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robininthelabyrinth · 5 years ago

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Delight in Misery (ao3) - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

- Chapter 6 -

It was strange, Lan Wangji reflected, to be in public again after so long an absence. Stranger still to be addressed by strangers, to be called the Second Jade of Lan, or Lan-er-gongzi –

He wished that they would use his personal title instead. It might reduce the awkwardness.

Though, he reflected, it was likely that nothing would really reduce the awkwardness inherent in the situation, for all its old nostalgic familiarity: his brother walking in the lead, he and his uncle one step behind him, the representatives of the Lan sect in all their glory, beauty, and righteousness.

Looking at their tranquil expressions and sedate pace, one would never know that Lan Qiren was still furiously angry at Lan Wangji for his decision to abandon his sect and family, now made several times over; that Lan Wangji had been shockingly disrespectful by Lan standards in his response; that Lan Xichen had ordered that neither of them were permitted to speak until they could behave civilly (he’d used the term “like human beings”) once again.

It had been a very quiet journey to Koi Tower.

Luckily, even once they arrived, their customary reserve meant that no one noticed the tensions between them – not even the normally astute Lianfeng-zun, who greeted them at the door, much less his father and brother, and certainly not Chifeng-zun, who was listening to another sect leader speak with the stiff and stern expression that, after several years of keeping company with Jiang Cheng, Lan Wangji now recognized as please stop talking to me.

(Lan Wangji briefly considered that he ought to suggest that Jiang Cheng spend more time with Chifeng-zun. They shared a history as young men who assumed control over their sects too soon as a result of the same enemy, and he knew Jiang Cheng highly esteemed Chifeng-zun – but then he rejected the idea as unnecessary and likely full of potential political pitfalls, especially given the Jiang sect’s role in the Jin sect’s current one-sided rivalry with the Nie sect.

As the Second Jade of Lan, he didn’t need to worry about political concerns, or at least not those beyond the basic premise of ‘don’t lose face for the sect’. His uncle and brother handled everything of that nature, just as they always had, holding up the sky for him and allowing him to focus on cultivation and his own interests, only he had been Jiang Cheng’s secret sounding board for too long now to fail to think of the potential problems anyway.

He found to his surprise that he missed it.)

Jiang Cheng would have noticed the tension, but he had yet to arrive – they had agreed that it would make everything easier if he would arrive to the gathering a little late, minimizing the amount of chatter they would need to endure about the two of them before the formal events began.

This would be Lan Wangji’s first discussion conference after having “left seclusion”, as people were calling it – his uncle with notably more sarcasm than usual – and the first test of his new public relationship with Jiang Cheng. They’d settled the public fight aspect with some degree of enjoyment, having a spar that extended throughout the rooftops and alleyways of the Lotus Pier, matching Bichen again Sandu and Wangji against Zidian, and the rumors had run wild ever since then. Finally, Jin Guangyao had intervened in his father’s name to “force” the compromise they’d all agreed upon: that Lan Sizhui would fall under Lan Wangji’s personal supervision, as was his right as the (assumed) father, but that he would remain at the Lotus Pier for most of the year to avoid a sudden and traumatic readjustment.

That this coincidentally would result in Lan Wangji spending most of his time at the Lotus Pier had largely passed unnoticed. Most people were far, far too busy gossiping about Lan Wangji’s mysterious Jiang sect wife, each one adding new salacious details atop the other. Some of the nonsense he’d heard…!

At least, he comforted himself, none of them would be rude enough to actually ask him about it directly.

“Lan-er-gongzi!” a voice called, and Lan Wangji would have stiffened if his back hadn’t already been straighter than a board. His uncle coughed and stroked his beard to conceal his expression of amusement – he probably thought that having to deal with Nie Huaisang, inveterate gossip and useless person extraordinaire, was exactly what Lan Wangji deserved.

He was probably right, too. Lan Wangji had brought this on his own head.

“Nie-gongzi,” he said, very reluctantly, as the Second Young Master of Qinghe Nie showed up with a feckless smile, promptly clutching at his arm and insisting that they go catch up and indulge in nostalgia about their shared school days.

Which ones, Lan Wangji wasn’t sure – Nie Huaisang had attended his uncle’s classes three times over before passing, and whether or not that final pass had been fairly earned or whether his uncle had simply yielded to his desire never to see Nie Huaisang’s face in his classroom ever again, Lan Wangji remained unsure.

Still, it suited him not to be forced to make nice with all those sect leaders pretending that they weren’t gawking at him, and so he permitted Nie Huaisang to drag him off to some unoccupied garden he had somehow managed to uncover, the other man chattering in his ear like a magpie the entire time.

“ – supposed I really should call you Hanguang-jun now, but that just seems so formal, though at least I remember it. I barely remember anyone’s title. Though now that my big brother’s sworn brotherhood with your big brother, I could probably just get away with calling you Wangji-gege –”

“No.”

“You’re so mean!” Nie Huaisang wailed. “Aren’t we old friends?”

“No.”

“Well, we’re close enough to count, anyway,” Nie Huaisang said. “Jiang Cheng’s my friend as well, you know; you can’t keep him to yourself just because you’re angry at your family! That’s just selfish. Aren’t there Lan sect rules against being selfish? I assume so, though I admit I’ve forgotten more of them than I’ve learned…don’t tell your uncle that, I’m afraid he’ll revoke my sympathy pass.”

Lan Wangji reflected briefly that it was good that Nie Huaisang was self-aware enough to recognize that the pass mark had likely been given out of sympathy rather than for merit, but then returned to the more critical point of what Nie Huaisang had said.

“Why do you think I’m angry at my family?” he asked. And what was that about Jiang Cheng?

It was critical that Sect Leader Jin, among others, not suspect that Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng shared a closer relationship than apparent – even Jin Guangyao had agreed with that – and if they had been sussed out so quickly, and by Nie Huaisang…

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes at him. “You may be an unreadable stone wall, my – er, acquaintance, but do you really think I can’t tell when your uncle is upset? Me, of all people?”

This was a good point.

“And if your uncle’s upset at you, again, of all people, and you haven’t apologized or made up to him yet, that means you’re the one that’s angry,” Nie Huaisang concluded. “And anyway, why else would you agree to stay for so long at the Lotus Pier if you weren’t angry? You and Jiang Cheng must drive each other up the walls.”

Lan Wangji relaxed minutely. That was a reasonable explanation.

A moment later, he tensed up again – he was abruptly convinced, albeit without any logical basis, that the explanation was too reasonable, meant to put him at ease, designed to allow him to move on with the conversation without thinking too much or questioning too deeply. No one else had put the facts together the way Nie Huaisang had, and, most notably, Nie Huaisang hadn’t yet asked a single question about Lan Sizhui, who was, without making an appearance, the main subject matter of the day.

But then, a moment after that, he relaxed again, somewhat unwillingly – this was Nie Huaisang, who’d been born useless, grown up useless, and remained useless. It was a little absurd to suspect him of having figured out something that had duped the entire rest of the cultivation world.

As Nie Huaisang said – of all people…

“What do you want?” he asked, shaking his head a little to try to clear it. It must be the oppressive atmosphere of Koi Tower, gilded and rotten, that was affecting his thoughts.

“What do I always want?” Nie Huaisang asked philosophically, and then helpfully answered his own question: “Attention.”

Lan Wangji was starting to remember why he’d avoided Nie Huaisang so thoroughly in their youth.

“I’m not telling you anything about Sizhui,” he said.

Nie Huaisang pouted at him. He was still clinging to Lan Wangji’s arm, and Lan Wangji wondered whether it would count as ‘losing the sect face’ if he threw him out a window.

(He wished Jiang Cheng were around so that he could mention the thought to him - he suspected it would make the other man turn purple with suppressed laughter, and probably get some sort of comment about it being the only sort of flying Nie Huaisang could manage, with or without a blade.)

“Fine,” Nie Huaisang said sulkily. “Turns out you’re still no fun, even after all these years. I’ll have you know, Jiang Cheng’s a lot nicer than you. He appreciates all the things I bring to the table.”

Lan Wangji seriously doubted it – unless perhaps if Nie Huaisang was speaking literally, referring to fine foods and liquor – but his mood improved a bit nonetheless at the compliment. Given the Jiang sect’s relatively isolated political position, with all the smaller sects looking at it hungrily, just waiting for it to trip up and give them a chance to snatch away the title of being the fourth Great Sect, it was only good that the second young master of Qinghe Nie had a positive impression of the ever-prickly Jiang Cheng.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Nie Huaisang said, and dug something out of his sleeve. “Give this back to er-ge for me, will you?”

Lan Wangji stared blankly. “His passage token for Koi Tower?”

He had planned to ask his brother later if he could borrow it – perhaps not that night, since it was the first day of the discussion conference and he suspected his brother would want to visit with his sworn brothers, but in the next day or two. That was the only reason he had agreed to go to Koi Tower at all, agreed to visit Lanling at all: so that he might try to steal away at some opportune moment to visit Mo Xuanyu unattended, before anyone noticed where he’d gone, and talk to him about the request for safe harbor that he had made of Jiang Cheng.

Lan Wangji had still been thinking over how he would phrase the request for the token without giving away his suspicions of the boy’s mistreatment, which his brother would likely take as a slight against Jin Guangyao even though it was fairly obvious to everyone that Sect Leader Jin was keeping Mo Xuanyu as a weapon against Jin Guangyao. He hadn’t yet managed to think of a way to do it.

And now – how had the token ended up here, in Nie Huaisang’s hands?

“Well, yes,” Nie Huaisang said. “I wanted to talk to you privately, without everyone eavesdropping, so I asked him for it. Da-ge never lets me use his, he says I’m a menace to both people and property, and for some reason san-ge never lets me take his. Probably because he’s always so busy all the time.”

That sounded – very much like all three of them, in fact. Nie Mingjue, bluntly refusing; Jin Guangyao, politely eliding; his brother, yielding in utter capitulation to the first bit of begging, confident enough in his own righteous reputation to not worry about the consequences…

An idea appeared in Lan Wangji’s mind.

It was not the sort of idea that might naturally come to a member of the Lan sect. Perhaps his uncle was right in saying that he’d been lingering at the Lotus Pier for too long.

“Nie-gongzi,” Lan Wangji said, looking at the token. “You are right.”

“I…what?” Nie Huaisang frowned. “Are you getting sick, Lan-er-gongzi? I’m never right.”

“I am angry at my family,” Lan Wangji continued, deciding to ignore him. He did not specify why he was angry – let Nie Huaisang assume, as everyone else assumed, that it was because they had not retrieved Lan Sizhui earlier, and for sticking him with the ‘compromise’ of having to stay at the Lotus Pier, no matter how far that was from the truth. “I have not had the opportunity to vent my feelings.”

Nie Huaisang blinked at him. “You…vent feelings?” he said, sounding doubtful, but a moment later he brightened, as Lan Wangji had expected he would. “We could play a prank on somebody! That always makes me feel better – something petty and ridiculous, so that they won’t get really angry, but still know that you’re upset.”

Lan Wangji nodded.

Nie Huaisang appeared somewhat dazed by his agreement. “We could do so many things,” he marveled. “I mean, the possibilities are countless. We could throw paint at something, we could put water on top of a door, we could…”

“I do not want to be publicly associated with it,” Lan Wangji said.

Nie Huaisang pouted, but tapped his fan against his cheek, thinking. “That makes things harder, but not impossible, I suppose…oh, I know! Why don’t we pretend that you’re your brother? You two look like peas in a pod, but for the color of your eyes and your expressions – if I’m hanging around and calling you er-ge and no one looks too closely, they would have no idea it was you involved.”

That was precisely the idea Lan Wangji had hit upon, and the one that he had hoped to lead Nie Huaisang towards suggesting. He had gotten to the point much quicker than Lan Wangji had thought he would; it seemed, useless as he might be, Nie Huaisang was still apparently capable of accepting at least some guidance.

(Unless perhaps...but no. It was Nie Huaisang.)

“This evening?” he suggested, and Nie Huaisang nodded.

“That’ll give me time to think of a proper prank,” he said happily. It was as if he’d never encountered a care in his life, Sunshot Campaign or no. “Don’t you worry, Wangji-gege! Leave it all to me!”

Lan Wangji returned to the main hall, the token tucked into his sleeve, and said nothing when his older brother smiled at him, faintly apologetic, nor when his uncle turned his face away from him. By that point, Jiang Cheng had arrived, scowling as usual, and he was mingling, speaking with the smaller sect leaders with a stiff and stern expression that said please don’t talk to me – Lan Wangji really would have to see about convincing him to invite Chifeng-zun to the Lotus Pier, politics or no politics – and he and Lan Wangji stared at each other briefly before turning away from each other, whispers sprouting up around them like grass.

Why must we put up with people? Jiang Cheng’s expression eloquently conveyed, and Lan Wangji didn’t disagree in the slightest. Life was so much easier in his little room back at the Lotus Pier, where he could shut the door and not let in the world – sometimes he wondered if all of this was really worth it.

Later that evening, he was reminded that it was.

Mo Xuanyu had been invited to the opening ceremonies, sitting in the main row with the important people of the Jin sect – directly beside Jin Guangyao, as if everyone didn’t know his purpose already – but he hadn’t spoken at all, keeping his face down and demeanor as withdrawn as possible. Sect Leader Jin had found an opportunity to praise him for his humility and obedience, and even Lan Wangji, who did not like Jin Guangyao, was indignant on the man’s behalf in the face of such obvious humiliation.

Etiquette dictated that no one could intervene in another man’s family affairs, but Chifeng-zun had rather loudly remarked to Lan Xichen – as if only just remembering – that it must be good to have his brother (subtext: notable for being humble and obedient) out of seclusion at last, inquiring as to whether Lan Wangji was planning on attending any night-hunts in the near future and, if so, whether he would be bringing his son, for whom he cared so deeply, along.

Lan Wangji was accustomed to being the other person’s child, held up as a positive comparison to the annoyance of the person being compared, and it took Jiang Cheng’s eyes crinkling with barely concealed laughter for him to realize that the person he was being compared favorably against this time was Jin Guangshan, absent father extraordinaire, and not poor Mo Xuanyu.

Later, when his brother slipped away to meet with his sworn brothers, as Lan Wangji expected, and Jiang Cheng was gone reluctantly to take Jin Ling to visit with his grandfather, Lan Wangji headed out with Nie Huaisang, who had come up with some prank involving feathers and glue that Lan Wangji wanted nothing to do with.

“But it would be funny,” Nie Huaisang argued.

Lan Wangji blamed Jiang Cheng for the fact that he even considered it.

“We can simply walk around in the guise we agreed,” he finally said, banishing that unhelpful part of him that loved chaos a little too much – the Wei Wuxian part, perhaps. “That will be confusing enough.”

“Oh, all right,” Nie Huaisang said. “But the feathers are hidden in the linen closet off the main guest hallway if you change your mind.”

With Nie Huaisang complaisant, it was easy enough to gradually make their way through Koi Tower, seeming to stroll without any apparent goal but in fact edging closer to Lan Wangji’s destination: the Jin family quarters.

“Wangji-gege – oops, I mean, er-ge,” Nie Huaisang said after he had exhausted at least three other pointless topics. “Why don’t you trust me?”

Lan Wangji looked at him, surprised by the question.

Nie Huaisang was pouting. “You clearly have a goal,” he said. “I know I’m not much, you know, but I’m not nothing. I could still help. If you wanted.”

Lan Wangji opened his mouth to refuse on instinct – the idea that Nie Huaisang could be helpful to him in any way seemed utterly absurd, utterly impossible – but then he paused.

Attempt the impossible, he reminded himself. After all, was it really so long ago that he himself had done what he had never dreamt he could do and chosen to leave his sect behind?

For a life at the Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng, no less?

Maybe even Nie Huaisang could overturn expectations.

“I want to speak with Mo Xuanyu,” he finally said. “And, if he is unhappy, remove him from Koi Tower. Is that something in which you think you can assist me?”

Nie Huaisang blinked at him, just once – he did not appear nearly as surprised by the request as Lan Wangji thought he probably should be – and then smiled.

#mdzs #lan wangji #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #my fic #my fics #delight in misery

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richincolor · 4 years ago

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*As is usual with our discussions, there may be a few spoilers ahead, so beware.*

We all were incredibly excited to read Angeline Boulley's FIREKEEPER'S DAUGHTER when we first heard about it, so we decided to make it our second group discussion book for the year. Come join us!

As a biracial, unenrolled tribal member and the product of a scandal, eighteen-year-old Daunis Fontaine has never quite fit in, both in her hometown and on the nearby Ojibwe reservation. Daunis dreams of studying medicine, but when her family is struck by tragedy, she puts her future on hold to care for her fragile mother.

The only bright spot is meeting Jamie, the charming new recruit on her brother Levi’s hockey team. Yet even as Daunis falls for Jamie, certain details don’t add up and she senses the dashing hockey star is hiding something. Everything comes to light when Daunis witnesses a shocking murder, thrusting her into the heart of a criminal investigation.

Reluctantly, Daunis agrees to go undercover, but secretly pursues her own investigation, tracking down the criminals with her knowledge of chemistry and traditional medicine. But the deceptions—and deaths—keep piling up and soon the threat strikes too close to home.

Now, Daunis must learn what it means to be a strong Anishinaabe kwe (Ojibwe woman) and how far she'll go to protect her community, even if it tears apart the only world she’s ever known.

[Note: While we will not go into any great detail in this discussion, Firekeeper’s Daughter contains murder, suicide, kidnapping, sexual assault, addiction and drug use, racism, colorism, and death of parents/family members.

