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essektheylyss · 3 years

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It is fascinating that Essek’s identity is wrapped in both his religious upbringing and his scientific agnosticism and it feels so real to me that I struggle to even convey it. Contrasting this episode with some of his comments in 91 and 97, you can see the conflict between these, especially now that they’ve uncovered these findings in the Aeorian ruins.

He describes the Dynasty’s religious beliefs at their dinner as being “based on myth and intepretation” and “based on assumption, on existing scripture written by individuals hundreds and hundreds of years ago.” And really his concern is that the religious aspect is in fact a distraction—“these artifacts, I theorize, have nothing to do with a divine being but are just perhaps artifacts designed in the Age of Arcanum that have been misread.”

He does mention that the Luxon seems to be some kind of entity, or at least refers to it as such, but he actually suggests what Caleb does later—theorizing that the beacons are not divine at all, and are in fact only Age of Arcanum artifacts, and as such believes that because they are distracted with worship, “only the surface has been scratched of what’s possible.”

And he reiterates that in his confession as well! “There are so many mysteries around these beacons, around dunamis, what it’s capable of.” He truly doesn’t know what’s beyond the applications of what he’s studying are, and he really doesn’t know anything about them beyond what is mythologized and what power they have already uncovered.

Now, contrast that to 124:

Veth: “The beacon's design? As in these things were made by man? I thought they were gifted by a god or something.”

Essek: “I do not believe that they are made by anyone but the Luxon. They are of the Luxon. But they've been around since the Luxon's been in Exandria, which is the beginning. So it is possible that there may be one or more beacons that they uncovered long before we did. And if that's the case, that brings the Dynasty that much closer to bringing the Luxon together. So this is very much important. And these are only recent findings.”

Which is a very different tune from his ideas at dinner! And this was behind closed doors, where he was willing to speak openly of dealings with the Assembly, naming Ludinus and Trent out loud, so it does not seem to be a charade to appease those in the Dynasty who may overhear his sacrilege.

It makes me wonder what findings they actually have—to me it sounds like perhaps what they have uncovered in Aeor is evidence that these beacons are far older than the Age of Arcanum, that they may date to the origins of Exandria itself—which aligns with the Luxon creation myth as described in EGTW:

“According to the teachings of the Kryn and the Umavi who scribe their faith, it is believed that long before the gods of Exandria came to shape this world, there was a time when a single Light came from the dark nothingness. Other lights came into being around them, settling as the stars in the cosmos. This one Light, however, resisted the force that beckoned them to burn like their star-fated brethren. This one Light wanted to understand what they were and chose to wander alone, choosing a different path. This choice led to endless stretches of lonely dark, the voices of the stars silent to the Light that walked away. Lonely, they wandered until they found a cold, dark rock: a world. The Light grew fond of this rock, seeing it as lonely as they were, and embraced it. They sparked a fire within, crackling the surface and giving fiery life to the cold world.”

But he also touches on the other part of this myth—that the Luxon can be reassembled! And still Essek doesn’t describe why, really, and I’m very interested if he is merely striving for something, anything, that will make things make sense* or if there’s evidence pushing him to this conclusion that they’ve found in the ruins.

Even here, he doesn’t describe what he believes will happen when the Dynasty assembles the beacons—I want to contrast two parts of EGTW here:

The ending of the Origins of the Luxon section says:

“This act exhausted the Light, and they fell into a deep slumber within the core of the world, awaiting a time where the children of their own mind would learn from life to life, through eons of struggle and self-reflection, until the knowledge had matured enough to reassemble them, awaken them, and the children could grant the answer to the question the Light had sought from the very beginning: what are they and what was their purpose?”

Meanwhile, the Kryn Dynasty section in chapter two says:

“It is believed that once all the beacons are brought together, the Luxon will be summoned from their slumber to ask their children the great question and impart the truth. It is said that at this time, the Luxon will take those who entered the consecution and abandon this lesser world to start a new world elsewhere.”

First of all, one of these suggests that the point of assembling these beacons is to receive an answer and also leave this world, while the other suggests that they will be asked to give an answer. Is this something Essek thinks he can achieve? Second of all, it is interesting because we know he himself is not consecuted (though he lied to the Nein that he was—which is another giant mystery because hey Matt, what the fuck) and is therefore not in fact what the Dynasty would consider among the “children” of the Luxon. But he believes that this is important in some way. Why is it important to him, given he doesn’t seem to believe he will be accepted again in the Dynasty even with a victory here, given that he is not one of these children?**

It just feels very real to his experience—that he adjusts even his view of his family’s religion when presented with new information, that he is open to change in many regards, that he is warring with a want to believe (cue X-Files theme) because he has grown up so isolated within an entire society that he disagreed with. It’d be natural to want to find proof that perhaps your mother was right, that not everyone around you was clouded—that you were in fact the one who was wrong in this regard as well.

And perhaps this goes along with another viewpoint he has recently adopted: “I have been clouded in my judgment many times for a lot of my life.” Is it possible he has leaned further into the religion in an internal sort of penance and shame for his arrogance? I have no idea. But I’m hoping once we dive into Aeor, we come across some of this iconography he referenced, so maybe he can shed some further Light on the matter.

*I’ve written in the past that Essek, former gifted kid as he is, really never suggests a goal or motivation beyond just achievement. There’s interest in climbing the political ladder, of course, but even that feels hollow given he is seeking some kind of nebulous idea of what applications could be uncovered—applications that he can only theorize about, especially given the one potential application we know of, time travel, seems to be something that, up until recently, he believed rather dangerous to attempt. Which is in itself another question—was there further confirmation of that being possible as well?

**It’s been suggested that perhaps Essek underwent consecution and it didn’t stick but he believes himself consecuted, which I do not ascribe to for a few reasons that I won’t get into, but it’s worth mentioning here.

#critical role #cr meta #essek thelyss #also it'd be foolish of me not to mention that like #this might just be a matter of 'it's been a year and matt understandably doesn't quite have his story straight' but #it does feel like a large shift for a very intrinsic piece of essek's character motivation to not have written down lol #idk it's possible but I doubt it #and this is a fun character exercise anyway

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luckystarchild · 4 years

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INUYASHA Volume 01, Scroll 01: “The Accursed Youth”

Welcome to Lucky’s INUYASHA recap—a recap of the Inuyasha manga by me, Lucky, an anime fan who has somehow never read it or seen the anime before.

Over the course of these posts, I’ll be recapping and reacting to the events of a chapter (or series of chapters) of the Inuyasha manga. I’ll be using the official VIZ manga volumes as my source material. References to Not Quite Kagome (“NQKagome”) pertain to my ongoing fanfiction series, Lucky Child.

And without further ado... chapter 01 of Inuyasha (or volume 01, “Scroll 1,” as VIZ titles the manga chapters.)

We begin in media res; Inuyasha has stolen the Jewel of Four Souls (the “Shikon Jewel”) and is rampaging through a village. He wants to use the jewel to become “a true demon.” Kikyo, mortally wounded, shoots him with an arrow and pins him to a tree. Her body is burnt along with the jewel by her young sister, Kaede.

I don’t generally like prologues that employ flashbacks in writing, as they sometimes seem like a way to shoehorn in backstory that either isn’t necessary OR backstory that could be imparted through the reader more organically. (They’re all-too-often lazy, basically.) But this is a manga, so maybe it’s not so bad. Not sure how I feel TBH.

Was sort of surprised we learned what Inuyasha’s goal concerning the jewel is so soon; thought maybe that would get dragged out a bit longer, though IDK why I got that impression exactly. I’ve seen a few random eps of the anime and know he isn’t fond of his own half-demon status. Perhaps I feel like we should’ve earned this revelation during the narrative and on Inuyasha’s terms, rather than have it handed to us right off the bat by a faceless narrator. But that’s me being overly critical, perhaps.

Flash forward to 1997. The day before Kagome’s 15th birthday. Her grandfather tries to tell her a legend about the Shikon Jewel, but she shrugs it off.

Kagome’s family lives inside a big temple, and everything has a legend attached to it (including the massive 500-year-old Go-Shinboku God Tree), but Kagome never pays attention to them. Later, her brother loses their cat in the mini-shrine, specifically in the well house (which a sign declares the home of the Bone-Eater’s Well). Kagome bravely ventures inside to search for the cat.

Right off the bat, we get the impression that Kagome is a pretty average teenage girl—a bit of an airhead with a sharp sense of humor who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty or shy away from a dark and spooky well house. Nice bit of characterization in just a few panels. Well done, author-san.

NQKagome Bonus: She’d probably pay more attention to all the legends her grandfather tells, which could give her an edge in the Feudal Era.

Kagome hears odd noises coming from the covered well; the cover pops off the well and a horrible, Noh-mask-faced women with a skeletal snake body to leap out and drag Kagome into the darkness.

Her body regenerates, turning into a... centipede body. Not a snake. D’oh. Frightened as they fall, Kagome emits a light from her hands, breaking off the woman’s arm and sending her careening away into the dark as she cries something cryptic about the Jewel of Four Souls.

Soon Kagome stops falling and finds herself at the bottom of the well, but upon emerging, she’s lost in an unfamiliar forest.

I gotta say that as far as first-chapters go, this one is pretty good! We immediately know who Kagome is, where she’s from, what she’s like as a person, and this introduction to the supernatural is spooky and interesting. The stakes are high and the action is fast-paced, without an overload of exposition.

Kagome spots the God-Tree and hurries toward it, noting that she always used it to find her way home in the past, but she does not find her familiar home at its base. Instead she finds Inuyasha pinned to the God-Tree.

We’re treated to this gorgeous two-panel spread:

She notes that the boy pinned to the tree has inhuman ears before some villagers find her in “Inuyasha’s forbidden forest” and bring her to Kaede, the younger sister of Kikyo (who is much older than she appeared in the earlier flashback). Kagome realizes she is in the Sengoku Period (1467 to 1615 CE). The villagers theorize that she’s a spy, a kitsune, and similar before Kaede realizes that Kagome looks identical to the deceased Kikyo.

Kaede tells Kagome briefly who Kikyo was before the centipede woman attacks the village.

That bit where Kaede tells Kagome about Kikyo is where I would’ve placed the flashback from the start of the chapter, FYI. Would’ve given the earlier parts of the chapter more mystery to withhold some information from the reader.

Also we have TOO MANY K-NAMES. Already three of the four named characters start with K, and two even start with the “ka” sound in Japanese. We have this problem with YYH and I foresee it being a problem as I type these names a ton, LMAO 🤣

So... Kagome realizing what time period she’s been magically dropped into after approximately seven seconds seems… IDK, kind of handy? Easy? The only info she has to go on are the vague references to “battles” a few villagers shout at her, and maybe the way they’re dressed. She supposedly doesn’t pay attention to old legends, so it doesn’t seem plausible that she’d pay enough attention in history class to discern what period she’s in now based on the cut of a kimono.

(Disclaimer: I’m American and the American education system is notoriously horrible at teaching the subjects of history and science with any accuracy, so I might be projecting my experience onto hers to some degree. Maybe Japan is better about this stuff. IDK, but thought I’d mention it.)

ALSO, Kagome jumps to the possibility of time travel really fast. I would jump to “this is a dream” or “I have fallen into a historical reenactment amusement park in which no one will break character” (a special hell of its own) first. Again, though, this chapter is moving quickly to draw in readers, so I can see why they didn’t give her confusion more screen-time. Especially with serialized manga, you have a handful of chapters (if that) to grab readers, so it’s gotta move fast as a matter of necessity.

I appreciate that some of the villagers mentioned “kitsune” in this section (and not just because it reminds me of all the reasons Yu Yu Hakusho is so easy to cross over with this manga). It shows that the supernatural is something the locals consider on a daily basis, which helps with worldbuilding.

Also, I wasn’t expecting the nipples on the centipede woman??? In her first panels, her breasts were covered up a bit, but now we’ve got detailed nipples. I’m guessing the scant few episodes of the series I watched were censored quite a bit. I’m wondering if there’s going to be more fanservice in this series than I expected, especially after reading that the series’ author, Rumiko Takahashi, advised the anime team to avoid using Kagome for any pantie-shots…

The centipede claims Kagome has the Shikon Jewel, and Kagome flees the village (toward “that light” in the east, which Kaede notes she shouldn’t be able to see) as the centipede woman gives chase. Elsewhere, Inuyasha wakes, stating he can smell the scent of the woman who killed him.

So I know a few things about this series already thanks to the research I did for Lucky Child, and chief among these things is that Kagome is Kikyo’s reincarnation. We can already see this tidbit coming through in obvious ways: Kagome’s resemblance to Kikyo, the Jewel being connected to her somehow, etc. Kagome seeing that light is probably a power she got from Kikyo, too.

It’s interesting that these connections are as physical as her having the same scent as Kikyo, though; scent is informed quite a bit by genetics. Obviously we’re dealing with magic and not science in this story, so I’m not looking for infallible logic when it comes to this reincarnation plot device… but it’s almost like the magic here overrides things like genetics and the extreme differences in what Kagome and Kikyo must’ve eaten in their respective times when determining their scent and appearance. The soul is more important than the body, etc. Wondering how consistent that will remain over the course of this admittedly massive story.

And that’s it for chapter 1. This was super fun! I’m guessing I’ll have more to say once we get past the set-up and are introduced to more characters, but overall I think this was a really strong start to this feudal fairy tale.

If you enjoyed this recap, feel free to buy me a Ko-Fi☕, and subscribe to the tag “lucky’s inuyasha recap” to see more!

NEXT CHAPTER

#lucky's inuyasha recap #inuyasha recap #inuyasha manga recap #inuyasha manga #inuyasha anime #inuyasha #kagome #higurashi kagome #kagome higurashi #kaede #kikyo #luckychildfanfic

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thranduilland · 4 years

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The Nectar of the Gods

(So many things I’m supposed to be doing instead of this, but I wrote this instead. I am still in Barduil hell... this was supposed to be like a cute little thing and it became this, oops.) The first time Bard visits Mirkwood, Thranduil doesn’t honestly expect anything to be different. Bard is not a morning person and, as far as Thranduil can tell, has never been one, but once he’s eaten his breakfast and gotten himself ready for the day, he’s normally pleasant to be around once again.

