#not to mention the way it tries and fails to speak on racism within the fantasy world

[timothylawrence]

crazy how you can make a post abt violent racism in a game and ppl will still say ‘it deserved game of the year tho’

[bookaddict24-7]

I said at the beginning of the year that I would share my reviews more on my blog instead of just on Instagram and Goodreads. I’ve been reading a lot so far this year, so my reviews will be delayed on here.

Friend me on Goodreads here to read my reviews in real-time!

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107. Amari and the Night Brothers by B.B. Alston--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Wow, this book had more of a punch than I anticipated! I think books like this one are super important--not just because of the content, but because of the audience it's geared towards. Young readers now are learning more and more about society than a lot of us did at their age, so I think it's perfectly fitting that a book like this one is out there for kids to devour. One of the things I liked the most about this book was the allegory of racism in a magical community. Usually in fantastical novels for kids (older ones, anyway), there's this belief that no matter what you look like, the moment you go to another magical place all of your worries about racism goes away because MAGIC. But in this one, not only did our MC have to contend with the racism in her normal life, she had to face more racism in her new life, just with a new title. So many of the actions taken against her by those around her, and the comments (like putting her brother on a pedestal because he was the star of the school and calling him the exception to the rule, or one girl actively telling her that "You can take the girl out of the ghetto, but not the ghetto out of the girl) really made me think that this poor kid went from one ignorant situation to another. Not only is she trying to find her brother and solve the mystery of his disappearance, but she also has to deal with racist and ignorant people around her. Imagine calling a child evil because of something they can't control. Imagine going out of your way to ensure that they fail. Imagine you or your child hearing the things this child heard while trying to just do her best in a system that's always been made to be against her, both in the human world and in the magic world. Imagine, imagine, imagine. Another thing I loved about this book was her resilience. She is brave, and smart, and has such a big future in this new world of hers. I'm so excited to read the rest of this series as it comes out. This book was POWERFUL and I highly recommend it. Not just for the young readers in your life, but I think parents and other readers would highly benefit from reading Amari's story.

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108. Mindy Kim & the Yummy Seaweed Business by Lyla Lee--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Okay, this book was ADORABLE. I haven’t read a 6-8 book in a long time and I’m thankful to my friend on Instagram who recommended these books! Mindy has to deal with not only her grief about losing her mom and her dad’s busy schedule (as well as his own grief), but she’s also at a new school in a new State where she is the only Asian student. I’ve mentioned this in some of my most recent reviews, but I love that these important topics are being discussed in children’s books. We see moments of racism in this book where Mindy is left upset, even if she doesn’t fully understand just why certain comments and actions are so hurtful. And even if she doesn’t dwell on it, a parent reading this with their little one would notice and hopefully learn if they see their own behaviours mirrored in the actions of some of these adults. But we also see moments of kindness and love as a young girl tries her best to find ways to make her dad happy. Despite the heavier undertones in this book, there was an overall feel of sweetness and childhood innocence. The ability to apologize when you know you’re in the wrong, the innocence of emotions getting away from you, and the sweetness of a daughter loving her father. This was a great read and I highly recommend it for everyone, but especially the little ones in your life who will be entering situations where books like these and their lessons are really important.

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109. The Dead Zone by Stephen King--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This one, I felt, held more of an emotional punch rather than a creepy feeling. I really enjoyed it! I loved the psychic angle and the MC proving the people who didn’t believe him or mocked wrong. Also, this was a King book that actually made me want to cry at the end. I didn’t give it a 5 because of some really slow moments. While I love that his stories always have a way of coming together at the end, certain scenes sometimes feel long, boring, or confusing. I’d recommend this for anyone who wants to read a King book that isn’t scary and if you’re a fan of 11/22/63!

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110. Takane & Hana Vol. 1 by Yuki Shiwasu--⭐️⭐️⭐️

This one took me a while to read. I found that I wasn’t really in the mood to read it every time I picked it up—which is so different from when I pick up a manga I really want to read. The story had some funny bits and the artwork was gorgeous, but it really bugged me how every new chapter re-introduced the love interest. Over and over and over again. I get it: he’s rich, arrogant, and an asshole. Can’t you trust us to remember these key personality traits? But it wasn’t even just that. We were constantly re-introduced to the premise of the story. I don’t know how common this is WITHIN the same volume, but I haven’t encountered it yet—and if I have, it wasn’t as annoying as this one. I’ll keep reading the story because I’m curious, but this first volume was a bit of a rougher read for me.