You can read an excerpt of the book here!]

Audrey: To get us started--let’s talk about this gorgeous cover! The cover art was created by Moses Lunham and designed by Rich Deas. The first thing I noticed when I got my copy of the book was that the two faces at the top had different skin tones. According to this interview, author Angeline Boulley says that “the different shades of the faces symbolizes Daunis claiming her biracial identity,” which is a major part of the book.

Jessica: The cover is so beautiful. It’s next to me on my desk right now and I can’t stop looking at it. Love how the cover ties into the themes of the book.

K. Imani: This cover is absolutely beautiful! I love the design of the faces looking like a butterfly as well as the bird and bear (I think) and the fire. There are so many subtle images in this cover that you can almost find something new each time. And the colors are so stunning. Like you Audrey, I noticed the faces had different skin tones which I found interesting and made me wonder what was going to happen in the book. Knowing the faces symbolize Daunis’s biracial identity now is powerful and really brings home the meaning of the book.

Crystal: I agree that the cover is gorgeous. In addition to the aspects of her physical appearance and physical identity, Daunis’ cultural identity is also displayed within the illustrations with bears representing her clan. In addition there are the birds like the one that guides her and the sun is in the background too which is from the story of the original Fire Keeper’s Daughter. The faces forming a butterfly is also just brilliant for a coming-of-age story. There’s so much to see. Each time I notice more.

Audrey: Daunis, our heroine, is on the older end of the YA protagonist spectrum at 18. She’s dealing with a lot of upheaval in her life, and things only get more complicated in short order. Something I really liked about Daunis was how often she thought about and evaluated what her responsibilities were--to her family, to her friends, to her community, and to herself. These sometimes complementary, sometimes competing, responsibilities strongly influenced her decisions.

Jessica: You mention the complementary and sometimes competing responsibilities -- that’s exactly it. I loved how her thought process was explored throughout the book in such a thorough and complex way. The way Daunis balances and reconciles the interests of her community with what the FBI wants from her and her quest for justice is laid out really clearly. Sometimes, narratives can tend toward simplistic, binary summations of the issues people, especially from marginalized communities, face -- but that’s just not the case, and Daunis really highlights that. To be honest, I was a little nervous at the introduction of law enforcement and the FBI, given the racism and oppression baked into these institutions, but the way Daunis navigates her interactions with them, plus the way other members of the community tell the truth about these institutions, really played out in such a nuanced way. (I really, really hope that the Netflix adaptation keeps these nuances and hard truths in the show, but I suspect that won’t be the case, unfortunately.)

K. Imani: I enjoyed that Daunis was 18 and on the cusp of adulthood. So many YA novels focus on the character’s high school life but a lot does happen and teens do grow and change a lot in that year after high school. Many have left home for college (that was me) or working full time and they are learning how to navigate a life that was not completely so structured. In addition to having to deal with changing friendships as people move away or just become busy. It’s a unique time and I loved that we got to spend time with Daunis as she was going through this change. She was learning how to become an adult in one of the most stressful ways possible, and sometimes I felt she was a little too idealistic, but I’m glad that she kept her truth throughout and was focused on helping her community in addition to helping the FBI. Her perspective helped keep the investigation grounded in what mattered which wouldn’t have happened if she wasn’t involved.

Crystal: Daunis balances a lot of responsibilities and really tries to follow what she’s learned from elders. She considers how her actions may affect all of her relatives within her family, clan, community, and beyond. Boulley embedded a lot of elder wisdom within Daunis’ inner dialogue such as thinking about the seventh generation when making decisions.

Audrey: One of the things that I really appreciated about Firekeeper’s Daughter was the depth of the setting and the characters in it. While Boulley says that Daunis’s tribe is fictionalized in the author note, it’s clear how much care and thought Boulley put into creating Daunis’s community. It’s filled with people who have complex histories (both within and between Native and non-Native groups), with differing opinions and prejudices and goals.

Jessica: This really highlights how important it is to have stories where cultures and communities aren’t portrayed as a monolith. It’s not just the right thing to do, it makes for a better and more accurate story. I read Firekeeper’s Daughter and watched the TV show Rutherford Falls back to back, which really drove home the power of depicting a community with nuance. (Also, sidebar: Highly recommend checking out Rutherford Falls, which does this really well.)

K. Imani: One of my favorite aspects of Firekeeper’s Daughter were the elders in Daunis’s tribe and how we got to hear many of their individual stories which showed the complexity of real life. I loved that Daunis listened to her elders, really took in their stories and learned from them. Her interactions with the elders greatly contributed to her growing sense of self and her desire to help her community. And this is where this novel being truly #ownvoices shines because of Boulley’s connection to her community that she took great care in making sure Daunis’s tribe felt real and authentic as well as culturally accurate. It was not full of stereotypes but filled with real people who had real lives and real stories. I was drawn into Daunis’s community and really cared about the people that made Daunis who she is and becomes.

Crystal: Like Jessica says, there is a lot of nuance here. When you have a wide variety of characters who are not simply good or bad, the story has more power and is definitely more believable. The people in our everyday lives are also complex and have a story if only we take the time to listen. This is what Daunis excels at with elders and others around her. She is paying attention and trying to connect with people. There is a lot of love throughout the book of many different types. The love is beautiful and yet also has some ugliness too in the betrayals. It’s not picture perfect and that makes it so much more real.

Audrey: Boulley tackles a lot of difficult topics in Firekeeper’s Daughter, especially ones that can hit hard on a community level. Much of the plot focuses on drug use and addiction, of course, but violence against Native women also has a significant impact on what happens in the book and affects multiple characters, including Daunis.

Crystal: Daunis and the other women are examples of the many, many, women who have been harmed in the past and the present. That’s not the whole story though. As Daunis is learning, there are many ways of being brave. Throughout the story, we see many women being strong and brave though at initial glance their actions may not seem to be either of those things. There is bravery in speaking out, but sometimes bravery requires something else. These women have done what they needed to do to survive or help their loved ones survive.

Audrey: Firekeeper’s Daughter has a complicated ending, and it left me thinking about two things. The first was how proud I was of Daunis and her character growth. There were a couple of times where she came across as very Not Like Other Girls (particularly with the hockey players’ girlfriends), but that changed over the course of the book. The second was grief at how many people and institutions failed Daunis and her community, both within and without. Just as one example, even though Daunis is a confidential informant for the FBI, the FBI doesn’t come out of this story as a Good Guy.

K. Imani: I was torn by the ending too. I so wanted justice for Daunis and Lily and for others who were murdered, but on the other hand life doesn’t always have a happy ending and I recognize that Boulley gave us that horribly realistic ending because the fight for missing and murdered Indigenous women continues and the fight for justice for Indigenous peoples. It was a heartbreaking reminder of a very real issue. On the other hand, I was so proud of Daunis as well. She was able to achieve her goals of helping out the FBI while staying true to herself and her community. She grew so much as a character and really found her place in her world.

Crystal: The ending gave me much to think about too. Daunis grew a lot as she worked through this complicated puzzle in her community. She learned much about herself and some of the assumptions folks have about others. I also really, really wanted justice, but unfortunately, would be unlikely in real life with our current justice system. I also found Jamie’s growth to be interesting. He is truly struggling with his own identity as an adopted child with Cherokee roots, but no Cherokee teachings or culture to turn to. I don’t know if a sequel or companion book is planned, but I would be interested in seeing more of their journeys whether their paths cross again or not.

Jessica: Audrey, thanks so much for leading this discussion! Now I have a question for you all -- what YA books by/about BIPOC are you reading right now?

For AAPI month, I’m rereading Turtle Under Ice by Juleah del Rosario. After that, I’m planning on reading The Ones We're Meant to Find by Joan He, Apple: Skin to the Core by Eric Gansworth, and Witches Steeped in Gold by Ciannon Smart! Yes, my TBR pile is excellent. :P

Audrey: Next up on my list are The Theft of Sunlight by Intisar Khanani, Forest of Stolen Girls by June Hur, and Simone Breaks All the Rules by Debbie Rigaud. I feel like that’s a pretty good mix of genres and authors right there!

K. Imani: Since I’m needing some inspiration for my vampire manuscript, I’m re-reading and new reading some vampire novels. Currently I am reading Fledgling by Octavia Butler then up next is Renee Ahdieh’s series The Beautiful and the sequel The Damned.

Crystal: I just re-read Saints & Misfits and then dove into the sequel Misfit in Love. S.K. Ali is an author that I really enjoy and I am loving it so far. Next up is American Betiya by Anuradha D. Rajurkar along with Love & Other Natural Disasters by Misa Sugiura. I also think my TBR is pretty stellar.

If you've had the chance to read FIREKEEPER'S DAUGHTER, please join in the discussion below! We'd love to hear what you think.

#firekeeper's daughter #weneeddiversebooks #group discussion #contemporary #thriller

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five-rivers · 5 years ago

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Long Night in the Valley Chapter 4

Trigger warning for suicide and suicide baiting. Starts and ends at the * asterisks.

There was something wrong with the school. Other than it being entirely within Midoriya’s head. It was… ominous. Foreboding. The way the walls joined together was wrong. The colors on the posters clashed. The incomprehensible background noise made by the bright blurs was jeering, mocking.

It reminded Aizawa too much of his old school, the one he went to before UA. Of the looks and the hate he got just because his quirk frightened people.

But Midoriya had a straightforward physical quirk. Correction: he appeared to have a straightforward physical quirk. Even if he’d had the bone breaking problem, he shouldn’t have experienced anything like that.

Aizawa was shoved, hard, from behind, and that shouldn’t have knocked him off balance, but it did. He tumbled, painfully, to the ground. There hadn’t been anyone there to push him.

Except the blurs.

He cursed inwardly. He had been too fast to dismiss them, he realized, as cruel laughter rose up around them.

“They can touch us,” said Aizawa. “Be careful.”

“Yes, sir!” said Iida, sporting a black eye already. “I apologize for my inattention.”

More laughter. An older, but still indistinct voice rose above the sound, along with a taller blur. A teacher. The condescension in the tone made Aizawa’s teeth hurt.

He caught sight of Suzuki ahead. “Come on,” he said.

“Let me try something, sensei,” said Todoroki. He raised his arm, and ice filled the hallway, pushing out to either side.

The blurs ignored it. The jeering increased in volume. Aizawa could make out individual words, now, like ‘useless’ and ‘freak.’

“Good thought, Todoroki,” said Aizawa. He tried not to let his trepidation show. He had a feeling this was going to be difficult.

The children looked at him in horror.

“Sensei,” said Iida, “you’re being… encouraging?”

“Just follow them,” said Aizawa, pointing. He wanted hazard pay for this nonsense.

“Yes, sir!” said Iida, zooming off. He was immediately tripped again.

Luckily, Suzuki didn’t seem to be having much more luck. The blurs, which Aizawa guessed were somehow Midoriya’s memories of his former classmates, were just as violent with him. Aizawa couldn’t see Midoriya anymore.

Laughter. One of the blurs scratched at Aizawa’s side and murmured tauntingly. They passed a nurse’s office where nothing but cold words and cold winds emerged. The hallways smelled like smoke and sugar and things that had to be related to quirks.

There was a loud ring overhead, and the blurs abruptly vanished. Despite the burns Aizawa had suffered (when?) he forced himself to speed up.

He almost caught Suzuki before he entered the classroom.

Iida slipped on the tile floor, hitting him from behind, and all of them skidded into the classroom as a tangled mess. Aizawa hadn’t been this clumsy since he was in middle school. What was going on?

Midoriya was sitting at a desk, hunched over and muttering. The desk was, to put it nicely, ruined. Even from Aizawa’s current perspective, he could make out some truly hateful things carved into the wood and metal.

Aizawa dearly hoped that this was exaggerated. Even so, he was going to seriously talk to Midoriya about therapy and taking legal action against this hellhole.

“What are you hiding?” asked Suzuki, roughly.

The classroom exploded into sound, blurs at the desks solidifying into outlines, into ghosts.

You’re also applying to UA, aren’t you, Midoriya?

Midoriya froze and buried his head in his arms. Aizawa, halfway up with the intent to stop whatever this was, felt himself freeze as well.

This mindscape affected him far too much for his peace of mind.

The ghosts laughed, long and hard and cruel, the teacher did nothing to stop it.

Then Bakugou’s shade exploded. Literally. The smaller Midoriya barely had time to throw himself back, away from the blast. Midoriya’s reflexes had much improved since middle school, but, honestly, even this much was impressive for someone of his age.

Come on, Deku! Forget the crappy quirks, you’re totally quirkless!

… What?

Aizawa missed the next several sentences as his mind whirred, trying to comprehend what he just heard. But then another explosion brought him back, and Bakugou’s next words were completely unmissable.

If you think you’ll have a quirk in your next life… go take a swan dive off the roof!

Just like that, whatever was holding them in place broke, the ghosts fading away entirely, leaving the classroom completely empty except for them and Midoriya.

Midoriya who was shaking, fists clenched, tears running down his face.

“Are you happy now?” he demanded. “Are you happy? Why couldn’t you just let me-? Me being quirkless in middle school isn’t hurting anyone!” He took several deep but uneven breaths, his shoulders trembling.

Uraraka stepped forward, and Midoriya flinched.

“Izuku?” she said, hesitantly.

Midoriya looked up, his expression guarded.

“The first thing I’m going to do when we get out of here is punch Bakugou.” She said it cheerfully, one hand in a fist.

Midoriya gaped, but some of the oppressive, terrified, atmosphere dissipated.

Aizawa sighed to himself. Now that the immediate danger seemed to be over, he moved closer to Midoriya. He wasn’t sure if it was even possible to comfort a memory or a fragment or figment or whatever this was, but he wanted to be between Midoriya and Suzuki. Especially given that Suzuki seemed to be able to manipulate the environment to some extent.

“Plus ultra,” agreed Todoroki.

“Uraraka! Todoroki!” gasped Iida, scandalized. “You can’t just punch a classmate outside of school supervised sparring!”

“I love you Iida, but you’re a bit of a hypocrite sometimes,” said Uraraka. “Especially considering, uh…” She gestured vaguely at Iida’s hands and then Midoriya’s face.

Iida turned a very funny color, then looked down at his hands. “Oh my god, you’re right…” He whispered, horrified. “What have I become?”

“Besides,” said Todoroki, “Aizawa is like, right here.” He gestured at Aizawa. “We can ask him if we can—”

“No,” interrupted Suzuki, “that can’t be it! Show me what you’re hiding!” He started forward only to be jumped by three extremely annoyed hero students. Just to be safe, Aizawa activated his quirk and kept it trained on the man.

“Mind the gun!” reminded Iida.

Ah, yes. The gun. Which the man may or may not have recovered at any point due to the impermanent nature of everything here. Lovely.

“Midoriya,” said Aizawa, “he’s after you. Get out of here.”

“Yes,” said Midoriya. “Sorry, sensei.” He bobbed in an incomplete bow and turned to the door.

And there was that stupid gun.

Aizawa wished he had his capture weapon back.

“What are you keeping secret?” demanded Suzuki, his voice echoing somewhat.

Midoriya clutched his head and screamed, falling to his knees. His body vanished entirely, but the sound remained, somehow.

The classroom fell apart.

Very briefly, Tenya recognized Hosu. The smoke, the alley, the distant, indistinct cries of Manual. It wasn’t the alley where he’d found Stain standing over Native, however. This was… this was Midoriya’s perspective.

The scene shifted again, rapidly. They were now in the entrance tunnel to the sports festival arena. The air smelled of smoke. Todoroki startled, but—

It fell away. A hallway in UA, the smell of coffee. Then, one of the soundproofed conference rooms, papers on a table, the writing all blacked out. Suzuki lunged for them, Aizawa punched him in the face.

Another shift, a dilapidated apartment with footprints on the walls and ceilings. A microwave hummed in the background. As soon as it dinged, they were elsewhere again.

Back on the beach. The light was different. A single car still remained and—

They were on a rooftop.

The wind blew mournfully.

Midoriya was standing at the edge, uniform in disarray, a burnt notebook clutched in one hand.

“Stop it!” he shouted, almost doubled over. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!”

Tenya took a step forward before he could fully assess the situation. If he tried to grab Midoriya now… There was a good chance he’d go right over the edge.

“There it is! That smile of his is just a mask—”

“Of course, it’s a mask, you idiot!” exclaimed Midoriya, angrily.

Angrily.

Midoriya rarely got angry.

“I am clinically depressed, and I have anxiety! That doesn’t make me a villain. Are you stupid? Are you on drugs? Is the whole commission on drugs? All Might’s smile was a mask ninety percent of the time! And don’t you dare try to tell me that Hawks’ smile isn’t a mask. Do you do this to him, too, you sicko?”

Suzuki had gone very stiff. “How do you know about that?”

“Because I have functioning eyes, unlike virtually everyone else, apparently. What is wrong with you?”

“You,” said Suzuki, “are in no position to ask questions. What are you hiding here?”

“You really want to know? Do you? Do you? Huh?”

“Midoriya—”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, I can’t take this anymore, this is so stupid.”

This Midoriya was… also not quite right, it seemed. Beyond age.

“You want to know why this place is a secret? Fine. Fine!” He threw his hands on the air. “This is the first and last place I seriously considered suicide. Happy?” The last was said with such an incredible amount of venom that everyone took a step away from Midoriya.

“Suicide?” said Tenya out loud, unable to stop himself.

