#shira the failure child

[meloneta]

guys i killed her

[meloneta]

i see you and i raise you

@meloneta still looks like this

[tvandenneagram]

Gilmore Girls: Emily Gilmore - Type 2w3

Emily is manipulative, generous and controlling. Emily always felt like she needed to control Lorelai and felt like a failure after Lorelai’s pregnancy and their estrangement.

At her best, Emily becomes less intrusive in her family’s life and lets them do what they want to do. She also becomes less obsessed with what others think of her and starts doing what she wants to do instead of what she is expected to do.

At her worst, Emily becomes domineering and meddles in her family’s affairs. For example, when she fears Lorelai is getting to close to marriage with Luke, she decides to try and get Christopher and Lorelai back together. Emily also becomes overbearing and tries to control the people in her life. 

Emily has always wanted to be part of Lorelai’s life, despite feeling ashamed about her teenage pregnancy. She still allowed Lorelai to live with her as a teenager, and didn’t want her to run away. I think Emily regrets a lot of her relationship with Lorelai, and desperately wants to be closer to Lorelai and Rory.  

At the beginning of the series, Emily effectively manipulates Lorelai into having a relationship with her and Richard by paying for Chilton and having Friday Night Dinners as a condition. Emily also tries to be less involved in Lorelai and Rory’s lives and doesn’t share her true opinion. For example, she makes comments about Luke to Lorelai about their romantic relationship, yet as the series progresses Emily feels more comfortable in meddling in Lorelai’s relationship. I think Emily knew that she needed to be on her ‘best behaviour’ to get back into Lorelai’s life, and when she felt she was ‘in’ again, she felt comfortable meddling because she thought she was helping her daughter make the right decision. 

I believe Emily feels like her role in life is to be a traditional and good wife for Richard (which means doing most everything for him) and a good mother. She also loves organising parties and being a part of the DAR, but this is also part of being a part of the Hartford community. Throughout the series, Emily feels disconnected from Richard as he doesn’t show her affection, which I think can be a problem for 2s. However, she also seems lost without Richard as she has never had the opportunity to be seen as anything but his wife.

Emily shows her wing 3 as she is very image conscious and extroverted.

Tri-type: 2w3 - 1w2 - 6w7

Some quotes to describe Emily’s motivations

“I was going to wait until you called me, but my life isn't as long as yours."

“Do you think you'll be single your entire life?”

"At least she had a husband to kill."

[To Shira]: “Now let's talk about your money. You were a two-bit gold digger, fresh off the bus from Hicksville when you met Mitchum at whatever bar you happened to stumble into. And what made Mitchum decide to choose you to marry amongst the pack of women he was bedding at the time, I'll never know. But hats off to you for bagging him. He's still a playboy, you know? Well, of course you know. That would explain why your weight goes up and down 30 pounds every other month. But that's your cross to bear. But these are ugly realities. No one needs to talk about them. Those kids are staying together for as long as they like. You won't stop them. Now, enjoy the event.”

Emily: “You took that girl and completely shut us out of your life.” Lorelai: “You wanted to control me.” Emily: “You were still a child.” Lorelai: “I stopped being a child the minute the strip turned pink, okay? I had to figure out how to live. I found a good job.” Emily: “As a maid. With all your brains and talent.” Lorelai: “I worked my way up. I run the place now. I built a life on my own with no help from anyone.” Emily: “Yes, and think of where you would have been if you'd accepted a little help, hmm? And where Rory would have been. But no, you were always too proud to accept anything from anyone.” Lorelai: “Well, I wasn't too proud to come here to you two begging for money for my kid's school, was I?” Emily: “No, you certainly weren't. But you're too proud to let her know where you got it from, aren't you? Well, fine, you have your precious pride and I have my weekly dinners. Isn't that nice? We both win.”

[jabbajambler]

PROLOGUE

Powerless

The Mandalorian x f!OC

Word Count: 1,496

*GIF by @dyingsighs​*

       The Razor Crest lifted off into the sky, leaving a streak of yellow in its wake. Myrah's lips lifted into a sad smile as she watched. Her bright eyes sunk as the realization finally hit her that they were gone. She had no clue when they would be back and the thought made her eyes sting with the threat of tears.

         Coruscant glimmered as the sun began to set, casting a blinding light over the buildings. It was a dream to live here. Some people worked their whole lives to live in such a wonderful place, but it didn't feel like a home.

         The voice had since grown quiet, becoming a mere whisper in her ear as it told her to follow her heart. Where was her heart? Where did it lead her?

         Part of her was being pulled to the center of the city, but the other was aching to be aboard the Razor Crest with Din and that stubborn, little green baby. Every decision felt like the wrong one and nothing could ease the twisting pain in her gut.

         Ana was kind, her smile was bright and welcoming, but even she could see the troubled look behind Myrah's façade. She said she was fine, as she always did, but Ana read her like a book. Myrah could go on for hours about how being in Coruscant was what she wanted, but Ana didn't believe a word of it.

         Days went by as Myrah tried to forget the near year she spent with Din. It's safe to say that the more she tried to forget, the more she remembered.

         Her mind drifted to the little family they formed. She'd risked everything for them yet she walked away. She missed the kid's big brown eyes and kind gaze. He was powerful and untrained. Too powerful for her to ever train on her own.

         Then there was Din, a surprisingly caring Mandalorian that she once swore she hated. Now she couldn't get rid of the memory of his leather-covered hands brushing against hers or the coolness of the beskar beneath her cheek as she leaned against him. He was something she used to dream of, a knight in shining armor.

           But she wasn't the princess that he was meant to save.

          Every night, she would sit in her room, meditating and calling out to her family. She knew that she heard their voices, their whispers in her ear every step of the way, but they never showed.

         With every disappointment and failure, she felt herself sink into her bed and never wanted to leave. Myrah wanted to be consumed by the soft blankets and feathery pillows. In her mind, she'd lost. Everything she worked for was gone, what was left?

         It was only the gentle knocking on the door that brought her out of her wallowing, followed by the familiar voice that she almost confused with her mothers.

         "Myrah?" Ana called out. "Please join us for dinner. You haven't left the room since you arrived."

         "I don't want to." She grumbled, her face had grown pale and her eyes dark with purple circles encompassing them.

         Myrah could hear the annoyed sigh from the other side of the door, followed by a tone that she'd never heard from her sister. "Well, you need to. Either you are going to come out here or I'm going to drag you out. I love you, Myrah, and you need to get out of that room."

         Ana was right. It seemed she always was.

         Myrah pulled herself from the warmth of her bed and into the small refresher that connected to the room. She washed her hair and body that was previously coated in ashes and dirt. Then he changed out of the dingy, dirty clothes from Nevarro and into a fresh pair that Ana offered nearly a week earlier. Though it wasn't much, she felt relieved. Part of what happened was behind her and now she might be able to move forward.

         "Myrah!" Ana beamed from her spot at the head of the table as Myrah tentatively approached the table. She could only bring herself to offer a minuscule smile, but she considered it an achievement.

         Dinner was served: roasted bird, dinner rolls, and mixed vegetables. It was the freshest meal Myrah tasted since her first time at Ana and Kodo's apartment. She had to pull herself back from shoveling it all into her mouth.

          "I must say, I am surprised you came back so quickly." Ana smiled across the table at her sister. Her eyes were bright and warm as always, but there was a hint of nervousness in them. She didn't want to push Myrah too much, but she was confused why she had shown up, especially all alone. "What crazy adventure did you rush off to, hm?"

        Myrah stiffened at the question and started to poke around at the food on her plate with her fork. Her chin fit snug in the palm of her hand while her elbow rested on the table. Normally, Ana would've told her it wasn't polite, but she could tell now wasn't the time.

        "You seem to have come out fairly unscathed." Ana sighed and looked desperately over to her husband who simply ate away at the dinner. "Myrah, why are you here?"

        "I told you I'd come back." She shrugged.

        Ana rolled her eyes and set her utensils down on her plate. "Are you kidding me? Myrah, you left happy and came back as though you rose from the dead. What the hell happened?"

