#it's her strength of courage and willingness to defend the weak

[shipmistress9]

Sgaeyl: Hurry, Tairn, I need you.

Tairn *already on his way*: What happened? Is the Golden One in danger?

Sgaeyl: No, no, I have that covered. But my idiot of a rider is horny as fuck for this pint-sized woman here and if she gets herself killed before he can mate her, he'll mope around forever. So I need a way for her not to die too quickly.

Tairn:... you've got be kidding me...

[dwellordream]

“…Courtly love is commonly cited as marking the nascence of the modern era’s notion of romantic love. Although Eleanor undoubtedly heard the troubadours’ songs as a child, the extent to which their new ideas on love and marriage shaped her own views cannot be known. Too little evidence from Eleanor’s early life survives to resolve much debated claims for her role in fostering the doctrines of courtly love disseminated by troubadours or claims that she influenced later notions of romantic love. Troubadour poetry was in its infancy in the years before she left for Paris, and its theme of a young knight’s adoration of his superior-ranking lady would not become a literary norm until the later twelfth century.

Nonetheless, because the adult Eleanor is so often associated with courtly love and outrageous claims have been made for her as its sponsor and propagator, the unfolding of this phenomenon during her formative years must be understood. Today it is hard to know what to make of courtly love that seemingly celebrated adulterous relationships between a married noble lady and her knightly admirer; nor can it be known what those living in a Christian society that classed adultery and fornication as serious crimes were to make of it. 

The troubadours’ love was full of contradictions: sensual yet spiritual, both ethically edifying and sinful, open and at the same time secret. The elevation of women in their songs conflicted with teachings of eleventh- and twelfth century Church reformers who portrayed all women as descendants of Eve, the temptress and source of sin, spreading wickedness and disorder in the world. Because troubadour love contradicted Church teachings on love, marriage, and sex, it was suspected of contamination by the heretical Cathars or even of Spanish Muslim influences. 

…Also responsible for blending clerics’ courtliness, knights’ prowess, and “courtly love” into a new standard for knightly behavior were authors of late twelfth-century vernacular romances. More numerous in northern France and the Anglo-Norman realm than in the south, the romance writers adapted the love portrayed in troubadour songs, making adoration of a noble lady a key characteristic of the perfect knight. Romance writers borrowed from troubadour lyrics language that applied a knight’s service to his lord to the language of devotion to his lady. 

…Unlike the knights of the romances written in the north, Occitan knights would continue to identify chivalry with purely warlike traits, rather than with exalted love for a lady, and the sponsors of singers of troubadour songs were more likely the husbands of noble ladies than the ladies themselves. Songs of the Périgord knight Bertrand de Born, writing for Eleanor’s sons, say nothing of knightly love for ladies, but extoll warfare and taunt those nobles who refrained from fighting. In the few poems that Bertrand authored with amorous topics, his treatment of love is decidedly unromantic. 

Courtly love’s language of knightly devotion to a lady cannot be regarded as an accurate portrayal of the position of women in the aristocratic society of Eleanor’s youth. While power for women of the Midi was possible, and some ruled lands in their own right or on behalf of absent spouses or minor offspring, many others found their fates entirely in the hands of fathers, husbands, or other kin. Indeed, property rights enjoyed by southern women in the eleventh century were weakening in the early and mid-twelfth century. 

While encouraging courteous conduct toward the ladies at princely courts, it is unlikely that the troubadour love lyrics brought significant betterment of their lives. Perhaps such songs were little more than moves in a complex game of flirtation. Once troubadour poetry reached the French and English royal courts, listeners there would find the depiction of adulterous love alarming, and such songs may have inclined Eleanor’s subjects to believe the worst of her. At the same time that poetry at the court of Eleanor’s grandfather was defining “courtly love”, it was also contributing to a new understanding of “chivalry” at Poitiers and at other princely courts. 

In Eleanor’s early childhood, the Old French and Occitan terms that would evolve into the modern “cavalry” and “chivalry” still applied primarily to skill with horses and weapons, the qualities of knights, military professionals fighting on horseback, men in those days often of non-noble rank. In the violence and chaos of the tenth and eleventh centuries, polite manners or moral behavior were little valued, although knights felt a strong sense of honor and shame, making them quick to avenge any affront that dishonored them. 

Desirable characteristics for knights described in the late eleventh-century epic poems, the chansons de gestes, center on prowess, including physical strength, mastery of fighting skills, and courage. Less attractive traits also characterized the epic heroes: pride, arrogance, disdain for lesser persons, and willingness to humiliate others. This individualistic ethos clashed with the Christian contemplative ideal, exemplified by the monastic life, and by the late eleventh century, churchmen were seeking to harness the warrior elite’s ferocity for spiritual ends. They tried to channel their fervor toward Christian goals, enforcing the Peace of God to defend the poor and weak and crusades to liberate the Holy Places. 

During Eleanor’s early years, first as a child at Poitiers and later as an adolescent bride at Paris, courtliness, or courtesy, was beginning to dilute the warrior ethos of chivalry. Courtliness stood for a new standard for the nobility of polite and principled conduct gaining ground in the late eleventh century, inspired by ancient Roman ideals. Cultured ecclesiastics had kept alive classical ideals of conduct advocating upright character, eloquent speech, good taste, and polished manners aimed at preparing Roman youths for the life of statesmen. Under the influence of churchmen at princely courts, this classical ideal began to take on new form among both clerical and lay courtiers. 

Soon the two concepts of knightly prowess and clerical courtliness were giving rise to a new standard of chivalric conduct that combined fighting skills with learning and courteous conduct. Over the twelfth century, a new definition of nobility was taking root as knights, originally rough soldiers, were exposed to courtly conduct in their lords’ households. As models for conduct followed by both landless knights and nobility of ancient lineage meshed together, they coalesced as a single class in people’s thinking. The terms “knight” and “noble” were becoming synonymous, and individuals of either status were expected to exemplify chivalry and courtesy as members of a single superior caste standing above the common people. 

This change in social structure would not be completed until Eleanor’s mature years at the end of the twelfth century and the beginning of the thirteenth century. Eleanor, growing up in William IX’s sophisticated court, a model for courts throughout southern France, saw at first-hand the elegant behavior characteristic of a courtly culture. There she would have witnessed women enjoying a more respected position than later at the French or English royal courts, where religious teachings demanding women’s deference toward males bore greater weight. Southern women freely joining the men in witty and flirtatious conversations would have shocked visitors from northern France or England, who feared the skill of ladies with words, their ability to apply verbal weaponry and sexual wiles for plotting and intriguing. 

Yet court life had less appealing aspects that young Eleanor could have observed. A competitive atmosphere permeated the princely courts, for courtiers flocked there to win the prince’s approval and patronage; and in their competition for favors, they resorted to scheming, slander, and flattery. As a girl, she would have heard scurrilous rumors at the ducal court spread by ambitious courtiers about their rivals of the sort that would circulate later at her two husbands’ courts about her own alleged sexual misconduct.”

- Ralph V. Turner, “Growing Up in the Ducal Court of Aquitaine, 1124–1137.” in Eleanor of Aquitaine: Queen of France, Queen of England

[another-stupid-writing-blog]

Area 5 – The Monster Queen’s Court

Ronan leads you through the village, and you see monsterfolk of various shape, size, and species, each running away as you turn to look at them.  

RONAN: Don’t worry about them. Let’s just focus on the trial for now.  

Eventually, he brings you to a large circle of humanoid trees rooted to the ground, each towering over you, and each with features of various animals. Ronan gestures for you to stay at the southernmost part, while he goes to the west. To the eastern corner, you see an ant-woman staring at you, with Xoknath behind her. In the northernmost part, you see the biggest of the dryads, bearing a face you find all too familiar.

Yitrie. You had met her before, when you fled from the city, and had talked with her after the whole incident. She, High Elder of the Monsters, is usually so kind in appearance, but right now she’s staring down at you with such contempt and disappointment.  

YITRIE: [Hello, Alexis.]  

…You say hello.  

YITRIE: [Is everyone ready to begin?]  

ANT: [The prosecution is ready, Your Wisdom.]  

RONAN: [The defense is ready, Your Wisdom.]  

YITRIE: [Well, then. Let us begin. Today marks the trial of Alexis, leader of the human rebels, who is accused of trespassing, assault of a guard, assault with a deadly weapon, and breaking of a signed treaty. How does the defense plea?]  

RONAN: [The defense pleads guilty, Your Wisdom.]  

YITRIE: [Interesting. The court acknowledges the defendant’s honesty as a show of good faith. Given her reputation, we had expected a fight.]  

Yitrie chuckles at her own joke, followed by all the dryads in the circle. The ant-woman also joins in, and you see Ronan pretend to laugh too, though he makes no sound, and you can sense the fear coming off of him. Yitrie raises a hand and the laughter stops.  

YITRIE: [Regardless, the court accepts this plea. Is there a bargain currently in place?]  

ANT: [No, Your Wisdom, there is not.]  

YITRIE: [Then let us discuss this situation, starting with the defendant’s motive.]  

RONAN: [Your Wisdom, my client was contacted by a human spirit, whose description matches that of the zombie that attacked our village just yesterday. He had told her, much like he told many of us a few days ago, that unless she made her way eastward to the tower of a wizard, said wizard would conquer the human kingdom, followed by our village. When Xoknath interfered, as per his duty, she did not believe she could communicate her reasons for passing through. The fact that Xoknath is new to the English language, and the fact that we’d remained neutral about this threat so far, may have contributed to this line of thought. In an act of desperation, she struggled against him using the tools she had on-hand, thinking it was in our best interest.]  

ANT: [With all due respect, Your Wisdom, this is a very weak motive. Even if we know now that the human spirit may have spoken the truth, there is no way she could have known this at the time. Mere speculation does not justify a crime this severe, nor does it explain how quickly she resorted to said crime. May I call Xoknath to the stand?]  