“I didn’t want to—Hero courses filter stuff like that out! If they think you’re going to be a liability!” He was breathing heavily. “Are you happy now? You have my- my deep, dark secrets! You know what- what I was like before, and—”

“Midoriya,” said Aizawa, gently, “it’s fine. UA doesn’t filter for that. All you would have to do is attend extra counseling.”

“Really?” said Midoriya.

“That can’t be it,” said Suzuki. “You…” He whipped his head around. “There was someone else here. Who stopped you? Was this where All for One recruited you?”

“What is wrong with you?” demanded Tenya, activating his quirk long enough to skid to a halt right in front of Suzuki.

Suzuki looked past him as if he weren’t even there. “Who was with you?”

A faint breeze picked up. Without power, can one become a hero? No, I should think not…

“All Might?” said Uraraka.

“All Might?!” repeated Suzuki incredulously.

The scene changed in a blink. They were in a pedestrian tunnel.

Midoriya, as disheveled and tiny as he was on the roof, leaned up against the wall, clearly wary of them in general and Suzuki in particular.

First contact… whispered a voice that dragged across Tenya’s mind like the end of a silk curtain.

“First contact?” said Suzuki. “What is that supposed to-?”

“Hey!”

They turned to see a figure standing beyond the tunnel’s mouth, in the sunlight. They were tall and slender, perhaps as tall as Tenya, and wearing a hoody and disposable medical mask. The voice sounded oddly familiar, but Tenya couldn’t place it. It sounded like the owner was about their age.

“Ha!” said Suzuki. “This guy definitely isn’t Midoriya! You have to admit-!”

“Are these guys bothering you?” asked the boy in the hoody.

“Yes,” said Midoriya.

“Well, don’t worry now! Because I am here!”

“Are you… a vigilante?” guessed Tenya as the unknown boy stepped into the tunnel. Many of them had an appreciation for All Might.

“Sure!” said the boy, cheerfully.

“Mutation-based speed enhancement,” muttered Izuku, sliding across the wall towards the boy. “Fire and ice user. Five-point activation mass alteration. Quirk negation with secondary minor telekinesis. Some kind of thought or memory manipulation, possibly a form of telempathy that allows him to alter the local environment as a side effect. May have a truth-detection component.”

A thread of ice wound down Tenya’s back. Even if he didn’t believe that Midoriya was a traitor, that he was giving information about them so freely to this stranger, as if they were enemies, was chilling… Even if it did evolve that this was just a figment of his imagination…

“Ha! It’ll take more than that to get rid of me!” said the vigilante, pointing a thumb at his chest.

If Tenya wasn’t mistaken, however, there was a bit of a wobble in his voice.

“Mass alteration can act like freefall. No conscious control of how much mass is altered, can only reduce mass,” continued Midoriya, now hiding behind the taller boy. “Ceiling of absolute temperature alteration from average is lower for fire than for ice. Speed enhancement can be used to power kicks. Mind the capture weapon. Scarf.”

“Gotcha!”

The vigilante lunged for Suzuki and threw him bodily into Aizawa. While the adults were recovering, the students moved to flank the stranger. He attempted to throw Uraraka in the same way, but she got him with her quirk and he floated towards the ceiling, which he kicked off, enough power in the movement to clock Todoroki in the jaw.

Tenya attempted to apply a kick at the vigilante’s exposed but still-floating back, but was nearly stabbed in the eye with a pencil by Midoriya.

“Sorry,” said Midoriya, breathlessly. “Sorry. I didn’t do this for real. I thought about it. But I didn’t. Sorry.”

“You thought about stabbing me in the eye?”

“No. Muscular. The sludge villain. I thought—Maybe I should have.” His muttering rapidly became unintelligible.

Tenya was distracted enough by the muttering that he took a second longer than he should have to react to Midoriya going after his bad shoulder. The tip of the pencil dug right into it.

“Sorry, sorry, this is a dream, I know it hurts, I’m sorry.”

“Disengage!” shouted Aizawa. “There’s no point in fighting these guys!”

“The hell there isn’t!” said Suzuki.

“Dissension among the ranks, eh, villains?” asked the vigilante.

“Hey!” complained Uraraka. “Don’t lump us in with him!”

The vigilante, somehow, got a hold of Aizawa again. Despite his young appearance, he had a lot more skill than Iida, or even Midoriya.

Aizawa managed to get a blow across the boy’s face, knuckles knocking his hood and mask askew, and—

He would recognize that smile anywhere. Even if it wasn’t paired with the floppy bangs they had all come to know.

“All Might?!”

Toshinori tried to ignore his growing headache as he laid out supplies. Izuku was sleeping, and they were safe for now, but it would be foolish of them to assume that the Hero Commission would just let Izuku disappear. The infinite variety of quirks in the world all but guaranteed someone with a tracking quirk would be after them, and soon.

Thus, it behooved them to disguise themselves.

In this day and age, the easiest way to do that was to make it look like you had a quirk other than your own. The bulky coat he had selected included a high collar and an apparatus that covered everything below the eyes, suggesting a disturbing or difficult-to-control mutation. Of course, he’d also have to wear sunglasses. His eyes were unfortunately distinctive. The hair would have to go, too.

For Izuku, though, he couldn’t stand the thought of completely cutting his hair off—it would look strange in someone so young, anyway—so instead he had retrieved the hair bleach. White hair, combined with a suit and properly worn tie, would make him appear older. Lifts in his shoes would add to that impression.

The computer pinged. Toshinori went to it and made a face. He wasn’t technologically inclined at all, but Six was and had been a different story. The computer was old, but Six was very good, and large organizations only rarely changed their protocols.

The commission had their tracker, a young rescue hero named Trace. She was on her way to UA. The details of her quirk… Yes. They could potentially even keep her away from the safehouse, if they took the opportunity to cross their paths… But they would have to start preparing to leave now.

Izuku woke with a gasp and an anguished cry. The pain in it was echoed by a spike in Toshinori’s headache.

Toshinori rushed to the room. “What’s wrong, my boy?”

“They’re not in my head anymore,” said Izuku, knotting his fingers in his hair.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” asked Toshinori, even as he knew it wasn’t.

Izuku shook his head. “They’re not in my head anymore. They’re in yours.”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #fanfiction #my fic #long night in the valley #also on ffn and ao3

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the-daily-dreamer · 5 years ago

Text

“The Stark’s are villains!” - A deep dive into the validity of a Dany stan claim: Part 1

“Manipulators”

“Schemers”

“Back Stabbers”

“Oath Breakers”

“Hypocrites”

“Xenophobes”

“Power-Hungry”

“Murderers”

“Selfish”

“Willing to kill everyone to get what they want”

“Ned would be ashamed”

“They’re the new Lannisters”

Villains

The Dany stans have really started a movement that the Starks are the new Lannister. The new villains of the show. They’re selfish, powerhunry, racist, conniving characters. The lowest of the low. This is obviously utter nonsense.

But for the sake of something to do, I thought I’d take a deep dive into the actions of the Starks and see if they really are all these terrible things (or..if Dany stans just don’t understand words and what they mean) and how their precious queen stacks up! This’ll be a long post so I’ll break it into two parts. Analyzing the Starks (part 1) and then analyzing Daenerys herself (part 2).

Disclaimer: This is part 1, which focuses on the Starks. I will mainly be focusing on Jon and Sansa since they are the most vilified Starks by Dany stans. Arya is mentioned, but not much.

Manipulators: a person who controls or influences others in a clever or unscrupulous way.

I assume Dany stans are making the arguments that the Starks are manipulators because 1) Sansa “manipulates” Jon and Dany into...doing something??? D stans never make it clear, and 2) Jon “manipulates” Dany into fighting for the North.

1) Sansa manipulates Jon and Dany. Where?!? Sansa is completely open with Jon. She makes her opinions clear, not to manipulate Jon but to continue having an open and honest relationship with her brother/cousin. She understands that they all need each other. Sansa is not being vocal because she jealous or petty or any of that bull. She’s being vocal because she’s a leader. She’s in a position of power. She needs to be heard, just as much as any other lord or lady present at a meeting. Jon is never manipulated. He is being told the truth. When it comes to Dany...Sansa never really manipulates her. The only scene I can imagine would be even close to manipulation is the “What about the North scene”. I even say so myself that Dany is easily manipulated and receptive to Sanaa’s praise and thanks. But that means Sansa’s only manipulation is complimenting Dany in hopes of persuading her to free the North, which never happens ans doesn’t work. So Sansa doesn’t manipulate but rather stroke Dany’s ego and butter her up, in hopes of getting on her good side. If that’s manipulation then oh boy do I have news for you! DANY DID THE SAME THING TO SANSA AND WAS FAKE NICE TO GET WHAT SHE WANTS!

2) Jon manipulates Dany. I so desperately want this to be true. Unfortunately, the show was unclear on Jon’s motivations. Personally, I don’t think what Jon did was manipulation. He never tricked her or lied about anything to her to get what he wanted. He was open and honest. He told Dany that the others were coming and begged for help. Where is the manipulation? Asking for help by using dragon glass and dragons to defeat a literal horde of ice zombie that will kill everyone? If that’s manipulation, then every person that has ever asked for help is a manipulator. Even Dany says that Jon manipulated her into coming to the North, but there is no basis for that claim. He was ready to leave her castle and prepare for the battle, she kept him there. He didn’t use her affection against her. Jon simply asked for help. If Dany chose to go because she was “in love” or something, that’s on her. The other instance I could see for Jon manipulating Dany is the parentage reveal, but again, Jon never uses anything against Dany!

In short, the Starks didn’t manipulate Dany. They had autonomy. Just because they didn’t agree with your fav doesn’t mean they manipulated her. They are not unfairly controlling her. They are giving their opinions and council. She makes her own decisions.

Schemers: a person who is involved in making secret or underhanded plans

I love this one. The Starks are schemers now lol. They have a grand on to dominate the world and kill everyone. I have to laugh.

I assume the rhetoric of this comes from the scene in which Arya and Sansa tell Jon they don’t like Dany. That would be the closest thing to scheming the Stark girls do. The thing is...they never make plans to kill Dany, they never make plans to usurp Dany, they don’t do anything. They tell their brother/cousin that they don’t trust Dany or like her. And with good reason! They want independence! But telling your family you don’t like or want someone as your head of state is not scheming. Telling your family your opinion is not scheming.

The other instance would be Sansa telling Tyrion there’s another. Again, that isn’t a scheme. Unfortunately, the show left out a lot of personal involvement, so I can’t be sure what Sansa’s motivations or ideas are. But here’s the thing, she couldn’t have known what would happen after telling. To be a schemer you need to have a plan, know what will happen every step of the way. Pull strings. Littlefinger was a schemer because he planned everything out. Sansa didn’t have a plan beyond, get the North freedom. I can see the justification that this is still scheming because she tells Tyrion; however, I don’t believe it. Because Sansa didn’t know what would happen after.

And even if it was scheming, it’s not villainous. Her plans are for freedom for her country. She is pushing independence, which her people have fought for and declared over and over again. She is protecting her nation’s interests, not just her own. That’s heroic. Rob did the same thing. He made plans and “schemed” to win independence. But it was against the Lannisters, so to D stans it was ok. Sansa’s actions, if you perceive them as schemes, were still lined with noble intentions and were heroic for her people.

So whether you think it was a scheme or not, it doesn’t matter. Sansa was right to do it.

Backstabbers and Oath Breakers: Backstab - to attempt to discredit (a person) by underhanded means, as innuendo, accusation, or the like. Oath breaker - Someone who breaks an oath.

I’m clumping these together because they work hand in hand. This one has validity, so I won’t completely say no. But it’s an interesting question.

I assume this comes from broken promises, right? I’ll admit that Sansa did break her promise to Jon. She did tell a secret she promised to keep. But that wasn’t an oath. Oaths are more serious than promises.

Oath - a solemn promise, often invoking a divine witness, regarding one's future action or behavior

Promise - a declaration or assurance that one will do a particular thing or that a particular thing will happen

Sansa promised to not tell Jon’s secret. She did not swear an oath to Jon. She broke her promise, which I’m sure everyone has done.

Jon never promised Dany he wouldn’t tell his sisters. So that isn’t a broken oath. He did swear an oath that she would be his queen...and guess what! He didn’t break it!!!! Dany was his queen until her very end so no oath was broken.

So on the oath front - The Starks are clear

Backstabbing? Simple. Yeah. It happened. Jon killed Dany and Sansa spread Jon’s secret. That falls under the category of undermining. However context is important. They did it for the right reasons. Jon killed Dany because she was crazy! She killed an entire city! Murdered hundred of thousands and planned to keep going! Sansa did it to keep her kingdom free. So were they backstabbers....? Yeah...kinda. But they needed to be in order to defeat the villain and threat.

Hypocrites: the contrivance of a false appearance of virtue or goodness, while concealing real character traits or inclinations, especially with respect to religious and moral beliefs

I’m not spending time on this. They weren’t hypocrites. The Starks never feigned morality with underlying evil. They were open and honest at all times. And no...Sansa being polite back to Dany is not hypocrisy. Next!

Xenophobes: a person having a dislike of or prejudice against people from other countries.

This one kills me. I have to laugh. There’s no evidence! THE STARKS ARE NOT PREJUDICED AGAINST IMMIGRANTS! If the Stark girls were prejudiced against immigrants...they would hate Dany because she came from another country. And that would be it. They would hate the unsullied because they came from another country. They would hate because people come from other countries.

But they don’t! The Starks dislike Dany and her army because they are invaders who are trying to take over their country. They are oppressors coming in. There is no fear or hate of immigrants, there’s fear of oppression.

To say the North is xenophobic to Dany and her army because they come from another country, is to say that India was xenophobic towards Britain because they came from another country. The stupidity of it all!

Power-hungry, selfish, and willing to kill their people to get what they want: 1) power-hungry - having a strong desire for power 2) selfish - lacking consideration for others

1) How are the Stark’s power hungry? Jon never asks to be King. He hates being king. He takes back Winterfell because that is his family’s home. Sans never accepts the Lord’s invitation to overpower Jon. She stays behind Jon wholly and isn’t seeking to become queen. She takes back Winterfell because it’s her family’s home. And neither want the iron throne. Sansa wants Jon to have the throne, but that’s so he can grant independence. Neither one of them seek out power. It’s given to them because they show that they are capable leaders.

2) Both Jon and Sansa put others needs before their own. Jon is searching for a way to defeat the others. Sansa is searching for a way to feed her people and help them through winter. Sansa is also seeking a way to give her people the independenc they have fought for. Neither of them is thinking about their own gains. They are concerned about everyone else.

3) Willing to kill others for their own gains. I’m added this in because I hear this claim a lot. But again, Jon and Sansa do not kill people to get ahead. They do not let people starve or be killed be zombies. They do not kill the Lords of houses who did not support them initially. They do not kill to get ahead. There’s no evidence. Next!

Murderers:

You got me there! They do commit murder. They killed people. Everyone in the show except Gilly, Little Sam, Bran, and Rickon have killed people!

But let’s look at the kills they made in the last seasons, shall we?

1. Ramsay Bolton - Sansa fed him to his dogs After he lost the battle of the bastards. He was a murderer, sadist, rapist, and torturer. He raped Sansa, killed her brother, tortured her family friend, and was in control of her home unjustly. Deserving? ABSOLUTELY!

2. Little Finger - Sansa had a trial and asked him how he pled (guilty or innocent) for his crimes. His throat was slit by Arya. He was a manipulator, murderer, schemer, abuser, and cause of her fathers death + marriage to her rapist! Deserving? ABSOLUTELY

3. Daenerys Targaryen - Jon stabbed her in the stomach after she burnt down Kings Landing, murdered almost the entire population by burning them to death, and let her soldiers pillage the city and rape and murder the survivors of her fiery destruction. She was a mass murderer, abuser, destroyer of a city, and a tyrant. Deserving? ABSOLUTELY

So yes. You win. The Starks, like everyone in the show, are murders. Because they killed people before. And each one of them had it coming.

Ned would be ashamed and The New Lannisters:

This’ll be quick.

No. Ned would be proud of all of his children for coming back to one other and taking back their homes. He would be proud of them surviving their abusers. He would be proud that they continued the quest for independence after Rob. He would be proud they protected the North and defeated the others. Ned Stark would be proud of his children and nephew and would not prefer Dany.

No. They aren’t the new Lannisters. They haven’t done anything like the Lannisters. That’s a false comparison, and it’s stupid.

__________________________________________

Let’s redo the list. Shall we?

Manipulators - Nope! Dany did everything on her own

Schemers - Not really, and if they were then it was justified

Backstabbers - Kinda? Again justified! Against a mass murderer!

Oathbreakers - Nope! Broken promises? Yes. Oaths? Not once.

Hypocrites - Nope!

Xenophobes - Nope! Anyone who thinks so doesn’t understand the word or oppression

Powerhungry - Nope! They don’t want power, and if they do they don’t seize it unjustly.

Murderers - Yep! But they only killed Dany (mass murderer and tyrant), Ramsay (rapist, murderer, sadist, and stealer of their home), and Little Finger (manipulator, muderer, and schemer).

Selfish - Nope! They worry about others

Willing to kill everyone to get what they want - Nope! They don’t kill anyone to get what they want

Ned would be ashamed - Nope! He’d be proud

The New Lannisters - Nope! They’re not!

__________________________________________

I know this post is long, but if you’d like to see part 2 here’s the link!

