#the predecessor. the one who left a legacy to be followed. was born on NEW YEARS EVE

[arbitrarycategories]

Just learned that Gol D. Roger was born on December 31. That's insane. You're telling me the man who was too early to bring the dawn was born on fucking New Year's Eve?????

[loopy777]

What was the yangchen scene that infuriated you so much?

I'm glad you asked!

(I say as if I didn't leave that last one as bait.)

But I'm warning you, the explanation is going to be underwhelming for my level of rage. I'm just so sick of this kind of thing. Spoilers below the cut for both Dawn and Legacy.

In Dawn, the weapon Yangchen had been chasing the whole book turns out to be a trio of Combustion Benders working for the villain. This is treated as something completely unheard of, and no one is even capable of speculating how it might be possible.

In Legacy, Yangchen follows up on this and eventually tracks down the training site for the Combustion Benders. It turns out that the villain hadn't just been trying to churn out Combusters, she was training and researching several different possibilities. Yangchen doens't learn the full extent of what was going on there, but she does encounter the following:

The Combustion Benders

A girl whose bare-handed blows can incapacitate limbs and disable Bending

A chamber with a shackling chair and the remains of a circular metal track that would allow something to travel around the chair; elsewhere in the book, the villain speaks a code phrase and brings a reluctant subordinate completely under her control, compelled to follow her every command

Just- would it have been too much to have one slushing thing that wasn't taken from Aang's adventures? I'm almost surprised there weren't a pair of hook swords at the site or something about lightning-bending or lightning-redirection! By the time Avatar fiction is finished and the franchise is finally dead, do you think there will be one single thing in all of AtLA that won't have its history revealed in a story about a previous Avatar? Just like how everything Korra experiences needs to be explained in a story about the maturing gAang, everything in AtLA needs to be tossed out as chum for fans who can't be trusted to just enjoy a good story.

Combustion Bending can't have just been something that happened over there, it had to be part of Avatar History (TM). Chi-blocking can't just be a rare skill, it had to have been developed by a think tank run by an Avatar's arch nemesis. And Koh forbid Long Feng or the Dai Li actually invented some aspect of their brainwashing themselves- no, it turns out they lifted everything, right down to using a light on a circular track, from a textbook that was written four to five hundred years before they were born.

It's just so, so tiring. It's one thing when the garbage has to toss out this kind of fan-service in order to distract from its terrible character writing, but why does even the good stuff like the Yangchen novels have to devolve into this lack of creativity? It adds nothing to the story and took me straight out of what should have been a harrowing scene.

But Loopy, you say, what harm does it do? Lots of people like to have their fans serviced in this way, so maybe this is just a You thing, and it doesn't necessarily hurt the stories it's in just because Gene Yang was terrible at it.

Well, 'you,' I'd say that it actually does do harm, even in the hands of a good storyteller like F.C. Yee. See, one of best parts of this franchise is the sense of history it evokes. In most fantasy, thousands of years can whizz by with no change in culture, geography, language, technology, or education. But in Avatar, things change. The Fire Nation wins wars by developing new weapons. The Water Tribes go up and down in health and power depending the conditions of the world. A whole new nation is developed as a result of colonization, which itself spurs rapid development of technology. When we jump back to the beginning of time, the very world itself is made to look like a moving historical painting. And, as we increasingly explore the franchise, we find that each Avatar comes of age mostly by dealing with the problems left behind by their predecessors.

And every time something from AtLA or LoK is shoved into contrived circumstances in another era so we can have a pointless fan service moment, we chip away at that unique aspect of this franchise. We make each era more like all the others, so that no matter what Avatar you're dealing with or what era of history you're in, there will always be a Chi Blocker (TM). It takes something we all fell in love with due to its uniqueness and turns it into a formula. Instead of a scene that works by itself, we have a round of Spot The Reference.

And it happens in so much fiction these days. People used to make disparaging jokes about how every character in Star Wars, even the stupid nameless walk-on roles, has their own book. But at least it was their own book, and not the story of how it turns out Anakin Skywalker was best friends with this random alien decades before they randomly walked across his son Luke's path. We measure a storyteller's suitability to contribute to a franchise based on how much of a fan they are, not because being a fan might lend them insight into what made that franchise great in the first place, but because they can pack their stories full of continuity so that it turns out the entire history of an entire world turns on 20 people spread across a single family tree by the time subsequent generations are done marrying each other.

I'm just so sick of it. And being ambushed by it in 'Legacy of Yangchen' just made me groan, especially since I was enjoying the story so much.

Please, let's have a little self-respect as fans, okay?

...

I warned you this was going to be underwhelming.

[ethosiab]

Writeblr/Artblr reintro :D

I go by Phoenix or Calcifer, and i use he/she and fi/fire. I'm queer, a minor, and neurodivergent.

A lot of the stuff on here is just oc stuff about my WIPs, and i occasionally post fanart. My main interests are splatoon, undertale/deltarune, TF2, critical role, spiritfarer, the locked tomb series, and hermitcraft/the life series.

When i say writeblr and artblr, i mean i post about my ocs and WIPs and post art, and occasionally ill post a snippet of some writing if im feeling really adventurous.

My main is @cornbread-girlboy, and I follow from there so if you see that in your notifs then its me lol. I also keep a blog for art and writing resources @kiocreative, if that interests you.

dni: bigots, nsfw blogs, harry potter fans

Here's a link to my OC masterpost where I'll link the introductions to each character.

My projects:

Legacy of Evil: In a world where you're born with a power passed down from another through your soul, those with predecessors deemed morally corrupt are shunned and live on the outskirts of society. Jaylyn Ignatius, a teenager who sometimes goes by the name Iggy, is one of 5 special children put through a training program to 'correct' them and make them strong fighters. LoE follows him as he finally escapes this program and navigates his way through a changed city, meeting friends, searching for his parents, and hiding from the government organisation that hates his fucking guts. It's got magyk! It's got changelings! It's got a really weird floating city! It's got arson! It's got a definitely-not-weird-not-immortal-cat!

Déjà Vu: A video game in which 2% of the population is cursed with mutations—odd things about them that make them capable of inhuman acts. Powers. Society views these people as dangerous and in need of being controlled, so when a new school opens up with the supposed goal of aiding students with mutations, and giving them opportunities for their futures, many shun it, but many students are enrolled too, either by parents who want to get rid of their children via boarding school, or by well-meaning parents. You play as Epic, a 15 year old student at this school who woke up on the 14th of March with little memory of who they are and what their mutation is. After finding yourself in detention because you didn't make it to class, you meet Marcus, Mikey, and Marcie. With your newfound friends, you slowly uncover secrets about the school, and a hidden plot. It's got time loops! It's got 4th wall breaking game mechanics! It's about the way you'd do absolutely anything for your friends! It's about perfectionism and burnout!

I Dream of the Distance: Ridley Callis is an 11 year old with 6 siblings who feels a disconnect from every single one. Their obsession with stories and fairytales started with their father, whom was the light in their dark. When he disappears under mysterious circumstances and leaves them lonely, Ridley takes their stories and daydreams and sets out into the world to hunt down their dad. ...Not without attracting the attention of their older brother, Farren, of course, who wanted to come along to keep them safe. Along the way, they find magic, a magician, and find out things about themselves that were perhaps left best uncovered. I'm not going to lie this was an escapist fantasy story inspired by minecraft.

[factinhistory]

What Happened on September 14 in Australian History?

September 14 has been a date of notable events in Australian history, ranging from important political changes to sports achievements, nuclear tests, and the birth of prominent Australian figures. These moments have had lasting impacts on the nation’s political landscape, international reputation, and contributions to the arts and sports. The following sections outline key occurrences that took place on September 14 in Australian history.

What Happened on September 14 in Australian History?

Great Britain Performs Nuclear Test at Maralinga (1957)

On September 14, 1957, Great Britain conducted a nuclear test at Maralinga, a remote area in South Australia. This test was part of a series of nuclear trials carried out by the British government as part of its weapons development program. The Maralinga tests became highly controversial due to the long-term environmental damage and the effects on Indigenous communities in the area.

The September 14 test was one of seven tests conducted at Maralinga between 1956 and 1963. These trials left behind radioactive contamination, raising concerns about the health risks to local populations and Australian military personnel involved in the operation. The legacy of these tests continues to influence debates around nuclear safety, environmental protection, and the rights of Indigenous Australians, with the Australian government eventually offering compensation to the affected communities.

Golf Major: Evian Championship (2014)

On September 14, 2014, the Evian Championship Women’s Golf tournament at the Evian Resort Golf Club saw South Korean golfer Kim Hyo-joo win by a single stroke ahead of Australian golfer Karrie Webb. This victory marked a significant moment in women’s golf, as Kim, only 19 at the time, stunned the field with a brilliant performance.

For Australian golfer Karrie Webb, the September 14 result was yet another close call in her illustrious career. Webb, a Hall of Fame golfer, has long been a dominant figure in women’s golf, and this near victory added to her reputation as one of Australia’s most successful athletes. Despite finishing second, Webb’s performance at the Evian Championship solidified her status as one of the leading figures in Australian golf, and her participation in international tournaments has greatly contributed to Australia’s sporting legacy.

Malcolm Turnbull Ousts Tony Abbott (2015)

On September 14, 2015, Malcolm Turnbull ousted Tony Abbott as Australia’s Prime Minister and leader of the ruling Liberal Party in a dramatic leadership challenge. Turnbull’s victory in the party room vote (54 to 44) marked the end of Abbott’s turbulent two-year tenure and ushered in a new era of leadership within Australia’s conservative government.

The leadership spill on September 14 highlighted deep divisions within the Liberal Party and dissatisfaction with Abbott’s performance as Prime Minister, particularly regarding his handling of economic policies, same-sex marriage, and climate change. Turnbull, a more moderate figure compared to his predecessor, sought to revitalize the party’s image and policies. His takeover represented a significant moment in Australian political history, with the nation witnessing another instance of leadership instability, a recurring feature in Australian politics during the 21st century.

Birth of Dave Smith, Australian Cricketer (1884)

On September 14, 1884, Dave Smith, an Australian cricketer, was born in Melbourne, Victoria. Smith played in two Test matches for Australia, achieving a high score of 24 not out during his career. Although his international career was brief, he made significant contributions to domestic cricket, particularly in Victoria, where he played for the state team.

Smith’s birth on September 14 places him among the many Australian athletes who have helped to build the nation’s cricketing tradition. Cricket has long been a cornerstone of Australian sport, and figures like Smith, who competed at the highest level, are celebrated for their contributions to the game’s rich history in Australia. Smith’s career, though not as storied as some of his peers, still represents the spirit of competitive cricket in the early 20th century.

Birth of Zoe Caldwell, Australian Actress (1933)

On September 14, 1933, Zoe Caldwell, an acclaimed Australian actress, was born in Melbourne, Victoria. Caldwell became one of the most respected stage actresses of her generation, particularly known for her performances in works such as The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie and Medea. Her acting career spanned continents, with significant roles on Broadway that earned her multiple Tony Awards.

Caldwell’s birth on September 14 marks the arrival of a talent who would go on to have a profound impact on both Australian and international theatre. Her contributions to the arts were widely recognized, and she was celebrated for her ability to embody complex characters with depth and nuance. Caldwell’s legacy endures in the world of theatre, where her performances remain benchmarks for excellence in acting.

Birth of Judy Playfair, Australian Swimmer (1953)

On September 14, 1953, Judy Playfair, an Australian swimmer, was born in Sydney, New South Wales. Playfair competed in the 1968 Summer Olympics in Mexico City, where she helped the Australian women’s team win a silver medal in the 4×100-meter medley relay.

Playfair’s birth on September 14 places her among Australia’s notable Olympic athletes, contributing to the country’s strong tradition in swimming. Her achievements in the pool during the 1968 Olympics highlighted the skill and determination of Australian swimmers on the world stage. Playfair’s success helped to cement Australia’s reputation as a swimming powerhouse, a legacy that continues to this day.

Death of Esme Melville, Australian Actress (2006)

On September 14, 2006, Australian actress Esme Melville passed away. Melville was born in 1918 and enjoyed a long and varied career in film, television, and theatre. She was best known for her work in Australian television series, including Prisoner and Neighbours, where she became a familiar face to Australian audiences.

Melville’s death on September 14 marked the end of a career that spanned decades and contributed to the growth of Australian television and theatre. Her versatility as an actress allowed her to take on a wide range of roles, from dramatic performances to more lighthearted, comedic characters. Melville’s legacy lives on through her contributions to Australian entertainment, where she left an indelible mark.

Conclusion

September 14 in Australian history is a date filled with significant moments across various sectors, from politics and sports to arts and science. Whether it be the nuclear tests that left lasting scars, political upheavals that shaped the country’s leadership, or the birth of figures who would make substantial contributions to Australian culture and identity, each event reflects the diverse and rich history of Australia. The stories of September 14 remind us of the ongoing impact of these events on Australia’s national narrative and global standing.

[daily-quiz-join]

Jahangir: The fourth ruler of Mughal dynasty

Jahangir, the fourth ruler of the illustrious Mughal dynasty, ascended to the throne in 1605, following in the footsteps of his father, Akbar the Great. His reign marked a unique period in the Mughal Empire's history, characterized by a splendid fusion of art, culture, and governance. This article delves into the life, accomplishments, and the cultural zenith achieved during the reign of Jahangir, a ruler who played a pivotal role in shaping the Mughal Empire.

