THEDAS, THE WORLD OF VIDEO GAME SERIES “DRAGON AGE,” WAS ACTUALLY NAMED BASED ON AN ACRONYM FROM THE BIOWARE FORUMS: “THE D.A.S.” WHICH IS SHORT FOR “THE DRAGON AGE SETTING.”
Definitely my favorite part of this blog is when people ask 'why are you shouting' in the reblogs because I love irony. Also I love inane bits of trivia and was also told that I had a knack for it, so like. *fist bump* You go my buddy.
FOR EVERY ONE OF THOSE “WHY ARE YOU SHOUTING” MESSAGES YOU SEE IN THE REBLOGS I GET SIX IN MY ASK BOX AND TWENTY “I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW I READ YOUR FACTS IN TERRY CREWS’ VOICE” MESSAGES AND FRANKLY IF I GET TOO MANY MORE I’M JUST GONNA HAVE TO SHUT DOWN MESSAGES COMPLETELY
i am here to ask about these legion john wick feelings. your timer begins now. do not disappoint.
Listen, I know they’re making a third one to close the trilogy and I’m pumped as fuck for it but that being said I’m going to be spectacularly disappointed if it doesn’t end with John as the manager of the Continental.
I have a lot of disjointed half-thoughts about this, but it basically sums up as: BUT THAT’S HOW STORIES WORK. John breaks the ONLY LAW in the underworld when he kills someone on Continental ground, he renders himself an outlaw among this community of outlaws, and like. Outlaws and kings are members of the same category, those who are not bound by the rules, IDK man I didn’t take a class about homo sacer but my roommate did and I absorbed a lot of it by exposure? @lathori be proud of me. Basically what I’m saying here is please make it a thing that, in the process of being a badass and saving his own life, John reveals that Manager Wednesday (I think his name is actually Winston but my feelings about American Gods have intersected with my feelings about John Wick and therefore he is Manager Wednesday, an inveterate con artist and liar who low-key has supernatural abilities and enjoys the Absolute Belief that his people have in his authority and power) is forging Krugerrands or whatever and takes over. OR, arguably even better, Manager Wednesday either dies (good! kill everyone John cares about, I want to see him suffer, Keanu Reeves does a good Suffer) or just…retires. Like, the only way to retire is if you just disappear and the only way to just disappear is if you have the power to make it happen.
Or, arguably THE BEST, Manager Wednesday owes John an old favor for saving his life and just kind of promotes him. I am JUST SAYING that it would be a really quality twist to have the end of the movie be a brief conversation between John and Manager Wednesday about how much John sacrificed to Get Out and how much he’s right back where he started, and then Manager Wednesday leaves and John watches him go and sighs and starts to stand…and stops. There’s a Continental key card left on the table, with a single gold Krugerrand on top of it. John takes it to the front desk and asks which room it gets him into, and he’s simply told “top floor”, and he takes the elevator up, battered and exhausted but alive and he’s going to find one more answer before he sleeps for a million years. The elevator doors open and John (plus his dog, kept safe by friends who Did This For John when he asked) walks to the only door in the antechamber, and opens it with the key card. It’s Manager Wednesday’s penthouse suite, impeccably made up and cleared out of all personal possessions, and there’s a piece of stationary laid on the pillow under another Krugerrand.
John, the note says, no one ever really talks about what makes a manager, so I’ll tell you. We’re the ones who can manage, no matter what goes wrong.
I’ve cleared it with the others. Welcome to your new life.
so uh this is gonna sound like a loaded question but i'm genuinely curious: how are you okay w the incest in borgias?
Um…you’re correct, that is a loaded question, and ultimately my answer boils down to ‘because I’m confident in my own ability to tell right from wrong in the real world’ but sure, we can do this.
First of all, I don’t have any personal issues centered around incest, which, like, I tend to think is the important part of this? Obviously, if you’re uncomfortable with a relationship in a piece of media, please choose to take care of yourself and not engage with it. Ex: I have the show Rick & Morty comprehensively blacklisted because I can’t deal with it. I don’t have any of those issues with the Borgias so…thus, I watch it.
Second of all, it’s history. Like, okay, I know this is a pretty fragile argument, but it’s pretty much accepted historical fact that there were some…interesting familial dynamics happening with the Borgia family, as with many of the powerful families in Italy at the time. And I generally believe that if you’re doing a messy part of history, you need to deal with the fact that it was messy.
