#i would love to be of a specific religion but ive yet to find one i 100% believe in

[ravenclod]

sometimes [ most of yhe time ] i wish i was religious because i know prayer would and does help ground me so much, more than meditating has, even if im not praying to someone or something in specific, but i always forget to. i think if i was religious i, personally, would be a lot more strong mentally in terms of i would actually dedicate that time to prayer and working on myself.

also i think it just seems nice

[im-fucking-baalin]

Tell me . More about your cult of the lamb au :3

I'm specifically curious about the idea that lamb could have been a priest of a religion based around a warped version of Narinder (you could say... a cult)

How did they warp his image? Does he know about it? How long has the religion been around- does it dissappear when the lamb is sacrificed? Grrrr I am so curious!!!

RAHHHH ITS 5AM THE PERFECT TIME TO ANSWER THIS OF COURSE !!!

ok first of all, english is not my first language so if theres something you didnt quite understand lmk pls 🤝

sooo,,, an incredibly long explanation is incoming!

im gonna be honest, this all originated from A Single™️ line that Shamura said in-game. This One:

"The lamb is, after all, the sacrificial beast. Bred to slaughter"

Since the first time i read it, it kept lingering in my mind because, wdym.

In my own madness, that lines existence means that, even before the lamb genocide happened, the bishops considered lambs as some kind of free soul resource they could use for sacrifice with no repercussions. And thanks to that, ive been constantly in a state of Making Things Up In My Mind Until Shit Starts To Make Sense.

And heres where, basically everything comes into play. The lambs were Narinders cult, to some extent. They were assigned to him, courtesy of his siblings, to be literally the pastor of them, yknow, protecting them and guiding them until the time to be sacrificed came. However, those sacrifices were never for him. Those were for the rest of the bishops.

Let me explain! One thing i LOVE with what the community has done in COTLs lore understanding is the way we see the crowns powers. like HELL YEAH they are NOT a single concept they EMBRACE the whole spectrum of said concept! Including everything that may be considered "good" and "bad"!!!

AND NOW, the important thing with this,,,,

In-game, after indoctrinating the bishops into your cult, and completing each individual quest for them, they kind of tell you where they got their crowns? the version of the game ive been playing is the spanish one, and honestly i hadnt read those same dialogues in english to see if they actually translated them faithfully, but oh well!

Thats what i got from it; with the four telling you how they were basically normal creatures before finding the crowns. mind you, finding

We are talking about a culture in wich gods were kind of the basic population, maybe in the timespan before that weird "war" happened; youd think they would be more careful with those things no? Exactly!

The bishops werent properly crowned!!! :000

THIS MEANS, in my mind, that they had absolute zero knowledge of what those crowns fully embrace!!

This, also, is where i have a loose knot, for i still hadnt come to a reasonable explanation on how Narinder got his, for he seems to be the only one who wasnt a crawling creature before the crown, possibly meaning he WAS properly crowned. ill work more on this in the future :P

SO, before i start expanding waaaay more, this is where i wanted to get to, but itll be on giant general terms that i promise ill explain with more detail in the future:

the bishops didn't believe in death having some kind of spectrum to it, one that they used on their own personal gain, receiving offerings and such in exchange of "good things". As a result, they kind of excluded him, in a not so catastrophic way like you might think, but rather in a "your domain is of no use to us" kind of way.

This was a result of Shamuras doing, for they were the only bishop who got to understand what a crown entails, knowledge being in their domain after all

(as a little side note, i FUCKING LOVE what this implies. Yknow? that the contrary of war is not peace but rather knowledge, because the more informed you are the more able to see what kind of shit youre doing, yet also functioning as the greatest weapon to use in the field IS PEAK TO ME)

What Shamura was trying to do was protect him. They were very afraid of him, and in trying to make that fear go away, they decided to kind of "keep" the truth away. This resulted in him never exploiting his full domain, wich then led to ppl believing that praying to death was basically useless, unless you did it to get consolation, wich meant there were no offerings or sacrifices in his name.

Now, as the pastor of the lambs Narinder hated the way the other bishops treated them. The lambs were kept in some kind of village, from where they, whenever they wanted, could choose any lamb and make Narinder sacrifice them in their name. Even kids!

Well, after this half-assed explanation bc i didnt want to make it way longer, here comes the actual answer to your question! (sorry!)

the religion started the moment the lambs managed to escape the place they were kept in. the situation that led to this, was the same one that sparked the conflict between siblings: a resurrection.

even if Narinder was their patron god, the lambs never had contact with him until the time to sacrifice came. here youre gonna meet ellen! shes a missing link i had to write into the story for it to make more sense. she is, also, the culprit for that religion to exist!

Basically, that day they had sacrificed her lover. they were planning to escape that night, but sadly they had no chance on knowing who was to be chosed for slaughter next. instead of praying to their god, she insulted him, with such a burning passion, Narinder knew this was his opportunity.

he made a deal with her. he would revive her lover, and in exchange she would leave and never tell anyone what happened. the only gain Narinder was going to have with this was the knowledge that he could actually revive ppl, so it was a total win-win.

ellen, however, saw this as death being the kindest god to ever exist, and she felt incredibly lucky, for she was the first and only to ever be offered this.

we all know how this went, though. the ritual was interrupted by the bishops, they started arguing, Narinder did what he did etc etc

she escaped, alongside her whole village, and decided to mask her selfish act with sermons about how Narinder sacrificed himself so they could live better lives, and how he had choose her to be the carrier of his word. it was all made up ofc.

so, for a millenia, the lambs were worshipping an incredibly distorted version of Narinder. They didnt even get his name, nor his title. They only knew him as death. This also meant Narinder never got to know about this. As far as his knowledge go, the lambs may all had been sacrificed without any regulation in the next coming days after his imprisonment. None on his name, tho

fast forward and we get to Lambert! theyre the last priest to this religion, both figuratively and literally

the way priests and priestesses (?) work in here is something that in on itself deserve its own post, but on general terms:

in catholicism the priest is a person who got religious preparation to serve god and spread His word. they are meant to be chaste, kind, and just. they are also meant to be "served", to some extent.

in here, priests are more like the leaders of the lamb population, replacing Narinders role back in the day. they were all following a rule that only female direct descendants from ellen could get that title which OF COURSE MEANS IT WAS A TRANS DOMINATED FIELD LETS FUCKING GO (projecting much? LMAOOO)

so, yeah! they guide and serve! so imagine Lamberts pain after the bishops kill not only their family, but their Whole Fucking Species in front of their eyes!!! lads flabbergasted!!!!

and thats it! thats how they got a distorted version of Narinder for worship. No, he had no idea that both the lambs were still alive and that they had been worshipping him in a completely different way than intended. and yes! the religion did disappear once lambert got sacrificed! but to explain what actually happened there i need to make another pointlessly big paragraph and honestly i think i already abused my yapping rights for today!

i promise, all these concepts WILL be treated at their own pace, but it may take time for me to develop them nicely!

if you, however, fancy keep asking questions for me to go apeshit at them, PLEASE PLASE PLEASE DO SO!!!!!!

MAN THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK YOU MADE MY WHOLE WEEK!!!! you asked about the EXACT point ive been DYING to expand more on THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 10/25/22

fairly short bc i have either been sleeping or manually cleaning a database (upside down smiley face emoji)

listening ruby (instrumental) by hovvdy. this is a rare song where i like the instrumental version much more than the full song-- the lead singer has a bad case of early aughts indie frontman voice (get well soon). this sounds like (stay with me okay) the background music to some of the old american girl flash games, specifically the dog walking game. i think it's the combination of the drum machine and the dense, rapid loop under the melody.

it sounds faded but not in the volume sense, in like a mellow sense? it sounds like driving to go apple picking. overall it is laidback but peppy. courtesy of my discover weekly.

-

reading mervyn peake's titus groan, the first in a trilogy about the inhabitants of the baroque yet medieval Castle Groan. i am reading this book in a way i do not normally read books, to wit: one or two chapters at a time a week apart. i sit by a river until i get bored, i think "oh right there's a book in my bag" and read until i get bored again. i am falling more and more in love with the prose in this thing-- the lady mother of the castle has a billion white cats, and they all rush into her room until (i am not getting up to quote this precisely) "every shadow in the room was blanched with cats". MWAH. love it. i have just met the teen lady fuchsia groan. DREADFUL child. excited to find out what her whole deal is.

i also need you all to look at the PBS site for the two-season adaptation they did in the year 2000. this is the most 2000s shit ive ever seen this is incredible

-

watching if for some reason you want to watch a response to rio bravo (an extremely tiresome movie which is in itself a response to high noon) Assault On Precinct 13 (1976, dir Carpenter) is really your only option i think? fun hour and a half tower defense, fun effects, this movie takes place either in evening or actual night and i can still see everything that's going on bc carpenter shelled out for the best processing money could buy (to the detriment of actually uhhhh paying his talent).

one of the more charged smoking scenes ive seen in some time. god laurie zimmer is hot

i markov chained my way to this film bc i am always interested in responses to westerns (usually this means reinterpreting them as cop dramas, bc most american cowboy movies are propaganda pieces about trusting law enforcement and how imperialism is good, something something civic religion/manifest destiny/reach for the sky pardner) and i want to watch more things that feel like The Taking of Pelham 123 bc by god was that movie fun to watch. maybe i do like hostage movies??? this is a weird development for me.

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playing despondently puttering about in the fourth fallout. really wish i found the companion deacon endearing, but i do not. this game has several too many sad dead wife guys, and if there was anything interesting under the very obvious front he's putting on deacon would be a much more interesting (to me) character. alas.

-

making fallow week

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Re: Star Wars prequel novelizations - the Revenge of the Sith book is genuinely one of the best things I have ever read and changed my life.

THANK YOU, anon, for reminding me about the Revenge of the Sith novelization.  I just reread it, and my crops are watered, my skin is clear, and — I cannot overstate this — I actually remember why I love Star Wars.  That love has been for too long stolen by The Fandom Menace sucking the life out of those movies to invent a new definition of suffering while digesting them slowly over a thousand years.

Revenge of the Sith by Matthew Stover is one of the greatest works of adventure fiction I have ever read, and it continues to inspire the way I write action sequences and character conflicts.  It does so damn much to transform a movie that is, to be honest, just okay.  There are a couple of big additions from the novel that make the whole Skywalker saga richer, and there are about five hundred little tweaks that deepen the lore in a way that shows that Stover loves Star Wars to the core.

First big addition: having Obi-Wan tell Padmé that he’s in love with Anakin. This is great because yay, queer representation!  But within the specific context of RotS, it also sets up the super-important contrast between Obi-Wan and Anakin.  Obi-Wan, Stover’s novel makes clear, is the quiet and unassuming embodiment of everything a Jedi is supposed to be: he’s selfless, loving, hard-working, and incredibly skilled with the Force.  Obi-Wan falls in love with Anakin, realizes that Anakin doesn’t love him back in that way, and... lives with it.  He spends time with Anakin, supports Anakin, enjoys Anakin’s company, and doesn’t act like the world will end if Anakin isn’t his.

Anakin loves Obi-Wan, in a siblinglike way, and he loves Padmé.  But he’s got a nasty habit of expressing that love through possession and control, through going behind Padmé’s back to “fix” her life without her permission.  Anakin falls in love with Padmé and immediately concludes that he cannot possibly live like this: they must begin a secret relationship, and he must both marry her and remain a Jedi.  Later he destroys the Jedi and eventually Padmé herself because he sees himself as having no way out of that dilemma.

And all the while, Obi-Wan is there in the background.  Also in love with someone with whom he cannot have a relationship, and just… dealing with it like an adult.  Because millions of people are in love with people who don’t love them back, and that’s just how it is sometimes.  It’s selfish to obsess over “having” their love at all costs.  For Anakin, that obsession with saving Obi-Wan and Padmé eventually leads to him killing them both.

When Yoda tells Anakin that he must deal with his fear of losing Padmé through letting go, Anakin takes this to mean “let her die.”  But what Yoda means is not “let her die,” but rather “love her the way Obi-Wan loves you: quietly, selflessly, and with a willingness to do what’s best for her, whether or not that means you get to have her.”  And Anakin never understands that, because Anakin’s view of the world is so intensely egocentric.

Second big addition: updating the Force to explain the Dark Side. Revenge of the Sith, even more so than any other Star Wars, is all about the contrast between the Dark Side and the Light Side.  Here, Stover’s contribution is brilliant; he makes the Dark Side egocentric and the Light allocentric.

Terminology! “Egocentric” in psych refers to the perspective that focuses on how the world affects you and how you affect the world.  At the extreme, egocentric thinking can be believing that a baby is crying in a deliberate effort to annoy you, or that every person in a crowded cafeteria will remember what shirt you wore when you ate there a week ago.  “Allocentric” refers to the perspective that the self is one of several disparate elements buffered around by the world.  At the extreme, allocentric thinking can be failing to realize that others are reacting to your presence, or viewing your own life as one thing you can give to help others.

Stover doesn’t use those terms, but he does describe how Dooku “drew power into his innermost being until the Force itself existed only to serve his will” (p. 64).  Later, Obi-Wan “gave himself to the living Force… the Force moved him, let him collapse as though he’d suddenly fainted, then it brought his lightsaber from his belt to his hand” (p. 285).  Dooku ultimately loses his fight against Anakin because he focuses on how everyone is responding to him, and misses that Anakin and Palpatine are beginning to build an alternate alliance right under his nose.  Obi-Wan ultimately wins his fight against Anakin because he allows the Force to shove him around, and sets aside his concern with both his own life and that of his best friend while fighting for the greater goal of peace.

Not only that, but Obi-Wan’s understanding of the Force moves beyond that of most Jedi.  He compares “the will of the Force” to “the will of gravity,” in essence stating that simply because it is beyond human comprehension doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its own rules.  One can be a Jedi without needing to understand the Force in the same way one can be a pilot without needing to be a physicist.  In RotS, we see that his refrain of “search your feelings” is a way of calling on a Force user to be mindful enough to accept realities that are already evident, if one can only allow oneself to have that knowledge.

Stover also uses these competing perspectives — allocentric and egocentric — to explain why the Jedi Order falls.  The tight control the Order exerts over the Jedi moves them away from the will of the Force and toward the will of the Council.  Its insularity creates a sense of superiority, which is the reason so many Jedi fail to see their clone troopers as threats until it’s too late. Stover tweaks the Jedi Purge scene to emphasize that the only reason Obi-Wan and Yoda survive is because of their selflessness.  Obi-Wan takes the time to befriend his alien mount, repeatedly confirming her well-being, and then she shields him with her body when his troopers open fire.  Yoda respects the Wookie command and puts himself in a position to assist rather than lead the resistance movement on Kashyyyk, meaning that when a fight breaks out between him and his troopers the Wookies don’t hesitate to side with him.  Yoda and Obi-Wan are the only two Jedi who truly give themselves to the service of others, and thus they are the only two to survive the Purge.

...and the million little favors this book does for the movie.

During the opening battle, having Obi-Wan tell Anakin to “use the Force” to fly a narrow trench and having Anakin roll his eyes at such an obvious suggestion.  It’s a callback to A New Hope, but one that drives home how much more the Force is integrated in the lives of Old Republic Jedi than it is in the lives of Imperial kids like Luke.

Fixing the minor continuity error from Episode III to Episode IV — why would Admiral Motti dismiss Vader as following outdated superstitions if there were millions of Jedi within his lifetime? — by explicitly stating that the Sith are considered a dead culture.  Ergo, Vader’s “ancient religion” isn’t the Force in general; it’s specifically the Sith creed.

Making Palpatine scarier and more seductive than he is in the movie.  Stover’s rhetoric about killing even the Jedi children is frighteningly rational and coherent, and he uses it to give Palpatine some stomach-churning speeches while corrupting Anakin.

Using the novel format for all it’s worth.  Stover skims over the physical-comedy elevator sequence in favor of having Dooku and Palpatine discussing their plans for the war.  He only tells us about Anakin’s conversation with Yoda after the fact, in scattered flashes as a panicking Anakin runs through the halls of the Jedi temple.  He gives us intense focus on Anakin’s mindset while trying to land the broken halves of Invisible Hand, less on what the ship itself is doing.  He cuts away from Anakin and Obi-Wan’s final battle, toward R2D2 and C3PO as they struggle to drag a dying Padmé into her ship out of a desperation to find some small way to help her.

Revealing that Palpatine spends the entire story trying to kill Obi-Wan.  This gets hinted at in the movie, but Stover includes several moments throughout Palpatine’s “rescue” from Dooku when Palpatine sets Obi-Wan up to die, and mentions like eight other attempts on Obi-Wan’s life as orchestrated by Palpatine.  It’s a great character addition, that Palpatine assumes he cannot get Anakin to fall unless he first eliminates Obi-Wan.

Expanding Padmé’s role in the movie (set dressing, and later refrigerator filling) by having her secretly organize and launch the Rebel Alliance right under Vader and Palpatine’s noses.

Those are just examples of how Stover clearly knows the Force, gets the Force, and strives to make the Force more internally coherent.  How he sometimes translates, sometimes preserves, and always improves the pacing and tone of the film.

I haven’t even touched on the FUCKING AMAZEBALLS imagery or introspection in the book yet, but this post is getting wicked long, so I’ll go ahead and leave it here for now.  Point is, all y’all should go out immediately and get a copy from your library and/or used bookstore, because Nonny is right and it’ll change your life.

[emeritiii]

Oh definitely do all the asks!

THANK YOU this has been a most adequate distraction

>1) Put your iTunes on shuffle. Give me the first 6 songs that pop up.

i. Jobs Where They Don't Know Our Names by Raymond and Maria

ii. Out of Time by The Modern Era

iii. Culling of the Fold by The Decemberists

iv. Usher, Pt. 2 from Ghost Quartet

v. Literal Actual Caramelldansen

vi. Self Destruct by Pegboard Nerds

>2) If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

Egocentric answer, but I would want to meet myself as if we were strangers and see how I come across out in the world

>3) Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

Oh god it's a notebook okay. "That was what she did for Coda, at least, although they manage to bunny-hop over that particular bar by virtue of not committing serial homicide." (Cutting into line eighteen slightly for the sake of finishing the sentence)

>4) What do you think about most?

Whatever my current special interest is. Right now it's my and @generiqwriter 's ridiculously complex Dead by Daylight multiverse, and also the hellcomic

>5) Ever had a poem or song written about you?

Oh yes

>6) Do you have any strange phobias?

I don't think so? My only real genuine phobia is maybe my inability to make phone calls, but that's pretty standard for someone with severe anxiety. Extremely large shapes like unbroken cloud fronts or the sun in the browser game I played as a kid make my chest feel tight, and if something moves in a way it isn't supposed to you won't find me in that room anymore, but those both feel like pretty typical human-instinct neuroses as well.

>7) What’s your religion?

Atheist and areligious

>8) If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

Wandering around my apartment complex. Or around the park or the mountains. Wandering in general.

>9) Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

The Modern Era (specific recommendations: Like a Hot Knife, Holiday)

>10) What was the last lie you told?

I told my kittens I would give them a treat, And Then I Didn't (they will both have one a little later—it was just too close to breakfast at the time)

>11) Do you believe in karma?

Not in the fate or spirituality sense, but in terms of probability and the way fucking people over informs how you fit into the world around you, something that feels like karmic backlash is bound to come up eventually, and if it compels a person to rethink how they conduct themself, that's neat

>12) What does your URL mean?

It's a Southern Reach trilogy reference (if you know you know) packaged in a Homestuck reference that was, believe it or not, unintentional at the time

>13) What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

I'm super avoidant and tend to come off as noncommittal or uncaring/insincere, but my online orders always arrive early and I think that really makes up for everything.

>14) Who is your celebrity crush?

Don't have one!

>15) How do you vent your anger?

Generally I don't, but when I do, I turn up my music as loud as I can tolerate

>16) Do you have a collection of anything?

I had an hourglass collection and a bone collection that probably still exist but didn't come with me when I moved out by myself. It's probably fair to say that I collect notebooks and pens. And soft things, although I've tried to tone down the plushie hoarding

>17) Are you happy with the person you’ve become?

Not yet, but he's a work-in-progress.

>18) What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?

Right now my favorite sounds are the squeaky trill one of my kittens makes when she wants attention and the specific way my girlfriend laughs when I catch her off-guard with a joke. Whistling is probably my least favorite

>19) What’s your biggest “what if”?

What if I packed a duffel bag and the cats and just drove out to Missouri right now?

>20) Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

I teased a similar idea in a character ask meme earlier this month, but I believe that when something traumatic happens in a specific place, it becomes an inextricable part of that place, so it's haunted in a way. Ghosts are real and they're rattling around my empty skull as we speak. And yes I think there's something alive out there somewhere—microorganisms, at the very least

>21) Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

Punched the wall real hard with my right hand 👍 touched my knee with the left because I'm too pretty to sit in a chair the way god intended

>22) Smell the air. What do you smell?

Coffee and pre-autumn desert wind

>23) What’s the worst place you have ever been to?

(TW for gore and dead animals) At work we have what we call the Devil's Room, which is a steel vault with a twenty-foot ceiling and half a dozen garbage bins full of severed animal heads. There's usually a pile of horses or cows on the floor and every square inch of it is covered in blood. Every time I go down there I'm just waiting for someone to slam the giant door shut behind me and tell me they want to play a game. It's not for everybody

>24) Most attractive singer/s of your opposite gender?

I honestly couldn't tell you

>25) To you, what is the meaning of life?

I think everyone needs to find their own meaning. Existence is too complicated too attach one universal purpose to it

>26) Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

I do, and I like driving a lot, actually. The only wreck I've ever been in was when a deer jumped in front of me on a rural highway at three in the morning, and I kept driving

>27) What was the last movie you saw?

Damn that's a great question. I think it was Turning Red?

>28) What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

You can tell I've never really had any serious injuries because the worst incident that comes to mind is the time I half-fainted and sprained my thumb

>29) Do you have any obsessions right now?

Yes (send help)

>30) Ever had a rumor spread about you?

Definitely.

>31) Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

Yes, although I'm not especially vindictive. It just sours my interactions with someone if I can't get over it

>32) What is your astrological sign?

Scories I'm a Scorpio, and I have the full chart Max made for me somewhere

>33) What’s the last thing you purchased?

Groceries and housekeeping stuff. The kid helping bag groceries asked if I was doing a TikTok challenge because I was buying Tide pods

>34) Love or lust?

Love, but I'm aspec and my personal subjective experience of both things is important to me, so take my opinion with a grain of salt and chase what drives you

>35) In a relationship?

Yes, and we h*ld h*nds and play League of Legends together, so you know it's serious

>36) How many relationships have you had?

Six, one of which was like a boss fight with three phases (this is a joke it was my first relationship and I had no idea how to do literally anything)

>37) What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

If I told you, you'd have to kill me

>38) Where is your best friend?

Too far away < 3

>39) What were you doing last night at 12 AM?

Trying to fall asleep, looking at stimboards

>40) Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

Holy shit no. I have a coworker-you-are-forced-to-tolerate relationship with myself

>41) You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

Grab the dog. If my job stability is already that tenuous, I'd probably just call in my resignation mid-rescue

>42) You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

a) I would tell my girlfriend as soon as possible and then plan to tell everyone else who needed to know but fail to actually do it until way too close to the deadline; b) Try to continue with business as usual while preparing all the necessary legal shit on the side; c) I don't think so, but I've never been faced with something like that, so I can't say for sure

>43) What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

Weird Al Yankovic's Polka Face

>44) In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

Communicate And Set Expectations For The Love Of Gourd

>45) How can I win your heart?