Not so the first time he visits Mirkwood.

“Good morning, meleth.” Thranduil greets, a happy smile on his face as he listens to the forest waking up outside his window. Bard grumbles and buries his head under his pillow, Thranduil simply laughs and leaves him to it, rolling himself out of bed to go and get ready to face the day.

Only, he meets back up with Bard for breakfast, the two of them sitting in the Great Hall, Thranduil’s people happily chattering all around them, but Bard is grumpier than Thranduil thinks he’s ever seen him. His head resting on the table in front of him and his food untouched beside him.

“Bard?” Thranduil queries, something a little like worry nagging in the back of his mind. His only response is a groan. “What’s wrong?”

“Coffee!” Bard mumbles into the wood of the table, Thranduil frowns in confusion.

“Coffee?” Thranduil queries, sounding out the unfamiliar word, trying to determine if he’s ever heard it before. Beside him, Bard’s entire body goes still.

“Please tell me you know what coffee is?” Bard pleads, the first time Thranduil has ever heard him beg for anything.

“Describe it.” Thranduil demands, deciding that whatever this coffee thing is, it’s obviously important.

“Little brown beans that you get from a plant. You roast and then ground the beans and put the powder in hot water and it makes the nectar of the gods!” Bard describes, Thranduil blinks at him in confusion and Bard whimpers.

“I do not know this bean.” Thranduil finally says, wincing when Bard let’s out a sad little noise. “Is it important?”

“It is, honestly, the only reason I get out of bed in the morning.” Bard replies, still talking to the table and apparently not ready to change that any time soon.

“I’m sorry we don’t have any, Bard.” Thranduil consoles, wondering what is so wonderful about this ‘coffee’ that it leaves Bard in tears at its absence. For, he’s absolutely certain that he can see tears in the corner of Bard’s closed eye.

“Do you have tea? You have to have tea, right?” Bard asks, something a little like cautious hope and dejection in his voice.

“Of course, we have tea!” Thranduil exclaims, mildly offended. “What kind of place do you think I am keeping here?”

“Well, forgive me, your greatest majesty, but you don’t have coffee, how was I supposed to know you think tea is important?” Bard snarks at him, all without lifting his head from the table. “Where is the tea?”

“In the Healing Halls, of course. It’s medicine.” Thranduil replies, exasperated and still mildly concerned when Bard moans into the table. “Bard, I am very concerned for you.”

“I’m going back to bed.” Bard mutters, pushing himself up from the table and stumbling out of the room. Thranduil following after him, his concern growing with every step.

“Bard? Are you sick? Do you need to see a healer?” Thranduil queries, keeping his voice low, when he notes how the human keeps flinching away from the bright lights that line the halls, and the sudden laughter of Thranduil’s people as they go about their morning. He’s more than just a little worried now.

“’m fine.” Bard mumbles, pressing a hand to his head. “Go enjoy your day.” The human grumbles, disappearing into Thranduil’s room, Thranduil frowns and follows him through the door, finds the human has collapsed face down on the bed, his arms tucked against his sides.

“I’ll send for one of the healers.” Thranduil decides, turning on his heel.

“’m fine.” Bard insists, even though he hasn’t moved an inch when Thranduil turns to look. “Jus’ nee’ coffee.” He mumbles, snuggling his face against the pillows. “Mmm, coffee.” He mutters and Thranduil is astounded to watch the human fall asleep within moments.

He sends the healer in, anyway.

“I don’t really know what to tell you, aran.” Head healer Lindariel states, looking at the sleeping human before them. “He doesn’t have a fever, or a cough, and he’s not been injured. I don’t know much of human illnesses, but perhaps he caught something before he arrived here?”

“He was complaining about coffee, before. Have you heard of it?” Thranduil asks, looking down at his human lover with open concern. “I’m very worried for him.”

“I’ve not heard of this coffee. What is it?” Lindariel queries, cocking her head to the side in curiosity.

“It’s apparently a bean grown from a plant, the humans roast it and grind it into powder, that they mix with hot water and it apparently makes some sort of ‘divine’ beverage.” Thranduil replies, turning to his healer to see if she has any knowledge, but the curiosity on her face doesn’t diminish.

“I’ve not heard of this. I will investigate.”

“He also asked about tea? Could we give him some?” Thranduil queries, resisting the temptation to bite on his lower lip.

“I will prepare some for him.” Lindariel decides, before moving off to do so, already lost in thoughts about where she might find information about ‘coffee’.

Thranduil sighs, looks once more at Bard, then turns to go and do his kingly duties for the day, he’s already put them off long enough.

Bard appears at lunch; he’s clutching a teapot and a mug like they are the most precious things on the earth when Thranduil sinks down beside him at the table.

“You’re looking a lot better.” Thranduil says, feeling better for it.

“Tea really is a wonderful medicine.” Bard replies, smiling at Thranduil, though it looks a little crazed and now that Thranduil’s sitting beside him, he can see that Bard’s hands are shaking.

“Bard, how much tea have you had today?” Thranduil queries, suddenly concerned for a whole different reason.

“I think this is my eighth cup.” The human replies, frowning at him. “Why?”

“I think you shouldn’t have anymore.” Thranduil says gently, reaching forward to try and take the teapot away, but Bard just grips it tighter.

“No, I need it.”

“Bard-“

“You don’t have coffee!” Bard exclaims, lifting the mug to his lips and downing the contents in one go. “This is the only alternative, so I’m drinking it.”

“If I can find some coffee for you, will you stop drinking the tea?” Thranduil asks, resting his hand over Bard’s, when the man tries to pour himself another mug full.

“Yes.”

“Alright, I will try to get some coffee for you, in the meantime, maybe you should eat lunch and then go and rest? You’re probably still tired from yesterday.” Thranduil coaxes, pushing just a little of his power into his words, sees the fog that forms in Bard’s eyes.

“Yes, I think that’s a good idea.” The Dragonslayer agrees, putting down both the teapot and the mug and reaching for his plate instead. Thranduil watches him eat, picking at his own food as he does so. Then, when the bell rings to signify the end of the meal, Thranduil walks Bard back to bed. Then, he goes and sends someone to Dale, to find out about ‘coffee’ and bring some back, if at all possible.

Bard doesn’t meet him for dinner.

Thranduil is woken in the very early hours of the morning, or the very late hours of the night, depending on your point of view, by Galion. He looks at his sleeping human, before quietly rolling out of bed and going to meet his friend in the living space outside his room.

“What’s happened?” Thranduil asks, wrapping his gown around him in the slight chill.

“Meludir returned with coffee.” Galion explains, an amused smile on his face. “Apparently, humanity runs on coffee.”

“I’m sorry?” Thranduil exclaims, blinking at his oldest friend, who just laughs.

“The people of Dale would like you to know that they consider it an act of war to withhold coffee from them. They will forgive you for this offense against their king in this instance, but they warn you that you are on thin ice.” Galion dutifully imparts the message while Thranduil just stares at him in stupefaction.

“But what is it?”

“I don’t rightly know. Did you want to go and try some? Meludir has been crowing about it since he came back. He and the off-shift guards are in the wine cellar trying it out since the humans showed him how to make it.”

“Let’s go!”

Descending the stairs down into the dungeons, they both pause, closing their eyes and inhaling a rich and nutty aroma. Thranduil vaguely remembers having smelt this at various times throughout his dealings with men, but he’s never figured out what caused the smell. Obviously, it’s whatever this ‘coffee’ is.

He and Galion continue to follow the smell, to find the off-shift home guard all gathered around a pot resting on the table, the aroma wafting from it. He shares a look with Galion, before they both cross to peer into the pot, staring into a black liquid within.

“Is it… safe to drink?” Thranduil asks, perplexed as to how the drink can smell so lovely and look so unappetising.

“It is very safe to drink, so long as you do not drink in excess.” Meludir helpfully replies, though Thranduil notes his legs are jingling up and down, like he cannot keep them still.

“How much have you had to drink Meludir?” Thranduil queries, reminded of Bard at the lunch table.

“Four cups so far!” Meludir helpfully tells him, a giant smile on his face. “It’s very, very yummy!”

“Why did we send the lightweight to fetch the mystery beverage?” Thranduil queries the room at large, no one has an answer for him, so he sighs and turns his eyes back to the liquid in the pot. “Very well, since Meludir has already attested that the drink is not poison, someone pour me a mug.” Feren is the one who moves, grabbing down a mug and placing filter paper over the top, then pouring the liquid in. They all stare at the black grounds left on the filter paper, that Feren carefully takes from the mug. Feren slides the mug across to Thranduil and joins the others in looking at him with expectant eyes.

“Mellon nin, are you sure?” Galion queries, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other. “Perhaps I should-“ but his oldest friend doesn’t get to finish his statement, before Thranduil is lifting the mug to his lips and sipping it. He can’t quite help the face he makes at the bitterness, but there’s a rich earthy taste to it that he thinks he might like.

“Hmm.” Is the only audible reaction he gives to his audience, before taking a few more mouthfuls of the drink, debating its taste, still undecided after those few mouthfuls. “I don’t feel different.”

“Just wait!” Meludir helpfully exclaims, smiling at him. “I feel like I’ve spent the entire day eating sugary treats!”

“Oh, good. We definitely wanted to be drinking this while we’re supposed to be sleeping!” Thranduil huffs, but it doesn’t stop him from taking another sip. They all patiently watch him drink his coffee, he wonders if this is how the poison tester feels and decides that should he ever need another poison tester, he will ensure they are well cared for.

It’s about ten minutes after drinking the cup that he feels the tingling in his fingers and feels the exhaustion from the day falling away from him, until he’s smiling with wide eyed excitement, feeling like he’s just had a long, refreshing nap.

“Oh.” He exclaims, looking into the pot, from which the others haven’t been brave enough to try any yet. “I’m not getting any further sleep tonight.” He announces to no one in particular and goes to sit beside Meludir, watching the others with expectant eyes. “Well, go on then! Try it!”

None of them make it to bed that night.

“Bard! Wake up! Bard!” Thranduil exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet while he tries to rouse his human from slumber. He hasn’t felt this light on his feet since he was at most Legolas’ age. His heart is racing in his chest, so fast he thinks it might be unhealthy, but he hasn’t had the presence of mind to focus on it, because he’s too busy feeling like he’s going to vibrate out of his own skin. “Bard!” His human grumbles and rolls over in bed. “I found your coffee!” Thranduil excitedly tells him, doesn’t expect Bard to shoot up from the bed and stumble towards him on unsteady legs.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, coffee!” Thranduil agrees, grinning wide. “Come!” he snags Bard’s wrist and drags the human to the door, but the moment it’s open, Bard is off running, following the heavenly smell that’s wafting through the halls. Thranduil laughs behind him, the sound so delighted to his own ears, the way his laughter hasn’t been for many, many thousands of years now. He chases after his lover through the halls, his laughter drifting off the walls as his people stop in shock to watch them go. He doesn’t care that he’s being undignified. He doesn’t care that he’s running through his halls, laughing with wild abandon the way his people here have never seen him.

All that he cares about is ensuring his Bard finds the coffee because Bard is right. It is nectar of the gods and he can’t believe no one has told him about it before!

“How much coffee have you had?” Bard asks, sounding a lot more awake and happier than he has since he went to bed the night he arrived.

“The Off-shift and I spent the night and most of the morning drinking it.” Thranduil answers, his eyes closed as he happily sways back and forward on his stool down in the wine cellar. He wonders if this is how humans feel when they’re drunk, it’s an experience he’s never actually had in his life, because it’s so hard for elves to get drunk. They’re more likely to grow bored of drinking than to ever drink enough for the beverage to really affect them more than a tingling in their fingers and an extreme feeling of tiredness. “I think I’ve had maybe ten cups!”

“Don’t drink anymore.” Bard warns, Thranduil frowns, opening one eye to look at the human. “Overdose can be fatal.”

“Mmm, alright.” Thranduil agrees, letting his eye slip closed again as he resumes his swaying.

“Coffee makes elves drunk. That’s interesting.” Bard mutters, Thranduil just hums back at him. If this is what it feels like to be drunk, he likes it. It’s blissful.

“I’m not being a king today.” He announces to Bard, like it’s some great secret, he hears Bard chuckle but doesn’t open his eyes.

“No, I don’t think that would go well for anyone if you tried.” Bard agrees, Thranduil hums happily. “We should probably get you to bed, before you get to the emotional portion of intoxication.”

“Oh?”

“When did you have your last cup?” Bard queries, Thranduil hears him setting down his mug on the table, but still doesn’t open his eyes.

“Before I came and got you.” He answers, though his words seem to slur together and he frowns in surprise.

“Alright, let’s go put an elf-king to bed.” Bard coaxes, Thranduil jumps a little when he feels hands on his arms. “It’s just me.” Bard soothes and Thranduil collapses against him, suddenly feeling boneless and weightless, like he could just float up and join the stars in the sky.

“What is happening?” he asks, but he knows the words don’t come out sounding how he thinks they should. “Bard?”

“You’re drunk.” Bard explains, grunting as he scoops Thranduil up into his arms. Thranduil hasn’t been carried like this, when he hasn’t been injured, since he was an elfling. He’s not sure if he likes this drunk feeling anymore.

“Bard?”

“It’s alright. You’ll be fine in a few hours, I promise.” Bard soothes him, as he carries him back through the halls. In the back of his mind, Thranduil realizes that his people will be watching this too, but he doesn’t have the focus to care, snuggling against Bard and letting his head loll. The world seems to spin, but he’s certain he hasn’t opened his eyes in a while so he doesn’t know how the world could possibly be spinning when he can’t see it doing it.

“Bard?”

“I’m still here.” Bard assures him, his voice gentle and far away, Thranduil relaxes at the sound of it.

