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long-hot-stories · 2 months

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The Peddler & the Fairy: Part 7

Devin introduces the girls to the big city.

In 10 parts, by Scholarly Mori. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

More mountainous and nearly impassable compared to the eastern half of the kingdom, the western region of Lindone was a natural fortress fortified by the jagged peaks of the Snowsquall mountains to the south. This natural border, running the entire length of the country, was intersected only by the Frigid Fingers Peaks that curved northwest.

Along with three valleys that were the only feasible means of travel in the region, the peaks formed a T-shape. Nestled in one of these valleys was Iceford, the second largest city in terms of area but first in population. It was too hilly for farmland and lacked any valuable resources aside from stone, so all other raw materials had to be imported. Its value lay in it's strategic location, being the only practical access point connecting the two halves of the north, allowing them to share their industrial endowments.

—----

"So you're telling me your eyes change color in winter, giving you scotopic vision?!?" wondered Devin as Reina led their wagon through the valley leading to Iceford.

Reina nodded. Her previously-amber eyes were now sapphire. "It's an adaptation that helps us Whitehorns see better in dim light."

Even though it was late morning, the light waned this far north, becoming darker as the sun's warming fingers loosened its seasonal grip.

"Whichever color they are, they are lovely."

"Thank you, herd-mate."

"If I ever add color to my sketches, I'll have to remember that," commented Azalea, sitting next to Devin and working on drawings of everyone they met during their recent escapades on the farm.

Devin stretched, glancing at Azalea's progress.

"Was Ryna's chest really that big?"

She cocked her head to the side. "They were big enough that I couldn't wrap my arms around them, so considering the scale of the drawing, yes. Speaking of which," she grabbed one of the gifted milk bottles. While offering Devin one, she heartily downed the other. "So thick and creamy. Do you want to stop and have some, Reina?"

"I appreciate the offer. I will later. I have a good pace going." Reina seemed to have become accustomed to being the sole puller of the wagon. She glowed with healthful vigor as she thoroughly enjoyed the exertion.

Azalea returned the bottle to the basket and resumed her work. "I had so much fun at grandpa Gylan's, life-mate!"

"Grandpa, huh?"

"Yes, grandpa. I've never had one, and he acts like it, or so I imagine what one acts like, and Ellyn was so kind to let me help with the farmwork. I learned a lot about how to milk the satyrs. Which reminds me -- life-mate, we need to have an important talk.

"Reina and I were discussing a few things last night, and we decided we want to do more to help, especially me, since Reina is already assisting with the wagon."

"What do you mean?" Devin asked.

"Food and things."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well, we wondered if you could sell our milk," she replied, lightly cupping her breasts.

Devin took a swallow of Cyna's milk, considering Azalea's idea. "We could. I don't know what your milk would sell for. I don't think anyone has even considered fairy milk as a possibility, let alone sell it at a market before. We can check the records for any past transactions.''

"I can't speak for the taste as I've never tried it. Also, I'm worried I won't produce very much -- by big people's standards, anyway."

"It's not always about quantity. Quality plays an important factor. Connoisseurs will pay a lot for rarity or novelty. We could take a sample and get it appraised. Who knows! We might have discovered and cornered a new niche market, but the first major hurdle is that you're not currently making any."

Azalea jumped up. "Not to worry! Two lactation crests coming right up, but we'll have to adjust our affinity-sharing with Reina. I don't have enough for both of you, which means you're going to have to learn how to use the glyph I'm going to re-paint on you."

Devin dug around in his pocket. "I asked Jyora to jot down some pointers before we left. Let's see what she wrote." Perusing the neat and stylish penmanship, "Huh. It's not very detailed."

1. Focus (helps to relax) & Visualize

2. Sense & Feel

3. Manipulate & Adjust

*Ask Azalea for Assistance

"Different people have different approaches, life-mate, so you'll have to find a way that works for you."

Azalea got on all fours, her ass swaying happily as she rummaged in her pack for more of her painting tools. Finding what she needed, she sat cross-legged and laid out various accoutrements between them: a small bag of charcoal, a vial of some clear liquid, several darker liquids, and a pestle and mortar set. She poured some charcoal into the mortar, grinding it into a powder with the pestle.

"Maybe think of it as something you can touch and move. You kinda have to visualize a stirring motion to both see and use it." In demonstration, she measured some of the charcoal powder into her inkhorn followed by several drops from the clear vial and what might have been a cruse of oil. Then she stirred it with quick motions.

"It also helps to be a little horny," Azalia added.

Her breasts spilled forward as she bent over to reach for more charcoal. As she sat back, the leaves of her dress parted slightly, giving Devin a peek of her puffy vulva squished against the wagon seat. Unless she was blatant about it, Devin was never sure if her seductiveness was intentional or coincidental.

"What do you visualize, Azalea?"

She smiled sweetly. "It's changed since I met you." She pumped the handle of her brush suggestively. "I find it easier to imagine a liquid, so naturally, I picture lots of delicious cum, specifically yours, and stirring my fingers through it so it coats them thoroughly, so I can slowly savor every slimy drop."

After wiping the drool from her mouth, she checked the consistency of her ink. "I had to make a double batch since Reina might take a larger crest. Are you ready, life-mate?"

"I guess," he responded reservedly.

"Could you remove your shirt for me, please? You're giving me the 'why' look. Well, aside from enjoying looking at your topless body, I'm going to remove the supplementary crest."

She reached into a pouch and rubbed iridescent, flecked powder onto his arm and chest. To Devin's surprise, the markings of the supplementary crest flaked off.

"I've been wondering for a while -- won't this come off in water or fade over time?"

"If it was left without activating, yes. When you pass affinity through it, it inscribes itself in and on you." Azalea brushed away the last remnants. "Now that I've seen a real glyph in action, I can paint the proper one on you."

She straddled his leg, loosened the string on his pants, and pulled them as low as she dared lest she become too distracted.

Devin lazily watched her work as she dipped a brush in the ink, and then stiff bristles tickled his skin. He enjoyed her closeness, the weight on his leg, and her body's warmth.

"Azalea, you're going to get my lap wet," he teased.

"Huh? Oh, sorry, I was so absorbed I didn't notice I was humping you."

Devin cocked an eyebrow.

"It's true! I kinda just do it when something is between my legs."

"I didn't say I didn't like it." He grinned.

Azalea playfully ground her hips with a bit more exaggeration.

Their playful banter helped to pass the time. Before long, Azalea brushed some hair behind her ear, smudging her cheek with ink. "There we go! All finished," she declared.

Devin looked down. Under his navel, a decorative glyph, slightly taller than it was wide, was meticulously painted in the shape of his internal reproductive organs.

"Now you just need to learn how to use it. I'll leave you to it. I'm going to start on Reina now."

Reina's ears swiveled upon hearing her name. "Do you need me to stop?"

"I should be able to manage."

Flitting her way under Reina's belly, she ran her hands through the cold, resistant fur. She ascertained a rough idea of the dimensions, but there was another issue -- painting while flying was a hassle. "Life-mate, do you have some rope?"

Feeling around the bed of the wagon, he pulled out a frayed coil of rope and held it up. "Will this work?"

"I think so."

After retrieving the rope, Azalea returned to Reina and wrapped several loops around the Whitehorn's midsection. She left them loose to form a makeshift hammock to support herself. Then she gathered up her tools and carefully laid on her back across the loops.

Reina adjusted her gait, attempting to minimize Azalea's swaying. "I've never done this before, and as far as I can remember, no one in my herd possessed any affinity. What's it going to feel like?"

"What? The crest or lactating?"

"The crest."

"It won't feel like anything when it's not active. When it actually starts working, if the girls on the farm are any indication, it will probably feel quite nice."

She placed the ink bottle on her tummy, patted down some unruly tufts, and proceeded to paint.

Meanwhile, Devin was puzzling things out. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and relaxed his body.'Ok, now what?' He flexed and tensed various parts of his body, trying to detect anything remotely magical. Nothing. "I'm going to need more to go on, Azalea."

"Try to paint a picture in your head, something significant or important to you." A hand extended out from under Reina, making broad strokes in the air.

'A picture, huh?' Closing his eyes again, he retreated into his mind:'Let's try envisioning a lake; a tranquil lake, still as a mirror, reflecting the starry sky.'

Still nothing.

'What if I add Azalea into the scene, flying just above the water, skimming and frolicking over the surface in an elegant dance, arms swaying gracefully while performing pirouettes?'

From there, his imagination took liberties: with crest aglow, she danced amongst the shadows of a cloud-obscured moon. The more she danced, the darker the color of the moon became until it blazed a fiery crimson. Skipping and flitting closer to him, she stopped at eye level with her freckled face flushed, her breath heaving white in the moonlight. A few droplets fell from between her legs, causing ripples as they broke the lake's surface.

'There; what's this feeling? It's warm but very faint. It's barely enough to be called an impression, but now that I'm aware of it, I think I just need to bring it to the surface.'

Focusing on the lake, he dipped his mental hands in the warm ripples. The lower he submerged them, the hotter and more viscous they became until he hit something and couldn't reach any deeper. Everything but the water faded into the background. If only he could go just a bit further. He tried digging through the barrier, scooping out the imaginary liquid, but it all just trickled through his fingers.

"Basic outline is done," announced Azalea, disrupting his concentration. "Also, you really create a lot of heat, Reina. Some cold night, we should snuggle!" She buried her face into Reina's belly and hummed.

Reina had grown increasingly antsy within the last hour.

"I; I wouldn't mind doing that. My kind's body temperature increases the colder it gets, s, so our faces get flushed," she purred as she bit her lip, trying to stifle a gasp. "It has led to some rumors t, that we are always a, aroused."

"Oh? You mean kind of like now?"

"Y, yes, but not from the cold. Azalea, Yo, your feet, "

"What about my feet?" she feigned innocence.

"They are; are rubbing me down there."

"Rubbing your what?" Azalea giggled.

"My; my udder."

Azalea pressed her small feet into Reina's udder. Her tiny toes kneaded and massaged. "I remember you being sensitive down here and how much I enjoyed playing with this squishy plumpness. Does it feel nice?"

"Y, yes, but shouldn't you focus on painting?"

"I can do both," she reassured her. "Remember when we first met, how I flicked your cute little teats like this? I'll take those shivers as a yes. I can't wait till they are full and heavy with milk," she cooed.

------------------

As they neared the mountains, their steady progress west saw the terrain transform from milder green valleys to rocky foothills. A narrow mountain ravine stretched out before them. Stocky trees and stubby bushes climbed the edges, giving way to jutting peaks freshly powdered with snow.

Reina continued to experience Azalea's full attention as the hours whittled away with each brush stroke during travel. Azalea added the finishing touches and smiled satisfactorily.

Wriggling out from under Reina, she flew onto her shoulder and shared, "Definitely the largest crest I've ever drawn, but it looks great. Maybe, if we can find a mirror in the city, I can show you. Now, we just need life-mate to figure his glyph out so we can activate it."

Reina leaned her head onto Azalea's and accused, "you love teasing me, don't you?"

Tensing, Azalea hesitantly asked, "Did I go too far?"

"No; I'm getting used to it, and; I'm kinda liking it," she encouraged her.

Azalea, feeling relieved, nuzzled into her. "Only because I love you, you tell me if it's ever too much, ok?"

"I will. After it's active, how long before I start producing?"

"Depends. For smaller races, a few days. I'd guess maybe a week for you."

Azalea nibbled Reina's ear and whispered, "I love warm milk before bed. These tiny fingers are going to have lots of fun extracting it."

Reina's heart fluttered at the mental image, but before she could comment, Azalea gave her a swift but passionate kiss on the lips. "I'm going to go check on life-mate. Looks like he's been trying really hard." With that, she flew off, landing on Devin's head.

"Making any progress, life-mate?"

Devin opened his eyes and looked up at the cheery face looking down. "Sort of. I think I felt something but can't quite grasp it."

"Keep trying. I'm sure you'll figure it out. That's more progress than I made during my first time."

"What was your first time like?"

"Such boldness, life-mate, asking about a girl's first time!" She put her hands to her cheeks, acting embarrassed.

She dropped to his thigh and flipped onto her back, her head toward him. The flaps covering her breasts fell to the sides. Walking her fingers up his chest, she hummed, "Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime. I'll just say it was with a girl who needed some; inspiration and first-hand experience." She made a V with her fingers and licked between them.

"But for now, life-mate, just keep practicing. The sooner you figure it out, the sooner you get to see these lovely beauties bigger and fuller." She puffed out her chest, squeezing her breasts in her hands. "I wonder how big they'll get? More interestingly, I wonder how much Reina will produce since she has two pairs?!"

Reina looked back. "Whitehorn young are considerable eaters. Sometimes we need wet nurses. Some herds make the excess into a drink."

"Have you tried any?"

"I have not, but I think I remember the recipe."

"Maybe we could sell that, too, life-mate!"

"Possibly. Some of the local pubs or brewers might be interested."

—--------------

The late morning sun was nearing its zenith. It smiled coldly down upon Snowhush Vale. Cut from what the locals called Mammoth Trees, the lofty, double-palisade wall girded the great metropolis that sprawled before the travelers. Lashed together with great bands of iron, the walls slanted sharply inward. It was hewed with a thicker base than the top. Its purpose was the same as most walls -- to keep unwanted things out. Instead of invasion or attack, however, it was a defensive measure against avalanches.

Devin shielded his eyes from the sun's reflection off the snow. A line of people serpentined outward from the gate, waiting their turn to enter the city.

"What's with the line, life-mate?" Azalea asked.

"Just a routine checkpoint for non-citizens. It shouldn't take long."

The trio took their place at the back of the line with the wagon, behind a pair of gossipy-sounding ant girls.

"Oh, life-mate, don't they look cute with their pickaxe and miner hats?" whispered Azalea. She flew over to land on Reina's antlers to get a better look.

Partially armored in a glossy black carapace that matched their pupil-less eyes, they were harnessed to massive wagons laden high with ore. Strapped to their backs were shovels. Each of them had one of their four limbs holding a mattock against their shoulders while two limbs rested on the runners of their wagon. Their antennae animatedly pointed at different people in the line as they held each other's free hand, giggling between themselves.

"Antabelle, see that gorgeous unicorn with the silky white fur and jeweled coronet over there? The one next to the handsome Griffin women bodyguard; do you think she's a princess from the royal family?"

"Maybe? What could they be doing so far from the capital?" her friend replied.

"I don't know. Maybe they secretly eloped and are fleeing the country to escape an overprotective family member."

"Such a romantic adventure would make a great bard tale, wouldn't it? Can you imagine if our princess did that, or worse yet, the queen? There'd be chaos! I'd have to find a new colony. Smearing your scent to all your new co-workers can be such a chore too."

"I can sorta understand from the queen's perspective, though. Her highness has so many attendants it looks a bit smothering. Sometimes you just want to get out of the nest for a while and stretch your legs."

"Don't you mean spread your legs?" her friend tittered.

"Well, that too, but sometimes don't you crave the excitement when digging a new tunnel, hoping to find something amazing? And suddenly discovering it?"

"Not me. I'd love to be a queen, just lazing around all day, pumping out eggs while all the girls fawn over my body."

"You always did like a good fingering after work."

"I won't deny that, but also smearing my scent all over you, so everyone in the colony knows what we did, just feels so naughty."

"You have plenty to spare, even after dripping your scent trail all the way from home."

Devin looked below the wagon. An evenly-spaced trail of droplets stained the ground.

"I know a store in town that sells toys to stuff that slutty hole. Should we go check it out?"

Azalea couldn't hear what the one named Antabelle whispered to her friend, but it was enough to make her friend blush and lick her lips. Losing interest in the two, Azalea smoothed Reina's hair. "Reina would make a lovely queen with a crown and flowing dress."

"She doesn't need a crown. She's already our queen," complimented Devin

"That she is, life-mate, and I love pampering her."

"I think your idea of pampering is different from most," Devin taunted.

"Nu-uh. Pamper is gratifying tastes, appetites, or desires. We both know Reina can't reach back there and is usually too shy to ask, so when we are on the road, it falls to me to take care of her sexy-time needs."

"But you just end up teasing her without the gratifying part."

"I'm building up her tolerance for edging, so when she does cum it'll be all the more satisfying," she said smugly.

"You know I'd rather be the one pampering you two," interjected Reina meekly.

Azalea stroked Reina's hair. "When the opportunity presents itself, I'll let you to your heart's content."

Returning to people-watching, Azalea enjoyed her front row seat to everything she'd only ever read in books. "I've never seen so many humans in one place!"

"Nor so many different demi-humans. How many people live here, herd-mate?"

"Hmm. The last census put the population at around a hundred thousand with a split of three-to-one, with demi-humans outnumbering humans."

"How do so many people manage to live together in one place?" Reina asked.

"Sometimes not easily. Iceford's early history was tumultuous. Its rapid growth was very chaotic and disorganized, almost to the point of anarchy. Some semblance of civic management was needed, but how do you go about finding a form of hierarchy everyone is ok with?"

"You'd need to find a common basis point," suggested Reina.

"Correct. They formed a council with select representatives from each species.

Initially, there was concern this wouldn't be welcomed by those who lived in swarms, herds, colonies, and other large-group-oriented races since they have a more monarchy or top-down hierarchy, but this turned out to be a moot point since those demi-humans felt Iceford was too confining and opted to live elsewhere. They do retain relationships through trade and consultation, though."

Devin reached into his vest and pulled out a small, flat metal plate attached to a chain around his neck.

"What's that, life-mate?"

"It's my citizen and guild membership identification."

"Can I see?"

Azalea flew over, and she held it up to the light after he handed it to her. She marveled at the craftsmanship. It was double-sided and gold plated with embossed silver filigree twisted in interweaving vines along the edges. Written in liquefied obsidian was his citizen information:

Devon Ebonplume, Human, Male

Weight: 158 Ibs | Height 5' 8"

Birth Date: Spring 24, 3610 Year of the Dryad

Citizen of Iceford

On the opposite side was the same decorated border. Etched on the right half was a cart loaded with cargo. Amidst the cargo, standing tall, was a pair of scales chiseled from an amethyst. Resting on one plate was a stack of coins, and on the other, a milk jug. In glossy text, on the left half, was written:

Merchant Guild Member

Amethyst Rank

Subsidy Commodities & Milk Distributor

Azalea's eyes sparkled as she commented, "It's beautiful!"

"I'm glad you think so because you and Reina will be getting one."

"We will?! Why?"

"It'll be useful for skipping the obligatory guard checkpoints, and they imply a degree of trust that you are a person who'll maintain the laws within the city, so certain government employees might be more generous with their time."

"Also, it'll denote we are a family, though maybe we should wait. If we really can sell your milk, we might register you with the merchant guild at the same time. It'll give you discounts at certain businesses."

Azalea held it up to her body. "I won't be able to carry it if it's this big."

"I'm sure they'll make one for your size. There is no small number of craftsmen available."

Finally next in line, Devin flashed his ID to the guardsman. His hauberk was emblazoned with a sundial. In each quarter of the sundial were the emblems of the city's prosperity: an anvil & hammer, needle & thread, saw & plane, bread & milk.

Recognizing the well-traveled merchant, the guardsman waved him on, giving the two girls inquisitive looks.

They passed under the massive, arched gateway and ventured past several chiseled statues, each engaged in a specific craft. Reina leaned over and scanned a placard: Bruni Leadfoot, Guild master

"Who are all these statues of herd-mate?"

"Guild masters, crafters of renown, experts in their field who contributed greatly to the city who helped found the different guilds. Since the cities founding, there are statues and monuments all over the places."

The entryway of statues widened into an expansive plaza with people milling about, chatting, relaxing, and some enjoying an early lunch.

"Everything is so huge!" exclaimed Azalea. She darted every which way, attempting and failing to take in everything at once. "I want to know about everything, life-mate!"

"Everything is a bit much," laughed Devin. "Well, there are four main districts: the Entertainment District in the northwest, the Manufacturing District in the southwest, old town in the southeast, and right now, we are entering the northeastern gate of the Commons District."

Great lodges with steep A-frame roofs lined the road. Azalea noted many of the two- and three-story buildings' top floor possessed a door stepping out onto a very unsafe-looking porch.

"Why do most of these buildings have a door up there, life-mate? They seem very inaccessible to anyone who can't fly."

"That's precisely who they are for. There is a large population of winged demi-humans in the city who make homes up there."

"They look cozy. Does Mavis live in one?"

"No, she still lives at home with her parents; says it's more cost-effective."

"Are we going to see her today?"

"Yep, her office is in the entertainment district on the other side of the city."

The trio ambled along the well-tended cobbled street. It gently sloped upward until they were above even the tallest building behind them. A trestled stone bridge came into view that was wide enough for three of Devon's wagons to cross side-by-side.

"Reina, when you get to the bridge, try to stay on the left side. This is one of the best views in the city."

In silent response, Reina angled the wagon, pulling up alongside the parapet near the center, and halted.

The grand manufacturing capital of the north stretched out below. Wisps of smoke gently rose into the sky from the many cottages lining the busy streets.

Comparable to the rings of a great tree, avenues and alleyways separated by homes and businesses encircled the city. Three of the largest thoroughfares, running parallel to each other, were paved darker and appeared better-maintained than the innumerable other connecting roads. The two outer roads were wider and sandwiched the narrower middle one.

"Breathtaking," voiced Reina with awe.

Azalea eye's sparkled. "I can't believe people could build all this!"

"Then, would it surprise you to learn that the lake in the center was dug manually?"

Azalea's jaw dropped.

"It's called Chill Mirror Lake. The original river was fed by runoff from the mountains. Over time, the river was widened and deepened as a way to tame the waters during the spring melt until it became that lake. Now, the river and its tributaries double as a way to ferry goods between the various craftsmen within the city.

"Centuries ago, there used to only be a small village here, surviving mostly through tolls ferrying people across during late and early winter when the waters were high."

"And what's that above it?" asked Reina, pointing to an opulent complex of buildings.

"That's where the city council and administration reside. I guess you could say that is where the city leaders physically and metaphorically keep an eye over the city."

In the center of the lake, sitting atop mighty granite pillars sunk deep into the lakebed, were a cluster of ice-covered edifices surrounding a monumental tower. Clock faces pointed in each cardinal direction at its peak. Four arched bridges extended in the intercardinal directions, connecting to each district. Another set of bridges, running north and south, connected to H-shaped warehouses on the shores.

Azalea tore her eyes away from the vista and fluttered to the edge. Far below was an unnaturally smooth ravine with a strong, flowing river.

"Are those mermaids, life-mate?" she queried excitedly.

"Describe them for me."

Azalea set her hands on the stone guardrail and squinted, "Gills on their neck, some near their ribs. Scales on parts of their shoulders and partially around their stomach. Some look to have a big fish tail, others look like they have two."

"The ones with a single tail are merfolk. The others are sahagins. They have a pair of legs with fins and can walk short distances on land. Under this bridge is the lake's exit point. Loaded barges are sent north downriver, where they'll merge into one of the fjords before finally meandering to the ocean. Once unloaded, the aquatic demi-humans bring it back."

Azalea jumped back aboard the wagon, unnecessarily scrambling up onto Devin's head to make as much physical contact as possible. There, she laid flat on her belly and stroked his cheek.

"Hi, life-mate," she sang.

"Hi, Azalea. Having fun?"

"More than I can say, but it's only extra fun because I get to experience it with you two!"

Reina stretched her arms. "I feel the same way, Azalea. Even though our meeting was unorthodox, I wouldn't be here if not for you two. I'd probably still be with my herd, wondering if I'd become an old spinster mare. What are we going to do first, herd-mate?"

"Let's see; we should stop by the guild since it's closest. Then we can drop the special order off with the alchemist and collect the money to give Mavis to deliver to Gylan. Depending on the request that Mavis received, we might have time for some shopping."

Reina set off again, descending the arched bridge. With Devin's guidance, she turned onto a connecting road, carefully threading her way downhill. Less distracted by the sights and more self-conscious, she noticed many curious glances from passersby.

Before they even exited the side road they were on, the murmur of countless voices met their ears. Reina came to an abrupt stop, almost colliding with a river of people flowing to and fro among the various stalls, storefronts, and each other in an organized cacophony of bodies. Sharp barks from vendors, shouts from customers haggling over goods, and the hollering of advertisers formed the general din of the middle ring of the city.

Reina motioned, 'this way?' to avoid yelling over the noise. Devin responded with a nod.

Soon after crossing the deafening street, the noise faded into the background. They continued even further down the slope they were descending, arriving at the inner ring. Two burly dockworkers carrying lumber hustled past them. They were followed by a small, brown-hooded figure with a long, hairless tail.

"This is arguably the busiest ring of the city. Here, all the freight and shipments are ferried around to their respective clientele," Devin related.

A moment later, a large bell tolled, causing ripples over the water as it echoed throughout the city to alert residents it was noon.

Presiding near the clock faces above the bell were six stone gargoyles. They were female in design, and their large, stone, bat-like wings acted as cloaks around their muscular bodies. Four sets of horns, one pair smaller than the other, adorned their heads. They perched on fearsome-looking claws gripping the tower's ledge. Most noticeable were creepy calligrapher's brush-stroked marks, unseen during the day, glowing orange along portions of their bodies.

Rumors and mysteries abound about whether the gargoyles were alive or not. On more than one occasion, Devin had felt eyes on him when he visited the council building. Once, he swore that one had changed position. Due to the height of the tower, though, he couldn't be sure.

"Is that where we'll receive our ID?"

"Yes, Reina, for citizenship. The other side of the ID is done at one of the two guilds -- those two buildings there."

To their right was one of the H-shaped buildings they had seen from the hill. A weathered sign hung above a smudged glass window: Merchant Guild Headquarters.

