#people who have devoted their lives to a field often take the existence of that field as a given

[dumb-butch-syndrome]

I feel like you're ignoring my point? I'm not arguing that misogyny doesn't come from men - of course it does. I'm also not arguing that it's not a global phenomenon - of course it is. I'm saying the fact that there are counterexamples in pre-colonial societies is pretty strong evidence that aggression and dominance isn't biologically inherent to men. Which - and correct me if I'm wrong - was what you were implying in your original posts?

If the argument is just "patriarchy, when it arises, is primarily created and upheld by men" then I actually agree with you, but if it's "men are biologically predisposed to creating systems of oppression" then I disagree

idk how any woman can come out of an anthropology degree without having grown a new third eye about male nature

[ink-flavored]

made this 100% necessary thing to create characters for my anthologies. this is something a completely normal person would do.

world-building stuff under the cut because nobody knows what an Aetherid or a D'infern Curse is but me

Aetheridum (pl) / Aetherid (s)

Regular people (of any creature type) can have Aetheridum children if they’re blessed by whatever gods exist in this world, or if the kid is a gift they prayed for, or as a reward for devotion. No matter what their parents are, the magic kids have metallic skin, will eventually grow wings (even if they already have them), and have an intense penchant for magic

They aren’t literally “angels come to earth” but people speculate that they’re earthly incarnations of aether-creatures, or even fragments of gods themselves

The intensity of that magic gift varies between individuals, but they are the only race that doesn’t experience the magical “atrophy” that every other race does. They have an intense magical capacity from birth, to the point where they may warp the magic energies around them without realizing, and cause it to fire off without actually casting any spells

This can be both positive and negative. One the one hand, having a high magical capacity means a much easier time learning spells, casting them, and managing the energy output. On the other, choosing not to pursue any magical training means that any Aetherid can potentially be setting off magic flashbangs, wherever they go, by complete accident, for the rest of their lives. Most parents put their Aetheridum kids in magical training as early as possible due to this outcome, but not all of them do, and not all of the children stay in training.

Despite being a literal godly blessing, the magical capability can be somewhat of a curse too. Recruitment for their magical gifts is extremely high in scientific and medical fields, and many are pushed into high-skill, high-stress jobs for the sake of “not wasting their gifts.” There has been plenty of literature and study on the subject of just how much more beneficial an Aetherid is to any particular work environment, if at all—a high magical capacity doesn’t mean anything about how well you use it. Most find that the same jobs can be easily done with non-Aetheridum workers with standard or even low magical capacities, just not to the same degree of power. Unfortunately, these unfavorable results are often swept under the rug for the sake of maintaining the “usefulness” of this blessed class of creature.

D’infernyssh (pl) / D’infern (s)

In the same way some children can be blessed, some can be cursed. If the parents make a foul pact, corrupt themselves with forbidden magic, or anger a vengeful deity, they can give birth to a D’infern. These children are almost a direct inverse of Aetheridum, born with metallic skin, eventually growing batlike wings, and always have a curse to bear

Similar to the speculation about Aetheridum, the D’infernyssh aren’t literally demons, but could possibly be incarnations of godly rage or corrupted godlike creatures

The curses placed on the D’infernyssh are always related to the siphoning of emotions or sensations from those around them to survive. “Real” food doesn’t nourish them in the slightest, though they do experience hunger. They describe cravings for feelings the same way any other creature might describe a craving for soup or fancy steak.

The types of curses known to the world are: pleasure, rest, anger, sadness, joy, envy, pain, affection, fear, pride, disgust, and curiosity.

For any non-D’infernyssh, simply being in the presence of a hungry D’infern who eats the emotion or sensation you’re feeling is all it takes for it to be slowly drained away. For example, if you feel curious around a D’infern that eats curiosity, you’ll slowly become less interested in it until you find it altogether uninteresting. Once the D’infern isn’t hungry, the draining stops, and your emotions become your own again. However, eating feelings doesn’t work like gaining nutrients from food, and unless the D’infern gets a big “meal” from either an intense emotional state or multiple people experiencing the same emotion at once, they often need to “eat” more than 3 times a day.

Most parents with D’infernyssh children can’t tell if they have a D’infern or an Aetherid at the beginning of the child’s life. Because they both have metallic skin and their wings don’t sprout until puberty, it’s very easy to confuse one for the other unless you know why your child was born with platinum skin. Due to this confusion, many D’infernyssh are malnourished until they can communicate what they need to survive.

There are tests that can be given to potential Aetheridum or D’infernyssh children to pick out which one is which, but it does require the parents to acknowledge the potential that their child may be cursed. Unless they know already, many are reluctant to do this, and a few are even insulted by the insinuation.

Doctors that specialize in curses are working on ways to determine from birth, and even from an ultrasound, what kind of metallic child they’re working with, but it’s a work-in-progress, and nowhere near as reliable as many D’infernyssh, their parents, and potential parents would like it to be.

Having a very obvious curse that drains the emotions of those around them, whether they like it or not, makes D’infernyssh obvious targets of ostracization from many cultures, save for those that hold overcoming personal strengths in high reverence, like orcs, dragonfolk, and dwarves. Still, there’s a lot that needs to be done for acceptance of the D’infernyssh, and places like Athendrolyn are breeding grounds for social movements.

Obviously this ostracization is more intense for some D’infernyssh and not others. For example, a D’infern that eats pain might have wildly different experiences from a D’infern that eats joy.

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

cw: simon and betty and their professional relationship

People jump to be either offended or defensive when talking about this so Im putting that cw there. Practice self defence. if you dont wanna read this and you click through, yeah thats not my problem.

So this is about Simon and Betty, and regarding the vague setting around their professional relationship, namely that Simon is shown giving a guest lecture and Betty is part of the class that he is lecturing to

But the setting doesn't pin down the specifics - like is he a visiting researcher, how long is he affiliated with the school, etc. That said, given this:

I've been tooting some thoughts around and here's what I find funny

How unappealing this relationship could be to general fans of the Teacher-Student fantasy.

My psuedo-analysis from being a fandom oldie is that usually this fantasy caters to the idea of having the teacher, usually the man, devote himself to caring for and promoting the student, usually the woman. And like fantasies don't need to make sense? But I'm thinking that in a society where women are always the nurturers, portraying a relationship where the man is dedicated to nurturing the growth of the woman - well that's novel. It focuses on the woman's character arc - she's the main character! - and all the ways the man supports her into becoming an accomplished, successful professional in whatever field they're in.

Do you see where I'm going here?

Simon and Betty fulfill none of that.

Straight off the bat, Betty introduces herself by teaching Simon something. She was never positioning herself as someone who wanted to learn from Simon, and often assists him. And right there? Already breaking the Teacher-Student fantasy mold.

Like the usual template for this fantasy would actually emphasize the power imbalance between the teacher and the student. The teacher knows everything. The teacher has the most responsibility and the most authority. If the student steps out of line, the teacher is supposed to provide discipline.

If it's not one of the saucier takes of the fantasy which revels in the taboo, the teacher-student romantic plotline usually center around overcoming that power imbalance. (exceptions of course exist)

And I think about how... if Simon was just less of a pushover, Simon and Betty would have followed the usual template for a teacher-student fantasy. And they would have been actually better off that way?

Let's go back to the part where I mentioned that a teacher-student dynamic would have emphasized the power imbalance, specifically if the student acts out, the teacher provides disciplinary measures. You know what Simon does? Not that!

Oh he started to. If he had exercised his authority better, he would have continued his lecture to Betty about leaving love letters to university staff out in the open for literally anybody to see. She left it in a book in the library!!! What if Simon didn't see it first?

And you know, the whole enforcing boundaries thing. He was radio silent for two (?) weeks after their trip, and he was willing to keep things professional. Betty leaves him one love letter and he goes running. Which in hindsight, that's actually uncharacteristic for staid, fastidious Petrikov. He makes the decision to confess the moment she confesses first. Like! Boundaries, gone. Wrist, snatched. Relationship, doomed.

Which is primarily the point in the whole Betty and Simon relationship. Simon treated her as an equal when he should have been aware that their relationship was never equal to begin with - not with the way Betty kept putting him on a pedestal. It's a matter of perspective and professionalism, yada yada blah blah.

TL;DR: Simon did not get the memo that he was in a teacher-student romance plotline. Hell, even if it was the saucier taboo take, that would still mean he was aware of the imbalance between him and Betty.

He was living a college AU, where they had a meet cute as collegues. She was in a celebrity AU, where she's a stan that managed to score a trip with her idol. They were never on the same page.

[greenandhazy]

It is genuinely so fucking frustrating to me how little respect people have for the work of historians, museum professionals, librarians, and archivists. Especially when it comes from LGBTQ people, to be quite honest, given that these fields are often home to a disproportionate number of LGBTQ people!

People will just roll up and be like “nobody is talking about [thing they only know about because of the passionate behind-the-scenes work of archivists who collected, processed, and described documents and oral histories, historians who spend months immersed in those sources and writing books and articles, and librarians who bought and catalogued those books and made them accessible to a wider public].” They go into museums and assume that everyone below the curatorial level is an unpaid volunteer and/or part-time college student as opposed to a working professional with a master’s degree. They’ll go “we need to start an archive/museum/website!” that fully already exists, with no knowledge of the amount of resources and training it takes because they haven’t bothered to look into what’s there—they assume that anything large on the scale of the Smithsonian or the National Park Service is going to be homophobic and anything small enough that it’s not a household name is nonexistent.

Yeah I’m bitter, some history people are problematic, blah blah blah. I’m not disagreeing with the general principle that LGBTQ history is still often marginalized or that we need more of it. Just… maybe start your crusade with the people who have already devoted years of their lives to making more of it?? Instead of being just another personal devaluing their labor and expertise?

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Aight so we’ve heard what paternal feelings Arthur and Francis have re: their people, but I’m curious to hear your impressions of nations who don’t actually have kids of their own. Gilbert has Ludwig but they’re still very much brothers, not parent/child. Does that change the dynamic? What about, say, Mexico? She doesn’t have kids but family is massively important to her culture. Then you got ones who act like actual children more often than not—USA or Australia would be my first thought.

Idk this is a fascinating thought experiment I’m curious to hear more

!!! Hello you, I haven't seen you in an inbox in a while <3. So I've got a question in the box about this for the young Anglos going to focus on Gilbert, Ludwig and Maria.

Gilbert, before 1918 takes a rather heavy-handed approach to his citizens in many contexts. I have varied wildly with whether Ludwig calls him his brother or Papa throughout my time in this pit. But is it a very paternal relationship in general? Being raised in a militaristic order with the hierarchy of the church and then later becoming what's essentially an army that just happens to be attached to a state made him a man who tries very hard to be both strict and fair. The Prussian education system was the finest in the world for much of the 19th century, with the larger German-speaking world leading the way in medicine, education, chemistry and several other fields. He wants to see his people thrive. He has a certain callousness regarding the lives of men; war is, after all, the endless meatgrinder, and it is what he's best at. But with his women and children, that relationship also exists. Obedience, discipline and loyalty from them correspond to Gilbert's devotion, even-handedness and sense of duty in return.

Ludwig for much of his history in the structure of the Prussian-dominated German Empire, where Gilbert filled the role of pater familas, soldier and usually had the final say; Ludwig filled that more domestic, civilian counterpart. He was and still is very young. He loves trains, he loves cars, he wants all the engineering advancements and is keenly interested in them and their practical applications of improving the quality of life for his people. In addition, he has always been very awkward in artistic spaces (baby gay didn't know why the fuck he liked men's butts so much yet) but is still very interested in the artistic developments of his people. Especially musically. I've always thought of adult Ludwig as having a very pleasant baritone singing voice and a very clear crystalline one as a child. He goes to the film premieres, he goes to the ballet, and he subtly pushes for artistic funding if he feels he can help there.

Maria, in my view, doesn't view herself as much of a maternal figure in the lives of her people. As semi-magical, semi-immortal creatures, they have that slightly uncanny effect. In some nations, people are just comfortable handing their children over to be held. She's one of those. She'll hold babies a bit awkwardly, but she loves them. And due to what she is, people don't comment on her singleness or her lack of an immediate family in Mexico itself. She feels most herself amongst them and usually passes among them without any problem. On the Day of the Dead, she's just another daughter putting flowers on her mother's grave. When the population takes to the streets, she's another protestor in the streets. She speaks Nahuatl She shops and eats in the markets. She has Valencia and Navelina orange trees in her yard. She doesn't mind the local children plucking their share from the branches. She lives and works and loves amongst her people.

[hereforthefanficsandromance]

The Nightmare God

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Prompt Not Mine: Link Here

You're a deity of something small and seemingly unimportant. You're the first one the people stop praying and sacrificing to when things get dire. Oh, what fools they are.

Summary

The Nightmare God takes revenge after losing their worshippers. Rating: N/A Words: 1K

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My shrine is relatively quiet and has been for most of my existence. Usually only a handful of visitors annually. Most of my devotees cannot visit my shrine and instead worship me through prayer. Other Gods would be furious by the lack of devotion and willingness to trek across the globe to sit at their feet. I however have no such qualms with my followers, they are mostly children after all. Children do not have such power to seek my shrine, and most forget about my power as they mature. The horrors of the waking world easily snuffed my work out.

When I am lucky, a local child will visit me. I am fond of the offerings they bring, simple pleasures like pretty flowers and shiny rocks. They offer a prayer with these gifts but I do not need their words. The presents are more than enough to exclude them from my power for many years.

I cannot interact with the material world otherwise. I so enjoy stroking the soft velvet of flower petals but my heart breaks when the plucked flower withers with Time, the cruelest God of them all. The rocks last for much longer. I enjoy the clacking sound they make when I shake them in my cupped palms.

Their sound has become synonymous with my power, often conjuring up images of bones rattling or rapping on the walls. Everything of mine that is beautiful turns horrific for the people of this planet. I have no power to prevent the corruption of these visions, but I can halt my presence in their mind through prayer and offerings.

