#you make an idea immortal by deifying it

[indigovigilance]

Anthony, Anthony, Anthony

What does your Anthony mean, exactly?

I feel like your Anthony and my Anthony are different Anthonies…

In 1941 we learn that Crowley has named himself Anthony J. Crowley (Aziraphale doesn’t pronounce the H but closed captions write it and Neil Gaiman hashtags #Anthony and also it’s Anthony the script book so I guess Michael Sheen is just doing a thing idk). I haven’t seen extensive discussion of this topic but I’m going to jump in with both feet.

I propose that Anthony actually has a double meaning; that is, Crowley chose this name for one reason, but Aziraphale believes he chose it for another.

(I cite as indirect inspo a wonderful Tumblr meta about how the ineffable blockheads have completely different interpretations of Jane Austen and how this informs their S2 decision-making).

Read or bookmark for later on Ao3 because this got away from me and now it's a 2,888 word meta on people named Anthony what am I doing with my life

~~~

First and foremost, let it be stated that there is no canon for when Crowley anti-christened himself Anthony. Neil Gaiman himself won’t know until he writes it.

Secondly, let it be known that I am not an historian nor a literary scholar of any kind. So people who actually know these stories may find themselves cringing at my surface-level summaries and inaccurate interpretations: I’m just piecing together what I could find easily. I invite someone else to revise and republish if they can delve deeper on these topics. 

Part 1: Mark Antony

There is a bust of Marc Antony in Mr. Fell’s bookshop as of S1E1 modern day (2019) which is still there at the end of S2E6, where it features prominently in the center of a shot. In 2019, the bust is adorned with yellow ribbons; in 2023, it is naked. The flashback to 1941 doesn’t give a good view of the part of the shop where the bust would normally be located so I have no idea when the bust actually got added to Aziraphale’s collection. I’m going to assume, for argument’s sake, that Aziraphale acquired this bust after the Blitz. I’m going to further propose that he acquired this bust because he believes that Crowley named himself Anthony after Mark Antony.

Why would Aziraphale think that? Two reasons.

1) Mark Antony was the loser of a civil war for liberty

Mark Antony was a good and loyal Roman citizen, serving Caesar with distinction, even attaining the title of Master of the Horse (Caesar’s second-in-command). See additional metas on horse symbolism seen throughout S2. After the death of Caesar, however, Octavian and members of the senate turned on Antony, starting a civil war. You know, much like a certain someone we know that was involved in Dubious Battle on the Plains of Heaven.

Mark Antony was loyal to Caesar’s political mission, which was to establish a Roman republic, where the voices of the citizens would be heard through their representatives [a suggestion box, if you will]. But Antony’s defeat marked the end of the republic, ushering in an age of autocracy. Octavian, following his victory over Antony, crowned himself the first Emperor of Rome.

2) Mark Antony was a libertine, but also the loyal, ardent lover of Cleopatra

Mark Antony was an infamous, lascivious, debaucherous, womanizing lush. He was also Cleopatra’s lover and closest ally. Though Mark Antony could not often meet with Cleopatra, their affair was allegedly very romantic, and from afar Antony did everything in his power to support Cleopatra politically, expanding her territorial holdings even while they were apart for years. 

So legendary was Antony's wanton hedonism that when he went to Athens, he was deified as the New Dionysus, mystic god of wine, happiness, and immortality. Religious propaganda declared Cleopatra the New Isis or Aphrodite (mythic goddess of love and beauty) to his New Dionysus. The ineffable emperors, if you will. [source: Encyclopedia Britannica]

Parallels arising after 1941:

After Antony had officially divorced Octavian’s sister, Octavian formally broke off the ties of personal friendship with Antony and declared war, not against Antony but against Cleopatra. Much like how Shax, after her S2E1 “you scratch my back I’ll scratch yours” proposal, threatened Crowley that if he did not assist her search for Gabriel, Hell would declare war not on him but on Aziraphale.

The legacy of Mark Antony, therefore, is one of hedonism, romance, fighting for a cause that you believe in, and losing that fight. It’s easy to see how Aziraphale drew the conclusion that Anthony J. Crowley took his inspiration from this historical figure.

Part 2: Antony & Cleopatra

How is this a part 2? Weren’t we just talking about Mark Antony and his relationship with Cleopatra? Hear me out.

Crowley has never expressed much interest in politics. Every time something of political import happens, he declares that the humans made it up themselves while also taking credit for it with Hell. This includes 1793 Paris and the Spanish Inquisition. If I forgot any, drop them in the comments. 

But Crowley has a deep and pervasive interest in stories, especially romance stories. If he can keep the Bentley from turning it into Queen, he listens to the Velvet Underground. He watches Richard Curtis films (to the degree that he identifies them by director rather than by title). Though book canon is not show canon, it’s worth mentioning that his favorite serial is Golden Girls; while not a romance, it is certainly heartfelt storytelling at its finest and a homosexual staple.

We know, too, that Shakspeare stole a line from him, with an adjustment for pronouns:

"Age Does Not Wither, Nor Custom Stale His Infinite Variety”

Let’s first talk about Crowley’s context for the quote.

Picture it: the Globe Theater, 1601, the house is empty because it’s one of Shakespeare’s gloomy ones and an irritated young Burbage, in the role of Hamlet, is droning out his lines like he would rather be anywhere else.

Burbage: To be or not to be. That is the question.

Aziraphale: To be! I mean, not to be! Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!

Aziraphale looks at Crowley, grinning with delight. Crowley stares back at him, shaking his head slightly, but a smile tugs at the corner of his lip. He wants to be embarrassed, but cannot help being charmed.

Aziraphale: He’s very good, isn’t he?

Crowley: Age does not wither nor custom stale his infinite variety.

Crowley is looking up at the stage, and speaks immediately after Aziraphale has made a comment about Burbage. But is Crowley talking about Burbage? Does it stand to reason that age would not have withered, or custom not staled, this twenty year old (yet somehow jaded) stage actor?

I propose that this is a poetic inversion of the S2E1 cold open, wherein the Starmaker, looking out upon creation, says: “Look at you, you’re gorgeous!” and Aziraphale erroneously thinks the statement was directed at him. Here, even though Crowley isn’t looking at Aziraphale, I believe that Crowley is actually talking about Aziraphale when he delivers that iconic line. Unlike Burbage, Aziraphale is old, very, very old, and we know that he has a penchant for custom, wearing the same clothes and listening to the same music for century upon century. Yet here is this precious angel being a cheerful little peanut gallery of one, continuing to surprise the demon after all this time. Neither age nor custom has staled Aziraphale’s infinite variety.

When Shakespeare commits the line to a play written 1606-1607, a few years after this event, Crowley will recognize his own sentiment about Aziraphale issuing from Antony’s mouth about Cleopatra. The actual historical events will not have left much of an impression, but the immortalization of his own admiration of the angel in human romantic fiction will have.

It must be mentioned that Antony & Cleopatra is a tragedy, where the star-crossed lovers are kept apart by warring factions that demand loyalty to the state at the preclusion of each other.

There are also some (as far as I can tell) nearly copy-paste plot points from Romeo & Juliet about a misunderstood faked suicide followed by actual suicide and the lovers dying in each others’ arms. It does not have a happy ending. Anthony Crowley deliberately choosing his “Christian name” from this play embodies not only his deep love but his hopelessness that he can ever get the happily ever after he desires.

In Summary

Crowley was an admirer, in one respect or another, of Mark Anthony, though he relied more heavily on Shakespeare’s portrayal and reimagining of the character than Aziraphale gives due credit. Nevertheless, the difference…

Wait a minute…

What’s that?

Is that…

A piece of canon evidence that completely undermines my argument??

This screenshot will only be visible to Tumblr users (sorry Ao3), but at some point we get a good look at the Mona Lisa sketch that Crowley has hanging in his apartment. It is signed (translated from Italian) “To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo da V.”

The problem with this is, the Mona Lisa was painted 100 years before Shakespeare penned Antony & Cleopatra.

However, Neil Gaiman reblogged this transcription and translation, posing the hypothetical, “I wonder if Crowley knows what the A in A.Z. Fell stands for.”

Could it be that the Notorious NRG is jerking us around and sending us on wild goose chases? Absolutely a possibility. But. Let’s give a little grace for a moment, and assume that this comment was made in good faith. A bold assumption, I know. But humor me.

We know that Crowley and Aziraphale both knew Jane Austen, but from completely different perspectives. It stands to reason that Crowley knew da Vinci the scientist, but that Antonio Fell knew Leo da V., an artist with a heart that yearned for an unavailable lover. I’m just making wild conjecture that Lisa Gherardini (aka Mona Lisa), the wife of Florentine cloth merchant Francesco del Giocondo, was a love interest of da Vinci, but it could be true in the GO universe and would make for a great story.

Aziraphale also collects signed items from famous people; the inscribed books of Professor Hoffman to a wonderful student, and the S.W. Erdnase book, signed with his real name, come to mind. The Mona Lisa draft fits in much better with that collection of souvenirs than with anything in Crowley’s apartment. So it stands to reason that it could actually be addressed to Aziraphale.

There remains the question of how or why Crowley has it, but I won’t subject that to speculation here. All to say. Neil Gaiman’s implication-by-redirect is… possible. So let’s assume that it is the case, just for a moment.

If the Mona Lisa sketch is signed to “Antonio” Fell, then this allows the above theory regarding Crowley’s self-naming to remain intact. But it brings up a few questions regarding Aziraphale, not the least of which is: why did he name himself Antonio/Anthony?

Part 3: Saint Anthony of Padua

Anthony was the chosen name of a Portuguese monk, taken upon joining the Fransican order. Anthony rose to prominence in the 13th century as a celebrated orator, delivering impassioned and eloquent sermons. He is also associated with some fish symbolism, since he preached at the shore and fish gathered to listen. He was, incidentally, a lover of books:

Anthony had a book of psalms that contained notes and comments to help when teaching students and, in a time when a printing press was not yet invented, he greatly valued it.

When a novice decided to leave the hermitage, he stole Anthony's valuable book. When Anthony discovered it was missing, he prayed it would be found or returned to him. The thief did return the book and in an extra step returned to the Order as well.

The book is said to be preserved in the Franciscan friary in Bologna today. [source: https://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=24]

This miraculous incident, wherein the thief not only returns a valuable book but also has a change of heart and returns to the bosom of organized religion, smacks of angelic intervention. But that is neither here nor there. 

Saint Anthony is the Patron Saint of the Lost, and is prayed to by those seeking to recover lost things. What is “lost” in this context is usually an item, rather than a person or an intangible concept, however he is also “credited with many miracles involving lost people, lost things and even lost spiritual goods,” such as faith. [Edit: @tsilvy helpfully contributes that "Here in Italy Sant'Antonio is commonly not just the saint patron of lost things, but, maybe primarily, the saint patron of lost *causes*."] He died at the age of 35, and in artwork is typically depicted with a book and the Infant Child Jesus.

It’s a defensible position that the thing that gives Aziraphale the most consternation across the millennia is Crowley’s loss of his angelic status, and it could even be framed such that Aziraphale does not consider Crowley actually fallen, but rather simply lost. It is a fact that he finds difficult to reconcile and, depending on your reading of the Final Fifteen, the offer to restore Crowley’s angelic status is one that is so pivotal to resolving his internal conflict that he cannot refuse. If this conflict is so central for Aziraphale, perhaps he did name himself after a booklover and the patron saint of lost things, hoping that the name would carry with it some of the power of the blessing, and return Crowley to the light, and in turn, to him.

But wait.

Because I googled “St Anthony” to look for some images and….

St. Anthony of the Desert

I shit you not there are multiple St. Antonies and we’re going to talk about another one of them with respect to Aziraphale because this guy is bonkers. The story traces to the Vitae Patrum, yet another fringe biblical text and I cannot even get a quick answer on whether it is canon or apocrypha because it’s so fringe. Anyways. I think the best way to explain St. Anthony of the Desert comes from the wikipedia page on the Desert Fathers: 

Sometime around AD 270, Anthony heard a Sunday sermon stating that perfection could be achieved by selling all of one's possessions, giving the proceeds to the poor, and following Jesus. He followed the advice and made the further step of moving deep into the desert to seek complete solitude.