Table: Important Details about Jahangir

DetailInformationFull NameNur-ud-din Muhammad Salim JahangirBirth DateAugust 31, 1569BirthplaceFatehpur Sikri, IndiaDeath DateOctober 28, 1627Place of DeathRajauri, Kashmir, IndiaDynastyThe Mughal EmpireReign PeriodOctober 3, 1605 – October 28, 1627ReligionIslam (Sunni)SpousesMehr-un-Nisa (Nur Jahan) and othersChildrenShah Jahan, Prince Khusrau, and moreNotable AchievementsPromotion of arts and culture, Religious tolerance, Administrative reforms, Patronage of the East India Company Early Life and Ascension Jahangir, born on August 31, 1569, was originally named Nur-ud-din Muhammad Salim. He was the third son of Akbar the Great and Mariam-uz-Zamani, and his birthplace was the historic city of Fatehpur Sikri in India. His upbringing was deeply influenced by the rich cultural environment of the Mughal court, where art and learning thrived. Education and Cultural Exposure Jahangir received a comprehensive education that encompassed a wide range of subjects, from art and literature to political science and warfare. His tutelage under various scholars and mentors, including Abu'l-Fazl ibn Mubarak, contributed to his broad knowledge base and refined sensibilities. Key Influences: - Akbar's Legacy: The principles and policies of his illustrious father, Akbar, had a profound impact on Jahangir's approach to governance and cultural patronage. - Love for Art: Jahangir's passion for art and culture was nurtured by his early exposure to Persian miniatures, Mughal architecture, and literary masterpieces. Ascension to the Throne Jahangir's ascent to the Mughal throne in 1605 was not without challenges. His father, Akbar, had left behind a complex legacy, and the transition of power to a new ruler was a critical juncture in the empire's history. Key Events: - 1605: Jahangir succeeded his father, Akbar, as the Emperor of the Mughal Empire. - Early Consolidation: The early years of his reign involved consolidating power, establishing authority, and addressing internal disputes. Religious Policies and Tolerance Jahangir continued the tradition of religious tolerance that had been championed by his predecessors, Akbar and Humayun. His reign promoted an atmosphere of coexistence among diverse religious communities. Nur Jahan's Influence One of the most significant aspects of Jahangir's religious policies was the influence of his beloved wife, Mehr-un-Nisa, known as Nur Jahan. Her support for religious tolerance and her patronage of various faiths contributed to the atmosphere of inclusivity. Key Features: - Hindu Marriages: Jahangir issued a decree allowing the widows of Hindus to remarry, a step towards promoting religious harmony. - Interfaith Dialogues: Nur Jahan facilitated interfaith dialogues and sponsored the construction of religious buildings for different communities. Sikhism and Guru Arjan Dev Jahangir's reign witnessed the growing influence of Sikhism in the Punjab region. He had interactions with Guru Arjan Dev, the fifth Guru of the Sikhs, which had both positive and negative consequences. Significant Events: - Positive Engagement: Guru Arjan Dev completed the construction of the Harmandir Sahib (Golden Temple) in Amritsar during Jahangir's reign, which he personally visited. - Conflict: Jahangir's disapproval of the Sikh Guru's growing influence led to his arrest and subsequent execution. Administrative Reforms While Jahangir's passion for art and culture is well-documented, his reign also saw notable administrative reforms aimed at strengthening the empire's governance. Land Revenue System Jahangir continued the revenue system introduced by his father, Akbar, known as the "Zabt" system. This system aimed to ensure equitable land revenue collection and promote agricultural productivity. Key Elements: - Measurement and Assessment: Lands were accurately measured, and revenue assessments were based on the fertility and productivity of the soil. - Stability: The fixed revenue demand provided stability to farmers and encouraged agricultural development. Regulation of the Mughal Court Jahangir initiated several measures to regulate the Mughal court, streamline administration, and ensure accountability among court officials. Key Reforms: - Control over Court Nobility: He limited the powers of the nobility and implemented a system of checks and balances. - Efficient Governance: Jahangir's efforts aimed to reduce corruption and maintain administrative efficiency. Artistic Patronage and Cultural Flourishing Jahangir's reign is often celebrated as a golden era of Mughal art and culture. His passion for artistic expression and his patronage of talented artists and craftsmen left an indelible mark on Mughal aesthetics. Mughal Miniature Paintings Under Jahangir's patronage, Mughal miniature paintings reached new heights of creativity and sophistication. The court atelier produced exquisite paintings characterized by intricate details and vivid colors. Prominent Artists: - Ustad Mansur: A renowned painter known for his exquisite naturalistic paintings of flora and fauna. - Bishandas: An artist famous for his portrayal of court scenes and portraits. The Art of Portraitures Jahangir had a particular fascination with portraitures, commissioning numerous paintings that depicted himself, his courtiers, and foreign dignitaries. Key Works: - Jahangirnama: Jahangir maintained a detailed diary, the Jahangirnama, in which he recorded events, his thoughts, and his observations on art and culture. - Self-Portraits: He commissioned self-portraits that depicted his evolving appearance over the years. Architectural Contributions Jahangir's reign also witnessed significant architectural achievements, with the construction of various notable buildings and structures. Architectural Marvels: - Tomb of Itimad-ud-Daulah: Often referred to as the "Baby Taj," this tomb in Agra showcases exquisite Mughal architecture. - Shalimar Bagh: A stunning Mughal garden in Srinagar, Kashmir, renowned for its terraced layout and flowing water features. Legacy and Impact Jahangir's reign left an enduring legacy that continues to be celebrated for its cultural richness and artistic contributions. His passion for art, promotion of religious tolerance, and administrative reforms had a profound impact on the Mughal Empire. The Nur Jahan Era Jahangir's wife, Nur Jahan, wielded considerable influence during his reign and played a pivotal role in shaping the empire's policies and direction. Key Contributions: - Administrative Acumen: Nur Jahan actively participated in the administration, issuing royal decrees and facilitating governance. - Artistic Patronage: She continued Jahangir's support for the arts and encouraged artistic endeavors. Cultural Flourishing The cultural achievements of Jahangir's reign, including Mughal miniature paintings and architectural marvels, continue to captivate art enthusiasts and historians alike. Enduring Influence: - Artistic Inspiration: Jahangir's passion for art has inspired generations of artists and continues to influence contemporary Indian art. - Architectural Treasures: Many of the architectural wonders from his reign remain preserved as UNESCO World Heritage Sites. Religious Tolerance Jahangir's promotion of religious tolerance set an example for rulers across different eras and regions. His commitment to harmony among diverse religious communities resonates with modern ideals of coexistence. Historical Significance: - Influence on Subsequent Rulers: Jahangir's legacy of religious tolerance was carried forward by his son, Shah Jahan, and left an indelible mark on Mughal policies. Conclusion Jahangir's reign, often overshadowed by his father Akbar's greatness and his son Shah Jahan's architectural achievements, is a testament to the unique cultural and artistic zenith achieved during his time as Emperor. His passion for art, his promotion of religious tolerance, and his administrative reforms have left an indelible mark on the Mughal Empire's history. Jahangir's legacy continues to illuminate the rich tapestry of Indian history and the enduring allure of Mughal art and culture. Read the full article

[thefoodwiththedood]

"At Her Side"

Here's another installment to the big, overarching story I've been doing with Hatou, Eobea, and Oesta! Chronicled here are the first few week's of Eobea's reign as Empress of Iridonia, and, parallel to that, Hatou's last few weeks in her service.

To see what events have led up to this story, you can also check out my other stories I’ve made so far: “Strategy,” “Rising Phoenix,” “Good Guys,” and "The Last Time I Saw My Father" Let me know what you think of this bit!

Characters: Hatou Koros, Empress Eobea Xovrada

Setting: 19 BBY, Iridonia

Word Count: ~2,500

“Eobea, it’s—”

She was looking out the window when I came in, her gaze cast over the thousands crowding outside the palace. When she turned to me, I couldn’t help but be silenced. It was as if one of the royal portraits had sprung from its frame; her coronation gown, all white silk and gold, shone bright as it reflected the setting sun. She was to be crowned, and she more than looked the part—the only thing that betrayed it was her eyes, still puffy from a day spent mourning. In her hands, she held the crown the great Xovrada had once worn. Her father’s crown. Her crown.

“It’s...almost time to begin.” I started again. Both our gazes fell to the crown. “I heard the royal goldsmith was up all night reshaping it for you. Does it fit?”

She let out a ragged breath. “I haven’t had the nerve to try it on yet. I just…” she trailed off, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. I joined her. “I can’t see myself ever being who—what he was. I don’t know if I can win them over like he did.” she sighed, turning the crown in her hands so it faced her. “I don’t know if this will ever fit.”

“It will.” I said, calling her attention back to me. “You were born to do this, Eobea. You’ve wanted this your whole life.”

“I have,” she rasped, “But...not like this.”

No response seemed sufficient for that. Instead, I wrapped my arm around her, and she all but melted into my shoulder. We stayed like that for a while, and I closed my eyes as I held her. I could almost feel that hers were still open, still fixed on the crowd outside. What she was thinking, I couldn’t have fathomed. “What are you going to say?”

“What I have to say,” she answered, “to cement myself as the rightful ruler. To quiet everyone’s fears about Palpatine. To protect my people. I just hope they’ll trust me.”

“This is a confusing time, Eobea. They’re scared. with time, they’ll grow to trust you.”

“And you?” she sat up, and our eyes met. “Do you trust me? Will you stay by my side?”

“Always. You have my word.”

Another pause. “Then,” she stood, smiling, if only a little, for the first time in days. “I have everything I need.”

With that, I followed her out. I was at her side at the ceremony, as she was crowned. I was at her side when she gave her coronation speech, when she made clear what her first act as Empress would be.

I was at her side when she saved Iridonia, and left the colonies to die.

. . .

“Her Highness, Empress Eobea of Iridonia, has the floor.”

As I announced her, she strode confidently to the podium in the great hall’s center. At her back stood her loyal entourage: advisors, dignitaries, allies from across Iridonia. Before her sat the Federation of Zabrak Colonies: delegates from all corners of Zabrak space, collectively representing tens of billions of people. Centuries ago, Xovrada had created this federation to promote peace and cooperation between Iridonia and her former colonies. Now, as far as these representatives saw it, it was every planet for itself. I was at her side, as always.

“It has come to my attention,” she began, her voice booming throughout the room, “that the members of this esteemed federation have taken issue with my strategy for dealing with the threats imposed by Emperor Palpatine. I have come to hear these issues in person, and—”

“Issues?” In a huff, the representative from Feldrona had shot to his feet, red in the face beneath his long, graying beard. “Your majesty, it’s far worse than an ‘issue’—pulling your forces back to Iridonia has left us defenseless, and we can’t help but fear a takeover is imminent. We haven’t the might to repel invaders ourselves; we need your help!”

“There will be no such takeover, representative,” she replied, her wavering confidence betraying her words, “I made clear in my address that any attack on my people would be met with swift and decisive retaliation, and I—”

“Ha! Of course you’d spring at the opportunity to protect Feldrona first” Now, it was the representative from Valrar’s scientific council, an old woman who may or may not have been a scientist herself. “What of Valrar, your highness? We produce no food for Iridonia, unlike those fishmongers—I suppose the natural wonders of our world are expendable, then?”

“Oh, forget your natural wonders, they’ve never turned a profit for anyone!” the Frithian representative countered. “If our Empress here is going to divert forces anywhere, I’ll make certain it’ll be to our mines!”

Eobea took a deep breath while they spoke. “My greatest priority is my people, representatives, and I intend to—”

“My people, for one, fully support your stance, Empress!” far in the back, a gaunt man in black robes stood, unmistakably representing Alderbathe. “We trust your judgement fully, and we wish you luck in vanquishing the scourge that is Sheev Palpatine!”

“You just want the Iridonians out of your business!” cried someone. “Cultist swine!” heckled another. From there, order broke down as the representatives haphazardly talked over each other. I could only watch as Eobea stood silently, her metal hand clenching into a fist.

“Rustibar won’t last a day against an Imperial invasion!!”

“Lorista is in too fragile a position for this—if the Rrult attack us, their blood and ours will be on your hands!”

“Namadii V must have a buyer for its technology, or our economy will collapse!”

“Empress,”

At the sound of this final voice, the cacophony quieted. The representative from Iridia slowly rose to their feet, directly opposing Eobea. I had seen them speak many times before; they were a renowned orator, one of my planet’s finest. “We are hardly a week into your reign, and already you have betrayed our trust. Your decision to protect only Iridonia, while simultaneously threatening Palpatine with a long and bloody engagement should he attack, will only serve to put our worlds in Imperial hands.''

“On the contrary.” Eobea said, her tone icy, “my strategy is working. My people support me. I—”

“Iridonia supports you—an Empress has a duty to all Zabraks, not just those she can see from her palace.” the representative’s voice rose, and I watched Eobea’s shoulders rise and fall with each new, seething breath. “This was the way of Xovrada, who first brought our worlds together. This was the way of Stotrau, who will go down in history as the defender of the Zabraks. I ask you, Empress Eobea: are you prepared to go down in history as their—”

“Enough!”

Eobea’s metal fist crashed down onto the podium, splintering its wooden top and silencing the room. Even I recoiled. In the moment, I remember wishing I could’ve calmed her down, but there was no stopping her. Not anymore. “I refuse to stand here,” she shouted, “and be lectured by you...you ingrates! After all that Stotrau—nay, all of my predecessors have done for your worlds, you still come to beg for aid, to proclaim how helpless you are? Our people were warriors once—we were explorers, conquerors! You’ve all grown soft in your security—cowards, all of you!”

No one spoke. Eobea returned her gaze to the still-standing Iridian representative. “Since some of you are so worried about what my legacy will be, allow me to be clear on that point. I will go down in history as nothing less than what I am: the one Zabrak who has stood undaunted in the face of this coming challenge, even while my fellows buried their heads in the sand and begged to be saved. I will be victorious—Iridonia will be victorious!” She paused, scanning the room. “Either support us as we fight, and join us in our victory...or stay out of our way.”

The Iridonians in the room cheered. The colonial representatives sank back to their seats. Instead of waiting for any further comment, Eobea stormed out, effectively adjourning the meeting. I followed her.

“Are you alright?” I said, matching her surprisingly brisk pace until, after a second, she stopped. “I didn’t think you...I mean, that was—”

“Unfortunate” she sighed, turning away from me. “I knew there’d be moments like this. Moments where I’d have to take charge. I don’t like to lose my temper, you know that. But still, that was…”

She crossed her arms. She was shivering. I moved closer, set my hands on her shoulders, reminded her wordlessly that she still had a friend in me. “What?” I whispered, “What was it?”

She chuckled as she turned to me. In spite of everything, she was smiling. “It was exhilarating.”

I was at her side, as I’d promised to be—but for the first time, that didn’t feel so comforting.

. . .

“Ready, Eobea?”

Instead of responding, she simply drew her sword and stood ready. I did the same.

She attacked first. Her blade lunged forward, just missing my head as I ducked left. She swung it back around, and I ducked right. I parried her third strike, then her fourth. She dipped, aiming for my legs, and I thrust my blade down to stop her. A pause. My turn.

I spun back, swinging my blade high, but she deflected as I brought it down. I recoiled, and she spun in turn, the momentum carrying her next strike. Our blades clashed, metal on metal again and again, but each of our defenses were solid. It only stopped when I ducked away, narrowly missing a sweep through where my neck would have been.

Coming up, my Zhaboka’s second blade caught her off-guard, and she stumbled. I seized the opportunity. Rushing her with my blade held forward, she held her guard, but still I pushed her back to the wall. Her sword was pressed to her throat, held there by my own. For a moment we stood silent, save for our heavy breaths. “And that,” I panted, “is your head.”

She smiled, her eyes darting away from mine. “Check again.”

Looking down, I saw her cybernetic arm at my side, a shining dagger sticking out from its wrist and poised to pierce my armor. I watched as, with a slight cocking of her hand, she withdrew the blade back into her forearm. “That’s new,” I managed.

“I just had it installed yesterday.” I backed off, and she stepped away from the wall. “Between it and our little sparring sessions, I’m feeling confident,” she paused, smiling as the blade sprung forth, then disappeared again, “No Imperial assassin is going to sneak up on me.”

I swallowed. “You’re getting better every day we practice. You’ll be a formidable warrior in no time.”

“Thanks to you.” She smiled, tossing her sword aside as she turned back to face me. “You’ve been so sweet to me through this past month. I…” she paused, cupping my face in her hands, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. My dear champion…”

She kissed me. I didn’t push her away—how could I? I was hers. Her knight in shining armor. Her dear champion. This, at least, still felt right.

“Pardon the intrusion, your grace, I—” a voice from the door of the training hall spoke up, but was silenced the instant the speaker saw us. Not long ago, being caught like that would have spelt doom for us. Now, the aide I saw in the doorway seemed to tremble at the very thought of crossing his Empress. “I...I bring urgent news...from the war front…”

“I’m busy.” Eobea scowled, and I watched the aide’s trembling grow stronger. “Fine,” she said, releasing me. “Make it quick.”

The aide cleared his throat. “Y-yes, Highness. The campaign in the Vardoss system is finished; as you commanded, your forces have been recalled to Iridonia.”

“Good,” she replied. “That traitorous backwater has been a thorn in our side for far too long—I’ll enjoy watching the Vardossians and the Empire continue their squabbling alone.”

“I’m...afraid the moon is already under Imperial control, Highness. The Vardossian holdout has been...wiped out.”

“I see,” Eobea paused, shooting a glance back at me. We both knew my father, the High General, had been tasked with leading that campaign. “And...what casualties did our people suffer?”

The aide didn’t answer. He only looked over Eobea’s shoulder, at me. He must have known who I was.

“I asked you a question,” she repeated. “Answer. Now.”

With a shaky breath, the aide answered. “General Autugo Koros...he stayed on the moon, while the rest of your forces returned to Iridonia. He sought to rally the remaining Vardossian rebels against the Empire. He was...killed...when the Empire took Vardoss.”

. . .

“Hatou!”

Eobea found me soon enough—in truth, there weren’t many places I could retreat to but my own quarters. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be found just yet, but still, I didn’t protest when she joined me at the balcony. I could tell she wanted to say something, but the words weren’t coming to her. Instead, we simply looked out over Iridonia, the planet we had both lost our fathers for.

“I…I’m sorry, Hatou.'' she finally began, her now-infamous confidence nowhere to be found. For but a second, I thought that the Eobea I had known—the Eobea I had once fallen in love with—had come back to me. I was wrong. “I’m sorry that these things have to happen.”

Whatever I had expected her to say, that was not it. “What…” I stammered, “What about this had to happen, Eobea?”

She shook her head. “I thought you, of all people, would understand. Wars must be fought. Sacrifices must be made. Lives must be laid down, so that our people—” “And just what was my father to you, if not one of our people? What is Iridia, my home, to you?” I paused, holding back the tears welling in my eyes, “What am I to you?”

“You’re everything to me, you know that.” she took my hands, and I went silent. I didn’t know that, in fact. I was never sure of it, nor was I then. “Forget Iridia, Hatou. Forget your people. Your place is here, with me.”

My hearts sank. I pried my hands from hers, and backed away. “No.”

“You could rule by my side, Hatou! You and I can triumph over Palpatine together, I know we can!”

“No.”

“I need you”

I went quiet. This, if nothing else, I believed. “I love you, Eobea,” I finally said, “But I can’t be part of what you’re doing here...I can’t stay and watch you become...this.”