         "Hell!" Shira shouted, clapping her hands together from her risen seat.

        "No, you don't get to use that word." Kodo scolded his daughter.

        Myrah huffed and tossed her fork onto the plate, the clink ringing through the apartment. "I'm back. I thought you'd be happy with that. Why are you persecuting me for returning?"

         "I am not persecuting you but you're living in our home and haven't even given me a reason why! All you did was mope on in here and say, 'stuff'." Ana spoke, slapping on her best Myrah impression by slumping her shoulders and deepening her voice slightly. "What is wrong with you? Why won't you talk to me?"

         "I'm sorry I'm not as perfect as you, Ana! I've struggled, I'm confused, I don't know where I'm supposed to go!" Myrah's face grew red and her eyes started to sting.

         Kodo anxiously swallowed his food before picking Shira up from her seat and sneaking away to another room. Ana and Myrah's stares were heated, angry, and if it weren't for the expensive furniture, they would have easily continued the argument with lightsabers instead.

         Myrah huffed and with an angry stomp of her foot, one that reminded Ana of her own child throwing a tantrum, she stormed out of the apartment. She wasn't entirely sure where she was going as she pushed through the crowded walkways of Coruscant, but her body was carrying her somewhere.

         Everyone around cast her strange looks, some offended by her shoving them away, others disgusted by her rudeness, then there were the few who were intrigued by her presence, similar to those in Nevarro. Aside from her anger, she gave off so much energy and it amazed them.

         Her feet came to a halt at the bottom of a long flight of stairs, leading to a tall, wide building. It was familiar, almost too much so.

         You two need to get out of here. Go to the temple.

         The Force flowed through every stone that constructed it and as she ascended the stairs, it was like entering an entirely new dimension.

         "Hello?" She shouted as she entered the doors. Instead of an answer, she was hit with a wave of memories. None were hers, but they were loud, louder than any voice in her head including her own.

         Master Skywalker, there are too many of them.

                  I'm fed up with the Jedi lies.

    The Council didn't trust me. So how can I trust myself?

         Myrah doubled over, her hands gripping her knees till her knuckles were white as she tried to catch her breath. The rush of memories and emotions left and in it's empty wake was nothing but fear.

         "The Temple." She whispered, running her fingers over the stones. "So many horrible things, why would you want me to come here?"

         A gentle breeze blew past, picking up her hair and tickling her cheek. "Okay, I get it."

         Myrah struggled to gain the courage to say their names out loud. It had been so long since the Empire's reign but it was clear it was still alive. She didn't want to trouble herself even more with the words.

         "If anyone cares to listen, I've been uh- sent here? I've been sent here by Aaryn Skywalker and Obi Wan Kenobi."

[pathos-logical]

[ID: The first three images are tweets by Shira Erlichman @sheer_awe that read:

A common worry I hear from students is that they feel like they need to tackle EVERYTHING in 1 poem. ALL of racism or sexism or illness (or all 3, you overachievers). But—weird example—if you want to write about your father, owner of a vast apple orchard, start with one apple.

One apple holds everything. How it grew, how he tended to it (or didn't), its color & scent—they hold fatherhood, in all its shades of presence & neglect, beauty & failure. Follow the trail of that one apple & you'll access the whole orchard.

Why are we so afraid of the literal, the sensual, the small? If we want to tackle —nah, how about grapple with—huge ideas, it's in our best interest to befriend the seemingly insignificant. Become acquainted with the ooze & splash of the real. Hitch your heart to one small thing.

Image four is a quote that reads: ""The bigger the issue, the smaller you write. Remember that. You don't write about the horrors of war. No. You write about a kid's burnt socks lying on the road. You pick the smallest manageable part of the big thing, and you work off the resonance." - Richard Price".

Image five is a quote that reads: ""Advice to young writers who want to get ahead without any annoying delays: don't write about Man, write about a man." — E.B. White."

Image six is a gif from Mulan of a young child's doll propped up against a sword in the snow. End ID]

hitch your heart to one small thing

[baajisms]

ffvii verse info

‘Subject Anima’. That’s what Shira called their experiment on her. Not that too many people knew about it. It was deemed a failure when one of the subjects went mad and the files burnt, no physical trace left. The only people that knew of it were Jyscal, Seymour and Anna (all believed to be deceased) and a handful of other Shinra scientists.

When Anna married Jyscal, she didn’t expect to have the baby she fell pregnant with to be experimented on in the womb. Much less experimented with Jenova cells. It was another test to see if the cells would take and what the long lasting effects were on the baby. 

It wasn’t planned at first, Anna knew Jyscal’s job at Shinra was important to him, but the two clearly cared a great deal for each other and married anyway. Even when they first met, Anna could tell that Jyscal was an important man. The two moved in a few months before getting married and it was a couple of years later that Anna found that she was pregnant. 

Perhaps it was when Jyscal first asked her about the experiment that should have sent her packing. Perhaps it was a sign of madness that would be passed down to Seymour. Nobody knew. Perhaps it was that and the Jenova cells. Why Anna agreed to have her unborn child experiment on (it was harmless they said, to make sure the baby’s healthy in this current climate they said), even she doesn’t know and the sense of guilt was something she carried with her for years. 

Seymour was born a healthy baby, though he had some unique features. For one his eyes were purple, his fingers a little bit longer and his nails sharper. A side effect of the Jenova cells they said. His hair, while soft as he grew up, certainly seemed spikier in places than other children’s. Also a side effect of the Jenova’s cells they said. When Seymour was born, both mother and son were confined to the Shinra building so that they could be monitored for the side effects of Jenova cells. While they were implanted into Seymour, they were concerned that something could’ve happened to Anna too and wanted to keep track of it. 

They spent the next 8 years there, with tests being run more on Seymour than Anna. Jyscal became more and more distant the more the tests were run. She tried to entertain Seymour as best she could, but there was only so much she could do with the material provided by Shinra. Not long after Seymour’s 8th birthday, they escaped. Though ‘escaped’ is a bit of a loose term as Jyscal snuck them out. Worried about what the constant testing and experimentation could do to Seymour and his mental state, he allowed them to escape. It caused some serious backlash with the other scientists to find out that they had somehow escaped and a manhunt was started.

For the next 2 years, Anna & Seymour were on the run. Somehow they managed to avoid capture by being constantly on the move. However, Anna had contracted something that the scientists hadn’t been able to fully identify back at Shinra. It sapped her strength to the point that it inevitably led to her & Seymour’s capture. They separated to two, considering Anna’s deterioration from her illness. It was this separation that started Seymour’s inevitable mental breakdown. Anna partially succumbed to whatever illness had taken over her and went into a coma. She was placed on a life support system somewhere in Shinra that neither Jyscal or Seymour could find or had the knowledge about. 

Without his mother’s companionship & reassure, the tests and experiments ended up doing more harm than good. Seymour displayed great intelligence, charisma and charm and seemed to have higher than average strength & magic usage. He was put out into the field multiple times and came back successful. However, over the years, his mental state deteriorated and he became very nihilistic and arrogant. Shinra dangled the possibility that if he behaved, they would let him see his mother again. He blamed his father for what had happened to him & to Anna and the experiments that came with it, which led to Seymour murdering his father one day and escaping not long after. Through some slip up, he managed to find out where they were keeping his mother and Seymour was able to force a scientist into getting her awake and healthy again. He escaped without her.

Seymour was able to get by, mostly due the facade he put on, which was charming and charismatic, despite being hunted by Shinra again. He was eventually caught up to and ‘put down’. When released, Anna had gone in a different direction and was unaware that her son had been put down until a few months later. By that point, however, she was in hiding. Shinra was stopping at nothing to ensure that all traces of ‘Project Anima’ were gone. It took a further 2 years for them to stop chasing her and eventually realise that maybe she was gone for good. If the illness that she’d contracted hadn’t gotten her, then the world probably had.

