#and that's fine. nobody is morally obligated to like her

[vikingmagic33]

A little meet-cute in the garden leads Elain to visit Gwyn in the library. Here is the first installment for a Gwynlain fic for the ACOTAR Writing Circle 3. @azrielshadowssing which happens to coincide beautifully with @gwynweekofficial and pride.

Read on AO3 here!

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Gwyn raced up the darkened stairwell, before spilling out of the doorway and into the rooftop’s blistering sun. She squinted up at Rhysand. He chucked down affectionately at her disheveled appearance. “You’re late,” Rhys stated with mock annoyance.

The sun was making its descent and baked the clay roof in a crackling glow. Gwyn caught sight of steam and her vision of the horizon beyond blurred through pockets of sweltering air. She gulped it down and savored freedom on her tongue.  

“Let me guess.” Rhys continued. “Merrill has concocted some new form of torture?” 

“Nothing new about it.” Gwyn smoothed the folds of her robes and gave him an impertinent stare. 

“But still torture.” He looked immediately concerned. “I can speak to...”

“I’m fine, Rhys.” Gwyn blurted. “I’ve told you that a million times already. I’m fine. I can deal with Merrill. Shall we?” 

She reached for his arm without waiting for his response. Rhys reached down to gather her to his side, as wings appeared, and he pushed up once in a massive boost just beyond the wards. The force of the push caused her sandals to slip. She heard them drop against the roof mere seconds before he’d winnowed them away. 

The first thing Gwyn noticed was the feel of a slightly damp lawn under her feet. The River House was close enough to the water that even on a hot day, spray from the river kept the gardens dewy and fresh. She drew up her hem only slightly to peer down as her toes wiggled. Emerie had painted them a perfect robin’s egg blue at a book club sleepover the night before and Gwyn relished the look against the green and soaked the silkiness through the soles of her feet.  

Rhys had asked that she give regular reports on life within the library. Clotho was technically the correct chain of command, but Rhys had expressed an interest in speaking informally on morale and their general quality of life. Gwyn had been happy to oblige. She had a list tucked into a pocket of her robes and she respected his concern. They had been meeting regularly for months, but that was the first meeting since Rhys had suggested they move them to the River House and expand their discussion to include the new Valkyrie training program. 

“You’re getting positively tan, Gwynnie.” Cassian’s bark boomed from the back steps and Gwyn’s gaze lifted from her feet to her friend’s face. “I think you’ve got twice as many freckles as you did when I first met you.” He chuckled before reaching up to tweak the end of her nose. Nesta swatted his hand and Gwyn rubbed her palm over the spot dramatically, but still managed to stick out her tongue when nobody was looking. 

She hadn’t seen the pair on the roof, so they must have arrived sometime earlier. From the state of Nesta’s hair, they could have been flying. Then again, there was no telling what else could have tangled it so much. Gwyn eyed her friend’s appearance and lifted a brow. Nesta just shrugged. Not flying then. Gwyn grinned. She was happy for Nesta. 

“I could give you a hat.” Gwyn spun at the sound of a feminine voice behind her in the flowers and found Elain kneeling in the garden. Elain set aside a pair of shears and slowly rose to her feet, careful not to touch her dress with her filthy gloves. “Not to say that freckles aren’t very pretty. Just… if you wanted a hat, I do have plenty. I could spare a few for you. If you’d like.” 

Gwyn’s gaze traveled up to Elain’s wide-brimmed, straw hat. It had an elaborate ribbon tied just beneath her chin. The absurdity of the offer was simply adorable. Gwyn couldn’t train in a floppy garden hat, but sincerity and perhaps nerves were clear in Elain’s voice, so Gwyn did not scoff.  

“Thank you, Elain,” Gwyn replied gently. “But I can’t see that I would have any use for such a thing in the library or in the training ring.” She noticed Rhys and Cassian disappearing through the kitchen door, but Nesta waited for Gwyn. 

“But surely elsewhere...” Elain studied Gwyn’s face as though she was being asked to state the obvious. 

Gwyn’s heart lurched and her face must have fallen. She saw confusion bloom in Elain’s eyes and again her heart softened. Elain wasn’t criticizing her. To hear Nesta tell it, Elain didn’t travel very far herself, but at least she could venture into Velaris unaccompanied. Nesta stepped forward and started to speak, but Gwyn stepped between the two. 

“We don’t get much light in the library.” Gwyn chided herself for her choice of words. She felt heat creep up her neck. She sounded like a moron or some sort of neglected houseplant. 

Elain was positively glowing, standing there, in her immaculate garden and she wasn’t actually wrong. Gwyn should be going more places. Gwyn should have need of a hat. 

“None at all?” Elain stepped forward and wiped at her brow with the back of one delicate wrist. All she managed to accomplish was to trap one dark blond curl into the dampness at her temple and Gwyn hid a smile. “How can anything hope to thrive in utter darkness?” Elain sounded ready to picket. 

“They do have candles, Elain.” Nesta sounded cross and Gwyn waved her off. She didn’t want to be the source of strife between the sisters. There had been plenty of that in the past and things were just starting to settle. 

“Not everything needs to be baked in the sun, Elain. We are the Night Court, are we not? Night can be beautiful too.” Gwyn practically purred. She was shocked by the tone in her own voice. Where had that come from? 

“I guess so.” Elain huffed a breath distractedly at that pesky curl, but it did not budge. 

“Here. Let me help you out.” Gwyn reached over and tugged the curl free. “Better?” 

“Thank you, Gwyneth.” Elain breathed her laughter. “I’m a mess.” 

“Nothing wrong with a bit of sweat,” Gwyn added, froze, and tried to pivot. “You’ve been hard at work.” Gwyn pointed awkwardly to an impressive pile of rose branches discarded near Elain’s very organized workstation. It was a folded towel for her knees and a bucket of what appeared to be bonemeal. Gwyn had been impressed to hear she recycled them from kitchen scraps. “We should let you get back to it.” 

Elain nodded. “Always nice to see you, Gwyneth.”

“You too, Elain.” Gwyn took Nesta’s arm and aimed for the house. Nesta narrowed her eyes.

“What was that?” Nesta hissed. 

“I have no idea.” Gwyn lied. She did have an idea. In fact, she had several. 

“You were flirting with my sister.” Nesta accused with a hungry smile. 

“I was doing no such thing!” Gwyn denied with a pout. “I was just being nice. Can’t I be nice?” 

“Liar,” Nesta growled under her breath. “You’re never that nice to me.”

“Well. You’ve never offered me a hat.” Gwyn hid her blush by rushing forward into the house. 

~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~

Elain made her way quietly down the dimly lit hall. She wasn’t sure why she’d felt the need to sneak, assuming that was even a fair description of her behavior. But it always felt like she was sneaking around the River House or the grounds or even into Valeris. The last, she liked to consider more exploration, even if she would bet all of her allowance that her sisters would scoff at that characterization. 

Rhys could be counted upon to be visiting Feyre’s art studio in the Rainbow on most afternoons and she’d timed her trek upstairs accordingly. Elain had no interest in dealing with the High Lord. Honestly, she had no interest in interacting with anyone, save perhaps the twins. 

It wasn’t that she disliked her sisters. She didn’t even dislike the families that both had chosen for themselves, not objectively at least. But the twins didn’t avert their gazes too quickly, nor did they let them linger with confusion, when Elain’s comments or behaviors were inevitably deemed uncouth or to be based on some outdated human mindset that Elain had yet to identify and sufficiently weed out. Worse were the moments when time skipped and snagged when a vision nudged or whispered and Elain simply fell behind in conversations or trailed off in the middle of speaking. 

Elain was not some shy or shrinking violet, nor was she a masochist. Solitude was just simpler and she found she liked people more when they said less and when she didn’t have to see them. 

She didn’t usually find herself in his library. Libraries in general were foreign and unknown. Visits were not something that her late mother encouraged and familiarity hadn’t been possible in their new lives after her death. 

Elain needed information though, so she tapped lightly on the door. She sighed happily at the lack of response and turned the ornate knob. Elain pressed her shoulder against his heavy door as it swung gently into the darkness of the room beyond. Need was perhaps a strong word. Elain wanted information. The idea of a gift had bloomed in her mind and she couldn’t seem to shake it. She didn’t want to shake it. 

Ultimately, the library trip had been an utter waste of her time. It had actually taken three trips into Velaris, a visit with a local botanist, and the aid of a rather talented glass blower. Finally, she found herself standing with an awkwardly large box in her arms, asking Rhys for transport to the House of Wind and his permission to visit the library below. 

“Sure.” He dusted toast crumbs from the corner of his mouth. “I’m going up there anyway. I will take the box for you.” Rhys responded absently. Had he even noticed that it wasn’t what she’d requested from him at all? 

“I’d rather deliver them myself. Thank you though.” Elain responded as Feyre peeked over the edge of the box at the greenery within. “There are care instructions and all.” Elain shrugged and adjusted the box in her arms with the help of one knee. “If you could just let this Clotho person know that I will be visiting within the library today, you can just drop me at the entrance. I believe there is one somewhere on the roof?” 

Feyre’s head shot up before she offered with a glint of curiosity in her eye, “I can take you.”

No way. Not a chance. Elain shook her head.  

“Rhys just said he was going anyway. Did he not?” 

There was some comfort in knowing that Rhysand didn’t understand her and had no interest in figuring her out. It was neglect masquerading as privacy and she offered back resentment passing for respect. 

“It is done.” Rhys tapped his temple with one finger as he took one last bite of toast and rose from the table. He bent to plant a kiss on his son’s head and one on his mate’s cheek before heading for the door. 

Clotho had been polite and accommodating and Gwyn turned out to be fairly easy to find. 

“This one is called Bird's Nest.” Elain pointed to the first plant. “They call this one a snake plant, but I’m not sure why. The spider plant makes a little more sense when you see the little baby plants that sort of shoot off as it grows.”

“That sounds like quite the kerfuffle.” Gwyn beamed and her laughter washed over Elain. She was happy. The gift had been a good idea after all. “I’d better keep my eye on these and make sure they all stay in line.”

“Yes. Well.” Elain blushed. “And this one, it’s a bromeliad. No silly name. It even blooms without any sun. None need sun. Although they will thank you for these little bauble lights I got in town. The shop owner assured me that they mimic low sunlight.”

“Are these for light too?” Gwyn peered from across the box and reached a hand underneath for support. Their fingers brushed slightly and Elain’s pulse raced. 

“Oh, no. Those are for water.” Elain tried again to adjust her hold on the box and the whole thing nearly toppled despite being trapped between their chests. Elain managed to grab hold of a colorful orb on a long glass stem. “You fill these with water and then stick them into the dirt. They will help with watering.” 

“Thank you.” Gwyn smiled and Elain was nervous at the sheen in Gwyn’s eyes. 

“This one is poisonous to cats.” Elain blurted. “You don’t have a cat do you?”

“Sometimes I think we might, but if he’s going to prowl around here nibbling on my plants, then he deserves a bit of mischief. Don’t you think?”  

“He? If you’re not sure that there is a cat, how do you know it is male?” Elain asked, genuinely amused. 

“A girl cat would know better than to eat strange plants and probably would’ve made some friends by now. At least, with the kitchen staff.” They were talking nonsense and Elain was blissfully happy. 

“So.” Elain had no idea what to say next. “I’ll just give these to you.” Elain aimed for subtle, but managed to shove the box at Gwyn. 

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Gwyn stepped away, hands raised. “You can carry them down and help me place them around my reading nook.” She turned toward the stairs. “And I hope you mean to visit them.”

“Pardon?” Elain squeaked. 

“You can’t just give a girl a basket of living things and some vague instructions and expect them to survive.” Gwyn chided and Elain was fairly sure she was teasing her. 

“Box,” Elain mumbled. 

“Pardon?” There was definite teasing in Gwyn’s voice as she mimicked Elain’s earlier nerves. Elain blushed, though not unpleasantly, she noticed. 

“It’s a box, not a basket.” Elain clarified and Gwyn chuckled. Warmth bloomed in Elain’s chest. 

“If any of the other priestesses should want...”

“They can keep their mitts off my ferns.” Gwyn yanked the box possessively to her chest then.  

“Bromeliad.” Elain corrected. 

“See,” Gwyn called over her shoulder as she continued down the stairs. “I’m in over my head already. You simply must save me, Elain.” Perhaps they were both in over their heads, but for the first time that she could remember, Elain didn’t mind at all. 

[morlock-holmes]

@jambeast

"There’s a lot of conflation between things...

-Being art -Being *good* art -Being morally permissible to make

Like whether The Fountain is art or not, and that’s a question that doesn’t have an answer because it’s more of a question of how we define art than what properties the fountain has... everyone’s fully within their rights to think it sucks. If I saw the fountain at an art exhibition and I was expecting something pretty I’d be disappointed and I wouldn’t enjoy myself and I personally wouldn’t like it.

Which is fine! Nobody’s under any obligation to like and of this. Nobody’s under any obligation to think that it’s good. You can think it sucks and then go home and stop bothering anyone about it.

It feels like a mistake on the part of the Art world to put forward the message (Or... at least an unfortunate turn of events that people got the impression that that they were putting forward the message) that Jackson Pollocks and Rothkos were Good Art and that if you can’t recognise how Good the art is then you’re an idiot philistine who needs to learn to appreciate Real Art; lead to a lot of resentment towards the whole culture, and to a lot of neurotic people pretending to like them far more than they would if they weren’t told to.

Like at the end of the day you can like what you like, and disengage with what you don’t like, but any time spent arguing over what is Real Art and what is Objectively Good Art just... doesn’t *go* anywhere."

Okay, when I was talking about Fountain I didn't want people to focus on any qualities possessed by that particular urinal, I wanted people to focus on the fact that The Society of Independent Artists really, really really did not want to display it.

I want to tell the story again because I think it got lost.

Flashback: France, the late 19th century. The world of art in France is rigidly controlled by a small group of elite gatekeepers. Wikipedia:

During the Second Empire, artists not backed by the official Académie de peinture et de sculpture in charge of the exhibits at the annual Salon or without support supplied by actual political constellations had little chance to advance. From year to year the number of artists working in Paris, the number of artists submitting works to the official Salon and the number of works refused by the jury increased, but neither the Second Empire nor the Third Republic found an answer to this situation.

In other words, although the number of artists were increasing, display space at the annual Salon was tightly controlled by a jury which determined who would or would not be shown, based on whether the members of the jury felt that their art was worthwhile.

In opposition to this elite old guard, a group of artists founded the Société des Artistes Indépendants, and began holding their own Salons.

Wikipedia again says,

Article 1 of the organization's statutes reads,...the purpose of Société des Artistes Indépendants – based on the principle of abolishing admission jury – is to allow the artists to present their works to public judgement with complete freedom.

The Society, and their salons, are works of radical egalitarianism; rather than rely on the artistic judgement of the elite to determine what art the public should see, and how the public should understand those works of art, they simply display and allow each individual to come to his or her conclusion about each piece.

This, eventually, is successful, and even popular, with artists like Toulouse-Lautrec or Van Gogh displaying deeply unconventional pieces of art which would not have appealed to the juries of the Académie.

And while the pieces in the show are often controversial, they do begin to attract both critical acclaim and attention from buyers, leading to some major art sales and trends in the art world.

Keep that latter part in mind.

So, by 1916 word has spread to America, and a bunch of American artists, Marcel Duchamp among them, decide to form a similar society, the Society of Independent Artists.

This society decides to put on its own exhibition of currently working artists, on the same model as the French Société: Anybody who pays the admission fee will have their art displayed. The art will be arranged alphabetically by the last name of the artist, to avoid any kind of favoritism.

