God

LAIHAN: glittering

LAHAR: Wave

LARRAJ: Sage

LAI: The Beloved One

LIKITH: Writer

LAKSH: Aim, Target, Goal.

LAVITRA: Lord Shiva

LAKSHT: Targeted.

LAKSHAY: Target.

LIYAN: Cute.

MADHI: Lord Shiva

MUNES: Saint

MUGILAN: Lord of Clouds

MUNA: Wish

MEER: chief

MIKUL: Comrade

MANAS: Wise.

MADHAV: Sweet like Honey, Another name of Lord Krishna.

MITUL: Limited Friend.

MAYUR: Peacock.

NOOH: A prophet

NRIP: King

NAEF: Surplus

NADISH: God of river

NAISHAl: Parvat

NIDHISH: Lord of treasure

NABHYA: Lord Shiva

NALIN: Lotus

NARYA: Powerful

NAKSH: Moon.

NIHIT: God Gift

NEHAN: Beautiful

NITYAN: Eternal

NAITIK: Good in nature

NADIN: Lord of Rivers

NAMAN: Good Fundamental Nature.

NAYAN: Eyes.

NACHIKET: Fire.

NEEL: Blue.

NAKIN: One who dwells in heaven

NAKUL: Mongoose.

OMKAR: derived from OM having religious sentiments.

ORMAN: A Seaman.

OHAS: Praise.

OGAAN: United.

OVI: A holy message for the saint

OVIYAN: Artist

ORIS: Gentle, tree

ONI: Shelter

OOJAM: Enthusiasm

PORAM: Being Supreme

PACHAI: Youthful

PANAV: Prince

PINAK: Bow of lord Shiva

PRABIR: Hero

PRANEEL: A Name of Lord Shiva.

PALAM: Fruit.

PARAM: The Best.

PRANAY: Romance.

PRIYANSH: Most valuable part of something.

PARTH: Son of Mother Earth.

PRANAV: Praise.

PRANEEL: Name of Lord Shiva.

PRATYUSH: Dawn

PURU: A legendary King

RAJIH: Respondent

RAGIL: Silvery

RAVISHU: Cupid

RISHIK: Lord Shiva

RAHAS: Delight

RAJIB: Sun God

RAGHAV: Descendant of Raghu, Lord Ram.

RANVIR: Hero of the Battle.

RYAN: Descendant of the King.

RATISH: Kamdev

RAAJ: Kingdom.

RACHIT: Invention.

RANBIR: Brave Warrior.

RAYAAN: Fragrant Herb.

REYANSH: Ray of Light.

RONITH: Charming.

RUSHIL: Charming.

SAIM: fasting

SACHISH: Lord Indra

SHULI: Lord Shiva

SHAAR: habit

SAUD: Fortunate

SAHAJ: Easy

SARAS: Moon

SAMIK: Peaceful

SANURAG: Affectionate

SAVIR: Leader

SAVIT: Sun

SHANAY: Power of lord Shani

SHALIN: Modest

SHEIL: Mountain

SOHIL: Beautiful

SOUMIL: Friend

SAKSHAM: Competent.

SATVIK: Calm.

SOUMIL: Friend

SHRESHT: Best of All.

SAMAKSH: Presence.

SAMAR: War.

SAMESH: Lord of Equality.

SAKET: A place close to Heaven.

TASH: King fo heart

TIRU: Holy

THEJU: Bright

TANESH: Lord Shiva

THAMIL: Beauty

THANSA: King of Earth

TAARANK: Part of a star

TAHIR: Holy

TAKSA: Son Of Bharatha

TAALISH: Lord Of Earth

TANAY: It means a Son.

TAVISH: Strong and Energetic.

USWA: Practice

UHUD: Commitment

UDIT: Rise.

UNAISA: Sweetheart

UJESH: One who bestows light

UCHIT: Correct.

UDAR: Generous.

VAIKO: Great Politician

VEDANT: Knower of the Vedas.

VEER: Heroic.

VIVAN: Full of Life.

VIHAAN: Dawn, Morning.

VIDHAAN: Creator.

VIRAJ: Resplendent.

WEDANT: The Scriptures, Knower of the Vedas.

WAMAN: Short, 5th Incarnation of Lord Vishnu.

Xetrapati: Lord of the body

YUG: Era, Historic Period.

YAKSHITH: Permanent, Who is Made Forever.

YUVAN: Means Healthy and Young.

