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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 1 month

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ATSV Fun Fact!! - Mumbattan Cultural Details

Gayatri & Inspector Singh follow the Sikh Religion

Have you ever heard of Punjabi Sikhs?

If you don't know - Sikhism is a religion that originates in northern India, specifically Punjab.

The turban Gayatri's father wears - along with his last name 'Singh' implies that her father is most likely a Punjabi Sikh.

I notice this the first time watching ATSV and was like 'wow that's so cool :)'

It only hit me today that 'Oh wait I don't think a lot of people know about this very-specific, rarely-mentioned religion maybe i should say something,'

And because I LOVE yelling about world culture, LET'S GO!!!

[a SHORT essay where I explain the basics of Sikhism, a religion built on equality and justice. And details in The Singhs design, and exactly why Sikh Representation matters]

So What's Sikhism about?

Often mistaken for Muslims - Sikhs are actually a non-Abrahamic religion, with 20 million followers worldwide.

But even with so many visible practicing members, most people know very very little about this beautiful religion!

Sikhs believe in equality and unity - and defending the oppressed. Their book of faith, The Guru Granth Sahib Ji, is called 'Guru' for a reason - Sikhs see the book as not just a code of conduct, but as a living, breathing teacher for every practicioner;

From Wikipedia on Guru Granth Sahib: Sikhs since then [1708] have accepted the Guru Granth Sahib, the sacred scripture, as their eternal-living guru, as the embodiment of the ten Sikh Gurus, the highest religious and spiritual guide for Sikhs. It plays a central role in guiding the Sikh's way of life.

The Guru Granth Sahib is the spiritual leader of Sikhism, and it's treated as such.

That's why in Gurdwaras - their place of worship - it's treated as such, being clothed and held in ornate structure, constantly fanned throughout it's readings (the fan you can see in the left picture).

They believe that by following the Guru Granth Sahib Ji, they can cultivate compassion, peace, and harmony in their communities, while diminishing 'Mara' - concepts like hatred or violence.

Sikhs believe that every Sikh should revere themselves as champions of unity. And because of this many Sikhs have the same last name -

Kaur for women (Meaning Princess) and Singh for men (Meaning Lion).

Having the same last name also does away with the Indian caste system, making it another point of equality.

In ATSV Gayatri last name is Singh. However from my understanding, her name would most likely be Gayatri Kaur in reality.

I think they kept her last name as Singh as a deliberate choice to keep her initials as GS, like Gwen Stacy.

So is Gayatri Sikh?

Maybe - most likely.

But we can't be sure. Mainly because of her hair.

Gayatri has a short bob haircut, and while that might not seem like it matters, it does!

In Sikhism there are the '5K's - different aspects Sikhs wear to show their faith.

Notice the first one?

'Kesh' is the practice of leaving ones hair completely uncut. That's why you may see a lot of Sikh men with long, long beards!

And hence, the large turbans.

It's done as respect for God's creation - leaving it unaltered.

[Fun Fact! - Rastafarians, a Jamaican religion, also don't cut their hair for this reason. Think Bob Marley. Rastas call God - Jah]

So, Gayatri having short hair means she doesn't keep Kesh.

However, Sikh is a super accepting and open religion, and it's main focus is on acceptance of difference, not conformity - so she could entirely follow the faith without doing all of any of the 5Ks.

Also, if you're curious about the steel sword K - Kirpan, yes that's a thing!

Sikhs of all genders are encouraged to carry a small ceremonial blade with them.

Instead it's a symbol of the commitment to fighting for what's right - and defending those who cannot defend themselves.

A Kirpan can ONLY be used to defend the life of yourself or others, which is incredibly rare.

Why is this all so rad, cool, and important?

If you haven't noticed by now, Sikhism is a religion driven by justice. Not just in theory, but in really life as well.

That's why you may see many Sikh police officers and politicians, even here in the West. Most of them wearing the emblem on their turbans.

In fact, Canada has SO MANY Sikh politicians, that in 2019 they elected 18 of them.

For centuries Sikhs have been dedicated to justice, and developing systems of support, whether that be political involvement or feeding those in need.

The biggest Gurdwara (a place of Sikh worship) The Golden Temple feeds over 100,000 people A DAY.

For FREE.

It's a practice called Langar. A communal meal anyone can enjoy. And of course, Langar food is vegetarian.

Making Inspector Singh a Sikh - and showing him saving people and being warm to his daughter on screen is great representation for a community so often overlooked! Despite the fact they are over 20 million practicing Sikhs.

It's a great detail for Indian and Punjabi representation in specific. It accurate shows their beliefs and commitment towards helping others, no matter the cost.

And from what we can tell, this choice came later in development. We know this because ALL of his concept art shows him with a turban, not keeping Kesh.

It seems like someone later on down the line said 'Wait if his name is Singh I think he's Sikh and if he's Sikh then we're gonna have to redesign him and make that obvious oops'.

That, dear audience, is why you always have an Anthropologist in the writing room. Or some amateur anthropologist like me :)

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I hope you enjoyed reading this, I really enjoyed writing it!! Sikhism is one of my favorite religions and if you have never heard anything from the Guru Granth Sahib I HIGHLY recommend it, it's very optimistic and compassionate. Sikhnet(.)com is also a great resource!

I have no idea if this will pique anyone's interest, but I hardly ever see Sikhs reflected in media and I know many many people may confuse them with Muslim, especially since many women Sikhs keep kesh and cover their hair as well.

But if you ever wanted to know the difference, here it is! If you read this far, thank you SO MUCH. And if you're a Sikh and reading this, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

As usual, here's a photo of Hobie for your travels.