YITRIE: [You may.]  

Xoknath steps forward.  

ANT: [Xoknath, Guard of the Border, can you please describe what happened during the incident with Alexis?]  

XOKNATH: [OF COURSE. EARLY MORNING, I WAS PATROLING THE WESTERN EDGE OF THE FOREST, ACCORDING TO SCHEDULE. THEN, I SAW THE HUMAN CROSS INTO MONSTERFOLK TERRITORY. I DID NOT RECOGNIZE HER AS THE FOUNDER OF THE WESTERN CAMP, SO I STOPPED HER AND GAVE HER THE STANDARD LECTURE, AS BEST AS I KNEW IT… SAYING NOTHING, SHE IMMEDIATELY TOOK THE IRON SPEAR SHE HAD WITH HER, AND DROVE IT TOWARDS MY CHEST. I BELIEVE I WOULD HAVE BEEN SERIOUSLY MAIMED, OR EVEN KILLED, HAD I NOT BEEN WEARING ARMOR. I TOOK MY OWN SPIRIT CRYSTAL WEAPONS AND USED THEM TO DEFEND MYSELF, TRYING AS HARD AS I COULD TO GO MAINLY FOR THE LIMBS. EVENTUALLY, SHE WENT DOWN, AND I TOOK HER INTO CUSTODY.]  

ANT: [Thank you, Xoknath.]  

ANT: [You see, Your Wisdom? Immediately. Centre-mass. Bladed, iron weapon! A stable individual would not resort to such measures without at least attempting discussion or retreat, and yet she did. Clearly, she had come prepared to do something of this nature, and we should not overlook this in the slightest.]  

YITRIE: [Agreed. I personally believe she had reasonable things at stake to do what she did, but the way she conducted herself does give the impression that she had been waiting for an excuse to kill someone anyway, which is horrid. I personally have died many times before, and while it may not be permanent, one’s first few deaths can be extremely painful and frightening, to the point where they affect one’s outlook for all of eternity. This should not be ignored.]  

An uneasy atmosphere fills the room.  

YITRIE: [Even still, not many of our own populace willing to risk leaving the village to deal with this wizard issue, even though it affects all of us. She should definitely face punishment, but it does feel a tad wasteful to let her courage go unused. Perhaps if, during punishment, we got her to change her tactics to focus more on communication, and to use less lethal force when battle is unavoidable, she might be less of a threat. Then, perhaps, we could permit her to continue her quest.]

ANT: [Your wisdom, how could we possibly re-train her in such a way? She is a lunatic!]

YITRIE: [Well, since we are already killing two birds with one stone, why don’t we make it three birds? The goblins still need our assistance with the undead human, and we just so happen to have someone who’s shown willingness to approach danger. If we sentence Alexis to community service, I can send her to the goblin caves to retrieve the zombie, alive and bound. If she complies, we can send her on her way. If she kills him, or becomes infected, we’ll keep her in custody. In any case, at least it won’t be us.]  

ANT: [But how can we be sure she won’t attack the civilians?]

YITRIE: […We’ll send a chaperone to watch her every move, and we’ll only let her use less-than-lethal weapons. If she becomes a problem, the chaperone can step in and deal with her. If she is unable to complete the task, they can take care of the zombie as well. Otherwise, their main goal will be to watch from a distance. All in favor?] About three quarters of the dryads raise an arm-like branch.

DRYADS: [Aye!]  

The dryad next to Yitrie leans in towards her.

DRYAD: [Wait! Who should we appoint?]  

YITRIE: [That’s a good question. We need someone very attentive and cautious, who will watch her like a hawk, but they also need to be strong enough to intervene, should things go awry. With both his suspicion towards Alexis, and the strength of body and spirit he has proven recently, it seems Xoknath would be the ideal candidate.]

You see Xoknath lean forward and open his mouth as if to yell something, but then his posture sinks. He subtly clenches his fist and begins to speak through grit teeth.  

XOKNATH: [I WILL COMPLY WITH THESE ORDERS, YOUR WISDOM.]

YITRIE: [Perfect! Now, without any further ado, we sentence Alexis to community service, and mandate a follow-up trial for when she is finished!]

Yitrie claps once. The other dryads then each bring their hands together into one harmonious clap. The ant-woman exits to the south, while a weaselfolk man appears from the north, carrying a burlap sack.

WEASEL: [Here are your belongings, Miss Alexis. Uh, well, some of them, anyway. We had to throw out any food that had spoiled and confiscate any bladed weapons, so your spear is now a staff. We apologize for the inconvenience.]  

You recovered your LOST ITEMS!

The weasel-man exits as well. Xoknath approaches.  

*

Xoknath joins the party! You can now CRAFT and DECRAFT items, including animals, as well as speak Monster Pidgin and HOGSPEECH while Xoknath is alive.  

*  

XOKNATH: XOKNATH NO LIKE YOU, UNDERSTAND?  

Perfectly clear.

XOKNATH: XOKNATH WORK WITH YOU. YOU NO BE BAD.

You have no intention of getting sidetracked more than you have already.

RONAN: Well, uh, since Xoknath here already knows some English, will you be okay without me? I can take you through the village if you want, but I really don’t wanna leave this safe zone if possible.  

Yes, having him come with you will be helpful for now, (you’re not really thrilled to spend time alone with Xoknath), but you’ll be fine if he doesn’t want to leave the city. You thank him for his work defending you.  

RONAN: You’re welcome. I’m sorry things got as crazy as they did. If there’s anything more you’d like from me, just say so.  

You nod.

XOKNATH: UGH. [DOUBLE-CROSSING SHITFUCK! OKAY,] XOKNATH KNOW WAY, GO FIRST. YOU FOLLOW.  

With that, Xoknath begins leading the way back through the village, and you and Ronan follow.  

Area 6 - The Woods

Link to First Page

[gibbertiflibbet]

Veronica Mars: Kinda Spoilery - Assuming Anyone Remains Unspoiled - Why I’m Not Jazzed About The S5 Pitch

Apologies for the fact this goes weirdly stream of consciousness towards the end.

Unpopular opinion here but, Veronica isn’t that great a detective.  The majority of her “skill” comes from her knowledge and relationships in Neptune.  Taking her out of that setting invalidates her strengths as an investigator which is why I find it bizarre that this is the direction RT has chosen to go moving forward.

This is not to say that Veronica is bad at what she does, but she isn’t preternaturally gifted in the way that RT seems to want the audience to believe that she is.  Ultimately my interest in a solely Veronica focused S5 is fairly minor due to the following

1. Veronica rarely solves a case without her extensive support network - this could be defending an acquaintance, being able to impersonate the Sheriff’s Desk Clerk, knowing that the Sheriff has a weakness for a local anchor, sweet-talking Cliff, leveraging her relationship with Leo/ Sacks, having Mac hack something.  Throughout the series Veronica has never solved a case alone and multiple cases she’s only pursued because of previously known information - consider her vehemence in season 4 that BIg Dick only made sense as the initial bomber, Maddie sees Cassidy’s crimes as a potential lead, but Veronica dismisses them due to her knowledge of what happened, how, and just generally the fact that Big Dick was too absent a parent for his son’s crimes to be of value in an assessment of his character.

2. Veronica was apparently not tempted to solve cases while at Stanford/ Columbia - the fact she went investigative cold turkey after the series is an indication that she’s not the born detective RT wants her to be.  If the original ending of the series was enough to put her off, would Logan’s death really encourage her.

3. Veronica has never really been an underdog - when was Veronica an underdog, beyond her existence at the wrong end of institutional corruption based on the willingness to serve the rich.  Veronica has always existed as the person who will succeed despite all odds, because she has the skills and knowledge to do so.  “Veronica Mars is smarter than me” where me is anyone who’s not Veronica, how is she an underdog when the only real losses she’s had in the series are: that time her hubris cost her dad the election, and that time her husband got nonsensically blown up.

There are other reasons I’m not into the story, including why would I want to support a project that has such disdain for any actor other than the one in the title role, and a writer who struggled to include a character in the main mystery then killed them off in the last 10 minutes? RT could have made Logan’s death part of the mystery - consider Logan got injured either in Ep 3′s blast or helping rescue someone, he asks Veronica to marry him for the solely practical reason of being able to make medical decision over Trina. Veronica pays it all little mind and more or less blows off the call to make the decision for emergency surgery because she can talk to him later when it’s over, Logan dies of complications and Veronica learns that, to quote Robert Smith, “until later, doesn’t always come”.  Ultimately, they’ve tried this before with Thouand Dollar Tan Line, there were complaints about lack of Logan and sudddenly Mr. Kiss and Tell is delayed and comes out with a significant amout of Logan.  To be honest, I’m tired of it, RT seems to lack the courage of his convictions, hence to off-screen potentially reversible death.  I don’t want another season of VM, because the whole thing has lost its appeal, in particlar due to what is coming out about how JD was treated, that more than anything is putting me off the whole thing.

On the off-chance it does get renewed I might watch the series, but I’ve lost the taste for it I once had.  The magic is gone, who cares?

FInally, if anyone has read this far and is still holding out hope that the “after the dust settles” tweets mean something remember they mean this “once you’ve stopped whining you’ll see this is the way forward and you’re living in denial”.  RT wants to write what he wants to write and that’s his prerogative, it’s mine to say I don’t want to see that and you got where you were going through bad writing.

[adilynia-kiden]

For Them: Part One

March 19th, Nishan

From the moment I woke up, the highs and lows of my emotions have left my head reeling and my stomach filled with razor-winged butterflies that refuse to abate no matter how many breaths I count. Lessons on manners, decorum and propriety flood my mind in the hopes that I will not offend the entire Federation of Nishan with anything other than my presence.  As an Outsider, I not only have to tread carefully with my words and actions, but understand that most Nishanians in attendance for Teren and Lycan’s wedding would rather I wasn’t there at all.

