#histories are written by the victors! By the people who survived!

[mkstrigidae]

Winter's Child Preview Snippet

This one is Jon's arrival and first day at the wall, and a conversation with a LOT of subtext. It's a pretty important one for beginning to unpack the mythology/lore driving the story, and I'm curious to hear what you guys think of it! This one is wildly unedited, so pardon the possible capitalization errors/clunky sentences.

Jon reached out, placing a trembling hand on the great wall. immediately, he began to feel his knees buckling, taking a gasping breath to try and center himself again.

He had always known that Bran the Builder had constructed the wall, had used magics beyond any house’s gifts today, to create the towering monolith.

What he hadn’t realized was just how much magic was humming in the layers of ice and- he blinked, unsure.

He’d always thought the wall was ice and rock, but something nagged at the back of his mind.

“Uncle-“ he asked, later, quietly, as they stood atop the structure, “what is the wall made of?”

Benjen was quiet for a moment, turning eyes on him that had always been more perceptive than Jon cared for. Twyla didn’t blink as she stood behind her bonded, her golden eyes piercing him.

The oldest stories we have speak of it being Bran the Builder’s creation.” Benjen murmured, his voice pitched so that only Jon could hear it under the whistle of the wind atop the wall. “Ice created of magic wilder than you or I could dream of.”

Ghost gave a snort beside him, his breath clouding the chilled air. Jon agreed.

“And what do you believe?” he asked his uncle, grateful for the fire that flowed through his veins as the temperature dropped.

“I believe that no stark- not even a winter-blooded one has ever been able to do anything-“ Benjen gestured around him, “Like this. Not Torrhen, not Brandon the Breaker, not even-“ he swallowed, looking down into Jon’s eyes with something that looked oddly like guilt. He turned away the next second, continuing. “If the Stark gift before Torrhen was really that powerful-“ he sighed, looking down over the frosted landscape, “Then why did the gods take the winter-blood gift from us when we needed it the most? Why, if Bran the builder could use our gift to protect the entire north with something as massive as the wall, did it not protect us from the clutches- the claws- of dragons?”

Jon felt a hot rush of shame in his veins as he thought of the Targaryen conquers bringing the north to heel 300 years ago. Would that his blood was only Stark. His uncle’s hand on his shoulder cut him off the next minute, though, and Jon realized that his expression was affectionate, and held no blame.

“You are a Stark.” Benjen reminded him, softly. “Not what blood the man who sired you gave you. The old gods granted you the gift of skinchanging- no Southerner has ever been able to do that.” Jon nodded, his throat tight as his uncle squeezed his shoulder. The flames leapt up his throat, flickering against his insides, but he held them down.

“The winter-blood gift was… harsh.” Benjen continued, looking Northward with a distant expression on his face. “Skinchanging- warging- is akin to communing with the old gods through the creatures they brought forth in the first days. It brings out the truth of a man-“

“Or woman.” Jon said, thinking of Arya’s ferocity and the ease in which she slipped in and out of various creatures.

“Or woman.” Benjen chuckled in agreement. “it allows us to connect to the old gods in a way the winter-blooded never could.”

Jon frowned.

You have heard tales of our ancestors, Jon.” Benjen sighed, his shoulders dropping. “Harsh, cold men- many of whom held a powerful ambition and the gift to make it truth. All of whom were winter-blooded. It’s a magic that can easily corrupt- turning hearts to ice as the self is lost. It doesn’t feel akin to greensight or skinchanging- but rather something other. Something older and harsher. Winter was never meant to be a gift.”

“But it’s been gone for 300 years.” Jon’s brows drew together.

Benjen was quiet for a second, and something prodded at the back of Jon’s mind.

“What testimonials we have written of it are telling.” he answered, finally. “And the feel of it can be found in the crypts among the oldest of the tombs. Magic harsh and alien enough that, at times, not even the weirwood will draw on it for nourishment.” they were silent for a moment.

“Do you think it will ever come back?” Jon asked, feeling the bite of the wind on his skin. “The winter-blood gift?”

“We are better stewards of the north- better men- as skinchangers.” Benjen told him, with some finality, his face darkening. “The greatest stories of the winter-blood gift speak of impossibilities like the wall, or of power that twisted the minds of men and made them something less than human. Less than alive.” He smiled at Jon, but something about it was strained. “As skinchangers, we can see through the eyes of others- we can hold a sacred bond with the guardians of the weirwood.” He buried a steadying hand in Twyla’s thick fur. Though still massive, she was a leaner creature than most of the direwolves, though Jon knew it only lent her a speed that none of them had. “If the winter-blood gift ever was returned to us, I would pray it was given to someone who could tame it. Who could temper the danger. and not be swallowed whole by it.”

Jon frowned, searching his uncle’s face. It felt as though they were having two separate conversations.

“But to be able to create something as magnificent as the wall-“

“No man could ever create something as powerful as the wall.” Benjen shut him down. “Not alone, and not instantly. Magic undoubtedly helped build the wall, but no man could ever hold onto a power that absolute. It would destroy them.” He twisted his face. “Regardless of whatever magics built the wall, you have to decide soon if you’ll devote yourself to guarding and protecting it. There’s little room for questioning once you’ve chosen, and it makes men uneasy to speak of the wall’s origins, Jon.” he sighed. “The wall is a strange and not well understood marvel. such things can inspire awe, or they can inspire suspicion. To discuss it is… not done.”

Jon nodded, his tongue heavy in his mouth with more questions, but he remained quiet, thinking of all his uncle had spoken of as they watched the night fall over the far north.

[utilitycaster]

I’ve previously covered the issue of people making false accusations that the fandom’s opinions are based in bigotry. Let’s talk about a related issue: the impossible-to-prove hypothetical.

The statement that the fandom would support the statement that the strong will survive and the weak will be remade if the Wildmother said it is an example of this. She didn’t say that, and Ka’Mort did, so even if she were to say it in the future I think most people would recognize that the problem is the message, not the person delivering it. I don’t think the claim the fandom would blindly support the Wildmother if she said something with such a fascist tinge is true, though I certainly can't confirm it (which again, may be the goal of those who make this sort of unprovable claim). More importantly, it attempts, poorly, to sidestep the actual critique: that saying the strong will survive a cataclysmic change and the weak will be "remade" is extremely in line with real world far-right groups talk about ethnic cleansing, and that Ashton seems to have no issue with vast power differentials and immortal beings who have previously aligned themselves with the gods and intended the destruction of mortals (and from EXU Calamity we know this is not merely a history written by the victors) as long as it's the power he can access. This isn't about breaking thrones: it's a coup, not a revolution.