Again, this is a radically egalitarian movement; rather than having an elite impose their aesthetic sensibility on the common man, we allow each visitor to bring his own sensibility and make his own judgements.

Well, Duchamp wonders just how dedicated is the Society to this radical egalitarianism?

So he decides to test it by, if I may editorialize, submitting something that the vast majority of people would consider stupid and obnoxious: A urinal attached to a pedestal.

The Society is scandalaized, and, breaking their own rules, refuse to display it.

This is the important part. It's hard to even imagine now, when none of us would blink at the thought of, I dunno, a Jeff Koontz gold plated toilet selling for millions of dollars.

But this was more than a century ago, and the Society debated and finally came to a conclusion of,

"I know we said that we weren't the arbiters of what is or is not worthwhile art and that we had no authority to say it. Except in this case. In this case we definitely are the arbiters of what is and isn't art and this ain't art."

Duchamp immediately resigns in protest and the art world is blown open.

The twentieth century then sees a number of artistic movements that ask, first, "What parts of the human experience can be art?" and ask that question so many times that eventually the question of the 20th century becomes, "Do we even need to bother to define art in the first place?" and I would say that the answer we settle on is,

"No"

Here's the problem.

By Warhol at the latest (And I suspect much earlier but I'm not well enough versed in art history) the kinds of gesture that Duchamp was making in 1917 have become far less radical and far more expected in the world of fine art; Warhol and Lichtenstein ask the question, "Can this low art that most people pass over actually be high art?"

But unlike with Fountain, there's little effort to excise them from the world of art, and instead they make money hand over fist selling to exactly the kinds of rich, elitist toffs which Fountain was challenging.

Fountain itself is reproduced and held in the Tate Modern behind glass for cultured people to examine and ponder, and nobody would dare contend that maybe it was just a piss pot.

And so, in one of the cruelest ironies of modern art, Fountain comes to symbolize exactly the kind of elitist control it was originally created to challenge.

"Why," you ask, "Are these elitist pricks trying to force me to appreciate a bloody urinal when I know damn well that I don't? Why don't they understand that people like what they like and don't like what they don't and elite attempts to define art in these narrow ways are obnoxious and doomed to fail?"

Which is exactly what Duchamp was trying to say with Fountain in the first place, which is why his friend Brian Eno peed in it.

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

🔥unpopular charles opinion

The thing is, it’s not an opinion, really. The question isn’t meant to be a complaint or a rebuttal or anything. I just genuinely don’t get it! The question goes something like this.

So Charles/Klinger seems to be the one actively disliked ship in the fandom, discounting the h*nn*hawk vs p*erc*ntyre gang war and that one rabidly anti-hawnk person (lol). Most nobody has any love for the ship, because it’s stupid and OOC, of course, but mostly because it’s egregiously obviously racist and gross, which is the critique that seems most common, and to be of most importance to people.

And to be clear, for the purposes of this post I am wholly agreeing with all that! It’s distasteful and immoral and people who are into it are insane, including me. I’m not arguing against this line of thinking, I just wanted to look at its inner logic. Because when I first heard people saying this, I thought, “Yeah, makes sense, Charles is truthfully a terrible person with abhorrent opinions. Nobody watching this already unfortunately bigotry-riddled show is obligated to try and look past that! It is Always valid to hate Charles’ guts.”

But it turns out most of the fandom (I assume it must be most, given how shockingly few people here have blocked me) actually don’t hate Charles, in general. It’s the specific ship, not the character, that’s distasteful. (Not to say any Charles ship is anything resembling popular, but like with most ships, that’s just a result of the general population’s Hawkeye BJ Laser Focus Gaze. I’ve never seen anybody actively dislike these ships when they’re brought up.) And the more I think about it, the more I wonder why, because well. to put it bluntly. It’s not like someone stops being racist when they’re not actively interacting with a nonwhite person.

You know what I mean? I feel like Charles’ bigotry would be a turn off for all of our generally morally sound protagonists, not just one who happens to be personally affected by it. But it only becomes an issue when it involves Klinger. I’ve heard people say that any Charles/Klinger ship fic would obviously have to go out of its way to address Charles’ racism, but I’ve read a few Charles/Hawkeye and Charles/Donna (and Charles / other strange and varied choices too, because of course I have) fics–really, REALLY good fics, that captured the characters very nicely and are very beautifully written–and I’ve yet to find one that discusses The Bigotry In The Room with any degree of seriousness.

(Pssst this is everyone’s chance to absolutely dunk on me by sending me fics that do this if there actually are a bunch and I’ve just never read them because I would in fact LOVE to read some fics with that topic regardless of ship!)

And to be clear, that’s fine with me! I truly do not care. When I read Charles running away to Maine or romancing Ms. Parker and I don’t see his love interests stop to ask “Hey, um, so any updates on the fact that you and your whole family are eugenicists?”, it doesn’t bother me in the slightest, because I just assume that Charles has already gone through the cult deprogramming step of his character development at some point prior to this, and either the love interest in question has already confirmed this off-page, or they are making the same assumption I am. After all, at least in Hawkeye’s case, the mere act of admitting romantic interest in a Democrat from the back of beyond would necessarily imply a shift in values, right?

(Admittedly, for all we canonically know Donna could be a fashy scumlord herself, so this reasoning doesn’t wholly apply there, but it obviously does to her fanon background/personality.) (Which is adorable, by the way. Everyone go check out the collective oeuvre of AO3 user onekisstotakewithme.)

So that’s all cool! It’s just that the same thing applies for me when it comes to Charles/Klinger. If anything, it applies even more, because you can have a fic where Charles’ whole family attend his and Donna’s 2nd wedding (Everyone go check out the collective oeuvre of AO3 user onekisstotakewithme!!!) but if Charles gets with Maxwell in any capacity, his father is at the very LEAST never going to speak to him again, ever. And personally I think that is SO fun and sexy, because Charles’ father is a white supremacist and I want him to die painfully forever and ever amen. <3

I got sidetracked a few times here and I just realized I never actually asked the question, which is, TL;DR: If it’s immoral–or at least gross and nonsensical–to ship Charles/Klinger, because Charles is bigoted, shouldn’t the same also apply to shipping Charles with many other characters too, given that they should logically also have a problem with his bigotry?

For what it’s worth, I have a bit of a theory about the answer to this, all to do with the incompetent way Charles’ bigotry (and other characters’ reactions to it) are portrayed in canon and the deeper Doylist factors that I think forced the showrunners into writing it like that, but I wanted to stay strictly on the topic of fandom attitudes for now, because it may be niche and silly, but I find it interesting. And I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts on it!

[transillusionisms]

Then let’s go ahead and have a conversation, being attracted to a child as an adult is morally wrong, and there are reasons for that, children are not even remotely close to the maturity level or mental capacity that adults are and to be attracted to somebody so young and emotionally different then you- especially when it puts you in a position of power over them- is wrong. It’s exactly why teacher/student relationships are frowned upon, because the teacher has a huge position of power of the student and therefore the relationship can never realistically be consensual or healthy. Being attracted to children is a taboo for a reason, and it’s not just because people want to “put others down” it’s because there are serious moral implications that comes with it. I don’t understand why anybody would want to be in that kind of situation, why anybody would ever want to be in such a position of power that the relationship could never be healthy- could never do anything but leave long lasting trauma.

And quite honestly if you haven’t experienced the kind of trauma that comes with that, the kind of hurt that you receive from somebody who knew better, from somebody who had that position of power over you and then abusing it then I’m not sure why you would want to speak on the issue so in depth. Because the only people who can truly understand that kind of pain are the people who go through it and *maybe* people who have professional training and experience in the mental health field.

Nobody is telling you that you’re wrong for having a “different opinion”, you’re being told you’re wrong because while you’re saying that CSA and rape and assault and abuse is bad you’re still trying to justify morally wrong behavior. That is the issue, you’re using a platform to blast the idea that age doesn’t matter and that it has no actual purpose other then to keep time when that’s wrong. Because it does matter, experience and age matter, even if people don’t want to believe that.

i think you're unnecessarily combining attraction with abuse, here. because every kind of romantic or sexual interaction between an adult and a kid is bad, and we can both agree on that. age very much does matter in relationships, you're right; a 16 and an 18 year old are fine, but a 14 year old and an 18 year old aren't. we agree on all that. other power imbalances are generally bad too; even if you're in college and you and your professor are the same age, that's not the kinda dynamic that'd lead to a healthy relationship.

the only thing i don't agree with that you're saying here is that the attraction itself is morally wrong, too. for one, it's something that people literally cannot help. it's why stuff like homohobes saying "just choose not to be gay" makes no sense at all. (no, i'm not saying you're homophobic, i just mean that you can see the whole "i can't consciously change my attractions" in other places too.)

two, people who are attracted to others can avoid interacting with them. it happens all the time; i see a pretty guy in a coffee shop, i don't interact with him, we never see each other again. stuff like that. this doesn't change if the subject of your attraction is a kid; i would argue that you're morally obligated to not mention that to the kid, but it doesn't make you a bad person for simply being attracted to them.

fantasies are morally neutral. i can fantasize about responding to queerphobia with immediate violence, even though in reality that's not really a productive way of dealing with that; that doesn't make me dangerous to be around or violent irl. sexual fantasies aren't any different. cops are horrible irl, but i'm not gonna call people doing sexual roleplay where one is a cop bootlickers for that.

attraction is morally neutral, too. a straight guy can be into a lesbian, and that doesn't mean he's a bad person for thinking she's hot or being attracted to her; it'd only be bad if he pursued her after knowing she wasn't alright with that. this applies to other things too; if you're attracted to a kid, that's morally neutral. it only becomes bad if you tell the kid about it, or try to pursue them in any way.

if this is something you can't agree on, i'm not sure more conversation will do anything :/

(also, the only reason i'm speaking on this in depth is when other people start that conversation, like the condescending emoji anon and you. i'll respond n stuff, but i'm usually not gonna start talking about it out of the blue)

[cqlfeels]

@lansplaining encouraged me to finish this random meta nobody asked for, so let's talk about Meng Yao, Meng Shi, and 孟母三遷 (mèng mǔ sān qiān), a proverb about good parenting.

A warning: this is super long (even for me!) and is less quality meta and more my ADHD brain jumping around a maze of loosely related ideas. Proceed with caution!

Let me start by briefly going through why I decided to write this, because it’s important. In haunting Meng Shi’s tag in my starvation for Meng Shi content, I’ve multiple times come across the idea that Meng Shi pushed Meng Yao too hard, that she should’ve been more careful with teaching him to seek his father’s approval at any cost, and that she was too naïve. I’ve never reblogged this kind of post because 1) I personally think it’s rude to go out of your way to ramble about how much you disagree with someone on their own post and 2) if this was an isolated incident I wouldn't care either way, so I didn’t want to direct this rant at anyone in particular. It’s more to do with a tendency, primarily (as far as I can tell) from fans who haven’t had much contact with Chinese culture, to oversimplify Meng Shi and make her relationship with Meng Yao slightly disturbing, and I think part of it is due to CQL basically cutting out her entire storyline (so fans simply don’t have info about her to assess her fairly) and part is due to misunderstanding what a good parent is supposed to act like in the context of Ancient China.

[Of course, Ancient China is not a very useful historical concept, not any more than “ye olde Europe” - things change a lot based on time and place - but you know. It’s fantasy. Extremely broad trends are okay in this case.]

Anyway, the idea behind the posts I mentioned is, basically, that Meng Shi (usually through no fault of her own) is to blame for Meng Yao’s obsession with power, since his desire for approval was inherited from lessons she taught him. Just to start with, I’d argue that Meng Yao isn’t power-hungry as much as he craves security and respect, but that’s a different meta. Let’s assume that she really did teach him to be Like That. Was she wrong to do so? I’m not looking for “does that make for a happy, well-adjusted childhood?” or “would you raise your own son as Meng Shi did?” - I’m trying to figure out, would she have been considered a bad mother in the context of the society she lived in? I don’t think she would’ve.

It is surprisingly hard to find texts about the obligations of parents in Ancient China. Their main obligation is to raise filial children, but I feel like that’s not very useful: whether or not parents are good parents, children are expected to be filial, so a child being filial really says more about the child than about the parent. Maybe the parent completely missed the mark and society at large was what taught the child to be filial!

We can assume, of course, that parents were to raise good people, and that by learning what a good person looked like, we could figure out whether the parent was successful, but once again, I feel like that’s pinning things on the outcome, not on the process - the best of parents can end up with an awful kid and vice versa.

While thinking about all this, it took me a frankly embarrassing amount of time to remember the story of Mother Meng and Meng Zi, but once I did, it wouldn’t leave my mind - in part because the Meng here is the exact same Meng of Meng Shi and Meng Yao (yay! fun if useless parallel!), and in part because this is a story about how a woman can successfully raise a son by herself.

Okay, so important note: one of the most influential ancient Chinese thinkers is Meng Zi (孟子 Mèng Zǐ), who is known in the West as Mencius. If you've never heard of him - he's perhaps second in importance only to Confucius. When Mencius was still a young child, his father died, so he was raised by his mother, who is usually known only as Mother Meng (in Chinese, 孟母 Mèng Mǔ.)

Mother Meng's story is told in Biographies of Exemplary Women (列女傳 Liènǚ Zhuàn), which for around 2000 years beginning around the 18th century BCE, was the most commonly used book used to educate women. The book is divided into sections, each one showing a different way women could be honorable and good. Mother Meng's story is told in the Maternal Models section (母儀傳 Mǔ Yí Zhuàn.) The story has a few parts, some of which I'll quote, always from Kinney's 2014 translation.

Before I go on to quote it, though, I'd like to establish that Mother Meng's story is so, so famous that even if Meng Shi had never read this particular book, I'm almost certain she would've been familiar with at least the outlines of Mother Meng's story. I'm not cherry picking a suitable chapter from the book, I'm literally going with the most famous story in it because Meng Shi would be most likely to know this one if she knew no other story.

Okay, the first part of the tale takes place when Mencius is a young boy and Mother Meng is a widow raising him.

The mother of Meng Ke of Zou [a different name for Mencius] was called Mother Meng. She lived near a graveyard. During Mencius’ youth, he enjoyed playing among the tombs, romping about pretending to prepare the ground for burials. Mother Meng said, “This is not the place to raise my son.” She therefore moved away and settled beside the marketplace. But there he liked to play at displaying and selling wares like a merchant. Again Mother Meng said, “This is not the place to raise my son,” and once more left and settled beside a school. There, however, he played at setting out sacrificial vessels, bowing, yielding, entering, and withdrawing. His mother said, “This, indeed, is where I can raise my son!” and settled there. When Mencius grew up, he studied the Six Arts, and finally became known as a great classicist. A man of discernment would say, “Mother Meng was good at gradual transformation.”

According to the translator's footnote, "gradual transformation" is "a childrearing technique, whereby a child is morally formed through daily exposure to correct models of behavior."

From this story comes the proverb 孟母三遷 (Mèng Mǔ sān qiān) - "Mother Meng moved three times." It's come to mean that a parent - especially the mother of a male child - should spare no efforts to provide an environment that will give their child a good education, paying particular attention to what models are surrounding them.

I'm sure I don't need to say if Meng Shi was at all familiar with this proverb (and she would probably be), she must have been very stressed out over literally raising her son in a brothel. (Here I must mention sex workers in ancient China were often essentially owned by the brothels, so literally "moving three times" wasn't really an option for Meng Shi even if she could miraculously pick up another trade.) Meng Shi did however at least try to surround Meng Yao with the accomplishments appropriate for the son of a cultivator:

Xiao-Meng, are you still learning those things lately? [...] The things your mom wants you to learn, things like calligraphy, etiquette, swordsmanship, meditation… How are those things going? [...] His mom’s raising him as a young master of a wealthy family. She taught him how to read and write, bought him all those swordsmanship pamphlets, and even wants to send him to school.

