#who tried to conquer their neighbour

[tenshiharmonia]

Thank you ! Honestly, it's something that I find quite infuriating. And baffling. Don't get me wrong, I understand that it stems from the desire to have a more nuanced portrayal of the Demon King, which I'm totally on board with. But can we stop trying to make Ganondorf come off as more sympathetic than he is by demonizing a perfectly respectable character for crimes that he did not even commit ? Because really, it usually has the opposite effect...

Ok so like if the argument is “Rauru questionable”… why? Why is he questionable? Because he’s powerful?

Ganondorf attacked him and he responded with restrained self defense. Ganondorf lobbed thinly veiled insults at him and his mixed race marriage in his own home, and Rauru responded with patient diplomacy.

One of the points made in the “Hyrule is imperialist” comments is the assumption that Rauru inviting Ganondorf and the Gerudo to join his kingdom basically amounted to a threat… except that’s really obviously not the case?

Rauru didn’t conquer them even after they attacked him. He didn’t conquer anybody. None of the other lands are under Hylian control. They all have their own leadership. They all manage their own resources. In BotW King Dorephan refers to Hylians as the Zora’s allies… not their masters.

Rauru established an alliance, not an empire.

People are concerned, saying “I hate how the other races are subservient to Hylians” except… they’re not. They don’t follow the royal family of Hyrule unquestioningly.

To get help from the other people, Zelda still had to make diplomacy trips and convince them to aid her. Convince them. Not command them. They’re loyal to her because she shows them the respect they deserve and is dedicated to caring for and protecting everyone. She’s not entitled to rule like Ganondorf thinks he is, people follow her because she’s a good leader and it seems to be the same with Rauru. He shared his immense power with others and sacrificed himself to protect everyone from being subjugated by Ganondorf.

Reading Rauru or Zelda as imperialist or Hyrule as an oppressive empire requires ignoring practically all of the canon text and projecting a number of things. So… why do people keep pushing that extremely shallow reading?

Call Nintendo out on its bullshit, by all means! The series has improved over the years because people voiced their legitimate concerns in the past. I just think this whole “imperialist propaganda” argument is completely off base and I really wish the people saying this stuff would pay more attention to the deliberate efforts Nintendo’s made to diversify the Hyrule royal family and the world of Hyrule at large.

[randomnameless]

okay I had the wildest Fodlan AU that ultimately is just an AU because who gives a fig about that verse ; not the devs that’s for sure

House Nuvelle had always been on #teamIonius since inception, because House Nuvelle is actually Noa’s family - initially full of hybrid Nabateans - and they swore to always help the Hresvelgs - who were also supposed* to be hybrid Nabateans.

So, come the Insurrection, Ionius is defanged and Aegir and the other Nobles are in power, something that is unconceivable for House Nuvelle, who have long forgotten why they were loyal to the Hresvelgs, but just remember they always supported the Emperor.

In a bid to help Ionius and restore Adrestia to the state it was before the Insurrection, they make a pact with foreign states, Dagda and Brigid.

Dagda and Brigid would “invade” Adrestia and make a beeline for the capital, maybe killing Aegir in the way, Ionius is freed and in exchange Dagda and Brigid maybe end up with commecial exclusivity rights, or maybe can become Adrestian nobles and seize lands who belonged to the Seven who deposed the Emperor.

Of course this plan was crappy, because the second the Dagdan forces landed in Nuvelle (with a welcome drink and all), they double crossed House Nuvelle, razed their city and started to invade for good - because Dagda is, per Shamir, all about liberty and freedom.

Bergliez used his holy loincloth and knuckles to send them all flying away, and as a retaliation Adrestia killed Petra’s parents and had her “moved” to Adrestia as a hostage.

Enbarr finally learning what House Nuvelle’s involvment in this mess was has their House erased (Constance mentions she lost her family, is it just the House Nuvelle name or they died?) and she ends up in the sewers.

Tl;Dr : #teamIonius sucks 

* in the lycaon was a half-nabatean AU continuation - Lycaon was killed because he was a half-lizard by his siblings/nephews who wanted to sit on the throne - but this truth is a carefully hidden one, both by Rhea (who wants to hide the existence of Nabateans while not knowing why her son died) and the Hresvelg family (the ones who usurped the throne and fucking killed Saint Seiros’s son!).

[langernameohnebedeutung]

So I noticed something interesting linguistically during my Spanish lessons but then I couldn't find a reason why and thought maybe you would have an idea?

Why does the word 'German' change so much from language to language? I mean you said Deutsch but we say German. But then in Spanish, it's Alemán. That's a massive change across three language. And I know they're from different language families but it still seems like a big change, I wonder why

I mean...yeah, it's kind of a situation

The thing is, Germany was only united as a single country in 1871. Before that, it was really a conglomerate of many different small cities, dukedoms, and kingdoms under the Holy Roman Empire (and before that: Tribes)

Modern-day Germany was just beyond the edge of civilisation during ancient times - Everything to the west and South, including France and England, was conquered and named and cartographed by the Romans but Germania was what was on the "other side":

The beige part was where civilisation ended for the Romans. Everything beyond the Limes was barbarian woods and most attempts to conquer there ended in military disasters like the battle of the Teuteburger Forest so ...not much progress was being made.

The name "Germania", that was used for EVERYTHING beyond the Limes border was apparently adopted from the word the Gauls used for the peoples they knew were living right there on the other side - and which meant something like "people of the forest" or possibly "neighbours" (which means the Romans might have done that ancient thing where they asked the Gauls: "Who lives over there?" and the Gauls were "Oh, yeah, those guys are our neighbours who sometimes come to our markets and that we fight with sometimes and who talk a little weird" and the Romans were like: "Ah, so the name of everyone living in the great beyond is 'Neighbours' and just stamped that name on a large chunk of the continent full of people who had never met a Gaul and had never heard of the word "Germania")

And because that area wasn't centralised the way the former colonies of Rome were, this pattern continued - when "states" (there was no modern-day statehood then, I guess the closest word would be "Reiche" but that would be Empires in English but that also doesn't describe it accurately and Reich has a Connotation in English and kingdom suggests a kind of continuity that didn't exist yet...) interacted with the people who lived in these lands, they often falsely assumed a level of social cohesion that didn't exist. One example is when Charlemagne pushed East, he would often make deals with the pagan Saxon tribes to please stop raiding all the nice monasteries he tried to establish - but it happened again and again, and people at the time concluded that the Saxons simply didn't honour their word. The problem was, that the Saxons were not united under one ruler and were not one cohesive tribe - so just because one of them made a deal to stop raiding monasteries, this doesn't mean anyone else got the memo or felt obliged to stop plundering those monks.

Even today, this kind of happens: Like "teutonic" being used for "german" because Teutons were a German tribe or people identifying Germany with Bavaria bc they hear a lot about the Oktoberfest or "Prussian" and "German" being equated because between 1871 and 1918, the Hohenzollern, being both the royal House of Prussia and the Kaiserhaus, largely dictated Germany's foreign policy and impression to the rest of the world, and even before that posing the biggest counter-weight to the Austrian/Austro-Bavarian role on the German-speaking playing field and often symbolising the different cultures (e.g. protestant vs catholic) existing across the German-countries-minus-Switzerland.