This sort of...I can't call it an argument, because it's not one, but I suppose it is an attempt at one - often goes unchallenged because there’s no way to debunk it, even though it's ultimately a "what if the world were made of pudding." If canon were different, it sure would be different. Is the problem that the statement "If they're strong, they will. If not, they'll be remade into something stronger" in response to the question of whether mortals will survive a massive upheaval is one with concerning implications? If so, then why endorse it when Ka'Mort says it? If not, then why would it be a problem if the Wildmother had said it instead? Notice how the person making this "argument" actually does exactly what they're accusing the fandom of doing. They are clearly basing their judgment not on whether or not this is a problematic statement, but rather either the source of said statement, or the person to whom it's being said.

The "look at Ashton’s shoelaces" argument is the same exact problem - it doesn’t address the actual issue of "Ashton seems to be receptive to the idea of the elimination of 'weak' mortals." Indeed, it strengthens the counterargument, that many punks are more concerned with aesthetics and appearance than actual support, and that the fans invoking the fact that Ashton is a punk, or disabled, or nonbinary are focusing only on what they are (with an unstated assumption that these identities automatically lend them validity, which they do not) and not what they do or believe.

The problem is what they are doing and believing. Who they are is not important; what they are doing is. I don't want to make a call re: stupidity or malice here, but if the former, if you cannot understand the point of contention, you are not qualified to engage in this discussion, and if the latter, well, no use listening to a bad faith argument.

[stirringwinds]

are there certain visual themes or imagery you yourself particularly associate with yao as an artist or writer? i'm trying to visualize the nations better...

hmmm, interesting question. i like incorporating nature imagery into the hetalias, especially old nations like yao. there's something mythical and compelling about the sense of age and vastness that evokes. these are some (non-exhaustive) thoughts i've had:

a. i always associate yao with rivers and water; the Yellow River in particular, which is often seen as the "cradle" of Chinese civilisation (but of course, there's also the Yangtze, and the Pearl River too). rivers are life-giving but also untameable, powerful and dangerous—the Yellow River's fertile silt birthed agriculture and civilisation, but its destructive floods have claimed uncounted lives over the millennia of Chinese history. and...that's kind of how yao is, as a nation and an empire, towards others of their kind. the source of cultural and artistic innovations, but also death. water can be fluid, life-giving and nurturing, but also as treacherous as a torrential flood sweeping everything away, no?

like the Yellow River's relationship with humanity, yao's impact on world history feels to me like this duality of life and death; peace and warfare; mentor, empire, conqueror... it's like, yao's been a teacher to many others but...i don't think their predominant image of him is as a warm and nurturing figure. maybe more so with his own people, but less so with other nations. being the old warlord he is, he'd say certain things very matter-of-factly (especially to yong-soo and kiku), about how power is the only language their kind universally understands, or about history being written by the victors (when we consider how the only surviving written sources about certain periods of asian history are only chinese ones...), inasmuch he'd talk about the importance of confucian virtue, integrity and humility on other occasions.

b. for obvious reasons; dragons—they and rivers both have that overlapping association of being serpentine, powerful and untameable. in contrast to how european dragons often took on villainous roles and were harbingers of disaster, it's important to note chinese dragons usually have far more positive cultural connotations. they symbolise prosperity, fortune and are guardians; often associated with power over water (so again; Yao and rivers and water.) many dragons are associated with a particular river or sea. they're also believed to have powers over the weather and were often prayed to. after all, the capriciousness of the rains ruled people's lives so much through natural disasters or made a difference between a bountiful harvest and a famine. so, i think at various points in history his people might also have understood him as a literal dragon (spirit/deity) walking around in a human guise. dragons are also a visual staple of chinese culture, from statues to jewellery. at the same time: while they're auspicious symbols—dragons can of course have aggressive and far less benign connotations if we consider how they became symbols of the emperor—and thus chinese imperial power and dominion over others. he evokes majesty, but also dread from that perspective.

c. plum blossoms: much like the sakura in japanese culture, plum blossoms are one beloved motif you'll see showing up in chinese art and literature throughout history. they're elegant and ethereal, also a symbol of both transience and renewal in a way, i'd say—their blossoms wither and die, but they come back each year. there's also that saying about how without a bitter cold, you won't have the sweet fragrance of plum blossoms, because they start blooming in winter. that's...very yao to me. china, as an idea, makes me think of a lot of elegant and refined traditional culture (like poetry or paintings) which plum blossoms recall—but i also think of humbler themes—the simpler idea of someone and something who is enduring, adaptable and resilient. who endures the harshest weather time and time again until spring arrives, the way my (peasant) ancestors probably did, carving their way through all the hardships of chinese history. yao might appear refined in an indulgent, wealthy way when he's dressed in his finest silk hanfu or a smart western suit in the modern day—but if you shake his hand, his palms are always callused and you can just see the weight (and hard-won experience) of centuries in his gaze.

[lakesbian]

i guess it's hard to get a read on how much he actually cares about palatine and dauphine or reciprocates their dislike of him? also why did he say that about "sexual favors"

(this post is about the fanfiction sword and sorcery, which you should read because it's good. it's written by tumblr users shakertwelve and nonplatonicsubtext about their estateverse au, which you can read more about in the estateposting tag on tumblr user shakertwelve's blog. would i ever lie to you about a fanfic recommendation.)

ok ahem. i've posted about alec's opinions on palatine and dauphine before bc i think the dynamic potential there is hilarious and i'm so delighted that they got put into the fic. the fancy frilly little freaques are fiiiighting!