Meng Yao actually talks a little bit about “those swordsmanship pamphlets” in the only time in canon he directly shares memories about this mother:

Lan XiChen, “Your [guqin] skills are also considered quite fine outside of Gusu. Were they taught by your mother?”

Jin GuangYao, “No. I taught myself by watching others. She never taught me such things. She only taught me reading and writing, and bought a handful of expensive sword and cultivation guides for me to practice.”

Lan XiChen seemed surprised, “Sword and cultivation guides?”

Jin GuangYao, “Brother, you haven’t seen them before, have you? Those small booklets sold by the common folk. First jumbled sketches of human figures, then deliberately mystified captions.”

Lan XiChen shook his head, smiling. Jin GuangYao shook his head as well, “All of them are scams, especially to fool women like my mother and ignorant children. You won’t lose anything by practicing them, but you definitely won’t gain anything either.”

He sighed in a rueful way, “But how could my mother have known this? She bought them no matter how expensive they were, saying that if I returned to see my father in the future, I had to see him with as much competence as possible so that I don’t fall behind. All of the money was spent on this.”

See what’s happening? Meng Shi cannot physically take Meng Yao to cultivators, but she spares no efforts in giving him the closest thing she possibly can -- figuratively, we might say she moved three times.

Of course, these booklets don’t work, but as Meng Yao says, how could she have known this? The cultivation world is very closed off - think of how the entire Mo household gathers to see Lan juniors, and how Wei Wuxian mentions once that “Cultivation families, in the eyes of common folk, are like people favored by God, mysterious yet noble.” Not just noble, but mysterious. That tracks, too - I mean, they live in inaccessible households and mostly leave to night hunt or visit each other, neither of which is an activity that would allow commoners to get much more than an occasional glimpse of them.

Now, if Meng Shi doesn’t even know that a pearl for Jin Guangshan was just a trinket, if she doesn’t know even the wealth of a major sect, how can she read booklets and decide whether that’s genuine cultivation or not? All that she sees is a chance for Meng Yao to be surrounded by the ideas and skills of the people she wants him to emulate - cultivators - and therefore she does everything she can to get him that chance. Mother Meng moved three times.

Okay, but maybe the argument is not “Meng Shi shouldn’t have pushed Meng Yao to cultivation” but rather “she should’ve pushed him, just not too hard." To that, I present another tale from Mencius' childhood:

Once, when Mencius was young, he returned home after finishing his lessons and found his mother spinning. She asked him, “How far did you get in your studies today?” Mencius replied, “I’m in about the same place as I was before.” Mother Meng thereupon took up a knife and cut her weaving. Mencius was alarmed and asked her to explain. Mother Meng said, “Your abandoning your study is like my cutting this weaving. A man of discernment studies in order to establish a name and inquires to become broadly knowledgeable. By this means, when he is at rest, he can maintain tranquility and when he is active, he can keep trouble at a distance. If now you abandon your studies, you will not escape a life of menial servitude and will lack the means to keep yourself from misfortune. How is this different from weaving and spinning to eat? If one abandons these tasks midway, how can one clothe one’s husband and child and avoid being perpetually short of food? If a woman abandons that with which she nourishes others and a man is careless about cultivating his virtue, if they don’t become brigands or thieves, then they will end up as slaves or servants.” Mencius was afraid. Morning and evening he studied hard without ceasing. He served Zisi [a great scholar whose grandfather was Confucius] as his teacher and then became one of the most renowned classicists in the world.

Notice that Mother Meng moved three times to ensure Mencius would have the highest of aspirations - to become a scholar. But just aspiration isn’t enough. Not by any means. Now that Mencius is actually studying, Mother Meng is willing to take an extreme action to ensure he's taking it seriously. Mencius doesn't have a father to smooth his path to success. He has to learn that aspiring to greatness isn't enough. He'll have to put in the effort as if his life depended on it. And if he doesn't persist in his hard work, everything he's done thus far will be useless. Sounds like a lesson imparted on young Meng Yao, doesn’t it?

A lot of fandom rage towards Meng Shi would apply to China's Best Mom Contender, Mother Meng. She gives her son big dreams, and teaches him how to go about achieving them in a society where failing is easier than succeeding. Yes, it's fair to say that Meng Shi taught Meng Yao to refuse to settle for anything less than being “Jin Guangshan's son, a respected cultivator.” Yes, it's also fair to say that she probably didn't allow him much time to play like children his age did. But unfortunately, in the world of MDZS, poor children probably wouldn't get to play anyhow, the difference is that they'd usually be working, not studying. Studying is a privilege! It’s a privilege Meng Yao could not afford but was given to him anyway, through his mother’s many sacrifices. We can even say that while she was alive, Meng Shi was trying to ensure Meng Yao would one day have a better life, at the expense of a fun childhood - and that's very Mother Meng of her, whatever our modern Western sensibilities might have to say about that.

Finally, I’d skip other tales (which show Mother Meng and an adult Mencius) and go straight to the poem that ends the Mother Meng section:

The mother of Mencius

Was able to teach, transform, judge, and discriminate.

With skill she selected a place to raise her son,

Prompting him to accord with the great principles.

When her son’s studies did not advance,

She cut her weaving to illustrate her point.

Her son then perfected his virtue;

His achievements rank as the crowning glory of his generation.

I’d like to focus on the last verse - “His achievements rank as the crowning glory of his generation.” All that Mother Meng wanted was for Mencius to not completely ruin his life, but he became great. You can so very easily see a parallel with how Meng Shi hoped Meng Yao would be a cultivator but he became Jin Guangyao, Chief Cultivator, styled Lianfang-zun, one of the Three Venerable, hero of the Sunshot Campaign.

Of course you can say “Jin Guangyao did many Very Wrong Things to get there, though!” Which, sure, okay, fair point. How many and how wrong depends on which canon we're discussing, and your own interpretation, but there’s no version of the story in which Jin Guangyao is 100% an innocent child uwu. But blaming that on Meng Shi is just... straight up weird? I don’t see anyone going “If Jiang Fengmian hadn’t adopted Wei Wuxian, he’d never have dared become Yiling Laozu!” and that’s pretty much the same logic. Would street kid Wei Wuxian have invented a new type of cultivation if he had never been taken in by the Jiang? Probably not, but raising undead armies is very much not something Jiang Fengmian could’ve predicted. In the same way, how could Meng Shi have predicted that teaching her pre-adolescent son “You are the son of a cultivator, act like one and earn your place in society” would’ve ultimately resulted in innocent deaths? How could she predict “You’re not destined to having the same horrible life I did, you can get something better than this” was a bad thing to teach? I quite honestly don’t know.

Finally, I'd like to point towards a much flimsier evidence that Meng Shi did great as a parent. And that is Meng Yao’s love. Nie Huaisang at some point comments Meng Shi is someone who Meng Yao "cherishes more than his life," and I think his assessment is correct.

Even putting aside the fact he built a whole temple to get his mother to reincarnate into a better life, and even putting aside how he refuses to flee the country without her remains, there's still crystal clear evidence that Meng Shi must've done something right. Because a lifetime of people using his mother to bully him doesn't seem to have made Meng Yao resent her. Had their relationship not have been very strong, odds are he'd feel bitter and/or ashamed of her. That doesn't seem to be the case. He's attached to her even decades after her death.

I want to be very careful with equating mutual affection with good parenting, though. When I was a rather rebellious teenager, my mother (in typical Chinese fashion) used to say that parents and children don't have to love each other as long as they're dutiful to each other, by which she meant that a parent-child relationship isn't informed by warm and fuzzy feelings, but by whether you'd be willing to do anything for each other. Specific to my case, she meant "I don't care if it makes you hate me, you will do as you're told because that's what's best for you." (That may also be the reason why people more familiar with Chinese culture see the Jiang family less as outright abusive and more as #complicated, but that's another meta.)

Whether your kid wants to hug you every time they see you is of no consequence to traditional Chinese thought - raising them to be the best they can is all that matters, because at the end of the day, you won't be around forever, but you can definitely set up your kid's life so that it goes smoothly and virtuously. How that's accomplished varies depending on many factors, but to have the goal be "I want my child to love me" rather than "I want to raise my child right" would've been considered selfish as hell.

So even if all that Meng Shi had given Meng Yao had been stern lessons about the need to go get his birthright, she would've still have been considered a good mother!! In fact, she would've been doing everything she was supposed to do, under extremely difficult conditions! (Remember the importance of environment? That Meng Yao grew up to want to be a cultivator despite having probably never even met one speaks wonders about Meng Shi's childrearing powers!!)

But just based off how over the top Meng Yao's filal dutifulness is, I'd go a step further and say that even as she did the impossible, she was also loving enough to inspire genuine affection. This is complicated because children who have present fathers could expect their mothers to be tender with them. The first century BCE text 禮記 Lǐ Jì or The Classic of Rites says that:

Here now is the affection of a father for his sons - he loves the worthy among them, and places on a lower level those who do not show ability; but that of a mother for them is such, that while she loves the worthy, she pities those who do not show ability - the mother deals with them on the ground of affection and not of showing them honour; the father, on the ground of showing them honour and not of affection.

But when the father figure is lacking for any reason, the mother must abandon her tenderness because someone must guide the child, and without a father, the role falls to the mother. A single or widowed mother had to be very careful to not smother their children with affection and raise useless, spoiled kids, or so it was thought. (The presence of Qingheng-jun and Lan Qiren is why Madame Lan can be so affectionate with the Lan boys, by the way - if she was raising them by herself she would've been expected to be much more practical. AUs where she just gets her kids and runs away could do very cool things with this idea. But I digress!)

Where was I? Oh, okay. Because Meng Yao seems to not just respect, but actively miss her, it seems that Meng Shi somehow managed to deal with her son on the ground of both honor and affection, to paraphrase.

So basically, all things considered, it seems not only would Meng Shi have been considered a great mom (if people could look past her being a prostitute, anyway) but she also went above and beyond the bare minimum. She truly spared no efforts on any front to make sure her son had everything your average gongzi would have - someone to teach him and someone to love him, access to education and confidence in his birthright. That she couldn't actually make him a cultivator, that she couldn't actually raise him in a proper home with no one being cruel to herself or him - that's immaterial. Even Mother Meng couldn't control what her neighbors did, only what she taught her son! The key point is Meng Shi tried. She did everything she could to educate her son right. You couldn't ask more of her, and quite honestly, you should probably be asking less.

Of course we can't err on the other extreme and say she was Perfect. Given MXTX only ever writes flawed characters, we can safely assume that if we'd known more about Meng Shi, we would've seen many flaws. Indeed, just the fact she didn't teach Meng Yao the guqin when he apparently wanted to learn it might point to some conflict we don't know enough to speculate about (maybe she focused too much on cultivation when Meng Yao's interests lay elsewhere? Maybe she wasn't able to sufficiently shelter him and he felt it'd be a burden to ask her to teach him anything? Maybe maybe maybe, go wild with your fics.) Nevertheless, I would never hold a female character to a higher ideal than a male character - if the male cast of MDZS can be a hot mess and still be admirable for what they're trying to do, then so can Meng Shi.

At the end of the day, when I look at Meng Shi - and I've made myself a document with all the references to her in the novel canon so I could easily contemplate her life and character - all I see is a woman every bit as determined and resourceful as her son, willing to do everything it took to raise her little boy into the sophisticated and ambitious man he became.

Finally, here's a fun little parallel that I'm 100% sure was unintentional but I still love. I said Meng Shi couldn't have moved three times. She couldn't, but I think maybe she taught her son he was worth moving three times for. Qinghe Nie. Qishan Wen. Lanling Jin. Isn't that super fun to think about?

Alternatively, tl;dr: Oh My God I Can't Believe We're Blaming Women For The Actions Of Their Adult Children In The Year Of Our Lord 2k21, Meng Shi Was Doing Her Best, Chill!

[starshipsofstarlord]

Could I request a Jaskier x female reader where the reader is a princess who during daylight, is condemned to be a bear, after being cursed by an evil sorcerer At night she become a human again. Which the curse can only be broken by a man (who would be Jaskier) who pledges his heart solely to the reader (something like true love’s kiss). Please and thank you!!!

Bruin

jaskier x reader

masterlist

Warnings; mentions of witcher killing, mentions of death and angst, curses, nudity, some fluff, implied smut

“G-Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice shivered, as he saw a great mountain of brunette fur, wading through the long grass, heavy breathing exhibiting from its wet snout. “There’s a bear!”

“If you’re that scared, try to speak quieter.” The Witcher’s speech remained monotone, as he continued walking, leaving the bard to catch up with his hardy footsteps. “We need to leave before nightfall, that is when the true monster is unleashed from the bruin vessel.”

“You kill monsters, we’ll be fine.” The bard waved off, though he was terrified, and Geralt was all but convinced with his dismissal. “We will, won’t we Geralt?”

“It’s bad luck to remain out here at night, it’s an old wives tale, however, no one survives the night out here. Not after the disappearance of the princess of Arafell.” Jaskier remembered that tale, he had even seen the princess at a banquet once when they were both young in age.

Neither of them had the opportunity to converse with one another that evening, it was the night she had ran away. and he certainly had regretted never asking her dance. Before that though, they had often strode through the gardens hand in hand, conversing on the beauty of the petals that veiled around the stems, and she, unlike most people, listened to his descriptive forms of poetry. Back then, he had been shy, and not to mention, she was of sought after royal blood. That evening was the last that anyone from the kingdom had ever been seen, after the slumber of eternity wept over their souls. One thing he severely remembered though, was that she loved dandelions.

The princess had ran away, leaving the king and queen in search of someone that could find her, and thus they hired a private sorcerer to complete their wishes. But instead of seeking out the lost girl, the old man took the gold and the lives of old, wallowing the land in distress that clambered into a delving of madness.

A shout bellowed from the bear, and Jaskier found him to “How long will it be til we reach the borders?”

“The bad luck will loom over us Jaskier, we will not make it out of here in the span of the next countless hours. There will be a moon in the sky, but perhaps we’ll be able to seek out cover in the old guard’s tower.”

“Where are we Geralt?” The brown haired poet feared to be met with the answer “What makes you think that we’ll survive the night?!”

“This is what remains of Arafell.” Stated the white haired hunter, as he continued to plod through the thick foliage beneath his dark boots. He stepped on the dull green life form, not encouraged to pursue any further into the depths as he heard the destination that they were travelling through.

“Arafell, great.” Huffed the irritating bard, clutching his lute as he spoke the haunting name. “There’s no need to be afraid, when you’re in the land of torn bodies, because the witcher is by your side. He’ll slash and dice, protect the mice, from the darkness that falls from above. The people are dead, I am filled with dread, in the land of Ar-afellll.”

“Stop singing.” Whenever there was any fault present in their adventures together, Jaskier had a tendency, wallowing similar like a pie without filling to sing. It shrouded Geralt with epitomised frustration, his betrothed follower sure knew how to pull his strings, it was as though he were a moral lute, a practice run of socialisation for the noble’s son.

“Sorry.” Apologised the traveller, with a shrug encompassed by a spark of coldness affecting his posture. There was a breeze, filled with the pinching of icicles in the air, and it clawed through his clothes, clashing with the meat blanketed warmth of his bones. “It’s just- we’re in bloody Arafell, or what remains of it, and you are so calm. Have you maybe perhaps forgotten what happened here?!”