BYE.

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mmgwritings · 6 months

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I'M GONNA TAKE MINE OF YOU WITH ME

Character: Kaz Brekker / Wife! Reader

Prompts: There is a word for children who lose their parents, but there is none for parents who lose a child.

Warnings: Canon divergence; Angst; Character death; Grief; Kaz suffering; i'm sorry :(

Never trust the Saints; they give and take away.

Initially, a curfew was imposed. Without prior warning, patrol officers closed all clubs, brothels and merchant mansions, causing a commotion among the population that was soon violently suppressed. Later, when the disease spread from the interior of Kesh to the suburbs of Ketterdam, the healers' homes became crowded, and before long even the healers needed the assistance of the Grisha in the merchants' hospital.

Thus, Ketterdam remembered how to act. They had faced an epidemic before and would face this one with the same practicality. The funeral bells echoed incessantly throughout the day, while the bay south of the city was used to transport the bodies, piled on fishing vessels confiscated by the Council of the Tides. The former party town, Ketterdam, has transformed into a highly efficient funeral operation.

Burials were strictly prohibited. Thus, when the boats failed to remove bodies from the city quickly enough, in less favored neighborhoods, residents were forced to dispose of their loved ones on improvised pyres in the middle of the street.

This was the first scene we saw upon arriving in Ketterdam through the northwest gate, when the carriage had to make an abrupt stop in front of a pile of twisted ashes, which at first glance appeared to be the remains of slaughtered animals. However, horror soon hit us when the coachman, in a state of shock, vomited and exclaimed: “They are people, Saints, they are people!”

From the windows of the houses along the street, I could briefly see thin faces peering through the cracks in the windows. They were, without a doubt, the relatives of those poor burned creatures. Their looks were blank, as if they had already resigned themselves to the idea that the remains of their loved ones would end up on the street. I hastily closed the windows to hide the cruelty, but it remained etched in my eyes even when I closed them.

The trip was quick and extremely stressful, from Lij to the capital it was just two days of march that lasted the longest a lifetime. The exhausted horses showed visible signs of fatigue when the coachman left us at the hospital doors. However, as quick as it was, it apparently wasn't enough. The little girl was remarkably pale, her lips were dyed purple and her eyes were trembling under the weight of nightmares caused by the fever. My dear girl, a gift bestowed by the saints, the reward for any act of benevolence I have done in this world.

My mother used to say that the saints' mercy was unfair to mortals, because, as divine beings, they no longer understood the pain of any sacrifice, they no longer understood what it was like to lose someone. They were above everything and everyone. But I was a stupid young woman, I ignored my poor mother's advice because I thought it was the condescending words of a woman with pagan customs.

“Mommy,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with exhaustion, her eyes barely opening.

"I'm here my love. It’s going to be okay,” I whispered as I took her small, feverish body into my arms. At the beginning of the year, I could barely hold her on my lap for long, she was growing fast and turning into a beautiful, healthy five year old. Now, feeling how light her body was in my arms, my heart squeezed with pain.

Despite it being the early hours of the morning, a small crowd was sitting on the steps. They were probably sick people, but not sick enough to get a bed inside the hospital. I was trying to carefully pass between them, when, at the door, Nina appeared.

She was dressed in the black clothes of the doctors, with the distinctive blue apron of the merchants' wing, stained with small drops of blood.

“Y/N, come this way, sweetheart. I’ve already prepared everything for her,” said Nina, her kind face and caring voice leading me down a corridor to the east of the main hall. She was different since the last time I saw her, during the holidays. She looked sterner than ever.

“Any news from him? Did Kaz send any letters? Do you think he will arrive today?” I asked as I followed Nina through a corridor packed with doctors, heartrenders, healers and all sorts of people. I must admit that, little by little, the composure I had managed to maintain during the last two days of the journey from Lij to Ketterdam was starting to crumble. Felt like I was on the edge of an abyss, spiraling into darkness.

Nina looked at me with sadness as she led me into a small, but well-lit room with a comfortable bed, where I rested my daughter. She was in a restless sleep and quietly muttering nonsense words, the fever must be getting worse.

“Kaz didn't send any letters, none of them. Y/N, they must be on the way,” Nina reassured me. “Now, I need you to stay calm for her, please. We will examine her immediately, but you also need to undergo tests. You could be as sick as she is.”

“No, you don’t need to. I'm not going to leave her alone here” I said, freeing myself from Nina's hands the moment when a tall, tired-looking man entered the room, he seemed to be middle-aged, even though he was visibly a Grisha.

Nina walked over to him and they started talking in whispers, probably discussing the situation. It was not uncommon for merchants and their families to seek privileges in cases of calamity, but being Kaz Brekker's family, these privileges often extended to any kind of perk. Obviously, by now, the entire hospital knows that the wife and daughter of Ketterdam's biggest criminal are looking for help.

I sat next to my daughter, holding her soft hand and massaging her temple with my fingertips. Just like she is my joy, she is Kaz’s world. The gravity, the humanity, the warmth that keeps him alive. She looks much more like him: her light eyes, her dark hair and even her pert nose. At times, they seemed to share the same thoughts, to the point where I felt like I was somehow invading their space. She was his world.

Kaz would be able to destroy cities to protect her from her enemies, but that would not be enough to protect her from death.

Death came. It invaded my life so abruptly that I didn't even have time to cry for mercy. One moment, my daughter was in a restless sleep, and the next, she was convulsing, with blood pouring from her eyes and nose... The harrowing sounds were the most terrifying, they seemed to echo endlessly in my mind; it was the sound of her choking as she tried to breathe through vomit.