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111. You Have A Match by Emma Lord--⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

I think the thing with this book is that the cover tells a different story than what really matters in this book. Yes, there’s a friends to more relationship in this, but the main storyline is about two girls who find out they’re sisters and are trying to solve that mystery. This isn’t a romcom—the romance is a super side story to the main storyline. And to be honest, I really enjoyed it. I wanted to see why these two sisters lived their whole life separated. I enjoyed the process and the friendships created along the way. I felt for the parents, but at the same time, I felt more for the girls. There were instances where I wanted to yell at the parents because they kept putting the reveal off. This was enjoyable overall—a great summer read. Not particularly memorable, but it does what it sets out to do: makes you question the strength of friendships and what they can overcome. Also, Instagram.

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112. Patron Saints of Nothing by Randy Ribay--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

When my friend raved about this book I was both excited and intimidated. I usually try to avoid hypes surrounding books because I go in with too-high expectations and a lot of the time, the expectations crush me while I’m reading. Thankfully, the hype is very well-deserved with this one. For me, the most important aspect of this book that stuck with me wasn’t the mystery surrounding the MC’s cousin’s death, but the character growth the MC himself experiences during the time of his investigation. Identity sounds like a pretty clear cut thing sometimes, but it’s a lot harder to know your own when you’re the child of an immigrant family. You live in a new country, get accustomed to new expectations and customs, and inevitably feel a culture shock when you’re re-introduced to the culture your parents grew up in. I saw myself so much in this MC. From my childhood to my current adult years, people have thought that they could define me and who I am simply because I say I’m this or this. But while others make a quick judgment, they don’t see the internal struggle. They don’t see you questioning yourself on whether you’re enough of this, or whether you’re enough of that. I think teenage me would have loved this book even more. The MC is constantly faced with criticism about his father choosing to move them to the States from the Philippines. The judgments and the preconceived notions of him and his family make him not only weary because he recalls how his uncle treated his father the first time he visited, but also wary because it sets him down this road of self-reflection. I haven’t read many (if any, unfortunately) books where a character goes to the Philippines. I’m so thankful to this book. I learned so much about the culture, the foods, and the struggles faced not just financially, but politically as well. I remember reading about some of the topics brought up in this book and it was extremely eye-opening. It’s so easy for us to look away because we have that privilege, but this book says, “No, look at me. I exist.” The MC, in his journey, also learns to speak up and use his voice. Not just against ignorant friends, but an annoyingly smug and verbally abusive uncle (who I hated to all hell). He also learns to listen. He learns that though not every story is perfect, they still have power. I think this is a great read for those who have one foot in two different worlds (hands and arms can be in other worlds, too). Especially if you’re trying to understand this part of you that wasn’t developed as you grew up. I’d also recommend it to readers who want to learn more about this struggle, learn more about a different culture that is more than its stereotypes, and/or want to read about a young teenager trying to come to terms with his grief and guilt.

___ Have you read any of these books? Would you recommend them?

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Happy reading!

[richincolor]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can read an excerpt of the book here!]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hundtoth]

while this should not have to be said aloud - heathenry is not a racist faith! unfortunately, such a statement is necessary to voice... unless you’re a chauvinistic and/or a xenophobic heathen, that’s what this post pertains to: sure, it’s not untold that in the modern world heathenry has been pockmarked by the allotment of symbols seized by hate groups alongside the adulteration of our religious ‘brethren’, with hateful individuals that warp our teachings to portray their hateful demands. our much beloved germanic neopaganism has become a justification for racist behaviour, from the propaganda of the nazi party which applied many of our symbols (such as the fylfot), to the germanic people pointing with pride as the pinnacle of the aryan race. a big problem that faces the heathen practice, while it is innocuous at heart, are the attempts to bear on labels to various heathen sub-groups as ‘racist’ and ‘not racist’. it has become favoured by heathens to cleave up heathenry into splinter groups; universalism, tribalism, and folkism (as the dominant ones), which are often viewed as ‘not racist’, ‘racist?’ and ‘racist!’ respectively. let me be the one to unburden that and say that these terms are not key definitions to those three groups, and that this is the root of the problem. the issue is that these terms are neither here nor there and cannot be applied in whole to the groups that they are supposed to attain to. this is because there exists no foundation within the religion for racist beliefs, which means that those who venture into the ancient praxis could fall under the folkish bracket and may not be and are often not racist. albeit, it’s commonplace for people to label themselves such things to be closer to those who share their views on racism, but that causes some to abandon a title tailored to their practice in favor of one that doesn’t, simply to avoid the bleak implications of said title. in my mind, i believe that we should not be giving monikers to those within the faith with racist tendencies as they simply are not deserving of them. they do not deserve to ornament themselves with the title of a specific group as this just causes a continuation upon the idea that their beliefs around that area of the faith are valid, altering its meaning entirely. to clarify the true to life meanings behind these groups, as they are applied to the preferences of method of practice by each heathen, we have;