YAJVAN: Calm and Peaceful.

YASH: Reputation, Glory.

ZEV: Deer or Wolf

ZAYANT: Star, Victorious.

ZAYD: Abundance.

ZHYAN: Full of knowledge

ZAYAN: Beautifier.

  NAME OF GIRLS: UNIQUE INDIAN BABY NAMES 2020

AAMYA: Night rain, soft.

AAPU: Pure

ANCU: Grace

ASLESHA: Group Of stars

ARHSHEEYA: girl

AEZA: beautiful

AAKHI: Eyes

AANBI: Goddess Parvati

AANYA: Limitless, Inexhaustible.

AAROHI: Music Tune, Progressive.

AMOGHA: Fruitful

ATIKAH: Peace

ALINI: Life

AMAIRA: Forever Beautiful.

ANAISHA: Special.

AGHARTHA: Supernatural

AAKRUTHI: Structure

ADAH: Ornament, decorated.

ADARA: Purity

ADINA: God’s gift

AHANA: First rays of the sun.

ARDIKA: Beautiful Mountain

AKSHAINIE: Goddess parvati

AAKANKSHA: Wish or Desire.

ABHIDI: radiant

ABHINITHI: friendship

AARUSHI: First ray of Sun.

ADRISA: Lord of mountains

AKALKA: Pure

ALMAS: Diamond

ANAGA: Sinless

ANCHITHA: Honoured

ADYA: First.

AVANTIKA: Queen.

AMNA: Peace, Safety.

ANSHULA: Sunny

BIANCA: White

BINAL: The princess

BAGYA: Fortune

BILPA: Flower

BIJENDRI: Victory

BADANIKA: Wish

BHAROTI: Lovable

BHAGINI: Indra’s sister

BAIDEHI: Sita

BANDITA: blessed

BARUNI: Goddess Durga

BISHTI: Rain

BASABI: Wife of Lord Indira

BHARVI: Holy Plant

BARITE: Girl

BANDHULA:  charming

BASIMA: Ever smiling

BEEJA: origin of a soul

BINCE: Best among the rest

BHINI: Fragrance

BHRITHI: Strength

BIMBI: Glorius

BHANVI: rays of the sun

BENISHA: flashing

BHURVI: loyal

CANISA: Very dear

CHARA: Quiet

CHAYU: Shwoing respect

CHITI: Love

CETAKA: Thoughful

CHERLA: Love

CHALITH: Cute

CHERVI: Wife of Kuber

CHEKRIKA: Goddess lakshmi

CHARA: Quiet

CHARIL: Bright

CHAHAT: A girl longed and desired by many.

CHANDRAKA : Peacock

CHAYANA: Moon

CHESTA: Desire

CHARVI: Beautiful Lady.

DAMITA: Little princess

DAMSHI: powerful

DEBIKA: Like an angel

DEA: Kindness

DHAHIJA: daughter of milk

DRISHYA: Sight.

DHRITI: A girl with courage and determination.

DHWANI: The essence of sound and music.

DAARIKA: maiden

DEEBA: silk

DESHNA: gift

DEVIJA: Born in heaven

DALMATIA: Beautiful lamp

DHITA: beloved daughter

DEENAL: Sweet girl

DESIHA: happy

DHATRI: earth

DESHNA: valuable gift

DIPASHARI: Lamp

DRISANA: daughter of su

DAKSHATHA: skill

DALAJA: One produced from petals

DALIKA: Beautiful flower

DAIVI: Pious soul

ELAINA: bright and shining

ESTAA: Loving

EVA: Living.

EKANSHI: Pretty rare name of a girl who is a part of a whole.

ESHIKA: Dart

EVAAN: Beauty

ECCHITA: dewdrop

ELADEVI: brave

EKISHA: One Goddess

EASHI: happiness

ELAKSHI: Woman with sharp and bright eyes

ELILI: Beautiful

EBBANI: desire

ETASHI: Luminous

EVANI: The earth

EDNITA Evolved

EKAJA: Only child

FIRAKI: Fragrance

FANHA: Passing Away

FARA: Beauty of a Setting Sun.

FALGUNI: A traditional name for the beauty of the feminine.

FALEESHA: Indian Tulip.

FESHIKHA: Princess

FIROZA: Precious Gem.

GINA: Powerful Woman

GULIKA: pearl

GARGI: Strength and Serenity of Gooden Durga.

GHUSN: Twig

GITALI: Bringer of melodious songs and music.