Approaching it, she realized it was more storage than an office building. Surrounding the many multi-story warehouses were colossal wind and watermills powering equally immense cranes.

"It's a very impressive building," Reina observed.

"It is. The merchant guild handles distribution orders of raw materials to the various artisans and tradesmen around the districts. The craftsman guild is on the south end. They manage the exports of finished goods to places outside the city.

"Reina, pull the wagon around to the side unloading dock. I'm just going to step inside and let them know we have cargo to unload."

"Ok, herd-made."

Azalea sprawled on Reina's back. "This place is amazing, isn't it? I haven't even seen a fraction of it, and I feel exhausted."

"It certainly does feel a bit overwhelming," Reina remarked.

Amidst the flurry of activity, Azalea noticed two beady red eyes peeking at them from between two crates. She sat up to get a better look, but several people passed by blocking her gaze, and by the time they crossed, the mysterious eyes were gone.

"Reina, what would you say if I said someone was watching us?"

"I'd say there have been many people staring at us since we arrived. You know we are a rarity in these parts. Was this particular person different in some way?"

"I guess not, though I couldn't really see anything but their eyes."

"Probably just a curious townsperson wanting a look."

Devin returned a few minutes later. "We can leave the wagon. They'll send someone to unload it later. Shall we walk?"

Azalea jumped to the ground, strutting a few steps before exaggeratedly heaving for air." I disapprove of this suggestion," she joked, acting silly.

Devin scooped her up, cuddling her. "The view under your dress is much better when you're flying, anyway."

Azalea did a little twirl in the air.

"And when you're tired, then you are always welcome to ride on me."

"I can? I know something I'd love to ride someday," She said in a husky voice.

"One day, my little nymph." He kissed her forehead and put her on Reina's back.

"I'll unharness you, Reina."

After grabbing their belongings, they retraced their steps, arriving back at the thronged shopping district. There, they altered their course and made their way counter-clockwise around the city.

"This area looks different than the other, life-mate, even though it's the same street," Azalea observed.

"Different neighborhoods have their own unique flare to them. Also helps to differentiate where you are. This one likes to feature lit lanterns and colored paper streamers over the street. Gives it a warm, inviting ambiance."

With Devin leading the way, they zigzagged their way through back alleys and disorienting pathways, arriving at the more subdued edge of the manufacturing district. Making a final turn, they arrived at a dead end. Eroded brick and vines ornamented a heavily-knotted walnut door. A faded metal sign read: Owl Things Potionary.

"Is that supposed to be a pun, life-mate?"

"Yes, it was all I could come up with."

"You came up with it?"

"This Is where my alchemist friend lives. She couldn't think of a name, so I offered some suggestions."

"Maybe we can persuade her to change it," chuckled Azalea.

"I'm not a spur of the moment type of thinker," Devin admitted and shrugged. "Just a heads up, my friend has had a secluded upbringing, so she talks and acts a little; odd."

At that, Devin reached for the handle. The hinges complained loudly as he nudged it open. They stepped into the dimly-lit room, and his nose was assaulted by the familiar, pungent scent of sulfur, preserving agents, acids, and others he couldn't identify. Long, short tables, covered in a hodge-podge of jars, bottles, beakers, and all manner of tools and apparatuses, ran the room's perimeter. Hanging over a square fire pit were several cauldrons, some bubbling actively and others slowly simmering.

Azalea was the first to notice a figure standing at one of the tables, looking very engrossed in their work. Tugging at Devin's collar, she pointed to the corner. "Life-mate, "

Upon hearing an unexpected voice, the figure spun its head backward. Azalea nearly fell off Devin's shoulder in surprise at the unnatural movement. The head's body soon joined in facing their way.

The odd figure proceeded to walk-hop over to the trio. It was a rather cute-looking motion until they tripped over their long robe in the process, landing face down on the floor. Springing back up, they closed the distance, in the same manner, as if nothing had happened. Stopping within a comfortable, conversational distance, they pushed their hood back. Two wide, piercing eyes blinked at them from within a feathery, saucer-shaped face.

The short, little boreal owlchemist adjusted her brass magnifiers. She rummaged through her apron pockets, bulging with corked beakers, bundles of dried herbs, and other paraphernalia. She pulled out a worn notebook, glancing at it. With an earnest voice, seemingly at odds with her expressionless face, she stated: "It has been 30 days, 12 hours, and, " she glanced at a wall clock, "7 minutes since the Young Patron last visited. This one is joyful you have returned safe."

Bobbing her head curiously at Reina and Azalea, she fluffed her white and brown feathers, exemplifying a very thick physique. "This one's name is Jeni-feather, alumna from Queen's Tundra Academy. Minor field of study: alchemical fluid dynamics. Major field of study: practical applications for golemantic peripherals. Latest hobbies: interactive, experimental studies in cross-species mating, and soon to be Young Patron's semen extractor."

"You're gonna be my what?!" Devin asked, startled.

Azalea jumped up into the air about to barrage Jeni with questions when Devin grabbed her. "Now hold on Azalea, I'm pretty sure I know what you're thinking, but before you start wanting to ask to join in, let me get some clarification."

Azalea clamped her hands over her mouth.

Devin took a deep breath. "Jeni, would you like to elaborate on what you mean by that and why the sudden change in hobbies? Last time I was here, you were completely infatuated with documenting all of the tiny things you saw under your magnifying device."

"Young Patron is not wrong. The recent investigation into the world of things too small to be seen with the naked eye was most curious. The surfaces of many objects, including blood and organisms in water, were insightful, but of particular interest was semen. The variation in smell, the gelatinous consistency, as well as the power to create life, has stirred a particularly strong desire for further academic understanding!"

Jeni's statement was accompanied by short motions of her head to look at each of her visitors, but primarily Devin.

"Wait; is that why you special-ordered from Gylan's farm?" he exclaimed in realization.

"Partially. As the major ingredient for affinity replenishment tinctures, funds are needed to subsist during the interim until this one can collect her own samples to further her hobby. As the second most trusted and only male friend, this one has chosen Young Patron as the primary donor," she declared matter-of-factly.

Devin mouth hung open, speechless.

Jeni continued, "But this one lacks the necessary knowledge to extract such a precious substance, so this one has attended establishments and gleaned material about human courtship to learn human's complicated mating rituals. She has practiced with her egg hole almost every night to learn skills and techniques she is certain Young Patron will find pleasing during the extraction process.

"In order to encourage Young Patron's participation, this one listened to lectures from professors in the oratory arts of human romance and attended interactive lessons in order to better learn efficient methods for extraction."

Azalea, no longer able to contain herself, blurted out, "Hi, Miss Feath, "

"Jeni," she cut in. "Young Patron's companions may call this one Jeni."

"Jeni, my name is Azalea, and this is Reina! I, too, am very interested in the study of interspecies mating! I'd love to hear more about what you learned!"

Jeni, pleased that another was interested in her research, hopped closer. "Choices for establishments were based on popularity and strictly-human participants. At first, this one was given many strange looks, possibly due to being the only demi-human attending."

"A few of the patrons inquired as to this one's purpose for being there. After informing them, she received several solicitations for assistance from several males, but they were ultimately declined as this one was interested only in observation and note-taking."

"Further prompting and encouragement finally led this one to accept the offers for extra samples. The process was disagreeable, though, and led this one to theorize that human males have poor hand-eye coordination as they kept expelling their semen all over this one's feathers instead of the collection vials."

Devin sighed. "So, in short, you listened to licentious bardic songs to learn how humans have sex and then went to a brothel known for orgies and got tricked into being covered in strangers' semen."

Jeni nodded.

Azalea had pulled her notebook out from somewhere and was rapidly drawing rough sketches of the scenes as she imagined them. "What else did you learn?" she asked excitedly.

Jeni blinked several times, searching her memory for a response to Azalea's question. "This one was startled by the extensive number of positions humans possess for mating as well as made confused over the particular appreciation given to the fatty lumps female mammals possess on their chests."

Jeni stared at Reina's and even Azalea's more-than-modest bosoms. Placing her wings against what appeared to be a very voluminous and pillowy chest, she applied a little pressure on her feather down, deflating the trapped air.

"This one does not possess such an attribute. Additional observation of a large percentage of the participating males indicated a preference to insert their breeding rod into the excretory hole in addition to the breeding hole. This one theorizes that her egg-hole might be viewed as superior as it is multipurpose and can satisfy both desires at once!" she posited, sounding strangely proud of this theoretical revelation.

"The recollection even now makes this one salivate from her lower hole in intellectual curiosity." As if to drive home the point, she spun around, lifted her tail high in the air, and pushed aside her downy feathers revealing a tightly-closed cloaca.

"Jeni, you might just be aroused?" suggested Reina.

Devin stared at her wrinkled opening. From between her legs, Jeni's unabashed expression was ascertaining his reaction. "This one is ready to collect Young Patron's samples at any time."

"Jeni, aren't you embarrassed in front of strangers?" Devin asked.

"This one can smell the arousal from little Azalea, and Reina's body language suggests she is shocked but not averse to observing more."

Devin looked at Reina, who shrugged bashfully.

"Does Young Patron not like this one's egg hole?"

"No; I mean, yes; I mean, it's a very beautiful shade of pink."

"This one has read of distant lands where spectacles are performed for those who wish to see the egg-laying process. This one is more than willing to present a close-up example of how it is done in exchange for Young Patron's samples."

Devin was losing this battle and quite a bit of his composure when Azalea flew to the floor, landing between Jeni's legs. She admired the inviting orifice above her head. Looking into Jeni's upside-down face, she offered, "Your egg hole is very pretty." Then she lifted up the leaf covering her own cunt.

"Thank you, small one. Your breeding slit is also very aesthetically pleasing."

"Might I suggest spreading your hole a little for added motivation?"

"This one is unable to due to the limited dexterity of her wings. If this one had an apprentice, "

"I'd be more than happy to be your assistant! In fact, I've recently had some experience! May I?"

Jeni nodded.

Azalea stood on her toes and spread her wide. "She's really tight, life-mate. Such a rosy color, not quite wet enough, but that shouldn't be hard to fix!"

Devin, by now, had his face firmly applied to his palm.

"Azalea, Jeni, we have many errands to run before nightfall. Maybe we should continue this at a later time?" coaxed Reina.

"Yes," they both said in unison. Azalea reluctantly stepped away, and Jeni put her tail down and turned around.

"This one, as per previous arrangement, ordered the mating secretions and milk from a female sheepgirl and a satyr male."

Devin handed her the wooden box containing her order.

Lifting the lid, she extracted the phial of semen and vials of pre-cum. Then she pushed her goggles down and held them up to the light. "These are most adequate. This one thanks you for your continued patronage and is glad for your support in furthering her livelihood." She pulled out a small purse. "Ten vols, as per the current market price."

Devin took the square coinage and remarked, "You know you are more than welcome, Jeni." He pulled the little owl in a warm embrace. "It was good seeing you again. We have another appointment, so we must be off."

Jeni didn't let go. "Thi, this one would like to request another order."

"Of the same thing?"

"This one requests an order of mermaid caviar."

"Coastal goods, huh? Sure. Any time limit?"

"No time restraints."

"Alright. I'll be heading up there in a few weeks," he said.

Jeni squeezed harder, looking like she desperately wanted to say something but hesitating to vocalize the words for a few moments. "This one would like to inquire how long Young Patron and company is going to remain in the city."

"Maybe about three weeks," Devin replied.

"Has reservations been made at any place of lodging?"

"Not yet."

"Is everything all right, Jeni?" asked Azalea.

"This one rarely interacts with others and has a strong desire to offer you lodging until you are ready to leave," she blurted out.

Devin looked at Reina, who smiled and nodded. Azalea hovered behind Jeni, nodding enthusiastically as she stroked the feathery head.

"Alright, we'll try not to get too much in the way."

Jeni's eyes lit up. "This one will be a good host and will prepare rooms for everyone."

He added to her head pats. She closed her eyes, relishing the affection.

"We do have another appointment. Can we leave our bags here?"

Jeni held out her wings. They all handed over the bags they wouldn't need in town.

Struggling to carry the load, Jeni waddled over to an open corner of her work table and set their things down.

"We'll be back," Devin announced.

Leaving Jeni's, the trio headed northwest toward the entertainment district.

"Your friend is so cute and has the most interesting hobbies, life-mate!"

"I'm sure she would be happy to hear you say that. She doesn't get much of a chance to share her interests with others. She was adopted by an eccentric golemancer who shunned the public, so her only friends growing up were golems he had created. Mavis and I met her when we were younger. She was insatiably curious about the world, very observant and quiet, but when she did talk, she lacked any tact or delicacy when conversing with people. She didn't do it maliciously; she just lacked experience. Mavis devoted herself to helping her acclimate to society as best she could. She left for academy a few years after I became an independent merchant, so we lost contact until she returned and opened up her shop."

"She seemed rather insistent we stay with her. Is she lonely, life-mate? Why not bring her with us on our journeying?"

"Several reasons, really. She's well-established here and has a successful business. While being a traveling merchant is a lot of sitting, the stress of traveling in all kinds of weather and unforeseen circumstances does take a toll. She doesn't have the strongest constitution, so it would be hard on her. Most importantly, she has her dream of creating her own golem."

"Is that hard to do?"

"I don't know the details, but the materials needed are not cheap. Actually building it, I hear, can take years or even decades. She wouldn't be able to accomplish that if she traveled around with us. I do feel bad that I can't be around more often to spend time with her," Devin admitted.

"How about we do something fun with her while we are here?" Azalea proposed.

"Like what?" asked Reina.

Azalea rested her chin on her hand. "I don't know. I'll think of something."

"Returning to the rest of our errands, are we going to see Mavis now, herd-mate?"

"Yes, her office should be about twenty minutes from here."

"Which way?"

"Turn right and head north."

With the exception of Reina, the trio had a chance to stretch their legs and wings. The clumped groups of stores and endless throngs of people became more sparse as they went farther north. The road and walkways became cleaner and spacious houses, decadent with costly cedar and intricate engravings, lined the more expansive streets.

"Is this the right district, herd-mate?"

"Yes. Locals humorously divide it up into two sections: the quiet and the loud. The quiet area is where the affluent live -- government officials and other high rankers in society -- and the loud area is coming up."

Passing under a nondescript archway, lively music and laughter drifted through the air.

"Oh! Musicians!" cried Azalea.

"And a great many street performers," added Reina.

Humans and Demi-humans, dressed in colorful regalia, gathered around the many entertainers and food stalls lining the streets, enjoying the gaiety and festivities.

Azalea looked around, a bit mystified. "Mavis works here, mate?"

"Yes. That building in the distance." Devin stopped and pointed up to a spire of white and blue that rose five stories above them. On each level were small porches with doors, similar to the residences they had seen earlier.

They approached the tower and entered a set of double doors, triggering a sharp ringing to announce their entrance. Inside, smartly-dressed foot couriers were sorting through boxes and letters.

"Why are they all wearing different colored uniforms, herd-mate?"

"To differentiate between the delivery categories: blue and white is for regular mail, yellow with purple trim for express, and purple with yellow trim is for priority. For a slightly higher fee, express is a favorite option. Only a handful of applicants qualify for the last one."

"Doesn't Mavis wear those colors?" asked Reina.

"Yes, she does. To be ranked a priority deliverer, a large degree of trust and discreteness is required. Most of the items being delivered by these few are very costly or rare items that require speed and special care to get to their destination."

"Mavis doesn't seem like a discreet type of person."

"Despite her very airy behavior, she takes her job quite seriously. She is one of the elite delivery harpies who has never lost or been late delivering a package."

Devin stepped up to the front desk. Without looking up, a stern old-looking looking secretary with tired eyes requested, "Send or receive?"

"Appointment," was Devin's response.

Pausing her wax sealing, she looked up over her glasses. "With who?"

"Mavis Ebonplume."

"And you are?"

"Devin Ebonplume. Brother."

She looked him up and down dubiously. Devin held out his ID car, anticipating the need. She shook her head and directed, "Top floor; NOT the roof; room E20."

"Thank you."

Heading to a circular staircase on their left, Reina tentatively put a hoof on the first step. "Can this support me?"

"It should be able to. There are certain standards for civic buildings to allow accessibility for all types of demi-humans, including the four-footed ones."

She added more weight, still tentative. When nothing happened, she slowly took several more steps. "Seems alright."

Without any incident, they arrived on the fifth floor. Searching for Mavis' office, they found it near the northeast side. Devin knocked, but not hearing an answer, he pushed open the door. That yielded a surprisingly organized room, aside from a pile of clothes in the corner, void of Mavis.

As Devin stepped in, Mavis was exiting a co-worker's office down the hallway. Seeing Reina standing in her office doorway, she sidled up to her, and gave her a quick hug. Motioning for her to be quiet, she snuck up behind Devin as he turned around.

Giving a cry of joy, she jumped into his arms. As he grabbed her shapely thighs, in surprise, to support the sudden weight that landed on him, she wrapped her wings around him. Then she tilted his head back and locked her luscious lips over his. Making good on her promise from when she had met them on the road. A firm tongue requested access to his mouth. Knowing it would be futile to resist, he granted her access.

Their tongues danced around one another as her familiar scent washed over him, conjuring nostalgic memories of sad times when he was alone, and her family took him in, of happy times when she complimented his cooking, and even of confusing times when he was unsure what her underlying feelings were, under all the teasing.

Mavis broke the kiss. Their breaths were heavy as they stared at each other. She normally wore her mask and armor of confidence and self-sufficiency well, and she had the talent and foresight to back it up, but the mask slipped ever so slightly. Giving him pause, her sharp ruby eyes showed concern.

The way her wings grasped him as if she wanted something of him but was afraid he would disappear at the mention of it reminded him of a similar time thirteen years ago, when he was eighteen, and she had turned twenty one.

She was procrastinating on certain life decisions. Her parents and family were putting pressure on her about her future, but the feather that finally broke the harpie's back was the suddenness of her first egg-laying. As far as Devin could remember, that was the first time she had shown him that his older sister, while much less than most people, sometimes wanted someone to just be there and to know that he had her back when she needed it.

Surprised by how intently he was looking at her, as if reading her thoughts, she released him and straightened her hat. The mask was firmly back in place.

"Now that's a proper family greeting," she cooed.

Azalea flew up, twiddling her thumbs, "Um, can I have one too?"

"Of course, my new little-sister-in-mischievousness." Parting her lips, she let Azalea take the lead. Her tiny tongue lapped happily at Mavis'. The kiss didn't last nearly as long as with Devin, but Azalea was happy, nonetheless, at feeling included.

"I originally started this to tease Devin, but maybe we should make it a family tradition," she laughed. "Well, that's two of three."

She turned her attention to Reina out of politeness at not excluding her. Believing her being shy and more reserved than Azalea and that she would turn her down, she was taken aback when Reina actually nodded shyly.

It wasn't often Mavis was thrown off her game. She stepped toward the tall Whitehorn, unsure how to proceed. Reina bent down. Their kiss was tentative at first, letting their lips feel each other out. As they warmed to each other, Mavis prodded with her tongue, looking for Reina's comfortability limit. Soon, the two women were going at it passionately.

Azalea had recovered and flapped up to her usual perch on Devin's shoulder. "I didn't expect Reina to actually do it, too. That's actually pretty hot."

"I wasn't, either. I think she'd show a formidable personality if she were just a bit more assertive."

"I do love the shy, passive Reina, but if she ever wants to do anything to me, I'm totally letting her."

"Once she becomes fully comfortable with you, she might just do that."

The Whitehorn and harpy finally came up for air somewhat reluctantly. They let the feeling linger a second before pulling away from each other.

"It's very rare when someone can get me hot and bothered, my dear. You certainly know how to kiss!"

"This was only my third time."

"Really? Must be a natural talent. Who was your first?"

"Herd-mate."

"And your second?"

"Azalea."

"I'm glad to see you three are getting along so well, but enough playing. We should probably get to the business at hand, or Devin might chastise me for taking work too lightly again." She winked at him.

She went to her desk. Sitting down, she opened a drawer and withdrew a scrap of parchment. Then she handed it to Devin, pulled out a small pouch of what sounded like money, and set it on the desk.

Devin scanned the note. "This says they would like to discuss the possibility of me being a broker for a long-distance trade negotiation between two parties, and they would like to discuss the details over dinner at Whitegold."

Mavis pushed the bag toward him.

"What's this?" Devin queried, making no motion to take the pouch.

"A foreshadowing of what kind of profit this deal could lead to. Also, since the meeting place requires you to dress up, a reimbursement for formal clothing."

"What's wrong, life-mate?"

"Few things are scarier to a merchant than money given before a job is finished."

Mavis pulled the drawstring loose and showed him. "Especially when it's this amount."

"Rest assured, Devin, there would be no repayment even if you did not take the job. It is an offer of goodwill, despite all the irregular secrecy. They simply want to have a productive night with you."

Devin calculated as many factors as he could imagine on the spot. After coming to a decision, he reached for the money. "I'll hold on to it, but I'm not spending it if I don't have to."

"That's fine, my overly-cautious little brother. There is no obligation to spend it."

"The note didn't give a date and time."

"Tonight at eight. A carriage will arrive to pick you up."

He had many reservations about this meeting, but he pushed them from his mind. "Well, I suppose we have shopping to do."

"Yay, shopping!" cheered Azalea.

"Oh! I almost forgot, Mavis, could you deliver this to Gylan? It's the profit from the girls' sales."

She took the bag of vol from Devin. "Most certainly. I can after I finish up these last deliveries for the day. Enjoy yourselves, girls! There are lots of fun things to find in the shopping district." She winked and disappeared out through the little porch doorway.

Exiting Mavis' office and the building, the trio left toward the shopping district.

To be continued in part 8, by Scholarly Mori for Literotica.

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absynthe--minded · 3 years

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Beren, the Nauglamír, and Editorial Oversight

this is gonna be a long one, guys.

so one of the things that makes Christopher Tolkien’s contributions to the greater legacy of the Tolkien Legendarium so complex is that he, as the posthumous editor of his father’s works, essentially was able to declare what is or isn’t “canon” in a way that no amount of scholarship (fannish or professional) will be able to truly successfully challenge. it’s his vision of Arda that was published as the Silmarillion, and his interpretations of the Professor’s works that have come to act as the standard and the baseline. after all, the Silm’s been traditionally published and translated into many languages; it’s far more accessible than out-of-print/print-on-demand copies of the History, and reading it doesn’t require you to slog through pages and pages of commentary or to have a good solid understanding of what the story is so you can follow along with lists of bullet points outlining events timeline-style.

of course, Chris also made mistakes, and those mistakes became enshrined in canon just as surely as anything else. I and many others have discussed the Gil-galad problem (namely, that Gil-galad’s parentage is oblique and strange at best and downright contradictory at worst, and Christopher’s choice to make him Fingon’s son was an admitted error) but it’s not the only case of a decision later proving to be the wrong one.

with that background, let’s talk about Beren.

Beren and Lúthien are in an unusual position in the Legendarium as a whole. Not only are they the sole author-insert characters, they’re also uniquely positioned as moral compasses - every other person in the Silm is morally ambiguous to some degree, or does bad or questionable things; not so with these two. If Beren or Lúthien does something, it’s explicitly the right thing to do, and this is confirmed by the narrative. If someone else opposes them, that is the wrong course of action. They’re not merely protagonists who make a lot of good choices, they’re good people, and the things they do are right because of their moral fiber and nobility. Of the active agents who are developed to any great degree, they’re the least complex and the most clear-cut, and the narrative itself treats them differently from other characters, validating them and framing them as the sort of spotless heroes that are in short supply in this Age.

This characterization runs headlong into the actions Beren takes in early drafts of the story and in the published Silm, where after dwarves kill Thingol and sack Menegroth, Beren (with the help of some allies, usually either Green-elves or Ents) ambushes them and duels the Lord of Nogrod for possession of the Nauglamír, a necklace originally owned by Finrod in Nargothrond that Húrin brought to Doriath after his release from Angband. Thingol commissioned dwarven artisans to alter the piece and create a setting in it for the Silmaril that Beren and Lúthien had won for him from Morgoth, and there was a dispute about payment that escalated to violence and ended in his death at dwarvish hands. The battle, later called the Battle of the Thousand Caves, was more or less a victory for dwarvish forces, as they escaped both with the Nauglamír and several other treasures from Menegroth and they defeated Sindarin forces that set out to stop them.

In most versions of the story, Melian sends Mablung to Ossiriand to warn Beren and Lúthien of what’s happened, and essentially asks them to do something to stop the retreating dwarvish forces from reaching Nogrod, where they came from. Beren does this, killing the Lord of Nogrod himself and taking the Nauglamír and the Silmaril home to Lúthien, who then gives it to Dior, who takes it back to Doriath when he takes the throne there. This is the version of the tale that’s in the published Silmarillion, and the one that’s consistent throughout the earlier drafts that Tolkien himself wrote.

But it’s not the only version that exists.

In The War of the Jewels, which compiles versions of the story written late in Tolkien’s life, we find The Tale of Years. This is not a cohesive narrative, instead functioning (like many of the writings that make up the bulk of the History of Middle-Earth) rather like a series of bullet points mentioning and summarizing key events. It progresses chronologically, giving a sense of passing time and organization to the First Age, and it has this to say about the Nauglamír and the battle at Sarn Athrad:

“The Dwarves of Belegost and Nogrod invade Doriath. King Elu Thingol is slain and his realm ended. Melian escapes and carries away the Nauglamír and the Silmaril, and brings them to Beren and Lúthien. She then forsook Middle-earth and returned to Valinor.

Curufin and Celegorm, hearing of the sack of Menegroth, ambushed the Dwarves at the Fords of Ascar as they sought to carry off the Dragon-gold to the mountains. The Dwarves were defeated with great loss, but they cast the gold into the river, which was therefore after named Rathlóriel. Great was the anger of the sons of Fëanor to discover that the Silmaril was not with the Dwarves; but they dared not to assail Lúthien. Dior goes to Doriath and endeavours to recover the realm of Thingol.”