Survive the crucible of me rambling for four hours straight.

>46) Can insanity bring on more creativity?

I think it's more that creativity is a valuable outlet and coping source. If you're in pain or the way you experience the world is crucially different than the way everyone around you does, it's going to translate in a hundred unique ways. I also think we should be careful about romanticizing it, but that's a whole other thing I'm not qualified to stand on a soapbox about

>47) What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

Joining that weird little Doctor Who roleplay group even though I wasn't really into Doctor Who anymore

>48) What would you want to be written on your tombstone?

I don't know exactly, but I want there to be a really egregious typo somewhere on it

>49) Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word “heart.”

Heart Aspect, followed by that post with the inaccurate anatomical diagram that was floating around my dash recently

>50) Basic question; what’s your favorite color/colors?

Storm cloud grey, hot pink, maroon

>51) What is your current desktop picture?

A doodle of a secretary bird I drew for a silly little two-frame GIF

>52) If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

I'd put it to a vote among people whose opinions I care deeply about

>53) What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

I spent fifteen minutes thinking about this one and don't have a good answer (or a joke answer)

>54) You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

Transferrable shapeshifting, so I can lend the ability to someone else for a bit

>55) You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

For a moment I definitely thought this was asking me to choose an event to condense down into a thirty-minute period. Honestly, I would choose a nice dream or a good meal—something minor because I wouldn't want to ruin the memory by revisiting the moment

>56) You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

I'm actually reading a book about this— (I don't know, though. All of my worst experiences have involved many other people in such a way that I don't necessarily want to make that decision, whether or not it would be erased for them as well)

>57) You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

Nah sorry m8 I'm good

>58) You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

G...girlfriend

>59) Ever been on a plane?

I've done lots of flying!

>60) Give me your top 5 hottest celebrities.

Yall I'm sorry but my permanent address is under a rock

[llogllady99]

We’ll meet again

CHARACTERS | Levi, Erwin, Gabi, Falco

RELATIONSHIPS | Levi x Erwin

GENRE | Angst, Characters death

IV | Characters death, talks of reincarnation, mourning, angst, heavy angst i think, Erwin’s grave

SUMMARY | It was the 14th of October and Levi had just come to visit his late lover’s grave: Commander Erwin Smith, dragging Falco and Gabi with him.

WORD COUNT | 2k

Droplets sharp like knives rained down relentlessly against the jagged and worn out headstones in Paradis’ graveyard, further eating away at the already damaged and weathered rock. Puddles have formed in the depressions of the little allies that snaked in between the graves, gravel and dirt mixing with the glacial downpour of mid October. Trees, specifically three or four oak trees and five pine trees that were placed in acute measured intervals, were dripping with water, their leaves ruffled violently by the gale that accompanied the rain. The clouds and sky were a dark grey, occasionally splitting when lightning broke through, immediately followed by the roar of thunder, silencing and drowning out every sound present in that moment in the valley and everything in its vicinity. When such events did not occur, the high pitched squeaking of a wheelchair and its occasional bumping into small, misplaced bits of gravel could be heard, accompanied by short and light footsteps following it closely could be heard.

In the terrible weather, that had decreased the visibility exponentially, three figures could be distinguished making their way through the alleys of the graveyard: the owner of the wheelchair, a man in his forties with onyx black haired and with an enormous scar deforming his once perfect face, and two children: a girl with chestnut brown hair the same colour as her eyes and a boy with blonde hair and hazel golden eyes. Their destination was still unknown as the boy had trouble following the instruction the man in the wheelchair voiced, his tone growing more aggressive by the minute, his excitement and eagerness starting to show. But as time progressed, their destination seemed to be at the far back of the cemetery, where a massive white marble head stone laid, seemingly unaffected by the furious torrent around it. It was the 14th of October and Levi had just come to visit his late lover’s grave: Commander Erwin Smith, dragging Falco and Gabi with him.

Seven years had passed since Erwin’s death but it still felt like it was yesterday. The pain, regret, and love were still as intense as they were when the man took his last breath, abruptly raising his hand up asking that damned question again before inhaling and exhaling shallowly. It was a cruel world they had lived in back then and certainly letting Erwin rest had been the best decision and one of the greatest gestures of love Levi had done for him. They all suffered so much, him most out of them all. There was no point in bringing him back and let those regrets and guilt pile up even more. Sometimes, selfishly Levi would allow his mind wonder and wish his lover would be there again with him, if only for a little bit, enough to witness the world they were in now. A world with no more wars and hardships. He would also imagine their life together: buying an apartment together in the centre of Mitras, raising a few pets together, getting married for real, adopting, and taking him to the ocean, a wonder which Erwin never had the chance to experience. Levi would have shown him all the weirdly shaped shells that Armin was so passionate about, the colourful fishes that swam where the water was deeper, and the way the sun rose from the water, painting it in vibrant yellows, oranges, and reds.

Levi had also told Gabi and Falco about Erwin, telling them about the greatness of his Commander, their relationship, and about his last moments. The children had been surprisingly understanding, Gabi’s prejudice’s long forgotten, and had offered him great comfort telling him they wanted to know more and actually meet the man, well what remained of him. Levi reckoned that there would only be his bones, if they had not turned to ashes those seven years, and maybe a phew strands of his infuriatingly beautiful golden hair, a feature of his which the raven adored. Therefore, here he was, looking down at the white marble headstones, emotions and memories flooding back in again. He briefly showed the children the headstone and then asked for a little privacy. With sympathy, they obliged and walked off in a random direction through the cemetery, each equipped with a black umbrella, shielding them from the torrential rain.

Now alone, Levi readjusted his umbrella so it sat upright without his support, then reached for the bag that rested against one of the armrests. It was a brown leathered sling bag which he took from Erwin a while ago. He had found the bag while gathering his things from his office when they came back from the expedition. Back then it had brought back memories of secret picnics in flowery meadows on their days off. Erwin always had to drag him by force because Levi didn’t know how to let go, comfortable in his routine. Looking back now they should have done that more often. He missed the whispered I love yous, make outs with flowers in their hair and dirt on their clothes, half-assed sandwiches stollen from the barrack’s kitchen. Now, besides Erwin’s cloak that was neatly folded and handled with the utmost care in his apartment back in Marley, the bag was a reminder that Erwin had indeed lived among them, that he was not some figment of his imagination. Inside it he had stored a mini wooden and golden gramophone. It had been a gift from Onyankopon, because the man had noticed his enjoyment and fascination with music. After carefully placing it in his lap, next he took out a small record that he gently placed on the gramophone. Looking back at the headstone he tried to imagine that Erwin was there, in his Survey Corps uniform with a warm smile on his face staring back at him. Levi lifted his chin, looking into his lover’s eyes, but to an outsider into pure nothingness. Now in a wheelchair, he was even shorter than him, albeit at his one meter and some hope, he didn’t have much to compare to Erwin in the first place. But now it seemed as if their faces were miles away.

“Listen carefully now big guy, I’m about to play you my new favourite song.” Levi smiled then proceeded to gently place the tonearm over the disc record. The disc started rotating, then the sound of trumpets sounded through the horn and into their surroundings. After a short intro, it sang:

We'll Meet Again

Don't know where, don't know when

But I know We'll Meet Again

Some sunny day

Keep smiling through

Just like you always do

'Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away

So will you please say hello

To the folks that I know

Tell them I won't be long

They'll be happy to know

That as you saw me go

I was singing this song

We'll Meet Again

Don't know where, don't know when

But I know we'll meet again

Some sunny day

We'll Meet Again

Don't know where, don't know when

But I know we'll meet again

Some sunny day

Keep smiling through

Just like you always do

'Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away

So will you please say hello

To the folks that I know

Tell them I won't be long

They'll be happy to know

That as you saw me go

I was singing this song

We'll Meet Again

Don't know where, don't know when

But I know We'll Meet Again

Some sunny day

As the song came to a stop, the disc record spinning slower and slower, a stray tear found its way on Levi’s cheek, streaming down fast at first but as it reached his jawline, it faltered for a little then fell on his shoulder, colouring almost imperceptibly the grey suit a darker grey. The gramophone, now ceasing to emit any kind of sound, was tucked right back to its fateful place in Levi’s bag. Rearranging it so that it rested again comfortably against the armrest, the raven turned his attention to the imaginary Erwin that stood motionless on his own headstone, staring back with the same vibrant cerulean eyes and soft smile. Usually, Levi would have felt unnerved by his stare, always reprimanding him with a “What you looking at, creep?”, but now he missed it dearly, the longing clawing at his chest and making it hard for him to go through with what he had to say next. So, ignoring the lump forming in his chest and the tears that threatened to fall, Levi opened his mouth and began to talk:

“Do you know why I like this song, Erwin? Because it reminds me of all of you. You, Hange, Mike, Petra, my squad, the brats.” Stopping to regain his composure, he inhaled and counted to three as Gabi had once told him, then continued his speech. “Do you wanna know what I did in the three years I wasn’t allowed to come to Paradis? I travelled. Like a lot. All over the world. I finally got to live for real. Getting to see all those place, the people, and cultures had been fascinating. However, one thing had struck me deeply: Buddhism. Such a strange name for a religion. And guess what, it has nothing to do with the walls or bad or wrong. It just is. One central belief of this religion is reincarnation. The concept had comforted me greatly. Life after death. Death is a natural part of the never ending cycle of life. Death leads to rebirth. It also claims that a person’s spirit remains close by and seeks out a new body and a new life.” Levi gulped then wiped away a few tears that had fallen. “But I don’t want you to find a new body. I don’t want any of you to find a body yet, I want all of you to wait for me. Wait for me, Erwin! Wait so we can start fresh together. Tell the others to wait for me too. Wait for me!” Levi had started to shout, desperation making its presence known.

He wanted to meet Erwin again, to fall in love with him all over again, to hold him, to be together again. If Erwin had reincarnated again, there was no way for Levi to meet him now, to fulfil all of his heart’s desire, and when he died, there would be no after life with Erwin. The only way was for them to wait for him so they can start fresh again.

“But who am I kidding? I only believe in this shit because it’s the only way to cope.” Levi brought a hand to his temples and massaged them, as another headache began to throb through his head. It had started to darken outside, they needed to get going, otherwise they would miss the ferry back to Marley. Hesitantly he called for Gabi and Falco to come get him. While he waited for them he told his lover one last thing:

“I have followed every order of yours, completing it. I chased Zeke for four years, all because I promised you. So, I also want you to promise me one last thing. Promise me we’ll meet again.”

The figure of Erwin standing on the grave vanished, leaving Levi alone. The raven rubbed away one last tear and greeted Falco and Gabi that were patiently waiting next to him. The three of them made their way out of the cemetery, Levi not sparing a look back. If he knew Erwin as well as he thought he did, he was confident they we’ll see each other again

They will meet again, one sunny day.

Notes :

The song for this fic is Vera Lynn - We'll meet again. I also posted it on Tumblr. Thank you for taking the time to read it! As always, I do not own Attack on titan or any of the characters that are in it. This is just a fanfiction inspired from the show! Thanks again and notes and comments are always welcomed. The gif was originally posted by @vialesana​ and Tumblr showed it to me.

[saffronveiled-dreams]

Unbinding the Hair: In Defense of Magic in the Hellenic Polytheist Tradition

“Shall I write about things not to be spoken of? 

 divulge what ought not to be divulged? 

shall I utter the unutterable?”

Julian, Oration 5, Hymn to the Mother of the Gods

To be a hellenic polytheist is to advocate for the glory of the Gods; reach your arms out to embrace their warmth and lower your head in respect of their unimaginable power. It is generally believed that if one has trust in the Theoi then one has all they need. Among my fellow polytheists who follow a strictly reconstructional, or even revivalist, religious structure it is common belief that it is up to the Gods to take our wants, needs and desires into favor; and any personal dabbling in fate, especially in the form of magic or witchcraft, is hubris - an insult to the Gods. Many of our official religious organizations (Hellenion, Neokoroi, and YSEE to name a few.) are openly against the use of magic in conjunction with traditional hellenismos. 

If I am going to dismantle and combat this belief, it’s important for me to shed some light on the foundation for many HP Recons disdain for magic and explain its place in antiquity. In the major city-states of Greece, particularly Athens, witchcraft (specifically baneful magic was titled as such; curses, love spells, etc.) was outlawed and practitioners were persecuted. Not only was it feared, it was described as impiety and profane. If we are going to base our religion around the common state cultus of Athens then we should also note other religious requirements, perhaps about how we shouldn’t mention, or even utter the name of mighty Haides, also note that there are sources citing that Attic peoples did not worship Ares. Yet, interestingly, many of these formal Hellenismos organizations list their own ordained Priests and Priestesses, some of which are devoted to both Haides and Ares. Blasphemous! Unheard of in the old Greek way of life and faith!

...Or is it?

To have a religious practice that is only using sources from the common state cultus of major Greek cities is to turn a blind eye to the undeniable fact that one’s practice would be... rather sparse and open-ended without any of the seasoning that other minor city-state and mystery cult adds; particularly that relating to the natural world, various Theoi, the afterlife, and rites pertaining to such. Despite the fear of Haides’ name, there were temples erected in his honor. There were temples and festivals dedicated to Ares. Many examples of sacred symbols, rites and ways of devotion actually stem from preserved citations of religious behavior branching out from the common cult. I think it is also worthy to note that while much of Greece outlawed the practice of necromancy, it’s hard to ignore the relevance of the Necromanteion of Acheron; a temple for necromancy. Should we exclude these because they weren’t always honored by the major city’s common Priest? 

Many of us understand that our religious praxis will not mirror that of our polytheist peers and it’s important to understand this rings true for the ancient people as well. Ancient household worship was not temple worship and temple worship was not private cult worship yet someone could indulge in all of these to fatten and enrich their praxis.

I mention this because the sources we have detailing ancient Greek magic and witchcraft (particularly that of the PGM) are written and passed down from initiates of various private cults - especially that of the mysteries. If we take a look at the initiation rituals explained in the papyri, we won’t see your typical temple worship however the nature of the spells has one believing it’s still a Greek commoner (a spell for a failing business, an unwanted relationship, unrequited love, the victim of thievery, a slave with abusive masters, etc.) It’s generally believed that magic was taught to these mystai from various Gods. A good example of this is in the rather simple spell PGM IV 1265-74 where a secret name of Aphrodite "that becomes known to no one quickly” is used. To me, this implies a rather strong and long-term relationship must be met with the Goddess before one can learn this spell. It’s also not uncommon to find myths detailing various “priests” of a God as a practitioner of magic (see Medea or Kirke, priestesses of Hekate.) It would be very hard for me to believe that the Theoi would teach their devotees impious behavior. 

When we pick apart the complaint that magic is hubris, we find the idea that magic is actually someone trying to command, or even force, the hand of the Theoi. Ancient Greek magic was not only initiatory, it weaved animism throughout its formula. You can find this in the term “dynamis.” The Greek’s term for the magical consciousness within nature and the practitioner. If there is "dynamis," or magical power in everything around us then it is divine in some way. I believe that the dynamis of plants, rocks and water are specific daimons that connect back to the Gods through planetary correspondence. One cannot perform a spell if they don't work with the right daimons, or dynamis in question. You can also ruin the dynamis of the material you're working with or even simply not be granted its assistance. For instance, ritual harvesting of plants is very important and the Greeks would only use bronze blades to cut or dig (iron is said to kill or remove power from spirits or lesser daimons) and would do certain ritual acts (singing, using a specific hand, etc.) before pouring an offering to the ground where the plant was harvested. This was a thank you, a small act of worship. The forces within Greek magic, may they be plant daimons or Gods, are respected. They're feared. They're adored. 

To me, this is far from hubris.

I also can’t look away and ignore some of the... magical inclination of certain Hellenic practices. Firstly, there are ancient home remedies such as having your daughter wear a small moon amulet to ward sickness, or placing basil on top of a door to bring in wealth to the home, maybe even sending your son to his exams with a necklace of rosemary. Some may consider this an old beginning to folk magic. However, a more commonly known practice for both antiquity and today would be the Kathiskos. The Kathiskos is a small jar containing olive oil, water and various food from ones home, made every Noumenia (first day of the lunar month) then dumped every Deipnon (last day of the lunar month) and dedicated to Zeus Ktesios. This jar, being stored away in the pantry, has apotropaic tendencies where it will protect one’s food supply. It’s almost hauntingly similar to a very popular spell jar practice that will evolve much later in 17th century Europe; the witch jar. Here, someone will create and bury a jar filled with various items to counteract witchcraft (specifically curses and love spells) and dismantle negative influence from entering their home. 

I don’t find the kathiskos to be rather impious, however.

My last, but most important point, is that the Gods encourage us to practice arete; personal excellence. The Gods will assist us and offer their hand to enrich and bless our lives with good luck and prosperity, of course. But this hand is not extended to those who do not try for themselves. I’d like to mention an antique joke here that was used to teach against being lazy and expecting divine influence to fix every problem we may have; 

 There was a man traveling down the road with a wagon, yet it drifted off the path and became stuck into a sinking in the earth. The man reached his hands to the sky and shook them with dismay, crying out to Hermes. “O’ Gracious God, will you please help my wagon back onto the road?” There was no answer, the wagon did not budge. The man’s desperate prayers continued from that morning until sunset, where his cries stopped once he began to believe Hermes had abandoned him. It wasn’t until late that night in his sleep that the God appeared to him. Angry, the man asked “O’ Lord, why did you not remove my wagon from the hole?” to which Hermes replied, “I would have, if you pushed it!”

This also ties into the delphic maxim “the Gods help those who help themselves.” From the sources I’ve found claiming the mystics being taught magic through divine initiation as well as considering my own personal accounts, I’ve come to believe that magic is a tool for mortals to learn, practice and perfect in order to better their lives. To help themselves.

The Gods have weaved magic into our backyards, it is not hubris to go find it. 

[bloopbyoop]

weep woop

ayo. ive read my scheduled email and its time for freewriting shit again. lmao. I want this post to be like a small light from a lit match stick inside a very hollow, icy, and numbing cave. (sounds cartoonish right? I know. Im obsessed with Adventure Time.) I want all people to be genuinely happy.  Spiritually, emotionally, and physically. Upon reaching my 24th anniversary in this world, I finally learned how to truly embrace all my emotions. Some are more overwhelming than the other, but we have to heed in our treacherous yet perplexing minds that everything is fleeting and we are in control. The feeling of extreme sadness fades, but so does joyful states. Everything can change in a matter of minutes or years. You are in control of all your emotions. You are in control of all your life choices. Your actions. Your words. Your perspective. It feels weird to actually write about it. I've wanted to talk about it. I never wanted help from anyone as I firmly believed that I was alone. Sure, I have a family and friends, but it is hard to see that when your head is clouded with negativity. I've even come to the point where I was too overwhelmed, I found being physically hurt less painful. The pain I felt distracted me from what I was thinking. My mind tended to go bonkers. lmao. But bro, I was so good at concealing my bonkers mind. It's easy to fake any emotion that you have. Slap anything sunshine-y or happy to anything and people would believe you. It went on for years. Long story short, thousands of bracelets collected, it became worse. The physical pain could no longer withhold the emotional pain. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't stop thinking. And voila! I found a good amount of self help books (from tumblr) and novels. Novels that brought me to different places. Self-help books that made me understand what I feel and what to do. I've read that taking the easy way out will leave everyone sad. AND IN THE FIRST PLACEEEEEE, I NEVER WANT THATTTTTTT. I want everyone to be happy. I would act foolish and do dumb shit to make everyone happy in a heartbeat. So, that idea made me push a few more years. Later on, the crippling shit came crawling back again to my head, sooooooo I needed new shit to keep me distracted again. Films, series, music, and short clips from YouTube helped me out a lot. Every single time that my mind is going to think like anything that can think of, even to the point that I was just going to think that I might be hungry, I'd watch something. There's just something about silence for me. Because of this new habit of mine, I've learned more about myself. I love different types of things. I like horror. I like thriller. I like comedy. I like romance. I love all types of films, but there is something about the horror genre that interests me. I still can't point out what, but I love watching horror films. With regards to music, I've learned that I love Indie, Punk Rock, Rap, and Pop. We all can't like a specific genre. It's stupid to ask "what genre of music do you like?". It's not actually stupid-stupid, it's just stupid. Ya know? Anyway, passing this phase, I needed to find something again because it's not doing the shit that it was supposed to, I tried investing more time on video games. By investing more, I mean a whole shit lot. I love video games since I was young cuz.... u know.... they keep u... try to guess it! oh yeah. you got that right! distracted! I love the aggressive plays and trashtalks that my friends and I make. The short stories we tell one another. The rants. The lame jokes. The late night we sound drunk but we are not drunk jokes. The roleplays. The lame jokes. The memes. And once again, The lame jokes. Something about lame jokes and the laughs and curses after that always gets me every single time. Oh shoot. Yup Yup. Few years later, I finally noticed the pattern that my sadness is temporary. I got over it one way or the other (or another. depends on how you wanna read it. i dont wanna say another cause i might write about one direction like what im doing now so-). Happiness is temporary as well. But, we are the ones who are actually in control of our emotions. If you wanna feel sad, be sad for a while. You're getting too sad? Try hanging out with your funny friends. Can't do that? Find an alternative. Watch a movie, knit a sweater. Anything your mind could think of as long as it will keep you mentally distracted from being physically and mentally hurt. I do have a few notes though. We cannot and should never assume what people are going through. It may be petty for you, but it may be very crucial to them. So never everrrr say things like: -Some people have it worse than you -At least you have ..... These sheetsss are annoying as heckkk and could really down someone. I know it is not your intention to annoy but people react differently. alsooooooo, it is not okay or normal to hate on things for bandwagon. that is just plainly crazy and stupid. let people enjoy things. anddddddd never suppress your emotions. admit what you feel inside and try to think of a way to resolve ittttt. keeping it to yourself will just make it worseeeeee. find your own outlettttttttt. hihihi ️ alsooooo. being more spiritually full with God's words and ideas really help me to be spiritually happy. ps. im christian but i dont discredit other religion and even applaud other religion's ideas and beliefs. this is a really long, selfish post so i might as well recommend some things I like : Songs with their lyrics that made me go through life. “I’ve got soul but I’m not a soldier” -All These Things That I've Done, The Killers “It's not too late, I'm still right here” -Breaking Your Own Heart, Kelly Clarkson "And the salt in my wounds / Isn't burning any more than it used to / It's not that I don't feel the pain / It's just I'm not afraid of hurting anymore / And the blood in these veins / Isn't pumping any less than it ever has / And that's the hope I have / The only thing I know that's keeping me alive" -Last Hope, Paramore “There is not a single word in the whole world / That could describe the hurt / The dullest knife just sawing back and forth / And ripping through the softest skin there ever was / How were you to know?” -Hate to See Your Heartbreak, Paramore "It's holding on, though the road's long / And seeing light in the darkest things And when you stare at your reflection / Finally knowing who it is / I know that you'll thank God you did" -1800, Logic "Did some things you can't speak of / But at night you live it all again / You wouldn't be shattered on the floor now / If only you had seen what you know now then" -Innocent, Taylor Swift (My bb) "10 months sober, I must admit / Just because you're clean don't mean you don't miss it / 10 months older, I won't give in / Now that I'm clean I'm never gonna risk it // Rain came pouring down when I was drowning / That's when I could finally breathe / And by morning gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean" -Clean, Taylor Swift “I guess I always knew / That I had all the strength to make it through.” -Believe in Me, Demi Lovato "I'm addicted to the madness / I'm a daughter of the sadness / I've been here too many times before / Been abandoned and I'm scared now / I can't handle another fallout / I am fragile, just washed upon the shore / They forget me, don't see me / When they love me, they leave me" -I Hate You, Don’t Leave Me, Demi Lovato “I'm overwhelmed / I need a voice to echo / I need a light to take me home / I need a star to follow / I don't know” -Nightingale, Demi Lovato "I'm a walking travesty / But I'm smiling at everything. // Arrogant boy, Love yourself so no one has to." -Therapy, All Time Low "I tried it once before but I didn't get too far / I felt a lot of pain but it didn't stop my heart. / But maybe I'm alive 'cause I didn't really wanna die / But nothing very special ever happens in my life / Take the blade away from me I am a freak, I am afraid that / All the blood escaping me won't end the pain / And I'll be haunting all the lives that cared for me / I died to be the white ghost / Of the man that I was meant to be" -Ghost, Badflower "Are the pieces of you / In the pieces of me? / I'm just so scared / You're who I'll be / When I erupt / Just like you do / They look at me / Like I look at you" -DNA, Lia Marie Johnson Movies and series to try : -The Perks of Being a Wallflower (The book is bomb af. if yall havent tried, ur missing out) -The Kings of Summer -Never Let Me Go -The Art of Getting By -Silver Linings Playbook -Winter’s Bone -The Lovely Bones (The script. The words) -Me and Earl and the Dying Girl -American Horror Story -Black Swan

pps. remember that every one has their own pace and point of view. don’t push yourself too hard, and don’t overthink. give yourself time, and respect all your emotions. analyze them but not more than like 5 minutes as anything beyond that might cause you to overthink and be sadder. and sad is not rad. hehe. you got this. you got you. self love is the best even though it can be tricky to do. nobody else is like you. you’re the only one of you (i just remembered me.......... i might have hummed it while typing it mid sentence). consider other people’s opinion but do not let it cloud your own judgement as you know yourself best. dont let other comment’s define you. spread love. vibe people you vibe with. ayeeee lets go!!! 

ppps this is my last post bc im happier now and know myself better. i no longer limit myself on the age that I want. I want to live as long as how God wants me to be. hehe. 

x :D

[aboveallarescuer]

Dany’s intelligence, thoughtfulness and overall line of reasoning for taking decisions

As I was rereading ASOIAF, I made it my goal to compile all* the book passages demonstrating either certain key attributes of Daenerys Targaryen (e.g. that she's compassionate and smart) or aspects of hers that are usually overstated (e.g. that she's ambitious and prophecy-driven).  Doing such a task may seem exaggerated, but I'd argue it's not, for many, many misconceptions about Dany have become widespread in light of the show's final season's events (and even before).