Visitors to my shrine often find themselves overcome with sleepiness. I am careful to stay out of their dreams, I would never punish those who visit. I have punished no one before. That was until everything became silent.

One day of no prayers was odd, but a week seemed impossible. My devotees no longer reached out before falling asleep. I grew worried because I feared that the children who spoke to me regularly had faced something worse than a nightmare.

I reached out to the other Gods, most ignored me since they see my work as unnecessary. But one, the God of Harvest, sent word that they had received an influx of prayers specifically from children. Many of the prayers begged for safety each time they entered the fields.

I sent another request, imploring for more information on why the children were praying with such fervor. It was not unusual for some children to work in the fields alongside their families. While I was not privy to the prayers sent to the God of Harvest, I could imagine they were mostly requests for the crops to be kept safe from disease and pests.

What concerned me most was the fact that there were more children than before. Why would children suddenly be in the fields for labor? Why would they need safety while harvesting? My answers came in more correspondence from the God of Harvest. The people had grown a new crop, one that was poisonous. The adult workers were more susceptible to the poison, perishing faster. Children could live with the poison in their system longer. Thus becoming the main laborers while the greedy few profited.

I did not know what use the plant had or why it was suddenly being grown in large quantities. It did not matter. My devotees were suffering from this plant, so much so that they no longer feared the nightmares that I provided. I would not tolerate what is mine to be taken from me. I need them; I crave their worship and gifts.

So I stopped my work with the children, providing a reprieve from the suffering of their daytime work. Instead, I devoted all my energy into every adult on the planet. I do not know which adults bear the responsibility for losing my devotees. So all will suffer until that moment.

I worked tirelessly, creating horror in every beautiful thing I could see in my shrine. Every piece of knowledge that I had ever gained became fodder for creating the most horrible nightmares that any person had ever experienced.

I unleashed my work into the word, the nightmares so potent that sleep became impossible for those afflicted. It only took two nights for the prayers to flood in. For once, it was only adults praying. I sifted through each prayer, trying to determine if they were at fault for placing my children in the fields.

I sent word to the God of Harvest again, asking if the prayers of the children continued to reach them. I did not hear a word for quite some time, during which I eliminated many from the monstrous nightmares I had created. Half the adult population was still helpless against the visions I sent. I would not let up unless I was sure that they were not the cause.

They made sacrifices in my honor; pigs, dogs, sheep. I have no interest in blood sacrifice. I want trinkets that bring my joy. Beautiful objects. Children were so much better at offerings, they understood that beauty combats horror. Adults are disgusting, fighting back with more horror.

The response came, the children no longer prayed to the God of Harvest, they no longer worked in the fields. The sleep deprivation of half the adult population had halted production. So I stopped the nightmares. The prayers and sacrifices stopped as well.

I smiled as I returned to creating gentler nightmares for children once again. It warmed the space where my heart should be when I received my first few tiny prayers. A few days later I found a single flower laid on my shrine. I was happy again.

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[i-did-not-mean-to]

Flight

This is a prompt that I got my beloved friend @laurfilijames!

I hope you'll like this, my darling!

Words: 1,5 k

Warnings: attempted theft, knife-throwing, rule-breaking

Characters: Fíli x OC

Lórmi crept along the paddock as quietly as she could; none of the horses gave any indication of having noticed the intruder stalking around their sanctuary. She smiled sharply and extended a cautious hand to the closest beast – a glorious grey mare with a proud bearing – to gentle it and let it know that she had not come to harm any of them.

Bastards, she thought. If she had been blessed with the means to keep such a beautiful herd, she would not have left them alone and unattended for days on end.

It was the very negligence of the royal house that would ultimately allow her to get what she so desperately needed; secretly, she was not even sure that they’d notice that one of their purely decorative horses had gone missing until she had fled far away from this place.

All her life, she had lived in misery in the shadow of the sprawling castle of those who had survived the transition from the old world into a faster, more merciless one not only unscathed but gratified and elevated.

Year by year, as she had been neglected and mocked by the devoted people of her hometown, Lórmi had swallowed her envy and resentment until it had hardened into a solid knot of discontent in her churning stomach.

Of course, she had never learned how to operate one of those loud, stinking contraptions King Thorin loved to parade around the cold, grey streets running across the once unsullied lands like sickly veins.

Hence why she had decided that she’d take one of their horses, for she was an excellent rider, to flee the squalor of her existence and try to find a better life somewhere else; it had taken months of preparation – sneaking up the hill to let the animals grow accustomed to her presence and scent – until she had deemed herself ready.

Her bags were depressingly light despite containing all her earthly possessions and she already felt chilly in her thin coat; no, she reprimanded herself, she had made her choice and now, she had to go through with it.

A pang of guilt made her suck in a sharp breath; she had been forced to break the law more than once before – petty thievery and the odd con – to survive, but this was as close to grand theft as she’d ever dared come.

Undoubtedly, the pedigree and nobility of these horses settled their value far above her own, she thought, her lips curling in disgust. She’d simply have to avoid being caught.

Thus fortified in her resolution, she slowly eased the bolt out of its clasp and swung open the richly ornamented gate.

Fíli scowled at his uncle; he was sick and tired of sitting in board meetings that only ever discussed matters that were so glaringly obvious to him that he might have screamed in frustration if it hadn’t been for his impeccable manners.

He needed to get out of this stuffy house; he yearned to roam across the open fields freely as he had done as a lad.

Mahal’s grace, he was eternally thankful for the way his family had perdured and thrived through the ages – a strong dwarven realm true to its roots and traditions in an ever-changing world – but he also sometimes wished he could be like everybody else.

Fíli was a son and an heir first and foremost; he had no wife and very few friends outside of his immediate family. Often, he had wondered what would happen if he simply walked out of his prison to meet other people and listen to their stories, but – in the end – he had never truly dared disobey his uncle and mother so.

Today though, after hours of pointless discussions about an obviously vital irrigation system, he nodded curtly at Thorin and turned on his heels; his forceful steps took him right towards the pasture where his favourite horses were kept.

Fíli felt bad for not having had the time to keep them much company these last few weeks and decided that he would make it up by spending a few hours undisturbed in their presence; he would even turn off his phone to make sure no other ludicrous matter could come between him and his placid, pacifying friends.

How he had missed their gentle, soothing nudges and the wholesome smell of fresh hay.

As he reached the enclosure though, he stopped suddenly.

There was a woman in the pasture, gentling an uncharacteristically fiery mare – Kíli’s favourite to be exact – and whispering urgently at the beast.

“Hey Miss,” Fíli called sharply, “what do you think that you’re doing here? This is private property!”

If he had expected that she’d melt into mortified apologies, he had been much mistaken though for the dark-haired beauty turned her flashing greenish eyes on him with unveiled disdain.

“Hmmm,” she hummed and shrugged flippantly. “What are you going to do about that, princeling?”

Fire flared in Fíli’s blood as that impish challenge hit him; it was absurd to feel this elated by the blatant disrespect of some thieving wench, but he couldn’t deny that he felt instantly more alive.

His hand shot out, throwing one of the knives he kept in a hidden holster along his forearm with lethal precision; she jumped with a small shriek of shock as the sleeve of her dark green tunic was thus pinned to the wooden beam behind her.

“Let go of my brother’s horse, thief,” he enunciated threateningly, wondering if this would be enough to make her flee. He was sure that – if he was to pursue her – he would find it rather easy to recognise that unusually feisty lady even in a crowd of a thousand, so running away would not even benefit her as much as she might have thought it would.

Lórmi had quickly regained her cool though and, prying the throwing knife out of the plank, balanced the blade meditatively on the back of her narrow, pale hand.

As Fíli drew nearer, she stepped back elegantly, dodging the knives he kept throwing into her general direction but never straight at her.

At one point, watching her fluid, graceful movements, he started wondering whether it was a good idea to arm a potentially lethal opponent, but the mysterious would-be-horse-thief merely smiled enigmatically at him as she danced across the paddock without so much as startling a single mount.

“What do you need the horse for?” he then asked, impressed despite his better knowledge by the fierce determination in those emerald eyes; he had never met a single lady who could move as if she floated across the green grass. She was evidently one with her surroundings, weaving in and out of focus effortlessly, and he envied her for the air of rebellious freedom that surrounded her lithe form.

“To get as far away from here as possible,” she spat.

Just in that moment, his own horse – a wickedly intelligent bay mare only recently returned after a worrisome injury – sidestepped, blocking the woman’s path, and allowing Fíli to grab her by the wrist.

“And what, may I ask, is your name?” he murmured into her ear.

“As if I’d tell you,” she jeered but her eyes flickered nervously; she was caught and apprehensive of what he’d do to her.

“Well, this one is my brother’s favourite,” Fíli went on, feigning regret. “So, I am sorry to say that you can’t have her. None of the beasts; I love them too much to be parted from them.”

“You’ve not been here for weeks,” she hissed accusingly and was surprised to see guilt and genuine sadness dull the humorous twinkle in his ocean blue eyes. He was a handsome man – strong and sturdy – and she remembered how all the girls in her village were outspokenly in love with the charming prince.

At that undignified thought, Lórmi scowled once more, snarling at the man whose thick fingers were wrapped inexorably around her arm.

“I’ll keep my knives and my horses,” Fíli insisted adamantly. Then, with a boyish smirk that made her jaw drop somewhat, he added that he did not feel the same connection to his uncle’s cars.

“I do not know how to operate these things,” she admitted, looking at him defiantly, daring him to mock her for her ignorance; she was – after all – still holding a good many sharp blades and she was standing close enough to him to do some real damage.

“I do,” Fíli whispered in the throes of sudden inspiration. “Let’s leave this place. Let’s go right now.”

It was a fever dream, he knew, and come the morning, he would have to be back where he belonged but for this one night, he would be the man he dreamed of being and he’d take this wild, fey creature destiny had thrown at him for a spin.

“You won’t hand me over to the police?” Lórmi gasped, so astonished that she let him pry his weapons out of her numb fingers without protesting.

“No,” Fíli grinned. “If you do me the same courtesy. Come now, Thorin will still be busy, and I know where he keeps his keys. How do you feel about champagne?”

So, this is yet another January Trope Roulette ficlet from me @fellowshipofthefics!

Lots of love to all of you!

@laurfilijames I love and admire you and I hope you can find something nice in this little ficlet!

[sattabossmatka]

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[ailogomakerr]

Title: Design Queens: Legendary Women Behind Iconic Logos (A Tribute for Women’s History Month)

In the world of design and branding, particular logos often stand out among the sea of visual representations out there as it perfectly embodies certain significance of a particular emblem and serves as a reflection of innovation and empowerment. Standing behind these iconic emblems etched profound stories of women that dared to step out and break through barriers to pave women’s place in design history. In light of celebrating Women’s History Month, let us shed a light to the ones who have shaped the visual landscape of logo design into existence and paved the road to be utilized by generations to come! Let’s see how these iconic women reached for the stars and learn from them!

In the realm of creativity, these women stood on business and knew what needed to get done. To serve as backbones in defying societal norms and defy limitations. Their unmatched talent broke ceilings within the industry which made them all the more iconic and commendable today. Divulging into their story is not only for the sake of learning their artistic brilliance but also drawing inspiration with their resilience and unparalleled commitment to what they are creating.

Let’s honor the queens of design that left an irreparable mark to the design industry, all while celebrating and empowering the potential of creativity and their impact to the world, even outside of design. Together let’s continue on empowering and inspiring the future generation in the design industry. Forging creativity that goes way above and beyond!

To pay homage to these iconic personas, let us not forget the important resources and platforms that continue to uphold the sense of creativity and empowerment like online AI tools. For instance, this team is devoted to giving designers convenience and tools to crack open the potential and vision they draw up inside their heads and shape their designs into existence. Along with these iconic women, our platform stands as a emblem of inspiration that offers space for creativity that exceeds ceilings! Head on over to Ailogomakerr.com and start your innovation with a head start!

Carolyn Davidson The Swoosh of Empowerment

Carolyn Davidson’s story is all about integrity and perseverance. As the generator of the legendary Nike swoosh, this woman in the design field faced several challenges and problems along the way, she persisted nonetheless. Continuously believing in her vision and the power of her creativity. Carolyn’s journey is an inspiration to the strength of girl spirit and the vitality of determination in the face of adversity. Her vision inspires everyone to never give up our dreams, regardless of the hindrance we might face along the way.

Ruth Cedar’s Empowering Innovation at Google

The lady behind the emblematic Google logo echoes the spirit of empowerment and uniqueness! The emblem was crafted by none other than Ruth Cedar. Beyond her contributions in the tech and design industry, Cedar has been quite vocal and loud with her advocacy for gender equality. She has spearheaded initiatives for diversity within the field. Her adventure is a living proof that true empowerment comes from breaking barriers and embracing diversity in all its forms. Paving the way for women that aspire to be in the field of STEM.

Coco Chanel A Visionary Icon of Empowerment Through Fashion

As iconic as she is within the industry, Coco Chanel’s work goes beyond the realm of fashion. Her brand is the emblem of independence, elegance and empowerment. As the founder of the emblematic brand, Chanel transformed the way people carry and dress themselves. The unique style she influenced challenged societal norms and redefined the world’s notion of femininity. Apart from her take in the fashion industry, Chanel is an advocate for women’s rights and economic independence. Her classic design is a nod to her want for each woman’s self-expression and it inspires everyone to embrace their unique selves.

Marina Willer Outstanding Vision of Tate

Marina Willer’s influence goes above and beyond the design industry if you look into her utmost commitment to social change and cultural awareness. As the brains behind the emblematic Tate emblem, Willer’s unmatched work is the epitome of inclusivity and diversity. Her work and unyielding passion for art and culture has led her to look into other themes of identity and belonging, all evident in her creative works. Her story of success is a good reminder that art has its way in transcending boundaries to unite people.

Louise Fili Illuminating Brilliance at Tiffany & Co.