“I love you.” He says, his mouth now apparently having a mind of its own. “I know you doubt that sometimes, but I really, really, really love you, lots and lots and lots.” He promises, feeling a little like a child as he says the words, but his childhood was some of the happiest years of his life, so he doesn’t mind. Luthien had been there, his beautiful and bubbly cousin, who fell in love with a mortal. He hadn’t seen what all the rage was about with Beren, but Luthien had promised him he’d love a mortal someday, too, and then he’d understand. He’d laughed when she’d said that but look at him now.

“I love you, too.” Bard replies, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then Thranduil feels himself being laid down on something soft and Bard’s pulling away.

“No!” Thranduil exclaims, blindly reaching for his human, his eyes refusing to open, even as his questing hands find Bard’s wrist and hold tight. “No, no, don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Thranduil. I’m just getting you a glass of water.” Bard promises, but all Thranduil knows is that his heart is suddenly beating too quickly in his ears and he feels a fear so great he thinks he might be sick of it. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

“Everyone always leaves and then it’s just me.” He mumbles, deciding that he very much hates this being drunk thing, doesn’t like it at all and would prefer never to feel this way again. “They make me love them and then they just… poof… gone. I don’t want you to go, too, but you will, because you’re human, like Beren and I don’t know if I’m strong like Luthien. She was so strong. The strongest.” His strong cousin, his first friend in the world, his lovely cousin and she’s gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.

“You’re the strongest person I know, Thranduil.”

“Even if I am strong like her, I can’t be mortal. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” he repeats over and over again, his mind stuck on the words.

“No one is asking you to be mortal.” Bard’s voice cuts through the litany and he gasps in startled surprise, Bard takes the moment to free his arm, but before Thranduil can react, he finds his human’s warmth pressed up against him, his arms around Thranduil and pulling him close, holding him tight. “No one is asking you to be anything more or less than who and what you are.”

“You’re gonna leave me.”

“One day, yes.”

“I don’t want you to go.” He exclaims, turning in Bard’s arms and clinging tight to his clothing, tucking his face into Bard’s neck as his breaths shake over his lips, the tears burning in his eyes. “I love you. Don’t leave me. Don’t go.”

“I’ll stay as long as I can, I promise.”

“Don’t go.” His voice cracks and the sobs are quick and so encompassing, the fear and grief he feels so overwhelming he can’t do anything but give in, sobbing and pleading and clinging to Bard like he is the only thing in this world that matters. He feels his energy fleeing him all to quickly and with one last desperate plea, falls into a thick and heavy darkness.

The world is too bright and too loud and too obnoxiously happy when Thranduil wakes in the morning. His head feels like an entire mountain of dwarves have moved in and are trying to chip open his skull. He moans and rolls over, so his face is in the mattress, as he pulls the pillow up over the back of his head. He hears a familiar chuckle beside him and moans again.

“Come on, you need to drink some water and eat something.” Bard coaxes, but Thranduil just groans at him. “Are you really going to let a hangover be what defeats you?” the human teases, Thranduil snarls and pushes himself up to sit and glare at his lover, who holds out a glass of water, unfazed with a stupid grin on his face. Thranduil snatches the glass from his hand and gulps it down in one go. “Good, now you can have some Hair of the Dog.” Bard tells him, Thranduil just blinks at him stupidly, but his human doesn’t seem inclined to explain.

“What is that?” he finally demands, glaring again. Bard smirks, and takes the empty glass from him, turning to place it on the bedside table on Bard’s side, before grabbing a mug of a familiar smelling substance. Thranduil pulls away a little but Bard just laughs.

“It’s Hair of the Dog. You drink more of what you had the night before, to ease the hangover.” Bard explains, holding out the mug again. Thranduil glares at it. “The hangover being the headache and all the other wonderful things happening to you right now.”

“Fine.” Thranduil grumbles, grabbing the mug and downing the coffee. It doesn’t take too long before he starts to feel a little better. “Now what?”

“Now you spend the day drinking water and eating.” Bard answers, grinning and climbing from the bed. “Come along, love! You put off being a king yesterday, you don’t get to put off being a king today, even if you’d like to. This is what you put me through every single damn time you kept giving me wine before and after the BOFA. This is payback.” Bard cheerfully announces, laughing when Thranduil lobs a pillow at him.

“Being drunk is horrible!” Thranduil whines, before forcing himself to get out of bed, even though he doesn’t want to. “Never drinking coffee again!” he promises himself, not realizing the lie he has just uttered.

Bard does not speak of any of what Thranduil said while under the influence that night, and Thranduil never remembers saying any of it.

Thus, Mirkwood becomes the first Elven Realm to discover just how stupid they can be while under the influence. They are not the last.

#Barduil #Bard #Thranduil #Lotr #the Hobbit #Coffee addiction #coffee withdrawal #coffee makes elves drunk #idk what to tag this as #hahah #drunk elves #Bard is exhibit A of my mum and me when we haven't had coffee in the morning #Thran is exhibit A of me when I'm drunk... whoops

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sal2724 · 4 years

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IMPORTANCE OF READING

“A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies, the man who never reads lives only once. ~ George R.R. Martin”

Reading is a basic tool in the living of a GOOD LIFE. The more you read the more things you know. The more that you learn the more places you’ll go. I always used to wonder why some people are creative and some are not. But then when I searched about it every research said that reading is a great tool to success. It is said that Every reader may not be a leader but every leader is a great reader.

Reading is an exercise for the mind. It helps kids calm down and relax, opening doors of new knowledge to enlighten their minds. Kids who read grow up to have better cognitive skills. Reading is good for everyone, not only children or young adults.

Why reading is important for all age groups?

1.It helps you discover yourself

Every good book opens up new dimensions of thoughts for the reader. When you read a book, you somehow try to connect the events, emotions, experiences and characters in the books with yourself. This not only keeps you engrossed into the book but it also makes you realize how you would react and feel to those situations that have not yet occurred in your life.

It helps you broaden your dimension of likes and dislikes and things that would please you. So with every page that you read, you have a chance to discover a new part of yourself!

2. Imparts valuable lessons from years of experiences

Books are not written in a day. For an Author, it takes a lot of hard work, understanding, experiences, knowledge and in many cases lots of pain to come up with a single book. But we as a reader get to read them in just weeks or days thereby living years of experiences in considerably less time.

3. It improves your Focus and Concentration

The Internet has definitely revolutionized our world. But there’s a huge drawback too. For many of us, a large part of our day is spent surfing, chatting, watching videos, reading unnecessary memes and articles online. No wonder people are growing more impatient and losing focus.

However, reading books is one of those constructive habits that actually help us improve our concentration power. It helps us to train our brain to focus our attention and live in the present.

4. Reading improves your emotional health

Books are full of emotions. Sometimes they will make you cry with every turning page and sometimes they will just keep you smiling. It can fill you with anger when the antagonist of the story succeeds in his evil plan, but again it can give you immense pleasure to see your hero achieving his goal.

Books can make us happy, sad, jealous, loved, betrayed and so on! Books are thus an amalgamation of different mixed emotions that ultimately help us grow emotionally!

5. Importance of Reading in memory enhancement

There are a lot of things that we need to remember while reading a book. Name of the characters and their features, name of the places, plots and sub-plots, the sequence of events, important conversations etc. are some of the key information we need to keep in mind while reading. And the ability to retain these information keeps improving with the number of books that you read.

As your brain learns to remember the information from the story-line, it also becomes better at remembering other things of your life. So by reading books, you are also indirectly training your brain in improving your memory.

6. It’s a great source of motivation Life is tricky.

Sometimes there are moments in our life when we feel down and discouraged. We may lose our hope and interest in life and just want to give up. Well, in times like this, sometimes all we need is a little motivation, little push in the right direction.

Reading a good inspirational book during such period can change our way of thinking and give us hope and motivation. Books are no doubt a huge source of motivation. We can derive great inspirations from them and transform our lives positively.

7. It expands your knowledge and makes you smarter

Books are a very rich source of information. With every book you read, you get to learn new things. The more you read, the more you know about different people, their behavior and experiences, different places, different cultures and facts that otherwise you would not have known.

Reading books somehow or the other adds depth to your knowledge base. With your increasing knowledge, you become capable of making better decisions and choices in life. You become aware of your surroundings and tend to have an open mind.

With so many new things learned, people who read, obviously tend to be smarter than people who don’t!

8. Broadens your Imagination and enhances your creativity

“It was a bright cold day on April, and the clocks were striking thirteen”. This is the famous opening line of the novel 1984 by George Orwell.

How do you interpret this line?

In reality, we hardly experience conditions like this. Standard Striking Clock strikes a maximum twelve times. Similarly, we rarely have a day both bright and cold simultaneously. However, George Orwell tries to paint the gloomy yet hopeful condition of life by some imaginative references. The interpretation can vary from person to person though.

This is the beauty of books. It makes you imagine things beyond possibility – things that would not come to our mind normally. Books give you a lot to think about. They also give you the opportunity to have your own perspectives and imaginations into play!

Apart from this, different creative characters, plots, and approaches trigger your creativity as well. You become both creative and imaginative!

There are also many books on creativity that can particularly shape and boost your creative thinking.

9. It makes you more empathic

Another reason why reading is important is because it makes you empathic. Being empathic means being able to understand and share the feelings of others. Books connect you with their characters and plots. You yourself become a part of the book and feel what the characters are supposed to feel. You understand their pain and grievances.

Books also somehow make you feel connected with the authors. You are constantly in some sort of conversation with the book. When you are attentive to reading books, you are actually listening to what the book has to say to you. This makes you a good listener. So reading books develop empathy and thus help you to understand what others feel under different circumstances.

10. Reduces stress and helps you sleep better

Reading is one of the best ways to relax your mind. According to a

Research by University of Sussex

Reading for even six minutes can reduce your stress levels by as high as 68 percent!

Psychologists believe that this is probably because when we are lost in a book, our mind is focused on reading and that little distraction from the real world and our problems into a literary world eases the tensions in muscles and heart.

So the ultimate way of relaxing your mind is by losing yourself in a book! Read more and you will realize yourself that your stress level becomes significantly low with time.

Reading has a pretty positive impact on another important aspect of our life – a good night sleep! Reading books calms your mind and helps you sleep better.

However, avoid reading thrillers, horror, and mystery or suspense genre books before going to bed. If you are so lost in such books, you might end up staying awake instead. So, better read some calming, inspirational books that would give you positive vibes without making you impatient.

11. Importance of Reading in enhancing your critical and analytical thinking

While reading, a lot of information are being processed in our brain simultaneously. It opens up many different perspectives for your brain to comprehend. If you are reading a mystery or suspense book, your brain constantly tries to guess certain outcomes and events. It also has to relate one event to the other to make sense in the story. All this, in turn, sharpens our mind and enhances our critical and analytical thinking skills.

12. It gives you joy and pleasure

One basic reason why we read is simply because we enjoy reading. Reading brings joy and happiness in our life. We don’t have to depend on someone else to be happy and pleased. It’s true that sometimes reading can be little challenging or even boring, but such conditions are very rare if you know your taste and choose your books accordingly.

13. It makes you humble

Reading books not only enlighten you with knowledge, but it also makes you realize how much you do not know about the world. With each book teaching you something new, you can’t help but think how limited your knowledge is.

You read a book because you know it will add some new pieces of information in your mind which was so far unknown to you. However, it definitely does not mean you are not smart. It simply shows that you have accepted the truth that what you know is not everything.

There are so many things you can learn and this would not be possible unless you are humble enough to accept this truth!

14. Improves your vocabulary, language command, and communication skills

If you are a reader, you probably know the importance of reading in enhancing your vocabulary. Reading books is one of the best ways to improve your vocabulary.

Moreover, the conversations in the books also help you to strengthen your command over the language. Your sentence formation becomes quick, better and qualitative. You rarely get stuck for lack of words.

Once you have a richer vocabulary and controlled command over the language, your communication skills automatically become better.

15. Importance of reading in improving your brain functions

Books has tremendous power. It can shape our lives for good. It can also significantly improve our brain functions!

16. Being lonely will not bother you much

If you are a book lover, you are never really alone! You can always have a friend in the form of a book. And there’s reason why book lovers consider books to be their best friends. Books don’t complain, neither do they have any demands. They just be with you no matter what. You can carry them wherever you want and read them whenever you want provided you make time for reading.

17. It makes you a better person

One of the most significant importance of reading is that it helps you grow as a person. As mentioned above, reading makes you empathic and humble.

You learn about the hardships in life from experiences of others. You will learn to understand people and be kind and gentle. You will have a better emotional health. Your increased knowledge can also be useful for other people who may look up to you for advice and suggestions. With all this, you are bound to become a better human being!

SO YEAH YOU GUYS ARE AT THE END OF MY BLOG, SO IT MAKES YOU A VERY GOOD READER. CONGRATS. DO READ MY OTHER BLOGS TOO!!!

#writer #writers #reader #importance of reading #good reader is a good leader #leadership #blog #read me #reading is a great habit #red hairs #cute dog #blvm

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motherhenna · 4 years

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Writers Rants: Backstory

How to Smoothly Integrate a Character’s Past into the Narrative

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If you are even remotely interested in the process of writing, then you’ve probably heard this phrase at least a hundred times over: show, don’t tell. Such a vague sentiment, but hell if it doesn’t pack a punch. In fact, it’s probably one of the only “rules” of storytelling that ought to be followed as closely as possible and as often as possible—at least in my opinion. But what, exactly, does it mean? In layman’s terms, show don’t tell is a simple recommendation: that authors should actively illustrate a concept rather than passively explain it. Why? Simple. One leaves the reader more room for interpretation and draws them deeper into the action at hand, and the other just…well, tells them what to see and what to feel in the same way a set of DIY instructions describe how to make a quirky set of kitchen lights out of mason jars. While yes, you got a straightforward idea of what to expect, did you actually have fun reading it?

These basic concepts are important to understand if you consider yourself a writer of any kind, as they function as the foundation for a) improving your prose, b) strengthening your characters, and c) forming a flowing narrative that will catch and keep readers’ attention. And naturally, this also applies to the art of exposition.