Alec Is So Entirely 100% Certainly Without Doubt more mad about palatine and dauphine than they are about him. it would frankly be more accurate to ask how much victor and amelia reciprocate his dislike, because they are living RENT fucking free in his sad little repressed brain. but, like all of his emotions, it's just not super obvious because of how repressed he is--he feels and displays everything in a very muted way. the posts i linked get into the main bits of Why He Does Not Like Them At All, but to elaborate based on analysis of what's actually in the fic:

“Regent had a run-in with them a while back, before he joined the team,” Tattletale said. “He was new to the city, so he didn’t realize what his costume choice would make people think of.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the Estate capes. “But he was doing things they don’t do and going to parts of town they stay out of, which caused some confusion. Eventually Dauphine and Palatine tracked him down to have a talk about it. It didn’t go well.”

as we can extrapolate from above, alec's history with them is like this:

he shows up to brockton bay as a severely maladapted, depressed, Generally Unwell cult-escapee on the young (and probably malnourished) side of 13 with effectively nothing to his name but his powers

as a weak cape without a team and zero social or systematic connections to turn to for help, he's forced to do very small-scale villainy just to scrape by enough to survive. and the entire time he is wearing his costume that veritably Screams "i am a special little prince please look at how wonderful i am." jesus christ he needs a hug.

these random cunts, palatine and dauphine, pull up and basically tell him to Fuck Off and stop Stealing Their Family's Schtick

these random cunts are also dressed fancy like him, and dauphine especially is someone alec would identify with fashion-wise, given that it's explicitly stated that her costume is princess-like. "Even with her elaborate costume, she looked more like a child’s princess doll than an actual princess." taylor rags on it, but it's still princess-like

this random fancy cunt, dauphine, is the daughter of...marquis, an incredibly successful, fancy villain with long hair who has a lot of money and lives in a mansion and, from alec's perspective, loves and cares about her dearly and buys her nicey clothes. and beyond just that, she has a brother who--instead of tormenting her & then laughing about it--wears a special fancy gleaming knight costume and bridal carries her around and is so sweet and nicey to her if anything bad happens. like, for example, alec getting pissy at her and tripping her.

we already know alec gets Insanely, Malevolently, Incandescently Jealous over someone he's engaged in hostilities w/ having a nice family. (see: him doing all that shit to sophia). we also know that he isn't very good at recognizing this jealousy in himself. (see: aisha revealing in late worm that alec only realized that he had done all that shit to sophia out of a jealous rage like a week or two later when he was talking to her about it.)

which is to say: alec sees dauphine as being Sorta Like Him, but if he had a 100% ideal family (dashing golden knight brother that takes care of her! rich fancy father who protects them and buys them nice shit! and they all live in a mansion!), and LET ME FUCKING TELL YOU. HE IS SO INSANELY JEALOUS HE HOPES THE ENTIRE ESTATE GETS HIT BY A NUCLEAR WARHEAD AND EXPLODES. ...all subconsciously, of course. he expresses this thru things like mocking her for being "a baby about a little trip" &c--insulting the vulnerability & familial care he certainly wishes he could have, while fully unaware why seeing it annoys him so much.

but i digress. keeping all of that in mind, you can see why alec would be infuriated & jealous towards them even if they were completely neutral towards him. but they weren't neutral towards him--instead, these people he views as being Like Him, But Living Out His Wildest Dreams, approached him to hassle him for accidentally appearing like he was one of them. local loving royal villain family approaches boy who is obviously projecting subconscious desire to be a beloved prince onto his costume design and goes "quit stealing our vibes," boy reacts with a parasocial grudge. his weird complexes about them shall reign eternal. he wishes he had a second, cooler palatine to beat the first, lamer palatine to death with hammers, and then bridal carry him to stand dismissively over dauphine's prostrate form as she weeps over the first, lamer palatine's corpse. and also he wants the second, cooler palatine to be hand-feeding him a bag of chips ahoy the entire time.

...i should stress again, this is alllll more or less entirely subconscious. alec doesn't know what the fuck he's feeling ever, this just comes across as a subdued vague annoyance/disdain for them.

so, why the weird "sexual favors" remark? it genuinely was not intended to be a harassing comment, nor do i think he genuinely would say he believes that marquis prostitutes his daughter if he thought about it for a second. but he does identify with dauphine in the sense that they're aesthetically similar enough for him to be extra-jealous about her. and so upon hearing "dauphine's favor," he takes the meaning of "you can have a favor from my kid" he's most used to as a child who was prostituted by his own villain father, and he projects it onto her. if i want to read into it beyond that, i think he might be unconsciously/impulsively trying to poke a hole in their family--a sort of [hopeful] "marquis sucks :)?" where he'd like to hear that marquis isn't as much of an envy-worthy dad as alec thought. meanwhile from the estate's perspective he was just a creep for no fucking reason. there are other, far more important things for lisa to be paying attention to during this scene, so i don't think she was wasting any time reading alec, but if she Was she certainly would've gotten a good show of severe mental unwellness.

[calabria-mediterranea]

"WORTH ONE BRIGAND

The Sacchetiello gang, which operated in Calabria around 1870, is not among the most famous. It is made up of only three men, each with his woman, one of whom is Rosa Reginella (in the photo). Reginella, however, is worth as much as a man because she knows how to use weapons with great ease and participates in the attacks. Three months after her arrest she gave birth to a son in the prisons of Catanzaro."

In Italian the term brigante referred not only to bandits in the pure sense of the word but also included those with social and political motivations.

Most notably, the word brigand has been employed to describe individuals and groups in Southern Italy, who combatted with troops of the new Kingdom of Italy during the Italian unification process, which was, in reality, an annexation by the House of Savoy. Not just isolated skirmishes, the revolt took on the form of a Southern Italian movement, particularly between 1861 and 1865, and is called the Grande Brigantaggio or the Great Brigandage.

History books, as we know, are written by the victors, so rest assured, most “evidence” of criminal activity in the archives will be detailed and well documented, at least from the official point of view. In Southern Italy, the vast majority of the accused never had an opportunity of defending themselves. This is not to say that every brigand was a saint; however, in the years following unification, there was a cause, and much of the activity could be characterized as falling somewhere between an uprising against an oppressive takeover and basic survival. Brigands included humble people and former soldiers. They were encouraged and aided by the Bourbons in exile as well as the Catholic Church.

The brigand business provided equal opportunity for women in a time when opportunities were non-existent. Female brigands, called brigantesse, were important figures who contributed substantially to the brigand story in Italy.

It's also important to to emphasize that the brigante and the mafioso are two different individuals entirely. Their association is a gross misconception. For southerners, the brigand is a folk hero, a Robin Hood figure in defense of his people. They were popular, locally and all the way up to an international level, with a distribution of their images on souvenir cards of photos taken at their capture, both dead and alive, as propaganda against them.

Follow us on Instagram, @calabria_mediterranea

[gealach-in-a-misty-world]

Princess. Priestess. The most beautiful girl in Troy. Cassandra is used to being adored – and when her patron god, Apollo, offers her the power of prophecy, she sees an opportunity to rise even higher. But when she fails to uphold her end of the agreement, she discovers just how very far she has to fall. No one believes her visions. And they all seem to be of one girl – and the war she’s going to bring to Troy’s shores. Helen fled Sparta in pursuit of love, but it’s soon clear Troy is a court like any other, with all its politics and backstabbing. And one princess seems particularly intent on driving her from the city before disaster can strike… But when war finally comes, it’s more than the army at their walls they must contend with. Cassandra and Helen might hold the key to reweaving fate itself – especially with the prophetic strands drawing them ever closer together. But how do you change your future when the gods themselves are dictating your demise?