I walked past her. She didn’t move. “You said...you said you’d stay with me. You’d stay by my side.”

“Goodbye, Eobea.”

“You promised!”

I kept walking. There was nothing I could say. Not anymore.

“Hatou!”

I left her. She never went after me, but she never stopped calling for me either. It wasn’t until I left the palace that I stopped hearing her shout my name.

Maybe she was already gone. Maybe her mind could still be changed. Maybe she was always like this, and I’d been too blind to see it.

All I knew was that I wouldn’t stay at her side. I couldn’t.

[thevictorianghost]

The ATLA Comics and the Character Assassination of Zuko’s, Aang’s and Katara’s character arcs (in one page!)

Thank you to Emma/jerkbendinq on Twitter for providing me this image!

Look. I knew the ATLA comics were bad. I’d heard, per example, about what they’d done to the Southern Water Tribe. And, especially, the glorification of industrialization in a world where bending exists, which leads to Northern Water Tribe imperalism and colonization. Others have talked about this in depth and have the tools to talk about these topics.

But THIS! THIS I want to talk about!

Let’s start with this. I know nothing about the context of this scene. But I don’t need context. Because there is SO MUCH TO UNPACK HERE. 

But we do, John Mulaney.

Oooooh, but we do. 

I have too much time on my hands.

I felt so viscerally pissed when I read this that I decided to write this meta. 

So here we go.

Let’s analyze this. Line by line.

Zuko: If you ever see me turning into my father, I want you to... I want you to end me.

Aang: What?!

Up ‘till now, not that bad. Aang’s character’s integrity is kept intact for the moment. Remember the pacifistic monk who didn’t want to kill Ozai? I think he’s here in this reaction. 

Aang: No, I'm not gonna end it like this.

All right. 

But the emphasis on the words end me make me really uncomfortable. This doesn’t feel like Zuko talking. Somehow, these words feel like they could fit more coming out of Azula’s mouth than anyone else’s. 

Azula: You mean it’s not obvious yet? I’m about to celebrate becoming an only child!

But we’ve barely started.

Let’s continue to the next panel.

Zuko: Even now, after everything that’s happened, my family’s legacy is still a part of me.

I’M SORRY??!? 

Is this somehow a bastardized version of this scene from The Avatar and the Firelord??!?

Iroh: Because understanding the struggle between your two great-grandfathers can help you better understand the battle within yourself. Evil and good are always at war inside you, Zuko. It is your nature, your legacy. But, there is a bright side. What happened generations ago can be resolved now, by you. Because of your legacy, you alone can cleanse the sins of our family and the Fire Nation. Born in you, along with all the strife, is the power to restore balance to the world.

(I don’t particularly like this dichotomy either. Good and evil aren’t battling within Zuko. It’s his struggle between doing the righ thing and doing the wrong thing that is. But whatever. I’ll let THAT slide.)

What happened to the “bright side” in the comics?? What happened to the power Zuko has within himself to restore balance to the world?? His entire character growth somehow doesn’t matter anymore because of his father’s and his forefathers’ legacies? The “good” in him doesn’t matter anymore?? 

What happened to THIS scene?!

Katara: You mean, after all Roku and Sozin went through together, even after Roku showed him mercy, Sozin betrayed him like that‌?

Toph: It's like these people are born bad.

Aang: No, that's wrong. I don't think that was the point of what Roku showed me at all.

Sokka: Then what was the point?

Aang: Roku was just as much Fire Nation as Sozin was, right? If anything, their story proves anyone's capable of great good and great evil. Everyone, even the Fire Lord and the Fire Nation have to be treated like they're worth giving a chance. 

Or this?!

Zuko: For so long, all I wanted was for you to love me, to accept me. I thought it was my honor I wanted, but really, I was just trying to please you. You, my father, who banished me just for talking out of turn. How could you possibly justify a duel with a child?

Ozai: It was to teach you respect!

Zuko: It was cruel! And it was wrong.

Ozai: Then you have learned nothing.

Zuko: No, I've learned everything! And I've had to learn it on my own! Growing up, we were taught that the Fire Nation was the greatest civilization in history. And somehow, the War was our way of sharing our greatness with the rest of the world. What an amazing lie that was. The people of the world are terrified by the Fire Nation. They don't see our greatness. They hate us! And we deserve it!  We've created an era of fear in the world. And if we don't want the world to destroy itself, we need to replace it with an era of peace and kindness.

What happened to Zuko’s stand against Ozai during the Day of Black Sun?? What happened to Zuko’s entire character arc from Book 2 onwards?? Suddenly, because he has his father’s blood in his veins, he’s doomed to carry his legacy? What happened to Zuko creating his OWN destiny, to change the world??

Sigh.

This wasn’t the most insulting line in that entire paragraph, though. 

THIS WAS.

Zuko: That’s why it’s my duty to heal the scars that the Fire Nation has left on the world.

I BEG YOUR PARDON?!?

NOTICE THE EMPHASIS I PUT ON THE WORD SCARS?!?

They keep comparing Ozai with Zuko THIS ENTIRE TIME. He’s terrified of failing the Fire Nation. He’s terrified of failing the world. He’s terrified of failing Aang and the Four Nations.

Zuko is terrified of becoming his genocidal abusive father.

AND SUDDENLY THEY BRING UP SCARS??!?

SCARS??

FUCKING SCARS???!?

(But we’ll come back to Katara.)

Let’s keep going or I’ll combust on the spot.

Zuko: But the Fire Lord’s throne comes with a lot of pressures.

Two things about this line.

First of all. It... bothers me that Zuko uses the term “the Fire Lord’s throne” instead of “my throne”. It’s like he still hasn’t accepted he’s the Fire Lord. Zuko’s throne doesn’t feel like it belongs to an individual who is allowed choices in this scene. It’s like he believes he’s all the Fire Lords who were his predecessors. And knowing that he thinks he carries his family’s legacy like a weight on his shoulders... that doesn’t bode well.

And second of all. Where is Iroh in all of this? What happened to Iroh’s mentorship? His kind words to remind Zuko that he can rake control of his own destiny? Is he still in Ba Sing Se? Taking care of the Jasmine Dragon? Has he completely left Zuko alone, enough so that the only person he can ever confide in is Aang, who has Avatar duties to fill?

What happened to this?

Iroh: You know Prince Zuko, destiny is a funny thing. You never know how things are going to work out. But if you keep an open mind, and an open heart, I promise you will find your own destiny someday.

Or this??

Iroh: I was never angry with you. I was sad because I was afraid you lost your way. And you did it by yourself.  And I am so happy you found your way here.

(Can anyone give Zuko a hug?? Please??)

Or even THIS??

Iroh: No. Someone new must take the throne. An idealist with a pure heart  and unquestionable honor. It has to be you, Prince Zuko.

Zuko: Unquestionable honor? But I've made so many mistakes.

Iroh: Yes, you have. You've struggled; you've suffered, but you have always followed your own path. You restored your own honor, and only you can restore the honor of the Fire Nation.

Oof. Okay. Let’s keep going.

Zuko: And if I’m being honest with myself... I need a safety net. The world needs a safety net. That’s what I need you to be, Aang. The safety net.

Again. Two things about this line.

What does Zuko mean when he says “the world needs a safety net”? What does he think ending him will accomplish for the world? Zuko’s DEATH could leave an opening for Ozai to take the throne! Because again, Aang has refused to kill Ozai in cold blood! As Iroh has said MULTIPLE TIMES by now and as Zuko has said himself, HE CAN RESTORE BALANCE TO THE WORLD TOO. It doesn’t all revolve around Aang. 

Speaking of Aang, here’s the second thing. Of course, Aang is the Avatar. But he himself alone couldn’t end the war during Sozin’s Comet. Zuko and Katara, Suki and Sokka and Toph, and the Order of the White Lotus all participated. Why should Aang be the only one to take this godawful decision? Why??

What happened to cooperation?? What happened to the Four Nations working together to end the Hundred Year War?? 

On to the next line.

Aang: Zuko, you're not your dad! And you're my friend! How can you expect me--"

One more time. Two things about this scene.

First of all, I’m going to be sarcastic, here. Forgive me, but I have to. 

Thank you, Aang, for pointing out that Zuko is NOT his father and that YES, you ARE his friend. 

Let’s go back to Aang’s speech at the end of the Avatar and the Fire Lord.

Aang: And I also think it was about friendships.

Toph: Do you really think friendships can last more than one lifetime?

Aang: I don't see why not.

Sokka: Well, scientifically speaking, there's no way to prove that...

Katara: Oh, Sokka, just hold hands.

If friendships can last more than one lifetime... why do you have to remind Zuko that you’re his friend, Aang? At least you’re not considering downright killing him and you don’t want to do this, you know!

Does that mean that if he wasn’t your friend and that if he was like Ozai, you’d kill him, though? Is that what you’re trying to say? Because the LAST time you were confronted with the idea of killing someone who WAS LIKE Ozai, oh no wait, who WAS Ozai, you said this!

Aang: This isn't a joke, Sokka! None of you understand the position I'm in.

Katara: Aang, we do understand. It's just ...

Aang: Just what, Katara? What?

Katara: We're trying to help!

Aang: Then, when you figure out a way for me to beat the Fire Lord without taking his life, I'd love to hear it!

What happened to that? 

Hm?

Next line. Once again.

Zuko: As your friend, I'm asking you -- if you ever see me go bad, end me. Promise me, Aang.

Again with these characters having to remind each other that they’re friends! Do you stop being friends while travelling the world and have to remind each other that you’re friends once you meet again? Is that it? (/s)

But that’s not what’s bothering me about this line.

What has Katara said since the beginning of this page?

Absolutely. Nothing.

And this line simply states that Aang is Zuko’s friend. But what about Katara? Are they still friends? They don’t interact much. She barely looks at him this entire page. They don’t talk. This whole scene is about Zuko and Aang. What is Katara doing here? Why is she here?

Oh. Wait.

The ONLY THING Katara does in this entire page...

When Aang looks at her, wondering what to do...

SHE NODS.

SHE. NODS.

She gives Aang the push in the right direction to... wait for it...

MURDER ZUKO WITH HIS BARE HANDS!

Is this supposed to be a callback to THIS scene??

Katara: You might have everyone else here buying your ... transformation, but you and I both know you've struggled with doing the right thing in the past. So let me tell you something, right now. You make one step backward, one slip-up, give me one reason to think you might hurt Aang, and you won't have to worry about your destiny anymore. Because I'll make sure your destiny ends... right then and there. Permanently.

Then what happened to this??

Or this???

Katara: I didn't forgive him. I'll never forgive him. But I am ready to forgive you.

Not only is it that KATARA AGREES TO MURDER ZUKO, she does it while being ENTIRELY SILENT. She never talks. She only nods. Katara has been reduced to become Aang’s silent advisor. 

What happened to THIS girl??!

Katara: I will never, ever turn my back on people who need me!

Or THIS girl?

Zuko: Katara! How would you like to help me put Azula in her place?

Katara: It would be my pleasure.

Or THIS girl?

Katara: ZUKO!

THIS GIRL?

THIS GIRL??!?

(*Bangs head against keyboard*)

And on to the final line. The nail in the coffin.

Aang: ... Fine. I promise.

There we are. He’s accepted it. He’s going to do it if he has to. He’s promised, right? Aang just... gives in. At least Aang doesn’t look thrilled at the idea of doing this. Which isn’t what I can say about Katara. Who looks damn ready to end Zuko right now if that’s necessary. Not that she says anything. 

But the simple fact that they are, THE THREE OF THEM, considering this SUICIDE PACT... 

...is infuriating.

Then we end with a view of the starry night sky as fireworks come to life.

Yeah, right. Sure. Talk about reading the room here, folks.

So let me recap ALL OF THIS.

Zuko is a character who has been abused for years by his father, burned at the age of thirteen and sent on a quest to find the Avatar. During the show, he learns that he doesn’t have to obey his father, that he can make his own choices and create his own destiny and legacy. He’ll be the new Fire Lord who will usher the Fire Nation in an era of peace, helped by Iroh and his friends.

Aang is a pacifist who refuses to kill Ozai, Zuko’s aforementioned abusive and genocidal father. Killing is not the answer for him; he desperately wants to find a way out, enough so that he gets into a fight with his friends about the mere idea of killing Ozai. He values his friends dearly and learns that the world doesn’t only rely on himself, that he has friends he can count upon. 

Katara is a warrior girl who doesn’t back down from a fight. After many trials and trebulations, after being betrayed by Zuko and forgiving him in the end, she has become one of Zuko’s closest friends and allies, especially in their fight against Azula. She’s not afraid to voice her opinions and will never turn her back on people who need her.

But according to the comics... none of that seems to be true!

Or didn’t we watch the same show?

What happened to all of that? What happened to these characters?

I dunno.

You tell me.

[belit0]

Make sure he never comes back.

Rated: T

Pairings: I’m not spoiling that in this first edition, so if anyone is interested in more from this story, I’ll give that away ;)

I got inspired from a writting prompt, and this was born:

The Land of the Uchihas imposed itself disgustingly throughout the entire Fire Nation, dominating and conquering with force and terror. Small kingdoms and peoples who tried to rise up against their power were subdued, humiliated, stripped of everything they ever possessed. Those who accepted the inevitable with peace and without a fight, found a more relaxed destiny, without being treated like animals for the rest of their lives.

At the beginning of their reign, the Uchihas had been a stable clan, which showed no interest in expanding beyond the lands they owned. Owners of great luxury, they lived in harmony with their exuberant wealth. Reserved, secretive and stoic, no one knew that mysteries were unveiled within the great gates of their village. They did not admit foreigners or people from outside their clan, but neither did they attack anyone who dared to approach them. They were peaceful.

Everything had changed when another clan of the Fire country, the Senju, decided to dominate all the lands around them. Ruthlessly, they murdered all their opponents without a hitch until they encountered an imposing and unexpected enemy, the Uchihas. They would not allow their legacy to fall so easily into the cruel hands of those barbarians. These two groups shared more pain, agony and history than just the dispute over ground; they were related.

With passion and vigour, both families fought their way through a heated struggle that lasted three sunsets and four moon deaths. By the end of the war, the leader of the Uchiha, Indra, all powerful and praised by his followers, had fallen to the sword of his brother, Ashura, leader of the enemy clan. Before receiving reprisals from the surviving Uchihas, he himself fled, ordering a hasty retreat, rejoicing in the victory he was taking from the encounter. The death of his older brother, his only brother, meant nothing to him, and pleasure ran through his veins in the knowledge that he had fallen before the grace of his weapon.

However, Indra’s son, Uchiha Madara, heir to the leadership that his father’s death brought, had seen his progenitor’s death from the front line, and had been unable to act to save him. At only sixteen, the dark-haired teenager had been paralysed by the terror of the scene. His uncle, cold and disheartened, pierced his father with his sword, from his chest to the other end.

When the Senju retreated, panic crept into his system, and Madara ran to the dejected body of his only direct family. He knew he had a younger brother, but he never knew what had become of him. He had not had the pleasure of meeting him, but he had always fantasized about the situation. For some reason, the clan was forbidden to talk about it, and the information was not accessible. He withdrew the blade from the man’s chest, and tried to cover the bleeding wound. It was a clean, side-to-side incision. The amber liquid ran down the torso, soaking the hands of the young man, who was frantically trying to save his father from eternal darkness.

“Son, cease your action. My departure is inevitable.”

Squinting, Indra watched his eager offspring, who struggled to keep him alive. His time was not long, but he was proud to have instilled such passion in the child he had raised. If only he could have saved his other son…

“Father! Don’t abandon me! I beg you…”

“…Child, perpetuate your walk on the path of compassion…justice…evoke the love that I profess to you when the road becomes difficult…do not follow in the footsteps of Ashura…and find him…find your brother…Izuna…”

His last breath left his lungs, as his eyes closed for the last time.

“FATHER! NO!”

After Madara took power, darkness rained down on Uchiha’s land. No one understood what had changed inside the boy, who was once a sweet and gentle kid with the entire clan. Now, he showed himself to be an archaic person and refused to receive contact with anyone. He had inaugurated his first act as a leader by commanding a fierce invasion of the Senju Lands. Not only had they been victorious, but he had cut off Ashura’s head himself and impaled it on the doors of their village as a warning.

Whoever messed with Madara would meet the same fate.

For years, this leader’s empire just grew and grew. His tyranny soon flooded every corner of the nation, forcing, coercing and subduing anyone who crossed his path. The characteristic symbol of this bloodthirsty family, the malevolent red and white fan, spread out gloriously and infamously in the form of flags, plaguing every place where a town or village once resided.