Most people with even a cursory knowledge of telling a story know that characters should never be blank slates. If you have any desire to portray even a facsimile of real life, you have to put at least some effort into fleshing out the main characters. And when I say ‘flesh out’, I mean do more than just describing what they look like, a laundry list of personality traits, and what they’re wearing. I’m not going to go into this process deeply, as that’s a matter for another think-piece entirely, but it’s a starting point for the more convoluted parts to come. What I’m building up to is that your characters need a backstory, especially if they’re the one(s) through whom we, as readers, experience the story, i.e., the point of view (POV) character. This applies to both first- and third-person limited narratives, unless you’re going for a more anonymous / incidental narrator, like Mr. Lockwood in Wuthering Heights.

Now, these backstories don’t have to be a strict, detailed, chronological transcription of every year in that character’s life (though doing so certainly doesn’t hurt!) Rather, you should write it much like you would describe your own life if you had to plot it out on a timeline. At first, just stick with the most essential elements: where and when in history they were born, whether they have siblings or present family, and a simple list of significant events from various periods in their life. What specific things have most influenced who they are as a person, for good or ill? Next, it’s time to look at the family, since nothing impacts an individual more than how they were raised and how they were treated during their formative years. Were their parents present during their childhood? What was their parents’ relationship like before and after your character’s birth? Are they natives of the country in which the story is set, or did they immigrate—and if they immigrated, why did they do so? All of these and more are, to me at least, vital to developing a well-rounded and realistic character. I’ve even gone so far as to type out entire timelines for each character as well as their parents. Personalities, quirks, trauma—these are all just as hereditary as one’s genes, though this doesn’t mean that this inheritance has to be through blood. Nature vs. Nurture: they’re both equally important in the formation of an individual.

…So, what to do when you’ve finished all that? Do you dutifully transcribe it into the first chapter of your story? Absolutely not. Copy it into a separate document window and keep it there. A large chunk of this is for your benefit: most likely, less than half of it will make it into the written canon of the novel, and for good reason. All of that detailed history isn’t for the reader, it’s for you to use as a framework. Some of the most powerful elements to realistic characters are the unseen, the implied: all the hidden little things that lie just under the surface, but are never fully visible to the naked eye.

What a lot of inexperienced writers may not realize is that everything doesn’t always have to be stated unequivocally through dialogue or info-dumps. How often, in real life, do acquaintances explain upfront that this specific behavior they often exhibit is a result of how they were abandoned by their father and raised by an emotionally distant mother? Most people don’t psychoanalyze everything, nor do we ourselves do it to others—at least not often! Plus, it’s boring. Getting to know characters over the course of a story should be comparable to meeting a new friend. You find out the surface things at first, but pick up bits and pieces along the way that hint at what lies deeper inside. Little by little, you learn about their family, their hopes, dreams, fears…not always directly, and sometimes even in spite of their desire to keep up a front of normalcy.

With all this said, I think it’s become clear where I stand on backstory: it should be subtle, woven gradually into the narrative rather than stated by the character themselves or described by an omniscient narrator. Not only does this make the process of reading about it flow better and progress more naturally, it’s also far more interactive. Instead of being told why a character acts the way they do, the reader can catalogue said character’s actions, motivations, dialogue, and the way they interact with their surroundings, gradually putting the puzzle pieces together for themselves. In a sense, it’s almost a reward for those who read with a careful, inquisitive eye, and can be just as satisfying as solving a mystery before the detective does in a murder mystery.

I’ve used—and will continue to use—a lot of metaphors in this section because it’s the most thorough way I can to explain this process and why it’s so important. That being said, I approach backstory in the same way I might organize a scavenger hunt. It’s not about a treasure map, but rather an ongoing set of little discoveries without which the ultimate prize can never be found. But in keeping with this analogy, why would anyone want to take part in this if a) they’re just given the prize’s location outright, or b) don’t really care about the prize anyway?

When you’re straight-up told about character’s backstory within the first few chapters, there’s no groundwork for investment. Why should I care about this character’s history if I don’t even know them yet? Investment is a gradual process, and ought to be an interactive process too. One of the best strategies of implying backstory without stating it directly is illustrating how a character reacts to specific triggers. Yes, you can tell the reader in the character’s introductory paragraph that he was almost killed in a house fire as a child, which still haunts him to this day—but how else can you impart this information more effectively and poignantly? For some examples, he might…

Be too frightened to turn on the stove.

Avoid any type of matches or aerosol at all costs.

Get anxious when filling up his car at gas stations.

Constantly check and re-check the smoke detectors throughout his apartment

Panic when he smells her neighbor’s lit fireplace.

Why would we need to explain to readers what made him this way when we have all the evidence we need to figure it out for ourselves? Of course, there’s nothing wrong with, later on down the line, this character actively opening up about this trauma to a friend or therapist, as this is only natural and also supplies us with details we would have never known otherwise. This just shouldn’t be the first way we find it out.

Another efficient and interesting approach to gradual backstory incorporation is through dialogue. The way a character responds to nosy questions, criticisms, or simple observations tell a lot about the kind of people they are and how they’re coping (or not coping) with potentially painful parts of their personal histories / insecurities. For example, Character A can ask Character B, “Why don’t you want to go out tonight?” In truth, B is trying to back out of these plans because she can’t fit into a dress she was supposed to wear for the party, and is trying desperately not fall back into the pit dug by the various eating disorders she has suffered from since adolescence. She is afraid her friends will want to take group pictures, or remark on what’s she’s eating or not eating, or notice the extra pudge in her stomach. She remembers how her mother would chide her for eating second helpings when she was young, or all the times her ex called her fat. But B is not going to be capable of explaining all of this to her partner. So how does she respond?

1. “I just…feel tired all of a sudden…but don’t let me keep you from going. I don’t want to spoil your night.” Implication: saving face—she doesn’t want to reveal her real insecurities, so she uses a physical illness as a cover story.

2. “What’s it to you? If this stupid party so important to you, then you can just go without me!” Implication: defensiveness—she is uncomfortable being vulnerable, and lashes out instead.

Now obviously these are just two examples of a plethora of different responses a person might have to a question like this. But what matters is that each answer should give the reader some sort of information as to why said character reacts the way they do. And these reactions don’t have to have traumatic roots, either! Perhaps, because Character C’s older sister always encouraged them to stick up for and respect themselves, C is able to take that positive reinforcement and pay it forward, inspired to protect others who may not know how to protect themselves. Positive change ripples and spreads just as much as negativity, and should never be discounted just because a character has gone through their fair share of tragedy, too.

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In short, there is nothing simple or easy about creative writing—there is so much nuance involved in every aspect, though that shouldn’t discourage newcomers from experimenting and taking everything step by step. There are no absolutes in writing, and every rule can be challenged, so take what I say with a grain of salt. But still, I cannot emphasize enough the importance of backstory when developing strong characters, nor how much more natural a narrative will feel when these things are integrated with subtlety and grace. Your characters should never be objects, concepts, or a means to an end: if you want to make them seem real to your readers, then they must first seem real to you.

...And real people all have their own stories: to find them, all you have to do is watch and listen.

#writing tips #creative writing #writing advice #I wrote this like six months ago but forgot to post it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#motherhenna

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xmanicpanicx · 5 years

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Important things to know if you want to use folklore in your writing

So you want to write a fantasy novel, and you’re thinking of basing it on some sort of folklore. Maybe you’re writing a fairy tale retelling. Maybe you’re creating a mythology system very similar to one from our world. Maybe you’re writing your entire novel around an urban legend. But folklore, fairy tales, mythology, legends… Are you sure you know what all these terms mean? Like, really, absolutely sure?

Because I was sure I knew, until recently (I had been fascinated all with this stuff since childhood). Then I decided to pursue a Master of Folklore degree at one of the best universities for it (Memorial University of Newfoundland, in case you’re curious), and I came to realize how little I really knew. But after a year in the program, I’ve had many things cleared up for me.

Let’s look at some of the terms, shall we?

The broadest one is “folklore” itself. Folklore encompasses the culture of a community (the people, or folk), however they wish to define themselves. A community can be as large as a continent or as small as a school club. The lore belonging to these communities can be anything they practice or create: stories, songs, dances, proverbs, jokes, memes, games, material objects, traditions, events, you name it. If it was man-made, then it can probably be considered folklore.

In the writing world, though, we typically make more use of a culture’s stories than anything else to inform our own work. There are a few main types of story:

First, let’s look at folktales and fairy tales. They aren’t always the same thing. Folktales are stories told by a group of people (the folk). Fairy tales can come from the culture of a certain group of people, but they can also be made up by just one individual. For example, Danish writer Hans Christian Andersen wrote fairy tales, such as “The Snow Queen,” but they didn’t all come from Danish culture or from any other culture for that matter. Many of them just came from him. Now that they’ve been around for a while and been retold in lots of ways by different people (as in the case of the adaptation of “The Snow Queen” into 2013’s Frozen), Andersen’s tales can be considered folktales. When they were initially published, however, they were just fairy tales. The Grimm’s fairy tales, on the other hand, are also folktales because the Grimm brothers collected them from other people, who had heard them from other people, who had heard them from other people, and so on within Europe.

Legends are not the same as folktales and fairy tales. Legends have at least a kernel of truth to them, or are believed to have a kernel of truth to them. This is not the case with folktales and fairy tales; they are entirely made up, entirely fantasy. For example, “Snow White” is pure fairy tale. No one thinks Snow or her stepmother or the dwarves were ever real. The tale was meant to be entertaining and impart lessons. The stories surrounding, say, Robin Hood, are legends. Why? Because many people believe that he existed at one time. And it’s entirely possible that he did. The stories about him are so far-fetched that they must have been embellished over time, but they very likely have their roots in actual events or a person who existed. There probably was a mysterious vigilante during the Crusades who happened to be an excellent archer. He probably wore a hood to make it harder for the authorities to find him.

Urban legends are a subset of legends that are set in more modern times, but they do not necessarily have to have an urban city setting. Robin Hood is not an urban legend — he’s an old one. Sasquatch is an urban legend (even though he supposedly lives in the forest). Slenderman is also an urban legend.

Now we come to myths, and this, in my opinion, is the trickiest one to pin down. Myth, in our society has come to mean “false,” as in “5 Myths About Gingivitis” or some other sort of article you’d see floating around on the Internet. But before “myth” came to mean “false,” it meant (and still does mean) “sacred truth.” The stories we think of as myths (most people are probably thinking of Greek mythology right now) were not necessarily believed as literal truths, but more as reflections of truths about a society’s values or about human nature. Myths don’t necessarily have to be full stories — they can also just be beliefs or values.

So those are the main story types from folklore — the culture of a community. A word of caution, though. When you use stories from a community that isn’t your own, be sensitive about it. Understand that those stories may be incredibly important to that group of people, and they wouldn’t want those stories to be misrepresented, especially by someone from outside of their culture. You may have the best intentions — after all, those stories are clearly important to you, too, if they spoke to you enough that you want to write about them — but intention isn’t all that matters. Ensure that you are using the stories with reasonable accuracy. Make an author’s note if you intend to take poetic license and stretch the truth for the sake of your story. And never, ever demonize another culture.

I would also argue that you should be sensitive in writing using stories from your own culture because that culture does not belong solely to you. Other people within your community may not appreciate the way you portray them or their lore. It’s impossible to please everyone, though, so don’t necessarily let someone else’s qualms stop you if you feel like there is a truth that needs to be told. For example, I grew up Roman Catholic, and if I wrote a story about my negative experiences with this, some other Roman Catholics might be offended by it. However, my experiences and my story would still be valid, no matter how much they bothered others.

If you want to be culturally aware and sensitive, I would recommend using a sensitivity reader after you’ve drafted your novel a few times. They may be able to point out things that never would have occurred to you to re-evaluate. However, recognize that the people of any given community are not all the same. What might offend one person might not bother another at all. Your sensitivity reader might even miss things that might bother some other people. It happens.

Can you think of any folklorish story types that I’ve missed, or any other relevant points I’ve forgotten to make? Let me know in the comments!

#folklore #creative writing #myths #mythology #legends #folktales #fairy tales #Writing tips

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memoirsofratasum · 4 years

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Protector Tarnn: The Eye of the North

So many people have been making their way north chasing Bangar that it’s actually kind of amazing that I never made it that far into the Shiverpeaks. My duties had taken me back to the warmer jungles of Tarir. Years ago I had done some preliminary work on copying and translating the Exalted’s tablets and now some magisters wanted to consult with me on transcribing a new set of tablets that had been found in a corridor recently cleared of debris. Not the most exciting work, but you don’t want to snub any of your higher ups when you’re looking for advancement.

Sure the job had its own share of adventures, the jungle hasn’t changed much, but it was the assignment I got after that was noteworthy.

The location of the Eye of the North was never exactly a secret. The old ruin is famous among most of the races, a place of history for all of Tyria. But in spite of that importance, the tower has been mostly left alone, even by the Priory. It’s location in the mountains was too difficult to keep excavation teams supplied. The relatively recent invention of airships alleviated that issue, but with the Elder Dragons we had better places we needed to fly too.

So imagine my surprise when I was called into Steward Gixx’s office and asked if I knew anything about the Eye of the North. As much as anyone does, the occupation by the Ebon Vanguard, the scrying pool, the battle with Primordus’ lieutenant, and that it’s been mostly left alone for 250 years. And that’s when Gixx got this gleam in his eye and I knew I was going to be trekking north after all.

I wasn’t going alone though. Gixx had a guest for me to meet. A familiar stick-in-the-mud asura, Inscriber Nivv. I haven’t seen him since Istan. I had already figured by his presence that this must involve waypoints, which Gixx confirmed before I could open my mouth. The short of it is that the Arcane Council was contacted by an anonymous client who commissioned for a waypoint and asura gate activation in the Eye of the North. Nivv, having been impressed with my bodyguard work in the past, had requested me by name. The last time this happened I was certain that he had slipped my commanding magister a sack of gold for my services, Gixx has to be getting something out of this too. He’s grinning too much like a loon for it to just be mystic coins under the table. Probably has at least one member of the Arcane Council owing him a favor. Doubt I’ll see the gains when that gets fulfilled.