When she’d finally made sure that she wasn’t in danger, that Shinra wasn’t coming after her, she settled down. She’d moved around a lot by this point and was very much ready to settle down somewhere. Not fully trusting Midgar or it’s ruins yet, Anna makes a home a few miles outside of it. A few months down the line, she realises the amount of orphans in the city and that her home is a little bit too big for one person so invites any child to come and stay with her if they wish. Many children come and go, not all decide to stay, but they know that they had a bed to sleep in, a hot meal and someone to care over them should they choose. Anna, after hearing about the nice flower lady who helped save them, decided to try and start a garden. It took a while to get anything to grow, but she’s recently started seeing signs of life.

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Someone told me that Noda once said that Shira has only ever been with prostitutes. Do you think the same for Ogata? I can't imagine him ever having a proper relationship.

Yes,

I think you might have heard it on Kamuy central which said:

Fun fact is, Noda originally wanted to make Shiraishi's appearance a one-off, but he turned out to be very popular among fans! In Q&A, Noda used the word shirouto doutei (素人童貞) to describe Shiraishi. This means a man who has never had sex except with sex workers. He's never had the chance to have serious relationship with anyone because he's been spending a good deal of his youth in & out of prison! (from these twitter posts)

If you want to directly see the question and its answer here it is:

Q017. Shiraishi says [to Ienaga] that he’ll “keep her company, passionately and whole-heartedly”. Are there other women in the past that Shiraishi has kept company with? There are not. It’s because he spent such a long part of his adolescence in prison. He’s a man who’s only had sex with sex workers. He’s had some favorites among prostitutes, though. (From Golden Kamuy Question Box)

As for Ogata most of his past is a mystery so it’s hard to judge.

Thinks to Tsukishima, now it’s clear he’s not in any relation nor he’s searching for one but we know in his past he loved a person. Just one...

...but still, at least once he had a person he loved.

Also think to Tsurumi who was actually married and with a child in his past...

...a thing that many didn’t even consider could have been possible.

So while it’s hard to imagine if, at a certain point in his life, Ogata had an ‘Egogusa’ or a ‘Fina’ of his own... well we only know the current Ogata, and as I discussed in this post, I think for the current Ogata is difficult to have a lover, fiancé, wife, whatever. Not impossible but... difficult.

On the otehr side Ogata’s past is a huge mystery and, if he had someone prior to the war and then came to lose that person... well, that’s up to speculation.

Personally I see Ogata’s character as one that’s constructed around the failure of his relationship with his parents, who both abandoned him (his father because he left him and his mother and never cared for them, his mother because she lost her mind and obsessed over his father) and whom he ended up killing, so I think if there are other people in Ogata’s past he cared for they are meant to be parents’ replacements, not lovers.

Noda tied Ogata to the image of a child...

...and of a loner who always remains outside the group and avoid contact so, although he had him spend time with whores...

...I think it’s unlikely Noda wanted him to have had, at a certain point in his life, a special person all for himself.

Differently from Sugimoto whose main wish is to go back to Umeko, the woman he loves, I think what Ogata truly craves but doesn’t believe he can get is acceptance from a parent figure.

Long story short, no, I thinks it’s difficult Ogata had in the present or in the past a loved one. Not impossible but difficult so this is a theory at the moment I’m not embracing.

Of course this is just me.

I’m not Noda and I can’t tell for sure.

This is just how I interpret him and his role in the plot.

Thank you for your ask!

[meloneta]

@chasvchalilah

i changed my mind i don't feel bad for nandor anymore i want to rip his empty head off of his stupid body.

[the-jade-cross]

Flame of the Heart - Chapter 10

Zhao stumbled back when a blast of fire nearly hit him, throwing him into a crouching position. When he looked up, he found himself staring up at an all too familiar face…. With a scar upon the left side of his face, a long black ponytail and a death glare that would maim if looks could kill.

“You’re alive?” Zhao asked in disbelief.

“YOU TRIED TO HAVE ME KILLED!” Zuko yelled, firing two blasts at the man who quickly rolled out of the way.

“Yes, I did,” Zhao hissed as he got to his feet. “You’re the blue spirit….” Zuko walked through the cloud of smoke made from the fire blasts, his expression not changing in the slightest.

“…and enemy of the fire nation,” Zhao continued. “You freed the Avatar.” “I had no choice,” Zuko replied, throwing a kick blast then multiple fist blasts repeatedly.

Zhao easily avoided the blasts before removing his cloak so as to move more freely, “You should have accepted your failure. Your disgrace. Then you could have lived!” With that, the two went head to head, avoiding the other’s blasts while trying to lay heavy blasts on the other but both failing. They were evenly matched, however Zuko was much more agile and he managed to blast Zhao enough that he fell off the bridge to another one below, Zuko jumping down to follow him.

“You really think I will fall to you?” Zhao asked, regaining his footing and firing back at the boy who quickly jumped, allowing the blast to pass underneath him. “When I know your weakness?” Zuko completely ignored his remarks and fired two fist blasts together, Zhao spinning away to keep from getting blasted. “I don’t have a weakness,” Zuko hissed.

Zhao smirked as he made a long blast of fire by swinging his foot around but Zuko did a somersault over it, “No real man has weaknesses, but you’re not a man. You’re a child, a disgrace, a pure let down.” Zuko gritted his teeth at those words but he created two fire knives in his hands and began to swing at the man. “I’ve lived through disgrace. I’ve become a man thanks to it.” “Really?” Zhao asked, blocking one of the knives and trying to blast at Zuko but the boy bent back to avoid it. “How can you be a man, when your weakness is a girl?”

The boy froze in his fighting, feeling a dark hole of worry and fear spread over his whole being. Zhao took this opportunity of his being distracted to lay a heavy blast at the boy which knocked him back with a grunt. Zhao approached Zuko who was almost wasted, exhausted from looking and carrying off the Avatar and his earlier duals with Katara.

“You are a letdown,” Zhao remarked smugly. “A disgrace to your nation and to yourself. You will never be a man…” He raised his hand, about to lay another blast when out of nowhere, his left knee buckled beneath him like it was giving way before the other one followed. Something swiped at his feet, throwing him onto his back. Ice grew over his hands, legs, chest and limbs, pinning him down.

Zuko furrowed his brow in confusion, wondering who had done that. Just when he was about to speak, a figure rose from where it had been crouching behind Zhao’s previously standing body. Zuko stared in shock as the person pushed the hood of her jacket back to reveal a head full of jet-black hair pulled back into a simple ponytail, bangs flapping about her forehead and face…. Piercing blue eyes.

The girl stepped over the pinned body of Zhao till she was upon Zuko. Kneeling down to his level, she held out her hand and he took it, the girl hauling him to his feet easily.

“Shira,” the boy whispered, staring down at the girl, still not quite believing it himself.

Raven furrowed her brow, “Why are you calling me that?” “Because that is you… isn’t it?” Zuko whispered.

Raven took a full step back and her forehead knitted together in puzzlement, “I have no idea what you are talking about. Isn’t Shira your childhood friend?”

Zuko frowned. Was she just going to keep pretending to not be who she really was? Why was she avoiding the truth? “Shir….” The boy started but a yelp caught their attention.

Spinning around to the source of the noise, they stared in shock as Zhao was picked up by what appeared to be glowing water! Zuko sprinted over and reached out his hand to the man.

“Take my hand!”

It almost looked like Zhao was about to take it until he drew his hand away, glaring daggers at the young boy before he was dragged into the water.

Raven walked over to Zuko and placed a hand on his shoulder, “He made his choice.” The boy nodded heavily, suddenly feeling the need to lay down and sleep for a month.

*******

“I’m surprised that you are not at this moment hunting the avatar,” Iroh observed as he messed with the sail of the small boat they were on.

“I’m just tired,” Zuko sighed, his voice dripping with exhaustion.

“Then rest,” Iroh told him, patted his shoulder, “A man needs his rest.” Zuko didn’t object and went to lay down on the floor, rolling onto his side so the sun didn’t shine on his eyes. However, this meant that he had a perfect view of Raven who sat on the edge of the boat, her feet dragging in the water and her hair blowing in the wind, her back to him.

The boy frowned, biting on his lip. Since Raven had found him fighting Zhao on the bridge, he hadn’t brought up her scar or the fact that he knew she was Shira. Something about her behavior told him that there was something off… like there was something missing.