Louise Fili’s unwavering talent for design is at par only by her dedication to empowering the next generations of women in the creative industry. Being the creative persona behind Tiffany & Co. emblem, Fili’s work is a reflection of elegance and timelessness. Apart from her milestone in the design industry, Fili is also an educator. As a mentor, Fili shares her expertise and virtues with aspiring designers from all around the world. Her dedication for improving talent and promoting diversity accentuates the vitality of helping each other as we move through the road of success.

We recognize the creative genius, tenacity, resolve, and dedication to empowerment of these Design Queens as we celebrate them. Their experiences serve as a reminder that women have always been in the vanguard of invention and advancement, changing the world in ways that are both visible and invisible. Let us take a cue from these remarkable women as we honor Women’s History Month and keep advocating for empowerment, diversity, and equality in all spheres of life.This blog is from Ailogomakerr.com

[sublimeobservationarcade]

Religion: What Is It Good For?

This is an article for those who may have been indoctrinated by religious belief and yet, remain unsure of its veracity. Religion: What is it good for? The prevalence of schools, run by religions, perpetuate the ideas and stories underpinning their doctrines, despite centuries of scientific evidence discrediting them. I have spent a decade studying ancient history and examining the absence of historiographical evidence in any of the Christian, Islamic, and Jewish holy texts. These religions have survived via indoctrination of the young in their schools, churches, mosques, temples, and in family homes. If you tell children stories repeatedly and chant, sing, and pray words in rote learning- you are indoctrinating vulnerable minds to a particular way of thinking. People get upset about things like cults brainwashing their adherents but Christianity is a cult, as are all religions. Cult means ‘a system of religious veneration and devotion directed toward a particular figure or object.’

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The Religious Cult & Its Indoctrination of the Vulnerable

It matters little about whether the focus of the cult was an ideal person or thing because it is the system of veneration that takes over and assumes precedence in the life of the devotee. It is never actually about a question of whether God exists because religions only ever deal with human beings. They are run by human beings in the management of other human beings. It is a furphy to direct any inquiry about religion into the nature and existence of its object of veneration. God is a smokescreen for the very human operation occurring on the human plane. “The primary goal of sincere Christian parents is to pass on their faith, not help their child develop critical thinking to make a fully informed decision about religion.  Christians do not present their offspring with literature on all the religions of the world and make field trips to temples, churches and mosques to help them decide.  Yet in their theology they claim that “accepting Jesus” is a personal choice of free will and only those who reject God’s free gift of salvation will go to hell. The fact that parents go along with churches inducting toddlers into the belief system and programs for preverbal children are readily available only indicates the depth of internalized fear and anxiety that would ignore such a blatant contradiction.”  - (https://www.journeyfree.org/childhood-religious-indoctrination/)

Photo by Prabhala Raghuvir on Pexels.com Religious Belief & Systems Of Veneration Religion: What is it good for? It is very good at indoctrinating adherents into systems of belief and veneration. Belief or faith in a set of shared values can be a very powerful thing. Early Christianity is marked by martyrs, those who died for their faith, and these individuals are lauded via sainthoods. What is not taught at schools is that early Christians fought ferociously among themselves over the establishment of a doctrine. Those in the losing camp were often exiled and/or executed. The persecution of early Christians by Roman Emperors Like Trajan and Nero is well documented and widely dispersed online but the bitter in-fighting amid bishops and their competing doctrines is not well served by search engines like Google. Many people ignore the importance of history and are blind to the fact that whoever controls what gets written down sets the narrative for our understanding of our selves. Religions are organisations and there are always power struggles within them for the control over the group. Islam has been similarly riven with murderous battles for power and control of the narrative. When you think about all these adherents bowing down and following orders you can understand the power for those pulling the strings.

Photo by Luis Quintero on Pexels.com Religious History Matters Today, we live in a modern world and that all happened a long time ago. What is the relevance? Beliefs, like religions themselves, adapt to changing landscapes and circumstances. The Bible itself is split into two testaments, the old and the new. The Old Testament was lifted from Judaism to honour the fact that Jesus came from a Jewish background. Judaism is the much older religion and when creating a new religion it lends credence to fortify it with a well established holy text. Islam, being the youngest of the three Abrahamic religions, did the same by borrowing various prophets from the Judaic tradition and giving a few prominent Christians a go as well in their holy text. You could say that all three were created like an intricate web of lies or storytelling to fashion something powerful for the semitic cultures at the heart of them. You see, stories about all powerful supernatural entities backing a particular race of people like the Jews provides plenty of chutzpah or self-esteem. If the Jews had Jehovah, then, the Arabs needed their own Allah to even the score. Christianity was more of an adaptation of the Jewish cult, a morphing into a lite version without the nasty circumcision, which was grafted onto the Roman Empire and strongly appealed to freed slaves and women who had felt estranged from the traditional pagan state gods. The Roman Empire was in serious decline in the west and may have been clutching at straws when Constantine and his mother, Helena, converted. Religions have strong connections to kings and their armies. Constantine was fighting other contenders for his place as Augustus of the Roman Empire, which had been split into eastern and western dominions. Soldiers like to believe they have God on their side when risking their lives in battle. Indeed, any superstitious advantage can be telling on the battlefield, which was where Constantine, according to the story, picked up the cult of the Nazarene and ran with it to victory. This in a circuitous fashion was the beginning of what would become the Holy Roman Empire and eventually morph into the Roman Catholic Church. Obviously, it is much more complex than this but the outcome was the same. Constantinople, now Istanbul, would become the citadel at the heart of the Eastern Roman Empire. It would morph into the Byzantine Empire and the Orthodox Catholic Church or Eastern Orthodoxy remains the dominant form of Christianity in this neck of the woods. The ongoing split between east and west in our own times was first fortified by the divide within the Roman Empire and in the Christian world.

Religion: What is it good for? As we have seen it is good for organising people and corralling them into somewhat predictable behaviours. Kings are endowered with divine backing though the religious beliefs of their subjects. Soldiers are inspired to strive for victories in battles when believing that God is on their side. Even today, you will see army chaplains blessing infantry before they go into battle proffering that self-same message to the troops. Belief in God is heightened when death is sniffing around human beings. Old people often return to the church when their time is near. Religions like Christianity, Islam, and Judaism claim that their systems of belief and veneration help establish a strong moral code for adherents to follow. Thou shall not kill, or rather, murder, is the better translation for this commandment. It is important because there was plenty of killing going on in the Old Testament and God was on their side, apparently. Lots of smiting opponents. You have to remember that this text purports to document stuff that was happening in the Bronze Age, some 4 millennia ago. In actual fact, the accounts were written down centuries after and hazy recollections and exaggerated fictitious imaginings are served with plenty of sauce. Everything is imagined way bigger than the archaeological evidence tells us actually occurred. I suppose the thinking was if you are going to go to the trouble and expense of writing all this stuff down (and it was very expensive to do so back then) why not pull out all the stops and make it an extravaganza par excellence. Religions are like that, or at least those in the scribe department are, when it comes to recording history- don’t let the facts get in the way of a bloody good story.

I firmly believe that religions were the forerunners of the marketing department, where marketing got its start. Selling a belief in an all powerful but largely invisible supernatural entity was the brief for these early marketing executives within the church. Miracles are the perfect example of what the public eats up without any real scrutiny. I mean human beings really want this stuff to be true! These folks are desperate to believe in something magical and outside their normal terms of reference. People dying and coming back to life – when has that happened before. That’s okay he was super special. These were some of the things that the early church bitterly fought over and that bishops died over in the establishment of the accepted Christian doctrine. The Nicene Creed was one of several hard fought church agreements regarding their defining beliefs. It is where Jesus got bumped up to become the son of God, a heady posthumous promotion for the humble son of a carpenter. More recent historiographical research questions the very existence of Jesus of Nazareth and can find no incontrovertible proof of his historical existence. The documentation is all hearsay and there are no verifiable primary sources. So much of Christianity is made up, why not make up the figure at the centre of it. Cults are not really about the object of veneration but the systems of veneration and belief. Cult figures do not make themselves the object of attraction and veneration, it is always others. St Paul has driven the Christ cult through his life and writings more than most in the Christian tradition. Saul of Tarsus lived in the century after the life of the Jesus and claimed to have been involved in the murder of an early Christian prior to his own conversion. Paul or Saul was, obviously, an extremely passionate guy. “Cult of personality – exaggerated devotion to a charismatic political, religious, or other leader, often fomented by authoritarian figures or regimes as a means of maintaining their power.” - (https://dictionary.apa.org/cult-of-personality) Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler, Jim Jones, David Koresh, the Ayatollah Khomeini, Donald Trump, and the list could go on and on. Figureheads and leaders who inspire loyalty, even, in the face of conflicting evidence about their character and morality.

Causes and crusades are very attractive to human beings who want black and white certainties in their lives. The fact that most things fall under shades of grey and are almost always far more complex than first appear makes life more challenging. Religious doctrines seek to define moral codes on the basis of divine interpretation. Unfortunately, their Gods do not speak independently but only through the mouths of their followers and hierarchy of priests. There are no words of Jesus only stories purporting to recount his life written centuries after the fact by unknown sources. To decipher religions you have to cut through the assumptions built up over hundreds and hundreds of years. The fact that something is relatively antique does not automatically confer truth upon its messages or texts. It just makes it old in the temporal sense of modern humanity. Lies and made up stories are still lies and fictions whether they have been around for a relatively long time or not. If you tell a young child that a man who lived a long time ago was the son of God and went around performing miracles you are perpetuating a belief in untruths and a fairy tale. This immediately sets up a dichotomy between reality and this indoctrinated outlier from truth. The fact that nothing like this occurs in the life of the child is a confusing state of affairs. Belief in fantastic tales does not augur well for this individual going forward into their adult life. I have long posited that the relatively high levels of recreational drug use and addiction in the west is related to the confusion created in a society that is run on scientific evidential principles but, also, maintains belief in invisible supernatural entities as personal Gods. WTF?

Photo by Monstera on Pexels.com Every religion has its own take on what is moral and what is not. Every believer has their own idea about who their God is. The personal relationship with God makes for a fairly tenuous hold on established doctrines. God is a shifting conceptual entity capable of fitting in with human prejudices and cultural biases. White skinned American Christians believe in a blue eyed Jesus. Religion is a cultural phenomenon. In the modern world, people are picking the eyes out of the Christian canon – taking the palatable bits and ignoring the gristle and bone. It is a hodge podge of conditional love, condemnation, and obsolete advice from an arcane period. Confusion reigns supreme in the minds of many exposed to the Christian doctrine as children. The comfort factor may come into it for a while but beyond that the philosophical basis is questionable. Unless you are very backward looking it is hard to embrace the moral code of such a divisive institution. Women are condemned to secondary non-leadership roles. They, by virtue of their gender, are deemed unfit to minister to other human beings. This is in direct conflict with what is happening in the world in the twenty first century. Gay people and LGBTQI+ folk are abhorrent and wrong in every fibre of their being according to the established church in many denominations. The secular world is embracing the diversity inherent within communities and giving them opportunities instead of condemnation. Religion: What is it good for? The moral code is obviously outdated and inappropriate for a twenty first century world. If the church has had the right answers about morality, why have paedophiles flocked to their ranks as priests, brothers, and ministers? Why has this sexual abuse of innocent children flourished under the auspices of organised religion for hundreds of years? Why have supposedly celibate Catholic priests maintained secret liaisons with women, having families hidden under shadows of sin to the detriment of their lives? These are not the odd bad apple but substantial numbers of committed Christians involved in life long deviant practices. The exposure of these crimes have rocked the western world and irrevocably damaged these religions and religious orders. The fact that the church hierarchies hid these crimes to avoid public scrutiny has, ultimately, only made things worse. Hundreds of thousands of victims have had their lives destroyed and many have taken their own lives. Where was God in all this? There are only human beings when you stop believing in fairies and miracles. Wipe the lies from your eyes and see the human beings. They may be wearing collars and robes but beneath they are very much men with appetites of the flesh. Parents who encouraged their children into religion and religious schools have had their children sexually abused. They are complicit in facilitating these crimes. Encouraging children to believe in fairy tales and lies is putting them at risk of these foul perpetrators. The church has maintained the presence of these sexual predators, valuing their souls over the lives of their innocent victims.  Again and again, we have seen this to be true in dioceses around the globe. Priests and brothers moved around within the church to avoid public opprobrium and criminal charges. Why would God wish his children and his church to be so damaged and so tainted? There are only human beings.

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com Religion: What is it good for? There have been goodly human beings in service to their brothers and sisters under the banner of religions. There are plenty of good human beings serving their fellow and sister folk outside of religions too. Health professionals and carers, public servants, and charitable aid workers to name a few vocational callings. You do not need to carry around an idea of a non-human perfect being with you to be inspired to do good things in the world. Indeed, this is a strange motivation to have when loving and caring for human beings. It sounds like an ulterior motive. Spiritual egoism perhaps? Doing good things to earn the necessary points to get into heaven? Religions have always had a negotiating dimension to them – a deal between human and God. Quid pro quo. Christians pray to their God. Muslims pray 5 times a day. Jews are supposed to pray 3 times a day. What is all this praying about? Deal making with supernatural entities? Who is the witness? God or the devotee? Is God watching you, to see if you are doing the righteous thing? Who was watching the paedophile priests, ministers, and brothers? Who was watching out for the children sexually abused by someone in a position of trust within the community? Human beings must take responsibility for their actions. It is time to stop pretending that a benign personal God is looking down upon us. It is time to step out of the comfort zone of fairy tales and fictions. It is time to stand up and deal with your own moral compass. Put aside prayers to invisible supernatural entities. Speak to yourself and your own thoughts and actions. Step into the light and own your humanity. Be great, be vulnerable, be love, be yourself for God’s sake! Read the full article

[leggerefiore]

Hello again👉👈

I love the Darling Escape so they rant about it on Twitter AU

Can you imagine the adopted father someone else who is also extremely famous like Leon or Steven their fans are currently at war with Submas fandom.

