#i used to confuse about the northern and southern distinction

[crab-milk]

What is lion dancing? You've mentioned it before, but I don't think I've seen it before

I'm particularly new to the world of lion dancing myself, but I hope this could also help! Lion dancing is a Asian tradition that blends puppetry, martial arts, and dancing that has been around 206 BC. Although it originated from China, countries like Japan, Korea, Vietnam, and South-East Asian countries have their own respective forms of lion dancing. There's actually quite a few types out there, but they can be identified by their martial art forms, lion heads, or nationalities. I'm probably going to info dump now so I'll cut it here for others to read if they'd like.

Before we get into that, I have to clear some common misconceptions. Lions are NOT dragons. Dragons are puppets that generally have 6 or 9 people holding it up on poles and are long (龙 lóng - do you get the joke lol). Foo dogs are technically lions, but the terminology was derived from white people who mistook lions as chow chow dogs.

To clear further confusion, the reason they're called lions is because allegedly, when China started trading with the western world, lions and their pelts were only reserved for the wealthy. Poor people spread word about what lions looked like, and it somehow turned out that way. There's a lot of mythology surrounding why people do lion dances, but the shorter version is that the lion scares off demons and ill-intentioned spirits from villages. It's now a tradition at openings of businesses, weddings, funerals, and festivities.

Most people are generally used to seeing southern Chinese or Cantonese lions. Traditionally, all of these lions are male and have different variations, again based on nationality or style of martial arts that it's derived from. There are northern lions, which have a male and female (red and green bows respectively), as well as Japanese and Korean lions, which are mostly comprised of wooden masks and long fur.

I'll mostly focus on southern Chinese lions, but they're all pretty neat! I mostly practice Fut-San lion dancing, which is a pretty common form. They notably have a ":3" face and the style of martial arts (wushu) is considered a very common standard for southern Chinese lions. Recent variations of these lion heads also have pom-poms as they are derived from Beijing opera costumes. Each lion also has a pointed horn on the top. They can also have fluffy or wiry fur for its eyelids and mouth, but there exists variations with bristles instead, which may signify that the lion is based on a historical military figure (kind of similar to how Beijing opera singers do specific makeup for specific characters).

These are generally more common in other countries. South-east Asian versions of the lions are extremely decorated, intricate, and distinct.

Hok-San lions are also pretty common. They are distinguished by having a "snake" horn which means the horn curls into a circle at the end and a ":)" face.

Despite their differences, all southern lions have a mirror in the front to ward off evil spirits, some horn with a bow attached, and a beard. Traditionally, the mirror is there to scare off spirits who look into it. The horn is generally added after the lion is almost finished being made, and the bow on the horn is added ceremoniously to bless the lion and honor the gods. It is highly recommended people don't touch them, save for the practical reasons of dirtying the mirror or tearing off the delicate horn, but also to avoid getting bad luck from ill-intentioned spirits.

That aside, I'd like to finally to talk about what to do when you see lions! If you have red pockets of money, the lion eats them up (and the performer in the head puts everything in their sweaty shirt). Sometimes, lions go and play with the audience, so feel more than welcome to pet them or play fight with them! Each performer has their own distinct personality that they play in the lion and as a result, have a lot to share with the audience!

I could go on and on, but I'm afraid this is really long for no reason. I hope this info dump helped!

#i saw an opportunity to info dump and took it #sorry lol #lion dancing #info dump #silence crab

[boydykedevo]

actually lemme uhh. okay so my most developed conworld that I've had for like. five years is called Rohitan, I've mentioned it before once or twice i think. There's two main cultures: Zjifel, twelve peer polities in a river valley, and the Lagae, a group of hundreds of small clans to the south. And my favorite piece of worldbuilding is the Lagae religion so. Lemme explain it real quick (lie (it will not be quick (this is going under the cut for a reason)))

first thing: not all the Lagae consider themselves Lagae (i use it for all of them for simplicity) and that's for a very important historical reason: decades ago, when Zjifel was just starting to gain power, they decided to invade the group of warring clans on the south of the continent (there was a reason, I won't get into it).

Before that point, the group had no collective identity. They shared a culture and religion and sometimes allied with each other, but they belonged to their own clans first and foremost. But when the northernmost clans started getting attacked and sought the help of southern allies, the leaders of their allied clans had trouble getting their warriors to come to their aid. There were numerous political benefits to helping, as well as the practical one of "if they take them out, we're next", but it was far from home and facing invaders who were intimidating and most citizens didn't care about the political alliances of their leaders.

So, to help rally soldiers to the cause, the ruling class developed propaganda based around their shared religion. The basic concept was that there were three gods (Mulae, Lali, Lishke) and they each represent a stage in an endless cycle of creation, maintenance, and decay (respectively). And the important part is that none of them are good, and none of them are bad. There are times you want each, and times you want to prevent each, and what's important is accepting the cycle and understanding when each is needed.

For their propaganda, the ruling class associated the invaders with Lishke to drive home that they would destroy their people's home, and they associated the clans with Lali, fighting to maintain their status quo. They called the group Lagae, gae meaning people and la from Lali (the invaders, in turn, being Lishgae).

Eventually, they managed to fight them off, and Zjifel gave up and wrote their neighbors off as too violent to invade. The propaganda stuck around, though, and the clans continued using the collective identity of Lagae. The land they lived on began to be called Kide, a term previously used for one's home village. They were one collective split into clans, rather than clans who happened to be near one another. And over time, the association of the group with Lali and threats with Lishke turned Lali into the god of good and Lishke into the god of evil. (Mulae kept her role as creator and became heavily associated with nature, acting as a sort of neutral party between good and evil) The concept of the cycle no longer fit with the gods, and was therefore mostly dropped as a philosophy, becoming more of a metaphor or way of sorting things.

But I said not all the clans consider themselves Lagae. That's because the southernmost clans were too far away to be affected by either the war or the propaganda. They were already somewhat culturally distinct from the northern clans, focusing more on herding than farming, since their colder climate made much of the land infertile. Now, their religion and philosophy had diverged as well. The other clans saw them as Lagae too, but they still considered themselves completely separate clans.

The southerners increasingly found the northern religion confusing, too; if they ever fought with a northern clan, they'd notice engravings and patterns in their clothing intended to ward off Lishke. Typically, when one's the aggressor in a battle, Lishke is vital to keep on your side; you're attempting to destroy, which you couldn't do without him. On the other hand, they'd invite Lali to their battles, which is also stupid; if you intend to change anything by winning, the god who maintains the status quo is the last thing you want around. And they wouldn't notice this from battle, but in trade and diplomacy, they saw a strange lack of any veneration of Mulae. Occasionally the northerners would nod to her, but to the southerners, she's essential for forming new bonds, and that's not nearly enough.

They conclude the northerners simply don't understand the cycle, and they must be too immature to accept it.

Okay that's enough for now, might add to this in the morning but. yeah.

#oooo you think my conworld is sooooo interesting *casting magic spell* #ill be honest this was a retcon cuz i did not like the religion i'd initially devised but it was important for some other stuff #so like. what if it used to be different and still was in some places #which led to a bunch of fun butterfly effect stuff i really like lol #icarus is talking

[theunfairfolk]

okay i have a big question for you. i just started getting into folklore, specifically western/northern european folklore. Intertwined in that is a lot of medieval history, etc etc. So is anglo-saxon mythology and culture A Real Thing? it might sound stupid but i read a lot about it being used for racist purposes, and generally problematic. i also, however, see it used in regards to folklore, mythology, and as a historical culture. i am very confused and very much dont want to contribute to neo-nazi, pro racism culture. hopefully this made sense 😭

OH I AM SPECIFICALLY FORMULATED TO ANSWER THIS. On account of. I took a class about like this exact thing.

“Anglo-Saxon, is a term used historically to describe any member of the Germanic peoples who, from the 5th century CE to the time of the Norman Conquest (1066), inhabited and ruled territories that are today part of England and Wales.”

BUT. When the average person uses the term “anglo-saxon” are they using it strictly by the definition? No, not really. Much like “caucasian” is a real term for real people from the caucus region of southern russia that was later taken and used as a euphemism for “white”, the term “anglo-saxon” has been taken and used as a euphemism for “the right kind of white person”.

The problem is that a fair chunk of people just think it means white, or european. Some people use it to mean a specific kind of white person, particularly in places like america where being irish and italian is seen as equitable (read: just as white) as being german or english. “Anglo” quite directly evolved into “england”.

BUT even as a precise term for a specific group in history, it’s COMPLETE BULLSHIT. The tribes were never allied or really affiliated in any way other than like. They were near each other at a couple points. It’s a bit similar to how we call a fuckton of distinct cultures “asian” , but instead of being externally racist and xenophobic, it was bc a bunch of people decided to corral some random germanic tribes into One Entity so they could make a White People Origin Story.

TL/DR; it’s a best an unhelpful and innacurate term, at worst a white supremacist dogwhistle

#anglo saxon #ask #anon #answered

[dear-mi]

Alright, so I'm running an actual campaign this summer. Not one for dnd club for a bunch of freshmen, not gonna create the most batshit insane magic items for the hell of it, no more mysterious can.

And I'll be honest, I'm really fucking excited. I've got this whole world I've built, and while not all of it is fleshed out, I've got at least half of it down.

Here it is:

Don't get confused by Aegir tho, it is in fact underwater.

The main portion of the campaign will take place in the northern countries, primarily: Ursa, Johün, Tome, and Orwell.

Ursa is by far my most fleshed out setting, so imma talk about it.

Ursa's main concept came from the country of Ursus from Arknights, who woulda thought, but I've got some pretty good distinctions.

Ursa is inhabited by nine different tribes. Three of these tribes are in the islands, three are in the south western portion, two in the south eastern, and one in the north eastern and is thought to have died out.

The three tribes in the south west have formed a confederacy known as Ursa Minor, made of the tribes: Naht, Arne, and Lera.

This is the most modernized portion of Ursa. They interact primarily with Atlas, Celti, and Borea, while keeping connections with Satano brief.

The tribes of the islands are: Kanat, Vnat, and Mare.

The Vnat are currently the most isolated tribe, occupying those north most islands. After the disappearance of the Wemm tribe, those in the north eastern mountain region, Vnat believed in safety in isolation. Because, now that the Wemm tribe has disappeared, they claim the title of the physically strongest of the tribes, and the fact the Wemm tribe held it before and still went missing was a huge cultural bombshell.

The Kanat occupy the southern most islands, and are primarily sourced in trade and tourism. They have many market deals going with the Mare tribe, whose main export is raw materials in both fish and ores and compounds that are good for construction.

The last two tribes are the Vade and Ulise, who have entered an alliance known as the Cold Breath. The Vade has specialized in a nomadic lifestyle across Ursa's great tundra, while the Ulise have learned how to settle down and survive in its forest just east of the tundra. As living conditions got harsher, lack of shelter and food in the tundra during the winter, and lack of food and other resources in the forest during the summer, the two tribes entered a trade alliance.

This alliance has lead to one tribe being primary benefactors during one season, while the other saves up to provide for both tribes during the following season, as they switch halfway through the year when the climate changes from cold to super fucking cold.

Also, the islands are arranged in the shape of Ursa Major, which I think is fun

Then there's Johün. Johün is, obviously, based from Norse mythology. It's occupied by a race of giants, however the term 'giant' could mean a variety of things.

In this world it just means that in some way they're naturally large. This could mean physically, or it could mean magically. Johün's nation is the most attuned to the natural magics of the world. This form of magic is very different from arcane magic, which is actually considered to be man made or introduce from a different planet or plane.

This natural magic is much more fluid, not needing incantations and components to be used effectively. Any incantations that are used with this natural magic are additionally much more potent and devastating. And I want to make it clear that when I say natural magics I don't mean druids, because Druids are still considered to be arcane in essence.

From my cosmology shit, you can deduce that these natural magics is that actual manipulation of essence.

Then there's Orwell and OH BOY I did not put any thought into that name.

Orwell is the foil to Johün as it is highly arcane involved. The reason for this is that, in the center of the nation, there's a huge lake with a high concentration of magic crystals of arcane nature. This has become their main export and also the center of their culture, as arcane magic has been made into very convenient and quality of life ways.

So it's called Orwell because there's a buncha ores in its wells. Then as I proceeded to tell people about this nation they naturally went "like George Orwell?" Who I had forgotten was a person at the time of making.

SO! That makes a very easy political token though. A high concentration of magic technology means a whole lotta magic technology to be mishandled and abused and used for corruption and such. So thank you everyone for making that connection when I could not.