When it was all over, as my daughter lay on the bed with her head at an awkward angle, a horrible sound filled the room, resembling a wounded animal. I couldn't take my eyes off her to find the source of that sound. Only then did I realize that I was the one issuing it.

Once, when I was a child and still enjoying my hunting adventures with my brothers, we witnessed a fox with its cub in a trap set by my father. The cub was trapped, one of its paws shattered between the iron teeth of the trap, it was still too small to understand human antics, and its mother, whether out of compassion or instinct, killed it before we could get closer.

In those minutes when I was afflicted with acute pain, I reflected on that fox mother facing the suffering of her cub. I thought about how I didn't have the same courage as her, about how I would rather rip my own legs off with my teeth and offer myself to the hunters in exchange for freeing my cub from his torment.

Later, when Nina released me from her embrace with a pale, tearful face, speaking words I could barely understand, I considered how naive both I and the hypothetical fox were being in placing our faith in the benevolence of a superior, divine being. Tearing out my legs, my heart, begging, crawling – would that make any difference? Probably not. Yet even so, I would be willing to sacrifice myself for centuries on end in exchange for my daughter's life.

When I got up from the ground, with shaky legs and still immersed in a painful lethargy, I walked over to my daughter. The heartrender had cleaned her face, but there were still bloodstains on the collar of her blue dress, the same one she had received as a birthday present from her father and which she loved because it made her feel like a fairy.

When I held her little face between my hands she was still warm, it seemed like at any moment she would wake up and smile and tell me it was just a trick. But it wasn't, I spent a long time holding her face waiting for this trick to end and it didn't happen.

When I placed a kiss on her forehead, my tears fell on her face. It was an eternal kiss, I didn't want it to end, I didn't want it to be the last. However, when I pulled away, Nina wrapped me in a comforting hug. Finally, she retreated to a corner of the room, leaving me alone to watch over my pain.

I held my daughter in my arms, I ran my fingers through her hair, her face, memorizing every little detail of her. Finally, when she was starting to feel cold and heavy, I moved closer to give her another kiss, and this time, it was Kaz's goodbye kiss.

It was outside the hospital that Kaz found me. Nina took me outside when a team of healers told us they needed the room. In Ketterdam, the city of death, they are very practical about sorting things out. I was sitting on one of the steps, trying to catch my breath and looking at nothing, when Kaz, Inej, Wylan and Jesper arrived in a grain truck.

I didn't understand what emptiness was, nor how distressing it could be. I had no idea that it could be deafening, that the blood would rush through my veins and that everything around me would feel cold to the touch. Emptiness was the absence of all emotions, and at the same time, it contained them all. And the pain of emptiness made it extraordinarily difficult to notice anything around me other than the image of Kaz.

He was disheveled, his black coat was dirty with dust, and his hair was messy, as if he had spent the last few hours pulling out the strands. His usually restrained blue eyes were showing all of his emotions. A shadow hovered over them, something I had never seen before: fear. And I didn't know how to act other than getting up, walking a few steps, and finally succumbing at Kaz's feet in the hope that the ground would swallow me.

My breathing is heavy and shallow, sobs tear from my throat. There were no more tears, it seems that I was no longer able to produce them, however, a rain began to fall on us, as if it could cry what I was unable to. Above me, Kaz was standing still. He was like a wall that refused to fall under a storm, under the weight of reality. He refuses to vocalize whatever he's thinking, I think he's also feeling empty. It's as if any trace of humanity has been drained from him.

Would he become Dirtyhands, being all practical while he waits for the poor creature I've become at his feet to pull herself together? Or would he become the fox cub caught in the trap, hoping I could rip his throat out when he, for the first time in his life, didn't have a plan to get around the situation?

“Y/N, darling,” whispered Inej, as if calling my name could tie me to the ropes of the earth again. Besides, what else could she say?

Is this the moment when I would hear the lamentations, the pity, that would follow me for the rest of my life when they found out about the daughter I lost?

“She's gone,” I said, lifting my head and looking at Kaz. “We were waiting for you... but she got worse, so I came to Ketterdam. I really thought she would get better, but she's gone, Kaz” my voice broke completely.

I think whatever strength had kept Kaz up until that moment was gone. He turned his back on us, walking toward the side of the building, his steps swaying as if he were drunk, until finally he collapsed. A scream tore through his chest, a scream of rage, of frustration and sadness. But above all pain.

There is a definition for children who lose their parents, but there is none for parents who lose their children.

What are we now? A mother without a child? What would I do now? Just go home and put all her things together in a box like party decorations?

I got up and walked over to Kaz, hugging him from behind. We lay huddled in the rain, me holding Kaz's body as he thrashed about in a horrible cry. I offered whatever comfort I had: I kissed his head, whispered empty words, held him close to me. If I wasn't a mom, then Kaz wasn't a dad.

He would never hold her in his arms again, he wouldn't smile when she played with his gloves, which were too big, and he wouldn't stand by her bed on sleepless nights, watching her sleep.

“Kaz, she loves you more than anything” I said. Loved, whispered my treacherous brain. Then, fighting the lump in my throat, I said, “They've already put her with the dead people.”

Kaz shuddered, the crying became silent. The vision no parent, least of all Kaz, wants to imagine. Like any other death in Ketterdem, whether of the poor or the rich, our daughter's would be treated with little ceremony. No mourning, no funeral.

She, who was always warm, was now alone in the cold of the Harbor.