#game of thrones #anti dany #anti dany stans #anti daenerys targaryen #anti daenerys #anti jonerys #pro stark #pro jon snow #pro sansa stark #sansa stark #sansa stark defense squad #jon snow #house stark #jon snow defense squad

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bigfan-fanfic · 5 years ago

Photo

Luka, Benny Cousland, Asha Lavellan, and Vaati Adaar (clockwise from top left)

Some headcanons for the new OCs I’ve been making. Maybe I should do these for all my OCs?

Vaati Adaar (Dragon Age: Inquisition) - face claim Chris Evans, bottom left

Vaati was practically born into the Valo-Kas Mercenary Company, a Vashoth child of Tal-Vashoth parents Meraad and Isala. However, he was kidnapped at age five by Templars and imprisoned in the Circle of Magi in Kirkwall, known as the Gallows. At age fifteen, he was rescued and set free by Warden-Lieutenant Lissa Surana and former Templar Raleigh Samson.

Vaati had a hard time in Kirkwall. His left horn was permanently damaged when a Templar sawed it off and had a fellow apprentice cauterize it with a fireball - the apprentice was made Tranquil and Vaati was left with a jagged white stump where his horn used to be. As part of his proposal, Blackwall gifts Vaati with a magic silverite false horn that he wears always.

Vaati was raised by Shokrakar after he escaped the Gallows. He was eager to expand his powers beyond the Circle’s teachings - he has an analytical mind and quickly became Shokrakar’s assistant tactician and second-in-command.

Vaati wields a spear that he uses mainly as a staff, and a spiked greatshield for defense and sometimes offense. He is only twenty-three when he becomes the Inquisitor to protect young Tash Adaar.

Vaati used to be involved with Tash’s elder step-brother Arno and acts sort of as a big brother to the Herald. He and Tash work together to plan the way the Inquisition goes, although Vaati defers to Tash’s judgments for the most part.

Vaati is demisexual, and began being attracted to Blackwall after they spent many weeks talking in the stables and whittling toys for the kids in New Haven.

Vaati enjoys carving and making things with his hands. His greatest fear is Tranquility, and he still has nightmares about the Gallows, where he was threatened with it daily just for the crime of being a qunari.

Asha Lavellan (Dragon Age: Inquisition) - face claim Mallory Jansen, bottom right

Asha Lavellan was the First of Clan Lavellan, but she left in order to become a Watcher for the Arlathvhen, keeping an eye on the shemlen’s wars and movements and how they would affect the People.

She bears the vallaslin of Dirthamen, the God of Secrets. Asha is a competent assassin and mainly wields a pair of daggers. However she is a mage, so she uses these to channel magic.

Asha has spent years helping city elves flee oppressive conditions and make it to various clans. She is well known amongst the Dalish and a legend among city elves who call her the New Emerald Knight. Asha’s connections led her to become the Dalish Advisor to the Inquisition and work closely with the other advisors, the Herald, and the Inquisitor.

Solas’ apparent dislike of the People led her to greatly distrust him, even as he tried to find out more about the distinctly non-traditional Clan Lavellan, and she took over teaching Tash about the Dalish folklore and culture when he and Tash’s relationship crumbled. Solas offered to remove her vallaslin and she balked, avoiding him from then on.

Asha encountered Briala at Halamshiral and the two women fell hard in love, particularly after Asha helped Tash to keep Briala in power with a public truce, and then after she assassinated Celene once Corypheus was defeated, leaving Briala as the power behind the throne Gaspard occupied as a puppet Emperor.

Asha is a rift mage and has perfected a technique much like Calpernia’s ability to teleport. She also gives Briala an enchanted dagger as a token of their love.

After she and Briala marry, Briala wears a mask with the vallaslin of Falon’Din hidden inside it, to commemorate the bond between her and Asha as one of similar strength to that of the two gods.

Benny Cousland (Dragon Age: Origins) - face claim Pedro Pascal, top right

Benezio Alendro Cousland, Lord of Highever, is actually Josephine Montilyet’s cousin through marriage - his brother’s wife, Oriana, is Josephine’s cousin, but the Couslands originally came from Antiva and the two have several ancestors in common. Josephine gets a message to Benny to have him serve as Tash’s tutor in dealing with nobility.

Benny escaped the massacre at Castle Cousland with the sacrifice of Ser Gilmore, and came across the Hero of Ferelden’s party by chance as he was trying to reach Ostagar to find Fergus.

Benny is skilled in the diplomatic arts, as well as with the rapier, and he used both these talents to assist the Hero. He formed a close attachment to Zevran during this time - the two informally married after the Blight and traveled together, first to Amaranthine with the Warden’s party. He became known as the Dark Wolf there.

Benny and Zevran spend the intervening time between the end of Origins and the start of Inquisition fighting corrupt institutions and helping protect the disadvantaged. Around this time they both become Red Jennies. While Zevran does assassination work for Leliana, Benny becomes somewhat of a mentor to Sera, helping her organize the Red Jennies.

Zevran and Benny form a polyamorous relationship with Mysen of Denerim and his husband Alistair during Inquisition. The four eventually end up in Kirkwall, helping Varric, working to improve the orphanage Mysen and Alistair started, and occasionally going on missions for Divine Victoria or the Red Jennies.

Benny is mildly allergic to strawberries and will break out in hives if he eats one, although it will clear up quickly and he won’t be in danger of anaphylaxis.

Benny is technically next in line for the throne of Ferelden should Queen Anora have no heirs. He formally adopts Alistair and Mysen’s foundling children so they are Cousland heirs, and hires guards to protect the orphanage.

Luka (the Witcher - Netflix) - face claim Niall Horan, top left

Luka is a gold dragon in human form - he prefers his human form immensely and only ever shifts back to save someone’s life or flee quickly. His mother was killed by dragon hunters when he was still a hatchling, and he had barely come of age in human years when his father Villentretenmerth had to leave him behind.

In human form Luka can still breathe fire, and can cast limited spells when he sings. His singing voice can be bewitching if he isn’t careful. HIs full name is Luczaryth.

Luka has a bright and happy spirit and is surprisingly naive. He seeks to do good deeds and seek out joy for his long-lived existence.

Luka has repaired over many years an abandoned house in a forest on the Continent. Jaskier heard Luka’s singing from afar one day and came upon the fine house. He seduced the young dragon, and the two spent many weeks together, falling deeply in love. Jaskier invited Luka to join him on his journeys and the two often perform duets, although Luka will occasionally leave to make sure their house is safe.

When Luka meets Geralt, the Witcher reluctantly takes the young dragon under his wing (so to speak) to protect him. Luka and Jaskier experience a great attraction to Geralt and act on it.

The three maintain a polyamorous relationship. Although Geralt chases Jaskier off after meeting Luka’s father, they reunite and agree not to be parted in anger again.

Despite acting very submissive to the other two in public, Luka is the one to take charge in bed, with Geralt letting go of all control and Jaskier switching between roles as the mood takes them.

#my ocs #headcanons #luka #luka/jaskier #luka/geralt #luka/jaskier/geralt #benny cousland #benny/zevran #benny/alistair/zevran/mysen #asha lavellan #asha/briala #vaati adaar #vaati/blackwall

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stereostevie · 5 years ago

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“I sacrificed the quality of my life to help people experience something that had been unreachable before then,” Grammy winner says in rare interview

In the late Nineties, the story of popular music became the story of Ms. Lauryn Hill. She first rose to fame as an actress and a member of the Fugees, whose second and final album, 1996’s The Score, remains one of that decade’s biggest albums. Then, at just 22 years old, Hill took a huge leap and decided to go solo. Released in 1998, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill filled clubs, radio stations, and MTV with her smooth voice and biting rhymes. Hill herself became as big as her music, appreciated in the fashion world and sought after by movie executives for roles she would eventually decline.

Miseducation took home five Grammy Awards and led to a huge tour. But by the early 2000s, Ms. Hill left behind the fame and the industry almost entirely. She has never released another studio album; her last full-length release was MTV Unplugged No. 2.0 from 2002, where she performed new songs in an acoustic style to a largely tepid reception.

The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill lives on. More than 20 years after its release, it is still regarded as one of the best albums ever made, landing at Number 10 on Rolling Stone’s voter-based 500 Greatest Albums of All Time List this past fall. Many of her songs continue to permeate culture, like the single “Ex-Factor,” which has been sampled or interpolated on major hits by Drake and Cardi B. Beyond that, the album’s impact on multiple generations of musicians is unmistakeable. Everyone from Rihanna to St. Vincent has cited Hill as having heavily influenced their own music.

The years that followed Miseducation have been complicated. After the album’s release, some of Hill’s collaborators filed a lawsuit claiming she did not properly credit them for their contributions; that suit was settled out of court three years later on undisclosed terms. In 2012, she was charged with tax fraud, and went on to serve three months in prison. More recently, she has found herself back on the road more frequently, sporadically releasing music but mostly basking in the collective love and power of Miseducation through special performances of the album.

For the latest episode of Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Albums podcast, Ms. Hill granted a rare interview on the making of Miseducation as well as what happened after. Over e-mail, she spoke candidly about protecting her family and the little support she had after her first album cycle ended. Excerpts from the interview can be heard in the podcast episode, available on Amazon Music, along with tales from several of the musicians who were part of those sessions, like “Commissioner Gordon” Williams, Lenesha Randolph, and Vada Nobles. Ms. Hill’s written responses are here in full.

When you began recording Miseducation, you were 22 and already experiencing immense success with the Fugees. What were you hoping to prove with this album? As far as proving myself goes, I think that’s a larger and more involved story best told at a later time, but I will say that the success of the Fugees absolutely set up The Miseducation to be as big and as well received as it was. When I decided that I wanted to try a solo project I was met with incredible resistance and discouragement from a number of places that should have been supportive, so that had a motivating factor, but it was less about proving myself and more about creating something I wanted to see and hear exist in the world. There were ideas, notions and concepts that I wanted to exist, I set off in a particular direction and kept going. Initially, I intended to work with other producers and artists but found that what I wanted to say and hear may have been too idiosyncratic at the time to just explain it and have someone else try to make it. It had to be made in a more custom manner. The team of people who would ultimately be involved, we all witnessed as it took form. It was unique and exciting.

You’ve said you found yourself especially creative during your pregnancy. How did that experience shape you as a songwriter?

It’s a wild thing to say but I was left alone during my pregnancies for the most part. It was like all of the people with all of their demands had to check themselves when I was pregnant. The resulting peace may have contributed to that sense of feeling more creative. I was pregnant with my first child during the making of The Miseducation and the situation was complicated, so I was motivated to find more stability and safety for myself and for my child, that definitely pushed me to disregard what appeared as limitations. If I struggled to fight for myself, I had someone else to fight for. This also introduced my first son’s father, Rohan Marley, into the picture, who at that time, was a protective presence. If there were people or forces attempting to prevent me from creating, he played a role in helping to keep that at bay.

During those times especially, I always wanted to be a motivator of positive change. It’s in all of my lyrics, that desire to see my community get out of its own way, identify and confront internal and external obstacles, and experience the heights of Love and self-Love that provoke transformation. I sang from that place and chose to share the joy and ecstasy of it, as well as the disappointments, entanglements and life lessons that I had learned at that point. I basically started out as a young sage lol.

When you look back on it now, is Miseducation the album you intended it to be? I’ve always been pretty critical of myself artistically, so of course there are things I hear that could have been done differently, but the LOVE in the album, the passion, its intention is, to me, undeniable. I think my intention was simply to make something that made my foremothers and forefathers in music and social and political struggle know that someone received what they’d sacrificed to give us, and to let my peers know that we could walk in that truth, proudly and confidently. At that time, I felt like it was a duty or responsibility to do so. I saw the economic and educational gaps in black communities and although I was super young myself, I used that platform to help bridge those gaps and introduce concepts and information that “we” needed even if “we” didn’t know “we” wanted it yet. Of course I’m referring to the proverbial “we.” These things had an enormous value to me and I cherished them from a very young age.

I also think the album stood apart from the types and cliches that were supposed to be acceptable at that time. I challenged the norm and introduced a new standard. I believe The Miseducation did that and I believe I still do this — defy convention when the convention is questionable. I had to move faster and with greater intention though than the dysfunctional norms that were well-established and fully funded then. I was apparently perceived by some as making trouble and being disruptive rather than appreciated for introducing solutions and options to people who hadn’t had them, for exposing beauty where oppression once reigned, and demonstrating how well these different cultural paradigms could work together. The warp speed I had to move at in order to defy the norm put me and my family under a hyper-accelerated, hyper-tense, and unfortunately under-appreciated pace. I sacrificed the quality of my life to help people experience something that had been unreachable before then. When I saw people struggle to appreciate what that took, I had to pull back and make sure I and my family were safe and good. I’m still doing that.

This album permeated culture in a way that few albums have before it existed and made you a massive star. How were you handling the public gaze at the time? There were definitely things I enjoyed about stardom, but there were definitely things I didn’t enjoy. I think most people appreciate being recognized and appreciated for their work and sacrifice. That, to me, is a given, but living a real life is essential for anyone trying to stay connected to reality and continue making things that truly affect people. This becomes increasingly harder to do in the “space” people try to place “stars” in.

The pedestal, to me, is as much about containment and control as it is adulation. Finding balance, clarity and sobriety can be very hard for some to maintain. For example, being yes’d to death isn’t good, and people fear stardom can only result in this, but if the actual answer is yes, being told no just to not appear a yes-man is silly. Never being told no if the answer is no by people afraid to disappoint will obviously also distort the mirror in which we view ourselves. On the other hand, a person with a vision can be way ahead, so people may say no with conviction and resist what they fear only to find out later that they were absolutely wrong.

The idea of artist as public property, I also always had a problem with that. I agreed to share my art, I’m not agreeing necessarily to share myself. The entitlement that people often feel, like they somehow own you, or own a piece of you, can be incredibly dangerous. I chafe under any kind of control like that and resist expectations that suggest I should somehow dumb-down and be predictable to make people feel comfortable rather than authentically express myself. I also resist unrealistic expectations placed on me by people who would never place those same requirements on themselves. I can be as diplomatic and as patient as I possibly can be. I can’t, however, sell myself short through constant self-deprecation and shrinking.

“The entitlement that people often feel, like they somehow own you, or own a piece of you, can be incredibly dangerous.”

Is there a version of “Lauryn Hill” that you feel people expected of you, and how did that compare to how you saw yourself? Absolutely, which I touched upon in the answers before this one. Life is life, to be lived, experienced and enjoyed with all of its dynamism and color. If you do something well that people enjoy, often they want the same experience over and over. A real person can be stifled and their growth completely stunted trying to do this without balance. It’s not a fair thing to ask of anyone. We all have to grow, we all have to express ourselves with as much fullness and integrity as we can manage. The celebrity is often treated like a sacrifice, the fatted calf, then boxed in and harshly judged for very normal and natural responses to abnormal circumstances.

I saw someone lambasted once for discussing episodes of anxiety before going on stage, as if anxiety was only a condition of the non-famous. It was absurd, like someone with a record out can’t get a common cold. Someone in love with the art doesn’t not experience fear or anxiety, they just do their best to transcend it or work beyond it so that the art or the passion can be made manifest. Some days are better than others. For some people it gets easier, for some it doesn’t. The unfairness, the harshness was excessive to me. I didn’t like how I was being treated at a certain point. I just wasn’t being treated well and definitely not in accordance with someone who’d contributed what I had. I had a ton of jealousy and competitiveness to contend with. That can exhaust or frustrate your efforts to make anything besides primal scream music, 😊.

Provoking that kind of aggravation was probably intentional. You have to find reasons to still do it, when you’re exposed to the ugly. People often think it’s ok to project whatever they want to on someone they perceive as having “it all” or “having so/too much.” Hero worship can be an excuse for not taking care of your own sh#t. The flip side of that adulation can turn severely ugly, aggressive, and hostile if people make another person responsible for their sense of self-worth. You can either take that abuse or say no to it. After subjecting myself to it for years, I started to say no, and then no turned into hell no, then hell no turned into f#ck no…you get my point. 😊

If you could talk to yourself at 22 now, what would you say? I’d share the things I do now with my 22-year-old self. If I had known what I know now, things would probably have unfolded differently. I would have continued to invest in people but I would have made sure I had people with the love, strength, and integrity around me to really keep their eye on the prize and my well-being. The world is full of seduction and if they can’t seduce you, they go after the people you love or depend on in some way. I would have with greater understanding tried to do more to insulate myself and my loved ones from that kind of attack.

youtube

Looking back on that period of your life, do you have any regrets?

I have some periods of woe, some periods of sorrow and great pain, yes, but regret is tough because I ended up with a clarity I might not have been able to achieve any other way. I would have done a few things differently though if I could go back. I would have done my best to shield myself so that I could better shield my children. I would have rejected the manipulation, unfair force and pressure put on me much earlier. I would have benefitted from having more awareness about the dangers of fame. I would have been more communicative with everyone truly involved with The Miseducation and fought hard for the importance of candid expression. I would have demanded what I needed and removed people antagonistic to that sooner than I did.

You have released music since Miseducation and have continued to play live. Do you ever foresee releasing another full-length studio album? The wild thing is no one from my label has ever called me and asked how can we help you make another album, EVER…EVER. Did I say ever? Ever! With The Miseducation, there was no precedent. I was, for the most part, free to explore, experiment and express. After The Miseducation, there were scores of tentacled obstructionists, politics, repressing agendas, unrealistic expectations, and saboteurs EVERYWHERE. People had included me in their own narratives of THEIR successes as it pertained to my album, and if this contradicted my experience, I was considered an enemy.