At the age of 23, Madara was staying in the capital of his kingdom, coordinating from the comfort of the main palace the few remaining invasions to completely dominate the entire region. But his mind found little interest in conquest. In fact, establishing himself as the supreme king of the area had never mattered to him. Since his inevitable assumption of power, his only goal had fallen on his father’s last words.

‘Izuna…’ was the only word that resonated in the back of his mind. That name, that beautiful name, meant hope.

“Lord… Are you here with us?” One of his advisors brought him out of his absence, and forced him back into reality. He was meeting with the honorable members of his personal council. Also present was the captain of the military troops belonging to the capital, who directed orders to the barracks located throughout the country in the smaller Uchiha villages that had been founded after each conquest.

Madara observed other unknown faces, but he played down their importance. The last time he had been able to recognize all the members of his clan was when his father was still the leader. Walking the length of the long table where the meeting was taking place, all eyes were on him, waiting for an answer that he was unaware of. He had been fantasizing throughout the discussion. With his arms folded over his chest, one leg crossed over the other, his head held high in front of him, he responded monosyllabically, a sound that always saved him when he was caught off guard.

“Hm.” Nervous glances met each other over their teacups as the murmur echoed again from the meeting room. Easily, he was absent again in the freedom of his imagination, fascinated by the ease with which he could enter that world of fantasy. A world that usually belongs only to children. But his childhood had been corrupted by a lost brother… Izuna.

When the session was over, Madara was motionless in his seat. Imitating his action, the captain of the military forces, remained unmoving in his position, accustomed to that routine. Both waited for the room to empty before speaking.

"My lord, I am afraid to announce the lack of progress in the mission you have given me. My fittest men and I have ridden without ceasing for weeks and…”

“Are you telling me there’s no sign of him?”

“My lord… my convictions… I dare to declare that your brother must have died by now…”

He could not finish speaking, for from where Madara sat, a knife flew without warning, and was mercilessly thrust into the man’s eye. He was an expert in cutting weapons, and never missed a chance to practice on live targets. No one could talk about his brother in that way. Ever since he became a leader, Izuna’s quest was an ever-present mission. The entire Fire Nation had been scoured, searched for in every corner by that young Uchiha that no one knew about and had never been seen.

But Madara was no fool. He knew what his clan thought. He knew that they thought him insane for searching so hard for a person who resembled a ghost. The resources devoted to tracking down his brother were incalculable, to the extent that the Uchiha were at a financial low, never before reached by his predecessors, thanks to him.

He could hear the servants rumouring about how he had lost his mind. He could hear his men doubting his ability to carry them through. His family, the legacy his father had given him at the cost of his blood, was now beginning to turn its back on him. All they wanted was the total conquest of the region. To receive the unpleasant title of supreme leader. None of that mattered in his life, for what he wanted most was to regain what he had never been able to have.

Despite the differences he had with the people he was leading, as he no longer considered it right to call them relatives, he was aware that he needed his position as a ruler to get the help of the clan, and thus find the whereabouts of Izuna. His brother’s story was still a mystery. No one knew what had become of him after his birth, no one had seen him, no one could describe his appearance. A needle in a haystack. And although in the back of his mind the word ‘dead’ flickered with dazzling lights, he refused to pay attention to it. He would spend his whole life searching for him if necessary.

—————————————-

Facing a new dawn, Madara’s horse rode bravely before his commands, guiding the military formation that followed behind him. The Uchiha travelled at great speed from the capital to one of the newly opened villages, located almost on the border of the land of fire and wind. Carrying swords, bows and arrows, shields with the clan’s emblem, they hurried through the rising heat, wearing gleaming black armor. They covered the entire torso, shoulders, and the front and back of the legs. Combat sandals, suitable for the need for skill, could be seen on the warriors’ feet.

The leader of the troop, distinguishing himself from the others, wore a long black cape attached to the shoulders of his armor, identifying him as the head of the squadron. After coldly annihilating the former commander in the meeting room, Madara had decided to personally take charge of the military section. His long dark hair cascaded down his back, dancing uncontrollably in the face of the horse’s revolutions and the wind. The urgent hurry was due to the announcement of a runway that had arrived in the capital that morning, carried by a messenger hawk. The leader of the location to which they were travelling, reported having found conclusive information about the famous “Izuna” and demanded the immediate presence of Madara to verify the veracity of the facts.

When they woke him up and he personally read the message that the pale and breathless maid had brought him, his heart beat as fast as when he saw his father die in front of his eyes. Putting together a team and having them travel that distance from one moment to the next was risky and extremely rushed, but the expectation consumed him and the urge to find out what that clue was was too much to hope for.

When he was forced to rest because the night was falling on them, anger took hold of him in such a pure way that he had to get away from the whole group so as not to kill them on the forest floor. He made up his personal sleeping space at a great distance from his men, knowing that it was unlikely that he would encounter any thieves or outsiders in the area as it was under his power. He stripped off his armor and did not even bother to set up a proper shelter for the early morning hours. Wearing the black clothes, he always wore under his war protection, he placed the shield of his torso on the grass and laid his head on it, using it as a pillow.

He relaxed by looking at the green leaves on the trees, feeling the breeze playing with his loose hair. Before he knew it, he was fantasizing. He thought of arriving in that village and meeting a young Uchiha, his brother. His only remaining relative, who would accompany him for the rest of his life. He would not have to be alone anymore. Eventually, amidst emotions, happiness and dreams, darkness lulled him to the land of rest, and he managed to sleep.

But he had made a mistake in thinking that he was alone.

———————————–

When he woke up, he felt happily renewed, ready to reach that blissful place and discover that mystery. But unfortunately, he was not in the forest. The sounds of nature did not reach his ears, the morning breeze did not blow on his senses. Something was wrong. Reluctantly, he wanted to open his eyes, only to realize that, even if he tried, the world was still dark around him.

He did not allow despair to grow inside him, years of war, fighting and training had shaped him into a warrior fit to face any scenario. He tried to move his hands, to bring them to his face to confirm that his eyesight was covered by something, but discovered that he was chained. Handcuffs were tight and constricting, hugging his wrists. He tested the range of motion, and noticed that he could move his arms at least a little forward. He was not totally restricted.

He lifted one leg, confirming the theory that he also had shackles on his ankles. Again, a small range of motion was granted to him. He was sitting against a cold, solid wall with all his limbs tied off and deprived of his sight.

He could only hear, smell at the very least. The rage of being held against his will one step away from finding information about the man he had sought for so many years consumed him in an inexplicable way, but he could not afford to act recklessly and ruin his chances of escape because of his impulses.

He waited, waited and waited, still in the cold, secret place, unanswered and boiling inside. He had no idea how much time had passed, what time of day it was, what had become of his troop. The unknowns overwhelmed his head when a sound took him out of his anxiety. Without conveying any emotion to the outside world and determined to be indecipherable to his captors, he heard footsteps coming down a long staircase. Then the person walked down what he thought was a corridor, until it got closer and closer to him. The footsteps stopped, and the rumble of a heavy titanium door being opened was heard throughout the room where he was being held.

“I apologize, my King, for the lack of decorum on the occasion… unbecoming of our usual action. But… before one such as you, Lord Uchiha, we cannot take risks, I hope you understand.”

A female voice spoke from somewhere in the room. He could tell that the woman was standing in front of him by the direction of the sound, and from the information provided, she was some kind of thief; probably, a group of them. He would remain silent, and would not offer compromising information to his enemy. Not because he cared about his clan, but because of the custom of wartime. Once again, he felt like a teenager, where he was targeted because he was the leader’s son. Today, however, he was the leader.

“Did the cat eat your tongue, My Lord?”

Internally he found it amusing to think that this should be taken as an insult. The woman he was dealing with seemed to have no desire to mistreat or torture.

“…Man of few words… Blessed. The payment for your ransom should be coming any minute, Lord Uchiha. You will be free then.”

With that said, the woman’s footsteps were heard again, moving away from him calmly. The door resounded thunderously after a few seconds, and as it closed, the footsteps continued down the corridor that he sensed following. The footsteps disappeared behind the many steps a moment later.

Abduction for profit’ had been delayed by something as banal as materials. He felt insulted, anger threatened to show itself, to glow through his strength and to tear off the chains that kept him confined to that place. But that, he had to admit, as incredibly tempting as it was, was also incredibly stupid. When the Uchiha paid the ransom, he would be released peacefully and could finish the journey to the village quietly, assuming that the group holding him was large enough to rule over that area.

He.Just.Had.To.Wait.

And so, it was. He ate the ration of food that was given to him some time later, and felt the hours go by inside him, until eventually sleep overcame him. He was startled when he was awakened by a slight kick in his calf. His body was asleep and cramped, thanks to the lack of movement due to the restriction of the chains. He needed to move, his energy and his mood were deep within him.

Reluctantly, he came back to life when he heard the voice of the same woman speaking to him again. Without warning, he felt a delicate touch over his eyes, and the blindfold that deprived him of his sight was removed. By reflection, he held his eyelids tight to the sudden invasion of light. It was not very strong, for the room where he was imprisoned was dreary and poorly lit, but after being in the darkness for an indefinite time, even the smallest illumination felt enormous.

When he managed to focus his eyes again, he could appreciate the woman in front of him. She was short, with long, long pink hair, reaching down to her lower back. Emerald eyes looked at him intently, and a purple jewel in the shape of a rhombus adorned her forehead. A long black cape with strange red details covered her body, but it opened at the front of her figure to reveal the tight black shirt and dark trousers she wore underneath. The sleeves were so long that Madara could not see her hands, which made him uneasy as he could not see if she was carrying weapons.

“…O my King… My Lord… I have news…”

Slowly, the pink-haired woman moved one of her arms. Alerted, the Uchiha looked intently at her hand, anticipating an attack or an assassination attempt. To his surprise, when the sleek limb was revealed under the long sleeve of her cloak, the only thing that appeared was an envelope. Specifically, marked with the symbol of the Uchiha clan.

Confused and amazed, Madara held the object in the hand where the woman had placed it, as he could not deliberately move them. It was a letter, and it was open.

“I suppose it is a pity for you… My Lord… but we, on the other hand, are wonderfully rich.”

On the paper, it read as follows:

“To whomever this statute has the pleasure of addressing

We cannot ignore the assistance given by you in the removal of Lord Madara

As a token of our gratitude, we sent twice the amount you requested, in exchange for one last favor

Please

Make sure he never comes back to us.

                                                                       -The Honorable Uchiha Council”

The words his eyes saw broke the last barrier of self-control he had left, and he couldn’t help but explode at that very moment. His family had taken the opportunity of his abduction to get rid of him. They were using this group of thugs to see that his presence was eradicated. It was an insult to his father, to him. To his brother.

The chains on his wrists came off the wall when, with a battle cry, the Uchiha used all his strength to free himself. Finally, being able to move his arms, he allowed his anger and contained ferocity to run through his veins, without any restrictions. Outside of himself, he lunged at the woman in front of him, and straddling her, he placed his hands around her neck. The force he exerted was too much, and the pink-haired woman soon began to lose the color in her skin and the air in her airways.

“I JUST WANT MY BROTHER!”

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 22

Warning, if it hasn’t been obvious in the movies there is Nazi symbolism within the First Order. I will expand on this much more throughout the story. If this is something that bothers you, please just exit the story. The author does not condone any Nazi ideals, this is just for fictional uses only.

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 22: The Founding of a Regime

You simply nodded in response. You wanted him to continue revealing the purpose of the First Order.

“The First Order has been built on the remnants of the Empire. Our ideals are based on their success but we have learned from their mistakes. As you know the First Order is a military regime. We can maintain order most efficiently this way. You must be familiar with military ranks and how they work. We have our officers and our enlisted ranks. We instill our ideologies at a young age. We have an academy that is unmatched anywhere in the galaxy. My father was one of the founding members of the First Order and this was one of his legacies.”

“How young is a young age,” you ask.

“Our enlisted troops start young, but our main academy begins at 16. My father’s was a senior academy on Arkanis. He rebuilt it in the image of imperial success and thus the initial founding of the First Order was born. There were several others including Grand Admiral Rae Sloane and Ornes Apolin. They helped build our new empire in the shadows of the outer rim. You know our enlisted troops as Stormtroopers. Now ‘troopers can become officers if they have proven themselves. They may even be given some command roles but for the most part, they are soldiers and not officers,” said the general.

“But how young is young,” you ask.

At this the general seemed to be annoyed, “Our ‘trooper program is one that helps people who would otherwise die from poverty and starvation. They start very young. Parents volunteer their children in the frontiercorps and they are guaranteed food, shelter, and education. Like I said they would otherwise starve and die without the First Order.”

“So you take children, young children,” you try to clarify.

“We take those in vulnerable positions and give them something they would not otherwise have. And we do not take children, their parents willingly sign their children up for a better future,” he was no longer pacing in the front of the room but was now standing directly infant of you.

You nodded and urged him to continue.

“I am a product of my father’s academy. I enlisted at 16, graduated with top honors and was granted an assignment on a starship. I quickly moved up the ranks and am the youngest general in the First Order and the youngest Allegiant General in galactic history.”

He seemed proud of his accomplishments, he definitely spoke with pride and his posture changed.

“While our Stormtrooper Corps start younger, any promising ‘troopers may be asked to join the academy,” he paused before starting back on the government of the First Order.

“The position of the Supreme Lead is the ultimate authority of the entire Fist Order and oversees the ruling military hierarchy. The Supreme Leader delegates power to some high-ranking officers and advisers, thus effectively removing any distinction between military and state. This forms an upper cadre of high-ranking officials who have the authority blessed by the Supreme Leader to oversee aspects of the First Order. Any and all alteration to strategy requires the Supreme Leader’s approval.”

“Do to the Supreme Leader’s status, any officer who has direct access to his person is effectively awarded greater authority than their military rank would indicate. We oversee the colonizations of the Unknown Regions and your planet.”

“The current Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren, was not an officer. He existed outside the formal command structure of the First Order and frequently came into conflict with military officials owing to his agenda consistently trumping military objectives. His placement in the hierarchy not only maintained fear within the First Order's upper ranks but also intentionally resembled that of Darth Vader's during the reign of the Old Empire. He usurped the former Supreme Leader Snoke and took the ruling throne.”

You could tell that this annoyed him a bit. Kylo had existed outside the carefully defined ranks of the First Order and took power for himself. Ignoring the rules and pageantry.

“Unlike our former Supreme Leader, Supreme Leader Ren likes to be in on the action. While he currently does not have an official capital planet he is more visible than Snoke. He still follows in his predecessor's footsteps by making his base the  Supremacy.  And he has arguably made more improvements in his first few years as Supreme Leader than Snoke had.”

So Kylo was doing well as Supreme Leader. You didn’t know if this was a good thing or a bad thing. The First Order was definitely not what you initially thought it was, but at the same time, it was.

“We despise the New Republic and view it as an illegitimate regime that tolerates disorder in the galaxy. We do not officially recognize it as a government and we view them as an ill-organized, poorly equipped, and badly funded group. We see our primary mission as restoring order to this lawless galaxy and we view the Resistance and the New Republic as obstacles to this goal.”

“In our annexation of your planet, we have discussed public execution. We are merciless towards treason and must maintain order. The First Order has made it illegal to communicate with the Resistance and we consider it an act of treason, which you now know results in execution. Also, the act of speaking ill of the Supreme Leader has been determined to be a crime. We also employ the First Order Security Bureau as an intelligence service within our administration. We often employ the use of being reconditioned in our ranks, for those who break lesser rules and seem to be slacking in work.”

You weren’t able to fully comprehend what he is saying before he moves on.

“While the First Order is a military regime and the main purpose of a military is war there are many things to consider. The essential act of war is destruction, not necessarily of human lives, but of the products of human labor. War is a way of shattering to pieces, or pouring into the stratosphere, or sinking in the depths of the sea, materials which might otherwise be used to make the resistant masses too comfortable, and hence, in the long run, too intelligent. The First Order either commandeers what it needs or it will destroy it so it will not fall into the hands of those who would see us crumble.”

At this point, the general could see you struggling to comprehend what he was saying. “How about we pick this back up tomorrow my lady. I believe the lieutenant has taken notes for you to review. I believe the Supreme Leader will be back soon, and you have had a long day. If you will excuse me I have reports that I need to attend to.” With that, he left you and the Lieutenant in the conference room.  