"We should not tell stories of the heroes, but of the women who survived them."

Bea Fitzgerald's The End Crowns All is a lovely retelling of the Iliad, seen through the eyes of the women who suffered during the Trojan War, with a special focus on the two main characters, Cassandra and Helen. Their dual POV narration explores the events of the war and what came before, following closely enough the epic poem, until it starts veering towards a kinder, more hopeful ending. Cassandra, Helen, and the women of Troy reclaim their agency, taking matters into their hands and fighting against a future that isn't set in stone, no matter what prophecies say.

Cassandra and Helen steadily grow closer as their inital emnity, caused by the fact that Cassandra sees the downfall of Troy, turns into an alliance and then affection blooms between them. The book features such an in-depth, lovely, careful rendition of asexuality, and especially sapphic asexuality, and it's a joy to read how Cassandra comes to terms with her orientation, and finds love in the unlikeliest place. It's lovely, too, to see romantic love equated to all other kinds - friendship, familial - and not treated as the most important kind of love. Cassandra finds a partner, yes, but she also finds companionship, and people who care about her for who she is.

The conditions of women at the times is thoroughly explored, from forced marriage to kidnapping and the consequences of war. I adored how the grim epilogue of the Iliad is tamed and conquered, giving new meaning to the saying "history is written by the victors." The exploration of the changes one can make to the threads of fate makes for a compelling story, and the complexity of Apollo's curses, and the way Cassandra and Helen try to navigate each change, adds conflict in a believable way.

The book deals very well with treaths of sexual violence, not one to sugarcoat it despite the younger audience. It's marketed as a YA, and it shows especially in the kind of language used and the simple narration, but it's readable by an adult audience. Apollo is every bit the villain of the story, wanting to own and terrorize Cassandra for the crime of spurning him, but Aphrodite is a close second, her threats to Helen bone-chilling.

The End Crowns All is a remarkable retelling.

✨ 4 stars

[You can find more of my reviews about queer speculative fiction on my blog MISTY WORLD]

[dross-the-fish]

Adam was in the artic for over a century, it’s a pretty harsh climate with desperate and dangerous animals. One of which is the polar bear, the biggest land carnivore that is known to actively hunt humans. So I gotta ask, did Adam ever fight a polar bear?

Adam generally avoided large predators if he could but 100 years is a long time to be in a harsh climate. He definitely had a few encounters with polar bears in that time and possibly has had to avoid being killed by orcas hunting for seals by breaking up ice floes. Being a giant super human creature probably came in handy while he was living on the tundra.

I don't remember if the book ever says where Victor ended up exactly but I've decided Adam settled along the coast of Ellesmere Island. It's the northern most island in Canada and it borders Greenland. There's some history of arctic explorations seeking the northwest passage but around the time of the AU it was largely vacant and undisturbed. Adam managed to survive because he's resistant to the cold and doesn't actually need much food. His life was fairly nomadic, he hunted, scavenged, and sometimes looted the odd shipwreck for supplies. Despite the isolation I imagine he consoled himself by watching the wildlife and admiring the beauty of nature. He also hoarded every written tome or book he could get a hold of from wrecked ships and abandoned expeditions. Learning what he could from journals and logs and imagining the people who wrote them were telling him their stories.

At first he thought the motley crew were just more explorers seeking the north pole but when he realized they were following him he tried to scare them off, but he didn't want to harm or kill them if he didn't have to.

[jeanjauthor]

I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that this applies to story writing as well.

Why? Because I know a lot of writers are really into the worldbuilding but struggle when placing their characters within it. Get the characters involved in the bits of this cool world you've built, and that'll help you to write their story a bit more.

Conversely, if you're great at writing characters but suck at world building...what parts of your cool characters could be considered a product of their time period, location, and/or culture?

(Remember culture and location aren't joined at the hip. For a real-world writing example, you could have an Arabic Muslim merchant main character visiting polytheistic Thailand in the 1700s, experiencing a bit of the alienation feelings of culture shock...but also interacting with really nice people...and then having to step in when an English Christian explorer dude comes along and puts his foot in it, stumbling over the local cultures that you at least know a little bit more about, having been here for a bit longer.)

Anyway, try to get your geographies, cultures, histories, and characters a bit more invested in each other. They way they interact and "feed off each other" can help immerse your readers even more into your writing. It doesn't have to be pages and pages; just a few sentences here and a couple paragraphs there can help further the immersion. This can include directly linking the character's reactions to a cultural thing, or your character feeling repelled by something they encounter.

One example could be your character recognizing a particular plant and mentally reciting some the uses his or her people would have for them (coconut palms and many species of bamboo, for example, are two plant types that one can do quite a lot with as a civilization), and then they stumble across ancient ruins of a civilization which their history teachings told them contained a nation of horrible people who violated the very laws of nature (yadda yadda).

This latter example can go several ways. They might think the ruins are cursed and do their best to avoid them, and maybe they can think briefly, "And that's why we don't have city-destroying magics anymore" or whatever, and that's the end of that idea. Maybe they successfully go elsewhere, or maybe some plot-twist forces them to take shelter in the ruins for a little while.

They might instead want to know more about this culture, because after all, how bad could it really be? Curiosity is a powerful driving force, after all. Or perhaps they think, maybe the historians are wrong, history being written by the victors (and/or survivors)? Or maybe they simply want to explore these ruins in the hopes of stumbling across ancient technology or magic that they could personally use (and hopefully not destroy themselves or the world with, unlike the previous users) in the furtherance of their own quests and/or ambitions?

As you can see, it doesn't take much to integrate character & location, character & culture, character & worldbuilding-based motivation. By pausing to let the character explain why they choose such-and-such choice, based on location (the ruins are in the high mountains and a storm is coming, better head for safer terrain), history (ancient ruins, a chance to prove the historians were biased aF), culture (did they really only worship just two gods, and not a sensible ten??--or the reverse, what was it like when there were ten gods worshipped throughout the land, instead of the two that were the only ones to survive the Great Heavenly Wars?), you give the reader a richer reading experience.