And this is also how the name thing happened: "Deutsch" just means "of the people" and was largely used for the language (hence "Dutch", being a very similar language to German, also having that very similar name, except, since they were the "Low Countries" (flat as a pancake land) of the Holy Roman Empire, they eventually took that name for themselves and their language when they became independent - the Netherlands speaking nederlands, while Belgish dutch-speakers speak "vlaams" after the region "Flanders") But since Germany never "separated" from the Holy Roman Empire but is largely considered its successor, there was no reason to make a regional name the name for a new nation. It just remained "the nation/the people".

Over the centuries, the other countries usually took whatever name there was for the regional tribe of Deutsche/people they dealt with and applied that to the whole thing: If you dealt primarily with the Alemanni people, you would use a word like the French "Allemagne", the English lived on an island and mostly kept using the Latin name "Germania" - which became "Germany". In Finland and Estonia it's "Saksa" and "Saksamaa" because being in the East, they mostly dealt with Saxons.

This also turned into an international game of telephone eventually: People who didn't have much contact with different kinds of Europeans would just pick up whatever name the people they dealt with used for Germany. If you had a lot of contact with the French or Spanish, you would pick up a variation of "Alman", if you dealt primarily with the English or Italians, it would be a variety of "Germania"

Then you have countries like Japan, which entered international exchange very late and had a lot of contact with Dutch and German speakers - which is why they say ドイツ - "doitsu". In Mandarin it's "Déguó" - guó meaning "land" and "Dé" for Deutschland.

Then there is also the language barrier: The modern nation-states of Germany and Italy both were once part of the Holy Roman Empire and neither had a standardised language (even today, on the European continent, Germany and Italy might take the prize for the most variations of their own language on the home continent) or considered themselves "German" or "Italian" until very late. So they distinguished between the people who spoke all the variations of their own language and those people above/below the Alps who were absolutely incomprehensible to them due to speaking an entirely different language family - so the Italians also spoke of "tedesco", which is related to the word "deutsch". (Italy cleverly spared itself most of this chaos by not having a lot of neighbours to begin with).

Another language barrier issue was in the East, because that's where Germanic languages and Slavic languages meet. This meant that while everyone who was part of the German(ic) dialect family could communicate with their neighbouring towns and tribes and everyone on the Slavic side could communicate with their neighbouring towns and tribes, they were also faced with those weirdos from the other side of the language barrier who were speaking absolute gibberish (or maybe just stared at you like an idiot and said nothing when you asked them a basic question) That's why in many Slavic languages, the name for "Germany" is a variation of "Niemcy" or "Německo" - which means "mute" or "non-speaker" or "foreigner" - because those were the people they couldn't talk to. Vācija, Vokietija, and Vuoceja also work this way)

Meanwhile, in Germanic languages, it's often names that also incorporate the word "deutsch & land"- Duitsland, Tyskland, Deytshland, Däitschland, Þýskaland etc

(I think to do the language diversity and mutual communication argument some justice, I think it's also important to point out that there wasn't a lot of personal mobility for the average person at the time, so they probably also identified themselves by what little they saw of the world. If even today there are German-speakers that don't understand each other, that issue was bound to be amplified by 1000000 at a time with no standardised writing, no mobility, a thin population, small towns etc. So even if everyone between the furthest North-East of the Germanic language continuum and the lowest South-West could maybe somehow communicate with their respective neighbouring towns and tribes in pre-nation times, if you had snatched two peasants from the respective ends even of what is today Germany and sat them down on the table in the middle, there probably would have been to have even the most basic conversation or know that the other person spoke a variation of the same language - there is an old saying that "a language is a dialect with an army" - and for German, it's more "a dialect-continuum with a bunch of armies fighting each other until eventually, they got 1 army 2000 years late". Meanwhile for the educated, the lingua franca at the time was Latin.)

Now, a lot of countries ...well, eventually became countries. Which meant they could do some marketing of their own and establish their own name for themselves - but Germany, as I mentioned, was only united in 1871. Even if they considered their language "deutsch", they didn't consider themselves "deutsch" for a long time (and when they did, it was considered a radical idea) and as such, there was no centralised government saying "We are deutsch" the way the French kings said "We are French" or the English kings said "We are English" - in fact, the central authority until the early 19th century was the Holy Roman Empire. Their rulers considered themselves the successors of the old Roman Emperors - this was called the "translatio imperii" according to which Charlemagne was the first "new" Emperor" and the Empire continued until Franz II was forced to abdicate bc of Napoleon. Eventually, it was officially considered "Das heilige römische Reich deutscher Nation" - "the holy roman Empire of the german nation" - but that wasn't really a central aspect of anyone's identity.

The average person just identified by whatever colour their personal patch on this map was:

#InOurFlickenteppichEra

So no one really challenged to disagreed with someone speaking of them as "Saksa" or "German" and that's pretty much why everyone has a different name for Germany.

[keitorin3]

The Reckless King and the Old Storyteller

So I had this idea that came to me one night just sitting around watching this movie "Three thousand years of Longing" on TV. If you've seen it, you'll probably know which part of it inspired me just by the title of this post.

So the setting for this story is based in the 1200-1300s where there is a young boy named Arthur who was crowned king at the early age of 11.

At age 20 he leads his army's to war, fighting alongside his men in the battlefield. Stories are told of his recklessness, even with his own life, but still with his strength and the power of his armies, he conquered the surrounding lands and the other neighbouring kingdoms as well. He returns to his kingdom as a conquer, but his soul has rotten in war, making him unable to shed his bloody armor (Figuratively speaking).

His councillors, fearing his bloodlust tries to distract him with other gratifications. They gave him all one could desire, alcohol, exotic foods, beautiful women and entertainment.

None could quinch his thirst for violence. Until the court summons all of the kingdoms best storytellers and bards to the castle in a bid for one of them enrapture the King with their tales.

At first, after many of storytellers failed and try to flee from the kings displeasure and impatients, they almost lost hope. But there was one that was able to enchant him.

The old storyteller went by the name Merlin, and he was a different kind of man. His insolence and quips would have earned his neck the blade, but the tales the man told stole the kings attention and even his foolishness and blunt comments was a charming quality to Arthur. It made him laugh and soothed the harsh king.

Merlin became his first friend. And that friendship eventually evolved into love.

Arthur grew very attached to the old man, and eventually it became a very common sight to see the two together as Arthur didn't just seek Merlin for stories but for company, somebody to speak too. For Merlin was honest in a sarcastic way that Arthur appreciates.

The tales Merlin told were many and holding a lesson and point of truth to be told. But Arthur especially loved the stories of Artorius. A Roman General from the 4th century who later becomes king after many adventures that helps to gather his loyal men of the Stone Round Table.

Arthur especially loves the tales featuring Artorius and his secretly magical Manservant, Myrddin. Their tale was of loyalty, love and heartache. Once, Arthur told Merlin that he thinks Artorius was in love with Myrddin and not the Queen Guinevere with how much they had been through together. It saddens Arthur that Myrddin had to hold onto Artorius dying body alone, weaping for him by a lake.

When Merlin finally reveals to Arthur his magic one day by via magic butterfly, and there and then, Arthur knew love.