That's shit will be all over the news lmao.

Or hear me out:

Immortal!Volo

Back story

Ingo and his darling got Hisuied before they got together and Volo fell for his darling . And the feelings were mutual until Spear pillar.

After decades of a lonely Immortal existence Volo finds them again wandering the streets with a kid in tow... maybe Almighty Sinnoh is forgiving him

Ingo recognizes him from his Hisuian life and he is confused.

Oh! Emmet knows him alright...from all the stories ingo's darling and him have told when they were both in Hisui five hundred years ago.

Emmet's out for blood

Volo

i think it cut you off, friend

i think they fanbase wars would be a sight to behold. there's so many famous people they could date in the pokemon world too. piers, nessa, wallace, ect. general public discourse with extreme misinformation included about what happened between s/o and the train twins.

though... Volo would be an interesting choice. He could definitely keep them safe with his talents as a trainer and all the knowledge he would have obtained throughout such a long lifespan. When he sees you again, deep, complex feelings arise. It's worsened with small boy clinging to you, identical to the Warden. Volo was well aware of how toxic the relationship that was had between you and Ingo. Even without his memories, there was frightening nature to him that sought to hold you away from the world in his cabin; to have you as his perfect little partner. Volo offered an escape from that, often busying himself with whatever you were doing in order to ward off the Warden. It didn't always work, but the blond at least served as deterrent.

Volo and you had a secret relationship, not wanting to stir up any drama between the clans, the Ginkgo Guild, and the clans. Everything being very hush-hush and only happening out in the fields or in the privacy of your home. It made him feel awful for using you, but his goals were his main drive in his life. Surely, you would accept a place at his side when he became a god. That was never to be, the shock and horror on your face when he revealed his intentions. You were merciless in cutting him down and running away back to Ingo. It crushed him. He had never felt such strong emotions before and, just like that, you were gone from him. The curse of eternal life was punishment for his actions, forced to walk this earth until it finally ended.

You, on the other hand, returned to Unova with Ingo. Your life immediately took a down-turn as you both landed directly in front of Emmet as he left the station. His panic by having both his partner and brother seemingly just appear before him sends him directly into hysterics. You are both rushed away to his apartment. Ingo is sat down on the couch, while you are immediately bound to the bed. Tearing up, you beg from him to uncuff you, but he just shakes his head. He isn't losing you a second time. Ingo finds himself inclined to agree with Emmet's decisions. Memories slowly return to you both and realise just how much better it would have been for you to remain in Hisui. Neither will ever let you go, too lost in their sick ideas of devotion and love, with obsession and possession tossed in for good measure.

It is only after you have your son, do you finally feel confident enough for an escape attempt. It's successful. Free at long last, you managed to get a boat ride to Sinnoh from the ports in Castelia. Why Sinnoh? Well, something poetic seemed heavy in the air about returning to the place. You scrape by there, living a quiet, boring life while raising your son to the best of your abilities. His interest in trains unsettles you, but he's not his father.

During an outing to the market, you take him with you. It's there a familiar man comes into your sight. Long, blond hair tied back into a bun with stormy grey eyes, an amicable smile that seeks to hide more; there is no doubt in your mind that Volo stands before you. Centuries into the future, your past lover existed with you once more. He seems shocked to see you, too. His exposed eye travelling to your son. "Ah, I see," is all he says. He moves to leave, but you grab onto his coat. Desperately, you ask him how he's been. No words need to be spoken: you are no longer with Ingo.

He knows this, of course, because of the desperate posts to find you and the boy all over the internet. The blond allows himself to walk with you to the store, a casual conversation settling between you two with discussions of what had been doing. Wandering, mostly, Volo claimed. By the end, when you were supposed to part, he asks you, "Do you need help?" You swallow nervously, eyes moving to the small boy who stares back up at you. You nod. Volo will right the wrong he committed by you.

It's a strange role Volo settles into, fatherhood. The boy adores him like one, certainly, desperate for another parent. The blond sees how much he resembles Ingo but ponders whether the boy even has a clue of his parentage. He supposes not, when he earns the title 'papa' with ease. You settle into an easy, equal relationship with Volo. The love never truly leaving him towards you. You feel much safer, knowing that Volo and his pokemon are around to chase off any unwanted attention. Your life feels complete, a loving boyfriend and a child to occupy your time and heart.

Of course, the dark shadowed that loomed over you was still refusing to leave. A trip to Jublife City with the two brought horror with it. The twins were visiting a museum there, an exhibition about the Wardens of the clans catching Ingo's attention. The older twin stares at you and his son lovingly and sadly, his heart desperate to reclaim what was lost. Emmet looks vicious, glare firmly affixed to the arm around your waist. Volo stared at them curiously. What would they do? Make such a scene in a populated area? It would not end well, especially with Volo's connection to a certain champion. A single phone call could land the two in a world of trouble. Of course, all the needed to do with get you and your son out of Sinnoh for their victory.

Ingo tells Emmet, in terror, that it's him. He's the one who ripped him and their partner from Unova. That was Volo who stood beside you with an affectionate display. Emmet felt violent. This scum had already hurt him so much, yet he sought to do more damage. It was hard to hold himself back with their son looked up at the blond and asked him who those 'weirdos' were. He called him dad. A knife couldn't pierce the tension that lay heavy in the air around the five of you.

[necarion]

Dystopian Agricultural Breadbasket World [Worldbuilding]

In most science fiction, the Breadbasket worlds are sprawling farmlands with sparse population, the better to not eat the food. However, with fusion and automated building technology, you can build incredibly dense urban farms and arcologies, support a population of tens of billions, and still produce tons of food.

Thus I introduce to you Agricola, a polluted factory world, where the high tech factory is plant production:

The world has 15 billion people, many of whom are poorly fed. The primary and driving focus of the entire planet is toward agricultural, and specifically flora, production.

Industry involves growing plants, yes. But also maintaining the farming arcologies, and the machines that do the work, and some of the basic production of chemicals needed for the hydroponics. And the scientific R&D people. And then there are the people who exist to support those workers, all the way down the chain.

This world is an unpleasant hellhole to live on due to all of the pollution in the environment, and due to the nearly complete wipeout of non-foodstuff native ecology.

But this world, with 15 billion people, produces enough food to sustain 200 billion people across the Confederation, of 14 different sapient species, as well as nearly a trillion pets and livestock.

The vast majority of food production occurs inside the arcologies. However, there is a form of “luxury natural” foodstuffs that are grown outside in natural light. There is essentially no difference here (the hydroponics stuff is often of better quality), but is more “natural” to these consumers. Thus a great deal of area that could be used for more ecologies has instead been devoted to the more lucrative luxury markets, to the detriment of people who might like to spread out.

This pollution is not entirely what you’d expect. First and foremost, the atmosphere has far too much oxygen, meaning there are frequent fires on the vast planes of fields. Scrubbers take as much of this out of the atmosphere near the fields as possible, but they don’t really care about ash in the city. But the high O2 content also means that people (a) have more energy and focus to do their work, but (b) age faster due to oxidation of their tissues. They effectively are “burning” at the molecular level. The high oxygen also supercharges the pests, allowing the rapid evolution of mega-bugs, as existed on prehistoric Earth (recently, plagues of decimeter-long locusts have become a problem).

There is low CO2, meaning that there is too little greenhouse effect, naturally. So the engineers decided to start producing CFCs, which are highly efficient greenhouse gases. As a bonus, they’ve wiped out the entirety of the polar ozone layer, to the benefit of plants that photosynthesize on UV light. So this world is cold, with energy devoted to melting away encroaching glaciers, and people have just adapted to near constant sunburn

Because there is too much agriculture for the available water supply, and due to preservation of certain glaciers as buffer water, most of the water comes from desalination using the abundant energy. But the waste hypersalinated water is dumped right back into the ocean, leaving certain areas hypersalinated. This has wiped out all the local fish and coral populations. But the tidal flats are used to extract micronutrients and salts for hydroponic production. And also used to grow plants for non-human populations that thrive on “salt-kale”.

Early on, there was a debate about whether the oceans should be preserved for fish production. But it was decided that a nearby ocean planet had such a massive comparative advantage there that there was no point, and the worlds decided to specialize. Therefore, no effort was made, at all, on Agricola to preserve the native ecology of the oceans.

The oceans are now devoted entirely to (a) water extraction, (b) deuterium extraction, (c) floating farms, (d) algae production. The oceans are regularly seeded with micronutrients that cause algal blooms of nutritious and specially engineered algaes, to the exclusion of anything else in the sea.

Some of these algaes are also toxic to humans, but provide good nutrients for other species. A few penned areas also produce biomolecules that are useful in the hydroponics industry.

Although the planet runs on entirely renewable energy, such as fusion, wind, solar, microwave beaming (received over the cities to protect the plants, which only occasionally causes internal tissue damage in the lower urban canyons (convenient microwave waveguides)), there is an extensive carbon extraction industry. This is because, as Agricola ships plants to other worlds, it is losing native carbon. (Oxygen and hydrogen too, but that can be replenished easily by occasionally crashing ice comets).

Thus there are parts of the land that have been ravaged by strip coal mining (producing intense slag runoffs, that are conducive to growing certain extremophile plants for species that metabolize high iron and sulfur-content foods. (A few spots have had uranium and thorium strip mining as well, just to provide the nutrients for a particular species from a radioactive planet). There are multiple spots where an arcology has been built over a river that glows a faint green in the night, from all the mining byproducts and trace uranium. The water enters the city and returns out the other side just brown.  Still toxic to drink, but no longer productive to extract from. In other places, there is a river delta that is a bright orange red with blue stripes, used for xeno-luxury farming

But the carbon is not used for energy. There are no coal power plants, nor natural gas. Instead the material is fed through systems that burn it as efficiently as possible and trap particulates that could harm the plants. (Acid rain is bad for the growth business. Nobody cares about the people, though)

Some is converted directly into carbon compounds that can be used in agriculture, but for most of it, it’s just easier to burn and let the plants sort it out. As carbon has been getting scarcer, there are discussions about reducing the free burning of “fossil fuels” (an archaic term) because it’s so much more efficient to just scatter it on the fields or burn it locally and pipe it into the arcologies. Thus, recently, a lot of carbon capture has been developed, to be in parallel with the carbon burning sites. Create the CO2 by burning fossil fuels and then capture it and use it efficiently.

There has been a recent debate about whether to start nuclear fission, in order to produce plants with high 127Cesium for a newly discovered alien race. Thus far there has been resistance, because an accident could poison all the food on the planet. Therefore fission is still banned on the planet, even though it could feasibly occur in certain arcologies, if the right safeguards are taken.

But everybody has heard the stories from another agricultural world, where this was tried and the world became dangerously radioactive. The entire world had to be retooled for different sorts of farming, and 60% of the population died of radiation poisoning in the first decade alone. Not taht they mattered much. And the ones who survived provided the engineers with the genomes to protect people from radiation disasters. The food shortages and riots on Capitol were...unfortunate...but were quickly brought under control. No more than 5 billion people died, which was deemed acceptable. And now the Confederation has a new member, that is dependent on their new breadbasket world.

This world is free to play around in. I do request that you tag me so I can see what you’ve written, and give a small acknowledgment. But otherwise, have fun!

[thetruearchmagos]

Well-

Okay, so, I promised myself I'd take it easy until I finished some really damn annoying write ups, so I'll keep this brief. There's so much here that I'd just love to get into detail with, but I'd like to focus on this 'Private VS Corporal' thing, and the question of 'rank', 'seniority', and 'skill'.

In short, I think you've managed to manifest a very real question that exists in nearly every modern military. So, from a worldbuilding standpoint, good job!

Basically, while it might seem tempting to view the hierarchy of 'Rank' - from lowly 'Private' to Sergeant Majors and from there to the Officer Corps - as the one and only way to signal someone's 'experience' or 'skill', I'd argue that doing so can be limiting, and doesn't account for the difference between seniority and leadership, vs seniority and skill.

Take the rank of Corporal, for example, and its immediate junior rank of Lance Corporal. First and foremost, being promoted up the ranks here denotes time spent in service, and the resulting experience these individuals would have accumulated.

The question is, what exactly to do with that experience.

Probably the easiest 'path' to understand is that of 'command', where increasingly senior personnel exercise direct leadership over less experienced subordinates. To use a 'contemporary-inspired' example, think of a Platoon commanded by a Lieutenant*, made up of Squads led by Sergeants, made up of Teams led by Corporals. Here, giving able service for long enough gets you kicked upstairs, where your experience is put to use leading and training your juniors.

Then, we have a 'second' path. Here, time in service won't necessarily convert into increased responsibilities as a leader. Instead, a military might find it useful to grant its long serving personnel options beyond simply climbing the ranks or retiring early. Instead, they get the chance to specialise, to learn, to get really bloody good at whatever skill it is that they possess, and at the same time to have their experience and seniority recognised and rewarded, all without having to take on the burdens of leadership and command.

I think the best examples of this second 'path' can be found in the United States Army. There, a real distinction is made within the 'enlisted personnel' ranks between Non-Commissioned Officers, who exercise leadership duties, and various grades of Specialists, whose experience manifested in technical expertise within their field. At the highest end of seniority on this 'skills' career path is the 'Warrant Officer', an entirely distinct grade from the 'usual' Enlisted or Commissioned Officers who, for the most part, exist as dedicated subject matter experts with decades of accumulated experience and comparatively limited duties as leaders and commanders.

Now, not to be too pushy, but I think this sorta thing is a set up very well suited for military-related Settings which feature the sorta magic you have, for the same reasons it exists in real life. As the equipment and methods of militaries become even more complicated, personnel need to be able to continuously hone their skills in their assigned fields, and systems end up being created which allow people to do so without being pushed to take on leadership roles they might not want. Magic, which in many settings often rewards those who devote their lives to it, thus falls in the same vein as, say, radio and communications technicians, equipment maintainers, and the dozens of other trades which are so vital to the efficient running of a modern(ish) military.