“No. I was here when it queen Ara and her kingdom fell. And that bear has lurked every inch of these demolished castle lands searching for scraps, and if you cannot tell, it is almost night fall, and she has come up sufficiently short of anything, for all these decades.”

The listener frowned, bears did not live so long. It was a curious prospect, it remained loyal to these grounds, although it was empty. There had to be a reason why, a pattern that supposed why it, or she as Geralt had divulged, remained to lurk in the midst of the overgrown forestry. And then another thought (yes, Jaskier had the ability to do that despite what his protective travel mate may have wondered), hit him, like a bolt of lightning.

“Um, Geralt, where is the bear?” He gulped, hearing the rustling of the thick foliage metres behind them. The moon scourged the sky with its global presence, inducing another shot of ambient fear through Jaskier’s veins. “It was-“

“Shut up a moment.” It was almost impossible half the time to silence Jaskier, but this time, he actually obliged the command. Geralt drew his sword, the one that glistened a predominate silver and was made from the compound, clutching the handle in his vice and skilled grip, as his feet took him closer to the imposter that was imbedded within the weeds.

“Oh.” Jaskier covered his eyes, he couldn’t look as Geralt pointed the weapon at the beasts throat; a whimper escaped it as Geralt took a step back, alerting his companion. “Kill it Geralt, it’s a bear, it’s going to kill us.”

“It was a bear.” Geralt elaborated as he watched the beast transform and lose its course coat of brown fur, turning into a less monstrous beast. It was only a girl, with unruly and wild hair that was matted in all directions, her face contorted into fear. “Of whom are you, my lady?”

“A witcher.” It trailed from her lips as a whisper, her tone alerting Jaskier that it indeed was not a bear, rather it was a woman, laid on the forest ground, in nothing but her own layers of skin. His eyes widened for a moment, until he earned an elbow in the rib from his friend for his long and convicted ogling. “I have only heard legends but...

“You speak english?” Jaskier wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, hinting at his subsequent misunderstanding of the situation. “but you were a bear?!” This was all growing more confusion with each passing second, there were too many angles of the world.

“I’m cursed.” It was an easy consequence to admit, for the lady of the worlds already lived through them. “Each day, I am forced to pad about in the brute body of a bruin, a sorcerer brought by darkness himself to this dimension damned me to this abomination, his name was-“

“Lament.” From hearing that name, the woman on the ground was taken aback as the women, trying to prevail some decency, attempted to cover her breasts with her arms, as she crossed her legs over one another. “Your parents sent me to find you, lady. I came up empty handed in my search for you, there was no trail that I managed to find, nothing that would point in your direction. And that night, as I returned with short of nothing of any news of your whereabouts, Lament was there.”

“He killed them all, didn’t he. My family?” The answer didn’t require any verification from Geralt, the solemn, yet usual expression on the Witcher’s face was all the confirmation that she needed. “Of course he did, he’s a poisonous shadow, when he finds something he wants, he takes away its home, so that it can’t run back to the hearth whence it came from. I regret every running away from home...”

“Wait a moment.” This was all beginning to add up in some mind boggling way. Jaskier flitted his gaze aside for a moment as Geralt pulled a fine blanket from his luggage, knowingly seeing the movement out of the corner of his curious eye that she was pulling the material that conducted warmth over her shoulders, and across her sachet of flaunted skin.

"Shut up Jaskier." Instantaneously stated the bard, whom had returned his cerulean gaze back upon the y/h/c woman, depositing a composition of interest to her form.

"You're the princess of Arafell, aren't you. Y/n, it's you, isn't it?" Y/n's expression was one of shock; how did this man know of her identity? She understood how the witcher did, though with considering he was condemned with the duty of finding her. The brunette man was slightly familiar, and so he revealed why that was. “it’s Julian.” Jaskier held his hand to his chest, almost hurt that you didn’t recognise him, but it had been years, so many, none of which had been kind to you. “My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz.”

“Dandelion!” The reprised title spun from y/n's tongue, remembering the nickname that she had given the now gentleman all those years ago, when he was nothing more than a persisting boy that made her flash an unashamed laughter in the midst of poised quality showrooms of noble gatherings. "I remember you." She dwelled on the fact, if she weren't clothed in only a shrill and frayed blanket that was pebbled with small dots of soil, from where it had been laid on the ground, y/n surely would have jumped up and spun her arms around his 'sexy goose' neck.

"You've got to be kidding me, it is just my luck that the pair of you know each other." Geralt crossed his arms, shaking his sleek silver head, being deprived of attention as he spoke. "Is there any way to get yourself out to get you out of this prospected curse of turning into a bear, y/n?"

"To be betrothed to a man, confirmed with a kiss resonating true love, though, nobody with any sense would put themselves in that position for me, there is no wealth to my name anymore, nor is there relevance with my heritage, for there is nothing that remains, as you have confirmed for me. This man must certainly be one of a kind, for he has to pledge his loyalty solely to me, forbidding himself from ever being with another woman again."

The mention of a lack of sense reminded Geralt of one man in particular, and he was stood right beside him. But it couldn't have been Jaskier, of all people, and- Geralt found himself overcome with dread as the bard stepped forward, crunching his shoed feet into the withered grass, closer to the rediscovered princess.

"I have waited my whole life to see you again." Oh god, here he went, Geralt thought. "When we were younger, I was infatuated with you, and here we are, united again in a union. If my betrothal means nothing then you will remain in this shrine of gloom, but to me, it would mean everything to me."

"Y/N come on, have some sense, it-" There was lack of reason for Geralt to continue speaking, as y/n sprung up, the blanket flowing down from her shoulders, baring her body cold to the crisp air, as her hands clasped both sides of Jaskier's face, and pressed her lips to his.

The witcher cringed, turning away as the pair practically ate the other's face, like starved animals that had been distanced for many years, which in their case was true. "Do you know if the curse is broken, is there any indicator if so?"

A hum fell from y/n's mouth as Jaskier's hand traced the curve of her spine, causing Geralt to scoff. That was the only response he earned, and to a high stake, it disgusted him. "I think I'm just gonna let you two have some time to yourselves, I guess we will see in the morning if you're being mawled by a bear you flippant."

And thus he walked away, leaving the two to pursue their primitive instincts, under the blessed moon, and on the routed curfew on the dark and dead land of Arafell.

[aegor-bamfsteel]

Sorry for sending so many asks but I wanted to discuss Daeron II's legitimacy. Personally I think he is legitimate and that's a mark against Aemon. The Dragonknight is such a piece of shit who never did anything to help his sister, he was more concerned about his honor. He could have smuggled in moontea for her health, killed Aegon or, and this is going to be controversial, fathered Naerys' children.

Naerys was so abused by their brother that she viewed Aemon more positively than he deserved. All her children were conceived from rape and that's an indictment against Aemon is many ways. Daeron was legitimate but maybe he shouldn't have been. I'm not saying Aemon should have forced himself to have sex with Naerys because she loved him, I'm saying he held off the temptation out of loyalty to a man who didn't deserve it.

2/ incest is wrong and condemned by canon but Naerys, Aemon and Aegon didn't think especially if its true that Naerys and Aemon were in love. Incest wasn't why Aemon didn't do anything, it's going behind Aegon's back. Aemon is just like Aerys' kingsguards, except he was a little more proactive especially when it came to the Brackens.

Like I firmly believe that the problem with Jaime and Cersei was that they were twins, not that she cheated on Robert.

I hope I'm make sense lol

There’s no reason to feel badly about sending so many asks, as long as you’re fine with me sometimes taking a while to respond! I think you‘re saying that you don’t believe Aemon is the father of any of Naerys’ children because he felt more obligated to serve his king rather than protect Naerys? You are right to draw a parallel between Aerys’ Kingsguard and Rhaella. Aemon served under very different kings Aegon III, Daeron I, Baelor, Viserys II, and Aegon IV and most of his KG-related actions are trying to keep them alive (foiled an assassination attempt and captured in the false peace conference that killed Daeron I, warned Baelor to not cross the venomous snake pit and implausibly carried him on a donkey from Wyl to Blackhaven, finally actually died defending Aegon from the Toyne brothers), no matter whether they deserved defense. However, his duty in protecting Aegon didn’t seem to go beyond the physical, considering he protected Naerys from the rumors of her adultery by Ser Morgil, he crowned her Queen of Love and Beauty over Aegon’s mistress (knowing GRRM and ElioLinda, I bet they’ll make her a Bracken sister because they think these girls deserve to be punished at every turn), he advocated with Daeron II for banishing Barba and her family from court, and there‘s the mess with the Toyne brothers. He did little things like make Naerys smile, he allegedly shared a little of her piety, and went to the Kingsguard shortly after she had to marry Aegon (making him the only Targaryen Kingsguard, so nobody can argue it’s due to tradition). Considering Daeron II seems to have at least been a wedding night baby (born on the last day of 153, the same year Aegon and Naerys wed) I can definitely draw a parallel between Aemon/Naerys ->Aegon and Aegon/Falena ->Lucas Lothston; Falena was Aegon’s first mistress, but when Viserys II found out, had her hastily wed to the master of arms Lucas Lothston and sent them to Harrenhal. If Viserys II found out about Aemon and Naerys’ affair, it makes sense that he’d send Aemon to the Kingsguard and wed Aegon/Naerys immediately, especially if she was already pregnant. That Aegon frequently visited Falena despite his father’s orders and possibly conceived a child on her years after only strengthens the parallel.

While I can understand where you’re coming from with Aemon’s Kingsguardian moral cowardice, ultimately we’ll have to agree to disagree. For me there’s enough circumstantial evidence—the points just mentioned plus other bits in previous metas— regarding Daeron’s true parentage. That the Dragonknight’s own namesake Maester Aemon isn’t exactly sure which story to believe sort of indicates what I think the conclusion is: that the rumors have never been proven or disproven, and barring some revelation by Bl00draven, are likely to remain that way. Actually giving an answer could either make or break a part of the Targaryen mythos that—unlike so many other retconned stories we‘re supposed to care for—has been built up since book 1. But for people in fandom, even if we have different theories, it doesn’t mean we have to devolve into a flame war (not referring to you, sayruq, but I’ve been called delusional for even questioning Daeron’s paternity).

Thanks for the ask!

[themuseandantarctica]

* 𝒒𝒖𝒐𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒑𝒕. 13

change however necessary.

“A life lived in fear is a life half-lived.”

“Needless fear and panic over disease and misfortune that seldom materialize are simply bad habits.  By proper ventilation and illumination of the mind it is possible to cultivate tolerance, poise, and real courage.”

“People living deeply have no fear of death.”

“I know that the human being and the fish can coexist peacefully.”

“There is no such thing as a fish.”

“The Bible clearly states that God brought before Adam all the beasts of the field and all the fowl of the air.  What about the fish?  Did Adam name the fish?”

“Carp may be said to be water-sheep: herbivorous, gregarious, of a contented mind.”

“The catfish is a plenty good enough fish for anyone.”

“A chub is the worst fish that swims.”

“Looking for fish?  Don’t climb a tree.”

“The gods do not deduct from a man’s allotted span the time he spends in fishing.”

“There’s a fine line between fishing and standing on the shore looking like an idiot.”

“People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have the things about us.”

“The flower has no weekday self, dressed as it always is in Sunday clothes.”

“Flowers in the city are like lipstick on a woman—it just makes you look better to have a little color.”

“The flower that follows the sun does so even on cloudy days.”

“Perfumes are the feelings of flowers.”

“The crown of petals is the flower’s panties.  Rip them off and you will have public indecency.”

“Our national flower is the concrete clover leaf.”

“Advice on dandelions: If you can’t beat them, eat them.”

“If dandelions were hard to grow, they would be most welcome on any lawn.”

“Science, or para-science, tells us that geraniums bloom better if they are spoken to.  But a kind word every now and then is really quite enough.  Too much attention, like too much feeding, and weeding and hoeing, inhibits and embarrasses them.”

“The lily was created on the third day, early in the morning when the Almighty was especially full of good ideas.”

“A morning glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.”

“Some people are always grumbling that roses have thorns.  I am thankful that thorns have roses.”

“The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks.”

“Food is an important part of a balanced diet.”

“Man cannot live by bread alone; he must have peanut butter.”

“A gourmet who thinks of calories is like a tart who looks at her watch.”

“Nobody really likes capers, no matter what you do with them.  Some people pretend to like capers, but the truth is that any dish that tastes good with capers in it tastes even better with capers not in it.”

“There is more simplicity in the man who eats caviar on impulse than in the man who eats grape-nuts on principle.”

“The trouble with eating Italian food is that five or six days later you’re hungry again.”

“There are two things I like stiff and one of them’s jelly.”

“There is no such thing as a pretty good omelette.”

“He was a bold man who first swallowed an oyster.”

“I wonder why they call this porridge.  It would be far more manly and straightforward to give it its real name.”

“I believe that if I ever had to practice cannibalism, I might manage if there were enough tarragon around.”

“I think somebody should come up with a way to breed a very large shrimp.  That way, you could ride him, then, after you camped at night, you could eat him.  How about it, science?”

“All I know most surely about morality and obligations, I owe to football.”

“The natural state of the football fan is bitter disappointment, no matter what the score.”

“Some people think football is a matter of life and death.  I assure you, it’s much more important than that.”

“There is only one word to describe football and that is ‘if only.’”

“There are three things I always forget.  Names, faces, and the third I can’t remember.”

“If a man can remember what he worried about last week, he has a very good memory.”

“How is it that we remember the least triviality that happens to us, and yet not remember how often we have recounted it to the same person.”

“Whenever you go out to paint, try to forget what objects you have in front of you—a tree, a house, a field or whatever.  Merely think, here is a little squeeze of blue, here an oblong of pink, here a streak of yellow, and paint it just as it looks to you, until it gives your own naive impression of the scene in front of you.”

“There is nothing more difficult for a truly creative painter than to paint a rose, because before he can do so he has first to forget all the roses that were ever painted.”

“There is no forgiveness in nature.”

“Without forgiveness life is governed by an endless cycle of resentment and retaliation.”

“I can forgive, but I cannot forget, is only another way of saying, I will not forgive.  Forgiveness ought to be like a canceled note, torn in two, and burned up, so that it never can be shown against one.”

“You know you have forgiven someone when he or she has harmless passage through your mind.”

“Only the brave know how to forgive.  A coward never forgives; it is not in his nature.”

“He who cannot forgive others destroys the bridge over which he himself must pass.”

“He who has not forgiven an enemy has not yet tasted one of the most sublime enjoyments of life.”

“Many promising reconciliations have broken down because, with both parties came prepared to forgive, neither party came prepared to be forgiven.”

“Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much.”

“Forgive your enemies, but never forget their names.”

“Freedom is the right to be wrong, not the right to do wrong.”

“All mankind is divided as it always has been into slaves and freemen. Whoever has less than two-thirds of his day for himself is a slave, be he a statesman, a merchant, an official, or a scholar.”

“It is true that liberty is precious; so precious that it must be carefully rationed.”

“Everyone appears to be noticing only the statue’s torch and not the manacles on her ankles.”

“A man’s worst difficulties begin when he is able to do as he likes.”

“If crime fighters fight crime and fire fighters fight fire, what do freedom fighters fight?  They never mention that part to us, do they?”

“I’m no linguist, but I have been told that in the Russian language there isn’t even a word for freedom.”

“Be a lamp unto yourself and seek your own liberation with diligence.”

“People hardly ever make use of the freedom they have, for example, freedom of thought; instead they demand freedom of speech as compensation.”

“The right to be heard does not automatically include the right to be taken seriously.”