It must be acknowledged that it can be tricky to reference, say, ADWD passages to counter-argument how she was depicted in season eight (which allegedly follows ADOS events). Dany will have had plenty of character development in the span of two books. However, whatever happens to Dany in the next two books, I would argue that there is more than enough material to conclude that her show counterpart was made to fall for flaws that she (for the most part) never had and actions that she (for the most part) would never take. (and that's not even considering the double standards and the contradictions with what had been shown from show!Dany up until then, but that's obviously out of the scope of these lists)

Another objection to the purpose of these lists is that Game of Thrones is different from A Song of Ice and Fire and should be analyzed on its own, which is a fair point. However, the show is also an adaptation of these books, which begs the questions: why did they change Dany's character? Why did they overfocus on negative traits of hers or depicted them as negative when they weren't supposed to be or gave her negative traits that were never hers to begin with? Another fact that undermines the show=/=books argument is that most people think that the show's ending will be the books', albeit only in broad strokes and in different circumstances. As a result, people's perception of Dany is inevitably influenced by the show, which is a shame.

I hope these lists can be useful for whoever wants to find book passages to defend (or even simply explore different facets of) Dany's character in metas or conversations.

 *Well, at least all the passages that I could find in her chapters, which is no guarantee that the effort was perfectly executed, but I did my best.

Also, people could interpret certain passages differently and then come up with a different collection of passages if they ever attempted to make one, so I'm not saying that this list is completely objective (nor that there could ever be one).

Also, some passages have been cut short according to whether they were, IMO, relevant to the specific topic of the list they're in, so the context surrounding them may not always be clear (always read the books and use asearchoficeandfire). Many of them appear in different lists, sometimes fully referenced, sometimes not.

I listed the passages back to front because I felt doing so highlighted Dany's evolution better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

To justify the existence of this list, let's see examples of widespread opinions that I feel misrepresent Daenerys Targaryen:

Adaptational Badass: Thanks to her being four years older in the show, it is she and not her advisers who come up with the battle plans in Seasons 3 and 4, plus her army does not seem to be on the verge of starving when they reach Meereen; showing her talent for logistics and conquering. (TVTropes)

~

Daenerys is super uncompromising about slavery, which is great, but her moral absolutism undermines her own goals. After conquering Yunkai and Astapor, and freeing their slaves, she peaces out to her next project. Since she never bothers to establish any kind of tenable power structure, they collapse and return to slavery, or similar, as soon as she is gone. (Wisecrack)

~

Daenerys [...] has exactly one strategy, and it’s called, “Yell A Lot and Burn Stuff.” That’s not always a bad strategy. The good ol “yell and burn” has gotten Daenerys out of being kidnapped, snagged her 8,000 Unsullied soldiers, saved Meereen from warships, and earned her the loyalty of the Dothraki not once, but twice. (Wisecrack)

~

Take the Unsullied. They aren’t exactly sellswords when they’re first introduced; they’re slaves. They aren’t fighting for loyalty or religion. However, by freeing them, Daenerys has transformed them from unwilling mercenaries to dedicated soldiers who are now devoted to her cause. So far, they’ve been her best fighters and their leader, Grey Worm, is one of her most trusted advisors. So, while freeing the Unsullied could be just another shining symbol of Daenerys's wokeness, it's also strategic. It’s likely no accident that she leaves the mercenaries in Meereen when she ships off to Westeros with the troops that now very much believe in her. (Wisecrack)

Dany doesn't come up with the battle plans in the books? Dany doesn't establish any kind of tenable power structure (it can be argued that she didn't do enough, but to say she didn't bother is plain wrong)? Dany only wants soldiers devoted to her cause (we even saw that she found treachery convenient in ADWD Dany VIII; besides, that would be dumb because she'd lose lots of men if she acted on that strictly and she's consistenly characterized as someone who listens to several perspectives, which is the opposite of desiring full devotion ... but I digress)? Dany's only strategy is to "Yell A Lot and Burn Stuff"?

I would argue these claims certainly cannot be made after reading the books (some can't even after watching the show's first 71 episodes, but it can be all over the place), so take a look at these passages.

NOTE: to decide which passages to include, I considered parameters such as social intelligence (she can usually read people well and act on that information, which we see from when she executes her plan against the masters in ASOS Dany III to when she notices that Daario didn't know that Quentyn's party was made of knights; there are exceptions, such as in Mirri's case), political awareness (like when she chooses to wear Qartheen gowns in ASOS Dany III and ADWD Dany III to appease Xaro and the masters or when she chooses Strong Belwas instead of the other men to fight against Oznak zo Pahl in ASOS Dany V or when she ponders if marrying Hizdahr will make her lose the Shavepate's support or when she asks Barristan to release Pretty Meris so she can try to obtain the support of Gylo Rhegan and the Tattered Prince for Dany's side because she's distrustful of the Yunkish in ADWD Dany VIII), battle plans (like when she concocts a plan to conquer Yunkai when her opponents least expect it in ASOS Dany IV) or clever associations (like when, even far away from Meereen, she remembers Belwas's physical reaction to the locusts and realizes, by herself, that they were poisoned, and then becomes suspicious of Hizdahr, who offered them to her and later screamed in favor of Drogon's death (she might be wrong in the latter, but she has a good reason to think so) in ADWD Dany X or when she realizes that "they cheer me on the same plaza where I once impaled one hundred sixty-three Great Masters" in ADWD Dany IX or in AGOT Dany I, in which she noticed that using a golden collar made her look like both a princess and one of Khal Drogo's slaves). Magical intuition would also fit, but I made a separate list for that one.

I must note, though, that the point of gathering these passages is not to find moments where Dany necessarily gets things right, but rather, to show that Dany almost always has a set of reasons for making the decisions she does. Even when she makes mistakes (and while her mistakes may have bigger negative effects than most of other characters', it must also be remembered that she makes bigger gambles than most), it can't be said that she was reckless, but rather that she lacked information or experience.

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

Two days ago, climbing on a spire of rock, she had spied water to the south, a slender thread that glittered briefly as the sun was going down. A stream, Dany decided. Small, but it would lead her to a larger stream, and that stream would flow into some little river, and all the rivers in this part of the world were vassals of the Skahazadhan. Once she found the Skahazadhan she need only follow it downstream to Slaver’s Bay.

~

As the world darkened, Dany settled in and closed her eyes, but sleep refused to come. The night was cold, the ground hard, her belly empty. She found herself thinking of Meereen, of Daario, her love, and Hizdahr, her husband, of Irri and Jhiqui and sweet Missandei, Ser Barristan and Reznak and Skahaz Shavepate. Do they fear me dead? I flew off on a dragon’s back. Will they think he ate me? She wondered if Hizdahr was still king. His crown had come from her, could he hold it in her absence? He wanted Drogon dead. I heard him. “Kill it,” he screamed, “kill the beast,” and the look upon his face was lustful. And Strong Belwas had been on his knees, heaving and shuddering. Poison. It had to be poison. The honeyed locusts. Hizdahr urged them on me, but Belwas ate them all. She had made Hizdahr her king, taken him into her bed, opened the fighting pits for him, he had no reason to want her dead. Yet who else could it have been? Reznak, her perfumed seneschal? The Yunkai’i? The Sons of the Harpy?

~

She would have slept beside the water if she dared, but there were animals who came down to the stream to drink at night. She had seen their tracks. Dany would make a poor meal for a wolf or lion, but even a poor meal was better than none.

~

She fumbled in the water, found a stone the size of her fist, pulled it from the mud. It was a poor weapon but better than an empty hand.

~

In a dozen heartbeats they were past the Dothraki, as he galloped far below. To the right and left, Dany glimpsed places where the grass was burned and ashen. Drogon has come this way before, she realized. Like a chain of grey islands, the marks of his hunting dotted the green grass sea.

ADWD Daenerys IX

“Half of these Brazen Beasts are untried freedmen.” And the other half are Meereenese of doubtful loyalty, he left unsaid. Selmy mistrusted all the Meereenese, even shavepates.

~

How queer, the queen thought. They cheer me on the same plaza where I once impaled one hundred sixty-three Great Masters.

~

Across the pit the Graces sat in flowing robes of many colors, clustered around the austere figure of Galazza Galare, who alone amongst them wore the green. The Great Masters of Meereen occupied the red and orange benches. The women were veiled, and the men had brushed and lacquered their hair into horns and hands and spikes. Hizdahr’s kin of the ancient line of Loraq seemed to favor tokars of purple and indigo and lilac, whilst those of Pahl were striped in pink and white. The envoys from Yunkai were all in yellow and filled the box beside the king’s, each of them with his slaves and servants. Meereenese of lesser birth crowded the upper tiers, more distant from the carnage. The black and purple benches, highest and most distant from the sand, were crowded with freedmen and other common folk. The sellswords had been placed up there as well, Daenerys saw, their captains seated right amongst the common soldiers. She spied Brown Ben’s weathered face and Bloodbeard’s fiery red whiskers and long braids.

~

Barsena’s blade was running red, but the boar soon stopped. He is smarter than a bull, Dany realized. He will not charge again.

~

“Magnificence, the people of Meereen have come to celebrate our union. You heard them cheering you. Do not cast away their love.”

“It was my floppy ears they cheered, not me. Take me from this abbatoir, husband.”

ADWD Daenerys VIII

“Is there some man in the Second Sons who might be persuaded to … remove … Brown Ben?”

“As Daario Naharis once removed the other captains of the Stormcrows?” The old knight looked uncomfortable. “Perhaps. I would not know, Your Grace.”

No, she thought, you are too honest and too honorable. “If not, the Yunkai’i employ three other companies.”

“Rogues and cutthroats, scum of a hundred battlefields,” Ser Barristan warned, “with captains full as treacherous as Plumm.”

“I am only a young girl and know little of such things, but it seems to me that we want them to be treacherous. Once, you’ll recall, I convinced the Second Sons and Stormcrows to join us.”

“If Your Grace wishes a privy word with Gylo Rhegan or the Tattered Prince, I could bring them up to your apartments.”

“This is not the time. Too many eyes, too many ears. Their absence would be noted even if you could separate them discreetly from the Yunkai’i. We must find some quieter way of reaching out to them … not tonight, but soon.”

[...] “Our prisoners,” suggested Dany. “The Westerosi who came over from the Windblown with the three Dornishmen. We still have them in cells, do we not? Use them.”

“Free them, you mean? Is that wise? They were sent here to worm their way into your trust, so they might betray Your Grace at the first chance.”

[...] “We can still use them. One was a woman. Meris. Send her back, as a … a gesture of my regard. If their captain is a clever man, he will understand.”

“The woman is the worst of all.”

“All the better.” Dany considered a moment. “We should sound out the Long Lances too. And the Company of the Cat.”

“Bloodbeard.” Ser Barristan’s frown deepened. “If it please Your Grace, we want no part of him. Your Grace is too young to remember the Ninepenny Kings, but this Bloodbeard is cut from the same savage cloth. There is no honor in him, only hunger … for gold, for glory, for blood.”

“You know more of such men than me, ser.” If Bloodbeard might be truly the most dishonorable and greedy of the sellswords, he might be the easiest to sway, but she was loath to go against Ser Barristan’s counsel in such matters. “Do as you think best. But do it soon. If Hizdahr’s peace should break, I want to be ready. I do not trust the slavers.” I do not trust my husband. “They will turn on us at the first sign of weakness.”

[...] [“]Set Pretty Meris free. At once.”

~

Her king was laughing with Yurkhaz zo Yunzak and the other Yunkish lords. Dany did not think that he would miss her, but just in case she instructed her handmaids to tell him that she was answering a call of nature, should he inquire after her.

~

Martell’s square face was flushed and ruddy. Too much wine, the queen concluded, though he was doing his best to conceal that.

~

“The dragon has three heads,” Dany said when they were on the final flight. “My marriage need not be the end of all your hopes. I know why you are here.”

“For you,” said Quentyn, all awkward gallantry.

“No,” said Dany. “For fire and blood.”

~

“You … you mean to ride them?”

“One of them. All I know of dragons is what my brother told me when I was a girl, and some I read in books, but it is said that even Aegon the Conqueror never dared mount Vhagar or Meraxes, nor did his sisters ride Balerion the Black Dread. Dragons live longer than men, some for hundreds of years, so Balerion had other riders after Aegon died … but no rider ever flew two dragons.”

~

He does not belong here. He should never have come. “You ought to return there. My court is no safe place for you, I fear. You have more enemies than you know. You made Daario look a fool, and he is not a man to forget such a slight.”

“I have my knights. My sworn shields.”

“Two knights. Daario has five hundred Stormcrows. And you would do well to beware of my lord husband too. He seems a mild and pleasant man, I know, but do not be deceived. Hizdahr’s crown derives from mine, and he commands the allegiance of some of the most fearsome fighters in the world. If one of them should think to win his favor by disposing of a rival …”

“I am a prince of Dorne, Your Grace. I will not run from slaves and sell swords.”

Then you truly are a fool, Prince Frog.

ADWD Daenerys VII

It was close to sunset before Daario Naharis appeared with his new Stormcrows, the Westerosi who had come over to him from the Windblown. Dany found herself glancing at them as yet another petitioner droned on and on. These are my people. I am their rightful queen. They seemed a scruffy bunch, but that was only to be expected of sellswords. The youngest could not have been more than a year older than her; the oldest must have seen sixty namedays. A few sported signs of wealth: gold arm rings, silken tunics, silverstudded sword belts. Plunder. For the most part, their clothes were plainly made and showed signs of hard wear.

~

“If it please Your Grace, we are all three knights.”

Dany glanced at Daario and saw anger flash across his face. He did not know. “I have need of knights,” she said.

~

“Three liars,” Daario said darkly. “They deceived me.”

“And bought you too, I do not doubt.” He did not trouble to deny it.

ADWD Daenerys VI

“Irri, bring the green tokar, the silk one fringed with Myrish lace.”

“That one is being repaired, Khaleesi. The lace was torn. The blue tokar has been cleaned.”

“Blue, then. They will be just as pleased.”

She was only half-wrong. The priestess and the seneschal were happy to see her garbed in a tokar, a proper Meereenese lady for once, but what they really wanted was to strip her bare.

ADWD Daenerys V

Ser Barristan remained. “Our stores are ample for the moment,” he reminded her, “and Your Grace has planted beans and grapes and wheat. Your Dothraki have harried the slavers from the hills and struck the shackles from their slaves. They are planting too, and will be bringing their crops to Meereen to market. And you will have the friendship of Lhazar.”

~

Skahaz was convinced that somewhere in Meereen the Sons of the Harpy had a highborn overlord, a secret general commanding an army of shadows. Dany did not share his belief. The Brazen Beasts had taken dozens of the Harpy’s Sons, and those who had survived their capture had yielded names when questioned sharply … too many names, it seemed to her. It would have been pleasant to think that all the deaths were the work of a single enemy who might be caught and killed, but Dany suspected that the truth was otherwise. My enemies are legion. “Hizdahr zo Loraq is a persuasive man with many friends. And he is wealthy. Perhaps he has bought this peace for us with gold, or convinced the other highborn that our marriage is in their best interests.”

~

“It is good that you have come,” she told the Astapori. “You will be safe in Meereen.”

The cobbler thanked her for that, and the old brickmaker kissed her foot, but the weaver looked at her with eyes as hard as slate. She knows I lie, the queen thought. She knows I cannot keep them safe. Astapor is burning, and Meereen is next.

~

“What do you counsel, ser?”

“Battle,” said Ser Barristan. “Meereen is overcrowded and full of hungry mouths, and you have too many enemies within. We cannot long withstand a siege, I fear. Let me meet the foe as he comes north, on ground of my own choosing.”

“Meet the foe,” she echoed, “with the freedmen you’ve called half-trained and unblooded.”

“We were all unblooded once, Your Grace. The Unsullied will help stiffen them. If I had five hundred knights …”

“Or five. And if I give you the Unsullied, I will have no one but the Brazen Beasts to hold Meereen.”

[...] “I cannot fight two enemies, one within and one without. If I am to hold Meereen, I must have the city behind me. The whole city. I need … I need …” She could not say it.

“Your Grace?” Ser Barristan prompted, gently.

A queen belongs not to herself but to her people.

“I need Hizdahr zo Loraq.”

ADWD Daenerys IV

If I wed Hizdahr, will that turn Skahaz against me? She trusted Skahaz more than she trusted Hizdahr, but the Shavepate would be a disaster as a king. He was too quick to anger, too slow to forgive. She saw no gain in wedding a man as hated as herself. Hizdahr was well respected, so far as she could see.

~

“You know why you are here. The Green Grace seems to feel that if I take you for my husband, all my woes will vanish.”

“I would never make so bold a claim. Men are born to strive and suffer. Our woes only vanish when we die. I can be of help to you, however. I have gold and friends and influence, and the blood of Old Ghis flows in my veins. Though I have never wed, I have two natural children, a boy and a girl, so I can give you heirs. I can reconcile the city to your rule and put an end to this nightly slaughter in the streets.”

“Can you?” Dany studied his eyes. “Why should the Sons of the Harpy lay down their knives for you? Are you one of them?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you were?”

He laughed. “No.”

~

The Shavepate will not be happy with me, but Reznak mo Reznak will dance for joy. Dany did not know which of those concerned her more. She needed Skahaz and the Brazen Beasts, and she had come to mistrust all of Reznak’s counsel. Beware the perfumed seneschal. Has Reznak made common cause with Hizdahr and the Green Grace and set some trap to snare me?

~

“Ninety days is a long time. Hizdahr may fail. And if he does, the trying buys me time. Time to make alliances, to strengthen my defenses, to—”

“And if he does not fail? What will Your Grace do then?”

“Her duty.”

~

Daario. Her heart gave a flutter in her chest. “How long has … when did he …?” She could not seem to get the words out.

Ser Barristan seemed to understand.

~

“... a dozen of the Long Lances decided they would sooner be Stormcrows than corpses, so we came out three ahead. I told them they would live longer fighting with your dragons than against them, and they saw the wisdom in my words.”

That made her wary. “They might be spying for Yunkai.”

ADWD Daenerys III

Reznak mo Reznak’s mouth was open, and his lips glistened wetly as he watched. Hizdahr zo Loraq was saying something to the man beside him, yet all the time his eyes were on the dancing girls. The Shavepate’s ugly, oily face was as stern as ever, but he missed nothing.

It was harder to know what her honored guest was dreaming.

~

In his honor Daenerys had donned a Qartheen gown, a sheer confection of violet samite cut so as to leave her left breast bare. Her silver-gold hair brushed lightly over her shoulder, falling almost to her nipple. Half the men in the hall had stolen glances at her, but not Xaro. It was the same in Qarth. She could not sway the merchant prince that way. Sway him I must, however.

~

“I am glad you came to me. It is good to see your face again, my friend.” I will not trust you, but I need you. I need your Thirteen, I need your ships, I need your trade.

~

In Qarth, you had three bloodriders who never left your side. Wherever have they gone?”

“Aggo, Jhoqo, and Rakharo still serve me.” He is playing games with me. Dany could play as well.

~

Dany knew him too well to be moved. Qartheen men could weep at will. “Oh, stop that.” She took a cherry from the bowl on the table and threw it at his nose. “I may be a young girl, but I am not so foolish as to wed a man who finds a fruit platter more enticing than my breast. I saw which dancers you were watching.”

~

“[...] A ditch, to bring water from the river to the fields. We mean to plant beans. The beanfields must have water.”

“[...] Meereen needs beans more than it needs rare spices, and beans require water.”

~

“...The ships are yours, sweet queen. Thirteen galleys, and men to pull the oars.”

Thirteen. To be sure. Xaro was one of the Thirteen. No doubt he had convinced each of his fellow members to give up one ship. She knew the merchant prince too well to think that he would sacrifice thirteen of his own ships. “I must consider this. May I inspect these ships?”

“You have grown suspicious, Daenerys.”

Always. “I have grown wise, Xaro.”

~

“for young and strong as you now seem, you shall not live so long. Not here.”

He offers the honeycomb with one hand and shows the whip with the other. “The Yunkai’i are not so fearsome as all that.”  

~

“Some other night.” His mouth was sad, but his eyes seemed more relieved than disappointed.

~

“A map? It is beautiful.” It covered half the floor. The seas were blue, the lands were green, the mountains black and brown. Cities were shown as stars in gold or silver thread. There is no Smoking Sea, she realized. Valyria is not yet an island.

~

“...Take these ships and sail away, or you will surely die screaming. You cannot know how many enemies you have made.”

I know one stands before me now, weeping mummer’s tears. The realization made her sad.