Heck, even just the character imagining while acknowledging (at least to the reader) that they don't actually know jack diddly, can be entertaining. Imagine coming across the head of the Sphinx, buried up to the nose in the sand, and you think it's just a massive statue of a human. You imagine it's a pharaoh, or perhaps some godly being, so you start excavating...and...wait, the body of a lion??

So yeah, get your characters invested in the world you've built (or are borrowing). Get them interacting with its current state and/or its past. Have them be influenced by such-and-so.

[vvatchword]

Let me tell you a dream of mine: to buy old books and digitize them. Old, out-of-print, rare books. Not necessarily popular or desirable ones, either. A lot of my collection is extremely niche and I doubt they exist online (although I'm going to check).

I was first inspired by the difficult matter of preserving all my old journals. I've been keeping a journal since I was 11, and some of them were kept on shitty old notebook paper that is now falling apart. But then I was inspired by the realization that piracy is a method of data preservation. Corporations have no love or care for records and cannot be trusted. The more redundantly data is stored, the more likely it will survive into the future, and the more likely that the truth of matters great and small can be known.

So: you should know I have a love of history. My job directly involves the preservation of data for a general overview of a very specific topic. And one thing you must always understand about any historic document ever is that people are flawed. They lie. They stretch the truth. They speak to their own ignorance. They are blind to their own biases. They're prejudiced, or they care too much about their own causes, or they have axes to grind. They get involved in long games of Telephone where data can be altered--sometimes dramatically!--and then those mistakes are repeated over and over and over until they become an accepted truth. It is not at all uncommon for works of fiction, like films and books, to become wrapped up in fact!

And it is in no small part that readers also dictate what kinds of information is preserved; history is not only written by the victors, but demanded to fit narratives and instruct morals. Senselessness is feared; the alien, despised. That which is recorded is usually what is considered entertaining or beautiful and god knows what standards those may be. Alas--to understand the truth, we must have as many disparate viewpoints as possible! A situation must be examined from every angle to be best understood.

A great example of this is the infamous "Ain't I a Woman?" speech by Sojourner Truth. Truth's first language was Dutch and she spoke with a Dutch accent, but her speech was flanderized by a writer who wanted her to sound like a stereotypical Southern Black woman. And yet what has survived? What is desirable? People say they want truth when what they really want is entertainment, engaging characters and plots, and peace of mind.

I was also inspired by my research into Native American history. Every piece about any Native society that is written by a European must be viewed with intense scrutiny. It is not uncommon for Native words to be rewritten, omitted, or handwaved. This is not to say that Native voices could not also lie--they, too, are people--but they also intimately knew their own business and were frequently misunderstood and misinterpreted through a combination of racism, entertainment, European and Christian bias, and drastic differences in language, culture, and ideology.

Yet another roadblock has to do with how that data is stored, who is storing it, and how it can be accessed. As y'all know, Napciyunka has been helping me with research into primary documents and the more trustworthy historical texts, as well as a more accurate view into Lakota culture as it actually exists and existed. Now--guess what happens to all that material! It is truly criminal how documentation and artifacts have been robbed with impunity from Native cultures, and part of the problem is that such material might not be immediately available or digitized.

While I may not have access to prime materials in South Dakota, I have access to at least two different large universities and their document collections here, and they often keep oddball material. Who knows what's in there? I haven't searched them yet because I should be working (lol), but in a couple of weeks I'm about to find out how many of their works are digitized. If they are not...

I have a goal.

So there is a company I've kept my eye on since I first saw them on Kickstarter. They're called CZUR (an unfortunate name, really) and they put out document scanners prepared just for bound documents. One of these models is portable. (Granted, anything is portable if you're determined enough.) I deeply desire their ET24Pro, which scans at 24 megapixels: https://shop.czur.com/collections/professional-series/products/etscanner?variant=40313243762736

Could I just... offer my services to these universities? Partially for my own desires, and partially to make these documents available to all?

My parents sometimes offer me cash or a single expensive gift for holidays. What if I just... you know. Got one of these? They're not too far out of my price range. If I just saved $50 per paycheck I could get there pretty fast. Maybe I could donate to Napciyunka while I'm at it (that poor college student life amirite). Depends on what can be done and what is needed.

In any case, it feels great to have forward motivation, and i feel like I've found a special and unexpected passion. Before I got this job, I often felt unmoored and unfocused. I thought a writer was all I was. But working at this job and crafting historical fanfiction (lol) has given me a brand new driving force that deeply moves me.

When I was a child, I would feel such deep rage about the Library of Alexandria. Now I look at myself and think: good god, why can't I add to the swelling library of human knowledge myself?

[eimearkuopio]

History isn't written by the victors. It's written by the survivors of the victors. I'm done surviving. I plan on thriving. It will require a congressive, loving, kind attitude. I don't care how long my life is, as long as no more of it is stolen from me or my loved ones by people who think they're victors. You're not victors. You're just survivors. Your ancestors survived. So did some of mine; but others thrived. I am no better than my ancestors; but I am different from them. I will have no descendants of my body, but I pray that the descendants of my heart will find it easier to survive long enough to thrive. I pray that my spiritual descendants get the opportunity be better than me. I believe that they will; but if some of y'all don't repent and change your ways, it might be a very long time before either your Father or myself can find it in ourselves to visit.

[ggronan]

Before I begin let me put a sort of disclaimer here... I am not a decorated scholar or historian. All of the following is knowledge I have been maticulusly accumulating over a decade of interest. It can range from first hand accounts to questionable historical texts. Nothing is concrete or infallible with this subject matter. That's the unfortunate side effect and reality of minority history. History at large is written by victors, the dominators, and minorities such as the LGBT+ community are chouched comfortably in unfortunate suffering, that is undisputed fact. The queer communities rise in the US began as a fight for the right to love freely and openly. The fact is though what connects the community together is suffering. Suffering, unlike subjective love, is universal. We all understand what it means to suffer regardless if you're a minority or not. That's where I'd like to begin properly; what connects us all.

Let me set the scene: The date is June 28, 1969 in a bar located in Greenwich Village, New York City. The police decide to raid this bar because it was known by city goers as a popular spot for gay and lesbian residents. What they didn't know was this bar's patrons knew what the police were planning in advance. They lied in wait for the police that night and what followed wouldn't be so easily forgotten. The queer community rose up and protested against the unfair discrimination they had been subjected to previously at the hands of the police. The following 5 days were labeled in history as riots by the police when in fact they were maticulusly planned protests. Like every protest though when provoked by the threats of police it escalates towards violence.