I think I’m handling that pressure well considering I am expecting the event to be filled with wary looks, whispers and a general sense of disdain for my company. However, I have my family here for support and the knowledge that while I might be persona non grata for 99.999% of Nishan, Teren and Lycan want me there today, and that is all that matters.

Today, everything I do is for them.

My morning began with Nishanian inks set to my skin by the talented hand of Teren’s foster daughter, Anou’e Nillion and bound in magics by Baron Larcos Sobo’Avill.  I admit that I was nervous in having to be laid bare for such spellweaving to occur, but I was surprised to find that the Headmaster was both accepting and understanding of my modesty and the permanent pink stain on my cheeks. For all my embarrassment and discomfort, the end result was entirely worth it. My pale skin looks beautiful, which is not something I have ever thought in my life.

Intricate designs of runes, wards and protections now mark my back in golden color, while a lotus flowers spans the plane of my stomach. Butterflies decorate my hands, and join other exquisite loops and lines shading my feet and ankles in a beautiful display of artistic expression. I am not privy to the full details of their meaning until I have earned my citizenship in Nishan, but I am nonetheless honored to wear them for Teren and Lycan.

However, it is the artwork that Anou’e inked over my heart that holds personal meaning for me. Blue roses and feathers have been designed in such a manner to create an infinity symbol that memorializes my Twin Flame and beloved mother. It’s beyond thoughtful for her to include such a thing, as it holds no purpose beyond making me smile in knowing they will be with me today.  I will need their strength to fill my spine with steel and face the lords and ladies of Nishan with all the humility and grace I possess. Which, I admit is a bit hard to do given my attire for the evening. 

The magnificent gown that has been gifted specifically for the occasion, highlights the work that Anou’e has done to make my pale skin feel beautiful. The gold fabric of Nishanian design is perfectly tailored to my small frame, and manages to be both flattering and comfortable, which is a blessing that rarely occurs in formal wear. I’ve taken it out of my closet on multiple occasions to admire the pristine gemstones that sparkle on the delicate hood and each time I notice new details that built my anticipation in wearing it.

The little girl inside my memories that used to play in her mother’s jewelry box and closet is doing cartwheels in actually having it on.

I’d done really well all day in keeping my chaotic emotions in check but the final additions to my glittering appearance sent me over the edge and Bri scrambling to keep the kohl and gold liner on my eyes from running down my cheeks and ruining all her hard work.

My fingers trembled when I lifted the earrings from the black velvet and secured the posts of sapphire and diamond earrings in my lobes. So much so that when I moved to put the matching necklace on, I required assistance from Brilaria in fastening the lock as I was unable to stop them from shaking. Light bless… they are beautiful…

The color reminds me of Teren’s eyes which is soothing beyond words and will help reinforce my nerves. I’m not ashamed to admit I spent more than a few moments wistfully tracing the shape of each stone and imagining the smile that will come from my wearing this undeserved, but no less cherished set he has made.

I swear my heart stopped with the final box opened that revealed a tiara of blue and white that stands as an opulent and exquisite homage to the title Lycan speaks as fondly as he does my name.

Princess.

He meant the nickname as an insult the first time he used it. I had earned his malice and vile tongue for my behavior and judgments a hundred times over before that day. But only when he spit the word out did I begin to understand that I had been acting as the very thing I always loathed about some fairytales; spoiled and weak heroines who were called Princess because of the crown on their head, not the nobility and courage of their hearts. 

It was a turning point in what would become our love story when I decide to check my ego at the door and truly become the person he needed me to be.  Now he whispers the royal moniker with adoration in his voice and love in his heart, but for me, it will always be a reminder of how hard we fought to get where we are and to protect the one thing that matters above everything else; Teren.

In that vein, I have chosen to honor their (and our) fight for happiness in my own way by incorporating a Silverfall tradition among the Nishanian ones they have asked me to carry.

There are only two occasions in which the members of my family don Valkyr braids and decorate them with prayers of metal meant to convey the blessings of the Titans we have so long held faith in; War and weddings.

In war, the knots in our hair are meant as a reminder that our oaths bind us, and that the strength of those who came before us is at our sides when we step on a field. The clink of the metal almost sounds like bells, and is a herald for the Halls of Valhallas that will rejoice if our fate is to be guided by the Valkyr to join them in the Eternal Battle and Wild Hunt.

For a wedding, the honor we step onto a field with is given to our chosen partners as a symbol of our willingness to fight, and if necessary, die to see that they are protected and cherished above all else. It is a promise to defend and lift up those that hold our hearts as high as the honor of dying with a sword in our hand and victory on our lips.  The knots make tangible the bond we offer and serve as a reminder that there is nothing worth going to war for, if we do not have the peace of knowing what is to love, and be loved in return.

I wear my hair in eternal knots on their wedding day, because there is no war I would not wage or path of destruction I would not carve to see them protected. There is no god or mortal that would not feel my wrath and no vengeance I would not take if they sought to take from me what is mine. They are mine.

But I also wear them in knowing the tranquility that comes with one simple fact; I am theirs. Even if our own vows have yet to be spoken and until the last star falls from the heavens, I know where my place is and the peace that comes with their hands in mine.

I have known it since Teren kissed me on the western porch and allowed me the only favor I will ever request before taking to a jousting ring. He gave me the first moment of true solace I had known since my Twin Flame was lost, in the sunlight of a ballroom and the press of black and white keys. My heart had found its starting point when he fastened a choker of diamonds around my neck and composed a love song for me out of his Confession…

I have known peace since Lycan’s words were the ones I clung to when sadistic red ropes bruised my skin and his lips were my reward for tilting to victory.  I know divinity in the curve of his smile and the joyful privilege of naming him as my Champion.  The half of my soul that remains finds stillness in his grueling training sessions and the sanctity of a promise he made to share his wings, but fulfilled in giving me a set of my own. He is my reason to fly��

They are my reason to live.

Teren and Lycan have given me so much and my braids are just one of the things I am capable of granting in my desire to see the foundation of their future set in the strong roots and firm ground of an undeniable love.

Today I get to watch the bond they have fought for celebrated and shared for the world to see.

Today, the love of two men I hold most sacred will be declared in loving vows that will etch the annals of history and begin to heal unfathomable loss and suffering.

Today, my faith in fairy tales will be renewed in knowing that there are no others more deserving of the ‘happily ever after’ promised to us as children than Teren and Lycan.

I expect a great deal out of today… March 19th.

What I did not expect was to have my carefully controlled emotions teeter on the brink of destruction the moment Brilaria opened the door to my suite…and the struggle it would be to keep them in check.

(( @silverfall-patriarch @ironbound-praetorium  for the SL itself. In the next few days or so the ceremony itself will be posted :) We’re still in the process of writing it! <3))

[worldofsufis]