universalism - a belief that anyone, irregardless of race, gender or sexual orientation, may practice under the heathen umbrella. the universalism belief structure has been criticized often for failing to motivate its followers to the same depth as others, and allowing the prevalence of contrary philosophies to those present within heathenry. universalists reproduce declaration 127, also known as havamal-stanza 127, which can be cherished by anyone for its simple utterance of: recognize evil, speak out against it, and give no truces to your enemies. however, declaration 127 is denounced commonly due to its poor efforts (similar to the criticism of social media campaigns for ‘likes’ with no physical backing) and it’s false sense of security within heathenry.

tribalism - considered to be ‘in the middle’ by many heathens. tribalists try to vindicate the old and new methods through moderate reconstructionalism, and have a tendency to conceptualise ethnic heritage without maintaining boundaries within practice. the purest way to describe a tribalist is a practicing heathen that integrates the ‘old ways’ into their lifestyle, and they often assert that one must earn the title of heathen - that it doesn’t matter who you are, you must put in the effort and study, which may span years.

folkism - folkist beliefs carry the most stigma, in which racist beliefs are widespread, claiming that germanic paganism is an ethnic right. while this is not always the case, it gives the impression that germanic paganism is only open to those with a connection to the germanic peoples, in a ‘heretic’ kind of way. within folkism, there exists a cross-section as to how this should be enforced, though it is unclouded that it has become a seedbed for racism within the overarching faith that is often under-fire for being contradictory to itself with no substantive evidence that the nordic peoples were racist.

what these terms have set out to do is prognosticate the beliefs of heathens away from how they comfortably choose to practice their faith. the three groups aforementioned fell into those titles not solely due to racism but to essentially describe a heathens practice through daily life. these terms inflict uncertainty to several thought processes within heathenry where race is not a factor, thus cold-shouldering heathens who heed to such traditions when they are presumed to be mirroring the racist views held by their counterparts under the tribalist or folkish stamps which have precured their titles because of racist prospects, not because of how they adopt practice, which is the true basis of these terms. in retrospect, trying to rank the groups within heathenry with the aim of plucking out a method of practice under ‘racism’ only adds more conflict to our community as a whole. i suggest that, especially to new heathens, you should explore these groups further to better your understanding of the people that you may be dealing with and what their ideas are but, be mindful of the fact that you are not required to declare yourself as anything, as these terms tend to only exist as a guide into finding like-minded people. additionally, it would be baseless to create suppositions about anyone within heathenry for the titles that they have chosen to align under as each group is diverse, not only in its members but in its beliefs. another important concept to mention when discussing racism in heathenry are the origins of germanic paganism. germanic ancestors adored the idea of ancestry through honour and worship, and as they would of been white, such ancestors must of been white, too. this would give the impression that when one turns their hand to ancestral veneration within heathenry, while not being white, by very definition they would be inclined to practice their own ancestral faith, which would not be heathenry - because they are not white. to connect to one’s ancestors, many heathens find it essential to practice their ancestral ways through faith and culture, but when someone has no nordic ancestry, heathens may imply that other heathens should be following their own ancestry instead, which is quite paradoxical and backs many people into a corner. an argument often occurs within heathenry regarding spirituality and how it is ‘passed through the ages’, validated by claims that we assume elements of our fate and soul from our lineage and how our ancestors could be reincarnated as a factor of that. as such, it is only those with nordic ancestry who may hear the call of the old gods. they attempt to rationalize this by claiming that white people cannot feel the call of other ancestral ways and other religions, and thus is all fair and equal. however, when we are called back to the ‘old ways’, the old ways are our own individual pasts, as something ingrained into our spiritual histories. for those who are non-whites, this path would not be heathenry, at least according to those who convey this claim. withal, symbols, in my own opinion, have greater intrigue for racists undertaking heathenry above all, with many already falling victim to the racist facets of such symbols whilst being used erroneously by hate groups for many years. additionally, new symbols are often purloined and misappropriated, rather than observed as segments of a faithful movement, instead they are seen as the ideograms of ancient whites; mjolnir, runic othala, valknut and ravens, amongst many more. as mentioned in an earlier paragraph, many symbols now associated with the nazi regime (the SS and swastika) are, or were, once deep-heathen symbolism. ofcourse, the swastika is immediate throughout history but if we were to be straight-thinking, we can surmise that the nazis used it for its association to heathenry, not its association to buddhism, etc. even if these people understood the symbols that they clutched on to and their authentic meanings in a religious sense, they are still related to the previously mentioned concepts within the origins that they have already manipulated to suit themselves, for example, the othala rune, which at a very basic level relates to heritage and ancestry. with a racists obsession with white ancestry, its very easy to see why an ancestral symbol from a white culture would be appealing. within this post, i have tried to emphasise that there is no basis for racism within heathenry if one was to, with all intents and purposes, understand heathen-history and its logic. here are a select few reasons as to why i personally think that any racist who applies heathenry to validate their intolerant opinions are both wrong and uneducated:

assuming that one’s spiritual inclination was genetic, which a vast majority of pagans today discredit, it simply wouldn’t matter. conducting a shallow study on genetics would reveal that it would be almost impossible in the ever-present to have a direct gene from any ancestor who would have been pagan in the viking era. some of the most controversially racist heathens today haven’t had a directly european ancestor in the last 200 years, oops! to paraphrase wayland skallagrimsson, there have been roughly 50 generations between the end of ancient heathenry and today, which means that for most people, contributions to DNA from any heathen ancestor amount to ‘less than 1 ten-trillionth of one percent’. contributions from christian ancestors would be 25-50% of one's genes. let us entertain the concept that one had inherited the genes of their heathen ancestors, scientists largely agree that thoughts and beliefs are culturally influenced anyway. while it is understood that mental illnesses can be inherited, they hold basis not in memory but in brain development, hormonal signals and genetically encoded processes within the body. perhaps it is true, after all, there is the disorder of victim mentality where one believes themselves to be under constant attack, so perhaps racists are just merely ill? poor souls.

there exists no single indication within the eddas and sagas of racial exclusion. our ancient germanic ancestors were well travelled and would have had a large sense of worldliness, caring little about those of other ethnicity, otherwise we would have a myth expanding upon that. in point of fact, odin seeks knowledge from the jötuns who, from a mythological standpoint, represent the ‘outsiders’. despite being the adversaries to the gods on almost all occasions, they often married into the aesir and were included amongst the figureheads (see loki and skadi), and had children together that were pivtotal to the tale of the world, such as magni and modi, children to thor and the jötun named jarnsaxa, whom of which are not only divine, but so pure that they take up the role of thor, and his hammer, after ragnarok to be the defenders of all. the mixing of the ‘outsiders’ to the central gods conveys a pespective from the ancients that position of birth has no bearing on one’s own ability to be pure and welcome.

similarly, there exists no historical evidence to say that ancient germanics were inherently racist. ibn fadhlan, an arabian traveller with produced written works on the germanic people of his age, was entitled to observe and learn of the ‘northern way’, involving himself in rites, alongside slaves who were integrated into the culture and religion historically - which is how we now have accounts of such things. not only do we have have the assimilation of others into the norse culture, we also have norsemen’s graves decorated with arabic emblems, proposing that they themselves diverged from their own ‘righteous path’, to be open and embracing of other cultures and faiths. in fact, germanics have been depicted on many occasions to have participated in the religious celebrations of the cultures to which they travelled, most notably the baptism of king radbod, in honor of a christian friend. additonally, archaeologists have deliberated in many different practices that the norse learnt skills and adopted traits from other cultures, such as the filling of teeth, prior to the occurrence of those practices in nordic culture, telling us that they took back cultural idiosyncrasies of other cultures to their own homelands - our faith would not have kept body and soul together without the aid of many ancient scholars belonging to other creeds and races, and it is a disgrace to disregard them today.

my final disproof is purely opinionated, which is that racism as a whole goes against the very tenants of heathenry. to strive to bar another person from coming into your ‘territory’ shows an acknowledgement of threat from that person. a threat, of course, can only be a threat if you acknowledge that they could overtake you, should you be weak. so, in being racist and fearing the prevalence of other races, racist whites are putting themselves into a position of weakness and equality with those other races. after all, if they weren’t equal certainly it wouldn’t take any effort at all on the part of the white peoples to be dominant, right? no! racism is cowardly and shows an easily wounded ego on the part of the racist; some of the greatest insults in the old norse language are to be weak and cowardly, and thus it is impossible for any racist to truly uphold the values of heathenry.