You received a notification on your phone of a document from Lieutenant Mitaka. It was word for word what General Hux had said. You thanked him and you made your way back to your chambers.

You took out your notebook again and started making notes on the notes you were given. Things you liked and things you didn’t like/had more questions about. Even though Kylo had left your education to General Hux you wondered if he would have a problem with you asking him a few questions. Like how did he usurp Supreme Leader Snoke? Also, why was the First Order this creepy? This whole thing made you feel like you were in some sort of futuristic dystopian novel.

You were getting slightly annoyed at how small your screen was trying to read and take notes. “Lieutenant can I have someone update my laptop like they did my phone. I feel like it would be useful in these meetings and while I am doing all this learning.”

“Yes, Lady Ren. I can have it updated for you.” You went into your room to retrieve it and you handed it to the lieutenant.

You then received a notification from Kylo, ‘I will be aboard the Steadfast soon. Why don’t you order dinner for us while you are waiting?’

You did as he asked when the door to your chambers opened the lieutenant saluted and immediately excused himself from your chambers, leaving you alone with Kylo once more.

A/N:I would like to thank the authors and editors of Wookieepedia. Like 90% of what Hux says in this chapter is edited but directly from the First Order article. Also a huge 1984 reference again.

[theculturedmarxist]

It’s been a full month since Election Day, and Donald Trump still refuses to concede to Joe Biden. Instead, he continues to insist that he won, making baseless accusations of widespread election fraud and enlisting the aid of a comical crew of sycophants to press legal challenges to the vote totals in swing states—all of which have been laughed out of court. Trump’s ongoing efforts to overturn millions of votes have prompted a public debate over whether to describe his actions as a “coup” or something similar. This is just the most recent phase of a wider debate dating back to the beginning of Trump’s presidency over whether Trump represents a “fascist” or “authoritarian” rupture with the Republican Party pre-2016.

One of the leading critics of that interpretation has been Corey Robin, a professor of political science at the CUNY Graduate Center and the author of an influential and controversial 2011 book on the history of conservative thought, The Reactionary Mind. This week, I spoke to Robin about the Trump presidency as it enters its final months. In contrast to the popular conception of Trump as an incipient fascist dictator and a break with American liberal institutions and norms, for Robin, Trump threatens liberalism only to the extent that movement conservatism in general has over many decades, and is otherwise a weak leader whose power is largely constrained by broader political conditions. Whether or not one fully agrees with every point, Robin offers a provocative alternative to some of the more unhinged reactions to the Trump era from the self-proclaimed Resistance.

This interview has been lightly edited. It originally appeared in yesterday’s email newsletter, to which you can subscribe here.

David Klion: It’s pretty clear at this point that we are not going through an actual coup and that Biden is going to be inaugurated as president on January 20th, whether Trump wants to admit it or not. At the same time, nothing quite like what’s happening now has ever happened before in the United States. How would you describe what Trump and his dead-enders are doing, and how concerned should we be in terms of the stability of US political institutions?

Corey Robin: You can’t understand what’s happening now without a historical perspective on conservatism and the right. The right was born in response to the French Revolution, as a reaction against the democratic emancipation of the commoner. Across more than two centuries and many continents, the right has never lost that reactionary ethos.

But what the right learned, slowly, over time, was that to mobilize against a democratic and democratizing left, it could not simply assert a traditional, static, and familiar defense of hierarchy; instead, it had to mobilize a dynamic movement of the masses, a populist politics of the right to counter the masses of the left. That populism was never democratic, but it knew how to draw from the tropes of democracy to push back against democracy. It learned how to use the languages of racism, nationalism, imperialism, and sexism to give a broad circle of the masses a taste of privilege over their subordinates. The fruition of that long learning process—of using populist vernaculars against democracy—was the American right that emerged in response to the 1960s and the New Deal.

For all the talk of Trump’s populism and racism and nationalism, the fact is that he was far less successful at using those vernaculars to mobilize the masses than his predecessors on the right—Nixon, Reagan, and George W. Bush. Nixon and Reagan were re-elected with large popular majorities. Trump, like Bush, lost the popular majority the first time around, and unlike Bush, lost it a second time around.

What Trump and the Republican Party have grown increasingly dependent upon are not populism or mass politics of any sort, but rather the Electoral College, the Senate, and the courts. Historically speaking, this is a great—and terrible—reversion for the right, a return to the time when it depended not on its popular touch but on its control over anti-democratic state institutions. It makes today’s right a lot weaker than the right of the Reagan era, and makes it seem much more like the Tories of early 19th-century Britain.

This is why you now see Trump doing what he’s trying to do with the vote. The Republicans can’t win presidential campaigns the way they once did: Since 1992, they have won the popular vote exactly once. Their only hope now is a combination of the Electoral College and the courts.

Far from being concerned about US institutions being insufficiently stable or resilient enough to contain Trump or a similar figure, I’m far more concerned about the stifling stability and resilience of institutions like the Electoral College, the courts, and the Senate, and their ability to prop up Trump and the GOP.

DK: You’ve maintained from the beginning that Trump is actually a historically weak president, in spite of his authoritarian bluster. Can you elaborate on why you thought so back in 2017, how those predictions have been borne out since, and what makes Trump weaker than other recent presidents?

CR: I thought Trump was weak for two reasons, neither having anything to do with his skill or character, but with larger political forces and structures.

The first is that conservatism is an inherently reactionary politics that depends on the real threat of an active, emancipatory left: not the specter of a threat, not the discourse on Twitter, but an actual social movement that has taken state power and is engaged in a project of dispossession of elites. When the left is defeated or disappears, the right’s power ebbs. That is what has happened in the US. The left is, historically speaking, relatively weak, so it’s difficult for the right to get the juice it needs.

Trump’s presidency reflected that: Compared to the Republican presidencies of Nixon, Reagan, and George W. Bush, Trump’s was significantly less transformational, and its legacy is far less assured. Next to “law and order” and “the silent majority” (which Nixon made part of our political grammar), next to “the era of big government is over” (which Reagan bequeathed to Clinton as the ruling doctrine of the age), next to Bush’s war on terror and the Department of Homeland Security and the Patriot Act, none of Trump’s attempts to permanently transform the political climate—not of the Republican Party but of the whole political culture—seems even remotely comparable. With the exception of the tax cuts, Trump was hardly able to get much legislation through Congress; many of his executive orders will be undone by Biden; the only custodian of his legacy, ironically, will be the courts, which many had seen as the antidote to Trumpism and caretaker of the rule of law.

The second reason I thought Trump would be weak is that all presidents are elected to oppose or defend a larger political regime. A regime, in US political history, is the combination of ideology, interests, and policies that govern over an extended period of time. In American history, we had the Jeffersonian Democratic-Republican regime, Jackson’s Democratic regime, Lincoln’s Republican regime, FDR’s New Deal regime, and now Reagan’s free market regime. Whatever the party of a specific president elected may be, he will be forced to operate under the larger regime’s assumptions and expectations of good governance. Bill Clinton was a Democrat, but he had to govern like a Republican; Eisenhower was a Republican, but he had to govern like a Democrat.

There are some presidents who are affiliated with a dominant regime, but the regime is vulnerable. Herbert Hoover and Jimmy Carter were those kinds of presidents, and they are considered to be among the weakest. From the moment Trump was elected, I thought he belonged in that Hoover/Carter category. The Reagan regime is increasingly unable to provide the answers and policies to govern the country, much in the same way that the New Deal seemed unable to offer answers during the 1970s. The fact of that weakness made Trump quite weak. Again, the fact that he was so unable to push through legislation, that his budgets were more liberal, in some ways, than Barack Obama’s, and that the Republicans, when they controlled all the elected branches of government, were not able to implement big parts of their program—all that suggests how weak the Republican regime is.

In the coming years, once the emotional context of Trump’s presidency fades away, I think more and more people will see just how weak he really was.

DK: The historian Timothy Snyder, among other prominent public intellectuals, has argued that Trump’s approach to the presidency resembles that of 20th-century dictators like Hitler or Mussolini. The obvious counter is that Trump is going to submit to the election result, but are people like Snyder completely off-base? Trump may be lazy and incompetent, and US institutions may be stronger than some predicted, but is it fair to characterize Trump and his hardcore supporters as far-right, illiberal, even fascist, and at the very least a test of how much strain the Constitution can endure?

CR: There is no question, in my mind, that Trump and his supporters are far-right and illiberal. I’ve said so from the beginning. One of my differences with Snyder and people who subscribe to the view that Trump is a fascist or authoritarian is that their desire to call Trump that often arises from a failure to understand conservatism more generally, which has always been a far-right and illiberal and anti-liberal form of politics. Many of the attributes people decry in Trump and his followers were primary features of the conservatism I was describing in The Reactionary Mind (and got a lot of flak from liberals for so describing). To my mind, the comparisons between Trump and Hitler or Mussolini come from people who only began thinking about American conservatism and the Republican Party when Trump came along.

I would also reject some of the premises of your question. The issue is not that Trump is lazy or incompetent, though he is. As I said in my previous answer, the real reason for Trump’s ineffectiveness has virtually nothing to do with Trump and everything to do with the larger forces on the right that I discussed. Virtually any Republican president elected in 2016 (and I’m not sure anyone but Trump could have been elected) would have been as constrained in their effectiveness as Trump has been.

Conversely, I also think it’s wrong to say that the reason Trump didn’t prevail is that the institutions were stronger than people feared. This is part of an argument that is often falsely posed by liberals and the left: If you assert that Trump is weak and will fail, as I have said from the beginning, people assume that means that the institutions will constrain him. That’s nonsense: American institutions have often been the friend of the most authoritarian projects, as I argued in my first book, Fear: The History of a Political Idea. And in fact, to the extent that Trump’s politics had any juice at all, it was precisely because the institutions support that politics. Where would Trump be without the Electoral College or the Senate confirming his judges and justices—and where would Trumpism be under a Biden administration without the Senate and the courts?

It’s ironic to me that people would choose this moment, and Trump’s presidency, to assign the label “fascist” to the right, for what fascism is about, above all else, is a politics of strength and will. That’s why fascists traditionally loathe the constitutional order: because they think it constrains the assertion of political will. The irony of Trumpist/GOP politics is that it is completely dependent upon the constitutional order. In that regard, it’s almost the complete opposite of fascism.

DK: Okay, we’ve made it through the Trump era, almost, probably. But are we really out of the woods? How strong a president do you expect Biden to be, and is the US at any risk of drifting toward illiberalism in the foreseeable future?

CR: We’re definitely not out of the woods, but not for the reason I think you mean. What we’ve learned over the last decade—and what Trump’s bombast allowed many liberals and the left to avoid—is how much our political institutions constrain action. Assuming the Democrats don’t win the Senate seats in Georgia, we are going to reach the end of 2022 having endured 12 years of political immobility. That is, from Obama’s time in office after the midterms of 2010 to Biden’s time after the midterms of 2022, we’ll have had virtually no legislation dealing with any of the challenges of the day and a lot of executive orders that temporarily change things and then get undone by the next president. It seems so strange to me that people spoke so much of authoritarianism under Trump when what we’ve been seeing for years now, including the Trump years, is political impotence, the absence of political will. And without the left getting its act together, I don’t see that changing any time soon. That is something to be very worried about.

David Klion is the newsletter editor for Jewish Currents.

[hyliangrace-a]

ZELDA, HER APPEARANCE & HER FEELINGS REGARDING IT  /  

talking with amber about the differences between the appearances in our respective zeldas got me motivated to finish this headcanon, finally ! i love zelda’s ocarina of time design, because y’know, imprinting on your very first zelda game & all that, but there’s always room for improvement, right ? these are my ( questionable ) improvements ! this headcanon ... got away from me little bit when i started to talk out my reasoning for zelda’s choice in how she presented herself as queen. i intended on talking about how she looks in other verses, too, such as when she’s a spectre in the queen’s shade universe, but i feel that would suit better as an entirely separate post, so, that’ll come in time ! i hadn’t intended on putting this post under a read more, because i feel it’s a fairly important headcanon & i’d like people to read it, but - surprise ! - it’s really long, & it would feel really rude to just leave it uncut, so behind the black it goes - that, & it also deals with body issues & negative perceptions of one’s body, so please keep that in mind if you’re sensitive to that sort of content. that said, & i’m aware of the irony of this sentence after the last, but i hope you guys at least find it an enjoyable read !  ♡

the three basic tenets of her appearance which have appeared in most of her predecessors & descendants ( pale, blue-eyed, blonde-haired ) apply in most, if not all, of my verses for zelda  but there are only a few verses of mine where i would say zelda’s appearance is exactly as it is within the game & the official art provided by nintendo - primarily the earliest arc of my canon verses, when she’s still the little princess, & the au which follows the events of the child timeline, where she never goes on the run & so never becomes sheik. she’s still quite fit, thanks to horseback riding & regular exercise, overseen by impa, but it’s in this au she most embodies the slim, graceful princess look nintendo gave her. one constant in all her adult verses, however, is her height - by the time she’s fully grown, she’s 5′8″.

in my other main, canon-inspired verses, well - zelda goes on the run at age ten, & it’s from that age impa begins to teach her how to fight, as she knows that she cannot protect her forever, & she’s going to need to become self-sufficient if she wants to survive. it starts off with basic things, graduating into an intense regime, but the result is, by the time link awakens from his slumber, zelda, even whilst disguised as sheik, is broad-shouldered & visibly muscled. i choose to interpret the tanned skin, red eyes & shorter hair as part of a glamour zelda put up, out of fear that ganondorf was searching for girls matching her description á la wind waker, but the muscles get to stay because whilst her appearance might be fake when under this alias, her feats are not. she did, after all, manage to survive seven years in a monster-infested hyrule, stay in the heart of death mountain without a visible goron tunic, & for whatever reason, was at kakariko village before link when the seal holding bongo-bongo back began to break, & i choose to interpret that as her being prepared to fight it. she also managed to make it through the haunted wasteland to the desert colossus / the spirit temple, sans lens of truth, & as she presents as an androgynous, masculine-leaning figure, she might have also had to prove her worth to the gerudo in battle, just as link did - after all, even though the gerudo, such as nabooru, openly disavow ganondorf by that point in time, it would be madness to declare her true self in his hometown.

this piece of fanart by lord-lorens is, honestly, the closest thing to how i picture zelda’s body type whilst she masquerades as sheik, & afterwards, when she reassumes her identity as princess. ( is there a gossip stone out there saying princess zelda has an eight pack ? there’s nothing in canon to disprove this, so yes. ) the only thing which stops it being entirely perfect for me is my headcanons of where across her body zelda is scarred ( which could be another, much smaller headcanon, so i’ll leave it for that ) but considering everyone’s interpretation of how zelda lived as sheik is varied, it was bound to happen - but god, minus those, i just want to pin this somewhere on my blog with an enormous sign next to it which says  ❛ this is how my zelda looks, as both sheik & a princess. ❜ but, with that in mind, lets move on.

i think it’s interesting how similar zelda’s outfit is as an adult ( which she ISN’T, she’s SEVENTEEN, but i digress - ) to the one she wears as a child, & my interpretation of it is that it’s very deliberate - & another glamour. ( seriously, where the fuck would she get a dress like that ? ) zelda hasn’t been seen in public, as herself, in seven years. the last people saw of her, as mentioned by those in castle town prior to drawing the master sword, is her fleeing the castle on horseback with her attendant, & that might have been the first glimpse some people had of her at all. when ganondorf is sealed away, & she re-emerges, she’s dressed similarly in order to spark recognition in people’s minds, & also because she knows that it may be difficult to prove she is who she claims to be, considering the king is dead, & impa has ascended as a sage, & can’t vouch for her. surviving nobles who interrogate her on her memories are able to confirm her claim to the throne, but if she had just strolled into kakariko village in casual dress, it’s very likely she would have absolutely been dismissed.

because of this, zelda’s feelings towards her appearance end up... complicated. in the aforementioned child timeline au verse, where she has a privileged, but more normal, adolescent socialization, she’s quite accepting of her own appearance & how feminine it is, because in that timeline, she fits the mold of what people expect a princess to be - she’s tall, she’s graceful, she’s pretty, & she’s rewarded for fitting that ideal. in her canon universe, where a life on the run left her with an entirely different body type, an indifference to feminity, many insecurities about her suitability as queen of hyrule, especially in her first years of being on the throne, & a desire to conform to others expectations of her ... it’s a perfect storm, whose origins can be traced directly to her choice to homage her childhood dress during her reappearance in hylian society. 

insecurity & fear feeds a lot of her choices in how she presents herself at the beginning of her reign. her body type is what some would call androgynous, others vaguely masculine - broad shoulders & small breasts which combine to give the illusion of her hips being narrower than they are, & she though she herself is content with that, she fears scorn by others because of it, so she works to minimize these features, & she plays up to feminity. her wardrobe primarily consists of dresses, gowns & robes, all loose fitting, all sleeved to at least the elbow, preferably in a style which leaves her biceps covered, & indistinct beneath the fabric. the gold pauldrons she wears as an adult feature in most, if not all, of her garments until her official coronation, seven years after ganondorf was sealed away - they provide her a measure of security, give her a regal appearance, & do a lot of heavy lifting, in conjunction with the sleeves of her gowns, to hide her shoulders & biceps, to the point where people are surprised at just how muscled she is when they come off - she hides the results, but even as queen, she still trains as she did when she was in hiding. most people are accepting of how she looks, but as is always the way, the few harsh comments she hears deafen her to the compliments - the only thing zelda wants, in the end, is for hyrule to recover, & for her people to thrive, & for that, she needs to be a good queen to them. to be a good queen, she must live up to their expectations. her attempts to live up to that via her appearance lead to her first breakdown, three months after her coronation.

it’s not just her appearance, of course - there’s enough stress to go around trying to get hyrule back on its feet again in a fair way, whilst trying to make her own mark as queen & live up to her parents’ peacekeeping legacy - but the nitpicking from a few members of her court, & the constant moving of goalposts as she attempts to satisfy their criticisms of her appearance, is the catalyst for her eventual declaration that she is done trying to satisy other people’s unreasonable explanations. the queenly mask she wears for other people’s benefit is suffocating her, so she decides to break it, & forge a new one. if she is going to be feminine, it is because she chooses to be, not because people expect her to be. if she wishes to dress as a man does, who can stop her ? if androgyny is what she feels, she will not deny herself. so, after a good cry, zelda does what every twenty-four year old going through a tough time does - she cuts her hair. she no longer tries to hide her body or disguise her frame. she is the queen, & the people will accept her as she is.