On the days when Kaz couldn't bear any touch, she was the one who defied him by clasping her little hands around his neck. Or on the worst days, when he came from the Barrel with someone's blood on his sleeve, she covered him with kisses and smiles. Kaz loved her the moment he saw her, covered in blood, wet, crying... and warm. When she was a baby he treated her like porcelain, if he could he wouldn't even let me touch her.

My hands met Kaz's, he was clutching his chest as if he wanted to rip out his own heart. I held him, afraid that he would somehow disappear under the weight of his own grief. If he leaves too...

“On the trip, when she was awake, I told her that you love her. That you love her so, so much,” I whispered in his ear. Then, the worst. “I gave her your kiss goodbye”

How can we survive this?

“No, Y/N,” Kaz said in a pleading tone, “I’m sorry, please. I'm so sorry"

When we lack words, guilt appears. It's our fault? Were we really that horrible?

The Saints. They give and they take.

#mmgwbrekker #six of crows #grishaverse #kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #shadow and bone

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c-rowlesdraws · 9 months

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Can I have an OC fact? As a treat? Pick one you wanna talk about most right now and... fun lil trivia? I love your characters so much and can't pick a favorite to request

Aw thank you! (Also lol thank you to everyone who did ask me about my OCs, I'm sorry it's taken me so long to answer your asks!)

Since I just drew them again yesterday in that lil comic, I'll share another fun trivia about Kesh'Vataar nar Zakah, my nonbinary quarian OC. This is what they look like under their helmet!

my quarians have very subtle facial features, but I still don't want to let that make me slip into drawing them all with the same face. I wanted Kesh to look "cooler" than how I draw Tali, so they have narrower eyes and a more oval face with prominent cheekbones-- but also a cute spray of “freckles” across their nose.

also, I think I mentioned this a long time ago, but their outfit is a mix of elements from male and female quarian outfits in-game. I feel like even though we only saw binary-presenting quarians in the series, there's no reason why there can't be other quarian genders. Kesh isn't unusual among their people-- at least, not for their gender identity. The having-a-crush-on-a-volus thing is definitely unusual.

#mass effect #mass effect art #quarian #mass effect oc #my art #sketch #kesh'vataar #ask

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clementineskesh · 9 months

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Transcription:

Broadcasting live from the caves of Sinder Karst. That's right, we'll tell you where we live ‘cause you can't reach us; not in a way that matters. It's your boy, Baldwin Home AKA Black Screen, Concrete Front, you already know what it is. Hitting you with another missive from the frontlines, giving you an update on their missiles and known crimes, so you can move under their noses and know where they sharpen their knives, so you can recognize it by sound

([BEEP]: Bank to Church. I'm at position Alpha. [BEEP])

and get your own honed too, cause they need to be! What did I say? Play it back, play it back! (Recorded) They're-they're-they’re moving on us now.

Bilateral Intercession, yet they got three heads. So I gotta break it down for you. It's like this: Stel Kesh. They’ll try to confuse you with half-true museums and the shine of gold and silver. So let's keep it simple. They wear a lot of fancy shirts. I'm not kidding, you should see they closets. And that'd be fine by me, you should see mine! But I know who made my shit. And I know they didn't make it at gunpoint, direct or indirect. Kesh, Kesh only know what's on the label, with Kesh it's always about labels. For as long as there's been a Kesh

([BEEP]: He has no idea. Listen to him go. [BEEP])

they’ve been breakin’ everybody and everything down so it fits into little drawers, little boxes, they’ve been the same since before any of us were living here on Palisade.

Next up, Stel Nideo. They run churches and the schools and the cameras and the swords and the blood coloured jewels. What can I even say that they haven't said themselves? Their little prophet and their big divines treat words like prison cells. It's a prison faith. It's a prison ideology. They locked up they own selves with a warden psychology. They preach fields into gardens, but turn land into landmines. They practice metaphysical

([BEEP]: You gotta give it to Connadine. They all speak on rhythm. [BEEP])

arson, and replace homes with confines.

Which leaves us with just one more head on the Hydra, one more round in the chamber. One more villain inside the intercession, war procession. Exanceaster March, you're worth half a bar, lightweight. But fuck it, I'll give you eight.

You're the

([BEEP]: Roger. Executing now. [BEEP])

ideal mosquito, bloodsucker supreme, turned your back on your people so you could follow your dream of monopolizing the future 'cause fuck it, you want more. Well, so do I, which is why I rhyme and why we'll knock down your--

[Gunshot]

([BEEP] Kill confirmed. [BEEP])

#palisade #friends at the table #palisade spoilers #BIG spoilers imo #f@tt #lmk if the transcript should be otherwise formatted the interjections gave me trouble and i didnt want to write cross bc #i felt it was already communicated but if it needs clarity i will clarify

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stairnaheireann · 1 month

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#OTD in 1981 – Day 11 | Bobby Sands recorded his diary for the first seventeen days of his hunger strike in which he detailed his thoughts and feelings on the momentous task that lay ahead of him.