Nivv on his part seemed completely unsuspicious on how this deal manifested. He was eager to work with me again. This little expedition was going to be bigger than the Istan one as it included gate technicians and enough equipment to build a new gate from scratch if it came to that. The danger assessment had it’s holes, but there didn’t seem to be any svanir or renegade charr in the region, not even a nearby kodan sanctuary. Just wild animals and the elements. The mysterious client didn’t say why they wanted the Eye hooked up to the modern teleport systems all of a sudden, though it’s easy to imagine someone rich wanting to aid in the war effort as it would make for a good base and staging ground. The only thing I can guess about their identity is that they aren’t Pact, this is well outside the usual protocols.

Regardless, we were in the air within a couple days. The Arcane Council had chartered us an airship out of LA crewed by members of the lionguard, guess Gixx was willing to lend out me but not one of the Priory transports. Not as swift and battle ready as the Pact ships, it was at least a more comfortable ride in comparison. The civilians disagreed but I was just glad to not have to sleep next to the roar of the engine.

We were scheduled to be in the air 3 days but the pilot and navigator were worried about the adverse weather in the Shiverpeaks. Since Grothmar things had apparently gotten worse and not for the first time I wondered how Sanna was holding up. I wouldn’t expect an elementalist of her talents to be overwhelmed by any sort of weather, but there have been rumors trickling down from Bjora Marches of worse things. Apparently the wind whispered to you and a curse from hunger could turn you inside out. I’m not sure what to believe and the Pact brass was not willing to discuss it. Some said that they don’t want to scare off assignees before they get there, but other quieter whispers was that no one could be certain if any charr members were in league with Ruinbringer and could leak information. This had happened with the sylvari once already, and now our charr brethren? That sort of distrust would only prove Ruinbringer right. But it’s not my call to make. The last official announcement was Soulkeeper’s fate, Alchemy keep her, when I was in the jungle. After that everything seemed to be on a need-to-know basis.

The first day in the air went by as normally as one could expect. The Sanctum Harbor soon gave way to the biting cold of Lornar’s Pass. Familiar landmarks passed underneath us but it was too cold to stay out on deck without a reason. Nivv showed me the crates in the cargo hold that held the waypoint and gate components. If it wasn’t for the asuran script stamped on the metal, you’d have guessed they were normal shipments of smithing or artificing components. Nivv wanted to impart the importance of the crates but he didn’t need to bother. Easy access to the Eye could guarantee the Pact and it’s allies were always better prepared than Ruinbringer, wars have been won with less. Nivv wanted me to check on the crates during our journey, the components were delicate and if the rough weather prediction was correct he didn’t want them to get jostled around too much.

The second day things started to feel a little...off. It had gotten colder, we were over Frostgorge Sound, and the krewe was huddling around a space heater grumbling to themselves. My wolf Valor though didn’t have the mind to join in, instead his ears were up and eye trained on one of the human lionguard crew member, an engineer whose name I didn’t know. The wind was whistling strongly through a seam somewhere and I realized the engineer wasn’t occupied with his work like I had assumed, but staring down at the cold asura with something akin to contempt in his eyes. That wasn’t going to fly. I got his attention just as the wind calmed down and he muttered something about being needed elsewhere and wandered off his with wrench.

I didn’t think much of it, some people are just jerks and its not worth wasting brainspace on them. I went to check on the crates to see if they had shifted overnight. At first glance they were just as we had left them the day before, but just as I was about to leave I noticed that parts of the metal looked deformed. Not by a lot, just some shallow dents on the top seam, as if hit by a blunt instrument. Such a thing isn’t uncommon as old crates gain some wear after being used over and over again. But I could have sworn that the crates were new. Maybe I just misremembered. It’s not worth bring up to Nivv.

This airship must be full of holes, the wind sounded like it’s in my ears.

I returned to the inner decks and found some of the krewe in an argument. Cram a bunch of self-proclaimed geniuses in one place with no easy way out and it’s bound to happen. I was going to leave them to it, I’m not here to protect their egos from themselves, but Valor was standing stiff, staring at them. That moment of hesitation gave me enough time to see one of the krewe members lash out and a trail of red appear on her opponent’s cheek.

I immediately blinked into the middle of it, grabbing her wrist before she could even finish the swiping motion, a shard of bloody glass clenched in her hand. What was her name again? Calli? Well, whoever she was blinked as if she was just waking up from a dream which turned into a growing horror as she realized what she just did. The glass shard fell from her hand, no idea where she could have gotten it from, as she started crying, claiming that she didn’t mean to do it, that a voice in her head told her too. I didn’t care about any of her stammering excuses. Assaulting a krewe member, or anyone on your side for that matter, will not be tolerated on my watch. I had the lionguard escort her to the brig, Nivv could sort his people out himself.

The wind started to die down.

Her victim seemed more shocked than hurt, the scratch on his cheek was shallow and I was able to use a little guardian magic to close the wound. Strangely, he couldn’t recall what the argument was about. It wasn’t over anything normal, like a theory or paper. I’m sure getting attacked by a colleague pushed it right of it his mind.

Things seemed to quiet down after that. Nivv was beside himself over Calli’s behavior. It didn’t bode well for when they got to work at the Eye. A rebellious krewe member I could handle though, so I found myself drifting off as I checked my armor while he continued to babble on about how to reassigned the work if Calli was out and then ley line nodes and molecular relays and on and on.

The wind was picking up again and his voice blended with it. Whatever he was talking about didn’t matter. I probably shouldn’t even be here playing progenysitter to a bunch of spoiled technicians anyway. Didn’t I leave Rata Sum specifically to not do this sort of work anymore?

A low growl from Valor jerked me back to reality. I looked up from my polishing to see that Valor had placed himself between me and Nivv, his ears and hackles both up and his teeth half-barred. A warning.

Nivv looked startled and confused, as if he didn’t realize where he was, his scepter clattered to the floor. He didn’t have an answer when I starred him down and asked what was wrong. He seemed nervous and more than a little scared. As he should be. I don’t want to think one of Sanna’s old acquaintances and a person who I’ve worked with before would willing to stab me in the back, but if he was he’d have to be a lot more prepared than this. I said as much when I pressed his scepter back into his hands.

Nivv didn’t stick around, leaving me and Valor alone. My wolf nudged at me and licked my face, his tension eased.

The wind quieted and I felt like I could think again.

What the hell was going on? I couldn’t even remember what I was just thinking about. Were we honestly going stir crazy after only a day in an enclosed space? That didn’t seem right.

Every asura on the ship tried to avoid each other for the rest of the day, casting distrusting eyes on their krewemates and myself. The lionguard seemed on edge as well. The only person who seemed to have any sense of control was the airship captain, a norn with a hammer on his back and an adherent of wolf if the tattoos are anything to go by. He stopped me in the hall after dinner under the pretense of wanting my input on flying over Bitterfrost Frontier as I had been there before. But I could tell that what he really wanted was to know more about Valor. Guardians aren’t known for their animal companions after all. The captain nodded in understanding when I told him that Valor had once been a shrine wolf, that the shaman had tasked me with healing his wounds after rescuing her wolves from the Svanir, and that he’s been with me ever since as support for my mental wellbeing rather than as a ranger companion. The captain nodded as he listened and scratched Valor behind the ears. Said that Wolf must see me in a good light to allow me one of his wolves. Yeah I dunno about that.

The captain then asked if I had noticed anything unusual going in with the asura krewe. He seemed to have noticed that some of his lionguard acting suspicious and on edge, or being found in the cargo hold when they had duties elsewhere, or hesitating at the controls before following his orders. That didn’t sound good. Sounds like both crew and krewe are acting out when they should be more professional than this. It was worrying but the captain said that we should reach the Eye by the end of the day tomorrow and it would be easier to sort this all out once on solid ground. He bid me goodnight and that Wolf watch over me.

I think that was the longest span of time throughout the entire day where the wind wasn’t howling in my head.

The next morning we were flying over territory unfamiliar to my eyes. We had to be getting close to the Eye. Tensions hadn’t eased but nothing had exploded. Nivv wrung his hands and avoided my gaze when I asked if his krewe would be able to at least do the work when we touched down. The last thing I wanted was to essentially have come all this way for nothing. I know Gixx wanted Priory footprints in the snow, but fat lot of good that does him if the promised transportation isn’t there.

I needed to calm down, I was just adding to the tension and unease. Someone was going to snap at this rate and I couldn’t let it be me.

By midday I decided to check on the cargo hold again. The crates definitely didn’t have those dents yesterday. They weren’t the small indents that could be waved away by some rough handling. They were caved in and clumsily strewn across the floor, one spreading crystalline dust like blood out of a newly formed crack. The turbulence hadn’t been that violent. It was clearly sabotage.

I sprinted from the hold, calling for Nivv when the airship suddenly listed sharply to the side, causing me to lose my footing. The airship swung wildly again and I slammed into a wall that was acting more as a floor.

The wind was deafening.

Nivv’s crates could wait. I needed to make it to the bridge.

Alarms were blaring and the windows were almost a solid white from a blizzard. But that wasn’t the part that shocked me when I reached the bridge.

The human engineer from the day before was at the controls, spinning wheels and throwing switches seemingly at random. But the lionguard pilot and navigator, one with blood on his temple, were desperately trying to wrestle him away. The airship was still spinning wildly and it felt like we were rapidly losing altitude.

And the captain just watched.

I didn’t have the time to think my actions through, I needed that time to act instead.

I rushed forwarded and wove my way in-between the struggling lionguards and threw a fist at the engineer’s solar plexus. He doubled over immediately, air knocked knocked out of him, and I was able to drag him away and allow the pilot and navigator to reassert control.

The captain still showed no reaction.

The wind had risen to a roar.

The tension cracked when Nivv charged in, demanding to know what was going on. The blank expression on the captain’s face never changed, but his stance shifted. I moved at the same time. I slid in front of Nivv, my shield rippling into existence just in time for the captain’s hammer to ricochet harmlessly off the shiny surface.

I had to think fast. The bridge of an airship was not the ideal place for a fight. Fire magic was out of the question and my sword could easily damage the controls. My staff might have been my best option, casting from range and drawing the captain away the bridge and the now terrified pilot and navigator.

The captain raised his hammer again but instead of falling, a mass of fur slammed into the captain, knocking him off his feet. Teeth sunk into his wrist, forcing him to drop the hammer and scream in pain, his first natural reaction out this entire encounter.

I dropped my shield and ran to my wolf. Valor had the captain at his mercy, holding him in place and tightening his jaw at any movement he didn’t like. This gave me some time to get some answers.

The captain though was worse off than Calli. He didn’t know what he was doing. A voice had been gnawing at his mind, telling him that the asuran krewe couldn’t be allowed to succeed in their mission. Why? He had no idea. He couldn’t even say who the voice in his head belonged too. But he thanked Wolf for bringing him to his senses before he did something he regretted.

I didn’t think that was good enough. We where still hours from the eye and who knew how long before the waypoint and the gate were operational, if they could even be brought online after the pummeling their crate’s took. The captain maybe remorseful now, but there was still time for sabotage. In my opinion, he and the still dazed engineer should be thrown in the brig and LA radioed. That is if the pilot could make the landing without the captain’s instructions.

I studying the subdued captain and mentally calculating the distance from LA for backup, when the wind fell silent and the snow stopped. Outside the windows, the sky was a glorious glow of oranges and pinks. It shouldn’t have been that late in the day yet. And unless the pilot still hadn’t gotten us on course, we shouldn’t be seeing the sunset through the bow windows. The sunset glistened and flew closer.

It wasn’t the sunset, it was Aurene!

The Prismatic Dragon circled the airship, a rainbow left in her wake. Her voice, somehow both within my head and out, gently instructed the airship to follow her to make a landing at the Eye.

The affect of the dragon was like taking a breath after being under water, everything felt calm and right. I placed my hand on Valor’s head and he released the captain from his jaws. The captain would still have to answer for his actions, but for right now I don’t think anyone will try anything while under Aurene’s shadow.

The Eye of the North was just like the stories, huge and imposing but most importantly safe. And being in a sheltered valley, the worse of the Shiverpeaks weather didn’t hit quite so hard. A few bears and wild wolves eyed us from the undergrowth, but a few demonstrations of my fire magic kept them there.

Aurene watched as we unloaded the airship into the main vestibule. As I had suspected, some of the components had been damaged. Crystalline filaments were shattered and the dust contaminated. Aurene offered to create any necessary crystal components the krewe may need and then she bidded us to her lair at the scrying pool, saying that she owed us an explanation.

As suspected by her presence here, Aurene was the anonymous client who had commissioned for the waypoint and reactivated asuran gate. She did not elaborate on how this was paid for. She then apologized to us. According to her, the voices and thoughts that had been in our heads was Jormag. Aurene had thought that with it’s mouthpiece Drakkar under threat, an airship could have slipped into the Shiverpeaks unnoticed. But she had underestimated Jormag and just how much of a threat a Tyrian foothold in the Eye would be to the Ice Dragon. The violence onboard the airship was solely Jormag’s responsibility. But now that we were under Aurene’s wings here at the Eye, we were outside of their influence. And if the campaign against Drakkar is successful, that influence would end permanently.

However that campaign ended, Aurene still wanted the Eye up and running for Tyrian use. The krewe had a few days at most to complete their task. I have to patrol to perimeter, almost a vacation after that trip. The airship crew needed to take that time to assess for damages. And the captain...well he said he was going out into the forest to mediate on Wolf and not to worry about him.

I hope Wolf keeps him, and all of us safe. And if not, I know Aurene will.