& most do ! hyrule has some strange looking people in it. a queen with a pixie cut is not the end of the world. she keeps it short for a good while, as a symbol of both her & hyrule’s fresh start, but eventually she begins to let it grow out again, with its length varying at ... well, various important points in her life. a short bob when she begins the programme to build new villages & settlements in hyrule. shoulder length when she begins courting to secure the throne for the future. waist length when she marries. she cuts it to above her shoulders once more when her first child is born, & keeps it mostly at that length until the end of her life, mostly for practical reasons. she was never ashamed of her body, before or after she became queen, as it was proof of her survival, but she became a lot more confident in herself as queen after she stopped letting other people, & her own well-intentioned, if misguided, fantasies of what a queen should look like dictate her life. that doesn’t mean to say that was that, every dark thought about her appearance swept away - there were days afterwards where she still despaired of her appearance, of the image she was projecting to others, of the judgements being passed on her & her country that came from her looks alone - but they were infrequent compared to the constant anxiety she felt about her appearance prior to the night she took a knife to her hair. they also weren’t enough to stop her from maintaining her physique, either - the training regime she began as a child continued into her late sixties, when she finally felt confident enough in the kingdom’s safety to stop, but the results of it meant that zelda was powerfully built through her whole life. even the birth of her children, which softened her body, couldn’t diminish much of her muscled appearance. shedding the weight of others opinions ( of her appearance, at least ) allowed her to stand tall until the end of her days. her body told the story of her life, & eventually, she was proud to let people see it.

[drowningsongsrp]

These are the Canons from our first subplot Founding Families.

Faces can be mixed and matched and are not necessarily bound by what’s suggested here. If you have specific ideas for the character, feel free to reach out to an admin to talk through, we’re happy to be flexible and help brainstorm.

We do not permit whitewashing of any of the canons listed here. Please keep this in mind when choosing a FC that is not suggested below.

THE WOLFF FAMILY

Eleonora Wolff  Deceased ᐧ NPC 

ELEAONORA WOLFF was one of the last remaining true believers, who sustained a practice of feeding THE ABYSS through rituals, even when its demands became greater. Tourists were chosen and stolen away to become its annual offerings. Eleonora called them ‘sacrifices’ whereas others saw them for what they were: murders. As THE ABYSS grew hungrier than she could ever feed alone, she made one last offering by walking herself into the cold sea. Eleonora left one child behind, a daughter born out of an affair with a PENEWAIT man – LIANA PENEWAIT. The child was raised by the Penewaits after Eleonora’s own family disowned her.

FC: Helen Mirren

Emanuel Wolff  54 ᐧ Taken by Lina 

A disappointment, the odd one out. Emanuel was soft, yielding, and therefore weaker in their aloof eyes. He took a shine to the seas and steep lands around them, learning all that he could of Alderhelm. Their world seemed so great and so small all at once, and he wanted to document what he could. In doing so, he learned the unpleasant truth of their legacy, and of the town’s strange occurrences. As a young man he fell in love, as one is bound to do, and had a daughter. Emanuel was left to raise her on his own, much to the shame of his parents but even more so to his own delight. 

FC: Mads Mikkelsen

—- Wolff  early 30s ᐧ Open

Her dad kept her safely out of the corrupting influences of their family tree, keeping their gnarled branches from coming too close. It never did leave her fearful, only aware. The town was built on blood-soaked sand and she was determined to see it get its comeuppance. On most days, she can be found organizing protesters and leading pickets outside of town hall. It is vital to her to use her own privilege, and so what if it gets a little out of hand sometimes? A night or two in lock-up is a small price to pay.

Suggested FCs: Rebecca Ferguson, Keira Knightley, Haley Bennett

—- Wolff  50s ᐧ Open

It’s true what they say about apples and not falling very far from the rotten tree. It would seem he has some of the fallen patriarch of the family under his skin. He’s not as cruel or brutal as his predecessor but just as callous and greedy. He can never have enough, always wanting his reach to be wider and deeper. He runs the OLDE ALDER HOTEL with a strong grip and steers the family to even greater riches. Sometimes his hand slips, taking money where it shouldn’t (read: embezzlement). It’s alright, though, he stands sure as the husband of the Mayor and when the dusk settles he dons the cloak of a Son of the Sea alum.

Suggested FCs: Oliver Masucci, Rufus Sewell

—- Wolff  Early 50s ᐧ Open

The Mayor of Alderhelm, at least for the past two years. She is a local; born and bred in the salty air of The Dregs. Came from a heap of penniless nothing and clawed her way to the top where she now stands as a Wolff, scoping out a view she is unlikely to let slip from her grasp. For someone who has only left the town limits a handful of times, she carries herself as a well-travelled, learned woman. Some claim it’s all surface-level, but her cunning mind and articulate tongue say different. 

An key facet of the Mayor is that she has a vision for the town, though the nature of this vision is open and flexible. Perhaps she very opposed to THE KING FAMILY’s new reign, feeling they’re threatening all she’s worked for to get where she is or maybe she admires them. Perhaps she decides to work with them and, if she does, perhaps she’s secretive about it with her husband/his family. Or maybe she’s playing both sides, waiting to see who comes out on top. Whether she upholds and attempts to maintain/strengthen the Wolff name or is secretively plotting against it is up to the player of her and her husband. She also has ties to THE PENEWAIT FAMILY given that she grew up in the Dregs.

Suggested FCs: Rachel Weisz, Christy Turlington, Uma Thurman

—- Wolff  Late 20s ᐧ Open

What are they if not the dried up husk of their father’s daydreams? Unlike the rest of their family, they were born into a feeling of uncertainty. Father taught them the importance of maintaining a unified front and not letting the public see you slip. They took that, bottled it up, and drank it until they couldn’t see where they began and their father’s idealized first born ended. They followed him closely, learning about the secrets of the business and the funds father pocketed for himself. Eventually, they were asked to leave town to get more investors for Father’s embezzlement scheme only to fail miserably. Now they have returned home, cloaked in their father’s disappointment and attempting to carve out a new identity for themselves.

Suggested FCs: Bill Skarsgård, Imogen Poots, Andreea Diaconu

Cordelia Wolff  23 ᐧ Reserved for Darc

CORDELIA WOLFF is every bit a wolf in sheep’s clothing. As the youngest, she grew up like a cankerous lullaby with all of Alderhelm as her playground. For most of her life, she has been dangerously underestimated. Though the girl looks like a daydream, she’s more nightmarish, sinister, and ruthless than she seems. Cordelia is presently attending Alderhelm College and majoring in finance. She is also a legacy member of the shadowy secret student society THE SONS OF THE SEA and may or may not have a thing for drowning.

FC: Andrea Madlova

*

THE PENEWAIT FAMILY

—- Penewait 40s ᐧ Open

Often regarded as more brawn than brains, he is his brother’s right hand man and can almost always be relied upon to get his hands dirty. Once he had been widely admired for his adventurous and at times reckless sailing abilities, his boat among the first to be seen in the morning and the last to dock at night. 

However, sometime in the last 10 years, he was involved in a shipping accident that not only marred his relationship with the sea, but left him a little unstable: prone to violence and quick to anger. If money is owed, he’s the wolf sent to retrieve it; him and/or any of his droogs at the docks.

Suggested FCs: Zahn McClarnon, Alex Meraz

—- Penewait 35-40 ᐧ Open 

Unlike his siblings, he is a very calm and observant man, showcasing his wit and ruthlessness to anyone who threatens him or his family. He has been instrumental in the success of the family business. He is widely respected among the community and seen as a dangerous foe by his enemies. Dissatisfied with the size of the Penewait empire and concerned about the legacy they will leave behind, he has begun playing his hand at relatively small, organised crime. In particular, he has drawn the family into pushing drugs, particularly weed, cocaine, pills, and meth. He has been known to use or leverage those closest to him in order to achieve his goals, believing that the ends justify the means. 

Suggested FCs: Gerald Tokala Clifford, Martin Sensmeier

—- Penewait Mid-late 30s ᐧ Reserved for Therese 

She idolizes the Family moniker and their image and reputation amongst town. Not only is she a formidable business woman, having worked for several years covering the family’s finances, but she has also been widely noted in the local community for her beauty and charm. It has been said that she could ensnare a person with just one glance. And while she is more good humored than her brothers, she maintains the infamous family temper. She handles the books and balances the family ledger to ensure their criminal dealings are untraceable.

Suggested FCs: Julia Jones, Q'orianka Kilcher

—- Penewait Early 20s ᐧ Reserved for Cyl 

As the youngest of the Penewait siblings, it seems he has spent his life looking up at closed doors or catching the tail ends of hushed conversations. His family has always made it a priority to shield him from the worst of their actions. And as a result, he’s developed a bit of a ‘devil may care’ attitude toward the business, enjoying the limited Alderhelm “luxuries” it affords him. 

Suggested FCs: Haatepah Clearbear, Forrest Goodluck, Boo Boo Stewart

—- Penewait  Early 30s ᐧ Reserved for Asteria

The love child of Eleonora Wolff and a Penewait man. She spent her formative years raised by her eccentric mother after her mother was disowned by The Wolffs. However, as her mother’s fixation with The Abyss grew, so did the Penewaits concern for her, and she eventually moved in with the rest of the family and raised alongside her cousins. She has a complex relationship with her mother and, until recently, maintained a cynical attitude toward The Abyss. 

Following her mother’s death and the disbanding of her cult, she has begun looking into ways to reassemble them, as a means to finally understand her mother and honor her memory.

—- Penewait Early 20s ᐧ Reserved for Shayne 

Somewhat estranged cousin, they grew up away from the family and the spoils of the Penewait “empire”. They are an excellent mathematician, even earning themselves a place at Alderhelm College.

And though they are relatively new to the town, their ambition is clear. They have already begun working their way up the ranks of the family business, and can often be found shadowing their cousins and trying to prove their worth.

Suggested FCs: Amber Midthunder, Audreyana Michelle

*

THE KING FAMILY

—- King 50s-60s ᐧ Open

As head of the family, he is determined to do right by the people around him. After losing his wife and teenaged son to a car accident shortly after arriving in Alderhelm, he has since thrown himself into his work as a distraction. Family is important to him, and he holds some varied feelings for some of his siblings, as they are not as serious about the family endeavor as he is. 

Very much becoming overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the revitalization project, the weird occurrences in town have only helped to exacerbate his frustrations. His guilt around surviving the accident has especially begun to turn into blame against the town that he’s committed himself to saving.

Suggested FCs: Mahershala Ali, Orlando Jones, Laurence Fishburne

—- King 50s to 60s ᐧ Open

She has long since committed to the success of her family, especially when it comes to her best friend and older brother. Two halves of the same whole, she is very outspoken where her brother is deliberate, more confrontational where her brother exercises patience. But a sour life of being overshadowed by her brother in her early years and her sister later in life has hardened her heart. As an adult, she manages to maintain her temper and composure but can often come off as cold and unyielding, especially when her vast intelligence is challenged. 

With the reappearance of her younger sister, she is once again being overshadowed and has taken to working at the local hospital to keep the distance between her and her sister and, as a result, keep the peace.

Suggested FCs: Gina Torres, Naomi Campbell

Theodora King Early-mid 30s ᐧ Reserved for Grim

Determined to take the reins, she was deemed a queen from birth. She was a headstrong child with little interest in her much older siblings and has a dwindling patience for those who have come after her. A Harvard graduate, she worked for years in politics as a campaign manager in Washington DC, but after a bad affair with alcohol and bribery, lost her credibility, job, Congressman fiance, and was pushed out of the circles she’d strived so hard to form. 

She has since returned to her family in an effort to find a place for herself again. Presently, she combats the eldest sibling in regards to control and tends to bait her older sister into confrontations by playing off her jealousies and insecurities. But despite all of her flaws, she is an effective political ally. Overseeing her family’s image and relationship with the mayor and the town, she has decided to be her brother’s lackey just long enough to force him out of his position and take over the family business, even if that means dabbling in illegal and illicit businesses to make it happen.

FC: Laura Harrier

—- King Late 20s ᐧ Reserved for Tea

The rebel without a cause, he fights his family at every turn and is the most outspoken against the revitalization project. While there is good in the cause, most of what he sees is the negative effects that could befall the community. Prone to brooding and bouts of sadness, he will come out of his shell for causes that he deems truly good for all involved. But his rejection of his family’s ideals are a hindrance to the cause, as he thinks of himself as a hero with an unwavering moral compass, saving the people from yet another powerful family that will do them wrong. 

Suggested FCs: Lakeith Stanfield, Trevante Rhodes, Nathan Stewart-Jarrett, The Weeknd

—- King 20s ᐧ Reserved for Olivia

The youngest sibling, but hardly ever forgotten about. Their older siblings coddle them at every turn, forcing them away from their lavish life in the big city in exchange for the middle of nowhere. A bit of a tech sleuth, they have worked hard toward the interests of his family by digging up dirt on the Wolff and Penewait families that can be used as leverage to push out their older, more conservative regimes. 

But at the heart of it, they are bored and missing their lavish life in the city. So they’ve taken to organizing a start-up on the side with a few friends to break away from the family name and to create a legacy of their own, far away from Alderhelm.

Suggested FCs: Sharon Alexie, Rachide Embalo, Amandine Guihard, Ashton Sanders, Duckie Thot

[elecilaombre]

A waste

So I was in a bad mood an wrote al of this in one sitting. I’m now to llazy to edit it, so let’s just hope it’s not too bad. Enjoy !

Tim’s life has become a nightmare. Tim’s life is a nightmare, a living hell. It has been spiralling for days, for years and he keep going lower and lower. 

Deep down Tim known, he known it isn’t going to end well, he won’t have a pretty ending but damn, he did fight for it. He wanted it so bad, to have something nice, to be important to someone, to do good. 

Except he didn’t. His end was more than predictable. He was the worst, an echec to everyone. 

First to mother and father, stranger tied by him, him tied to them by blood. Tim wasn’t a good bound, not good enough. Alas, Janet Drake couldn’t have another pregnancy and they ended  stuck with him. 

He was tiny, he wasn’t good at sport, he was looking quite feminine, he was a lost cause to Jack by the age of 4. What a strange world where you decide the worth of a child in not even four full years, decide to ignore him as if he wasn’t part of your world.