So, uh...... yeah!

------

*The relationship between experience, seniority, and command kinda gets turned upside down when you bring in the most junior rank of Officer, but that... that, is a long story.

Distraction!

Worldbuilding, because I have nothing else to live for. You've mentioned Alyss's role in the military before, any new ideas on that front? Or, a question I might be able to help with? ^^

Ok, so, this is more of a faint, general idea, but I have been wrestling with how to integrate fire witches more fully into the military/infantry and I am struggling. I basically want to flesh out what she did and how it affected her, but I keep coming up with non-infantry ideas. I have the idea of fire mages and water mages working in pairs on machinery like early tanks, in trains, as supply chain protection, or working as anti-tank as well. Maybe fire witches are so common that they just end up in the rank and file, but Alyss is also educated and not unintelligent, so I feel she wouldn't just be a private, so maybe a corporal, which I think is the next rank up, generally?

[missmungoe]

What’s your idea about Makino’s little ring in the cover of chapter 806?

So I’m not sure if you’re asking me what I think the ring means (in which case, see: https://archiveofourown.org/series/581281), or if this is a prompt, but I don’t think the ring is an accidental detail, and as she had a child during the timeskip, it’s not unreasonable to assume it’s a wedding ring. I have >1.6 million words written about who I hope wears the matching one, but until “that man’s” identity is confirmed, it’s just a tantalising possibility, alas!

But even if the ring doesn’t mean what I hope it does, it doesn’t need to for my imagination to make it so, and just in case this was a writing prompt, here’s a little something I’ve been tinkering with, originally in answer to a completely different prompt, but since they went well together, I combined them:

The thing with feathers, that perches in the soul // Shanks x Makino; rated M (part 1/?)

“Take it off?”

Surprise lifted her voice, her laugh small and startled, but then she’d been caught off guard by the request, made out of the blue one morning.

The sun was taking its time, rising from its slumber with a lazy stretch across her floors, a slight chill still touching the salt air where she’d thrown the windows open. A thick cover of sea mist draped heavily over the water, soft as chiffon where it crept up the shoreline to the foundations of her bar; a protective shroud veiling her little corner of the world, half-forgotten by the rest.

Shanks had been reading the paper while she got ready to open, a routine they’d created, bit by bit over the months he’d stayed, communicated in touches and gestures―the chairs taken down from the tables while she had her back turned; a cup of coffee placed by his elbow before he could request it―no words needed between them in this first, tender hour, and so she’d been startled when he’d spoken.

She considered him across the counter, the glass she’d been polishing cupped idly between her hands. The look on his face was unusually serious, which told her what he had in mind wasn’t roleplay. Not the kind she would have expected him to suggest, anyway.

Unease crept with a shiver up her back, and she had an inkling already before Shanks said, evenly, “If anyone shows up, I want you to take your ring off. And I’m not talking about Garp, although this is probably the only time he’d agree with me.”

“But I don’t want to take it off,” Makino said, tucking her fingers around the hand that wore it, as though that could somehow keep it there.

She saw his eyes going to it, before they lifted to hers, the barest furrow between his brows betraying a rare tension. “It would be safer.”

“But who’s going to make the connection? It’s not like it has ‘property of Red-Haired Shanks’ inscribed on it.”

His lips didn’t even quirk, which was so jarring her own smile fell. She knew him so well, it was only rarely that he ever responded in a way she didn’t expect, but it was becoming clear to her now that whatever was on his mind, it couldn’t be smoothed over with jokes.

She took in his face, his handsome features arranged in a look she wasn’t used to seeing, a hardness about him that didn’t belong here, on her gentle shores―that belonged to a different sea, one that asked different things of him, things she couldn’t ask, and she hated it now for finding him here, and for infringing on her peace as she’d made it.

Her eyes darted to the paper, open on the counter, wondering if something in it had inspired this change, but seeing the way he looked at her, behind the counter that was the only protection she’d ever needed, Makino knew it wasn’t anything in the news, but something they’d both known had been coming for a while. Ever since he’d come back, it had waited in the wings, a silent patron she could ignore most days, too happy to pay it any mind, but there was no ignoring it now that he’d brought it up.

They’d been holding off discussing his departure, even as she’d known it was bound to catch up with them eventually. But while she’d made her peace with him leaving, knowing he’d come back, the thought of giving up the tangible reminder she had of that promise met resistance now.

She’d spent ten years hinging her hopes on nothing but her memories, trying to convince herself she hadn’t imagined the promise he’d made her. Now they were married, and there was more than words binding them, and even the sea had to respect these vows, spoken on the deck of his ship, no church or mortal court to give their blessing, only that bottomless cathedral, and the ancient authority that had witnessed their union.

She felt the metal of her wedding band, warmed by her fingers. Their rings had been wrought from the chain of the anchor that had first dropped in her port twelve years ago, but it wasn’t sentimental value that made her react so fiercely now, at the thought of parting with it.

She didn’t want to take it off―to pretend she hadn’t made that vow, or that the last two years hadn’t happened. The ring was a declaration of what she was, the only way she could declare it, when the world couldn’t know she existed. She refused to give that up, and to pretend she was anything less than she was, even just for show.

“It’s not like there’s any evidence tracing back to you,” Makino said, when he hadn’t spoken. “We don’t have a marriage certificate in the records that they can dig up.” Ben had been the one to marry them; an old sailor’s tradition, shamelessly borrowed with a pirate’s cheerful contempt of the law; the flowers in her hair new as snow, and the sea their something blue. Unconventional by most standards, but she couldn’t have imagined it any other way.

Shanks wasn’t budging. “It’s just safer if people believe you’re unmarried.”

“The whole village was at our wedding, Shanks. Half of them got blackout drunk, but I think they remember.” Her own memories were blurry at best, flowers crumbling under her bare feet, and laughing as he spun her, a wedding shanty that put their vows to shame, and laughter she could still feel in the bottom of her stomach.

The following hangover, though; that she remembered.

Still no smile, but then she heard how her attempted humour faltered, buckling under his seriousness. She didn’t like what it made of his face; the one she only knew as smiling.

“Not the village,” Shanks said, with a look and a pitch that said he knew she was being obstinate, and that left her breath feeling a little faint. He didn’t use that tone with her often, at least outside of more intimate settings, and she didn’t like it being invoked here, and in this way.

Shifting her weight, she squared her shoulders, all of her five feet brandished against his six and more, although even seated, it didn’t give her an advantage, but she saw the way his brow furrowed, as she said, gently firm, “I’m not taking it off.”

She didn’t know if the look on his face was affection or exasperation. “Can’t you just agree with me on this?”

“No.”

“Makino―”

“If anyone asks, I’ll just say my husband is out working the fields,” she said. “What are they going to do, go out and check? Because I can ask one of the farmers to put up a scarecrow by one of the ploughs.”

Her stubborn levity made no headway, his hardened features untouched, but she didn’t give in, her chin lifted as she stared him down across the countertop.

Then with a sigh, “You’d at least have to pick a believable lie,” Shanks relented, after enduring a full thirty seconds of her eyes. His look softened a bit. “And make it a good-looking scarecrow.”

“It could be asleep at the plough,” Makino suggested. “If we’re going for accuracy.” Her smile trembled, before it fell when he didn’t return it.

It was hard to swallow past the knot in her throat, and she heard it in her voice when she said, “I’ll tell them you’re out fishing.”

“And if they stick around and I never come in?”

“I’ll tell them I hope the sea king didn’t get you?”

This time she couldn’t even attempt a smile, and when his expression still didn’t change, she said, without teasing, “Then I’ll tell them you’re in Goa Port picking up a shipment of spirits. You’re a barkeep, but it’s hard getting orders delivered here. It’s a long way to Goa, too. You’ll be gone until tomorrow, at the earliest.”

“And if they come back and I’m still not around?”

She might have made another suggestion, but recognised from the stubborn set of his jaw that he wasn’t backing down.

His face changed then, something like regret chasing across it, there before it was gone, and she didn’t understand why before Shanks said, with a heaviness that held an almost portentous note, “Say that you’re a widow.”

She was surprised by the forcefulness of her own reaction.

“No.”

He sighed. “Makino―”

“No,” she repeated, fiercely. “I won’t.”

She saw that she wasn’t the only one surprised by her reaction. And she didn’t even know why it hit her so hard. She couldn’t claim to be particularly superstitious. Her mother had been too practical for superstition, but she’d also respected the sea; they all did here, who lived their lives beside it. It was a more pragmatic relationship than a sailor might devote himself to, which often had an air of fancy about it, but even if they didn’t read omens from the sky or pray to any gods, there was an implicit understanding among them that you didn’t challenge those forces lightly. They were thankful for fair weather and a good catch, but they didn’t invoke the Fates here, or seek to challenge them.

But the man seated across the counter from her had the authority to do that; the one who’d carved a place for himself on a sea most never lived to sail, one of few who could claim the kind of power it took to challenge that old authority.

She wasn’t like him. She knew what was owed; a debt she’d been paying for twelve years, for wanting him. She didn’t want to invoke that word, the fate that was all too common for those who gave their hearts to sailors, in case she invoked prophecy along with it.

Putting away the glass, Makino pressed her palms over the polished countertop. She saw how they shook, and the still-new gleam of her wedding ring where it circled her finger, but then she hadn’t been wearing it long enough for it to get scratches.

She didn’t want that to be their marriage, taken off when the going got tough, forever keeping its shiny new exterior. She wanted it to show signs of wear, of work, and love―of actually being a marriage, and not just when it was convenient, or safe.

“I’m your wife,” she said gently, although the fervour behind it refused to bend against her own fears. “I want to be your wife, even if I’m here and you’re not―”

The words faltered on her tongue, but then there was a reason she’d been avoiding thinking about him leaving.

Shanks’ look softened, some of the tension in his brow yielding as he said, understanding, “The ring isn’t what makes you my wife.”

“I know that,” Makino said softly. Turning her hand, she gripped his fingers. He wore his ring now, but she knew he wouldn’t take the risk when he left. But she understood that, even if part of her rebelled against doing the same. “It’s not like I don’t understand where you’re coming from. I know it’s a risk. What I’m saying is that I’m willing to take it.” To be what she was, she’d accept the danger that came with it. That was her marriage vows. Not empty platitudes about sickness and health, only the simple, unembellished truth.

Shanks said nothing, his gaze on their hands, but the look in his eyes like he wasn’t seeing a ring but a shackle, and a different kind of prophecy than the one she feared.

She decided to try a different tactic.

“If pretending is what you want me to do, I could always get someone from Dadan’s family to stand in as my husband,” Makino said, and saw him look up, the slightest tightening at the corners of his eyes betraying his otherwise unreadable expression.

Turning his hand over between her own, she traced the sword-callouses in his palm, the softer pads of her fingers catching against the rougher skin. “Magra, maybe,” she continued, and watched the barest flex of his fingers. “I’ve heard he’s quite handy. We could tell people we met when he helped me carry a keg from the storeroom.” Lifting her eyes found him watching her, but she only met his gaze calmly, as she asked him, “What do you think? Would he make me a good stand-in husband?”

His eyes held hers, her gentle challenge noted, the look in them somewhere between knowing and warning, and this time it sent an entirely different kind of shiver racing up her spine.

Undeterred, she lowered her eyes to their hands, smoothing her thumb over his knuckles, pale under his sun-darkened skin. “Maybe he could help me out around the bar. To keep up appearances.”

Flicking her eyes up to his, she went in for the kill. “He could even stay in the guest room. Just to be safe.”

His whole look darkened, and her stomach did a thrilling little flip.

“Don’t like that idea, hmm?” she asked, and tried to pretend her voice didn’t shiver, but it was hard when he was looking at her like that. “Me with someone else.” She trailed her fingertips across the back of his hand, her own so small she couldn’t even cover half of it with all her fingers splayed. “A different man in my house.” A fleeting caress to his wrist felt the tendons in his forearm, pulled taut with a strain that left her feeling suddenly short of breath, even as she said, demure, “And my pantry.”

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, wife.”

The pitch of his voice had goosebumps pebbling her flesh, his naturally deep timbre touched with a note of warning that stirred something deep within her, although she couldn’t tell which was the fiercer feeling, desire or relief, finding her cheek finally parried with something other than that hard expression that couldn’t be coaxed into yielding, no matter how gentle her touches.

“Well,” Makino said, and even teasing, the sincerity was real when she told him softly, her small hand gripping his, mapped with the evidence of his life, their marriage included, “I don’t mind a little danger.”

Then, this time without teasing, “I married you,” she said, and didn’t care that her voice trembled now. She wasn’t hiding her feelings. “And I’ll be careful, but I won’t hide what I am, or pretend that I’m something else. Or someone else’s.”

Bearing the weight of his eyes, she didn’t shy away from them, or from the truth as she spoke it.

“I’m yours,” she told him, fiercely, and felt the way his hand tightened under hers. “And if they come here and they already know about me, nothing I say or do will change their minds. The ring won’t matter. And there are things I can’t hide that easily.”

She glanced towards the crib behind the counter; the one they’d fashioned out of an old barrel of their captain’s favourite whiskey. She’d found the gesture both characteristically inappropriate and undeniably perfect, but then she’d spent her first years sleeping in a liquor crate while her mother worked. And their child wasn’t just the son of a pirate; he was the son of a barmaid, too.

She saw Shanks’ gaze going to it, and the baby sleeping within. And it was more than her lack of protection that weighed on him, she knew, but as long as he was who he was, there would be a risk in being associated with him. Even retiring wouldn’t change what he’d been. Not in the eyes of the current Fleet Admiral, anyway.

And since it wasn’t something either of them could change, she was determined to make the best of the situation, but then she was good at that.

She thought it was time to remind him just how good.