He snapped out of his thoughts when uncle Iroh placed a hand on his shoulder, getting his attention. “You need to give her a little space. She is confused.” “About what?” Zuko whispered back. “The fact that she has been hiding who she really is from me since I ran into her?” Iroh shook his head, “She never hid who she really was… because she didn’t know who she was before she was Raven.” “What are you saying?” the boy asked, frowning.

“Raven has no memory of being Shira. She was brainwashed.”

Hello all! I hope you have been enjoying my story so far! For your information, this book is done and I will be moving on to Book 2 which will be covering the season 2 of Avatar: the Last Airbender:).

[meloneta]

they should see how youre blogging rn

what r u talking about

[id: a picture of me on a sofa completely covered in a blanket. it looks more like a big blob under a blanket than a person. end id]

[glowyelfboyfriend]

Yay Sabrae! So- did his clan survive that one war table mission? How does he feel about the elven pantheon, or andraste? Does he believe he really is the herald? What is his greatest fear? One thing I hated about DAI is how like. No One cares about the dalish. My own lavellan is very proud of his heritage and has no one to share that enthusiasm with :[ How "elfy" is Sabrae?

YESSS SABRAE QUESTIONS!!

Sabrae is incredibly elfy. So elfy. I pretty much only play as Dalish elves in the DA games when possible so I have run the gambit from angry and calling every human a shem (Shira) to generally aloof and kinda neutral (Irime) and then there is Sabrae.

Sabrae’s whole deal is that he was second in his clan, he had been raised since he was a child to eventually take the role of Keeper. He took this VERY seriously, studied a lot, learned as much as he could, meditated on what kind of leader he would want to be to be able to make a positive impact not only for his clan but for all the Dalish as he spent his childhood with constant threats of violence and enslavement breathing down his clans neck. 

Howeverrrr during the course of Inquisition he tends to hold back as much as he can because he doesnt want to make anyone uncomfortable or be too pushy or not fit in because he wants to be a perfect shining example of how Dalish elves can TOTALLY be chill and cool with others (considering the rumors about the Dalish and the reputation of them not being cooperative or being ‘weird’ etc) so its this weird toss up. He’s very diplomatic and acts like an ambassador BUT while he might ‘tone it down’ he will never take anyone shitting on the Dalish sitting down and will snap a bitch in half for racism towards them. 

Fun story when I was conceptualising him I was like “I know he wont LIKE Solas but I think he would try really hard..” and then that first convo where Solas is like ‘pfft the dalish are like children they dont know wtf they are doing lol’ Sabrae literally just turned around and walked away from the conversation.

Sabrae follows the elvhen pantheon super hard, with super reverence and faith and devotion. His eye twitches whenever someone -else- explains elvhen culture/history/religion to him. He does not believe in the Maker though hes sure Andraste was ‘a pretty ok person’ but he doesnt rag on it or on the Chantry (unfairly, he still has his concrit) because he respects that its important for others (good guy Sabrae). 

Sabrae does NOT believe he was choosen by Andraste but gets uncomfortable sometimes when he says that since he doesnt wanna offend anyone or dig himself into a hole. He is pretty sure the sequence of events was put in place by his own Gods but keeps that mostly to himself. Its tricky. In a political situation he will be like “nah Im not the herald of andraste” but if some old human woman smiles at him and call him that in a revered way he’s gonna be like “……y-yeah” cause hes not gonna take that away from anyone.

Sabrae’s clan survives but its the most bittersweet thing EVER cause Sabrae is like “I fucked it up” when they are forced to live in the city and basically give up their way of life for safety because like….. fuck. Sabrae was supposed to be there to help guide his clan and protect them and keep things safe and right and now his clan is making the best out of shit and hes halfway across Thedas banging a human commander, sleeping in a tower and scrapping up what dalish traditions he can keep while getting dragged to fancy human dinners.

Sabrae’s biggest fear is personal failure. He is an overachiever to the max, he has the highest expectations of himself from a lifetime of preparing to be the best Keeper possible and now is suddenly responsible for so much more. He knows his failure would lead to deaths, destruction, hatred on his people, and yanno maybe the world will explode. He can’t relax, he can’t take a day off, he can’t let his guard down, he has to smile for all the Orlesians who ‘affectionately’ use slurs to describe him and his people cause if he doesnt who the fuck knows what that would mean for everyone, and he barely sleeps at night cause of the constant anxiety-driven visions of that shit he saw when he was tossed through that time portal and saw the venatori future.

I havent gotten to play Trespasser with him yet and Im terrified honestly cause its going to kill him. Cullen is gonna have to peel him off the floor, wrap him in a blanket, tell everyone the inquisition is over as Sabrae snaps back to reality kicking and screaming and clawing at the war table before Cullen whisks him away to the fucking mountains or something.

[meloneta]

DUDE

THIS HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS FOR MONTHS

fun fact about our family is that the icon of the whatsapp group @meloneta i have with our mom is zukka art

[ladystylestores]

George Floyd, Europe’s Statues, Moscow Reopens: Your Wednesday Briefing

(Want to get this briefing by email? Here’s the sign-up.)

Good morning.

We’re covering the world reopening while coronavirus cases continue to skyrocket, protesters targeting statues as symbols of Europe’s racist past and a final goodbye for George Floyd.

The world reopens despite skyrocketing cases

This week, as the world surpassed seven million coronavirus cases, countries continued the order of the day: reopening to salvage their economies.

Moscow ended its strict lockdown on Tuesday ahead of a nationwide vote to extend President Vladimir Putin’s rule, while officials there continued to report more than 1,000 daily new coronavirus cases.

Barbershops, beauty parlors, veterinary clinics and photography studios were allowed to reopen, and digital permits for leaving one’s house are no longer needed.

And the outbreak is still spreading rapidly in Latin America and the Caribbean, pushing the region “to the limit,” the director of the Pan American Health Organization warned on Tuesday.

Bigger picture: While infection rates in the hardest-hit cities in the United States and Europe have slowed, the global peak of infection may still be months away. Without a vaccine or treatments, the only proven strategy has been limiting human contact.

In other news:

Here are the latest updates and maps of the outbreak’s spread.

The Times is providing free access to much of our coronavirus coverage, and our Coronavirus Briefing newsletter — like all of our newsletters — is free. Please consider supporting our journalism with a subscription.

A final goodbye to George Floyd

The funeral for George Floyd, whose killing in police custody galvanized an international movement, drew hundreds of mourners in Houston on Tuesday.

The event came after two weeks of protests demanding change in policing and systemic racism and five days of public memorials. Mr. Floyd, 46, was to be buried next to his mother.

His words — “I can’t breathe,” which he said 16 times as an officer pressed his knee onto his neck — have become a rallying cry. Mr. Floyd was remembered as a father and star student-athlete with big dreams who “wanted to touch the world.”

In a video played at the funeral, former Vice President Joe Biden offered his condolences to the family. As Mr. Floyd’s coffin exited church, onlookers chanted his name. “We will breathe!” one shouted.

Latest: Officials in Houston and Washington said they would ban their city’s police from using chokeholds. The police in Phoenix said they would end another kind of neck restraint. A New York City police officer who shoved a protester to the ground will face criminal charges.

Protesters in Europe confront statues’ racist histories

As anti-racism protests spread across the world, some places are calling on countries to confront their racist histories by removing statues that commemorate them.

On Tuesday, a 150-year-old statue of King Leopold II of Belgium, who oversaw the brutal colonization of Congo in the 19th century that led to millions of deaths, was removed in Antwerp after protesters daubed it with red paint. On Sunday, protesters in Bristol, England, toppled a bronze statue of a 17th-century slave trader and dumped it into the river.

Now, some are focusing on statues of Cecil Rhodes, an imperialist tycoon many see as the architect of apartheid.

Context: Debate around the removal of American Confederacy monuments has also continued in the U.S., with protesters in several cities targeting those monuments that remain.

Related: Top British brands of tea, a national staple, doubled down on support for the Black Lives Matter movement after threats of boycott from some right-wing customers. (They urged #solidaritea.)