Arthur tried to place Merlin in his court as advisor or court magician, but Merlin denies both offers and chooses to be his friend instead.

Now, this is where things get interesting! There's an assassination attempt on Arthur after hearing of the king going soft, someone had balls to try and kill him. The attempt is thwarted by Merlin who took a blade to the back after pushing Arthur out of the way.

The King holds Merlin in his arms as he dies.

The assassin dies shortly after with his internal organs ripped out and his head set on a pike in the front gates. But as soon as the bloodlust depleted, Arthur found himself beside Merlin's body and weeping.

The people ran for the hills as news of the Storytellers death spread, fearful of the violence the Kings grief filled rage will ensure.

Arthur did none, he remained at Merlin's side crying for the man who held his heart.

(Now here I would have left it off and said Arthur dies after drinking himself sick, but I'm a suckered for happy endings.)

It was only due to him never taking his eyes off Merlin that he witnessed it.

The Magic.

It was glowing gold, much like Merlin's eyes when he practiced magic, it sprung from the very earth and wrapped him. Before his very eyes Arthur watches in shocked Wonder as Merlin's sliver white hair turned raven black and his wrinkles disappear and smoothed clear into flawless white skin.

The best part was when Merlin's lungs breathed air and his eyes opened. They were gold for a long while before turning into very familiar blue eyes.

It was Merlin, his Merlin, only not so old anymore, but it's him and he was alive. Arthur had no restraint in hugging the just revived man tightly. Sobbing again but this time in relief.

Merlin: I'm ok Arthur, everything is ok my King.

Arthur: Don't- don't ever do something like that again do you hear me! Never again Merlin. Thank god you're alive.

Merlin: Err, your not shocked that I'm young again? Sorry about that by the way, I was planning on telling you but it slipped my mind, being old wasn't fake, just temporary. But man, it feels good to not feel my bones ache.

Arthur: You idiot. *then proceeds to kiss him dumber.*

Arthur would later trick Merlin into marriage and make him become King Consort. Nobody questions about the Old Storyteller become an Young Storyteller, content and happy with the positive effect he has on the Once Reckless King.

(This was great to get out of my mind. I loved the part of the Gjinns tale because instantly my mind went to Merlin and Arthur, but Merlin is the magical Being so he don't stay dead.

In my mind, the stories Merlin tells are all real events, especially Artorius and Myrddin. If it wasn't obvious, Merlin is Myrddin of the story and has been waiting for his King to return for 5-6 hundred years. He went across the lands telling their story. Now he found him in young Arthur and it was time they make new tales to tell, one of a round table and a sword in the stone.

That's all for now, till next time fellow dreamers~! ✨)

[forevermore05]

Prompt: the southern riders come back when Katara is 10 years old, the tribe warriors fight as hard as they can but there's not enough of them and she gets taken to a prison in the Fire Nation where they keep her away from the water

A year later Hama shows up and gets her out using blood bending, it's practically a suicide mission to try to break any of her fellow water bendings out which is why she never did it but Hama can't let a child from her tribe there so she risks it as soon as she hears the news of Katara being there

Hama raises Katara in the traditions of their tribe and teachers her water bending in secret at night, they can't go back home since the Fire Nation ships control the seas between here and there so she tells the neighbours Katara is her granddaughter who came to live with her from the colonies because her parents died in the war and sends her to school dresses in red every morning but tells her the stories of their tribe before bed every night

Katara grows up feeling divided between her heritage (which Hama makes sure she feels connected to) and her friends in the Fire Nation who are nothing like the monsters who took her from home and took her mother from her before that

The day she turns 15 Hama tries to make her help killing someone she knows (a classmate, a neighbour, maybe the parent of a friend of hers) using bloodbending and she can't take it anymore, she runs away from "home"

She ends up in the capital and takes up a job at the palace (there's a lot of turn over since the royal family is kind of volatile so they are always looking for new people) just in time for Prince Zuko to come back to the Fire Nation, having just killed the Avatar and conquered Ba Sing Se with the help of his sister

Katara couldn't kill some poor peasants whose biggest crime was being born in the Fire Nation but she can and will kill the person responsible for taking the Avatar and the hope he represents away from this world

All she needs to do is get close to him without him suspecting on a full moon night

Bestie, this is bat shit insane. This is a crazy good plot. But this gonna take me a long while to even attempt to do so I hope you are patient with me. I'm still a very amateur writer in terms of story writing but I would like to attempt to write this one day. If you permit me can I change some points in the plot such as the aging characters up to make it easier for me?

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Gay wrongs tournament, round 2 of the minor bracket

Propaganda:

For Lord Hater and Commander Peepers :

Lord Hater is the self-proclaimed "universe's awesomest evil-doer", an immature, attention-seeking manchild with electric powers and a short temper. He rules the Hater Empire with Commander Peepers as his second-in-command (technically third, after his beloved pet spider-xenomorph, but who's counting), however it soon becomes *very* clear that the cunning, remorseless, hardworking Peepers is the *real* brains behind the empire. Peepers might be frustrated at Hater's incompetence at times and isn't above manipulating him to reach an end goal, but he'd never dream of usurping him because, well, he's really gay and in love with him (as much as he can be in an early-10s Disney cartoon, anyways). Hater might take Peepers for granted a lot of times, but as his oldest friend and closest confidante he's the one who Hater is closest to. Whether it's invading other planets or kicking puppies for fun, these two are *delightfully* terrible jerks and the epitome of gay wrongs. 

Commander Peepers is both Lord Hater's right hand man in villainy AND his jilted stay-at-home-wife-guy (Also in villainy. Hater is really good at getting distracted from productive and efficient villaining.) Lord Hater was the greatest villain in the galaxy thanks to how well he and Commander Peepers worked as an evil team to run the Hater Empire!

Lord Hater conquers planets and is such an edgy bastard. Peepers is the actual brains behind the operation. Peepers is often pushed aside by Hater, they are besties and yet Peepers is always pining for this guy who will never notice. Peepers is so horribly gay for him if you watch the show he wants his stupid boss so bad. Peepers is so scared of him season 1 but then starts yelling BACK in season 2 and has to deal with him like a babysitter or something and yet STILL idolizes him and that’s just such a fun dynamic. His password is H8RNP33PRS43VR (Hater and Peepers forever). They are so evil and everyone fears them and they are villains and they are gay and the side of the fandom that draws them as a married couple that needs counseling is absolutely correct. The fanart of Hater openly liking him back is wonderful but I swear you don’t even need that. They are so gay and villain you have to love them they are

Villains that conquer planets and do evil stuff, my favourite characters, not really canon but they are the best :)

For El Mariana x Slimecicle:

They are married and on their first day together they accidentally killed their neighbor's kid.  When Slimecicle was trying to murder people and failed it because he didn't have Mariana by his side to back him up.

Well Slimecicle's canonically murdered a child/egg in order to give his and Mariana's daughter a gun. He also accidentally murdered his niece but that wasn't really his fault. Mariana has killed their daughter twice - the first time they were able to bring her back via a court trial and Slimecicle planted tnt under the court in case he lost. Mostly it's Slimecicle committing astrocities (like when he tried to kill more kids after his daughter died the first time, or when he constantly breaks windows in order to get into people's houses, or when he disguised himself as a child/egg in order to burgle his neighbours and proceeded to run for president as this child) but Mariana doesn't exactly have a clear conscience. Also they both love and hate each other. They're simultaneously married and divorced. They've had live minecraft sex at least twice.