Third of all, I just care a lot more about whether a fictional relationship is interesting than whether it’s the picture of mental health and moral purity. Like, I’m sorry, I just do. The Purity Olympics that this blue hellsite likes to get into exhaust me, I have unfollowed people for it when I got too tired of watching the discourse scroll down my dash. I care infinitely more about how interesting and complicated the relationship and the emotions are. Even the ships that are genuinely pretty good and harmless, I generally care about them in terms of complications. Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley is my jam, but I would be WAY less interested if they weren’t both child generals in a war they were born into and victims of possession and traumatized and scared and courageous and forced to fight separately in order to win. The very first thing I said about Diana/Steve Trevor was “why are we even here if he’s not torturing himself with guilt for staining the purest soul he’s ever known with war”. I’ve always been someone who loves stories for their messiness, because it makes the characters and their relationships more interesting. And by far the most interesting available permutation of Cesare Borgia and Lucrezia Borgia’s relationship is the one in the show, where they’re so bent and misshapen by the pressures and demands of their father’s nation-spanning chess game that the only way they really know how to love is with each other.
Fourth and finally, this is the kind of complicated morally graphite stuff I grew up on. The five other people on the internet who’ve read the Kencyrath know what I’m talking about, but more than that, this is always the kind of story I’ve loved. For all else that it is, Harry Potter is a story about a profoundly traumatized kid and the grim reality that sometimes there is no one else to fight except for you. The Hero and the Crown is a story about how sometimes being good at something won’t change the fact that you’re not good at the right thing and you might have to beat that into people. Jesus Christ, Animorphs brings up the question of whether or not it’s morally okay to commit a war crime. A lot. The characters commit war crimes. A LOT.
Basically, I’m an adult with the ability to make my own decisions about right and wrong who enjoys grim and messy relationships because honestly life is grim and messy. If you yourself, anon, are not comfortable with the incest in the Borgias, then you are more than welcome to not engage with it.
I think my favorite part of the Castlevania Netflix series is that everyone agrees that Lisa is the purest cinnamon role and Dracula is perfectly justified in killing everyone.
For some godforsaken reason, I don’t think anyone has ever written an AU where the Animorphs are the Inquisition Inner Circle SO I DID IT MY DAMN SELF.
Featuring: Dalish mage Inquisitor Tobias because his life sucks, Commander Rachel, Seeker Jake, Qunari warrior Ax, spymaster Marco, and Ambassador Cassie.
fun fact about american history: george washington was apparently so sexy that when he was 17 he went swimming a river and some girl that had a crush on him stole his clothes and watched as he walked around naked looking for them
aaron burr, the guy who shot alexander hamilton and also the second vice president of the united states, tried to start an empire out in texas
marquis de lafayette literally had to sneak out of france to come aid america and while some versions of the story claim that he disguised himself as a commoner, other versions say he dressed up like a woman
literally all the founding fathers had daddy issues, specifically alexander hamilton who refused to even befriend george washington initially because he didn’t want to grow close to someone who had the potential to become a father like figure to him
thomas jeffereson kept a bust of alexander hamilton in his house at monticello for no reason other than the fact that hamilton was his sworn enemy and he felt as though he needed a very expensive bust of his sworn enemy in his house
I love all of this please keep going.
they didn’t let hamilton try this one course of study at king’s college because it was so intense that it made one student literally get sick and have to go home for months on end and that student was james madison
the marquis de lafayette was such a popular figure in america that ladies wore gloves with his portrait on them, and he would refuse to kiss their hands in greeting because he found it to be excessively narcissistic to kiss himself
Random Headcanon: The bit where character A walks into a room and finds character B entangled in some utterly ludicrous situation, and after a long, awkward pause, B calmly states “okay, I can explain” is a popular trope in both human and Vulcan comedy, albeit for totally different reasons.
What would the reason be for Vulcans?
One of the major genres of Vulcan comedy consists of long, complicated explanations or debates establishing that something absurd is, though a series of unlikely contrivances, actually perfectly logical. The moment of comedic catharsis arrives when the audience realises that some seemingly innocuous assumption they’d made about what’s going on is wildly incorrect.
okay, favourite city in alleirat and what the street food is like there
Oh my god, let me talk to you about my very favorite Alleirat city: Dase, the city of stone, called by her own people and all those with sense the jewel of the east.
Perched on the easternmost coast of the Alleirai continent, Dase (pronounced dah-SEH) is the biggest city in terms of population if not physical size, and presides over the finest harbor in the world (the southern coast, with their sprawling river delta, politely begs to differ, but look, they’re wrong, okay, good talk). Beyond her size, Dase’s claim to fame is her towering four-hundred-foot coastal cliffs, and the semispherical harbor the ancient citizenry excavated straight into the stone wall with a combination of magic, explosives, and sheer determination. The harbor is massive, able to comfortably house even the tallest ship without scraping the mast along the ceiling and protect quite a number of vessels in the event of a storm. The city itself was originally built almost entirely out of the excess stone removed from the harbor, and as further expansions have been executed under the eye of the city stone workers, the buildings have been expanded since then with the same material, either taken from expansions to the harbor or knocked off another part of the cliff. Dase mostly gets expanded up rather than out, since it’s approximately a half-circle facing against the cliffs on one side and there’s a city wall hemming it in along the curve, but it’s still sizable, about three miles in radius. It’s also the place where Crispin and Brenneth grew up and lived until things went badly–Brenneth used to own a smithy on the blacksmith’s row that’s still standing, and her old sword is mounted in the audience chamber of the gothkenla (like a city hall crossed with a citadel, literally ‘city center’).