The following years were a shift for the queer community. The fight for visibility had begun in earnest. No longer would they sit by and go quietly with discrimination and segregation. Advocates arose and preached the need and knowledge of sexual education not just for queer people but for everyone.

The light wouldn't last long though. Around 1981 the global pandemic of AIDS/HIV struck the queer community quite hard. It was known as a death sentence then to be gay. Many gay people passed on during this time and the United States government in particular simply choose to ignore the pandemic labeling it as a gay only problem. In this time we lost many innocent lives due to neglect as well as sources of precious history. The following years are dark ages for queer history, in general. Not much is known historically about this time because so much was lost. However, the precious few that did survive this time period have given first hand accounts of life back then.

Peter Staley was 24 years old when he was given the HIV death sentence. Instead of going quietly though he quit his job and started dedicating what was left of his life to advocating for his friends in the movement known as, "Act Up." The full tale of his life and the history of AIDS is told in the documentary known as, "How to survive a plague." In his account of the history he gives credit not just to his fellow gay colleagues but to lesbians and the kink community at large for helping take care of AIDS sufferers who needed help the most during this time.

As medicine finally progressed and advocates like Peter educated the masses on safe sex practices the pandemic eventually lost its choke hold on the queer community. More and more people started living with HIV/AIDS. It was no longer a straight shot death sentence. It became a period of mourning what was lost and a crossroads for the survivors on what to do next.

Outside of the queer community the world was changing too. In 1991 the fall of the Soviet Union happened and the western world was couching itself comfortably in a place of undisputed power. This wouldn't last long however. September 11, 2001 known simply as 9/11 quickly shot fear into the United States foothold on global power. This is important to note in regards to queer history because it shows the mindset of the westen world at this point, fearful.

In 2004 the queer community made itself known again when the United States Supreme Court ruled in Obergefell v. Hodges that states must perform and recognize same-sex marriages. This began the ending of the long running disputes in states on whose marriages they'll allow. It wasn't until June 26, 2015 though that a historic decision was reached by the U.S. Supreme Court that declared denying same-sex couples the freedom to marry violates the U.S. Constitution. The Court's decision invalidates all state statutes and constitutional amendments barring same-sex couples from marriage. This was hailed as marriage equality by many.

Even when the queer community was winning the battle on visability though fear and suffering didn't simply forget them. Hate crimes, disownment in families, religious extremists, purity culture, etc continue to be a plague on queer people.

In wake of "winning," the battle on visability the community developed a sort of crossroads... Should they give in to the main stream acceptance and conform to society's expectations for them? Or do they stay with the roots of the movement and continue to be at their core a sex positive counter culture? You see it's difficult to say. This decision is currently being made and has undoubtedly split the community in two.

Both sides want the same thing ultimately in the end; to be accepted but where they disagree is on what terms. I don't hold it against young queer people for wanting to be accepted by society so badly they'll choose to censor themselves and others. They've been outcasted all their lives so far and fear it'll continue if they don't get everyone to conform properly. It's a legitimate fear. However, if they were educated properly in queer history they'd see that their suffering is a given side effect of living out who they are. That's the hand queer people are given in life. We are a minority, always will be, and we shouldn't forget that. Just by existing on this planet we are given suffering, some more then others. In the eyes of the world it doesn't matter if you're a minority, queer, or not... We all feel pain and fear. Very rarely will love unite us because it is subjective. Love looks and feels different for every single person who experiences it. It means different things too. Love can be powerful but history, queer history especially, has shown that nothing unites people like pain and suffering does.

A lot of queer history is simply ignored or forgotten about by young LGBT+ people since it's so dark and depressing. I get it, they already have enough of that in their own personal lives, but this history is especially important for them to learn. It paints the picture of what life is like if you choose to live a visible life as a queer person on this planet. It might have happened long ago but we know history likes to repeat itself if we don't learn from it. This is the job given to each queer individual: to educate themselves for their own benefit, not everyone else.

If you'd like to continue on this path of educational discovery I will start it by helping you with specific research topics. I recommend the following:

Czech Republic's same sex marriage legalization in 1962. In general, research the European queer community. It has deep roots especially in the kink community located primarily in Amsterdam's red light district. Leather daddies, gay bars, etc can be traced back to here.

The very few Japanese, Chinese, and Korean historical mentions of gay emperors and samurai. Japan especially has some during the isolation period.

The documentary "Paris is burning." There they capture the lives of black drag queens in New York City during the late 1980s.

Begin research on the safe practices & why they're done in the BDSM & Kink community. Leave the ideals of purity culture behind and open the door to honest curiosity and discovery here. Nothing is totally off limits without knowing why first. Think for yourself and choose to discover why these practices are done. Human pleasure is a universal language. Doesn't matter if you're straight, gay, or none of the above. It's not all about sex here. Safety and proper communication are much more important lessons to learn.

The gay communities and bars in California. Specifically start with the White Horse Inn in Oakland, California. It started in 1933 and is still operational.

Contrapoint's video about JK Rowling on YouTube.

Anita Bryant's culture war in Florida that spawned the "don't say gay," laws.

"Annoying gays are not the problem," a podcast and interview on YouTube made by Matt Bernstein.

[antiquatedabsurdity]

History is Written by the Literate

People talk a lot about the maxim history is written by the victors, but I think that there's another corollary that people consider less, partially because it seems to go without saying: history is written by the literate. Although oral traditions can survive for some time after the event, pretty much every detailed historical narrative we have is preserved because someone at some point decided to write it down.

And so literate civilizations, or civilizations that have a strong tradition of history writing, have their stories better preserved, and when they come into contact with other civilizations it is inevitably the literate people whose account we read. For example, China has one of the world's oldest traditions of history writing, so no matter how many times ancient China is bested by its neighbors, say the Xianbei or Xiongnu, it is still the Chinese version that we read the most— a version that exalts the glories of Chinese civilization and contrasts it to their enemies' barbarity.

I would call this idea even more important when it comes to the class of likely historians. Even nowadays, when literacy is widespread, historians are drawn disproportionately from the upper class who can afford to pay for college. In ancient times, literacy, especially at the level required to write a complex work of history, would be confined to the wealthy. This is, in large part, the root of the conservatism found in much ancient history and literature in general. Thucydides, the great Athenian historian, seemed more fond of oligarchy than democracy— his successor, Xenophon, preferred Sparta to his home city of Athens and eventually moved there.

Even if we assume that all these historians dod their due diligence, that an honest effort was made to represent events fairly and objectively, the dearth of history writing by people outside this select circle of the lettered elite means that we lose important perspectives on events.