GUL: Another name of a flower.

HANA: Happiness

HRISHITA: One who brings joys and satisfaction in her life.

HIMANI: Another name derived from Goddess Durga

HAMSA: Swan

HAVYA: Beautiful

IHITHA: desire

IKSHANA: sight

IKMANI: One with one heart and one soul

IHINAA: enthusiasm

ISHYA: Spring

IDHITRI: One who praises

ILISHA: Queen of earth

IKSHU: sweet as sugarcane

IKSHULA: Holy river

IKSHURA: fragrant grass

ILYASINI: Music

IMANI: trustworthy

ITEESHREE: Start

INDULALA: moonlight

INU: attractive

IPSA: Ambition

IYLA: moonlight

IPSITA: desired

IBHA: hope

IDITRI: complimentary

INIYA: Sweet.

JEEL: silent lake

JALEH: rain

JUI: flower

JALPA: discussion

JANAI: God has answered

JANYA: born

JIERA: Beautiful One

JOYEL: God

JASU: The one who is brainy

JILPA: life giving

JOVITHA: joy

JAANVI: As precious as your Life.

JAGRITI: One who awakens all the minds.

JANNAT: Someone who belongs to the paradise.

JIYA: Someone who is close to the heart.

JUANA: flower

JIVIKA: Source of life.

KOCHAI: nomad

KALYA: Pleasant

KAPARDINI: A Goddess 

KARABI: A flower

KAUSHEY: Silken

KECIA: Beautiful Rain

KEIYONA: Morning star

KODHAI: beautiful girl

KAASNI: flower

KALAPI: Peacock

KRUPALI: One filled with Forgiveness.

KAALIMA: Blackish

KALPITA: Creative

KANUSHI: Beloved of Lord Krishna

KARALIKA: Goddess Durga

KAUMADI: Full moon

KURANGI: deer

KUVAM: Sun

LIJA: devoted to God

LUMA: sunset

LUJA: Of great depth

LEKISHA: Life

LOLAKSI: A sakti of Ganesha

LUMBIKA: a musical instrument

LALANA: Beautiful woman

LOVYA: Piece of love

LABUKI: musical instrument

LAASYA: Dance performed by Parvati

LIYA: beautiful

LAVANYA: Beauty.

LAHARI: sweet

LALASA: Love

LATANGI: creeper

LIPI: Script.

LAVALI: clove

LAVENIA: purified

LAYA: rhythm

LEORA: light 

MOULI: Lord Shiva

MAIS: proud

MARVI: Beauty redefined

MAYIL: Full of grace

MADRI: Wife of Pandu

MIKULA: Beauty

MESHA: Long life

MANINI: self respect

NYRA: The beauty of Goddess Saraswati

NOSHI: Sweet

NOOR: Light.

NAINIKA: Pupil of the Eye.

NAVYA: Bringer of all that is new and fresh in the world.

NIHARIKA: Fragility of a dewdrop.

OMISHA: Goddess of Life and Death.

OISHI: Divine

OORVI: Earth

OJAL: Bright vision of tomorrow.

OJASWINI: Person of grace and beauty of the feminine form.

PARINA: Fairy

PRINA: Content

PIYALI: A tree.

PARINAAZ: Sweet fairy like daughters.

PANKHURI: Flower Petals.

PURUVI: magnificence of the East Sun.

PARUL: Graceful.

PALLAVI: New Leaves.

RAYA: Flow

REJI: rejoice

RAMRA: splendor

RUMA: Vedic Hymn

RUTWA: speech

SEEM: Flower

SHEZA: Good religious girl

SAAIQA: lightning

SUVI: summer

SRIA: Happy

SANEMA: perfect

SANSITHA: praise

TISHA: Excellent

TIYA: Gorgeous as a flying bird.

TAAHIRA: Absolutely Pure.

UNAISA: Sweetheart

VARALI: RAAG In Carnatic Music

VANANI: Forest

VRUND: Radha

VAANI: Manifestation of the voice of the Goddess.

VANYA: Gift granted by Lord himself.

VIDHI: Bringer of destiny.

VRUSHTI: Beauty of the first rain.

VALERIA: Girls growing up to be a strong woman.

WAHIDA: Peerless, Unique.

YASHVI: Bringer of fame and fortune.

YUTI: Holy name for a holy union of the good in the world.

YUTIKA: Multitude

YAMINI: Nocturnal.

YUKTA: Skillful, Yoked, United and Absorbed.