It was still a little while before they were due to open, and smiling, “You could always help me practice my ruse,” Makino suggested, and saw his brows lifting, bemusement at what she had planned easing some of the tension from his features.

Leaning across the counter, she trailed her fingers along his wrist, following the contours of his arm, and the distracting tautness of corded muscle under her fingertips, “My husband isn’t here, officer,” she said, looking up at him through her lashes. “It’s just me: a very lonely barmaid with a very spacious pantry.”

Her face fell when he pinched his lips, before his grin shattered his whole composure, and, “Wait,” she said, drawing back to stutter, “That sounded better in my head. What I meant was that―”

A broad hand reached around the back of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss that stole what she’d been about to say, and muffling her startled laugh, although his own was quick to follow, deep and rough where it rose from his chest, the kiss breaking when he couldn’t contain his grin.

Drawing back enough to look at her, he sighed, rough fingers slipping from her neck to tuck her hair behind her ear. “God, you’re terrible at this,” Shanks said, with such a fierce affection, her heart constricted. “Completely unconvincing.”

Balancing on her toes, the edge of the counter dug into her ribs, but the discomfort was fleeting and unimportant. Her smile trembled on her mouth, inches from his, his beard brushing her jaw as she murmured, “I know.”

Closing her eyes, she kissed him softly, her hands cupping his face, no pretence this time, only the honest truth, offered with all of herself, the only way she knew how.

He’d moved before she could react, the kiss breaking only for a second, and she’d barely had time to catch her breath when his mouth claimed hers again, his arm wrapping around her as he pushed her back towards the storeroom, and the door where it sat ajar.

They stumbled over the doorstep, fumbling between sloppy kisses, like they were in that moment younger people with less to lose, her little laughing shriek muffled against his lips when he hoisted her up onto the shelf where her ledger lay open, and she couldn’t contain her giggles even as he shushed her through grinning kisses, knowing from experience how little it took to rouse a three-month old baby but unable to help herself, something wild and reckless pushing like wings against her ribcage, refusing to stay hidden, wanting out, fearless in its desire, and its will to claim it.

They hadn’t brought a lantern, and the light hadn’t reached this far into her bar, the storeroom cool and dark and the heavy shelves keeping her spirits and secrets, the crates digging into her back as he pinned her to them.

“This is very rakish behaviour for a married woman,” Shanks rumbled, releasing her from the kiss, her breath hitching when his hand wrapped around her thigh, pushing her skirt out of the way. “Someone might mistake you for a pirate.”

Makino hummed, finding her balance on the shelf, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck as she swung her legs, her boots and stockings impishly bared, and saw how it drew his eyes, before she eased them apart, her smile small and demure, and utterly unconvincing. “Imagine that.”

His eyes held her, his features darkened by the shadows of her pantry, making his scars look more pronounced, but the look beneath was gentle as Shanks touched his brow to hers. His thumb traced the hem of her stocking, and the glimpse of bare skin beneath her skirt where he’d pushed it up.

The feeling from before seized her, that fearless thing, like wings waiting under her skin. And maybe it was easy to be brave here, within the walls of her pantry where it felt like nothing could touch them, but even knowing differently didn’t change what she felt, as Makino told him, soft, “Ask me again.”

His look changed, a sudden intensity in it that made her glad she was sitting, but she didn’t look away, accepting the full weight of the truth behind it, unfearing of what it meant to be loved like that, and by someone like him.

Bending his head, his mouth covered hers firmly, stuttering her breath with a gasp, a command behind it that left her hands shaking where she’d curled them around his neck, and if she’d had any more clever remarks prepared about stand-in husbands or navy officers, they fled her mind now as she melted.

The big hand around her thigh tightened its grip, his wedding ring digging into her skin, as though he could imprint something that couldn’t be taken off or hidden, that was written on her skin, on her soul, and if she could have formed the words, she might have told him he already had, but they were lost when his hand slid up her thigh to part her legs, finding her with a shuddering breath that she felt in the way it left him.

And this was another unspoken language they’d made, communicated in touches―her legs parting to him in welcome, and his hand pausing, his fingers already half inside her, asking; her breath hitching as she lifted herself up to kiss him deeper, her hands threading through his hair as she gave herself, a silent affirmation that told him to take―no words needed as he entered her, carefully even if it had been months since their son, but she appreciated the restraint he showed, even with all of him unravelling under her hands, that iron-clad control included.

Her legs wrapping around his waist pulled him deeper, her gasp stuttering with a faint little plea as he filled her to her limit. And if she hoped he’d leave something in her it was a private thought, begged with her breaths as she took him inside her, each thrust a little harder, the bottles stirring in their crates as the shelf creaked, a steady rhythm growing in tandem with her gasps.

Her hands left his jaw, fumbling with the front of her stays as she slipped loose the little hooks until it popped open, and he was already reaching for her, his fingers a shock of warmth where they slipped past the low cut of her blouse to cup one of her breasts, tiny in his hand, his sword-calluses rough where he caressed it, and her shivering moan was well received, from the deeper groan that left him, as Shanks slowed his pace, touching her as he took her, until the shelves were rattling.

Bending down, he kissed her chest, his lips seeking the wide valley between her breasts, her flushed skin pearling with sweat. His beard scuffed her breast as he pulled it free, and she gasped, arching against the shelf as he curled his tongue around a painfully sensitive nipple, her lips parting over his name where it left her in a whimper.

He came like that, her skirt shoved up her hips and her silk stockings slipping down her legs, spread to him where she sat, the pages of her ledger crumpled and damp beneath her; the stereotype of the lascivious tavern wench, but she embraced it now, shockingly indulgent in her own lewdness, watching him as he finished with deep, pulsing shudders, a groan leaving him that had her toes curling in her boots.

His eyes slitted open, the grey steel muted, but even then his full attention was arresting; a single look enough to dismiss everything else in the world, as though she was the only thing in it.

She watched as they swept across her, her breasts bared to the air and her thighs spread, his cock still inside her, but she didn’t squirm or try to hide, only allowed him to see.

Bending forward, Shanks kissed the parting of her hair, his breath winded as he leaned some of his weight on her. His knuckles brushed her cheek, catching the tears that had spilled over without her notice. His ring was cool against her skin; wrapping around the back of her neck, she felt how they shook.

Carding her fingers through his hair, she felt him exhale, but he didn’t let her go, just held her like that, the protective frame of his body between her and the door, hiding her from view, and nothing could have touched her there, in that moment.

His fingers trailed down the dip between her shoulder blades. Her blouse clung to her skin, the air within the storeroom damp and smelling of them, but she couldn’t even worry that someone would stumble across them, although had enough presence of mind to think that she should probably fix herself up before their first customers arrived, but was distracted by the deep chuckle that left him, and his voice where it rumbled into her skin,

“Where’s your husband now, barmaid?”

Her laugh trembled, and her arms tightened around his neck, pulling him closer and pressing her nose into the hollow of his throat. She loved him like this, freed of worry, if only for a little while. And that was her power; the only one she could claim, but it wasn’t a small thing in this age, to command peace.

And she knew how he expected her to react, because he knew her better than anyone, and never let an opportunity to make her flustered pass him by.

But she knew him, too, and like him, she knew exactly how to nudge him off balance. Which was why she said, demure as anything, “He’s ploughing his wife.”

She felt the hand on her neck pausing, the slight stiffening in him betraying his surprise, before his shoulders convulsed, as Shanks bent forward with a laugh.

The sound filled her, loud and lovely, but a softness about it that was hers, that tender, half-winded thing. She thought the whole village had to hear it, and that it would wake the baby, but she didn’t care, her own laughter helpless, hearing his, and feeling the way his arm tightened around her, which said more than any other gesture or word, even as Shanks murmured roughly, “I love you.”

Cupping his face with her hands, she pressed her forehead against his. “It will be okay,” Makino said, and didn’t care that she couldn’t make that promise; that there were other forces that wanted their say. But she wouldn’t hide from her choices, and him least of all. “You’ll see.”

Shanks said nothing, only held her, but he didn’t disagree this time, which she counted as a small victory, and it was what gave her the courage to quip, “And if anyone asks, I’ll tell them my husband can’t be held down. His heart belongs to the sea. It’s just the way things are, in this day and age.”

His eyes found hers. In the dim light, they looked darker, but she knew the look in them, and like the laugh, that was hers, too. “I thought we agreed that we were going for accuracy,” Shanks said. A tender smile curved his mouth, as he told her roughly, “And that you’re a terrible liar.”

Her grin couldn’t be contained, splitting her face, wide and without shame, and his.

The sound of the bat-wing doors swinging open reached them, followed by their first customers arriving, and her grin fell as horror widened her eyes, before she scrambled to pull her stays closed.

A voice from the bar drifted through the door―“Huh? Where’s Makino-chan?”

“That’s odd,” said another, as her mortification deepened, recognising one of her mother’s oldest patrons; a man who’d seen her toddle around in diapers. “Red-Hair’s not here, either. They’re usually open by now.”

Shanks’ grin grew, and she saw the punishment for her disobedience in the gleam in his eyes, and hissed, “Shanks, no―”

But she wasn’t quick enough, as he turned his head towards to call out, “She’s coming! Or she will be.” And before her horror could fully sink in, added brightly, “Just give me a few minutes to finish; I want to make sure she does.”

Her hands clapping over his mouth didn’t succeed in muffling his laughter, but then even her embarrassment couldn’t hold out against the grin that split his face now, which held no trace of his earlier seriousness, as he nipped and kissed her fingers until her mortification dissolved with her laughter.

When they emerged a few minutes later, after she’d blankly refused to let him get her off first (although had agreed to revisiting it after closing), it was to find their regulars waiting, knowing looks exchanged above poorly-stifled grins as she with every ounce of prim dignity she possessed asked them if they wanted their usual, all the while ignoring Shanks’ eyes following her as she made her way between the tables. Although having taken their orders, she caught the fond murmur as she made for the bar―

“Married life suits her, doesn’t it?”

“Aye, it does. Shame Em ain’t here to see it.”

Her smile ruined her prim composure, but she claimed it for herself, and kept her chin high as she walked to the bar where Shanks was waiting, leaning back against the kegs.

“What?” he asked, when she reached him, lifting up on her toes to steal a kiss; not something she usually did, shy about public displays, unlike him, and relished in his surprise at her brazenness, shaping his grin, a gentler thing than in the storeroom earlier.

Her own smile was small, as she lowered back on her heels, her head tipped back to look up at him, noting the dish-towel slung over his shoulder, a different kind of captain, with no sea underfoot, but a captain still.

“Nothing,” Makino said, before reciting, “One egg over easy, and―”

“―one sunny-side up, hash browns on the side of both, and a single serving of bacon, because old man Nakamura is watching his cholesterol.”

At her look of surprise, he only smiled, and bent his head to kiss her once, before he made for the kitchen, a grin thrown over his shoulder, leaving her staring after him, and wondering how he could have ever expected her to pretend to be the person she’d been before him.

The doors swinging open drew her gaze to his crew, and her smile blossomed as they greeted her, loudly and cheerfully. And there was no doubt in their minds what she was, catching their cheeky bows and tipped hats, but she didn’t shy from their reverence where it named her, and more clearly than any ring or vow.

“Hey, where’s that husband of yours?” Yasopp asked her, when she appeared at their table to take their orders. Someone had given him the baby, awake and peering up at all the faces around him. Yasopp made a face at him, and when he got a gummy little smile, asked him in a sing-song voice, “What’s his name again?”

“Keeps slipping my mind,” Ben agreed, grinning around his toothpick.

“Wait, who are we talking about?”

“Makino’s husband.”

“Oh, right! That guy.”

The others joined in, feigning forgetfulness, their laughter growing in volume, until there was nothing left of the quiet morning, dissolving like the sea mist as the sun claimed its seat in the sky.

Her playful look warned them, although her smile indulged their cheeky insubordination, knowing well just how far it was from the truth. Because she could imagine their reactions to the suggestion, however teasingly made, about a stand-in husband in their captain’s absence, endearingly protective, and not just of her. She would spare poor Magra that.

“He’s here,” Makino said, and heard in the words the fleeting truth, but didn’t care if she wouldn’t be able to say the same a month from now, or two. He’d be home again soon, with the tide. They all would.

Emerging from the kitchen, Shanks took one look at the room and stopped, a different kind of concern furrowing his brow now as every grin within turned towards him. “What did I miss?”

Coming over to where she was standing, he put the tray he was carrying on the table. The look he gave her said he had his suspicions, and that her innocent smile was fooling no one.

Then a gleam entered his eyes, and Makino knew she was in trouble even before he chirped, “Did you tell them about your plan to get a stand-in husband in my absence?”

Their grins fell, and Makino closed her eyes.

Poor Magra.

“A what?!”

.

.

.

She didn’t get a stand-in, but she didn’t take the ring off, either―a small act of rebellion, but it was the only thing she could do in opposition to the system that governed their world, and the laws that would punish her for her choices. And maybe there was a little pride there, too, but then loving him was her greatest crime, and she’d accept all charges against her, pleading guilty to whatever court would see her put on trial, mortal or otherwise. Those were her wedding vows, too; the ones she hadn’t spoken aloud to him.

Her bar saw the occasional new visitor, on their way to Goa or further still, who’d seen the lights from afar and decided to have a look, but there was only one who asked about the ring, and who didn’t bat an eye when she told him her husband was currently across the island signing off on a shipment. He’d only remarked positively on their bar, and said that no tavern in Goa Port he’d been to had been as hospitable.

(She hadn’t questioned his manners, unfailingly good, almost military-like; hadn’t looked closely enough at the set of his shoulders, that proud bearing she’d known since childhood, from the grizzled marine who’d ruffle her hair until her kerchief sat askew and who’d sneak her gifts behind her mother’s back.)

Garp would have seen through him, she would realise later, but she’d been so busy trying to keep up appearances, she’d forgotten to question if her visitor was doing the same.