(This quote is taken from the latest and typed version of the Tale of Years, an earlier handwritten version exists that is shorter but includes the same relevant details.)

Christopher Tolkien elected not to use this version of events, instead choosing to maintain the earlier tale where Beren had an active role; he was never truly satisfied with this, or with the Ruin of Doriath as a whole. In the commentary to the Tale of Years he wrote that “It seemed at that time that there were elements inherent in the story of the Ruin of Doriath as it stood that were radically incompatible with ‘The Silmarillion’ as projected, and that there was here an inescapable choice: either to abandon that conception, or else to alter the story. I think now that this was a mistaken view, and that the undoubted difficulties could have been, and should have been, surmounted without so far overstepping the bounds of the editorial function.” We have, for a second time, an admission of error, though unlike the Gil-galad question there is not a specific choice singled out as a flaw.

Why am I talking about this? Well, simply, I think that the version of the story where Celegorm and Curufin attack the Dwarvish host is the one that makes the most sense, and I’m here to make my case for its adoption as fanon. I’m not trying to take a purely scholarly view - I can’t prove that Tolkien’s true vision was for this version of the text, and of course it’s only in the one draft - but as a fandom we’ve reached the consensus before that specific versions of the story are preferred, even when they only appear in a single draft (Amrod’s death at Losgar stands out as the best example).

So here’s my argument.

1. Beren is not a violent man, and having him act as a murderer is out of character.

This one is pretty simple - Beren is an outlaw fighting against Sauron, a defender of his family’s land, a nobleman in his own right, and a vegetarian who is keenly aware of what it is to be hunted and pursued. The man we’re introduced to in the other versions of the story is not someone who would answer violence with violence unless there was no other choice, and in fact he becomes less violent as the story goes on. Putting him in a position where he’s acting militarily against the Dwarves introduces elements to his character that simply don’t exist before this story. It’s inconsistent, and it also ends his life on a strange, sour note - he’s not an uncomplicated hero anymore, he’s also got blood on his hands.

2. Beren is one of the moral compasses of the Silmarillion, and having him be the one to spearhead the ambush of the Dwarves frames that act of violence in a very troubling light.

Like I said above, Beren and Lúthien are good people who do good things, and those things are good because of who’s doing them. If Beren kills the Dwarves and the Lord of Nogrod, that act becomes justifiable, and perhaps even the right thing to do, simply due to the fact that one of the two true heroes of the First Age is doing it. The narrative never frames this as a downfall or a moral event horizon for Beren, either - he made the correct decision and the consequences that come afterward aren’t things that can be blamed on him. But wholesale slaughter, even slaughter of people who do bad things, is not something Tolkien ever condones or paints in a truly positive light, so it makes more sense for it to come at the hands of people who aren’t solely positive forces. It’s thematically in line with what Tolkien does through the rest of the text, and it feels more like Arda, at least to me. I think an argument could be made that Tolkien realized that making Celegorm and Curufin the responsible party would achieve this end, and that’s why this version exists in the first place, but there’s no proof of it.

3. The Laiquendi are nonviolent, and it makes no sense for them to be involved in this fight. The Ents being involved at all is somewhat nonsensical based on what we know of them in The Lord of the Rings.

Another simple one - we don’t know much about the Laiquendi, but we know they’re not really keen on warfare or on any undue violence, so having them be Beren’s backup is a weird divergence from their presentation in the rest of the Legendarium. And the Ents are pretty universally depicted as uninvested in the wars of the incarnates, only taking action against Saruman when it becomes apparent they have no other choice - why should they care about Thingol’s death, or care enough to murder dwarves?

4. Melian’s actions make far more sense in a version of the story where she doesn’t merely abandon Doriath once she realizes Thingol is dead.

If Menegroth is already sacked, and she cannot hold the realm together on her own as its Queen without really fucking shit up with reality-warping shadow magic, her choice to abandon it after delivering the Silmaril safely to her daughter and warning her that Dior will be needed soon is far less irresponsible.

5. Celegorm and Curufin ambushing the dwarves makes more sense than any other alternative.

Of course Celegorm and Curufin were actively watching Doriath for any sign of weakness. Of course they noticed the dwarves leaving with stolen treasures, and heard rumors that Thingol was dead and his killers had the Silmaril. Given the choice of following Melian (if they even were aware of Melian’s departure) and following dwarves, of course they picked the dwarves. Their ambush and attack and slaughter is consistent with their past behavior, as is their refusal to attack Lúthien because they were scared as fuck of her.

What’s more, this also explains the Fëanorians’ refusal to attack Doriath immediately after the dwarves do - they were unsure of whether or not Lúthien was in Menegroth and ruling as its queen or acting in some capacity as Dior’s defender. Celegorm in particular isn’t the type to hesitate - he’s impulsive, and rash, and rushes into bad decisions without considering their consequences, it’s even in his name. But they waited for years, giving Dior time to marry and have children of his own, and then even sent letters rather than attack directly - and yes, some of this might have been Maedhros’s influence, or an attempt by all of them to stave off the Oath, but it’s also plausible that they were trying to figure out whether or not they’d have to take on the same woman who made fools of them before.

I, at least, think this version of the story makes the most sense, and I’ll be adopting it into my personal canon. I obviously think it’s worth advocating for on a larger scale, and I hope I’ve made a good argument for its widespread adoption.

#silmarillion meta #silmarillion #tolkien #absynthe's meta #beren and luthien

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dwellordream · 3 years

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“…There is a real belief on behalf of a not insignificant subset of society that the medieval Church was a shadowy organisation dedicated solely to suppressing knowledge and scientific advancement. This is not true.

The Church was in all actuality the medieval period’s largest benefactor of scholars of all stripes. Initially, in the early medieval period much learning was focused in monastaries in particular. Because monks took a vow to eschew idleness, they were always looking for new ways to work for the greater glory of God, or whatever. Sometimes this took the form of doing manual labour to feed themselves, but as monasteries such as Cluny rose to prominence they did more and more work in libraries as well.

Monks copied and embellished manuscripts and kept impressive libraries. Sometimes this work took place inside what we call “scriptoria” where more than one scribe is working at a time. They saw themselves as charged with transmitting knowledge. A lot of that knowledge was, of course, pagan, because they were extremely into classical thinkers. They were also reading this work of course, and writing their own commentaries on it. Many of them took the medical texts and used them to set up hospitals within their monasteries, as we have talked about before.

Lest you think this is all one big sausage fest, women were also very much about that book life within nunneries. They also had their own scriptoria and were busy scribbling away, reading, writing, and thinking. If you wanted a life where you strove for new scholarly heights, odds were that in the early medieval period you did that inside a monastery on nunnery.

As the medieval period moved on, scholarship eventually moved out of the cloister and into cities when the medieval university was established. The first degree awarding institution to call itself a university was the University of Bologna established around 1088, though teaching had been going on there previously and students had been going to Bologna from at least the late tenth century. Second was the University of Paris, which was established in 1150. Again teaching had been happening there from much earlier, and at least 1045.

Medieval universities weren’t like universities now, in that they didn’t have established campuses or anything like that. They were, more or less, a loose affiliation of scholars who would provide lessons to interested students. The University of Paris, for example, described itself as “a guild of teachers and scholars” (universitas magistrorum et scholarium).

In Paris there were four faculties: Arts, Medicine, Law, and Theology. Everyone had to attend the Arts school first where they would be asked to learn the trivium, which was comprised of rhetoric, logic, and grammar. Basically that meant all undergrads spent their time learning to argue, which is how the whole Abelard thing comes about. Then if they wanted more they could go do medicine, law, or theology. Theology was considered the really crazy good stuff, as medieval theologians were sorta held up in the way we worship astrophysicists like Neil de Grasse Tyson (ugh) or Stephen Hawking now. But if you wanna be a dick and super modern about it and think that nothing is more important than science, you will note that medicine is there and actively pursued.

So what, what does all of this have to do with the Church not being suppressive? Well literally everyone, both scholars and students in a medieval university was a member of the clergy. That’s right. Are you a Christian and you wanna learn about medicine? Well you need to take holy orders first. So every single scientific advancement that came out of a medieval university (and there were plenty) was made by a man of the cloth.

The quick among you might have spotted that the thing about unis is that they were just for dudes though, and that is lamentably true. Women weren’t able to take the same orders as men, which means they were excluded from university training. Plenty of them got tutored if they were rich. (See poor Heloise who just had Abelard, like, do himself at her.) Otherwise there was plenty of sweet stuff going on in nunneries still and always, as the visionary natural biologist Hildegard of Bingen can attest. Monasteries were also still producing good stuff as Thomas Aquinas would be happy to let you know from the comfort of his Dominican order.

Given that all of this is the case, it’s hard to square that circle of “the Church is intentionally suppressing knowledge!” with the fact that everyone actively working on acquiring and furthering knowledge was a member of it and all. The Church was a welcoming home to scholars because it was a place where you got the time needed to contemplate subjects for a long time. If you have your corporeal needs taken care of, then you can go on to think about stuff. The Church offered that.

Having said all of this, there were, of course, plenty of Jewish and Muslim scholars at work in medieval Europe as well. The thriving Jewish communities of the medieval period had their own complex theological discussions about the Talmud, and produced their own truly delightful sexual and scientific theory that I will never tire of reading.

I’ve also talked at length about how Islamic medical advances were very much taken on board by medieval Christians in Europe. The fact that the Christians in holy orders beavering away at the medical faculties of universities across Europe were very much looking to a Muslim guy called Ibn Sinna for medical knowledge makes it hard to see the Church as an oppressive hater of all things non-Catholic. I’m just saying.

What else is at play here? Meh, society writ large. A lot of us in the English as a first language speaking world, and in northern Europe more generally have been raised in a Protestant context even if we ourselves are not Protestant. The thing about that is Protestants, famously, is that they are not huge fans of the Church. Big news, I know. In the Early Modern period this could get kinda wild, with things like the Great Fire of London being blamed on a nefarious “Papish plot”, for example, becoming a nice early example of a conspiracy theory. (That conspiracy theory was still written in Latin at the based of The Monument built to commemorate the fire until 1830 when the Catholics were officially emancipated in Britain. LOL.)

When the whole Enlightenment thing went down, generalised distrust of Catholics was then later compounded by the fact that “serious” thinkers aka Voltaire’s ridiculously basic self began to categorise the accumulation of knowledge specifically in opposition to religious thought. This is the old “Age of Reason” which we currently allegedly reside in, versus the “Age of Faith” idea. The Church as an overarching institution from the age of faith was therefore thought of as necessarily regressive, and it became assumed that it has always been actively attempting to thwart advantage for vaguely sinister reasons that are never fully articulated.

…Now, plenty of people were killed for witchcraft because they were doing medicine. The witch trials were a very real thing, and you know when and where they happened? In the modern period, and usually with a greater regularity in Protestant places. Witchcraft trials peak in general from about 1560-1630 which is the modern period. The most famous trials with the biggest kill count took place in Trier, Fulda, Basque, Wurtzburg, Bamberg, North Berwick, Torsåker and Salem. You know what was going on in most of the places? The Reformation. Witch trials sort of reflected various confessions of Christianity’s ability to effectively protect their flocks from evil. Did Catholics kill “witches” oh you bet your sweet ass they did. So did Protestants, and it was all fucking ugly.

What is important to note is that in countries where Catholicism was static witch trials were largely unheard of. Ireland, the Iberian Peninsula, and Italy, for example, just didn’t go in for them even though they were theoretically in the clutches of a nefarious Church bent on destroying all medical knowledge or something.

Now, none of this is to excuse the multifarious sins of the institutional Church over the years. In many ways my entire career as a medieval historian is a product of the fact that I was frustrated with the Church after 16 years of Catholic school. If you had to go to a High School named after the prosecutor in the Galileo trial, you might also end up devoting yourself to picking intricate theological fights with the Church, OK? (Yes, this is my origin story.)

And that brings us to the crux of the matter: if you make up a bunch of stuff that the Church did not do it makes it harder to critique them of the manifold things they actually did do and are doing right fucking now. We need to be critiquing the Magdalene Laundries; the international cover up of pedophile priests; signing an actual concordant with Nazi Germany; the regressive attitudes towards abortion and contraception that happen still, now, and endanger the lives of countless women. All of this is real, and calls for the strongest possible condemnation.”

- Eleanor Janega, “JFC, calm down about the medieval Church.”

#medieval #religion #education

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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YYH Recaps: Episode 4 “Requirements for Lovers”

Hello, everyone! It's been quite a while, huh? Ah, the endless cycle of wanting to write and yet, astoundingly, not writing. I know it well.

Good ol' writer's block has skedaddled for a time though, so let's make good use of that and dive into Episode Four: "Requirements for Lovers."

Ohhh, YYH getting spicy with its titles 😏

Actually wait, I shouldn't be making dumb jokes just yet. First I want to acknowledge a slight change to future recaps: YYH, RWBY, and anything else I might try my hand at. Namely, a lack of pictures moving forward. A few weeks ago — months? I honestly can't keep track — tumblr implemented a new limitation where no post can have more than ten images in it. It's a move that, while I'm sure has its justifications, makes sharing analyses of visually-based media all the more difficult. I'll be doing my best moving forward to describe scenes as needed, as well as combining connected images together to stretch out my limit, but I'm not going to pretend that it'll be the same as getting the visual play-by-play we’re used to.

Tumblr certainly is a website, huh?

Anyway, we open on Yusuke once again lamenting the difficulty of hatching a spirit beast that doesn't immediately devour him from the head down. On the one hand this is an admittedly easy way to reset the story over the course of this arc — the storytelling equivalent of waking your character up each morning — yet I cannot deny that if I were undergoing a resurrection test, it would consume my every thought too. Can't really blame Yusuke for endlessly bringing the conflict up when the conflict is this deadly.

Well, deadly for a ghost, anyway.

Specifically, he's worried about how embarrassing it would be to get eaten by something that came out of an egg this tiny. I'm torn between reminding a fictional character that things grow — a pissed off chicken could kick my ass and it started out in an egg too — and just shaking my head over the absurdity of worrying about embarrassment when, you know, you would cease to exist. It's not even a matter of, "What if I die and then I'm embarrassed about it in the afterlife :( " Yusuke is already IN the afterlife. He's got nowhere to go but oblivion!

Luckily, Botan takes a more practical approach to these worries, pointing out that he'll be just fine provided he does some good deeds. Yusuke starts a rant about how do-gooders are only ever out for themselves.

Yusuke, you dumb-dumb, you're a do-gooder now. What was all that help for Kuwabara, hmm? As said, these early episodes exist in a semi-reset loop, where Yusuke needs to stew in his main character flaws for a while before any real growth starts to stick. Those flaws being, primarily, "I'm a pessimist" and "also I hate myself."

Case in point, Botan accuses him of always seeing the glass as half empty. Which, while true enough (outside of his confidence in fighting, anyway), by now we've got a pretty good sense of where Yusuke developed this attitude. He affirms this by talking about how Koenma's got him by the balls, "just another idiot abusing his power!" With an alcoholic mother and those teachers from last episode, it's no wonder Yusuke thinks this way. Mr. Takenaka's interest and Keiko's care aren't enough to combat the rest of Yusuke's experience, not when Takenaka is an outlier and Keiko is Yusuke's peer. Her desire to keep him on the right track reads only as an inevitability at best (the downside of having a perfect childhood friend), or a legitimate annoyance at worst. Or, as we'll continue to see in this episode, a way for them to flirt.

Is it any wonder Yusuke would sneer at Koenma's offer then, expecting the worst? The fact that Yusuke is still undergoing the challenge at all, no matter what he says, speaks volumes to me.

However, Botan is less than comfortable with his criticisms. She panics a bit at Yusuke insulting the (junior) ruler of the underworld so blithely. That, and the fact that he's carelessly tossing his egg around.

(Yes we’re using precious picture space for memes are you SURPRISED?)

Anyway, Botan isn't just concerned for the sake of concern. She cautions Yusuke against speaking too freely because there may be investigators checking in on his progress. No sooner does he ask what those investigators look like than one appears.

Thunder! Lighting! An energy so intense that Yusuke is briefly blinded! It is, as he says, quite the entrance. What kind of being could possibly be at the heart of such an astounding show?

Why, this teeny-tiny cutie, of course.

Remember, few appearances in YYH coincide with the character's true self. Would you ever assume this is the all-powerful investigator who holds Yusuke's future in her hands? Of course not. That's the point.

The investigator introduces herself as Sayaka and immediately demonstrates that she has no more patience for Yusuke's attitude than Botan does. "These damn kids," he mutters and my brain briefly blue screens because Yusuke. You're fourteen.

Plus, Sayaka and Botan clearly have some sort of eternal youth situation going on, so there's that too.

Sayaka is, in a word, fantastic. She pulls no punches with Yusuke, teleporting away from him with what can only be described as a shit-eating smile, all while refusing to tell him what exactly she's investigating. “I’m sorry, but that’s a secret!” However, Keiko is clearly at the forefront of her interest. She refers to her as Yusuke's "girlfriend."

Botan is more than happy to point Keiko out — because of course they're still following her around! — and pulls a Et tu, Brute? on Yususke, leading Sayaka right to her. Like most of the Underworld, Sayaka is rather shocked that the pretty, popular, scholarly girl is supposedly into the delinquent. It's the power of childhood friendship, you fools! Specifically, Sayaka references the "positive markings" that Keiko has accumulated, but the audience already knows by now that such markings are suspect at best. Yusuke himself is proof of that. So if his terrible marks don't preclude him from being a young kid's savior, should we really view Keiko's as proof of superiority?

I mean, Keiko is fantastic, but that's not really the point here.

Starting her own investigation into Yusuke's life, Sayaka begins with one hell of a bombshell: "There's no point in doing [the resurrection] if the people closest to you don't care." WOW. Not only is that a harsh assessment, it's one I don't think I can personally get behind. The offer to restore Yusuke to life is built on the acknowledgment that their system is flawed (even if there's no work to change or dismantle that system): they thought he was worthless, his sacrificial death seems to have proven them wrong, and now they want further evidence, in the form of this trial, that Yusuke is a good person at heart. The whole point of this challenge is to give him a second chance, with testimonies like Mr. Takenaka's emphasizing that Yusuke has always been capable of more, so long as he applies himself. This, as we'll see throughout the series, applies to relationships too. The Yusuke with one friend he play-fights with, a distant mother, and a school worth of kids who are terrified of his very name is not the future Yusuke they expect him to become, so... why base his resurrection on what he's already (not) accomplished? Granted, the show is very unclear about what, if anything, Sayaka will do if she decides that Yusuke doesn't have a life worth going back to (even if I have my own theory discussed at the end), but the fact that this is suddenly a factor at all seems grossly unfair, not entirely unlike Kuwabara's rigged promise. We as the audience know that people love Yusuke. Yusuke himself is beginning to acknowledge that. But if this fourteen year old delinquent truly had no one that wanted him back from the dead... isn't that all the more reason to allow a resurrection and give him the chance to build a life where he would be missed?

This stupid shonen got me thinking too much istg.

Yusuke, ever the self-deprecating pessimist, bypasses all of the above thoughts and jumps straight to, "It's clear if [Keiko] had any sense she'd want me gone." I'd find that attitude incredibly sad if I wasn't distracted by how cute Botan and Sayaka are, sitting on the oar together. The spirit girls who fly together, thrive together!

Botan starts teasing Yusuke about having a crush, which just feeds his temper and Sayaka's confusion. Deciding that she needs to gather more info, they follow along for an average day of school because these earlier episodes are, apparently, ghost-stalk Keiko hours.

We see her reading aloud in class from Heart of Darkness (not the easiest book for some middle schoolers), scoring a point during volleyball practice, refusing to let one girl cheat off her homework, but happily helping another who runs up with a question. So she's pretty, athletic, and academically successful, the trifecta for any good love interest. Sayaka is impressed not just with her "nearly perfect" scores, but also the maturity that Keiko demonstrates, such as maintaining her morals about cheating while remaining compassionate.

Actually, I really love the contrast this provides for us, the viewer. Meaning, Keiko is shown to be at her least mature when in Yusuke's presence. Not that her responses aren't justified, but watching her dramatically snatch gum from his mouth, slap him across the face, or pull crazed expressions as she yells at him is a far cry from this calm, poised, soft-spoken Keiko. It's a way to visually show us that she's comfortable in his presence, despite the suspect humor attached. Not that the Keiko we see at school is faking or anything — she is legitimately that kind and articulate — but we see that being with Yusuke allows her to relax in a way she doesn't with others. School!Keiko is, as Sayaka says, pretty much perfect, 24/7. Yusuke's Keiko is a little rougher around the edges, in a way that implies a multifaceted personality shining through.

However, the only conclusion our trio draws is that, given Keiko's accomplishments, any attraction must be one-sided.

Poor Yusuke lol.

In a plot move that is so ridiculously contrived, just as Yusuke is grappling with the accusation that Keiko couldn't possibly like him back, a "handsome boy" arrives to ask Keiko out. He says that he couldn't bear it when she stopped reading Heart of Darkness because he's fallen in love with her voice. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

Please excuse me while I lose my shit over how ridiculous this is. I legitimately straight up cackled when I watched this scene.

Luckily for Mr. Absurd, Keiko takes him seriously — and lets him down easy. She says she can't be his girlfriend and when he presses the "Why?", asking if she already likes someone else, Keiko confirms that she does. This is done through a shot of her feet. Not a POV shot given the angle, but close enough that it feels like we're stepping into Keiko's shoes (haha), shyly staring down at the floor in embarrassment and regret.

Rejection complete? The guy screams.

I mean he screams.

I mean this nobody we're never gonna see again unhinges his jaw and lets out an unholy shriek the likes of which makes me shriek in utter GLEE.

It's insane. It's wonderful. I'm going to use one of my coveted image spots to show you his face:

Look at that and tell me this show isn't amazing.

Okay, I'm focusing again. As Keiko runs off Botan and Sayaka start dragging Yusuke, teasing him about how Keiko chose him over that "charming handsome boy."

...Please scroll up and look at that image again. I find YYH's definition of "charming" and "handsome" to be hilariously wrong.

Yusuke, as per usual, throws himself into damage control, claiming that Keiko didn't say who she liked, so really it could be anyone. They're not buying it. “'I like Keiko' is written all over your face!” Botan crows. Meanwhile, Sayaka is scribbling in her little investigator's journal that feelings on both side are severely misunderstood. "Suggest serious counseling."

Fantastic idea, Sayaka. I'd personally suggest counseling for the whole dying/best friend getting resurrected thing... but relationship woes work too!

We cut to later when school is out and Keiko has gone over to Yusuke's. To say that Atsuko has done a poor job of keeping the house clean lately would be a serious understatement.

Keiko points out the old food and broken glass specifically, cluing us in that this isn't just a messy environment, but a dangerous one as well. This is proven when she accidentally knocks a stack of books over and a used bowl falls onto Yusuke's face. What's interesting is that Keiko says that things are "back to normal" now, though I'm not sure if that's in reference to the state of the house, or just the note Atsuko left behind, asking Keiko to take care of Yusuke while she's out. I'm inclined towards thinking it's just the note, partly because of Keiko's shock when she first arrives, because the house wasn't shown to be in this state prior to Yusuke's death (first image above), and because the note is accompanied by a great voiceover that makes Atsuko sound quite sloshed when she left. That's what's normal, the drinking and carefree attitude, not the state of her home. If we buy that reading, it allows for another fantastic look into Atsuko's mental state. If she's already an alcoholic, the trauma of her son's death and the following revelation that he's coming back might make her struggle in other ways. Like finding cleaning to be an impossible task.

She's depressed. It doesn't excuse the state she's left Yusuke in and, as previously acknowledged, YYH is definitely not a show interested in this nuance, but I still find it fun to take what little we've gotten and run with it.

However, Keiko is firmly on team "WTF Atsuko." She hurries to make sure Yusuke wasn't hurt by the falling bowl, bemoans him being "covered in garbage," and says that leaving him in this state should be considered a felony. Knowing it's far beyond her power to fix Atsuko's failings, Keiko swears to come here after school every day until Yusuke regains his body. It's as she's cleaning him of the dust that's gathered that Keiko becomes entranced with Yusuke’s features. Particularly his lips. The soft lighting returns, their theme song swells, and Keiko gets thiiiis close to kissing Yusuke for the first time.

Which is a little weird, right? I mean, we know why Yusuke is freaking out. Beyond the embarrassment of a middle schooler receiving his first kiss while two ghost girls eagerly watch on, he's made a hobby of denouncing his interest in Keiko to anyone who will listen. But for the average viewer — for Keiko herself — don't we care the he's, you know, dead? Or if not technically dead, very unconscious? Don't get me wrong, I fully understand the appeal of this situation in a generalized, cultural sense (with the side disclaimer that I'm reading a Japanese product through an American lens). Sleeping Beauty exists for a reason and there's definitely an element of that here: a gender-reversed setup where Keiko’s kills may break the "curse" of Yusuke's untimely death. Even his in-between state of being mirrors the "death like sleep" of the fairy tale. But when you strip away those Disney-esque thoughts, we're left with a girl about to kiss an unresponsive body, not as a common gesture of care (the parent who kisses their child while they sleep), but as a first time, romantic milestone.

It's a little weird lol.

But embrace the romance! As well as its inevitable interruption. Just as Keiko is about to land a peck, the neighborhood watch committee announces a heat and fire warning, startling Keiko out of her thoughts about Yusuke's "beautiful face." (There's another gender reversal for ya.) She gasps at her almost-action, conveniently remembers that her mom wanted her to do some shopping, and hightails it out of there before embarrassment can really kill them both.