[delusionalmultifandomwriter]

Please do a fic where adult jason todd gets comforted under/hidden in Batman’s cape!! the softer the better

your wish is my command (i missed the topic a little but it is super soft so i hope you like it anyways)

requested?: yes (i am so excited about this, ahh!)

words: 1848

Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Joker, Orphan

Oneshot, angst, hurt/comfort

TW: throwing up, violence, implicite self-harm urges (this got a lot darker than i planned it to be)

credits: the dialogue parts of the italic are from Batman: A Death in the Family

Have fun, thank you so much for requesting!

Ressurection is not exactly healthy. Which is not too surprising but still. The Lazarus Pit healed Jason's body, the scars were still there but very pale and barely visible anymore.

But the inner scars stayed, even after Jason and Bruce figured themselves out and came to terms with eachother again. Jason suffered from PTSD, who wouldn't after getting beaten up with a crowbar? The nightterrors and the coldness that randomly appeared every now and then were the worst.

This week started off with a night terror. Nothing uncommon, it happened all the time to almost all off them. Jason was at his own place where he was alone. Maybe he woke up his neighbours but at least not his family. He didn't like them worrying about him.

"What hurts more? A? Or B? Forehand? Or backhand? The crazy laugh echoed through the hall. Robin helplessly tried to craw away, his hands restrained behind his back. His breath whistled as he spit out some blood and mumbled a curse. The Joker chuckled evil and leaned down. A little louder, lamb chop. I think you may have a collapsed lung. That always impedes the oratory. Robin leaned up and spit the Joker into his face. The clown smashed Robin's head into the floor, his senses got flooded with the distant metallic feeling of a concussion. Nausea instantly hit him.

Jason shrieked awake. Nausea instantly hit him. He jumped up and nearly got tangled into his blanket. He stumbled into his bathroom and fell to his knees in front of the toilet.

Jason hated throwing up. Especially after a night terror when his mind was already full of thoughts. He leaned against the shower glass still sitting next to the toilet and waiting for the nausea to pass. After a few minutes he slowly got up and scooped some water from the washbasin into his mouth. Jason winced, his throat was raw and still shut tight.

He shivered, the bathroom floor was cold. Jason stumbled back into his bedroom. He grabbed the blanket from the floor and slowly made his way into the living room. He sat down against the heater with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He fell asleep exhausted on his carpet floor.

He was drowning. Breath. He needed air. Needed his lungs fill with oxygen. Cloth. There was cloth over his face. His mouth was dry. The sweet smell of death. He ripped the cloth from his face and threw up green, stale water. Flight! Where was he? He turned around and ran off. People. He took them out. The moves where in his muscles. He pressed his thumbs into the eyes of one of them. A tunnel. A cave. Darkness. Away.

The Joker escaping Arkham was nothing new to Gotham. Nothing new to the Batfam and nothing new to Jason. It happened a million times before but it still put Jason on edge ever since that night in Sarajevo.

He thought he was better. He thought he could conquer the Joker and arrest him again. It was a simple mission. A simple task. Then he met him in a warehouse in the Bowery. The green hair was brushed back, the purple suit dirty with some blood stains on it. The clown turned around and laughed at Red Hood hysterically.

And, hey, please tell the big man I said… "hello".

Jason saw red. He lunged at him and slammed the Joker into the wall, punched him in the face, once, twice. He could break him. He was not Robin anymore. He was taller than the clown now. Stronger. He could give back all the pain. He would give back all the pain. He slammed his knee into the Joker's ribs, a sharp crack echoed through the warehouse.

"Wow, that looked like it really hurt." Jason growled deeply as he lifted the Joker up a little and pinned him against the wall. He pulled him away and smashed him against the wall, the Joker's head lulled foreward a little as he coughed.

"Whoa, now, hang on. That looked like it hurt a lot more." Jason shouted angrily as he threw the Joker on the floor. "Now let's try and find out what hurts more?"

"A?" He kicked the Joker into the stomach. "Or B?" He striked out again.

"Red Hood!" Batman. Jason's head snapped around. "Orphan, stay here until the GCPD arrives." Batman ordered, Orphan appeared from the shadows behind the older man.

Jason finally snapped out of his murderous frenzy. His eyes went wide as he saw what he did. The Joker layed in a puddle of blood, his nose was broken pretty obviously and he was coughing and whincing weakly. Jason backed down when the clown started to laugh madly. Red Hood turned around, pushed past Batman and flea from the area.

The thoughts were flooding over Jason as he ran over the roofs. He was out of breath but he kept running and running until he fell to his knees. He leaned against a brick wall and ripped his mask off of his head. His face was wet with hot tears, smeared over his cheeks and neck. He wrapped his arms around his knees and tried to calm his breath.

He needed to get air into his lungs but his whole body blocked against taking a deep breath. Jason panicked. What had he done?! He disappointed Batman, he promised to be better than the Joker. He wanted to be better. His family would abandom him, what else should they do? He was supposed to be a hero. He sobbed violently, black spots started to dance over his vision. He couldn't breath. Jason felt like he would die here, alone on some roof, alone in this world.

Jason felt someone shake his body. "Jason." A deep but very calm voice called out to him. Jason panted desperatly as his lungs filled with air. Not enough to live but enough to survive.

He was lifted up a little and after that leaned against a soft wall. Soft wall. There are no soft walls, at least none that Jason was aware off but he was too close to fainting to truly bother about the existence of soft walls. Jason started sobbing again.

"Jay, come on. Breath." The voice said desperate. A strong hand was harshly rubbing his back. Jason inhaled the air shaky, his body was trembling.

"There you go chum, okay." Bruce. It was Bruce. Noone ever called Jason chum before. Jason was suddenly embarassed and violently tried to dry his tears up, rubbing on his skin roughly with his gloved hands. Bruce gently took his hands in his and Jason's head slupped against Bruce's chest.

Then Jason started babbling. "I'm sorry, i didn't mean to... he... i, i couldn't." He sobbed again. "The memories, they come back... the Joker... i can't stop it." Jason needed to hurt, he needed to feel something. He tried to pull his hands from Bruce' grip but he held them tightly.

"Jason, look at me." Bruce growled deeply. Jason looked up and as their eyes met, he couldn't find any angryness, not even disappointment. He looked back into his lap and sobbed quietly but his breath, although shaky, evened out a little.

"There you go. You are fine, Jay." Bruce said. "You can breath, you are okay." Bruce always was repetitive with his comforting but it didn't really matter to Jason because he was there, he held Jason in his arms and he was not angry. Jason could stay with his family, he could come back.

"You called me chum." Jason mumbled weakly, his voice was still filled with silent crying. Bruce chuckled deeply. "I guess that is true." Jason felt the hand on his back, he shivered a little as the cold hit his body. "Cold?" Bruce asked. Jason nodded softly.