Artist suppression is definitely a thing. I won’t go too much into it here, but where there should have been overwhelming support, there wasn’t any. I began touring because I needed the creative outlet and to support myself and my family. People were more interested in breaking me or using me to battery-power whatever they had going on than to support my creativity. I create at the speed and flow of my inspiration, which doesn’t always work in a traditional system. I have always had to custom build what I’ve needed in order to get things done. The lack of respect and willingness to understand what that is, or what I need to be productive and healthy, doesn’t really sit well with me. When no one takes the time to understand, but only takes the time to count the money the fruit of this process produces, things can easily turn bad. Mistreatment, abuse, and neglect happen. I wrote an album about systemic racism and how it represses and stunts growth and harms (all of my albums have probably addressed systemic racism to some degree), before this was something this generation openly talked about. I was called crazy. Now…over a decade later, we hear this as part of the mainstream chorus. Ok, so chalk some of it up to leadership and how that works — I was clearly ahead, but you also have to acknowledge the blatant denial that went down with that. The public abuse and ostracizing while suppressing and copying what I had done, (I protested) with still no real acknowledgement that all of that even happened, is a lot.

“I wrote an album about systemic racism… before this was something this generation openly talked about. I was called crazy.”

I continue to tour and share with audiences all over the world, but I also full-time work on the trauma, stifling, and stunting that came with all of that and how my family and I were affected. In many ways, we’re living now, making up for years where we couldn’t be as free as we should have been able to. I had to break through a ton of unjust resistance, greed, fear and just plain human ugliness. Little else can rival freedom for me. If being a superstar means living a repressed life where people will only work with you or invest in your work if they can manipulate and control you, then I’m not sure how important music gets made without some tragic set of events following. I don’t subscribe to that.

Lastly, I appreciate the people who were moved by this body of work, which really represented a lifetime — up to that point — of love, experience, wisdom, family and community investment in me, the summation of my experience from relationships, my dreams, inspirations, aspirations and God’s ever-present grace and Love in my life through the lens of my 20-something but wise-sage existence, lol. I dreamed big, I didn’t think of limits, I really only thought of the creative possibilities and addressing the needs as I saw them at that time. I also had the support of a community of talented artists, thinkers, and doers, friends and family around me. Their primary efforts (THEN) seemed to be to help clear a path and to help protect. However, when you effectively create something powerful enough to move the bulls#t out of the way, all kinds of forces and energies may not like that. They may seek to corrupt and discourage, to disrupt and distract, to divide, and sabotage…but we bore witness to the fact that this happened — a young, black woman through hip-hop culture, a legacy of soul, Spirit and an appreciation for education and educating others communicated love and timeless and necessary messages to the world.

The music business can be an industry of entanglements, where a small number of people are expected to be responsible for a very large number of people. It’s hard to find fairness in a situation like that. Now, I look for as much equity and fairness as possible. I appreciate being loved for my contributions to music, but it’s important to be loved for who you are as a person just as much, and that can be a delicate but extremely important balance to achieve. Experiencing that is important to me.

#black women #fame #hip-hop #lauryn hill #ms. lauryn hill #music #music industry #r&b #robert glasper #rollingstone #soul #the fugees #the miseducation of lauryn hill

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exclusionistgodzilla · 6 years ago

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Bruh one thing I need inclusionists to understand is that some examples of hate towards LGBT people just don't apply to other groups. I know that's a rather broad statement, but hear me out. Let's take the example a lot of inclus use, "yeah, but if you said this to a trans person, it'd be transphobic!". Yes. Saying Trans people don't belong in the LGBT community is indeed transphobic, because they are one of the target groups (being SGA and/or Trans people) the LGBT community was made for. Aside from this, Trans people have been huge contributors in the LGBT community's past, and oftentimes, such statements come with loaded transmisogyny (or they'll straight up say exclus use terf rhetoric, which is brainless in itself, since A. Many exclus are Transfem, B. Its demeaning to the violence and transphobia TERFs perpetuate, and C. Relies on the entirely-different-sentence-but-sounds-vaguely-similar argument.) However, the same statement cannot be made for asexuality/aromanticism. The history of Aspec people in the LGBT community is little to nonexistent, and aside from this, the only truly linked experience a cishet ace person would have to an allosexual LGBT person would be having the term "sexual" in their label (one of the reasons outside sources often group the two, as well.) Aside from this, a cishet aspec person is part of both groups that oppress the two possible aspects of being LGBT, and therefore, can make experiences hard to share, and even perpetuate LGBT-Phobic ideals ('Dont show affection in public', 'Lesbians are scary', 'Lack of sexuality is what makes me pure', and sometimes, beyond that, as seen here or here, and in many individual cases). Let's take another one. "Saying Aspec people shouldn't have prioritization in the LGBT community is the same as saying other groups aren't important, either!" The premise here is very similar, but still something I've heard quite a lot. The difference here is, once again, a cishet aspec person is not who the LGBT community is catered to. To expect so (in many forms, such as forbidding affection in GSAs/requesting it's absence from pride, expecting to be a major voice/resource user in LGBT spaces), is entitled at best, and damaging at worst. Yes, to say Lesbians shouldn't have a forefront voice in the LGBT community WOULD be Lesbophobic. But the difference is clear, IF you know your history. If you were to say this about asexuals in an Aspec community, the same would be true, and it would absolutely be aphobic. There are other examples of this, but most of them include the same rhetoric "But to bisexuals-" "But to nonbinaries-" and the similar, yet different, and extremely baffling "but to x race-". Not sure how or why, but people seem to find new ways to compare LGBT people to their opressors every day. While the statements are similar, the logic just does not hold up if you think about it for more than a minute. Because yes, changing the subject of a sentence will always change the meaning.

#pls rb #ace discourse #acecourse #ace disk horse #exclusionist #inclusionist #ace exclusionist #ace inclusionist #cishet exclusionist

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lokis-daughter-fic · 6 years ago

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Loki’s Daughter Chapter 1: Saved

Originally written for imagine-loki, link to imagine below.

Imagine Avengers: Endgame AU Loki that gets away with tesseract has been using it to explore the universe. During his adventures, he comes across a little girl with developing but oppressed magical abilities. Intrigued (and subconsciously lonely) Loki keeps her around.

In his efforts to learn more about the tesseract and keep it away from prying hands, Loki keeps in constant movement; never staying in one place for too long. So, they travel to new worlds far beyond the Nine Realms. The young girl is in awe at the beauty of the universe and thrives with Loki. Through a series of events, the two grow closer and Loki begins to feel what he would assume is affection for the little girl.

TITLE: Loki’s Daughter CHAPTER/ONE SHOT:

Chapter One: Saved AUTHOR: traveling-classicist ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Avengers: Endgame AU Loki that gets away with tesseract has been using it to explore the universe. During his adventures, he comes across a little girl with developing but oppressed magical abilities. Intrigued (and subconsciously lonely) Loki keeps her around.

AO3 LINK: Loki’s Daughter RATING: Mature for possible triggering content NOTES/WARNINGS:

Trigger warnings:

-Child slavery (this topic is being explored throughout the story)

Nota bene: I promise I’m not making Loki enslave any children, that’s not our guy

-Mental illness including mentions of schizophrenia, depression, and anxiety

-Mentions of past torture and abuse: physical, emotional, and mental

Notes:

I know these are strong triggers for some people and I fully respect you. There will also be lots of fluff and love and happiness in this story but as I say, these more difficult and triggering topics are being explored.

With the hype for the Loki series starting to build, I’m feeling inspired. So, I’m going to give it a go.

Also I’m not new to Tumblr by any means but I’m not super active in posting or reblogging even on my own account and I don’t know all the ins and outs of primary vs secondary blogs and blah, blah, blah… I mostly just lurk about in your likes and look at beautiful pictures of Tom/Loki on here… but I made a secondary blog for this fic where I’ll also be posting the chapters, in addition to here, and may start to open up some discussion if it gains any traction. So feel free to visit https://lokis-daughter-fic.tumblr.com/ and give it a like or follow or whatever. God, I feel old. I really need to just read up on this shit. There’s also an AO3 for the fic too if you prefer reading it on there.

Okay, I think that’s everything. Anyways, if you read through my rambling notes: thanks, otherwise, enjoy what I hope will be a very lengthy, multi-chapter fic! I have lots of adventures in store for Loki and my little OC, Kuna.

Chapter 1: Saved

Loki walked through the giant forest. These were some of the tallest trees he had ever seen, reaching hundreds of feet into the sky. The canopy seemed distant but its thick leaves blocked out most of the sunlight to the ground. Occasionally, he would hear the sound of some creature calling out in the branches high above him. The canopy dampened the sound all around, making the animal calls sound further off than they truly were.

He stopped, now and then, to admire the massive trunks of the reddish brown trees. Some of them would likely take a whole minute to walk around. Their roots, as thick as normal sized trees, dug deep beneath him. He wondered how deep they would have to go to hold up such large trees. He thought the planet’s crust must be made up of hundreds of thousands of miles of tree roots.

A light breeze made it’s way through the forest, shaking the leaves on the branches of the trees. Loki imagined you could cover an entire Asgardian skiff with one leaf. He imagined what would happen if one fell on him, and quickly continued walking. Indeed, the forest floor was littered with gigantic leaves and debris from the canopy world above. He thought this is what an ant must feel like, so small in a world far too big.

Wanting a better vantage point, he used the tesseract’s energy to transport himself to a branch high above. He materialized on the branch but quickly dropped to his knees. Up here, he could feel the tree gently swaying. But a gentle sway to behemoth tree was a dizzying ride to a tiny ant. He sat there a moment, trying to acclimate himself to the new altitude and his tree legs. Before long, he shook his head in disbelief at his dizziness and stood. Feeling slightly more stable, he walked out on the branch, testing his fate. He blinked lazily.

“Not so bad,” he mused. Afterall, even if he did fall, he could simply use the tesseract’s energy to teleport himself safely to the ground or wherever he wanted. In fact, the thought made him wonder what more he could do with this energy here.

He took off in a fast sprint down the branch at full speed. As the branch began to thin, he leapt with all his strength into the air. In a flash of blue, he disappeared, reappearing again mid-air but hundreds of feet in front of where he had been, landing gracefully on the branch of the next tree over. He laughed, looking back at the tree he had just leapt from. Amused by his maneuver, he took out the tesseract from his pocket and flipped the cube in his hand.

“Not bad at all,” he said. “I think I’ll use that.”

Suddenly, the tree shook violently. Loki lost his balance and fell. The tesseract took two light bounces on the branch before falling towards the ground far, far below.

“Ah!” Loki screamed and leapt of the branch after it in an instant.

The wind whipped through his hair and made his eyes water, the ground flying up at him. Through the tears, he nearly lost the little blue spec of the cube falling below him. He reached out and caught it, instantly teleporting himself at a far safer speed to the ground. He fell only a foot onto the forest floor and let out a tremendous sigh of relief. He held up the glowing cube in front of his face.

“We are not doing that again,” he panted.

Suddenly, a horrendous howl wrenched him up from his place on the ground. A massive beast roared at him from the trunk of the tree. It was hunched over, putting its weight onto its knuckles. Sharp claws as long as Loki’s leg, curled upwards from its paws. Its back was covered in a light brown fur cast with gray stripes while its belly lay bare, a dark shade of brown. The head of the beast was encased in a thick, brown armor, reminiscent of a horn but the shape of a battering ram that protruded from its skull.

Loki made a quick glance up at the tree and let out a sharp breath. There was a massive divot in the tree’s trunk. Splinters hung all about the outsides of the hollow dent. Dark sap had begun to ooze from the center of the wound.

“Oh,” Loki whispered, letting out an exasperated laugh at the creature. “So, you caused the treequake, then?”

The monster roared in response and lunged for him. Loki scrambled to his feet, tesseract in hand, dirt and debris flying up from the ground as he regained himself. He tore off, away from the beast as fast as he could. Still out of breath from the fall, his head felt like it was spinning. He could hear the creature pounding towards him. It was massive, there was no way he could outrun it.

He looked up quickly and saw he was fast approaching a massive tree root that stood nearly twenty feet above his head. He groaned and made a sharp turn, following the root’s path. The beast behind him slammed into the tree root. The noise sounded like an explosion, echoing through the forest. The beast quickly regained itself, shaking its head for a moment, before chargeing towards Loki again. Frantic as he ran, Loki looked for a way out. The light glinted off the cube still in his hand and if he wasn’t running for his life, he would have smacked himself.

“What am I doing?” he exclaimed.

In front of him, he spotted a large arch formed by another tree root dipping back into the ground. He lengthened his stride. He could practically feel the beast’s breath on his back. Using the tesseract’s energy, he teleported through the arch and safely on to the other side.

The beast lowered its head and slammed into the archway at full tilt. The ground shook under Loki’s feet as another thunderous explosion rang out around the forest. Only the head and shoulders of the beast had made it through the other side of the archway. It tried to stand up again but was firmly stuck between the root and the ground. Loki laughed, surprised but relieved that it had worked.

“I’m just going to leave you there,” he said. The creature’s nostrils flared and it let out another deafening roar. Loki winced at the sound. “Yes, you’re very loud,” he told it. “I’m sure that will help you out of there. Just keep trying,” he mocked it as he teleported a distance away.

Leaving the monster safely behind him, he looked down at the tesseract again. He liked the way it shimmered in his hand. He quickly made it disappear again into his pocket before anything else bad happened to him or it.

He looked up at the trees again and thought of what he had been trying before he was rudely interrupted by the beast. He summoned the tesseract’s energy and leapt far up onto the side of a tree. He caught himself with his dagger, digging it in deep into the bark. After steadying himself a moment, he located another tree about a hundred yards off. He focused on it and pushed off the tree he hung from, disappearing a moment before reappearing a few feet beside the other tree, midair. He dug his dagger in hard on the bark and slid a few feet down. Amused by this game, he continued jumping between the trees using the energy of the space stone.

As he played this fun game, he thought he heard a sound in the distance. He stopped, clinging onto the side of one of the trees. He found a good foothold and listened, trying to locate the direction of the sound. He truly hoped that thing from before could not track him.

A child’s scream rang out to Loki’s left. He sighed in relief at the sound. At least it wasn’t the monster. Slightly intrigued and growing bored and tired of his game, he teleported in the direction of the screams. Where before, the ground and large trunks of the trees had dampened the noise within the forest, now he could hear the child’s screaming echoing for what sounded like miles.

The ground beneath his feet gave way from dirt, moss, and decaying giant leaves, to compact clay and stone. He pushed aside a the fronds of a large bush and stepped out into a clearing. Or at least, what he thought was a clearing. Upon further examination, the sudden lack of trees was caused by a large, rocky ravine. He looked one way down the gorge and then the other. It seemed to stretch for miles in both directions. On the other side, the trees started up once more, rising high into the sky. Another scream rang out. It sounded like it was coming from inside the ravine at the far end to his left.

Loki followed the sound of the screams along the edge of the gorge. Once in a while, he would lean out over the edge to peer down to the bottom. Vines covered in thick moss had somehow found their way to good grips on the other side of the gorge. They crisscrossed up and down the ravine. The bottom was quite dark. It probably rarely saw any sunlight what with the canopy still covering a majority of the sky above. At some places, the ravine narrowed to a length Loki could easily jump across if he wanted. At others, the cliff faces pulled away from each other leaving close a hundred meters between them.

As he walked he began to feel a slight vibration in his own aura. He stopped in his tracks. There was another magical being nearby. A rather powerful magical being by the shimmering sensation he felt in his aura.

He had become adept in sensing the magic of others. Frigga had taught him to develop these senses until they were highly acute. He stood for a moment, focusing on this sensation. The vibration was quickly followed by a severe disturbance, like static electricity. He shook his head, alarmed by the feeling. He had never felt anything in his aura like this before.

He started off again, his interest piqued. He was getting closer to the screams, now. He was also approaching what he assumed was the end of the gorge from the wall of trees looming before him. He returned to the underbrush and crouched low. Two more voices sounded down the ravine. Loki could not make out what they were saying but he could tell there were at least two men and a child at the end of the ravine. He crept closer, silently making his way through the brush, when he spotted a rather peculiar scene.

Two men stood either side of a small crane-like mechanism hanging out over the edge of the ravine. A long chain swung down out of Loki’s view. A child screamed from below the ledge. They had built a rough camp with debris from the forest floor. A small cart held a few crates and barrels. A ramshackle shelter was propped up with a large bit of bark from one of the giant trees. An extinguished firepit with an old spit lay a few feet away.

One man braced himself on the crane and kicked the chain with his boot, making it swing. “Scream louder, girly,” he shouted down. “I don’t think they can hear you!”

In his hand, the man held aloft a long necked, primitive-looking gun. He and his companion laughed as the chain swayed back and forth and even louder screams rang up from below. Loki was about to stand when he heard a far more chilling sound. Somewhere at the bottom of the gorge, a guttural roar rose up and then another. Two creatures. Loki lowered himself back down. They weren’t the monster from before but they surely sounded monstrous.

“Ha!” the other man exclaimed. “Keep doing that, girl. They like it when you wriggle around like that.”

“Hear they come,” the first man said.

His friend picked up his gun which had been leaning up against the crane. They aimed over the side of the cliff. The girl was still screaming from the end of the chain. The two men took their time to find the right sight down to their prey.

Two loud bangs echoed down through the ravine along with the terrified shriek of the girl below. The two men looked down the gorge, following the echo that seemed to go on for miles. The whole forest seemed to have fallen silent. The pair looked back at each other and high fived.