Because I have no impulse control, here’s a brief excerpt of Brenneth and Crispin returning:
“Welcome
back to Dase, the jewel of the East,” Crispin said, switching fluidly back to
Alleirai and raising his bound hands as if presenting me a gift. I turned, and looked, and all my exasperation
with Crispin drained away to be replaced by the sun-warm, dizzy ecstasy of
being back.
Dase
was less beautiful and more striking—all its beauty was in strong lines and
hard angles, like the cliffs it commanded.
It was tall, about three or four stories on average, and built almost
entirely out of the hard silver-grey stone of the cliffs, with wide windows cut
into the walls and the sun turning it into a labyrinth of brilliant light and impenetrably
dark shadows. The air smelled of salt at
the cliff face, but the city wind itself could change on a dime, bringing the scent
of the farmlands from the inland fields. From our angle were the places where Kal Dase—Dase Below, the subcity of tunnels—could
be accessed were invisible, but we could see where the stone was ragged enough
to be scaled to the eaves of the roof level.
Shadows moved, quick as starlings, overhead, thieves about their
business in Lai Dase, Dase
Above.
…From
above, the city would look like a ragged half-circle, butting right up against
the edge of the cliffs with an absolute disregard for the potential drop on the
other side. At what would be the center
of the circle, if it were complete, was the gothkenla,
the city center—the citadel building where the gothed lived, received audiences, passed judgement, and completed
all their other duties. City-side of the
kenla was a sprawl of empty space
that spread all the way to the cliff, serving as the central marketplace and, occasionally,
execution grounds. The ten major streets
radiated out from the city square, a nest of alleyways interconnecting them,
and led all the way to the city limits.
Every sector had its own markets, its own hierarchies and systems—the
city in miniature, divided up by class. The
path to the cage, sardonically marked Drop
Alley with a wooden sign, butted up against one of the major throughways,
the one that ran immediately cliff-side.
Unless they had moved everything around rather a lot, which I imagined
would be a challenge, the kenla was
about an hour walk from where we stood, depending on foot traffic.
But so, as you might imagine, food in Dase tends toward fish for meat and depends on her protectorate lands for kestho (the main grain grown in Alleirat, a very hardy, adaptable plant that produces dense breads that taste sort of like…rye?) and other farm products. The ten city sectors often have smaller markets to service day-to-day needs, with the large market outside the gothkenla being a once-or-twice-a-week thing for more variety, but that’s, like, raw cooking material.
Since street food is generally stuff that can be acquired and cooked with a minimum of effort and expense on the vendor’s part, I’m guessing that smoked meats (maybe venison/other wild-hunted meats in seasons where they’re plentiful and therefore cheaper, chicken/beef if a vendor could get a good deal, most commonly fish) play a big part. I’m kind of thinking of a kabob-like situation, with chunks of smoked meat served on a skewer with whatever suitable vegetables are in season. Spices and seasoning would be easy, it’s a trade city and you can make spices last a long time if you know what you’re doing, so please assume that all of these are very flavorful.
Straight-up fruit vendors are also a pretty common thing, especially in the richer parts of the city where the fruit is nicer and possibly imported (maybe from the west where apples do better, or the south where everything does great, or even the Outrigger Islands where more tropical stuff can be found). Fruit vendors also do phenomenally well in the hostel district where there are always sailors who miss real fresh stuff and are willing to shell out of their wages accordingly. Like, the fruit vendors in the hostel district charge more than they maybe ethically should but the sailors don’t care enough to try to change it.
Oh, and bread stuff, that should fill out the basics. Since kestho grain doesn’t easily grind down into really fine flour and tends to be very dense, fluffy pastries aren’t really a thing like they are here, but miniature loaves of bread (like, the size of two fists) with various things baked into them are a hit. You can go with meat/veggies for savory or (often dried) fruits for sweet–they’re often baked as an easily transported ration, too, although not so elaborately. Kestho loaves with meat and hot Island spices do a booming business on the training grounds and as a traveling ration for the city guard, because they’re quick and easy to eat with protein and carbs for energy and a good kick. That specific combination is actually called a soldier’s meal, because they were the original kestho loaf cooked by soldiers during the ancient pre-unification wars.
I wrote this on a bus with no dinner in sight and now I’m ravenous and I could murder a soldier’s meal with like some strawberries after, Jesus this was a bad idea.
Bulgaria just appointed a facist and neo-Nazi, Valeri Simeonov (who is also Deputy Prime Minister), to lead their council on how to “deal” with the Romani people in Bulgaria.