Bruce leaned up a little and deattached his cape from his shoulders. He wrapped the thick, black fabric around Jason and bundeled him up tightly. Jason exhaled shaky. The bone aching cold disappeared from his body and the shivering slowly but surely passed. His muscles were burning, feeling weak like he could not move anything. Jason blinked drowsily. His sobs died down and just like that, his eyes closed.

Gotham City was no place for a kid. Not even a well-trained and resilient kid like Jason Todd. It was raining tonight, the wind whistled through the city. Robin sat under Batman's cape like an owl baby, as they observed the Iceberg Lounge. They had been sitting there for hours but Robin wasn't cold. He was warm. Wet from the rain but warm. He would totally catch a cold but not tonight. Not right now. Right now he was warm, close to Batman and sucking up his body heat. Nothing bad has happened to him yet.

When Jason jolted awake, he was no longer on the roof. He inhaled sharply, as he felt a hand on his back. "Hey, you are safe. It was just a nightmare." Jason turned around to see Bruce, leaning against the head of the bed with his laptop on the nightstand. The older man gave him a worried look. Jason looked around confused. This wasn't his bedroom. It was Bruce'. The kingsize bed spoke for itself.

Jason looked down at himself, he was wearing a black t-shirt and red and black sweatpants not in his Red Hood suit. "I'm fine?" He mumbled. Bruce smiled at him, it was weird to see him so relaxed. "Yes, you are." Jason nodded slowly. Bruce leaned down to the floor and put something heavy on his lap.

"Here, Tim got you this. You looked like you liked the cape a lot." Jason lifted the heavy thing up, it was a weighted blanket. He wrapped it around his shoulders. "Did i fall asleep?" He asked confused. "Right after i wrapped the cape around you. Dr. Thompkins said you where hypothermic and severly sleep deprived. What the hell happened?" Bruce asked concerned

Jason shrugged and layed back down on his stomach with the heavy blanket around him. He was still tired, his body was grounded now and he wanted to sleep. Bruce sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Sleep, we can later talk about you not reaching out for help" He finally said. Jason rolled his eyes. "As if you are better." He grumbled.

Bruce nudged Jason playfully. He gently rubbed the younger boys back. Jason sighed as he moved a little closer. Bruce pulled the other blanket over him a little and Jason was finally warm. "You scared the living hell out of me." Bruce said while he layed down next to Jason. The younger boy moved a little closer and Bruce continued to gently rub his back.

"M sorry." Jason mumbled sleepily. "Didn't mean to." He looked at Bruce with half open eyes. He buried his head into one of the pillows and Bruce smiled as he watched how relaxed and content Jason looked. He leaned over to kiss Jason's hair.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it. Sleep tight, chum."

-----

Same shit on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55397161

:)

[finnlongman]

Keep thinking about that one KJ Charles interview where she's talking about the challenges of being a historical romance novelist when you sort of believe the whole aristocracy should've been executed, and the delicate balancing act of writing historically accurate and interesting characters who don't have awful politics and values. And, crucially, she challenged the typical rich love interest idea by asking, "But where does the money come from?"

Once you think about it, you can't stop thinking about it. Every historical romance I read now, I can tell whether the author has thought about it. Sometimes they've thought about it but tried not to deal with it and hoped we wouldn't notice that the rich aristocrat probably owns a plantation. Sometimes they've actually dealt with it. And sometimes they have not considered it and It Shows.

But I also don't want historical novels where characters have modern sensibilities! I want them to feel historical... I just also want the "desirable" characters to not be, you know, involved in the slave trade or whatever, because that seriously undermines everything the book is doing to make them seem attractive. (One does not generally read this flavour of historical romance for morally grey antiheroes, and even if you did, that would be a fairly tasteless way of developing such a character, imo.)

I really enjoyed a detail in one of Cat Sebastian's books where the love interest is a Quaker, and he refuses dessert because he's boycotting sugar. It's a way of signalling to us that this character has particular values, but one that's rooted in the historical context and doesn't feel like a modern character wearing period clothing. His Quakerism also influences a few other details – his use of first names rather than titles, for example – but it's not a major plot point and he's no intense political campaigner. It's just one facet of his character, and one that made me like him more.

This sort of thing becomes a problem, too, with medieval settings and retellings and anything where you start having to deal with kings. A king of some tiny little pseudohistorical country whose major concerns revolve around not getting invaded and ensuring his people survive the winter is a very different prospect from a king intent on conquering his neighbours and expanding his glorious kingdom, of course. Still a king, though. What do you do with that, if you're someone who doesn't approve of kings?

I ran into this problem with a book I was working on a few years back, and it's one of the reasons I shelved it. I was trying to write a book about community and friendship. I was also trying to write an Arthurian retelling. And while a brotherhood of knights is a great starting point for a story about community and friendship, in order to have knights, you need to have a king for them to pledge fealty to. Problematic. My Arthur figure did not believe in hierarchy, but the story demanded that he perpetuated one anyway, because it was baked into the building blocks of story I was using to build mine. Eventually I realised I could not write that story as an Arthurian retelling without stripping it of everything recognisably Arthurian, and set it aside to be remade into something else.

I still think about this, though. I think about my Bisclavret retelling, which by necessity has a king in it. Bisclavret is a story about feudal loyalty, about oaths, about hierarchies. Take that away and you no longer have Bisclavret; it is a story that cannot exist without a king for the knight-wolf to be loyal to. Does that mean that as a story it always inherently supports a monarchist ideal, though? Or is its portrayal of kingship (a relationship that is, crucially, reciprocal) sufficiently detached from colonialist systems of monarchy to be distinct from those?

What systems and ideals form the assumptions a story is rested on? What happens once you start to question them? Can you still tell the same stories once you ask where the money comes from, or why the king is owed loyalty? Or does there come a point where you realise there are ideas woven into the very fabric of those narratives that you can't see past?

I don't have answers. I'm just thinking aloud. Thinking about having written a book with a king who isn't the bad guy, and what that means when I approve of neither kings nor hierarchies in general. Thinking about writing the past with the eyes of the present. Thinking about the unexamined assumptions in so many historical novels I've read, and how it feels as a reader not to be able to stop examining them.

(I have also read a number of contemporary romance novels where, after working my way through half an author's backlist, I've been forced to acknowledge that despite everything, the author does in fact think rich people are inherently attractive. Not sure what the solution to that one is, but it's certainly a different, if related, problem.)

[doctorwho-rewatch]

S5E11 - The Lodger

★★★★☆

I am trying to not let my dislike of James Corden overshadow my thoughts on this episode because it's actually good? James Corden's nervy but good-hearted Craig Owens who is forever undermining himself is actually endearing?

The Doctor plants himself firmly in present day Earth and decides to actually live a bit. Gets a rental, starts an office job, plays a bit of social soccer. Lovely mundane human stuff. Just try not to think about the weird upstairs neighbour who has a habit of abducting people off the street...

The alien ship inhabiting the upstairs apartment tries unsuccessfully to find a replacement pilot, eventually luring Sophie, who Craig has seemingly unrequited feelings for. Sophie is yearning for an escape from the droll routine of life but can't seem to figure out what's stopping her from leaving. In the resolution, Craig and Sophie confess their love for each other, Sophie is broken free from the ship's hold and the world (or Colchester at least) is safe for another day.