So she runs off for food... in a sweater? The outfit is cute and all, but I wonder what the animators were thinking, putting Keiko in a puffy pullover during an episode all about a heat wave.

It's about at this point that the plot goes from cute romance to absolutely buck wild. The fires the neighborhood watch committee mentioned are not, in fact, due to the overwhelming heat, but an arsonist that's going around tossing molotov cocktails through open windows. Why is he doing such a thing? I don't know. Arsonists be doing arson, I guess. The important bit is that Yusuke's place is his next target, considering that Atsuko forgot to lock the windows when she went out. Within seconds all that garbage is set ablaze, quite obviously putting Yusuke's resurrection chances at an all time low.

"Wake up, stupid!" he shouts at his unconscious body. Mood, Yusuke. That's me every morning.

So this is a full scale emergency now and everyone is scrambling trying to think of something to do. Yusuke comes up with the idea to possess himself like he did Kuwabara — nice attempt at a loophole there — but since it would technically count as his resurrection, no dice. Botan decides to go get Kuwabara himself, even though he's too far away to do anything. It's still worth a shot. Sayaka, meanwhile, watches all this unfold with a somewhat clinical detachment. She's not quite indifferent and she's definitely not cruel... she’s just not as emotionally invested in this as the other two. Which not only re-emphasizes her purpose here, as an observer judging Yusuke, but also highlights the bond Botan is forming with him. As mentioned before in regards to her hanging out with Yusuke rather than ferrying souls, Botan is well past someone assisting Yusuke simply because it's a part of her job. He's her friend.

We get some shots of the growing fire which includes a hazy texture to the animation I quite like and then we cut to Keiko several blocks away, shopping bag in hand. Word of the new fire spreads, with one bystander mentioning that it's the twelfth today.

"This is eerie.”

“Yeah, I can’t help feeling we’re under attack.”

That's because you are! Someone stop that man!

Sadly, I don't think the arsonist is mentioned again, let alone captured. We'll just have to relegate that to my incredibly niche fic wishlist.

Keiko also overhears that the latest fire is on fourth avenue, which of course is where Yusuke lives. Recognizing that he might be in trouble, she takes off at a run.

Meanwhile, Botan finds Kuwabara practicing his kicks against a Yusuke dummy. Amazing resemblance, right?

Watching for the purpose of recapping, I'm picking up on a lot of details in the animation I quite enjoy. I don't think anyone would claim that YYH, at this point in time, has the most impressive or flashy animation (the fight scenes later are another matter entirely), but there's a clear love for the product that shines through. The scared expression on Kuwabara's dummy. His unexpectedly dainty kick, complete with pointed toes. Botan's more translucent coloring to emphasize her supernatural status compared to Kuwabara. There are a lot of nice touches despite the overall simplicity.

Plus, you can't forget the lovely irony of Kuwabara fighting a defenseless "Yusuke" while the real guy actually lies defenseless amidst a fire. We already know that despite his tough talk, Kuwabara would be horrified to learn that his friend rival had died (again) in such a manner.

Capitalizing on that transparency, Botan runs a hand through Kuwabara's back to catch his attention. He gets his "tickle feeling" and instinctively looks around towards Yusuke's house, seeing the smoke. "Something tells me I should go that way." Gotta love a guy who drops everything to chase a vague, supernaturally induced hunch.

As Kuwabara leaves we cut back to Keiko arriving at the house, staring in horror at the blaze. We get an audio flashback to her talk with Yusuke where she promised to take care of his body until he got back. So she tries to run in, only for a couple of the onlookers to snag her, quite correctly keeping her from undergoing a suicide mission. We learn later that Keiko absolutely would have died without Yusuke's sacrifice, so her "You cowards!" is born more of emotion than justified accusations. It's not cowardly to look at the raging inferno in a small apartment and realize that recklessly running in will only result in two dead teens, not one.

I mean, the flames are already right there, licking the door. Even if Keiko somehow managed to avoid burns, the smoke alone would do her in. Still, Keiko tries to mitigate the damage by dumping a bucket of water over her head. As a kid I remember thinking this was the smartest thing ever. Utterly inspired. Keep that in the back of your mind, kid Clyde, for future reference. As an adult... I have no idea whether this would actually help or not lol. Any firefighters doubling as YYH fans?

Recklessness and iffy precautions aside, I can't express how much I appreciate the story giving Keiko things to do. Yusuke recognizes that she's the only one with the maturity and open-mindedness to believe in his resurrection. She's the one picking up Atsuko's slack regarding his day-to-day needs. She never hesitates for a moment, heroically throwing herself into this blaze for Yusuke's benefit. Yeah, a lot of that still falls into the emotional/domestic sphere — what we expect of the love interest in a 90s anime — but too often action stories don't have a clue what to do with their non-action characters, not even when it comes to just supporting the fighters. They're simply... there. Keiko, however, isn't window dressing. Whether it's helping Botan survive an upcoming, supernatural plague, or cheering the team on at the Dark Tournament, Keiko is an important part of the story, despite lacking the fighting prowess of the rest of the cast.

Just as important, this episode establishes a core equality between her and Yusuke. We just watched Keiko reject a (presumably) accomplished guy for him, telling the audience that these surface differences — academics, power levels, popularity, looks — don't matter to them. Yusuke is not Keiko's lesser just because he doesn't have the same scores in Sayaka's book and Keiko won't become Yusuke's lesser just because she doesn't have spiritual power like he does. The only important thing here is that they love each other and they're both willing to sacrifice everything for the other. In the span of about ten minutes, Keiko nearly gives up her life for Yusuke and, in turn, Yusuke gives up his resurrection for her. The level of care they show towards one another is balanced, despite those differences.

They’re a good ship, y'all. Even if this recapping's got me noticing Yusuke/Kuwabara potential lol.

To get back to the plot, a drenched Keiko charges into the fire, yelling Yusuke's name for the drama of it because we all know he can't respond. Despite the audience (hopefully) recognizing Keiko and Yusuke's equality, that memo hasn't reached Yusuke yet. "You're a lot more important to this world than I am!" he yells, hammering home that despite everything — knowing he instinctively saved a child, watching his loved ones grieve for him, helping Kuwabara just because he can — Yusuke still, deep down, believes that he doesn't deserve to come back; that he doesn't measure up to those around him. The self-sacrificial nature this insecurity produces shocks Sayaka. She points out that if Keiko doesn't save his body, he's not coming back. "What's the point of being alive if Keiko has to get killed for it?"

Keiko means more to Yusuke than the rest of his living existence. Jot that down in your notebook, Sayaka!

Kuwabara arrives and runs into one of his friends who informs him that Keiko just went inside. “Yusuke’s girl? The one we saved from those thugs?”

BOY does that tell us a lot about their rivalry! I mean yeah, we've already established several times over that Kuwabara — just like Yusuke himself — is not the cruel street thug he'd like to present himself as. If these characters actually wanted to hurt each other outside of a martial arts challenge, don't you think Kuwabara would capitalize on the "Yusuke's girl" bit? Everyone seems to know that they have feelings for each other, but Kuwabara never once wields that as ammunition against Yusuke. There are no taunts about him not being good enough. Or rather, I should clarify there are no serious taunts — Kuwabara is well known for his teasing. There's also no attempt to steal Keiko out from under him, the common treatment of the love interest as a "prize" that many stories fall into. Indeed, later this episode YYH will deconstruct this a bit. Yusuke sees Kuwabara grab Keiko's hand and yells that he better not be getting "fresh" with her. But it's purely Yusuke's worries shining through. The audience gets a crystal clear picture of the situation and knows, categorically, that Kuwabara has only the most innocent of intentions in holding Keiko's hand.

(Well, running from the police isn't innocent, but...)

I keep getting sidetracked. Plot! Keiko makes it to Yusuke's room and finds that he is already on fire. She then proceeds to try and put it out by patting it with her hands. I take back what I said about Keiko's smarts in this scene. Now we know where that supposed recklessness comes from though. Apparently they're both immune to fire! Nothing to worry about here, folks.

JK she's actually in danger, despite the animation choices. By this point everyone, including Keiko, realizes that there's no way out: the fire has blocked the door. Sayaka then reveals that there is one way to save her. If Yusuke throws his egg into the fire, the energy of the spirit beast will release and guide her to safety. The catch? Hatch the egg early and it won't complete its intended function of guiding him back to his body. This beast is gonna guide one person and that is it.

Cue Yusuke's near immediate decision to sacrifice his life for Keiko's. Granted, it's not precisely one life for another. Yusuke's resurrection was always contingent upon the beast not devouring him whole — something Koenma claims would have happened at the end of the episode — meaning that it's not technically a fair trade. Yusuke might have sacrificed Keiko's life for his own... only to fail to get that life back anyway. (There's a tragedy for ya.) To say nothing of how Yusuke is currently dead and has been for at least a couple of days, whereas Keiko very much is not. There's some sort of philosophical discussion there about potential being pit against current reality.

BUT that's not the point! The emotional point is that he sacrificed his life for hers — the potential of his resurrection, the potential of that life he might have led — all technicalities aside. And I, for one, think that's very neat of him.

A blue light shines as the egg's energy is released, providing a lovely contrast to the fire surrounding them. A path forms to the door and Keiko, recognizing Yusuke's presence, follows it. "We'll make it, Yusuke," Keiko says, which is one hell of a sucker-punch now that we know she's just carrying a corpse. Unbeknownst to Keiko, Yusuke is very much not making it. That's the only reason why she is.

Kuwabara appears to help them the rest of the way which is also a pretty awesome thing considering that, from everyone else's perspective, the fire is still raging and blocking the door. Despite his spiritual awareness, Kuwabara gives no indication that he noticed this strange light, or Yusuke's hand in the rescue. Which basically means he lunged into a bunch of deadly fire for Keiko and doesn't question how in the world he isn't burned.

Keiko's hands are fine, Kuwabara's whole body is fine... fire immunity must run in the friend group!

Yusuke has another rare moment of vulnerability — "They're both okay" — and I cackle happily at the "both" because see. You love Kuwabara too, Yusuke! All this bluster about hating him and finding him annoying. The second he rushed into that fire you were crawling up the walls.

Except then that happiness gives way to something that sounds a little more shocked. Devastated. "Well, I sure am... relieved..." Kudos to Cook's voice acting. You can hear the exact moment Yusuke realizes what he's done. Not that he regrets it, but the consequences are finally sinking in. He's relieved that they're safe, yes, but now he's never going to be able to rejoin them.

As Yusuke has an(other) existential crisis, Kuwabara peels back the blanket Keiko had wrapped Yusuke in, revealing his face. “What are you doing with Yusuke’s body?! Are you some type of sick grave robber?” he shouts. God I love when a story actually keeps track of who knows what. Kuwabara, for all his recent involvement in the plot, doesn't actually know what's going on. From his perspective Yusuke died, he made a scene at the wake, he saved "his girl" from a bunch of thugs, lost a huge chunk of time only to wake up with her randomly hugging him (then slapping him), participated in a bet with his awful teacher and had a couple weird, Yusuke related dreams while studying, and has felt the presence of ghosts perhaps a little more frequently than usual. Now he's trying to help save Keiko from a fire only for her to reveal she risked her own life for Yusuke's body. Of course he's freaking out! What's she doing with that?

What's utterly fantastic though is that Kuwabara takes all of five seconds to process this and then enters immediate Ride or Die mode for Keiko. She's been hoarding Yusuke's body for undetermined reasons? Well, who is he to judge? The important thing here is that people are arrested for keeping bodies, so they've gotta skedaddle before the firefighters show up.

Hence, hand-holding and avoiding arrest.

As Yusuke starts threatening Kuwabara not to get "fresh" with her, Botan sadly reminds him that he no longer has a say in who Keiko does or does not fall in love with. The switch in tone is jarring. Whereas before Botan would have teased him mercilessly for the crush, now she knows that nothing can come of that — and it would be cruel not to remind Yusuke of that too.

"Oh no. I didn't think..." Yusuke whispers, further establishing that he knew the risks of using his egg, but hadn't allowed them to sink in yet. Now they have.

He gives a fake little laugh with, "Just when it was getting good" and I cry at the development in the span of just four episodes. Despite what I said at the beginning about the show resetting each week, there has been a lot of change thus far. Yusuke wants to live now! He wants to be there for Keiko! He looks down on his tiny family and screams at the unfairness of it all! They're talking about how they can't wait for him to come back and now that's never gonna happen!!

It hurts, friends. It hurts a whole lot.

During this conversation between Keiko, Atsuko, and Kuwabara, we see that a couple of hours have passed (it's nighttime now, the fire is out) and Atsuko is apologizing for putting them all in danger like that. And by that I mean yes, she does technically apologize with an "I'm sorry" and everything, but it's also a one sentence apology pit against... well, near death for the three people standing (and sitting) before her. Atsuko seems just as concerned by Keiko losing her hair as she does Keiko nearly burning to death and she kneels by Yusuke's wheelchair, baby-talking to him about how he forgives her, right? I love Atsuko, she's great, but objectively speaking she is not a good mother. Not right now, anyway.

Oh yeah, and just to reiterate that: Keiko's hands are fine after patting down Yusuke's on-fire body, but her hair, which I'm pretty sure never catches, has to be cut short. Ah, anime logic. Funny thing is, YYH isn't the only story to take the love interest and give her a cool, short cut thanks to a traumatic event. Anyone read Ranma 1/2?

During this conversation we also learn that, sometime between the fire and now, Keiko filled Kuwabara in on everything that's happening with Yusuke. Makes sense. He kneels beside the wheelchair, joining the others in telling Yusuke that they'll wait patiently for his return. Yusuke, above them, continues yelling about how they're waiting on a dead man.

“It can’t be helped. He made this decision on his own."

Except it can, in fact, be helped!

Just as all hope is truly lost, Koenma appears and announces that Yusuke will be returned to life. Why? Because sacrificing his egg for Keiko is a better indicator of his worth than the egg itself could have been. Despite feeding on his negative outlook and heading towards biting Yusuke's head off — something the animation backs up by showing us teeth during the fire

— Yusuke's act demonstrates a tendency towards being a "decent human being" that is "so rare." Wow. That's depressing. Still, yay that Yusuke has those qualities! And this, to my mind, helps explain Sayaka's presence. Koenma recognized that judging Yusuke couldn't be left to the egg alone and indeed, Sayaka took note of his worth before he ever threw the egg into the fire. First it was questioning why someone as amazing as Keiko would go for him, then it was solidified through the shock of Yusuke announcing that coming back to life was meaningless if she wasn't in it. Even if Keiko had somehow, miraculously escaped the fire before Yusuke's sacrifice, I bet Sayaka's report would have tipped him in resurrection's favor anyway.

Everyone is, of course, overjoyed and my heart swells at the intense gratitude Yusuke displays. My favorite part though is when Koenma cryptically says that “Your added experience with death could make you very useful" (a nod towards future events that goes right over Yusuke's head) and his response to this is a yelled, "YOU THINK I'M USEFUL?" This poor kid. The God of everything ever is chucking out revelations left and right, about resurrections and spirit beasts, but the only thing that really penetrates is the realization that someone thinks he's useful. Talk about relatable.

You know, I've been thinking about why this moment works so well. I mean, there are a lot of other stories where undermining the consequences our hero faces — either with humor, or by erasing them completely — can feel like the audience was cheated. I think YYH dodged that with a couple of crucial factors. First, Yusuke's consequence isn't something new that he's now avoided, it's just a permanent extension of something he was already dealing with. We did get to watch him inhabit the space between life and death, grappling with whether he'd ever be able to return. The story didn't deny us that growth, it just confirmed something we all instinctively knew: this tale won't end here with Yusuke permanently going to some afterlife. Second, the Deus ex Machina fix doesn't happen too soon. Yeah, it's only a couple of minutes in a single episode, but we (and Yusuke) still get to sit with that outcome for a while, soaking it in before its removal. Finally, there's no doubt that Yusuke earned this reprieve. Koenma's timing might be sudden and (if you're not genre savvy) unexpected, but looking back at the series as a whole thus far, we're able to agree absolutely that Yusuke deserves this. Far from feeling like we were cheated, this solution invites just as much celebration as we're seeing on screen, for the simple reason that we can buy into Koenma's reasoning. We know now that Yusuke is a good person. We saw him selflessly sacrifice his future for Keiko. We agree that he deserves a second chance.

Thus, the episode ends with Yusuke flying up to fill the screen in his joy, a far better, final shot than Harry Potter and The Prison of Azkaban managed 😰

And that's it for Episode 4, folks! See you later for Episode 5 💕

#YYH #Yu Yu Hakusho #YYH Recaps #mymetas

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sadoeuphemist · 4 years

Text

“So this is a library,” said Shaw, wrinkling up his nose at the faintly musty smell of parchment. He peered up into the high arched ceilings, the flat of wrymsbane resting cold against his nape. “Not particularly defensible, what with all these massive windows and all.” He felt obligated to end on a complimentary note. “Lots of books, if you like that sort of thing.”

“Oh, yes, and it’s in these archives that I’ve discovered exactly what we’ve been looking for,” said Annalthea, bustling between the rows and rows of shelves. The librarian was a plump, unimposing woman who, as could be expected, looked utterly unsuited for the task of dragon slaying. “If you’ll just give me a minute - I’ve got them right here …”

“Take your time,” said Shaw. He casually twirled his blade, admiring the gleam of it. “We’ve got this whole ‘chosen one’ business down to a craft. Sure, you’re the one fated to kill the Writherdrake, but no one said you had to do it on your own, yeah? You say the word, I can put together a party of the finest dragon slayers you ever seen. You want ballistas? Faefire? You want a team of trained harriers to claw his wings to shreds?” Already his blood was pulsing with the possibilities. “I promise you this: I’ll have you driving a blade into the dragon’s heart even if I have to hold the bastard down myself.”

Annalthea poked her head out from between the shelves. “You ... you did read that part in my note about the Amulet of Destiny?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, boss told me about that. Amulet, that’s fine too. Always did admire that sort of sideways thinking, not letting fate box you in.” He stood in the open lobby, taking a few practice swings. “So if it’s a heist we’re planning, I know just the rogue for it, Sylvas Slyphfoot, fellow could steal the shadow off a cat. But if we’ve got magics involved, temple guards and that sort, we’re going to need to be recruiting a Gray Warder - there’s a few of them to be found in Breath’s End, but you generally need a line with the Underguards for that -”

He fell silent as Annalthea emerged from the shelves, hidden behind a massive stack of books that she set down with a thump on one of the tables, dusting her hands off triumphantly. “Uh,” said Shaw, looking the pile of books up and down much in the way a man might scan a corridor for traps. “What’s all those for, then?”

“Research!” Annalthea said, swiftly subdividing the stack into smaller piles, flipping books open and arranging them in front of her in quasi-military formation. Finally satisfied, she sat down, surveying her domain as if preparing to march into battle. She turned to Shaw. “Shall we begin?”

---

“Now, the Amulet of Destiny,” Annalthea said. “Of course, everyone’s heard of it, it’s appended to the end of all Skein prophesies - ‘and so the Amulet of their Destiny shall weigh heavy around their neck.’ The current High Knot of the Priesthood of Ludd is claiming it’s nothing but a metaphor, that every prophesy they make is immutable, but even a casual perusal of Ludd’s 64 Strings - much less the entire history of the Priesthood! - shows that’s clearly not true! The Amulet was considered for centuries to absolutely be a real artifact, with multiple Knots affirming the fact of its existence. Ludd himself writes in interweaving 9, verse 4 of the Strings that ‘the Amulet hangs on the Skein, and only by grasping this may a man change his fate.’” She looked up expectantly at Shaw.

Shaw furrowed his brow, made himself look as serious as possible. “Mm. Yeah. Like you said.”

“Now the thing is, mentions of the Amulet of Destiny actually predate the creation of Ludd’s Blood’s Skein - it’s part of a much older tradition that got absorbed by the Ludd Priesthood. I was cross-referencing different versions of the legend -” She held up a thick volume bound in dull red leather - “Geoffrey Rymer’s Assorted Tales and Legends of the Northern Isles - an invaluable resource - and the Amulet has been placed everywhere from Mount Hyperboreax to the Living Tombs of Ebon. So, using Parcefalus’ A Genealogy of the Second World - plus a bunch of other minor historians who aren’t part of the standard curriculum,” she added apologetically, as if she was depriving him of a particular involved leg of the hunt - “I’ve traced the earliest oral traditions of the legend to the Chalk Giants, who according to Rymer say - hold on -” she said, darting to the left and flipping furiously through another book, finding her place and putting on a scholarly affect- “’say in their dusty tones that the amulet is buried in the barren cleft of the earth, and is so responsible for the slow advancement of the continents upon one another, in that dreary part of the world we call the Wastes.’”

Shaw blinked. “Uh-huh,” he said, leaning over her shoulder and squinting at the incomprehensible squiggles she kept eagerly pointing out. “Okay, so, it’s in the Wastes, right, that’s the whole upshot of that?” He put his thumb to his chin. “Bit more complex than I thought, then, we’ll need a Waste-tracker for that -”

“But that’s not all!” Annalthea said. She slid to another section of the table. “So, Wastern literature is notoriously inaccessible, and what little we do know about their culture has been filtered through the self-serving biographies of would-be colonizers, like Castafez and Pinafetta. Notorious stories about rampant cannibalism, sacrifices to the Elder Wurms, the supposed ‘canals of blood’ made famous by Pinafetta’s infamous Report to the Imperial Committee - ”

“Hold on,” said Shaw. “Supposed? So you’re saying the canals of blood and all the rest, that’s not true?”

“They’re unreliable sources!” said Annalthea. “What I wanted to do was find firsthand sources for Wastern culture, because if the Amulet of Destiny is indeed buried there, surely they’d have some native accounts of it! Now, in the Chronologies commissioned by High-Mother Gortel, who was of course sympathetic to Wastern culture, having a son-in-law from those lands, it says - Hold on a minute,” said Annalthea, scrabbling for another book.

“Is this - Is this all relevant?” said Shaw, looking with a growing dismay at the massive expanse of words across the table. “We started with the Ludds, fair enough, but now I don’t know why we’re talking about that Gortel, and Parsifus or whatever his name is -”

“Parcefalus,” she said, looking at him concernedly. “You know, the Genealogies? Indirectly responsible for the whole dynasty of the Sun-Kings, it’s where they drew their authority from?”

“Whatever,” said Shaw, ignoring her tone. “And that old witch Gortel’s been dead for ages! Ruled over a completely different continent! What are we doing, hopping around the world, then?”

“Oh, but don’t you see!” said Annalthea, looking up at him brightly. “If we’re assuming the Amulet is in the Wastes, we need to find accurate accounts of the region to make our plan, and that involves a marshaling of historical data in order to figure out which sources can be trusted! There’s really no other way to do it other than going through the archives.”

“But we could just hire a Waste-tracker …” Shaw protested weakly.

Annalthea raised an eyebrow at him. “Have you read the Travelogues of Hyxeramminnieax? Across the Boiling World by P’tarri Fnordottir? Fnordottir in particular exposes the Waste-tracker system as little more than a fraud, perpetuated by generations of liminists who make their living as glorified tour guides showing off deserted portions of the Wastes!”

She stood before him, backed by her tremendous ramparts of books, and Shaw found himself utterly unarmed on this particular battlefield. “All right,” he sighed, and reluctantly sheathed wrymsbane, slumping down on one of the library’s many chairs, “Go on, then.”

“Right,” said Annalthea, already drawn as if magnetized to another tome. “Now, as I was saying, we see the Amulet of Destiny reappear in the Chronologies, obliquely, this time, in the form of a logical paradox supposedly etched into stone by the Oracle of the Wastes - no such etching is actually known to exist, of course. But the riddle, I think, is informative in how Wastern philosophy was viewed at the time. It goes, essentially: How can such an amulet ever change your destiny unless your destiny to begin with was to obtain the amulet!” She looked to Shaw, and not finding the reaction she had been expecting, turned back to the books. “Hold on, I suppose it loses something when not in the original Diretongue, let me find the translation by Aoi Iidii here - it’s by far the best attempt to really grapple with the lexicon, I think, by throwing some Quaennya into the mix -”

Shaw could feel the library’s shelves implacably closing in on him. The entire world could be bound between the covers of a book, apparently, and soon so would he. “Uh-huh,” he said.

“- but how could they have claimed such history with Wastern culture?” she was saying. “If we go back to Parmodines’ accounts, and all the others contemporaneous to him, there’s no trade, there’s no cultural exchange, there’s no nothing! The most there is, is this text supposedly dictated by the blind philosopher Jaenus to his disciple -”

Shaw looked on with glazed eyes. “Uh-huh.”

“- the direct words of the Oracle Morag herself! See, according to Torvid of Irridia’s writings, his master Jaenus would slaughter sheep and drag them out into the Wastes for her, and while she sucked the bones clean they would discuss philosophy, and he would memorize each word precisely as she said it! Of course, she also ate him eventually -”

“Absolutely fascinating,” Shaw said, stifling a yawn.

“- amulets made from his bones being sold, according to Torvid’s journals, which were called aloun, meaning protection, supposed to protect their bearers while journeying into the Wastes. Now, if we trace the original legends from the Chalk Giants about the Amulet of Destiny, we can see that Torvid’s mission to Qarilan coincided with the earliest recorded mentions of the legend -”

“Uh-huh.”

“- Torvid, being the tutor of the Princess Catalana, is widely accepted to have influenced her religious awakening and the subsequent founding of the Flower of the Eternal Now, a short-lived cult during the Majal Period. Rumor has it that he even had an affair with her, although this of course cannot be proven -”

“Mrhmm.”