If you have 6 minutes, this is worth it

Afghan radio names the dead, but few still listen

Through decades of coups, invasions and endless war, Afghans have tuned in to Radio Afghanistan twice a day to hear the names of the newly dead. The death notices were a ritual, an honor and sometimes a sign of status. For a time, the broadcast filled double its scheduled hourlong slot. Above, its senior anchor, Mohamad Agha Zaki.

Now, that all is gone. People are still dying, but many now turn to social media to disseminate the news. Mr. Zaki, however, says that people in rural areas are still listening: “This is the language of the nation.”

Here’s what else is happening

U.S. presidential campaign: New polls shows former Vice President Joe Biden with a significant lead over President Trump, positioning him as the strongest challenger to an incumbent president since Bill Clinton in the summer of 1992.

Burundi: President Pierre Nkurunziza, whose autocratic rule of the Central African nation stifled journalists and arrested opponents, died of heart failure on Monday at 55.

Germany: The far-right Alternative for Germany party won a suit against the country’s interior minister, Horst Seehofer, for posting an interview criticizing the party on a government website.

North Korea: The government cut off all communications to South Korea and called it an “enemy” in a sign of chilling relations. North Korea refused a routine daily call on the military hotline between the countries on Tuesday.

Snapshot: Above, the Compton Cowboys riding in solidarity with the black community in California. Black cowboys and cowgirls are reclaiming the traditional role of mounted riders in urban demonstrations, evoking a history of daring riding.

What we’re reading: This Money magazine article about some of the explorers who dedicated their lives to finding Forrest Fenn’s hidden treasure (which was finally discovered over the weekend). It’s riveting and will make you smile.

Now, a break from the news

Cook: This crispy sour cream and onion chicken can be showered with fresh chives and lemon juice, or, if you crave something creamy for dunking, pair it with a dip of sour cream, lemon juice and chives.

Watch: The new documentary “Born in Evin” follows the director, Maryam Zaree, as she interviews family, friends, sociologists and psychologists to try to demystify the circumstances of her birth in Iran’s notorious Evin prison for political dissidents.

Read: Joyce Carol Oates’s new novel, “Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars.” takes on racism and grief, and is squarely in conversation with this moment of pandemic and protest, writes our reviewer. Also, here are five new and noteworthy poetry books.

Do: The designer Todd Snyder shows you how to add patches to your jeans, using an old bandanna or shirt you are ready to rag.

We may be venturing outside, but with the virus still spreading, we’re still safest inside. At Home can help make that tolerable, even fun, with ideas on what to read, cook, watch and do.

And now for the Back Story on …

Facial recognition technology

There has been intense debate about the use of facial recognition technology in the public and private sectors.

Law enforcement agencies and some companies use it to identify suspects and victims by matching photos or video with databases like driver’s license records. But civil liberties groups warn that facial recognition erodes privacy, reinforces bias against black people and can be misused.

Timnit Gebru, a leader of Google’s ethical artificial intelligence team, explained why she thinks the police shouldn’t use facial recognition. Below is an excerpt from her conversation with Shira Ovide for the latest On Tech newsletter.

Shira: What are your concerns about facial recognition?

Timnit: I collaborated with Joy Buolamwini at the M.I.T. Media Lab on an analysis that found very high disparities in error rates [in facial identification systems], especially between lighter-skinned men and darker-skinned women. In melanoma screenings, imagine there’s a detection technology that doesn’t work for people with darker skin.

I also realized even perfect facial recognition can be misused. I’m a black woman living in the U.S. who has dealt with serious consequences of racism. Facial recognition is being used against the black community.

But a police officer or eyewitness could also look at surveillance footage and mug shots and misidentify someone as Jim Smith. Is software more accurate or less biased than humans?

That depends. Our analysis showed that for us, facial recognition was way less accurate than humans.

Do you see a way to use facial recognition for law enforcement and security responsibly?

My gut reaction is that a lot of people in technology have the urge to jump on a tech solution without listening to people who have been working with community leaders, police and others proposing solutions to reform the police.

It should be banned at the moment. I don’t know about the future.

That’s it for this briefing. See you next time.

— Isabella

Thank you To Theodore Kim and Jahaan Singh for the rest of the break from the news. You can reach the team at briefing@nytimes.com.

P.S. • We’re listening to “The Daily.” Our latest episode is on the case for defunding U.S. police forces. • Here’s today’s Mini Crossword puzzle, and a clue: Out of dreamland (five letters). You can find all our puzzles here. • A Times investigation by Michael Keller, Gabriel Dance and Nellie Bowles into online child sexual abuse was honored with the Robert F. Kennedy Human Rights Journalism Award.

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[writingguide003-blog]

10 inspiring female writers you need to read

New Post has been published on https://writingguideto.com/must-see/10-inspiring-female-writers-you-need-to-read/

10 inspiring female writers you need to read

As a response to Gay Taleses failure to name any inspirational female writers, we asked our readers to explain why and how these authors changed their lives

It is hard to believe that this piece is still necessary. We long for the day when we dont have to single out authors or anyone of any walk of life, for that matter for their gender, but here we are again. Last weekend, author and New Journalism father Gay Talese was asked to name women writers who had inspired him at a Boston University event, to which he answered: None. He reportedly went on to say that educated women dont want to hang out with anti-social people, according to what journalist Amy Littlefield, who was in the audience, told the Washington Post.

Undoubtedly, the hashtag #womengaytaleseshouldread started bubbling on Twitter, and plenty of suggestions were made here is a tiny selection from authors:

Neil Gaiman (@neilhimself) April 5, 2016

Women writers who inspired me: Enid Blyton, Richmal Crompton, PL Travers, Margaret Storey, Ursula LeGuin, Baroness Orczy, Diana Wynne Jones

Neil Gaiman (@neilhimself) April 5, 2016

More women writers who inspired me: Wilmar Shiras, Shirley Jackson, Lisa Tuttle, Mary Shelley, Anne Rice, Scheherazade, Judith Merrill…

Neil Gaiman (@neilhimself) April 5, 2016

Even More Women Writers Who Inspired Me: Joanna Russ, Hope Mirrlees, Joy Chant, Angela Carter, Madeleine LEngle, James Tiptree Jr, Kit Reed

John Scalzi (@scalzi) April 4, 2016

And Now, An Incomplete List of Women Writers Who Inspire Me: https://t.co/mxrYOFFE5r pic.twitter.com/7H8JaWgTgQ

roxane gay (@rgay) April 2, 2016

I hope no one expected Talese, who doesn’t wear jeans, to think well of women. IDGAF about his opinions.

We have celebrated female authors on the Books site before, but we contacted some of our readers and asked them to tell us which female writers shaped their lives. Here are 10 of the most mentioned authors, in no particular order, and what our readers had to say about them:

1. Doris Lessing (1919 – 2013)

Doris Lessing working at a typewriter, circa 1950. Photograph: Paul Popper/Popperfoto/Getty Images

In my twenties, I was a foreigner in London. Reading Lessings subtly brilliant short story Out of the Fountain, I had that Keatsian feeling of a new world coming into view. As I read my way into the books of this fellow exile, her range and depth emerged from psychological portraits in granular detail, to vast explorations of cataclysm and survival. Class, sex, old age, childhood, the inner workings of politics, the wilder shores of the psyche she embraced complexity and got under the skin of the human condition with piercing acuity. This was writing from the frontiers of experience and utterly mind-stretching.

The two landmarks, for me, are Shikasta, her monumental portrait of humanity, and The Four-Gated City (part of the Children of Violence series), Lessings visionary mapping of London and the no-mans-land between psychosis and sanity this book opened doors for me. Her understanding of resilience and transformation in the midst of upheaval is profound. In our obfuscating times, we continue to need that eye. barbkay.

Start with: The Golden Notebook Hailed as one of the key texts of the womens movement of the 1960s, this study of a divorced single mothers search for personal and political identity remains a defiant, ambitious tour de force, wrote Robert McCrum.