Lastly, there's Tome. Tome was built between the marryment of Johün and Orwell. The scholars of Orwell who wanted to understand the natural magics and the priests of Johün who wanted to understand arcane magics.

In Tome is where it's said the first Druid, Warlock, Cleric, and Paladin were found. There's a legend that four people unlocked the secret of harnessing the different methods of using the arcane, and so these methods of magic usage were developed. While the study of natural magic aided in developing these arcane magics, the secrets of natural magics still have not actually been discovered.

Now, there's a lot more I could say about these countries. I kinda emphasized on Ursa as it is the main setting, but I could talk for pages and pages more about these countries each. However, I wanna gush about the stories of the pc's and just how fucking cool they are.

#so imma do that now instead

[fouryearsofshades]

Jiaozi /dumpling is a must have for almost all festivals for Chinese from the northern region (Northern region in China means regions above Yangtze river). Voiceover in Chinese and subtitle in English.

#chinese food #recipe #chinese festival #food #dumpling #jiaozi #i used to confuse about the northern and southern distinction #like why is zhejiang south? #it is in the middle

[olderthannetfic]

Are Jews considered “white”?

--

How long of a wank do you have time for? ;)

In the US, generally, Ashkenazi Jews are considered white by goyim, and that's the Jewish population we're most aware of and are often referring to. This is the European Jewish diaspora that has Yiddish as its traditional language. Ye olde New York City Jewish culture is Ashkenazi.

US gentiles have absolutely no idea how to classify Mizrahi Jews or anybody else from the same regions of the world (Western Asia/North Africa). I don't think most people here are even aware of Sephardi Jews unless they're into Medieval shit, but the same kind of confusion would apply. It would probably end up being down to how pale someone is, their accent, and which country they came here from. (And apparently, the definition I know of Misrahi Jews is relatively recent...??? Guess I gotta go read wikipedia myself.)

There are Jewish groups who are black. There are Jewish groups who are Chinese. Jewishness in and of itself isn't a descriptor of race. It's just that in practice a lot of the Jews here are also of very visibly European heritage and are considered white for that reason under a US system of race.

There's unending drama about different minority groups getting pitted against each other and Jews' minority status getting dismissed in favor of race-based ideas about oppression (and vice versa of course). One suspects that's the source of Spike Lee's rather unsubtle solidarity statement in BlacKkKlansman. So... like... "are Jews white" can be a pretty fraught question depending on the context for asking.

If you're asking me if Jews with European heritage are "white" in the world in general outside of the US... How would I even know?

White is different in Latin America from in the US. I hear it's different in Australia. The entire concept of race (as opposed to ethnicity) gets side-eyed pretty hard in some regions. They might all be white. There might be a split between northern and southern/eastern European.

Whiteness is a collective delusion, and it comes in multiple regional flavors of fake.

Here's Wikipedia's map of Jewish ethnic groups. You can see that, for example, Ethiopia and China have their own distinct groups, neither of which is going to look white to anybody.

This long-ass wikipedia article might answer some of your questions:

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

[emperor-kumquat]

The importance of Cybertronian accents/dialects in Mercy

Time to geek out again about how I write languages. So the main language of Cybertron is Cybertronian with a standardized grammar, although Aligned said there are some other languages that popped up on Cybertron. We imagine everyone has instinctual understanding of Cybertronian (consider how the Predacons are born speaking it) and these other languages could have developed intentionally or through long-term extreme isolation.

Cybertronian used to be an evolving language until it was standardized with grammar rules and a worldwide phonetic alphabet. Bots forged ages ago spoke Archaic Cybertronian but overtime they changed the way they speak and now might struggle to understand Archaic Cybertronian if they heard it today. There are some old prefixes and suffixes and cases they no longer use, for example. I will write Old English into Mercy if I want someone to speak it. No, not Latin. Here I am looking for something familiar yet incomprehensible to English-speakers so you feel what Cybertronians feel about the older version of their language. 

Cybertronian had many old writing systems as well before the planet united because different groups were trying to make up a writing system at the same time. Froid and Sunder write in one of those Archaic Cybertronian scripts called Doradian. I based that on the concept of Chinese characters and Arabic markings but I won’t get into that now. But because these two write following old grammar rules, they still understand Archaic Cybertronian and speak it to one another for secrecy (though both know Modern Cybertronian).

But Modern Cybertronian is rich with dialects noted in the way characters speak or how their voices are described. These dialects were preserved in the War when certain groups stuck together. The educated Northerners speak what they themselves consider “proper” Cybertronian which is very clear like what we hear in Transformers Prime. All the TFP Autobots speak with Northerner accents, but in Mercy, many Decepticons speak differently. They are described with rough voices like gravel, maybe like whistle-y, just verrry different and so distinct that you can assume their past. 

But then there are of course the TFP Decepticons with clear voices. How can that happen? Firstly, the Seekers speak clearly because they were a privileged Northern group with education and the freedom to travel around Cybertron. Their accents are not rough but could vary slightly depending on where they usually worked (Silverbolt could sound different than Starscream). Knockout was obviously privileged as well and not a slave. Megatron’s voice could have changed as he did speeches and tried to be heard by the world. Breakdown could have also changed his voice with practice or it naturally happened spending time alone with Knockout. Like in real life, people’s accents can change or they might be too hard to ever shake off.

Let’s look at the Scavengers. Misfire, Fulcrum, and Spinister are fliers and speak much more clearly than Krok. Krok has the heaviest accent of all of them and basically speaks like Batman. You think Spinister based on his scariness has that accent, but then I reveal he doesn’t because he had a very educated background. Other Decepticons have this difference too: Obsidian speaks very smoothly because he was a Tetrahexian architect, but Strika was a Southern slave. She knows proper grammar and higher words now, but her voice would still be more brutish than his. 

Swindle doesn’t have a rough voice as a Decepticon because his past included working all around Cybertron. Lockdown had a rougher past and stuck around cities like Kaon, so he has a different voice compared to him. Overlord used to have a very strong Texas accent that was the Blaster City dialect, but in his goal to get people to like him more, Overlord did voice training to change to the posh Polyhexian dialect (as he explained to Trepan). Because Overlord didn’t have a Southern accent, bots were very confused about his origin. It wasn’t just his major makeover that made him known as “the Gladiator who came from Nowhere”; they couldn’t figure out his home city when he talked.

Kup and Ironhide skip a lot of consonants and vowels in their words so they might come from the same old area.

Then, the Star Seeker pirates have their own groups of accents that developed in their isolation from Cybertron. Thundertron and Esmeral have rough voices that remind you of Decepticon accents, and Predaking can barely understand Esmeral and needs to focus. Deathsaurus doesn’t have their accent but the clearer one that his own colony world maintained. Junkions speak differently as well though that includes a lot of yelling because their environment was noisy, and Velocitronians have accents as well though some stronger than others. Ransack has a very strong Velocitronian accent that I think is like a New Jersey accent to Cybertronians. 

The big divide between the dialects is another way to show how different Autobots and Decepticons can be beyond their insignias. When a Cybertronian hears another one, they might already be building prejudice. If someone talks in a coarse voice and they are a big spiky bot, Autobots will perceive them as more dangerous and evil! Appearance is another discussion and a big part of Overlord’s backstory, but the final note is that Overlord’s current accent increases his charm to other Cybertronians and gives them the false impression that he isn’t so scary. Overlord’s scariness creeps up on you when you get close to him and see his size and number of guns...

*But then because of different upbringings, a Velocitronian like Ransack isn’t intimidated by Decepticon voices and just finds Crumplezone’s exotic.

Sunder has the Iaconian dialect, but his damaged voice box makes him have a chilling terrifying voice.

I know this was a rant, but I am very particular about the way my characters speak!

#overlord #krok #tf mercy #froid #sunder

[zuko-always-lies]

"And the stance that “bending=culture” LoK took with the Air Nation is just disgusting." Could I ask more about this? I don't disagree I'm just a bit unsure what you mean

-outofangband

So that comment was actually to a large degree inspired by this post. But that isn't all. Much more under the cut.

What really inspired me was this "lovely" exchange in "Original Airbenders":

Tenzin: I'm proud of you. Your connection with the spirits and natural leadership... You remind me of Dad. Bumi: (remorseful) I'm sorry I've been causing you so much trouble. I guess I was just scared of not being able to measure up as an airbender. You know, even though I'm Aang's son, I never really felt like I was part of the Air Nation before. Tenzin: (places a hand on Bumi's shoulder and smiles) You are now.

Bumi was raised by a freaking Air Nomad, but he was never considered part of their culture until he started airbending(and Tenzin says "You are now" rather than "You always were"). In fact, Bumi has zero apparent knowledge of Air Nomad culture in that episode, despite being a son who grew up absolutely desperate to please his father. And there is no indication that Kya has any real knowledge or connection; in fact, Tenzin always wears Air Nomad styles, while Kya always wears Southern Water Tribe styles. And Bumi never wears clothing from either culture.

The kicker is that there is a moment un that episode where it is stated that "being an Airbender doesn't necessarily make you part of the Air Nation," but in fact the rest of Books 3 and 4 act like it does. After a handful of rejections in the first half of Book 3, all the Airbenders we see(which, remember, had no previous connection to the Air Nation) adopt distinctive Air Nation clothing and integrate themselves into the Air Nation and its objectives. We don't see anyone mixing and matching with their original culture. Past the first few episodes of Book 3, we don't see anyone who is an airbender but stays in their own life and refuses to join the Air Nation or run away to the temples. We don't see the new Airbenders creating their own, new, distinctive culture in the Air Nation, rather than parroting what Tenzin thinks Air Nomad culture was like.

Fundamentally, Tenzin and his family see the new airbenders as raw material to be shaped in the image of a long-dead culture, and that attitude has massive issues with it which are never fully engaged with(and "Original Airbenders" basically ends with the new airbenders uncritically accepting Air Nation culture and their status as Air Nomads).

Like, this is an exchange from "Rebirth":

Tenzin: Well, you're so much more than just a farmer now. (cut to a full shot of the table as Kuon reels back, confused) Harmonic Convergence changed everything. (rests a hand on the table and leans forward) You represent the future of a culture that is being reborn. You're going to help us rebuild the Air Nation. Kuon: (puzzled) I'm gonna do what now? The only thing I'm planning to rebuild is my barn. Tenzin: (insistent) But you must come with us to the Northern Air Temple. Kuon: Well, I can't do that. (Kuon's wife turns to him) I have a family and a farm. Tenzin: (still pushing) Of course you can come. This is of the utmost importance! Your wife will understand. Wife: (perplexed) Wait, what? No, I do not understand. Little Girl: (grabs her father's arm) Daddy, (her parents turn towards her) where are you going? Why does the bald man want to take you away? Wife: No one's going to take Daddy away, sweetheart. Korra: Actually, (everyone turns to the Korra and camera pans right to show more of her) this bald man does want to take him, but it's for an important cause. Your Dad is an airbender, and he should learn about his culture. (Cut to a back view of Korra with a shot of the whole table.) Kuon: I think there's been some sort of misunderstanding. (turns towards Tenzin) I'm not going with you. I might be able to airbend, (rests his arm against the table) but I'm no Air Nomad! I'm no monk! Mayor: Okay, (lays his hands on a pie dish) uh, maybe we should just have some dessert, huh? (stands up with the pie in hand) Who's up for dessert? Tenzin: (calmly) Sir, you must understand. You're an airbender now, and there are thousands of years of culture you must learn about. Skills you must master. Kuon: You expect me to abandon my entire life? My family? No! (stands up) No, sir! I'm not going anywhere with you and (points his finger towards the door) I think it's best that you leave! (Cut to Tenzin looking bewildered by Kuon's outburst. Cut to commercial break.)

The thing is that neither Tenzin nor the narrative actually ever engages with how screwed up Tenzin's attitude here is, he never really changes his attitude, and he ultimately gets what he wants without changing it.