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #asura #Tarnn #this is the Shadow in the Ice journal #but feels weird to call it that when it's not set in Bjora Marches #this issue went way off the rails from what I was expecting it to be #took a lot of pieces from Sanna's last entry #I even used Nivv again #if I had known it was going to take these turns sooner I might have tried to lean more on the horror element #regardless it was fun to explore the options and see Tarnn being a badass

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alarawriting · 5 years

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Inktober 2019 #9: Swing

The child struggled against the hands of the cultists holding him down, yelling curses that some might falsely believe a child his age wouldn’t know. He kicked his arms and legs wildly and tried to bite the arms of his captors. It didn’t help.

The cultist standing behind the child’s head, the one holding the knife, spoke. “O Great One, accept the sacrifice of this innocent! Feed on its soul—”

“I’m not an it, you motherfuckers—”

“—restore your strength, and rise from your—”

A sound that had been gradually getting louder became recognizable finally as the sound of… a swing band, playing In the Mood. It was distracting enough that the cultist holding the knife lowered his hand slightly. “What the hell is that?”

It was a good question. The cultists had gathered in a temporarily closed, underground Metro station in DC, dozens of feet below the ground. It was late at night, when the Metro wouldn’t be running anyway. The construction workers on the expansion project that had required the closure were union, and definitely not on site this late. There was no earthly reason for the cultists to be interrupted by anyone, much less music from the 1930’s being played very, very loudly…

…Or maybe not at all. A mass of people emerged from the tunnel into the dim light from the cultists’ electric lanterns. Many of them were wearing pajamas; others were wearing evening wear, the kind you’d wear to go clubbing. A few women of a certain age and their grey-haired male partners were wearing ballroom fashion. A lot of them were teenagers and young adults in hoodies or t-shirts.

All of them were dancing, most in pairs, swinging their partners around to the beat as their arms and legs moved to more complex rhythms. There was a man in the front, however, who danced alone, his legs tapping out a pattern similar to the Charleston, but with more complicated flourishes and a lot of finger-snapping. He was dressed snappily but anachronistically, in a light green suit styled after the 1920’s, with a black homburg on his head, sporting a green ribbon the same color as the suit.

There was no evidence anywhere of where the music was coming from.

“Who the hell are you?” asked one of the cultists, reaching for his own weapon. The ceremonial knives were for the sacrifice; for defense, the cultists carried guns.

“Now, this is a swell setup you’ve got here,” the man in the green suit said. “Nice and private. I can see why you’d pick out a joint like this for your party. But you need to light this place up! Can’t have a really ritzy shindig when it’s this dim!”

“They’re not having a party,” the boy being held on the ceremonial table yelled, “they’re trying to k—” A cultist managed to cover his mouth without getting bitten.

The lights in the subway station blazed to life, twice as bright as they’d normally be in a station that was actually operating, and the dancers, who were on the tracks on both sides of the platform, could now be seen climbing up off the track and onto the platform, everywhere.

The lead cultist looked around at the mass of dancing people, and made a bad decision. “Shoot them! Shoot them all!”

This proved to be much more difficult than one would think. The dancers effortlessly swung each other out of the line of incoming fire, while other dancers swung in to grab cultists from behind or the side, pull the guns out of their hands, and dance away. Three of the cultists didn’t escape; when a dancer grabbed them and swung them around, they started dancing too.

Meanwhile the man in the green suit was dancing closer and closer to the boy and the lead cultist. Most of the cultists were at this point engaged in combat with dancers, who were humiliating them completely by dancing with them rather than fighting, and still managing to win. It was as if all the dancers were animated by a single hive mind, moving in perfect cooperation, able to see every angle that attackers might be striking from and responding with perfect rhythm.

“Stay back!” the lead cultist yelled, holding the boy down with one hand on his chest, the knife to his neck. “I’ll kill him!”

“You’re going to bump off a poor little bunny like that?” the man said. “That’s disappointing, fella. After I came all this way to meet the poor kid?”

Suddenly, the boy grabbed the cultist’s wrist with both his hands – which were no longer being held by other cultists, since the other dancers had pulled them away – and shoved it away from his neck, far enough that he could twist out from under the cultist and roll off the table. “You came to rescue me?”

“Posi-lutely,” the man assured him.

The cultist dropped his knife. “The Great One will not be denied!” he snarled, and pulled a gun.

Before he had a chance to fire it, the man had skidded across the floor in a move Fred Astaire might have envied, sliding right under the cultist’s gun arm. With a single smooth move, he pulled the gun arm, flipping the cultist to the ground and sending the gun flying, using the momentum to push himself to a standing position. “Hey, fella, if you’re gonna be packing heat, you should learn to stay in the kitchen,” he said, and proceeded to dance on the fallen man, kicking him in the head a few times as part of his dance routine.

The music had never stopped, and it had never become apparent where it was coming from.

The rumble of a Metro train sounded in the distance – impossible, since the station was closed and the Metro wasn’t running at this time, and yet there it was. With a big grin on his face, the man in the green suit heaved the lead cultist up. “Come on, you big palooka, the dance ain’t over yet! Show me your steps!”

The cultist’s hood had fallen off, revealing a gray-haired man with ruddy skin and a very sweaty face. His eyes went wide. “No! No! You won’t take me – I belong to the Great One! I—”

“Suit yourself,” the man in the green suit said, spun in place, and kicked the cultist, hard, sending him flying onto the track – just as the train came in.

The boy looked around. All of the other cultists were dancing now, most having shucked off their robes for freedom of motion. The train was very, very short – just one car, almost unheard-of for a Metro train – and in the driver’s seat at the front of the car, there was a nattily dressed mannequin, wearing very similar clothes to the man in the green suit. The mannequin wore glasses, and seemed to have glass eyes rather than the smooth indents that suggested eyes that most mannequins the boy had seen sported.

“Well! Here I am!” the man in the green suit said. “Let’s get you aboard, young fella.”

“What the hell just happened?” the boy asked. “Why is there a train in a closed station? Who are you? Who were those assholes who tried to kill me? Why is a mannequin driving the train? Where’s the music coming from? Why is everyone dancing?”

The man laughed. He didn’t stop dancing. “I’m the mannequin, kiddo,” he said. “Name’s Aloysius, but you can call me Al.”

“Wait a minute, how can you be the mannequin?”

“Well, this fella dancing in front of you’s named Henry, and he’s got no life, so I lent him mine. The rest? They’re my backup dancers.” He snapped his fingers in time to the beat, which had changed from In the Mood to something else the boy didn’t recognize, but it sounded like the same time period.

“But… some of them were the guys in the cult robes, and now…”

“Ah, don’t go getting the heebie-jeebies on me, kid. There ain’t too many fellas – or dolls, neither – who can resist dancing when I’m around. That’s all.” He gestured to the train car, which was filling up with dancers. “But they can’t dance all night, and you and me’ve got places to go, so how about let’s blouse!”

“Let’s what?”

“Amscray. Get on the train and vamoose. Come on, kiddo, we haven’t got all night.”

It occurred to the boy that being in an abandoned Metro station, far from his home, which would probably lose all its lights as soon as the mysterious being and his impossible train car left the station, was probably a worse fate than riding on said impossible train car. The man – Al – or Henry? What did you call a guy who was a mannequin whose mind was puppeting another guy’s body? – he’d said he’d come here to see the boy, and he’d saved the boy from the cultists. And since the boy had no idea why the cultists had picked him to kidnap and sacrifice to their Great One, and Al seemed to…

“Yeah, okay, why the hell not.”

“Your ma’s gonna wash your mouth out with soap, you keep talking like that,” Al said, more as if he was imparting information than making a judgement.

The boy scowled. “Some of us live in the 21st century,” he said as he boarded the train.

***

The basic concept behind the flamboyant Aloysius comes from @sollidnitrogen, whose version was a mannequin head that automatically causes everyone within range to dance and mentally takes over everyone in his range regardless of how far away they are, so he doesn’t really have a single body he’s riding that he can use to communicate with. @sollidnitrogen’s version is named Reginald; I had to adapt the concept enough that the character wasn’t quite the same, so I changed the name for my version. Also the Metro train out of nowhere is all mine.

When I started this, all I had was “Aloysius saves someone from cultists that are going to sacrifice them.” As I wrote, the boy became important, but I still don’t know why or what his name is, or why the cultists wanted him in particular. I’m hoping I eventually find out.

#inktober 2019 #aloysius the 1920's dancing spirit

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ajattoberoi23-blog · 4 years

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Importance of Ketu in Astrology by Ajatt Oberoi!

Ketu

Ketu is a headless, half planet, the south or plunging Node of the Moon likewise called the tail of the winged serpent. It is a shadow planet as it is imperceptible and is only a point in the astronomical course of action. It is the karaka of Moksha, the explanation of freedom. It drives individuals towards mysticism, illumination, parsimony and it liberates the individual from the shackles of common wants. Be that as it may, it is a malefic planet, not as malefic as Rahu however it offers the locals with different mishappenings throughout everyday life, with the aim to assist us with arriving at liberation.

It frets about the afterlife encounters, otherworldly information, separation from the world, the idea of honesty and karma. It is said that Rahu is the provider and Ketu is the taker. In any case, there is a more profound importance. Rahu makes an individual liberal, stuck in realism and common solaces while Ketu assists with getting disconnected from empty undertakings. It guides us towards freedom. Rahu is about delight and common solaces while Ketu is about edification and intelligence. Here is a definite investigation of this shadow planet according to Vedic Astrology to assist you with understanding it better.

Planetary Configuration

Ketu is the South Node that takes 18 years to go through the zodiac similarly as Rahu and it remains in one sign for around 1.5 years. Ketu's impact is typically beneficial for individuals conceived in Aries, Cancer, Sagittarius, Scorpio or Pisces ascendant. Ketu is said to be lifted up in Scorpio and Sagittarius, as inverse to Rahu and is respected most fragile in Taurus. Its Moontrikon sign is Leo. It imparts a well disposed relationship to Mercury, Venus and Saturn and is foe with Moon, Mars and Sun. With Jupiter, it shares a normal relationship.

On the off chance that you wish to know the quality of Ketu and the other 8 planets in your horoscope, you can consult Astrologer Ajatt Oberoi.

To know about the Ketu position in your birth chart and its effects on you beneficial or malefic and to get accurate remedy for malefic Ketu and increase its strength of beneficial Ketu in your birth chart, consult Ajatt Oberoi the best astrologer in Mumbai, India.

Area governed by Ketu

Ketu if emphatically set is the genius of expert achievement. It makes performers, aggressors, soothsayers, investigators, recluses, otherworldly authors, donors, and callings including strict exercises and interests. Some may even become engineers of heavenly places, for example, sanctuaries and altars. Some may become travel directs in strict spots. Positive situation of Ketu likewise oversees callings including otherworldly and honest deeds, for example, noble cause, halfway houses, mature age homes, pioneers, rest houses, contemplation focuses, gifts, and strict shows and exhibition halls. Ketu additionally gives callings that are administered by Mars as a rule, in fields, for example, military, safeguard, weaponry, explosives and so on.

Character of those governed by Ketu

Ketu governed people generally speaking have faith in the administration of man, the idea of karma. They accept that one should have a straightforward existence, however think high. These individuals attempt to help other people without anticipating anything consequently. They are driven towards otherworldliness and freedom. Alongside a bargaining nature, the local is probably going to have great information and insight too. They may not pay regard to extravagances and common solaces. Simultaneously, a malefic Ketu can likewise deliver improper individuals, those with weird social propensities. They can be anything from a mental case to a sequential executioner. A not well set Ketu likewise drives the local to feel something sickening, an NDE (brush with death, for example, lethal damage, mishap, stun, or assault. Ketu's contrary impact can transform the local into a beguiling, untrustworthy and forceful character.

Positive and negative impacts of Ketu

An emphatically put Ketu frequently brings about better karma and fortune with regards to running organizations. The individual may lead a straightforward way of life in spite of having every one of the extravagances around. Ketu makes the individual an equity sweetheart and human being who have faith in the improvement of the entire humankind. They by and large help a reason and have heaps of supporters inferable from the noble deeds. A negative position of Ketu influences one's social conduct. The individual may enjoy smoking or tobacco managing. Mistaken assumptions and fears would be pervasive throughout everyday life. They may try sincerely however the outcomes would not be good. They may attempt to show up as having heavenly and frequenting encounters and would be slanted towards mysterious subjects, for example, dark enchantment and magic. There would be an absence of trust in their marriage and connections. There would be a quality of flightiness about their character, which may shield them from getting a charge out of an ordinary relationship.

Role of Ketu in Astrology by Ajatt Oberoi

Like Rahu, Ketu is additionally a nonexistent planet or a hub that is situated inverse Rahu. The groups of stars governed by him are Ashwin, Magha and Moola. An intriguing story has just been depicted above while examining about Rahu. The North hub is called Rahu and the South hub is known as Ketu. It is accepted to speak to the tail of the devil.

The South node or Ketu is viewed as a point of troublesome Karma from his previous existence where an individual harvests the aftereffects of his narrow minded and vain person deeds of the past. The opposite side of Ketu speaks to the inclination towards Moksha or freedom and dominance of mystery and strange information.

Rahu and Ketu are acclaimed for giving abrupt and surprising outcomes. Both Rahu and Ketu are the pieces of a similar evil presence. Both are 180 degrees separated. When Ketu, Sun and Moon lie in the equivalent zodiacal longitude lunar shroud happens. Rahu has extraordinary animosity with Sun and Ketu with Moon.

Calling insightful, entertainers, therapeutic parishioners, celestial prophet and specialists are managed by Ketu. Both Rahu and Ketu, the fanciful hubs, are the secretive powers and show karmic and profound impacts in the birth outline.

Like Rahu, Ketu additionally doesn't control any zodiac sign since it has no physical appearance. Our Rishis have apportioned Sagittarius sign as the place of magnification for KETU. A few researchers think Ketu is lifted up in Scorpio. In like manner it is weakened in Gemini or Taurus. Ketu is viewed as solid in Jupiter sign.

Ketu feels good with Mercury, Venus, Saturn and Rahu. Ketu is impartial to Jupiter. His foes are Mars, Sun and Moon.