But true love doesn't just conquer alien ships. It can also bring back forgotten memories. Amy, who played a relatively light role in this episode, goes rummaging through the Doctor's jackets and finds Rory's engagement ring. After Rory's conspicuous absence in the last 2 episodes it looks like Amy is about to bring him back.

We're coming off a run of alien and otherwordly episodes so it is nice to see the Doctor forced to navigate complicated human relationships and remind us at home that love can conquer all. Isn't that just wholesome?

QUOTE: "Ever been to Paris, Craig?" "Nah. I can’t see the point of Paris. I’m not much of a traveler." "I can tell from your sofa." "My sofa?" "You’re starting to look like it."

[olympeline]

Most of my FrUK headcanons are fluffy and sweet but you could get some really good drama out of the Norman invasion of England. Make it nice and angsty if we go with the - ahem - “conquering of the vital regions” headcanon for when a nation-person is subjugated by another. What they do to seal the deal. You know what I mean 👉👌

So it’s the end of the Harrowing of the North and you have a beaten down England on the ropes. Meaning by extension Arthur is too. Weak, starving, wounded, and unable to defend himself against Francis. Who’s there to claim what’s his by the law of their kind once England’s last holdout rebels surrender. I imagine nation-people would have different standards towards the act than normal humans, even without the timeline being nearly a millennium ago. Since it’s something that has to happen. Still a terrifying and traumatic experience but the perpetrator wouldn’t be considered a monster for doing it. More akin to a soldier killing an enemy combatant vs. a civilian murder case: still bad but one is way worse

Anyway, Francis corners him and Arthur tries to act brave. Still a young nation (only recently matured into his adult body) this has never happened to him before. He’s only heard stories, horror stories, from nations who came before. Francis is older, stronger, growing in power faster than Arthur himself. Francis’s conquerer killed Arthur’s king and ravaged his lands. Arthur expects the personification of France to be just as cruel and, underneath his brave face, he’s terrified.

But this is where Francis surprises him. If you’ve seen Game of Thrones think of Daenerys’s wedding night with Khal Drogo. Honestly this is where the whole idea for this headcanon came from. Arthur and Francis might even have had the same language barrier. Warrior Francis only a little less terrifying than Drogo - Arthur is still green after all - and showing a side just as restrained and gentle. Because Francis is a character who always struck me as capable of great kindness when needed. Don’t get me wrong, that doesn’t make him weak or a pushover or incapable of great cruelty too. Just that he has a big heart as part of his complexity. He saw his younger neighbour’s terror and it moved him. Made him want to show Arthur the small mercy he was able.

“No?” Francis would ask - or maybe “Non?” - once, twice, three times. As many times as needed until Arthur was ready and replied with a “Yes.” They both know it’s meaningless consent. France is the victor and will have England now no matter what. But Francis’s kindness and respect in creating the illusion for Arthur to cling on to at the worst moment meant a hell of a lot. Letting him keep his dignity, his pride, even lying blood splattered in the dirt with his conquerer sinking down on top of him.

Years later, after England gained its freedom, Arthur would return the favour during the Hundred Years War. Francis is just as grateful for the mercy. They’re still rivals and enemies but these acts plant a seed which would eventually blossom into a real relationship.

“Fair flowers can grow from bitter earth.” I can’t remember where that quote comes from but it sums all this up pretty well

[aneurinallday]

Gibson and the Shivering Soldier

Chapter 6: Respirer

With his coat buttoned up to conceal his ruined shirt, William strode briskly through the streets, his eyes scanning every shop window, bus stop, and alley for any sign of the lost Frenchman. His heart was racing, and he was equal parts angry and worried.

It wasn’t safe for Gibson out here, wandering the city at night. He had no money, no friends, and nowhere to go. His inability to communicate would leave him vulnerable to thieves and tricksters; and if he was foolish enough to open his mouth, his language could expose him to outright hostility.

France’s apparent failure on the battlefield had provided some with an opportunity to vent their latent loathing of the French. But as was often the case, beneath the hatred lay fear. The news of their neighbour’s swift defeat had come as an icy shock to the British, who were now waking up to the possibility of an invasion on their own soil.

Despite the intervention of allies, France had taken only six weeks to crumble. What did that mean for Britain, a country which was half France’s size and had a much smaller army? It was a fate too grim to consider, so people consoled themselves with the idea that the French were all wretched cowards who’d allowed themselves to be conquered.

“Where the hell did you go?” William muttered. “Don’t be a fool - come back to me.”

As he searched in vain, he wondered what was going through Gibson’s head at that moment. If he was still seething, roaming the streets in a fury, looking for a fight. Or if he was sorry and hungry and cold, and wanted nothing more than to apologise. Maybe he desperately wanted to return, but was too embarrassed to show his face. Or maybe he’d already found his way back to the flat, and was waiting in the dark for someone to open the door.

“I’ll find you. Just wait for me.”

Entering the King’s Canal area, William heard male voices raised in drunken anger, and turned the corner to see a long waterway lined with trees and a metal hand-rail. Three men were confronting a fourth, not far from the stone ledge overlooking the dirty green water.

As William drew closer, he recognised Gibson as the trio’s target. The Frenchman was standing with his back to the canal.

“You Frog cowards!” shouted one of the drunkards, “We should never have wasted our time on you.”

Gibson said nothing.

“Thousands of our boys are dead, and for what? For you fucking people?”

The shouting man took a step closer. Gibson backed away, but between his assailants and the water, he had nowhere to go.

Nearby, a married couple were walking along the canal, arm-in-arm.

“Aide-moi!” Gibson pleaded, “Aide-moi!”

The couple averted their gaze and hurried on.

“How many of our boys drowned out there? And here you are, safe and sound. On our land, breathing our air. Go back where you fucking came from, Frog!”

The man swung an intoxicated fist. Gibson was too slow to dodge, and the blow clipped the side of his head. As he stumbled, another punch landed squarely on his jaw. He reeled back, one hand clutching his left cheek, the other hand groping for the nearest lamp-post for support.

“Leave him!” William shouted.

Hearing his voice and seeing him running towards them, Gibson cried out, “Monsieur Guillaume!”

Another punch, and Gibson was knocked down. He could’ve gotten back up, but he didn’t, hoping that by staying on the ground he would placate their anger.

“Do you smell that? Smells like cowardice. We should give this Frog a wash.”

One man grabbed Gibson by the legs, and another grabbed him under the arms, and the third helped push him towards the canal. They wrestled him over the railing while he struggled frantically.

“Non! Non!” Gibson begged. He tried desperately to grab hold of the rail, but was torn free. Baffled passers-by were looking and pointing, but nobody stepped forward to help. “Guillaume!”

“Stop!” William yelled, but it was too late.

“Come on, let’s see if the Frog can float!”

As if slinging a sack of potatoes, they threw Gibson over the railing.

The water enveloped him with a loud splash, filling his mouth and nose and eyes. He took his first breath of not-air, and instantly, a blind panic took hold. He began to thrash and flail mindlessly. All sense of direction and coordination fled - he no longer knew which way was up or down, or how to swim, or how to breathe - all he knew was that his face was full of water, and that he was dying, and that he was alone.