Twenty-six years ago, I became a Muslim-largely because I fell in love with a beautiful Human being. “I was only sent to, perfect noble character,” said the Man declared as a “Mercy to all the worlds.” As time passed, this love grew as my knowledge of Him increased. I painfully watched His religion hijacked by some for their, own ends distorting His message and forgetting that He was indeed a Mercy to all the worlds. I am troubled by the media’s portrayal of Him sometimes in the worst of lights. How could the man I came to know and love to be so vilified and maligned by those who claim to represent Him and also by those who aim to be unbiased interpreters? Muḥammad (ﷺ), was a shy, reticent man who lived among his people with such high moral character they called him al-Amin — the Trustworthy. The Prophet of Islām was born in the city of Mecca, Arabia, into a poor but noble branch of an aristocratic clan known as Quraysh, a People who despised treachery, lies, and stupidity, while honoring bravery in battle, generosity in partying, and cleverness in poetry. Some families, were so ashamed of their baby girls, that they would bury them alive instead of suffering the possible indignity of future dishonor. The religion of the Arabs at the time was a hodge-podge of superstition, divination, and idolatry. To them, man’s Life ended with his death and his afterlife was based on his military exploits might be immortalized by a poets tongue. The Prophet Muḥammad (ﷺ), was born into this world on April 9th, 570, Christian era in the lunar month of Rabīʿ al-ʾAwwal. His father, ʿAbdullāh died during his mother’s pregnancy. And for the first four years, He was raised in the relative purity of the desert by a Bedouin woman named Halimah. After which He returned to His mother, ʼĀminah. But in His seventh year, His mother died leaving Him in the care of His grandfather. At the age, of twenty-five, He was employed as a commercial agent by Lady Khadījah, a Successful widow, from His own, clan. She soon recognized His honesty and good nature and proposed marriage. Although fifteen years younger than she was, He accepted her proposal and fathered six of his seven children with her. At the age of forty, it had become his custom to escape the idolatry of Meccan society by seeking solitude in a cave on the mountain known as “the Mountain of Light.” In the solitary confines of his small cave, a voice pierced his consciousness declaring: “Recite (Iqrā)!” Alarmed and shivering He fled to his wife, begging her to wrap him in a cloak. He feared for his sanity, concerned that a desert spirit or poetic muse might be pursuing Him. More revelations soon followed, and Muhammad (ﷺ) came to an understanding that, He was not only a prophet in a long line of prophets but that he was the last of them who was sent, with a universal message. As the days passed his revelations increased and they were powerfully rhythmic punctuated with intoxicating messages that challenged listeners to reflect on everyday miracles such as the alternation of the night and day. These revelations revealed to Muhammad (ﷺ), came to be known as the Qurʾān, the Muslim Holy book. For thirteen years he invited his clan to worship one God, sit with slaves in spiritual solidarity, respect women as soul-full equals and the source of human mercy, care for the widow, the orphan, the weak and the oppressed. At first, people ridiculed his message and accused Him of attempting “to make the Gods one.” His Message threatened his people’s financial control of the markets of Mecca where pilgrims from all over Arabia came to spend their wealth. When his clan failed to stop his preaching, they plotted to kill him in his sleep. But he was warned by the Angel Gabriel and told to flee in the cover of darkness to Madīnah with his beloved friend and lifelong companion Abū Bakr aṣ-Ṣiddīq. Setting out, the two sought refuge in a cave to escape the skilled trackers of Mecca hot on their trail. The bounty hunters quickly came upon the cave, but a spider’s web had already covered the entrance, and a dove with her young rested in a nest above it. When the posse left, and the two felt safe again, they continued their journey to the city of Yathrib. And as they entered it the young girls and children of Bani Najjar came out chanting lines of poetry which are still sung all over the world in remembrance of this auspicious occasion. The name Yathrib was changed, to Madīnah, the city of hope. It became a city founded on the brotherhood of virtue. The Prophet (ﷺ), enacted a treaty uniting the once warring groups. He secured the rights of the Jewish minority by granting them full citizenship and freedom to practice their religion without constraint. Days after His arrival in Madīnah, He began the construction of a mosque, a sanctuary of prayer and meditation, in the center of the city. And He had His companions; the Muslims create their marketplace to ensure economic strength. The Meccans, sensing that a rising power was now emerging in the peninsula, plotted ways of subverting the Prophet (ﷺ), and his growing community of believers. And the Prophet (ﷺ), who had practiced a strict pacifism in Mecca for thirteen years and disliked the use of coercive force, was now given permission, by God to defend against any attacks by his enemies. The Qurʾān declared, “Fighting (in self-defense, for the restoration of peace and elimination of mischief and violence) has been made incumbent upon you although you are averse to it by temperament. It may be that you dislike a thing and (in fact) that is good for you. And it is (also) likely that you like a thing but (in fact) that is bad for you. And Allāh knows well, but you do not know.” [Qurʾān, 2: 216 ], The Prophet (ﷺ), said, “Never desire to meet your enemies, rather ask God for peace and well-being; but should you be forced to meet them, then act courageously.” [Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī ] Muslims are not ashamed of their Prophet’s teaching about war. On the contrary, for us, it is a Great source of pride. He was courageous as a great lion against the strong and oppressive yet gentle as a shepherd with the weak and the oppressed. The valid object of the war fought for God should always be peace. What the Prophet (ﷺ), taught is that Muslims just battle for cause only. In this world, there are only two choices: two sides, truth, and justice or falsehood and oppression. You don’t have to be a Muslim to understand that. After years of conflict between members of his clan and his followers, the Prophet(ﷺ), had a revelation that He should visit the sacred mosque. In the eighth year after his migration to Madīnah the Prophet(ﷺ), set out for Mecca but his adversaries refused to allow him in. They sent out an arbitrator to strike an agreement that would bring the stand-off to an end. And on every point of this treaty the Prophet (ﷺ), compromised his position in pursuit of peace. On the journey back to Madīnah some of the companions were deeply troubled by what had just taken place and disappointed that they were, thwarted from visiting the sanctuary. When asked to explain, the Prophet(ﷺ), replied, “Did I say it was going to be this year?” And so the following year, by the treaty, the Prophet (ﷺ), and his followers performed a pilgrimage completely unmolested. But soon his clan the Quraysh broke their end of the deal, massacring another Clan with an alliance to the Prophet(ﷺ), attacking them even in the sacred precinct. Abu Sufyan, the head of the Prophet’s enemies, attempted to restore the truce but it was too late. News of the massacre enraged the believers, and the Prophet (ﷺ), summoned all of the Muslims capable of bearing arms to march on Mecca. When the nearly ten thousand Muslims arrived on the outskirts of the city, the Quraysh realized they did not stand a chance and people either fled or stayed in their homes. And so it was, after years of persecution, the Prophet(ﷺ), marched triumphantly into the city of his birth at the head of the Largest army ever assembled in Arabian history. With his head bowed in humility, He declared a general amnesty and granted war criminals refuge. His overwhelming magnanimity of character led to a mass conversion among the citizens of Mecca. Even Abū Sufyān, his archenemy, embraced the religion of the Prophet(ﷺ). In the months that followed, almost all of Arabia dispatched representatives to swear allegiance to this Prophet (ﷺ), and to enter in the faith of Islām. In a period of, twenty-three years Muhammad (ﷺ), had succeeded in uniting a feuding people trapped in cycles of violence into one people with a sense of destiny and a mission that would transform the world. He elevated the low, and he lowered the elevated that they might meet in that middle place known as the brotherhood. He infused in them a love of learning unleashing a creative power that would lead to some of the most extraordinary scientific breakthroughs in human history. He died on the same day He was born, in the same house He had lived in for ten years in Madīnah, on a small bed made of leather stuffed with palm fibers, in the arms of his beloved wife, ‘Ā’ishah. His dying words were, “Treat your women well, and do not oppress your servants, the prayer, the prayer, don’t be neglectful of the prayer. O God, my highest companion, O highest companion.” But the Prophet (ﷺ), was more than just a great historical person, He was a father and friend, a husband, a companion and above all, He was a Human being. The Prophet’s unique physical appearance, His high character and willingness to sacrifice for others, are often at the essence of any description of him. He was once described by a contemporary in the following words: “The Messenger of God was imposing and majestic. His face was luminous like a full moon. He was taller than medium but not excessive in height. He had wavy hair, which he parted, and it never went beyond his shoulders. He was light-skinned with a high brow. He had full eyebrows and a small space between them. He had a fine aquiline nose. His beard was full, his eyes black. His physique was supple and lithe, with a full chest and broad shoulders. When he walked, he was determined, and his pace was as if he was walking downhill. When He spoke, He was always brief and reflective. He spoke when He saw the benefit and spent long periods in silent contemplation. His speech was comprehensive being neither wordy nor laconic. He had a mild temperament and was never harsh nor cruel, coarse nor rude. He expressed gratitude for everything given to him no matter how insignificant. When He spoke, his companions lowered their heads as if birds were-perched upon them. When He was silent, they felt free to speak. He never criticized food or praised it excessively. He never swore, nor did He find fault in people. He did not flatter people but praised them when appropriate. People entered His gatherings as seekers and left enlightened. He would ask about his companions when they were absent often making inquiries about people’s needs. He never stood nor sat without mentioning the name of God. He never reserved a special place for himself in a gathering and sat where space provided. He gave each of those who sat with him such full attention that everyone felt that he was the most important person in that gathering. Voices were never raised, in his presence. The aged were respected, for their age, and the young were, shown compassion for their youth.” 
The Qurʾān reminds Muslims that when they are slandered by those who reject them they should bear it patiently and be forgiving. I yearn for a deeper understanding of this man, His gentleness towards children, His love of animals, his concern for the weak and oppressed, His sense of justice always tempered with mercy. I (personally) love his humor and his Sense of tomfoolery. He said once, “I joke but always tell the truth.” His wife ‘Ā’ishah said, “He was always making us laugh in the house.” One of his names is ad-Daḥḥāk — The Smiling one. His humor and cheerfulness even in the face of the most difficult of times are so needed today in our troubled world. I imagine him telling those of us who don’t laugh enough to lighten up, to show more gratitude even in what appears to be difficulties. And as for those who laugh too much and do so inappropriately, I imagine that He would ask that they reflect deeper on the condition of humanity and nurture compassion in their hearts. “Those who sin while laughing, enter hell crying,” He once said. Once an old woman asked Him if she would enter paradise and He replied, “Old people don’t go to heaven!” The woman was crestfallen with the answer He had provided, to which He added with a smile, “You shall enter paradise in the prime of your youth.” The Arabs believed dates made eye infections worse. His companion Suhayb was eating, dates one day while his left eye was infected. The Prophet said, “Suhayb do you eat dates, and your eye is infected?” To which Suhayb said, “I am eating with my right eye only O Messenger of God.” To which the Prophet (ﷺ), laughed heartily. And, once a gruff desert Bedouin came to the mosque and prayed out loud saying, “O God forgive me, and Muhammad, and don’t forgive anyone else.” Hearing this the Prophet (ﷺ), laughed and said to him, “You are limiting the vast mercy of God.” I feel so incredibly grateful and blessed to have come to know Him and to learn from Him. A day of my life has not gone by that I haven’t felt indebted to him for the wisdom he has given me in making sense of my life and my world. Every day my love for Muhammad (ﷺ), increases. Like the vast majority of my fellow believers across the world and through times, He is, indeed, the Beloved — The Praised One. — Shaykh Ḥamza Yūsuf Event Name: BBC: The Prophet’s Birthday 03/07/2005

[goldenhaircd-moved]

✎ [ i learned my lesson... grandma vee... pls be kind to me??? ]

send ✎ for a eulogy - uhm riri you know i am ALWAYS kind 

    Nothing felt real in this particular moment. They had attained a victory, for now… but at what cost? How many lives were thrown away on both sides for the vanity of the Union Elders?  The paper felt heavy in her hands, for days she had holed up in her study trying to find words that would be worthy of a Lord like Raskreia. 

      “… I wish we all had a happier occasion to gather. I wish we could raise our glasses to our glorious Lord who defended us, our homeland and the humans - and we all will raise our glasses - I believe that she will know we do. I believe that she will know every single one of us understands this noble sacrifice she has brought. 

          We all knew her - almost our whole lives, she was there, first as the daughter of the previous Lord, studious, diligent and aware of her duties, yet also a friend to many of us. Then, we got to know her as our Lord, dignified and worthy of the legacy of her predecessors.   In these troubled times, she lead us with confidence and courage unprecedented in history. Never before have been times as troubled as this - without the ever so reassuring presence of the Noblesse, without the guidance of the previous Generations she has led us into this new age when we stand in a world that changes faster than we seem to do.