[dontcare77ghj]

Sandwiched

 Steve x reader x Peggy

Note: in this fic Peggy was given the same serum as Steve, the two were involved before they were both frozen in the same plane crash. Also, mentions of homophobia and racism (Fuck those people), just a few mentions of some assholes.

Masterlist     Sleep Series Masterlist     Halloween/Supernatural Masterlist

Dating two people from the 1940’s wasn’t something everyone in 2019 could say. Steve and Peggy were everything you could want in a relationship though. They had gorgeous souls, they loved humanity and they cared far too much. They were your match in every way.

When they woke up in this decade Fury had asked you to help them adjust into their new lives. It was almost inevitable when you fell for the two of them. The shock of the century was when they admitted they fell for you.

You easily fit into the relationship, Steve and Peggy often said it was because they were subconsciously waiting for you, and you couldn’t be happier. The three of you shared many traits but the one the everyone noticed was how you wanted to help. Now of course you couldn’t save everyone and there were people in this world who made it their goal to hurt those around them, but you all still tried. Though sometimes when all else failed the three of you comforted each other.

Out of the three of you Steve took things the most to heart. He liked saving people, he like defending the little guy and stopping the bully, you and Peggy knew he always gave his all but sometimes it just wasn’t enough. It doesn’t matter if you put your heart, soul and body into something, sometimes things just happen, and you can’t control it.

Steve had been out of the country for a few months now. After finding Bucky and finding out what they did to him all these years, Steve snapped. He wanted revenge for his friend, he wanted to make sure that HYDRA never hurt anyone else ever again.

In his quest to stop HYDRA, HYDRA began to retaliate. They began more experiments, attempted decimate towns and tried to ruin the lives of anyone they could. For the first time in months, Steve was coming home for a while.

A recent mission had gone wrong. Terribly wrong. Innocent lives had been lost and he had been fruitless in his attempts to save them. Fury seeing Steve’s rapidly deteriorating mental state, especially after the last mission, had sent him home.

The fact he reportedly put up no argument, really alerted you and Peggy as to what kind of condition your boyfriend was in.

Currently, you and Peggy were waiting, anxiously, in the hanger for Steve’s jet to land.

“Stop pacing.” Peggy said in her strong accent. “You’re making me feel anxious.” She complained, crossing her arms.

“I can’t help it.” You told her, turning sharply to face the brunette. “You heard him on the phone last night.”

“Yes, he sounded absolutely dreadful.” She pointed out, reaching her hand towards you to pull you into her. “But we are going to fix that.”

“We don’t even the extent of the state he’s in. What if we can’t help him?” You asked, biting your lower lip in worry. Peggy leaned down and gently pressed her lips to your making you stop biting your own to kiss the woman back.

“We will work it out. Together. Like we always do.” Peggy assured as you pulled away. Before either of you could say another word, the hanger creaked open and the loud sound of a quinjet arriving reached the pair of your ears.

The two of you watched as Steve’s team left the jet first, all of them appearing tired and a few maybe even injured, until Steve finally appeared. He was clearly exhausted, both mentally and physically, his face looked gaunt, his entire body was hunched over and he appeared ready to drop at any minute.

You and Peggy rushed over to the man and each wrapped an arm around his waist, attempting to support him. Though Peggy was probably doing more of the work with her super soldier strength, you still attempted to help the exhausted blonde.

Steve didn’t say anything as you helped him into the bedroom. The three of you sat on the bed with Steve in between you and Peggy. It was after a few minutes of silences, that Steve finally spoke.

“I couldn’t help them. I couldn’t help anyone.” He muttered, not looking away from the ceiling. He’d been staring blankly at it since you brought him up. “All I wanted to do was to help.”

“We know, Stevie.” Peggy murmured, placing a kiss onto his shoulder. “But there wasn’t anything you could do.”

“You can’t control these things, Stevie.” You told him, shifting to look up at him. “You went out there with honorable intentions, but these people aren’t honorable people.”

“They are pure evil.” Peggy added. Steve looked down between the two of you and nodded his head minorly.

“I just wanted to help.” He repeated, shifting so he was laying down rather than sitting. Steve did not release his grip on the two of you, so you were forced to follow his actions. He held you tightly to his chest as you both laid with him.

You and Peggy would switch off on saying soothing things to the brooding man and drawing soothing shapes on his chest, until he fell asleep with the two of you crushed to his chest.

“He’s still going to be blaming himself in the morning.” You whispered long after Steve had fallen asleep.