“If we don’t believe in freedom of expression for people we despise, we don’t believe in it at all.”

“If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.”

“Everything is determined, the beginning as well as the end, by forces over which we have no control.  It is determined for the insect as well as the star.  Human beings, vegetables, or cosmic dust, we all dance to a mysterious tune, intoned in the distance by an invisible piper.”

“No one knows anything about will, what it is, how to make it, or how it works, or why it works as it does.”

“A man can surely do what he wills to do, but cannot determine what he wills.”

“Nothing which is independent of the will can hinder or damage it; the will can only hinder or damage itself.”

“You will say that I feel free.  This is an illusion, which may be compared to that of a fly in the fable, who, upon the pole of a heavy carriage, applauded himself for directing its course.”

“Free will is probably located in the pre-frontal cortex, and we may even be able to narrow it down to the ventromedial pre-frontal cortex.”

“This free will business is a bit terrifying anyway.  It’s almost pleasanter to obey, and make the most of it.”

“All theory is against the freedom of the will; all experience for it… Sir, we know our will is free, and there’s an end on it.”

“Money can’t buy you friends, but you can get a better class of enemy.”

“Your friend is the man who knows all about you and still likes you.”

“A true friend is one who likes you despite your achievements.”

“When I was a kid, I had to friends, and they were imaginary and they would only play with each other.”

“We’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone.  Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for a moment that we’re not alone.”

“When one is trying to do something beyond his known powers it is useless to seek the approval of friends. Friends are at their best in moments of defeat.”

“Adversity is the only balance to weigh friends.”

“The only reward of virtue is virtue: the only way to have a friend is to be one.”

“I lay it down as a fact that if all men knew what others say of them, there would not be four friends in the world.”

“Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and ti is only by this meeting that a new world is born.”

“My mother used to say that there are no strangers, only friends you haven’t met yet.  She’s now in a maximum security twilight home in Australia.”

“When you have confidence, you can have a lot of fun.  And when you have fun, you can do amazing things.”

[literallymechanical]

Well, are you going to fill us in on "why we are morally obligated as a species to some day blow up the Earth"? Sounds like a supervillain backstory

(This was originally inspired by qntm’s fantastic satirical essay, “To Destroy The Earth,” but I disagree with him on a few key points. I highly recommend checking out qntm’s fiction, particularly Ra, Fine Structure, and There Is No Antimemetics Division. Disclaimer: this is a thought experiment, I’m not actually going to destroy the Earth.)

Let us begin with this: you want to destroy the Earth.

That’s not a question or an instruction, that’s an axiom. A fundamental truth from which a logical system is built. It’s your Statement Zero, the singular concept from which the rest of these instructions are built: you want to destroy the Earth. You might not know why, and you certainly don’t know how. Trust me, you really don’t know how. Take all of your cultural knowledge of Death Stars and hyperspace construction crews and throw it out the window, because it’s not worth a clipped penny.

That being said, here are a few reasons to somebody might want to destroy the Earth:

You want to wipe out humanity

You want to wipe out some other species

General misanthropy

It’s obstructing your view of the Moon.

You want us to colonize Mars or Venus, and you figure this is the best way to get everybody on board.

These are bad reasons to destroy the Earth. If any of these sentiments resonate with you, please stop reading this essay. This isn’t for you.

Anyway, let's put a pin in the “why” for now. We'll get to it later. Let's tackle the "how" first.

To destroy the Earth, you need a Plan, with a capital P.

The shape of the Plan is extremely simple to define, much simpler than the relatively detailed (and, in my opinion, fragile) instructions others have outlined. It has just two parts.

Figure out how to destroy the Earth. This is defined as the Earth not being there when you're done—any chump with nuclear weapons can scour the Earth, you're trying to make the entire thing go away.

Destroy the Earth.

However, a lot of shapes are simple to define, but hard to draw. The Mandelbrot set can be defined by a single equation and a couple of instructions, but the result is a fractal. This Plan will be fractally intricate as well. We certainly can’t draw up the full Plan right now. We can barely even begin to draw the outline. Let’s take a quick stab at it anyway.

First of all, I don’t know how to destroy the Earth. We can speculate a bit, but we certainly can’t choose a method yet—you'll likely need multiple redundant strategies anyway. “Blow it up” is one idea, but the gravitational binding energy of the Earth is about 2*10^32 joules, and there is no conceivable technology that can handle that sort of power right now. “Launch bits of it into space one by one until there’s nothing left” sounds promising, though it will take a while. “Mess with its orbit until it’s close enough to the Sun’s Roche limit to get ripped to shreds” is a fun idea. Or maybe in the next million years, you'll come up with a better way.

The most important part of that statement is “the next million years.” It will take a very long time to figure this one out. A million years is a pretty good estimate, though if you'll proactive it might take as little as a couple hundred thousand.

That brings us to the hardest part of the Plan: making sure the Plan survives a million years.

Right now, you're in a precarious position. Climate change probably won’t entirely wipe us out, but it will likely disrupt civilization enough that the Plan will be lost. Nuclear war might actually cause us to go extinct. A killer asteroid certainly would. Therefore, the first thing the Plan needs to do is save the world. Reverse climate change, or at least halt it. Nuclear disarmament. Peace, or as close as we can get to it. Medicine, spaceflight, art, prosperity, happiness, survival—all part of the Plan.

Colonizing other planets, and eventually other solar systems, is also in the Plan. Not just for a backup in case of killer meteor, but also because when you do destroy the Earth, you’ll need somewhere to stand. Remember, you're not trying to wipe out humanity here! Just destroy a planet. This will be tricky. It’s very likely that there’s no such thing as faster-than-light travel, so it will take a while to spread across the galaxy. This might take up the bulk of the million-year timeline.

(Quick note: you may be tempted to conquer the Earth, or set yourself up as some sort of galaxy-spanning God-Ruler. In my personal opinion, this is a bad idea. Right now, empires typically last a couple hundred years before falling. Do you think it would be easier to hold on to multiple planets than just a bit of land around the Mediterranean? I believe that it’s best to have your Plan set up a system where people can survive and thrive without needing you.)

But as tricky as interstellar colonization may be, it’s still the easy part. The hard part is that the entire Plan has to reconstruct itself from scratch if everything goes wrong.

The Plan has to be the most massively redundant, self-repairing, and robust project humanity has ever undertaken, or will ever undertake. The Plan needs to be able to resurrect our entire species on its own, without human intervention, in case something goes wrong (e.g. nuclear war) and we all get wiped out. Here’s one idea: computerize the Humanity Reboot Protocol, stamp the code onto platinum bricks, launch a million copies into deep space and onto every rocky body in the solar system, and have it check back in every once in a while. You can have that one for free.

The Plan also needs to have a way to re-motivate humanity to destroy the Earth. Maybe that’s as simple as posting it to tumblr and having a lot of people read it, but it will probably be a bit more complicated. Crucially, the Plan does not have to be visible. Nobody actually needs to know that the Plan exists, if you’re clever enough. You might be tempted to turn it into a religion, but religions change and die. Remember: the Plan has to eventually pop off, no matter what we do to ourselves.

The Plan is now its own entity, both distinct from and deeply intertwined with humanity.

(As a side note, this begs the question: What if the Plan is already in effect? If it’s a good Plan, we wouldn’t be able to tell. What if some sufficiently motivated creature set things into motion ten thousand or a hundred thousand or a million years ago? Food for thought.)

Alright. So, enough time has passed, and you’ve figured out how to destroy the Earth. I use “you” loosely at this point. Maybe, against all odds, you’ve figured out immortality, or mind-uploading, cloning, whatever. More likely, you’ve been dust for a million years. That’s not important. Regardless, “you” are standing on Mars or wherever and your metaphorical finger is hovering a metaphorical big red button marked “DESTROY THE EARTH.” Step 2 of the Plan.

Let’s pause here and go back to that pin from before: Why? Why are you destroying the Earth?

Well, a lot of reasons. If I were doing this, my Plan would include abandoning the Earth for other star systems and setting it up as some sort of museum. I'd take all the biosphere with me, of course, and make better Earths elsewhere. Imagine a hundred Earths, each of which are perfect nature preserves, or more! Imagine finding a good silica-heavy planet, turning it into molten glass, and sculpting it into something beautiful. Imagine spelling your name in an Oort cloud. Imagine an ocean planet full of whales.

Imagine coming back to a deserted G-type solar system with a few dusty rocks, an asteroid belt, and a handful of gas giants. Imagine breaking them down to make raw materials for a Dyson sphere.

Bam! Earth destroyed! You did it!

Maybe a paleontologist somewhere will figure out that this might be the planet where we first evolved, and it would be nice to put it somewhere safe. Hey, does that count as destroying the Earth? Where the Earth once was, there is now empty space. No more Earth! That sounds pretty destroyed to me. Bam! Earth destroyed! You did it!

Maybe your Plan is different, and the Earth is still inhabited. For what it’s worth, I hope you’ve made it a paradise, one of a thousand Edens across the galaxy. It would be a shame to blow it up… but if Sol-3 is just one paradise among many, what makes it significant? “Earth” is our homeworld, but now there are a thousand homeworlds, so what is “Earth?” What makes this one rock special? Nothing! You’ve successfully destroyed the entire concept of “Earth.” That might be harder than blowing up a planet! Well done! You did it!

In conclusion, here is why I say it’s a moral imperative to destroy the Earth:

Eventually, a baby bird has to leave the nest. Somebody needs to be the mom bird who lures her chicks off the edge, and it might as well be me.

[gffa]

I feel people prop Ahsoka up a little too much. They seem to put her on this pedestal of moral superiority over literally everyone else. Idk maybe I’m just being salty lmao

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree My problem is less that people put her on a pedestal (go nuts with that, if you love her, there’s nothing wrong with doing so!) and more that there’s a specific type of fan who puts her on a pedestal of moral superiority and then uses her to bash on the Jedi Order or other characters.  So, it can be hard not to recoil into, “No, she’s actually got a lot of shit going on and is not morally perfect and people saying she is are obnoxious.” because who doesn’t recoil away from a character when they’re used to beat on your faves?  (Which isn’t the same as saying that those fans are obligated to change or do things differently, because they’re not!  Only that I don’t like it and they’re in no way obligated to give a shit that I don’t like it. 😂) Ahsoka fans have every right to be totally enthralled with her character and to celebrate how much they love her--I love when people love the character they love and want to share that love with others!  Who cares if others think she’s literally perfect, that kind of affection for a character actually warms my heart a lot, when it’s used with love and kindness! And while I don’t think Ahsoka is superior, like a HUGE part of her character arc is that she couldn’t admit even to herself that Anakin might have fallen, that the Jedi Temple on Lothal literally had to shove it in her face to get her to acknowledge it.  Also, she was being snotty in The Siege of Mandalore and THAT’S FINE, SHE IS COMING FROM A SUPER REASONABLE PLACE, she was working through some shit and she’s not going to be perfect about it, sometimes she’s going to be kind of snippy, that doesn’t detract one iota from that she’s a compassionate, caring person. She can be unfair in her conversation with Obi-Wan (ignoring that Coruscant legitimately needs the Jedi and basically writing those people off, because she felt more passionate about Mandalore), she can let her emotions get the better of her in The Wrong Jedi and make mistakes (the Crystal Crisis arc has Obi-Wan and Anakin talk about this and Obi-Wan actually is a pretty reliable narrator in the bigger picture of SW), and none of this takes away from being an amazingly resilient, wonderful person who cares about others very much. But if someone wants to defend her, if they want to yell about how she’s literally flawless, I have no problems with that.  Tell me all about how you love her the most!   But I’m probably going to recoil if it’s only propping her up in service of telling me how terrible my faves are. (Which is why I have no problem with people who don’t care for the way I talk about Anakin’s relationship with the Jedi.  If you feel very tender-hearted towards his character, it’s not going to vibe with you when I talk about the way I see him and the way I see the Jedi, so my posts are better off skipped.  To be fair, I feel the same way about the reverse--people who see Anakin as a victim of the Jedi aren’t ones I really read anymore because what am I going to do?  Argue with the way they see it?  Eh, who cares, it’s not my business, so long as they’re not coming onto my posts to be a dick about it in my face.  The only time I get annoyed by it is when it’s implied that I’m not a ~real~ Anakin fan because I view him a certain way, like, nah, I love my dumpster baby and nobody gets to say whether or not my way of loving him is ~real~ or not except me. These kinds of consideration for other fans are a fine line to walk, you shouldn’t have to kowtow to how others like/dislike things to express your own like/dislike of things, but also don’t be a dick to people and maybe some of you could really get some better boundaries. And, as always, my solution is that I think I’ll attract far more people by telling you what I love about everyone, even if I have my personal faves.  So, anyway, yes, sometimes I roll my eyes at some of the things people say about Ahsoka, but also YOU WILL TEAR MY LOVE FOR HER FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS, SHE WENT THROUGH SO MUCH AND SHE WAS REALLY TRYING AND OH MY GOD SHE WAS THINKING ABOUT GOING BACK TO THE JEDI, SOBS SHE WANTED TO BE A JEDI AGAIN, DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I WANTED AHSOKA TO HAVE THE TIME TO COME BACK WHEN SHE WAS READY?  TO JUST HAVE THE CHOICE TO DO SO OR NOT?  AND THAT THE CHOICE WAS STOLEN FROM HER?  OH MY GOD AHSOKA BABY GIRL YOU DESERVED BETTER!!!!)

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Faith, Trust and a Little Bit of Pixie Dust

Title:  Faith, Trust and a Little Bit of Pixie Dust

Summary: It’s cold in the cellar, but then if it isn’t cold it’d defeat the whole purpose of a cellar. This coldness had been fine at first, but the longer Logan and his little brother Virgil stay, the more it worsens. Logan just hopes his mother’s temper wears off soon or else the cold could get fatal. 

The last thing Logan expects is for his father, who he hasn’t seen in years, to show up through golden portal (a magic portal, which should be impossible!) to save the day as if he hadn’t abandoned them to this fate by leaving all those years ago.

Pairings: Brotherly Analogical, Parental Loceit

Word-Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Magic, Child Abuse, Physical & Emotional Abuse, Unhealthy Romantic Relationship, Hypothermia, Alcohol, Death Mention, Morally Grey Janus, Crying, Angst With a Happy Ending

This fic was at times both frustrating and fun to write. I have no plans to continue this fic, but you can ask me questions regarding the ‘verse and I’ll answer them. Janus has good intentions in this fic he’s just bad at expressing them and we’re also seeing this from Logan’s pov.

--

It was cold in the cellar. Then again, it would be rather alarming were it the opposite case. Cellars were historically used to store perishable items such as vegetables and meats in a time before refrigerators existed. Still prolonged exposure to such an absence of heat wasn’t good for any human being. Not without proper clothing or heating methods. Something both Logan and his young brother unfortunately lacked. 

At first with just a t-shirt and jeans it’d been fine. A bit chilly but fine. What Logan hadn’t accounted for was a cold front to settle in unexpectedly. Within an hour, it dropped by forty degrees. His little brother Virgil wasn’t fond of physical touch. Yet the young child clung to Logan for warmth. It wasn’t enough. His skinny frame still trembled, his lips turning blue. Logan himself felt the effects of his body trying uselessly to warm the cold environment around them. Still his bit his lips from shivering, desperate to attempt staying strong for Virgil.

“I-I-I’m s-s-scared.” Virgil cried, digging his head into Logan’s shirt.

I...I know.” Logan said, stroking his brother’s hair gently, “Things are...things will be alright.”