“- and here, in Book Four of The Bliss-Touched Nectar, she says, ‘Cede not the desires of your heart, for it is the shell’ - and that’s how Poryphys translates it, shell, but in the original text it’s aloun! Torvid’s aloun, and Jaenus’ aloun!” Her voice rose in excitement, and Shaw was roused blearily from his stupor. “See, she says, ‘Cede not the desires of your heart, for it is the shell, aloun, that shall be consumed in the blooming of the seed, to form the plant that grows without restriction!’“ She was beaming at him. “Don’t you see? That’s it! That’s the Amulet of Destiny! It’s the answer to the riddle! How can you come to possess the seed of your fate, unless it was your fate to possess it to begin with?”

Shaw stumbled to his feet, groping vaguely for his sword. He was certain he had missed something terribly vital. “Uh, so?” he said. “What’s the answer to the riddle, then?”

“It’s in the desires of our heart,” said Annalthea, earnestly pressing both hands to her chest. “The Amulet of Destiny, it was a metaphor for free will all this time, corrupted by centuries of oral folklore into an actual mythical artifact! It was in us this whole time!“

Shaw blinked at her, his hands falling to his sides. “Uh...”

“That’s how we change our destiny!” Annalthea said. “Of course, it’s such an obvious philosophical and narrative tradition dating back to the Irridians! The artifact, and then the quest, only to discover in the end that you were the bearer of the sacred truth all along - That’s the true value of an archive like this one,” she said with satisfaction, “being able to see how people before us went through their lives, pick out the patterns, so that we can learn from what’s come before! To think, we might have spent weeks on some fruitless quest, exposed to the elements, harassed by all sorts of ne’er-do-wells, only to learn what was available to us this whole time! Entire continents and centuries are accessible to us, just by opening a book!”

“Uh, of course, of course,” said Shaw, befuddled. “So, I - Well we’re not going after the Amulet now, definitely -” She beamed at him, tapping a hand over her heart. “So …” He struggled to get back on familiar ground. “We’re back to the slaying the dragon plan, then?”

“Oh!” she said. “Heavens, no!”

“Then, uh, what?”

“Well, I don’t need to do anything now, do I?” Annalthea said, and began briskly stacking the books back in piles for reshelving. “That whole prophesy nonsense - I’ve already changed my destiny by refusing it.” She bustled past him, her arms full of books. “I’m sure you’ll be much better off without me getting in your way, anyhow.”

“But -” said Shaw. “But, no, you can’t -” His hand went instinctively to the hilt of wyrmsbane, and he found himself wishing that there was something productive to stab with it. “But what about the Grey Skies! The Writherdrake! The only one who can pierce his heart!”

“Oh, goodness,” said Annalthea, and put a hand on her cheek, looking at him sympathetically. “I’m just a librarian, dear. I tend to the books. What would I ever have to do with a dragon?”

---

Annalthea stood over the smoldering remains of the library, her clothes and skin stained with soot, ash gritty beneath her feet, raised blisters on her hands. She was looking into the depths of a building that no longer existed: every rafter, every shelf, every floorboard, every scroll, every page, incinerated and reduced to ash.

Her fingers were hooked into rigid claws, lined with weeping blisters. A low moan came from her throat.

Shaw came running up, There was a wound across his scalp, his hair dangling gristly with blood, scorch marks streaked across his armor. Blackened burned flesh bubbled across his left arm. “Oh good, you’re alive,” he muttered. “Dragon’s gone. Razed us clear to the ground and veered off to the west. More safeholds to pillage, I suppose.” He peeled his hair out of his face, taking in a breath, and found a bit of rubble to sit on. He grimaced at his left arm. “It’ll heal. Didn’t even give me the chance to stab him a good one, the bastard. I mean, town’s burning, but any fight you can walk away from, right?” He looked over to Annalthea, let his gaze drift over the former site of the library. “Ah.”

A tremor began in Annalthea’s shoulders, shook her rib cage, made her hands tremble so badly that she clenched them into fists. “Look,” Shaw said awkwardly, half-standing to raise a hand over her shoulder, and then deciding better of it and sitting back down. “You can’t blame yourself for this, all right? You weren’t trained for this at all, and these prophesies - well, I don’t hold much stock in them myself! Chosen ones, huh!” he said, and snorted. “Why’s it never a professional who gets chosen, I ask you? You, and your books - Why, no one could have expected it of you, it’s a completely unfair ask -”

“I’m going to kill that dragon,” Annalthea said.

“Uh?” said Shaw.

“I’m going kill. That fucking. Dragon,” Annalthea said, each word forced viciously out of her throat. “Every book. Every last one of them. Burnt. Burnt to the ground.”

“Oh,” said Shaw, and then leapt to his feet. “Oh!”

“Lost,” said Annalthea. “All of it. The irreplaceable archive of generations. Burnt to the ground by a fucking overgrown lizard.” She looked at Shaw, her eyes blazing through her blackened face. “I’m going to slit his fucking throat.”

“Yeah,” said Shaw, nodding along. He drew wyrmsbane again, slightly tarnished but still deadly. “Yeah!”

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to claw out his eyes. No - I’m going to carve out his heart and make him watch as I eat it while he’s still alive, make him watch each bite with his last gasping breaths as I taste the brimstone on my tongue. And then I’m going to kill him,” she said, “and then I’m going to rend. His. Soul.”

“Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah!” said Shaw, excitedly kicking up ash. “I can still get a party together, won’t take two ticks - I know this warlock, you should see what her eldritch blasts can do to dragonscale -”

Annalthea swung her head to him. “You said he went west?”

“Uh-huh,” Shaw said, “but if you just hold on -”

She was already heading westward, trailing a cloud of ash in her wake, moving quickly but implacably, as if she would never tire. Shaw watched her in wonder, his spirits much buoyed, and was about to run to catch up with her when he let his gaze drift once more to the ashen field, the burnt remains of the library. He felt, vaguely, like he ought to say something in memorial of his encounter with this odd and fateful institution, some testament to the fallen before embarking on their valiant quest.

He bowed his head, put one hand over his chest. “Too bad I never learned to read!” he said, and set off.

#fiction #repost

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arizona-trash-bag · 3 years

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I can totally explain a bit of my thinking behind seeing lwj as autistic and wwx as autistic/adhd!! Before I get into specifics though, let me preface with where I’m coming from. I first saw CQL and then read the EXR translation of the novel. I prefer MDZS to CQL, but also want to acknowledge that because I do not read/speak Mandarin I am inherently experiencing this story second-hand and therefore am probably missing out on a lot of nuances. I am trying to learn Mandarin, but it will be a long time before I am even a little close to fluent lol.

Another preface- obviously not all autistic people present in the same way, and many of the things that I will mention are not solely specific to autistic people either. It’s one of those things where all of it added up together points towards asd, but each one individually would not on its own indicate asd, you know? Also, I will say that many of the things I picked up on for both characters are autistic traits that many autistic people have vs the clinical characteristics (much like most of the case I could make for wwx’s adhd would be adhd traits he has rather than symptoms that would lead to a real-world diagnosis.) Edit: OH! I almost forgot to say, that also all of these traits I’m listing are from a western perspective, and I would LOVE to read more about how autism presents in different cultures and to see conversations between autistc Chinese people specifically, so as to see if these traits are specific to western autistic people or not, but again, I do not speak Mandarin or Cantonese or any other Chinese dialect, so that’s a little inaccessible for me atm.

Ok, SO, for both characters I would list: strong sense of justice, lack of care for society’s opinion (I feel like it could be argued that lwj does to a certain point, but imo he operates more from what he morally considers to be correct and from a place of familial duty vs catering to the opinion of society at large), and then more vaguely, they both seem to be “nerdy” (this doesnt feel like the most accurate term, especially because it's not like being scholarly is specific to their characters, especially in ancient fantasy China- it’s more that their particular hmmm, flavor?? of love of knowledge feels very neurodivergent to me, vs like, being scholarly because it’s the thing that is expected of a Young Master, if that makes any sense at all- like the difference btwn someone getting an engineering degree because it is expected of them vs because they genuinely love engineering), and lastly for both- I would say that they are canonically kinky, and while I can’t cite any statistics, there’s a pretty high correlation between being autistic and being into kink. Obviously, not every person who is not vanilla is autistic, and not every autistic person is into kink…….but there is a high correlation.

For lwj specifically, the things that made me think he might be autistic are his lack of outward emoting combined with his depth and breadth of emotions, how he seems to thrive in and quite enjoy the very structured environment he grew up in, and then the last one off the top of my head (side note, I feel like a week from now I’m going to randomly think of other examples lol) I’m not actually sure IS an example, because I know (thanks to the awesome post from hunxi that you linked to that I had read previously) that his succintness does not equal autism, but I do kind of feel like it is very autistic to Always be so formal and to Always talk in textbook perfect language.

For wwx, I also think he likely has CPTSD! I’m not going to list anything for adhd or cptsd since we both agree on those :) As far as being autistic goes, there is, of course, the high prevalence of adhd/asd comorbidity. For specifc traits- while autism can show up as lack of facial expressions/tone, it can also show up as being overly exuberant and overexpressive. Especially for younger autistic children this can show up as being overly friendly/no boundaries w/ strangers (just?? going home with a random man who says he knew wwx’s parents???), making unusual connections that others do not can be both asd and adhd, his disregard for social status (disregard might be a strong word, and also I feel like this might be one of those things that got lost in translation and if I had read the original text I might have a different opinon, but what I mean here is the way that often autistic people learn certain social rules and try their best to follow them, but often do not pick up on specifics related to social hierarchy that are not spelled out for them- I think jyl’s take down of jin zixun is a great example of the /oppossite/ of what I’m talking about, and is a very neurotypical interaction. An example also of what I mean by disregard for social hierarchy, but from my own life, is how I’ve reflected on past convos w/ my boss only to realize that what I thought was just an interesting conversation about our opinons on a particular subject was actually them trying to tell-me-as-my-boss something they wanted me to do. We ended up doing things the way I wanted to do them because I didn’t realize that they were telling me to do something because they didnt explicitly say so, and because I just don’t pick up on when people are saying something from a social hierarchy pov. Idk if this makes sense or not, so I’m happy to try to expand if you would like me to. I feel like wwx could be described as having alexithymia, which is very common in autistic people, but could also be due to his cptsd. And then, I don’t feel like this is a true point because it is kind of based on headcanon? but wwx feels very demisexual to me, which is much more common for autistic people than it is for allistic people. But him being demi is not canon, just my perception of him (I see him as demisexual gay w/ massive comphet, but I know lots of people see him as bi, which also totally makes sense!!)

Tbh, I’m having a harder time than I thought I would listing wwx specifics. I might go through the book sometime this weekend and see if there are specific moments that pop out at me, but tbh w/ him its more that he Feels very adhd/asd to me?? Idk, I was diagnosed w/ adhd when I was 8, and all 4 of my siblings plus my father have offical adhd diagnoses. I’m 29 now and was only diagnosed as autistic earlier this year. All of my close friends have always been either adhd, asd, or adhd/asd. There have been multiple people I have met that I’ve suspected were neurodivergent who have later told me they started looking into it and are now seeking formal diagnoses. I mention these things, only to give full context when I say that I have spent a lot of time observing the differences between interacting with neurotypicals and neurodivergents. I mean, obviously, it’s possible that I could just be projecting, but to me, Wwx gives off late-diagnosed/heavy masker autism/adhd combo vibes. Again, maybe I am projecting, but I did try to analyze whether I was or not previously, and determined that since in the past with other favorite characters (who I probably share more similarities in personality with) I did not feel like they were neurodivergent, so I figured that probably I wasn’t? That feels like a very convoluted sentence, but what I mean is that I have not thought that about other characters who have been my fav, so I figured that while I do project in certain areas that this particular area probably wasn’t one of them. Or, to say it in yet another way, since i did not project any of my neurodivergencies on past favorite characters, I figured I probably didn’t start doing so now.

I would love to hear more of your perspective on this, particularly because I worry that I do not have the cultural touchstones to realize when something wwx or lwj is doing is not actually a sign of being neurodivergent. I try my best to research things I don’t know about and to listen to fans who actually do have that cultural understanding, but there’s only so much I can look into on my own when I only speak/read english. And also, I love mdzs and I love talking about both adhd and autism, so I’m glad to talk about these subjects with someone else who also likes all of those topics :) Sorry for sending a book of a response and also I hope you are having a great day!!

wow wow wow anon THANK YOU for doing your research and acknowledging your blind spots you seriously made my day. I wanted to get to this as soon as I made that rant while sharing cyan’s post bc this is specifically an example of a well researched proposition based on actual lived experience and critical thinking.

I almost want to ask you to come forward so we can take this convo elsewhere for a more nuanced discussion bc you’ve already hit upon an issue that’s been holding me back from making a big blathering masterpost on the matter - that the ND experience is so unique and individual, and no one person can dictate someone else’s experience. at the end of the day, if you personally relate to these characters and gain more understanding of yourself and your experiences from them, who am I to take that away from you?

in a public space though I have to make the discussion very broad in order to accurately contextualize these issues, bc in typical autistic fashion I feel morally compelled to Do My Best and Get It Right even as the masses show no inclination of returning the favor, so apologies for the boring backstories I have to get out of the way before we can approach anything resembling new ground.

first from a diagnostic standpoint, while I recognize the traits you listed (and appreciate your clearly nuanced understanding of ND expressions) and would find value in exploring them in a personal context, they are not unique to adhd and/or autism and wouldn’t constitute a basis for diagnosis in a clinical setting. I know that's probably beside the point for this anon, but there's enough edgy teens hoarding labels out there without tacit encouragement from scientists (yes I am technically a scientist, even though my ideologies these days range from conventional to... wildly esoteric, shall we say)

from a cultural standpoint, it’s important for me to emphasize that the concept of neurodivergence is a uniquely western notion. for those unfamiliar, the term 'neurodiversity' was only coined in 1998. I was born in 1991. I existed for a whole 7 years as an autistic person before the idea of being neurodivergent was even a thing. this ND acceptance thing is very, very new - people were not making tiktok confessionals about their adhd diagnosis journeys when I was growing up.

china, like most asian countries, is about 20 years or more behind on just about every social issue compared with western countries. to better illustrate, the experience of being ND in china falls much closer to the conventional experience of disability (i.e. being eugenicized out of existence) than the tentative ND acceptance movement that’s been kickstarted in the past 20 years in the anglosphere.

safe to say, there is no ND coding going on in chinese media. characters are either explicitly ND or they're not. there's no basis for a creator subtly inducing ND-like traits in a character, because there's no such thing as ND awareness in the cultural context of where mdzs was written and consumed. any resemblance is purely accidental, as they say.

as to how this resemblance could exist - I could go into the layers and layers of historical, cultural, social and religious context that make up these characters and the xianxia genre as a whole. for this anon in particular i'm happy to, because they've done the work. please please get in touch in some way where we can have a fully fleshed out chat if you're interested in taking this further, I realize i’ve basically addressed none of the finer points you’ve raised but honestly it’s another level of discussion to be had that cannot be summarized in one blog post haha.

as for those who would scream 'but special interests!!' at a character whose sect was founded by a literal monk - what would be the point?

PS. to comprise a starting point for why it's possible to see ND4ND everywhere in media if you looked hard enough - I refer you to the seminal red oni blue oni trope 💁‍♀️

#neurodivergence #neurodiversity #actuallyautistic #autism #adhd #danmei #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #mdzs #lan wangji #wei wuxian

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sami-at-ciela · 3 years

Text

Prompt 14: Commend

Or: “tfw the entire Crystarium now ships WoL/Exarch”

Spicy take: sometimes I headcanon G’raha with a bit of a tum because A. surely you know scholarly types and their whacked-out eating habits and B. it’s cute, leemee malone.

The “aetherfat” joke, uhhh... I think I explained it in the story but basically the WoL becomes a frigging aetheric Mr. Creosote after that 4th Lightwarden. I’m being unabashedly terrible today.

Our favorite Weird Animal Duo shows up here too (and everything is their fault today).

Generic Shadowbringers spoilers warning because this is plot-vacuumed.

Rhea found herself in the Crystarium markets once more, except this run was different from usual.

Shopkeepers were calling her over left and right, offering her reduced prices and 2-for-1 specials on just about everything. However, ‘everything’ pertained mostly to foodstuffs and the occasional wardrobe piece for some reason.

When a certain shopkeeper thrusted a rather large box of chocolates at her, said they came “highly recommended,” and finished the exchange off with a wink, that was the last straw.

She barged into the Ocular with her rather large haul in tow, sparing the Exarch not even a single second to compose himself. “Did you seriously use your clout to get me discounts on every kind of food in the markets?”

It turned out that G’raha needed that second. “I’m sorry, what?”

“G’raha, hon, if you wanted another date night, you could have just told me instead of making the shopkeepers do a wink-wink-nudge-nudge at me,” Rhea grumbled as she set the bags down.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” G’raha said, gradually becoming more flustered. “If they did decide to do that, they did it of their own volition, most likely as a celebration of your victory.”

“No way, this was like they knew what we get up to,” Rhea said as she shook her head. “Either you whispered words in the right ears or someone else blabbed.”

“I’m telling you, I didn’t do anything!” G’raha’s flustering was turning into frustration. “If I had to guess, I’d say Alisaie is a likely culprit, since you occasionally inform her of our affairs.”

“Please. She’s invested, but she’s not a gossip.” Rhea sighed, finally accepting the Exarch’s innocence and not wanting to launch a whole investigation at that moment. “Fine. I guess we can just take this as a token of the people’s generosity. The people of the Crystarium are like that, anyway.”

“They are,” G’raha said, finally relaxing. He approached Rhea to survey her haul, peeking inside the bags. “There’s enough here for several ‘date nights,’” he murmured.

“I guess we’re taking a weekend off at some point?” Rhea suggested.

“I’d be in favor of that,” G’raha said, tilting his head. “At least we don’t have to worry about the ‘aetherfat’ getting in the way, hmm?”

Rhea snorted at the mention of the old joke. “Yeah, I fixed that! My aether is no longer morbidly obese from eating Lightwardens. You, on the other hand...” A sly smile spread across her face as she gave G’raha’s tummy a poke.

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” G’raha asked, giving Rhea’s poking finger a pointed stare.

Rhea sighed and pulled G’raha in for a hug and a squeeze. “It’s all right. As much as you grumble about not wanting to be interrupted, I can tell you feel better when I feed you.”

“That’s not an answer- wait, are you calling me fat?” G’raha was mollified by the contact until he wasn’t.

Rhea just giggled and mashed G’raha’s head into her bosom. “No, I just know you like to eat and it’s cute.”

G’raha squirmed and made various grouchy noises in Rhea’s hold as his face blushed progressively pinker, but Rhea held on and gave him a scritch behind the ears for good measure. I think I finally spoiled him into enjoying being cared for, she mused.

Meanwhile, a suspicious “Gwee-hee-hee!” rang out somewhere in the distance.

“Man, she got so much swag!” Sparki said. “And the best of it, too!” Beans’s beady eyes seemed to sparkle. “I do hope she will build a fantastic nest!”

Sparki gave the Serpent of Ronka an affectionate squish with one foot. “You are such a romantic and it’s adorable.”

“Unhand me, knave! I am the night!” Beans proclaimed until Sparki finally did so. “I also hope that the people of the marketplace genuinely wished to support their leader and hero in their affairs and not just turn a profit.”

“Meh, the people of the Crystarium are better than that,” Sparki said. “I mean, why not both? But seriously, if you looked at those people hawking the sales and bonuses? They shipped it.”

“Shipped it?”

“They wholeheartedly supported the relationship between their dear Exarch and the Warrior of Darkness,” Sparki explained. “After the complete and utter poop that happened after the last Lightwarden, they deserve it.”

“Aye, they do.” A beat passed, and Beans added, “I do know some ancient fertility rituals-”

“Gods, Beans, let them have some time to enjoy each other’s company without a ‘clutch’ of babies in the way!” Sparki gave Beans another squish for good measure. “For what it’s worth, after our little suggestions, I’m sure they will.”

The discussion was interrupted when some small child pointed at Sparki and said, “Look, mommy, the little amaro has a beard!”

“Time to scram- er, gwee gwee!” Sparki scuttled out of the area with a quickness, rolling Beans along as she did so.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #WoLRhea

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luninosity · 3 years

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author events! demon news! exciting things!

So I've got a couple of exciting author events coming up, plus some Demon for Midwinter series news! **First, on the more academic side, my scholarly publisher McFarland (they specialize in pop culture studies) is having a Virtual Author Fair this Saturday, March 6, from 1pm to 5pm EST (that's 10-2 in PST, where I am)!. We'll have 18 authors talking about their books and scholarly projects, on topics including film, history, ethics in Terry Pratchett's fantasy, gender and superheroes, the music of Bruce Springsteen, religion in horror films, memoir, motherhood, and more! The full schedule and event link is available here at the Facebook event site (most info is under the Discussion tab) - I'll be the second speaker, talking about ethics and Sir Terry Pratchett, and then popping in again for the roundtable at the end. (If you can't find or need help with the Zoom link, just ask - we're using my Zoom because it's unlimited!) It's all free, so drop in and out as you like! McFarland is also providing a discount code you can use on the books by participating authors - use code VVAF for 20% off, through March 14! So come join us on March 6 for some scholarly pop culture discussions! **Second, the second (heh) Rainbow Space Magic online LGBTQ+ science fiction and fantasy convention will be happening March 12-14! We'll have a wonderful array of workshops, panels, and readings - you can find the full schedule here and registration (free) here! The times for my events specifically are: panel: Fandom & Fanfiction, Saturday PT 7:00pm / MT 8:00pm / CT 9:00pm / ET 10:00pm (come listen to us chat about interpretations, subversions, and transformations of narratives!) author reading: Sunday PT 8:00am / MT 9:00am / CT 10:00am / ET 11:00am (*assuming we stay in listed order, I'll be the last one reading) (I'm thinking probably something from "Frost & Raine" because that's recently published and I think - I hope? - sometimes decently funny...though maybe I'll pull out something brand-new and currently in progress, like the opening of Magician, because I'm enjoying writing it so much! I mean, our titular magician likes tropical beaches and hot baths and honey in his tea, and does not enjoy being disturbed by a terribly earnest young prince On A Quest...) **Third, the Demon for Midwinter news! Two things are happening! ~First, there'll be a tiny ~free~ bonus scene short story releasing March 20! It's called "Bedknobs & Brimstone," and it's very short - just under 2k words - and it's essentially about...well...let's go with, "oops, I have a lot of magic now and accidentally set our bed on fire while we were mid-foreplay, sorry?" Poor Justin. At least his husband's an empath and can reassure him! ~Second, there'll be a box set of the completed series coming - also in March, more or less! As soon as that final free bonus story comes out, the whole set will go into Kindle Select first for three months, and then wide everywhere! With a shiny new cover! ** I think that's all the exciting news! Come join us at any or all of the above! See my face (if that’s, y’know, an inducement) and hear me talk about things! Enjoy everything all the lovely and brilliant other authors and scholars have to share with you! Buy some enticing books! <3

#wearing the academic hat #publishing #rainbow space magic #conventions #fantasy #science fiction #lgbtq #lgbtq fantasy #romance #a demon for midwinter #yay!

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thefinalcinderella · 4 years

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Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 4 - The Track Meet (Part 1)

Full list of translations here

Previous | Next

The period from spring to early summer was the season for tournaments; it seemed that every week there was a track meet organized by a university or an athletic meet sponsored by a corporation.

With track meets being their immediate goal, there was also more commitment to practice. Now only Prince and King jogged with Kiyose in the mornings and evenings. Everyone else was now actively completing the training regimen, with Kiyose almost never having to drag them out of bed anymore.

Kiyose casually instructed them according to each of their personalities. For Shindou, who found joy in steadily completing quotas, he created a detailed regimen, and he responded to discussions about training methods until the scholarly Yuki was convinced. Jouta got more motivated when he was praised, so Haiji frequently cheered him on during training, and for Jouji, who ran even if left alone, he purposely didn’t bring up any topic related to running.

Kiyose basically let the residents run however they liked. He thoroughly explained the plan for the training to them and only gave a little advice on what was needed. That way, he skillfully brought out each resident’s motivation. Kakeru felt like he was seeing magic. Without coercion, without setting up penalties, Kiyose waited so patiently to an almost persistent degree until they felt like running. Until now, Kakeru hadn’t known there was such a way of doing things.

If Haiji-san had been my coach when I first started doing track, maybe I could have been a faster runner by now. That was what Kakeru thought. In fact, the residents of Chikusei-sou were slowly but certainly shrinking their times.

On the other hand, Kiyose’s attitude also felt too lenient. The people he was dealing with were impromptu runners; no better than amateurs. He had to have them train even harder or they wouldn’t be good enough for the qualifiers. Kakeru was irritated, wondering if Haiji really was serious about going to the Hakone Ekiden.

“Most of you have now gained the ability to safely run five-thousand meters in under seventeen minutes,” Kiyose said to the gathered residents, who were in the midst of having a drinking party in the twins’ room. No matter how exhausted they got from training, everyone drank together once every ten days—there were no non-drinkers in Chikusei-sou. Since they were a group that liked alcohol, when everyone drank together it was good stress relief in and of itself.

“It’s just that we have many beginners here. You’re probably also worried for your first race. I’ve signed us up for some track meets, so just take it easy and get a time under seventeen minutes at some point.”

Prince, who was reading a manga next to Kakeru, stealthily asked, “Why is Haiji-san so fixated on seventeen minutes?”

“You need an official record of five-thousand meters within seventeen minutes in order to participate in the Hakone Ekiden qualifiers,” Kakeru whispered to Prince, who didn’t seem to have remembered any of the rules at all. “We’re participating in official tournaments and track meets in order to get that official record.”