[He] became known as both the father and founder of desert monasticism. By the time Anthony had died in AD 356, thousands of monks and nuns had been drawn to living in the desert following Anthony's example, leading his biographer, Athanasius of Alexandria, to write that "the desert had become a city." The Desert Fathers had a major influence on the development of Christianity.

Let’s all agree that this guy is not Aziraphale; this whole becoming an ascetic and living alone in the middle of a desert thing? Not his cuppertea. But St. Anthony is interesting not just for his decision to go into the desert, but what happened when he got there.

The Torment of St Anthony is a 15th century painting commonly attributed to Michaelangelo. It depicts demons crawling all over and attacking a hermit.

But the first round of demons are scraping the bottom of the barrel, practically the damned. Anthony’s journey continues and he meets another demon. Actually he meets two; a centaur, who is not very helpful, and then a satyr who is. It is much easier to find paintings of St. Anthony and the Centaur than of St. Anthony and the Satyr, so you don’t get an image, but I find the satyr to be a much more interesting character, so you get that story instead:

Anthony found next the satyr, "a manikin with hooked snout, horned forehead, and extremities like goats's feet." This creature was peaceful and offered him fruits, and when Anthony asked who he was, the satyr replied, "I'm a mortal being and one of those inhabitants of the desert whom the Gentiles, deluded by various forms of error, worship under the names of Fauns, Satyrs, and Incubi. I am sent to represent my tribe. We pray you in our behalf to entreat the favor of your Lord and ours, who, we have learnt, came once to save the world, and 'whose sound has gone forth into all the earth.'" Upon hearing this, Anthony was overjoyed and rejoiced over the glory of Christ. He condemned the city of Alexandria for worshiping monsters instead of God while beasts like the satyr spoke about Christ.

St. Anthony, then, is entreated by a demon to ask forgiveness from God upon the demons, and St. Anthony, seemingly, agrees to do it. He’s overjoyed to ask God to forgive demons. In connection to my analysis of the origins of the Metatron, and how Aziraphale and Crowley’s potential beef with him is that, as a human put in the exact same situation, he did the opposite, refusing to take the demon’s petition for mercy to God but instead taking it upon himself to confirm their unforgivability (yes that’s a word now) and damnation.

That seems like it would be pretty important to Aziraphale.

In Summary

I give up. I have no idea what’s going on with this show anymore. Here are two options each for both of our ineffable husbands to have given themselves the same God-blessed/damned name. You guys tell me what you think, I just have a pile of evidence and no spoons to evaluate it. 

[thermodynamic-comedian]

As someone that reads both Nevermoor + The Locked Tomb, I'm kinda curious if you have any other thoughts on John Gaius + Ezra Squall based on your post. They're obviously both on different levels/exist in different situations, but I think it's fun to look at how they both get deified by those around them for their powers and their legacy. The disillusionment (?) of the Lyctors due to their long-lived immortality and God-given abilities also makes me think about Wundersmiths and the attitude they might have if they couldn't die and be replaced in a sense by the "reincarnation". Also, just realized: it's kind of funny that there's nine (?) Lyctors and they're known as God's "fingers" or whatever, and then there's nine Wundrous Arts, upon mastery, Wundersmiths get imprints on their fingers... fun!

yeah!! i think the two characters have a lot of smilarities, but the situation we're introduced to them in are very different.

in some ways, i feel like ezra squall is very much in the "i'll always be the bad guy, so i might as well commit to it" zone, whereas as john gaius did for a second agree to be the evil wizard, but when presented with the opportunity to wipe everything clean and start over, he'll do it if just to make sure no one hates him. i feel like that's where their main difference lies: ezra doesn't mind being hated. john can't stand the idea.

both of their histories are unknown to most people, ezra's because wunsoc wants to hide it, john's because he himself doesn't want it known.

ezra's interactions with morrigan give off the impression that he's excited to have someone to share the wundrous arts with, but also that he's frustrated with her apparent naivety. john's interactions with harrow are somewhat similar to this, and they both seem to project a lot during these interactions ("wundersmiths don't have friends." "no one is allowed to judge you, nobody has the right!")

they both reminisce about a time no one around them remembers, they both miss their fucking friends (whom they killed), they're both immortal, they can both be very very threatening by doing very little.

[nostomannia]

Rambles from Discord-

Thinking about the thoughts of Sol being deified again.

Kinda like in Madoka Magica and how Madoka becomes a god because of how she's tangled up in so many timelines Sol is in a very similar situation.

Being an Origin soul, Solita is tied to basically any other version of herself in the multiverse already, on top of that, dying and picking up new souls and creating an UP-level balloon cloud of souls doesn't help the situation

Solita still technically being alive makes her an anomaly. An Origin soul existing outside of an Origin world makes her a singularity. She's already technically got the power to rival most other gods, it's just she doesn't have the outlet for that and Deity keeps her at enough of a controlled burn that she doesn't just instantly blow up

I'm thinking about her potential for achieving actual godhood in her Abandoned verse when there's nobody to keep her in check. It's just a route that can go either way. Since Solita's human body can be a bit fragile and may start breaking down and basically killing her from the inside out, all the potential could end up eating her alive.

Maybe that's why she's even alive in her Abandoned verse? Like she unintentionally develops a different form of immortality without Deity there.

Or, do you think it would be better or worse for Deity to make Sol immortal before dumping her off somewhere? Instead of just letting her die, they literally refuse to allow her to so she can find a new life Really leaning into the fact of how far removed Deity really is from the mentality of normal people. And also as a science experiment, given how much Sol already was

Also the idea of maybe Deity became too attached to Sol and therefore couldn't just let her go like that? Instead of what would have been the opposite, Deity wasn't able to show her pity and didn't even give her dignity in death. And it's a bad end because of their attachment, rather than the lack thereof.

I do not make easy situations and questions for Sol ever.

[masterserris]

mutuals feel free to dm me

make an oc with me! home brew your own for this world and/or help me w this plz i beg

i create new oc like everyday in my head and usually they stay there with most of their story or au and such, sometimes i write them down if they have a lot of meat on their bones but rn i wanna make an oc and i have the idea but also i crave attention and wanna chat to a mutual about it but like it wouldnt be an oc related to any media so there isnt exactly any hyperfixation brain rot to share but also i just wanna share and bounce ideas and maybe craft a world together.

anyways oc idea: in this world with many sentient species like humans, dwarves, and orcs and such (not unlike d&d) there is a race of "gods" or powerful beings referred to as gods. they were formed from primordial energy and have no parents. they formed at different times but they are basically the oldest lived species in this world and are functionally immortal. there is the material world (with cities/areas where gods dwell mainly), there is the netherworld, and there is hell. the netherworld is just like. a mostly barren darker dimension, not evil but maybe like limbo.

there are hundreds of gods and not many of them are attributed or have a single power. there is no "god of the oceans" or what not. there are gods who are ocean based and themed but there is no like... poseidon. no thor. no surtur. no nothing. some are like that but it isnt an exclusive title. multiple of them can be "gods of wisdom" and they can have multiple titles too.

anyways, im thinking the oc is one of them and is a god of power. they have peircing eyes and fair skin with long flowing straight hair. nice clothes. but their demeanor is soft and gentle, caring especially to animals. nurturing. they are friendly to others but some gods grow envious of them and spread rumors of them being evil hearted and craft a prophecy about their downfall. now, such a thing wouldnt happen and they deny it, but with enough belief and power put behind it, they (the envious ones) can make a self fulfilling future even if they dont realize it. they force them to isolate and face scrutiny.

im thinking they leave eventually from their home and make a fortress in the netherworld. they are the ones who crafted beings for fun. dragons or monsters or living machines or spectral beings or eldritch beings. things some might call demons. demons on their own exist in hell, they didnt make those, but it can be hard to tell an armor plated horned creature from another. i guess their spiritual scent would be different ya know? the stench of hell vs the netherworld

and they get villified for such things, keeping the company of the dragons they made. they grow tired of it and take all of their creations away from the world, depriving it of many influential and kind beings, and bring them back into their being. their own pocket world where their things may not be disturbed or harassed anymore. saved, if you will. never to be seen again. they also shut off access to the netherworld for now.

so dragons, celestial automatons, and nether monsters no longer exist and the land is barren once more. there are distant relatives of these beings, dragon hybrids are still around and some are deified for their magical power. humans make their own automatons sometimes. but they are painfully alone and watch the other two realms from their cold fortress. as time went by, the smile was only reserved for the creations and children. their loved ones, but now they are gone, in a better place, a personal heaven, which is comforting, since no being would be able to ever bother them again, but they are alone. their soft robes have turned into more and more dusky armor and a frown graces their soft skin in a dark throne room. pondering a lusterous orb.

sitting in silence wasnt how they wanted to spend eternity, so they reopened the netherworld gates to repopulate the land with plants and animals and for beings of the material world to come and settle. only their castle was shut off from them. and humans and others would come. dragonborn, tieflings, dwarves, humans, and orcs like this world. it is a second home that needs some work and terraforming to make into a paradise. so they do and in the mean time the god reintroduces themselves to others.

like, no one forgot who they were or that they still existed, but for centuries they had been in the netherworld in their castle and people were making rumors about them for a long time so. bad aura, people were afraid of them, but they were assured that they were not malevolent. they marched their ass back to the material world and went back to the council of the gods in their big capital and of course no one stopped them, they were a god of power itself and reason. a god of creation. no one had banished them or anything, they had left on their own long ago. so they sit on the council with this new grimace on their face and the other gods are wary of them.

buttons keep getting pushed and they get into verbal arguments with others, alliances being formed. some of their closest friends forsake the three worlds and enter their secret world. everyone else in existence is an enemy or a neutral party or an acquaintance. little matters to them now other than keeping order and peace. even their castle they picked up and took away from the netherworld now. everything they ever loved or cared for is in their personal realm, so the game is set. the chess match between them and other gods and they play this little game of influencing the world, giving advice to mortal beings, aiding them in their dreams, using their power to change the tides of fate, changing the material world against disasters and the like.

dragonborn, tieflings, some humans, some elves, and orcs end up patronizing them as their god. like their most powerful god, most revered. their master.

all races prior to this loved different and various gods, there was some favoritism, but nothing unifying, really. the council of gods was the most powerful or knowledgeable or influential gods and they ranked highly, even if they did not seek the position, their power was innate and their reasoning sound.

but with races drawing alliances through shared belief, it naturally formed further strain with the envious gods and even the other gods. it was worrisome! the most vocal spoke of them forming an army of brainwashed zealots. evil gods had existed before, of course, anyone could be good or bad, but they were banished or dematerialized/slain or went into hiding. now one of the most powerful gods had a large following and could use their force to overthrow them all. funny. this was the exact thing they had warned about in their very first rumors. things come true if you keep antagonizing and paving the road for it

but they deny having any intentions of war, and they really dont. it's just hard to get along with a bunch of losers who hate you for existing.

so it teeters on the edge. peace and war. the god of power and their followers vs the rest of worlds. (hell is everyone's enemy to be fair)

maybe there is war and they are finally branded the dark god or something and there is a long conflict. they win but dont conquer the world meaning they are cast down from their status. they spared their enemies and their enemies attacked them with their guard down, shattering what was left of their heart and the races that followed them are in disarray and exile into barren lands. hardship for those who took the high road. but they arent done. they do come back in a darker more twisted form, spite and hatred has fueled them. some of their followers turn to darker means for power and this time they do build an army to crash the towers of the envious down from their rotten core and return the netherworld back into their land, their new castle. their new kingdom. others are not welcome, besides basic travelers or settlers. this is one possibility.

another is that they keep the fake smile, take the verbal abuse back and forth and their soul withers from the unhappiness in their hollow heart. the art they make now feels hollow, when they pet animals, there is a distance in their eyes. this was the case when they first were being harassed, but now it has reached a terminal level. oh god of silent isolation? why do you cry tears that never touch the ground? in coldest winter you feel at home. oh heart of ice, will you tell me your secrets? give me your aid? thank you, you always listen, even if you can no longer hear your own voice. basically they live a loner life in the council and rarely interact with others unless they are literally meeting to discuss something. they always offer aid to those who ask for it.