Ketu is planets known for otherworldliness. The individual impacted by the planet is skilled with otherworldly accomplishments. His different advantages likewise show his twisted towards strict and mystery mindfulness including otherworldly powers and phantom related subjects. Such people have incredible recuperating control and be able to mend through their otherworldly and tartaric force.

Period distributed to Ketu Mahadasha is seven years. His Gemstone is Cat's eye (Lahsunia).

Ketu, whenever set well in horoscope, brings a ton of extravagance, shrewdness and instinct to an individual. On the off chance that ominous, he causes pointless sorrow, poor focus, unfathomable stresses, uneasiness and phantom related issues.

The condensed subtleties of Ketu are spoken to hereunder:

Direction: South Lunar Node

Colour: Smoky

Circle time in One Zodiac Sign: One and half year

Circle time of entire Zodiac: 18 Years (Average)

Nature: Furious

Star groupings ruled: Ashwini, Magha, Mool

Neighborly planets: Mercury

Adversary planets: Sun and Moon

Impartial planets: Jupiter

Mool Trikon in: Leo

Magnified in: Sagittarius

Weakened in: Taurus/Gemini

Extraordinary features: Moksha

Metal: Mix, Mica

Valuable Stone: Cat's eye (Lahsunia)

Vimshottari Mahadasha period: 7 years

On the off chance that very much put signifies: Spiritual fulfillment

On the off chance that unfavorably put signifies: Arrogance and desirous nature

Representation: Old individuals

Ailments given by Ketu: Physical Weakness, Brain Disorders

Ketu Beej Mantra: Aum Sran Srin Sron seh Ketve Namah

To know more detailed Astrological changes of planets and its effects on your birth chart consult the best astrologer in India Ajatt Oberoi.

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kira-ani-mcgrath · 5 years

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I am redeemed You set me free So I'll shake off these heavy chains And wipe away every stain Now I'm not who I used to be I am redeemed

"Redeemed" by Big Daddy Weave

I drew this picture specifically to go with the personal story below the cut. Thank you in advance if you take the time to read it, but no worries if you don't. Either way, have a wonderful day.

Late December 2018 was when the Frozen II calendar leak began circulating. Included in the leak was information on the Russian caption for the page, translated to be a vague movie summary. This plot teaser stated that the group (Anna, Elsa, Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven) would be heading north into the forest due to some Arendelle-related mystery.

This was a bit of a let-down for me. You see, since my initial introduction to Frozen in 2013, I have been hoping and praying that the inevitable sequel would include Hans' redemption as part of the narrative (for various reasons that are too lengthy to detail here). Such a plot thread would be easier to accomplish if Frozen II involved travel to some other kingdom (or multiple kingdoms), especially the Southern Isles. With the information revealed in the plot spoiler, it was harder to picture a scenario where Hans would join the rest of the gang for an adventure. Yes, it could be done, but it would be more convoluted, possibly to the point of not being an option altogether. Perhaps I was being too pessimistic, but there was no denying the fact that I was feeling rather down about Frozen II.

A few days later, I was driving home with the radio on, but I wasn't paying attention to it. Instead, I was once again mulling over various ways Hans could be redeemed in Frozen II. Yet the more I considered possible scenarios, the more it seemed that the movie's revealed plot would make Hans' redemption an unrealistic feat. I reached the end of my train of thought, and, feeling disheartened, mentally chided myself, "I should just give up. Hans isn't going to be redeemed in Frozen 2."

At that precise moment, the opening notes of "Redeemed" began to play on the radio. Being quite familiar with the song, I immediately laughed and pointed an index finger to the sky. Not only was the title of the song the exact word my mind had just used, but I have long associated this song with Hans (one of many songs, but also one of my favorites). I had no doubt this was the Lord confirming something to me, as this was not the first time such a "coincidental" occurrence has happened.

It's important to know that, in the years since Frozen, I have created (and am still creating) multiple fanworks that posit different takes on how a Hans redemption could come about (and that's not including all the ideas I've had that aren't developed enough for full-fledged works). There have been several times when I've questioned the value of creating such things, only to have affirmation of my work come from unexpected sources at just the right time. Additionally, I have had many such question-and-confirmation experiences in my life, as well as a noticeable increase in the quantity of such instances within the past several months (albeit unrelated to Frozen and instead dealing with various other matters, such as my faith, my most recent pregnancy, and random everyday life things). Thus, when this specific incident occurred, I immediately recognized it as yet another such moment.

Since that night in December, I'd been internally debating sharing this anecdote with the world. Every few days or so my mind would recall the incident and I'd consider posting about it, but I'd always end up deciding against it. After all, it is highly personal, and it takes quite a bit of explaining to impart the importance of this experience (and I'm still leaving out personal details which make it much more powerful to me). This went on for some time. In mid-late February, I was once again musing upon the occurrence and whether or not I should share it. I jokingly thought to God: "If I hear 'Redeemed' on the radio this morning I'll take it as a sign I'm supposed to share this." And, since you are reading this post, you must know where this is going. I already had the radio on, and after getting back in my vehicle after child drop-off, I flicked through my presets to find a song I wanted to listen to. And, lo and behold, my second-to-last preset was playing the first verse of "Redeemed." (Granted, all of my presets are Christian radio stations, so that does put the odds more in favor of my "wager" coming true. On the other hand, the song is from 2012. That means it's 7 years old, and I honestly didn’t hear the song very often at the time, as more recent songs get played much more frequently. In my mind, the proposition was a joke, but I suppose I should have known better, since a lot of my recent question-and-confirmation experiences have been me joking and God proceeding to do the thing.) And thus, here we are. The large time gap between the second occurrence and this post is because 1) I take a while to get my thoughts out and refine them into something fit for public eyes, especially in a personal case such as this one, 2) it seemed appropriate to do some art to go with this, since I've been lacking in productivity in the creative departments for some time, and 3) life things requiring my attention.

On an interesting side note, I had three additional confirmations of this post while I was working on it.

#1) When I said, "There have been several times when I've questioned the value of creating such things, only to have affirmation of my work come from unexpected sources at just the right time," there's a particular incident that sticks out to me. One night in 2016, I stayed up late finishing chapter nine of my fanfiction, Frozen: Sacrifice and Forgiveness. Even though I posted the chapter, I was really depressed about it. Thoughts such as, "Is this really something I should be investing so much time in?" and "Does God actually want me to write this story?" weighed heavily on my mind, though I kept them to myself. After some internal arguing, I directed an unspoken question to the Lord: "Is this really what I should be doing?" Not much later, before going to bed, I checked my phone and saw an email from FF.net saying I had a comment on the latest F:SaF chapter. The comment was from a fellow Christian who had read through the posted chapters and was very encouraging about my story. It was just the right kind of affirmation at precisely the right time. Fast-forward to Wednesday, February 27th, 2019. I checked my phone in the morning and saw an email from AO3 that someone has left a comment on the last posted chapter of F:SaF. This was quite surprising, as I haven't updated the fic since September 21st, 2017. The comment was very positive, and it immediately reminded me of this post, which was a WIP in a computer document at the time. Not only did the new comment correlate to the aforementioned unexpected sources of encouragement, but F:SaF has been on my mind recently in terms of working on it again. Then, as the cherry on top, I was listening to the daily scripture reading on the radio while driving to work that morning, and the song that came on immediately afterward was "Redeemed".

#2) On Friday, March 1st, I had finished this post to my general satisfaction (as I knew it still required minor edits, plus I still had to finish my drawing) before getting ready for work. Upon entering my vehicle, I thought, "Wouldn't it be funny if 'Redeemed' played on the radio again?" I then instantly berated myself: "That's dumb. You don't need to be looking for confirmation of things all the time." I then flicked through my presets, and the first verse of "Redeemed" was playing on my second-to-last preset — the same song position and the same preset as when I was debating whether or not to make this post.

#3) On Friday, March 8th, I thought to myself as I was getting ready for work, “I really need to finish that post.” When I started my car, the radio was on, but I didn’t care for the song it was playing, so I jumped to my first preset. “Redeemed” was playing, starting from the very first word of the first verse.

Now, the question is: what was being confirmed to me with the original occurrence in December? The most straightforward answer is Hans' redemption in Frozen II. Mind you, not a redemption based on worldly methods such as "cleaning yourself up" and "earning it," but rooted in the Christian standard of unconditional love, mercy, grace, and faith. I'll admit, it seems far-fetched, given the fact that Disney is not a Christian company and the creative team has no Christians on it (AFAIK). Then again, "What is impossible with man is possible with God." Still, I have thought of other meanings for this incident. Perhaps it was simply a reminder to not get so depressed over a fictional character. Perhaps it was merely encouragement to keep going with my various fan projects, despite Frozen II looming in the distance. Perhaps it was a nudge that the sequel would contain a small hint of a future Hans redemption. Of course, that all sounds like me trying to talk myself out of trusting God for something amazing, as I am prone to doing. It's a struggle to wait on the Lord (especially for someone like me who hates surprises and wants to know things ASAP), but the truth of this incident will be revealed when the time is right.

One may wonder why God would care about a fictional character or a fictional story. It's not that He cares about those things in and of themselves, it's that He cares about His children and the salvation of humanity. My prayers (which are mostly just God-directed thoughts as I go about my day) regarding Hans' redemption were always something along the lines of, "Hey, God, it'd be really awesome if Hans gets redeemed in a way that reflects how Jesus saved us." Then I would mentally argue with myself about even making such a request, and always end at a variation of "Whatever is best, Lord." Though a fictional character's redemption is trivial in the grand scheme of things, God can use the most unexpected means to reach someone regarding a matter of eternal importance. He knows that, for me, this isn't just about a fictional character — it's about using that character's story to connect real people with the hope of the Gospel. Frozen was a movie with weak morals and a character that is looked down upon as irredeemable by the majority of viewers. If, by the grace of God, the sequel displays true love and redemption, then perhaps one soul out there will see the truth: anyone can be saved because Jesus can save anyone.

Feel free to message me if you aren't comfortable utilizing public replies or reblogs. Thank you for reading, and God bless you.

Update (Sept. 4th, 2019): So I’ve been lurking on a few Discord servers for a while now in addition to my Tumblr lurking, and overall there is a very negative attitude regarding Hans returning in F2. It’s coming from all directions: antis/haters who don’t want him in it, neutral parties who don’t see an available role for him to play, and fans who have lost hope due to lack of news. Last night I had an unpleasant dream on the subject. While the specifics are hazy, I know it involved the fandom discussing Hans’ absence in the movie. When I was going about my business this morning, I thought about the dream, this post, and the incident that brought this post into being. I mentally argued with myself, as I often do, about the situation. Lately, I too have been feeling disheartened on this matter. As I said, the fandom as a whole has been negative about this, so it was starting to get to me. In addition to that, as new leaks reveal more of the story, the chances of Hans appearing in any meaningful fashion get slimmer. However, no matter how bleak the outlook, I was given a supernatural sign to keep hope in a Hans redemption. Still, there was always the possibility I had interpreted the incident incorrectly, and adding in the other factors at play, this morning I was once again questioning God. I wanted another sign or some kind of spoiler-type proof, then scolded myself for being greedy and for seeking worldly validation of what God has said (instead of trusting Him to fulfill His promises). I had the radio on KLOVE as I was driving, and one of my “Hans songs” came on. It was a “lower tier” one (a.k.a. one I don’t like quite as much as others), so as I listened to it I thought, “It’d be nice if the next song after this was another good song, but one of the top-tier ones. It’d make me feel better about this whole thing.” Of course, I then chided myself, thinking, “Why are you always asking for stuff? Isn’t what you have already enough?” The song came to an end, and the next song began to play. It was “Redeemed.”

#Frozen 2 #Frozen II #Prince Hans #Frozen Hans #Frozen #Hans #redemption #Christian #Christianity #my art #KAM's thoughts #KAM's personal stuff #KAM's art

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wandaluvstacos · 4 years

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Chapter 15 is up on Patreon!

Book Summary

Zhas is finally back in Bhajar, the heart of the Hahnar Empire, and his responsibilities as a zhalja are more important than ever before. With rebellion brewing on Zhas’s sponsor’s native island of Khabut Naseel, Bazha Jabari needs to convince the Empire elite that he’s loyal to its new king. Yet when Zhas is forced to rescue his fellow zhalja Hallah from the attention of the powerful Lama Jhad using methods not appropriate to his station, suddenly it’s Zhas’s loyalty that is under fire. Zhas decides to sacrifice everything to salvage his sponsor’s relationship with Bhajar’s most elite families, and it results in two mysterious deaths and the reappearance of a queen with an empire of her own– and an unquenchable appetite for power.

For chapter archive, artwork, and further information, check out my website!

Excerpt:

“How’s your new fellow zhalja?” At this, Dhanja arched one of his magnificently shaped eyebrows.

“Ah. So you know about Tazhin.”

“I know about Tazhin.”

“Because you’ve heard gossip about it?”

“Tazhin is not an island of himself, you know. He’s got a few friends. Those friends talked to me. They told me Tazhin’s been acting quite reclusive lately.”

“Why would they talk to you?”

“They talk to anyone. Have you ever met a zhalja before?”

Zhas snorted, then laughed. “A few in my lifetime, I suppose.”

“They’ve expressed some concern. First Lama Jhad dies and now Tazhin finds himself as the zhalja of a man whose zhalja Lama Jhad wronged shortly before his demise. It does not go without notice.” Dhanja widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. “One friend thinks Jabari wanted Tazhin as his own and killed Lama Jhad to get him.”

“I hope you imparted the ridiculousness of that theory to Tazhin’s friends. Jabari didn’t even know Tazhin.”

“I told him that. But facts will never rule over feelings, and he continues to believe what he likes.”