YASHASHVI: Famous.

YUVIKA: A young woman, Young girl, Maid.

YASHIKA: Success.

YAMKA: Name resembling flower.

ZWALAKI: Firing Star

ZIL: Girl

ZARA: Name for a daughter who is a princess.

ZUHI: harbinger of light in everyone’s life.

ZISHYA: Scholar

ZORA: Daybreak

ZANISHA: Ruler of Humans.

So that’s the list of 500 plus unique Indian Baby Names 2020. We hope you make memories while picking up a name for your newborn. Do let me know which name you finally choose :).

The post 500 Plus Unique Indian Baby Names 2020 appeared first on Maa of All Blogs.

500 Plus Unique Indian Baby Names 2020 published first on https://parentcenternetwork.tumblr.com/

[bighound-littlebird]

The Alarm that Never Sounded: GOT's treatment of the SanSan Romance

Originally posted here: https://asoiaf.westeros.org/index.php?/topic/88073-from-pawn-to-player-rethinking-sansa-xx/&do=findComment&comment=4865409

When adapting female characters from ASOIAF into the TV show "Game of thrones", David Benioff and Dan Weiss aren't unlike Robert Baratheon: if they can't disrobe it, they're bored with it. Their rendition of Melisandre, for example, isn't an intimidating and imposing practitioner of dark and supernatural powers, but rather a seductress who's able to make people obey her only if she rewards them with sex (Stannis, Gendry) or gold (Brotherhood without Banners). One more example would be their rendition of Margaery Tyrell, who was turned from a teenage girl with a perfect facade and somewhat mysterious foundation, into a promiscuous lady willing to do anything – even have sex with both her brother and her husband simultaneously, as she proposes to the latter in Season 2 – in order to achieve her personal political ambitions that are literally limitless.

With that in mind, Sansa Stark never had a chance to be properly adapted in the show created by D&D. Now, the word 'properly' has a rather wide range of possible meanings, and this essay will attempt to examine at least some of them, but, for now, let's say that the most obvious aspect in which TV Sansa was shorthanded is her screen time. In "A Clash of Kings", the book that was the basis for the Season 2 of GoT, Sansa's POV chapters, along with Tyrion's, are the only ones that depict what's happening in King's Landing, the capital of The Seven Kingdoms and the center of political power in the story. This goes for the first two thirds of "A Storm of Swords" as well, e.g. until the moment Sansa escapes from King's Landing. In short, her chapters couldn't help but be of paramount importance in the narrative sense. In the show, however, Sansa's significance is greatly decreased, and not only because the show doesn't follow the "POV structure" of the novels, but because she's reduced to nothing but a prized captive for the Lannisters.

Yes, TV Sansa is a minor, and she's played by a minor, named Sophie Turner. Her age, due to the laws that forbid the usage of underage children in explicit sex scenes, prevented D&D from using Sansa in a way they adore. And her age couldn't be drastically changed without drastic consequences on her overall arc which is, in ACOK at least, built around her first period. That's why, for example, D&D couldn't cast Natalie Dormer – one of their favorite ASOIAF characters, by the way, because they did alter Margaery to suit the actress, instead of the other way around – in the role of Sansa, because Dormer, while certainly looking younger than she is, could never pass as a minor.

And that would probably be the only thing that makes Sansa off-limits for Natalie Dormer, or some other actress D&D adore, to play her in D&D's adaptation. Everything else would've been doable. Had George R. R. Martin not put her first period in the books, Sansa's age, promiscuity, vocabulary, even wardrobe, would've been changed accordingly to suit D&D's vision of a progressive Westerosi woman, which means the first three would've been amplified, while the fourth one – wardrobe – would definitely be reduced and freed from all the unnecessary parts. She'd probably even hook up with some rogue brute at some point; when she'd find the time for him, that is; after she's done with Joff, Tyrion, Lancel, and god knows who else, she'd certainly figure out cynical killers can occupy her bed just as good as other available men can.

Speaking of cynical killers – enter Sandor Clegane. One more character that, alas, couldn't be played by Natalie Dormer, and therefore not of particular interest to D&D. Sandor in the novels is a truly memorable fellow, who slowly but steadily grows in readers' eyes as the story progresses. At the beginning, he's nothing more than a merciless brute used only for killing people Lannisters want dead. Very soon, however, a reader finds out there might be some traces of soul under that rough surface. More and more we find out about Sandor, more and more intriguing and understandable he gets. Even – more likable.