“Did you forget that even though it was explained before?” The rim of Yuki’s glasses glittered, as though he was saying, But you sure do remember manga titles well. “No matter how you look at it, it seems like Haiji’s strategy is only focused on participating in the qualifiers.”

“It seems like it.” Kakeru nodded at Yuki’s words.

“Well, I also think that’s reasonable, though.” Yuki somberly took off his glasses and wiped his lenses with a handkerchief that didn’t have a single wrinkle. “Kakeru, shouldn’t you be in an intercollegiate?”

Kakeru was silent. Instead, Prince asked, “What’s an intercollegiate?” Yuki immediately went over to the corner of the room where Nico-chan was making wire dolls. Prince was still waiting for an answer, his manga open in his hands.

“It’s a track-and-field championship between universities,” Kakeru said. “The Kanto Intercollegiate is in May, and the All-Japan Intercollegiate is in July.”

“Why don’t we join too?”

“It’s a tournament for top-level student runners, so the base time that’s the standard for participation is stricter than for the Hakone qualifiers.”

“Hmm,” Prince seemed puzzled and returned his gaze to the manga on his lap. “But Kakeru, you can clear that time, right?”

Of course he could. However, Kakeru ended the conversation with only a vague smile.

Kiyose passed around a handout to the residents, who were all sitting wherever they liked. It had the schedule of various track meets organized by universities and Kakeru immediately put the paper down on the tatami mats like it was something awfully heavy. He was hesitant to go to a track meet, much less an intercollegiate; the people who he was with on his high school track team would surely be in places where strong schools gathered, and Kakeru still didn’t want to face his old teammates yet.

Kiyose continued to explain with the paper in hand.

“First is the Tokyo Sport University track meet. The Douchidou University track meet is at the start of May. The Kikui University meet is two weeks later. If those don’t work out, there’s a TSU meet again at the end of June. I want you all to take your time breaking through the seventeen-minute wall, without rushing.”

“There’s meets during Golden Week?”

“The end of June is rainy season. I don’t wanna run in the rain.”

Jouta and Jouji complained, but it was all talk. Because they were already gaining confidence in training as it was, their eyes were filled with a determination that said “I’ll definitely get a time within seventeen minutes at the earliest stage!”

“But, if you want to take part in the intercollegiate, you’ll need to go full throttle starting from the first TSU meet. The deadline for creating a standard participation record for the intercollegiate is this meet,” Kiyose said. “We won’t get intercollegiate points, but as track athletes, it’s important to join intercollegiate competitions. What do you think, Kakeru?”

Kiyose had called out to him, but Kakeru’s mind was elsewhere. When he was asked another question—“Kakeru, what’s wrong?”—his gaze jumped up from the handout.

“No, it’s nothing.”

“Hey, hey, what’s an intercollegiate point?” Because Jouji asked that, Kakeru was able to escape from Kiyose’s probing gaze.

“I’ve been keeping quiet until now, but...” Kiyose straightened his back and raised his voice to convey it to everyone, not just Jouji. “The Hakone Ekiden qualifiers aren’t just a competition based on the pure combined times of ten people running twenty kilometers.”

The residents, who were all chatting as they pleased, shut their mouths. The room fell into silence, and gazes filled with doubt and confusion focused on Kiyose.

“There are ten spots in the main race for teams that advance from the qualifiers, but one of them is actually the ‘selected team’. Even among the universities that don’t advance to the main race, there will be some runners with good times in the qualifiers; that team is a relief measure for them. It’s not a very good choice of words, but it’s basically a mishmash team.”

“So in actuality, there’s only nine schools that can take part in the Hakone Ekiden through the qualifiers?” Shindou said.

“Exactly. Among those schools, the universities that are ranked seventh or lower have their final ranking determined by adding intercollegiate points to their total time in the qualifiers. It’s a huge pain to explain, but to put it simply, how it works is that schools that produce good results in intercollegiates will get points accordingly, and seconds will be deducted from their total time. There have been cases where, thanks to intercollegiate points, the final total time was more than five minutes less than the actual time.”

“So, does that mean that even if you’re in the top rankings just from your results in the qualifiers, it’s possible for you to not be able to compete in the main race because of sudden turn-arounds due to intercollegiate points?” Jouta asked.

“Yeah. The Hakone Ekiden is broadcast on TV in January, so it’s good publicity for universities. So, the schools tend to think that all they need to do is recruit a bunch of good runners and compete efficiently in the Hakone Ekiden. The intercollegiate point system is meant to discourage those schools from doing that. It’s telling them to participate in competitions properly and develop runners who can not only handle a long-distance road relay race but also the track itself, which is the main focus in track and field.”

“Sounds pretty fishy,” Nico-chan smiled wryly.

“I guess money is involved no matter what world you’re in,” Shindou sighed drearily, perhaps thinking about the importance of publicity.

In defiance of the daunted atmosphere in the room, King spoke.

“Alright. Haiji, Kakeru, go out to that intercollegiate and earn those points.”

“They can’t do that,” Yuki cut him down coldly. “We’re a small club. The points are based on the ranking of each university in the intercollegiate and the number of participants. No matter how hard Haiji and Kakeru work in the intercollegiate, it’s hopeless.”

“We are in a difficult situation. We have no money, and apparently we can’t take part in intercollegiates either. What in the world are we going to do?”

“Don’t worry.” Pulling himself together, Shindou encouraged Musa, who had his shoulders slumped. “We just have to get within the top six at the qualifiers. The intercollegiate points won’t matter that way. A weak school should act like a weak school and compete proudly with their total time alone.”

“Well said, Shindou,” Kiyose nodded, looking pleased.

“I think that total time is the biggest problem we’re currently facing, though,” Yuki pointed out quietly.

“Well, let’s assume that we go to the meets and gradually improve our times,” Nico-chan said while producing wire dolls. “Kakeru and Haiji should go to the intercollegiate and blow away those guys from the other schools.”

“Alright. Kakeru, Haiji. In any case, earn those points,” King said again.

“I told you…it’s impossible for just two people to earn points.”

“King-san isn’t listening to anyone at all.”

Jouta and Jouji reproached King. Kakeru continued to say nothing; he couldn’t afford to mind King, who was encouraging him to take part in the intercollegiate. While looking at the letters “TSU”, he remembered something.

I’m pretty sure Sakaki got into TSU… His high school teammate’s face appeared in his mind. He felt gloomy, like the rainy season had come slightly early.

If he took part in the TSU meet, he would definitely come face to face with Sakaki. I wonder what would happen when that time comes. Can the current me beat Sakaki, who got into a powerhouse track school?

Kakeru, who left the twins’ room pretending to go to the washroom, immediately went down the stairs and opened the sliding door of the entrance. The gravel in the yard glowed under the starlight. It was as though it was inviting him—to a shining white road—to a place deep within Kakeru’s very heart.

Reflexively, he was about to start running, but then noticed that he was in his orthopedic sandals and stopped. He sensed Nira coming out from beneath the veranda. Kakeru breathed a sigh and then slowly walked towards the main house. Nira’s wet nose pushed against his toes, and Kakeru knelt down and stroked his warm fur.

Nira suddenly wagged his tail vigorously. The sound of gravel being stepped on came from behind him. He knew who it was without turning around; it was Kiyose.

Kiyose, who knelt down next to him, tickled Nira between his ears. Nira snorted happily. He waited for a while, but Kiyose kept silent, so Kakeru was the one who broke the ice.

“Are you really going to make me compete in the meets and intercollegiate?”

“Of course. We’re ultimately going to the Hakone Ekiden, after all.”

“It’ll definitely be a bad experience. I’ve been told that a lot.”

“Why?” Kiyose asked with a mild tone, working the meat around Nira’s neck. Kakeru looked at his face from the side.

“Haiji-san, you know, don’t you? You’ve probably heard about my reputation in high school.”

“About how you’re very fast?”

“That’s a good reputation. I’m talking about…”

“Kakeru,” Kiyose interrupted him. “Listen, your past or reputation aren’t the ones running. You yourself right now are the one running. Don’t be fooled. Don’t turn around. Become stronger.”

Kiyose stretched his knees and stood up while saying “ow ow ow”. Kakeru and Nira looked up at him. Above his head, the spring constellations glittered like a noble crown.

“Stronger…?” Kakeru asked.

“I believe in you.” Kiyose smiled. He tread over the gravel again and returned to Chikusei-sou.

Kakeru contemplated for a bit while rubbing Nira’s back with his palm. Until now, most people had told him to be faster. But this was the first time he had been told to be strong. What did it mean to be strong?

He wasn’t sure. But Kiyose said he believed in Kakeru.

In his chest, which had been frozen for a long time, he felt a small fire being lit. It kept back the torrent of violence that was always surging within him and kept away the voice of temptation that pushed him on into dark places. Kiyose’s words were filled with a quiet power; it was as though they blew off the fear and trepidation within him.

“Alright.”

Muttering, Kakeru also stood. He wasn’t very good at thinking about the details anyways. That was why he should just run—just run, without caring about whether he might meet someone unpleasant or have bad experiences. That was the only thing Kakeru could do.

Kakeru told Nira good night.

His fear and hesitation towards taking part in meets faded. On the contrary, he was almost looking forward to seeing how much he could run.

As the TSU meet approached, Kakeru became more and more excited.

It was his first battle in a long while. He was confident that his training until now had been flawless, but even so, every night before he went to bed, various thoughts passed through his mind. If I ran into my old acquaintances, I might get shaken and lose my ability to concentrate on the race. My competition instincts might have gotten dull and I might get the spot where I should make my decisive move wrong. I was able to set a time that grabbed attention in the high school track world, but will that still apply in university?

Bad thoughts came up one after another when he closed his eyes, so he pushed aside his futon and got up. Desperately suppressing the urge to jog right that instant, he steadied his breathing. “Don’t panic, don’t panic.” He stood in the middle of the dark room by himself.

Don’t think about anything. Just imagine. Kakeru told himself. All you have to do is run. While feeling every muscle in your body moving, just keep moving forward.

When he recalled the heat from that time, his anxieties immediately receded, and now he felt unbearably restless and eager, like Nira when he was taken out for a walk.

Alongside the training, Kakeru also diligently attended his classes. Someone who can’t even get their credits can’t get results from running. That was Kiyose’s pet theory. But because he had training, he had to constantly turn down get-togethers and drinking parties. The other residents of Chikusei-sou were also enthusiastic about the meets, so they came home punctually without making side trips and immediately tackled training.

For that reason, it started to become known not only to the shopping district, but also to the people at the university: “Those guys who are living in that rundown apartment seem to be running pretty intently.”

The day before the TSU meet, Kakeru asked a friend from his foreign language class to answer roll call for him in several of his lectures the next day.

“What’s going on, Kurahara? Are you taking a day off tomorrow?”

“I’m going to a track meet.”

“Oh. That’s right, I heard you’re running a marathon, right?”

“No, it’s not a marathon…”

I’m aiming for the Hakone Ekiden and the track event tomorrow is the five-thousand meter. Kakeru thought, but left out the explanation.

It wasn’t until he entered university that Kakeru discovered this: people who had nothing to do with track didn’t know the difference between marathons and long-distance relay races. When it came to track events, people would laugh like they were shocked, “You’re running five kilometers? Running round and round the track?” Apparently to them, it seemed like a ritual of uncertain origin that they had no idea why anyone would do.

Even though it’s so important to me, track and field is treated surprisingly plainly by the general public. That was his thought when he learned what was to him a shocking truth. At the same time, he felt somewhat amused. So, every day we’re desperately pursuing something most people don’t even care about?

That was why he decided to laugh and be vague this time as well.

“Yeah, well, it’s a meet that’s like a shortened version of a marathon. I’m counting on you.”

“Leave it to me. Good luck,” his friend said with a serious expression. Even though they didn’t understand the situation well, he could tell that they were supporting him wholeheartedly.

That night, Kakeru lay still in a shallow sleep. It was a light, sharp, taut sleep. Good. Kakeru thought in the space between dreaming and waking. This sensation of all the useless and unnecessary things that remained until the end being scraped off, and transforming into a body and mind made for running overnight.

That was something he had pretended to forget for a long time—the fighting spirit before a competition.

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#Kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #kazetsuyo translations #run with the wind #kazetsuyo

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janeyseymour · 4 years

Text

Made With Extra Love

Hello! A while ago, I made this silly headcanon, and this idea has been nagging at me for quite some time, so here we are!

Can also be found here!

Since being reincarnated, the queens had fallen into many habits, some good, some not so good. Catherine of Aragon had made it a point to read the newspaper every morning. Anne Boleyn had discovered shoes with wheels connected to the bottom. She could be often found cleaning up a mess after she accidentally rolled into something- mostly Jane’s various flower vases scattered through the house. Jane Seymour had quite a knack for baking, always calling all the queens into the kitchen to try some of her newest desserts. Anna of Cleves went on shopping sprees quite frequently, sometimes dragging along Anne and Katherine. Katherine Howard tended to stick with Jane, always the first in line for a delicious new treat. If she wasn’t with the blonde, she was causing trouble with the second and fourth queen. Catherine Parr often stayed in to work on a new piece of writing, even when her writer’s block hit.

While the queens all developed habits of their own, that’s not to say they didn’t all spend time with each other. Catherine, Jane, and Cathy had all made a habit of going to church on Sunday mornings together. Anne and Kat had a knack for pranking the others, sometimes roping Anna into the chaos. The mothers of the group often stayed up at night to discuss their little ones.

When it came to being in the kitchen though, each queen had their own habits. Here’s how it goes:

Jane Seymour cooked practically gourmet meals from scratch every time she entered the rather large kitchen. The third queen, before becoming queen, had been taught how to be a doting wife. While the blonde wasn’t the sharpest when it came to scholarly subjects, she was certainly the best cook and baker of them all. She had figured out how to properly use all of the appliances in their kitchen rather quickly, and it wasn’t uncommon for any of the queens to walk into the house to an aroma that left their mouths watering and their stomachs growling.

“Janey, what are you making?” Anne wheeled into the kitchen.

“Out. You are not going to eat all of the food before it’s ready,” the blonde tutted.

Anne wheeled herself to just outside the kitchen archway before yelling, “I’m out! Now what are you making!”

“We’re having a casserole, and I’ve already made a pie for dessert.”

The third queen had set out dinner and called the others to take a seat. The five other queens bolted into their seats, quickly said grace, and dove into their meals. Various moans could be heard through the room.

“How do you do it?” Kat asked through a mouthful of food.

“No talking with your mouth full,” Catherine chided gently.

“It’s made with extra love,” the blonde replied casually.

“You should open your own restaurant Seymour,” Anna chimed in. “Lord knows I would be there every day.” Jane looked a bit shocked at such high praise. Her food surely wasn’t that good, was it?

“Well, right now we’ve kind of got our hands full with the show, but maybe someday.”

Ten years after their show had closed, Jane Seymour opened a quaint little diner a few blocks from where their theatre was. Her five queens were the first five in line at the opening. Catherine Parr, now a known columnist, wrote a five star review.

Catherine of Aragon could cook. She just wasn’t one to create her own recipes. Instead, she took others’ and added her own flair to them, oftentimes making foods just a tad too spicy for her fellow queens, aside from Anna who devoured every bite.

“Lina, you know I can teach you how to cook? There are only a few rules, and the rest comes from the heart,” Jane would say.

“I know you could Jane, but that’s kind of your thing. Besides, it’s fun to take your food and add some flair to it.”

“Is my cooking not good?”

Aragon flushed. “No no, that’s not what I mean love. It’s just that, I like to add a bit of heat to my food, and you aren’t much one for spice.”

“Oh! I’ll keep that in mind the next time I make something new.”

The next night, Jane was in the kitchen preparing a chicken for dinner when a stroke of genius came to her. She brought all of the spices she had collected in the time they had been back and set them on the counter.

“Lina? Could you come here for a second?” The first queen looked rather surprised when she saw all of the spices set out.

“What on Earth?”

“Well, I was going to make dinner by myself when I thought, why not have the next best cook help me out? Add some of your flair to it!” The blonde seemed excited, so the first queen set about adding different spices to the dish.

As the family sat down for dinner that night, Jane made sure to tell all of the queens that Catherine of Aragon had added her special Hispanic flair to the food. While the dish had a bit of a bite, it wasn’t anything the others couldn’t handle. And besides, Catherine added some extra spice to hers and Anna’s plates.

After that night, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to see the first and third queen collaborating on new dishes.

Katherine Howard was capable of cooking; she just never quite felt like it and often opted for boxed meals instead. The queens hardly ate out of boxes, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t stocked up.

On this particular night, Jane had been out of town for interviews about the show, and the rest of the queens had nominated Katherine to provide dinner. She had made several packages of ramen noodles and a box of macaroni and cheese. The pink haired queen was rather excited as she called down the others, feeling as though she had a purpose in the house.

“Tonight, we feast like queens!” She grinned, handing each of the four other queens a bowl of ramen and a bowl filled with orange mac n cheese.

“This looks wonderful love,” Catherine lied through her teeth. She didn’t exactly have a taste for the boxed meals Kat loved.

“Thank you!” Kat’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she took a bite of her noodles.

“Why don’t you ever cook anything?” Anna of Cleves asked through a mouthful of cheesy noodles.

“You’re one to talk,” Cathy remarked with a smirk.

“I do cook, just from a box! But if you insist on asking,” Kat sighed dramatically. “I’m preparing for college!”

“You’re planning on going to college?” Anne asked with wide eyes. “Does Jane know about this?”

“Yes she does, but that’s besides the point. When I walk by the university down the street, I see loads of kids eating this kind of food, so I’m preparing by learning how to make the foods I’m going to be eating when I’m there too!”

“You do know Jane isn’t going to let you go to college without popping in at least once a week with a home cooked meal, right?” Cathy had to point it out. There was no way Jane would let her adopted daughter survive off of crappy boxed meals when she could provide a home cooked meal “made with extra love”, as Jane so often liked to put it.

“Can't hurt to be prepared,” Kat shrugged and continued eating her noodles.

Catherine Parr was happy to eat whatever the other queens laid out in front of her, but she was just as happy to create meals herself.

“It’s going to spark my creativity Jane,” she would explain to the blonde. Oftentimes, it did spark a bit of creativity in the writer too.

“Cathy, would you mind preparing dinner tonight? Jane’s been exhausted lately, and I’d rather not wake her to make dinner,” Catherine whispered.

“Can’t you? I really have to finish this piece by Friday.” The gesture towards the sleeping queen that Aragon made was enough of an explanation.

“I guess,” she sighed. “Maybe it’ll help me come up with some more to write anyhow.”

“That’s the spirit.” Catherine watched her goddaughter make her way to the kitchen.

“Dinner’s ready!” The sixth queen called sometime later. The smell that wafted through the house was different, although not unwelcome.

Catherine woke a slumbering Jane who replied with, “Oh lord, are we in for some strange concoction tonight.” The others stifled laughter, Cathy feigning hurt.

“So tonight I made chicken and added some ranch seasoning with breading. Here’s to hoping you all don’t find it terrible.” The first five queens looked at the chicken rather scared. Was ranch seasoning meant to go on chicken? Only a bite would tell. Jane would be the first to adventure into the new food.

“This is,” she continued to chew her food. “different. A good different! Well done Cath.” The compliment from the head cook in the house allowed for the others to set their fears aside. This wasn’t going to be like the last time the writer had offered them pickles with peanut butter slathered on them. Surprise washed over their faces as they dined on this interesting food combination Catherine Parr had invented. It would certainly become a dish Cathy would use again in the future seeing as the others were able to stomach it. It was almost as if they enjoyed it.

That night, Cathy was able to finish her article.

“I told you cooking strange food combos cures writer’s block!” the writer would tell Jane in the morning.

Anne Boleyn wasn’t allowed in the kitchen after a certain mishap. The queens had been expected to go on a group outing together, but that was quickly dashed when Anne woke up that morning with a migraine.

“I’ll be fine,” she grumbled at the five concerned queens in her room, more than ready to stay by her side for the day. “Go have your fun.” The others hesitantly left the green room and made their way out of the house.

Some time had passed when Anne’s stomach began to rumble. Knowing she was far from the best cook in the house, she settled for some microwavable macaroni and cheese. Even I can’t mess this up, she thought to herself.

Oh how wrong she had been.

The second queen had forgotten to add water to the cup before shoving it into the microwave and turning the appliance on. The next thing she knew, the cup had caught on fire, and she was coughing at the absurd amount of smoke clouding the room. The cup on fire wasn’t going to put itself out anytime soon, and Anne couldn’t find the cursed fire extinguisher in her panicked state. She grabbed the phone and called the emergency line and Jane.

Within minutes, the police and fire department had come to save the woman in clear distress. Since the firemen had come, she had made her way outside and was now relaying what had happened to the men in blue. As the men were walking away from the scene and getting into their cars, the family car pulled up.

“Anne Boleyn! What the hell?” Jane got out of the car before Catherine could even throw the vehicle into park.

“I’m pretty sure the first question you should ask her is if she’s okay,” Cathy muttered from the backseat.

“I wasn’t trying to burn the house down! I was just trying to make macaroni!” The second queen was gesturing wildly at the now black container on their sidewalk.

“This is absurd! How could you mess that up?” The blonde was not thrilled, clearly.

“That’s what I thought!” Anne shouted back. “My dumb ass forgot to put water in the cup! I didn’t know it would catch on fire!”

Anne Boleyn wasn’t allowed in the kitchen anymore without supervision. Jane had made that quite clear.

Anna of Cleves could hardly be bothered with cooking her own food. In her past life, there was always someone to make her food, and in this life too, the other queens were more than happy to place food in front of the fourth queen.

Once, Jane had asked the red queen to provide dinner for the group that night with the explanation that she had to work on something for the show. Anna had agreed, and the silver queen seemed content. The fourth queen didn’t know that she was expected to cook.

“Dinner!” she called out.

“Pizza?” Jane was rather confused. She thought she had asked her successor to cook.

“Yeah? You asked me to get dinner.”

Another time years later, both the first and third queen had caught the flu. Katherine was away at college, so she wasn’t able to cook. Cathy was holed up in her room working on yet another article, and the fourth queen knew she wouldn't be able to convince her to cook. Anne still wasn’t allowed in the kitchen after all this time. It looked as though Anna would have to provide dinner again.

When she showed up with McDonald’s, only Anne would be excited.

Once, while Jane was cooking, Anna decided to keep the blonde company.

“Hey Anna?” Jane looked up from the pot that she was stirring.

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you ever cook?” Anna shrugged at the question.

After supper that night, “Why cook when you can pay others to do it for you?” Anna replied smugly, slipping Jane a crisp ten dollar bill for making dinner that night.

The queens certainly had quite a strange dynamic when it came to providing meals for themselves. Catalina was more than happy to assist in the kitchen. Kat was satisfied with “feasting” on various boxed meals. Cathy used the kitchen as a way to cure her writer’s block. Anne understood why she had been banned from the kitchen, happy to munch away on already made things. Anna of Cleves was more than happy to pay for the other queens to dine. Jane Seymour was more than happy to provide her family with home cooked meals, “made with extra love”. The money Anna threw her way, although completely unnecessary, was appreciated.

#six the musical #six musical #six fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfic #six musical fanfic #catherine of aragon #catherine aragon #anne boleyn #jane seymour #anna of cleves #anna cleves #katherine howard #kat howard #catherine parr #cathy parr

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jochmus · 3 years

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A Discussion of One Approach to a Universal Characteristic

I have felt inspired yesterday to make this attempt as a text post on Tumblr. By the subject’s weighty history and definition, it should by no means be an easy endeavor. However, there are two individuals from my readings that have inspired me, named John Locke and George Polya. Although I own both of the texts that interest me by these men, I have not read those specific texts unfortunately. Another influence was the eloquence of Euclid’s axioms, indeed I have not read the Elements either except for like the first page. I tend to become distracted very easily, and this is not something that I am very proud of.

Now I must reveal my passion for the works of Ramon Llull. He was the guy behind the most complete version of Characteristica Universalis, but that is only because he managed to inspire Leibniz to come up with his Characteristica, which was never really worked on or implemented, and the system that Llull created is called Ars Magna, in four distinct stages. The term Ars Magna itself with regards to Llull refers to the Ternary Art, which refers to the wheels or volvelles that he used have elements or principles being divisible by 3. Furthermore this also by coincidence is the third phase of the art, but the phase and divisibility of the wheels are distinct things.

Enough of Llull. Leibniz is really the only person to be regarded here, as it can be assumed that he wished to update Ars Magna to the science of the time and his own distinguished opinion. That being said, he never managed to create such a thing, but merely wrote to his collaborators and associates about what a proper implementation of this Universal Characteristic would look like. His letters are somewhere in the order of magnitude of 10^5, which is a complicated way of saying 10,000. Indeed I do not remember the estimated number from the Wiki, but I do believe it was something like 30,000.

By the way, the Wiki does list 21 different attempts at Characterica Universalis, which is the number if I recall correctly, that this scholarly text on Llull mentioned that the man had written this many different version of his system. Quite interesting, but I cannot lower myself into base numerology. That has been superseded. To return to Ramon Llull for a moment, the man allegedly got his system from the Sufis. This precursor system is called Zairja, and there are a couple of texts available on that subject, one written by modern scholars and another written by a Tunisian historian who wrote the Muqaddimah. A hint for those of you curious about the latter text: The chapter about Zairja is in the third volume of that text, and is available on the Internet Archive.