~

The next morning Xaro’s galleas was gone, but the “gift” that he had brought her remained behind in Slaver’s Bay. Long red streamers flew from the masts of the thirteen Qartheen galleys, writhing in the wind. And when Daenerys descended to hold court, a messenger from the ships awaited her. He spoke no word but laid at her feet a black satin pillow, upon which rested a single bloodstained glove.

“What is this?” Skahaz demanded. “A bloody glove …”

“… means war,” said the queen.

ADWD Daenerys II

“I will have no more Unsullied slaughtered. Grey Worm, pull your men back to their barracks. Henceforth let them guard my walls and gates and person. From this day, it shall be for Meereenese to keep the peace in Meereen. Skahaz, make me a new watch, made up in equal parts of shavepates and freedmen.”

“As you command. How many men?”

“As many as you require.”

Reznak mo Reznak gasped. “Magnificence, where is the coin to come from to pay wages for so many men?”

“From the pyramids. Call it a blood tax. I will have a hundred pieces of gold from every pyramid for each freedman that the Harpy’s Sons have slain.”

That brought a smile to the Shavepate’s face. “It will be done,” he said, “but Your Radiance should know that the Great Masters of Zhak and Merreq are making preparations to quit their pyramids and leave the city.”

Daenerys was sick unto death of Zhak and Merreq; she was sick of all the Mereenese, great and small alike. “Let them go, but see that they take no more than the clothes upon their backs. Make certain that all their gold remains here with us. Their stores of food as well.”

~

Her name had been Hazzea. She was four years old. Unless her father lied. He might have lied. No one had seen the dragon but him. His proof was burned bones, but burned bones proved nothing. He might have killed the little girl himself, and burned her afterward. He would not have been the first father to dispose of an unwanted girl child, the Shavepate claimed. The Sons of the Harpy might have done it, and made it look like dragon’s work to make the city hate me. Dany wanted to believe that … but if that was so, why had Hazzea’s father waited until the audience hall was almost empty to come forward? If his purpose had been to inflame the Meereenese against her, he would have told his tale when the hall was full of ears to hear.

ADWD Daenerys I

“Soldiers, not warriors, if it please Your Grace. They were made for the battlefield, to stand shoulder to shoulder behind their shields with their spears thrust out before them. Their training teaches them to obey, fearlessly, perfectly, without thought or hesitation ... not to unravel secrets or ask questions.”

“Would knights serve me any better?” Selmy was training knights for her, teaching the sons of slaves to fight with lance and longsword in the Westerosi fashion ... but what good would lances do against cowards who killed from the shadows?

“Not in this,” the old man admitted. “And Your Grace has no knights, save me. It will be years before the boys are ready.”

“Then who, if not Unsullied? Dothraki would be even worse.” Dothraki fought from horseback. Mounted men were of more use in open fields and hills than in the narrow streets and alleys of the city.

~

Dany had dispatched her tiny khalasar to subdue the hinterlands, under the command of her three bloodriders, whilst Brown Ben Plumm took his Second Sons south to guard against Yunkish incursions.

The most crucial task of all she had entrusted to Daario Naharis, glib-tongued Daario with his gold tooth and trident beard, smiling his wicked smile through purple whiskers. Beyond the eastern hills was a range of rounded sandstone mountains, the Khyzai Pass, and Lhazar. If Daario could convince the Lhazarene to reopen the overland trade routes, grains could be brought down the river or over the hills at need … but the Lamb Men had no reason to love Meereen. “When the Stormcrows return from Lhazar, perhaps I can use them in the streets,” she told Ser Barristan, “but until then I have only the Unsullied.”

~

Dragons are fire made flesh. She had read that in one of the books Ser Jorah had given her as a wedding gift. 

~

By shaving, Skahaz had put old Meereen behind him to accept the new, and his kin had done the same after his example. Others followed, though whether from fear, fashion, or ambition, Dany could not say; shavepates, they were called.

~

I need this man, Dany reminded herself. Hizdahr was a wealthy merchant with many friends in Meereen, and more across the seas. He had visited Volantis, Lys, and Qarth, had kin in Tolos and Elyria, and was even said to wield some influence in New Ghis, where the Yunkai’i were trying to stir up enmity against Dany and her rule.

And he was rich. Famously and fabulously rich ...

And like to grow richer, if I grant his petition. When Dany had closed the city’s fighting pits, the value of pit shares had plummeted. Hizdahr zo Loraq had grabbed them up with both hands, and now owned most of the fighting pits in Meereen.

The nobleman had wings of wiry red-black hair sprouting from his temples. They made him look as if his head were about to take flight. His long face was made even longer by a beard bound with rings of gold. His purple tokar was fringed with amethysts and pearls.

~

“If Your Majesty will hear my arguments ...”

“I have. Five times. Have you brought new arguments?”

“Old arguments,” Hizdahr admitted, “new words. Lovely words, and courteous, more apt to move a queen.”

“It is your cause I find wanting, not your courtesies. I have heard your arguments so often I could plead your case myself. Shall I?” Dany leaned forward. “The fighting pits have been a part of Meereen since the city was founded. The combats are profoundly religious in nature, a blood sacrifice to the gods of Ghis. The mortal art of Ghis is not mere butchery but a display of courage, skill, and strength most pleasing to your gods. Victorious fighters are pampered and acclaimed, and the slain are honored and remembered. By reopening the pits I would show the people of Meereen that I respect their ways and customs. The pits are far-famed across the world. They draw trade to Meereen, and fill the city’s coffers with coin from the ends of the earth. All men share a taste for blood, a taste the pits help slake. In that way they make Meereen more tranquil. For criminals condemned to die upon the sands, the pits represent a judgment by battle, a last chance for a man to prove his innocence.” She leaned back again, with a toss of her head. “There. How have I done?”

“Your Radiance has stated the case much better than I could have hoped to do myself. I see that you are eloquent as well as beautiful. I am quite persuaded.”

She had to laugh. “Ah, but I am not.”

~

“Your Magnificence,” whispered Reznak mo Reznak in her ear, “it is customary for the city to claim one-tenth of all the profits from the fighting pits, after expenses, as a tax. That coin might be put to many noble uses.” 

 “It might … though if we were to reopen the pits, we should take our tenth before expenses. I am only a young girl and know little of such matters, but I dwelt with Xaro Xhoan Daxos long enough to learn that much. Hizdahr, if you could marshal armies as you marshal arguments, you could conquer the world … but my answer is still no. For the sixth time.”

~

She nibbled whilst she listened, and sipped from a cup of watered wine. The figs were fine, the olives even finer, but the wine left a tart metallic aftertaste in her mouth. The small pale yellow grapes native to these regions produced a notably inferior vintage. We shall have no trade in wine. Besides, the Great Masters had burned the best arbors along with the olive trees. 

~

“Three-and-twenty.” Dany sighed. “My dragons have developed a prodigious taste for mutton since we began to pay the shepherds for their kills. Have these claims been proven?” 

“Some men have brought burnt bones.” 

“Men make fires. Men cook mutton. Burnt bones prove nothing. Brown Ben says there are red wolves in the hills outside the city, and jackals and wild dogs. Must we pay good silver for every lamb that goes astray between Yunkai and the Skahazadhan?” 

“No, Magnificence.” Reznak bowed. “Shall I send these rascals away, or will you want them scourged?” 

Daenerys shifted on the bench. “No man should ever fear to come to me.” Some claims were false, she did not doubt, but more were genuine. Her dragons had grown too large to be content with rats and cats and dogs. The more they eat, the larger they will grow, Ser Barristan had warned her, and the larger they grow, the more they’ll eat. Drogon especially ranged far afield and could easily devour a sheep a day. “Pay them for the value of their animals,” she told Reznak, “but henceforth claimants must present themselves at the Temple of the Graces and swear a holy oath before the gods of Ghis.”

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

No one was calling her Daenerys the Conqueror yet, but perhaps they would. Aegon the Conqueror had won Westeros with three dragons, but she had taken Meereen with sewer rats and a wooden cock, in less than a day. Poor Groleo. He still grieved for his ship, she knew. If a war galley could ram another ship, why not a gate? That had been her thought when she commanded the captains to drive their ships ashore. Their masts had become her battering rams, and swarms of freedmen had torn their hulls apart to build mantlets, turtles, catapults, and ladders. The sellwords had given each ram a bawdy name, and it had been the mainmast of Meraxes—formerly Joso’s Prank—that had broken the eastern gate. Joso’s Cock, they called it. The fighting had raged bitter and bloody for most of a day and well into the night before the wood began to splinter and Meraxes’ iron figurehead, a laughing jester’s face, came crashing through.

Dany had wanted to lead the attack herself, but to a man her captains said that would be madness, and her captains never agreed on anything. Instead she remained in the rear, sitting atop her silver in a long shirt of mail. She heard the city fall from half a league away, though, when the defenders’ shouts of defiance changed to cries of fear. Her dragons had roared as one in that moment, filling the night with flame. The slaves are rising, she knew at once. My sewer rats have gnawed off their chains.

When the last resistance had been crushed by the Unsullied and the sack had run its course, Dany entered her city. The dead were heaped so high before the broken gate that it took her freedmen near an hour to make a path for her silver. Joso’s Cock and the great wooden turtle that had protected it, covered with horsehides, lay abandoned within. She rode past burned buildings and broken windows, through brick streets where the gutters were choked with the stiff and swollen dead. Cheering slaves lifted bloodstained hands to her as she went by, and called her “Mother.”

~

Meereen had been sacked savagely, as new-fallen cities always were, but Dany was determined that should end now that the city was hers. She had decreed that murderers were to be hanged, that looters were to lose a hand, and rapists their manhood. Eight killers swung from the walls, and the Unsullied had filled a bushel basket with bloody hands and soft red worms, but Meereen was calm again. But for how long?

~

“It shall be done as you command, glorious queen,” said Daario. “My Stormcrows will collect your tenth.” If the Stormcrows saw to the collections at least half the gold would somehow go astray, Dany knew. But the Second Sons were just as bad, and the Unsullied were as unlettered as they were incorruptible. “Records must be kept,” she said. “Seek among the freedmen for men who can read, write, and do sums.” 

~

While Joso’s Cock and the other rams were battering the city gates and her archers were firing flights of flaming arrows over the walls, Dany had sent two hundred men along the river under cover of darkness to fire the hulks in the harbor. But that was only to hide their true purpose. As the flaming ships drew the eyes of the defenders on the walls, a few half- mad swimmers found the sewer mouths and pried loose a rusted iron grating. Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, Strong Belwas, and twenty brave fools slipped beneath the brown water and up the brick tunnel, a mixed force of sellswords, Unsullied, and freedmen. Dany had told them to choose only men who had no families ... and preferably no sense of smell.

~

“You are trembling, Khaleesi,” the girl said as she knelt to lace up Dany’s sandals.

“I’m cold,” Dany lied. “Bring me the book I was reading last night.” She wanted to lose herself in the words, in other times and other places. The fat leather-bound volume was full of songs and stories from the Seven Kingdoms. Children’s stories, if truth be told; too simple and fanciful to be true history. All the heroes were tall and handsome, and you could tell the traitors by their shifty eyes. Yet she loved them all the same. Last night she had been reading of the three princesses in the red tower, locked away by the king for the crime of being beautiful.

ASOS Daenerys V

Her bloodriders were in such a fever to go meet him that they almost came to blows. “Blood of my blood,” Dany told them, “your place is here by me. This man is a buzzing fly, no more. Ignore him, he will soon be gone.” Aggo, Jhogo, and Rakharo were brave warriors, but they were young, and too valuable to risk. They kept her khalasar together, and were her best scouts too.

~

Meereen posed dangers far more serious than one pink-and-white hero shouting insults, and she could not let herself be distracted. Her host numbered more than eighty thousand after Yunkai, but fewer than a quarter of them were soldiers. The rest ... well, Ser Jorah called them mouths with feet, and soon they would be starving.

~

They watched Oznak zo Pahl dismount his white charger, undo his robes, pull out his manhood, and direct a stream of urine in the general direction of the olive grove where Dany’s gold pavilion stood among the burnt trees. He was still pissing when Daario Naharis rode up, arakh in hand. “Shall I cut that off for you and stuff it down his mouth, Your Grace?” His tooth shone gold amidst the blue of his forked beard.

“It’s his city I want, not his meager manhood.” She was growing angry, however. If I ignore this any longer, my own people will think me weak. Yet who could she send? She needed Daario as much as she did her bloodriders. Without the flamboyant Tyroshi, she had no hold on the Stormcrows, many of whom had been followers of Prendahl na Ghezn and Sallor the Bald.

High on the walls of Meereen, the jeers had grown louder, and now hundreds of the defenders were taking their lead from the hero and pissing down through the ramparts to show their contempt for the besiegers. They are pissing on slaves, to show how little they fear us, she thought. They would never dare such a thing if it were a Dothraki khalasar outside their gates.

“This challenge must be met,” Arstan said again.

“It will be.” Dany said, as the hero tucked his penis away again. “Tell Strong Belwas I have need of him.”

[...] “Why that one, Khaleesi?” Rakharo demanded of her. “He is fat and stupid.”

“Strong Belwas was a slave here in the fighting pits. If this highborn Oznak should fall to such the Great Masters will be shamed, while if he wins ... well, it is a poor victory for one so noble, one that Meereen can take no pride in.” And unlike Ser Jorah, Daario, Brown Ben, and her three bloodriders, the eunuch did not lead troops, plan battles, or give her counsel. He does nothing but eat and boast and bellow at Arstan. Belwas was the man she could most easily spare. And it was time she learned what sort of protector Magister Illyrio had sent her.

~

“We should have given him chainmail,” Dany said, suddenly anxious.

“Mail would only slow him,” said Ser Jorah. “They wear no armor in the fighting pits. It’s blood the crowds come to see.”

~

Oznak zo Pahl charged a third time, and now Dany could see plainly that he was riding past Belwas, the way a Westerosi knight might ride at an opponent in a tilt, rather than at him, like a Dothraki riding down a foe.

~

“Given time, we might be able to mine beneath a tower and make a breach, but what do we eat while we’re digging? Our stores are all but exhausted.”

“No weakness in the landward walls?” said Dany. Meereen stood on a jut of sand and stone where the slow brown Skahazadhan flowed into Slaver’s Bay. The city’s north wall ran along the riverbank, its west along the bay shore. “Does that mean we might attack from the river or the sea?”

“With three ships? We’ll want to have Captain Groleo take a good look at the wall along the river, but unless it’s crumbling that’s just a wetter way to die.”

“What if we were to build siege towers? My brother Viserys told tales of such, I know they can be made.”

“From wood, Your Grace,” Ser Jorah said. “The slavers have burnt every tree within twenty leagues of here.[”]

~

“These sewers do not sound promising.” Grey Worm would lead his Unsullied down the sewers if she commanded it, she knew; her bloodriders would do no less. But none of them was suited to the task. The Dothraki were horsemen, and the strength of the Unsullied was their discipline on the battlefield. Can I send men to die in the dark on such a slender hope?

~

“Where shall we go, Your Grace?”

“To hell, to serve King Robert.” Dany felt hot tears on her cheeks. [...] “You go ...” [...] “You go ... go ...” Where?

And then she knew.

ASOS Daenerys IV

Dany reined in her mare and looked across the fields, to where the Yunkish host lay athwart her path. Whitebeard had been teaching her how best to count the numbers of a foe. "Five thousand," she said after a moment.

~

Dany considered. The slaver host seemed small compared to her own numbers, but the sellswords were ahorse. She’d ridden too long with Dothraki not to have a healthy respect for what mounted warriors could do to foot. The Unsullied could withstand their charge, but my freedmen will be slaughtered. “The slavers like to talk,” she said. “Send word that I will hear them this evening in my tent. And invite the captains of the sellsword companies to call on me as well. But not together. The Stormcrows at midday, the Second Sons two hours later.”

“As you wish,” Ser Jorah said. “But if they do not come—”

“They’ll come. They will be curious to see the dragons and hear what I might have to say, and the clever ones will see it for a chance to gauge my strength.” She wheeled her silver mare about. “I’ll await them in my pavilion.”

~

“You took Astapor by treachery, but Yunkai shall not fall so easily.”

“Five hundred of your Stormcrows against ten thousand of my Unsullied,” said Dany. “I am only a young girl and do not understand the ways of war, yet these odds seem poor to me.”

“The Stormcrows do not stand alone,” said Prendahl.

“Stormcrows do not stand at all. They fly, at the first sign of thunder. Perhaps you should be flying now. I have heard that sellswords are notoriously unfaithful. What will it avail you to be staunch, when the Second Sons change sides?”

“That will not happen,” Prendahl insisted, unmoved. “And if it did, it would not matter. The Second Sons are nothing. We fight beside the stalwart men of Yunkai.”

“You fight beside bed-boys armed with spears.” When she turned her head, the twin bells in her braid rang softly. “Once battle is joined, do not think to ask for quarter. Join me now, however, and you shall keep the gold the Yunkai’i paid you and claim a share of the plunder besides, with greater rewards later when I come into my kingdom. Fight for the Wise Masters, and your wages will be death. Do you imagine that Yunkai will open its gates when my Unsullied are butchering you beneath the walls?”

“Woman, you bray like an ass, and make no more sense.”

“Woman?” She chuckled. “Is that meant to insult me? I would return the slap, if I took you for a man.” Dany met his stare. “I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, khaleesi to Drogo’s riders, and queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.”

~

“What say you take those clothes off and come sit on my lap? If you please me, I might bring the Second Sons over to your side.”

“If you bring the Second Sons over to my side, I might not have you gelded.”

The big man laughed. “Little girl, another woman once tried to geld me with her teeth. She has no teeth now, but my sword is as long and thick as ever. Shall I take it out and show you?”

“No need. After my eunuchs cut it off, I can examine it at my leisure.” Dany took a sip of wine. “It is true that I am only a young girl, and do not know the ways of war. Explain to me how you propose to defeat ten thousand Unsullied with your five hundred. Innocent as I am, these odds seem poor to me.”

“The Second Sons have faced worse odds and won.”

“The Second Sons have faced worse odds and run. At Qohor, when the Three Thousand made their stand. Or do you deny it?”

“That was many and more years ago, before the Second Sons were led by the Titan’s Bastard.”

“So it is from you they get their courage?” Dany turned to Ser Jorah. “When the battle is joined, kill this one first.”

~

Dany seated herself on a mound of cushions to await them, her dragons all about her. When they were assembled, she said, “An hour past midnight should be time enough.”

“Yes, Khaleesi,” said Rakharo. “Time for what?”

“To mount our attack.”

Ser Jorah Mormont scowled. “You told the sellswords—”

“—that I wanted their answers on the morrow. I made no promises about tonight. The Stormcrows will be arguing about my offer. The Second Sons will be drunk on the wine I gave Mero. And the Yunkai’i believe they have three days. We will take them under cover of this darkness.”

“They will have scouts watching for us.”

“And in the dark, they will see hundreds of campfires burning,” said Dany. “If they see anything at all.”

“Khaleesi,” said Jhogo, “I will deal with these scouts. They are no riders, only slavers on horses.”

“Just so,” she agreed. “I think we should attack from three sides. Grey Worm, your Unsullied shall strike at them from right and left, while my kos lead my horse in wedge for a thrust through their center. Slave soldiers will never stand before mounted Dothraki.” She smiled. “To be sure, I am only a young girl and know little of war. What do you think, my lords?”

“I think you are Rhaegar Targaryen’s sister,” Ser Jorah said with a rueful half smile.

“Aye,” said Arstan Whitebeard, “and a queen as well.”    

~

“A spy?” That frightened her. If they’d caught one, how many others might have gotten away?

~

Dany was dubious. If this Tyroshi had come to spy, this declaration might be no more than a desperate plot to save his head.

~

“Keep this one here under guard until the battle’s fought and won.”

She considered a moment, then shook her head. “If he can give us the Stormcrows, surprise is certain.”

“And if he betrays you, surprise is lost.”

Dany looked down at the sellsword again. He gave her such a smile that she flushed and turned away. “He won’t.”

“How can you know that?”

She pointed to the lumps of blackened flesh the dragons were consuming, bite by bloody bite. “I would call that proof of his sincerity. Daario Naharis, have your Stormcrows ready to strike the Yunkish rear when my attack begins. Can you get back safely?”

“If they stop me, I will say I have been scouting, and saw nothing.” The Tyroshi rose to his feet, bowed, and swept out.

~

The exile knight went to one knee before Dany and said, “Your Grace, I bring you victory. The Stormcrows turned their cloaks, the slaves broke, and the Second Sons were too drunk to fight, just as you said. Two hundred dead, Yunkai’i for the most part. Their slaves threw down their spears and ran, and their sellswords yielded. We have several thousand captives.”

“Our own losses?”

“A dozen. If that many.”

Only then did she allow herself to smile.

ASOS Daenerys III

She had chosen a Qartheen gown today. The deep violet silk brought out the purple of her eyes. The cut of it bared her left breast. While the Good Masters of Astapor conferred among themselves in low voices, Dany sipped tart persimmon wine from a tall silver flute. She could not quite make out all that they were saying, but she could hear the greed.

Each of the eight brokers was attended by two or three body slaves ... though one Grazdan, the eldest, had six. So as not to seem a beggar, Dany had brought her own attendants; Irri and Jhiqui in their sandsilk trousers and painted vests, old Whitebeard and mighty Belwas, her bloodriders. Ser Jorah stood behind her sweltering in his green surcoat with the black bear of Mormont embroidered upon it. The smell of his sweat was an earthy answer to the sweet perfumes that drenched the Astapori.

~

Dany let them argue, sipping the tart persimmon wine and trying to keep her face blank and ignorant. I will have them all, no matter the price, she told herself. The city had a hundred slave traders, but the eight before her were the greatest. When selling bed slaves, fieldhands, scribes, craftsmen, and tutors, these men were rivals, but their ancestors had allied one with the other for the purpose of making and selling the Unsullied. Brick and blood built Astapor, and brick and blood her people.

~

“Tell them I await their answer.”

She knew the answer, though; she could see it in the glitter of their eyes and the smiles they tried so hard to hide. Astapor had thousands of eunuchs, and even more slave boys waiting to be cut, but there were only three living dragons in all the great wide world. And the Ghiscari lust for dragons. How could they not? Five times had Old Ghis contended with Valyria when the world was young, and five times gone down to bleak defeat. For the Freehold had dragons, and the Empire had none.

~

Dany turned away from him, to the slave girl standing meekly beside her litter. “Do you have a name, or must you draw a new one every day from some barrel?”

“That is only for Unsullied,” the girl said. Then she realized the question had been asked in High Valyrian. Her eyes went wide. “Oh.”

~

“If I did resell them, how would I know they could not be used against me?” Dany asked pointedly. “Would they do that? Fight against me, even do me harm?”

“If their master commanded. They do not question, Your Grace. All the questions have been culled from them. They obey.” She looked troubled. “When you are ... when you are done with them ... your Grace might command them to fall upon their swords.”

“And even that, they would do?”


“Yes.” Missandei’s voice had grown soft. “Your Grace.”

Dany squeezed her hand. “You would sooner I did not ask it of them, though. Why is that? Why do you care?”

“This one does not ... I ... Your Grace ... ”


“Tell me.”


The girl lowered her eyes. “Three of them were my brothers once, Your Grace.”

Then I hope your brothers are as brave and clever as you.