Now, what makes him likable? The stories Littlefinger tells to Sansa?! Of course not. The stories Sandor himself keeps telling to Sansa are what fleshes him to the extent that was probably impossible to predict at the beginning of the series. Through his conversations with Sansa, we find out every important thing there is to know about him. Later on, when he hangs up with Arya, Sandor is already a fully developed character, whom we aren't discovering any more, but rather following. And he became like that precisely through his exchanges with Sansa.

The show went the other way, and a pretty odd way, at that. D&D decided it was better for Littlefinger to deliver the story of how Sandor's face got burned, and that decision carries some very serious consequences in regards to characterization. For example, Littlefinger appears as someone who does know the secrets of King's Landing, but, at the same time, as someone who doesn't hesitate to share those secrets with persons he doesn't have any control over. Yes, he warns Sansa not to tell anyone about the story; but, he warns her because, and here comes the funny part – Sandor is going to kill her.

Now, why isn't Littlefinger afraid Sandor's going to kill him? After all, isn't that the logical question because it's Littlefinger who offers Sandor's secrets to others? It seems there are only two possible answers: 1) Sandor is not that scary and dangerous as Littlefinger claims, or 2) Sandor is a dangerous fellow, but Littlefinger is the bravest individual alive, because he goes around telling the secrets of people that physically can literally eat him for breakfast; and he isn't shy even, because he doesn't fail to warn Sansa how dangerous is the situation he himself dares so boldly.

Whatever conclusion a viewer draws from there, something is going to be radically changed from the source material. Quite possibly, in fact, a lot of things are going to be altered. After the said scene, both Littlefinger and Sandor are drastically different than their book origins. And the characters we ended up with in the show, are not nearly as complex and intriguing as their book counterparts. This is especially true for Sandor, who's nothing if not scary and dangerous. He is supposed to frighten the living hell out of everyone who isn't his older brother. If you take that away from Sandor, you're only left with his tender side.

But, even his tender side was almost entirely removed from the show. This time, not only by Littlefinger, but also by Tyrion: in the throne room, when Joff orders Kingsguards to undress Sansa, Sandor stands there silently. His face expression suggests he isn't pleased with what he sees, but that's it. He doesn't stand up to his king with firm "That's enough" as in the book. It is therefore on Tyrion exclusively to deny Joffrey the pleasure of torturing the girl whose only crime was that she saw him in a moment of unflattering weakness. As in the books, TV Tyrion enters the room with his sellsword and he defends Sansa from Joff, but the important difference is that in the show it looks like Tyrion is the only one both willing to oppose Joffrey and capable of doing it. In the novel, we can sense that Sandor is ready to do the same thing, only, in his case, it comes with a much bigger risk, which is not without importance.

So, in this particular case, Sandor was sacrificed for the sake of TV Tyrion. TV Littlefinger, however, wasn't forgotten in that regard, because, once again, he's fed with lines that originally belong to Sandor. In the finale of the second season, it is Littlefinger who tells Sansa to look around and see how much better than her all those liars are. Just as the last time around, this change serves neither Littlefinger nor Sandor: the former's creepy-mentoring side is exposed much earlier than it would be logical, while the latter is robbed of yet another moment in which he shows how much he cares for Sansa and how protective he is toward her.

Sansa is a case on its own, as far as wrong adaptations are concerned. She's in the league with her mother Catelyn Stark, as two Stark women that were literally butchered in the show. The thing two of them have in common is the nature of their complexity: opposite to other female characters in ASOIAF, like Dany or Arya or Asha or Brienne or Cersei, Cat and Sansa aren't interested in hurting their enemies with their own hands, or, in the case of Dany, with her own dragons (this goes for Cersei, too, even though she's the one ordering the suffering of others, not committing it: her aggression is always personal, as we can sense in the first three novels). And, what's more, Sansa isn't interested in hurting anyone, actually. Cat does have an aggressive side in her; it's female aggression all the way, but aggression it is. Sansa, on the other hand, almost never desires other people to suffer in any way. There's only one noticeable exception: Joffrey. She does think on one or two occasions how nice it would be if Robb put a sword in Joff, and, by extension, she wishes Lannisters are defeated in the war against her family. However, we have to consider the situation she finds herself in at those moments – imprisoned by the Lannisters and at Joff's 'mercy' all the time; small miracle she wishes them ill. I've never been a girl arrested by the grave enemies of my family, but if I was, I'd definitely pray for their most horrible deaths every single night. And, we have to remember that, after Joff's death, she fails to feel happy over it, even though she tries to a little.