“Oh, that was a good one!” the man said, appearing to rejoice in the disruption they’d caused to the balance.

They both looked down over the edge again.

“Did you get hit, girly?” one asked.

Silence but the girl must have made some sort of indication as the man quickly followed up with a grunt: “Good.”

The other man took hold of a large push crank on the crane and began to turn it, hoisting up the chain. A small girl, no more than five, appeared above the ledge, wrapped in tight chains. The man grabbed the chain and pulled it in. It still extended below and, from the tension, Loki could see there was still something heavy at the bottom. He unhooked the girl from the larger chain and she fell onto the ground in heap, her restraints clanging against each other. Her chest was heaving with effort. Her legs and feet kicked, treading ground and pushing her a bit further from the ledge. She came to rest at the base of the crane but went no further. Her body trembled and she cried quietly.

The man continued to crank the chain upwards. Loki could then see their haul. In a massive net made of metal, two large beasts lay tangled up with one another. The two men heaved against the crane, turning it to pull the net over the ledge. One kicked the crank and the net fell onto the ground, splaying open. They separated the two creatures; large cat-like animals with deadly looking fangs and claws.

Loki chose this moment to emerge from the undergrowth. “What an ingenious set up you’ve got here,” Loki said, startling the men from their work.

“What in the hells? Where’d you come from?” the one man asked, whipping around.

“They like live bait, do they?” Loki gestured towards the girl, ignoring the man’s question.

The men laughed, happy to oblige the stranger’s requests if it meant harassing the girl more.

“Little girl’s their favorite thing to eat!” the other said, kicking the scared child in the stomach. She coughed and slumped over againi, sobbing.

“You’ll have to excuse my ignorance - I’m not from around here – but what are these creatures?” Loki continued, pointing at the two beasts they’d killed.

“You ain’t never seen kapka before?” the first man exclaimed.

“Oh, they’re vicious beasts, aren’t they?” the other began. He turned towards the little girl, nudging her with the barrel of his weapon, teasing her. “They move like giant cats but got the scales of dragons! See them claws, they can rip you to shreds in seconds. But that’s not how they like to kill.”

"No?” Loki asked, sensing this was the response he wanted.

“Nah. They’re evil bastards, they are. Instead, they’ll tear you down and sink those big ol’ fangs into ya! That way, they inject their toxic poison–”

“Venom…” Loki corrected him.

“What?”

“Nothing. Please, continue.”

The man’s eyes narrowed on the stranger but he went on, “They inject their - venom - into ya and that paralyzes your whole body. You’d think they’d kill ya then, right?”

“I assume the answer’s no?”

“Wrong! What, wait. No! Right! They don’t eat you right away! Instead they tear off bits and pieces of you. Not enough to bleed you out and kill you but enough to feel all that pain. ‘Cause on top of that para-lie-sis–”

“Paralysis…” Loki corrected him, again.

“What?”

“Nothing. Please, do go on.”

“On top of that - paralysis, that venom makes your bleeding stop quick too,” the man continued.

"Really? How interesting.”

“It’s the worst way to die in all the worlds. Perfect for this little shit right here, that’s for sure!” the other man said, giving the girl another sharp kick, that sent her onto her back.

“I’d treat your bait better if you want it to stay alive,” Loki said.

"What? Her? She was made for this, weren’t ya?” the man said, grabbing her chain and yanking on it. The little girl nodded frantically, willing to answer any question that would make him stop.

“Oh, so she’s your daughter, then?” Loki asked.

“Hells no! She’s a slave, you moron.”

“Is that right?”

“It’s plain easy to get them,” the other interjected.

"Hmm. And so, what is it that you do with these creatures? Certainly not eat them?” Loki continued.

"Hells no! You can’t eat them. They’d be all tough and chewy anyways, not to mention the - venom.”

“No instead, we sell them for their - venom. You make good darts from it,” the other continued.

“The blood’s valuable too. The best makers can turn it into powerful healing potions!”

“Extraordinary,” Loki mused.

"You can practically use the whole beast! Those scales can make good armors–”

“And them fangs make deadly daggers,” the first man said.

"Oh, I’m very interested. Please, go on.”

“The claws can be useful too. They’ll cut through just about anything but they can be crushed up into a powder also to cure all kinds of illments.”

“Ailments. Or illnesses. One or the other.” Loki corrected him once more.

“Well, you are a learned one, aren’t you,” the man said, now annoyed with the stranger’s quips. “Where you say you were from, again?”

"I didn’t. Oh, but look, I think more of your prey is arriving,” Loki said, pointing to the far end of the rocky ravine.

Three more scaly kapka were stalking down the ravine, drawn either by the scent of their fallen brethren or the now silenced screams of the girl.

"Ha! Time to get back to work, you!” the man shouted at the girl.

He grabbed her and quickly hooked her back on to the line. They both heaved the net over the edge. The metal rods seemed to snap together, straightening out to help the net fall flat onto the rocks below. The chain was quickly flying over the ledge. The girl gasped and hopped about on the spot.

“You know it’s easier if you jump,” one man said to her, amused. She shook her head, madly, not wanting to jump. Before the chain could rip her off the edge, the man gave her a hard kick, square in the chest. She screamed. Her fall was cut harshly short about a quarter of the way down the cliff face. Her head snapped painfully downwards at the sharp stop as the chain came taught.

It was wrapped tightly several times around her middle, trapping her arms to her sides. The strong hook attached to the chains at her back kept her face down towards the raging monsters. She screamed in terror.

Upon seeing the bait, the kapka charged down the ravine. Their claws made deep cuts in the dirt beneath their paws. They stopped abruptly, necks craned upwards to see their dangling prey. Guttural roars and growls rose up from the bottom of the cliff face. The girl cried out and kicked, swinging back and forth on her chain.

The movement clearly enticed the kapka even more as they began to leap up at her, swiping with their giant paws at her kicking legs. One leapt up the rock wall with powerful hind legs. It pushed off a small ledge and leapt, swinging it’s paw towards her. It came dangerously close to hitting her but fell just short, landing gracefully on its feet back at the bottom. The others were clawing at the wall, hungrily trying to find traction.

The girl’s arms were stuck tight to her sides from the chains but she still pulled and tugged at the restraints. Loki watched her movements, closely. He thought for a moment, he caught a quick flash of light from her hands as she struggled. She shrieked as if she had been caught by one of the beasts but none had touched her. He felt another strong disturbance in his aura, like electricity, nearly to the point of physical pain. Something strange was going on with this girl.

“Oh, you’re in luck, then, stranger, you’ll get to see the show,” they laughed.

"I can’t wait,” Loki said coolly, stepping forward. The hunters leaned over the edge to get a better line of sight at their prey. Loki took another step forward, firmly placing both hands on the backs of the men and shoved hard. The two men hurtled over the edge into the ravine, falling past the screaming girl, and into the awaiting jaws of the kapka.

The girl turned her head back up towards the ledge, straining to see what had happened and why her former masters were now being paralyzed for dinner down below. The stranger peered over the edge at her and slowly began hoisting her up by the chain. She no longer struggled nor screamed but her chest heaved at the thought of what he might do to her now.

Once she was back at the level of the ledge, Loki turned the crane-like mechanism around and lowered her onto the ground. She was breathing hard, soft whimpers escaping her lips. She had a thick, metal collar around her neck and shackles on her wrists and ankles. Judging from the thick bands of scars beneath the manacles, she had probably had them on for a very long time.

Loki turned back to look over the edge again. The kapka tore into the men with their massive fangs. Loki watched as the venom worked its way through them. Their screams slowly stopped as their bodies went limp but their eyes still twitched about in horror.

The first kapka struck, tearing an arm off one of the men and swallowing it whole. The next kapka ripped off a leg and in two big gulps, it was gone. The third tore away another leg and swung it about wildly, beating it on the ground before lazily turning onto its side and eating the leg whole.

“Well, that’s not at all what I was expecting.” Loki said, looking down at the horrified little girl. “I thought they’d at least torture them a little longer. What was all that about bits and pieces? He just tore off his whole leg!”

The girl whimpered at the stranger’s feet horrified at the scene below them. She turned her head away, not wanting to watch anymore.

Loki marveled at the sheer lack of blood the scene produced. Perhaps these morons knew a bit of what they were talking about after all. He watched for a moment longer before turning to the dead kapka behind him. He stooped, conjuring several jars and vials from his pocket in a smooth motion with his hands, and began extracting venom and blood from the creatures.

The girl watched him. Could he be a maker? What awful things was he going to do with that venom? She struggled, trying to free herself before the scary man could push her over the edge too.

Loki carefully filled each vial and jar before cutting away eight large fangs from the jaws of just one kapka. He was sure to take all the claws as well. He thought a few specimen of the scales would be useful too, for study, since the rest of the kapka had such alchemical properties. He already had the best armor any money could buy after all.

He revealed his sharpest knife to cut away at the tough skin. The glint of the blade sent the little girl into a frenzy.

“No! No! Please! Don’t hurt me, sir! Please!” she exclaimed.

“Calm down, it’s not for you. I’ll get to you in a minute.”

This was not at all calming for the girl, who only struggled more. Loki didn’t bother looking up. He could hear her chains clanking together as she desperately tried to free herself. He focused his attention on his work.

The scales were difficult to remove, indeed. Eventually, he was able to lift the edge of one gnarled, greenish-black scales and dig in at the slightly softer skin below. He carved out a large swath of the creature’s skin about as long as his arm and folded it neatly before making it disappear back into his pocket.

He studied the creature’s musculature beneath the skin he had removed. Intrigued and already covered in blood, he made another long cut down the beast’s belly, cutting through skin and muscle before he felt the grate of his knife against bone. He dug his hands into the beast’s chest cavity. He placed one foot firmly on one side of the rib cage and hooked his arm under the other side. He pushed upwards, expecting the bones to break easily but was met with tremendous resistance. Determined, he took a deeper breath and heaved his shoulder against the ribs of the animal.

Sickening cracks rang out in the forest that made the girl jump. Loki didn’t notice, he was too interested in what he was seeing. The internal structure of the beast was quite similar to that of a large cat but the bones were black as night. He extracted several rib bones from the beast as well as its heart and a few other organs, placing them again in conjured jars and boxes that vanished as quickly as they had appeared. Taking a look around the men’s small camp at the edge of the ravine, Loki located a large water skin. He poured some out into a bowl and crouched as he washed away the blood and bits of broken black bone and tissue from his hands. He looked up at the girl as he rubbed his hands together.

She opened her mouth to scream again, frightened senseless by the man covered in kapka gore. In an instant, the stranger appeared in front of her, clapping a hand over her mouth.

“If you want to stay alive, I wouldn’t be screaming and calling those things - or anything else around - to us,” he said in an even tone. “I’ll get to you in a minute. Just be patient.”

She nodded vigorously, tears flooding down her cheeks. He straightened up and walked back to the bowl of water he had poured. She watched him. She wanted that water so badly. Her throat was dry and scratchy, her lips chapped and cracked. The stranger looked up at her again, having finished cleaning off his arms and armor. She looked away sharply, finding a sprig of grass to look at instead.

She heard him stand up. Her breath came faster. His feet barely made a sound as they strode across the ground in her direction. She closed her eyes and tucked her chin to her chest. Her whole body trembled as his feet came to rest beside her. She braced herself for a kick but it never came.

Loki examined the chains. They were thick and old. Probably not made for the purpose of dangling a toddler over a cliff for evil beasties. They’d clearly been on her for a while too. They had left deep purple bruises in bands across her arms. He removed the large hook from the back of the chains. The sudden touch made the girl practically jump out of her skin. She began to weep again.

Loki rolled his eyes and continued examining the chains. He found a padlock resting on the girl’s shoulder blade. He looked up and around the camp again. Hopefully, the key wasn’t now inside the belly of a beast down below. He stood and began searching anyway. His eyes came to rest on a tough leather bag. He stood and grabbed it, turning over the flap and finding a small ring of keys.

“Ha, morons,” he muttered. “Just leaving the keys laying around.” He took the keys back over to the girl and tested each one in the lock.

“Ugh, you know, it’s always the last one you try,” he said out loud, inserting the last key into the lock. It clicked and the padlock opened. The girl flinched at the loud sound the lock made. Loki turned the lock over. It was old and rusty, grinding against itself. Unhooking the lock from the chains, he set it down beside him. The chains loosened around the girl’s morbidly thin frame. Loki was surprised that the weight of the chains had not crushed the tiny girl.

“There,” he said, finally freeing her. “I bet that feels a little better.”

She sniffled. She did not dare make eye contact, not even with her savior. She swallowed hard and nodded weakly. She did not dare to run either. This stranger would surely catch her and who knows what awful things he could do then.

He stood slowly and walked back towards the water skin. She slowly sat up, following him with her gaze, his back now turned to her. He was tall and lean with long black hair. A tattered green cape hung from his shoulders, falling just below his knees. He stooped to pick up the water skin and glanced over his shoulder at her. She quickly averted her eyes again, looking for anything else on the ground to stare at. He walked back over to her and crouched.

Loki could see how terrified the little girl was of him. Deep down he felt a pang of guilt for eliciting such a reaction from something so small but he quickly batted the sentiment away. He offered her the mouth of the water skin. She turned just a bit further away.

“Come on,” he said. “You clearly need it.”

She turned back towards him, her gaze rose to the water skin. Loki noticed her eyes were the same vibrant shade of green as the plants around them. Dark circles around her eyes, caused by exhaustion, only accentuated the color more. Her face was pale and streaked with dirt and tear trails. She sniffled again. Leaning forward towards the mouth of the water skin. Loki gently edged the skin closer for her. Her eyes flinched at the movement, her lips just centimeters from the skin. She turned her head away sharply as if expecting a blow.

Loki sighed pityingly. “Come on,” he urged her, moving the water skin a bit closer to her. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She hesitated a moment before turning her head back again. Loki nodded, reassuringly. Slowly, she lifted her hand to brace the skin and put her lips around the opening. Loki gently tilted the skin upwards. As the water flowed into her mouth, she grabbed the skin with her other hand, overwhelmed by the first taste of water she had had in days. Loki let her finish it off before lowering it again.

She wiped her mouth and then licked the back of her hand, not wanting to waste a single drop. He let out a sigh. What a wretched creature. She dropped her hands in front of her, folding them in her lap and lowering her head.

“Do you have a family,” he asked.

She shook her head no, still staring at the ground.

“What happened to them?”

She took a shuddering breath. “They didn’t want me anymore.”

Loki shook his head, glancing away from her.

“Is this your home-world?” he asked.

She shook her head again.

“Where are you from? Do you know?”

She looked about on the ground for a moment, searching for a stone or a blade of grass that would give her the answer. She swallowed hard and shook her head again, dejected.

“I suppose even if you did, you wouldn’t want to go back,” he said. He nudged his foot at the chains absentmindedly, then remembered something.

“Why have you not used your magic to escape?” he asked.

Her breath caught in her throat. Chills crept up her body. Her chest began to heave. She looked up, only raising her eyes to the man’s armored chest, shaking her head frantically.

“I – I – I don’t have no magic, sir,” she choked.

He cocked his head to one side. “Really? Well, it certainly felt like you did.” He knew she was hiding something but she was far too scared to tell.

As he stood there, trying to figure out what to do with the child, her head suddenly snapped around, looking in the opposite direction. He turned round to see what she was looking at. She gasped and her hands went to her mouth, remembering what happened the last time she had tried to scream in front of the man.

At first, Loki could not figure out what the girl was hearing or seeing but the pounding footsteps that were growing ever-louder and ever-closer answered is questions.

“Oh no,” Loki said. His shoulders fell.

The monster that had knocked him out of the tree was crashing through the underbrush. He could just make out its stiff mane above the leaves of the brush. The girl scrambled to her feet and tried to run. She tripped over her self and the chains at her feet and crumpled into a ball.

“No, don’t do that!” Loki exclaimed, hauling her up by the arm. “We need to leave now!”

He ran into the trees behind them, practically dragging the girl along with him. The monster tore through the camp behind them. They could hear the sounds of wrenching metal and the breaking of wood as they ran away. The girl cried out at the noise.

“Ugh,” Loki groaned. “I don’t have time for this! I need a drink!”

He summoned the tesseract’s energy once again. A jump like what he was planning would take some serious concentration; concentration that a mad beast chasing them was disrupting. He ran, eyes half closed, hauling the girl alongside him.

“No! No!” she cried.

He could feel her pulling away from him. He looked up and saw that they were running straight for the trunk of a great tree. Groaning with the effort it took to focus the tesseract’s energy with his magic, he finally felt the vapors envelope around them. They disappeared moments before they would have collided into the tree, leaving the beast behind them careening into its base.

They both collapsed onto the ground on the other side of the portal. The girl covered her head with her hands, waiting to be trampled by the gigagrunt behind them. When she did not feel the pain of certain death, she sat up and looked around. They were in a wide meadow nowhere close to the dominating trees of the forest with no gigagrunt in sight. The sky above her was clear but two suns shined down on her face.

She blinked rapidly and shook her head but both suns were still up there. The man sat up and shook his head.

“That planet was insane!” he exclaimed. “Will not be going back there anytime soon.”

She stared at him. That was magic that he used. It made sense now. Even though his cape was torn up, his armor was accented with gold and silver all over. And he talked nice. Only rich people talked like that.

“Are you alright?” he asked her.

She looked around, startled by his question. Realizing that they were completely alone and that his question truly was directed at her, she nodded.

“Yes, sir,” she said, softly, looking down at her hands.