To some extent, archaeology, especially in recent years, has attempted to make up for this deficiency. At least in Ancient Greek and Roman archaeology, of which I am most aware, massive effort has been made to study the lives of women or enslaved laborers, groups who have few to no written sources about their lives. The work of archaeologists can help give voice to those silenced by historical omission.

But for all its failings, written history is still one of the best ways to learn about past events. If one wants to gain an insight into ancient politics, to attempt to comprehend the strategy of an ancient battle, to turn archaeological evidence into a detailed narrative, complete with characters and motives, it's difficult to replace written history. But one must always remember the failings of such sources; remember that history is written by the literate.

[eventiderpg]

BASICS

Faceclaim: Brenton Thwaites

Name: Finnick Odair

Age: 27

Gender: Cis man, he/him

Home: District 4, Capitol

Role: Victor

Personality: Clever, strategic, charismatic, warm, skeptical, loyal

Song: “Tidal” by Noah Kahan

Activity: Primary

BIOGRAPHY

TW - Sexual assault, human trafficking, murder, substance abuse 

Finnick Odair was born the only child to Calder Odair and Maristella Larson of District 4. The couple met shortly after finishing school. Calder was a dock worker. and Maristella, who preferred to go by Stell, was a teacher. Maristella’s walk to work took her past the docks each day and Calder made sure he was always close enough to the road to bid her a quick, polite “good morning.” It took months, but he eventually managed to muster up enough courage to ask her to have dinner with him. Stell, of course, said yes.

Finnick had a typical childhood with caring and attentive parents. He wanted for nothing. Finnick was a rather popular kid; his bright personality awarding him many friends. After school he, like many children in the career districts, took lessons at The Academy, learning basic survival and combat skills. He excelled in agility and close contact combat training, but he certainly did not enjoy it. He much preferred to learn about the docks and the ocean from his dad. Though his father worked long hours in a very physically demanding job, Calder was a devoted husband and father who taught his son everything he knew, especially about the docks and the sea.

Finnick was barely 14 when his name had been pulled, and no one believed he would be the one to make it out of the arena, himself included. It was unheard of even for the career districts. His knot tying ability and knife skills earned him a decent score during training, but no amount of training could ever truly compensate for size and strength, two things many of his opponents had on him. As such, many of his fellow tributes failed to consider him a serious threat. It wasn’t until they witnessed his handiwork with a trident that people started to pay attention. After several bloody battles, Finnick earned the title of victor, the youngest in Panem’s history.

The first six months following his victory, Finnick lived in a daze as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. He had lived. He wasn’t supposed to live, and yet here he was. Everyone wanted to get to know the youngest victor, and he spent a lot of time in the public eye in the few years following. His entire life was splashed on the front page of every magazine. No one could get enough of the boy from District 4. 

He got the call the day after his 18th birthday. “Entertaining” capitol citizens, as President Snow had phrased it, was the duty of a victor. That was his job, and he was to follow through. He tried to protest at first, ignoring all the warnings. When his parents passed from a mysterious illness diagnosed by a Capitol physician, Finnick knew. He gave up the fight.

Calder and Stell’s deaths hit Finnick hard. Between the grief of his loss, the scars from the arena, and the Capitol’s continued torment, he struggled to hold it together. On bad nights locked away in hotel rooms bigger than his home in Victor’s Village, when the anxiety started getting too familiar and the insomnia hit, it was hard to keep himself away from the Capitol’s steady supply of morphling and expensive liquor. It wasn’t sustainable, however, and Finnick could see that turning to drugs and alcohol was hurting him. Every now and then, however, it was still nice to have something to dampen out all the noise, but he would keep it to himself in shame.

More to come.

Written by Sarah

[dragonnan]

I don't often share my fics but its been a spell since I have so here are a few of them (including WIPs since I love self torture apparently)

Sherlock:

Like Some Sort of Parable T John had not been happy. Two years was a very long time to let someone think you were dead. Granted, perhaps any length of time was a long time to let someone think you were dead. Either way, he'd have to sort it out tomorrow. Tonight, he still had people to see and next on the list was Molly Hooper. With any luck she wouldn't want to strike him as well.

A Faun at Baker Street T Sherlock is required to attend an event. Sort of an annual thing. Formal attire is required - jacket, coat with tails, and a couple of other things as well. Namely hooves and antlers. Did I mention that Sherlock is a faun?

What Dread Grasp T Not his first kidnapping - not by a long shot. Torture and pain are par for the course.

Survival is looking a bit dicey, though...

Cold Comfort G Molly and Sherlock are locked in a freezer. They need to stay close for warmth. Very close. For warmth.

No, seriously - that's the ooonly reason....

A Russian, Two Spies, and an Elephant T As Mycroft had been so fond of saying, “There is no such thing as a 'simple op'. If there were, we would hardly need agents to carry them out as the garden variety patrol officer would readily serve.” The statement, to Sherlock's consternation, too often proved entirely true. Certainly a clandestine trip through Bulgaria, transporting several crates of illegal pharmaceuticals, drifted well away from “simple” and edged into “complicated” territory.

MCU:

(WIP) Sed Diabolus T The great epic has begun. They say history is recorded by the victors. Well history, then, has yet to be written. Heroes have fallen and the world is a ruin of chaos and self-destruction. The time of the apocalypse has come. Who, then, will stand and face the Devil?

Thanos left an indelible mark. What was undone was far from erased and the world is the poorer for the losses he brought to bear. But he is not the only being of power looking to claim Earth as its throne. The enemy from the heavens was defeated. But it is the enemy from the darkest and deepest places who may prove to be the final death knell for the universe.

And yet... hope comes...

Like the ringing strike of a hammer against iron...

[generalsangonomiya]

"Evil? Yes, I'm familiar with that view - the true answer lies in neither Watatsumi's holy texts nor the histories written by the victor of a war that never needed to happen," Kokomi replies, not bothering to hide the bitterness in her tone.

"Orobashi no Mikoto was no more a perfect being than any other god, and no more evil than anyone who has ever taken up arms to protect their home and family. It is to his actions we must look - and that story begins long before his death," she adds, gazing up at the skull's cold, empty eyes. "Many thousands of years ago - no surviving records hold an exact date - the gods went to war with one another to claim the Seven Divine Thrones. Most died, and those that survived had a choice: either bow down to the rule of Celestia and Their Seven Archons, or leave Teyvat forever. Orobashi fled rather than submit, and wandered the depths of the Dark Sea for centuries, until he stumbled across the lost realm of Enkanomiya."