Further reading:

I was the cuckoo in the nest Writer Jenny Diski tells the story of how she lived with Lessing as a teenager

My hero: Doris Lessing by Margaret Drabble Doris would invite herself to lunch with me in Hampstead, when the mood took her. I never dared to say no

Doris Lessing in her own words on the Guardian books podcast

She helped change the way women are perceived, and perceive themselves by Guardian Review editor Lisa Allardice

2. Toni Morrison (born 1931)

Toni Morrison in a 1982 image. Photograph: Reg Innell/Toronto Public Library

When we asked readers for their favourite books by women, many replied with anything and everything written by Toni Morrison. Here are but a few.

Toni Morrisons Beloved is the best book I have ever read. A horror story in every sense. I re-read it as soon as I had finished it. Chilling, difficult, painful, but absolutely brilliant. afiercebadrabbit

Beloved. Its odd reading a book at which you are simultaneously repulsed at how you feel and yet you understand exactly why you feel that way. Shes a terrific writer. getebi

I love every word shes written, with Beloved at the top of my list. Im also sad to see few writers from non-Anglo Saxon cultures listed as there are so many superb writers from other traditions. The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy is my favourite book of all time, and I also adore Elif Shafak, whose fiction and essays as well as her talks are outstandingly fresh and insightful. Read The Flea Palace and The Bastard of Istanbul. spraos

Start with: Beloved If Beloved represents the terrible pain and suffering of a people whose very mother-love is warped by torture into murder, she is no thin allegory or shrill tract. This is a huge, generous, humane and gripping novel, wrote A S Byatt

Further reading:

Im writing for black people I dont have to apologise interview by Hermione Hoby

Tea with Toni Morrison, by SL Bridglal

Toni Morrison on her novels: I think goodness is more interesting

Her 1993 Nobel lecture

3. Ursula K Le Guin (born 1929)

The Earthsea trilogy is absolutely magnificent: poetry, wisdom, sadness, satisfaction, fantasy, realism. Far better dragons than Tolkiens or George RR Martins, far better written the whole shebang, except for humour. But then, Tolstoy didnt go in for jokes much either. She taught me that there is nothing wrong with life or with death: the one is to be delighted in, the other accepted Daniel Mccormick in Coatbridge, Scotland

The Earthsea books by Ursula K Le Guin, which as an adult I find have greater moral depth than Tolkien and are better written and more focused than George RR Martins. QuesoManchego

The Earthsea Trilogy by Ursula Le Guin has been something of a personal bible since I was a child. punkmonkey

Ursula Le Guin during an interview in San Francisco in 1985. Photograph: M. Klimek/Bettmann/CORBIS

Start with: The Earthsea series or The Left Hand of Darkness they are some of the very few titles which I would be confident enough to name as true classics, novels that will endure well beyond our lifetimes, wrote Alison Flood

Further reading:

My inspiration: SF Said on Ursula Le Guin

Ursula Le Guin: Wizardry is artistry

Gentlemen, I just dont belong here her fantastic 1987 letter, responding to a request asking her to write a blurb for a science fiction anthology that contained no female voices

4. Virginia Woolf (1882-1941)

To the Lighthouse, The Waves, Orlando, Jacobs Room. Virginia Woolf. Because you can taste every word. Lope82

Mrs Dalloway, elegant and lyrical stream of consciousness that I prefer to Joyce. alloleo

Virginia Woolf. Photograph: George C. Beresford/Getty Images

I would like to put in a word for Virginia Woolf, and especially for the under-appreciated Orlando, where the long-lived protagonist starts out as a young nobleman before becoming a wife and mother. The book runs from Elizabethan England to 1928 and says a lot about the position of women while being both clever and funny. Perhaps Woolf is a bit too literary for some tastes, but Mrs Dalloway, To the Lighthouse , The Waves and A Room of Ones Own must surely speak to many. I think (hope) she will come to be recognised as one of the greatest writers of the 20th century. JackSchofield

To The Lighthouse, it had a huge impact on me when I first read it. It really made me consider and reconsider how I think and find direction. I loved Lily Briscoe and that devastatingly matter-of-fact middle chapter/section that splits the novel. There are so many books by women that I love, but TTL is my favourite. daveportivo

Pretty much all of Woolf, whom I read voraciously during the late 90s and still dip into now and then for a quick dose of writerly inspiration. Hard to pick any one favorite, fiction or non-fiction. But A Room of Ones Own changed my life.Jenny Bhatt

Start with: Mrs DallowayWoolfs great novel makes a day of party preparations the canvas for themes of lost love, life choices and mental illness, wrote Robert McCrum

Further reading:

Portraits of Virginia Woolf: here, the true face of the modern writer

Virginia Woolf should live on, but not because of her death, by Holly Williams

Woolf it down: on how the Bloomsbury set shows they were almost as obsessed with eating as with art

5. Clarice Lispector (1920 – 1977)

If a writer such as Clarice Lispector is to be considered significant from a feminist point of view, then it would probably be due to the absence of anything in her work or life which could be said to resemble the stereotype of the Lady Novelist. As well as living like a sort of secular hermit, her writing is elusive and mystical, being much less concerned with plot and character than with abstract ideas, such as The Apple in the Darks consideration of the nature of artistic creation or Agua Vivas obsessive focus on trying to isolate single moments in time. Although she could write movingly about womens experiences (especially in The Hour of the Star), her almost stubborn unworldliness otherwise gives the lie to the awful old clich that women are somehow deficient in considering the abstract, and shows that women are as unrestricted in subject matter as men. She really is one of the oddest and most individual writers Ive read.Jacob Howarth in Oxford

Clarice Lispector. Photograph: Courtesy Paulo Gurgel Valente

I heard of her just a month ago, from a Korean American friend. All I can say about her at this stage is that she knows me better than I do. I am reading The Complete Stories published 2015, which is full of lovely and shocking surprises. I finish one of her stories with a huge grin that lasts all day, another story may leave me arguing with myself … each one is having an profound impact on me.

She inspires me more than any other author in this second half of my life. Her uniquely fluid style reveals a mind so perspicacious, so permissively poetic and utterly radical. As a feisty feminist, I find peace in Lispectors reveries; she defies convention at every level by writing from deep within her psyche, embracing human flaws and foibles as perfectly natural. Her trademark self-acceptance is so refreshingly robust that I have found myself at times interrupting my reading with whoops of awe and admiration for her freedom of thought and spirit. Mars Drum

Start with: The Hour of the Star all the Brazillian authors talents and eccentricities come together in her most famous, final novella about a poor typist in Rio, says Colm Tibn

Further reading:

A brief survey of the short story, part 56: This darkly addictive Brazilian writer is more concerned with perceptions of objects than conventional plot structures, wrote Chris Power

The True Glamour of Clarice Lispector, by Benjamin Moser for the New Yorker

Brazils Virginia Woolf, by Brenda Cronin for the Wall Street Journal

6. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (born 1977)

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichies Americanah has moved me like no other in recent memory. I would describe it as transformational because it provided an insight into the reality of what it means to be a young, ambitious, highly intelligent, sometimes single black woman in contemporary America. Its an honest book about race, identity and the constant longing and nostalgia one feels for this metaphorical place called home. I was also moved by the story because it touchingly describes the loving relationship between the two central characters, showcasing that neither space nor time can erase love.