another possibility is that they are successful in turning the world to their side and the envious gods get shamed the hell outta them. some might lash out and attack but they are branded as evil and banished/defeated. some slink out of the limelight feeling supremely humiliated and regretful of their actions. their consequences. the god smiles again, ascendant. returning to how they were originally, but with a wisened heart, a closed off heart. no more close friends, but.... some friends are nice. no new creations, but they still love their hybrid grandchildren of course. in all possibilities they adore their mortal progeny and always help them out. esp if they get harassed for being of their blood. being a dragon hybrid (sorta rare) or nether monster hybrid (very rare) is an instant label of that god. foul blooded to the zealots of the envious, or those deceived by the envious ones. in this possibility, it gets smoothed out and they are no longer villified but in other ones they are. especially in the first one.

there are other possibilities too. which one shall we make? they need a name too.

[merrygejelh]

Not to condone genocide, imperialism, and abuse on main but I truly am obsessed with John Gaius. I can never thank Ms Muir enough for this fascinating and strange little god man. I would love to study him. I know everyone else is in this fandom because of the lesbians but the best experience I’ve had reading these books is seeing the figure of god teased out and alluded to throughout gtn and learning in htn that he is Just Some Guy with the most Just Some Guy name of all time. And then later in htn learning that he is also, fundamentally, horny. The necrolord prime, emperor of the nine houses is a terrifying megalomaniacal immortal hell bent on interplanetary domination who is also, and I cannot stress this enough, a fucking nerd. This is peak character concept and peak villain. Everyone go home

John Gaius is like if Jonah Magnus succeeded at ending the world but still retained all of his mundane human shitty boss qualities. John Gaius is like if the creepiest of your high school teachers ascended to godhood but still wanted to overshare about his marriage problems to his students every now and then. John Gaius has been god for 10,000 slutty slutty years and he misused every single one. John Gaius makes meme references that were probably already incredibly out of date when he was alive, and yet he’s STILL MAKING THEM 10,000 years later. John Gaius is the universe’s shittiest absent father. John Gaius sees one of his few surviving old friends repeatedly attempt to murder the child under his care and goes “hm. Concerning” before doing Nothing about it. I am OBSESSED with this deeply human and messy all-powerful malevolent god, nobody is doing it like him

Edit he ordered the child murder. How did I forget that he ordered the child murder. And then he told the child he wished she was his daughter. Cool and normal things!

[eternally--mortal]

I love Professor Edward Elric headcanons.

Some people write him as a history prof, others an alchemy professor—I love it all.

But honestly the greatest headcanon I can tie to Prof Ed is the idea that students at his University are researching for papers and the information Always come Back to Him.

Doing a paper on the fall of Xerxes? What little paper trail you can find leads back to Ed.

Your best friend’s girlfriend and her best friend are writing separate papers on the Eastern and Western sages? The evidence leads back to Ed.

Your self-proclaimed nemesis who always takes the best window seat in the cafeteria and stays up late in the dorm next to you just to keep you up at night is writing a paper on deified figures in history and keeps running across references to gold? It will inevitably lead back to Ed.

One of your buddies is taking a Mythology and Children’s Literature course and is writing his paper on a legend with an immortal figure who’s description sounds Just Like Ed.

And that’s not to mention all the recent history and the politics. Anything about the Philosopher’s stone (which of course Ed would squelch in its beginning stages, which would only make the kids even More suspicious). And Ed’s time as a State Alchemist pops up every once in a while, because the students were young and don’t always remember that the youngest state alchemist ever is now their teacher.

It starts out as a joke from one student. About all of the coincidences. But then the evidence keeps piling up and now all of a sudden there are conspiracy theories.

There are so many theories. Whole student groups who are gathering a pool of data to compare from all different angles. Honestly, the closest one popped up for a while there when the students realized Al was an ambassador in Xing they started theorizing that he and Ed were the Eastern and Western sages. Immortal or reborn or whatever.

It doesn’t help that there are rumors that the Emperor of Xing is now Immortal somehow, and that Alphonse is married to Ling’s sister.

[into-daylight-hope]

Qui-Gon Jinn: Certified Hypocrite, Fascinating Failure, Mass of Contradictions

For starters, I am just going to let direct quotes from the man speak for itself.

Some excerpts from Master & Apprentice

Wise words.

Wait a minute...

😯😯 What the hell is happening here? All quotes are from the same man in one book.

Qui-Gon Jinn doesn't have an ounce of self-awareness and it is so hilariously terrible.

What is even better (or worse), this is perfectly in line with The Phantom Menace characterization .

I mean,

Remember when he said all this than spent the rest of the movie obsessing over prophecies, the chosen one and literally the future?

"He still has so much to learn of the living force." Qui-Gon Jinn about Obi-Wan in the council scene

After that scene

"The boy is dangerous. They all sense it why can't you?" Obi-Wan Kenobi about Anakin Skywalker to Qui-Gon Jinn

You see Obi-Wan, Master Jinn here has completely lost any sense of "here and now" between his crusade against darkness and divine mission to save the Galaxy.

This in turn, unsurprisingly blinds him to the fact Anakin is not suitable to become a Jedi. Or at least not ready to directly move on to becoming a padawan.

Anakin himself would suffer in a road that is not meant for him. But he is not planning for Anakin the child. He is thinking about The Glorious Chose One.

He is the chosen one. You all must, see it.

And yet from Qui-Gon's perspective it is Obi-Wan who doesn't understand the Living Force.

I have to say if he is truly a student of the living force as many fans claim he has been failing the class for at least 8 years.

Let's move on to another set of entertaining and horrifyingly oblivious quotes from M&A.

If you look upward you can observe Mr. Here and Now in his natural habitat.

He really acts like future is set in stone than thinks he is the right person to talk about about concentrating in the moment. Unbelievable.

Let's look at this dialogue again. In contrast with the excerpt from above.

He is all about the future when it suits him. But when Obi-Wan makes a remark on it he obviously should just focus on the moment. This is actually the third time in this post where he contradicts himself while specifically chastising or criticizing Obi-Wan for something Qui-Gon actually does.

Now I don't think Qui-Gon acts with malice. But it is important to point out his obliviousness has become a way of ensuring he is never in the wrong.

He suffers from an immense hubris. And a man obsessed with prophecies and chosen ones definitely has some kind of savior complex.

But notably Jinn doesn't actually want to put any effort into enacting real change with his limited yet existent capabilities.

He turns down a council seat in M&A because he thinks it would hold him down. From what? Dear God, the reason they offered him a seat was for different opinions. Qui-Gon can complain all he wants but one time he actually had a chance to make his opinions a reality he freaking bailed.

Why? He doesn't want to face his own limits. He can't bare to try and fail. It is much easier to sustain a superiority complex when you are complaining from the sidewalk.

So he fixates all this belief onto prophecies, visions that will magically cure the Galaxy. And of course his place to help fulfill them. To the point where it is the one thing that keeps him standing.

He has binded meaning of his life and belief for goodness dangerously close to his supposed importance in the Galaxy. (You can feel the influences of his former master)

His absolute refusal to engage with reality turns him into mass of contradictions. Cause he doesn't know what he will find or become if he is mistaken in his belief of himself.

He can't face reinvention on the event of defeat.

But this situation was different. It had to be, because the only thing Qui-Gon knew to be absolutely true was that his vision was real.

Oh by the way, it turned out he misunderstood the vision. But when does being wrong ever stopped Qui-Gon Jinn?

No words.

Only Qui-Gon could have come near declaring himself a prophet after making a mistake. Maybe stop and reflect man? Just stop and think about your actions.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: I have a bad feeling about this.

Qui-Gon Jinn: I don't sense anything.

Of course you don't.

Honestly he doesn't have much to speak for in the cosmic force department either.

(There is the whole force ghost thing I guess. But I have no idea if that is more connected with living or cosmic force. It seems to be more about spiritual enlightenment. Which is ridiculous when you consider Yoda had go through so many trials, face his darkside, learn to truly let go just for Force priestesses to deem him worthy enough to study immortality. Yes Qui-Gon never became a force ghost but he had started his training before he died. And much of Yoda's tests on TCW was about self-awareness. It is not just about being a good person. How did Force Priestesses approve Qui-Gon "I was meant to misinterpret this vision." Jinn? I would understand if he became wiser after death and faced his flaws and all but he never was on that level before he died. You might say even Anakin became a force ghost. But I would remind you, Anakin in the end broke out of denial, acknowledged the wrong of his ways and took that leap to the light side. Self-awareness seems such an important key to becoming a force ghost. Right there with selflessness. Personally it doesn't quite feel right for a character whose biggest flaws are their lack of introspection and hubris which we never see him rise above to be the one that discovers immortality again. It feels more like a rushed plot point to explain how we get from A to B.)

This post got out of control 😂. I honestly just wanted to point out lack of communication might be one of the reasons Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon have trouble understanding each other but it is sometimes even harder to understand Qui-Gon when he actually says something. Cause ration is not what drives him.

Qui-Gon is such a complex character. He is undeniably good especially compared to other SW characters. Yet for all fandom's deifying he might be the most flawed Jedi we see on the franchise. (The ones that fell to the dark side not included.)

It is a shame wider fandom completely write off his flaws to the degree I can't even recognize the character when they talk about Jinn. Cause that Qui-Gon is so hard to feel empathy for.

When people constantly make statements like "He is The Wisest sw character." his hypocrisy stops being amusing. It doesn't end on screen or page instead often used to bash other characters.

An unbelievable analysis from Wookiepedia:

When Jinn saved the Gungan exile Jar Jar Binks, who in turn swore a life-debt to him, his compassionate nature was such that Jinn took the hapless Gungan under his wing, much to Kenobi's dismay. His empathy toward all life forms, including the most pitiful and unfortunate, was Jinn's greatest strength. Additionally, he remained understanding and patient with Queen Padmé Amidala. During the short time they knew each other, he never asked for her to do more than she was willing to.

You know out of the two, Qui-Gon was the one who insulted Jar Jar to his face. And he didn't took Jar Jar under his wing. They forced him to take them to a city where Jar Jar could have been punished for entering. Now it was the pragmatic thing to do. For all three's survival not for their own gain. Understandable. But compassion is just pushing it.

Also he never asked Padme to do more than she was willing to do?

Padmé : Are you sure about this? Trusting our fate to a boy we hardly know? The Queen will not approve.

Qui-Gon Jinn : The Queen does not need to know.

Padmé : Well, I don't approve.

And he is aware she is the queen, herself. Padme was nearly tearing out her because of this man in TPM.

What is weird, Jinn in his bewildering hypocrisy probably thinks he is being admirably compassionate with Jar Jar, highly understanding and patient with Padme. We clearly see he is not.

Out of universe he has been a force ghost for decades now but fandom is nowhere near acknowledging his flaws than he is.

And honestly SW doesn't have that many major morally complex characters. People like Maul, Palpatine, Anakin,Ventress don't think they are serving a higher purpose or oblivious to the evils they commit.

Emotionally complicated, yes. Going through moral dilemmas, no.

Three major characters come to mind who make huge mistakes, condone or commit atrocities while thinking they are in the right/with good intentions/for a greater cause. With varying degrees of culpability.

Qui-Gon. Padme. Dooku.

In that order.

Let these characters be interesting instead of demonizing nearly inhumanly selfless Jedi characters. (They make mistakes too but funnily enough they are still way better beings than most people on our planet.)

By the way I found the epitaph "Fascinating Failure" from the article here. Especially the last paragraphs make some interesting points. ⬇️

👀

This post might seem harsh but that is expected since it focuses on Qui-Gon's flaws.

"People are more than their worst act,” Quote from Qui-Gon Jinn in Master & Apprentice

[nevenabadr]

50 Shades of You! Tom Hiddleston X Female! Reader

Note: This is my first ever fanfiction for Tom Hiddleston. I have not written fiction for ages. English is not my first language.