"Venom of the Red Lotus":

Tenzin: (addresses the audience with a smile) Today we welcome the first airbending master in a generation, (looks at his daughter fondly) and I couldn't be more proud of my daughter. (view changes to Jinora who gives a smile and camera cuts back to the audience looking up at the ceremony) When the existence of our people was threatened, when the Avatar's life hung in the balance, Jinora never gave up hope. (camera focuses on Pema holding Rohan, the Beifong sisters, Raiko, along with the probending brothers beaming at Jinora) Thanks to her leadership, I see a very bright future for the Air Nation. (switch to a profile shot of Tenzin with Korra and the others in the background) Of course, there would be no Air Nation without Avatar Korra. She opened the portals and somehow the World began anew for us. (cut to a depressed Korra) And she was even willing to lay down her own life (Korra widens her eyes slightly and still looks saddened) in order to protect ours. (view changes to an overhanging shot of the ceremonial hall) There's no way we can ever repay her for all she's done. But we can follow her example of service and sacrifice. (cut back to a close up of Tenzin) So while she recuperates, the Air Nation will reclaim its nomadic roots and roam the Earth. (camera pans across the new airbenders standing behind Jinora) But unlike our ancestors, we will serve people of all nations, working wherever there is corruption and discord, to restore balance and peace. (At the end of the line of airbenders, we can see Ryu in Air Nomad clothes and his arms are crossed. Cut back to a profile shot of Tenzin as he addresses Korra) Avatar Korra, (Korra looks up at Tenzin) I vow that we will do everything in our power to follow in your footsteps and bring harmony to the World.

#LoK #legend of korra #legend of korra critical #Tenzin #Anti-Tenzin? #I'm just bothered by the way LoK deals with bending and culture

[pendragonfics]

Patch

Paring: Leonard McCoy/Reader

Tags:  no gender for reader, no name for reader, no pronouns for reader, post Star Trek Beyond, protective Leonard "Bones" McCoy, fights, missions, angst and hurt/comfort, resolution, fluff, medical, injury recovery

Summary: Reader and Leonard have an argument over Reader's attendance on an away mission. But when Reader returns injured, will all be resolved?

Word Count: 1,566

Current Date: 2021-01-19

According to the statistics, it was improbable that your return to the USS Enterprise would be on a hover stretcher. There was a truth to it, and it showed in the data. Sometimes, casual dating was a fun exercise in romantic growth with others. However, when casually dating Leonard 'Bones' McCoy, CMO of the ship and resident grump, it wasn’t easy. You were a hands-on learner! A xeno-geographer worked better in the field.

Despite your inclinations, the data showed a different story. Crew admitted to Medbay worked largely in security and on away teams. An overwhelming percentage of those wore a red uniform. The statistics reduced for casualties for sciences blue, and lesser so with gold. The statistics had abated your worries. But despite the numbers, Leonard was not having it. It had been a passing conversation over replicator coffee. Five minutes before departing for the alpha shift, he had downed his black, no sugar and no cream, and gave you a most definite no you had ever heard.

“I won’t condone it,” he said, gathering his holo-pad. “Look - I’m not calling you a bad officer! You’re damn fine at your job.”

“Is that why you’re acting my father instead of partner?” You retorted hotly. Something about his obstinance reacted unfavourably with you, “You’re not my keeper.”

He blinked, and slowly, placed his mug upon the table. “My apologies, Darlin’,” He said, in a low voice. “…that I am not.”

It was then he walked away. The rest of the morning was a whirlwind of preparations, and without a moment to think of Leonard, it quickly became pushed to the back of your mind.

The away mission was simple. The people were a previously uncontacted civilisation on the northern hemisphere of a Federation planet. The southern populace had been contacted some years ago. However, the mission was to observe and document its cultural landmarks and social evolution.

Come the arrival, however, your nerves got the better of you.

You felt like your head was getting the better of you. All the unspoken words you wished you had said to Leonard at the forefront, not your job. While the rest of the team made their way to the outskirts of the citadel, you fell behind.

Had that been your first fight as a couple? What if you never saw each other again? What if that was the last thing you ever said to him?

That was how you did not see the trap in time. Up you went, the rope snagged around your leg, hoisting yourself into the air. The crackle of your comms buzzed, but it fell out, and no communication was received. The other members of the party turned at the commotion, coming to help you.

"I said to look out for that," a security officer muttered, lowering you from the uncomfortable hoist. "Now we sprung the trap, the people are sure to know we are here."

"Are you hurt?" one of the others asked.

Before you could find the words, however, you heard it. The distinctive twang! of a string-based weapon. Despite your vast knowledge of the weaponry used in evolving alien civilisations, that alone did not save you. Because as soon as you heard the release, the projectile was coming for you. And as fast as you were, there was no way to dodge it.

You blinked.

A flash of blinding pain erupted from your shoulder as an arrow-like object embedded itself within your flesh. The words were lost in your throat, but holding them in, a reactionary gurgle of agony escaped.

The security officer shouted something into his comms. The away team scrambled. Someone pulled you from the path, but not before the twang! and release of more projectiles was heard again.

You hadn't been shot before, but now you had. The voices around you seemed to fade out of volume, though they were nearby. Your head swam with confusion and fear. All of those aside, it was the sensation of beaming on board that brought you back to lucidity.

All you could think of was not on the primitive projectile jutting from your shoulder. Not the hazy fog that filled your thoughts, like a slow poison. It was with your boyfriend.

"Get them to Medbay! We need help!" someone called for help.

Despite the lucidity, you felt a prisoner in your body as they helped you onto a stretcher. Carried toward the Medbay, you tried to parse your thoughts into a coherence, but it was no use. The faces of those around you were blurry, some doubling. Their voices faded in and out, and slowly, you felt less and less control of your limbs.

Upon arrival into the Medbay, the white light overwhelmed you. If you weren't already having trouble comprehending the world around you, the commotion in the Medbay brought vertigo-like nausea to you. Despite your understanding of your surroundings being hard to pay attention to, you knew the blurry silhouette at the end of the stretcher.  The appearance of the CMO was something that would've been comforting to some. Despite having little control over your body, you try to move from his sight, lamely shifting away to evade his gaze.

“What are you waiting for, divine intervention?" his voice cut in. "I need a bed for the patient, stat.”

You tried to roll the stretcher once more, but your already turning stomach turned some more at the movement. Your shoulder burst into another wave of pain. A gentle touch upon your collar stopped your movement. You didn't need to open your eyes to know whose hand it was. You were well versed with those hands. You knew the good and kind work those hands performed, the love and tenderness behind his touch. But you also knew what those hands had done in the seconds before you parted.

Tears pricked at your eyes, but they weren't for the pain. No. The fading rush of adrenaline somewhat helped with that. The tears were for a different pain.

"It'll be okay Darlin', you'll be okay." He says, voice low, hurridly. You felt his hand upon your cheek, cupping it. "You have to be."

Soon after that, all the noises of the Medbay blended into one. A prick of a Hypospray led to a loss of sensation in your arm. Then torso. And slowly after that, a loss of awareness. But as your eyes fluttered to a close, some part of you fighting the anaesthesia, you caught sight of him. He stood at the end of the cot, a chart in hand, speaking with a nurse.

As the world faded from view, you felt his name on your lips.

---

When you next opened your eyes, there was no denying the throbbing pain. Slowly beneath the bedsheets, you tested the muscles in your body, moving them slightly. Your fingers moved on command, toes too. As you shifted your arm, you realised that the projectile you had taken a hit with had been removed. Glancing up, everything in sight was as it should be, no doubled vision. The screen beside you that housed your vitals seemed to wake up with you. It hummed a similar tone to that of your heart; a soft ba-dum, ba-dum.

It wasn't long before a nurse arrived. But as quick as they came, another person appeared. But he was no nurse.

Leonard looked as tired as they came. His bags under the eyes were dark, his skin sallow, his dark hazel eyes somewhat vacant. You had no idea how long you had been under; it could only have been one day, right? But Leonard looked haggard. The previously sexy stubble of five o'clock shadow looked dishevelled, unkempt.

"I didn't mean what I said," you blurt, trying and failing to sit up. Silently, Leonard came to your side, helping you do so. The bed, adjusting into a seating position, whirred to life. "I was just frustrated. I love you."

"I love you too," he replied softly. "But there was truth to your words."

You watch as he takes a seat at the bedside, his hands lingering at the edge, not moving to hold yours. "You're nothing like my father, Len." You reassured him.

"I know." He says. "...but I was being your keeper. You're a free spirit; you deserve to be unfettered. Free to do what you want - free to do what your job needs."

"I'm not a pigeon that flew inside a public building, Leonard," you hum. "I'm a person."

He wipes a hand over his face. "A hell of a person, at that." He says, quietly. "In truth...you reminded me of her. My ex-wife. Elinor. She was always stubborn, that's why we got hitched, and why we fell apart. But with you..." You reach for his hand, interlacing his fingers with your own. "Darlin', you can handle yourself. You're a tough cookie. But with you – this is your life. You work as a xeno-geographer," He sighs, "Who am I to stop you?"

"Leonard..." you squeeze his hand.

"It was wrong of me to try to stop you. And even though you did get hurt, it took all I could to keep it together, treating you."

"Thanks for trusting me," you whisper, squeezing his hand once more. "I promise next time I'll be even more careful."

He smiles. "And even if you get hurt again, I'll patch you up."

#Leonard McCoy #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy x oc #Bones #bones mccoy #bones x reader #bones mccoy x reader #Star Trek 2009 #star trek fanfic #star trek alternate original series #star trek x reader #chaotic--lovely #pendragonfics #gender neutral reader

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Floor of the world

There are a number of ways to describe the shape of this floor, and all of them refer to the fact that a large part of the floor is comprised of a very large, featureless space (like a gymnasium, or a big parking garage).

Floor plans are usually drawn on topographical maps, and when this was made, one of the first facts to be noticed was that the map was not symmetrical; in fact, it was asymmetrical in an odd way. The northern half of the map was considerably larger than the southern one.

In retrospect, the reason this map looked odd was obvious: it was actually a map of the world, and its asymmetry was one of the many "features" of that world, the shape of which made sense when we realized that the north-south axis of that world was the plane of the earth's rotation.

Now, the fact that a map shows the real world -- in this case, our world, or our world at its maximum diameter -- as asymmetric had no great interest to the cartographers. They could have gone one of two routes instead, and shown the world with its axis oriented in either a north-south or an east-west direction, and it would have made no difference. But there is a certain fascination in learning of the fact that the world looks like this, that this is an odd and distinctive way to see the world.

This fascination is further heightened by the fact that the shape of the map is not exactly round. The northern hemisphere is not spherical in any sense, but the map's general outline is nevertheless shaped by that of the earth itself. It is an ellipse, slightly lopsided and distorted.

A number of times, as I have traversed the floor, I had thought about how this shape had evolved. It was difficult to say. After all, it was possible to rotate the floor so it was upside down. Then, the northern hemisphere would be inside the southern one; there was no reason to choose this particular configuration over any other. Perhaps the earth was originally spinning this way; the northern hemisphere would then have been on the outside of the spin, looking down on us. Or perhaps the spin was off axis in some other way, and we have moved into the Northern Hemisphere so that our view is perpendicular to the spin.

The whole idea was confusing and rather interesting.

One of the few features on the northern half of the map -- one of the southern half is even more sparsely populated -- is the "sky." Here is the sky, and here is the sky; there are no clouds, and it is perfectly clear and blue outside:

And here it is, and here:

These photos (with the floor inverted, so that all I can see is sky) were taken by a human being, and depict a clear, empty sky. A human being -- and a human being alone, unlike most other things in the world -- can look straight up into the sky, and see it as clearly as the floor. This is another thing to think about.

The human mind is not a round thing

And there is also something about the human body. When we stand upright, we can see down and to the sides in every direction, and we can see high above us (if we raise our heads). But for each of these, we can also see into the third dimension. This is impossible in the flat, upside-down world of the floor. The flat world is a two-dimensional world; if you turn to look at something to your right, you see only one side of it, and what's on that side, and nothing else. In the floor, there is a third dimension, and you can look into that third dimension and see far more of the world, in every direction.

For instance, you can look to your right at a desk where there are books on it, and you can look up to the bookshelves above the desk; you can look down at the desk and look to your left, and into the hallway beyond the door of the room where the desk is; or you can walk into the room, and look down to see the books. Or you can look to the left at the books and look up to see the ceiling; or you can look into the room and look at the desk, which itself is a "two-dimensional" object. These three views together are not possible in the flat world of the floor (although there is one more; I can see a wall to the left of me, and into the room; but as soon as I look into the room and see a person, I must turn my head to see the whole room, and the whole person in it, as I did in the photos).

A human person, in the upright position, can walk along the ceiling, as if in the sky. And yet, the person's feet will still be firmly planted on the ground. It is as though the person was floating in three-dimensional space, and walking along a one-dimensional surface. The floor is still, even in motion; it is still while the person walks along the ceiling, and it is still while the person floats in the sky. In this sense, all the floor is also a ceiling.

This is another way in which the ceiling looks like a floor; it is one way to view the ceiling, but it is not the only way. The ceiling is a floor, but it is a floor with nothing on it. There are no books, and there are no chairs. There is nothing. A person can be "on" the ceiling, but there is no "on" there, and when a person is "on" the ceiling, "on" is the ceiling, not the person, and that person can walk off the ceiling.