          I know that some nefarious voices would see her as weak or as unfit for her position - but we all know here that this was not true. when the previous Lord entrusted her with the burden of responsibility, he did so in the knowledge that he raised a daughter who would honour the importance of the Lord. 

               Her kind heart was no weakness. Her willingness to forgive, her wish to see the Good in dark times was no sign of lacking strength. No. To follow your heart and do what you believe to be right takes a kind of courage and strength only the most magnanimous of souls possess. Erga Kenesis Di Raskreia lead us by example: we must have the courage to listen to our own heart’s voice even when the noise from outside threatens to drown out the whisper that will tell us the truth. We must be kind, for hatred and bloodshed will ultimately always lead to even more suffering and violence. We must be strong, for our enemies will show no mercy with us. We must listen to what we have to say to each other, for compassion and understanding can achieve miracles violence cannot. We must protect those we love, for we all are bound to each other, be it by the water of the womb or the blood of the bonds we made with those we cherish in this world. We are never alone - the souls of those who walked this world before us are always by our side. Their voices speak to us in the second of uncertainty when we feel we know where to go. Their voices speak to us when in our darkest moments, we remember a smile, a laugh, a gentle hand. I pray that she will speak to whoever will be chosen by Ragnarok to follow in her footsteps, for she understood that strength is more than just physical power. 

        She was more than just a Lord, however. She was a friend as well, she did not lose herself in the burden placed upon her shoulders. The heavens should weep, for we lost one of the greatest Lords the nobles have seen. To rule in times of peace is easy, but to earn the respect and the loyalty of the Clan Leaders in such troubled times… to understand that her heart is not to be silenced… this is what made her the best friend we ever had and truly, the greatest Lord we ever had. Wherever she is now… I pray that she can hear us so she will know there is not a single one among us who does not believe she did not live up to those she sought to honour. I pray that she will find peace knowing that we all cherish her as a friend, as a companion, as the Lord who hopefully will have set an example for future generations to come. Until then… Until our souls are released into eternity…until we reunite in a place where we will no longer be forced to fight for our lives, but can live and love freely...

     I will always miss you, Raskreia. We will always miss you. And we will never forget the things you have taught us.”

[ptw30]

Amazing art by xblackpaladin

Fic: Scar Tissue - Part One/Part Two/Part Three/Epilogue 

A part of the Blade!Shiro series

Summary: “Destiny must find a new victim to extort.”

Warning: Mature. Past sexual acts are implied but not discussed explicitly. Plus, potential trigger Warning. Please read here for the details/explanation. If you just want to skip it, please stop reading at "Three Annuals Ago." Thank you!

“Takashi,” Kolivan began, and Shiro’s head shot up at the use of his first name. It was the second time that day – and ever – Kolivan said it, and Shiro was struck dumb at the look of remorse upon the usually reserved Kolivan’s face. “I...misspoke earlier in the Hilt. It was cruel to – ”

“You didn’t misspeak,” Shiro interjected, though perhaps he shouldn’t have. But Kolivan had never lied to him before. Their relationship was based upon mutual respect and trust, and Shiro wanted to know he could rely upon that.

Kolivan halted, blinking and thoughtful, before nodding. “No, I didn’t. The Blade of Marmora has a history of exuding those known as ‘lower lifeforms’ from our ranks. They were deemed weak and untrustworthy, and until you joined the Blade, I believed that to be true.”

Kolivian’s claw lifted to clutch his knees; the leader sucked in a cleansing breath. 

Shiro’s arms tightened about his legs, and his stomach churned as he forced himself to speak. “So this proves your original thought true, right? You shouldn’t have let me into the Blades.”

“What makes you say that?” Ulaz asked.

“Shiro believes his mating mark and his earlier life deems him unworthy in Kolivan’s eyes,” Thace explained for Shiro, but his chest hurt just the same.

To his credit, Kolivan fought the wince that Thace’s harsh words meant to inflict. “Yes, well, I can see how Shiro might have misconstrued my meaning.”

Antok scoffed, to which Kolivan rolled his eyes.  “All right. Yes. I could have phrased my words less vindictive, but a mating mark in and of itself is not something to be ashamed of, Takashi.” His voice lightened. “In fact, it is something to celebrate, a joining of two lovers in a bond for eternity.”

Shiro then noticed the scar over Kolivan’s right eye before his mind retreated to the desert shack back on Earth and the scar that one day appeared through his father’s right eyebrow.  

“I understand how distressing it must be to learn what the mating mark means, especially when one is etched across your face in such a predominant manner. Ulaz and Thace also led me to believe that you acquired it without consent, for which I cannot express the depth of my sympathy or my revulsion. But you need not hide, not from us. Whatever Sendak has done to you – it does not change what we – how I –  feel about you.”

Shiro ducked his head but found no words to form a reply, exhausted beyond belief and yet somehow still wire-strung. He couldn’t adhere to Kolivan’s insinuated request to take off the mask. He wasn’t sure he could ever face any of the Blades ever again.

“What truly alarmed me in the Hilt was not the mating mark or to whom it belongs but your willingness to return to such a station. Every member of the Blade is willing to sacrifice their life in our unending war against Zarkon, but this – it is a violation of the highest level. For you to be willing to give yourself to Sendak in exchange for information – it is unconscionable and I cannot – ” Kolivan’s claw upon Shiro’s knee shuddered, and for the first time, Shiro saw the leader at a loss for words. “ – no Galra would be willing to give themselves to another in such a manner.”

Of course. Shiro was weak, a human, a lower lifeform. He would be willing to do things the strong members of the Blades of Marmora could never contrive.

“Do not misunderstand me again, Takashi.” Kolivan words tumbled from his quivering lips as his eyes glowed with an imploring glint in the shadows of the treehouse. “What you offered to do is braver and far more honorable than anyone could ever imagine. It is generous in a way few could ever be.”

“I’ve…” Shiro swallowed hard, his own knees falling open for him to sit cross-legged in an exact replica of Kolivan’s position. “I’ve not like I haven’t done it for more selfish reasons.”

“Feeding your brother and you, and finding yourself a safe place to stay is not selfish,” Thace admonished.

“You survived in terrible situations when others would have given up,” Ulaz praised, coming to crouch next to Kolivan and clasp Shiro’s shoulder in a reassuring embrace, “and you didn’t. You managed to keep yourself and your brother alive until we met, and we – all of us – are grateful.”

“The universe continues to demand more from you.” A venomous rage infected Kolivan’s words. “First, your parents, then your innocence, and now your right to choose a mate. It already has taken your future, Paladin. No more. Destiny must find another victim to extort.”

Shiro blinked, and he finally found the courage to speak years’ worth of confusion and uncertainty. “Ulaz called me that when we met all those years ago. What does it mean? To be a paladin?”

Kolivan, Ulaz, Thace, and Antok sent each other offended glances, and it was Antok who finally spoke with an incredulous gasp, “You have not heard of the legend of Voltron?”

The word struck Shiro’s very soul, thrumming along a tether he never knew existed until that moment. It led to a thunderous roar that echoed in his ears, from the Black Lion. He called to Shiro, demanded his attention, and a rush of foreign power flooded Shiro’s very being, surging through every nerve. His soul expanded, transcending his physical form, and it stretched across the immensity that was space. In a single blink, Shiro found himself back on the astral plane, starting at a pleased and proud Black Lion, and then a flaming sword, glimmering amber eyes, and a large, fantastic being greeted him.

Voltron, the Legendary Defender.

As quickly as Shiro left, he returned to the treehouse, the steady, pulsating rhythm of Voltron and the Black Lion fading until it all but remained.

The Blades noticed nothing.

“He is from Earth,” Thace reminded. “The planet was never part of the great coalition King Alfor created all those centuries ago.”

Kolivan jerked his head for the side in contemplation. “Hm. Perhaps ignorance is truly bliss.”

“You know that phrase?” Shiro wondered, shocked that his voice still worked, before waving a dismissive hand. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. What is this Voltron, and what does it have to do with me?”

“Right. Yes.” Ulaz cleared his throat, though his face brightened, smile gentle and soothing. “It is a legend of five metaphysical robotic lions that combine to form the greatest warrior the universe has ever known.”

“Each lion choses a pilot, who earns the title paladin,” Antok added.

Shiro braced himself for the answer that would follow. “And you think I’m one of them?”  

Kolivan nodded. “We came to learn that there was a lion on Earth, and your mother – Moira – went to find it. Instead of the lion, she found you.”

Kolivan knew Moira? “Mom…told you about me?” he asked in a muted scream.

A sympathetic gaze enveloped Kolivan’s usually stoic features. “You used to sleep-walk into the desert, first alone and later with your brother. You found a cave with ancient markings that would illuminate when you were there.”

Moira told Kolivan all this?

“When she realized what you were – a Paladin of Voltron – she feared what would happen once you found the lion. Would you instantly be conscripted into the war against the Galra Empire? Would Haggar or Zarkon go after you? Would the lion take you away? You were a cub at the time, Shiro. You still are. Moira sought to protect you, which is why she took you off planet.” Kolivan’s claw hardened its grip upon Shiro’s knee. “It’s why she eventually left you. Moira had been a commander in the Galra Empire before she joined the Blade. She hoped to stop the inevitable war and went back to the Galra Empire to gut it from the inside.”

Shiro had always hoped Kolivan or one of the Blades would eventually speak of Moira, but he feared to ask, in case she had defected to Earth. But now – “Do you…Do you know where she is?”

Even after all these years, he missed her with a fierce longing that tugged at his soul and left him hollow inside.

Kolivan hesitated but eventually nodded. “She is far from here. It would be dangerous for you to see her. Potentially deadly, for both of you.”