Logan had repeated this statement many times already to Virgil. Each time he grew less sure of it. However, he knew he had to remain strong for his brother’s sake. Ever since his brother was a baby, Logan had to grow up faster. Much faster than even before. Sometimes he resented this fact, but never for long. It was simply the way things were.

“C-c-c-can you tell me a story?” Virgil asked, and of course Logan obliged. For he knew the unspoken words in that request: I’m still scared. Can you make it less scary? 

A story, for both the listener and teller, would be a beneficial distraction. Even though Logan was not a good storyteller. Once he did a short story assignment in middle school and received a C. His heart metaphorically sank at the sight of it and he dreaded going home that day. Virgil always seemed to appreciate his stories. Although praise from a kindergartener wasn’t worth much in the literary world.

Through frozen lips, he told a meandering story to his little brother. Sometimes his brother would ask questions or offer suggestions, abruptly changing the direction of the story. Logan himself barely remembered what it was about. It was as if someone else spoke through him as his mind drifted to other ideas.

It’d been dark for a long, long while. Usually his mother would’ve unlocked the door by now. She’d insist he’d make dinner while complaining of a terrible headache.

 It was an unending cycle. His mother would do her best to stay sober and function as an adult for a few weeks. Then her mood would increasingly sour, little things piling up into an avalanche. It was hard to tell at times what would be the trigger. The one thing that made her slam open the alcohol cabinet and drown a whole bottle of vodka. 

She wasn’t a nice person when drunk; hence the whole being-locked-in-the-cellar. Eventually after a few days of heavy drinking, his mother would come to her senses. She’d lock the alcohol cabinet and claim she’d never drink again. A lie nobody believed but herself.

Perhaps the lie was done in good intentions. His mother always insisted she cared for her children, in ways their father never could. 

“He’s a snake, Logan,” She hissed once, banging her beer heavily onto a coaster, “A dirty, no-good deceiving snake.”

Logan said nothing. He had only a few memories of the man. Once, when Logan was nine years old, he showed up on their doorstep. He held a bouquet of roses for Mother and a much belated birthday present for Logan. It’d been one of the happiest he’d seen Mother. He stayed with them for a few days. He listened to Logan, complimenting him on his extensive knowledge about dinosaurs. The three of them went to a carnival together. For a fleeting moment, Logan had what the others kids at his school had; a family. 

Then it ended with tears, arguing, door slams. Mother yanking him by the arm and leaving everything behind. Nine months later, Virgil was born. His father wasn’t there. Nor did he ever show his face again. A bitter, festering part of Logan despised him for that.

Mother acted like she cared at times. She’d purchase Virgil and Logan expensive gifts. Things she couldn’t afford without a credit card. She treated them to ice cream and insisted on giving them hugs. She never understood that Virgil found tactical touch without permission distressing. She’d brush it off, making remarks he simply needed to get used to it. 

At times Logan allowed himself to pretend these niceties would last. He pretended his mother was a flawed human being who mostly did good by her children. He pretended the slapping and hair-pulling didn’t exist, that the cellar was just a cellar and not a place to fear. It was hard to pretend these things were true, when the reality became increasingly harder to ignore.

Virgil fell asleep in the midst of this. Logan hadn’t realized this at first. His tired mind plunged on, continuing the nonsensical story.

“Then Batsy the Bat escaped the Witch’s dungeon. He flew as fast he could, to warn his friends...ah. Virgil what do you think their names should be?” Logan squinted, the dim light making it hard to see if his brother’s eyes were closed or not, “Virgil?”

His brother slumped against him, his breaths long and labored. Logan frowned, shaking his shoulder, “Virgil?!”

Virgil made a grumbling noise, “What?”

“You need to stay awake. You--you can’t fall asleep right now.”

“I’m tireeeed,” Virgil complained.

“I--I know, but please. It--it isn’t good to sleep right now.”

“Why?”

Logan’s throat constricted, “Be--because well. I haven’t finished the story yet.”

It was a lie. The truth was that sleeping could be a dangerous thing for a hypothermia victim. Sleeping could lead to death. He couldn’t tell his brother that. He refused to let Virgil experience more fright than he already had in his short life.

“Okaaay.” Virgil said.

Logan continued with the story, pulling all his concentration into it. Yet it wasn’t enough to keep Virgil awake. He kept drifting off, unable to keep his eyes open. At one point his brother down crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He sobbed, repeating the words over and over.

“It’s alright, you’re okay, everything is gonna be--gonna be,” Logan stammered, struggling to force the word out, “okay.”

It was then that Logan knew they couldn’t remain in the cellar any longer. He’d have to overcome his one true fear for the sake of their safety and survival. What he feared even more than his mother, was losing Virgil. Logan was smart. He knew the odds of a kindergartener and a high school sophomore staying together in the foster system was slim.

He had been selfish to allow his mother to continue tormenting Virgil. It was wrong. Now both him and his brother were paying for it.

Logan could fix this. He just had to pull out his phone and call emergency services. He had to call and resist his foolish fears of his mother and separation from his brother. With one arm still tucked around his brother, he pulled the phone out of his pocket. A battered, beaten thing he’d purchased with his first paycheck. His mother was completely unaware of its existence. 

He pressed the power button on as he gathered up the courage to call. Except the screen remained completely blank. He pressed it again, this time harder, hoping it’d been a fluke. It wasn’t. Again and again, he kept pressing the button, irrationally hoping for a different result. 

“No,” Logan swallowed heavily, “no, no, no this cannot be happening--” “Logey?” Virgil hiccuped, his big glassy eyes staring up as his older brother with concern.

“It’s okay, Virgil,” Logan murmured, “It’s okay, It’ll be okay--”

He couldn’t say the words any longer. Not when a sob wracked his throat, his vision turning hazy with tears. He couldn’t be strong any longer. He was weak. His heart beat faster, the chasm in his stomach deepening. His little brother said something, but he couldn’t hear it. All he heard was his mind mocking his failure. Shrill and scorching like his mother.

StUpID DiD yOU ThINK ThAT wAS GOING TO WORK?

You and your little brother are going to die and it’s all yOUR FAuLt

UsEleSS

Not EVEn YoUR OwN FATHER WAntED YOU--

“Hello? Whoever is contacting me at this hour better not have a good reason.”

Logan’s thoughts jolted to a halt. What? He glanced down at his phone, but it was still battered and dead. Virgil looked just as confused and lost as he felt. He hid his face in Logan’s shirt, whimpering softly.

“Who...are you?” Logan croaked, doing a poor disguise of covering up his breakdown moments before.

“I think that is perhaps a question I should be asking you.” The strange voice replied. It was definitely emanating from the phone, but how Logan had no clue. It made no logical sense.

“I--I don’t know.”

“You don’t know your name?”

“No! I mean of course I know my name! I mean, you can’t be real--I must be hallucinating.”

“Oh?” The voice responded with a touch of some unidentifiable emotion, “this must be your first time then.”

“First time what?” Logan snapped, a headache starting to take form. He regretted raising his voice when Virgil let out a cry. He murmured a soft apology to him, attempting to ignore how cold his brother felt.

“Is there someone else with you?” 

“No,” Logan said, before hesitating, “I mean perhaps.”

“Perhaps?”

“You still haven’t responded to my question from before.”

“Let me broker a deal then. I’ll answer your question, if you tell me who you and your companion are.”

“Okay,” Logan shakes his head, wanting to laugh hysterically. What in Newton’s three laws of gravity was going on? Surely, he died. He died and this was some last minutes of brain activity occurring. Scientists after all, know very little what happens in one’s last moments of life. Nothing could quite prepare him for the answer the voice gave him, however.

“Well then, to quote a popular misguided piece of media, ‘you’re a wizard, Harry!’” The voice said, the verbal jazz hands evident in the voice’s dripping, dry wit. Something about it was painfully familiar.

“What.”

“You asked, I answered,” The voice chuckled, “now it’s your turn.”

“My--my name is Logan,” He said, blinking rapidly, “and my little brother..ahhh...oh! Vi-Virgil is here with me.”

“Logan, that’s your name? You’re sure?”

Logan frowned at that. Of course he was sure. Or was he? It was getting rather harder to focus. Or to breathe even. The crisp cold air hurt his lungs. Virgil slumped heavily against him, complete dead weight in his unconsciousness. Oh. That was bad. He knew that was bad. 

“Logan?!” The voice yelled. Hmm, it sounded like they’ve been yelling at him for awhile now. He should acknowledge them. He nodded before pausing. Wait. He needed to respond verbally.

“Y-yes?” 

“Finally. You seem like you’re doing absolutely fantastic,” The voice told him. 

“Do I?” Logan asked, “I do not think I’m doing ‘fantastic’.”

“Where are you?”

Logan rattled off the address. Then he very casually added, “We’re locked in the cellar.”

“WHAT?!”

“It’s-s-s-s a punishment,” Logan shivered, his eyelids drooping against his will, “it’sssokay.”

“Yes, because all parenting books recommend disciplining your children by locking them in a cellar.” Maybe it was just Logan, but he got the impression the voice was being sarcastic. 

“I need to cut the invocation call. I’ll be there soon.”

“Wh--how-hy?” Logan said, trying to speak three words at once. The voice didn’t respond. He tried shaking his battered phone as if that would do anything. It did not do anything.

The air frizzled in front of Logan. A golden spark appeared, expanding until it was one big golden shimmery oval. Logan stared at it, blinking rapidly. This was absurd. He most definitely had to be hallucinating. The golden oval ripples as a black fedora emerged from it, followed by a face and then a whole body.

“F--father?” Logan managed.

The man before him was older and dressed in strange clothing. Slivers of silver hair poked out from his hat, nestled among the chestnut hair. An unfamiliar gruesome scar ran alongside the left side of his face. But he recognized those hazel eyes anywhere. He stared at them at the mirror every morning.

He didn’t respond to Logan. He took a few steps before collapsing beside the huddled forms of Logan and Virgil. His gloved hands reached out, but he did not touch them. His mouth opened, but no sound came out of him. Then his gloves covered his face as he inhaled deeply. He removed them from his face, his expression carefully blank.

“I’m here.” He told Logan, extending a hand towards him, “and I won’t leave you or your brother this time.”

Logan stared at the yellow gloved hand before sluggishly panning his gaze up at his father. He didn’t know if he could trust him, let alone if he could trust that this was reality. But god, he wanted it to be real. 

So cradling Virgil close to his chest with one arm, he took hold of his father’s hand. And then, with a bright flash of light, the cellar was empty.

-

Logan felt warm. A drizzling, dribbling, dripping like maple syrup down a fresh stack of buttermilk pancakes type of warmth. He should be alarmed by this for some reason, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be. Instead he made a contented noise, shifting closer to it. Someone chuckled, running a calloused hand through his hair. Logan stilled at the touch, the warmth evaporating from his veins. He waited for the fingers to grow taunt around a tuft of hair. For the harsh cacophony of his mother’s voice to rain down on him like hail. Nothing.

“Are you asleep, Little Tesla?” 

The air in his lungs evaporated. Only one person had called him that and it certainly wasn’t his mother. As much as she expected him to receive good grades, she hadn’t been one to nurture his interests in 20th century scientists.

“Father?” Logan whispered.

“I’m here, I didn’t leave, just like I said I would.”

He opened his eyes to find his father was indeed there. Sitting on a wooden chair with sunken eyes as if he’d been awake for hours. Logan laid on a bed with silky sheets and an impossibly warm comforter. He had just barely enough to cover him--most of the blankets had been stolen by another small figure. Virgil. His little baby brother was with him, asleep and curled up in a small ball.

“Wha--” Logan started to say, until everything hit him. The cellar. The strange bodiless voice. The gleaming gold portal. Father. Darkness.

“Yes, yes, I know it’s not at all a lot to take in, but you have magic. And you found me again, just like I’d hope you would.”

“Found you?” Logan asked, a hardness to his tone, “Assuming this isn’t a hallucination, you left me with h-her, you never came back and suddenly because I possess magic, I’m what? Worth something?”

“Yes, no!” His father cried out with a frustrated growl, “Listen, Logan. My relationship with your mother was extremely healthy, as I’m sure you can agree. Not unhealthy in the slightest. When it ended, your mother left a lovely parting gift.”

Here, he rubs a hand against the facial scar almost absent-mindedly, “I wanted to find you, I searched everywhere, but your mother is smart and covers her tracks well. I’m...sorry I couldn’t find you or your brother sooner. You’re important to me, magic or no magic.”

“How can I trust you?” Logan asked, “How can I trust that you’re not anything like her?”

He expected his father to be upset by the accusation, but instead he just smirked.

“You’re good to be suspicious. It’s a good trait, don’t ever lose it,” He said, adjusting his gloves, “I can tell you, that I will not harm you or your brother. I can say I will teach you magic, if you desire. I can let you know that I will let you walk out the door with your brother, and you won’t ever have to see me or your mother again. But you have no true way of trusting a man that has, from what you know, abandoned you completely until just now. 

“You have two options. Either accept you cannot completely trust what I say is true and proceed with caution, or you can leave with your brother, find a way to support the two of you. You’re smart, Logan. I trust you could figure it out.”

Logan swallowed. He was indeed smart--or knowledgeable enough to know there was little choice in the matter. He was just fifteen. He can’t support Virgil and him--not legally anyway. It’d be difficult to cover it up. Child Protection Services would be on them in a matter of weeks, if not days. 

Good case scenario, they stayed together in the foster system. Bad case scenario, they ended up separated. Worst case scenario? They ended up back at their mother’s, because they don’t believe either of Logan’s or Virgil’s claims and the cycle continues without end.

So, his father. He was the only option, and he knew it. As much bitterness as Logan held for the man, there’s also yearning in equal spades. He used to spend nights crying for him with his mother yelling at him to shut up. Sometimes she’d beat him for it, telling him his father was never coming back. Then he’d snap back that she was wrong and he’d prove Logan right by coming back. Until little by little, he stopped. 

He couldn’t trust his father, the man even admitted it. He just had to hope it’d be better, even though apparently the man believed in magic. Logan was doing his best at the moment to deny it existed. It couldn’t exist, last night had to be a fluke of some sort and even if it wasn’t, it was too much for him to focus on at the moment. 

“As long as I have your word that you won’t intentionally hurt Virgil and I, we will stay with you.” Logan says, before offering his hand towards his father.

Father took a look at the extended hand, eyes softening, before clasping it, “You have my word, Logan, that I will not harm you or Virgil as long as you remain in my care.”

They shook on it. Logan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in and then--and then, his vision blurred. A sob and then another erupted until he clenched his teeth, holding the rest back. For the second time within twenty-four hours he had shown weakness. First to his brother and now, now to his father who above all he should show no signs to. But like that creative writing assignment in the 8th grade, he completely failed.

Somehow halfway the handshake got turned into an embrace. His father hugged him, a calloused hand softly carding through his hair once more. 

“Shh, Logan, you’ve been so strong, stronger than most. You won’t have to be strong alone any longer. Let it all out.”

Logan didn’t know what to think of his father’s words. It wasn’t like a set of logical propositions or a step-by-step formula for science. He couldn’t know for certain if they were genuine. But in this moment, he was but a little boy with his father back. So he dug his head into his father’s chest and finally cried. His father, in turn, did not berate or beat him for it. Instead, he held onto his son as he whispered reassurances all the while.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Scream Queens Ep 10 "Thanksgiving"

Listen. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I don't think I can bone you right now.

My wanger is way stressed out.

I've killed for our love.

I just gave her a little push.

You and I can pick up right where we left off.

You can bring me home for Thanksgiving and introduce me to my future in-laws.

What did you do with the body?

I put it in the meat locker. It's where we've been putting all the dead bodies.

I need to see the body.

Look, we can have a three-way with the body.