It is only when a person is moving through the ceiling, or walking in the sky, that one can see that the floor is a ceiling, that the ceiling is three-dimensional, that the ceiling is inhabited, and that a person is not a thing you can "put on" or "off."

At some point, a human person looks down, and sees the sky; looks up, and sees the ceiling; looks around, and sees nothing. It sees that the ceiling is empty; it sees that there is no "on" there. It sees the floor as full of bookshelves.

This is the point, I believe, where the human person can begin to speak of the ceiling as "my" ceiling, and see the floor as his floor. This is the beginning of a story, but it has only just begun. For a person who is about to walk the floor, the sky is not the floor. The ceiling is not the floor. But the human person, walking on the ceiling, sees, and says "my" ceiling. And the floor is his floor.

To reach my floor, he must have some sense of place, and some idea of what "I" am; but to reach it, he must move through the ceiling first.

The human person walks on the ceiling, and in time, when he reaches the southern wall, he says "my" southern wall. And when he reaches the west wall, he says "my" west wall. And this is as true as it is true that the north wall was his north wall, because it is not yet, but it is becoming. As he walks the ceiling, the human person sees that the ceiling is a wall; and if he looks down, he sees, of course, that the ceiling is a ceiling. But he does not yet see that the floor is a ceiling, or that he is on that ceiling. Yet he does know, of course, that the ceiling is a floor. And even as he moves through the ceiling, and sees the floor only with his own eyes, he does not yet know he is on that floor.

And there is something that is not the floor -- a thing the human person has seen with his own eyes, that he knows to be true -- that the ceiling is a wall, that the floor is a wall, and that the floor is a ceiling. There is something that is not the ceiling; but this is also a fact; this is as true as it is true that the ceiling is a ceiling.

The human person is becoming, he is growing into the ceiling. And he knows that it is the ceiling, it is a wall.

And yet -- the human person is not yet here; he is not "on" this ceiling.

This is something that the human person knows, but does not yet know. This is a story that the human person will learn in his own time. I tell this to you so that you too, my friend, can become a human person, and know that I know it.

But the human person is growing, and he is now on the ceiling.

And there is something above him; and it is a floor.

The ceiling is a floor

And there is nothing above him.

This, too, is something that the human person must learn for himself. I tell him this so that when he looks up, and sees the sky, he can know that it is empty, that there is nothing above his head, and that even if there is something above, it is a floor.

There is a door.

It is

#original fiction #computer generated image #guidance scale 3

[bruhman745]

hi (this is directed for both 👻anon and bm)

i'm back with some questions/clarifications on the us map because?? that's not how i ended up learning it?

so what i ended up learning in my 4-different-schools-education ranging from NE schools to one texas elementary for 22 months is:

we have 4 regions??

west up from the 4-corner states (ut,co,az,nm) and wy+mt across to the coastline

south is from texas to like,,, maryland (everyone forgets about maryland and delaware tho)

the northeast/new england is the most northwest states-furthest down is pa and topmost is maine

and midwest is. everything else??

hawaii and alaska. have no assignment. they're just special

idk now i'm confused because this is definitely how i learned it but??? ehhh whatever the us is messy already what's some regional confusion to add onto it

~☁️

oh yeah it deffo is, thats how most ppl put it and if u want a REALLY simple like definition, then thats perfect! i wanted to get into the distinction between the two states ive lived in and how the culture of the northern states is p different from the like smack-dab-in-the-middle of the midwest states

and i do think the mountain states r pretty different from the pacific ones but its kinda hit or miss yknow and depends on who you talk to

ALSO WANTED TO MAKE SURE PPL DONT THINK MISSOURI IS A SOUTHERN STATE!! the sheer amount of people who think that missouri is SOUTHERN up here??? holy SHIT bro it's,,, im not having it. i will NOT be southern thank you

they also say i sound southern but like accents r a TOTALLY different thing nd i think thats just what i get for having a dad from kansas who picks up accents too easily :')

also tbh ive never rlly learned the boundaries in school cuz everyone just debates them anyway and it ends up with a huuuuuuuuge classroom argument its funny. also it depends on if its relative to JUST the U.S. or North America as a continent-

yeah i think u get it sorry for rambling on abt that LMFAO

#yeah but very interesting topic #fun to throw at a group of ppl and see what happens #bmanons #bmanswers #☁️ anon

[shootingst4rpress]

:O i would love to hear more about the robotics you participate in!!

ooh! i do UK antweight robot combat (i wrote a full infodump so im putting it under a readmore but if you'd like to read n ask questions id love that!)

which, quick tirade here is distinct from US antweight, because both classes evolved in both scenes at the same time with different measurements - a UK ant is 150g, a US ant is a pound so around 550g off the top of my head? this is confusing. i'm in the UK where we call our UK ants the ants, whereas in america a US ant is an ant and a UK ant is a fairyweight. US ants are semi-jokingly called poundweights or freedomweights. this doesn't exist in the other classes because they usually evolved in one country and were brought to another - featherweights originated in america as 30 pounders, so the UK featherweight class is 13.6kg. UK beetleweights and US beetleweights did evolve seperately, but 3lb is close enough to 1.5kg for the conversion to not matter.

antweights are a bit of an outlier because they're so small, it means the physics is actually very different, and the process is also fairly different to building the next class up (a 1.5kg beetleweight) so beetleweights are usually recommended as the beginner class and antweights as a weird thing you can also do. however, the electronics is a lot less complex. i like em, though!

the antweight meta is fairly varied, but mostly goes along with the UK meta with a split between wedge flippers or lifters, and spinning blade robots. antweight arenas tend to be comparatively small and have large pit/out of the arena zones which cultivate a mostly flipper and static wedge (a bot that has no weapon and wins fights by pushing its opponent) based meta. (i can talk for ages about robot combat metas dont push me) but you do get very successful spinners!

antweight events are generally held around 3 times a year, because they're a lot easier to set up and run than larger weight classes. because of this, and the relative ease of building an ant, many people will enter multiple robots (maximum 3 per team, 4 if you include a robot that deviates from the norm in some way, either using legs to walk or being a multibot made out of smaller bots) generally at a cap of 128 robots per tournament. it's almost always a double elimination tourney where every robot is guaranteed two fights. events generally rotate through a number of people who have spaces they're willing to host in and can borrow or set up their own arena, and are spread around england, but typically more southern than northern.

antweight fights are incredibly fast, due to the inverse square law (which i can elaborate on if you want) meaning smaller robots throw around more force comparative to their weight than say, a heavyweight, and the arena is comparatively a lot smaller than a feather or beetle arena. most fights end in a pitting or an OOTA (Out Of The Arena), immobilizations are rare, and judges' decisions are rarer. we're talking 1 or 2 an event that lasts a whole day.

one of the most controversial parts of antweight roboteering is the size limits! no other robot combat weight class contains a size limit, which many people in the sport dislike as it prevents a lot of non-meta designs (although they can still be done! there's a notorious UK antweight that deploys basically a skirt in order to act as a larger wedge) and restricts designing robots. there are regular fights about this but nothing has really been done about it since the official UK rules body is known to be kinda incompetent.

overall it's a thing i absolutely love and i've met some crazy cool people and seen some amazing things through it. unfortunately, antweight fights or events don't translate too well to being watched (fast fights with many competitors) but if you're interested in the insectweight classes (ant and beetle) Bugglebots is a fascinating Robot Wars style beetleweight competition on youtube, filmed and produced properly and full of great fights and designs and very cool people.

#hyperfixation tag #robot combat #ellis nonsense

[justasingaporegirl]

Thoughts on Languages in ATLA and LOK

Okay, so we know that for practical reasons everyone in the Avatar Universe spoke English (so that the audience can understand what is being said, and also because it would take too much time to invent a whole language system) but I have an Opinion on how languages might work since realistically the whole world is not going to speak just one language

disclaimer: I’ve not actually read the comics or the Kyoshi novels so just roll with me based on what is shown in the animated series itself

#1: Common Written Language

Throughout the show we see that all writing is done using Chinese characters. Written Chinese is a pictorial language meaning that there is no link between the written word of the language and the spoken aspect, so a person can become fluent in speaking the language and not know how to read/write, or vice versa. So in the world of Avatar there is a common pictorial written language, so everyone from any part of the world can understand what another person is writing if not what they are speaking. (How did this come about? I don’t know, maybe some Avatar generations before Aang decided “hey you know what will bring harmony to the world it’s a common written language” but you get my point)

#2: Lingua Franca

My idea is that each of the Four Nations speak a different language, but by Aang’s era a lingua franca has been established and that is the Fire Language. The Fire Nation had conquered pretty much the whole world at this point so it’s only reasonable to expect that they’d force the whole world to learn their language too. Fire Language is still commonly spoken during Korra’s time, sort of how English remains the lingua franca today even though the British Empire collapsed like 50 years ago.

#3: Everyone is bilingual

Or almost everyone. Expanding off the idea above, everyone would be taught Fire Language growing up, right? I see it being taught as a first language during Aang’s time (when the Fire Nation controls like 98% of the world) but by the time Korra comes around some schools are starting to offer it as a second language rather than the first. (also, schools during the Hundred Year War used Fire language as their mode of instruction 100%) Non-Fire kids would also learn their own native languages as a 'mother tongue’ language during the Hundred Year War, then as their first language (and the mode of instruction in schools) when peace is restored. I don’t see schools in the Fire Nation teaching other nation’s languages during the War except as a second language option taught at intermediate/advanced schooling level. (The students who take these courses are usually being groomed for positions in government or diplomacy) After the War, Fire Lord Zuko makes it mandatory that Fire Nation schools have to teach a second language as well as the customs and culture of said language. This continues up to Korra’s lifetime, so pretty much everyone in the Avatar universe can speak at least two languages.

#4: Dialects

Even though each nation has their own language, there’s bound to be some slang or dialects in different parts of each nation. The nobles of the Upper Ring in Ba Sing Se would speak much differently from the poorer residents in the Lower Ring. The differences in the dialects are not major enough that a person from the Upper Ring could not understand a person from the Lower Ring, but some expressions and vocabulary used might confuse both parties.

#5: The Water Tribes share a language

This one is a bit of a wildcard but hear me out. Before the War, the Northern and Southern Water Tribes were pretty close, right? Because they interacted with each other so often they spoke the exact same language, give or take some differences in vocabulary (think British English vs Australian/American English) But then because of the separation of the two Tribes during the War each side began to develop their own versions of the language so it becomes more like two different dialects. The differences are jarring to those not used to it, but if you listen VERY closely you would be able to get a general idea of what the other person is saying.

That’s also why I think Sokka made that comment about ‘doing an activity’ when he met Yue. The word Sokka used means ‘romantic date’ in the Southern Water Tribe but in the Northern dictionary it’s more like, ‘an activity’.

By the time Korra comes around the two tribes have been interacting again for quite a while so while the two tribes continue to speak their own distinct versions of the language, it’s not completely unintelligible to the other. (Again, think British vs American vs Australian English)

#6: Republic City’s linguistic smorgasbord

Pretty much everyone communicates in Fire Language since it’s the Lingua Franca, but over time elements from the other languages have slipped in to form Republic City’s own pidgin language. It’s very common to hear words or phrases in Earth Language thrown in the middle of Fire Language sentences (Earth because it’s the largest nation geographically and by population, so a significant number of the Republic City population would have Earth Kingdom roots.) You also have words from the Water Tribes thrown in as well, creating a unique mishmash of languages that somehow everyone in Republic City understands (basically it’s the Avatar version of Singlish).

(No one except for Avatar Aang actually knows the Air Language since it died with the Air Nation. Aang sometimes let slips slang terms or expressions from his native language, especially during Important Avatar Broadcasts so Republic City kinda picks up on that and it’s not uncommon for a person from Republic City to just. Say Air Language slang with a straight face. I’m thinking like President Raiko unironically saying the Air equivalent of “’sup dudes” during official meetings ‘cause that’s how Republic City speaks. Aang thinks it’s hilarious but also worries that no one will take the Air Nomads seriously if they knew what those slang terms actually meant.

#7: Zaofu 

Like Republic City, Zaofu has a similar mishmash of languages, except that instead of mixing languages spoken in the Four Nations it’s just a mix of every single dialect in the Earth Kingdom since most of the citizens are from or are descended from the Earth Kingdom.

Anyway those are just some general thoughts, let me know what you guys think! 