So Tim tried, tried his very best to be the son Jack deserved. He did sport, trained over and over again to finally be good at it, to finally learn those skill. He wasn’t the greatest, but quite decent in multiple sport, from gymnastic to basketball, including escrim and boxe and others. Tim also tried to learn as much possible in the masculine interest, like cars, virtual market or science, skills that his father valued. 

Except that it was already too late, he was already invisible to Jack’s eyes. He was a waste of his father time. A failed investment

In the same time, Tim tried to please his mother, to be seen as smart she wanted, as dainty and graceful she desired, to be as much the son she wanted.

But she didn’t had time to wait for him to be that, it was a matter of born with or get rid off. He wasn’t born with those. So she get rid of him and spend her time at something more valuable.

He was a mistake, an error, a deception. They made it clear multiple time. Luckily for them, they travelled a lot and didn’t saw Tim so much. They had better things to do.

What was odd is actually how they praised him to their “friends”, acquaintance fitting better, how they praised Tim has if he was the greatest son they could had. How their son knew so much, could so much, was so much. Even if he wasn’t.

In the end, even if they were stranger to him, if they ignored him, he did cried and mourn them each when they died.

Then there was many other person he failed : teachers, nannies, friends … He wasn’t good enough for them, even at his best, he wasn’t doing good enough, he never could. And each left him, for their own good of course, they shouldn’t waste time on him, he didn’t deserve it. He tried, his hardest, but he still ended all alone.

But suddenly, there was an hope, in the form of Batman and Robin. Oh, how much he watched them, hidden on rooftop, through his binocular, then his camera. How he longed to be with them, to do as much good as them. But he didn’t deserve … And Gotham needed much better than tiny lonely Tim. 

He did ,anyway, trained as much as he could, as hard as possible. He tried over and over again to do some tricks seen during his stalking session, even if each time he failed it hurted very much. He might not be worth anything, but at least Tim knew he was determined and resistant, so he would do it until it became manageable, until it was worth his father and Batman expectation. Until he trained enough to be a vigilante.

On the other hands, he kept close to his mother’s mindset and trained his brain. It did took time, but 8 years old Tim found Robin’s and Batman’s identities after 4 months of study. Not fast enough but still some results. 

And he kept going, watching them with awe and dreaming of becoming as good as them, worthy their attention maybe. He kept watching when the new Robin stepped in, even adapted his training to not be only as flexible and agile than the first one, but also blunt and full of tricks as the second. He watched the duo adapt to their new partnership and Nightwing appear in Gotham’s sky. He knew them, all by name, all by face, by movement and by breath. It felt right.

When the second Robin died, he mourned him, deeply, knowing a teen died for this city, anonymously. He watched Nightwing move away shortly after. He watched Batman turning even more violent and lethal following those.

It took him time to decide to go to them, to offer his help. He hoped during months that another Robin would appear, as Jason appeared after Dick’s resignation. But nobody showed up and Batman needed his partner. Maybe Tim was ready, had trained enough. Maybe he could honor Dick’s role and Jason’s legacy. Maybe he wouldn’t fail Bruce.

Yes, indeed, at first, Bruce rejected him, but Tim was stubborn and kept pushing, knowing it was the right decision. And Bruce took him, gave him the Robin mantle. But the man was still cold and rough with Tim.

But it was alright, he could manage it. Tim customised the costume he had to wear, not wanting to wear the same as Jason out of respect for him, but wearing proudly the big R by love for his predecessors.

And it did work, for sometimes, Tim was barely good enough for the role, not worth anything to Dick’s eyes or Bruce’s, but he could take it. After all, they feared he would fill Jason’s place, except Tim couldn’t, because we can’t replace a person, just fill their role.

But he fought well, had a purpose to his life, worked hard to protect Gotham and defend it against the villains. He did team up multiples time with other outcast from the superhero community, formed a group with them, The Young Justice, and finally had friends in them, real one he didn’t disappointed. 

It lasted for maybe three to four years, a pleasant break in Tim’s nightmare, if he except the death of his parents. Because he did had support to mourn them.

Then Jason came back. And Tim loved that news, was so happy, he mourned the young man so much. He loved him so much. 

Except it wasn’t reciprocate, not quite the contrary to be fair. The first thing Jason did coming back to Gotham was to attempt killing Tim. Multiples times.

Each times ended in a near death experiences for Tim and left him deeply scarred. Tim told it to Bruce and Dick. Told them that Jason was alive, that he saw him in Gotham, but didn’t talked of their fight, by fear to be left out by them.

At one point, after almost one year, Jason stopped his tentative to kill him, telling him he didn't it mattered that much. That was fair.

And shortly after, his friend Kon died, during a fight in space. Then Bart, few months after, snatched by the spacetime and finally Cassie, who disappeared.

Tim was alone again, but not fully, no not yet, not yet ! He still has the bats. Well, not for so long though.

First, Stephanie, the second batgirl, his ex-girlfriend and best friend died during a mission.

And it’s will Tim was still mourning his former team and bestfriends that Damian appeared at the Manor. He was Bruce biological son. The true heir to the Batman legacy… And to Robin’s mantle. After all, every Robin, except for him, was a son of Bruce, by adoption, but a son nonetheless. But Tim wasn’t one yet, his father and mother just had died before Jason return and the adoption paper where in Bruce’s office, waiting to be signed by both Tim and Bruce. In the end, Tim never had the adoption paper filled, and Bruce never mentioned it again.

He was the odd pieces of the family, he knew it, Damian told him and Jason to. Dick had just begun to warm up to him. Too late as always. Too late.

Then Bruce “died”. To be fair he disappeared. Dick became Batman. Damian was still in training to become part of the vigilante. And Tim hadn’t barely time to proceed his second father figure death before Dick stripped him of his vigilante title. 

He wasn’t Robin anymore, he wasn't a vigilante. Those honor had been gifted to Damian.

Tim felt something broke this day, inside him, deep down, something that was already fractured and finally shattered.

He spent days alone in some flat he rented, laying in the bathroom, not moving, eating or doing anything. Just processing all of his life, this whole failure that he was.

When he finally got it under control, barely, but still, he got up and made a plan to find Bruce. He couldn’t be dead if there was no proof or body. There could be some other explanation. And if he could give back Gotham is hero and the family their Bruce, it would be a great achievement.

But nobody believed him. He was a fool to them, as always been. 

So he took it alone. He worked for Bruce firm all day, and for his father’s company as well. Became another vigilante to protect Gotham, Red Robin, for Jason and for Dick’s example. They mocked him.

And instead of resting between those two things, he built his case, Bruce case, disappearance. He was so alone, so broken, empty, he had not clue of what he was achieving in the end, how, why, nothing. His memory became a blur, things he couldn’t remember and other he doesn’t wanted to. Stuff to be proud and other ashamed. 

He did became “close” to Ra's, did horrible thing during this time that he happily forgot. 

And in the end, it paid off. Tim couldn’t remember what he traded exactly to Ra's but the immortal found a way to get Bruce out of time and back to their dimension.

And when finally Tim came back to the manor, exhausted, barely his own shadow, but proud of having saved Bruce, he didn’t earned any smile or acknowledgement. They knew he find a way to get Bruce back, but it was easier to ignore Tim. 

Things didn’t fell back as before Bruce disappearance as Tim hopped, new dynamics had been created, new dynamics and partnership in which Tim wasn’t needed.

But he stayed, he tried to fit in, to be useful. 

Even if Bruce ignored him.

Even if Dick had abandoned him.

Even if Jason was disgusted by him.

Even If Stephanie reappeared and had faked her death in his back.

Even if Damian hated him.

Even if all his friends were dead.

Even if he wasn’t enough.

Even if he never did fitted in this family.

Tim got reckless. He didn’t slept. Over worked himself at the office, and during his patrol. He stopped to feed himself properly. To tend his wounds correctly. He was decaying. He could pull lightly at his hair and his hand would come back with locks of it. He kept training his body even if he passed out everytime. If he ate more than 400g of food, he threw up. He was dying. And it wasn’t pretty.

Than there was the final day, the famous day when the last strip would romp. It happened as he had imagined it, almost ironically.

First, Bruce confronted him. About his reckless behavior. About his current state. About how Tim wasn’t good enough for the mission, to protect Gotham and should stop. He wasn’t welcome in the Cave anymore.

Then he stumbled on Stephanie who was avoiding him. And given this opportunity, she dumped all her hard truth on him : he never had been her friend, she never trusted him, that’s why she faked her death and didn’t told him… He didn’t deserve it, wasn’t worth the true.

And while Tim was currently crumbling on himself, the new Wayne, Damian found it funny to provoke him, belittle him. To remember him he was a failure, to weak, to thin, it was better if he just stopped to work, has a vigilante and for their incorporation because he wasn’t doing any good. He wasn’t enough.

So Tim just left, tried to not react because he didn’t knew how to. He was empty, that was it, there just wasn't any Tim left. His body was decaying and himself seemed to be no more. 

But he wanted to end it well, to make it pretty. After all, that had been the whole point of his life isn’t it ? He visited his parents grave and left there flowers. Did same for the monuments dedicated to his friends. Then made sure flowers will be delivered for each one on there birthday. Same for the living who mattered. Then, he tied up all his belongings. And tried to call Dick one last time.

He tried to talk to him. To tell him to not worry anymore he won’t bother them anymore. It would end soon, soon. But instead, Dick cut him off immediately and told him he hadn’t time - for Tim. So it would be it.

He got home and put his costume on. It was a last time to. After this patrol, he would burn all of his vigilante stuff, take his new fake identity and disappear somewhere in India, or maybe in Russia, he wasn’t sure yet. What he was sure, it’s that nobody would look out for him. They would assume him dead. Nobody had time for Tim. And he could finally decay in peace.

Except he saw Jason during his last patrol. Jason who turned out to known some memory Tim had forgotten. Disgusting stuff Tim had done to find Bruce. How dirty Tim got his hands for the sake of the family. How repugnant it made him, even more than before. Jason never had many tenderness for him. But him looking at Tim pitifully was the final straw.

Tim just fly away, ignoring Jason call. Ignoring everyone’s voices buzzing in his ear, sounding like if they were calling him - as if. He just threw his comm in a street. Then his GPS somewhere else. Then he got on top of his old-house, the Drake’s house, stripped of his uniform that he put in the big barril of acid he had lay out. Put on his new civilian clothes, with his bag containing his new identity and … 

And finally felt some tears run down his cheek, realising it was it, his life, Tim Drake’s life was officially a waste of time, of space. An error, an echec… 

Then why run away ? It was done. It could had been a pretty end, but Jason was going to tell his secrets to everybody and it would be a repugnant final. And what if he ended up messing his new life, just as this one.

Tim didn’t wanted to waste anyone's time or space anymore. His body was dying. His mind was broken. That was it.

He did heard someone calling his name, but he was already falling, halfly because his body couldn’t support him anymore, halfly because his mind choose too. He fall from the highest point of his house into the bay.

The surface of the water broke just like his heart did over and over again.

That was an end.

[lukeskywaker4ever]

12th King of Portugal (3rd of the Aviz Dynasty), King Afonso V of Portugal, “The African”

Reign: 13 September 1438 – 28 August 1481 Acclamation: 15 January 1446 Predecessor: Duarte I

Afonso V (15 January 1432 – 28 August 1481), known by the sobriquet the African (o Africano), was King of Portugal. His sobriquet refers to his conquests in Northern Africa.

As of 1471, Afonso V was the first king of Portugal to claim dominion over a plural "Kingdom of the Algarves", instead of the singular "Kingdom of the Algarve". Territories added to the Portuguese crown lands in North Africa during the 15th century came to be referred to as possessions of the Kingdom of the Algarve (now a region of southern Portugal), not the Kingdom of Portugal. The "Algarves" then were considered to be the southern Portuguese territories on both sides of the Strait of Gibraltar.

Afonso was born in Sintra, the second son of King Duarte of Portugal by his wife Leonor of Aragon. Following the death of his older brother, Infante João (1429-1433), Afonso acceded to the position of heir apparent and was made the first Prince of Portugal by his father, who sought to emulate the English Court's custom of a dynastic title that distinguished the heir apparent from the other children of the monarch. He was only six years old when he succeeded his father in 1438.

During his minority, Afonso V was placed under the regency of his mother in accordance with a will of his late father. As both a foreigner and a woman, the queen was not a popular choice for regent. Opposition rose and without any important ally among the Portuguese aristocracy other than Afonso, Count of Barcelos, the illegitimate half brother of King Duarte, the queen's position was untenable. In 1439, the Portuguese Cortes (assembly of the kingdom) decided to replace the queen with Pedro, Duke of Coimbra (Dom Pedro), the young king's oldest uncle.

Pedro's main policies were concerned with restricting the political power of the great noble houses and expanding the powers of the crown. The country prospered under his rule, but not peacefully, as his laws interfered with the ambition of powerful nobles. The count of Barcelos, a personal enemy of the Duke of Coimbra (despite being half-brothers) eventually became the king's favourite uncle and began a constant struggle for power. In 1442, the king made Afonso the first Duke of Braganza. With this title and its lands, he became the most powerful man in Portugal and one of the richest men in Europe. To secure his position as regent, Pedro had Afonso marry his daughter, Isabel of Coimbra, in 1445.

But on 9 June 1448, when the king came of age, Pedro had to surrender his power to Afonso V. The years of conspiracy by the Duke of Braganza finally came to a head. On 15 September of the same year, Afonso V nullified all the laws and edicts approved under the regency. In the following year, led by what were later discovered to be false accusations, Afonso declared Pedro a rebel and defeated his army in the Battle of Alfarrobeira,

in which his uncle (and father-in-law) was killed. After this battle and the loss of one of Portugal's most remarkable infantes, the Duke of Bragança became the de facto ruler of the country.

Afonso V then turned his attentions to North Africa. In the reign of his grandfather João I, Ceuta had been conquered from the king of Morocco, and now the new king wanted to expand the conquests. The king's army conquered Alcácer Ceguer in 1458 and Arzila in 1471.

Tangiers, on the other hand, was won and lost several times between 1460 and 1464. These achievements granted the king the nickname of the African or Africano. 

The king also supported the exploration of the Atlantic Ocean led by prince Henrique the Navigator but after Henrique's death in 1460, he did nothing to continue Henrique's work. Administratively, Afonso V was a passive king. He chose not to pursue the revision of laws or development of commerce, preferring instead to preserve the legacy of his father Duarte and grandfather João I.

In 1452, Pope Nicholas V issued the papal bull Dum Diversas, which granted Afonso V the right to reduce "Saracens, pagans and any other unbelievers" to hereditary slavery. This was reaffirmed and extended in the Romanus Pontifex bull of 1455 (also by Nicholas V). These papal bulls came to be seen by some as a justification for the subsequent era of slave trade and European colonialism.

When the campaigns in Africa were over, Afonso V found new grounds for battle in neighboring Castile. On December 11, 1474 King Henry IV of Castile

died without a male heir, leaving just one daughter, Joanna la Beltraneja. 

However, her paternity was questioned; it was rumored that his wife, Queen Joana of Portugal

had an affair with a nobleman named Beltrán de La Cueva.

The death of Henry ignited a war of succession with one faction supporting Joana and the other supporting Isabel, Henry's half-sister.

Afonso V was persuaded to intervene on behalf of Joana, his niece. He betrothed himself to her, proclaimed himself king of Castile and led troops into the kingdom. Because of their close blood-relationship, a formal marriage had to wait for papal dispensation.

On May 12, 1475, Afonso entered Castile with an army of 5,600 cavalry and 14,000 foot soldiers. In March, 1476, after several skirmishes and much maneuvering, the 8, 000 men of Afonso and Prince João,

faced a Castilian force of similar size in the battle of Toro.

The Castilians were led by Isabella's husband, Prince Fernando II of Aragon

Cardinal Mendoza and the Duke of Alba. The fight was fierce and confusing but the result was a stalemate: While the forces of Cardinal Mendoza and the Duke of Alba won over their opponents led by the Portuguese King –who left the battlefield to take refuge in Castronuño, the troops commanded by Prince João defeated and persecuted the troops of the Castilian right wing, recovered the Portuguese royal standard, remaining ordered in the battlefield where they collected the fugitives of Afonso. Both sides claimed victory but Afonso's prospects for obtaining the Castilian crown were severely damaged.