We usually go back to the same desires and preferences we had as 15-year-olds, and Americanah captures this sentiment. Moreover, it is a transformational book because it portrays Nigeria as a place that is mythical, marvellous, chaotic and slightly dangerous, yet also wildly fascinating, with a magnetic power to attract its brightest emigrs back to its shores. Reading this has made me realise that some of the most powerful narratives in contemporary fiction have been written by young, highly educated female African writers, who are tired of the old clichs frequently bandied around about Africa. Ngozi Adichie is a new, powerful and incredibly talented voice; her novel Americanah is the expression of a different African tale, of a continent and its people that have many more magnetic stories to tell, as well as critiques to raise about the so-called enlightened West. beograd

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, photographed in 2007. Photograph: Felix Clay for the Guardian

Start with: Americanah a superb dissection of race in the UK and the USA, wrote Elizabeth Day

Further reading:

I decided to call myself a Happy Feminist her world-famous TED talk

Dont we all write about love? When men do it, its a political comment. When women do it, its just a love story interview by Emma Brockes

Every 16-year-old in Sweden will receive copy of We Should All Be Feminists

7. Margaret Atwood (born 1939)

The Handmaids Tale by Margaret Atwood. She predicted all that is happening today in that book. shofmann

Everything about it is scarily easy to imagine. Her descriptions of how women began to be punished for abortions reminds me of legislation happening right now in the USA, for example. getebi

Start with: The Handmaids Tale Atwoods chilling tale of a concubine in an oppressive future America is more vital than ever, wrote Charlotte Newman

Further reading:

Haunted by The Handmaids Tale – Atwood on the legacy of her iconic novel

Margaret Atwood webchat her answers to your questions

I set myself a schedule of three to five pages a day Atwood on writing

8. Zadie Smith (born 1975)

White Teeth, by Zadie Smith. Could read it over and over again. Sarah Hassam

Zadie Smith, photographed at the Edinburgh books festival in 2001. Photograph: Murdo Macleod for the Guardian

On Beauty by Zadie Smith is absolutely brilliant. Smith is often categorized first by race and gender and thus is never considered the peer of other modern literary fiction writers like Franzen and Rushdie, but she easily beats them at their own style. emason1121

Start with: White Teeth, a novel on the lives of various multicultural families living in London; an audaciously assured contribution to this process of staring into the mirror, wrote Caryl Philipps

Further reading:

Fail better: What makes a good writer? Is writing an expression of self, or, as TS Eliot argued, an escape from personality? Thanks to Jenny Bhatt and MildGloster for pointing us towards this 2007 essay.

Windows on the Will: Smiths essay about watching the new Charlie Kaufman film Anomalisa, and Arthur Schopenhauer, was recently published on the New York Review of Books. I went to see Anomalisa, largely because of how interesting Smith made it seem, shared MildGloster.

9. Elena Ferrante (born 1943)

Of the many beautifully wrought themes explored in Elena Ferrantes masterful Neapolitan series, one that especially speaks to me, as a woman, is the question of what it means to attain presence versus what it means to disappear. Lila and Len, the central characters, each struggles to not disappear, despite the forces of class, history, and violence conspiring against them as women. Each tries to avoid what Lila loathingly describes as the problem of dissolving margins, when the outlines of people and things suddenly dissolved, disappeared. Reading Ferrante has led me to wonder: How many times have I, as a woman, faced being erased in relationships, in career, in the larger social order? How many far less-privileged women, in hostile corners of the world, face the threat of vanishing completely, dissolving into the boundaries of others without a trace? Veronica Majerol, New York, NY

Start with: The Days of Abandonment, a short novel Ferrante wrote before her famous Neapolitan series a great taster, and brilliant in its own right.

Further reading:

Elena Ferrante: the global literary sensation nobody knows

Elena Ferrante: Anonymity lets me concentrate exclusively on writing an interview by Deborah Orr

10. Angela Carter (1940 – 1992)

When I was at university I saw someone give a paper on Angela Carters dystopian masterpiece The Passion of New Eve. It was probably another year or so before I got my hands on a copy but I was not disappointed.

The premise alone a man captured by radical feminists and surgically transformed into a woman so that he may bear the messiah was enough to pique my interest, but it was Carters hallucinatory prose and rich symbolism that made this novel unforgettable. elbartonfink

Start with: Nights at the Circus the story of winged circus performer Sophie Fevverss travels through 19th-century Europe, that was named the best-ever winner of Britains oldest literary prize, the James Tait Black award.

English novelist Angela Carter sitting on a park bench in Paris in 1988. Photograph: Sophie Bassouls/Corbis

Further reading:

Angela Carter: a portrait in postcards

A brief survey of the short story: Angela Carter, by Chris Power

Femme fatale: Angela Carters subversive take on traditional fairy stories in The Bloody Chamber is as shocking today as when the collection first appeared in 1979, wrote Helen Simpson

We are painfully aware that this list could go forever. So, please, add more authors to the conversation by leaving your thoughts in the comments.

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/us

[eificopper]

Would-be Title: Among deities we live Series/Timeline: Twinkle – SO main storyline? Characters: Shira – Xerneas - Indigo (mentioned) - Citinea (mentioned) - Yveltal (mentioned) Length: 2556w

This is old as heck, supposed to be the direct continuation of “Extinguish the Light” and a very important part of the main story but a bunch of things changed in canon now.... Regardless, I REALLY loved how this was going even if I idn’t get to finish polishing it, who knows maybe I’ll use some of it for the new first meeting <w< extra bits included//hit

///

She had spent the night out and would be lying if she said she got a nice rest. Autumn was more or less approaching the Johto region, chilly winds were blowing and the trees’ leaves were gaining a gorgeous gradient of colors from yellow and golden to deep reds and rusty browns. Shira thought it was almost ironic, this is Yveltal’s reigning season after all.

And thus it brings forth another problem: She has no food, and out there it’s ball game. The Meercle sighed, once again this wasn’t a very thought out plan, but she outright refused to go back, not yet. Not until her anger had subsided, her head had stopped hurting and she could make sense of the mess that was her heart.  Even if only a bit.

The wilderness is nowhere near close to how stories in the media present it though, there are no trees filled with berries and fruits everywhere illuminated by clear sun rays and bright green hues, not at all. This was a real forest and all there was were rocks, tall trees, bugs, dirt and humidity. She started climbing along the steep rocky landscape at the east, her hooves moving nimbly as she searched higher grounds and greenery, mentally evaluating her options.  

She could eat some plants, true, but she wasn’t very used to it despite having resorted to that a few times before. She could just find a nice spot and curl there to catch sun, but the energy gotten from that would be minimal as soon as she started moving again, and it wasn’t enough to stop her rumbling stomach. Somehow this all reminded her of the first time she got to the SO headquarters as a prisoner, sighs. She jumped at the top of the hill to a clearing and stared at her surroundings.

Grazing it is…

As she absentmindedly searched around some low branches and leaves, her mind conjured up more conflicting thoughts, how would the others had reacted if they had known the Fall was partially her fault? That all the chaos they tried so hard to fix and all the tears they had shed and everything that was lost could have been avoided if she had fucking controlled herself? What would she have done? She remembered well those feelings…

She would take back anything if it could have prevented this.

She would do anything if she could take revenge for this.

Because they never forget.

She sighed resting her front hooves on the tree trunk and biting at the closer leaves. To think the answer had been herself all along.

-----

Route 34 was beautiful and quite pacific for being so near to such a populated district, the air was crisp and cold and with a hint of salt from the nearby sea that reminded her of home, yet she headed the opposite side, to the lush trees bordering Ubame forest.

In the end she hadn’t eaten much, and though she hated to admit it she was starting to get worried of drifting too far from SO’s headquarters and wondering if maybe she was making a mistake, but her pride was too big, and her heart still felt uneasy with a tight coil twisting around her chest making it hard to breathe.

Her stomach had begun to twist as well. Maybe it was the leaves.

She kept walking where her hooves took her, there was a certain feeling she couldn’t quite put her name on but she continued, deeper into the forest among dark trees and bird cries. Something was calling her, something…

Her hoof stepped on a patch of grass and she noticed something on it upon inspecting it closely, is that…a fair-type essense?

She stopped in place, ears perked up and eyes wide in surprise. Something was near.

Then the grass around her bloomed, flower buds suddenly opening to reveal their colors to the world, the cloudy skies cleared and a gust of fresh wind ruffled at Shira’s mane from a direction she didn’t exactly know of. The wind brought along with it the scent of growth, renewal, life.

And suddenly she knew why as her eyes caught sight of a radiant creature, with a mainly blue and black body and majestic antlers that shone in rainbow colors, seemingly exuding a regal aura. Its gaze was calm as it approached, standing before her in just a couple of airy strides.

A pokémon that easily tripled her size, walking with such elegance and confidence she could only dream of having. The Meercle lowered her ears staring up with wide eyes and crouched down her body closer to the ground in a mix of shock, respect, and even some fear.