William ran to the edge of the canal, grabbed the railing, and looked over. He saw the murky water, and Gibson’s dark form struggling - and suddenly he was back in the sea, clinging to the overturned hull of the shipwreck as it floated belly-up in the English Channel, gutted by a German torpedo.

Once all the screaming and splashing stopped, he found himself surrounded by the drowned bodies of his men, bobbing in the cruel currents. Realising that he was the last survivor, a grim terror took hold: he was going to die alone. All he could do was sit huddled on the wreck, hugging his knees, waiting to join his men in death. Another torpedo would’ve been a mercy - his only alternative was to slowly succumb to sun and saltwater.

And there he remained, and would always remain. No matter how much time passed, no matter how much distance he put between himself and the sea, part of him would always be sitting on that hull, surrounded by endless, merciless water. Part of him would always be trapped there.

As he watched Gibson’s struggles, he felt as if he were hovering between past and present - half of him sitting on the shipwreck, alone, adrift in the sea; the other half of him standing at the edge of a small canal, watching a man drown a few metres away. Both halves paralysed by fear.

Then Gibson’s head broke the surface - only for a moment - a flash of pale face visible before it disappeared under the water again. A bystander shouted: “Someone help him!”

William hesitated for a moment longer. Then he took a deep breath, swung his leg over the railing, and jumped.

Chapter 7: Remords

[sorenphelps]

4, 9 & 17 please for the ask game! 💖

Hi there!

4. favourite dish specific for your country?

Already answered here.

9. which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best?

Already answered here.

17. are you interested in your country’s history?

History was one of my favorite subjects back in school, however I've never really enjoyed learning about Hungarian history, cause it sucks, we always chose the wrong side and lost almost every conflict we had. We came to Europe in the late 10th century, we were essentially badass nomads who tried to conquer Europe on horseback - we couldn't, decided to stay in the Carpathian Basin and adopt Christianity instead. Then we had a bunch of kings, who slowly lost all their control over the country to feudal lords. We got attacked by the Tatars (mongolians), later we got occupied by the Ottoman Empire, then we were melted into Austria under Habsburg rule. We had some greater moments in the meantime, for example we are quite proud of King Mathias Hunyadi, but that's about it. Then world wars happened, we lost more than half of our country, and then got occupied by the Soviets. We are an independent free country since 1989, but we are so bad at politics, I don't even want to start talking about it. So Hungarian history is depressing at best, no wonder we are said to be the grumpiest people.

[xavierbautistagarcia]

The Saint and his fortress

The Fortezza Guaita was the oldest and most emblematic tower of San Marino. It was built in the 11th century on Monte Titano. The tower was part of the defensive system of San Marino, one of the oldest republics in the world, and was essential for the protection of its population.

Its first builders were the inhabitants of San Marino themselves, who erected it to defend themselves against medieval invasions and looting. Over the centuries, the fortress was enlarged and reinforced to adapt to new techniques of warfare.

During the Middle Ages, the Fortezza Guaita played a key role in the defence of the Republic, especially against neighbouring cities, such as Rímini, which often tried to expand their territory. The tower also served as a prison, thanks to its sturdy and impregnable structure.

At the end of the 15th century, the lord of Cesena, Cesare Borgia, tried to conquer San Marino, but failed to bring down its defences. And this was only one of the times the fortress was attacked in its history.

San Marino drafted its constitutional rules around 1600 and in 1631 the Papacy recognised its independence, which was endorsed by Napoleonic France in 1797 and by other European countries at the Congress of Vienna in 1815.

Over time, the Fortezza Guaita was modernised in response to new military developments, but retained its medieval character. It remained in use until the 17th century, when the political and military situation in Europe meant that San Marino no longer needed its defences as much.

During the 19th century, the fortress was restored to preserve its historical and architectural value. This restoration allowed it to maintain its imposing presence, making it a national symbol of freedom and independence.

Today, the Fortezza Guaita is one of San Marino's main tourist attractions and, along with other towers and historic buildings of the republic, was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2008. Its history reflects the resilient spirit of San Marino, which it has maintained since its foundation more than 1700 years ago, when the saint after whom the country is named established there.

[ben-the-hyena]

What is Blazing Dragons?

It's a franchise that parodies knights and princesses genres notably Arthurian legends with dragon main characters and human villains to defeat, created by Terry Jones who might have never participate in its writin and just created the premise but the writers did a super good hilarious job to make its humor very Monty Pythonesque even paying tribute to Holy Grail or other Python references. It consists of a 2 season cartoon and a PS1 and Sega Saturn point and click video game, but because they both were created and developped at the same time from the premise "Flicker is a very smart dragon squire and inventor who wants to be a knight to marry Princess Flame who is in love with him in return but in the meantime has to live in the shadow of his assholish and proud knight Sir Loungealot and the other dumb Knights of the Square Table - among Sir Blaze who is gay effeminate and loves to take care of hus looks and Sir Burnevere who is both smart and dumb but sees himself as super educated like Sir Bedivere from Holy Grail - with King Allfire ruler of Camelhot barely paying attention to him and has to try to become a knight all while trying to protect Camelhot from the neighbouring human noble who tries to conquer it to rule over it" and neither the game crew and cartoon crew met and talked, both results are VERY different with the characters having very different designs and personalities and the stories and in a way lores are different but still have a very similar Pythonesque feeling to them and are just as funny as each other. The whole show and the whole gameplay are both on YouTube and see which you prefer !

[autolenaphilia]

The Man who would be King

The Man who would be King is a 1975 adventure film directed by John Huston. It’s a very old-fashioned Victorian era colonialist adventure film. It’s based on a story by Rudyard Kipling, who in fact appears in the film as a character, as part of the story’s framing narrative, played by Christopher Plummer.

The film is now almost 50 years old, and probably must have seen old-fashioned even in 1975.Already then it was a period drama, based on a story dating all the way back to 1888. And In fact, John Huston was an old Hollywood veteran at that point, who had been trying to get it made for over 20 years, and originally considered Humphrey Bogart and Clark Gable for the lead roles of Danny Dravot and Peachy Carnahan. Several male duos of stars were considered for the leads while Huston tried to make the film, Burt Lancaster and Kirk Douglas, Richard Burton and Peter O’Toole and Robert Redford and Paul Newman. Eventually Sean Connery and Michael Caine actually got the parts in the final film and it was a good decision. It’s very much a film about British colonialism, American Hollywood actors would have been miscast (although Burton and O’Toole might have worked).

And it is a film that boils down the adventure story to its colonialist roots. Two white british men go off on an adventure trying to become kings of a distant land.

The land in question is Kafiristan, which was practically a white spot on the map for Europeans when Kipling wrote the story. It has a fascinating history. The native people followed an ancient version of Hinduism, and were thus called kafirs (non-believers) by neighbouring Muslims. The Amir of Afghanistan conquered the region around 1895, and forcibly converted the natives to Islam, and the region is now known as Nuristan.

It’s the depiction of Kafiristan and non-white people in general where the film has aged the most. Kipling knew like most white men at the time little about the region, and in the film the native religion is presented as an exotic, primitive and mysterious superstition that bears little resemble even to modern hinduism. And overall the natives are presented as violent, superstitious and easily manipulated. The non-white characters are stereotypes. It’s a racist film.