Inspiration: this is inspired by:

“I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes.”

–Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

Word count: 2660

Warnings: Romance, sweet words, and smut–this is +21 and not for everyone.

Enjoy reading and please comment with your feedback. 💚

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

During the summer Cambridge University was having a conference "Gothic Elements In John Milton's Paradise Lost." As you the young professor of literature, the coordinate manager suggested that the University alumnus could join for not just attending, but acting a piece of the tragedy. Amongst the candidates was the Classic department graduate and famous actor, Tom Hiddleston. 

You know that he might have scheduled issues or time conflicts, but you suggested the committee email him. To your surprise, he accepted the offer. 

 

The scene of choice was casting the devil out of hell.

On the stage during the conference eve, you did not have the perfect time to watch him, but you took a glimpse of acting from far.

He even caught your show and face attending the rehearsals.

The conference day was pressuring. You were trying to get everything right, in the middle of your so-close meltdown. A voice brought you to reality, "Hello, is this professor Y/N)?"

You turned to find the British handsome alumni smiling peacefully at you. "Yes, how can I help you?"

"Indeed, I am the one offering help." As he adjusted his glasses, I asked the committee manager to take upon some errant backstage. Maybe I can assist with the front ceremony?"

"Of course," you paused for a moment, "can you help me with the dinner's seats arrangement? My assistant is absent and I have to print and arrange them myself."

"Just show me a computer and all will be done."

Both of you took your time arranging an evening missing up some seats. 

 

"Here comes my name. You will be seated with the professors, of course!" He was busy putting name tags over the table.

"Oh! Don't remind me." You replied as if it is a conversation with an old friend and continued "the Classic department and Literature."

"They might start a war." Both of you started laughing 

"I have an idea." He took a tag from his table and moved yours next to his. "Now you will be with a friend"

The presentations finished, you had to go for the gym showers to change and wear your conference and dinner dress.

By the time you arrived, the scene from the tardy was about to be played. You took your place in the front seat.

Tom was playing Satan. He noticed that you were reciting the lines with him. He even almost smiles at you. Could not hold himself from looking at you in the front row while playing the scene of...

 

"All is not lost; the unconquerable Will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield; (And what is else not to be overcome?) That glory never shall his wrath or might Extort from me to bow and sue for grace With suppliant knee and deify his power, Who from the terror of his arm so late Doubted his empire[.] (I, 106–114)"

 

Your facial expressions captured his eyes, the movement of your lips and then the flame of your applause. 

At the dinner, he was interested to hear all about your work and writings. His eyes could not able to leave you.

 

By the end of the dinner, he walked you to your car, "this was lovely, thank you for tonight" 

You smiled at him, "thank you for accepting our invitation."

You shake hands and opened your car door like the gentleman he is.

"Would you like to go out with me, for a coffee? Books and coffee, maybe." He did not hesitate to ask.

"I would love to. You already have my number within the conference contact information." You raised an eyebrow and smirked.

As your car drove away, he knew he was up for an adventure.

Three months later, you are happily dating and sharing sweet kisses. He suggested a film marathon. Each week one of you chose a topic.

That Saturday's topic was Russian Literature and you had to add: "or inspired by it" 

"Excuse me, but Tolstoy has no comparison!" He grimaced

"Shadow and Bones, love!" You teased him, "it the Netflix adaption of the era" 

"After Anna Karenina, please," he sounded like an old professor.

"Alright then, deal." You tickled him and kissed his lips softly

Both of you enjoyed Anna Karenina, however, you were crying in his arms.

"That dreadful ending." 

He hugged you "Hey, Shadow and Bones will make it up to you, let me make extra popcorn." Once again, he kissed you.

He came back with popcorn that will at least survive three episodes. You snuggled between his arms.

"Look at Alexie, how he said 'Make me your villain.'" 

You were swooning as a fangirl.

"I beg your pardon, I am literally a villain," he complained

Oh! I would literally," stressing upon the last word, "let him have me"

His face was irritated and you not coming close to making love made him anxious, that you might not be ready. He never inquired about you.   

You caressed his tummy, "hey, a penny for your thoughts, sir." It sounded like one of the Jack the Ripper prostitutes, about which you have constantly been talking.

His voice evolved deeper and his eyes did not leave yours "your deepest sexual desire. What do you crave?"

Comparing to your age, you were nervous and inexperienced. "My life was spent between books. I..."

He did not let you continue speaking and took your lips between his drawing your body closer to him, uttering between his hot kisses "I am not just a villain" his lips made the earth move "I am a God" whispering against the sport skin of your nick " a king" his hands were moving down the same tomes his lips reached the line of your bosom whilst his hand slides prevailed touching down pussy and dug his fingers driving you till the edge.

"I want you," you whispered between your soft moans.

He neglected your cravings and maintained his rhythm, watching your complexion and closed eyes till you arched your back in awe.

You collapsed between his arms heavily breathing "that was extremely wonderful, but I need you"

He kissed your lips playfully. "you are a delicious girl, Y/N, but..."

You hashed him with a kiss that he pulled from "if your life was between books, I want you to write me your deepest desire."

"Darling, it was a series, Alexie is fictional." You wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Fictional or not, he is a man, you are paying for this." 

He was deadly serious "write me your longing."

You laugh "What? Like the 50 Shades of Y/N?"

He gazed into your eyes "aiming to please and punish you, darling, avenging my honour"

The next morning when you were with your family on Sunday's lunch, he opened an email titled "50 Shades of Y/A"

 

The content was as follows:

"You!"

 

He grinned to himself and determined to show her how fiction can become real.

Your week was busy. He had signed a new contract for a mini-series and was supposed to film soon.

Not replying to your email made you nervous, even went meeting for dinner. He was quiet about it. 

You checked your sent box millions of times to make sure it arrived. Still, you knew he was busy working, and you were busy with the finals coming soon.

Thursday’s dinner, nothing yet, nothing but gaggling and discussing your days and current reads. 

"Darling, we did not decide this week's marathon" 

He did not take his eyes off the menu "Are not you having a big family week, you should go" he was confident and calm. 

Deep inside you wanted to grab his neck and jiggle him, but for the lady you are and the restaurant, you were calm.

"Wonderful!"

The dinner was over; he drove you home, kissed you goodnight.

Saturday morning, a ringing at your door. Apparently, you received a package, a big one.

You kept thinking that some books might have come early from your publisher. Unwrapping it to a surprise satin 1950 coat with Ruby red entourage and black heels.

There was also a note, she recognised the handwriting:

 

"Wear nothing but this for your punishment. If other pieces were found upon your body, then fear my fury and vengeance.

Love, 

T"

 

So, it was her version of Mr Grey. But have you ever been ready to comply with anyone?"

Suddenly, a message arrived on your phone 

"Reminder, a black will pick you tonight at 8, don't disobey me, Princess."

Your heel clicked on the floor as a man dressed in an old fashion suit opened the car for you. The windows were blacked out, so you did not see where it was heading.

"Welcome, Princess," he greeted you as if you were royalty, "My master is awaiting your presence."

You took his hands. The place was carved out of one of your favourite dark fantasies, a mansion with gargoyles, dark lighting, and a vast garden.

You could not believe your eyes. Tom knew your deepest desires indeed.

But that is not the end.

The inside was as of a dark enchantment with deep red flowers and candles. The servant showed you the way to a dining room fit for a feast. Tom was not there. 

"My master requires you to await his arrival." The servant bowed and left.

You were like a child been left inside her favourite toyshop. The ornaments, the lighting, and even the shapes of the food. That aesthetic you only could dream of but never reach.

"Enjoying yourself already?" You turned to find your man dressed in a black Victorian suit. His face was shaved, shorter hair, no glasses. Just all of the handsome glory.

You took a step forward "no princess, I shall come for you"

He kissed your hand and then sat on the table's head, while it sat on the opposite side and faced you away indeed.

"Are you pleased, princess?" He raised his glass of red wine.

"Yes, my Prince." You smile.

"In here, you shall address me as your king." His eyes lit with fire, and his voice was harsh.

You played along and raised an eyebrow "my king."

"This is not a game, princess, you are my prisoner"

You dined quietly, as he did not drop his eyes from you.

"Enjoying yourself?"

You flirted "deeply, my king"

He left his chair and came closer to you, his fingers left your chain so you can gaze into your eyes.

He asked, "care for a dance?"

You smiled "I would love to."

You stepped forward and took his hand to a ballroom, just for you and him, the dark king.

The following piece of music was sensual and moving.

"The coat, princess, I want to see nothing but heels on your body,"

You obeyed the king, but for a tick. When you took it off, underneath it a short emerald green strapless corset dress tight upon the curves of your body and pushed your bosoms to their glory.

He grinned and his eyes darken "looking for further punishment, I suppose?" 

"Anything to please the king." You took his hand and kissed it. He did not expect it.

He turned furiously and the next song was romantic. He wrapped his arms around you once again, waltz, you sneaky woman, deserved joy before being punished.

Twirling you on the dance floor like the earth has no one but the two of you.

By the end, he carried you "to my chambers, little one"

You were nervous and anxious. What if he did not like what was underneath the dress?

He entered a candlelight room with a four-poster bed in the centre. The curtains of the bed were black and emerald. 

He laid you in bed, kissing your lips and playing with your hair. 

His breathing was heating against your skin.

"You won't miss that dress, will you, princess?"

He did not wait for your reply as he lifted a dagger amongst the layers of his suit and cut the corset down to the last piece of the dress.

You wore nothing else. You were lying exposed as he stood to look upon your naked curves for the first time. 

You spontaneously tried to cover your bosom and private parts.

"No, do not you dare" he was angry and you could not distinguish reality from fantasy.

You throw the rest of the dress away. Hands laying by your head and he stood there for a juncture, gazing at every inch of your body.

"Turn," he ordered angrily as if the soul of Loki took over him, "I said, turn" 

You nearly dropped tears "here my king" 

You felt the softness of his lips upon your delicate shoulders.

Kissing the line of your spine. He knows this will work like magic. You tickle from your back, now trying to lick you, taste you, slap you.

He flipped you to face him. You were sobbing. He could hear it under your moans.

"You are not a princess, you are not a queen."

He wipes her tears from her cheek "you are a goddess and I am your slave."

You giggled between your tears, wrapping your arms around his neck "my king"

"Your, slave" As his voice became softer, he hushed you with a finger.

He kissed every inch of your body. You were playing with his short blonde locks.

"Let me worship your bosom, my goddess" he kissed, licked and played with your nipples and cupped your bosoms gently.

Kissing down till he reached your pussy, "Let me worship your temple" as he licked your clitoris.

You were moaning loader now

“Not this time, my king I want you inside me."

"Alright, as the pleasure of my goddess, I shall obey." 

He adjusted his weight on you and asked, "wider for me, my goddess of beauty" 

You opened for him as he enters you for the first time. You let out a loud breath "are you alright" he took your hands between his.

"Continue, my king."

He is just thrusting himself gently inside you. Your moans filling the room 

"I am a villain, a king, a god, and a man"

Your hands were free to run along his back as he continued, "a man, no, a slave for my goddess"

You were moving with him and moaning louder, "my king, what else?"

 Thursinting himself harder and moving with a faster pace.

"My goddess, the sculptures of beauty," between his breathing and moaning "Da Vinci would not be able to capture your grace"

You were kissing as your nail dug inside his shoulders.

His last whispers as moving himself inside your pussy which was clutching around his manhood. He moved with pace, as you rocked your lap against him

"I will live in thy heart," kissing your lips as you bite his lower lip between your steamy breath. "Die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes.”

He was going faster now and you were in tremendous awe and your skin was heating up with your pleasure.

"Look at me goddess" you were closing your eyes as you become close to you your orgasm "look at me," he ordered 

"I love thee, Tom," you said as your pussy was clutching around his manhood and trembling underneath him. His enormous climax followed your orgasm. 