“Good,” he replied. He stood and brushed himself off. He walked past her. She followed him with her eyes. He put his hands on his hips and looked around, then up in the sky at the double suns above them.

“I have no idea where we are,” he admitted, dropping his head. He turned back towards her. “Sometimes that happens. To be fair, we were being chased by a vicious monster so the fact we ended up on solid ground and not somewhere in the vacuum of space is rather impressive.” He stopped in front of her. “And on top of that, it’s a planet we can both breathe on! I’d say that’s pretty good for teleporting on the run.”

“Y – Yes, sir?” she said. She was not entirely sure if he was speaking to her still. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She swallowed hard. There was little sustenance in her stomach to begin with, save for maybe what was left of the water she’d drank, but it very much wanted out of her mouth. Her head began to spin and she pitched forward.

“Oh, yes, sorry,” the man said, crouching down to catch her before she fell flat on her face. “That’s pretty normal after a big jump.”

She flinched at his touch. He gently turned her onto her back. She closed her eyes, trying to make the ground stop spinning. She blanched and felt a hot flush race over her face, traveling down her neck to her chest.

Loki watched her. Her chest still rose and fell. At least she wasn’t dead. He knew that could sometimes happen too. Not to him, of course. He knew what he was doing. But this girl did not. She was small and small things sometimes have a hard time fully materializing on the other side of portals. He examined her body. Despite the obvious lack of food and water and the cuts, bruises, and scars that covered her bare skin, she seemed to be all there. She opened her eyes again.

“Am I dying, sir?” she asked, meekly.

“You don’t appear to be,” Loki replied. This seemed to calm the girl for a moment before her eyes widened in fear.

“Is this one of the hells?” she asked.

Loki wondered what sort of religion had such beautiful hells but reassured her with a smirk, “I doubt it.”

Her face twisted with fear and she asked, “Are you a demon?”

Loki smiled and hesitated a moment before answering, “Some people probably think I am -including myself occasionally- but no, I am not.”

She sighed, relieved. She blinked a few times, still trying to make the two suns turn back into one. Seeing that her blinks had failed, she began to sit up slowly.

“Welcome back,” the man said, smiling wryly. “Better?”

She nodded and then looked down seemingly disappointed in herself. “Yes, sir,” she said.

“My name is Loki,” he told her. “What’s your name?”

For the first time, her eyes met his. She seemed confused by the question at first. Loki nodded, prompting her again. She quickly looked down at her hands before looking back up at him.

“My – My name is Kuna,” she said, holding his gaze for a moment before submissively adding, “Sir.”

She wondered if he would hit her for telling him. No master ever asked her name and certainly no rich person. All the slaves she had ever seen tell a master their name were beaten so senseless. She would have forgotten hers a long time ago from disuse, if she hadn’t carved it into her wrist with a rusty nail in the stockyard.

Loki nodded. “Kuna,” he said, testing the name aloud. She dropped her head, anticipating a smack at the very least but it didn’t come. “That’s a beautiful name,” he said.

Her eyes widened at the ground below her. This must be some trick. He was not possibly being… nice to her. He stood up again and looked around. “Well, it looks to me like those suns are setting,” he observed. “We should make a camp before it gets dark.”

This was definitely the strangest rich person Kuna had ever met.

#loki #avengers: endgame #Loki series #OC #tesseract #infinity stones #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki laufeyson #marvel cinematic universe #loki daughter #fanfic

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bytheangell · 6 years ago

Text

This Is the Coda That Never Ends... Part 13

(Read on AO3) (read from the start)

“I’ll keep you updated,” Alec assures Magnus, giving his husband a kiss goodbye before picking Clary up off of the sofa and carrying her through the portal. When he steps through into Lorenzo’s mansion it looks almost the same as it did a year ago when he was last here. The little constants are nice, especially considering how much the world around him has changed in such a short period of time.

Alec immediately moves towards the sofa but Lorenzo stops him.

“Can you carry her upstairs?” Lorenzo asks him. “We can put her in a proper bed this time until she wakes up, I’ll conjure up something for her to eat, too, the poor thing must be drained.”

Alec tilts his head for a moment, caught off-guard by the extra measure Lorenzo considered to keep Clary comfortable. He hasn’t dealt with Lorenzo very much in the past year, not since his move to Alicante and Isabelle’s appointment as Head of the Institute in his place. Of course, during his visits and time catching up with Underhill with a night out here and there, he’s heard his fair share of the subtle shifts in the High Warlock of Brooklyn’s attitude from the man who once blacklisted Magnus from the warlock community.

On the outside he still puts on a show of being above caring about trivial matters and people who serve him no purpose, especially during official meetings and council sessions, but this is a taste of the Lorenzo who Underhill and Isabelle have been telling him about. Alec almost didn’t believe them before seeing it with his own two eyes; Underhill is one thing, Alec expects him to be kind to his boyfriend, but he has no reason to go above and beyond for Clary.

“That sounds good, yeah.” Alec shifts Clary’s weight in his arms before turning towards the stairs.

“Up the stairs, take a right, second door on the left.” Lorenzo says before turning and heading off somewhere.

Alec’s second surprise - being allowed to wander Lorenzo’s home freely. He expected the other man to follow him around, or maybe offer yet another tour of any new acquisitions from the past year, but instead Lorenzo vanishes out of sight before Alec is even up the first set of stairs.

He finds the bedroom easily enough. It’s clearly a spare for visitors, and even though it isn’t dusty or anything it’s also obvious it hasn’t been used in quite some time.Alec shifts the covers enough to lay Clary down and pull them over her, leaving the door open on his way out and back down the stairs.

Alec is about to call out to find where Lorenzo went when he hears sounds coming from a room down the hall and follows them to find Lorenzo not actually conjuring something up, but gathering ingredients out of the cabinets and fridge to cook with. A lot of ingredients.

“How many people do you plan on feeding?” Alec asks, eyebrow raised.

“Assuming your entire hoard of Shadowhunters are likely about to invade my home to speak with Clarissa when she wakes back up, at least half a dozen.” Lorenzo doesn’t even look up from what he’s chopping as he speaks.

“Oh,” Alec says, not quite sure what else to say to that. Lorenzo doesn’t seem angry about it, more resigned to the inevitability… and entirely willing, just as he was in offering Clary a proper room, to go the extra mile. Maybe he can sense how tense this entire situation is for them. Maybe he just wants to be the better person after that jab at Alec for keeping this secret, the same way he had the Soul Sword. “Thanks,” he adds. “I know you don’t want to be doing all this.” “What can I say, Bane set quite the precedent for Shadowhunter tolerance,” Lorenzo shrugged.

“Mmhmm,” Alec hums, smiling slightly. “Though it seems like you’re doing a bit more than tolerating Underhill these days.You’ve been together the whole year since the wedding, haven’t you?” Alec hears Underhill’s side of things occasionally, but it’s rare he has a moment alone with Lorenzo that isn’t focused on some sort of official business of another.

“I suppose so,” Lorenzo confirms. “I suppose,” he continues in a would-be-casual tone. “Not to jinx it, but things are going rather well these days. Andrew is quite the charmer when he wants to be.”

Alec stifles a laugh. “Good. I was afraid after earlier-”

Lorenzo cuts Alec off with a sigh and a wave of his hand. “We’ll talk it out. We always do; this isn’t the first time he’s put his duty as a Shadowhunter before our relationship. I’d probably do the same if our roles were reversed.”

Alec shakes his head. “But you shouldn’t have to, and neither should Underhill. Ordering him to keep this a secret, I never should’ve done that. It was a bad call, and it goes against all of the transparency I’m trying to create in the Shadow World. How are you ever supposed to trust me and the rest of the Shadowhunters if we keep running around keeping secrets?”

“If you think you’re the only ones keeping secrets, Mr. Lightwood, you’re more naive than I thought,” Lorenzo states simply. “This isn’t something that’s going to stop overnight. You’re doing good work, but you’ve barely begun. You can’t undo years of systematic oppression and self-preservation with a law or two.”

He wonders if Lorenzo knows something he doesn’t, openly admitting that there are other secrets being kept in the Shadow World. Which, Alec reasons, could be almost anything. But the tone that their conversation shifts to is much more serious than it began, and he has to consider if it isn’t more of a veiled warning than a casual statement.

He doesn’t get a chance to ask before Alec’s phone rings, Isabelle’s name flashing across the screen.

“Hey Iz, what’s up?” He asks, already knowing the answer. Magnus filled her in on where he is and what’s going on, and she wants to know what the next move is.

“Honestly, I’m not so sure anymore. You didn’t see her when she suddenly remembered Magnus… if we bring everyone here it might be too much for her all at once…”

Lorenzo looks up at that. “If I just chopped up that many fresh carrots for nothing-” he starts, falling silent when Alec holds up a finger to shush him so he can hear his sister through the phone.

“What? No, nevermind about the carrots. Listen, I know he’s going to kill me for it later, but tell Jace to stay back for now. If you and Simon want to come, that’s fine. But until we know how her memories are affecting her, and why they’re coming back, I don’t want to risk anything that’s already triggered her.” Alec pauses, listening again. “Take your time, see you when you get here.”

He hangs up, turning back to Lorenzo. “What do you think? Should I even let those two come?” He asks, curious to hear the warlock’s opinion.

Lorenzo looks shocked to be asked. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because I meant what I said earlier. I can’t fix this on my own, and if I’m being honest I’m more than a little biased here, so I’d like a second opinion.” Alec says, opting for honesty this time around.

“I don’t think it’s a terrible idea,” Lorenzo admits. “But I can’t say for certain, and neither can you. First you’re trying to keep her away from the places she’s remembering, then you’re asking her all sorts of leading questions back at Magnus’, and now you’re trying to keep her away from it again. You’re just as clueless as I am in this unfortunately unprecedented situation.”

Alec hates how right Lorenzo is, cursing his intuitive outlook and the fact that he really doesn’t shy away from telling things like they are. Alec’s trying to play the diplomat here, while balancing his personal history with Clary, and failing miserably at both. He thought for a second back there he was covering it well enough but clearly that isn’t the case.

“If there’s one thing you learn being immortal,” Lorenzo continues after Alec’s prolonged silence. “It’s adaptability. Make a plan, but don’t be afraid to change it when something new comes up and it stops working. Don’t just stick with it because you said it an hour ago.”

Alec isn’t sure how he feels about getting leadership advice from Lorenzo Rey of all people, but it’s good advice.

Alec catches himself staring at the yellow magic that Lorenzo uses, remembering the short period of time he had it at his own disposal. He thinks about that more than he cares to admit, the feel of it just under the surface of his skin, the power at his fingertips…

“Have you considered using it again?” Lorenzo asks, and Alec sees his gaze watching him watch the magic. “The alliance rune?”

Alec shakes his head. “No. I mean, yes, plenty of times. But not seriously. Not after the pushback it gave the first time, and the price Clary paid for it’s creation… the Angels clearly didn’t want that to exist. I can’t ignore that a second time, not considering the potential cost for using it again.”

Lorenzo nods thoughtfully. “Do you think your Angels will allow it now, if they’re returning Clary and all of her powers back to our world?”

Alec pauses to consider that. He hadn’t thought about it before, but… maybe, just maybe…

He refuses to get his hopes up.

“Let’s worry about one thing at a time,” Alec suggests instead of pursuing that line of thinking, though now that it’s in the back of his mind he knows it’s going to stay there for quite some time. He clears his throat to refocus. “Alright. So we stick with the plan for now and change it if we have to-”

“What plan?” Clary’s voice sounds from the doorway, causing both men to jump slightly at the unexpected sound.

“You didn’t leave,” Alec observes, pleasantly surprised. When he left her alone in that bedroom, no wards holding her in or person to keep an eye on her, he half expected her to flee the moment she woke up. He has to admit he’s pleasantly surprised to see her still here.

“I told you, I want answers, too. And it looks like you guys are the ones who have them.” She glances around. “Where’s Magnus?”

Alec and Lorenzo share a look of concern. Clary seems okay at first, but the longer she thinks about him, trying to remember the warlock and what happened before, the more Alec sees the discomfort grow in her expression.

“He isn’t here. We didn’t want you to be in any more pain if we could help it. The remembering hurts, doesn’t it?” Alec asks, knowing it’s a stupid question but wanting to hear the answer from her just the same.

Clary nods. “The first time is the worst. If it’s just a piece of something I can mostly ignore it. But if it’s something big, or all of it at once… well, it sucks. I mean, you saw me, did I pass out again?”

Alec stores that knowledge away while Lorenzo cringes a bit from behind a boiling pot on the stove. “Ahhh, actually, Miss Fairchild, that was my doing. I… incapacitated you before the pain could. Both times.”

“Oh,” Clary says, and Alec’s afraid she might actually run at that news. “Thanks, I guess?”

“You really do trust us, don’t you?” Alec asks, amazed and confused but also more than a little grateful for it.

Clary nods. “I do. I shouldn’t, but… here we are. Me in a house with two strangers who have ‘incapacitated’ and kidnapped me twice now. If I don’t end up on some procedural cop show a year from now it’ll be a miracle.”

There’s the unmistakable sound of a portal in the living room and all three of their heads turn towards it.

“What’s that?” Clary asks, immediately taking a step back.

Alec looks at her with a cautious grin. “How do you feel about meeting a few more old friends?”

“Do I have a choice?” Clary says, taking a deep breath.

Alec considers this, and then nods. “Yes. You do. Say the word and they’re gone.”

Clary hesitates. There are voices now, calling out for Alec. A girl and a guy.

Alec watches Clary carefully as the initial fear fades to the stubborn determination he remembers her so well for; a flash of the old Clary if he ever saw one.

“No… it’s fine. I’m fine,” she says with a resolute nod, and Alec is positive she’s trying to convince herself more than him, but lets it go. “Let’s do this.”

#alec lightwood #lorenzo rey #clary fray #shadowhunters #isabelle lightwood #SORRY IT'S A BIT OF A FILLER CHAPTER #but we're establishing ~relationships~ here #and stay tuned next week for some very feelsy Simon POV! <3 #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #long post

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robert-c · 6 years ago

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A Right Not To Be Offended?

Frankly I’m amazed that I should have to write about this. It is an absurd idea, but it is one that I’ve seen used in one form or another for decades. I think it’s time someone called it out for the bullshit it is.

Let’s get something clear from the start. A right has to work for everyone, if it only applies to certain people then it is a privilege and more often than not an element of oppression (since others are denied it). So if I have a right to live (not be murdered) then everyone else must as well; and all is equal – I don’t get to kill anyone with impunity and likewise they don’t get to kill me. If I have a right to speak my mind, without being censored by the government, then so has everyone. While understanding that there are certain exceptions (inciting riot, violence etc.) still the same standards can be applied to everyone, regardless of their opinions.

Here is where we get off the track. Forces, usually on the extremes of the political spectrum, like to insist that certain behaviors or ideas (or movies, or books, etc.) should not be allowed because they offend the beliefs of “X” group. Implicit in all of these arguments is that there is some sort of right “not to be offended”. But how could such a right be equally applied?

In short, it can’t; as any open minded person would have to conclude with just a little thought. What someone holds fervently dear, may in fact be offensive to me. Any attempt to fairly and equally apply such a right would have everyone censored for virtually everything, as surely it would be offensive to someone. At this point most people will then try to claim that is what “political correctness” is trying to do, but I notice that the extreme right is often more successful in the actual banning of media. So is the answer, as some would like us to believe, that we need an “official” culture? If there were such a thing as a right not to be offended, it would be almost essential. I’ve heard way too many people actually embrace this idea, without even so much as a worry that it essentially represents the establishment of a state religion, in direct contradiction to the Constitution. I encourage you to read the Constitution. You will not find a “right not to be offended” mentioned anywhere in the document.

I recently completed our company’s annual Code of Conduct and Anti-Harassment training. I can see why so many of the “anti-PC” forces feel like they should have a right not to be offended. The language used in both the law and the common explanations uses the adjective “offensive” a lot; in regards to language, actions and environment. However, it isn’t really the same thing as banning a book or movie because it offends your beliefs. The prohibited behaviors are offensive to the concept that in our public lives we get to be treated based on our talents, our contributions, our abilities, on our role as good citizens – not on the presumptions people make about us based on our race, gender, religion etc. The idea that harassment included crude and lewd jokes might not have been necessary were it not for the fact that these and other intimidation tactics were skillfully and deliberately used to prevent women (and others) from having an equal chance to prove their abilities. Those who think others are “too sensitive” aren’t defending a different ideology as much as they are their “right” to say rude, crude and prejudicial things to people in a work environment.

My father was a firm but fair businessman. Long before there were laws about this sort of thing he told his employees he didn’t want them talking about religion or politics at the work place. His reason was simple – whether I agree or not with what they’re saying doesn’t matter, we’re here to get a job done and we’ll all work better together at that if we don’t keep looking for differences to divide us.

Every excuse for why this gender or that race couldn’t perform a certain job, or people of that religion couldn’t be trusted is simply unsupported bullshit, to use the technical term. For one thing, human beings are more diverse than that and I’ve never met anyone who is everything good or bad that their stereotype would imply – and that includes extreme right wingers.

It is past time for us to remember those words that eloquently summarized what the right to freedom of expression means – “While I disagree with what you say, I will defend to the death your right to say it.” That doesn’t mean that I will say nothing against what someone says that I disagree with, nor does it say that I think they should get a pass in the “court of public opinion” when violence seems to spring from their words and ideas.