“I know.” Peggy said, reaching across his large chest to grab your hand. “But we will ensure he does not feel like this for long.” She added, giving your hand a comforting squeeze.

“I love you, Peg.” You said, kissing her hand before settling down on Steve’s chest. She leaned over and kissed your forehead gently and then Steve’s chest.

“I love you too, Y/N.” The two of you fell asleep with Steve’s arms tightly wrapped around your waists and yours around his shoulders. A comforting position.

Peggy took a lot to heart. She was passionate, she made changes and she did things. She liked to change things, make people see where they could fix things and make their own life changes.

Back in the 40’s there were a lot of bigoted people. People who expected her to act like other ladies of the decade. Didn’t appreciate how she took charge. Didn’t think she could fight or should for that matter. The fact she was bisexual was not something to brag about in her day either.

When she woke up 70 years later with Steve by her side, she thought things would’ve changed. Women were involved in the military and S.H.E.I.L.D, they took charge and sexuality was often an open thing. She and Steve were told they’d won the war, but no-one told them they were still fighting a war.

Bigotry had not died with the turn of the century. There were still plenty of people who thought women were weak, the LGBT+ community was wrong, and that people of different ethnicities were bad people.

Peggy actively spoke out against those people and would give long opinionated lectures to them and the moronic masses surrounding them. Unfortunately for Peggy, these people were so locked in their one-track thoughts they couldn’t see how they were wrong, and they wouldn’t believe that they could be wrong for once in their miserable lives.

Peggy had volunteered to speak at an LGBT+ event. She had a whole speech planed about being who you are, that it shouldn’t matter to anyone what your sexual preference or gender was and that you should always feel safe in whatever type of relationship you were in.

One narrow minded, foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach who had to interrupt her before she’d even really started. Of course, Peggy had told him where to go and where he was wrong, but she was still fuming at his attempt to belittle her and the people she was speaking to.

She had come home practically breathing fire, vile words about the heinous man falling out of her mouth as easily as she breathed.

“And then he had the nerve to say I was greedy and selfish for being bisexual and for being polyamorous.” She ranted, pacing the length of the room. You and Steve sat on the bed watching the woman pace furiously. “Who the bloody hell does he think he is?”

“He’s no-one.” You assured, standing up and grabbing her by the shoulders to stop her. “He’s just another nameless, faceless, asshole who thinks things no-one cares about.”

“But that’s the thing, N/N, he’s not faceless. Not this time. I saw him, I had to look at him as he shouted these vile things to not just me but those kids there.” She sighed, placing her hands on yours.

“And they were all able to see what a coward that man was.” Steve said, moving over to stand behind her. The two of you wrapped your arms around Peggy who went limp at the comforting touch the two of you gave her.

“The man is scum, Peg.” You murmured into her ear as you played with the ends of her hair. “People will come to realize how wrong he is one day.”

“But you were so strong today.” Steve added, kissing the top of her head. “You showed him what was what and all those kids saw how strong you are.”

Peggy didn’t say anything. She just relaxed further into the tight grip you held her in. Steve maneuvered the two of you over to the bed and laid the three of you onto the soft sheets.

Peggy lay sandwiched in yours and Steve’s arms and let out a few shuddering breathes as she attempted to quell her anger. You and Steve ran your fingers through her hair, played with her fingers and just let her know you where there for the woman.

“I love you.” Peggy murmured after several minutes. “Thank you.” She whispered, closing her eyes and letting out a deep breath.

“Love you too, Peg.” You said, kissing her cheek. “Love you, Stevie.” You added, taking his hand in yours.

“I love both my best girls.” Steve told you, squeezing your hand and throwing his arm across the two of your waists. Within seconds Peggy was fast asleep, held in Steve’s and your warm embrace.

Out of the three of you, you opened your heart the most. Steve and Peggy could see this as a positive thing at times, after all, you’d opened your heart to the two of them and easily accepted them into your life. Though, there was a downside to wearing your heart on your sleeve.

Your parents hadn’t said anything when you came out as bisexual. They did stir a little when you declared S.H.E.I.L.D. had hired you. Their reaction to you joining The Avengers initiative was mostly the same. They had caused a bit of a fuss when you’d announced you were in a polyamorous relationship, but when they found out you were in a poly relationship with Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter.

“They are dangerous, Y/N. We kept quiet when you said you were joining The Avengers, but this is ridiculous.” Your mother sighed, narrowing her eyes at you.

“I recall you saying I was going to get killed but sure, let’s say you kept your mouths shut.” You said, rolling your eyes at the two in front of you.