You were shaking. He used his hands to keep himself from crushing you with his weight.

He rested his forehead on yours till both of you caught your breath. Gently took you between his arms as resting on his side "and I love thee, Y/N"

kissed you and as you were falling asleep, yet muttered, "I made you my villain, did not I?"

He giggles, "I beg your pardon, your God, King, and lover"

You kissed for the last time of that night and snuggle between peacefully each other's arms.

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

Tag list:

@shafverani

@imsebastiansta-n

@brokenwitty

@221bshrlocked (awaiting your feedback)

@sinner-as-saint

@zemosimp05

@buckys-fairy

[spanishskulduggery]

It seems like in Spanish a lot of nouns are just converted into verbs. Like the one that means to become summer that you posted a while back? Or like I just saw the verb engavetar and I couldn't find it on wordreference until I looked up "gaveta" and realized it meant filing drawer, with the verb meaning to put away in a drawer/file drawer. Are there any patterns/interesting info about this you can give us?

In my experience, it's usually the other way around, where a lot of verbs have a "participle" which is then used to make nouns and adjectives.

The participle is normally done for the perfect tenses; in Spanish it's some conjugation of haber and then the participle which is usually something ending in -ado or -ido... but there are irregulars there too

As an example, comer is "to eat", haber comido is "to have eaten", and from that you get la comida "food" or "meal"

...

In my experience it's not always that nouns are converted into verbs, but many of the major verbs have branching "relatives"

As an example:

poder is "to be able to"... it was so common that el poder is "power" or "ability"; related to it is la potencia or potencial and further down the line you have posible or imposible

And you might not recognize it until you see poder in past tense and see puse, pusiste, pudo, pudieron, pudimos etc

...

And it can exist for the irregulars too.

volver is "to return", in its past participle it's haber vuelto "to have returned"

The noun form is then la vuelta which is frequently "a trip" or "journey" or "going back and forth"; as in la vuelta al mundo "a trip around the world" or like la vuelta al mundo en ochenta días which is "Around the World in 80 Days"; in some places la vuelta al mundo can be a Ferris wheel

You also have words like de ida y vuelta "round-trip" as an adjective, or de vuelta "coming back" which is an adverb

Related to it, you have something like revolver "to revolve", and "revolution", or "devolve" or "evolve" etc etc etc

And distantly related you get voluta as a "spiral" or la voltereta "somersault" or "cartwheel", because volver is related to the idea of "turning" not just "to return", but you do see that "turn" in there even in English

...

Another irregular is dormir "to sleep" which is haber dormido which is normal, and dormido/a is "asleep"

But then its gerund form is durmiendo and you realize that there's a stem-changing with O=>UE, and so you get words related to sleeping or being "dormant", like la Bella Durmiente "Sleeping Beauty", duermevela "restless sleep" where vela is related to "vigil" or "wakefulness", or it goes back to normal spelling for things like dormilón/dormilona which is "sleepyhead"...

Similarly morir "to die" becomes irregular as haber muerto and then muerto/a "dead", la muerte "death", mortal "deadly" / "a mortal", inmortal "immortal / undying", mortífero/a "causing death", moribundo/a "death-bound" or "in the process of dying", la mortalidad "mortality", inmortalizar "to immortalize" etc etc etc

-

And honestly sometimes it becomes more abstract. Like hacer is "to do", hacer hecho. And then el hecho is "a fact", and la hazaña is "a deed" or "feat"

Then you realize hacer was once written with an F in older Spanish, and suddenly satisfacer "to satisfy" becoming satisfecho "satisfied" makes sense

And THEN you start seeing the -fy [which is like -ificar] suffix as "to make something", like deificar is "to deify" or "to make a deity" and it makes sense.

And THEN it gets weirder because you see hacer gets linked to la faz an older word for "face", and so you see la fachada "facade", la faceta "a facet"

...and it just spirals from there and your head spins

-

So in short, I think Spanish takes a lot of these overall concepts from Latin where there's usually the root word and very important root words become verbs

And it's hard to say - for me personally since I'm not a linguist or etymologist - which really came first... like did we see "sleep" first or did we have a word for "to sleep" and then adapt things around the concept or the verb?

-

I will say that in general if you know your past participles and verb conjugations you can find a whole lot of root words very easily. Sometimes I can puzzle out certain words based on the root. Or at least decide what general concept they have to deal with

Not every single time, but it sure helps. Though etymology journeys also help learning things or seeing patterns, but that's more of a linguistic approach than just "learn the language memorize the words know the conjugations"

[echodrops]

First off, I love your noragmi content and how you analyze things and brings facts up.

I was wondering if you have any theories about how yatoa nd hiyori would be abel to be an actual couple because they have both admitted to having feelings for each other, but I don't think they would be abel to date as they are now wirh hiyori being a human and yato be a God (plus the age gap) so do you have any idea or theories about how this would possibly work out?

There’s a lot of possibilities for where Adachitoka might take the Yatori plotline from here on out, and they have a tendency to make surprising choices so I wouldn’t say that I can really predict where things might go, but based on what we know right now, I would say there’s several different possibilities, some where they could be a couple and some much sadder than others:

1) Hiyori dies and becomes a shinki, possibly one who is immune to god’s greatest gift and therefore gets to keep the memories of her past. Personally I hope this doesn’t happen because shinki are viewed so much as tools by others in the story that there’s a constant undertone of angst and “I’m not worthy!” to any god/shinki ship. I feel like Yato wouldn’t worry about that kind of thing at all, but I’m not sure how Hiyori would feel about it. Then again, I would love to see what kind of shinki Hiyori would become, soooo maybe this wouldn’t be that bad. Since her brother is spiritually aware as well, she could still also maintain some ties to her family.

2) Hiyori dies and is deified, becoming a goddess. This might feel a little bit more like a long shot than just becoming a shinki; however, I feel like the story has an opening for this. In Shinto tradition, it’s not that uncommon for a business or location to take on a “patron god/goddess” by enshrining someone meaningful at them (re: Tama, the cat who was enshrined as the goddess of a train station). If Hiyori did die, she might theoretically be able to be enshrined as the patron goddess of her family’s hospital, which would tie into the dream she mentioned earlier of wanting to become a doctor--although she might not be able to be an actual doctor, she’d be able to be the guardian spirit of the hospital and protect everyone within it, while also standing on equal or more popular footing than Yato as a goddess. Then, she could also take Nora as her own shinki, keeping her in the “family” as they say. And she’d continue to have access to her own family via the hospital and her brother.

3) Hiyori’s status as a half-phantom grants her some powers that haven’t been revealed yet that mean she won’t age past a certain point or that she will somehow be able to continue to interact with the supernatural world with a youthful appearance even without technically dying in the real world. Since we don’t really know what it means for someone to be a half-phantom, given that Hiyori is the only known one in the series (since Father is currently believed to be something else), Adachitoka could pretty much make up whatever weird powers they want for her and we, the audience, would probably just go along with them readily, since it would make Yatori possible. This is honestly probably the easiest route, since nothing special needs to happen to make this route possible, but it might also feel the least narratively sound.

4) Nothing happens to Hiyori, and she continues to age normally. She and Yato could be together for as long as they felt it would be appropriate, probably could have a family of little demigods, and Hiyori’s children and grandchildren would continue to be watched over by Yato, Yukine, and probably even Nora throughout time. This would be very bittersweet, as Yato and Hiyori’s time together would be so short in the grand scheme of his life, but bittersweet endings can still have their own kind of appeal for the audience, and the authors wouldn’t have to jump through any hoops to make this kind of ending possible. I’m not sure I’d really be happy to have this kind of ending, but as a reader, I don’t think I would be really “let down” by it either.

5) Instead of something happening to Hiyori, something happens to Yato--maybe his Father really is his last reliable lifeline, and he will only live as long as Hiyori does after defeating his Father, so it doesn’t matter that she’s going to age and die as well. Or maybe he gets reincarnated, basically ending the possibility of a relationship. Or maybe all along it’s going to turn out that Yato wasn’t a god of anything and his Father, as a dead spirit himself, didn’t have the ability to create a god in the first place, so Yato is some weird half-and-half being for whom the rules of the existing plot don’t even really apply. They could basically pull anything out of a hat regarding who Yato really is and what he really can or can’t do at this point, so it’s entirely possible that something could happen to Yato that would make it possible for him to be with Hiyori in a different capacity than immortal god and mortal human. Whatever might happen to Yato though, it would also require Yukine to get a happy end somehow too, so this alternative seems a little less likely to me than others.

6) The story just ends before the question of mortality/immortality ever comes up. We get something basic like “For as long as we can be together, I can’t wait keep sharing my life with Yato and Yukine!” and the story just cuts off there, leaving us to just assume whatever comes next in their relationship.

Overall, I am inclined to trust that we will get either a happy or at least a bittersweet ending out of Noragami. Nothing in the story up to this point in time has suggested that Adachitoka intend to delivery a horrid tragedy where no one gets their happily ever after. I’m very hopeful that Yato and Hiyori will manage to have a romance, even if it does end up being the sad-but-still-sweet variety where Hiyori’s time with Yato and Yukine will be limited. I don’t know that Adachitoka will deliver a pain-free Yatori ending, but I know that whatever they have planned will be good!

[the-fae-folk]

What is a Fairy?