I'll show you the body, but not so you can have sex with it.

I'll show it to you so that you and I will share a dangerous secret that will strengthen our relationship and bring us closer together.

I don't understand how this keeps happening!

Is this meat locker, like, a wormhole to an alternate universe or something?

She'll probably stop at nothing until she gets her revenge by murdering you.

No one wants to spend a room service Thanksgiving alone.

Are you going to talk at all?

You shouldn't be mad at me.

We're the sane ones.

Now, I know you've got other plans today, and for alibi's sake we need to protect your cover, but I am not letting you leave on an empty stomach.

Is that what quail is? I thought they were bigger.

You know what I was picturing? Pheasant.

Time to slice off those breasts.

I feel like this holiday is all about family, and, well, as you know, I gave up on my real family a long time ago.

I mean, at this point, the closest thing I have to family is. . . you.

I understand that Thanksgiving is supposed to be about family and being together and thanking God that we were born rich in America and not in Uganda or Venezuela or any of those other African countries.

You're late. The game's just about to start.

What do you think would happen if those instructions were incorrect?

This family's fortune is built on being right on time.

There's nothing better than sitting together as a family, watching the game. Laughing, smiling, just enjoying the warmth of each other's company. That's what it's all about today. Togetherness.

I hate defrosted food.

Why is it called Italian Style Chicken Cacciatore? All chicken cacciatore is Italian style.

This is not what Thanksgiving is supposed to be.

A bunch of my sort-of friends have been killed and no one has asked me about it.

Oh. And I'm starting a new family tradition. It involves me never coming to any family occasions ever again.

Would you stop with the screaming?

It's more like a stay of execution until no one is looking.

I've never cooked before, but that should be fine, since I usually just pretend to eat.

Well, I can cook and eat for the both of us.

So we've decided to have an orphans Thanksgiving all together.

I mean, I guess you could come over here if you wanted.

And this year I'm so thankful for the lax indecency laws in Eastern Europe that inundate our Internet with millions of hours of hard-core porn.

You know, ever since I was a little boy, I knew what God wanted me to do and that was make money off the backs of creative people.

I am so thankful that he, for whatever reason, has not murdered me yet.

You have such a vast future ahead of you.

You'll meet so many new and different women. So many wonderful women to go out with and break up with and move on from.

You should be thankful that this table is too long for me to reach across and strangle you, bitch!

What are you doing here? How are you alive?

When I woke up and regained consciousness, I felt better than ever.

The only thing you're carrying is water weight, you bloated little tramp.

I have a little game to play that's gonna make the time fly right by.

No, I've never killed anyone as far as I know.

Okay, there is no evidence at all that mass murder is genetic.

I would say that is more than a little suspicious.

I have bathroom shame issues. I always wait until everyone is asleep and then I sneak down to poop in the little powder room downstairs.

I mean, don't we all agree that those babies are the killers?

That seems like an unnecessarily complicated cover story.

I think we have plenty here to go to the police.

What, are you drunk?

You know, the one time I call you for a little advice, you're hammered.

I suppose we should discuss the matter of payment.

I'm asking you to name your price.

Are you propositioning me?

No, I'm asking how much money it'll take to make you go away.

My family is super-gross rich.

That outfit screams desperation.

I am, however, willing to write you a check for $50,000 if you will leave now and never come back.

It's a lot of money for a family like yours.

What is the best part about Thanksgiving?

Tastes like Henry VIII just barfed in my mouth.

Well, I don't want to sound like a dick here, but have you ever considered maybe you should leave?

I brought some of my famous eight-meat stuffing. It's beef, venison, alligator, buffalo, rabbit, goat, rattlesnake and Spam. I cut all of the meats super thin, so that you're guaranteed every meat in every bite.

I thought you said you were leaving forever or something like that?

Have you ever even cracked open a book?

You did say just the other day that the only way to live is to play the long game.

I really hope you can come up with something better than that.

I can prove that you're the only person in this room we know for a fact is a murderer.

I saw you in the coffee shop the other day, reading one of your old Playgirl magazines.

Okay, look, there's just some stuff that doesn't add up.

Look, I've gone through all the suspects in my mind, and I can explain away all my suspicions for everyone except you.

Can we just talk this out, so you can help me see that I'm wrong?

I mean, it would fit in with your whole hard worker, let's find out the truth, never take no for an answer, awful personality.

Anything to redeem your beloved dead mother.

I can't rest when the killer's still out there, so I stayed behind to do some more research.

You're skinny and pretty, so that's a plus, but it's highly competitive, so you'd better be rich, too.

You know how at the beginning of the year, I was always secretly following you so I could just keep an eye on you, make sure you were safe?

I heard you talking to someone, but I couldn't hear what it was about.

Thank you for letting me talk about this, talk this out, and hear your side of the story.

Um, homely, ugly.

Gold digger! Not welcome.

No, no, too chunky to wear that outfit.

I'm fairly certain this board game's been tampered with.

And while my motivations were airtight and my conscience clear, still, I'm sorry.

I mean, no one deserves to be spoken to like that, particularly not by what is, without a doubt, the most awful family in America.

I've honestly seen more tasteful decor at a Sizzler.

And you, sir, give the kind, hard-working, deeply moral people who work in such a wonderful industry as Hollywood a bad name.

I am walking out that door and never speaking to you again.

How could such a stud evolve from a boy who was so clearly a douche?

Oh, please, look, I-I was so bombed at that party. I mean, I remember I puked while I was making out with some girl, but there is no way that I could've found my way back down there 20 minutes later, let alone 20 years.

This is really embarrassing, um, but I started the paleo diet, because I'm back on the dating scene now, and I-I wanted to lose some weight.

I never saw a body down there.

I-I was a bit of a man slut back in the day, and it was the '90s, so nobody wore condoms.

I'm obligated to take it to the police.

What are you gonna do with the money?

didn't take the money, idiot.

Okay, first of all, I experienced extreme emotional trauma this evening, and second, I'm the one delegating tasks, thank you very much.

I couldn't find any matches.

I was sharpening this knife.

You haven't eaten yet, have you? I knew it!

You've come back. You've chosen me over your awful family.

First of all, my family is awesome. How dare you?

So, without further ado, dinner is served.

[angeltrapz]

oosdkk dude im sorry ur mood dropped too.. i hope u feel better soon <3 but like i wld love 2 hear more abt ur thoughts on Art in general bc Boy Is He Interesting, and also a lil more abt Daniel coming out as nonbinary to his dad (whether he knows Eric is trans or not at that moment skjdfhdskf)! + if ur feelin it just more abt Mallick in general ESP cuz we agree that Brit doesn't make it thru V

djhfjdks thank u sm <3

okay Art first. I genuinely wonder abt him so much, something in specific I think abt is that aside frm Amanda (+ Eric, obviously, but talkin abt disciples) Art is one of the only trap victims EVER 2 be tested twice and it’s like... what’s that abt? Why? as u’ve said b4 it rly depends on how you personally view his character: whether he’s a disciple or not. fr me, both options are equally plausible, n honestly I don’t rly confine myself to either; it sorta depends on what I’m feeling/writing. if we’re talking abt art being a disciple, then the Spinecutter not going off (one of my BIGGEST questions) makes total sense, as Hoffman’s side of the trap was never set up to work either, + Jigsaw disciples have a history (aside from Lawrence) of appearing as victims in other tests/traps. if he were not just another pawn and was in fact a disciple himself, then the Spinecutter was never meant to go off - it was there just to make Eric think it COULD go off/make it look convincing to outsiders. which brings me to ANOTHER question: what does Art know abt Eric? does he know anything? what does he think of Eric?

(lil side note: if Art is a disciple, then I kinda wonder if it’s a lil bit of a Hoffman + Lawrence situation where Hoffman didn’t know abt Art either? just bc he looks so shocked when he sees Art’s face fully fr the first time... that could’ve just been acting on Hoffman’s part but IDK. food fr thought)

personally, I feel like Art probably does know a lil bit abt Eric - at the very least, he’d know tht Eric had been previously tested + failed by John’s rules, but then I feel that he wld also know Eric didn’t rly have a chance in his second test. that is why Art trying so fucking hard to keep Eric alive is interesting 2 me: what is his motivation 2 do that? like he’s been told Eric’s basically just there to get Rigg to participate, he doesn’t have any personal obligation or anything like that. sure, the aim is to keep Eric alive + see if Rigg can pass his “test,” but nobody said anything about grabbing a man you barely know around his ankles to keep him frm hanging himself w a noose made of chains. nobody said anything abt speaking to him so softly, not even raising your voice beyond saying “hey,” and asking him do you understand? when you tell him to keep still and prevent him frm killing his counterpart (which, if Art is a disciple, he knows it won’t, but he still speaks to Eric so softly, so compassionately, doesn’t he?)

nobody said anything abt grabbing him around the waist and steadying him again after being punched by said man. but Art does that. he stabilizes Eric’s feet on the ice as best he can and he keeps his hips straight and he basically says “look, we’re all stuck here, you need to keep it together ‘til that clock counts down if you want us to live, but I’m giving you a choice,” and he presses the gun w the single bullet into Eric’s hands and tells him it’s up to him. nobody said Art had to care but he does, I think, and it’s just like. he really didn’t have to keep Eric alive over the course of Rigg’s test. he didn’t. but he did and I just,, where does it come from? why does he care? this is even going beyond the fact that we’ve talked abt them being together after their test in a scenario where they both survive - I just think that Art at his core is a very stubborn but very compassionate person, whether he wants 2 be or not. like he HAS to know that kind of involvement cld prove to be extremely detrimental but he cares. I feel like that says a lot abt him (even if he does call Eric an asshole a couple times while doing it,,).

plus I also just. I think his reason for being tested (as it seems to be in most cases) is extremely flimsy. he was doing his job. he’s a LAWYER. often times it has nothing 2 do w personal feelings; they’re there to do their job and sometimes, unfortunately, that is defending possibly reprehensible people (in cases like Rex’s & Ivan’s). + John was already upset w him regarding their argument abt the urban renewal group so like it just feels So Very Petty, y’know?? even in the scenario where he IS a disciple, testing him twice seems entirely like John having a personal vendetta against him. Amanda is the only other person to be tested twice aside from Eric, so like. what. is that abt Mr. Kramer.

like I’ve said b4 in dms one could argue that Art is grey morally, bc we never rly see anything of him outside of flashbacks + acting as a test controller in IV, esp given that he... rly doesn’t seem too bothered abt it all? which is fair. but I also feel like the concern he shows towards Eric is smth to be considered as well.

-

+ YESS NONBINARY DANIEL I know I’ve mentioned it b4 but for reference, I read Daniel as masc nonbinary (he/they)! so I feel like Daniel wld b pretty comfortable w his identity, he’s never rly had a reason not to be (it’s rly anyone’s guess here tho bc we never see Eric + Daniel + Kate... as a family unit, for obvious reasons), so I feel like he’s vry chill abt it? and in the scenario where Eric survives n is dating Adam, I feel like Daniel wld talk 2 him abt it first (Adam is an adult they quickly come to trust + he’s vocal abt being trans himself so there’s that added layer of understanding - other than his mom maybe Adam might b the first person they come out 2). they’re just kinda like “so I wanna tell my dad I’m nonbinary but like I’ve literally never thought abt coming out what do I do” and Adam’s just like. Aha. bc he knows Eric is Also Trans so like, he doesn’t tell Daniel that bc it’s not his info to share, but he’s definitely like “oh it’ll totally be fine. trust me you have no reason to worry” so Daniel’s just like Okay. I Got This

+ I know I mentioned this in dms but Daniel wld absolutely wear those floral ripped hem skirts over jeans, so I feel like on one of his visits to his dad’s, he just. wears that combined w a completely random niche graphic tee he bought when shopping w Adam (I adore this hc n I am Holding Onto It) n is just like. not super open abt it bc he doesn’t know what to expect? he just kinda waits fr Eric to comment on it but when he doesn’t, Daniel gets nervous n is like “do I look okay?” and Eric’s rly chill abt it, like “yeah! it looks vry cool, vry alternative.” n like Daniel is relieved, of course, but also he’s just like God Pls Say Something so he just comes out w it like “okay this is not working. I’m nonbinary.”

and he’s COMPLETELY SHOCKED when Eric is just like “oh why didn’t u say so? do u have a different name u wanna go by? is Daniel still okay?” bc he wasn’t sure how much Eric knew, so he’s just like “uh no Daniel is still good, he/they pronouns though” and Eric’s just like alright cool but internally Daniel’s just like ??????

n THAT is when Eric asks him 2 come sit out on th front steps w him n is just like. “I don’t think I ever told u this but I’m trans. I transitioned during training in my early 20s” n Daniel is nodding while internally he’s like Adam I’m gonna throttle u. he worked himself up fr NOTHING. he just kinda laughs abt it and Eric is like “are u good?” ‘cause he’s a lil worried but then Daniel just smiles and is like “yeah I’m fine! just realizing I had nothing 2 be worried abt” and it’s a rly good moment fr them. they sit out there together talking abt their experiences for quite a while n at some point Adam steps outside 2 find them deep in conversation + he just smiles n goes back inside bc he cares abt them both so much and seeing them talk like that makes him so 💞💞 (Eric is SO PROUD u can see it on his face)

-

ohhh gosh Mallick,,, I spend a lot of time thinking abt him actually. he’s just one of those characters I feel vry connected to (me 🤝 Mallick: Ambiguous Disorder 💕) n one I got surprisingly attached to? hello (he IS one of my f/os)

I feel like Mallick is a very lonely person at his core. the way he sort of clings to Brit (w out the whole like. adrenaline of being in very very real danger w ppl trying to kill u SEVERAL TIMES) somewhat confirms this fr me. this is someone who has no reason to look out fr him, no reason to keep protecting him when their fellow captives hit him over th head w a club or attempt to push him into a bathtub to ELECTROCUTE him, but she keeps doing it and he’s just. in awe of it a little bit? ‘cause she could just let Charles knock him tf out or let Luba push him in but she fights for him, some1 she has no obligation to n met fr the first time literally when they woke up.

the moment they share b4 they stick their arms into the saws to activate the 10 Pints of Sacrifice is so very vulnerable and maybe even a little tender. yes he calls her a monster, yes she calls him one back, neither of them deny it. it’s an admission and an acceptance. they’re monsters, sure, fine, okay. but they are monsters and they are in this together. Brit tells Mallick it’s okay when he says he can’t do this alone. she says okay, okay, it’s okay, we’ll go together. and they help each other secure their tourniquets and they stick their hands in together bc it’s the two of them, literally hand in hand, fighting for their lives n for each other n they’re in so so much pain but they are doing it TOGETHER. I lose it thinking abt it!!! they even have a head bonk moment!!! I very much feel like it has some cinematic parallels to Adam & Lawrence’s moment in SAW 2004!!!!

+ as u mentioned, we both share the thought that Brit likely died since she wasn’t present at Bobby’s meetings, and. I want to touch on how fucking despondent and lost Mallick looks when we see him again in 3D. lights on but no one’s home. I feel like for Mallick, losing Brit was losing the first chance at a real connection he’s had in god knows how long - and for him, that’s just very shattering. he’s been thru hell, he’s watched three people die right in front of him, he sawed his ARM IN HALF, n the person he went through all of that with didn’t make it. but he did. and I feel like for Mallick that’s just like... he doesn’t understand it. but he feels even lonelier than he ever has b4 because the One Person who was there w him thru it all, the one person who could ever possibly understand what happened that night, is gone.

the Mallick we see in V would NEVER sit down n willingly listen to Bobby Dagen’s bullshit abt loving yr scars n taking pride in the fact u survived. he wld hate that man with a passion n I am very much sure of this. the fact that he’s sitting in that chair looking numb and glassy-eyed and silent? Mallick is trying to find some1 to connect to, find a place where maybe he belongs. trying to fill that hole that losing Brit made. why else wld he be sitting there, listening to someone he would ordinarily tell to shove his self-love bullshit up his ass? he’s lost. he’s just trying to keep his head above water and find a way to shore even though everything in him is fighting not to. he’s adrift without her.