Perhaps now, but if she was still in contact with the Blade, that meant one day, Shiro could see her again.

He glanced up to meet Kolivan’s concerned gaze. “I-I miss her.”

Ulaz’s expression softened, claws tugging at Shiro in a comforting manner. “She misses you greatly as well, but she would do anything for you, even sacrifice her own happiness to keep you safe.”

And she was failing. “I see him. The lion. There’s an astral plane, and – ”

“You are the Black Paladin, Takashi,” Kolivan announced, tone skirting between sorrow and pride. “The decisive head of Voltron, and that is why I took you as the Son of the Blade.”

Of course it was. “So I would learn how to lead a team.”

“To hopefully give you a different destiny.” The sorrow won, flooding Kolivan voice with melancholy. “Takashi, Zarkon was the original Black Paladin. If you continue down this path, you’ll be pitted against the emperor of the entire universe, and I do not want that for you. I never wanted that for you. I wanted to give you an option and teach you how to survive if you are, in fact, beckoned by destiny.”  

Destiny, lions, a large robotic warrior, and an epic showdown with the emperor of the universe – that was Shiro’s fate, and all this time, the Blades knew?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Shiro demanded.

Kolivan sought strength from all the Blades, who shared similar expressions of despair, before finding Shiro’s gaze again. Shiro gaped at the helpless resignation he saw.  

“How does one tell his cub he is fated to fight not just for his life but also the freedom of the entire universe?”

Something deep in Shiro’s chest, buried underneath layers of hurt and denial and shame, broke.

“What are you talking about? I’m not your cub! I’m not even part of your pack, so you have no right to act like you care what happens to me.”

Kolivan immediately swung toward Thace, exasperation infiltrating his voice. “I thought you explained this to him.”

“I told you he asked about Keith,” Thace rejoined, equally as irritated as Kolivan, “and if you recall our conversation, I said you needed to address it. You are the leader of our pack.”

“It is not something that should need to be addressed.” Koilvan scowled. “Galra only demand demonstrative affirmation.”

Ulaz motioned toward Shiro. “You do realize he is not Galra.”

They remembered he was in the room, right?

“Shiro is as good as one. He has lived among us for years and prior that, in the empire’s capital. And in any case, he is to come to us once he accepts our scent and is ready to join the pack. It is not for me to – to claim him like Sendak.”

“Hm. Perhaps he misinterpreted the scent-marking,” Antok offered.

Yup, they forgot about him again. They did this all the time – talk about him like he wasn’t in the room. Shiro was honestly getting frustrated over it, but at least his anger toward Kolivan’s apathy dwindled as he observed the Blades’ soothing blather. He’d fallen asleep in the Hilt more nights to it than he could count.  

“There is no way to misinterpret scent-marking,” Kolivan continued, unfazed, “and Ulaz, you should have spoken with him – ”

“Yes, because in the last two cycles, Ulaz and I have not been away in the Galra Empire, toiling to secure information for the mission.”

“I did not ask your opinion, Thace.”

“Oh, you need not worry, Kolivan. I’ll give it unsolicited.”

One particular mention caught Shiro’s attention. “Scent-marking?” he echoed through Kolivan’s warning snarl. “Keith mentioned something about my scent being different, but I don’t – do I smell different to you?”

All four Galra froze and stared at him in various levels of alarm and distress.

“He cannot smell it,” Antok announced, shocked and dismayed.

Shiro lifted the front of his cloak to sniff it. “Smell what? Is it bad?”  

“By the Ancients – Ulaz, I thought you did a full work up on the cubs when they first arrived.”

Ulaz let out an exasperated sigh. “Perhaps if you read it, Kolivan, you’d know that scent is one of a human’s five senses but is not particularly strong. No doubt, he has no idea he’s been marked.”

“You marked me?” Shiro shrieked. “Like Sendak?”

Again? What the fuck was wrong with the Galra? Didn’t they realize not everything belonged to them?

“Oh, for the love of – take off your mask, Takashi.”

Shiro bristled immediately, drawing his legs back up, knees pulled to his chest. He couldn’t. The mating mark – it was still there, and now what else did the Blades do to him?

“It’s alright, Shiro,” Ulaz insisted, voice pitched to mollify. “We’re not going to harm you.”

The silence threatened to choke Shiro, and as hot tears spilled down his cheeks again, he shook his head.

Thace knelt behind Kolivan, reaching over the leader’s shoulder to grasp Shiro’s hand. “Shiro, we have fought side-by-side for hundreds of battles. You’ve shared your greatest gift with us, and we’ve even seen you at your very worse.”

Not that Shiro needed a reminder of that.

“Why do you not trust us now?”  

Because he’d been violated. Because his face told a story of pain and misery and broken promises, and though he relived it every time he looked in the mirror, he’d never realized that everyone saw it, too, every time they looked at him.  

It was Kolivan – it was always Kolivan – who ducked his head to be lower than Shiro’s, a distinctive motion that gave Shiro control over the situation.

“You have a destiny far greater than any mating mark can deter,” the leader began in a low admission. “It has not defined you, and it will not define you, not unless you let it.”  

But Sendak had carved it into his skin – without Shiro’s permission. He proclaimed to anyone who saw Shiro that he had been mated, no longer a free being but one owned by a strong Galra warrior who could maim him in the most profane way.

“You’re not his,” Kolivan insisted, “and a scar does not prove that you are. Only you can decide that.”

Though it was an internal struggle, Shiro didn’t flinch when Kolivan cradled his cheeks between his massive claws.

“I had hoped you would eventually find your place in the universe by defining yourself through us.”

“Us?” Shiro echoed.

“Family,” Ulaz clarified. “Moira said humans call their pack family.”

The word stole all the breath from Shiro’s lungs and left him quivering in its wake. All this time, the Blades already thought of him as family, as pack, and it left him feeling exposed and wrung out. When he glanced away, Kolivan’s thumbs caressed his cheeks, drawing his attention back and urging him to listen to the wordless command.

Shiro’s resistance crumbled, and when the mask dissolved, he surmised he must have looked pathetic – tears staining his cheeks raw, eyes glassy and bloodshot, snot dribbling down his nose. Kolivan’s eyes lightened, tender and open, a stark contrast from his usual stern exterior.

“If words are necessary on your home world, then I shall adhere to your customs,” Kolivan explained in a barely audible whisper. “May I officially claim you as part of our pack?”

Shiro surprised even himself when he replied, “You’re not going to tear another scar into my face…right?”

Kolivan, the leader of the Blade of Marmora, flinched. “No. It is a simple gesture with no permanent markings.”  

Somehow, Shiro doubted that, but he nodded nonetheless. When Kolivan still hesitated, he added in a shaky voice, “Yes.”

And he was right. When Kolivan ducked his head and his soft fur tickled Shiro’s sensitive neck in a traditional pack greeting, Shiro felt something he hadn’t in a long time.

Whole.

Kolivan continued for a few dobashes. He first ran his jaw and white hair under Shiro’s left cheek, spreading the pack’s unique scent of lavender and pine with a hint of vanilla, before turning his head and pressing against Shiro’s opposite cheek. He bowed his head to rub against Shiro’s shoulders, the familiar scent enveloping Shiro in a reassuring embrace that smelled exactly like Keith.

Like his pack.

When Kolivan pulled back but refused to release Shiro’s cheeks, a silent moment passed between them, a level of understanding and acceptance Shiro hadn’t known possible. Then Shiro lunged. His arms clamped about Kolivan’s torso, clinging to the leader like the cub he perhaps was. He wanted to be strong, act his twenty-one annuals and reflect the decorum of his position as the Son of the Blade. But after all these years alone and isolated – abandoned by everyone he’d ever known – Shiro savored the affection Kolivan and the Blades offered.

Kolivan, at first, grunted and tensed but after a few moments, relaxed against Shiro, long arms wrapping about Shiro’s back to engulf him in a secure embrace.  

Pushing back Shiro’s hood, Kolivan brushed the top of Shiro’s hair with his strong jaw. “This is why I cannot allow you to surrender yourself again, Takashi. Your lower chaste in the empire has taught you to sacrifice – for your parents, for your brother, and now for us. It cannot continue. You must learn to value yourself as we value you.”

“But I’m not – ” Shiro’s gloves formed tight, quivering fists in the side of Kolivan’s cloak. “Kolivan, Sendak will take me back, and the fate of the universe may be at stake. If the commanders are scared, we need to act now because we lose whatever intel we have.”

“We will but not in a way that will cause you further harm.”

“But – ” How could he make Kolivan understand? How did he not already? “My…body, honor, whatever you want to call it – it’s not worth the fate of the universe.”

Different expressions of pity hit him all at once, and then Antok came forward, bending down on one knee to seize Shiro’s hand in his own. “You are to us.”

Shiro wasn’t sure what to say, what to feel. Emotion constricted his throat and spilled more tears down his cheeks.

Ulaz came forward then, taking hold of Shiro’s cheeks for himself and dragging the human from Kolivan’s grip. He repeated the traditional Galra greeting, spreading his scent in the soothing ritual but finishing with a tender kiss upon Shiro’s forehead. Thace followed suit but pressed his forehead against Shiro’s to whisper, “Don’t let Kolivan boss you around after this, Shiro. Make sure to still give him hell.”

“Thace!”

The Galra slapped Shiro’s shoulder before Antok engulfed Shiro in a bone-crushing embrace, holding him like a stuffed teddy bear and refusing to let him go even after he finished the ritual.

“Hey, are you guys done in here?” Keith demanded, peeking inside the treehouse door.

As Antok reluctantly placed Shiro upon the ground, Thace beckoned Keith inside. “Come, cub. Welcome your brother into our pack.”

When Keith leapt into his arms, Shiro sighed and rested his cheek on his little brother’s head.