She was in the presence of a god, and not just any god, her patron.

“L-L-Lord Xer-neas…” She felt her legs freeze on the spot, yet her heart was rattling on her chest. She lowered her head in respect, closing her eyes tightly not knowing very well what was going on.

She had never seen him with her own eyes, only in books, stained glasses and statues, and… a couple of dreams. She was one of his vessels right? Indigo had said so. Is that why he was here? What is he even doing here? This is Johto, very far from home. Oh gods it’s for her right? It has to be. How could she stand in front of him at a moment like… like this?! She didn’t understand anything, she hasn’t yet processed anything. Everything that happened, everything that’s happening now… she’s a failure, she’s a disgrace, she’s a-

“Calm down my child”

“…A-ah!” She let out a tiny gasp and opened her eyes again, hot tears were rolling down her cheeks, when did she start crying?

Xerneas’ voice was strict and clear yet not forceful; in fact it encompassed a certain warmth and calmness to it, and he also spoke in her native Kalosian which further soothed her down. She felt her hooves wobble, having regained some mobility.

She had heard and read alike the great tales of Xerneas. Duneyr had been strict but kind, he preferred his vessels to refer to him by name and was very protective of them, having saved quite a few form danger and death itself, for they all served a higher purpose under his eyes not to be taken away by Yveltal yet. Morgane had been motherly and a pacifist who talked to her vessels constantly even when they were small children, loved by all and self-sacrificing she had even been the one to make the peace treaty with Dispater. Dvalinn… Dvalinn had been a true hero, he led a couple of his vessels during the Fifth Elemental War and faced the aftermaths of it despite how much it drained him.

The current Xerneas had chosen Oberon as his regnal name and even the newest history books didn’t have much about him yet. A small part of her thought in amazement she was probably one of the few to collaborate writing that chapter, but a bigger, louder and obviously more nervous part of her could just wonder what he would be like …

“We need to talk…” He stated calmly and she looked down again in shame and self-disgust, she wasn’t worthy of his time and worry.

Regardless though, she followed in silence as they entered deep into Ubame forest.

---

The life pokémon was simply resting on a patch of grass, front and back legs tucked under him like a dainty Shikijika. Shira sat beside him in a similar position, thought still keeping some distance out of respect.

She had so many questions, yet she felt as if she couldn’t voice any so she just sat there In silence letting his fairy aura soothe and refresh her like a spring breeze.

“Why oh why do want to die so much? Do you not appreciate the gift of life?” He asked suddenly with a small sigh turning to her, his gaze looked serene as ever.

Shira was initially shocked for the suddenness and then looked away, feeling slightly ashamed. How could she disrespect the very essences he represented? “I do, my lord. But life is just so hard and complicated sometimes. Is not that I wish to die now but… back then, instead of that happening…” Her heart ached, hooves slightly scratching the grass under them.

“You mustn’t keep on blaming yourself. What happened, happened, and you can’t rewrite the past”

So easy to say it…but it’s been years and she’s still there. Feeling like she’ll never move on.

Xerneas sighed with a sound that carried sadness and… guilt? “I’ve never properly talked to you before, and I realize now that could have helped you since long ago. I am deeply sorry for that” He lowered his head to her in a small bow.

Shira was abashed! How could she have him apologizing to her like that? He is a deity! “I-It’s not your fault my lord” She looked down shyly, cheeks reddening “I’m the one who a-always takes things too personal and end up causing problems… its’ all on me” she murmured.

“Shira you’re an amazingly emotional being and that’s one of the many reasons why I chose you… you feel and react strongly and are sensitive to many things, and that is not a bad thing”

She knew to a very deep extent about vessels, specially those of the Kalosian deities, the roles they acted out an even fulfilled, but she couldn’t really see any of those redeeming or life-changing qualities in herself. She was not special all altruist and self-sacrificing like those renewed figures she’s read about and heard of so many times, she was just

Plain.

Mediocre.

“Why did you choose me my lord?” She asked suddenly with a serious face, putting clear emphasis on her rather than the why.

Xerneas let out a short laugh “‘why me?’ all of you vessels ask the same questions sooner or later, didn’t think you’d be in the former group, but seeing the circumstances…” He mused to himself. She looked confused for a moment, was she missing something obvious here or did he have a certain expectation from her she was not meeting? Was she being even more of a disappointment? Just great “You are a being of light, and you share and extend that light to others, you’re a harbinger of emotions, good wishes, growth… hope” He stated solemnly.

Shira frowned, that’s exactly what that asshole had told her.

“Yveltal has to choose those who work with reason, judgement, sacrifice and other qualities that counter up mine, but they’re just as necessary and none is inherently good or bad, it’s all part of balance and life” The lord of fairies explained “They work with shadows”

That line immediately struck the girl “But I work from the shadows as well” She mentioned, mentally recalling SO’s very motto.

Xerneas grinned knowingly, as if he could tell she’d say that “I said with not from, and you still spread light, even from there, and that’s what makes you a prime candidate for me. You take the burdens on your shoulders, carry them with you, but you cannot deny or go against your own kind nature and how you hand it to others”

Shira sighed and shifted a bit, now this was sounding like something Citinea’d say…

“Every hardship you’ve faced, small or big as they were, you kept going forward, even if unsure, even when you didn’t think you could. You stepped up, you took charge, you offered options to others, and helped them move forward” The meercle could recall vividly all those memories. Although…

“But there was a time when I didn’t…” She mumbled.

“So? My child you’re only a mon” He said soothingly “Ever-changing and growing. Being a vessel doesn’t mean you have to always be happy or right, or be ‘perfect’, such things doesn’t exist. And even so, it’s not like that was a mistake, and you need to stop telling yourself that and being so hard to yourself. Now, as for that Yveltal vessel-” He started changing his tone.

“Y-You know?”

“Of course! He’s a good one, that boy, Yveltal chose very very well. I cannot tell you to stop hating him my child, though you really shouldn’t, it’s only natural that you do. You come from and work with opposite sides but, try to understand, he probably has a hard time grasping and dealing with his role as well” He sighed with a small nod as if confirming something to himself. Shira just tried to hide a small grimace, apparently not too keen on agreeing with that idea.

/// extra 1

“You don’t see it now and there was no way I could’ve seen it before, but souls, lives, everything is intertwined… we change, we grow and… we restart again” He explained as his head looked up to the sky. Shira looked up too, as if searching what he was seeing.  

Upon seeing nothing more than treetops and the clear blue sky she lowered her eyes to him again “My Lord?”

“Do you believe in reincarnation my child?” He turned to her, a tiny smile barely visible.

She blinked in slight confusion and leaned in forward “Yes, very much so…”

“I am glad” He closed his eyes, smile broadening “You see Shira, a long time ago your soul was one of royalty, and even before that you had divinity. A time when my own soul, my past life, was a common one and you had been far superior: the empress of skies and fire and rainbows…”

“I… find that very hard to believe” Her gaze shifted somewhere else to the purple flowers that bloomed near them “Lord Xerneas is it really true then, that even deities leave this plane?”

“Yes” He nodded simply “All souls must rest at some point. One day I’ll be tired, so tired in fact, that I’ll revert to a tree form to sleep. But I will not wake up again in the same place. Another new soul shall take my place as the deity of life”

/// extra 2

There was a blinding flash of white pink-ish light and Shira had to close her eyes and look away for a moment. When she looked again in place of Xerneas stood a young handsome-looking man appearing to be in his late 20s. He was dressed elegantly yet simple in Shira’s opinion, with a black and dark blue attire.

The Meercle couldn’t help blushing a bit as several thoughts crossed her mind. She would have never guessed the lord of life would be so… good looking

She bit her tongue. I have a boyfriend already and this is a god, stop it.

/// extra 3

“My child”

There was a certain feeling she couldn’t quite put her finger on whenever he called her like that, that made her just feel special. It was entrancing. As if she really was under his special care… or as if she belonged to him.

She shook her head lightly.

Though at the same time she had to admit it was kind of weird now seeing him with the appearance of a handsome man only a few years older than her.

[meloneta]

happy 22 years of me having a sister

right back at you<3