I received a large amount of birthday cards today. Some from people I do not know. In particular a Mass bouquet with fifty Masses on it from Mrs Burns from Sevastopol Street. We all know of her, she never forgets us and we shan’t forget her, bless her dear heart. I also received a card from reporter Brendan O Cathaoir, which indeed was thoughtful. I received a letter from a friend, and from a…

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#Bobby Sands #Bobby Sands MP #England #H Blocks #Hunger Strike #IRA #Ireland #Long Kesh #Northern Ireland #Political Status

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handweavers · 9 months

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my babaji (grandfather) who observed kesh (unshorn hair) wasn't being gender nonconforming for having extremely long hair, that's not something that's gendered in sikhism but me having long hair is read as gnc or feminine by white people when it's got nothing to do with subverting gender at all actually. and then you get self loathing "anti-transtrender" white tboys on here who have nothing better to do than harass other trans people who aren't performing their white supremacist bullshit ideas about gender to their personal satisfaction. absolute loser behaviour

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banneduser-on-cohost · 7 days

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Characterizing The Crown of Glass: or How I Learned to Love the Fucked Up Slumber Party

clemposting and palisade partizan spoilers below the cut. Shout out to Rudy and the Boys

Given that we know the crown of glass to be one of the most heavily populated places on palisade as well as a party hangout destination for Millennium Break, WE know that Clementine isn't just insane when she mentioned the slumber party. She just totally flubbed the delivery. Rolled a 2 on Performance. Beefed it in front of the rival.

But she is totally right. She KNOWS what millennium break people get up to in the crown of glass. The benders, parties, the debauchery. She has eyes like, fucking everywhere now that I think about it. And she loves it because it's her little kingdom that these revolutionaries get to frolic in. It is the source of her pride and a microcosm of what she would do if... no... When she seizes Stel Kesh, and therefore, the principality(her thoughts).

Which is made all the more hilarious and horrifying that Millennium break, specifically the Blue Channel, gave her the key to unlock the power of the Iconoclasts. Is she grateful for this? Perhaps. But there's so little surviving information about the incredible beings of truths outside of Divinity that she's just gotta wing it and make a bunch of em and see what sticks. Hey that one looks like a squid doesn't it. Time passes, and Ope, Horrors walk the streets now. Axioms, we're pumping out Axioms now baybee. They all look hella weird when you're stumbling between bars drunk as fuck. Some of them are kinda cute like when the creepy kids in the horror movie draw fucked up shit. Eldritch doodles. Freddy fazbear. She thinks she's a goddamn genius with the kinds of iconoclastic beings she can make and fully control. Axioms, not so much but she can understand what they Do (they just Are).

Then when the opportunity arose to take the pride of Kesh. She seized it. But not only with iconoclasts. She also led The Armed Forces of the Crown, Millennium Break Joint Forces, and her very own personal squad (guess what she named it) to utterly vanquish the Whitestar fleet. Or maybe she just distracted the main fighting force long enough to sneak behind them and capture Lander One. I wonder where we've seen that gambit before.

So when she said slumber party she really did mean girl's night at the crown of glass. That's what it does best. She's flying Gucci there right now playing Barbie girl on the sound system. The sound system is The Kestrel’s internal vocal chamber by the way. It sings.

#friends at the table #palisade spoilers #palisade #partizan spoilers #clementine #five nights at clementine’s #clemposting #Rudy and the boys #the crown of glass #the witch in glass #gucci garantine #fatt #the Kestrel #clementine kesh

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arohawke · 1 year

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a new (old) plan is put in motion

JACK (as Connadine): As anyone with even a passing familiarity will tell you, we are a principality of spies. Of course-

AUSTIN: There’s a little chuckle [imitates a faint chuckle]

JACK(as Connadine): We know the extent of that understatement.

[“Adagio” by Jack de Quidt begins playing]

Some five thousand years ago, on our home planet, our predecessors employed one of the most remarkable psychological operations ever undertaken by the Principality. Using the immense future-seeing power of an oracle engine, they generated hundreds of thousands of near-flawless predictions: who would sit in government; the weather on a winter’s day; the right career for the son of a surgeon; the number of toy boats in an ornamental pond, the color of their sails;

These predictions were made in something like a loop in which the Principality’s citizens, whether they recognized it or not, were cast as actors. When two thousand years pass between the overture and the final bows, the exact shape of the play becomes helpfully obscured to anybody but the director. The system of control and surveillance was so comprehensive, so effective, so far-reaching that it cloaked itself in its total obviousness. And I’ve been sent to Palisade to bring this planet on cycle.

Of course, given the loss of the machine that drove the original project, the circumstances are meaningfully different, but Kesh has changed too. We understand, as an old friend of mine once said, that the easiest way to ensure that any tomorrow is a Tuesday is to make sure people believe that today is a Monday. You will have noticed that the workshop’s being constructed, I’m sure. Carpenters and costumers have been brought on the Princept’s orders, prop-makers. We are assembling quite a little paint shop.

We’ve already begun distributing predictions. A star will fall over Carleon. Yes, it will. Our ships are in place to destroy the satellite. A text found in a library in Carmathen will describe a long-forgotten duke returning on a black horse with white fetlocks. We are working on the script.

And we have been given a gift in our alliance of sorts with the existing Fabreal Duchy. A feudal society, constructing themselves around holy days, elaborate quests, and displays. They pass themselves down to their successors in the form of liquid glass – we only need adjust its consistency. There is a unique vector of weakness here. We will come to these lords wearing their own clothes and before long they will raise their cups in a toast that we have constructed, believing in their hearts it is some ancient, beautiful bastion of their own culture.

Now, this process will not be easy, nor will it be quick. I’m under no illusions that what we can accomplish will ever move with the grace and precision of what our ancestors knew. But I hope that we are setting a metronome in motion. Today we might only hear the click as it sets the time. Maybe in a few weeks we will hear a violin join us. In a year, we will start to see the shape of a piece of music. And when we are long dead and our bones lie in spies’ nameless memorials, our successors will look up at the sunset sky of hope and down at the complete score in their hands.