Yet the film’s depiction of imperialism is far from unironically positive. There is a kind of irony to it that speaks perhaps to colonial anxieties on the part of Kipling. Carnehan and Dravot have zero noble intentions of ��civilizing the natives” when setting out on their adventure, they are in it to get rich. It’s all for “fortune and glory” as Indiana Jones would put in the film Temple of Doom (itself a movie very much inspired by Kipling’s Indian adventure stories).And the pair are in fact small-time criminals and conmen who go on this adventure because they are kicked out of India. The whole adventure is just another con, this time a big one played out on the natives of Kafiristan. They promise their leadership will benefit the natives and all they want is to take the land’s wealth and leave.

And any success Dravot and Carnehan have in their big con is because of dumb luck, not any superiority of theirs. They never even learn the natives language, and are reliant on the Indian ex-Gurkha soldier Billy Fish (played charismatically if stereotypically by Indian actor Saeed Jaffrey) to translate for them. Dravot becomes a God because he is hit by an arrow in a lucky way while doing something stupid. And then the story becomes a morality tale about the corrupting danger of hubris and greed as Danny Dravot lets the god-king thing go to his head. The themes harken back to Huston’s earlier adventure film The Treasure of the Sierra Madre.Eventually Dravot overplays his hand and it all falls apart. The native woman Danny forces to marry him, bites him and reveals that he can bleed after all. The collapse of their con-game comes with disastrous consequences for Dravot and Carnehan. The fortune and glory they were after are revealed to be meaningless and a source of corruption. The film tellingly ends with Kipling looking in horror at Dravot’s crowned but severed head.

It’s a story about white colonialism, but it’s one where the attempt is fueled by greed and the attempt at colonization fails. It is this ambiguity about colonialism that probably made the story viable to be filmed as late as 1975.

And it’s still compelling today, and a good film. Well, it depends if you are able to look past the racism. John Huston’s directing gives the film an epic sweep and some compelling visuals, and the script is an excellent adaptation of the short story. Sean Connery and Michael Caine have excellent chemistry, and brings life to their character’s arcs. The moral complexity of the adventure and the arc the main characters have that raise the film above the simple colonialist adventure story.

[contes-de-rheio]

Masterpost

Hi y’all!! I’m Julie (French, mid-thirties, bi). I’m not new to writeblr, but I like only post sparingly my own content now. Life’s been too busy.

I write high fantasy, but when it comes to reading I also enjoy SF and history (essays, not novels). I’ll follow from @julie-oc, and I have a secondary blog @fukusigma where I reblog a bit of everything. Feel free to tag me in games (except for “Search the Word”, this is too difficult because I write in French).

Click to learn more about my wips. Some titles and summary may have changed since I first posted about them.

These stories take place in the same universe, but in different times and places. They're in chronological order of events.

Here, walked Marka | wip intro post | Status: unstrung scenes

Niensheria has been turned into a desert by the reckless acts of Marka and her friends. The gods, angered, force their gift her eternal yout upon her. Until she finds a way to repair the harm she caused, she will witness the fall of her people. Years pass, new generations are born, and the people of Niensheria, stuck between the desert and their unwelcoming neighbours, reduced to extreme poverty, decide to rise one last time to rebuild their lost home.

The Coriant Trilogy | wip intro post | Status: Plotting

The rise, the summit and the fall of the Coriant Empire through the stories of Hermione the warrior queen who founded the empire, then Erinye queen and protector of the arts, and finally Andromeda the last general who was defeated by the powerful queen Iseult of Aqualos.

The Living Library | wip intro post | Status: unstrung scenes

Zhou has faithfully served the Emperor in his quest for the Living Library, but after one too many massacre, he decides to retire from the political affair. For a few years, he lives peacefully as the only healer in a remote village, until people come ask for payback.

The Dragons of Jamaedo | wip intro post | Status: 1st Draft

The Choo royal family reigns over the archipelago of Jamaedo with an iron hand using magic, it reserves for itself, to snuff out all revolts.

Goo Mihee, eldest daughter of her clan, must marry a man she has no love for: Choo’s Dog, Kwon Taeyeon. But, as she tries to keep the appearance of a dutiful wife, the events around her only fuels her anger, until she seizes the chance to maybe end Choo's hegemony once and for all.

The pirates of Hokusho | wip intro post | Status: Researching

Takeru has risen to the top of his pirate band. But profits are drying up as the warriors from the main islands fight for power, and other pirates try to safegard their place before they're forced to disappear. Against his will, Takeru must serve a cunning samurai or see his band die. Meanwhile, Oharu is sent to kill Take's new master.

The Fall of Baschenka | wip intro post | Status: Plotting

Rinka Zima has spent most of his youth in the mines. No longer hoping for another life, he obtains the king's pardon of his father's crime and is reestablished in his titles, but not in his fortune. Struggling to maintain his family afloat and looking for his sister, he rises at Court while his city, under political turmoil, is conquered by the neighboring Valiski.

The Union of Dahran Cities | wip intro post | Status: Plotting

Forty years passed since the fall of Baschenka. The northern city-states have stallen their infights as Southern-Darah army threatens to conquer them all. In Tara, Gleb Polzin and Fenna are the two newest representants of their respective cities and must find the words to unite them all, under the eyes of a disillusioned Rinka.

The Last War | wip intro post | Status: 1st Draft - Paused

Trélyse, queen of Aqualos, is fighting what she hopes to be the last war against Niensheria. The siege on Alhamra is set and she expects a swift reddition, but, on the northern frontier of Aqualos, alarm fires lit up. Suddenly Trélyse is stuck in a foreign country, cut from her own. Little does she knows, the attack against Aqualos is just a diversion. The Memory Tower, library of sorcerers’ knowledge from the past millennium has been burned to the ground. But one book was retrieved from its shelves. With the secrets revealed within, Ketal could rise again and rebuild his empire of terror.

Shadows and Woods | wip intro post | Status: Plotting

In the capital, Niau, young police inspector who can't meet the approbation of his superiors, must solve the disappearance of a judge's son. But as he digs deeper, he only find unidentified dead corpses, until he must questions his loyalties.

Phā is sent to the capital by the prophet of his mountain village. His best friend has mysteriously disappeared, no magic can find her anymore. Only him can track her back, but her last steps only lead to Niau.

A Train in Roue-Champêtre | wip intro post | Status: Plotting

Ludélien has fallen in disgrace with the queen. No longer welcome at court, he joins some friends in Roue-Champêtre. They're working to extend the train line into the town center, but between the unexplainable crumbling of the tunnel and the angry protests of the porters on foot, their task may never come to an end.

Le Randonneur | wip intro post | Status: On hold

Ensemble of stories in various format about a world where an ice age result in the rarefaction of water and the soon impossibility to trade long distance. Two siblings, a brother and a sister, create the first flying ships which will give rise to all powerful Guild Post.

Contes à l’envers | wip intro post | Status: On hold

As a kid, Manon cross to a magical world. There, she learns magic and helps the people of that world reclaim their independance from a powerful witch who destroyed all other witches and wizards. Once this is achieved, Manon is sent back to her world, as a kid again. But she kept all her memories and, while her parents are convinced she suffers of some mental illnesses, she starts a quest to find a way back convinced she cannot be happy anywhere else.