Valeri Simeonov literally talked about creating modern concentration camps, and in 2016, when speaking of Bulgaria’s Roma minority, he told the parliament: “They are brazen, feral, human-like creatures that demand pay without work, and collect sickness benefits without being sick. They receive child benefits for children that play with pigs on the street, and for women that have the instincts of stray dogs.” His party has literally called for the demolition of “Gypsy ghettos” and for Roma to be instead isolated in closed reservations that could “generate income as tourist attractions”
Asides from this Ilian Todorov from the far-right ATAKA party (ultranationalist, racist, especially antisemitic and anti-Roma, xenophobic, especially anti-Muslim and anti-Turkish) is now Bulgaria, Sofia’s regional governor.
The opposition party, Yes Bulgaria, warned that this “toxic national-populism” can only divide society and “heighten the risk of stirring up ethnic enmity” when we have already long gone past the “risk” stage as proven by recent submissions of the European Roma Rights Center and the Bulgarian Helsinki Committee – Both reports detail recent violent events which include mass attempts to storm Roma neighbourhoods, an increase in hate speech, failures by the authorities to deal properly withracially motivated hate crime, as well as incidents such as the brutal assault in April by police of a Romani father and son outside the village of Bohot in Pleven province. The son sustained serious injuries, but his father died at the scene of this assault. The authorities justified the police action by claiming that the men were found in possession of stolen pesticides and had resisted arrest.
The former vice-deputy of the ATAKA party, went on TV to praise the police for “neutralising the two thieves,” for sending a clear message, and spreading the kind of fear that will cause “all crooks and thieves to lay down.”
The situation of Roma in Bulgaria is worsening. And if those events listed are not enough already Roma are still racially segregated in education and housing, being forcefully evicted and having their properties demolished as well.
SINCE YOU HAPPENED TO MENTION ALLEIRAT I was wondering what the government system looks like? You've mentioned lords, who seem to have a pretty solid grip on their domains, so I'm guessing something vaguely feudal? Is there a monarchy? A parliament? An oligarchical council of the major nobility? A mix? How does the reigning body feel about Brenneth's return? How do they react to her grabbing Crispin and running for the hills shortly after arriving?
AHHHH ALL VERY GOOD AND HELPFUL QUESTIONS TBH.
Me, upon receiving this ask: Wait Jesus Christ did I ever figure out how power is passed on.
Turns out the answer was “I half-assed the fuck out of it” so anyway now I have a real answer.
Right, so, it’s important to know why Alleirat politics works the way it does, so buckle up for a real fast history lesson. Alleirat, way back in their ancient history, operated as a bunch of city-states run by variably decent lordlings who were perpetually at war with each other–think of Germany during the waning Holy Roman Empire (circa ~1630), not Renaissance Italy. Each city state was centered around the largest local city, and the immediate countryside was allied closely with the city in question. So, once Alleirat exhausted their armies (literally, like, okay, when you’re throwing armies of magic users around like snowballs there’s a huge death toll, they literally started to run out of armies), they drew up unification treaties as a way to solve the Gordian knot of blood feuds and bitterness they’d landed themselves in. This is their version of BC/AD, by the way, things are measured before/after unification, which was some four thousand years before Brenneth and Crispin came for the first time (this number may be subject to change later if I feel like it). In order to protect the newly unified country (named after the continent so as not to give preference), they mostly did away with the hereditary title thing, but they ran into an issue: smaller villages and farms had depended on the protection and help of the bigger cities, which relied on the villages and farms for food and raw materials. Not to mention that the old alliances between city and country ran bone-deep–colorism had a pretty short life in Alleirat, but they’re still working on the very real prejudices against people from other cities–so they couldn’t be gotten rid of entirely.
The balance they struck was the protectorate system, which largely preserved the pre-unification lines of alliance by formally denoting protectorate lands of each sizable city, but also protected the citizenry by laying down clear responsibilities that each has to the other. For example, the great eastern city Dase has a sizable protectorate that pays taxes to the Dase coffers and generates a majority of the farmed food (Dase being…like 90% rock), while Dase provides the farms with protection from both natural and human threats with her city guards as well as manufacturing that the smaller villages wouldn’t be able to do. Dase, like all other cities holding their own protectorates, is run by a gothed, which literally means ‘city servant’, an office subject to reelection by popular vote every eight years and falling somewhere between a prince and a governor as far as power goes. The gothed appoints a given number of advisors (there are ten in Dase, five from the city and five from the protectorate) who represent the interests of their district–if the district feels ill-represented, they can petition the gothed to remove the advisor in question from office and appoint a new one. The gothed is also responsible for selecting a representative to the Unified Council, which is sort of like a senate and which makes the small handful of decisions pertinent to the country at large. The list of things the Unified Council is responsible for is significantly shorter than, say, our Congress because the protectorates have much more hands-on management from their gothedan.