Zhas swore under his breath. “These irresponsible zhaljas are going to get Jabari thrown in jail. If they say the wrong thing to the wrong person—”

“Everyone’s talking about Lama Jhad’s mysterious death, and everyone has their theories. That’s working in Jabari’s favor at the moment, because Lama Jhad was not a man without enemies. Jabari’s grievances rank far lower than others, and only zhaljas understand the compassionate relationship Jabari has with his zhaljas. To the duzhaq, Lama Jhad whipping a another man’s zhalja within an inch of his life would not be cause for animosity, and certainly not a reason to kill someone.” Now Dhanja was giving Zhas a coy look, as if he knew the truth. Zhas hoped that was just Dhanja being sly and not a genuine expression of knowledge. Zhas had trusted Dhanja with a lot in the past few years, but the truth of Jhad’s murder was not anything he’d hand off without considerable coercion. It was too volatile, and Dhanja was too crafty.

#The Sponsors #Book 6 #my writing #original fiction #update #Patreon

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wisdomrays · 5 years

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OUR SYSTEM OF EDUCATION

Our minds naturally turn to the quality of schools and teachers when a new school year starts. But we should not be able to help thinking about it constantly since schooling is so vital a part of the making of human beings. A school may be considered as a laboratory in which an elixir is offered which can prevent or heal the ills of life, and teachers are the masters by whose skills and wisdom the elixir is prepared and administered.

The school is a place of learning, where everything related to this life and the next can be learnt. It can shed light on vital ideas and events and enable its students to understand their natural and human environment. It can also quickly open the way to unveiling the meaning of things and events, which leads man to wholeness of thought and contemplation. In essence the school is a kind of place of worship whose 'holy men' are teachers.

Good schools worthy of the name are pavilions of angels, which develop feelings of virtue in their pupils and lead them to achieve nobility of mind and spirit. As to the others, however soundly built they may appear, they are in fact ruins – they instil false ideas into their pupils, turning out monsters. Such schools are nests of snakes, and we should be consumed with shame that they are called places of learning.

The real teacher is one who sows the pure seed and preserves it. It is his duty to be occupied with what is good and wholesome, and to lead and guide the child in his or her life and in the face of all events. As it is in the school that life, flowing outside in so many different directions, acquires a stable character and identity, so too it is in the school that a child is cast in his or her true mould and attains to the mysteries of personality. Just as a wide, full river gains force as it flows in a narrow channel, so too, the flowing of life in undirected ways is channelled into unity by means of the school. In like manner, a fruit is a manifestation of unity growing out of the fruit-tree's diversity.

School is thought to be relevant only in a particular phase of life. However, it is much more than that. It is essentially the 'theatre' in which all the scattered things of the universe are displayed together. It provides its pupils with the possibilities of continuous reading and speaks even when it is silent. Because of that, although it seems to occupy one phase of life, actually the school dominates all times and events. Every pupil re-enacts during the rest of life what he or she has learnt at school and derives continuous influence therefrom. What is learned or acquired at school may either be imagination and aspirations, or specific skills and realities. But what is of importance here is that everything acquired must, in some mysterious way, be the key to closed doors, and a guidance to the ways to virtue.

Information rightly acquired at school and fully internalized by the self, is a means by which the individual rises beyond the clouds of this gross world of matter and reaches to the borders of eternity. Information not fully internalized by the self is no more than a burden loaded upon the pupil's back. It is a burden of responsibility on its owner, and a devil which confuses the mind. That kind of information which has been memorized but not fully digested does not provide light to the mind and elevation to the spirit, but remains simply a nuisance to the self.

The best sort of knowledge to be acquired in the school must be such that it enables pupils to connect happenings in the outer world to their inner experience. The teacher must be a guide who can give insight into what is experienced. No doubt the best guide (and one that continually repeats its lessons) is life itself. Nevertheless, those who do not know how to take a lesson directly from life need some intermediaries. These intermediaries are the teachers – it is they who provide the link between life and the self, and interpret the manifestations of life's happenings.

The mass media can communicate information to human beings, but they can never teach real life. Teachers are irreplaceable in this respect. It is the teachers alone who find a way to the heart of the pupil and leave indelible imprints upon his or her mind. Teachers who reflect deeply and impart the truths will be able to provide good examples for their pupils and teach them the aims of the sciences. They will test the information they are going to pass on to their pupils through the refinement of their own minds, not by such Western methods as are today thought to provide facile answers to everything.

The students of the Prophet Jesus, upon him be peace, learnt from him how to risk their lives for the sake of their cause and were able to endure being thrown into the mouths of lions: they knew that their master had persisted with his teachings even in the face of death threats. Those who put their hopes on, and gave their hearts to, the Prophet Muhammad, the greatest exemplar of humanity, upon him be peace and blessings, realized that suffering for the sake of truth resulted in peace and salvation. His students observed their master wish peace and felicity for his enemies even when he had been severely injured by them.

A good lesson is what is taught at the school by the real teacher. This lesson not only provides the pupil with something, but it also elevates him or her into the presence of the unknown. The pupil thus acquires a penetrating vision into the reality of things and sees each event as a sign of the unseen worlds.

At such a school one is tired of neither learning nor teaching, because the pupils, through the increasing zeal of their teacher, sometimes rise to the stars. Sometimes their consciousness overflows the boundaries of ordinary life, brimming with wonder at what they have thought or felt or experienced.

The real teacher seizes the landmarks of events and happenings and tries to identify the truth in everything, expounding it by using every possibility.

Rousseau's teacher was conscience; Kant's was conscience together with reason... In the school of the teacher was the Prophet Muhammad, upon him be peace and blessings. The Qur'an is the recitation, its words are Divine lessons – they are not ordinary words but mysterious ones surpassing all others, and they manifest the highest unity in multiplicity.

The good school is the holy place where the light of the Qur'an will be focused, and the teacher is the magic master of this mysterious laboratory. The only true master is one who will save us from centuries-old pains, and, by the strength of his wisdom, remove the darkness covering our horizon.

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soyosauce · 5 years

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On Using Culture As Language In Last Tango In Cyberspace

“THIS REVOLUTION IS FOR DISPLAY PURPOSES ONLY.”

Last Tango in Cyberspace makes culture a character to be explored in equal measure as the main character. Lion, an empathy-tracker, or em-tracker for short—uses his unique talent to consume curated content provided by clients and extrapolate a future; not at an individual level, mind you, rather as a glimpse at the cultural significance regarding the content in the future. It’s an amalgamation of genetic drifts which hardwires an em-trackers’ pattern recognition. Hacking their intuition to do a sort of cultural prognostication.

“A small robot standing on a busy city street corner, looking around. I SEE HUMANS BUT NO HUMANITY.”

Em-trackers methods vary with the person and there are very few known trackers, at least in so far as ones operating in the same capacity of Lion, doing this very niche work for a living. A very good living at that.

Lion, in particular, is rigged to make these deductions from words and logos, though it’s gestured that each tracker would be completely different. He processes the content he’s given, reacts, and tells the client if he sees a future or not. It’s usually a binary answer; a “yes” or a “no.”

“His journalism days are behind him. No longer does he get paid for the plot. Now, he’s paid for saying yes or no—the sum total of his contractual obligations. His work in the world reduced to one-word responses. When, he wonders, did his life get so small?”

Superficially, this book is about Lion being contracted by a major corporate entity to take a look at a crime scene and apply his talents… but this is a very unorthodox application of his gifts and one which ends up taking him down a rabbit hole. Ostensibly it’s a murder mystery wrapped up in noir trappings, something people might expect from cyberpunk. This is where the clear iterations from the sub-culture come into play, however. Within the tropes of a pleasurable whodunit, there’s much more to be consumed.

“You can’t scrub everything,” says Lorenzo. “Information gets what it wants, and it wants to be free.”

A specific trope that follows noir elements in cyberpunk, the investigator in over their head, is a unique vernacular used. There is typically a colloquial dialect that is foreign to the reader and makes them feel a fish out of water. The reader interprets what these cultural elements are in the future with the remix of certain words or the use of completely fictional words, from time to time. Interestingly, the dialect used in this novel is pop culture itself. Not in the very limited sense of Ready Player One, where games, gamers, and gaming is the language—but in landmark moments in cinema and literature that is reasonably absorbed into the general intellect of society. The most common being the novel Dune. Lion carries it with him all the time and is the cornerstone for the explanation of Lion’s gifts and poly-tribalism, a central component to the way Lion looks at culture in the story. People are intersectional beings with complex identities. Tracing the identity back to its origin is possible with technology these days. Appealing to particular facets of the identity can be a predictor for if something is to be successful and thrive or be consumed by another identity that dominates it.

'“Shifting culture requires a confluence of inciting incidents. Something directional that leads to a tribal fracturing and reknitting. Often shows up in language first. In music. Fashion. It can feel a little like hope.” He points at the images. “This doesn’t feel like hope.”

I think this approach both hinders and helps Last Tango in Cyberspace. For one, it’s an interesting use of the trope which proved satisfying to read for me, personally. I had never read Dune but it is explained as needed. I never felt lost. However, I could see some people who had read the book and disagree with the cultural impacts asserted in the text having a problem with most of the book, as it draws from it heavily at a personal level for Lion, as well as a fundamental shorthand for what is happening in the plot; ingrained in the theme and a permanent fixture.

“Words are just bits of information, but language is the full code. It’s wired into every stage of meaning-making, from basic emotions all the way up to abstract thought. Once you can speak a language, you can feel in that language. It’s automatic. It creates empathy.”

The frenetic pacing that accompanies cyberpunk literature is replaced with a sort of artificial acceleration with the structure of the book. Lots of very short chapters, in other words. This allows for expounding on the cultural aspects that are conveyed during the text. You notice what Lion notices. These details becoming foundational to the extrapolations he draws on later. What this means though, is the pacing is somewhat sacrificed in order to get the reader to do the same types of pattern recognition Lion does during the book. It’s clever, but a slow burn.

”Hybridization, he figures, is destined to become one of the ways this generation out-rebels the last generation. How we went from long-haired hippie freaks to pierced punk rockers to transsexual teenagers taking hormones.”

For me, the slower pace made it feel reminiscent of Takeshi Kovach in Altered Carbon. Envoys in that novel “soak up” culture in order to fit in and navigate foreign cultures. Lion’s talent feels like it takes that idea and explores it more thoroughly, engaging with it more, and this method allows you to soak up the information as well. If it were frenetic some of the details would be lost, I feel.

“Lion glances back at the pigeons. Sees a flicker he didn’t notice before. Remembers that the de-extinction program was a failed effort, realizes he’s looking at a light-vert. An AR projection of an almost. The bad dreams of a society disguised as a good time.”

A concept continually being reiterated in the novel is “living the questions.” Something that also subverts first wave cyberpunk, the characters of which are generally on the spectrum somewhere, unlikeable and/or anti-social, and live on the fringes of society in a sub-culture of some kind.

Lion, however, is an embodiment of empathy. He is in stark contrast to those protagonists, relating to most everyone and so can assume their point of view. To the extent, in fact, he resolves to not use his talents on other people.

“We ache for this feeling, but it’s everywhere. Booze, drugs, sex, sport, art, prayer, music, meditation, virtual reality. Kids, hyperventilating, spinning in circles, feel oneness. Why William James called it the basic lesson of expanded consciousness—just tweak a few knobs and levers in the brain and bam. So the drop, the comedown, it’s not that we miss oneness once it’s gone; it’s that we suddenly can’t feel what we actually know is there. Phantom limb syndrome for the soul.”

Last Tango in Cyberspace feels like a love letter to cyberpunk while updating it. In Neuromancer, for example, Gibson’s Rastafarians were a source of major critique. They are also featured in this novel but the author instead traces the cultural aspects and importance of Rastafarian influences on western mainstream culture. It felt as though it was making a point to correct the caricature found in the original source material. Whether or not it succeeds I leave up to someone who’s more educated on that and can speak to it—but the intent is clear.

“the failure of language.” “It’s a creative destruction. Out of that failure comes culture. Out of culture comes desire. Out of desire come products.”

This led me to the only thing I didn’t like about the novel and a personal pet peeve of mine: authors phonetically using foreign language in dialogue. It’s usually done as a form of cultural appreciation and authenticity, I’m sure… but it results in the author needing to clarify what is being said regardless and it just feels uncomfortable. It’s pretty much always from a Western perspective on a minority culture and usually is the default assumption of what the culture sounds like. Lion is able to converse with them for plausible reasons, often not the case when this is encountered, but it’s always left me feeling squeamish. Just tell me they have an accent, placing them in whatever area if that is relevant.

“…what is genuine emotion and what is business strategy. The modern condition.”

As Lion navigates the mystery and ping-pongs about the globe consuming the clues surrounding the mysterious death the reader, too, is engaging in this meta-language. Both in terms of how it subverts or remixes cyberpunk tropes, as well as the cultural context and information Lion imparts as his process. All of which is given weight. Hooking the plot into these details down the line as it comes together.

Most interestingly of all perhaps, the author goes out of their way to state that all of the technology exists in the world today, or is in a lab somewhere being worked on, at the very least.

“The car sees emotions. Signals have been pre-programmed, down to the basement level, below Ekman’s micro-expressions, getting to the core biophysical: heart rate variability, blood oxygen levels. And all from pointing a laser at a tiny vein in the human forehead. The car sees emotions, yet feels nothing. So morality too has to be pre-scripted into the code. Aim for garbage cans and not pedestrians; aim for solitary pedestrians rather than large groups. Empathy programmer, he’s heard it called, someone’s job now.”

This makes the future we are presented with prescient in the same way Neuromancer did with the advent of the Internet and the rise of technology in the ’90s. But where technophobia is firmly rooted in first wave cyberpunk. Last Tango in Cyberspace is making a virtue of humanities peculiarities, some of which we barely grasp. While the Internet is not something we may understand, so too are we learning the same of our own minds. Empathy, after all, is not something we gained from modernity.

“Rilke knew what was up. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will gradually, without noticing it, one distant day, live right into the answer. What’s truer than that?”

And empathy seems to be the thing we desperately need right now, rather than the consensual hallucination that allows us to connect to others while, at the same time, enabling us to dehumanize each other.

“Last tango in cyberspace…the end of something radically new. Copy that.”

“Pitch black again. Like someone extinguished an angel.”

#post-cyberpunk #Steven Kotler #poly tribalism #neuromancer #altered carbon #Dune #Herbert

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