Therefore, it maybe isn't a stretch to say Sansa is probably the one character that is most unlike the author himself. Other major characters, especially POV ones, do resemble Martin at least partially. For males, it's obvious: even though GRRM never fought in a war, nor had any military training whatsoever, men are men; even in our day and age, no male is a complete stranger to war; while depicting all those dramatic battles and duels was quite an achievement (which no personal experience would make any easier, truth be told, because in ASOIAF the combat as a phenomenon is illustrated from any number of angles, each among them presented with an abundance of details), ultimately it was in himself where Martin could find a lot of answers about his male characters, whose position in a society is never independent from their combat prowess or lack of it. Female characters, on the other hand, had to be trickier, just like they always are for male authors – let's admit it, they are not that good in creating great females, just like women writers usually don't produce male characters that are a match to their female characters nor to the male heroes created by male authors. In our day and age, these "gender rules" are rarely spoken of, but they continue to exist, due to gender predispositions that are nowhere as strong as in the mind of an individual. There are exceptions, as in good male characters created by women and vice versa, but they are in a clear minority compared to underdeveloped or unrealistic characters whose only "fault" was that they didn't share the sex with an author. And in that regard, ASOIAF could very well be unparalleled: it is perhaps impossible to find any other story that features nearly as many memorable male and female characters both, as ASOIAF does (truth be told, that fact alone should be enough to inspire analysts and scholars to look at ASOIAF at a different, more demanding light, and not as a genre piece).

Martin's girls, however, aren't completely unlike the man who came up with them. Most of them are willingly participating in "men games", e.g. power-plays and/or wars, which makes for a precious connection to a male mindset of the author. They are thinking and behaving as women (or, in the case of Arya, and Dany to an extent, as girls), but all of them are interacting with something that, in all its glory and misery, can roughly be called "a man's world". Some of the most beautifully written chapters in the series are delivered from female POVs – The Red Wedding and Cersei's "Walk of Shame" come to mind right away; but, in a thematic sense, those and other female chapters don't differ too much from male POVs.

Except for Sansa's chapters, which unmistakably belong to something we can roughly call "a woman's world". Chapters of both male and female POVs in ASOIAF are often rich with testosterone, but Sansa’s ones are almost entirely driven by estrogen: look no further than her captivity in King's Landing, that actually is, as already said, focused around her first period – that decision solely should bring a lot of respect for Martin, because he had to know going that road is never easy for a male writer.

And the funniest thing is, it all fits. Sansa's storyline is distinctive in tone, but not odd. It is a legitimate part of the general plot of ASOIAF. In fact, as her story progresses, Sansa becomes more and more important for The Game, even though she showed no clear inclination to participate in it so far, but at the same time, Martin keeps Sansa away from all those "male" aspects he decorated other female characters of his saga.

And on top of everything, we're presented with her love story, a romance with no other than the man who, prior to discovering some delicate feelings for Sansa, could pose for an ideal brute of Westeros. At the beginning of the story, Sandor Clegane could be perceived as the exact opposite of Sansa. As someone who has no business whatsoever in her world, just like she has none in his. But, with some craft wording and master subtlety, Martin succeeds in illustrating the flood of emotions that go both ways in their relationship. Those emotions are never easy, nor appropriate, let alone allowed – even by Sansa and Sandor themselves! – but they're hard to be denied.

The complexity of their multilayered characters, of their respective positions in a society and in an ongoing war, and of their relationship that resists all known clichés, represent some of the strongest evidence that ASOIAF is much more than a genre piece. There's a lot in these novels that escapes genre boundaries, but nothing more evidently than SanSan. Stuff like that is not your usual fantasy element, no matter how flattering fantasy can be as a label (Homer, Shakespeare, Tolkien – to name just a few all-time greats that created unforgettable stories with supernatural aspects in them). Any author who comes up with that kind of love story involving those kind of characters – and with a legion of other characters, and with no less than four different religions, and with themes of honor, redemption, identity, bravery, equality, ancestry, legacy, freedom, revolution... – deserves to be analyzed not as a genre writer.