Incidentally, if the gothed dies while in office things can get real interesting. In theory, a new gothed can be promoted out of the ranks of the advisors, but if proof of corruption is revealed in the chaos, all of the advisors are required to be removed from office. The guards in each city (more like a small occupying army, called the lathan) take loyalty oaths to the city and citizens, not to the political figures of power, which means that technically they have the power to arrest any sitting politician as long as they have evidence. Furthermore, there are several functioning criminal bodies in any given Alleirai city, most pertinently the White Touch, a dubiously legal organization of flesh workers whose work covers everything from facial reconstruction (illegal) to assassination for hire (SUPER illegal). The Touch has been known to work in tandem with lathan before, in order to take down politicians. It’s a risky business, being a corrupt politician in Alleirat, far more so than on Earth.
There are some capital P Problems with this system, among them that it takes approximately forever to get things done and also it’s not very adaptable to a crisis–the logical issues you run into when a goodly percentage of your population might be looking at a several century lifespan. Also, money talks, as in our world, also a problem. That being said, the only real requirement to be gothed or to be appointed as such is literacy, and Alleirat has decent literacy rates, so there are and have been plenty of gothedan who were craftspeople, soldiers, farmers, or even minor criminals (the definition of ‘criminal’ is flexible and also Alleirat doesn’t believe in incarceration pretty much at all) before their election to office.
And as for the response to Brenneth ‘Worst Plan Ever’ Fireheart and her highly terrible plan, well.
“The first time I called the CDC, I said that I wanted to talk to someone about possibly designing a zombie virus. …So every time I came up with a new iteration of Kellis-Amberlee, I would call back and say, “If I did this, this, this, this, this and this, could I raise the dead?” And every single time they would say, “No.” And I’d say, “OK,” hang up, and go back to working. After about the 17th time, I called and said, “If I did this, this, this, this, this, this and this, could I raise the dead?” And got, “Don’t … don’t do that.” At that point, I knew I had a viable virus.”—
#somewhere there is a CDC employee #who is both all out of fucks to give #and experiencing a mild level of perpetual background anxiety about maybe being complicit in the future zombie apocalypse #like I’m just imagining this one specific person fielding all of seanan’s phonecalls #maybe two a day over a period of weeks #and progressing from bemused politeness #to genuine amusement #to steadily escalating panic #’what if she’s not really a writer?’ #’what if I’m actually helping a supervillain??’ #’oh god I’m not paid enough for this’ #’I LIKE VIRUSES NOT THE GENERAL PUBLIC’ #’PLEASE TAKE ME OFF PHONE DUTY OH GOD’ #lowering their head gently into their cupped hands with the phone braced between ear and shoulder #’ma’am-’ #’ma’am we really don’t recommend-’ #’ma’am, no, that wouldn’t-’ #’ma’am please I really think-’ #’don’t… don’t do that-’ #and then she just STOPS CALLING #and after three days of radio silence this person starts discreetly checking the news for x-files-style stories about zombies #getting shit from their colleagues for their sudden fascination with trashy newspapers and trying to play it off #’HAHA YOU GUYS YOU’RE SO FUNNY’ #’YEAH ZOMBIE RACCOONS, IT’S TOTALLY HILARIOUS’ #’WHO WOULD EVEN DO THAT AM I RIGHT?’ #’IT’S NOT LIKE THEY’VE GOT US ON THEIR SIDE’ #’HAHA’ #’HAHAHAHAHA’ #*nervously wipes sweat from forehead*
something i think about a lot is what if alien species have less biodiversity on their planets. like if they’ve got maybe 20, 25 species of bugs, total. so they come to earth and they’re like “whoa.” or they’ll like be like walking down the street and they’re like “ok what’s that” pointing at a st bernard and you’re like “oh that’s a dog” and they’re like “whoa, neat, i’ve heard about dogs.”
and you walk for a while longer and then they point at a yorkie and they’re like “what’s that?” and you kind of have to be like “…that. that’s also a dog.” and they’re like “wait, really?” and you’re like “yeah.” and it takes them a while to absorb this but then you just keep walking.
and like you’re going for a while and somebody’s walking their bull terrier and you’re like trying to walk faster hoping your alien friend doesn’t see but no dice they’re like WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT and you’re like “that. that is a dog” and they let out an anguished wail
and like every time after that they see a weird four legged creature they’re like “that BETTER not be a goddamn dog” and half the time you gotta wince and be like “actually,”
yknow the more jk rowlings world falls apart in america (race relations, international history, population, etc) the more i like to think that america just straight up doesnt have the statute of secrecy. european countries are falling over themselves hiding magic but come to georgia and theres a drunk redneck wizard wingardium leviosa-ing the shit out of a tractor to the delight of his drunk redneck muggle buddies in a walmart parking lot.
wizard on muggle violence is prevented by virtue of there being like a 50/50 chance that muggle is packing heat. muggle on wizard violence is prevented by knowing that wizard can give you boils spelling LIL BITCH on your forehead if you try to start something.
america is the weird redheaded stepchild of the magic world.
im not gonna stop reblogging this until this is the next Hot Fanon
english muggles come back to england and suspicious wizards meet them at the airport.