#avatar #atla #lok #avatar: the last airbender #legend of korra

[witchynyx]

Southern Hemisphere Witchcraft: Seasons & Sabbats

With seasonal celebrations being an important part of most folks' practices (whether you follow the Wiccan/neopagan Wheel of the Year, observe just the solstices/equinoxes, or even stick with more mainstream religious and cultural holidays), living somewhere that doesn’t follow a Euro-centric seasonal model can make the question of “how do I approach these here??” a common stumbling block.

Having put a lot of thought into this question myself, and participated in a lot of discussions on the topic, I’m going to suggest getting at least some basic understanding of your areas seasonal (and possibly agricultural) patterns first, and then looking at how you might approach it.

Southern Hemisphere Seasons

One of the most obvious and well-known difference between the hemispheres, that even most folks living in the Northern half are aware of, is that our seasons occur at the opposite time of year.

Obviously this is an over-simplification, as seasonal patterns are affected by far more factors. This idea of “opposites” is also largely based on a Euro-centric seasonal model, which awkwardly sits over the calendar in some places, and in others - like the tropics - is almost entirely absurd.

I feel like it’s beneficial for most of us to try to learn about the actual natural weather patterns of our own areas. It might be pretty similar, and most of the differences are down to the different flora and fauna, or it might not divide into four distinct seasons at all. For Aussies: I’ve found Indigenous weather knowledge to be a useful place to start researching, because that’s going to give you much more reality-based information in a colonised country than modern science, which is still often interpreting data through a foreign lens.

It’s hard to try to adapt a system built around the patterns of another place to where you live, if you don’t really know what the patterns are here. Once you have some idea of the seasons, you can look more into what might be the best approach to celebrate them.

So When do I Celebrate the Sabbats?

Ok, so there are a number of different ways to approach this, depending on how quickly you want to make a decision and how much effort you want to put into said decision.

Approach #1: Follow the “Traditional” (European) Dates

An easy option, that requires zero real thought, is to just follow the dates as they’re celebrated in the Northern Hemisphere, as they’re presented in pretty well every witchy/Wiccan/Neopagan book you’re likely to get your hands on.

Pros:

Follow the dates in most books/resources;

Celebrate at the same time as the majority of the (international) community;

Sabbats will thematically match the European seasonal holidays that have made it into our secular calendar (Yule/Christmas, Samhain/Halloween, Ostara/Easter);

If you follow European pagan beliefs, particularly any that the Wiccan/neopagan wheel has borrowed traditions from, you’re celebrating those holidays at the same time as they were/are celebrated in that land;

Does your environment come alive in winter (when the NH are celebrating the height of vitality at Beltane and Midsummer) and die/go into hibernation over summer (when the NH are focusing on the quiet/hibernation of winter)? Because that might match up well!

Cons:

Celebrating Summer Solstice when it’s Winter Solstice where you are (and vice versa, and the same with the Equinoxes) can just be.. weird?

The imagery and symbolism is likely to be double-out: Not only do you have the disconnect, for example, of Yule/Christmas symbolism being heavy on foreign flora and fauna like pine trees, holly, and robins, but it can also cause some cognitive dissonance decorating with snowflakes and heavy roasts and mulled wine when it’s the height of summer and you can see heat rising off the road outside.

Approach #2: ‘Flip/Rotate’ the Wheel

Another easy option, and probably the most popular, is to just flip/rotate the Wheel of the Year so that the solar events (solstices and equinoxes) match up. This shifts the dates by 6 months, and “swaps” the Sabbats. It’s version that you’ll see in almost any book/resource you look at that acknowledges those of us in the Southern Hemisphere.

The Southern Hemisphere Wheel of the Year above by Jenwytch (2004) shows the flipped/rotated version, with the Sabbats on both images arranged synwyse (and thus anti-clockwise for the SH)

Pros:

Follow the Southern Hemisphere dates in most books/resources;

Celebrate at the same time as the majority of the Southern Hemisphere community;

Sabbats will thematically match the Eurocentric view of the seasons: You’re celebrating mid-winter at Winter Solstice, and midsummer at Summer Solstice;

Does your environment come alive in summer (when Beltane and Midsummer are celebrating the height of vitality) and die/go into hibernation over winter (when the focus of Yule is on silence and scarcity)? Because that sounds like a match!

Cons:

Celebrating opposite the international community can be alienating, especially when so many people/spaces don’t acknowledge that their experiences and practices aren’t universal;

If you follow any European pagan beliefs that the Wiccan/neopagan wheel has borrowed traditions from, you’re celebrating those holidays at the opposite time as they were/are celebrated in that land;

Sabbats will thematically oppose the European seasonal holidays that have made it into our secular calendar, and might make you extra-aware of how weird it is decorating for “autumn” Halloween themes at the height of spring and “spring” Easter themes when it’s autumn. How do you decorate for Halloween AND Beltane, or Christmas AND Midsummer? If you have children, how to you explain that dichotomy?

As listed above, this approach can leave folks pretty confused and frazzled as to how to reconcile celebrations with “energies” so different to what folks in the other half of the world are celebrating, or especially how to reconcile these celebrations with the European holidays in our calender. One of the things worth noting is that the planet is a constant state of balance: what’s happening in one place is a balance to that which is happening in another. The other thing to note is how the “opposing” celebrations relate to each other: eg Samhain and Beltane both have a focus on the ‘thinning of the veil between worlds’, with Samhain on its way into winter lending itself to a closeness with the dead, and Beltane at the height of spring holding a focus on the Fair Folk - one gives thanks for the bounty of harvest and the other to the bounty of life flourishing (which will later lead to the harvest), and both traditionally focusing on divination and relationships. They can easily be seen as different sides of the same coin.

Approach #3: ‘Flip/Rotate’ the Wheel and then Customise it

This is where the work starts to come in. Again, one of the more popular approaches is the flip the wheel (as above) and use that as a framework to customise your own Wheel of the Year.

Usually the names and dates will remain intact (although aligning with the timing of the astrological events might become more important than celebrating on the same calendar date each year), but then how much you stick with the ‘traditional’ vs how much you customise things is completely up to you. Maybe you keep the themes and mythologies but add in/swap out seasonally-appropriate local flora and fauna? Maybe you add in some extra days that are important to you as well, because they’re important to your religious path, or because they hold great personal significance to you. You really can take this where you like.

Pros:

Following the Southern Hemisphere dates from most books/resources, either exactly or close enough;

Celebrating the same things at the same time as most other folks in the Southern Hemisphere community, or pretty close to;

Great for forming a connection with your local seasons and environment;

Flexible and customisable: If something doesn’t gel, explore why, change things, try stuff;

Interactive and dynamic: Your relationship takes priority over the information written in a book, and being forever-changing rather than fixed can be interesting and engaging.

Cons:

You might never be “finished” building your wheel;

It takes active thought and involvement. Particularly if you’re new, this can be incredibly overwhelming;

If you follow pagan beliefs from elsewhere in the world (especially any of those that the Wiccan/neopagan wheel has borrowed traditions from), you’ll have to decide whether it makes more sense to celebrate events by the seasons or the calendar.

I think probably the easiest way to approach this is a little at a time. Start with just flipping the wheel, and as the wheel turns, work on your relationships with both the sabbats as they’re presented and the seasonal shifts happening around you. Maybe set one goal to focus on for each revolution: Get a feel for the ‘traditional’ wheel, get a feel for the seasons where you live and how they compare, notice what the local flora and fauna are doing, meditate on what colours/energies are prominent, learn about what your local agricultural cycles are doing and what food is in season. The fact that there’s no time limit on it means that you can just do a little at a time, and you can tweak it each time it rolls around.

One book which uses this approach is Dancing the Sacred Wheel (2012), by Adelaide witch/author Frances Billinghurst. Frances presents her approach to the Sabbats in this book, and it’s highly influenced by both the natural cycles around Adelaide, and her path as a Celtic Wiccan.

Approach #4: Create Your Own Wheel from Scratch!

The final approach is to completely throw the Wicca/neopagan wheel straight in the bin and build your own wheel/calendar from scratch. No guides and no preconceptions! Is that exciting? Terrifying? Maybe some of both?

Pros:

You’re starting from zero with no existing frameworks or ideas!

Ultimate freedom and flexibility;

Cons:

You’re starting from zero with no existing frameworks or ideas!

Enormous job: starting from zero with no framework or guide;

For a great example of this approach, check out Australian Druidry (2017) by Julie Brett, who takes this approach creating a Wheel of the Year for her area in Sydney (pictured).

My own Wheel of the Year is probably somewhere between approaches 3 & 4. I’m still working on it, but here’s where I’m at as of late 2020.

#southern hemisphere witch #aussie witchcraft #seasonal celebrations #witchcraft #original content #witchynyx

[shannapage]

Stellae: Chapter 1

Author: Shanna Page

Status: Incomplete / Ongoing 

Genre: Fantasy / Sci-Fi

Synopsis: The gods do not exist. Divine intervention is only imagined by those too cowardly to act. No, we only have ourselves in this word. Ourselves, the weapons we wield and the evil we choose to tolerate.

Eline Ritvak is the most renowned thief in all three Kingdoms. Mentored by the infamous criminal, Nightshade, she lives by a strict code of honor seemingly at odds with her chosen profession.When the Prince of Nitenbeir requests Eline steal a sword for him, she is curious enough to accept on his terms. What happens next sends Eline’s world tumbling into chaos, and she finds herself on the run from the most feared man on the continent. All she has is a sword, a know-it-all bookkeeper and the realization that perhaps, they are not alone in this world.      

Word Count: 5,782

Author’s Note:  As part of my fundraising initiative on my other blog for BLM, I stated that if a certain number was reached, I would release the first chapter of my unpublished (non-fanfic) novel. Since this amount was reached, here it is! This is only the first chapter and I do not plan on releasing more on this website. Know that this fight is not over and we still have tons of work to do. If you can still donate, please do so. If you’re living in the US, ensure you’re registered to vote at TurboVote.Org. 

More information about this world / my novel can be found here on my page.

Those who frequented the gambling dens of Kebasa had a saying they told to anyone who would listen; the most fruitful of grounds often bore the most teeth.

The saying was old, stemming from the antewalk, an animal known equally for its migratory patterns as a distinct lack of self-preservation. There was a game amongst children named after the animal in which the smallest of them attempted to cross a field before they could be tagged by the larger, faster children. If they were tagged, they were considered out.

The game was cruel by nature but then again, most things were cruel by nature. Every summer, the antewalk migrated to their northern breeding grounds through the Beir Mountains. If any place could be described as ‘having teeth,’ the Beir range was a natural contender.

Spiders as large as a person’s fist dangled from shoddy webs, draped across caves which housed the fearsome gargantum – a predator as feared as death itself, whose jaws could easily snap a cougar in half. Snakes the size of tree trunks hid in the canopy above before dropping ten feet to feast upon unsuspecting prey. Despite all these horrors, the antewalk continued to make the same journey.

To them, the potential goal of their breeding ground was worth the likely cost.

Much as those who frequented gamblers row viewed the potential for riches to be worth its likely cost – bankruptcy.

It might be worth noting that the antewalk were nearly extinct.

Regardless, the gambling dens of Kebasa drew a multitude of customers, not only its regulars who sought to turn copens to riches. The dens were famous across the vast continent of Prima – and even further than that, drawing attention past the Farephen Sea. Merchants, nobles, and paupers alike were drawn to the gamble and in this way, the dens were amongst the most diverse places on the continent.

Lounged in a seat, one leg crossed over the other, Eline considered the Merryweather laid out before her.

Contrary to its name, the Merryweather was neither a cheerful place, nor was it exposed to the elements. As far as gambling dens went, the interior was much of what Eline had come to expect – crooked tables, crooked people, and an overwhelming stench of spilled ale in between.

At a first glance, she counted seven people in the crowd who did not belong. They were easy enough to spot, once one knew what to look for. Although Eline herself was not Kebasan, she blended in as though she might have been. Her gaze lingered near the bar, assessing a lone, pockmarked youth who glanced longingly at the door. Likely, someone had said this would be the easiest way to escape in case of an emergency.

Utter nonsense. Once a person entered the den, the only way out was further in.

Uncrossing both legs, Eline returned to her game. Casually, she tossed a gold coin on the table.

“Jinn,” she declared.

Murmurs of outrage rippled around the table – to Eline’s right a man growled, not bothering to conceal his state of frustration. The move was a provocative one, to be sure. Scarab was a game designed to confuse its own players, an eclectic combination of dice, cards, and boldfaced lying. It took several years to become proficient but luckily, Eline had learned the game from the best.

Jinn was a give me command. A player could use it only once per game, but once declared, all players were required to increase their bet or exit the table. By using it when she did, Eline had raised the game not by a copen – which was traditional – but by an entire talir. Such riches would have bought the very table they sat at.