She can almost picture it: that lost child from the stories, wandering far beyond the city, and witnessing an ancient god suddenly loom out of the darkness. "Enkanomiya had been cast into the Dark Sea during a previous, even larger war, and lived their lives in the faltering light of an artificial sun, beset on all sides by the predators that lurked in the deep. They asked Orobashi to protect them, to become their god, and he accepted. He overthrew their corrupt rulers, drove off the wrathful dragonheirs of the deep, and used coral from his own body to craft a new home for them on the surface. Quite literally - it's part of why Watatsumi's soil is so poor."

They've almost reached the ramshackle bridge over Musoujin Gorge by now, and the feeling of electro crackling through the very air is rapidly becoming overpowering.

Fitting, for the next part of the story, she notes, and intensifies the barrier she's been maintaining against the rain, carefully shaping it to channel any balethunder discharges harmlessly into the ground. "Unfortunately...Celestia then decreed his death, and it would soon come - in answer to his people's desperate pleas, Orobashi led an army to seize Yashiori Island, in order to obtain crucial resources. Mostly food and agricultural land. The Raiden Shogun struck back, destroying the army, killing Watatsumi's three mortal champions, and slaying Orobashi with a single strike. That blow split the island in two, right on this very spot," she continues, gesturing to the still-crackling rift in the landscape, "and the wrath of the dead god poisoned the land forever. And that is where the story ends, as far as most people are concerned."

And then, for the first time since she started telling the story, Kokomi turns and meets her companion's eyes. "But I've been to Enkanomiya, and nothing is ever as simple as it appears. I suspect - and others share this view - that when he took in that lost civilization abandoned by Celestia, Orobashi learned something that They wanted forgotten, some truth about the world before Their perfect order. It is said that, when he died, he gazed upon the sky with new eyes. And, well..." she hesitates, gazing up at the spot where she can feel the distant pull of her constellation, of his constellation, and considers just how much to say, lto reveal to this outworlder who may or may not already know some of the truth. "...this sky is not what it seems."

Even Dead Gods Still Dream

[cornyonmains]

Guys, when I tell you I've been OBSESSING over the interplay between the phrases 'his beloved son' and 'history is written by the victor' know that I mean it. And here's why.

For a long, long time, I've been trying to figure out what Tankhun's piece on the chessboard is. It just seemed to ridiculously simple to make him the rook and doesn't line up with the other long range attackers Korn placed on the board. Pete as bishop and Porsche as queen were both instrumental in Korn's plot against the minor family, hence their status as long range attackers. Tankhun won't even leave the house, which takes me back to that fucking dialogue, because it stuck in my over-analyzing craw.

Now, there's a few things in this exchange that jumped out to me, with the first being Tankhun's face when he uttered the words 'his beloved son'.

My horny on main masses of the KP fandom, does this look like the face of a son celebrating a victory with his father? Or is it the face of a man celebrating a victory against his father?

Well, I know I've got my opinion, so buckle in kids. It's about to be a ride.

The next thing worth pointing out is our jump to Korn's room, where if we follow the established pattern of green meaning danger, we're about to get ourselves some pretty heavy-handed messaging:

Now, a few things happened in this scene. The first is that Korn responded with 'History is only written by the victor'. He didn't say victors, as in the plural, he said VICTOR. I actually tried to include this photo with the words, but for some reason Tumblr decided to scoot them all to the right in this very unsightly way, but what's important is we have a visual of what's happening in the background.

You see the green Mr. Belvedere era lamp casting an eerie green glow on that bronze statuette of the violinist? You know who else played the violin? Kinn, in the Filmania version of KinnPorsche. Also pictured are the two fighting fish housed in completely unacceptable bowls, which is really going to play into the symbolism of where Korn FUCKED UP as I continue this long winded and convoluted rant.

Now something we've all been asking is why these bodyguards never wear bulletproof vests, why they're given all this training, all this great equipment, but no safety gear. Well, if Korn's staying true to his 'survival of the fittest' philosophy, the idea that competition breeds strength, then it makes sense he'd only want to keep the bodyguards most capable of survival around. And THIS is where we see Korn's first real weakness as a strategist.

The thing about 'survival of the fittest' is that people don't understand that it doesn't mean the survival of the biggest bads of the animal world. And if you doubt my word, may I present exhibit A of this desperate misunderstanding of that concept made manifest:

Like seriously? How do these dorks exist?

And the answer is because they adapted traits that would allow them to best REPLICATE in nature, not conquer it.

So with all this in mind, doesn't it stand out to you that Tankhun's bodyguards are really the only scarce few to survive? That Tankhun has a care for keeping them safe and alive? He clearly demonstrated this in his own way with Pete. There are subtle moments, subtle indications, that he's in fundamental disagreement with his father's philosophy.

Something else that stuck in my head was how quick and seamlessly he brought up his brothers with Chay, even going so far as to offer a visual aid, which most people don't do when they mention they have siblings. I think Tankhun knew about Kim and Chay, and that blowing up Kim's spot was a calculated move. And why was it calculated?

Because I think Tankhun knows that Korn wants Kim to take over the main family. That Korn has a deranged philosophy of pitting the family against one another to breed the strongest possible leaders for his empire, and that Kinn's life is in mortal fucking danger, for the crime of caring about his brothers enough to step up and do a job they didn't want to do. I think Tankhun knew Korn faked his death and was using it not only to draw out gun, but to get Kinn out of the way as well. Korn drove a wedge between him and Porsche to separate them, I think Korn was the one who told Kim where Chay was to keep him out of the final showdown, and I think he did that specifically to keep Kim from protecting Kinn, and Tankhun KNEW this.

But the thing about survival of the fittest is that while Korn might be a psychopath, his kids aren't. Korn's biggest weakness is he couldn't replicate himself in his sons, and that's why Tankhun sent him that text. He was telling his father, "You're the one who's weak. You're the one whose being is not worth replicating. Your lack of love is your weakness and I'm going to show you why."

Tankhun knows so much more than he lets on, and that's when it hit me. Tankhun isn't any piece at all. Tankhun is the invisible player on the other side of the board that Korn's REALLY playing against, but he's out to save all the pieces he captures.

Meanwhile, while the fish in separate bowls may be symbolic of a lull in the fighting, there's still two fish left, so Korn's giving them a break while he plots his next move. The trouble is, much like fish living in two separate tanks, raised to kill each other, his ideas are never going to breed, and that is where Korn's fundamental understanding of survival of the fittest being about strength rather than replication is going to fuck him over.