‘did you witness any strange or inexplicable acts while you were in america?’ they demand.
the english muggles just laugh in their dumb fucking faces. mate, it’s america.
what’s the difference between a werewolf and an animagus?
english wizard: *two hour lecture on legal history*
american wizard: six beers
@jumpingjacktrash congrats ive read hundreds of comments on this dumpster fire of a headcanon and yours is the best
This was ….. Amazing! Can we have more? * holds up bowl ala Oliver Twist
Sephie opens her eyes and the woman is still standing over her, but the asphalt is…cold. And dry. It’s dark, no rosy dawn colors fingerpainted across the sky, and the woman is dressed all in white–different white, not, thick swathes of cloth like burial shrouds draping down her arms and falling to puddle at her feet like water. Sephie thinks something might be on fire to provide enough light to see, but the light is pale and wan rather than being warm and golden. The woman is leaning on her scythe, and her eyes glint like the blade when the light catches them, metallic and sharpened to a cutting edge.
“You’re awake,” the woman says without looking down, and it doesn’t sound like she’s asking.
Sephie sits up and it’s easy, blissfully easy, no pain or tacky blood sticking to her skin. She’s wearing something unfamiliar, a plain dress in the same white liquid cloth that the woman is wrapped in, leaving her arms bare, and when she presses a hand against the floor, she thinks it’s stone. Marble, maybe, with only a trace of gloss, stretching away in all directions until it meets the walls, where it seems to merge seamlessly into the vertical climb to the cave-like ceiling, dripping with stalactites. The throne at the far side of the room is plain, barely more than a chair with a table beside it, both apparently sculpted wholly out of the floor.
“I’m not, though,” Sephie says, and it’s only by speaking that she realizes her voice works. It’s strong and firm and not at all lifeless, and Sephie closes her mouth, gathers her will to stand.
“You know,” the woman muses as Sephie considers the matter. The stone is very hard–if she tries to stand and falls, she might hurt herself. Or, of course, she might not. She doesn’t know if it’s currently possible to hurt herself. “I expected a great many things when I went on my sabbatical, but you were not among them.”
“I’m sorry,” Sephie says as she pulls her legs beneath her and nudges the dress out of the way. “I think.”
The woman looks down at her at last, startled, almost distressed, and says, “Oh, no, I didn’t mean that. My sister may have some adjusting to do, but you wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t quite attached.”
“Your sister,” Sephie repeats as she rises cautiously to her feet. She doesn’t know if it’s that her mind still expects her body to be broken or simply that it’s been a very long day already, but she wavers dangerously, and the woman puts out a hand that Sephie catches hold of at once. The hand is long-fingered and delicately calloused and pale–unhealthily pale, deathly pale, Sephie had always thought, and she bites back a titter now. Deathly pale! The hand is also strong, and the arm attached to it equally so, and the smile on the woman’s face is warm enough to make up for the cold stone still chilling Sephie’s bare feet. “I’ve met your sister.”
“Yes,” the woman says. “We fought in your coffee shop. Or, rather, my sister came to yell at me in your coffee shop. She has some strong opinions about my sabbatical.”
Sephie nods, slowly, and realizes that she’s still clutching awkwardly at the woman’s free hand. The long, strong fingers hold her own in a grip as firm as stone, though, and so instead of trying to let go, she holds on tightly and asks the obvious question.
“Am I dead, then?”
“That’s correct, Persephone,” the woman says, apparently delighted.
“And this place is?”
“The audience chamber.”
Sephie nods again, even more slowly than before, and looks up at the woman. It was less noticeable with the counter between them, but the woman is a full head taller than she is, her masses of white curls storming down her back like a crashing wave. The scythe does not reflect light, for all its perfect polished shine, and the letters on it are in a language Sephie has never seen and yet seems to be a textual equivalent of a long-forgotten tune. She can read them anyway, for all that they try to skitter from under her eye, and thinks of a Latin phrase she heard once.
“And…” Sephie takes a deep breath with lungs that do not breath and listens for her heart that does not beat and thinks to herself–with neurons that do not fire–that she is hardly even surprised. “And who are you?”
The woman smiles at her, and gives a small twist of their hands so that the grip is less awkward, and raises the knuckles of Sephie’s hand to her lips. The touch is electric–quite literally. It kicks through Sephie’s chest like the time she let a finger rest on the prong of a plug as she touched it to the outlet, her vision flaring brightly for a moment until the woman’s lips leave her skin.
“I have many names,” the woman says as she lowers their hands again. “Many of them forgotten, some of them remembered. You can call me Death.”