“That’s not fair,” grumbled the man to her right. He spoke around the toothpick which dangled precariously from his lip. “Copen’s the norm.”

“It may be the norm, by my move wasn’t illegal.” Eline spoke with great boredom, as though the entire conversation were below her pay grade. “What’s the matter, Revani? Not good for the money?”

The man beside her started, not having expected her to know him by name.

Eline was no fool. She did careful research before deciding to enter any given situation; this was the main way she ensured she only walked into situations she could walk away of. Not everyone was as careful as Eline, but then, not everyone was as successful as her either.

Revani scowled and removed his toothpick. Much to Eline’s utter disgust, he placed this on the table beside her palm.

“I’m in,” he declared, tossing down a gold coin.

The hair beneath his cap could have been either blonde or brown; it was difficult to tell through its matted mess. The clothing he wore gave nothing away either; plain, loose fabric designed to resist the sweltering heat of Kebasa. The only hint of his heritage were his eyes, which were blue. Only certain parts of the southern Kingdom of Sur claimed such a color. 

After much hemming and hawing, another two players tossed their coins down. The rest pushed back their chairs, scraping the floorboards, and casting annoyed glances at Eline.

Beneath her crimson hood, she tried not to smile.

Only four players remained: a more manageable number. A lucky number as well, according to Surnese superstition. Eline was not the type who subscribed to good fortune, but when she did, she found the Surnese gods to be most obliging.

Stretching, Revani extended both arms overhead to reveal a wrist tattoo. Foolish of him to flash his crew’s sign so carelessly since it was not the same colors as those of the Merryweather. Men had gotten killed for less than gambling on other crews’ turfs.

He was not the only player Eline knew at the table. To her left was a man who called himself Lorcin and directly across from them were two called Copper and Jo. Those two seemed to move as a team, one of them shifting when the other went still, and vice versa. Eline wondered if they behaved like this always, or only when they felt they were cornered.

Eline was the only woman at the table, although this was to be expected. Many nations and Kingdoms underestimated womenkind. Eline supposed she could not be perturbed by this fact, since it meant those same people underestimated her, as well.

In her line of work, underestimation was a valuable tool.

Lowering her gaze, Eline looked once more her cards. They were not terrible, but neither were they a winning hand. This fact did not bother her since the prize Eline sought was not a singular card game. No, her quarry was far more valuable than that.

Thumbing the sharp edge of her deck, Eline sighed. “Are you going to take your turn, Jo?” she asked, looking up. “Or will we all die of old age before you realize you’ve lost.”

A low chuckle rose from the other men at the table.

Jo – a man whose mustache was the most defining thing about him – scowled. “Don’t know why you’re trying to rush things, ma’am. Scarab is a game best savored, not swallowed.” He paused, allowing a smirk. “I’d imagine you know a thing or two about that.”

How clever; a reference to Eline’s assumed sexuality. She’d dealt with far worse jibes in her lifetime though and so, she ignored him and awaited his next move.

Copper nearly choked at the remark, forcing Jo to reach over and pound him on the back. Eline tried not roll her eyes at this, although it was hard.

Ko women were not known for being overly revealing and this was Eline’s chosen character for the night. Beneath her bright cloak, she wore simple merchant’s clothing from Ko, a distant Kingdom across the Farephen sea.

It was one of Eline’s preferred disguises; it was infinitely easier to pretend she hailed from Ko than say, one of the northern lands, like Dagmari. Dagmari women all had skin the color of the bone underneath, with copper-colored hair distinctive on every continent. Their accent alone was difficult to emulate, full of clipped consonants and elongated vowels.

At least Ko women had dark hair, even if their eyes were known to be golden, not silver. No Kingdom on any continent was known for silver eyes though, and so in this, Eline remained squarely out of luck.

Whenever someone asked about the unusual color, Eline would brush it aside and claim bastard parentage. Likely this was true, but she had no way of knowing for sure.

Exhaling loudly, Jo reached for the dice.

His resulting throw was not favorable and based on his sour expression, Eline assumed his cards to be no good. Ruling him out as competition, she moved her attention to the other men at the table.

Twisting around in his seat, Revani flagged a passing waitress. “More ale,” he instructed before turning back. Glancing in Eline’s direction, he offered a wicked smile. “What about you, Lady? Care to partake?”

The word Lady was mocking and belied his nation of origin. Although the three Kingdoms of Prima were monarchies, Kebasa was run by wealthy merchants, Nitenbeir was militaristic and only Sur had retained the notion of nobility – in more ways than one.

The use of Lady indicated Revani hailed from the south, although none of their renowned education seemed to have stuck. From where she was sitting, Eline could see his whole cards, and they were not particularly good ones.

“Thank you, but no,” she declined. “I prefer to keep my wits about me when I play.”

Revani’s upper lip curled. “Ah. Womanly concerns.”

“I’d imagine so,” Eline said. “As one must first possess wit in order to be concerned about losing it.”

Revani’s cheeks reddened, his entire expression darkening as Lorcin released a chuckle. He had been the quietest at the table so far and thus, was the only one Eline judged as true competition.

Shooting her a bemused look, Lorcin crossed both his feet at the ankles. Based solely on appearance, Eline assumed him to be from either Nitenbeir or Dagmari. Both were northern Kingdoms, so the complexions were similar, although neither wore their hair in the way Lorcin did – long and unbound, hung nearly to his waist.

He kept one hand beneath the table to conceal his cards from view; the other lay casually beside his untouched wine. Smart, to blend in while keeping his head clear.

Copper laughed, the joke just catching up to him. “A clever tongue,” he said, reaching to pick up his dice. “That’s a shame. Isn’t it a pity when women are clever?”

“It is at that.” Revani accepted the flagon he had ordered. “Clever women always get themselves into trouble.”

Outwardly, Eline betrayed no reaction but inwardly, she burned. What she would not give to have these men know her true wrath; to let them know exactly who she was and what she was capable of.

She knew if these men only knew her other name – if anyone in this establishment so much as whispered the word Umbra – it would make them shake in her boots and yet, here she sat and pretended to smile. To reveal who she was meant losing the upper hand, and in Scarab – as in life – having the upper hand was tantamount to winning.

“Indeed,” Eline said. “Clever women often make men uncomfortable. I imagine those without beauty are often discomforted to find it has a voice.”

Lorcin burst out into laughter as Revani’s scowl deepened.

Eline imagined that under different circumstances, she might have been able to enjoy Lorcin’s presence – a pity then, that her line of work failed to leave time for meaningful connections.

In the corner of her gaze, she saw the door to the Merryweather swing inward, allowing balmy, summer air to escape from the street.

“Shut the door!” someone called from the closest table.

All the gambling dens of Kebasa were housed belowground. This allowed for the coolest environment, since Kebasa was a desert city half as often as it was mountainous. A narrow staircase at the front led to the street; a purposeful decision to restrict entrance or exit.

In Ko, humidity and high waters made underground enclosures impossible. There, gambling dens were tied together like rafts, bobbing in sea at the ends of each dock. Eline disliked these types of places; the small amount of time she had spent in Ko was enough for her to realize she despised the ocean.

With the entrance of Kebasa’s heat came an actual person – several people actually, each one climbing down from the mouth of the alley. This was not unusual; men rarely chose to gamble alone. What was unusual was the way they all gripped the balustrade, as though uncertain whether the stairs could support all their weight.

Eline hid her smile. Make that ten men in the Merryweather who did not belong.

At least the first two men tried to blend in. They wore breathable fabric paired with the colorful vests preferred by Kebasa’s working class. Of course, most Kebasans wouldn’t wear such attire to a gambling den. Bright clothing was how one got noticed; it ensured one’s memorability and most who visited the dens preferred to remain anonymous.

The last man through the door didn’t even bother with a vest, though. His back stayed straight as he entered, steadily scanning the premises with an air of disgust. His distinguished sideburns marked him as a high-ranking citizen of Nitenbeir, as did the thin sword he had buckled around his waist. A rapier, much preferred amongst the dueling sort of men. Eline had always found the weapon rather silly, preferring instead the flexibility of her short sword.

It was the scar though, burnt into the side of his neck, which revealed who he was.

As far as legends went, General Marksam was known across the whole continent. He had been captured in his youth by Dagmari forces, held for twenty days and twenty nights until he escaped by fashioning a knife from his spoon to kill two guards through the door of his cell. That had been years ago, but the man’s name remained feared across Prima.

Nitenbeir nobility was strange; they dressed in severe cuts and sharp lines, as though to emulate their method of thinking. It was surprising to see one Nitenbeiran in a gambling den, let alone two, but Eline had been certain Marksam would appear tonight.

It was rumored the General had a fondness for gambling, which was something his Kingdom frowned upon – at least they did in theory. It was the Nitenbeir way to present no external weakness, but to privately indulge if they wished. Whenever Marksam traveled, he was known to clean out a tavern or two.

The Merryweather had a reputation as the highest of stakes, the most varied clientele, and a mostly discrete owner – for the right price, of course. Travelers had recently swelled Kebasa’s town limits for the summer solstice festival; Marksam was merely one amongst the many. It was the perfect opportunity for him to slip away, get his gambling fix and return before he was noticed missing.

Their group were stopped just inside the entrance, searched, and ordered to hand over their weapons. Marksam looked as though he argued with the bouncer, pointing at something on his chest which might have been a medal. He should have saved his breath for how much he succeeded. Eventually, Marksam handed over his sword, as Eline knew he would.

The rules of the Merryweather were simple – disarm, or don’t play.

Of course, the bouncers did need to find your weapons in order to remove them.

This was something of a game to the locals but people like Marksam were obviously unaware of the rules. It was proper in Nitenbeir for a General to wear their sword at their waist. The gesture was intended to show discipline, decorum and had absolutely no place on gambler’s row.

Swords around here came for their target in night, cloaked with darkness and ill-intent. It didn’t matter if a person showed their sword when one couldn’t be certain what they hid behind their opponent’s vest.

Shifting her weight, Eline stretched her toes against the worn pad of her boot. There were several knives concealed on her frame, since Eline had been forced to leave her short sword at home. One knife was hidden in the sole of her boot, another in its lining and a third strapped to the inside of her thigh.

The key to remaining armed in the Merryweather was to look unimportant. Marksam was obviously unaware of this lesson.

Flapping his coat out behind him, Marksam gingerly sat upon a rounded stool in the corner. His table was closer to the front than Eline’s – which meant the stakes of his table were lower and his game was considered easier. Eline assumed he would move further back over the course of the night; men like him were rarely satisfied with a cheap thrill.

His back faced the door – again, not what Eline would have done. His two comrades seemed to be smarter; they faced the only entrance, keeping careful watch on whoever walked through the door. Eline could only assume Marksam had hired them because they were more familiar with the gambling dens than he was.

Smart of him to seek out their guidance. Stupid of him not to listen.

Returning her attention to her own game, Eline scanned the table before her. While she had been distracted, Jo had backed himself into a corner. Only she, Lorcin, Revani and Copper remained as contenders.

Scowling, Jo threw his cards down to stand. “I’m out,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “May your pockets stay strong.”

Another idiom; this one easier to discern, if no longer applicable. Back when Kebasa was barely a town, trade was exchanged using gemstones as currency. The stones were so ubiquitous to its natives, legends stated they didn’t know their true value until neighbors from Nitenbeir and Sur reached them across the Imir desert. That was when Kebasa began to blossom as a Kingdom and eventually, coins came to replace gemstones as currency.

While in use though, the gemstones had been heavy and to have sturdy pockets meant you had been blessed with good fortune.

Downing the rest of his ale, Jo slammed his glass on the table and stalked towards the bar. The same pockmarked youth Eline had noticed remained slouched in its corner; Jo squeezed in beside him to order another round.

Revani added a second gold coin to the pile. “And what of that, Lady?” he asked, leaning back. “Are you good for it?”

He mimicked her words from earlier. Eyes narrowed, Eline moved to respond but before she could speak, there came a shout from the bar.

“Thief!” The pockmarked boy pointed, wide-eyed, at the door. “THIEF!”

The response around the room was instantaneous.

Jumping up from their table in the corner, both bouncers rushed towards the rickety stairs. Alertness swept through the crowd, jumping from table to table as players craned their necks to look. Many did not seem to care – they had already bet their livelihoods on the games – but many more flinched and scrambled for their purses.

Including Marksam, who instinctively clutched his right pocket – after patting it once, he exhaled and let go.

Hiding her smile, Eline returned to her cards. Fool.