Back to Leibniz; for some reason essay writing is quite tiring. From what we can discern about what he stated that this system would look like, well I have some bad news. Leibniz simply took the diagram that Empedocles created in antiquity and said “There.” What I mean by this is that Leibniz just took the four elements and their supposed connections, in doing so adding another four nodes to the diagram, and being content with drawing lines between said nodes in order to ratiocinate (think) on paper. Anyone can tell that this is follysome since we now know for a fact that the Classical Elements theory is rubbish. In fact, I have a hot take that it was not only responsible for the idea of “race,” but also the idea of depression. I have created an acronym for the various iterations of Classical Element theory, that is “EHTR” (pronounced ‘ether’) or Element-Humor-Temperament-”Race.” Indeed this may come as quite a shock everyone, but Kant the philosopher was really racist and decided to rank the “races.” I am not going to get into this, but I will say that it may have become esoteric or something through the likes of Manly P. Hall, who mentioned the same scheme Kant used, albeit reordering some things, after the latter mapped it to an analogy about the caste system mentioned in the Bhagavad Gita. I can feel the cancelation brewing already.

There are probably many different ways to attain this Universal Characteristic. I find that I have provided enough introductory information on this subject, so let us move on to the main part of this essay. Unfortunately, this whole thing was spurred on by a feeling of grandiosity, so I really don’t know how valid my intuition is. Furthermore I forgot what it was that I could use to implement Charicterica Universalis. That being said, I think it was along the lines of a study of analogy, using mathematics, so that we could potentially describe the various processes that underlie reality. The other part was a return to metaphysics proper, or the three general distinguishing features of it according to some textbook, those features being categorization (which is what I consider to be important in particular with regards to this endeavor), thinking and a sense of supremacy regarding the method. Personally I really don’t think that the last one means much, and is in fact a detriment to updating philosophy as should be periodically done in my opinion. Science will always push the boundaries.

I am going to split the remainder of this essay into three parts: The first part will be about analogy; the second, categorization; and thirdly an obscure paradox that I came up with last night, as a bonus for making it to the end of the essay. You could just skip to the paradox, if you would like, in fact I will bold the title for you, in case I have wasted too much of your time and am boring you.

On Analogy

I envision analogy as not something fundamental, as the man who wrote Zen and the the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance stated that analogy is irreducible to sub-elements; and I argue against that position taken by the author of that text. I am honestly getting tired of writing and I have written the later parts of this essay before I wrote this part, so here goes nothing.

In the next part I briefly mention knot and graph theory. I envision analogies as graphs, as I was inspired by Schrödinger’s book What is Life that the genetic material was a crystal. Not true, but why could this crystal represent mimesis, as opposed to “genesis?” (Genesis as in genes, an improper way to say that mind you.) Yes, I really think that this is the case, but it does sound kind of crazy now that I have it on paper after having it in my mind for a few years. I don’t know. I dislike the designation that Dawkins created for such things, the “meme” which he literally took from some German scientist with the same first name, and removed the ‘n’ in mneme to create this Internet garbage we see today.

Then there are the developments with the idea of metaphor. I don’t really feel like getting into these because I am too tired and I keep making typing mistakes. Just know that it is possible to limit portions of the structure of the analogy to make it more congruent with other analogies or structures. Lastly, it really feels like the literary criticism movement is starting to claim all of the universe as its “text.” That is a portion of Structuralism, at least, according to PhilosophyTube. She stated that Structuralism started as literary criticism, and what do we as human beings do? Why we map the text to the whole of the universe. Some could argue that is a kind of metaphysics were it to be loosely understood. ...

On Categorization

The general gist of what I am thinking of here is that Ars Magna’s major issue is that it is not chaotic enough, if that makes any sense. What I am attempting to get at here is the thing about the questions generated in that system solely referring to the statements created. There is no architecture or complexity there to be studied and afterwards engineered, as it is just base multiplication to generate the questions. What I would like, is for the creation of the questions to be irreversible and chaotic, indeed those are separate things, much like the weather. Knot theory, or graph theory would come into play here, I am not sure which but that is what my intuition is telling me. Also, many statements could be superimposed to generate a set of questions, or a single question. Hopefully my mathematical studies will enable me to investigate this further in the future.

It must be stated now that the whole category term does apply in my opinion to Ars Manga. This is because the system abstracts the categories into a table of about 54 “elements” which are then combined a second time to produce very short strings of text, for instance “BCD.” Of course, the strings could very well be longer, and could incorporate more intricacy in this manner, but it is really the interaction between all of these strings which constitutes the architecture of the system, although this is done in a manner contrary to the mainstream Lullists, which is an anachronism, really.

Case in point the categories must translate into natural phenomena and vice versa. At the same time, if the categories were generative, then they must be irreversible in order to be as intricate as possible. The sky is the limit with this, “New Lullism.” I don’t feel like explaining any more, but if someone wants me to tell them about why the standard categories must be reversible, and the generative categories the reverse, then I will explain this another day. Indeed, it may be a false distinction; there may very well be four types of category system, that is:

Standard reversible;

Generative reversible (Ars Magna);

Standard irreversible;

Generative irreversible.

That is all for this part.

The Paradox

There is a possibility for a Universal Library, but the one available on the Internet is not feasible for conducting research on, because it is an art website and is not powerful enough to locate texts and be practical. I am talking about an implementation for the Universal Library called the Library of Babel. You can visit the website at libraryofbabel.info. I do not have the energy to disclose the theory behind this whole thing right now, but on request I will write about it another day.

The mathematical constant “pi” supposedly does not repeat. Yet there is a trichotomy to be established here, when the constant is juxtaposed with the Universal Library, either;

1). The Universal Library is effected by Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorem (was stated by two separate mathematics professors to likely be the case);

2). Pi does indeed repeat minute portions of itself after a significantly large computation of it is conducted, with an upper bound order of magnitude of around 10^5000. Note that this is a back-of-hand calculation;

3). Pi cannot be mapped to the Universal Library.

This trichotomy may indeed be defective as I am not trained in logic, and also I had to make up the last one as I forgot what it was. Oh well.

Thank you very much for reading all of this. Have a swell day.

#characteristica universalis #ramon llull #leibniz #essay #ars magna

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lemonjoonah · 5 years

Text

Let the Villain Win (M)

Word Count: 5K Rating: M Genre: Thriller, Drama, Author AU Warnings: Smut scene (Oral m. and f. receiving, Fingering), Yandere Namjoon, Stalking, Drugging, Kidnapping Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, Mention of Seokjin x Reader

Summary: Kim Namjoon, famous author and your childhood friend has been keeping a secret from you. His new book treads on such dark themes that he’s finding it difficult to write. Excited by the prospect of a sinister plot you offer him a piece of advice, “Let the villain win…”

...

You look to the building pile of manuscripts on your desk, curling your lip over the prospect of reading them. You’re sure that some of them will be good, a couple of them might hold your attention, but none of them are the story that you truly want to read, the one that you are waiting for, the one that was due three days ago...

“I’m going to kill him.” You mutter to yourself while taking a sip of tea. Kim Namjoon, one of the finest thriller authors ever to be published, and your best friend since childhood. You have the privilege to represent him as his literary agent, but that comes with its setbacks. Namjoon never seems to take you seriously when you set a deadline. Even now he’s off gallivanting somewhere, refusing to answer his calls or texts until he returns from his ‘creative space’.

You look over to his house across the street for the hundredth time since his departure. Every time you had glanced over the windows remained dark, but now your patience has finally been rewarded with a glow emanating from his curtains. You set down your mug haphazardly and check your phone. Your anger grows when you see that he failed to notify you of his return.

Forgoing your jacket, you dash across the gap between your dwellings the rain pelting you as you cross the narrow street. You stomp up to his porch, and pound on door as if the wooden barricade is at fault for his actions. “Open the door Kim Namjoon, I know you’re in there!”

You hear his voice call through the door. “I don’t know, my agent taught me not to open to door for any crazed fans.”

“Namjoon, please?” You try to appeal to his softer side. “It’s raining and I don’t have my spare key.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” He chuckles as he unlocks the bolt for you to enter. “I’ve only been home twenty minutes. I’m impressed, you must’ve been watching out for me.” A bright glowing smile greets your look of frustration.

Now being his childhood friend isn’t the only obstacle you’ve encountered in your professional relationship. In addition to his talent as a writer, he is also blessed with devilish good looks. Dark eyes that pierce your heart every time he looks to you, warmly toned skin that calls to your fingers, and lips so full that a simple smirk often drowns the fabric between your legs.

Shaking off those thoughts you try to focus on the your anger towards him,“Where the hell were you?”

“So vulgar,” he chastises you. “I missed you too.” He pulls you into a hug despite your damp clothes, and rubs his cheek against your wet hair.

“Two weeks, two weeks with no contact!” You pull away from from his arms.

“Sorry,” he scratches the back of his head and looks down.“Thanks for covering for me with the publisher.”

“Namjoon it’s not just about the sample, I was worried about you. You’ve never been gone that long before.”

He steps back from the entrance making room for you to come in before closing the door behind you. “I know, I’ve just been having some writers block.” He lowers his head in shame.

“It’s not like that hasn’t happened before, in fact I’ve come to expect it, but usually you’re only gone for a few days! I just wish you would have let me know that you were okay.”

“This time it’s different. The ideas are there I’m just afraid to write them. I wanted to call you but...” He pauses, his fingers trailing around his mouth, as if it might soften the effects of his words. “I think you’re the reason I can’t write it.”

Your face falls at the thought of being the hitch in his creativity, spurring a further explanation from him. “No please don’t take it like that, it’s just... this story, it’s not like my others. I feel like I’ll be subjecting you to the darkest part of my mind, I don’t want to put you through that.” There’s an exhaustion behind his eyes that you’ve never seen before, after a such a long absence you expected him to be well rested but it looks as if he didn’t sleep a wink.

“I’m not afraid of that big brain of yours,” you lean up to him rubbing his hair playfully. “I’ll take whatever you have to give me.”

“You’re willing to read it? No matter how dark or immoral it gets?”

“Namjoon we’ve been friends for over 15 years now. It’ll take a lot more than a book to scare me away.” If you’re being honest with yourself you always thought Namjoon would be the one to leave you behind. You don’t have many clients and there are agents with far better connections than yourself, but even after his first bestseller he refused to sign with anyone else. Stating that no one could support him as well as you.

He nods still looking at the floor. “I’m sorry, I should have talked to you about it before running off like that.” A wicked grin suddenly flashes across his face. “I can’t say that I mind seeing how much you missed me though.”

You scoff, at how quickly he can go from such a vulnerable state to one that completely wrecks you. “I said I was worried not that I miss you!” You tease back with a angry tone. “I have a life beyond you...”

“Pfft, no you don’t.”

“Yes I do! For your information I went on a date last week.” That seems to shut him down in an instant.

“Wait, with who?!”

“Seokjin.”

“Kim Seokjin? The cocky asshole from Smeraldo’s Books marketing team? I thought you said you wouldn’t date people you work with.”

“Confidence is not cockiness! And I don’t work with him directly so there’s no conflict of interest.”

Namjoon clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes, making his distaste known to you. These conversations never go over well with him, he always finds something to criticize about any guys you are seeing, planting a seed of doubt in your mind. He manages to find that perfect flaw that you’ll fixate on until you ended the relationship. Even now you find yourself starting to question Jin’s vanity.

“And stop changing the subject, I’m the one who had the right to be upset here not you!” Namjoon smiles at you sheepishly, slumping his shoulders in surender. With a sigh you too throw up the white flag. “Get some sleep okay? It’s getting late, we’ll talk tomorrow. ”

...

The next day you work from home. Diving into the pile of drafts from the comfort of your own bed. This also gives you the chance to keep an eye on the door across the street. Namjoon hasn’t left the house all day. By the time evening rolls around you begin to worry, considering that he had just come back from a two week absence there is no way he has any proper food in the house. You send him a text already knowing the answer.

...Have you eaten?...

...No...

...Jajangmyeon?...

...You know me too well, could you bringing it to my place?...

...Sure, I’ll see you in a few...

When you knock on the door Namjoon calls out instead of answering.

“It’s open.”

You step inside but there’s no sign of him.

“Sorry.” He comes into view with only a towel and water dripping off his frame. “I just realized when you messaged that I hadn't showered.”

“Namjoon, clothes, please!”

“Right...” He gives you a wide dimpled smile while he tousles his damp hair.

Fuck he will be the death of you and your career, you conclude as you sink into his couch. He knows the risks his knows the liabilities but sometime you think he intentionally tries to draw you towards him. From your seat your try to distract yourself by examining his walls looking to spot any new additions to his vast collection.

Namjoons home matches his personality perfectly, from the endearing art figures on his shelves to the brass telescope stationed by the window. Showcasing his affinity for charmingly cute items but also his sophistication and scholarly pursuits.

When he finally joins you, he sits down beside you and digs into his noodles. He anxiously starts to discuss the progress of his work. The worry still seems to hover over him regarding you reading the piece. “It’s not like my usual stuff, most of it will be told from the point of view of the villain. He’ll go unnamed for most of the story to have his final reveal at the end.”

“Oh that’s dark, I like it. You can really have fun with this character, there’s no need for you to hold back or try to make the readers like him.”

Namjoon nods in agreement, “It feels more honest too. The character doesn’t feel the need to hide behind a veil, the passions and desires are right out there in the open for readers to see.”

“You always write the hero, I’m excited to see you portray the villain.” As much hope as you give him there is still doubt on his face. “Namjoon, if I’m the problem, I don’t have to take this one on. I can find you another agent for this book I won’t take it personally, I promise.”

“No!” His response is short but loud, causing you to flinch back in surprise. “Sorry, it’s hard for me, but I still want you to be the first person to read it.”

You find his unwavering loyalty endearing, you’ve always been the first to read his stories from when he started writing as a teenager up until now. The twists and turns of his plots never ceasing to amaze you.

“What have you written so far?”

“I’m actually starting with the end, I’ve found it to be more captivating than the beginning.” He smirks as holds on to the secret twist you have yet to see.

“Who wins?” You ask prodding for clues.

“Not too sure yet, that depends on how the story progresses.”

“You should let the villain win this time.”

He chokes on his food for a second. Letting out a loud cough and taking a long sip of water before answering you. “You think so?” He asks cautiously.

“Absolutely, it’ll make for something different, and if we follow him the whole time I’ll find it depressing to see him loose.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He chuckles at your insight, “Wouldn’t want to upset you now, would I? ”

“Nope.” You slurp up the last of your noodles with the excess of sauce. Making a complete mess of yourself, but you’ve succeeded in bring another laugh to his lips.

“You never change,” Namjoon mutters while wiping your face with his thumb. “God I missed you.” He pauses for a second, letting his hand linger before pulling the digit back to his own mouth and licking it carefully. You find him slowing inching towards you on the couch. “Tell me again why we can’t take this further...” You still while observing his unexpected words and actions.

He continues to press on his lip while eyeing you up as if you might be the next course.

“Don’t tease me Namjoon.” You chide him, trying to convince yourself that he can’t be serious. You place your bowl on the table giving you a reason to divert your eyes for a moment. Maintaining rational thought while looking upon him is an impossibility, taking even a second away from his eyes helps to build your conviction before looking back to him.

But he continues to tear away at the foundation of your determination.

“Why would I tease you? Teasing implies that I won’t give you what you want, I intend to give you everything.” He carefully brushes the hair from your face, dragging the back of his fingers across your cheek before pulling his hand away.

“Namjoon we’ve talked about this.”

“Yes, but we never did come to an agreement on it.”

“You know we shouldn’t do this. Working together as friends already poses it’s challenges. Adding sex won’t make it easier.” You are already far too lenient with him in comparison to your other clients, you dread to think what effect consistent intimacy would have on your professional relationship.

“When was the last time you’ve had someone?”

Your mouth falls open at the question. “Excuse me?” It’s been awhile but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You just said we are friends right? You would talk to your friend about sexual exploits, why not me? It might be good for my work, get those creative juices flowing.” The corner of his mouth pulls up followed by a bite to his bottom lip.

“Are you trying to use your writing as an excuse?”

“You think of everything with regards to work. I’m just trying to speak your language.”

You know he doesn’t wish to just talk about it but act on it.

Namjoon’s hand now takes your chin as he leans in even further, close enough for you to feel his breath upon your skin. “How long has it been?” He asks again. His eyes narrow as they search your expression for any clue you might give.

“Too long.” You whisper a blush creeping into your face giving you away as you look down.

“So you and Seokjin...”

“Nothing happened, I was too self conscious around him.”

Namjoon tilts your head to the side and places his lips near your throat, his other hand now resting on your thigh right at the start of the hem of your skirt. A faint growl of pleasure leaves him. “So you need someone you’re comfortable with.” His fingers begin to draw small circles on your thigh. “Someone who you’ve known for a while, someone you feel a connection with.”

“Someone who I don’t work with,” You counter back.

“Very well. I’m terminating our contract for the next hour. We can renegotiate after I’ve met your needs.” His lips finally touch you neck focusing right below your ear the heat flowing from that one spot makes you gasp. “Consider this my pitch.” He smirks whispering into your ear as his hand moves further up your leg. “Would you like to proceed?”

Fuck him and his way with words. Who are you kidding you knew you would cave to any desire of his the second you saw him in a towel. You can have sex just this once and stop it after that right? This isn’t going to be a regular occurrence just a one time thing you promise yourself. Just something to get the tension out of the way.

You finally nod leaning back on his sofa, giving in to him completely, letting his finger press your underwear to the side and then sink inside.

He acts surprised to find you already wet with arousal, “So receptive already? That’s not how you negotiate.”

“As if you didn’t know.”

“Do you dislike my ability to read you?” He mutters between the soft kisses to your throat.

“No I just wish I could do the same.”

“That can be arranged.” He answers back with a smug grin. You gasp as he pushes a second finger between you folds, curling it inside of you until you unleash a louder response to his touch. “Shall I give you an oral rundown of my work?”

Unable to form coherent words you nod again letting him lift up your skirt completely, he takes his fingers out for a moment so he can fully remove your underwear. Namjoon lowers himself so his head is level with you hips as he looks upon your pink entrance. His tongue starts rolling along the length of your slit. He hums with agreement as you raise your legs placing the back of your knees on his shoulders.

As he reaches the crest he gives a flick of the tongue, you buck from the sensation causing him to place a hand on your lower stomach directly between your hips. When you flinch again he presses down to keep you in place, the tug of his hold exposes your clit to him even more. His fingers return to their home inside you and he attaches his mouth to the area surrounding your bud.

You bite your lip to prevent an excess of noise as his lips tug on your knot. Noticing your sudden silence Namjoon stops and looks up to you. “Don’t hold back on me, no one else can hear you I promise.” He gives a sudden thrust of his fingers, the shock forcing you to cry out. “Good girl, let me listen to you.”

His long fingers continue to reach deeper, the pads of his fingers slowly stroking as his mouth returns to suck on your mound, with another flick of the tongue and fingers you dissolve in his grasp. Even as you reach your high he refuses to let go riding each wave of pleasure he sends through you. Only extracting himself when you call out his name in the form of a plea, unable to take the stimulation any longer. He takes his fingers from you bringing them to his mouth while he watches over you.

Awash with the warmth he has brought you your breathing is slow to return to an even pace. He groans as his hand passes over himself. With his eyes still focused on you, he palms what looks to be a painfully large erection beneath his jeans. Licking his lips he looks as though he might go down for another taste of you from the source, clearly not satisfied with what he took from his hands.

You sit up, fixing your skirt before you push Namjoon back into his seat on the couch. Taking up position in front of him, kneeling on the hardwood floor, your hands poise to lower his zipper.

“What are you...” He sputters as you open his jeans carefully. Your finger tracing the long bulge concealed by his boxers. “No I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“What reciprocate? I know you Namjoon, I know your games. I can hear it now, the next time I remind you of a deadline all I’ll get back is, ‘But remember that time I made you come?’ Besides,” You pry the elastic of his underwear back to reveal the throbbing head. “I think I’ll enjoy doing this just as much.” Who doesn’t take pleasure in someone falling to pieces in their grasp. Namjoon has always had the upper hand in your friendship, now is your chance to take it back.

He helps you by shifting his pants down so you can expose the rest of him. You cup his sac with letting your middle finger trace along the raphe. Your other hand guiding the tip of him to your mouth. The slight saltiness of precum hits you as your tongue as it brushes the head.

Within seconds Namjoon lets out audible groans from your ministrations. You resist the urge to smile at the sounds your touch produces. The hand that brought him to you now rests at his base. You open your mouth wide as you slide down his shaft. Your tongue presses against the soft skin as you glide his cock to the back of your throat.

His whole body tenses while you linger close to the base having taken as much as you can. You can hear a faint whimper as you pull your lips back to the top. With one of his hands clenched the other traces the line of your jaw and flows to your hair, gripping the strands as it falls in place at the back of your head. You curl your tongue around the rim of his tip before proceeding back down.

His hand continues to cradle your head while he falls back against the couch. Several expletives leave his lips as you quicken your pace. Each time you slide down you attempt to take him a little further to the point where your eyes begin to water. You look up to him as he draws his hand to his mouth biting down on the knuckle in an attempt to muffle the groans emitting from him. You allow him the vice that he took from you, enjoying the sight of his clenched jaw and focused expression.

When he meets your eyes he finally unravels, a flurry of heavy breathing escapes him. His hips come to meet you this time, with one final thrust, his hand keeps you in place. With each pulse you swallow to around his tip, his cum hitting the back of your throat. You linger for as long as you can until your lungs scream for air forcing you to pull back.

You wipe the saliva from your lips as you look upon his fallen state. His head lolled back, his breath nothing more than a shudder. It had definitely been worth it to see him like this, but you slowly draw back to reality knowing it can’t happen again. There’s too much at stake. If the other authors you represented found out, it could ruin your career, not to mention what would become of your friendship. Namjoon had one night stands before surely he could be content with just this once.

...

After that night Namjoon spends the next two days locked away writing. He asks you to stall with the publishers for as long as you can. Your excuses to them grow more pathetic by the day.

He calls you on the second evening while you’re on your way home from work. “Namjoon are you almost done with your sample? I can’t hold them off much longer, by the way if anyone asks you were sick and then you had a car accident.”

“But I don’t have a car.”

“No because you totaled it in the wreck, come on play along.”

He chuckles a thank you and then shares his news with you. “I think it’s ready. Is it okay if I drop it off at your place now? I have plans for tonight and I don’t want to be late.” He pauses as if to consider his words, “That is unless you would rather go on a date with me. I would cancel everything for that.”

“Namjoon,” You whine back, “Professional boundaries you promised!”

“You’re right I did. Can I still drop off my work?”

“I’m not back yet. Just use your spare key and leave the draft on my table.”

“Will do.”

When you arrive home not only is there a manuscript but he’s also throw in a bottle of his families homemade soju and a note.

...I figured you might as well have a drink at my expense while reading this. Sorry it took so long, I just had to be sure. -Namjoon...

The sample work he’s left strikes you as unusual, bound in a red journal, and upon opening you find his work in longhand. Written on the inside cover is the explanation.

...Possible marketing design, journal format to fit the theme. I would prefer to somehow mimic the handwriting as well rather than text, as it adds to the tone of the story.

Working title: Diary of a Villain

A character slowly driven mad by desire and longing, trying to hold himself together and not reveal his true self...

Namjoon is right, it’s vastly different than what he’s written in the past. Even though the passages he has given you fall closer to the middle and end of the story, you soon find yourself lost in the passion and intensity of the main character's thoughts. He’s been stalking the love of his life but he makes it sound so reasonable. Conveying that this is his purpose in life, to stay by her. Watching her through the windows, breaking into her home when she’s not there just to take in the smell of her sheets. Wishing to collect and study every part of her.

Your heart even breaks as he describes his time away from her. When his desire would overwhelm him, when he could longer be content with just watching, he would have to leave the city just to keep her safe from him. As you continue you notice the change in the writing style going from a tidy scrawl to a haphazard scribble as if the person writing these words was slowly becoming unhinged.

When you reach a part where the main character invites the focus of his affection over, you notice Namjoon has kindly put a small sticky note in the margin.

...If you haven’t started drink already I would highly suggest it now. I dislike the thought of you reading this part sober...

You glance at the next few lines muttering to yourself, “Is this a sex scene? He never writes about intimacy.” He’s right though the thought reading a sensual act written by your very attractive, untouchable friend requires a drink. After taking a shot of the soju he kindly provided you proceed.

The lead up dialogue seems oddly familiar.

...“Why would I tease you? Teasing implies that I won’t give you what you want, I intend to give you everything.”...

Your eyes trace every line carefully as you read, your mind tries to second guess itself wondering if those were are actually the words he spoke to you. But when you hit another familiar passage you begin to blush, no longer able to deny the truth.

...“You need someone you’re comfortable with. Someone who you’ve known for a while, someone you feel a connection with.”...

You take another shot of the soju as the story continues to unfold in a similar way as the events of two days ago. He goes into a vivid replay of how he satisfied you with his tongue and fingers. Each stroke of pleasure is written out on the page exactly how it happened. You’re not sure if you should be upset or flattered that he’s narrated the scene for the whole world to read. Regardless of your feelings your arousal begins to climb while remember how it felt when he touched you.

You interest grows when you read of the female character returning the favour. How her actions matched yours. You can't help but imprint the main characters feelings onto Namjoon. As if he is describing how it felt when you sucked his cock.

...Fuck she took me so well. How could I have ever let anyone else touch me other than her. I might have used them all as distractions, but now I see that nothing could compare. Her tongue dragged along my shaft, so talented in tracing the veins as she placed me at the back of her mouth. Her throat clenched around my tip. The thought of coming inside her was so overwhelming it brought me to the verge quickly. I had to dig my nails into my palm and bite my knuckles to distract myself with the pain. I gladly fought through it just to enjoy the moment a little longer. When I released inside of her mouth I could feel her throat swallow round my head, taking every drop I gave...

You nibble the tip of your finger and smile at the thought that you might have given Namjoon this much pleasure. But you soon find yourself trying to dissociate him from the main character once he returns to his obsessive tendencies.