Now, one can only imagine what kind of enigma Sansa and Sandor were for Benioff and Weiss. And it pretty much remained unsolved, because, when faced with all the complexity of these two characters, Benioff and Weiss decided to remove it almost entirely, along with their relationship that is reduced to occasional and odd mentioning of 'little bird'. TV Sandor was simplified to a one-note brute that goes around TV Westeros and lectures people about the pleasures of killing, a one-note brute he never was in the novels, not even in the beginning of the saga. TV Sansa, on the other hand, was denied her book complexity by shutting down all her layers, one by one. For example, Benioff and Weiss completely removed her decision to go behind her father's back and inform Cersei of his plan. They simply refused to go down that road. They did something similar to Catelyn, whose infamous line to Jon they didn't remove entirely, but did replace it with a much softer one. It is pretty safe to assume that Cat's and Sansa's complexity did bother Benioff and Weiss from the get-go.

What's also removed from the show is Sansa's agency, primarily represented in the novels by her secret meetings with Dontos, a disgraced knight she herself saved from Joffrey. In the show, we got only the saving scene; it was filmed and executed clumsily, but it was there at least. However, until recently, nobody could be sure Sansa did save Dontos, because the man disappeared afterwards (he was briefly seen as joggling balls in "Blackwater" episode, in the scene in Cersei's chambers, but he was unrecognizable for the vast majority of audience). It is reported, though, that Dontos will be returning in Season 4, so yes, Sansa did save his life after all. But, even when he returns, Sansa's attempts at escaping will be two seasons younger than they should've been at that point, and it's hard to see a way D&D can remedy that neglect.

Show-lovers often defend D&D in regards to Sansa, by saying her personality is a difficult and tricky one for portraying on screen, because even in the books she's introverted. Now, maybe she isn't the most extroverted character ever, but she's pretty far from reclusive, as she does communicate with the outside world a lot at the beginning of the series, before she's imprisoned. And even while in captivity, she can't help but communicate with Sandor and Dontos. What's more, around two of them she is her true self, which provides a wide array of possibilities for a good and informative dialogue that, in an adaptation, could compensate for the lack of inner thoughts. With Dontos, she's open not only because she saved him, but also because he explicitly offers his help (and, truth be told, it is he who enabled her to leave King's Landing eventually, so, even though he wasn't exactly honest with her concerning his motivations, her trust wasn't as misplaced as it may seem at first). And with Sandor, she's open for no particular reason – other than those subtle, emotional forces, that both of them can't help but follow and eventually become the closest and most intimate beings to each other.

The way Martin incepted and developed the barely visible, but undeniable romance, between Sansa and Sandor, is nothing short of literary brilliance. With so few words and interactions, he managed so much. The vast majority of readers are aware of restrained attraction they mutually feel, even though they didn't share a single physical aspect of the romantic relationship.

Martin is indeed a master of subtlety, as evidenced by what looks like the endless amount of carefully hidden clues that point to any number of narrative puzzles, realization of which do make an entire story much richer than if taken at face value. And he's never more subtle than with two romances: Rhaegar/Lyanna and Sandor/Sansa. Now, the respective nature of subtlety of those two romances is rather different. With Rhaegar and Lyanna, a reader is – through Robert's retelling – offered a version that is actually the very opposite of what probably happened, and only later a reader can pick up clues here and there, and finally figure out the story of a fatal attraction between the two. But, the clues are presented throughout the text, so much that, even if you don't decipher everything after the first read, at the end of "A Game of Thrones" – the first book of the series – you'll probably sense that Robert's view on events wasn't exactly accurate.

The story of Sansa and Sandor is a very different one. Their relationship is never as much as addressed, even by themselves. Sandor isn't a POV character, and he's not exactly open to people, so his silence on the matter isn't unexpected. But, Martin didn't address their romance even in Sansa's chapters, which are typically packed with inner thoughts of the POV character. It looks like Martin decided to do it the harder way and make their romance somewhat a mystery even for Sansa, which, in hindsight, does seem to be the most logical way: what teenage girl would be fully aware of a romance that "inappropriate", and experienced in those dire circumstances?! As a result of that decision, the readers got a completely fascinating depiction of a romance, that can be described as a train you hear from miles away: at first, you can't even tell is it a train or some similar sound, but slowly, with every second, you're more and more certain that your ears didn't trick you, and very soon the train is so loud that it is the only thing you can hear at all. In the novels, a reader may find something strange at first, when Sandor shares the secret of his burned face with Sansa. Some alarm may be turned on deep inside. And it becomes more apparent each time two of them share a page, with a culmination during the Battle of the Blackwater Bay, when Sandor, after he decides to desert the Lannisters, visits Sansa in her room and offers to take her home to Winterfell.