The idea of freedom of expression has been blurred with false impressions of what amounts to a “right not to be offended.” If someone thinks homosexuality is a terrible wrong, that’s their personal business, so don’t engage in homosexual acts. But why do they feel they should get to regulate whether or not a gay couple holds hands, or kisses in public? Then we bring in the children. So what if they see there are people who believe and act differently from their parent’s teachings? If they are to grow up to be good members of a free society they will have to learn sooner or later that not everyone agrees. Helping the parents pretend that there is no dissent is the same thing, or at least its first cousin, as embracing a state religion or philosophy.

While I don’t see the reverse as often as some would like us to believe, I would agree that expecting everyone to be as comfortable with gay public displays of affection as I am is also unrealistic and unfair to the idea that we all get to have our own opinions. Personally I’m happy to see any people happy with each other and I honestly don’t care what their genders or sexuality is. Love is lovely. But that’s me. The key is what is legally prohibited. I’m not trying to legislate acceptance, just the lack of legal prohibition.

So if there is no right not to be offended, then we could all just “get along” and leave others to their own fates; confident that if they are doing wrong in the eyes of our conception of “God” that they will ultimately get their just deserts without our intervention. That does leave us with a pseudo “official culture” – one that says whatever we believe we don’t get to impose it on others. Thus there is a sort of “official” culture of tolerance, as that is the only version of a “state belief” that allows everyone to believe as they wish.

This naturally leads us to the question of what sort of behaviors should be illegal, and why. Sounds like the subject of another post.

Before we move on to that idea, I do want to share some thoughts about what makes the idea of a “right not to be offended” so popular. I’ve given this a lot of thought over my life, and while there may be other explanations as well, I think it comes down to a few things.

Fear of being wrong. There is a kind of comfort in certainty – no matter that certainty is mostly illusory, and that we often cling to it despite the facts. Certainty removes something from our conscious thought. Not having to be confronted with the fact that others disagree allows us to be ever more confident in our certainty. There is no longer a need to examine, or question. It is a settled issue. This is actually a form of “mental laziness”, but rather than “call names”, let’s just accept that in an effort to lower our “mental work load” there is a temptation to assign as much as possible to the “solved, once and for all” category.

Fear of loss of power. While the fear of being wrong can lead us to assign a lot of our thinking to the “solved” and “certain” category, this motivation goes far beyond that. It can get so extreme that it goes beyond merely avoiding those who think differently. The chance of encountering someone or something that might cast doubt on our conclusions gives rise to a sense of powerlessness. No one likes to feel that way and the usual counter move is to try to exert more power over the people or situations that make us uncomfortable. Often it involves hiding the fact that it is our self-doubt at the core of these feelings. As a result, it’s a need to “protect the children” from “those ideas” (preserving our power over them as well), or some claim that the very foundations of society (rather than just the foundations of our own beliefs) are in danger.

It is a sad bit of irony that the efforts to protect us from the tyranny of some “dangerous new idea” most often impose a tyranny of their own, much greater than any fabricated from fears of new ideas.

And that should circle us back to another article on what should be illegal, and why.

#rights #offense #PC #culture #political correctness

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centrifuge-politics · 6 years ago

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Brick Club 4.12.2

“The two friends lived together, ate together, slept together. Everything was in common with them, even Musichetta a little.” Even Joly’s head cold.

We get some excellent banter, Grantaire proving he wouldn’t know ellipsis if it was lobbed at his head point blank. This is a man who always has to get the last word in. If I may say, these three seem pretty unconcerned for members of a revolutionary group intending to take to the streets in rebellion this very day, they aren’t even in the vicinity of the planned spark point, the funeral procession. It seems to be a morning much like any other. Even after receiving the unexpected call to action from Enjolras, the three hang around for hours yet before the barricade literally forms around them.

Grantaire tries to muddle his way through an allegorical complaint about the state of society. “Brennus, who takes Rome, is an eagle; the banker, who takes the grisette, is an eagle.” This seems like a flawed comparison and I’m not sure what Grantaire believes he’s revealing. That, given the chance, people will seek ownership over things? That the strong prey on the weak? To the winner go the spoils? He might have a point but this isn’t a particularly earth shaking revelation and together his examples are pretty weak. Is he talking about the inherent nature of human greed or the cyclical nature of power and oppression? Both? I’m vaguely inclined to chalk up this entire argument to a misdirect, something that Grantaire does constantly, to the point that I can’t really tell how much of what he says should be taken at face value. Or what parts of it, rather.

“A revolution, what does that prove? That God is hard up. He makes a coup d’etat, because there is a solution of continuity between the present and the future, and because he, God, is unable to join the two ends…I suspect God is not rich.” It always does take Grantaire a bit to work up to what he really is upset about, and this is where he gets into it. If anyone but Grantaire was saying this, I’d infer a more positive read: God needs us to take action to progress into the bright future he has waiting! However, Grantaire sees this more like God throwing humanity breadcrumbs, trying to convince us to keep moving despite there being no ultimate reward. What if God was one of us? By which I mean a powerless individual struggling fruitlessly against oppressive structural power, unable to affect any real change. I think this is more the core frustration Grantaire is trying to express.

Grantaire, ostensibly, dislikes the constant disruption of his comfortable status quo by riots and calls for progress. What’s the use? This revolution will only tide us over until the next great disruption, and it’s only the lull between that’s worth the bitch of living. The universe doesn’t change, only teases us into believing it can. I’d double down on calling Grantaire a cynic rather than a genuine skeptic, like I did in 3.4.4, except he doesn’t think this is necessarily a bad thing (or at least he claims not to). As he tells it, life might be fine if only we weren’t caught up with the notion of revolution and change: “they are going to fight, all these idiots, to get their heads broken, to massacre one another…when they might go off with some creature under their arm.” If we take this at face value, Grantaire is just another privileged bourgeoisie whining about all this messy violence, but given what we’ve heard from him before (and the fact that I very much want to give him the benefit of the doubt), it’s just as, if not more likely that he’s very much afraid of what consequences the revolution might bring. Just like in 3.4.4, Grantaire can’t accept anything less than a complete success, otherwise the entire endeavor is a waste and he’s finally proven right—that humanity is beyond saving. This makes him wary of systemic change to the point that he’d prefer to avoid it altogether, better the devil you know, right?

Another point in this direction is that this line of thought doesn’t bring Grantaire any degree of comfort, despite him pretending otherwise. He isn’t happy with the way things are, he doesn’t like Louis Philippe, and he also isn’t happy being cynical about it. But, since he can’t bring himself to risk revolutionary sentiment or hope, he turns to drinking and emotional repression, “The blackness of a fearful drunkenness yawning before him, far from checking him, drew him on.”

The problem with Grantaire is that 90% of what he says and does is affectation, meant to deliberately obfuscate his genuine fears and concerns. He can hardly stand to be taken seriously so we only see the slightest glimpses into the true depth of his thoughts through the layers of misdirects he hides behind. All the allusions, the purple prose, the self deprecation, it’s all junk that needs to be sorted through to get at his real feelings. The only time anyone has managed it so far was Enjolras in 4.1.6 and we saw how long that lasted. It makes breaking down his points incredibly difficult by design which, consequently, makes him easily dismissible if you aren’t willing to parse through the bullshit.

Notably, Grantaire is one of the few characters who gets what we could charitably call a character arc. The only other characters who also receive this honor are Valjean, obviously, and…Mabeuf. I’d argue that these three are the only ones who reflect on their actions, or lack thereof, and then build on those reflections within view of the audience. I could also be persuaded to include Eponine in this list—unfortunately, what she has of an arc is warped from being shown through Marius’s oblivious eyes. I don’t necessarily know what this means for Grantaire, but it’s interesting that his arc feels more significant, or at least more thematically resonant, than what Marius, the male lead, gets.

#brickclub #les mis #les miserables #4.12.2 #grantaire whatEVER will we do with you?#wilbour translates 'gran blonde' as 'huge light complexioned man' which gave me a conniption #i was picturing some blonde bahorel which is vaguely horrifying #i guess unpopular opinion: marius doesnt have a character arc #he has character growth? but not really an arc?#hes really a very confusing character #he makes complete sense as a real life person but literarily fits nowhere #ive extensively documented my issues with him elsewhere in book 3

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recentanimenews · 6 years ago

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An Explorer's Guide to the Wonderful World of Visual Novels

Visual novels! Once decried as a “niche” by the masses, they have slowly but surely wormed their way into video games as a whole. Persona became a visual novel, then Fire Emblem. Now Saya no Uta, Gen Urobuchi's disturbing cult “classic” (?!) is available on Steam to stumble upon. There are fewer barriers than ever before to experiencing this varied, historic and often misunderstood medium.

But where to begin? Some visual novels are very long. Others are quite lewd. A number of them (even the ones people love) front-load their most boring material at the beginning, and save the best moments for the last hour of what can be twenty or thirty-hour games. Picking up Saya no Uta without being primed for the extremes of the medium is a recipe for despair. But don't be afraid! Many of the best visual novels being made today are only a few hours long, encompass many approaches and genres, and are acceptable for all ages. In this piece I will lay out a path that you, dear reader, may follow into the thickets. Some things to keep in mind:

1. Every one of the games featured here is legally avaliable in English. If you know Japanese and are willing to spend some money, feel free to experiment on your own!

2. The games featured here range from appropriate for teenagers, to appropriate for mature audiences. Content warnings will be marked as needed. That said, almost none of these games feature the kind of graphic sex you'd see in old-school titles like Fate/Stay Night; the exception is the final title, included for completionism, which is truly sordid and not appropriate for anybody (but I like it).

3. While I've had some experience with the medium, BL and otome games are huge blind spots of mine, so I won't embarrass myself by pretending expertise! If you're interested in exploring those fields, I've heard good things about Code: Realize (get the collector's edition with the extra content!), Hatoful Boyfriend and (if you're OK with some NSFW material) Coming Out on Top.

With that said, let us being our journey!

SHORT AND SWEET:

These games last about two to three hours, but will stick with you longer than that. Don't assume these are “beginner games” simply because they are short! I could argue that collectively, the three titles here are the best on this list.

Butterfly Soup is Brianna Lei's follow-up to her cult success Pom Gets Wi-Fi. It's free! It's also one of the most acclaimed visual novels ever by the mainstream games press, scoring praise from folks like Patricia Hernandez and Steve Gaynor. As for what it's about: it's the story of four girls on their high school softball team, two of them are in love, and there are many funny jokes. I found the ending to be abrupt, but if you're looking for good vibes and some much-needed encouragement to stay true to yourself, I highly recommend this game. Plus it references Matt Mullholland's excellent “My Heart Will Go On” performance, which earns it extra points in my book.

Content warnings: Brief depictions of parental and physical abuse (no visuals!), ableist slurs.

We Know the Devil is “what if Kelly Link wrote Revolutionary Girl Utena?” Plenty of anime and games channel that energy (my beloved What A Beautiful visual novel series among them) but few do so as succinctly and distinctively as Aevee Bee, Mia Schwartz and their team do in this game. The result is a punk, unsettling take on magical girl stories set in a Christian summer camp, featuring sneaky world-building and some striking body horror. You'll feel for the cast and their struggles, and cheer in the True Ending when everything goes completely off the rails.

Content warnings: Psychological and body horror, alienation of queer youth in a religious setting, freaky music.

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EXTREME MEATPUNKS FOREVER is a game about gay antifascist folks fighting fascists across the desert while riding giant robots made of meat. It's the equivalent of a zine you'd pick up at a fair, willing to dive into messy topics most games shy away from and wholly uninterested in sanding away any rough spots. The music is great too! Play this game if you want to beat up Nazis in a giant meat machine called ROOTS AMONG ASH.

Content warnings: Body horror, mentions of self harm and abuse, suicidal ideation, alcohol, gender dysphoria, loss of bodily autonomy, apocalyptic ideation. For mature audiences!

NICE AND MEATY:

These games are a good bit longer, ranging from five to fifteen hours to beat. If you enjoyed the earlier entries and want more, try some of these!

The House in Fata Morgana is a bonafide cult classic, a game made by a small studio that earned itself a legion of die-hard fans in the visual novel space. At first glance it's an entertaining genre pastiche, four tales of doomed love centering around a cursed mansion. But read past the first four chapters, and suddenly the real story comes to the fore—the tale of two ordinary people and a love that lasts for centuries. Fata Morgana takes some huge swings, tackling societal oppression, intersexuality, recovering from past trauma and learning to move on from those who have wronged you without having to forgive them. Its success at landing these swings likely depends on the reader, but I found Fata Morgana's heart to be in the right place. Couple that with one of the best soundtracks in video games, and you have an experience that is worth it even at 0% off.

Content warnings: incest, domestic violence, racist and sexist remarks, psychological manipulation, homophobic and transphobic remarks, sexual assault, child abuse. For mature audiences!

Heart of the Woods is, as of yet, the most ambitious game made by Studio Elan. It's a supernatural mystery where two adult women travel to a small town in the cold and dark to investigate some strange occurrences. What they find leads to unexpected romance, but also incredible danger. Heart of the Woods is sweet, it's funny (Tara is hilarious!) and as has come to be a running theme in this piece, the music is excellent, courtesy of Sarah Mancuso and Kris Flacke. Heart of the Woods is a game made by people who clearly have a lot of affection for visual novels as a medium, but had enough discretion to snip out the bits they weren't fond of. It also comes with a plethora of accessibility options, allowing you to customize everything from the text to the music to your needs.

Content warnings: Parental abuse, alcohol, light horror elements, some sex scenes you can enable with an optional R-18 patch. For mature audiences!

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As for Seabed, it's... yuri ASMR? It's difficult to describe, as the appeal of this one for me isn't so much the story—which is intriguing, but very slow-paced—as it is the feel of it. Everything from the music, to the sound effects, to the text, contributes to a languid feeling unlike every other game in the medium I have played. Seabed won't be for everyone, but few titles match its distinctive atmosphere.

Content warnings: alcohol, partial nudity. At least one sex scene that isn't too explicit by the standards of the medium. For mature audiences!

THE DEEP END:

These games range in length from fifteen hours to fifty... and beyond! If you're looking for the experience your Japanese-speaking friends fell in love with back in the days of fan translations and frantically searching online for information on Type-Moon properties, this is it!

Imagine that you have an idea for a great Japanese TV-drama, but you decide to make it as a visual novel instead. Wanting to produce as authentic an experience as possible, you hire actors and have them act out every scene in your script as you take multiple photographs depicting every twist and turn in the plot. Imagine the sheer amount of time and labor it would require. Then multiply it by five, let the player switch between these narratives with the ease of hitting a button on a gamepad, and tie them together into a vast meta-narrative. That's 428: Shibuya Scramble, one of the most ambitious visual novels ever created and a game that was famously awarded a score of 40 by the Japanese games rag Famitsu. Despite having an enormous and complicated script, it was localized into English just a year ago. Don't miss out on this bizarre and fascinating video game! If you're a fan of the Yakuza series, you'll be right at home with 428's brand of lunacy.

Content warnings: Violence, drugs, alcohol, some bad language.

Umineko: When They Cry is a lot. A gonzo mystery story that starts as a riff on And Then There Were None, it swiftly mutates into a hundred-hour game of four-dimensional chess. It was made by a small team, scored by the music of the gods, and is fully committed throughout to its brand of sentiment, metaphysical rambling and extreme horror. Some might say that Umineko is overwrought, but that is the point: the game is memorable for its excess, not despite of it. If you're looking for a taste of the full VN experience, complete with shocking twists, a weird obsession with trivia and far too many words, this is the most authentic you can find that's appropriate for all audiences. Please play with the original art! It's charming.

Content warnings: Parental abuse, blood and gore, people getting killed and suffering fates worse than death at the hands of witches (???). For mature audiences!

And now we come to [NSFW] Wonderful Everyday, everything your anxious friend told you about visual novels. It's not just that Wonderful Everyday has sex scenes, it's that it takes less time to list what triggering and problematic content is not in the game than what is in it. It references Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus and Cyrano de Bergerac. The game isn't afraid to take huge, unexpected shifts in tone and aesthetic in order to scare or destabilize the player. You might be wondering: why recommend a game like this, which many would find morally abhorrent? All I can say is that Wonderful Everyday is the game that convinced your Japanese-speaking friends to read Wittgenstein. It's a cult classic, a title unavailable in English for years that came with the highest praise imaginable: that it was a profound work of art, that it would change your way of thinking forever. After finally playing through the game two years ago, my feelings were more mixed; but there's no mistaking that few games better personify the visual novel medium's eccentricities, indulgences or shoot-for-the-moon ambition than this shaggy, gross, but fascinating video game.

Content warnings: suicide, psychological and body horror, multiple variants of sexual assault, extreme bullying, extreme violence, bestiality (thankfully cut down for release in the US!), a transgender character who is handled in a pretty specious way. Many graphic sex scenes. For very mature audiences!

There's even more great titles out there that I couldn't fit on this list! The high stakes and interface-shattering plot twists of 999. The countless games being made in engines like Ren'Py, Choice of Games and Twine. South Korean visual novels like Nameless and Mystic Messenger. No matter what kind of person or reader you may be, there is a visual novel out there somewhere for you. I wish you luck in your endless journey of discovery!

Are you a fan of visual novels? Do you have any (safe for work, if possible) recommendations? Please let us know in the comments!

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Adam W is a features writer at Crunchyroll. When he isn't eagerly awaiting the announcement of the Girls' Work anime by Type Moon, he sporadically contributes with a loose coalition of friends to a blog called Isn't it Electrifying? Follow him on twitter at: @wendeego

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