I’m still watching Liberty’s Kids because REASONS and I watched an episode with Baron von Steuben, and I get why they didn’t include this in a kid’s show, but this dude is THE BEST PART of the winter at Valley Forge.
LET ME TELL YOU WHY, WITH ABUSE OF CAPS LOCK AND BAD LANGUAGE AND IRREVERENCE.
Okay, some background. Baron von Steuben was a Prussian baron who shipped his ass over to America in 1777 in order to help Washington whip the bunch of random farmers, miners, tradesmen, etc who formed the Continental ‘Army’ at the time into shape. He reached Valley Forge in early 1778 (after almost getting his own soldiers ARRESTED IN BOSTON because he accidentally outfitted them in red coats, honestly this dude’s life is just PRIME HISTORICAL COMEDY MATERIAL, someone get the fuck on that) and immediately made a name for himself as a complete–but effective!–wackjob. He would go outside in the middle of winter in full military dress and have all the soldiers (many of whom were lacking a coat and boots at the time, because the goddess of efficiency Martha Washington had not yet made her presence known) run drills from sunup to sundown, whereas most military commanders of the day were Pointedly Uninvolved in the messy day-to-day shit. He also continued the trend of having commanders who were still learning English (Lafayette spoke almost no English upon his arrival, for example), because when von Steuben reached America he spoke zero English and had to write all his orders in French and give them to either HIS aide de camp to translate or the aide Washington periodically lent him (fun fact: Lt. Colonols Hamilton and Laurens were his usual lent-out aides because they both spoke French).
NOW YOU HAVE SOME BACKGROUND AND WE CAN GET TO THE GOOD STUFF.
I’m watching Turn and I’ve just finished the set of episodes on Valley Forge and honestly can someone just point me towards literally any media that includes the Pantless Party.
Fam Im so happy sense8 is getting a 2hr finale but like that cliffhanger left so much to be explained and season 2 openee up a whole new world to explore i just dont know how they can do it all in 2hrs. Im happy but also nervous but mainly happy
the most telling thing about the political climate this year is that usually my dash is filled with 4th of July posts by now but there’s been absolutely nothing… like nobody can even find the strength to post ironic eagle memes are you guys alright over there
Online friendship has the weirdest progression sometimes. Like, I know some of the most intimate belief structures and personal moments of some people, but I have no idea what their eye color is or how they like their coffee.
Black. Blonde espresso with a dash of cream.
Three creamers, 4 sugars. Or just get me a Vietnamese iced coffee.
Black, no sugar.
Blue, skimmed milk and a little syrup.
Green, don’t drink coffee
I love coffee so much and in any fashion you could literally just throw some coffee beans in really hot water and I’d say thank you.
I’m not dead, just on a trip to visit my best friend @lathori plus some other close friends. So like. I’m fine, just busy, and will probably not be online a whole bunch in the next few days.
I hate when men smirk and gloat and say shit like “Women are attracted to powerful men,” like that negates any feminist impulse, like they think that at the heart of all women is this little, mincing girl that wants to be dominated.
I just roll my eyes because, dude. If you ever read the second half of any fucking harlequin novel ever, and saw how the hero always ends up blubbering on his knees and saying shit like “I can’t live without you! You unman me!” you’d realize that being attracted to powerful men is just the first part of a two-step plan.
The second step is to completely fucking annihilate him.
Apparently this is the most important thing I’ll ever say.
Let’s talk about
Themyscira and just how different their society would be when it comes to sex and love
First of all as we saw there is no taboo on nudity. The naked body is not considered a big thing. Things like scars and skills in battle are quite considered a far sexier thing then nudity could ever be
Second it’s very likely that due to their immortality and isolation from the rest of the world long term romantic relationships live side with with polyamourous ones as well as casual sex
Which brings me to Diana….the only child on the entire island. Literally every single Amazon on the island would have known her since she was a tiny baby,.
Her fighting skills would be decades if not centuries behind the other Amazons, her skin would be flawless and barely have any scars on it and her muscles while adequate were nothing to really write home about. By the standards of Amazonian society she would probably be the least sexually attractive Amazon on the island. So imagine teenage Diana with her hormones raging, reading all night about the pleasure of the flesh and trying cringe worthy attempts to flirt with the other Amazonian warriors. And nothing works so frustrated she puts all her energy into her training until one day years later…she beats Antiope in a training match. The very same night she gets asked out by three Amazonians and suddenly Diana is finally the new hot thing in town and she is loving it
TL;DR: To the outside world Diana is the most attractive woman in the universe in Themyscira she was an awkward skinny nerd who couldn’t get laid for decades
Where is the lie
Or what if, because everyone saw her as the baby for the longest time, that she struggled to make everyone think and look at her as an adult.
We’re talking two centuries (according to Patty Jenkins Diana is 800 years old by the time Wonder Woman starts). It is one of the more frustrating things in her life.
Two centuries.