I suppose they probably need some explanation, especially nowadays. Fairies (Faeries, Fay, Fey, Fae, or even Fair Folk) could be considered a type of mythical being. Some have described them as spirits, others as ghosts of the deceased, some deified ancestors, prehistoric precursors to humans, personifications of nature, pagan deities, or even angels and demons in the way of Christian traditions. Often they encompass a metaphysical aspect, being depicted as spirits or beings who transcend the physical universe and world that we know. Or given features of the Supernatural, such as magic or extrasensory perception, which allow them to violate or go beyond the laws of nature. Even sometimes Preternatural, which something abnormal or strange and explainable but still within the boundaries of the natural laws of the universe (for example I could say someone is a preternaturally good cellist, and mean that they are impossibly good beyond expectations or even belief, but I’m not saying that they are actually magical...just that their apparent abilities and how they gained them are unknown and very strange to me.) But what is a fairy? Well you already know what some of them look like. Many people might immediately picture Tinkerbell from the animated Disney feature film, or even from the original Peter Pan novel by J. M. Barrie. And they would be correct, in part. Tinkerbell is a depiction of a Pixie, a specific type of fairy. But there are lots of fairy types, I don’t actually think there’s a complete list. (I should probably try to make one at some point, but no promises.) During some points in history the label of fairy was used to mean magical beings who had a mostly human shape. Gnomes, leprechauns, goblins, pixies, dwarfs, elfs, etc etc etc. And at other points it also included non humanoid magical creatures such as Unicorns, Dragons, Kelpie, Basilisk, and more (Sometimes these were referred to as Fairy Creatures). So where did they come from? Well the funny thing is that Fairies don’t actually come from only one area or set of myths. They are a strange combination of the folklore from all over Europe (and possibly beyond) and include ideas and stories from Celtic, Scandinavian, Nordic, Germanic, French, and English Folklore and Mythology. As these stories were passed around and intermingled and changed they brought about the collective creatures we know today as the Fae or Fairies. The Renaissance, Romantic Era, Victorian Era, Edwardian Era, and even the Celtic Revival Movement of the 19th and 20th centuries all had their influences on the stories and ideas connected with the Fairy folk, some significantly less helpful than others. Even the Fantasy Literature Genre, with Tolkien at its forefront, has added and changed much about people’s view on these creatures. So lets talk about some basic things you’ll want to know when dealing with Fairies. The first thing you might want to remember is that many people view the Tuatha Dé Danann (Supernatural gods, goddesses, heroes, and kings of Irish Mythology) as being the source for Faeries, or at least one of the strongest influences. Celtic Folklore and culture is easily one of the most visible bits of Faerie lore that you can find these days, but there’s a lot more that starts showing up when you begin to dig. Another thing to note is that the Renaissance, Romantic Era, Victorian Era, Edwardian Era, and the Celtic Revival Movement had a massive influence on how people saw fairies. They would mix folklore from different areas of Europe, attempted to prove the existence of fairies through scientific means, created artistic depictions of fairies, and much more. Often they sanitized and shrunk the fairies until they were mostly harmless or relegated to the outskirts of human life as a curiosity. Which brings me to the next point. In a lot of older folklore, from all over Europe, fairy beings are often depicted as being incredibly dangerous. Kidnapping humans or human babies, causing crops to wither, water to dry up, food to rot. They could lure people in with magic into a fairy ring of mushrooms and make them dance forever or make them forget their life. Sometimes they even played with time itself. A person could dance with the fairies only to find that they’ve been gone a hundred years when they try to go home. And many beliefs have depictions of some kind of Otherworld, a world apart from our own, or layered over it like an extra dimension we are unable to perceive or directly interact with. Sometimes its a land of the dead or a hidden underground kingdom, other times is a strange and fantastical country with its own laws and ways of doing things. As these stories meshed together we got what is known as Fairyland. The land which the fairies dwell in. Though some believe they simply live on Earth, hidden in the wild, or among us. Some reoccurring ideas are often connected with fairies, though not all have stayed the same as the original lore they were born from. The idea that Faeries, for whatever reason, are unable to or will not lie. This is a very important idea because the Folk are also simultaneously depicted as deceptive. Like particularly vicious lawyers they will play with words, never quite lying, but purposefully leading you astray or tricking you into a bad deal. They will often obey an oath, promise, or deal exactly to the letter, but ignore the intent behind it in order to twist it to their own benefit or amusement. Whether or not fairies are immortal depends entirely on where you draw your folklore from. Sometimes they are immortal; deathless, not mortal. Unable to die in spite of starvation, terrible wounds, age, or anything else. They are bound to life for all time. But some stories depict the stranger Fae Folk as being Eternal. Beyond time, always having existed and always existing, sometimes cycling, sometimes directionless and boundless and everything. Some tough concepts to get your head around, but nobody really agrees which one fairies are. In some folklore they’re even depicted as mortal, same as you and I, but a lot longer lived and harder to kill. A reoccurring motif in older Folklore is the need of humans to try and ward off fairies with charms and totems. When they were not depicted as outright malicious and dangerous, sometimes being thought to cause illness and death or bring about disastrous misfortune or steal a person’s name and voice, fairies were still mischievous and valiantly unhelpful. So people had all kinds of lucky charms to protect from them: like four leaf clovers, various plants, or actions like wearing your clothes inside out to confuse them. Iron is said in many beliefs to burn them, and certain herbs they view as sacred and will refrain from touching the bearer. A few more things. Christianity plays an important part in this discussion, though many people don’t like that. In many places myths and legends were wiped out by Christianity, either intentionally or simply by the very fact that it was trying to convert people in Europe and old pagan beliefs were seen as nonsensical. But still stories persisted despite this. Many old Myths and Folkloric beliefs were recorded for posterity by Christians, and some stories were altered and we are unable to see exactly how much (Beowulf). A lot of fairy stories remained too, only Christianity painted them as fallen angels or even demons of a kind, who could be kept away from Holy Ground, or were forced to kidnap humans to pay a tithe to Hell (or be taken themselves if they couldn’t pay). So folk beliefs, though generally discouraged by the church as superstition, remained quite strong all over Europe for a very long time. The last three things you need to know. One, there are many people who still believe in Fairies, though their beliefs often vary, sometimes wildly. Witches who claim to work with them. People who believe in them through their religions (usually pagans and other non christian groups). People who claim to have encountered or been abducted by them. And many others. While I personally do not believe in Fairies (though I like to keep an open mind, just in case), I do believe that the beliefs, cultures, and and rights of these people ought to be respected. Which leads me to other mythical beings that are similar to Fairies but hail from cultures and peoples outside of Europe. It might be tempting to label some of the spirits from various Native North American Tribes or from Chinese Folklore (or many others) as fairies. Don’t do that. If Fairies are real, you have to consider that there might be other mythical beings who fall under different categories and groups. And even if they are not real, it is extremely disrespectful to the people of those cultures to take their stories, myths, beliefs, and folklore and try to mesh it in with European Folklore. (this is exactly what the Victorian and Edwardian Era were guilty of.) And finally... Some people might tell you that they know everything there is to know about Fairies. Don’t believe them. Even I, who have spent years and years studying European Faerie Folklore, find new things about them every day. I have sources I’ve found and haven’t yet had the time to look into, areas of study I’ve had to neglect. There is so much about Fairies to explore that it’s quite literally impossible for any one person to know all of it. Personally I’m doubtful that a single person can even know an eighth of it all, you can hardly imagine how much there is. And while there is a great deal of it buried on the internet, there is even more offline. Books which are out of print or have never had their contents uploaded, cultural stories passed down in various European groups which are saved from oblivion only by the oratory tradition, and the remains of all kinds of long dead or vastly changed civilizations who believed in the Fairies and tried to work with or avoid or appease them. All the misinformation and personal gnoses out there also make it a lot harder to find accurate information about traditional folklore. And that’s not even counting the multitude of inventions and ideas spawned by fictional literature surrounding fairies. There is simply too much. But of course... Since when has something being impossible ever stopped a human from trying anyway? If you’re still interested, then who am I to discourage you? Go, jump right in. There’s so much to learn about the Faerie Folk.

[adventuresloane]

i associate you with hurloane so like… got any good hurloane hcs? 👀

*cracks knuckles* OH BOY DO I.

I’ve talked about some of these before but not in a long time so:

Hurley has curly dark red hair and Sloane calls her “Curls” as a nickname I cannot stress this enough.

Extremely touchy-feely as a couple. Hurley is just naturally a hugger in general, and Sloane, who isn’t great at verbally expressing her emotions due to Sarcastic Voice Syndrome, learns over time to also be more open to accepting and receiving touch. It takes her a little longer, since she wasn’t previously used to it, but she gets there.

On that note, Sloane, who stays up late, often finds Hurley slumped and dozing on her shoulder at night when they’re together on the couch. She doesn’t mind.

Every now and then, Hurley will pretend to sleep but makes herself stay up to hear Sloane, very quietly, singing. The only time she does it is when she thinks Hurley’s nodded off.

The trade-off is that it’s impossible to get Sloane out of bed before 10 AM. Hurley more or less has to physically drag her if they need to be somewhere before then. They’re sun and moon gays and you can tell which is which immediately.

I know they love cars but consider also: motorcycle lesbians.

So my idea for the start of their relationship is mmmm somewhat different from what’s shown in the GN and implied in podcast canon. I think Hurley was indeed put on the Raven’s case, but in the process she fell in love with the idea of battlewagons and took it upon herself to approach the Raven as a partner--masked and disguised as the Ram. They’re racing together for months before Sloane finds out what her partner looks like and that she’s a cop.

Idk where I came up with this, but for some reason I believe very strongly that Hurley is the oldest of 5 siblings, all of whom were adopted by their single mother. This is basically the opposite of Sloane’s upbringing, since she’s an only child who was raised by her father and left home early. Imagine her bewilderment when she is immediately and forcefully “adopted” as soon as she meets Hurley’s very open and tight-knit family.

This is most likely evident from my previous header but trans as all hell. Specifically trans woman Sloane and nb butch Hurley. I like to think Hurley is also pronoun-neutral. 

Hurley likes to annoy Sloane by messing with her stupid long half-elf ears that move independently. 

It’s a Thing in Goldcliff, after S&S, to bring gifts to the cherry tree in thanks to the dryads who led the city’s fight against the hunger. Little things--coins, stuffed animals, fruit, eventually a raven feather wrapped in wool. Later on, those gifts are accompanied by odd notes written by people in the city who need help with a love matter, especially wlw, especially young wlw. You could almost call them prayers.

Now, just because they’re immortal and semi-deified doesn’t mean Sloane isn’t still internally, like, 28 forever. She doesn’t really know what to do when she encounters someone who comes to her with one of these matters directly. She does her best though.

“Have you tried fuckin uhhhh taking them to fantasy Five Guys”

Hurley commends her for trying.

Thank u for asking. <3

[rametarin]

An amusing premise for a movie.

So, humans develop fusion power, Faster Than Light Travel, teleportation, and enough people make enough communities that value peace and technology and fair play in business and labor that the idea of war anymore is absurd. We master medical technology so we don’t age anymore, and now the universe is our oyster to go colonize.

Then aliens show up.

To invade? No. Just to introduce themselves as neighbors. We learn basically once you hit these milestones, there’s nothing left to do. You’ve won. Things don’t get better, they just get perfected and baseline. After that, freedom and just livin’ life amongst the stars.

So ultimately what do the aliens do for us?

Well, they reveal they’ve been watching the evolution of earth species for hundreds of millions of years. And they have the equivalent of youtube vids of EVERY SINGLE TECHNOLOGICAL OR SOCIOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENT humans have EVER done, ever. Want to know the date the first human being made the first cave painting, where it was, and if it survived to today? What all the pieces of lost pottery and art ever made look like, what they were composed and where they’re buried? They have that, too.

The first hominid to ever officially make what counts as the first spear? They have that date and location and even the human name of that guy, too. And video of the first time a hominid USED one.

And humans realize that they’ve deified the idea of the all knowing, enlightened alien and godlike evolutionary potential. Making them effectively no different from the tribal Cargo Cultists that saw American planes flying overhead and assumed they were vessels of the gods.

The humans get full access to the missing archives of their entire species’ existence. Every lost language, every lost lineage, even knowledge of every murder and innocent person framed and every domestic dispute humanity has ever engaged in. All of it. If you wanted you could look back and see video of every time one of your ancestors masturbated.

And the policy of no-contact until they meet the minimum criteria is true for all species. Which is why even with all our data for UFOs, they reveal no member of their little group or any group in space for that matter has ever visited earth or contacted them. All our supposed UFO sightings, all our supposed encounters with aliens?.. Never happened. Imaginary. There aren’t even any alien species that look like that among them.

So end-game technological and social evolution is effectively if you gave every person today an infinite source of electricity, an infinite source of fabrication to turn soil into anything you wish, an infinite supply of food and an infinite lifespan. And thanks to domestic and foreign sources, adequate sources of information on science and the natural universe.

The movie would end with the protagonist in a night club on a space station.

And what would the point ultimately be? I dunno. There’s elements of existentialism in here as well as nihilism depending on your viewpoint. I suppose I deliberately punch the image of the alien species as this ancient and unfathomably intelligent or developed godlike species of pacifists with secret social development to share or something, right in the face..

I guess I’ve never cared for the trope that we’re basically just naked retarded babies before a wise and nigh immortal civilization that has figured it all out, just because people see humanity as disgusting and putridly backwards. They view their preferred way of doing things as ideal, so they imagine an alien race of superior and developed people must do things that way, because it’s, “clearly the more logical and wise option.”

Says whom? The aliens? By comparison you could say most European civilization was the superior social model to many civilizations and societies they trod upon and colonized. That doesn’t mean it was absolutely superior, even if it had technological differences and a social model that better respected social ladders than chieftans and polyagamous kings. And idealizing the alien because they’ve had that technolgy or science for longer, or imagining some other model is superior because the alien uses it, is no different from a stone age man thinking European colonization is the naturally superior civilization because of all the medicine, science and freedom of movement and property.

So I just can’t see them as anything but exotic xenophilic cargo cultists. And I just can’t imagine an alien species that has hit end-game would be so conceited as to think a species that merely half to a quarter million years ago was hunting mammoths and stabbing wild cats with sticks was inherently beneath them just because they only just hit the major leagues of civilizations and species ability.

With a nigh infinite amount of time spanning before you and no real lingering biological necessities to worry about, be it food scarcity, water or property, you now have all the time in the universe to pursue anything you want, for whatever reason you want. The species is guaranteed survival and further speciation.  You now have a complete burden of control and agency and no responsibilities weighing you down.

So. What do you do? Probably whatever you’d do from age 18 to 60, but for as long as you live without a tragic accident. And that’s ultimately what the story would convey. Rich, poor, doesn’t mean much when you have infinite space to play with and matter/energy aren’t really much of an obstacle to whatever you want to make.