+ ALTERNATIVELY, bc the reality of that is just. crushing n maybe not where I needed 2 go, in the scenario where Brit survived + just doesn’t want to put up w Bobby’s bullshit, I imagine them to actually move in together after a lil bit of time getting 2 know each other better w out the pressure of “oh god we’re gonna die.” she kinda helps him build up a sense of self-worth bc GOD it’s practically non-existent n thinking abt possible reasons why makes me sad. she’s definitely just like “no, you do deserve to be cared for and you deserve help when you need it, you deserve good things n to be happy.” she just kinds shuts it down while still making sure to talk 2 him abt WHY he feels that way (she’s not dismissing, but she’s trying to nip it in th bud) n Mallick is just like. huh. bc no one’s really done that fr him before. but it rly does end up helping in the long run, even if it is a very slow pace toward actually getting 2 a place where he recognizes his own worth + realizes he deserves all the things he wants Brit 2 have too. they’re there for each other thru thick n thin and if they made it thru their game, they can make it thru anything.

[soopersara]

what’re your thoughts on the anti-zutarian argument citing that a romantic relationship couldn’t work between them because of an inherent oppressor / colonizer and indigenous / oppressed dynamic. love zutara, but that admittedly gave me a lot to think about and i’m still unsure about how i feel :/

Hoo boy. That argument again.

Okay, first of all, nobody has to like Zutara. Enemies to lovers (or, more accurately for Zutara, enemies to friends to lovers) is a trope that doesn't appeal to everyone, and that's fine.

But that does not make it immoral to ship pairings like Zutara. There's nothing inherently wrong with enemies to lovers, and while there probably are enemies to lovers ships out there that would make me uncomfortable, that comes down to the execution more than the ship itself, and... it's still fiction. Last I checked, enjoying murder mysteries doesn't mean that you condone murder. Tastes in fiction =/= real life morality.

As far as Zutara in specific goes, the argument that it could never work "because he's her oppressor" is just... nonsense. I'm going to try to organize this based on arguments I've seen so I don't just ramble for several thousand words, so here goes:

Zuko was her colonizer: No. The Water Tribes were never colonized. The Fire Nation never established settlements in the Water Tribes' territories. They raided the Southern Tribe and captured and killed some of its members, which is obviously horrible, but the Fire Nation never had a lasting presence in any of the Water Tribes ('any' because there's technically 3 tribes and the Foggy Swamp was untouched). Words have meanings, and... that's not what colonization means. Colonization could be a stronger argument against a Zuko/Earth Kingdom character ship since colonization DID happen there, except for a l'il issue I'll get to in a minute.

Zuko participated in a genocide against her people: Okay, while genocide is a more accurate term for what happened to Katara's tribe, this argument (and the previous one too) really falls apart at the "Zuko participated" bit. The Fire Nation committed a gradual, partial genocide of the Southern Water Tribe via raids on its villages. And the last raid happened when Katara was eight years old. At that time, Zuko was ten. At the age of ten, Zuko wasn't involved in any of the Fire Nation's actions anywhere in the world. At the age of ten, Zuko was still so far out of the line of succession for the throne (behind Iroh, Lu Ten, and Ozai) that he didn't have any real prospect of ever being able to make decisions for the nation's actions. And the first time Zuko personally had any interaction with Katara's tribe? He ran his ship through a wall, knocked Sokka over, grabbed Kanna by the coat, yelled a little bit, made a few threats... and then left without doing any further damage. So not great, but also not playing into his nation's attempts at genocide. And Zuko got comeuppance for all those things from the Gaang when they were trying to get Aang out: Zuko broke the ice wall, then Aang wrecked Zuko's ship. Zuko knocked Sokka over, then Sokka returned the favor. A few times. And Zuko grabbed Kanna, then Katara froze a bunch of Zuko's crewmen solid. Despite being wildly underpowered, the Gaang gave as good as they got.

Zuko attempted to kill the Gaang: Again, just no. Seriously, in all the time he was chasing the Gaang, he never once tried to kill anyone. Not killing was his whole deal. That's how he got banished. The kid literally tried to save Zhao, the man who tried to blow Zuko up. Capturing and killing are two very different things. Hiring Sparky Sparky Boom Man is the only exception to Zuko's no-killing thing in the entire show, and that whole plot point is just bad and wildly OOC, so I'm not going to talk about that right now.

Zuko abused Katara: There's a difference between abuse and fighting as enemies on opposite sides of a war. Hurting Katara, gaining power over Katara was never Zuko's goal. He wanted to capture Aang, and he fought anyone who stood in his way. Katara's goal was to protect Aang, and she likewise fought anyone who stood in the way. And on top of that, Zuko never caused Katara any significant harm. He tied her to a tree and tried to negotiate with her. Guess what? The first time the Gaang had the opportunity, they tied Zuko up (after seriously considering leaving him for dead). He knocked Katara unconscious. Then, the very next time they faced each other, she knocked him unconscious. That's... pretty much it. Neither of them was a victim of the other, they were enemies who fought one equal terms.

And ALL of those arguments completely disregard Zuko's redemption and the subsequent friendship between him and Katara. Zuko openly rejected his father and all his nation's actions and teachings. He changed sides in the war with the intention of stopping the harm that his people were doing to the world. He taught Aang, helped rescue Hakoda and Suki from prison, saved Katara from being crushed to death, and helped her find and confront the man who killed her mother. And Katara forgave him for everything. They became friends. But Zuko didn't stop there. He fought Azula on his own to keep Katara safe, threw himself in front of lightning to save her life again, and then, at the age of sixteen, dedicated the rest of his life to dismantling and reversing all the harm his nation had done over the past hundred years.

Zuko was never an oppressor in the way antis like to claim, but even if he had been, the fact that he saw the error of his ways at the age of sixteen and then spent the rest of his life trying to fix not only his own personal wrongs, but those committed by his nation (and many of which happened before he was even born) says a lot. And acting as though his fight to change things for the better (and his close canon friendship with Katara) doesn't matter because he happened to be born to the royal family on the wrong side of the war is incredibly reductive.

Like I said before, no one is obligated to ship Zutara. No one is obligated to like Zutara. And there's nothing wrong with people being uncomfortable with the pairing for their own personal reasons. But that doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with the ship or those of us who enjoy it. Suggesting otherwise undermines the validity of interracial relationships in general, and I would strongly suggest blocking anyone who argues that there is something inherently wrong with shipping Zutara.

PS: I'm not indigenous, but I do know several Zutara shippers who are. There may be some indigenous people who find Zutara uncomfortable, but it's in no way a universal opinion.

[sepublic]

Luz and the Winds of Change

            For Season 2, I’d LOVE to see Luz find a Wind/Air Glyph, because... The thing I’ve noticed with Luz Noceda is that she is very much an active force of change; That she brings about the winds of change to people’s lives! Obviously part of the reason for this is Plot, but at the same time… People like Eda make a point about how their lives felt stagnant, meaningless even, until Luz arrived. Emperor Belos himself even acknowledges this, saying that Eda’s life to him was meaningless, until Luz showed up…

           Without Luz’s appearance, a lot of characters were set on a certain trajectory; Eda was going to keep being a loner and an outcast and eventually succumb to her curse. Lilith would’ve been more desperate for Belos’ approval, King would be both lonely and a bit selfish, Willow would’ve succumbed to self-loathing and shyness… Amity would become even colder and more miserable, the Twins wouldn’t bother self-reflecting, Boscha would continue to be a bully without ever considering her relationship with her friends, etc.

           But then comes Luz; Like the winds of change, she changes the trajectory and paths of these characters. She’s like a sudden gust that allows a ship to change course, or a ball to change its path mid-flight. Her mere presence alone inspires people to be better, and not from a preachy and judgmental “I think I can do better and tell you why” sort of way like Belos is, a way that tells people there’s something inherently wrong with them. No, Luz is someone who respects boundaries and wants to see others be the best they can be… That she’ll let others approach her instead of forcing herself onto them, do things at their own pace!

           I think part of what makes Luz so compelling is that her kindness and giving nature is so unconditional; That it’s not out of a sense of obligation like she HAS to take care of people, but simply because it makes her happy to see other people happy! That nobody asked Luz or implied she needed to do things for them, she was just allowed to be herself (which is what the Boiling Isles does in general for her), and that means Luz can self-actualize as a person who wants to help OTHERS self-actualize as well!

           It’s about learning to be yourself, and to Luz, this is something that means a lot to her considering she never got that chance for so long! And obviously, it isn’t like helping people is the only thing she can do, nor does she place all of her self-worth into this concept as a role/duty she’s bound to… Luz is still allowed to be a kid, still allowed to have her own desires and wants, such as wanting to learn magic, be a powerful Witch like Azura, etc.! She’s in an environment where she can flourish!

           Not to mention, Luz has some personal stake in a lot of people’s issues as well; Like with Viney and the Detention Kids, fixing their problems is also fixing HER issues with the school system as well! Or in Understanding Willow, how helping Willow and Amity be better friends also helps Luz, because those are her friends and them being happy makes her happy as well!

           Obviously episodes like Wing it like Witches also remind Luz not to vicariously live out her fantasies and issues, nor project them, through her friends, and to set a fine line between that and helping people… But it’s not a draining relationship. Contrary to what some characters believe, they’re not takers and they don’t need to provide more, nor compensate and justify their friendship; That what they’re already doing and got going on… is pretty good.

           In general, Luz is someone who inspires others to make a change. That her illuminating Light allows those such as Principal Bump to make an active choice on what road they’re going down, now that they can see what’s ahead… And to choose differently. Luz is somebody who reinvigorates, who re-instills passion into existence as someone who is VERY passionate over things as part of her ADHD hyperfixations, which is also another beautiful thing to see for a neurodivergent viewer…

           It’s funny, really; Many characters were set down paths that could’ve easily led to a LOT more misery, or at the very least towards them not truly feeling fulfilled like they are now. But Luz changedthat, she makes a difference because she’s different as a foreigner and an outsider, but not an invader the way Belos possibly is…

          And I also love how it’s such a different take on the White Savior trope in that our Dominican, dark-skinned protagonist is the one who helps enlighten the European-inspired culture… In a way that is VERY respective of others’ boundaries while still allowing her to have her own personal desires and be her own person, and NOT be defined by what she does for others in a co-dependent sense.

          Like the show makes it clear Luz isnotresponsible for these people, tying into the idea that many characters also still have their own personal guilt in wrong actions and how they DO acknowledge this and make a change… That Luz offers help but it’s also on people to take personal initiative and accept this help as well, that she’s not a bad person if she doesn’t fix EVERY person she comes across!

          She isn’t your personal caretaker, she’s a kid and the show focuses on how adults are responsible for the impact they have on children and ensuring the best for them, hence the emphasis on Eda as a motherly figure and what she does for Luz, it’s why Luz chooses to stay in the first place! Like a lot of adults are compelled to be better at their responsibility to care for the young generation, like the Bat Queen not projecting her trauma onto Owlbert, or Principal Bump letting kids study in multiple tracks! But at the same time Luz doesn’t feel entitled either, like the world or people owe her something…

          Luz being an outsider means that she’s another perspective, and THAT makes people ask themselves; What does my situation, and/or the way I treat others, look like to an outsider? Is this who I am, is this who I’ll be? Reflections are made of Light, and Luz can provide a mirror, without that being her only identity of course; She’s a FUNKY mirror all right!

          But, yeah… Luz really DOES represent the Winds of Change! She’s a new opportunity not just for people but for the Boiling Isles, and in a darker sense she’s a new opportunity for someone like Belos given the implications of her arrival and how she got there… But regardless. Luz is someone who is antithetical to the idea of stagnation, she helps flourish and inspire growth in characters like plant-motif Willow, while changing the destructive and hurting Fire of Amity into one that provides warmth and nourishment!

          She is energy, which relates well to her ADHD-coding, as well as movement… And THAT all feeds back into the idea of Luz being Wind as well as Light, as someone who compels others to move but not in a forceful way, simply giving them a well-needed push to change their current course and trajectory. Belos’ reign is recent, and not solid… But up until now it was on a trajectory towards becoming more powerful, more dictatorial, and more controlling. But then comes Luz, and she helps people realize that NO, this system is messed up, that we CAN make a change…

          And this ties back into how the moral is not, “I can fix this,” nor “You can fix this,” it’s “We can fix this together!” Luz brings people together, just as the winds bring things together! And honestly, an Air-motif makes sense, given Luz’s own relation to Owls, and how those are creatures who are very sensitive and dependent on the air currents, in the paths of the wind, and use it to propel themselves! While at the same time teaching others –usually their own children- how to use that wind to fly, soar, and find a different place and home… A way to leave an unpleasant situation and go somewhere safer.

          Obviously Luz isn’t perfect, and she’s not meant to be the fix-all solution for others to rely on. She’s got her past issues that she’s worked upon, and I think she can be overly-critical of herself when it comes to hurting people, as someone who’s been hurt; Which makes Luz’s relationship with Amity, who is ALSO self-critical, very fascinating! But in the end, Luz is still a fundamentally good person.

          Luz helps reinvigorate others, giving them a ‘Second Wind’ which also ties back to Wing it like Witches and its Sports tropes… And THAT episode also involved Amity, who has a flashback of being overly-critical of herself for hurting others, telling Luz not to do the same; That she doesn’t have to single-handedly shoulder the burden of the forfeit, even if Luz DID mess up by hurting Willow and Gus by accident, that she shouldn’t over-compensate for her failings and feel like she has to! Not when Luz taught Amity the same…!

          Wind is the antithesis to stagnation in that it’s defined as something that moves, and Luz is SUCH a dynamic character in the way she interacts with others! Wind can only be seen by how it moves others… Clearly there’s more to Luz than just that, she has more emphasis on a Light motif for a reason. But the way Luz changes others and compels them to take a different path is VERY obvious and visible, and one can best notice Luz’s bright personality through her effects on people; That, and because Luz is just such an utter goober as well! Like, even the audience is affected towards and endeared by her!

          Wind is not something you hold onto, and it’s not something that is itself when it’s in a box. It’s meant to be free, flying, soaring… Which represents how Luz is a character not to be stifled by a system nor conformity, that her Light is meant to shine and be seen by others, and help illuminate the path… But mainly so SHE can shine for herself, and be her own person! Air is associated with Freedom, which given this show’s themes of anti-authority, is VERY appropriate too…!

[doortjeanais]

Sessrin an/tis seem like the very same people who hated on sasusaku being canon.

Blow off all that hate unto the world, fine. Argue all day, fine.

At the end of the day, 2 things matter:

1. It's fiction. It's not real. To be honest, morals do not exist in this universe or morals are different that what we have in the actual world. No need to push your own morals on others. It's pointless because...

2. The only truth that matters in this case is the writer's story line. It is hers. She owes nobody any explanation or obligation to cater to their preferences. If you cannot accept that, well, that's what fanfictions are for.

Bottomline: if you do not like the canon pairings or the storyline, the door is wide open for you to leave. Let those who want to stay enjoy it in peace.

(I have had my own fair share of canon pairings that left me feeling betrayed. I just turn my back and leave. That's life, man. It never turns out they way you want to at times.)