It might be the only instance in the entire series where Sandor did ask anyone's approval, which does speak volumes about his feelings for Sansa. Considering the manner in which Martin described this romance, Sandor's actions on that day was as good as a confession of his deep attraction to her. Sansa, on the other hand, doesn't have a single moment which could be pointed at as a prime evidence of her undeniable love for The Hound, but this doesn't mean her feelings toward Sandor aren't palpable. It's one more mastery of the writer: through her frequent (and skewed, but in a telling way) memories on the last time she saw Sandor, he was able to show her feelings resonating more and more inside her.

In the show, Martin was denied a chance to do the same thing, even though he wrote the "Blackwater" episode in Season 2. Thanks to the already destroyed storyline, and to god knows how many changes, and to D&D's decision to remove from the final cut some scenes Martin referred to with his scenes, the one between Sansa and Sandor near the end of that episode, served more as a greeting to book-fans who like SanSan in the source material, than as a goodbye between two not unlike souls who shared much, and could have shared a lot more, and maybe are going to if they meet again. In that scene, Rory McCann was visibly better than usual as Sandor, and Sophie Turner was as good as usual, but, just like with anything ASOIAF, the scene doesn't have nearly the same impact and importance if taken out of context.

The exact context of their SanSan is yet to be fully revealed in the books, too. Because of the already mentioned subtlety – a quality that seems to intimidate showrunners Benioff and Weiss, who, in their turn, do retaliate with their on-screen war on subtlety (just recall what they turned other romances into; for example, the romance between TV Jon "Not The Brightest Kid In The Block" Snow and TV "I Know Everything And Therefore I Can't Stop Talking" Ygritte) – Sansa's and Sandor's love story is by no means an open book. Their romance has its own share of mystery, one of which may be: what inspired those two persons to feel so strongly for each other? Personally, I always thought their mutual attraction isn't only based on a "beauty and the beast" model. There is that, but in their case it goes deeper. If that was the engine behind his emotions, Sandor had more than enough opportunities to find a beauty for his beast long before Sansa entered his life. With Sansa, I'd say their mutual attraction is rooted in their personalities. For example, if you take away Sandor's aggression, he also isn't interested in hurting others. He's naturally talented for violence, and he lives in a society that respects that kind of talent, and that is why he's violent for a living, but at the end of the day, the suffering of others isn't any kind of reward for him. Possibly, because he isn't interested in other people that much. Though, when he is interested in someone, the interest is as strong as they come.

(We don't know at this point, but it's not a stretch to imagine that his reaction to the news that his hated brother was killed wasn't unlike Sansa's reaction to Joff's death. "Am I glad he's dead? Well, not exactly, even though I wanted him killed.")

Sansa may very well be like that, too. That would be one of the possible explanations of her AGOT actions. Like the rest of the Starks, Sansa is a complex character that has some issues of her own, without which neither she nor the other Starks would be such memorable characters as they obviously are; it is the fact that they are both willing and strong enough to fight those issues, that Starks stand out for. Without going into details (as if I could!), I expect that in the remaining novels Sansa is going to face the reasons that made her go to Cersei that damned night and with the consequences of that action. And whatever comes out of that soul-searching will be inevitably combined with her claim to Winterfell that Littlefinger brought up in AFFC. And that combination is going to elevate Sansa's arc to even bigger and more important levels than so far, even though so far she was the one Stark that was most engaged – unwittingly, but still – in the bloody dynastic war for the Iron Throne.

And she'll have to cross paths with Sandor Clegane, one way or another. Their relationship was so meticulously built up, it simply has to get some sort of a closure. What that closure is going to be is impossible to predict, because we are talking of one George R. R. Martin, a writer who managed to shock us as he pleased more than a few times.

What is also impossible, is to take anything that did or didn't happen in the show as any indication at what the closer may or may not be. There isn't a storyline in GoT that wasn't drastically changed, and weakened in the process, but Sansa's arc, along with her relationship with Sandor, is among the biggest victims of D&D's inability to adapt.

Whether you happen to like what Benioff and Weiss put in the show, or don't, you'd be advised not to recognize any significance in their decisions for further developments in ASOIAF. Just like show-lovers tend to remind everyone else, GoT and ASOIAF are two entirely separate beasts. And book Sansa and book Sandor, along with everything Martin has in his store for them, can be really glad about it.