~

The rest of her people followed: Groleo and the other captains and their crews, and the eighty-three Dothraki who remained to her of the hundred thousand who had once ridden in Drogo’s khalasar. She put the oldest and weakest on the inside of the column, with the nursing women and those with child, and the little girls, and the boys too young to braid their hair. The rest—her warriors, such as they were—rode outside and moved their dismal herd along, the hundred-odd gaunt horses that had survived both red waste and black salt sea.

~

I ought to have a banner sewn, she thought as she led her tattered band up along Astapor’s meandering river. She closed her eyes to imagine how it would look: all flowing black silk, and on it the red three-headed dragon of Targaryen, breathing golden flames. A banner such as Rhaegar might have borne.

~

At first glimpse, Dany thought their skin was striped like the zorses of the Jogos Nhai.

~

Dany handed the slaver the end of Drogon’s chain. In return he presented her with the whip. The handle was black dragonbone, elaborately carved and inlaid with gold. Nine long thin leather lashes trailed from it, each one tipped by a gilded claw. The gold pommel was a woman’s head, with pointed ivory teeth. “The harpy’s fingers,” Kraznys named the scourge.

Dany turned the whip in her hand. Such a light thing, to bear such weight. “Is it done, then? Do they belong to me?”

“It is done,” he agreed, giving the chain a sharp pull to bring Drogon down from the litter.

Dany mounted her silver. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest. She felt desperately afraid. Was this what my brother would have done? She wondered if Prince Rhaegar had been this anxious when he saw the Usurper’s host formed up across the Trident with all their banners floating on the wind.

She stood in her stirrups and raised the harpy’s fingers above her head for all the Unsullied to see. “IT IS DONE!” she cried at the top of her lungs. “YOU ARE MINE!” She gave the mare her heels and galloped along the first rank, holding the fingers high. “YOU ARE THE DRAGON’S NOW! YOU’RE BOUGHT AND PAID FOR! IT IS DONE! IT IS DONE!”

She glimpsed old Grazdan turn his grey head sharply. He hears me speak Valyrian. The other slavers were not listening. They crowded around Kraznys and the dragon, shouting advice. Though the Astapori yanked and tugged, Drogon would not budge off the litter. Smoke rose grey from his open jaws, and his long neck curled and straightened as he snapped at the slaver’s face.

It is time to cross the Trident, Dany thought, as she wheeled and rode her silver back. Her bloodriders moved in close around her. “You are in difficulty,” she observed.

“He will not come,” Kraznys said.

“There is a reason. A dragon is no slave.” And Dany swept the lash down as hard as she could across the slaver’s face. Kraznys screamed and staggered back, the blood running red down his cheeks into his perfumed beard. The harpy’s fingers had torn his features half to pieces with one slash, but she did not pause to contemplate the ruin. “Drogon,” she sang out loudly, sweetly, all her fear forgotten. “Dracarys.”

The black dragon spread his wings and roared.

A lance of swirling dark flame took Kraznys full in the face. His eyes melted and ran down his cheeks, and the oil in his hair and beard burst so fiercely into fire that for an instant the slaver wore a burning crown twice as tall as his head. The sudden stench of charred meat overwhelmed even his perfume, and his wail seemed to drown all other sound.

Then the Plaza of Punishment blew apart into blood and chaos. The Good Masters were shrieking, stumbling, shoving one another aside and tripping over the fringes of their tokars in their haste. Drogon flew almost lazily at Kraznys, black wings beating. As he gave the slaver another taste of fire, Irri and Jhiqui unchained Viserion and Rhaegal, and suddenly there were three dragons in the air. When Dany turned to look, a third of Astapor’s proud demon-horned warriors were fighting to stay atop their terrified mounts, and another third were fleeing in a bright blaze of shiny copper. One man kept his saddle long enough to draw a sword, but Jhogo’s whip coiled about his neck and cut off his shout. Another lost a hand to Rakharo’s arakh and rode off reeling and spurting blood. Aggo sat calmly notching arrows to his bowstring and sending them at tokars. Silver, gold, or plain, he cared nothing for the fringe. Strong Belwas had his arakh out as well, and he spun it as he charged.

“Spears!” Dany heard one Astapori shout. It was Grazdan, old Grazdan in his tokar heavy with pearls. “Unsullied! Defend us, stop them, defend your masters! Spears! Swords!”

When Rakharo put an arrow through his mouth, the slaves holding his sedan chair broke and ran, dumping him unceremoniously on the ground. The old man crawled to the first rank of eunuchs, his blood pooling on the bricks. The Unsullied did not so much as look down to watch him die. Rank on rank on rank, they stood.

And did not move. The gods have heard my prayer.

“Unsullied!” Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. “Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see.” She raised the harpy’s fingers in the air ... and then she flung the scourge aside. “Freedom!” she sang out. “Dracarys! Dracarys!”

“Dracarys!” they shouted back, the sweetest word she’d ever heard. “Dracarys! Dracarys!” And all around them slavers ran and sobbed and begged and died, and the dusty air was filled with spears and fire.

ASOS Daenerys II

The harpy of Ghis, Dany thought. Old Ghis had fallen five thousand years ago, if she remembered true; its legions shattered by the might of young Valyria, its brick walls pulled down, its streets and buildings turned to ash and cinder by dragonflame, its very fields sown with salt, sulfur, and skulls. The gods of Ghis were dead, and so too its people; these Astapori were mongrels, Ser Jorah said. Even the Ghiscari tongue was largely forgotten; the slave cities spoke the High Valyrian of their conquerors, or what they had made of it.

Yet the symbol of the Old Empire still endured here, though this bronze monster had a heavy chain dangling from her talons, an open manacle at either end. The harpy of Ghis had a thunderbolt in her claws. This is the harpy of Astapor.

~

“They might be adequate to my needs,” Dany answered. It had been Ser Jorah’s suggestion that she speak only Dothraki and the Common Tongue while in Astapor. My bear is more clever than he looks.

~

The girls followed close behind with the silk awning, to keep her in the shade, but the thousand men before her enjoyed no such protection. More than half had the copper skins and almond eyes of Dothraki and Lhazerene, but she saw men of the Free Cities in the ranks as well, along with pale Qartheen, ebon-faced Summer Islanders, and others whose origins she could not guess. And some had skins of the same amber hue as Kraznys mo Nakloz, and the bristly red-black hair that marked the ancient folk of Ghis, who named themselves the harpy’s sons.

~

“The Good Master has said that these eunuchs cannot be tempted with coin or flesh,” Dany told the girl, “but if some enemy of mine should offer them freedom for betraying me ...”

“They would kill him out of hand and bring her his head, tell her that,” the slaver answered. “Other slaves may steal and hoard up silver in hopes of buying freedom, but an Unsullied would not take it if the little mare offered it as a gift. They have no life outside their duty. They are soldiers, and that is all.”

~

“You have lived long in the world, Whitebeard. Now that you have seen them, what do you say?”

“I say no, Your Grace,” the old man answered at once.


“Why?” she asked. “Speak freely.” Dany thought she knew what he would say, but she wanted the slave girl to hear, so Kraznys mo Nakloz might hear later.

~

An old city, this, she reflected, but not so populous as it was in its glory, nor near so crowded as Qarth or Pentos or Lys.

Her litter came to a sudden halt at the cross street, to allow a coffle of slaves to shuffle across her path, urged along by the crack of an overseer’s lash. These were no Unsullied, Dany noted, but a more common sort of men, with pale brown skins and black hair. There were women among them, but no children. All were naked.

~

“You speak of sacking cities. Answer me this, ser—why have the Dothraki never sacked this city?” She pointed. “Look at the walls. You can see where they’ve begun to crumble. There, and there. Do you see any guards on those towers? I don’t. Are they hiding, ser? I saw these sons of the harpy today, all their proud highborn warriors. They dressed in linen skirts, and the fiercest thing about them was their hair. Even a modest khalasar could crack this Astapor like a nut and spill out the rotted meat inside. So tell me, why is that ugly harpy not sitting beside the godsway in Vaes Dothrak among the other stolen gods?”

“You have a dragon’s eye, Khaleesi, that’s plain to see.”

“I wanted an answer, not a compliment.”

“There are two reasons. Astapor’s brave defenders are so much chaff, it’s true. Old names and fat purses who dress up as Ghiscari scourges to pretend they still rule a vast empire. Every one is a high officer. On feastdays they fight mock wars in the pits to demonstrate what brilliant commanders they are, but it’s the eunuchs who do the dying. All the same, any enemy wanting to sack Astapor would have to know that they’d be facing Unsullied. The slavers would turn out the whole garrison in the city’s defense. The Dothraki have not ridden against Unsullied since they left their braids at the gates of Qohor.”

“And the second reason?” Dany asked.

“Who would attack Astapor?” Ser Jorah asked. “Meereen and Yunkai are rivals but not enemies, the Doom destroyed Valyria, the folk of the eastern hinterlands are all Ghiscari, and beyond the hills lies Lhazar. The Lamb Men, as your Dothraki call them, a notably unwarlike people.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “but north of the slave cities is the Dothraki sea, and two dozen mighty khals who like nothing more than sacking cities and carrying off their people into slavery.”

“Carrying them off where? What good are slaves once you’ve killed the slavers? Valyria is no more, Qarth lies beyond the red waste, and the Nine Free Cities are thousands of leagues to the west. And you may be sure the sons of the harpy give lavishly to every passing khal, just as the magisters do in Pentos and Norvos and Myr. They know that if they feast the horselords and give them gifts, they will soon ride on. It’s cheaper than fighting, and a deal more certain.”

ASOS Daenerys I

“His Grace was ... often pleasant.”

“Often?” Dany smiled. “But not always?”


~

[“] A change in the wind may bring the gift of victory.” He glanced at Ser Jorah. “Or a lady’s favor knotted round an arm.”

Mormont’s face darkened. “Be careful what you say, old man.”

Arstan had seen Ser Jorah fight at Lannisport, Dany knew, in the tourney Mormont had won with a lady’s favor knotted round his arm. He had won the lady too; Lynesse of House Hightower, his second wife, highborn and beautiful ... but she had ruined him, and abandoned him, and the memory of her was bitter to him now. “Be gentle, my knight.” She put a hand on Jorah’s arm. “Arstan had no wish to give offense, I’m certain.”

~

“A queen must listen to all,” she reminded him. “The highborn and the low, the strong and the weak, the noble and the venal. One voice may speak you false, but in many there is always truth to be found.” She had read that in a book.

~

“Hear my voice then, Your Grace,” the exile said. “This Arstan Whitebeard is playing you false. He is too old to be a squire, and too well spoken to be serving that oaf of a eunuch.”

That does seem queer, Dany had to admit. Strong Belwas was an ex-slave, bred and trained in the fighting pits of Meereen. Magister Illyrio had sent him to guard her, or so Belwas claimed, and it was true that she needed guarding. The Usurper on his Iron Throne had offered land and lordship to any man who killed her. One attempt had been made already, with a cup of poisoned wine. The closer she came to Westeros, the more likely another attack became. Back in Qarth, the warlock Pyat Pree had sent a Sorrowful Man after her to avenge the Undying she’d burned in their House of Dust. Warlocks never forgot a wrong, it was said, and the Sorrowful Men never failed to kill. Most of the Dothraki would be against her as well. Khal Drogo’s kos led khalasars of their own now, and none of them would hesitate to attack her own little band on sight, to slay and slave her people and drag Dany herself back to Vaes Dothrak to take her proper place among the withered crones of the dosh khaleen. She hoped that Xaro Xhoan Daxos was not an enemy, but the Qartheen merchant had coveted her dragons. And there was Quaithe of the Shadow, that strange woman in the red lacquer mask with all her cryptic counsel. Was she an enemy too, or only a dangerous friend? Dany could not say.

Ser Jorah saved me from the poisoner, and Arstan Whitebeard from the manticore. Perhaps Strong Belwas will save me from the next. He was huge enough, with arms like small trees and a great curved arakh so sharp he might have shaved with it, in the unlikely event of hair sprouting on those smooth brown cheeks. Yet he was childlike as well. As a protector, he leaves much to be desired. Thankfully, I have Ser Jorah and my bloodriders. And my dragons, never forget.

~

She took a chunk of salt pork out of the bowl in her lap and held it up for her dragons to see. All three of them eyed it hungrily. Rhaegal spread green wings and stirred the air, and Viserion’s neck swayed back and forth like a long pale snake’s as he followed the movement of her hand. “Drogon,” Dany said softly, “dracarys.” And she tossed the pork in the air.

Drogon moved quicker than a striking cobra. Flame roared from his mouth, orange and scarlet and black, searing the meat before it began to fall. As his sharp black teeth snapped shut around it, Rhaegal’s head darted close, as if to steal the prize from his brother’s jaws, but Drogon swallowed and screamed, and the smaller green dragon could only hiss in frustration.

“Stop that, Rhaegal,” Dany said in annoyance, giving his head a swat.

“You had the last one. I’ll have no greedy dragons.” She smiled at Ser Jorah. “I won’t need to char their meat over a brazier any longer.”

“So I see. Dracarys?”

All three dragons turned their heads at the sound of that word, and Viserion let loose with a blast of pale gold flame that made Ser Jorah take a hasty step backward. Dany giggled. “Be careful with that word, ser, or they’re like to singe your beard off. It means ‘dragonfire’ in High Valyrian. I wanted to choose a command that no one was like to utter by chance.”

~

“It seems to me that a queen who trusts no one is as foolish as a queen who trusts everyone. Every man I take into my service is a risk, I understand that, but how am I to win the Seven Kingdoms without such risks? Am I to conquer Westeros with one exile knight and three Dothraki bloodriders?”

~

“What is there for me in Slaver’s Bay?”

“An army,” said Ser Jorah. “If Strong Belwas is so much to your liking you can buy hundreds more like him out of the fighting pits of Meereen ... but it is Astapor I’d set my sails for. In Astapor you can buy Unsullied.”

[...] “That is what you will find in Astapor, Your Grace. Put ashore there, and continue on to Pentos overland. It will take longer, yes ... but when you break bread with Magister Illyrio, you will have a thousand swords behind you, not just four.”

There is wisdom in this, yes, Dany thought, but ... “How am I to buy a thousand slave soldiers? All I have of value is the crown the Tourmaline Brotherhood gave me.”

“Dragons will be as great a wonder in Astapor as they were in Qarth. It may be that the slavers will shower you with gifts, as the Qartheen did. If not ... these ships carry more than your Dothraki and their horses. They took on trade goods at Qarth, I’ve been through the holds and seen for myself. Bolts of silk and bales of tiger skin, amber and jade carvings, saffron, myrrh ... slaves are cheap, Your Grace. Tiger skins are costly.”

“Those are Illyrio’s tiger skins,” she objected. 

“And Illyrio is a friend to House Targaryen.” 

“All the more reason not to steal his goods.”

“What use are wealthy friends if they will not put their wealth at your disposal, my queen? If Magister Illyrio would deny you, he is only Xaro Xhoan Daxos with four chins. And if he is sincere in his devotion to your cause, he will not begrudge you three shiploads of trade goods. What better use for his tiger skins than to buy you the beginnings of an army?”

That’s true. Dany felt a rising excitement. “There will be dangers on such a long march ...”

“There are dangers at sea as well. Corsairs and pirates hunt the southern route, and north of Valyria the Smoking Sea is demon- haunted. The next storm could sink or scatter us, a kraken could pull us under ... or we might find ourselves becalmed again, and die of thirst as we wait for the wind to rise. A march will have different dangers, my queen, but none greater.”

“What if Captain Groleo refuses to change course, though? And Arstan, Strong Belwas, what will they do?”

Ser Jorah stood. “Perhaps it’s time you found that out.”

“Yes,” she decided. “I’ll do it!”

A Clash of Kings

ACOK Daenerys V

Pale men in dusty linen skirts stood beneath arched doorways to watch them pass. They know who I am, and they do not love me. Dany could tell from the way they looked at her.

~

“...Give me a son, my sweet song of joy!”

Give you a dragon, you mean. “I will not wed you, Xaro.”

His face had grown cold at that. “Then go.”

“But where?”

“Somewhere far from here.”

~

Perhaps she had lingered in Qarth too long, seduced by its comforts and its beauties. It was a city that always promised more than it would give you, it seemed to her, and her welcome here had turned sour since the House of the Undying had collapsed in a great gout of smoke and flame. Overnight the Qartheen had come to remember that dragons were dangerous. No longer did they vie with each other to give her gifts. Instead the Tourmaline Brotherhood had called openly for her expulsion, and the Ancient Guild of Spicers for her death. It was all Xaro could do to keep the Thirteen from joining them.

~

Xaro Xhoan Daxos would be no help to her, she knew that now. For all his professions of devotion, he was playing his own game, not unlike Pyat Pree. The night he asked her to leave, Dany had begged one last favor of him. “An army, is it?” Xaro asked. “A kettle of gold? A galley, perhaps?”

Dany blushed. She hated begging. “A ship, yes.”

Xaro’s eyes had glittered as brightly as the jewels in his nose. “I am a trader, Khaleesi. So perhaps we should speak no more of giving, but rather of trade. For one of your dragons, you shall have ten of the finest ships in my fleet. You need only say that one sweet word.”

“No,” she said.

“Alas,” Xaro sobbed, “that was not the word I meant.”

“Would you ask a mother to sell one of her children?”

“Whyever not? They can always make more. Mothers sell their children every day.”

“Not the Mother of Dragons.”

“Not even for twenty ships?”

“Not for a hundred.”

His mouth curled downward. “I do not have a hundred. But you have three dragons. Grant me one, for all my kindnesses. You will still have two and thirty ships as well.”

Thirty ships would be enough to land a small army on the shore of Westeros. But I do not have a small army. “How many ships do you own, Xaro?”

“Eighty-three, if one does not count my pleasure barge.” “And your colleagues in the Thirteen?”
“Among us all, perhaps a thousand.”
“And the Spicers and the Tourmaline Brotherhood?” “Their trifling fleets are of no account.”

“Even so,” she said, “tell me.”

“Twelve or thirteen hundred for the Spicers. No more than eight hundred for the Brotherhood.”

“And the Asshai’i, the Braavosi, the Summer Islanders, the Ibbenese, and all the other peoples who sail the great salt sea, how many ships do they have? All together?”

“Many and more,” he said irritably. “What does this matter?”

“I am trying to set a price on one of the three living dragons in the world.” Dany smiled at him sweetly. “It seems to me that one-third of all the ships in the world would be fair.”

Xaro’s tears ran down his cheeks on either side of his jewel-encrusted nose. “Did I not warn you not to enter the Palace of Dust? This is the very thing I feared. The whispers of the warlocks have made you as mad as Mallarawan’s wife. A third of all the ships in the world? Pah. Pah, I say. Pah.”

Dany had not seen him since. His seneschal brought her messages, each cooler than the last. She must quit his house. He was done feeding her and her people. He demanded the return of his gifts, which she had accepted in bad faith. Her only consolation was that at least she’d had the great good sense not to marry him.

~

Dany would get no help from the Thirteen, the Tourmaline Brotherhood, or the Ancient Guild of Spicers.

~

The Usurper offered a lordship to the man who kills me, and these two are far from home. Or could they be creatures of the warlocks, meant to take me unawares?

~

“A most excellent brass, great lady,” the merchant exclaimed. “Bright as the sun! And for the Mother of Dragons, only thirty honors.”

The platter was worth no more than three. “Where are my guards?” Dany declared. “This man is trying to rob me!”

~

“Thirty? Did I say thirty? Such a fool I am. The price is twenty honors.”

“All the brass in this booth is not worth twenty honors,” Dany told him as she studied the reflections.

~

“Ten, Khaleesi, because you are so lovely. Use it for a looking glass. Only brass this fine could capture such beauty.”

“It might serve to carry nightsoil. If you threw it away, I might pick it up, so long as I did not need to stoop. But pay for it?” Dany shoved the platter back into his hands. “Worms have crawled up your nose and eaten your wits.”

“Eight honors,” he cried. “My wives will beat me and call me fool, but I am a helpless child in your hands. Come, eight, that is less than it is worth.”

“What do I need with dull brass when Xaro Xhoan Daxos feeds me off plates of gold?”

~

The brass merchant came hopping after them. “Five honors, for five it is yours, it was meant for you.”

~

The other man wore a traveler’s cloak of undyed wool, the hood thrown back. Long white hair fell to his shoulders, and a silky white beard covered the lower half of his face. He leaned his weight on a hardwood staff as tall as he was. Only fools would stare so openly if they meant me harm. All the same, it might be prudent to head back toward Jhogo and Aggo. “The old man does not wear a sword,” she said to Jorah in the Common Tongue as she drew him away.

~

“Four! I know you want it!” He danced in front of them, scampering backward as he thrust the platter at their faces.

~

“Two honors! Two! Two!” The merchant was panting heavily from the effort of running backward.

“Pay him before he kills himself,” Dany told Ser Jorah, wondering what she was going to do with a huge brass platter.

~

“Put down your steel! Stop it!”

“Your Grace?” Mormont lowered his sword only an inch. “These men attacked you.”

“They were defending me.” Dany snapped her hand to shake the sting from her fingers. “It was the other one, the Qartheen.” When she looked around he was gone. “He was a Sorrowful Man. There was a manticore in that jewel box he gave me. This man knocked it out of my hand.”

~

“We were told to find you and bring you back to Pentos. The Seven Kingdoms have need of you. Robert the Usurper is dead, and the realm bleeds. When we set sail from Pentos there were four kings in the land, and no justice to be had.”

Joy bloomed in her heart, but Dany kept it from her face.

ACOK Daenerys III

She was garbed after the Qartheen fashion. Xaro had warned her that the Enthroned would never listen to a Dothraki, so she had taken care to go before them in flowing green samite with one breast bared, silvered sandals on her feet, with a belt of black-and-white pearls about her waist. For all the help they offered, I could have gone naked. Perhaps I should have. She drank deep.

~

Descendants of the ancient kings and queens of Qarth, the Pureborn commanded the Civic Guard and the fleet of ornate galleys that ruled the straits between the seas. Daenerys Targaryen had wanted that fleet, or part of it, and some of their soldiers as well. She made the traditional sacrifice in the Temple of Memory, offered the traditional bribe to the Keeper of the Long List, sent the traditional persimmon to the Opener of the Door, and finally received the traditional blue silk slippers summoning her to the Hall of a Thousand Thrones.

~

“Come with me to the Arbor, Xaro, and you’ll have the finest vintages you ever tasted. But we’ll need to go in a warship, not a pleasure barge.”

“I have no warships. War is bad for trade. Many times I have told you, Xaro Xhoan Daxos is a man of peace.”

Xaro Xhoan Daxos is a man of gold, she thought, and gold will buy me all the ships and swords I need. “I have not asked you to take up a sword, only to lend me your ships.”

He smiled modestly. “Of trading ships I have a few, that is so. Who can say how many? One may be sinking even now, in some stormy corner of the Summer Sea. On the morrow, another will fall afoul of corsairs. The next day, one of my captains may look at the wealth in his hold and think, All this should belong to me. Such are the perils of trade. Why, the longer we talk, the fewer ships I am likely to have. I grow poorer by the instant.”

“Give me ships, and I will make you rich again.”

“Marry me, bright light, and sail the ship of my heart. I cannot sleep at night for thinking of your beauty.”

Dany smiled. Xaro’s flowery protestations of passion amused her, but his manner was at odds with his words. While Ser Jorah had scarcely been able to keep his eyes from her bare breast when he’d helped her into the palanquin, Xaro hardly deigned to notice it, even in these close confines. And she had seen the beautiful boys who surrounded the merchant prince, flitting through his palace halls in wisps of silk. “You speak sweetly, Xaro, but under your words I hear another no.”