“It was March 1, 1476. Eight thousand men for each side, the chronicles tell. With Afonso of Portugal were his son João and the bishops of Evora and Toledo. With Fernando of Aragón, Cardinal Mendoza and the Duke of Alba, as well as the militias of Zamora, Ciudad Rodrigo and Valladolid. The battle was long, but not especially bloody: it is estimated that the casualties of each side did not reach a thousand. Who won? In reality, no one: Afonso's wing of Portugal fell under the thrust of Fernando, but Prince João's troops crushed their Castilian rivals. However, victory in this battle was not going to be military, but ... political. In fact, Fernando of Aragon, seeing that the clash concluded without winners or losers, hastened to give his own version of the facts. He sent letters to all the cities of Castile and Aragon and to several European courts.” 

After the battle, Afonso sailed to France hoping to obtain the assistance of King Louis XI 

in his fight against Castile. But finding himself deceived by the French monarch, he returned to Portugal in 1477. Disillusioned, he abdicated for a few days in November 1477 in favor of his son João II, then after returning to the throne, he retired to a monastery in Sintra, where he died in 1481. He rests with his first wife Queen Isabel of Coimbra in the Founder’s Chapel, inside the Monastery of Batalha.

Afonso married firstly, in 1447, Isabel of Coimbra, with whom he had three children:

João, Prince of Portugal (29 January 1451). He his buried in the Unfinished Chapels in the Monastery of Batalha next to his grandparents King Duarte of Portugal and Queen Leonor de Aragão.

Joana, Princess of Portugal (6 February 1452 – 12 May 1490): Known as Saint Joana of Portugal or Saint Joana Princess.

João II of Portugal (3 March 1455 – 25 October 1495): Succeeded his father as 13th King of Portugal.

Afonso married secondly, in 1475, his niece Joanna of Castile, known as "La Beltraneja".

[odesseaverse]

The Earth Shaman

The time of the Earth Shaman was a long one, with a lot of side characters and changing dynamics to explore. It’s kind of a miscellaneous category spanning hundreds of years, but you’ll get to see some key players rise to the challenge of leading Odessea. Everything comes to revolve around a single, central character...Read on to learn more about the continuing origin of Odessea.

Timeline: Year 4565-5099

Key Player: Mana, Companion to the Earth Shaman (b. 4759, d. 4838), most likely the single most important character in the Earth Timeline, as she was the first character I wrote about when I began to write about Odessea’s past. Also the first in a long list of badass women that will continue below. She originated from a wealthy artisan family constantly at war with her best friend Rhys’, but rejected the path they had set out for her, never becoming the heir to their business. From the beginning, she was different: born with a scar-like birthmark on her right cheek, with a proclivity for excitement and adventure and clear admiration for the heroic deeds of the past. As she began to resist her family’s demands to conform to their expectations for her, she and her friend Rhys were appointed the new Companion and Shaman after the death of the fifth leader following the Water Shaman. At the age of 14, she became a fierce and loyal leader with a rebellious streak, constantly challenging tradition while keeping lessons she learned from old tales close to heart. Mana also grew accustomed to visits from the spirit realm, as she endeavored to help Rhys in developing his powers. From the outside, it appeared to many as though the Shaman and Companion had gone from enemies-to-lovers, and the story was often repeated and saved in history, but in reality, Mana had chosen someone else: the daughter of her mother’s housekeeper, Suki. Keeping her relationship a secret from the village (Rhys found out after a time, but never told) meant that she had to carry out a balancing act with her responsibilities and her feelings, which proved difficult at times, but was a sacrifice Mana was willing to make. However, she was warned by the spirit of her predecessor, the First Companion, Xander, that her position was one in which she would encounter loss, sooner than she might imagine. In his case, it had been the untimely death of his youngest daughter. Upon the incident of summer 4787, Mana faltered and turned away from her leadership, her heart broken, and only with the help of Rhys and her younger relative, Kanako (see below), she was able to regain some of her strength. Later in life, she chose to become a teacher to anyone who wished to learn about the skills necessary to be a leader, to defend oneself, and to stay true to who you are, with Kanako being her first and lifelong student. She also recorded a great deal of the island’s history and her own accounts as a Companion, some of which she discovered she had written as a teenager. Never taking another lover after Suki, she remained faithful and never forgot what she had learned from the woman who had once been her heart and soul. Living without her for thirty long years, Mana passed on in peace, with Rhys at her side. As her spirit traveled to where it would be at rest, she discovered that, at the time of her birth, the spirit of the First Companion’s youngest daughter, who had died an untimely death, had manifested to assist her mother through a difficult labor, leaving behind the mysterious mark on Mana’s cheek and showing that she would grow to have a strong connection to the spirit realm.

Key Player: Rhys, the Earth Shaman (b. 4759, d. 4873). Born to a rival artisanal family, he got along with Mana from the beginning, with her leading the way throughout their childhood. However, pressure from his family to have a proper upbringing left him with an emotional disorder he struggled with for his entire life, and a bad encounter with Mana’ s ornery grandfather left him terrified to express himself, leaving him “constantly living in his own head,” as Mana called it. He embraced the spiritual side of his new position when he became the new, immortal Shaman at the age of 14, gaining special powers that allowed spirits to possess his body to speak through him, but shied away from the public role of a leader, his never-truly-admitted depression and social anxiety making it difficult for him to act the part. Instead, Mana became his proxy, speaking for him and negotiating with the rest of the village, while he made formal appearances only at ceremonies and celebrations, presenting himself as the spiritually devoted leader. He relied on Mana’s support and understanding for years, before a tragic accident left Suki gravely injured and Mana falling apart. Rhys became determined to take on the responsibility Mana had accepted unquestioningly for him, and set about trying to heal her broken heart through his actions. Realizing how much she had taken on at such a young age, Rhys made sure that she would never be overburdened again, giving her more time to focus on herself and becoming a true educator. He also used his powers to the utmost to reunite Mana and Suki in their dreams, a skill that he later taught to the Fire Shaman. Though neither he nor Mana would ever be “whole” again, they were still able to be one another’s strengths. At Mana’s death, he stayed at her side, vowing to continue to shape the island into a place she would be proud of, opening up the island to more interactions with the outside world and creating a greater space for inter-island trade. Abdicating his leadership and his immortality in 4869, at the age of 110, he was left with only four years for his age to catch up to him, and many tales were written of him in his wise old age. He was particularly close to the spirit of the Water Shaman, but left behind no one at his death, with the exception of his great legacy, which ushered in a new golden era for Odessea.

Key Player: Suki (b. 4759, d. 4802), the significant other of Mana. A kind and self-sacrificing girl born on another island and adopted by Mana’s mother’s housekeeper. Despite being discriminated against for being an outsider and looking physically different, she never held it against anyone. She was nonetheless kept away from the rest of the village, working with her mother to look after Mana and the house she grew up in. Suki developed a passion for working with the earth and tending the land she lived on, becoming an apprentice cultivator for the village at the age of 12. She was able to assist the village’s farmers and tend to the nature of the island as a whole, which she had dreamed of doing since she had been young. Soon after, she realized that she was falling for her only friend, and confessed her feelings when she was 14 and Mana 15. Their relationship remained a secret for multiple years, even when the two turned 20 and began to share a house together, but tragedy forced them apart. In the year 4787, a midsummer storm caused the village to have to evacuate, and Suki, inspired by Mana’s bravery, attempted to rescue a group of children trapped on the cliffs. However, a rockslide trapped her under the debris of the storm, and her back was permanently broken. Unable to walk, Suki was taken back in by her parents, and Mana’s subsequent grief and guilt over the accident caused their relationship to be revealed to all. Suki began to lose heart with the loss of both her profession and her relationship, until she could not even bear to see Mana in the waking world, guilty for causing her such pain. In death, she returned as a spirit to advise Rhys and speak to Mana, and waited patiently for her love to return. She found a kindred spirit in Lucy during her relationship with Sora in the Fire Timeline, and through these two, she and Mana reminisced over the past they had once shared together.

Minor Character: The entirety of Mana’s extended family (she never had children, but her cousins did) can be counted as a single minor character. Particularly important are her cousin Makotta (becoming the heir to the family business in her stead) and his wife Felide’s children: Kanako, Marko, Luca, Jessamy, and Erii. Kanako (b. 4776, d. 4863) grew particularly close to Mana, as she was to be the next heir to the family business, and was also her first student. She kept her “aunt’s” teachings close to heart and passed them on to her own children. After Mana’s death, she and her youngest sister, Erii (b. 4786, d. 4844) began a project to restore and preserve her writings for future generations to learn from. Kanako’s own strength as a leader inspired many, and she paved the way for women leaders just as Mana strove to do in her own life.

Minor Characters: I also thought up a group of five misfits during the Earth Shaman’s rule coming together and becoming friends. All are mentioned in passing during Mana’s accounts of the time, so they became official minor characters. At the center of the group are Thea (b. 4769, d. 4839), a girl who defied gender roles by becoming stronger and embracing a more masculine appearance, secretly troubled by guilt over the death of her only female friend, as well as her oldest friend Tobey (b. 4769, d. 4828), who, despite not having a head for learning, supported Thea as best he could and became a true leader. Their group grew with the addition of Cai (b. 4769, d. 4835), a direct descendant of the First Companion and a lifelong dreamer, and the boy he grew to love, Linden (b. 4770, d. 4835), the eldest son of the island’s richest merchant and the brains of the group. Inspired by Mana and Suki’s same-sex relationship, Cai and Linden found the courage to be together openly. Later, Linden’s younger brother Roan became Kanako’s spouse, and the two both supported Linden and Cai. Finally, the group became complete with the arrival of hotheaded, off-islander Zacharias (b. 4770, d. 4831), who was adopted by the temple and struggled to find his place in the village before falling for Thea, the girl he had initially clashed with. While the five friends never had children, they left behind stories that came to represent the everyday life of those during the Earth Shaman’s era.

(I initially had an even longer post than this on the Earth Timeline, but it got deleted, so bear with me here) Since there are so many characters (I love my minor characters so, so much), character designs will be coming! And since Mana’s written accounts = my longstanding WIP from her point of view, look out for lots of fun facts and small snippets as well!

[creativityhq]

AS LONG AS I AM BREATHING,

Name: Roxana Hall

Species: Valkyrie

Age: like a million years old

Gender: Cis-female

Faceclaim: Hannah John-Kamen

Powers: Afterlife transport, death sense/inducement, enhanced physiology, immortal.

I AM JUST BEGINNING.

An ancient race of warriors, the Valkyrie were both proud and lethal. Throughout history, it was their job to choose who was slain in battle and who survived, their job to escort the souls of those unfortunate casualties to their respective afterlives. The job was vital to the way of the world, and each and every member of the Valkyrie race took their responsibility seriously. Roxana Hall was no different.

The Valkyrie were an old race, and because they so rarely fell in battle, it was rare for a new one to be born. New members of the race were only born when old ones died, and each birth was viewed more as a tragedy than a celebration. Roxie’s birth came on the tail of an especially tragic death. Sigrdrífa, an esteemed general among the Valkyrie’s forces, was never meant to fall. Many of her fellow warriors had believed her unbeatable, and when she was killed in what should have been a largely bloodless battle, the Valkyrie warriors were devastated. From the moment of her birth, Roxie was saddled with a legacy she could never truly live up to, a fact she was well aware of. That didn’t stop her from trying.

Desperate to prove that Sigrdrífa’s death was not a complete loss, Roxie trained harder than any warrior before her. She honed her natural talents and skills, becoming deadly in every way. It was never going to be enough, of course, and while some part of her knew that, she couldn’t cease in her training. Even if she could never live up to the legacy her predecessor left behind, the least she could do was make it worthwhile.

As the years went on, something shifted. At first, the Valkyrie didn’t notice it, but before long, it became entirely undeniable: more and more of them were dying, and for the first time in their recorded history, no new Valkyrie were being born to replace the deceased. Naturally, none of the warriors were particularly pleased with this development. Each warrior had her own viewpoint regarding the change, but the general consensus was a firm one. For some reason, the gods that they served had forsaken them, ceasing in replenishing their forces. Having no real attachment to humanity or the balance they provided as a whole, many Valkyrie disappeared with the realization. If their gods would no longer serve them, they would no longer serve their gods.

While Roxie understood the frustration of her fellow warriors, she couldn’t bring herself to follow in their abandonment of the cause. She became one of the last remaining Valkyrie to stick around and perform her duties. Those that remained alongside her were far older than she was, too bound by tradition and duty to ever leave their posts. They formed an elite squad, and Roxie’s willingness to stay and fight finally earned her the respect she had long been chasing.

Because the Valkyrie’s forces were so few, those that remained found themselves spending far more time among humanity. In order to fight in their wars and participate in their battles, the remaining Valkyrie needed to blend in. Roxie became good at this, finding that humans were far easier to connect with when you saw them doing more than simply dying. She lived in their barracks, she ate meals at their tables, and she made friends. The older Valkyries would have frowned on it if they knew, and she kept her affection for the species largely secret. Her friends were spared in battle only when she could afford to do so without raising suspicion, though those she had to let die she escorted to Valhalla rather than a less worthy afterlife. It was a risky move, but Roxie found it was well worth it.

War among humans never ended entirely, and while the remaining Valkyrie were among the most experienced of the forces, they were not invincible. Through the centuries, Roxie watched her fellow warriors fall, taking each death to heart. Their elite squad had bonded far more than was the norm due to their diminished numbers, and losing them never got easier. As time went on, each and every Valkyrie save for Roxie met their fate valiantly, until Roxie was the last remaining.

While she was saddened at the deaths of her fellow warriors and terrified at the idea of being the only one responsible for her duties, there was something undeniably freeing in being the last Valkyrie. She no longer hid her friendships with humans, no longer avoided sparing those she cared about. She got to save the people she loved, and it was exhilarating. She was still bound by certain laws, of course. In every battle, there was a predetermined number of casualties for both sides. Try as she might, Roxie had never been able to go against this, nor was she able to avoid abandoning the battlefield to take the souls of the slain to their afterlives after a certain number had built up. It was an inconvenience that could easily become a tragedy, a fact she learned far too many times when she returned to a battle to find someone she cared about among those who had died in her absence.

Still, she refused to abandon her post. For centuries she went on, shouldering every ounce of responsibility herself. It was exhausting, but she firmly believed it was a necessity. She continued to fight in each and every war, made her presence known in every battle. When the world shifted from swords to canons to guns, Roxie followed suit. When battles were fought in deserts, she adapted. She fought battles all over the globe, in the human world and in other societies. When an old friend requested her help in a battle under the sea, she made no hesitation.

Even without her abilities, Roxie could have predicted the outcome of the battle long before it played out. The rebel forces were vastly outnumbered and undoubtedly outgunned, making it clear that they didn’t stand much of a chance. Centuries ago, before she became integrated with humanity, before she’d befriended so many people, Roxie would have done her job and nothing more, but she was no longer that person. Desperate for any sort of a change, she fought adamantly against Cordellia’s forces. She tried to choose the strongest warriors on Cordellia’s side for death while only taking the weakest of the rebels, but it was useless. The battle was a losing one and when Roxie was pulled to Valhalla against her will to escort the fallen, she knew in her heart what she would return to.

Even so, it was gut wrenching to come back to a battle already lost. The rebel forces were scattered, and the friend that had brought Roxie into the battle was rumored dead. Devastated by the loss, Roxie found herself relating to the warriors who had abandoned post centuries before. She sought answers in temples, hoping to find the gods she had once served, but all she was ever met with was silence. As time went on, she continued to fight in battles and wars without her usual ferocity. Centuries of fighting without rest had taken a toll on her, and part of her sought to fall in battle and die with honor rather than continue living a life that seemed meaningless.

Nevertheless, she continued to survive. No matter how recklessly she fought, no matter how close to the middle of the action she pushed herself, her training won out. It seemed almost as though she couldn’t die, and life became more meaningless as a result. She began to care less and less, often turning her back on battles entirely and letting chaos reign who lived and who died while allowing souls to roam endlessly on Earth with no guide to escort them home.

Roxie was looking for an out when she stumbled across the entrance for Halloweentown. Hoping it might allow her with some escape from the pull that drove her towards battles she no longer wanted any part in, she entered and made the decision to remain. Somehow, the magic surrounding the place cut her off from that pull to battle, allowing her peace however temporarily.

When several of her closest acquaintances claimed they were leaving Halloweentown, Roxie had no real intention of joining them. She knew what awaited her out in the world, and she knew she wanted no part of it. But somewhere within her, that call to battle remained. She left alongside her friends despite her own reservations, claiming she was through losing people. While that was true, the desire for action and violence played a far larger role in her decision to leave her safe haven. Valkyrie, after all, were made for war. Peace was a concept that would never truly be within reach.