[signetofworlds]

No Immortal (Divine Manifestations of Golarion)

“I only wanted a blessing made

Now I've been labeled a renegade

It seems so clear now what I must do

You're no immortal, I won't let them

Deify you

They view you as the new messiah

Deify you

Renew belief in some demented man”

-Dan Donegan / David Draiman / Michael Wengren / Mike Wengren, “Deify”

Many find my profession as a cleric to be at odds with my rather blatant misotheism. My disdain for the Last Azlanti is the closest that I come to hating anything in this ridiculous universe, and trust me when I say that a cursory search of my memories would be enough to outrage even the steadiest of sages. Let me clarify that I am not and have never been out against the conventional gods for attention, nor do I merely dislike the idea of obeying rules or tenets (a little bit of routine works wonders for me, in fact). The reason I so often dislike deities is because their work is so often built on deception, deception which does little more than entrap mortals by making them view the cosmos as a diorama of smiling personas. 

Now, maybe there are some myths out there which have made their way to me free of embellishment. Maybe those towers across Golarion really were built by Dou-Bral to stitch together a ludicrously complicated prison for the ravenous beast known as Rovagug. That said, I can’t help but snicker at the concept of the monstrosity entombed within the planet being able to consume the entire universe. Having met a number of gods, I can tell you that they are nothing to sneeze at in terms of power. That said, it is absolutely possible for a determined and immensely skilled/lucky group of individuals to combat, incapacitate, and eventually kill a so-called deity. I’ve seen it happen before, and the mere idea is often enough to render my interlocutors’ jaws slack. 

And yes, before you ask, I mean this about ANY god. If something interacts with worshippers, accepts offerings, and tosses out clerical magic like candy, it can be found, isolated, and eventually destroyed (notice how I discounted Yog-Sothoth, the Green Faith, and other fundamentally disinterested forces from this definition. I’ve tried to kill gravity six times and it has never worked). I personally have no interest in attempting such tasks, as titles like “The Butcher of Divinity” tend to make covert research a rather difficult affair. That said, there are a number of people who have made promises of favors in exchange for the information I will provide below.

Presented here is a pamphlet containing basic rundowns of the abilities of various deities known across Golarion. These could potentially be utilized for staging a conflict with them, or perhaps they could be used to resolve esoteric arguments about the relative abilities of different divinities. One thing that I know for certain is that a lot of very powerful and insecure beings will be sniffing my shadows for disclosing this information. Relish in this bit of enlightenment, but know that somebody has been burdened with many sleepless nights in order to deliver it.

Every one of these characters uses the Walking God template, which accounts for their tremendous power and their ability to grant spells to worshippers. This makes hurting them somewhat difficult, but many associates have informed me that “If it rolls, we can kill it.”

Abadar: Human Symbiat (Egregore) 20/Spheremaster 8, CR 32

Achaekek: Unique Mythic Asura MR 7, CR 31

Alseta: Human Symbiat (Synapse) 20/Spheremaster 6, CR 30

Arazni: Mythic Lich Human Legendary Wizard (Genius Scholar) 20/MR 1, CR 27

Asmodeus: Unique Mythic Pit Fiend MR 10, CR 34

Besmara: Undine Hedgewitch 20/Trickster 2. CR 26

Brigh: Forgeborn Blacksmith (Essence Smith) 20/Spheremaster 5, CR 29

Calistria: Elf Eliciter 20/Spheremaster 5, CR 29

Casandalee: Android Symbiat (Technopath) 20/Spheremaster 3, CR 27

Cayden Cailean: Human Fighter (Coiled Blade) 20/Gifted 4, CR 28

Chaldira: Halfling Rogue (Lucky Bastard) 20/Trickster 5, CR 29

Desna: Aasimar Bard (Corteggiare)/Trickster 9, CR 33

Erastil: Skinwalker Hunter (Greenrunner) 20/Gifted 8, CR 32

Ghlaunder: Unique Mythic Fiend, MR 6, CR 30

Gorum: Half-Orc Armiger 20/Gifted 6, CR 30

Gozreh: Suli Druid (Avatar) 20/Spheremaster 7, CR 31

Grandmother Spider: Kasatha Fey Adept 20/Spheremaster 8, CR 32

Groetus: ??? (I wouldn’t even call this thing a god, honestly)

Gruhastha: Human Scholar 20/Gifted 3, CR 27

Hei Feng: Tengu Armorist (Vajrahasta) 20/Gifted 5, CR 29

Iomedae: Human Paladin (Champion of the Cause) 20/Gifted 4, CR 28

Irori: Human Unchained Monk (Drifting Lotus) 20/Gifted 3, CR 27

Kazutal: Human Conscript 20/Gifted 5, CR 29

Kurgess: Human Thaumaturge (Savant) 20/Gifted 2, CR 26

Lamashtu: Unique Mythic Gallu Demon MR 7, CR 31

Milani: Half-Elf Commander 20/Marshal 6, CR 30

Nethys: ??? (This god evidently knows what he’s doing)

Nivi Rhombodazzle: Gnome Hedgewitch 20/Spheremaster 5

Nocticula: Unique Demon Lord MR 1, CR 29

Norgorber

Reaper of Reputation: Human Commander 20/Gifted 4. CR 28

Father Skinsaw: Human Slayer (Mercenary) 20/Gifted 4, CR 28

The Gray Master: Human Unchained Rogue (Treasure Seeker) 20/Trickster 4, CR 28

Blackfingers: Human Scholar 20/Gifted 4, CR 28

Pharasma: Elan Soul Weaver 20/Spheremaster 10, CR 34

Rovagug: Unique Qlippoth, MR 10, CR 40

Sarenrae: Unique Empyrean Angel, MR 7, CR 31

Shelyn: Human Eliciter 20/Spheremaster 6, CR 30

Shizuru: Human Mageknight (Warrior of Holy Light) 20/Gifted 5, CR 29

Sivanah: Fetchling Fey Adept 20/Spheremaster 2, CR 26

Torag: Dwarf Blacksmith 20/Gifted 5, CR 29

Tsukiyo: Human Soul Weaver (Ghost Sovereign) 20/Spheremaster 5, CR 29

Urgathoa: Mythic Vampire Soul Weaver 20, MR 7, CR 32

Zon-Kuthon: Human Eliciter (Fright Wright) 20/Spheremaster 6, CR 30

[mythologyfolklore]

Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 13

Chapter Thirteen: The Odyssey, Pt. 01

.

Zeus was doing his correspondence.

He was also mentally cursing himself for allowing Ares to go on his world trip.

The war god, who was always written off as stupid and incompetent had been a big help with the mail, but now Zeus was submerging in a sea of prayers, letters from both his own pantheon and from abroad, and complaints. Complaints en masse.

“'You won't be needing me', he said, 'That stuff is really easy', he said!”, Zeus grumbled irritably.

Then there was a knock on the door.

“Enter!”

It was Athena, who came in.

Zeus stood up. “My little Owl-Eye! So good to see you!”

Athena looked around, assessed the situation in one glance and grinned: “Too much paper stuff?”

“Too much paper stuff”, he confirmed.

“If I help you with all of that, will you let Odysseus finally return home?”

Zeus laughed heartily: “I was going to do that anyway! But how could I possibly refuse that offer?”

Athena beamed at him.

Cute.

.

After doing the majority of her father's paper stuff and questioning how Ares with his lack of tact had done this all those millennia, Athena wasted no time in descending down to earth and onto Ithaka.

She had to take a look at the situation there – and to see, if the son of Odysseus was any good.

In the shape of an old friend of Odysseus' she went up to the palace.

Even from the outside, she could hear a lot of noise.

What the Tartaros is going on in there?

As she came into the yard, she saw strangers – probably the suitors of Penelope – playing boardgames to waste their time, sitting on the skins of bovines they had slaughtered and generally living the high life consuming the wealth of another, like parasites.

Soon she was noticed and approached by a young man with chestnut brown hair.

The sharp green eyes, so much like those of Odysseus, gave away who he was.

“Welcome, welcome!”, Telemakhos exclaimed, “Do come in, our respected guest! We shall give you the best we have to offer! And after you have eaten and refreshed yourself, tell us what brings you here.”

Athena could tell, that the young man was miserable at the situation, but he didn't show it.

He was nothing but polite and respectful towards his guest and readied her a place apart from all the insolent suitors.

“I don't assume you want to eat with this noisy crew”, he commented.

“No, I prefer to eat and drink in peace.”

Just a few moments later, the suitors came in, rude and hubristic as they apparently always were.

They were served and then forced a musician to sing for them. The man glared at them hatefully, but began to sing beautifully.

Telemakhos looked pained and murmured to the disguised Athena: “Would you lend me your ear?”

“Of course.”

“I hate this. I hate how these people consume the goods of another without care or compensation, while my mother and I mourn my dear father, who is most likely dead, even though some say that he'll come back one day. But our hope is dwindling from day to day. And we can't even give him an honourable burial, because his bones are probably lying on the bottom of the sea, where the salt water washes and bleaches them. But tell me, stranger, who are you, which family and what home do you come from?”

“My name is Mentor, son of Anchialos and Lord of Taphos. I'm a good friend of your father's and our fathers were friends before us (you can ask Laertes, I heard he lives away from here out of shame). I'm on my way to Temesa to trade precious metals and tissue. I wanted to pay you a visit, because I heard that your father was home. But apparently he's not. But I'm certain he's not dead either; perhaps some brutal and savage tribe is holding him captive and keeping him from coming home. Now I'm not a prophet, but I know for certain, that the Deathless Ones will grant him a safe homecoming soon. He won't stay away from home for much longer, I'm sure. But what about you? Are you really his son? You have his eyes, you do. I may not have seen him in over twenty years, but his face was hardly one I could forget!”

“He is my father”, Telemakhos sighed, “But I wish that rather instead of such an unfortunate man it was one, who could be here with his family, growing old in peace in his own land.”

Athena pitied the young man, but had to keep her act up.

“Now, now. Your family was made for glory and you're no different, I can tell. But tell me, what is this celebration here for? Those men there certainly don't obey the laws of hospitality, uncouth and shamefully as they're acting. Any sensible man would be ashamed.”

Telemakhos frowned – just the way his father always did.

“I'm not going to lie: there must have been a time, when this was an honest household, wealthy and abundant, while its master was still here. But just a few years ago, the entire noble population of this one and the surrounding islands have come to woo my mother and now they're feeding off our property. We can't get rid of them, they won't leave until my mother marries one of them. She loathes the idea, but she can't offend them by refusing outright, so she's putting them off for as long as she can. Meanwhile these parasites are eating my reserves and sooner or later they will surely kill me.”

“Mentor” was indignant. “By the gods, you really need Odysseus back home! Would he come through this door in full armour and make short work of them! Oh, for them to be taken by dark Soteira¹ and rot in the underworld!”

“I wish”, the young man muttered.

But the disguised goddess continued: “But it's all in the hand of the gods, whether he will come home and have bloody revenge. For now, this is my counsel, from an old friend to a young one: summon the council of the island, tell the suitors to leave and your mother, if she chooses to marry, to return to the home of her father, for a dower to be prepared. As for yourself, prepare a good ship with twenty rowers and travel abroad to inquire about the whereabouts of your glorious father. First travel to Pylos and ask Nestor and if he can't help you out, move on to Sparta, to the court of Menélaos – he came home last, as far as I know. Should they give you hope, that your father is still alive, hang in there for another year. Should you hear, that he's dead, make a burial mount for him, with many gifts, as is appropriate. Then eliminate all those insolent suitors. Haven't you heard of how Orestes gained glory by slaying the murderer of his father Agamemnon? You're no longer a child, you're a grown handsome man. Hesitate not. Defend your honour, so that future generations may speak well of you. But I must leave now – surely my crew is getting impatient down at the harbour!”

Telemakhos smiled warmly (that was his mother's smile): “Thank you for your advice, kind old man. But won't you stay just a little longer? You're my guest, how could I possibly let you go without a gift? A precious and pretty one-”

“I'm afraid I really have no time”, she chuckled, “But I will come back and till then chose a really beautiful guest gift! It will be returned with one of equal worth.”