And even before she leaves the island the Senators still call Diana, ‘Child’. Imagine the things she did so the other Amazons would stop thinking she was the ‘baby’. We all know Diana can get pretty intense: she’d probably out extra even Antiope’s shooting an arrow on horseback while going through a ring of fire.
It got to a point that even Antiope was concerned.
So the first time an Amazon finally showed interest in Diana, after defeating Antiope and performing a (stupidly risky her mother would say) stunt that involved multiple fires, and then kissed her, Diana cried. It was embarrassing.
So wait, let me just say: if Diana’s used to having to put all her effort into making someone actually take her overtures seriously, the first time she tries to flirt with a mere mortal that person probably reacts like they’ve been struck by lightning.
Okay okay okay. So I’ve seen Star Trek: First Contact about a hundred times and I can’t believe I never noticed this.
So first contact with the Vulcans happens, right? The Vulcan ship lands…
Ooh look an alien. Pointy ears!
He offers what we as Star Trek fans recognize as the traditional Vulcan greeting.
Zefram Cochrane tries to copy…
Haha he can’t do it.
So he of course offers what he knows to be a traditional greeting, namely a handshake.
And ah yes, what a wonderful moment. Two cultures are exchanging greetings, learning about each other. It’s awesome.
Until you remember that Vulcans kiss with their hands.
So basically, this Vulcan offered a nice polite “how do you do” and Zefram Cochrane offered smoochies.
I really hope this came up in conversation later.
The Vulcans did a Kirk on the whole human race.
LET ME JUST STOP YOU ALL FOR A SECOND.
The person above was right, Vulcan’s kiss with their hands. But typically, the way they kiss only involves their index and middle finger being pressed against another person’s. That is a kiss.
In, “The Search for Spock,” you see that in the Vulcan culture, just running your fingers against someone else’s can be considered sex (the scene is super strange, but it’s heavily implied, forgive me if I’m wrong).
So, going on that thought, this isn’t just a kiss.
This is like, a make-out session, or at least a long, passionate kiss.
I just, I just can’t get over it because:
1. There are are other Vulcan’s watching these guys, but the Vulcan in front just fucking accepts the kiss.
2. This takes a second right? Like, Zefram can’t do the Vulcan salute so he offers his hand and this Vulcan just gives him this face like, “oh, um, alright? I guess I shouldn’t refuse.” And he just ACCEPTS IT.
The best thing over all is, after they connect, this Vulcan just gives this guy bedroom eyes. It’s like he’s thinking, “well, bold of you sir, bold. Such a strong grip. Perhaps we can do this again in private.”
I just…
THIS GUY.
I love the beat after the human sticks out his hand. Where the Vulcan looks down and realizes what he’s expected to do and just internally goes “Humans are fucking WILD” and fucking goes for it, full on macks on the first human he’s ever met.
Okay, but let’s also consider that Spock’s dad was a famous ambassador. Who also famously married an alien and had the hybrid baby that was Spock.
Let’s be real. Given the differing touch standards of other species (and humanity is by no means the first alien race that the Vulcans have met), it’s almost 100% guaranteed that in Vulcan society, you want your Captain Kirks i.e. your bold and kinky types to be your First Contact ambassadors. Because they are the ones who, when the brand new alien they’ve just met tries to make out with them, just roll with it and avoid kicking things off with a diplomatic incident.
Now also consider this - Vulcans had as much of a hand in shaping the Federation as humans did. While humans ultimately took prominence in the ‘exploration’ side of things, and Vulcans dominated more of the R&D end, a lot of Starfleet’s protocols were heavily influenced by them both.
So it seems extremely likely that the reason why early Starfleet captains especially were pretty wild, is because it was intentional. The Vulcans took one look at someone like Jim Kirk and were just like ‘yup, captain material, fast track him to some kind of ambassadorial position if you can but otherwise at least make sure he’s on the ship that does a lot of First Contact stuff’ and the humans were just like ‘??? well?? okay???’
i realize i’m maybe like, the Nichest of markets here, but i really really really desperately want to watch further adventures of Diana Prince, Curator of Antiquities™
…like, imagine the interdepartmental meetings
Diana: we have recently acquired several exquisite pieces of very early minoan kamares ware. i feel a refresh of the gallery might encourage our visitors to–
some marketing dipshit: look, we can’t get people in the door for pottery. we need another big show, like can you get a vermeer or–
Diana of Themiscrya, Amazon, God-Killer, Daughter of Hippolyta: pottery is important
some marketing dipshit, lightly pissing himself: i agree
THIS but also I just wanted to add that although logic dictates that Diana has to move around bc of the whole immortal thing I’m so enamored with the idea of “Mlle. Prince Has Always Been At the Louvre” in which everyone who works there just thinks it’s too gauche to bring up that she should be 95.
oh my God, yes, headcanon 100000000% accepted
“non, emil. never again ask why her file system uses the pre-war numbering. you are new here. we do not speak of this.”