She was getting ready to open―had just finished lifting the chairs off the tables and had gone into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee when she remembered it wasn’t necessary, and had instead gone to wring out the rag to wipe down the counter when she heard the bat-wing doors swinging inwards.

Ace was asleep in his crib, safe under the counter behind the curtain she’d pulled closed, and she didn’t pause at her early visitor, as emerging from the kitchen, she called out, forgetting for a moment that she was alone, the we invoked so easily, even weeks after he’d left, “I’m sorry, but we’re not open yet―”

The words cut off, as she came to a halt.

She could smell the cigar smoke from across the room, the butt smouldering like the embers in her hearth, an almost unnatural glow in its burning eye where it fastened on her like a brand.

The white coat was the first thing she noticed, but she would have recognised him even out of uniform, the straight shoulders and the flower tattoo peeking out from under his shirt, the garishly patterned kind that reminded her of Garp, but that was where their similarities ended.

He was flanked by two officers, their caps pulled low over their brows, but she recognised the one on the left, dark-haired and dimpled and refusing to meet her eyes, his hands white-knuckled around the rifle he was holding. He’d loved her cooking so much he’d asked for a fourth helping; had said it reminded him of his sister’s, who he hadn’t seen in years.

The Fleet Admiral took her in, a single sweep of his eyes across her announcing his feelings, something far more personal than simple contempt in the furrow of his brow. Judge, jury, and executioner; he’d already decided her charges, and what her punishment would be, for the choices she’d made. The only crime she’d committed, but for a man like him, it was enough.

And she’d been right. In the end, the ring hadn’t mattered.

“Arrest her.”

[thed4rkhand]

So today we’re doing Yoongi’s chart and my analysis of it. Let me make it clear right off the bat, that since I’m not a professional astrologer, some things may not match up, further since we’re not super sure of his birth time, it’ll definitely affect the reading. What I can be sure of is that I’ll do my best and I’m completely open to constructive criticism from you all!

Now lets get on with some basic stuff, for those who have not yet read the post with Namjoon’s moon analysis, I’ll again reiterate some principles of Vedic astrology! In the scenario that you’re still confused with all this jargon, feel free to reach out and I’ll be more than happy to help you out.

Starting out, we have to note that while western astrology is usually more advisory in nature, Vedic astrology’s main purpose is to predict. Also, we usually go a sign back from western astrology (24’ back to be more precise) in Vedic astrology, so according to that for example, if you’re a libra rising, you become a virgo rising in Vedic astrology and so on and so forth. All planets will also shift back a sign, so a Capricorn Mercury will become a Sagittarius Mercury.

Now let’s be aware that the chart may be a bit different, but given the main d1 (Lagna) chart remains the same for about 2 hours, let’s focus on that and the moon chart (rashi chart) for this reading. We can also just look at d9 for strength but not house placements as that can be time sensitive. So, we can take a two hour margin of time discrepancy and still predict accurately.

For this reading, we have taken 9th March 1993 as the day and 7:30am as the time of birth, with the location set to Daegu.

OTHER THAN THIS, LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT ME TO DO A BIRTH TIME RECTIFICATION FOR YOONGI LATER ON SO WE CAN GET MORE ACCURATE PREDICTIONS.

Since this is a general chart analysis, we shall be covering topics briefly and discussing the moon, ascendant and sun. For an in depth reading, do pick a smaller and focussed topic as we can honestly keep going on and on about a chart.

THIS READING WILL BE DONE IN SEVERAL 4 PARTS, FOLLOWING THE ASCENDANT, MOON, SUN AND MISCELLANEOUS.

Lets get started then-

Right off the bat, we can see that Yoongi is born into Pisces, with his ascendant at 10’35’, within the Nakshatra of Uttarabhadprada, within the 3rd quadrant or pada. He has venus situated in the lagna itself, in Pisces, thus exalted. His lagna lord, Jupiter, is in the 7th house, conjuct with the Moon, in the sign of virgo, where jupiter gains the upper hand despite mercury (lord of virgo) being enemies. The lord is directly aspected by mars in the fourth house. The lord of the birth Nakshatra is Saturn here, which sits in the 12th house, conjunct sun and mercury (dispositer of the ascendant lord). Lastly, moon, jupiter and rahu aspect the lagna of this chart. Of course there is so so much more here, but we’ve got a whole chart to cover!

(p.s I can already see this is such a fun chart to read)

Getting on with the reading, we firstly see that he’s born under Pisces lagna, this makes the native calm and collected, as well as fond of philosophy and psychology. What we often forget is, people born under Pisces are said to have been born under all the other signs in their past life, and cumulatively they use their skills and knowledge from those lives in their current one. Remember how on Bon Voyage trips and just about every RunBts, saga seems like the ‘dad’ of the bunch? cooking, cleaning, fixing stuff Joon broke, producing music and the stuff? And all those times that he is so very understanding of other? He doesn’t scold Jungkook, let alone anyone else? These are typical Pisces traits. They’re very domestic and understanding by nature, because they’ve been there before in a past life, and enjoy taking care of people.

The downside to this? They can be extremely manipulative if they want to be, they know exactly what to say, when to say, to whom to say and so on. They have an alarming grip on people’s emotions, and have a magnetic quality to them. Further, this is mostly an observation, you’ll often notice that most pisces natives are fond of alcohol (could be because they exist in a water sign? Could be because its the natural 12th house ruler of addictions too?)

Coming to the Nakshatra here, we have UttaraBhadrapada, the second last Nakshatra of the series. This Nakshatra is ruled by Saturn, and the presiding deity being Ananta or Ahir Budhyana, the deep ocean serpent in hindu mythology. The deity Ananta represents boundless expansion, be it of fortune, goodwill or knowledge. Ahir Budhyana, is a sattvic (sacred or untainted) form of lord Shiv, and resides at he bottom of the ocean. He represents the liberation from illusions and attainment of spiritual enlightenment and knowledge. The natives of this Nakshatra here embody these qualities of their deities. We see them as philanthropic and reserved beings, who enjoy learning about a variety of subjects and spirituality. Such people are extremely progressive in their thinking patterns, and often a magnetic pull like the deep ocean serpent has.

They’re extremely controlled and calculating in their approach, and think more than speak. This by no means is to say that they don’t speak, because such people are great orators by nature. They stand up for the underdogs and have a unique approach to topics. They are extremely interested in occult and metaphysical practices and theories. They however commonly don’t obtain higher education or do well in fields of fine arts, even their primary education is not something they excel at. (i once read that yoongi really likes reading about a variety of subjects, and also Paulo Coelho, definitely his UttaraBhadrapada here)

The bad side to this Nakshatra? They’re very critical and over-analyze everything and everyone. Sometimes, even unconsciously, they manipulate people to suit their needs and whims. They get side tracked too often and have difficulty focussing on one task at hand, often amounting to laziness in other people’s eyes, even if the native is extremely hardworking in reality. However when in comes to personal care, they tend to do things in a very half-hearted manner. These people are also prone to isolating themselves from others, especially when things get hard. Due to the sign falling in pisces here, people also tend to have many different mental burdens and disorders, which arise from their constant scatter-brained self and inability to make out between the spiritual and real realms.

They can also be heavy drinkers and abuse substances in such a Nakshatra, or enjoy partaking in occult practices while under influences. They might’ve also faced a very rough childhood with such a Nakshatra, neglected and misunderstood by people around him. The natives could also have moved away from their parents during their early adulthood for education or job purposes. Such people can have health issues like hemorrhoids, stomach ailments and hernias. Usually they lead a stable period full of health and success in the latter part of life, say about after 48 years(since the south node Ketu matures as 48).

Since Suga’s Nakshatra falls into the third pada or quadrant, its ruled by libra here. Libra here focusses on balance and cooperation. Such people may make a living working with other people, or in industries related to entertainment. They may make great debaters, and think excessively about what other think of them as. They’re very conscious of other’s opinion, even if they don’t show it, so we often find such people wearing extremely covered up and baggy clothes for example, or keeping a low profile. They may have a very practical and unbiased approach to most things in life. Such people are intensely into spiritual practices and often times fully devote themselves at hours at a time to worship of gods, angel or other beings. They may be the type to attract people very easily, or even be the kind to fall in love extremely easily.

The second placement we come to, is Venus in the first house, in Pisces. Venus here is naturally exalted (most powerful). Sure ill give you the generic explanation in a bit but, do you know which type of people usually have this placement? Actual saints and famed occultists. Sure many people within the entertainment industry too, but this placement can hands down be one of the most spiritual and divine placements of Venus in the chart. First ill go ahead and give the normal meaning and effect, and then lets dive into the crazy stuff (istg his chart is so goooood). Such people usually have really magnetic personalities, and given Venus is in Uttarabhadrapa, these are the people who you don’t notice at first, but then its like a whirlpool of being invested in them, as opposed to being in Revati Nakshatra (another Piscean nakshatra) which would be a more dramatic pull, based off an extroverted personality. These people can be very good looking, more feminine looking, could definitely look like their mothers with this position. Brilliant luck in fields of arts and entertainment and also genius level of creativity and talent. Here, people can have brilliant luck too, like god’s hand on their head kind. Accumulation of wealth and property can also be seen here.

Now onto the really fun stuff. These people are actually rarely concerned with someone’s exterior, because often times such people have such good intuition and spiritual powers (some are literally called mystics because of this), they can literally see through someone. For this reason, they actually don’t like associating with too many people, despite having a very charming personality. These are the kind of people that keep searching for ‘the one’. These people often give up everything and go ahead and become priests. The calling to god with such a placement is very strong. They also don’t like collecting too many material possessions, as they feel its redundancy in this very changing world. These people hold the few people they’re close to, very very tightly to themselves. These people also may have a very low sexual drive actually, (i know, I know, how can a strong Venus do this?) because an exalted Venus is about devotion to god, to one person, and leaving sensory pleasures behind in life. A debilitated Venus on the other hand (eg. Jungkook has one) might make someone very invested in worldly matters. These people are happy with being alone and single for a long time, they’re very satisfied with their own company. Such placements can make someone practice magick or astral projection too. (Venus in 12th sign of liberation, liberation from physical body)

Given that in this chart, Venus is his 3rd and 8th lord, we can make further deductions. Firstly, since 3rd lord is going 11 houses away, its an extremely auspicious placement here. Self made person, making wealth through communication, can also have very witty and intelligent responses to things. Since the third house also represents courage and valor, this can make someone very fearless and say whats on their mind bluntly. Since the 3rd house is part of the Kama Trikon houses (houses of desire), this going into the 1st house, which is a part of the Dharma Trikon houses (houses of morality), gives interesting results here. Firstly, such people are fiercely independent, and hate to be disrupted when there pursuing their goals and working towards them. They hate to take help from anyone, and as a result are extremely competent. secondly, such people have a moral high ground, to which they religiously abide. They’re extremely righteous and stand up for those who wouldn’t be able to for themselves. Since from here, it aspects the 7th house of agreements, such people are great at understanding and signing contracts for work.

Now with the 8th house, we have a bit of a conundrum here honestly. It belongs to 2 types of houses, the moksha trikona houses (houses of salvation) as well as the Dushtana houses (evil houses). While this placement isn’t all that bad, it isn’t he best either. firstly though, this is a placement where the native always wins over their enemies (8th lord 6 houses away from itself), be it enemies as in people, or simply obstacles in their life. This also confers a long lifespan to people, given that his 8th lord is also exalted here. However such people are prone to accidents, given that the 1st house is the body, 8th house is sudden events and the natural 8th ruler mars is a karka or signifactor of vehicles. Such people are also against organized forms of religions, since the Dushtana lord is sitting in a dharma house. The native is also extremely private and secretive given the 1st house of self has the 8th lord of secrets sitting in it. Since it also aspects the 7th house of other people, this person has that aura of mystery about them because of this. Such people are deeply critical in nature but can have extreme wisdom in cases of hidden objects or matters of the occult.

Now coming to his aspects. His Venus is aspected by moon, Jupiter and Rahu. The first two are benefic in nature and the latter is malefic. Moon-Venus and Jupiter-Venus are also mutually aspecting each other in pairs here. Moon here gives Venus the property of being constantly cynical of themselves regards to what others may perceive them as, given moon is emotion and the 7th house here is other people. Their thoughts here are deeply influenced by other people, they may always keep serving other people too, through acts of service. This also makes someone who falls in love very easily, but it is important to engage this person’s mind in a relationship, they just cant do without an emotional bond here. Since Moon also represents fame in a chart, this makes a person very famous, as they receive attention from many people, and people want to analyze them, and enjoy their work and presence.

Jupiter here, makes the person level headed and practical. The person wouldn’t be all touchy feely with people they like, because they would like to remain more in control of the situation here. They’d rather engage in a full blown debate with someone, than hold hands. This also makes them very worldly and teacher like, while also being attracted to very worldly people themselves.

Rahu’s aspect on the other hand, makes someone stand out in a crowd (Rahu signifies an outcast), they may have a rough and cold exterior due to this. They may also have had issues with body image (1st house is self), or mental health here. These people are enamored by all things foreign, and love exploring the other cultures. They may have issues identifying with their own community at large, and may identify with the downtrodden of the society.

Now going to Jupiter and moon conjunction in the 7th house. I wont go very deep into this, as its a super interesting concept, and it’ll be better covered in the second part of the reading regarding the moon itself, so ill keep it short and related to the ascendant. Also the mutual aspect part will be explained in more detail in the miscellaneous section later. Plus this is getting far too long for even me now.