“In,” she declared and added a coin.

Lorcin increased the pile without comment, throwing his dice and losing his next turn. Copper took up the dice and shook, glancing up at the ceiling before rolling a sixteen.

His smile broadened. “Reveal.”

Groaning out loud, Revani slouched in his seat.

The rules of Scarab were complicated, but the final player in any increase round had the opportunity to roll to end the game if they desired. Copper had rolled high enough to do just that, which meant the rest of the table was forced to lay down their cards.

Eline kept her face casual as Lorcin revealed his hand to be better than hers – better than anyone else at the table, including Copper, who looked a bit green as he stared.

Placing her cards down, Eline revealed her hand to be slightly lower than Lorcin’s. Revani’s was worst, but Eline had already known that before he revealed them. His cards held no coherent order, almost as though he had never played the game before, nor learned what it was. Eline idly wondered how he had gotten a seat at their table. Probably money.

“I need another drink,” declared Copper, standing up from his chair.

He wandered over to Jo, who still stood at the bar. The youth who had yelled thief was nowhere to be found, likely scared off by the events of the night.

Undisturbed by his loss, Revani spread his legs wider. “Care to play again, Lorcin? Or you, Lady?” he added, shooting Eline a smirk. “I would have the chance to redeem myself.”

Eline pushed her chair back. “Unfortunately,” she said, gathering her coins. “Redemption is not something I’m in the habit of giving.”

Scanning the den, she drew her cloak tight and wondered where to go next. There was no purpose to her cloak’s color other than to be remembered. At the end of the night, she wanted her face to be paired with this cloak in the den’s memory.

“I agree with the lady,” Lorcin said, also standing. “Best to quit while ahead.”

“Nitenbeirans.” Revani sighed and rolled his neck. “All of them the same. So meticulously practical. Very well,” he said, glancing past them to where multiple players had lined up on the wall. “Which of you wants to try their hand?”

Several rushed forward, eager to take their departed seats and Eline slipped past them, unnoticed.

The den was more crowded than when she had first entered, the dense scent of sweat and alcohol hanging low overhead. Elin scanned the room as she walked, coming to a stop beside the wooden bar. Drinks stained its surface, blending into the varnish until it seemed part of its décor.

In the corner of her eye, she saw Marksam stand from his seat. One hand splayed to the table, he questioned his players and glanced away from the entrance.

There were several halls which led from the back of the Merryweather. One of them ended in a stairwell which climbed to other floors of the building. As it was with the rest of gambler’s row, the Merryweather was not only a place in which to take bets. Its owner, Ren Drago, dabbled in various illicit activities throughout Kebasa; the main floor was merely the tip of the iceberg.

Marksam nodded at whatever his table said, turning around to disappear into the crowd. Eline’s gaze followed him to the back where he entered a hallway marked with a green arrow. Its interior was dimly lit, she could barely see his cloak whipping around the cramped corner.

Eline waited a moment, then slipped behind a group of players to remove her cloak and pull it on inside-out. The other side was dark, a coarser material not unlike that of the other gambling patrons. Lowering the hood, she moved out from the men who hid her from view.

Anyone who saw her would fail to place her as the gambler in red. Another trick from the thieves’ manual – create a memorable character, then become someone else. No one followed Eline as she moved towards the same back hall, which meant no one would remember her as the person Marksam encountered.

He was not difficult to spot once Eline reached the hall. He stood out even amongst the shadows, glancing about him with a puzzled look on his face. It seemed not even the advice of his table had been enough to locate the washroom.

Eline paused before entering, reaching out to puck a flagon of ale from a table. Adopting an intoxicated swagger, she raised the cup to her lips as she pretended to drink.

The light from a singular gas lamp dimmed when she passed, the hood of her cloak blocking out most illumination. Said lamp swung from above her, attached to the weathered ceiling; all sconces in the hall had been pilfered, their metal likely stolen and sold to melt down into wares.

Hearing Eline’s approach, Marksam turned his head. Giving her a swift once-over, he apparently decided she was harmless and lifted a hand.

“You there!” he called out. “Madam.”

As though surprised by the address, Eline stumbled for some of her ale to slosh towards the ground.

Nose wrinkled, Marksam drew back as though he could smell the imaginary alcohol on her breath. Eline noticed he didn’t seem to be drunk – at least one of the Nitenbeiran principles had rubbed off on him. It meant he would be more aware though, which made this transaction dangerous.

“Are you familiar with this establishment?” Marksam’s other palm rested upon the hilt of his rapier. “Do you happen to know where one might relieve oneself?”

“Establishment?” Laying the Ko accent on thick, Eline came to a stop. “You’re out of your depths, soldier,” she laughed, ending the word with a hiccup. “This here’s no establishment, it’s a right pigsty.”

Marksam’s eyes narrowed at the title she gave him.

Nitenbeir social hierarchy was based upon military rank. Their system was complicated – overly so, in Eline’s opinion – but based on his attire, Marksam could be identified as at least a General. Calling him a soldier was an insult; one strong enough that in Nitenbeir he wouldn’t have been remotely out of line in challenging her to a duel.

And they had the nerve to call other Kingdoms savages.

“Regardless of where you think I belong,” he said stiffly. “I would hear your response.”

Lifting her drink, Eline’s hand trembled, more ale sloshing over the rim. “You would hear my response?” she mocked, mimicking his imperious tone. “Most people just piss down that hall to the left, I guess. That’s if they even bother to – ah!” she blurted, spilling the flagon down his front.

Marksam swore and jumped back, but the damage had been done. Brownish-gold liquid dribbled down his front of his shirt, seeping to stain the white silk underneath.

“S-sorry,” Eline stuttered, blinking at him in horror.

Marksam froze for a moment, staring stunned at his shirt. Slowly, his gaze lifted to hers. “You… vermin,” he hissed and lunged forward.

Eline cowered away from him, her right shoulder hitting the wall as she tripped on the end of her cloak. She cut a pitiful figure in the dark of the hall, both hands lifted as Marksam reached for his sword. Here he hesitated, chest heaving while he considered the pathetic figure before him. Eline worked to make herself seem smaller, hunching both shoulders as she stared at the ground.

At last the image seemed to work, since Marksam slowly exhaled and slid his sword in its sheath.

“Bah,” he grumbled, shoving past. “Filthy urchin. Not worth my trouble.”

Eline let herself be pushed, briefly gripping his cloak to steady herself – and then he was gone, disappeared around the corner. He left not in the direction of the gambling floor, but to the left, deeper into the den in search of a washroom.

As soon as he was gone, Eline straightened.

Trying not to smile, she slipped her hand into her pocket and ran the tip of her finger along the edge of a key. Here, at last, was her true prize for the evening. The entirety of the wealth played in the front room barely held a candle to the key inside her pocket.

It was one of twenty keys distributed by King Tulen himself, the ruler and monarch of the Kingdom of Kebasa. Each key granted entrance to the most exclusive level of the summer solstice festival; the highborn, an ongoing celebration to which only twenty people could enter at one time.

Eline had a buyer who wanted a key.

What her buyer needed it for, she did not dare ask, nor did she care. Eline had a job to do and that was all that mattered. After all, she more than anyone understood people often did desperate things in desperate situations.

Marksam was one of twenty individuals who had been granted a key. Each Kingdom on the continent usually received two or three to distribute. Marksam was considered important enough in Nitenbeir that the King had sent him in his place.

While Marksam had been distracted by the drink she spilled, Eline had dipped a hand in his pocket and pilfered his key – the very same pocket he had patted when the pockmarked youth at the bar had yelled thief earlier.

Yet another thief’s trick, and a widely effective one.

When a reasonable person heard the word thief, they immediately reached to protect their valuables. Of course, if another person – say, Eline – were also watching, said person would give away where they were keeping their valuables. All it took was a little distraction to ensure Eline stole the key out from under his nose.

She made a mental note to pay Jaspin, the pockmarked youth, double tomorrow for a job well-done.

Turning around, she strode down the corridor. At the crossway she turned in the opposite direction of Marksam. It would be a while before he returned from that particular hallway. Eline had purposefully sent him in that direction, since the corridor housed the back rooms where private games were held.

If no one stabbed Marksam as soon as he entered, it would take him a while to explain his mistake. Once he did, Eline would be long gone.

Paused at what seemed like a dead end, Eline came to a stop and lowered her hood.

Glancing above, she scanned the long grate in the ceiling – another common design on gambler’s row. Although there was only one way inside the den from the street, there existed another way out from the back.

It would be inconvenient for a den’s owner to barricade themselves in, along with anyone else they wished to trap. As a precautionary measure, most buildings housed a special exit: a crawl space between the first and second floors, just large enough for a person to move through while escaping to the next alley.

Glancing over her shoulder, Eline ensured no one was watching and backed up a few steps.

Bending both legs, she leapt to grab hold of a stone jutting out from the wall. Using the smaller crevices as handholds, she swiftly climbed to reach the ceiling above. Positioning her weight evenly on all limbs, Eline reached above to loosen the grate and push.

It clattered off to one side – frozen, Eline waited, but no one seemed to have heard. Re-gripping the grate, Eline swung her legs upwards and launched herself into the hole. Once inside the crawlspace, she carefully repositioned the grate in the floor.

Crouched to the ground, Eline examined her surroundings.

The space around her was dusty, as though no one had used the corridor in quite some time. Eline suspected this was the case; Ren Drago, the owner of the Merryweather, was amongst the most feared men in Kebasa. To break a rule in his establishment usually meant you’d break something else. There were not many a man like Ren would feel the need to escape from.

Not wasting any time, Eline began to move, carefully positioning her weight so she failed to make noise. It was unlikely anyone would think to look for her here, since the actual entrance to the crawl space was on the second floor, but it was better to be careful than dead.

At the end of the tunnel, Eline pulled a knife from her boot and went to work on the grate. Twisting the screws one by one, she calculated how much time had passed since she left Marksam alone. It wouldn’t be long before he returned – if she were lucky, he wouldn’t notice the missing key until he returned to his lodgings.

Removing the final screw from the grate, Eline jiggled it free from the wall. She hesitated a moment, listening to the sounds of the alley below.

Nothing unusual.

Setting the steel grate aside, Eline leaned out of the opening to glance at the ground. Nose wrinkled, she sighed. The grate emptied into an alleyway behind a butcher shop. Scraps of days-old meat were piled below, their blood trickling slowly to join through the cobblestones.

At least the meat would offer her a soft landing. Swinging both legs aloft, Eline held her breath as she dropped down from the ledge. For most people, this would have been a difficult task, but these kinds of feats had always come easily for Eline.

Straightening from her crouch, Eline immediately strode in the opposite direction of gambler’s row. Her footsteps were muffled, thanks to special boots Eline had designed herself.

Even if the alleyway was quiet, the city around her was not – each distant yell of laughter sounded at once too far and too loud. The dense, squatted buildings forced Eline to imagine she saw shapes in the shadows.

One hand drifted towards her belt as she walked; a pointless reflex, since her short sword remained at her lodgings, but she still found it comforting.

It would have been suspicious for her to run from gambler’s row, so Eline forced herself to calmly walk on. Each muscle in her body strained against instinct, yearning to be free now that the job was complete. All that was left was dropping key in its preassigned destination, collecting her money, and washing her mind of the memory.

Eline was good at that.

She was good at forgetting what she needed to forget, unseeing what she needed to unsee. It was why she made such a good thief, as her mentor once said. Eline could compartmentalize her soul in ways few even dreamed of and even while distracted, her senses remained intact.

It was how Eline heard the moment someone turned down the alley, their footsteps echoing hers around the sound of leaking pipes. Tilting her head, she listened as she walked, her stride never breaking as she pretended not to hear.

When the footsteps were barely a pace away, she exhaled and turned, yanking a knife from her belt.

Her blade was met with another, aimed directly at her heart.

The man on the other end of the sword smiled, his face hidden by shadow. “The famous Umbra,” he said, inclining his head. “I’ve been searching for you.”

  © Shanna Page, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

#writeblr #fantasy #sci-fi #writing

[bulletproof-korean]

BTS 팔도강산 (Satoori rap)

This post will be a bit different (and way longer) because this song is in Korean dialects (사투리 in Korean) which is not ideal for language learners (can be confusing). However! I think Korean dialects are fun to tackle because there is such a variety and their sound is so unique. A disclaimer: I am not a native Korean speaker, I am still learning so if there are any mistakes you can let me know and I’ll fix it. And beware of my messy handwriting~

First of all, we have to talk about geography and more specifically Korean provinces because they mention them in the hook. On the picture below, you can see the main regions of South Korea as of today. 충청도, 경상도 and 전라도 are officially divided into their northern (북) and southern (남) parts [for example 전라북도, 경상남도] and the provinces officially do NOT include the metropolitan city areas (such as 서울특별시, 부산광역시 and so on).