Kolivan’s claws dipped into Shiro’s hair. Thace patted Keith’s shoulder. Ulaz rubbed circles against Shiro’s back, and Antok just swept both brothers into his massive arms.

Family. Pack. Home.

Finally.

In the back of his mind, the Black Lion purred in the delight, and for the first time, a second lion, feminine but fiercer, joined him.

Three Annuals Ago

Crimson stained Shiro’s hands, slicking the dagger’s fine edge and soaking through the bandages wrapped about the hilt. Sendak arrived then, dressed in casual gear Shiro had never seen before. Shiro barely acknowledged the commander as his hands refused to stop shaking, the body cooling less than ten feet away. Shiro sat with his back toward it, tears coursing his cheeks as he saw the anguish upon Sendak’s face.

“I-I didn’t want – He went after – I couldn’t let h-him – but – I – ”

Ancients, he just killed a man, a Galra! A lieutenant serving one of the most feared commanders – and he’d seen the amber light fade from his eyes, felt the life slip from his body, heard his last breath as it released.

He thought he’d hear it forever – every time he closed his eyes, every time he tried to sleep, every time he breathed, but then a warmth engulfed him from behind, Sendak’s strong arms surrounding him in a consoling embrace. The commander’s heartbeat pounded against Shiro’s back, drowning out the dead Galra’s last sound. Silent sobs wracked his being, and Sendak never tried to shush him, only fit his soft face in the crux of Shiro’s neck and offered soothing caresses.

Sendak spread his warmth, his scent, his presence, and then he murmured over and over, “It’s going to be all right, my little kzelz. I’ll make it so.”

Later, Sendak would bring Shiro into the next room, where Keith waited, anxious and bleeding. Shiro would watch as Sendak attended to Keith himself, spreading his scent upon the cub’s cheeks and shoulders. Then he lifted the yawning Keith into one arm while tucking Shiro against his opposite side. After they settled he exhausted cub upon the couch, Sendak waited in silent vigil as Shiro cleaned up. Then the commander would confront Shiro, demanding he finally submit to Sendak as a lower lifeform and his mate.    

They’d fight. Shiro would leave but at that moment, kneeling in the lieutenant’s blood and listening to the soothing rhythm of Sendak’s heart, Shiro accepted the truth.

The highest-ranked commander of the Galra Empire loved him, and he’d think later, seeing Keith’s head resting his upon Sendak’s arm, that perhaps he might love the commander, too.

To Be Concluded...

More from the Blade!Shiro series 

[mallory-a-bond]

Happy birthday Izuku Midoriya

Name: Zhalia [redacted]

Age: 15

Quirk: knight (Magica Defense)

Height: 5’11 1/2

Weight: 160lbs

Blood type: AB Positive

Hero name: Guardian

Overall abilities: a master hand to combat fighter and has mastery over all the weapons in her ancestral arsenal. As proven when using flaming broadsword against a Nomu and does not harm any of the surrounding areas and has successfully broken Toga’s arm when she had incapacitated Bakugo due to a villain’s quirk that caused him to go berserk.

Keen intellect and observation: she has been able to pinpoint multiple students when they were pitted against her while ‘deactivated’ and had been able to predict what they were going to do as soon as they attacked. Tomura had sent a few Nomu after her when with her class. Only to be dealt with her wide array of mysterious weapons.

Quirk: think of every kind of magical girl genre ever. Amp the firepower by 33 and spanning back centuries. Each new bearer has their own widespread abilities but can use the previous generation’s abilities (called suits). Zhalia has been the only one to access the entirety of every Knight that has been before her (called different things related to dynasty or legacy. Suits similar attributes such as fire or ice is such an thing while those unique and one of a kind have a name for themselves). She can change from each one of her suits with the pendant around her neck, called equip. Some suits give her certain abilities. Like a higher tolerance if not complete immunity to flame and frost. Enhanced strength or speed amongst others. (The support department still demand answers). The ‘suits’ change to fit the current bearer and has a ‘timeless look’ when it comes to fashion.

Appearance: Zhalia is a full figured girl with dark brown skin, Crystal rainbow quartz hair that changes length depending on the suit she’s equipped with but by default, it is incredibly long kept in an high ponytail with a plain black ribbon with A symmetrical bangs framing her face. Her almond shaped eyes are that of an onyx crystal that sparks different kinds of color depending on what she intends to do. Her hero costume is that of what she equips for the situation. But ‘her’ suit as she puts it. ‘Is incomplete’ so she has to use ‘The Silver Squire’ from generations prior…which gives both heroes and villains alike nightmares. The Silver Squire is a full suit of sterling armor with a silver hair band that would resemble the face guard and in her hair it is still in its ponytail braid but now has silver weaves into it and is armed with a rapier with diamonds within the hilt and around the armor. No skin is showing whatsoever and yet it is still form fitting. There is also silver and gray designs around her eyes and has metal studs in her ears.

Personality: she is a kind but secretive individual. She has secrets that she has admitted to the class that she does not want to talk about. She is determined and incredibly stubborn as proven when she kept her mouth shut when Endevaor demanded answers out of her when it was made known that she had information on a vigilante that all the heroes were hunting down. She kept her cool and kept silent. She has also proven to keep her head under pressure and cannot be cracked easily as Endvaor tried to intimidate her into giving up said information and she also stood up to Aizawa about it. She cares for those that she trusts and sees as friends and will see to it that no harm comes to them. But she does not take anything lying down and will jump to defend her friends and the innocent when the situation calls for it. Can be a cynical and vindictive bitch if someone were to wrong her friends or take something important to her and will not hesitate to retaliate violently. She had beaten down Bakugo when he kept mocking and being hostile to Midoriya.

Ancestral training: she has been trained by the literal ghosts of her past ever since she has gotten her quirk. Her training was brutal and had to become a walking army with the toughness to match in order to operate the suits properly without being overwhelmed or killed. One of the suits is the best at defense but in turn is the heaviest out of all of the suits put together. All of the swords are incredibly heavy, the lightest being the Sterling Rapier of the Silver Squire weighing as much as three of Bakugo.

Weakness: her mental state. If she loses it. Remember she has the power to literally give All For One a run for his money. Her mental state is what keeps the unbridled power in check along with the voices of those of past running through her mind as well as to keep EVERYTHING that was bestowed onto her in check. And her willingness to die, it scares Deku just how quickly she’ll jump into life threatening situations knowing that she might die and just brushes it off. There is no physical weakness…well, a wafer thin one but unlikely. Knock her out before she arms herself or equips…but her speed is unreal. Is known to get trapped in her own head.

I had been here for quite a bit. I know today is Izuku’s birthday. But I don’t know if the gift I have created would be enough. The gift lays in a pocket dimension having the final touches made to it as she waits for Midoriya to come through the door. The rest of the class has already come through for Midoriya was asked to have a chat with Yagi Sensei for a bit. I slam my head against the desk which gained the attention of my classmates. “Are you alright?” Asked Iida as he begins to approach the desk, “just peachy. Silently panicking but peachy.” I answer and I immediately regret that second sentence for now I am bombarded by questions by the rest of the class, even Aizawa peeked his head up from his sleeping bag, the question evident on his face.

I had to assure them multiple times that it’s nothing but none of them drop it & had even more vigor to keep pressing after I pinned Mineta to the ceiling with surikins when he got near my bag. I had to give in if I want to keep them out of my hair, “alright alright. You win.” I groan and they all had the glow of triumph as I summon the gift from the pocket dimension and into my open hand. “If you all must know I am a little afraid that Izuku won’t like my gift.” I admitted they all look at it star struck as I had the wrapping paper that of the stars in the night sky and the ribbon of the sun burning bright, “what is it?” Asked Ochako resisting the urge to poke it and see if it’ll snap at her, “a few things really.” I answer I then make vanish as it is not finished yet. Thank god that Midoriya came through the door before there was a further grilling. I got the stares of ‘this isn’t over’ from everyone.

We went through the day as usual and then everyone began giving Midoriya his gifts. I waited to be last because anxiety is fun. Once I plucked up the courage and smack Katsuki into the ground after calling him a nerd, I go up to him with the now full gift in hand and hand it to him. Any or all heroes that are present are astounded by this for no one in the [redacted] family has given anyone a gift outside their family. Not even my mother. With the most confident voice I can muster, “happy birthday Izuku Midoriya.” I say with a big smile, silently praising every divine that my voice didn’t shake or wobble, He smiles at me and says equally joyful, “thanks!” We all then went our separate ways. Myself into the unknown as the rest gather around the birthday boy to see what I had given him.

I wonder how he likes the All Might both his buff form and true form in the Sunlight Crusader figurine standing back to back as well as a few things All Might themed that do a lot more than they seemed. And as a finishing touch, a small Deku portrait with the same importance as the tapestries within The Archive walls.

I hold a lot of secrets. And I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let anyone, hero or villain get in my way.

((I know that I might be a little late to the party. Wrote the story on my phone. But happy belated birthday Izuku. Hope you like the story))

[wallythayer]

Cultivating Courage

On a beautiful summer evening in 2016, actress Christiana Clark was walking her dog in Ashland, Ore., where she was performing with the Oregon Shakespeare Festival (OSF). A man on a bicycle approached, and she pulled out her earbuds to hear him say, “It’s still an Oregon law — I could kill a black person and be out of jail in a day and a half. Look it up. The KKK is alive and well here.”

Clark, who is African American, was badly shaken. Carolyn and Daniel Verner, who live nearby, heard what sounded like someone being threatened and rushed outside. They asked Clark if she was being harassed and if she was all right, offering warmth and a welcome sense of safety in a deeply unsettling moment.