Getting on with the reading for now, moon and Jupiter here are in virgo, in a loose conjunction (one is at approximately 2’ and the other at 18’). This is actually one of the not very yogas (combinations)in a chart, about 15% of people have these. Its called the Gaj-Kesari yoga (the elephant and lion combination), because people with this are so extremely lucky, its like the kings of the jungle are together to support it. They have the wisdom of the elephant and the courage of a lion. This is a raj yoga (royal combination). a native born with Gaj-Kesari Yoga is intelligent, strong, and prosperous. Gaj or Elephant possesses immense strength and is devoid of pride and the Lion is known for his foresight and skillful intelligence as well as his strength, quickness, skillful leadership, ability and courage. Thus, when Gaj-Kesari Yoga is formed then that person is extremely successful. They will be a kind and philanthropic person, who will always have sympathy for others. They will be quite humble regarding work, would like to talk nicely to people and aim to attain spiritual progress in life. Many people will recognize them as their mentor or guide and will act according to their instructions or advice. They may have a tendency attracting people and people being magnetized by them. They will be blessed with abundant wealth and become the owner of movable and immovable property(cars as well as homes). They will establish relationships with rich and reputed people of the society and enjoy all kinds of material pleasures in life.

Since this occurs in virgo, it makes a person intelligent, sharp and gifts them with amazing memory power. Such a person is knowledgeable and can become the head of a large educational institution. He may own incomparable wealth and can earn a good name and money from business as well. Often such people earn a high reputation in the Stock Market and make progress in life by working in any financial institution or insurance sectors.

Here jupiter in particular makes someone extremely cynical in nature, and their mind is always, and I mean always, thinking about romantic relationships or platonic ones. However given that jupiter is also the 10th lord here, they could be extremely focused on work too. Their life is surrounded by contracts, and may work with others for a living(7th house is house of courts and partnership). They could be very interested in the financial sector here, they could be extremely money minded and money means stability to them. Moon here on the other hand makes the person very moody, and extremely dependent on their spouse or colleagues. Since it rules the fifth house here, it signifies that such people are extremely creative in their work, may work for children or young adults, have a lot of past life karma related to work, and also that they’re extremely devoted lovers. They tend to criticize their close friends and loved ones, just because they’re so cynical and blunt, and want the absolute best for people. They may hurt people’s feeling without realizing it sometimes. (this was very brief but refer to point 12)

Now coming to Saturn in 12th, as the lord of the birth nakshatra. Saturn over here signifies working in the fields of music, but given saturn represents electronics, it could mean a producer too. Since its in Aquarius here, a sign of dual lordship, this resents a constant up and down of mood and life spirit. The person with such a placement is confused with what truly makes them happy in life, the spiritual realm or the materialistic realm. They keep going up and down the path of being spiritual, till 36 years (saturn matters at 36). They may face a lot of mental disorders here. They may have trouble sleeping at night. Given saturn is also work, they may earn through foreign sources in life. Such a person invests money into properties (saturn is houses) and lacks liquid cash. The person may have a weak left eye (12th house is left eye). They may earn from multiple sources in life, and have multiple talents. Such people have low sex drives as saturn is a dry eunuch planet, and in the 12th house of bed pleasures, it may not allow native to enjoy it. They may not be interested in worldly pleasures with such placements.

Lastly (finally?), we have to discuss the looks! Pisces ascendents usually have the short to medium height, and tend to appear a little fuller even when they’re very scrawny. (its because jupiter is the largest planet). Uttarabhadrapada natives tend to have a very innocent look to them, a very calming nature and vibe. however, like the deep sea serpant, they have very deep and magnetic eyes, and a very expressive face (yoongi memes). They usually have a very beautiful smile, and can literally attract people with it (again the snake like quality). They tend to have a very blank look usually, and if you ever notice, they’ll have the most stunning eyelashes actually, given the yoni is the female cow. They might also have the habit of moving their mouth around when their thinking, quite like ruminating.

Given venus sits here, is gives the person very attractive, effeminate features. Think extremely renaissance type of soft features. It can give them very delicate hands and feet with such a placement. The moon aspect here, gives them a rounded face and pale skin. They might have sparkly eyes and a roundish appearance here, also the tendency to gain weight around their face, with short necks. They make also look much younger than their actual age.The jupiter aspect again makes the native very other worldly looking, almost like you can imagine them in a dark robe literally performing rituals. It gives people a calm and teacher type of vibe to them. The rahu aspect usually just blows qualities out of proportion. Have you seen how small and angelic suga looks compared to the other? (not saying they’re not angelic but still), thats the rahu aspect. Again, rahu aspects only get better with time.

So this was my analysis! If anyone has any questions or doubts, hit me up! Let me know if you enjoyed it!

[ravnicaforgoblins]

Ravnica for Goblins

Alignment

Figuring out where on the spectrum of beliefs, morals, and neutrality your character falls can be a challenge. One individual’s Chaotic Good is another’s Lawful Evil. To help clarify things, most campaigns include alignment for significant NPCs, and one can often draw a line between that NPC and that alignment. This doesn’t apply to every NPC, but the more important someone is, the more they come to represent a specific section of the moral grid in a campaign.

Ravnica does this as well, with most of the alignment chart represented by a Guildmaster. This isn’t completely uniform, however, so there’s wiggle room for an NPC to lean one way or the other as fits the story. There are some pretty safe bets, however, who can be counted on to check certain boxes at all times.

Isperia of the Azorius Senate: Lawful Neutral

Isperia represents the goal of the Azorius; objective devotion to upholding the laws as they are written. She was elected to her position because of her ability to look passed right & wrong, instead focusing solely on interpreting Ravnica’s 10d6 of Psychic damage legal system for all disputes.

Lazav of House Dimir: Neutral Evil

Lazav is the Dimir at their most annoying but least murderous. Blatant disregard for everyone’s privacy, but preference for stealing, secrets, and information over assassination. Lazav infiltrates every Guild, including his own, always determined to stay several steps ahead of any potential threat. This is not to say he won’t kill people if necessary, but his is a cold, “bloodstained calculus” methodology. It’s never personal.

Rakdos of the Cult of Rakdos: Chaotic Evil

On this plane, Rakdos is the living embodiment of Chaotic Evil, a title he takes very seriously. It’s just about the only thing he takes seriously, as he prefers to live without rules and have everyone else do the same. Unrestrained hedonism and mayhem are his bread & butter. You do what you want, whatever you want, whenever you want, however you want, regardless of what anyone or anything else says. No restrictions, no inhibitions, no hesitation. Encouraging this kind of destructive chaos in the streets is the only thing keeping Rakdos from embracing more orthodox Chaotic Evil behavior of slaughtering millions, enslaving thousands, and bowing to no one.

The Obzedat of the Orzhov Syndicate: Lawful Evil

Hard to believe there can be something worse than an actual Demon given permission to encourage every sin imaginable, but that is what the Ghost Council are. The Obzedat exist to stretch, bend, and twist every law designed to maintain order, neutrality, or justice so as to benefit themselves. What’s worse is how the Orzhov play innocent when they do it. Unlike the Dimir or the Rakdos who accept and even embrace society’s interpretation of their actions, the Orzhov refuse to be seen as anything but humble, spiritual, gracious public servants. The very antithesis of what they actually are; arrogant, miserly, manipulative bastards. They will point out exactly which laws they are not breaking, which laws there is insufficient evidence to prove they are breaking, and which laws prevent you from punching them in the face right now.

Trostani of the Selesnya Conclave: Neutral Good

If there’s one thing to be said for Selesnya, it’s that they are rarely the problem. The Conclave is perfectly content to keep to their fields & forests most of the time and focus solely on building up their own Guild. In a city where every Guild has a problem with every other Guild, Selesnya is the only one who at least tries to get along with everyone else. They don’t tend to get involved in matters that don’t concern them, but theirs is always a safe haven for those who seek it. Trostani is made up of three dryads representing Harmony, Life, and Order. You don’t get much more Neutral Good than that. The only problem is that Trostani basically never leave their Guildhall, so their influence only spreads so far. The reason they can live so peacefully is because so little of the chaotic city life overlaps into theirs.

Besides them, everyone has wiggle room and gray area to move around in. Both Niv-Mizzet and Borborygmos are canonically Chaotic Neutral, but with their most prominent personality traits being vanity & anger, respectively, the “Neutral” part of that can go out the window quick. Still, almost every Guild has at least a semblance of a position somewhere on the chart to start from. You can basically count on a member of each Guild to be at least:

Azorius Senate: Lawful

This is the Guild that writes the laws of Ravnica, after all. They literally draw their power from this ancient legal code, so it makes sense that, whether an Azorius leans more towards Good, Evil, or Neutrality, they do so lawfully.

Boros Legion: Good

If the Azorius follow the intellectual letter of the law, the Boros follow the passionate spirit for which said law was originally written. Justice, not legal-ese. Sometimes the law is good enough, but sometimes it fails its citizens. A Boros should be an inspiring force for Good, whether Lawful or Chaotic depends on the individual.

House Dimir: Neutral

The best a Dimir operative can hope to achieve, morally speaking, is neutrality. If you are working for this Guild, you are lying & stealing. Odds are you are infiltrating another Guild to find/steal information to report back to your superior(s). Not every Dimir agent does this willingly, however. Maybe a character only became a Dimir operative after finding out their mentor was. Maybe a character had nowhere else to turn and no one else to depend on. Maybe they just needed House Dimir’s connections to get them close enough to someone in another Guild who wronged them. Whatever the motivation, cling to that gray area of neutrality like your life depends on it. It’s all you’ve got.

Gruul Clans: Chaotic

Gruul are many things. “Lawful” is not one of them. If you’re a member of a Gruul Clan, you’ve definitely got a bit of a temper on you and a strong disregard for authority. Now, a Gruul can absolutely be a force for good, or, conversely, evil. Maybe you joined the Gruul after your ancestral home was bulldozed over for a smelly Izzet facility. Maybe you had a mental breakdown after decades of trying to uphold law in a city where the laws mean jack shit unless there’s a guy in blue sitting at his desk. Maybe you got tired of planting trees and getting stepped on. Maybe you don’t like the pretentiousness of so-called “artists”. Maybe you just like hitting things. Whatever your reason, the Gruul will welcome another anarchist.

Golgari Swarm: Chaotic/Evil/Neutral

The Golgari Swarm are the first Guild where you’re really going to find a lot of diversity in alignment. Some definitely fall into the chasm of Chaotic Evil Necromancers, others stand firmly in the fields of True Neutral Rot Farmer, and some idly wander between the two. Necromancy is pretty normal in Golgari society, and “Evil” can be considered a harsh word to describe it. It’s definitely more normalized in the Undercity than it is on the surface. A lot of typically Evil behavior is like that for the Golgari, lest we forget that this society of giant bugs, necromancers, zombies, medusa, etc also run the sewage system and food stamps program for the city. That said, there are definitely Golgari with sufficient ambition/motivation to become ready-made Big Bads. What is a Lich, after all, but a wizard who says, “No, I’m too important to die!”

Izzet League: Chaotic

If there’s one predictable aspect of the Izzet, it’s that they are unpredictable. For a Guild whose founding principle is “I wonder what would happen if....”, it’s best to accept that you’ll never be Lawful. Your job, as it is, is to look at laws (nature, physics, etc) and poke at them with electrodes to see what happens. Your focus will always be on things that haven’t been written down yet, as opposed to what already has. It’s almost literally impossible to be Lawful and Izzet for that reason alone. As far as Good, Evil, and Neutral go; that’s up to the individual. This experiment could replicate food so we never have to eat Golgari rations again! Or it could replicate essential personnel to prevent understaffing! Or, it could even replicate.... ME (cue maniacal laughter).

Orzhov Syndicate: Lawful

The Orzhov, like the Azorius, draw their power and influence from the laws of Ravnica. Evil is expected, though not mandatory, but Lawful is a requirement. An Orzhov who doesn’t know their way around Ravnica’s laws is a loose end, and the Orzhov don’t allow loose ends to jeopardize their schemes & ambitions. One can absolutely be a Lawful Neutral Orzhov, also known as an Accountant, but such individuals rarely find their way into a life of adventure. A Lawful Good Orzhov can exist, but your greatest adversary will be the large majority of your Guild who sees you as a potential threat to their illicit activities. In which case, you’ll want to know those laws even better than they do.

Cult of Rakdos: Chaotic

Chaos is mandatory, evil is encouraged. By “Evil”, we mean “things people tell you are Evil”. Anything you would do while drunk you should be able to do at all times! There’s really only three rules in the Cult of Rakdos:

Rule #1, Rakdos is #1

Rule #2, JUST DO IT

Rule #3, Don’t be boring

Being Neutral breaks Rule 3, being Good breaks Rule 2 and/or 3, and being Lawful breaks all 3 rules. Which reminds me of the fourth rule:

Rule #4, NEVER break Rule #1

Truthfully, being Chaotic Good or Chaotic Neutral is perfectly fine as long as you don’t impede on someone else’s hedonism without a reason, or lack thereof. As long as you’re being free & crazy, that’s what really matters.

Selesnya Conclave: Good

As stated with Trostani, Selesnya is a pretty consistent force of Good, if nothing else. They don’t really do hate, you know? Life in the Conclave is pretty uniformly Good, so why make trouble? Why can’t everyone just be Good? In short; ‘cause they don’t wanna, none of your business, go hug a tree, and/or because fire is FUN. Lawful fits some individuals but can just get in the way for others. Neutral is pretty solid but some things must call you to act. Chaotic is if you really want to embrace being a Nature Warrior in a planet-sized cityscape. Selesnya is the Guild for goodie two-shoes, as if that’s a bad thing.

Simic Combine: Any

The Simic Combine is the one Guild that can honestly fall anywhere on the alignment chart. The Guild started out as Doctors, Naturalists, and preservers of life. Now it also operates large-scale bioengineering. You can have a Lawful Good Simic Paladin committed to preserving life and health, a True Neutral Simic Forcemage (Druid) dedicated to living a simple life bolstering plant growth, or a Chaotic Evil Simic Wizard who has decided on everyone’s behalf that flippers and gills are now mandatory. Just like science can be used for great Good, great Evil, or mundane routine, the Simic Combine can turn its experiments to any purpose, depending on the individual. And whereas the Izzet are firmly Chaotic, the Simic have the foresight to think ahead before they try an experiment. You can be anything you want in the Simic Combine, just plan it out.