And hear the great, tempestuous rush of a symphony.

[“Adagio” by Jack de Quidt ends]

#friends at the table #palisade #palisade spoilers #anyone else feel insane when the crystal palace motif hits?#the shape of empire continues to be a circle #fattposting #fatt

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myocsfanfictions · 2 months

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South Side Story

Shameless Fanfiction

Desna Hills has come living in the Southside of Chicago four years before. Taken in by Kev and V, Desna is close friends with the Gallaghers. Let's see how this Southside story unfolds.

MASTERLIST

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Chapter 21

V's bachelorette party went very well. Desna went with her and Fiona to a night club. They had danced, drank and laughed.

Desna loved when V and Fiona brought her with them. She felt older. An adoult. And for some reason she even felt prettier and more confident.

They walked back home, but since the day after V and Kev would have gotten married, Desna and V would have slept to the Gallaghers, to not let Kev see the bride.

When they got inside the house, no one was at home. Carl was with Lip at the Alibi, for Kev's bachelor party. For what Desna remembered, Ian was at Kesh's house, for their date. And Debbie and Liam were at Sheila's, so that they wouldn't spend the night alone.

"V," Fiona said to her friend, "You sleep with me? Desna can sleep in Debbie's room," V agreed as she walked up the stairs, "That's fine by me. Des?"

"Sure," she answered following the other two upstairs. It didn't take long for Desna to fall asleep. By the time she had taken her dress off and her face hitting the pillow, she fell in a deep sleep. She never woke up. And her sleep had been dreamless, but peaceful anyway.

When she woke up, the next morning, Desna could hear some faint voices from downstairs, but she could not understand what they were saying. She got up, looking around. She needed something to cover herself. She had forgotten her pijamas.

When she opened the door, to look in the corridor, she noticed Lip getting out of his room. She smiled seeing him. He clearly got an hungover. But even in his conditions, ge had noticed her on the door.

"I've really drank too much," he said with a smirk, eyeing her from head to toe. Clearly liking see her wearing only her bra and panties.

Desna giggled as she walked towards him, with crossed arms. "I defenately can say that."

Lip's eyebrows rose, "That bad?"

Desna touched his forehead, "You tell me, Pil," he chuckled. Someone had wrote his name backwards on his forehead. He didn't even washed it away the night before. He must have been wasted.

"And what are you doing here?" He asked taking another good look at her, "Seducing me?"

She laughed, "I was hoping more on a shirt," Desna said.

"How cruel," he said, "Wait here," Desna looked at him as he get back in his room. Lip didn't take long before getting back with one of his shirts.

"Thank you," she said happily, but he took it out of her reach. "Can I have a kiss first?" He smirked. And even if she would have liked to tease him a bit, Desna really wanted to kiss him. So with a smile, she circled his neck with her arms, before crushing her lips to his. She heard Lip smirk against her, before hugging her waist, deepening the kiss. Desna's fingers went to his hair, loving the way Lip kissed her.

"I'm maid of honor and I don't know you had a brother," Fiona's voice got Desna attention, making her break the kiss.

"What is it?" Asked Lip with a frown, but Desna shushed him.

"There's a reason for that," she heard Kev. Desna got closer to the stairs.

"He bust out of preason?" Fiona asked.

"Last night," Kev answered.

"Oh shit," Desna muttered. Lip got more confused.

"What was he in for?" Fiona was asking sitting on the couch, with a cup of coffee in her hand. Desna could already see the distress on V's face as she paced the livingroom wearing only her bra and underwear.

"Aggravated assault, larceny and arson," V answered angrily.

"Arson?" Lip asked from behind Desna, as they made their way down the stairs, "Who you talking about?"

"V's brother," Desna answered, and then she walked to the chair to sit down.

"Oh, is that, like a sibling brother, or a black-guy brother?" Lip asked confused, making Desna glare at him.

"Remember the fire at Curves in the mall?" V started to say, putting her clothes back on, "That was him," Lip turned to Desna, that nodded. She still remembered that day. It had been hell.

"He loves setting fire to things," V kept explaining, "And he hates women. It was the perfect storm," Fi had wide eyes, while Lip had lit up a cigarette, walking towards where Desna was, taking a sit on the arm of the chair she was sit on.

"He's nuts." Kev exclaimed and Desna did not feel to disagree. He was not a presence she felt very comfortable with, "Serious, he's nuts. He came at me. I had to fight my ass off."

Desna's eyes widened, "You okay?"

"Yes, babe," Kev answered, before keep telling his story. "Then one time I'm having a brew, he came up to me; all: 'Ass cunt fuck!' on me."

Fiona frowned, "Is he retarded?"

"He's got Tourette," answered Desna.

"Yeah, coupled with bipolar disorder and drinking problem," V added, "He's a shrink's wet dream."

Desna and Lip shared a look.

"What do we do now?" Desna asked turning to V.

"Kick his ass back to prison," exclaimed the woman, "You know this, Des. If there's one person you can always count on to fuck things up, it's Marty." Desna nodded her head, silently. "I'm going to talk to him," she said, gesturing to Kev to follow her.

"I'm coming too." Fiona said standing up.

"What do I do?" Desna asked.

"You stay here," V said as they walked towards the door. "He's far too agitated."

"Alright," Desna muttered, looking at the door closing. Then she stood up.

"Is it bad?" Asked Lip with brow raised as he blew out some smoke.

Desna shrugged her shoulders, "I wouldn't say 'bad', but surely is an inconvenience."