~

“The Milk Men shun him. Khaleesi, do you see the girl in the felt hat? There, behind the fat priest. She is a—”

“—cutpurse,” finished Dany. She was no pampered lady, blind to such things. She had seen cutpurses aplenty in the streets of the Free Cities, during the years she’d spent with her brother, running from the Usurper’s hired knives.

~

Dany looked uneasily at where the ladder had stood. Even the smoke was gone now, and the crowd was breaking up, each man going about his business. In a moment more than a few would find their purses flat and empty.

ACOK Daenerys II

“Qarth is the greatest city that ever was or ever will be,” Pyat Pree had told her, back amongst the bones of Vaes Tolorro. [...]

Dany took the warlock’s words well salted, but the magnificence of the great city was not to be denied.

~

“I do not understand her.” Pyat and Xaro had showered Dany with promises from the moment they first glimpsed her dragons, declaring themselves her loyal servants in all things, but from Quaithe she had gotten only the rare cryptic word. And it disturbed her that she had never seen the woman’s face. Remember Mirri Maz Duur, she told herself. Remember treachery. She turned to her bloodriders. “We will keep our own watch so long as we are here. See that no one enters this wing of the palace without my leave, and take care that the dragons are always well guarded.”

“It shall be done, Khaleesi,” Aggo said.

“We have seen only the parts of Qarth that Pyat Pree wished us to see,” she went on. “Rakharo, go forth and look on the rest, and tell me what you find. Take good men with you—and women, to go places where men are forbidden.”

“As you say, I do, blood of my blood,” said Rakharo.

~

“Ser Jorah, find the docks and see what manner of ships lay at anchor. It has been half a year since I last heard tidings from the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps the gods will have blown some good captain here from Westeros with a ship to carry us home.”

The knight frowned. “That would be no kindness. The Usurper will kill you, sure as sunrise.” Mormont hooked his thumbs through his swordbelt. “My place is here at your side.”

“Jhogo can guard me as well. You have more languages than my bloodriders, and the Dothraki mistrust the sea and those who sail her. Only you can serve me in this. Go among the ships and speak to the crews, learn where they are from and where they are bound and what manner of men command them.”

~

“Khaleesi,” the knight said when they were alone, “I should not speak so freely of your plans, if I were you. This man will spread the tale wherever he goes now.”

“Let him,” she said. “Let the whole world know my purpose. The Usurper is dead, what does it matter?”

“Not every sailor’s tale is true,” Ser Jorah cautioned, “and even if Robert be truly dead, his son rules in his place. This changes nothing, truly.”

“This changes everything.” Dany rose abruptly. Screeching, her dragons uncoiled and spread their wings. Drogon flapped and clawed up to the lintel over the archway. The others skittered across the floor, wingtips scrabbling on the marble. “Before, the Seven Kingdoms were like my Drogo’s khalasar, a hundred thousand made as one by his strength. Now they fly to pieces, even as the khalasar did after my khal lay dead.”

“The high lords have always fought. Tell me who’s won and I’ll tell you what it means. Khaleesi, the Seven Kingdoms are not going to fall into your hands like so many ripe peaches. You will need a fleet, gold, armies, alliances—”

“All this I know.” She took his hands in hers and looked up into his dark suspicious eyes.

Sometimes he thinks of me as a child he must protect, and sometimes as a woman he would like to bed, but does he ever truly see me as his queen? “I am not the frightened girl you met in Pentos. I have counted only fifteen name days, true ... but I am as old as the crones in the dosh khaleen and as young as my dragons, Jorah. I have borne a child, burned a khal, and crossed the red waste and the Dothraki sea. Mine is the blood of the dragon.”

“As was your brother’s,” he said stubbornly.

“I am not Viserys.”

“No,” he admitted. “There is more of Rhaegar in you, I think, but even Rhaegar could be slain. Robert proved that on the Trident, with no more than a warhammer. Even dragons can die.”

“Dragons die.” She stood on her toes to kiss him lightly on an unshaven cheek. “But so do dragonslayers.”

ACOK Daenerys I

She dare not turn north onto the vast ocean of grass they called the Dothraki sea. The first khalasar they met would swallow up her ragged band, slaying the warriors and slaving the rest. The lands of the Lamb Men south of the river were likewise closed to them. They were too few to defend themselves even against that unwarlike folk, and the Lhazareen had small reason to love them. She might have struck downriver for the ports at Meereen and Yunkai and Astapor, but Rakharo warned her that Pono’s khalasar had ridden that way, driving thousands of captives before them to sell in the flesh marts that festered like open sores on the shores of Slaver’s Bay.

~

“Ghosts,” Irri muttered. “Terrible ghosts. We must not stay here, Khaleesi, this is their place.”

“I fear no ghosts. Dragons are more powerful than ghosts.” And figs are more important. 

~

“...Nothing mattered but our love, I told myself. We fled to Lys, where I sold my ship for gold to keep us.”

His voice was thick with grief, and Dany was reluctant to press him any further, yet she had to know how it ended. “Did she die there?” she asked him gently.

~

“What shall we seek, Khaleesi?” asked Jhogo.

“Whatever there is,” Dany answered. “Seek for other cities, living and dead. Seek for caravans and people. Seek for rivers and lakes and the great salt sea. Find how far this waste extends before us, and what lies on the other side. When I leave this place, I do not mean to strike out blind again. I will know where I am bound, and how best to get there.”

~

Dany gave him charge of a dozen of her strongest men, and set them to pulling up the plaza to get to the earth beneath. If devilgrass could grow between the paving stones, other grasses would grow when the stones were gone. They had wells enough, no lack of water. Given seed, they could make the plaza bloom.

~

Dany thanked him and told him to see to the repair of the gates. If enemies had crossed the waste to destroy these cities in ancient days, they might well come again. “If so, we must be ready,” she declared.

A Game of Thrones

AGOT Daenerys X

“I thank you, Mirri Maz Duur,” she said, “for the lessons you have taught me.”

“You will not hear me scream,” Mirri responded as the oil dripped from her hair and soaked her clothing.

“I will,” Dany said, “but it is not your screams I want, only your life. I remember what you told me. Only death can pay for life.” Mirri Maz Duur opened her mouth, but made no reply. As she stepped away, Dany saw that the contempt was gone from the maegi’s flat black eyes; in its place was something that might have been fear. Then there was nothing to be done but watch the sun and look for the first star.

When a horselord dies, his horse is slain with him, so he might ride proud into the night lands. The bodies are burned beneath the open sky, and the khal rises on his fiery steed to take his place among the stars. The more fiercely the man burned in life, the brighter his star will shine in the darkness.

Jhogo spied it first. “There,” he said in a hushed voice. Dany looked and saw it, low in the east. The first star was a comet, burning red. Bloodred; fire red; the dragon’s tail. She could not have asked for a stronger sign.

~

She had sensed the truth of it long ago, Dany thought as she took a step closer to the conflagration, but the brazier had not been hot enough. The flames writhed before her like the women who had danced at her wedding, whirling and singing and spinning their yellow and orange and crimson veils, fearsome to behold, yet lovely, so lovely, alive with heat. Dany opened her arms to them, her skin flushed and glowing. This is a wedding, too, she thought. Mirri Maz Duur had fallen silent. The godswife thought her a child, but children grow, and children learn.

[...] Now, she thought, now, and for an instant she glimpsed Khal Drogo before her, mounted on his smoky stallion, a flaming lash in his hand. He smiled, and the whip snaked down at the pyre, hissing.

She heard a crack, the sound of shattering stone. The platform of wood and brush and grass began to shift and collapse in upon itself. Bits of burning wood slid down at her, and Dany was showered with ash and cinders. And something else came crashing down, bouncing and rolling, to land at her feet; a chunk of curved rock, pale and veined with gold, broken and smoking. The roaring filled the world, yet dimly through the firefall Dany heard women shriek and children cry out in wonder.

Only death can pay for life.

And there came a second crack, loud and sharp as thunder, and the smoke stirred and whirled around her and the pyre shifted, the logs exploding as the fire touched their secret hearts. She heard the screams of frightened horses, and the voices of the Dothraki raised in shouts of fear and terror, and Ser Jorah calling her name and cursing. No, she wanted to shout to him, no, my good knight, do not fear for me. The fire is mine. I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons, don’t you see? Don’t you SEE? With a belch of flame and smoke that reached thirty feet into the sky, the pyre collapsed and came down around her. Unafraid, Dany stepped forward into the firestorm, calling to her children.

The third crack was as loud and sharp as the breaking of the world.

When the fire died at last and the ground became cool enough to walk upon, Ser Jorah Mormont found her amidst the ashes, surrounded by blackened logs and bits of glowing ember and the burnt bones of man and woman and stallion. She was naked, covered with soot, her clothes turned to ash, her beautiful hair all crisped away ... yet she was unhurt.

The cream-and-gold dragon was suckling at her left breast, the green-and-bronze at the right. Her arms cradled them close. The black-and-scarlet beast was draped across her shoulders, its long sinuous neck coiled under her chin. When it saw Jorah, it raised its head and looked at him with eyes as red as coals.

Wordless, the knight fell to his knees. The men of her khas came up behind him. Jhogo was the first to lay his arakh at her feet. “Blood of my blood,” he murmured, pushing his face to the smoking earth. “Blood of my blood,” she heard Aggo echo. “Blood of my blood,” Rakharo shouted.

And after them came her handmaids, and then the others, all the Dothraki, men and women and children, and Dany had only to look at their eyes to know that they were hers now, today and tomorrow and forever, hers as they had never been Drogo’s.

As Daenerys Targaryen rose to her feet, her black hissed, pale smoke venting from its mouth and nostrils. The other two pulled away from her breasts and added their voices to the call, translucent wings unfolding and stirring the air, and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons.

AGOT Daenerys IX

“The khal lives,” Irri answered quietly ... yet Dany saw a darkness in her eyes when she said the words, and no sooner had she spoken than she rushed away to fetch water.

~

My son is dead, she thought as Jhiqui left the tent. She had known somehow. She had known since she woke the first time to Jhiqui’s tears. No, she had known before she woke. Her dream came back to her, sudden and vivid, and she remembered the tall man with the copper skin and long silver-gold braid, bursting into flame.

She should weep, she knew, yet her eyes were dry as ash. She had wept in her dream, and the tears had turned to steam on her cheeks. All the grief has been burned out of me, she told herself. She felt sad, and yet ... she could feel Rhaego receding from her, as if he had never been.

~

“Princess, are you well? Should you be up, weak as you are?”

“Weak? I am strong, Jorah.” To please him, she reclined on a pile of cushions. “Tell me how my child died.”

“He never lived, my princess. The women say ...” He faltered, and Dany saw how the flesh hung loose on him, and the way he limped when he moved.

“Tell me. Tell me what the women say.”
[...]

“They say the child was ...”

[...] “Monstrous,” Mirri Maz Duur finished for him. The knight was a powerful man, yet Dany understood in that moment that the maegi was stronger, and crueler, and infinitely more dangerous.

AGOT Daenerys VIII

“We have ridden far enough today. We will camp here.”

“Here?” Haggo looked around them. The land was brown and sere, inhospitable. “This is no camping ground.”

“It is not for a woman to bid us halt,” said Qotho, “not even a khaleesi.”

“We camp here,” Dany repeated. “Haggo, tell them Khal Drogo commanded the halt. If any ask why, say to them that my time is near and I could not continue. Cohollo, bring up the slaves, they must put up the khal’s tent at once. Qotho—”

~

Irri wanted to leave the tent flaps open to let in the breeze, but Dany forbade it. She would not have any see Drogo this way, in delirium and weakness. When her khas came up, she posted them outside at guard. “Admit no one without my leave,” she told Jhogo. “No one.”

~

“Khaleesi,” Jhiqui said, “he fell from his horse.”

Trembling, her eyes full of sudden tears, Dany turned away from them. He fell from his horse! It was so, she had seen it, and the bloodriders, and no doubt her handmaids and the men of her khas as well. And how many more? They could not keep it secret, and Dany knew what that meant. A khal who could not ride could not rule, and Drogo had fallen from his horse.

~

Mirri Maz Duur had no use for the carcass. “Burn it,” Dany told them. It was what they did, she knew. When a man died, his mount was killed and placed beneath him on the funeral pyre, to carry him to the night lands. The men of her khas dragged the carcass from the tent.

~

“Take her to the maegi.”

No, Dany wanted to say, no, not that, you mustn’t, but when she opened her mouth, a long wail of pain escaped, and the sweat broke over her skin. What was wrong with them, couldn’t they see? Inside the tent the shapes were dancing, circling the brazier and the bloody bath, dark against the sandsilk, and some did not look human. She glimpsed the shadow of a great wolf, and another like a man wreathed in flames.

[...] No, she shouted, or perhaps she only thought it, for no whisper of sound escaped her lips. She was being carried. Her eyes opened to gaze up at a flat dead sky, black and bleak and starless. Please, no. The sound of Mirri Maz Duur’s voice grew louder, until it filled the world. The shapes! she screamed. The dancers!

Ser Jorah carried her inside the tent.

AGOT Daenerys VII

They were suspicious of her, she realized with sadness; afraid that she had saved them for some worse fate.

~

“Why should you want to help my khal?”


“All men are one flock, or so we are taught,” replied Mirri Maz Duur.

~

Drogo put a huge hand on her shoulder. She took some of his weight as they walked toward the great mud temple. The three bloodriders followed. Dany commanded Ser Jorah and the warriors of her khas to guard the entrance and make certain no one set the building afire while they were still inside.

AGOT Daenerys VI

Drogo would take his bloodriders and ride in search of hrakkar, the great white lion of the plains. If they returned triumphant, her lord husband’s joy would be fierce, and he might be willing to hear her out.

~

“I would still like to taste that summerwine you spoke of.”

The man bounded to his feet. “That? Dornish swill. It is not worthy of a princess. I have a dry red from the Arbor, crisp and delectable. Please, let me give you a cask.”

Khal Drogo’s visits to the Free Cities had given him a taste for good wine, and Dany knew that such a noble vintage would please him.

~

“You taste it first.”

“Me?” The man laughed. “I am not worthy of this vintage, my lord. And it’s a poor wine merchant who drinks up his own wares.” His smile was amiable, yet she could see the sheen of sweat on his brow.

“You will drink,” Dany said, cold as ice.

 AGOT Daenerys V

Her handmaids had helped her ready herself for the ceremony. Despite the tender mother’s stomach that had afflicted her these past two moons, Dany had dined on bowls of half-clotted blood to accustom herself to the taste, and Irri made her chew strips of dried horseflesh until her jaws were aching. She had starved herself for a day and a night before the ceremony in the hopes that hunger would help her keep down the raw meat.

~

“Khalakka dothrae mr’anha!” she proclaimed in her best Dothraki. A prince rides inside me! She had practiced the phrase for days with her handmaid Jhiqui.

~

Khal Drogo laid his hand on Dany’s arm. She could feel the tension in his fingers. Even a khal as mighty as Drogo could know fear when the dosh khaleen peered into smoke of the future. At her back, her handmaids fluttered anxiously.

~

The Dothraki eyed the sword as he passed; Dany heard curses and threats and angry muttering rising all around her, like a tide.

~

There were five thousand men in the hall, but only a handful who knew the Common Tongue. Yet even if his words were incomprehensible, you had only to look at him to know that he was drunk.

~

Her brother drew his sword.

[...] Dany gave a wordless cry of terror. She knew what a drawn sword meant here, even if her brother did not.

AGOT Daenerys IV

Viserys was less impressed. “The trash of dead cities,” he sneered. He was careful to speak in the Common Tongue, which few Dothraki could understand, yet even so Dany found herself glancing back at the men of her khas, to make certain he had not been overheard. He went on blithely. “All these savages know how to do is steal the things better men have built ... and kill.” He laughed. “They do know how to kill. Otherwise I’d have no use for them at all.”

“They are my people now,” Dany said. “You should not call them savages, brother.”

“The dragon speaks as he likes,” Viserys said ... in the Common Tongue.

~

“The princess must be presented to the dosh khaleen ...”

“The crones, yes,” her brother interrupted, “and there’s to be some mummer’s show of a prophecy for the whelp in her belly, you told me. What is that to me? I’m tired of eating horsemeat and I’m sick of the stink of these savages.” He sniffed at the wide, floppy sleeve of his tunic, where it was his custom to keep a sachet. It could not have helped much. The tunic was filthy. All the silk and heavy wools that Viserys had worn out of Pentos were stained by hard travel and rotted from sweat.

AGOT Daenerys III

The khal had commanded the handmaid Irri to teach Dany to ride in the Dothraki fashion, but it was the filly who was her real teacher. The horse seemed to know her moods, as if they shared a single mind. With every passing day, Dany felt surer in her seat. The Dothraki were a hard and unsentimental people, and it was not their custom to name their animals, so Dany thought of her only as the silver. She had never loved anything so much.

~

“Take his horse,” Dany commanded Ser Jorah. Viserys gaped at her. He could not believe what he was hearing; nor could Dany quite believe what she was saying. Yet the words came. “Let my brother walk behind us back to the khalasar.” Among the Dothraki, the man who does not ride was no man at all, the lowest of the low, without honor or pride. “Let everyone see him as he is.”

~

Dany rode along quietly for a time, working his words like a puzzle box. It went against everything that Viserys had ever told her to think that the people could care so little whether a true king or a usurper reigned over them. Yet the more she thought on Jorah’s words, the more they rang of truth.

[...] “My brother will never take back the Seven Kingdoms,” Dany said. She had known that for a long time, she realized. She had known it all her life. Only she had never let herself say the words, even in a whisper, but now she said them for Jorah Mormont and all the world to hear.

Ser Jorah gave her a measuring look. “You think not.”

“He could not lead an army even if my lord husband gave him one,” Dany said. “He has no coin and the only knight who follows him reviles him as less than a snake. The Dothraki make mock of his weakness. He will never take us home.”

~

Soon there would be laughter, when the men of her khas told the story of what had happened in the grasses today. By the time Viserys came limping back among them, every man, woman, and child in the camp would know him for a walker. There were no secrets in the khalasar.

~

“Have you ever seen a dragon?” she asked as Irri scrubbed her back and Jhiqui sluiced sand from her hair. She had heard that the first dragons had come from the east, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai and the islands of the Jade Sea. Perhaps some were still living there, in realms strange and wild.

“Dragons are gone, Khaleesi,” Irri said.

“Dead,” agreed Jhiqui. “Long and long ago.”

Viserys had told her that the last Targaryen dragons had died no more than a century and a half ago, during the reign of Aegon III, who was called the Dragonbane. That did not seem so long ago to Dany. “Everywhere?” she said, disappointed. “Even in the east?” Magic had died in the west when the Doom fell on Valyria and the Lands of the Long Summer, and neither spell-forged steel nor stormsingers nor dragons could hold it back, but Dany had always heard that the east was different. It was said that manticores prowled the islands of the Jade Sea, that basilisks infested the jungles of Yi Ti, that spellsingers, warlocks, and aeromancers practiced their arts openly in Asshai, while shadowbinders and bloodmages worked terrible sorceries in the black of night. Why shouldn’t there be dragons too?

~

They were on the far side of the Dothraki sea when Jhiqui brushed the soft swell of Dany’s stomach with her fingers and said, “Khaleesi, you are with child.”

“I know,” Dany told her.

AGOT Daenerys II

There are no more dragons, Dany thought, staring at her brother, though she did not dare say it aloud.

~

Her brother Viserys gifted her with three handmaids. Dany knew they had cost him nothing; Illyrio no doubt had provided the girls.

~ “I shall treasure them always.” Dany had heard tales of such eggs, but she had never seen one, nor thought to see one. It was a truly magnificent gift, though she knew that Illyrio could afford to be lavish. He had collected a fortune in horses and slaves for his part in selling her to Khal Drogo.

~

A daring she had never known filled Daenerys then, and she gave the filly her head.

The silver horse leapt the flames as if she had wings.

AGOT Daenerys I

Her brother held the gown up for her inspection. “This is beauty. Touch it. Go on. Caress the fabric.”

Dany touched it. The cloth was so smooth that it seemed to run through her fingers like water. She could not remember ever wearing anything so soft. It frightened her. She pulled her hand away. “Is it really mine?”

“A gift from the Magister Illyrio,” Viserys said, smiling. Her brother was in a high mood tonight. “The color will bring out the violet in your eyes. And you shall have gold as well, and jewels of all sorts. Illyrio has promised. Tonight you must look like a princess.”

A princess, Dany thought. She had forgotten what that was like. Perhaps she had never really known. “Why does he give us so much?” she asked. “What does he want from us?” For nigh on half a year, they had lived in the magister’s house, eating his food, pampered by his servants. Dany was thirteen, old enough to know that such gifts seldom come without their price, here in the free city of Pentos.

“Illyrio is no fool,” Viserys said. He was a gaunt young man with nervous hands and a feverish look in his pale lilac eyes. “The magister knows that I will not forget my friends when I come into my throne.”

Dany said nothing. Magister Illyrio was a dealer in spices, gemstones, dragonbone, and other, less savory things. He had friends in all of the Nine Free Cities, it was said, and even beyond, in Vaes Dothrak and the fabled lands beside the Jade Sea. It was also said that he’d never had a friend he wouldn’t cheerfully sell for the right price. Dany listened to the talk in the streets, and she heard these things, but she knew better than to question her brother when he wove his webs of dream. His anger was a terrible thing when roused. Viserys called it “waking the dragon.”

~

Last of all came the collar, a heavy golden torc emblazoned with ancient Valyrian glyphs.

“Now you look all a princess,” the girl said breathlessly when they were done. Dany glanced at her image in the silvered looking glass that Illyrio had so thoughtfully provided. A princess, she thought, but she remembered what the girl had said, how Khal Drogo was so rich even his slaves wore golden collars. She felt a sudden chill, and gooseflesh pimpled her bare arms.

~

Dany could smell the stench of Illyrio’s pallid flesh through his heavy perfumes.

Her brother, sprawled out on his pillows beside her, never noticed. His mind was away across the narrow sea. “We won’t need his whole khalasar,” Viserys said. His fingers toyed with the hilt of his borrowed blade, though Dany knew he had never used a sword in earnest. “Ten thousand, that would be enough, I could sweep the Seven Kingdoms with ten thousand Dothraki screamers. The realm will rise for its rightful king. Tyrell, Redwyne, Darry, Greyjoy, they have no more love for the Usurper than I do. The Dornishmen burn to avenge Elia and her children. And the smallfolk will be with us. They cry out for their king.” He looked at Illyrio anxiously. “They do, don’t they?”

“They are your people, and they love you well,” Magister Illyrio said amiably. “In holdfasts all across the realm, men lift secret toasts to your health while women sew dragon banners and hide them against the day of your return from across the water.” He gave a massive shrug. “Or so my agents tell me.”

Dany had no agents, no way of knowing what anyone was doing or thinking across the narrow sea, but she mistrusted Illyrio’s sweet words as she mistrusted everything about Illyrio. Her brother was nodding eagerly, however. “I shall kill the Usurper myself,” he promised, who had never killed anyone, “as he killed my brother Rhaegar. And Lannister too, the Kingslayer, for what he did to my father.”