Clark spoke courageously about the incident the following week at OSF’s Juneteenth celebration. She later participated in a series of festival and city-sponsored forums on racism designed to strengthen Ashland’s commitment to justice and equality. In a Facebook video recorded after the incident, Clark vowed to “work hard to work this off and find love.”

Clark, the Verners, OSF, and the Ashland community all knew their decisions to confront racism carried some risks, but they each did it anyway.

That takes courage.

Clark could have made the under-standable choice to stay silent in the wake of the incident, or to lash out in anger. The Verners could have opted to stay in their home and not get involved. OSF and the Ashland community could have brushed the incident under the rug, fearful of risking the city’s reputation as a welcoming place.

Instead, they all acted in accordance with their values rather than their personal interests. In doing so, they transformed an encounter with hate into a reason for hope.

Choosing Courage

Whether it’s intervening in an act of bullying or harassment, defending our views at the family dinner table, or refraining from unkind gossip, standing up for ourselves and others takes guts.

It also takes heart. Best-selling author Brené Brown, PhD, LMSW, a research professor at the University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work, has written and spoken extensively about courage — a term, she notes, that comes from the Latin word for “heart.”

Courage encompasses both the inner strength and the vulnerability required to authentically share ourselves and our experiences, good and bad. Some of us need to gather the nerve to speak up, while others may find it hard to resist the natural rush to anger, defensiveness, or aggression. In both cases, we suppress the vulnerability that true courage requires.

“Vulnerability is not weakness, and the uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure we face every day are not optional,” Brown writes in Daring Greatly. “Our willingness to own and engage with our vulnerability determines the depth of our courage.”

Yet there are material reasons why some people are able to summon courage more easily than others.

“We’re cued by our environments and conditioning,” explains Brooke Deterline, CEO of Courageous Leadership, a research group that teaches ethical behavior to business leaders. “If we had a lot of role models early on who reacted with an open heart when stressed, then we’re lucky with our conditioning, not necessarily inherently better than someone who didn’t have those role models.”

Courage is something we can all learn, regardless of our conditioning. “Our brains are not our fault,” she says, “but they are our responsibility.”

Taking responsibility means being responsive to challenges, rather than reactive. “We often refer to courage as giving someone a piece of your mind,” says Deterline. “But courage is actually giving someone a piece of your heart. It’s staying open-hearted in conflict, and that is hard.”

Embracing Fear

Courage is defined not by lack of fear but by a willingness to experience it. Pema Chödrön, renowned Buddhist teacher and author of The Places That Scare You, points out that irritation, disapproval, indignation, inadequacy, guilt, and shame are all barriers we create to avoid feeling our fear of pain.

The courageous path, on the other hand, requires what she calls “tender-hearted bravery,” or a willingness to engage with that fear.

“The journey of knowing fear, moving closer to fear, is, in fact, the journey of courage,” she explains. “You actually can stay with [fear]; you actually can turn toward it; you actually can leap into it rather than having it set off this chain reaction.”

Recognizing when our hearts and minds begin to race is the first step toward interrupting this reaction, as expressed in this quote commonly attributed to Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl: “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response.”

Deterline’s workshops use Social Fitness Training, a cognitive-behavioral model that helps participants find that “space between stimulus and response” so they can reconnect with their values and act from their “ethical core.”

“With practice,” she says, “we can train our brains to override the natural fear response and act instead from our values.”

Whether we’re called upon to intercede in an act of harassment, voice our beliefs in a hostile environment, or resist unethical practices, these tips can help nurture deep moral courage.

Foster a Sense of Worthiness

Confidence and self-love facilitate courageous behavior. Yet, because of particular childhood experiences or cultural and social conditioning, many of us feel unworthy.

“[I used to] be so nice and so accommodating that no one would ever accuse me of anything bad,” says Chödrön. “It was a cover-up for that deep feeling that I wasn’t worthy.”

Many of us believe we’ll be fully deserving of love and belonging only when we meet certain external expectations — when we lose that 10 pounds or get that promotion. It’s an attitude that not only keeps us from living fully in the present moment, but it also undermines our ability to stand for our values. If we don’t believe our stance is worth fighting for, we won’t fight for it.

Yet each of us is born worthy; it’s not something we earn. “There are no prerequisites for worthiness,” says Brown.

When we understand our worth is innate, we extend that sense to others. We grasp that others matter, no more or less than we do.

So everyone benefits from developing a sense of self-worth — whether it’s by building confidence in a dance class or working with a therapist to uncover outdated beliefs.

Identify Your Patterns

Clammy hands, flushed face, pounding heart, tightness in the throat — the familiar signs of a stress reaction. These alarm bells signal that our bodies are preparing to confront a threat, whether that’s an argument with a spouse or a surprise encounter with a bear on a hiking trail. Learning to identify those sensations, as well as the habitual thought and behavior patterns that follow them (like freezing, fleeing, or lashing out), offers an opportunity to make a more clear-headed choice.

In Deterline’s workshops, participants create a personal “stress profile,” identifying and recording their automatic thoughts and behavioral patterns.

Through teamwork, “the stress-profile exercise creates a lot of empathy and compassion,” she says. “It helps people realize that everyone struggles with this same stuff.”

You can create your own stress profile simply by noticing how your body and mind respond to fear. Write it down, and carry the list with you so you can refer to it when you start to amp up; it may help give you the distance you need to diffuse a reaction.

Befriend Your Stress

A 2012 Harvard University study found that our view of stress can affect our physical and emotional health. Subjects who viewed stressful experiences in a positive light showed reduced artery constriction and returned more quickly to a calm baseline state.

This study illustrates how much perception matters, says psychologist Kelly McGonigal, PhD, author of The Upside of Stress. “What if you viewed [the physical signs of stress] as signs that your body was energized and was preparing you to meet this challenge?”

The ability to learn and grow from stress is built into the basic biology of the sympathetic nervous system, she explains. “For several hours after you have a strong stress response, the brain is rewiring itself to remember and learn from the experience. Stress leaves an imprint on your brain that prepares you to handle similar stress the next time you encounter it. Going through the experience gives your brain and body a stress vaccine.”

McGonigal’s research reminds us not to let a stress response keep us silent or still. These reactions may mean that your body registers the moment as important. What’s more, it will remember the experience so you’ll be able to handle it with less fear the next time around.

Own Your Power

It’s easier to act courageously when we believe our actions can make a difference. “We often think power is just political or military might,” says University of California, Berkeley, psychology professor Dacher Keltner, PhD, author of The Power Paradox. But social behavior is contagious, and this can make our individual actions surprisingly powerful.

“I have a lot of influence in my community as I move through the day, just through kind practices,” Keltner says. “Any act you engage in, no matter how disconnected from power you might feel, ripples out and influences others.”

Knowing that our behavior is contagious can empower us to interrupt escalating anger or aggression. “In the midst of an argument, if we give people a different option — say, ‘I’m sorry; you sound really afraid’ — it can dramatically change the response we get back,” says Deterline. “It takes courage to not mirror what you’re getting, but it can dramatically change the outcome.”

Likewise, awareness allows us to take advantage of our innate tendency to mirror each other. “If you’re aware of how people’s conformist tendencies operate, you can try to harness them for good,” notes Elizabeth Svoboda, author of What Makes a Hero? The Surprising Science of Selflessness.

In one famous experiment, researchers showed participants a picture of a line and asked them to choose which of three other lines equaled it in length. When other people around them chose the wrong answer, the subjects often agreed. Svoboda cites a variation on the experiment in which people were far less likely to follow the crowd’s lead when just one other person chose the correct line length.

“When you speak out about injustices happening in front of you, you can help tip the social balance toward truth,” she writes.

Find Allies

We’re not meant to change the world alone. Acting with others who share our values and beliefs is a time-tested tactic for bolstering our courage and amplifying the power of each member of the group.

“One person standing up is honorable, but not always effective,” says Deterline of her observations in the business world. “One ally is better, and two allies start to represent an organizational point of view, giving the individuals more leverage in changing group dynamics and systems.”

Practice and Prepare

Like pilots and doctors who train in simulated high-stress circumstances, we can prepare ourselves to respond skillfully under pressure.

Deterline recommends practicing courageous conversations or interactions, such as an unplanned altercation on the street, a scheduled meeting with a colleague, or a tough talk with a family member or friend.

“Speak in front of a mirror,” she says. “Watch yourself doing it. It can change your thinking, help you hone what you’re trying to say, or clarify who the appropriate person is to have that conversation with.”

Better yet, find a friend who can practice that challenging conversation with you (yet another benefit to having allies).

Self-defense workshops and mediation training sessions also provide ample opportunity to rehearse difficult encounters. Think of it as practicing your free throw on the basketball court or training for a long race. You’re teaching your body to know what to do — even when your mind goes blank.

Deterline also has her work-shop participants formulate a personal support statement they can recite when they feel their courage faltering. She asks them to think of a time when they were uncomfortable but spoke up anyway, and to identify what they said to themselves in that moment.

“For some, it’s ‘No matter what happens, I am my father’s daughter,’ or ‘I want to be an example for my kids,’” she says. “You can see people’s bodies change when they tap into their supportive statement. It grounds them in remembering that even in the face of unwanted consequences, it’s still worth it to them to act from their core values.”

Know Thyself

Kristen Renwick Monroe, PhD, a political science and philosophy professor at the University of California at Irvine, interviewed dozens of “little-known heroes” for her book The Heart of Altruism, including a Czech businessman who rescued more than 100 Jews in Nazi Germany and a woman who, armed only with her cane, saved a young girl who was being raped. She’s learned from her subjects that people do good in the world “not because there’s a payoff for it — a better spot in paradise, if you will,” she says. They do it because they’ve learned that standing up for others is deeply rewarding in the here and now. “You do it for yourself,” she says. “Nothing else matters in the end.”

Get the full story at https://experiencelife.com/article/cultivating-courage/