V wanted nothing but to spend a good daw for her wedding, and she really didn't want anything to ruin it. But Marty could be really stubborn and since he had broke out of preason they rather had to convince him to turn himself in, or call the police. And everything before that afternoon.

"Hey," Lip said, taking her hand so that she could look at him, "It's going to be fine," he assured her, his hands on her hips, "And we are going to have so much fun tonight."

She let out a little giggle. She barely could wait for Lip to see her dress.

"Yes?" He asked pulling her close to give her neck a quick kiss.

"Yes," she answered pulling back, "But go take a shower. I really can't take you seriously with 'Pil' on your forehead."

He chuckled, his lips pecked hers, "Alright. Eat something." She nodded as he walked towards the stairs. Then Desna went to the kitchen to eat some cereal with a cup of milk. In the mean time both Ian and Carl had woken up.

"Hello, gorgeous," said Carl, still wearing the clothes from the days before.

"Hello, Carl," she answered pushing the pack of cereal to him. "Did you have fun yesterday?"

He nodded, "There were strippers." Desna nodded, "I really don't wanna know," then she got up to get closer to Ian.

"What are you doing here?" She asked on a whisper, "I thought you had a date."

Ian looked at her, after making sure that his brother was busy with something else.

"It was too strange," he muttered, "In his room. His and his wife's room. And with all the pictures of their sons."

"That's awkward," Desna could not find it difficoult to believe thst Ian had decided to ran away. "What are you planning on doing now?"

Ian shook his head, "I don't know." Desna smiled affectionstely, before going on her tiptoes, to kiss Ian on the cheek.

"You'll figure it out," she said as he nodded looking at her, "And if you think about calling things off, you're handsome, I'm sure all the boys in Chicago wants to have their way with you."

Ian let out a chuckle before kissing her temple.

After that, Desna decided to go upstairs to wash and change herself. When she reached the top, she saw Lip in his room. He was wearing only his jeans and he was drying his hsir with a towel.

"You like what you see?" He asked noticing her on the door frame.

"You know I like it," Lip chuckled, looking at her. "I like it too."

Desna shook her head, before heading back to the bathroom. Since they decided to get back at their situationship, Desna could feel that there was something different between them. But she really did not want to ask anything. She wanted to enjoy Lip's attentions. Lip became restless everytime she had tried to ask what he felt for her, so she decided to wait.

After having washed up, she went back to Debbie's room to take her belongings. But when she entered, her eyes went to her phone. She had recieved a message. Curiously she took her phone in her hand, and opened the notification.

Hi.

It said only that. Desna looked up at the number, but it was written 'Unknown'. Who could that be?

"Des, you want my pants, so you don't have to put yesterday dress on?" Lip had entered, making her turn to the door. "You okey?" He asked with a frown. He was too intelligent to miss anything.

"Just a message," she said. And that seemed to get him curious as he got close.

"From who?"

"It's unknown," she answered with a shrug of her shoulders, heanding the phone to him, "Probably they got the wrong number."

He read the message, before frown again, "Could have said more."

"Or not," she said taking the phone back, "I really don't want a dirty text from a stranger."

That made him chuckle, "And from me?"

She pushed him playfully, "Stop it," she sid with a laugh, "I want to go see if V and Kev need help with Marty."

He nodded his head, "Cool," he said, "Let's go."

After she got ready, pulling some of Lip's clothes on, Desna was ready to go out. Lip went with her as he promised and Carl had decided to go with them. But when they arrived at Desna's house, they caught Fiona, V and Kev holding a ladder, where Debbie had climbed to look inside the house.

"Call the cops on my own brother?" V was saying, "It's always like this. Nobody can be center of attention. It's always gotta be about him," then she yelled, "You should be in a nuthouse!"

"What's going on?" Lip asked with a frown.

"Veronica's brother is threatening to burn the place down," Fiona expalined to them.

"What?" Exclaimed Desna.

"Cool," said Carl from in front of her, that decided to ignore him.

"He's saying that he's gonna light thr dress and the shit-sack house on fire," Debbie said from above them.

"Oh shit," Desna muttered, sharing a look with V and Kev.

"What a shit-sack?" Debbie asked with a frown.

**************

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sexiestpodcastcharacter · 7 months

Text

Preliminaries: Friends at the Table PARTIZAN and PALISADE

Ver'million "Milli" Blue received four nominations and therefore is automatically qualified.

Propaganda

Clementine Kesh:

you all claim you love evil women who do war crimes. it's time to put your money where your mouth is. she's a gaslight gatekeep girlboss (derogatory) who has fucked up god-flowers growing out of her eyes and she's my wife. #votekesh

Kalvin Brnine:

As long as they're not talking, they're the hottest character in the game

Perennial:

An cryptic Divine living at the edge of the supermassive black hole. You can also find her dispersed through the Galaxy in form of a wave, which tends to shut down electronics (except her girlfriend). Fickle, behaves tidally. Demands effort from her followers. What has come once will come again.

The Chimeric Cadent:

SEEKING A 3RD 🦄 for our codependent bugmarriage 🪲💍 we saw you from across the bar and loved your ice powers ❄️☃️ and how you told your ex it couldn't be allowed to die 🐛☠️ (we killed ur ex btw 💔). i hear ur a fan of syncretism wanna get real syncretic 🔀 and turn our body inside out into a sacred moon? 😏🌚🌝😍

The fusion of a prophet, a priestess, and a machine god. the guardian of the only death Divines can ever know. A creepy giant bat freak

Thisbe:

She has a fundamentally different conception of identity than most people. She simultaneously takes no shit and has self-confidence issues. She loves plants and takes care of people like she would a plant. She's BIG and METAL and KIND. She makes my heart flutter. ILU thisbe.