...She told me this was it, that we couldn’t act on our urges ever again. She had given me the taste of heaven and was now locking the gate forever. I promised her that I would respect her decision, but there was no way I could abide. If she refused to let me in, I would simply drag her down to hell with me...

You find yourself overwhelmed with anxiety, your heart rate and thoughts racing from the ongoing similarities.

...I left a gift at her house, with the hopes that she would enjoy my hard work, with the dream that she would finally understand. She didn’t realize until it was too late that I had drugged her drink, that I had never left but was spying through the bedroom door. I had left it slightly ajar, wanting nothing more than to watch her expression as everything unraveled...

You breathing stops as you look over to your bedroom, the door resting open ever so slightly.

...It was a strong sedative that I used to dose her. The first recorded side effect is often dizziness...

Your hand clings to the couch in an attempt to stay upright as you head swims.

...Followed by loss of motor control...

Your legs begin to tingle, falling numb beneath you, any hope of fleeing snatched away.

...And finally the drug snares the remaining senses from it’s victims before a complete loss of consciousness. She didn’t last long...

Your hearing becomes muffled, and your eyes widen with terror trying to keep them from succumbing to the darkness that slowly closes in on you. The last sight you witness before falling under is the door opening to reveal Namjoon, wearing the smirk you used to love so much.

...

You fight through the haze of exhaustion to bring your mind to where you are. Lying down on your side in a bed you stare at a wall that you know to be in Namjoon’s home. Warm fingertips brush your shoulder as you slowly wake, followed by the soft press of lips to your skin.

You try to lift a hand to cradle your head and relieve the dull ache that’s surfacing, but you find your arms restrained, pulled behind your back and tied in place. You jerk at the bonds in an attempt you free yourself, but now a large hand holds you in place too.

“Don’t move, you’ll only hurt yourself.” Namjoon’s voice trails from behind you, his soft tone attempts to convey comfort but sends you into a panic as you remember his actions.

“Namjoon?” You ask with a sob.

“Shhhh, I’m right here.”

“W-why?” You stutter as your chest begins to heave, “Why did you do this?”

“I thought that was obvious.” He places the journal you were just reading on the bed next to you. “You refused to see reason so I tried to show you. This is everything I feel for you, everything I’ve done for you, and yet you still push me away. I don’t want to work together, I don’t want to be friends if it means I can’t have you. I’ll take you away from everything so you don’t have to make that choice.” He lowers his lips to your ear his tone becoming hushed as if he is sharing a desperate desire. “I’ll be the villain so you can be mine.”

“Namjoon please, just let me go.” Your fingers attempt to find the knots in the binding, straining for any hope of release.

“But that’s not where the story goes next, I would rather continue where you left off. I have so much more in store for you, for us.” He paces around the bed finally coming into your view. A sly smile crosses his face as he sits down on the mattress in front of you. A finger raises your chin so you meet his eyes. “Shall I read the end to you? I think you’ll like it. I took your advice.”

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blessedarethebinarybreakers · 4 years

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Hello! I was wondering if you know an edition of the Bible that is annotated/ contains discussions of the context of the different books and chapters or a supplement that does the same? Something that would have explanations for the different symbols, the references the different NT books make to OT books and such. We studied the Bible this way in literature class and I miss it as I've honestly learnt more about the Bible in literature class than in religious studies. Thank you!

Hiya, sorry for the delay in responding! It’s super hard to read the Bible without good commentary explaining the context, so good on you for seeking that out.

The study Bible I recommend most strongly for the “average person” (aka, you’re not a religious studies major or seminarian) is the Common English Study Bible.

All my other study Bibles are made more for seminarians and thus the language is a little more “jargony” and made for a higher reading level, while this study Bible does its best to be accessible to people of all education levels.

The CEB translation was created by a collaboration of several denominations, so that’s also cool!

Some stuff it contains along with book introductions, outlines, and footnotes:

Over 200 illustrations, maps, and charts

Lots of cross references (e.g. it’ll tell you if another part of the Bible sounds real similar to the part you’re reading)

Some pages have lil green squares that define words, explore theological themes, examine problematic passages, etc. For example, there’s a section on “Family conflict in Genesis” and another on “God’s Kingdom.”

Near the end there are some easy-to-read essays on “The Authority of Scripture,” “The Bible’s Unity,” “How We Got the Bible,” and “Guidelines for Reading the Bible” -- these essays are such a great place for the average Bible reader to start considering questions of “inerrancy” and “inspiration,” cultural context and canon.

Finally, select concordance at the back that lets you search for a topic, name, or theme

The study Bible I personally use most often is the New Interpreter’s Study Bible, just because it’s the one my seminary classes required.

It’s got similar content to the CEB study Bible but written in less accessible language -- if you’re interested, I think you’d still get a lot of use out of it, but might have to google stuff if a footnote throws words like “soteriology” and “theodicy” and “eschatology” at you and you don’t know wtf they’re talking about.

The same goes for the Catholic Study Bible, second edition --

of these three options, it has the most commentary and tons of essays on who wrote the biblical books and when and why and all that stuff, but the language is super duper scholarly.

So if that’s not your style, don’t get this one; if it is your style and you wanna just have a whole avalanche of commentary, then do get this one!

_______________

So yeah, if nothing else, get yourself a study Bible like one of the three I describe above. They can be pricy, which is why I linked to them on amazon -- I know amazon is Evil and Bad but dang are Bibles expensive, and so getting a used copy is many people’s only option.

But if you do have enough money or access to a library with good Bible books, you can also consider the following resources...

If there is a specific book of the Bible you really wanna dig into, commentaries are great!

A standard commentary will provide cultural context for the biblical book and tell you what scholars know about who wrote it and when and why; it’ll explain symbols and delve into theology and how the book is applied today...The issue is, commentaries are usually expensive.

If you live in a large-ish city, it’s very possible that there’s a seminary somewhere near you where you can explore commentaries to your heart’s content! You can probably enlist a librarian’s help in finding just what you’re looking for, too.

Two series of commentaries that I recommend are Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (mostly accessible language but still uses some jargon you might have to look up) and the Anchor Bible series (an older series so more scholarly and occasionally sorta outdated but still pretty good).

__________

Now let’s talk about some free resources you might find useful, because golly do I wish biblical materials were all free so everyone could access them...

Working Preacher is a site that a lot of progressive-leaning pastors reference when crafting weekly sermons. It’s not gonna give you a super detailed account of the cultural context of a Bible chapter or too much about who wrote it, but if you want to reflect on applications for today, this is a great place to start! There’s a scripture index so you can look up whatever book and chapter you’re interested in and see if anyone’s written a little article about it.

So I don’t personally agree with all the theology shared in the Lumina Bible, but it’s a great resource for the average Bible reader who doesn’t know Hebrew or Greek to get some help figuring out what the original language said. There’s often a lot of good cultural context stuff too! So yeah, that’s my recommendation for an online Bible with quality footnotes.

The Bible Project is such a cool resource, with timelines and posters and videos for each book of the Bible that offer a really easy to understand, well-organized overview of that book. I don’t personally agree with all their theology either, but if I want to jog my memory about what a certain book of the Bible is about and the context surrounding it -- when it was written and why, what the main themes are, etc. -- I hop on over to YouTube and watch the Bible Project’s short video on that book. So helpful, and entertaining too.

__________

I hope this helps; let me know if you have questions!

Does anyone else have a study Bible or other good resources they’d recommend for anon?

#versions #reading and studying the bible #choosing a bible #bible #bible tag #long post #essays #Anonymous

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eli-kittim · 4 years

Text

How Can Good Exegesis Make Bad Theology?

By Author Eli Kittim

——-

The Canonical Context

This principle suggests that we should read the Books of the Bible not as distinct, individual compositions but rather as parts of a larger *canonical context*, that is, as part of the “canon” of Scripture. In other words, instead of evaluating each book separately in terms of its particular historical, literary, and editorial development, this principle focuses instead on its final canonical format that was legitimized by the various communities of faith. The idea is that since the redacted version or “final cut,” as it were, is considered “authoritative” by the different communities of faith, then this format should hold precedence over all previous versions or drafts.

Moreover, this concept holds that despite the fact that the Biblical Books were written by a number of different authors, at different times, in different places, using different languages, nevertheless the “canonical context” emphasizes the need to read these Books in dialogue with one another, as if they are part of a larger whole. So, the hermeneutical focus is not on the historical but rather on the canonical context. The hermeneutical guidelines of the canon therefore suggest that we might gain a better understanding of the larger message of Scripture by reading these Books as if they were interrelated with all the others, rather than as separate, diverse, and distinct sources. The premise is that the use of this type of context leads to sound Biblical theology.

——-

Theology

Theology is primarily concerned with the synthesis of the diverse voices within Scripture in order to grasp the overarching message of the complete Biblical revelation. It deals with Biblical epistemology and belief, either through systematic analysis and development of passages (systematic theology) or through the running themes of the entire Bible (Biblical theology). It addresses eternity and the transcendent, metaphysical or supernatural world. And it balances individual Scriptural interpretations by placing them within a larger theoretical framework. The premise is that there is a broader theological context in which each and every detailed exegesis coalesces to form a coherent whole! It’s as if the Bible is a single Book that contains a complete and wide-ranging revelation! It is under the auspices of theology, then, that the canonical context comes into play.

——-

Exegesis

The critical interpretation of Scriptural texts is known as “exegesis.” Its task is to use various methods of interpretation so as to arrive at a definitive explanation of Scripture! Exegesis provides the temporal, linguistic, grammatical, and syntactic context, analysis, and meaning of a text. It furnishes us with a critical understanding of the authorial intent, but only in relation to the specific and limited context of the particular text in question. It is the task of theology to further assess it in terms of its relation and compatibility to the overall Biblical revelation! One of the things that exegesis tries to establish is the composition’s historical setting or context, also known as “historical criticism.” This approach inquires about the author and his audience, the occasion and dating of the composition, the unique terms and concepts therein, the meaning of the overall message, and, last but not least, the *style* in which the message is written, otherwise known as the “genre.” While the author’s other writings on the topic are pivotal to understanding what he means, nothing is more important than the *genre* or the form in which his writing is presented.

——-

The Analogy of Scripture

One of the most important hermeneutical principles of exegesis is called “the analogy of Scripture” (Lat. ‘analogia Scripturae’). In short, it means that Scripture should interpret Scripture. This principle requires that the implicit must be explained by the explicit. In other words, the exegesis of unclear or ambiguous parts of Scripture must be explained by clear and didactic ones that address the exact same topic. That means that one Biblical Book could very well explain another. For example, the New Testament (NT) Book of Ephesians 1.9-10 seems to demystify Galatians 4.4. This principle is based on the “revealed” inspiration (Gk. θεόπνευστος) of Scripture:

All scripture is inspired by God and is useful

for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and

for training in righteousness (2 Tim. 3.16

NRSV).

As for those scholars who refuse to take the NT’s alleged “pseudepigrapha” seriously because of their *apparent* false attribution, let me remind them that the most renowned textual scholars of the 20th century, Bruce M. Metzger and Bart D. Ehrman, acknowledged that even alleged “forged” works could still be “inspired!” It’s important to realize that just because these works may be written by unknown authors who may have attempted to gain a readership by tacking on the name of famous Biblical characters doesn’t mean that the subject-matter is equally false. The addition of amanuenses (secretaries) further complicates the issue.

So, returning to our subject, the analogy of Scripture allows the Bible to define its own terms, symbols, and phrases. It is via the analogy of Scripture, which defines the many and varied parts, that the broader canonical context is established, namely, the principle that the various Biblical Books form a coherent whole from which a larger theological system can emerge.

And, of course, interdisciplinary studies——such as archaeology, anthropology, psychology, sociology, epistemology, and philosophy——contribute to both systematic and Biblical theology by presenting their particular findings, concepts, and theoretical ideas.

——-

Testing the Legitimacy of these Principles

In explaining how these principles work in tandem, I’d like to put my personal and unique theology to the test. I have raised the following question: “What if the crucifixion of Christ is a future event?” The immediate reaction of Christian apologetics or heresiology would be to revert to “dogmatic theology” (i.e., the dogmas or articles of faith) and the scholarly consensus, which state that Jesus of Nazareth was crucified under Pontius Pilate during the reign of Tiberius. Really? Let’s consider some historical facts. There are no eyewitnesses! And there are no first-hand accounts! Although the following references were once thought to be multiple attestations or proofs of Jesus’ existence, nevertheless both the Tacitus and Josephus accounts are now considered to be either complete or partial forgeries, and therefore do not shed any light on Jesus’ historicity. One of the staunch proponents of the historical Jesus position is the textual scholar Bart Ehrman, who, surprisingly, said this on his blog:

. . . Paul says almost *NOTHING* about the

events of Jesus’ lifetime. That seems weird

to people, but just read all of his letters.,

Paul never mentions Jesus healing anyone,

casting out a demon, doing any other

miracle, arguing with Pharisees or other

leaders, teaching the multitudes, even

speaking a parable, being baptized, being

transfigured, going to Jerusalem, being

arrested, put on trial, found guilty of

blasphemy, appearing before Pontius Pilate

on charges of calling himself the King of the

Jews, being flogged, etc. etc. etc. It’s a

very, very long list of what he doesn’t tell us

about.

Therefore, there appears to be a literary discrepancy regarding the historicity of Jesus in the canonical context between the gospels and the epistles. And, as I will show in due time, there are many, many passages in the epistles that seem to contradict dogmatic theology’s belief in the historiographical nature of the gospels. So, if they want to have a sound theology, exegetes should give equal attention to the epistles. Why?

First, the epistles precede the gospels by several decades. In fact, they comprise the earliest recorded writings of the NT that circulated among the Christian churches (cf. Col. 4.16).

Second, unlike the gospels——which are essentially *theological* narratives that are largely borrowed from the Old Testament (OT)——the epistles are *expositional* writings that offer real, didactic and practical solutions and discuss spiritual principles and applications within an actual, historical, or eschatological context.

Third, according to Biblical scholarship, the gospels are not historiographical accounts or biographies, even though historical places and figures are sometimes mentioned. That is to say, the gospels are not giving us history proper. For example, the feeding of the 5,000 is a narrative that is borrowed from 2 Kings 4.40-44. The parallels and verbal agreements are virtually identical. And this is a typical example of the rest of the narratives. For instance, when Jesus speaks of the damned and says that “their worm never dies, and the fire is never quenched” (Mark 9.48), few people know that this saying is actually derived from Isaiah 66.24. In other words, the gospels demonstrate a literary dependence on the OT that is called, “intertextuality.”

Fourth, the gospels are like watching a Broadway play. They are full of plots, subplots, theatrical devices (e.g. Aristotelian rhetoric; Homeric parallels), literary embellishments, dialogues, characters, and the like. Conversely, the epistles have none of these elements. They are straightforward and matter of fact. That’s why Biblical interpreters are expected to interpret the implicit by the explicit and the narrative by the didactic. In practical terms, the NT epistles——which are the more explicit and didactic portions of Scripture——must clarify the implicit meaning of the gospel literature. As you will see, the epistles are the primary keys to unlocking the actual timeline of Christ’s *one-and-only* visitation!

Fifth, whereas the gospels’ literary genre is mainly •theological•——that is to say, “pseudo-historical”——the genre of the epistolary literature of the NT is chiefly •expositional.• So, the question arises, which of the two genres is giving us the real deal: is it the “theological narrative” or the “expository writing”?

In order to answer this question, we first need to consider some of the differences in both genres. For example, although equally “inspired,” the gospels include certain narratives that are unanimously rejected as “unhistorical” by both Biblical scholars and historians alike. Stories like the slaughter of the innocents, the Magi, the Star of Bethlehem, and so on, are not considered to be historical. By contrast, the epistles never once mention the aforesaid stories, nor is there any mention of the Nativity, the virgin birth, the flight to Egypt, and the like. Why? Because the Epistles are NOT “theological.” They’re expository writings whose intention is to give us the “facts” as they really are!

Bottom line, the epistles give us a far more accurate picture of Jesus’ *visitation* than the gospels.

In conclusion, it appears that the gospels conceal Jesus far more effectively than they reveal him.

——-

Proof-text and Coherence Fallacies

The “proof-text fallacy” comprises the idea of putting together a number of out-of-context passages in order to validate a particular theological point that’s often disparagingly called “a private interpretation.” But, for argument’s sake, let’s turn these principles on their head. Classical Christianity typically determines heresy by assessing the latter’s overall view. If it doesn’t fit within the existing theological schema it is said to be heretical. Thus, dogmatic theology sets the theological standard against which all other theories are measured. They would argue that good exegesis doesn’t necessarily guarantee good theology, and can lead to a “coherence fallacy.” In other words, even if the exegesis of a string of proof-texts is accurate, the conclusion may not be compatible with the overall existing theology. This would be equivalent to a coherence fallacy, that is to say, the illusion of Biblical coherence.

By the same token, I can argue that traditional, historical-Jesus exegesis of certain proof-texts might be accurate but it may not fit the theology of an eschatological Christ, as we find in the epistles (e.g., Heb. 9.26b; 1 Pet. 1.20; Rev. 12.5). That would equally constitute a coherence fallacy. So, these guidelines tend to discourage independent proof-texting apart from a systematic coherency of Scripture. But what if the supposed canonical context is wrong? What if the underlying theological assumption is off? What then? So, the $64,000 question is, who can accurately determine the big picture? And who gets to decide?

For example, I think that we have confused Biblical literature with history, and turned prophecy into biography. In my view, the theological purpose of the gospels is to provide a fitting introduction to the messianic story *beforehand* so that it can be passed down from generation to generation until the time of its fulfillment. It is as though NT history is *written in advance* (cf. מַגִּ֤יד מֵֽרֵאשִׁית֙ אַחֲרִ֔ית [declaring the end from the beginning], Isa. 46.9-10; προεπηγγείλατο [promised beforehand], Rom. 1.2; προγνώσει [foreknowledge], Acts 2.22-23; προκεχειροτονημένοις [to appoint beforehand], Acts 10.40-41; ερχόμενα [things to come], Jn 16.13)!

So, if we exchange the theology of the gospels for that of the epistles we’ll find a completely different theology altogether, one in which the coherence of Scripture revolves around the *end-times*! For example, in 2 Pet. 1.16–21, all the explanations in vv. 16-18 are referring to the future. That’s why verse 19 concludes: “So we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed” (cf. 1 Pet. 1.10-11; 1 Jn 2.28).

In response, Dogmatic Theology would probably say that such a conclusion is at odds with the canonical context and that it seems to be based on autonomous proof-texting that is obviously out of touch with the broader theological teaching of Scripture. Really? So the so-called “teaching” of Scripture that Jesus died in Antiquity is a nonnegotiable, foregone conclusion? What if the basis upon which this gospel teaching rests is itself a proof-text fallacy that is out of touch with the teaching of the *epistles*? For example, there are numerous passages in the epistles that place the timeline of Jesus’ life (i.e., his birth, death, and resurrection) in *eschatological* categories (e.g., 2 Thess. 2.1-3; Heb. 1.1-2; 9.26b; 1 Pet. 1.10-11, 20; Rev. 12.5; 19.10d; 22.7). The epistolary authors deviate from the gospel writers in their understanding of the overall importance of •eschatology• in the chronology of Jesus. For them, Scripture comprises revelations and “prophetic writings” (see Rom. 16.25-26; 2 Pet. 1.19-21; Rev. 22.18-19). Therefore, according to the *epistolary literature*, Jesus is not a historical but rather an “eschatological” figure! Given that the NT epistles are part of the Biblical *canon,* their overall message holds equal value with that of the NT gospels, since they, too, are an integral part of the canonical context! To that extent, even the gospels concede that the Son of Man has not yet been revealed (see Lk. 17.30; cf. 1 Cor. 1.7; 1 Pet. 1.7)!

What is more, if the canonical context demands that we coalesce the different Biblical texts as if we’re reading a single Book, then the overall “prophetic” message of Revelation must certainly play an important role therein. The Book of Revelation places not only the timeline (12.5) but also the testimony to Jesus (19.10b) in “prophetic” categories:

I warn everyone who hears the words of the

prophecy of this book: if anyone adds to

them, God will add to that person the

plagues described in this book; if anyone

takes away from the words of the book of

this prophecy, God will take away that

person’s share in the tree of life and in the

holy city, which are described in this book

(Rev. 22.18-19 NRSV).

Incidentally, the Book of Revelation is considered to be an epistle. Thus, it represents, confirms, and validates the overarching *prophetic theme* or eschatological “theology” of the epistolary literature. That is not to say that the •theology• of the epistles stands alone and apart from that of the OT canon. Far from it! Even the *theology* of the OT confirms the earthy, end-time Messiah of the epistles (cf. Job 19.25; Isa. 2.19; Dan. 12.1-2; Zeph. 1.7-9, 15-18; Zech. 12.9-10)! As a matter of fact, mine is the *only* view that appropriately combines the end-time messianic expectations of the Jews with Christian Scripture!

Does this sound like a proof-text or coherence fallacy? If it does, it’s because you’re evaluating it from the theology of the gospels. If, on the other hand, you assess it using the theology of the epistles, it will seem to be in-context or in-sync with it. So, the theological focus and coherency of Scripture will change depending on which angle you view it from.

——-

Visions of the Resurrection

There are quite a few scholars that view the so-called resurrection of Christ not as a historical phenomenon but rather as a visionary experience. And this seems to be the theological message of the NT as well (cf. 2 Tim. 2.17-18; 2 Thess. 2.1-3). For example, Lk. 24.23 explicitly states that the women “had indeed seen a vision.” Lk. 24.31 reads: “he [Jesus] vanished from their sight.” And Lk. 24.37 admits they “thought that they were seeing a ghost.” Here are some of the statements that scholars have made about the resurrection, which do not necessarily disqualify them as believers:

The resurrection itself is not an event of

past history. All that historical criticism can

establish is that the first disciples came to

believe the resurrection (Rudolph

Bultmann, ‘The New Testament and

Mythology,’ in Kerygma and Myth: A

Theological Debate, ed. Hans Werner

Bartsch, trans. Reginald H. Fuller [London:

S.P.C.K, 1953-62], 38, 42).

When the evangelists spoke about the

resurrection of Jesus, they told stories

about apparitions or visions (John Dominic

Crossan, ‘A Long Way from Tipperary: A

Memoir’ [San Francisco:

HarperSanFransisco, 2000], 164-165).

At the heart of the Christian religion lies a

vision described in Greek by Paul as

ophehe—-“he was seen.” And Paul himself,

who claims to have witnessed an

appearance asserted repeatedly “I have

seen the Lord.” So Paul is the main source

of the thesis that a vision is the origin of the

belief in resurrection ... (Gerd Lüdemann,

‘The Resurrection of Jesus: History,

Experience, Theology.’ Translated by John

Bowden. [London: SCM, 1994], 97,

100).

It is undisputable that some of the followers

of Jesus came to think that he had been

raised from the dead, and that something

had to have happened to make them think

so. Our earliest records are consistent on

this point, and I think they provide us with

the historically reliable information in one

key aspect: the disciples’ belief in the

resurrection was based on visionary

experiences. I should stress it was visions,

and nothing else, that led to the first

disciples to believe in the resurrection (Bart

D. Ehrman, ‘How Jesus Became God: The

Exaltation of a Jewish Preacher from

Galilee’ [New York: Harper One, 2014],

183-184).

Ehrman sides with the *visionary language* that Luke, Bultmann, Crossan, and Lüdemann use. In the words of NT textual critic Kurt Aland:

It almost then appears as if Jesus were a

mere PHANTOM . . .

——-

Exegetical Application

I deliberately stay away from theology when I exegete Scripture precisely because it will taint the evidence with presuppositions, assumptions, and speculations that are not in the text. Thus, instead of focusing on the authorial intent hermeneutic, it will inevitably superimpose out-of-context meanings and create an eisegesis. All this, of course, is courtesy of confirmation bias.

So, I think one of the reasons why we’ve done so poorly in understanding, for example, the story of Jesus is because we have mixed-up exegesis with theology. When theology drives the exegesis, then the exegesis becomes blind and erroneous.

My method of exegesis is very simple. I see EXACTLY what the text *says,* EXACTLY *how* it says it. I don’t add or subtract anything, and I don’t speculate, guess, or theorize based on existing philosophies or theologies. The minute we go outside *the analogy of scripture,* that’s when we start to speculate. And that’s how we err. In short, let the Scriptures tell you what it means. Thus, the best interpretation is no interpretation at all!

——-

Conclusion

To find the truth, we must consider all the evidence objectively. Evangelicals, for instance, would be biased if they didn’t consider the academic standpoint even if, at times, it seems to be guided by liberal theology. In this way, they will be in a better position to consider objectively all the possibilities and probabilities regarding the correct interpretation of Scripture. That’s because the truth usually touches all points of view . . .

One of the exegetical stumbling blocks is our inability to view the gospels as “inspired metaphors.” Given their literary dependence on the OT, it appears as if the gospels themselves are “inspired parables.”

So, if the epistolary literature, which is both expositional and explicit, seems to contradict these so-called “theological parables,” then it becomes quite obvious that the “theology” of the gospels fails to meet scholarly and academic parameters. And, therefore, the epistolary literature must be given more serious attention and consideration!

Our exegetical shortcomings often stem from forced or anachronistic interpretations that are based on *theological speculation* and conjecture rather than on detailed exegesis. Even the Biblical translations themselves are not immune to the interpretative process, whether they be of dynamic or formal equivalence.

That’s why I have developed an exegetical system and have demonstrated the effectiveness of its approach to the study of the Biblical Christ. Accordingly, I argue that the epistles are the primary *keys* to unlocking the future timeline of Christ’s ***ONLY*** visitation! Hence, I leave you with one final rhetorical question:

What if the crucifixion of Christ is a future

event?

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