“That would be most fitting,” Magister Illyrio said. Dany saw the smallest hint of a smile playing around his full lips, but her brother did not notice. Nodding, he pushed back a curtain and stared off into the night, and Dany knew he was fighting the Battle of the Trident once again.

~

Dany noticed that her brother’s hand was clenched tightly around the hilt of his borrowed sword. He looked almost as frightened as she felt.

~

Magister Illyrio’s words were honey. “Many important men will be at the feast tonight. Such men have enemies. The khal must protect his guests, yourself chief among them, Your Grace. No doubt the Usurper would pay well for your head.”

“Oh, yes,” Viserys said darkly. “He has tried, Illyrio, I promise you that. His hired knives follow us everywhere. I am the last dragon, and he will not sleep easy while I live.”

The palanquin slowed and stopped. The curtains were thrown back, and a slave offered a hand to help Daenerys out. His collar, she noted, was ordinary bronze.

[racefortheironthrone]

Thoughts on Powers of X #3

Gotta go fast!

Pride and Grace (X^2):

This issue starts off on a pretty heavy note with a look at the religion of humans in the Man-Machine Ascendancy, and what we see is that humanity has constructed a religion around transhumanism and it’s entirely negative.

So here is the catechism of this religion:

“All humans are slaves,” and humans should “accept [the machines]] dominance.”

Human nature is inherently “fallen,” and in order to ascend humans must reject “every last shred” of their humanity.

Critically, humans must reject the “heretics” who preach biological transhumanism, both becasue of the inherent impossibility of “improv[ing] on our flawed design” and their mistaken belief in free will.

And then just in case you were wondering whether Hickman was going to be at all subtle in his belief that mechanical transhumanism is bad, he then shows us a baby being baptised into this faith by having half its face lasered off as it screams in pain. 

On a more high-falutin’ level, the purple-clad cyborg priest’s concluding thought that “there is something perfect trapped in your flawed human shell” is Gnosticism turned against itself, from a religion that preached an egalitarian message of salvation through transcendant knowledge into a religion that denies the very possibility. It’s also not a good sign that the priest inverts Milton’s most famous epigram on individualistic defiance into a message of submission. 

I find it very odd that so much of the fandom can read these pages and then turn around and call Krakoan culture a cult. As I’ll get into longer, Krakoan culture is all about proving and celebrating individuality as well as community, about rejoicing in the defeat of death, and the multiple layers of call-and-response rest power in the congregation as much as the preacher. If I had to choose between these two religions, I’d pick Krakoa every time. 

And then the mutant resistance shows up bringing fire and the sword(s). And yet, in what is surprising for a group of mutants organized and led by Apocalypse, their tone is more disappointed than hostile. More on this in a bit.

Surviving Sol Mutants Infographic:

In this org chart, we learn about the mutant resistance as led by Apocalypse. Some interesting little details here:

Apocalypse has a new group of horsemen (we don’t learn that the first horsemen who Hickman has been emphasizing so much died during the fall of Krakoa until later), with Logan in the War role, Kuan-Yin Xorn as Death, North as Pestilence, and Krakoa/Cypher as Famine.

This group includes “Pureblood” (not wild about this label) mutants, Chimeras, and “Symbiotic” mutants, which covers pretty much every kind of mutant in this timeline in the same way that the All-New X-Men were designed to be internationally diverse.

While some of these designations - War for Wolverine and Death for the nihilist Xorn - make sense, there’s something really ironic about the plant-man representing Famine, and there doesn’t seem to be much of a clear link between North and the concept of Pestilence.

North as a second generation Lorna Dane/Emma Frost hybrid became a fan favorite despite uttering very few words, I guess because of the interesting combination of Magneto’s costume in Polaris’ colors and pink telepathy powers. 

For her part, Moira stands in as “Mother” of the younger mutant team (which I guess makes Apocalypse the “Father” of the older team), making this resistance cell a Brady-style fused/found family.

I was wrong about which generations Rasputin and Cardinal belong to: despite the fact that Rasputin is named Rasputin IV, both she and Cardinal are third generation Chimeras. Cardinal’s powerset seems to include Nightcrawler-style teleportation as well as Jean/Rachel/Nate-style telepathy. No idea who Freeman corresponds to, but no one else seems to know either. 

The Church, the Church is On Fire!:

On the other side of town, the Machine half of the Ascendancy reacts to the distraction attack. Omega Sentinel both seems to care more about humanity and be more human both in terms of her interests and her affect, while noted sociopath Nimrod the Lesser advocates for human genocide, just in case you were wondering who the bad guys were.

A further sign that we shouldn’t let our pre-existing knowledge color our interpretation is that we find out that the mutant resistance “have always sought to free the humans in some hope that together they might overcome the inevitability of” Nimrod. Needless to say, fighting to save “a world that hates and fears them” hasn’t exactly been Apocalypse’s wheelhouse, but it’s a sign that existential struggle changes all kinds of people’s characters in unexpected ways.

I really like the idea that mutants and humans are two peoples “divided by one language,” because it’s an interesting counter-point to Magneto’s argument in House of X #1 that a mutant language is a necessary precondition for cultural separation.

Further evidence for my thesis about AIs and analysis paralysis: Nimrod the Lesser’s obsession with trying to “disassemble the variables” and his total lack of interest in more qualitative understandings of his opposition leads him to delay just long enough to allow the resistance to get away with their data and unleash a singularity in his capital. Can’t help but see a parallel there with the Phalanx and other intelligences.

We move from there to a Highly Thematically Significant ecumenical debate between the cyborg purple priest and Cardinal, who describes himself as “a pacifist who’s been pushed to the brink” (much like Xavier?) and in the process has abandoned many of his own beliefs, even “overcome my genetic predispositions” for a higher purpose. (Which itself is thematically significant, given that the cyborg purple priest explicitly denied that one could avoid genetic destiny.) Cardinal wants to know why the priest would betray humanity on behalf of a malevolent divinity, but it’s not clear whether his own form of self-destruction is much different (although given that Cardinals deny the self, did the “terminal apocalypse seed” destroy his authentic self or create one?). 

For his part, the cyborg priest chooses veneration of the Great Machine above all else, seemingly dying in a state of religious ecstasy. There’s also another interesting contrast being drawn here - after Magneto positioned the mutants as pagan “gods,” we have a decidedly monotheistic capital-G “god” in the form of Omega Sentinel. 

Buying Time/Space:

As his X-Men prepare to go down swinging to buy him enough time, Apocalypse and his strike team make it to the data-base. I know that Hickman is usually described as more of a world-builder than dialogue wrioter, but I loved the line “I am older than even the idea of machines.” (Not so sure that’s true, Ancient Egypt loved itself some simple machines, but he could be referring more specifically to the computer.) 

We also learn that the data they’re looking for is “when Nimrod came online,” which initially sounds unimportant...up until we see Moira and realize that historical data is priceless when you’re dealing with time-loopers.

Nimrod is alerted by Cypher/Krakoa’s accessing of the data, but it’s worth noting that Nimrod doesn’t know what they’re looking for. He’ll describe it as “old data and machine lore,” but he clearly can’t recall and hasn’t integrated the data that’s been acquired into his own mental framework - which raises the question of whether the Phalanx or higher ups do any better with the data they’ve consumed. 

In the mean-time, Rasputin and Xorn unleash his singularity in order to sideline Omega Sentinel and buy their cause a little more time. There’s an interesting parallel with what Erasmus will do in House of X #3, but the singularity adds another level.

Omega’s question “do you have any idea of what lies at the heart of a real black hole” is even more ambiguous in the wake of Powers of X #5, where we learn that there are massive AI societies inside black holes. Is the Man-Machine Ascendancy a vassal of one of these, has Omega seen one? Or is she referring to a more abstract idea about the ultimate death of all things? (Watching A Brief History of Time messed me up as a kid.)

But just as the X-Men of X^1 underestimate the self-sacrificial tenacity of Orchis humans, Omega underestimates that of the X-Men and so a singularity is unleashed on Earth. Does this destroy the planet, in the same way that the singularity of the 4th Generation Chimeras wiped out Mars? Do Rasputin, Xorn, or Cardinal end up in another time/place as the tarot cards from Powers of X #1 would suggest? Is their desination one of the Titan Societies?  

In a parallel act, Apocalypse sacrifices himself to get the data away. Even as Nimrod is giving his big speech about how Apocalypse is no longer the “fittest of all,” we see how the Big A has clearly moved beyond that conception of himself, to embrace a larger cause he’s willing to die for.

As Aocalypse is dying, Wolverine awakens Moira in her ninth life and kills her so that she can bring the data about Nimrod into her tenth life. Which is one main reason why I’m really skeptical we’ll see a reboot into an 11th life at the end of the mini-series, because otherwise why devote half or more of your run-time to what she’s learned in this life if the next one is the really important one?

Infographic of the Ninth Life of Moira X:

I just realized that Moira’s last name works as both a play on the Nation of Islam’s tradition of giving out X as a new last name symbolic of the heritage destroyed by slavery (although the X-gene probably gives that a different symbolism for Krakoan mutants), and the number 10. Yes, I can be really short-sighted sometimes.

So what new information do we get about Life 9?

Well, the Apocalypse War goes well for mutants for fourteen years, with Avengers World defeated three years later, and the Annihilation Wave repelled eleven years later. Crucially, however, Apocalypse is unable to prevent Nimrod from coming online in Year 50, and within six years the mutants lose most of their earthly power, forcing a retreat to Krakoa and the adoption of Sinister’s breeding program. This buys the mutants about thirty years, but Krakoa’s fall in advance of the collapse of Mars suggestsa that it was never more than a band-aid.

Note that once again Moira goes into a coma. Man, by this point, she and Emma are going to have plenty to talk about wrt to their Sleeping Beauty syndromes.

[cherryfloyd-blog]

Jimmy Page - Behind Closed Doors

There are so many cookie crumbs to this story and I truly put as much research into this as my brain could handle. What started as a fun idea, soon turned into a late night adventure of notes sprawled across my bed, snacks to keep the energy going, glasses on; with a pen sticking of my mouth as I thumbed through as many pages of literature that I could get my hands on. There are several parts of this but for the sake of remaining unbiased I will keep it as straightforward and simple as I can. There has been a rumour floating around for fifty odd years, that Led Zeppelin; more specifically Jimmy Page, had made a deal with the devil. In this article, I will break down the events that have lead people to believe such things. In the end, it will remain impartial and will be open to interpretation which we can discuss further.

 To begin, let’s talk about Jimmy’s growing idolisation and obsession with Aleister Crowley, famous for being an occult leader and magician. For more back story, Crowley was a British occultist who became known for pioneering the practice of black magic (or magick as he would call it). Aleister called himself Beast 666 and wrote literature on black magic and the occult, making him a major cult figure. He joined a few popular organizations to begin with, but ventured off into his own self created philosophy. Crowley believed himself to be the prophet entrusted with guiding humanity into  the Eon of Horus, thus founding the Religion of Thelema. 

(Below is the logo of Thelema)

Pictures of Crowley have since been discreetly used in pop culture, as if a small tribute. For example; The Beatles featured Crowley on their album cover art for Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club, he can be seen in the back row, if I’m correct. Building off of Page’s affinity for Crowley, which began to noticeably build by the mid to late 60’s, Page financed to own a bookstore in Britain which specialized in selling publishings of the occult and black magik. Needless to say, Jimmy was in deep at this point but still only scratching the surface of infatuation. The bookstore was named “The Equinox” which was also the name of a book that Crowley himself had written on the occult and magic. To this day, Jimmy Page has the second largest collection of Crowley memorabilia and literature, which is no small expense. His bookstore is now closed, but back in the day had been in stock of some very pricey and hard to come by black magik publications.

Another thing I found interesting, was Page being heavily influenced by very iconic blues artists, such as Robert Leroy Johnson (okay, maybe not that interesting, everyone in rock cites him as being the backbone of rock n roll today) nonetheless, Johnson died at the age of 27 from unsolved and suspicious causes. He never became famous while he was alive, but rumour has it that Johnson had also sold his soul to the devil in return for fame, at a crossroads, which Robert mentions in a few songs. A very small, unrelated tidbit of information, but it makes you wonder if our rock star idols gave up more than a normal life, to become internationally loved and recognized.

Around the year 1970, Jimmy had supposedly asked the band to perform a ritual with him, one that would bring them power and something along the lines of everlasting life? I know right, no biggie, just dabbling with some dark forces. Anyone that knows black magik, can tell you that spells like this are not something to be taken lightly or messed with. John Paul Jones was allegedly the only one to not take part in this pact, which you’ll later realize why that makes all of this so much more strange than it already is. If you think about it, had they made such a pact it would make sense. Robert Plant has made it to the list of top 100 best singers of all time in Rock history, not only that but made it to number one (1). Jimmy Page? Well he’s seen as a god and legend by almost every guitar player in the modern world, and has been ranked number two, only one spot behind Jimi Hendrix. John Bonham has been recognized as one of the best double kick drummers in history, quite literally, every drummer looks up to him as also an almost god like figure. As for John Paul Jones? There is no doubt the man is wicked talented, but not nearly as talked about or famed. We can all acknowledge the man has serious talent, and yet seems to be left in the shadows of his peers.

The first evidence of this pact can be seen with the album Led Zeppelin III, between the end of the last song and the paper label is the outro groove written into the vinyl was “So mote it be” on one side and “Do what thou wilt” on the other. The are basic phrases that are the core of Crowley’s belief system. By this point people were determined that Jimmy had become a member of O.T.O , and organization and cult who’s most influential and iconic member was none other than Crowley. More about the organization can be read about in a link below, but it should be noted that they have four pillar rules; one of which is to not speak of the organization to others or discuss the practices of which they studied. A rule, that Jimmy Page is believed to have broken at one point.

The second piece of evidence was apparent with the release of Led Zeppelin IV, when symbolism became a driving force. Inside the album is a painting of the hermit (a powerful tarot symbol), later in life Jimmy would refer to himself as being something of a hermit despite being a major public figure. The album provides no title, and shows no band name on the cover, but on the inside are four brightly printed logos across the sleeve. From left to right, these symbols represent Page, Jones, Bonham and Plant. Page has said in interviews that the symbols (for the most part) were taken from Rudolf Koch’s 1955 Book of Signs. Plant’s symbol is probably the easiest to decipher - as it is the feather of truth and courage, from the origins of Egyptian goddess Ma’at. John Bonham’s is believed to be either a drum kit, or the symbol of trinity of a family unit (meaning father, mother, child). John Paul Jones, which was likely picked by Jimmy, was the a celtic sigil for confidence and competence. However, Jimmy’s logo has always been the hardest to breakdown and figure out. While most people believe his logo represents saturn (which controls the Capricorn sign, Jimmy is a Capricorn so it would make sense), there is a certain level of mystery behind it. Page has famously said he will never tell anyone what it means. Thought Plant has once said that Page revealed the full meaning of all four signs, including a detailed discussion of what Zoso meant. Admittedly, Plant expressed he was too drunk to remember by the next morning, and when he had asked Page about it again, page replied with saying he couldn’t/wouldn’t discuss it. Now this could very well be Jimmy’s antics, or just general mysterious persona, or perhaps he simply cannot discuss or reveal information. Perhaps, this is the one of the four pillar rules of O.T.O that Page had broken. Jimmy is an all around very private person, who very rarely, if at all, talks about his religious or spiritual beliefs or practices.

It is worth noting that Sandy Denny (pictured below) of Fairport Convention, the voice on The Battle of Evermore track, was given her own sigil. The logo is translated to Godhead or the power of female.

According to Pamela Des Barres, Pages girlfriend of this era, has said that at this point Jimmy got very deep into the studying of Crowley, and had even asked her to search San Francisco and Los Angles for Crowley memorabilia. She had not fallen short on this task, and managed to dig up some very impressive artifacts, manuscripts, and even “magical” robes that Crowley has worn. In 1970, around the time of the ritual, Page had dropped a large chunk of cash to acquire Crowley’s mansion, Boleskine, located on Loch Ness. The home, once owned by Crowley, had a large history of suicides and an even bigger turnover rate of employees as they found the home to be no doubt inhabited by dark entities. Regardless of what one may believe, the house holds a sinister vibe. Page later sold the home in 1992, and had actually been very wary of ever living there and had left the estate in a caregivers possession. Of the 22 years that he had owned the house, he only spent 6 weeks in total living there. In 2016, the house unexplainably burned down. (pictured below is Jimmy at the mansion) 

 Now this next part is where shit gets bonkers, so to speak, the rest so far has been rumours and back stories and alleged encounters. Just a man with an obsession, and depending on your personal beliefs, you may find that he took his practices too far. Perhaps his intentions were pure, but looking at his life in general, what did Jimmy have to sacrifice to become quite literally a noteable person in history. Well let’s see.

Introducing Kenneth Anger; a fellow Crowley disciple and filmmaker, drug taker and subversive. He spent most of his time drawing magic circles, burning incense and chanting spells in Enochian - trying to do a real ritual exorcism. Plans for his film Lucifer Rising began to fall apart when Bobby Beausoleil (lead actor) - had to quit. Bobby, who later stole rough cuts and cameras from Anger would soon regret this. To take revenge, Anger supposedly made a talisman to curse Bobby. Within a year, Beausoleil had ended up convicted of murder with a life sentence for the murder of Sharon Tate as part of the Manson family murders. Wild, I know. Possibly just a coincidence, or even just a tall tale.

Cue Jimmy Page, who had agreed to do the soundtrack for Angers film, and the music Jimmy had produced is exactly what you’d expect. Dark, eerie, and perfect for a film of satanic proportions. Some of which can actually be heard in the intro for “In The Out Door”, his melancholy and devilish sound coming through in the song “In The Evening”. Kenneth and Jimmy had a love/hate relationship, and what started as a mutual appreciation and dedication to Crowley’s practice and image, soon turned to ugly turmoil just as quickly. Anger moved into Boleskine, where him and Page shared a love for Crowley memorabilia. However, as their friendship deteriorated, Anger was asked to leave the Crowley mansion. At the height of Led Zeppelin’s career, Jimmy had pulled out of the film project in 1975. Allegedly, Anger soon stated that he had cursed Page and Zepp with a major spell, a spell so big that it took all of Crowley’s teachings he could muster up, to cast upon them.

 Almost immediately, the band started to experience turbulence and the eventual downfall of their career as one tragedy after another struck them to the core. Robert Plant was in a car crash, plunging off a cliff in Greece in 1975, nearly killing himself, his wife and his son Karac. Which meant cancelling the Physical Graffiti tour and having to record in a wheelchair. The make up tour was littered with negative events starting with Plant getting Laryngitis. Followed by ticketless fans in Cincinnati rioting and storming the gates. In San Francisco, manager Peter Grant and John Boham had gotten into a fight with Bill Graham, and nearly beating a Bill Graham employee to death. Both Grant and Bonham narrowly escaping serious charges and incarceration. Karac eventually fell ill, and no amount of money would make him better, as doctors had no idea what was wrong, by 1977 Karac had passed away and the tour was cancelled. At this point, Plant had quit the band and music in general in response to Page and Jones not showing up to his sons funeral.

Around this time, Page was nearly comatose on a daily basis due to a crippling Heroine addiction, and Bonhams alcoholism was raging out of control, becoming increasingly violent and unpredictable. In 1978, Sandy Denny, the goddess of the Battle of Evermore, drunkenly plunged down a flight of stairs; breaking her neck and died. The tip of the iceberg was the incident that occurred in September of 1980. Handlers had tucked Bonzo into bed after a band rehearsal, following a night of heavy drinking; assuming he would be okay, he’s done it a million times before, right? But as well know, John tragically died in his sleep from asphyxiation. It’s worth mentioning, that in the middle of all of this mayhem, John Paul Jones had remained completely untouched. While the loss of Karac and Bonham had affected John, being as they were family, he was never really directly affected. Could this be because he stayed as far away from the pact as possible? Could these events be natures way of taking something, in return for giving something such as power? Is this all the work of Angers alleged curse?

Robert Plant once addressed these very claims, as some people point fingers at Jimmy being the cosmic reasoning behind the passing of Karac and Bonham. Though, he says it’s a cheap shot. This is what Plant had to say about the matter - “The comments about how it was all connected with Jimmy’s dalliance with the dark side or whatever, that was cheap. I’ve never shared the preoccupations with him and I don’t really know anything about it. Fate is already written”. I suppose it has less to do with whether Page “sold his soul” and more to do with the possible repercussions of playing against nature, and whether such practices have a domino affect. The piling strange circumstances does make one wonder how involved Page really was, and how much the involvement took a toll on the band. Just how much of it can account for Led Zeppelin’s massive success, to the point of making history in music forever (everlasting life?). At the end it could all very well just be a bunch of mumbo jumbo non-sense. I am curious as to what you all think, feel free to leave comments or shoot me a message!

*Note; Do not take this too seriously, it’s all speculation and open for interpretation. Below are some interesting sites that I used in my search!

Resources:

https://forums.ledzeppelin.com/topic/15027-jimmy-and-crowley/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aleister_Crowley

https://carwreckdebangs.wordpress.com/2015/06/09/aleister-crowley-jimmy-page-and-the-curse-of-led-zeppelin-when-myth-magick-and-weird-facts-collide/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ordo_Templi_Orientis

https://zososymbol.com/

[bigskydreaming]

So this is...its a thing. Let’s go with that. I’ve been calling around LA for pretty much all of last week, going through every oral surgeon I can find to see if they do the surgery I need and what their schedules are like, how soon I could get into surgery, etc, and also I’ve been asking literally everyone I know if they know of anyone, have a referral, etc. Even reached out to this old client of mine from back when I was doing sex work, years and years ago, to see if he knew anyone in LA with connections at Cedars Sinai or another hospital, like, to see if they could even just check with their hospital to see what visiting doctors specialize in that kinda thing. Keeping in touch with people from my sex work days, lol, is not something I normally did, or do. He’s literally the only one, and that’s because it just....kinda happened? *Shrugs* He's not a regular presence in my life or anything like that, just the only one from those days that for various reasons, I kinda kept in casual contact with - which for me pretty much meant that I called him or he called me like, a couple times a year to just be like hey how you been. And it’d been a couple years to be honest, cuz like....*gestures at the last two years* 

LOLOL. I guess I just have very low standards for people keeping in contact with me. Who knows why. One of those inexplicable mysteries I guess.

But point is, he got back to me like, the same day, and acted as a go between for me with this old friend of his, who works at Cedars Sinai as a chaplain, their non-denominational one...last week, at the time, I was only focused on the advice part of the email he sent after he asked around the hospital for recommendations, and it kinda didn’t even register that this guy wasn’t just....had connections at Cedars Sinai, but was actually working there himself (for some reason, I thought he was in a different state when first put in contact with him, whatever). Let alone what his title there was. So he gave a recommendation that I’m following up on today, and I just called the old client of mine who put me in touch with him to clarify a few things he’d say, and it only then hit me where this friend of his worked, and so I asked how long he’d worked there and turns out it was two years.

Which was...when my aunt killed herself. And that was where she worked.

So. Like. This random guy who I’ve never met before, doing a favor for me as a favor for this guy who used to pay me for sex and kinda almost accidentally ended up as like...a casual but distant friend, is literally the guy who was hired to replace my aunt as the non-denominational chaplain at Cedars Sinai when she died two years ago.

And I don’t have the first fucking clue what to do with that?