So there is in total 9 provinces in today’s South Korea. 

The title of this track is 팔도강산, in hanja written as 八道江山 (eight, road, river, mountain) which is a four-character saying (사자성어) which can mean either “scenery of all parts of Korea” or “every corner of the land”.

강산 means either “landscape/scenery” or “country/land”

팔도 are the 8 provinces that Korea was divided into untill 1895 during the Joseon dynasty. They are still reflected in today’s division into provinces. Here they are (Jeju used to be part of 전라도):

BTS use the dialects from their respective hometowns (they talk about their 고향[hometown] in Ma City as well as in Where You From).

Most of them are from 경상도 and this dialect is often said to be the most “famous” one because it has some very distinct characteristics but we have each rap line member from a very different dialect region! 

(경상도) Jimin and Jungkook are from 부산, Yoongi (D-boy) and Taehyung are from 대구 - both cities have a (similar yet slightly different) strong and recognisable dialect - it’s often associated with tough guys and if a girl speaks it it makes her automaticaly cuter (many many dramas / movies are centered around it)

(경기도) Namjoon is from 일산 and Seokjin from 과천 - both are close to Seoul, the language used there is almost the “proper language” 표준어 but there is a slight dialect in 경기도 as well, different from 표준어

(전라도) Hoseok is from 광주 which also has a strong distinctive dialect (he  mentions his hometown in CNS), it’s known for sounding very cheerful, friendly and happy

Now let’s actually look at the lyrics. It helps a ton to recognize the dialect when you know what part of Korea each one of them is from 🤓 I will put the proper language in cursive:

RM: 서울 강원부터 경상도 충청도부터 전라도 From Seoul, Gangwon to Gyeongsang-do, Chungcheong-do to Jeolla-do

Jimin: 마마 머라카노 (What) 마마 머라카노 (What) [야 야 뭐라고 하니 (What) 야 야 뭐라고 하니 (What)]

Jimin starts it off, he is from 부산 so he uses 마 (short for 인마=buddy) instead of 야 (hey) and the phrase 모라카노 is well known, many people parody it, it means “what are you saying?”

RM: 서울 강원부터 경상도 충청도부터 전라도

J-Hope: 우리가 와불따고 전하랑께, 우린 멋져부러 허벌라게 [우리가 와버렸다고 전하라니까 , 우린 멋져 엄청나게]

Tell them that we’re here, we’re really cool 

랑께 and 부러 are some of the typical word endings in 전라도 사투리

Suga:  아재들 안녕하십니꺼 내카모 고향이 대구 아입니꺼 [아저씨들 안녕하십니까 내가 뭐, 고향이 대구 아니겠습니까 ]

Hello uncles/misters! Me? well my hometown is (obviously) Daegu

그캐서 오늘은 사투리 랩으로 머시마, 가시나 신경 쓰지 말고 한번 놀아봅시더 [그래서 오늘은 사투리 랩으로 남자, 여자 신경 쓰지 말고 한번 놀아봅시다]

So today let’s have fun with some satoori rap, no matter if you’re a guy or a girl

You can notice how instead of 다 and 까, Suga says 더, 꺼 and the terms 아재(아저씨), 머시마(남자) and 가시나(여자) are pretty well known across the country.

J-Hope: 거시기 여러분 모두 안녕들 하셨지라 [저기 여러분 안녕들 하셨지요?]

Hey everyone, have you been well?

거시기 is a famous word from 전라도 dialect that can be used as anything, that, umm, when you forget what somehting is called or even hey like 마/야

오메 뭐시여 요 물땜시 랩 하것띠야  [오머 뭐예요? 이 “물때문에” 랩 하겠어]

Oh my, what’s this? How can I rap in here? (there’s multiple translations for this part out there and I’m honestly not sure myself, help) 물 means water but if used as slang, it can mean atmosphere in a club or at a concert; 땜시 is a dialect for 때문에

아재 아짐들도 거가 박혀있지 말고 나와서 즐겨잉, 싹다 잡아블자고잉 [아저씨, 아주머니들도 거기 박혀있지 말고, 나와서 즐겨, 싹다 잡아버리자고]

Uncles and aunties too, don’t stay home, come out, have fun, let’s get everyone

other typical word endings for 전라도 are 잉, 띠야

V: 마 갱상도카모 신라의 화랑 후예들이 계속해서 자라나고 [야, 경상도라고 하면 신라의 화랑 후예드이 계속해서 자라나고 ]

Hey, speaking about Gyeongsang-do, there’s still descendants of Silla’s Hwarangs growing here

JK: 사투리하모 갱상도 아이가, 구수하고 정겨운게 딱 우리 정서에 맞다 아이가 [사투리하면 경상도 아니겠어? 구수하고 정겨운게 딱 우리 정서에 맞지 않아?]

When it comes to dialects, isn’t the Gyeongsang-do one the best? It’s tasty and warm/comfy, it fits just right to our sentiment

아이가 is a word that you use to ask “right?” but you don’t really expect a negative response. It’s kind of like ~지(요) but less polite

Also 갱상도 is not a typo but the actual way they’re calling 경상도 in the dialect

J-Hope: 아따 거거 우리도 있당께, 뭣좀 묵엇단까? 요 비빔밥 갑이랑께 [아, 그거 우리도 있어, 뭘 좀 먹었어? 이 비빔밥 최고야]

Ah, we have that too. Did you eat? This bibimbab is the best

The tastiest bibimbab is said to be from Jeonju (in Jeolla-do) and the whole region is famous for its cuisine.

아직 씨부리잠 새 발의 피이니께, 쫌따 벼, 개안하게 풀어블라니까 [아직 말하자면 새 발의 피니까, 좀 이따 봐, 시원하게  풀어볼거니까 ]

So to say, this is only a drop in the bucket (=insignificant amount), watch me a bit later, I’m going to let it out straight

Suga: 가가 가가? 이런 말은 아나? 갱상도는 억시다고? 누가 그카노?  [그 아이가 그 아이니? 이런 말을 알아? 경상도는 억세다고? 누가 그래?]

“Is that the one we’ve been talking about?” Do you know this phrase? That Gyeongsang-do dialect is rough..? Who said that?

가가 가가 is a very famous phrase from this dialect. You can see that Gyeongsang-do dialect shortens many words and has a lot of “rough” sounding word endings like 노, 라, 나... but it’s mostly a stereotype about the dialect

Jimin: 머라케샀노? [뭐라고 하는거야?] What are you saying?

Suga: 갱상도 정하모 아나바다 같은거지, 모 니가 직접와서 한번봐라 [경상도 정이라고 하면 아나바다 같은 거지. 뭐 네가 직접 와서 한번 봐라]

The 정 from Gyeongsang-do is all about sharing, well come see for yourself

JK: 아 대따 마 [아 됐어 인마] Man, that’s enough

Suga: 대구 머스마라서 두말 안한다카이  [대구 남자라서 두말 안한다니까]

I’m a guy from Daegu so I stick to my word

하모하모 갱상도 쥑인다 아인교,  아 주라 마, 우리가 어디 남인교  [그럼 그럼 경상도 죽이지, 아이한테 줘라 인마, 우리가 어디 남이야?]

Of course of course, Gyeongsang-do is the best, give it to a kid man, we aren’t strangers, are we?

Giving it to a kid is a phrase from baseball games, when the ball flies out into the audience, people shout 아주라 and you’re supposed to give the ball to the closest kid to it.

J-Hope: 시방 머라고라? 흐미 아찌아쓰까나 [지금 뭐라고 했어? 흠 어떻게 해야 할까]

What did you say? Hmm what should I do

전라도 씨부림땜시 아구지 막혀브러싸야 [전라도 말하는 것 때문에 말문이 막혔어?]

Did your mouth get blocked because we’re talking about Jeolla-do?

I only noticed thanks to a video but 시방 and 씨부리다 really do sound like 씨발*, the infamous swear word (was that intentional Hobi?)

흑산도 홍어코 한방 잡수믄 된디, 온몸 구녕이란 구녕은 막 다 뚫릴 텬디 [흑산도 홍어코 한 입 잡수면 되는데, 온몸 구멍이란 구멍은 막 다 뚫릴 텐데]

Heuksan-do, skate fish, you just need to taste it once, every hole in your body will open 

- Your mouth is blocked so have a taste of the stingray to open it up.

거시기 뭐시기 음 괜찮것소? 아직 팔구월 풍월 나 애가졌쏘 [저기 뭐 음 괜찮겠어? 아직 팔구월이지만 풍족한 달이지 나 아기를 가졌어]  

That that/hey you, umm, are you ok? I’m pregnant with a kid in the 8~9th month

무등산 수박 크기 20키로 장사여, 겉만 봐도 딱 가시내 울릴 방탄여 무등산 수박 크기 20키로 장사야, 겉만 봐도 딱 여자 아이들 울릴 방탄이야

It’s as big as the watermelons from Mt. Mudeung, a strong guy of 20kg, just look at him, he’s a bangtan who is going to make girls cry

Very big watermelons, can be twice as big as the usual watermelon, from Mt. Mudeung, in Gwangju. (a tall mountain and huge watermelons - a metaphor for success and rise of BTS?)

Here they’re just arguing hahaha

Suga: 형아가 좀 솔직히 함 생각해봤는데 경상도 남자가 좀 잘생긴 거 같다 [형이 좀 솔직히 한 번 생각해봤는데 경상도 남자가 좀 잘생긴 것 같다]

I’ve been thinking, and honestly, I think men from Gyeongsang province are more handsome

J-hope: 형님 거 아니어요 형님 [형님 그게 아니에요 형님] Hyung-nim, that’s not it, hyung-nim

Suga: 맞다니까 I said it’s true

J-Hope: 아니랑께 [아니라니까] I said it isn’t

Suga: 맞다니까 I said it’s true

J-Hope: 아따 조용히 하쇼 그냥 [아 조용히 하세요 그냥] Just be quiet

RM: 아 이 촌놈들 난 Seoul state of mind Ah, you country bumpkins, I have a Seoul state of mind

난 서울에서 나서 서울말 잘 배웠다 I was born in Seoul (technically in Ilsan) and learned the Seoul language well

요즘은 뭐 어디 사투리가 다 벼슬이다만 그래 인정할게, 악센트들이 멋은 있다 Though lately dialects elevate/signify your position, okay, I’ll admit, the accents are cool

하지만 여긴 표준인 만큼 정직해 But here, this is the standard so it’s honest

처음과 끝이 분명하고 딱 정립된 한국말의 표본으로 정리되지 It’s set as a prime example of well-established Korean that has a clear beginning and end

Only ours goes with English, yall never understand it

Okay 솔직히 솔직해질게 Okay, I’ll be honestly honest

경상도 사투리는 남자라면 쓰고 싶게 만들어 Gyeongsang-do satoori makes guys want to use it

전라도 말들은 너무나 친근해, 한번 입에 담으면, 어우야, 내가 다 기쁘네 Jeolla-do words are so friendly, once I “put it in my mouth”, wow, I become so happy

Why keep fighting 결국 같은 한국말들 Why keep fighting, in the end, it’s all the same Korean

올려다봐 이렇게 마주한 같은 하늘 Look up, we’re facing the same sky like this

살짝 오글거리지만 전부다 잘났어 It’s a bit cringy but all the dialects are great

말 다 통하잖아? 문산부터 마라도 We can all communicate, right? From Munsan to Mara-do

Munsan is in the north of SK, close to the DMZ and Panmunjom Mara-do is a tiny island south of Jeju island and it’s the southernmost part of SK

I got help from DKDKTV’s explanation video because otherwise it would be almost impossible for me to translate 😭 and they have really nice clips to demonstrate how it sounds as well so I recommend you check it out ^^

I included my interpretation at times though, I don’t agree 100% with their translations so it’s a teeny tiny bit different. 

The dance is also made so that members from the same regions rap together/hype each other up (right off, V is hyping up Suga). J-Hope has RM and Jin as hypemen because he’s the only one from 전라도.

And it’s basically one big argument that RM ends with “we’re all Korean, stop fighting” 😁

#satoori rap #paldogangsan #satoori #bts lyrics #korean langblr #bulletproof korean #korean vocabulary #o!rul82? #learn korean #방탄한국어 #내 꺼 #팔도강산 #korean dialect #korean satoori #this post was so exhausting to make but now im so glad i did it #it's always fun remembering the old times ;_;