Then she turned into a small owl and flew out of the window, leaving behind a stunned Telemakhos.

.

Meanwhile Hermes had made his way to Ogygia, the island of Kalypso.

The nymph welcomed him and served him nectar and ambrosia and wanted to know, what he was here for.

Hermes, now refreshed, briefed her on the situation: “The King of the Gods has sent me to let you know his will. We happen to know, that you're keeping a poor man, who has been away from home for twenty years. Ten years he spent in the land of the Trojans, three lost at sea and seven years he has been languishing here, pining for home. This is the will of His Majesty: for this mortal to finally get home to his family, to reclaim his home and embrace his wife and son again. That is his lot, not to vegetate here, far away from his loved ones.”

Kalypso blanched and her eyes filled with tears.

“This … this is not fair! Why won't the gods allow, that a goddess may be happy with a mortal? Êôs loved Orion, only for him to die by the hands of golden-throned Artemis! Demeter loved Iasion, only for him to be hit by the Thunderer's lightning bolts! I saved this man, hosted and fed him, offered him immortality, so he would never grow old and die-”

“Êôs and Demeter were loved back”, Hermes countered, “Odysseus isn't happy with you. We see this man weeping on the strand day after da. Not every mortal wants immortality, Kalypso. Immortality is no blessing for a mortal, even though a lot of people think that. Odysseus needs his family and they need him. Let him go. Don't risk the anger of the King of the Gods.”

The nymph choked back a sob, but nodded.

.

Poseidon was returning from a party in Ethiopia, when he spotted something he did not like: his nemesi- er, the mortal he hated, merrily rowing on the surface of his sea on a raft with provisions.

Within seconds he put two and two together: the other gods must have decided for Odysseus to be allowed to go home, while he had been away.

“Well, I'm not letting him off easy”, Poseidon grumbled and unleashed a mighty storm, house-high waves, deadly currents and all.

.

Odysseus clung to his raft, as it was thrown back and forth by the waves and realised, that he was likely going to drown.

“Aw, shit!”, he muttered and held on tighter, because there was no way he would accept a death as inglorious as drowning.

But as he was clinging to his wooden raft, he soon saw the foam on one of the waves shift into the shape of a woman.

That was Leukothea, formerly Ino, the daughter of Kadmos and Harmonia and aunt of Dionysos, who had been deified by Poseidon, many centuries ago.

She pitied the struggling mortal thrown around by the raging sea.

“Poor man” she spoke, “What have you done to provoke the merciless wrath of Poseidon, that he wants to drown you so badly? But fear not, I'm here to help you. Listen: take off your clothes and everything that drags you down, then tie my scarf around your chest – it will save you from drowning. Once you have reached dry land, give it back to me.”

She handed him a silken scarf and dived back into the waves.

Odysseus frowned. Why would I need this, when I have a raft?

Right in that moment, said raft was torn apart by a particularly huge wave.

Never mind.

He did as the marine goddess had told him and took to swimming.

In the meantime Poseidon retired to his crystal palace on the bottom of the sea.

Odysseus spent the next two days fighting against the raging sea, trying to finally reach the shore.

All the while, Athena was with him, never once taking her protection away.

She stilled the winds and gave him the strength to swim long enough to reach the shore of the land of the Phaiakoi.

The long-suffering hero finally found a piece of strand, crawled onto the shore and fainted.

When he came to himself, he took off the anti-drowning-scarf and threw it back into the sea, back to its owner.

Then he turned his back onto the water, stumbled further inland and crawled under a bush.

Exhausted, hurting everywhere and too tired to do anything, he fell into a healing, restful slumber.

.

Athena meanwhile entered the sleep of Nausikaa, the princess of this land, disguised as one of her friends. She inspired her to go out in the morning to do her laundry with her maids and maybe play at ball and Nausikaa woke up, resolved to do just that.

.

Odysseus woke up to women's screaming.

He crawled out from under this bush, covered his private parts with a leafy branch and went to investigate.

Soon he came across a group of ladies, apparently looking for something.

When they saw him, they screamed and fled, all except for one.

She didn't seem to be afraid at all.

And perhaps she could help him.

So the former hero cleared his throat and with many a flattery asked her for help.

The lady introduced herself as princess Nausikaa of the Phaiakoi and gave him some of her father's clothes she and her maids had been washing earlier.

Once washed and finally dressed, he could feel a divine presence cast a spell on him.

When he stepped back in front of Nausikaa, he guessed that Athena had made him look younger and more stately than he actually was, because the princess proclaimed her hope to have a bridegroom as regal and handsome as himself.

Then she pointed him a way to the city, while she left for some place else.

One of her maids guided him and instructed him on how he should come to the king and queen to plead for hospitality.

He did as told and they received him kindly.

.

Next morning, king Alkinoos called an assembly of the local nobility, introduced them to this stranger and informed him of his request.

They marvelled at the newcomer, whom Athena had given godlike beauty, so that he would find approval and be liked by the people here.

“This stranger – I don't know who he is – has been stranded here and beseeches me for help to return to his homeland”, Alkinoos explained. “No supplicant has ever asked us in vain for safe transport. So let's ready a ship and rowers and let him go where he wishes to, as soon as possible. But first we should host him according to the laws of hospitality. Let a great feast be prepared and summon our best musician.”

This was done and not much later, the entire nobility was gathered in his hall to feast.

Demodokon, the blind singer, entertained them with his beautiful music and sung of the glory of the Achaeans in the Trojan War.

The musical reminder of the events made Odysseus upset and he pulled the cloak he was wearing over his face, so no one saw him cry.

.

Next was a small tournament.

The young Phaiakoi competed in all kinds of sports.

Odysseus was feeling too gloomy to participate in discus throwing, but when one of the young men provoked him and questioned his masculinity, he got so angry that he grabbed the biggest, heaviest discus at hand and threw it much farther than all the others.

“As you can see”, he turned to the stunned Phaiakoi, “I'm more than adept in the art of war and battle. If any of you wants to challenge me in another discipline, I'm more than confident, that I can best them. Except when it comes to running, as my leg muscles are out of shape.”

Alkinoos quickly pacified his guest and called to music and dance.

Odysseus marvelled at the dancing skills of the Phaiakoi, at the gracefulness of their movements and how their feet practically flew across the dance floor.

The singer Demodokon sang about the love of Ares and Aphrodite and of how her then husband Hephaistos had caught them in his golden net.

A pair of dancers performed a rhythmic ball play and everyone clapped along to the beat.

Odysseus turned to Alkinoos: “You praised your people as the best of dancers and it's really true! The sight astonishes me.”

That pleased the king and he ordered for rich guest presents to be given to the flatterer.

The man, who had provoked Odysseus earlier, gave him a reconciliatory gift (an iron sword² with a silver handle and ivory sheath) and an apology, which the older man gladly accepted and wished him, that he would never regret having given his sword away.

Evening came and after a nice bath Odysseus went to join another banquet, which was about to take place.

On the way he met Nausikaa and they bid each other farewell, as only men were allowed at the Symposion.³

As all men sat down to eat, Odysseus cut off a good piece of his meat and offered it to the grateful singer as a token of appreciation.

Demodokon continued his earlier song about the heroic deeds of the Achaeans in the Trojan War. Odysseus requested: “You sing so beautifully and accurately of those events! But now sing of the wooden horse! Sing of the thing that Epeios built with Athena's aid and which was brought to Troy, filled by Odysseus with warriors to raze Troy to the ground! If you can do that, I would be forever grateful!”

The singer did so and everyone was captivated.

But the memory made the war veteran weep bitterly.

When Alkinoos saw this, he ordered Demodokon to stop and asked Odysseus what the matter was.

“Also”, he added, “I still don't know who you are. What's your name, your family and the name of your home? Were you there in Troas or did you lose someone dear to you in this terrible war? A family member, a comrade or a friend?”

The other man wiped his tears away and stood up.

“I am Odysseus, son of Laertes, who beguiles men with cunning and beautiful words, whose fame reaches to the skies. I come from the bountiful island of Ithaka and I couldn't possibly think of a sweeter sight than my own home.”

The whole room was silent, as everyone stared at him.

.

---

.

1) Soteira: "Saviour", an epithet to many goddesses. In this case a euphemistic epithet of Persephone. 2) The Trojan War is supposed to have taken place in about the 13th or 12th century BC, which was still in the bronze age. So an iron weapon was something special. Iron was hard to forge, because it requires a higher temperature than copper and tin (the components of bronze), but it's also tougher than bronze. Therefore it was in high demand and it would stay that way, during the iron age and beyond. But because it was harder to work with and for other reasons, it was a lot more expensive than bronze. 3) The Symposion (a banquet with music, dance and philosophical discussions) was for men only. Ancient Greek misogyny, everyone. -_-

[howieabel]

Let me now give you an example of Mr Proudhon's dialectics. Freedom and slavery constitute an antagonism. There is no need for me to speak either of the good or of the bad aspects of freedom. As for slavery, there is no need for me to speak of its bad aspects. The only thing requiring explanation is the good side of slavery. I do not mean indirect slavery, the slavery of proletariat; I mean direct slavery, the slavery of the Blacks in Surinam, in Brazil, in the southern regions of North America. Direct slavery is as much the pivot upon which our present-day industrialism turns as are machinery, credit, etc. Without slavery there would be no cotton, without cotton there would be no modern industry. It is slavery which has given value to the colonies, it is the colonies which have created world trade, and world trade is the necessary condition for large-scale machine industry. Consequently, prior to the slave trade, the colonies sent very few products to the Old World, and did not noticeably change the face of the world. Slavery is therefore an economic category of paramount importance. Without slavery, North America, the most progressive nation, would be transformed into a patriarchal country. Only wipe North America off the map and you will get anarchy, the complete decay of trade and modern civilisation. But to do away with slavery would be to wipe America off the map. Being an economic category, slavery has existed in all nations since the beginning of the world. All that modern nations have achieved is to disguise slavery at home and import it openly into the New World. After these reflections on slavery, what will the good Mr Proudhon do? He will seek the synthesis of liberty and slavery, the true golden mean, in other words the balance between slavery and liberty. Mr Proudhon understands perfectly well that men manufacture worsted, linens and silks; and whatever credit is due for understanding such a trifle! What Mr Proudhon does not understand is that, according to their faculties, men also produce the social relations in which they produce worsted and linens. Still less does Mr Proudhon understand that those who produce social relations in conformity with their material productivity also produce the ideas, categories, i.e. the ideal abstract expressions of those same social relations. Indeed, the categories are no more eternal than the relations they express. They are historical and transitory products. To Mr Proudhon, on the contrary, the prime cause consists in abstractions and categories. According to him it is these and not men which make history. The abstraction, the category regarded as such, i.e. as distinct from man and his material activity, is, of course, immortal, immutable, impassive. It is nothing but an entity of pure reason, which is only another way of saying that an abstraction, regarded as such, is abstract. An admirable tautology! Hence, to Mr Proudhon, economic relations, seen in the form of categories, are eternal formulas without origin or progress. To put it another way: Mr Proudhon does not directly assert that to him bourgeois life is an eternal truth; he says so indirectly, by deifying the categories which express bourgeois relations in the form of thought. He regards the products of bourgeois society as spontaneous entities, endowed with a life of their own, eternal, the moment these present themselves to him in the shape of categories, of thought. Thus he fails to rise above the bourgeois horizon. Because he operates with bourgeois thoughts and assumes them to be eternally true, he looks for the synthesis of those thoughts, their balance, and fails to see that their present manner of maintaining a balance is the only possible one.

Karl Marx, Letter to Pavel Vasilyevich Annenkov, (28 December 1846), Rue d'Orleans, 42, Faubourg Namur, Marx Engels Collected Works Vol. 38, p. 95; International Publishers (1975). First Published: in full in the French original in M.M. Stasyulevich i yego sovremenniki v ikh perepiske, Vol. III, 1912