#Clementine Kesh #Kalvin Brnine #Perennial #The Chimeric Cadent #Thisbe #Friends at the Table #PARTIZAN #PALISADE #Preliminaries

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liv-is · 11 months

Text

{ WIP Introduction } The Romance of the Demigods

Content warnings (for full novel) : fantasy violence, potential er*tic elements

THE QUEEN OF THE EARTH and THE KING OF THE SKY--the capricious Fae-gods have had dominion over the land of Brennenhaugh since time immemorial, from their thrones in the far Veyl. The Old Way has long struggled against the encroaching fist of the worshipers of the SONNELIC HOST, the gods that number among the sun and stars.

The conversion of the aging king of Brennenhaugh to the New Faith heralds the death of the tenuous peace between Man and Fae. Practitioners of the Old Magic are tried as witches. Weapons of iron are forged with Fae blood. The commonfolk cower beneath the gauntlet of the Paladins of the Host. And the Fae and their gods watch on from above, around, and below...

Kesh is one-of-a-kind, and it fucking sucks. Born of an unprecedented union between human and Fae, she is destined (or, more accurately, cursed) to wander--when she's not outrunning the furious storms of an insulted god, she's ducking the Paladins of the Host, who would like very much to put an abomination like her to the sword. Luckily enough, with the blood of the Veyl warming her cheeks, she changes appearance like breathing, and enjoys a life of mostly-pleasant rambling, roving, and romancing. Free to soak in existence and all of its adventures. Nothing quite heralds adventure, however, like a princess in dire need of help. And, hell, maybe healing the rift between Man and Fae will stop everyone wanting to see her dead...

Nysa, the so-called 'Moon-Kissed Princess', has always excelled at finding third options. When pressed between 'wed the Hierophant of the Sonnelic Host' and 'be assassinated', she chooses instead to flee the once-safety of the palace. Her aim is clear--she must seek the Fae-gods and beg their assistance in the fight for the Old Way, and for her kingdom. She finds the way forward in infamous shapeshifting Demifae, one who claims to know the way to the Aiamede, the fabled domain of the Queen of the Earth. For all that her wits have kept her alive, she has little clue just how close she marches to the arms of the Hierophant...

Eve has known one thing her entire life--she owes her existence to the clergy of the Host. Taken in by the clerics, she has devoted years of training mind and body in service of the Heavenly Bodies. Serving as a paladin is her life's purpose--or so she tells herself. Despite her total immersion in the Sonnelic faith, she can't dispel the gnawing feeling that a spiritual truth exists that the clergy of the Host cannot teach her. When she stumbles into the path of a nearly-assassinated princess, a Demifae that shouldn't exist, and a mysterious former clergyman who shares the strange dreams that have plagued her, Eve sees a path to the truth of the world, and the truth of her nature--though she would rather it come in any other form. Everything she has known no longer seems so simple...

The Sonnelic Host holds the kingdom hostage. Something watches from the Stars. Man and Fae are closer to war than ever before.

Hearts are pulled into the orbit of oblivion, the Heavens fall to the Earth, and somewhere, a Mother yearns for her lost Child.

The key to truth and peace lies in the hands and the blood of those who walk between the worlds.

And no one knows this neck of the woods like Kesh.

THE ROMANCE OF THE DEMIGODS is a New Adult high fantasy romance saga featuring a lively cast of idiots who can't stop falling in love with each other.

THEMES

The joys and pains of romantic love; belonging; self-understanding; multiracial/multicultural identity; organized religion vs. personal faith/spirituality; interpersonal cycles of love and discord & togetherness and separation; passion & devotion (spiritual, romantic); sapphic sexuality & carnality

STATUS

Drafting...

CAST

(non-exhaustive, more TBA? if i'm not lazy about drawing)

Kesh Akesheen fyr Edevanza

“Demifae” to some, “Kesh” to others, the shapeshifter makes a habit of wandering, avoiding iron, and falling in love with just about everyone... except for Eve, the most recent paladin to try and put a sword through her. Tied together by circumstance, Kesh is ready to fight or flee at a moment's notice. She has to admit, though, that as dangerous as it is to lend her magic to a New Faith paladin... it's nothing like she's ever experienced before.

Evening Star "Eve" Aurelim

A paladin of the Sonnelic Host, haunted by disorienting dreams of giant, burning lights, and darkness that stretches to infinity. When she's forced by circumstance into borrowing the magic of the wicked Demifae, the doubts surrounding her faith and her place in the world become all too real. In all of her flailing and questioning, Eve fears more than anything that her true nature will draw her closer and closer to those whom she abhors most.

Nysean "Nysa" of the Royal House au Lloergen, Crown Princess of Brennenhaugh

Nysa is far from accustomed to traveling the open road--and even more unfamiliar with fleeing from the clergy who swore to serve her kingdom. After throwing her lot in with the infamous Demifae, she's plunged into a torrent of adventure and feelings the likes of which she could scarce imagine. As much as she yearns to return to her true love, Nysa must find the court of the Queen of the Earth before she and her allies are caught by the Church of the Host. For the Church will surely take their due--her hand, or her head.

Irial au Ghrianach

An enigmatic former clergyman of the Host, Irial seeks peace in the kingdom of Brennenhaugh above all else. When his ominous dreams draw him to a Princess, a Paladin, and a Demifae, Irial finds that there is much yet to learn about the world outside the Church, and there are yet many roads to peace.

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