Like....I’ve always considered myself ‘comfortably agnostic,’ like I’m more than willing to believe a higher power exists, I’m just not all that concerned with forming a definitive idea of what that might be or look like or want. I hate organized religion with a passion because lol, repressive Catholic upbringing, and I’ve just never felt a particular need to go out and look for faith in anything other than myself and like....the things in life I actually value, y’know? I’m of the mindset that like, I figure if I do things cuz they’re the right things to do and try and live a good life where I’m helpful to people and empathetic and compassionate, whatever that Higher Power’s specific deal is, they’re either gonna decide that’s good enough for them when I die, or if its not good enough on its own merits, like...idk why I would even want anything from them or anything to do with them anyway? Like sure God, send me to hell because the only thing that really matters in the end is I didn’t sign up for your official email mailing list or whatever the fuck. Nope. 

So religion and faith and spirituality have never been a big...thing for me, or part of my life, its not something I really feel like, a void for not having or whatever. I don’t have an issue with what anyone else believes or why, up until the point where their personal faith apparently requires them to like....impinge upon my actual life and ability to live it the way I choose to....but I’m not like that dude who goes around trying to poke holes in peoples’ faith, just like...respect that I’m not interested in a sales pitch and we’re cool, y’know? Like my aunt was a chaplain, literally the only person in my family who ever kept in regular contact and like, made a point to check on how I was doing and shit and like...idk, loved me, is I guess the word to use? LMFAO. But like....yeah, she was the only relative I actually felt valued by, and thus the only one I really had anything like a regular or ongoing relationship with....*shrugs* So like yeah, whatever. She believed things that I don’t necessarily NOT believe, but more just have never felt a need to explore or try and decide just WHAT exactly I believe or put a name or a description to it.

And I’ve never been someone who sees signs in stuff that happens, nooooooot a fan of fate or destiny as a general concept and like....I’ve got no problem believing that things like ghosts or demons or anything like that could exist, y’know, things that just can’t be explained by science or anything near to our current understanding of reality at least....I’ve just never had anything remotely close to something I would describe as an encounter with the supernatural, or demonic or divine or anything really...spiritual, I guess?

So.....I don’t know what to feel about this, lol. Like, I’m trying not to read anything into it, like y’know....a sign, haha, not because I wouldn’t like to think that my aunt is still looking out for me in some way, I guess, maybe? Like, of course I’d like to think that, I miss her. A lot. And actually have been randomly thinking about her a bunch lately, like at weird times like, I don’t know what it is that made me stop and think of her, my thoughts go there? So I mean....I’m just saying....it wouldn’t break my brain or upend my entire worldview to accept that could actually happen or be a thing, its more just that I’ve gotten my hopes up so many damn times this past year in specific, that I’m just like....I cant afford to pin my hopes on THIS, like that this is ‘a sign’ that this time, its going to work out? But at the same time, its SO FUCKING SPECIFIC a connection like, and in such a WEIRD fucking round about way, that its pretty much impossible NOT to try and read something into it? Like, the guy who replaced her never even MET her, she’s literally just the woman who had his office before him and well. Is probably just remembered as a depressing story around the hospital, to be totally honest, cuz like, there’s not a lot of follow up that tends to happen when you ask so what happened to her and the answer is well, she killed herself, y’know?

So its like, how do you not get your hopes up even just a little bit, from thinking about that......which I figure means, oops, further to fall and crash and burn if this lead fizzles out too and I got my hopes up for nothing, but if it does pan out, like....I guess that’s kinda the point of faith in a higher power in the first place, lol, to hope for better or believe that there’s a point to all this or a place this all is headed, idk.

But then also now I just fucking miss her too, like, even more than usual, and thinking the shit I’ve tried really really really goddamn hard not to think about for the past two years, like how I know she had her own mental health struggles and even physical health issues, and I know better than to fucking blame her and yet there’s that part of me that wants to fucking throw a tantrum about how i need her and how could she leave me alone with just the rest of my useless fucking joke of a family, but then there’s the other part of me that’s like well I obviously wasn’t the help she needed either, so its not like I’ve got any right to think I was owed her presence or help or anything like that, its just. Idk. I miss her. I need her. I love her, like there’s so many things I want to tell her that I never got the chance to because I didn’t just fucking take the chances I had when they were actually available and there are so many more things I wish she’d told me, and just. I knew she cared, at least. No matter how detached I felt from the rest of my family or just like...fuck family in general, lol, she was the one person there who I never doubted like...just cared. About me. Gave a shit, showed up, wanted me to actually be happy and wanted that to look like whatever I wanted it to look like, didn’t give a fuck what other people thought my happiness should look like or require.

And its just like, maybe this is just a really weird, strange, major coincidence or maybe its a sign of something or proof of something and maybe it doesn’t even matter, bc like...I was just gonna say that its not like I even NEED the answers or to know, but like lol, dumbass, the fact that I’m actually asking the questions or getting worked up over whether or not I actually believe this means something or I just WANT to believe it means something, like, would tend to suggest I’m shitting myself and I DO actually want the answers which suggests maybe I’m not actually as agnostic or at least not comfortable with being agnostic as I’ve told myself, which....oh fucking hell. Am I having an existential crisis? Is that what this is? Jfc I better not be having a fucking spiritual awakening or whatever the fuck, like that is not what I need, this is NOT the time for that, literally nobody asked and I should know, Ive been here the whole time and nope nope nope this guy is not your ‘but the real salvation came from finding strength and purpose in something greater than myself in my most dire time of need’ narrative or whatever like I FUCKING REFUSE, my belief system can go to the BACK OF THE LINE until I’m good and ready to deal with it on MY time, I didn’t sign on to do a rewrite of some modernized Book of Job shit, literally any other thought in my brain is invited to step the fuck right up because THANK YOU, NEXT, I just willingly made an Ariana Grande reference because I can think of nothing more suitably over the top dramatic short of tossing my hair which is much too short to toss but again I insist nooooooooooooooope.

Like, love you and miss you Aunt Diane, and if that is you looking out for me plz know I’m very grateful even tho it totally doesn’t sound like it, but like, you know me well enough to know that I like....object to this timing and context on principle, WHICH YES HELLO I AM AWARE SOUNDS FUCKING STUPID NOW THAT IM TYPING IT OUT YET IT PERSISTS SO LIKE WHATEVER AND STUFF....just. I am me, and thus I shall super gratefully take like....just a smidgen of hope and optimism or whatever from this offering so like, I don’t want to be RUDE, but then Im gonna put the rest of it back in its box and shove it alllll the way to the back of my Pressing Priorities and unpack all that at a very fucking much later date, thank you ever so much, because like....I gotta be me, and I have been partners in crime with my Cynicism for way too long to just bail on him now, like, what kind of person would I be if I just cut and run on the anthropomorphized negative outlook that has helped see me through life oh so jadedly until now? 

Ugh wtf, why am I like this, is it free will or is it God or is God even real or did Cthulu eat god or is God’s actual name Sonya and like I have no clue where I’m going with any of this, look the answer is obviously that a faithless blasphemous heretical fucker has phone calls to make today, and nobody’s finding the light here, nope, nope, NOOOOOPE, my motel’s one shitty lightbulb works GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME.

[jejciu]

ok so i read the midground tag and.... i want more:( i adore your ocs!! especially nico. could we get some facts about him? 👀

oh im so happy to hear u like it!!!!!!!!! and sure, im always very happy to talk about my ocs!!!!

nico was born in philadelphia on 24th of april - which makes him taurus sun! and i honestly dont think ive mentioned this before, but his full name is actually nicolaus jeremiah perry. ever since he moved to brackenridge - around the age of 7, hes been friends with clay and jenny.

he was born & raised atheist, hence his interest in religion and spirituality. during the 4 parts of midground, he turns into an agnostic of sorts - he believes that some sort of god-like figure really exists, but doesnt side with any religion in particular (even the two angels that get sent to earth dont give any specific information regarding deities in heaven, so its not like hes in the wrong by not believing in like, christian understanding of god or whatever)

he was also the first one to encounter a supernatural activity!!! in part 1 chapter 4 called nico the god-fearing, where he finds a ghost in a local church. as a thank u gift, the priest gives him an old religious anti-occult book, which features the prayer to st george. at first, hes the only one that could summon st georges sword, too, bc it requires pure intentions and decisiveness.

in general, hes the sweetest, kindest kid, and definitely the mom friend of the group. hes not very confident in himself, and doesnt know what he wants to do in the future (tho as ive been writing this short story that happens when theyre all 24yo, he lives in pittsburgh, as well as mercy and clay, and is a writer for some independent news site, so hes gonna turn out fine).

hes also gay! and biracial. and around 181cm tall. and pretty rich, definitely the richest out of all 6 main characters. his favourite colors are soft blues and greens, and he loves to cook - his mom is vegetarian so he is used to trying out new dishes every so often, instead of just boring ass meat meals. when he was a little kid, his parents would constantly make him to take stuff like tennis or piano lessons. he doesnt play any instruments anymore tho, and he prefers team sports, too. he has a very romantic soul, and believes in stuff like love from the first sight or star-crossed lovers. hes very supportive towards all his friends, too, and they repay him with trust - mercy came out to him first, and so did jen, and he always knew clay was gay, too. to be honest, during the course of all 4 parts, id have to say that his personality changes the least out of all main characters - he was always as sweet and caring and trustworthy - but i think his relationship with religion was always really fun to write. the way hes a bit sceptical, and also curious of so many things and has that pure heart that lets him really enjoy that road of discovery, and the way hes quite a bit scared of the unknown, and yet loves his friends too much to abandon them - i dont know!!! hes just a really good friend, and a kind soul.

thanks for asking!!!!!!!! hope ur having a wonderful day!!!!!!!

[spacephant0m]

cw for personal talk about religion/spirituality and trying to find myself. Srry for typos

I’m in my room on the verge of tears and switching between crying and having a blank stare, watching brendon’s livestream on my ipad while i type this. I’m trying to study witchcraft to some extent as I’ve never really read much of anything about it before. Specifically I was reading about christian witches. Now the thing is like, i grew up as a christian. And nowadays i still believe in God definitely, but i hate christian practices. I remember reading and studying world religions in college last year and absolutely loving it and being so sad because i never experienced such practices in my own faith that actually seemed..... like, fun, and super connective. Me bawling my eyes out at church camp and being “lost” was not exactly what i originally thought it was. I was just mentally ill and didnt know it. Deep down i always knew i had a connection with God that wasnt faltering over silly shit a kid does wrong. Kid sins. Whatever the fuck. As much as i fucken prayed and asked for forgiveness, i was fine. Christianity is always a race to be closer to God and its like.... how close can i get when im doing the same fucking exact practices over and over.... they never really taught us about meditation and becoming one with your surroundings and idk, letting your spirit free. They kind of talked about it sometimes.

But i just hate the entire setup of church. I miss the family aspect so much. Thats all i miss. I miss bible study but really i just miss the points where we talked about life. Thats usually what we did, we would have an entire lesson setup and it would become totally derailed by our conversations. And it was real and i had a sense of community that i cant get anywhere else. I havent been able to find it anywhere else. But i also miss my personal sense of spirituality. I love that word and i love that it has so many encapsulating meanings. I dont wanna be like a white man self acclaimed guru who’s like read this book it’ll help you change your life....... i feel like those guys really appropriate culture and commercialize it. Its kinda gross. I try not to associate myself with that idea but every time i think about meditating more and shit im like “ew im gonna be a gross white guy whos all at peace w himself and lives in the mountains and shit” AND IT MAKES ME MAD. I’m having a beer right now instead of a cup of tea. Probably a mistake. Tea helps me feel better but im filling my body w shit at the moment bc thats what happens when i get this sad.

Anyways i really hate the idea of practicing a religion. I made a post before asking for sort of an advice on this, like was it okay for me to like witchy things and not actually be one. I was told yes its totally okay. And im not disrespectful of anyone and i dont make fun of any religion. I just persoaally cannot see myself involved with having an actual religion. I dont even consider myself christian so how could i ever proclaim myself as a christian witch, idk.

I dont want to label myself at all. Maybe i dont need any of this. Maybe i just need to play dnd and live vicariously thru my character. Use that shit as therapy. I hear it helps a lot with mental health and social skills. That of which i am verily lacking. I’m just hurting and im pissed off. I dont know why exactly. I just want to do meditation and i wanna buy my crystals and start doing yoga again. This year i have been stretching more. Actually i started on the first of feb. i stretch every day and do vocal exercises to help my voice get more control and deepen it a bit (transmasc).

I am also just a bit overwhelmed at everything. I dont know where to start. All i know is i want to burn incense like i used to growing up bc it always made me happy. And that i only believe in like..... cleansing through these elements and a prayer to God. But i’ve always had faith issues because im so insecure, i never think God will actually help me because maybe i dont deserve it or maybe he just doesnt want to.

I’m also scared im gonna do something wrong or fuck something up. That something bad will happen or something because im dumb. I dont know if i could mix my own herbs that feel right to me, or if i should use a recipe. I feel stupid that i dont have as much faith in prayer as i wish i did, but i have faith that little rocks will help to cleanse negative energy and things like that.

I dont know why im crying, i guess because im so insecure? Or maybe life is just rly hard and i’m overthinking everything. I just feel kinda bad. Yet when my friends tell me theyre praying for me, i do have faith in that and it means the world to me.

I know none of this is a big deal to anyone, and maybe none of it should matter. But im like. Idk. Im very interested in plants and medicines of the earth and shit like i always have been ever since i was young i thought of myself as like. Awakened and shit LOL whatever that means @ 10 year old me. I dont want to feel like anything controls me or owns me, i want to feel like i am in control of my own life and that i could harness the energy around me to not only like bring me peace of mind but to help me through my journey of life.

But i guess my biggest issue is i have no fuckin clue where to start. I hate reading and all this research im trying to do to help myself figure out what i enjoy is just. Making me so fucken overwhelmed. I only read like. 1 blog post and 2 articles and im already losing it. I always grew up w the mindset that God will take care of everything but like. He already has. In my mind. Because he’s already given us all the tools we need. But folks just like. Wanna be lazy and wait for things to happen. Sometimes all u can do is wait but when it comes to like, being THE ONES IN CONTROL, “prayers for america” is dumb as fck.

Idk i dont know anything and its okay to not know right now but i want something more in my life but i want it to be like.... totally personal and i dont want it to be absolutely everything my life revolves around. I want it to just be something i do and that i love. I dont need a label for it. But idk. I just dont know what to do.

If anyone has any sort of advice or is dealing with anything like this i’d love to hear about it. My ask and msgs are open as well. I feel pretty alone right now. Im just patiently waiting for my paycheck tomorrow so i can buy these crystals i rly want. But who knows what it will take to satisfy my hungry soul.

Another problem i rly have honestly is just like. Spending a lot of money on a lot of hobbies. I feel shitty for having so many things i enjoy doing. I try to narrow it down. I havent started embroidery bc i dont wanna spend more money and i feel like i’ll never have enough time to practice. Im just. Mediocre at a lot of things instead of rly super good at one thing. I mean i think im pretty great at drawing but thats about it. But ive been doing that for 10 years so ofc im good at it NOW. But ffs. I wanna do so many things and its overwhelming. I work a minimum wage job and its. I dont have enough money for anything lol so most of my stuff is low-budge† which is fine i guess but. Idk. Im tired. Im sad.

I dont know how to be more spiritual i dont know where to start. And my mind is telling me to slap a label on it or its not anything of value. Which is bullshit. But y’know. Anxiety n shit.

[womanaction]

Do you wanna word vomit about your favorite dnd PCs? I wanna hear all about them please!

Omg, anon…bless you. Of course I do!

So right now I am playing two characters in different campaigns, and then I have another character for some upcoming campaign (maybe this year, maybe not). These are the three I have aesthetic-y blogs for, and they are probably my favorites, although I have a special place in my heart for my first character and she is involved in one of my current campaigns as a bit of a legacy.

Elysia (@la-elysia) is the character I’ve now been playing for the longest time, and I’m continuing to play her for probably another year. She is a grave cleric, and specifically a priestess of Hades. She’s a half-elf, and both her parents were good-aligned clerics (and their parents before them, and so on!). She was raised by the elf half of her family, and resents humans even though her parents parted on amicable terms. She also wanted to choose her own path in life, and so she chose to follow Hades. She thinks life is more complicated and dark than her families have always taught her, and that the most important thing to honor is the thin line between life and death.

When I started out playing her, she was fresh out of her (required) time as a soldier, so she was a little rough and edgy. She’s still quite young, and at first it was obvious how much she chose to worship Hades more as an “identity” choice than as a religious calling. But after visions and actual encounters with him over the course of the past campaign, her fangirl-y obsession has evolved into genuine devotion. She’s still kind of edgy, but she has learned some more restraint, and she has started seeing more of her decisions in the light of her deity. She’s also softened on humans a bit, after Hades seemingly marked another party member (a very messed-up human bard) as important for the coming battles.

I’m looking forward to finding out what her sexuality is, lol. She’s certainly somewhere on the ace spectrum, but I think she might be bi as well. It’s tricky for me to figure this out because her greatest devotion will always be to Hades, and she doesn’t like to really get close to others. She is uninterested in sex generally, but not sex-repulsed; if the proper context arises, I think she might be interested in sex for ritual purposes, which sounds like a fun thing to explore.

Then there’s Remi, @remi-wtmadir​. She is a very shy wizard who is beginning to come into her own. She is Dragonborn, but is no longer in contact with any of her family (a prominent dynasty of warriors and leaders) due to her more eccentric interests. She’s in her mid-40s and has spent the last couple decades in academia - studying magic, of course, but also researching her great love, Infernal poetry. She has a small collection and hopes to start her own library.

Remi is quite awkward and is uncomfortable with using her size and apparent fearsomeness to gain any benefits. However, she has a very analytical and strategic mind, which has led her to an interest in war magic and especially battlefield control. She is very attached to her party members, but is not sure how to appropriately express it.

This has only come up a little bit so far in the actual campaign, but she finds religion a bit distasteful. She enjoys the beautiful art, architecture, music, and poetry produced by religious fervor, but in general she thinks it tends to be mindless and that the so-called deities worshipped by others (yes, even her friends) are undeserving of such praise. Her upbringing was religious, and she’s uncomfortable in overtly religious spaces (shrines, temples, etc.) as a result, although she is not intolerant of religious people. She is also a lesbian, but has had very little chance to connect romantically with anyone because she felt especially othered by her race and background. I am hoping she finds someone who would be interested in sharing her life’s work!

Finally, there’s Margana, @marganathered, who is brand new but I find exciting so I wanna talk about her! She’s a human warlock, with a fiend patron (details not yet worked out). She was quite wealthy for a while as she made a living as a famed and beautiful dancer. She loves nice things, but her greatest love is actually for her husband, who is a very gentle, kind, and simple sort of man. Unfortunately, she had a bad injury and was unable to dance. They quickly fell into poverty, and she watched her husband suffer doing long hours of work he loathed. So she sought out a way to repair her injury. She’s not the most patient or learned, so there were some unintended consequences - in regaining her ability, she lost her husband. Her new patron told her she could recover him if a certain quota of destruction was met. If it were up to her, she would probably have few qualms about anything standing in her way, but she knows he would lose his love for her if he found out she had slaughtered innocents to get him back, so she has to be a little more thoughtful about how she meets this quota. Also, her wedding ring is her focus, which I just think is fun.

Other characters I’ve played recently or have in the wings include Matilda (the OG monk who makes terrible decisions and loves kids), Fryryn (genderfluid lizardfolk druid who spent way too long in isolation), Elas (Elysia’s nerd brother who would probably die immediately if I had to actually play him), Buddy (totally normal paladin bro, the best guy you will ever meet), Angelique (dwarf barbarian who really wants to explore her feminine side), H (man? woman? nb? human? elf? two gnomes stacked on top of each other? who knows but they’re a warlock and hella cool), and Issmi (weird human fighter/rogue/monk, would fuck you up as soon as look at you).

[naturalhairjunkies]

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Embracing My Spirituality doesn't Mean I've Strayed from God

The fact that I even need to write this is astounding. I’m realizing that spirituality is soooo  taboo and people aren’t really sure what it is. But with that comes a lot of ignorance – including people alluding to devil worship. *Eye roll* But Embracing My Spirituality doesn’t Mean that I’ve strayed from God in any form or fashion. My relationship with God runs deep. I’m not even sure how the devil worship even became a thing or an assumption.

Disclaimer** If you are easily offended it may be time for you to bounce that aaaaa*** because I definitely need to set the record straight, and if you’re offended.. I won’t apologize.

Embracing My Spirituality doesn’t Mean that I’ve Strayed from God

The fact that this needs to be said, is a problem within itself. I pray, everyday and I give thanks daily. Just because i chose a different way to follow God doesn’t mean that I’ve strayed. No, I may not sit in a church every Sunday, but I am finding ways to honor God in my day to day life. I meditate, practice yoga & reiki. I mind my everyday business and I genuinely just try to be the best version of myself, everyday. And I don’t see the problem. My aim is for more peace & light within myself as I navigate through life.

What does sage& crystals have to do with it?

Sage & crystals somehow make you a devil worshipper. I’m definitely uncertain of how this analogy makes sense. Incense are burned during most church services & I don’t see anyone crying devil worship from the pews. I don’t see questions being raised about that or any questions from those in service.. Yet, the fact that I burn incense bothers you… But you don’t live in my home or partake in anything that I do for myself so why would this affect you?

The main reason I burn any of these things is to cleanse myself & my space of negative energy. I just want to be able to enter a room and sit with myself during meditation or prayer & just be. I love entering a room where the balance has been restored and it’s peaceful. Just mind your business and don’t touch my things. Your energy is gross and I really don’t need that sticking to me in any form. I’m just over here connecting to my higher self, seeking a sense of peace and happiness within myself and just bliss. I deserve bliss….

Using religion to back negativity and ignorance doesn’t help you

If you genuinely don’t understand someone’s “way of life”, there are ways to either ask or research for yourself. But linking everything that you don’t understand or you’re unaware of to evil, is beyond ignorant. Not everyone is trying to be a “witch” or practice voodoo, hoodoo or whatever else you picked up from TV. We allllll loved Coven but not everyone is out here trying to Marie Laveau, even though she was definitely a bad bihhhh… Most people, still listen to a great gospel song, meditate, align their chakras & stillllll make it to Sunday service to worship. But I guess ignorance is bliss. You want to believe so bad that the woman connecting to her roots is the devil or up to no good. You choose to believe that crystal use is of the devil and more. It’s the most backwards yet judgmental thing I’ve ever heard.

Plus, being spiritual just means that you aren’t tied to a specific religion, it doesn’t make you a Satanist or an Atheist. So relax, mind your business and make sure that YOU are living a life that God will be proud of. Ya’ll worry entirely about the wrong things. Focus on yourself, and what you’re building and teaching your children. Focus on your relationship with God and if you truly have one verses just going through the motions. Do not ask me about devil worship, because I don’t know anything about that. I don’t practice it. I’m not a meditation away from that, and It’s just not in my nature or spirit to do so.

Just Mind Your Business

Let me glow up. Everyone is attracted to the peace. the light and good vibes. And that’s cool and all, however, minding your business is in your best interest. Stop judging my life from a distance, sending me Bullsh** memes and using it as a Segway to ask if its true. Don’t worry about how I find peace or positives in crap situations. And if I’m truly going through what I am going through because my energy doesn’t show signs of struggle. It takes work, to see the positives in life and in every situation. It takes a whole lot of God and all of the light placed within the universe to function at a high frequency. God blesses me immensely and I’m beyond grateful. There is no devil here.