“Y/N L/N, this is not a joking matter.” Your father scolded. “You are getting yourself involved with some dangerous people. People who are older than us for God’s sake.”

“Physically they are my age. I know you can’t see past the numbers but they are the right people for me. Is it the age that makes you bulk or the fact involved with a man and a woman?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Maybe it’s both.” You mother said, standing from the table you were all sat at. “Y/N you are going down a dangerous path. You are constantly risking your life and your ‘love life’, if you can even call it that, is perverted.” 

“We would have been fine if you had just stuck to being bisexual, but this is too much. You are in a polyamorous relationship with Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter, with your lifestyle you are going to die an early death and when you do, we believe you will be going to hell.” Your father added, standing next your mother and taking her hand.

“We can help you darling.” Your mother said, giving you a sickly sweet smile. “Leave that team and end your perverted relationship and we can help you.”

“No.” You exclaimed, jumping from the table. “Fuck that. I will not be given an ultimatum, and not by the two of you. I love my job, I save the world for Thor’ s sake, I love my friendships and most of all I love Steve and Peggy. I will not leave any of them.” You snapped, slamming your hands on the table and glaring at them.

“Then neither of us want to see or contact you again.” Your father said, pulling your mother into his side. “Get out of our house and never darken our doorstep again. You are not our daughter.”

“Good.” You snarled and stormed out of the house. You jumped into your car and drove furiously back to the base. Your anger prevented you from bursting into tears, but it hurt that they had treated you like that.

Once you got back to the compound you moved as quickly as you could back to your room without drawing attention to yourself. Making it to the floor you shared with Steve and Peggy, the dam finally broke.

You sat on the couch and began to sob. You couldn’t breath. You couldn’t think. All you could hear was the sob of your own sobs and your parents echoing words.

Arms wrapping around your shoulders made you jump in surprise and you snapped your eyes to see your brunette girlfriend looking at you worriedly.

“Shh darling, it’s alright. You’re okay.” She said, pulling you in closer. 

“They don’t want me.” You cried, burying your face in her shoulder. “They told me I was disgusting and they never want to see me again.”

“Your parents?” She asked, running her fingers through your hair. You nodded tried to stop the tears streaming down your face. “They don’t deserve you, darling.”

“No, they don’t.” Steve said, sitting behind you and pulling you and Peggy onto his lap. “It’s their loss, doll.”

Steve and Peggy held you tightly, reassuring you of their own love for you. After several minutes of sobbing, your tears dried up and your breathing began to become rhythmic. 

“I love you. I love the two of you.” You said, sleepily leaning up to kiss Steve’s jaw and Peggy’s cheek. Laying your head on Peggy’s shoulder you began to fall asleep. A loving position.

With the three of you, comfort involved soothing words, gentle touches and laying sandwiched between the other two. You showed your comfort in physical ways and it was what worked for the three of you.

Taglist;

@piper-koko-barnes-rogers     @skeletoresinthebasement      @hopingforbarnes  

Show your support. Give it a like. Leave a comment. Share with your friends and reblog. Inbox/Message me comments, ideas, pairings or if you would like to be added to the taglist.

Coming soon;

Natasha x reader x Bucky

Steve x reader x Bucky

Bucky x reader x Sam

Steve x reader x Natasha

Natasha x reader x Sam

Steve x reader x Sam x Bucky

Steve x reader x Sam

Natasha x reader x Bucky x Clint

[jamiebluewind]

A Flame In The Dark: Chapter 1

Chapter 2 is up now! I'll try to link it here when I get the chance ^_^

Fandom: Dimension 20, Fantasy High

Word Count: 3594

Perspective: Riz

Note: Hurt/Comfort. There are a lot of trigger warnings, so please keep them in mind and stay safe.

Characters: Riz Gukgak, Fig Faeth, Adaine Abernant, Fabian Seacaster, Kristen Applebees, Gorgug Thistlespring (implied), Tracker O'Shaughnessey, Sandra Lynn Faeth, Ragh Barkrock (implied), Cathilda Ceíli (mentioned), and unnamed OC

Warnings: violence, death mention, canon typical violence (specifically Riz killing assholes), panic attack, abuse, injury, child abuse, starvation, neglect, isolation, imprisonment, dark themes, trauma, child murder mention, sewage mention, fantasy racism, implied slavery, parasite mention, blood mention (please message me if I missed any)

Summary: A hobgoblin that's responsible for an untold number of atrocities against goblins is dead. The battle is over. Riz's friends run to him to help calm his shaking form. None of them are prepared for what happens next.

"Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness." Anne Frank

*****

The hobgoblin devastator stood there, almost smug as he looked down at Riz. To the hobgoblin, the offer was more than fair. A strong intelligent gobin being allowed to become a chief and fulfilling its roll of serving its betters? It was a kindness meant to somehow balance out his atrocities. Riz's blood boiled.

The smug bastard wasn't prepared for his rapier. Surprised. Sneak attack. Critial blow. Massive damage. A second critical slash while the bastard scrambled for his weapon. Riz was eerily quite, moving as silent as death. And to the hobgoblin, that's what Riz was. Death and pure unbrided rage.

The fight was short, so short in fact that the others didn't have time to act before the monster was laid out before Riz's feet. His friends ran to him. His breathing was heavy. He had always known that goblins were treated poorly in some countries, but he never realized... it made him sick. God it made him sick! The monster that had hurt his people was gone, but the bastard being dead on the floor didn't stop his body from shaking. Didn't erase the images of scars and beatings and dead children.

Someone was speaking to him. Scuffed hands placed Boggy in his arms. His friends knelt beside him so he didn't have to crane his neck. They were banged up from the battle to get where they were and bruises were already starting to form, but they were all there for him. A glance around the room showed that Cathilda and Sandra Lynn were there as well, alert and standing guard so that the kids could be safe while they focused on him. The anger melted away. His logical mind came out of its fog. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

He opened his mouth to speak when he froze. His ears twitched as a soft sound came from the rows of cages hanging a few yards behind the rusted metal throne. They weren't alone. He put a finger to his lips and whispered to his friends to keep talking before he stealthfully crept towards the origin of the sound.

Riz crouched low to check under the suspended cages, but there appeared to be nothing there. That didn't mean that someone wasn't hiding somewhere else. There were a lot of options and the possibility of an invisibility spell to consider.

The floor was a criss-cross of grates with a long open deep gap between the back wall and the floor. The wafting smell and a nearby hose implied that the design was probably meant to wash away waste, but it could also be used as a hiding place. He made sure to watch his step.

The chains supporting the cages could also make for a good hiding place for a decent climber. He scanned the ceiling, paying close attention to the more shadowy areas. It was badly lit at best, perfect for a rogue to disappear into, but perfect for him as well. Nothing stood out, so he kept looking.

The cages themselves weren't an ideal hiding place, but they would do in a pinch. They would also work as a bit of extra armor if someone locked themselves inside one. He relaxed his eyes and focused past the bars of the cages. A small, out of place shape stood out against the angular bars. With his friends still talking nonsense in the background, he slowly made his way over. He considered what the shape could be. Everything from a sack of food to an actual demilich crossed his mind, but he wasn't prepared what he found.

Locked inside one of the suspended cages was a small goblin child. She couldn't have been more than three or four years old. Her dark orange hair was caked with dirt. A threadbare tunic hung off her dangerously thin form. Riz gasped and her head shot up at the sound. She stared at him with intense amber eyes that stood out against the grime covering her face. There was no fear there, only acknowledgement.

Riz cleared his throat. [Hi], he spoke softly in Ghukliak, hoping his accent wasn't too thick. [My name is Riz Gukgak. I'm going to get you out of there... okay?]

A slight curious tilt to her head was the only indication she gave that she understood him. He pulled out his tool and she flinched. [No it's okay!] he said hurriedly as he threw his hands up in surrender, hoping it made him look less threatening. It didn't help. [Look], he said as he tried to hand her one of the tools he didnt need for her door. She snatched it from him.

[This], he said, pointing to his tool, [is something I use to open locks. They can't hurt anyone.] He pulled out a second tool and poked his finger with it to demonstrate. A tiny prick from the pointed edge, but no actual damage.

The child studied the small tool in her hand before cautiously handing it back. Riz took it as a good sign and started to work. The simple unwarded lock was open in seconds.

The door creeked open, but she didn't bolt out like he expected her too. Her head tilted again as she seemed to study the open door and the goblin before her, almost like she was unsure of what to do.

Riz decided to take a careful, patient approach. [It's okay], he said. [You're safe. You can come out now.] She seemed to lean towards the door just a fraction before going back.

Riz stood there and watched. He breathed in and out deeply and tried to relax his muscles, hoping she would do the same. The pungent smell of filth coating her tiny form filled his lungs, but he kept his face relaxed. His plan seemed to work to some degree as the little goblin stopping hiding behind her knees.

The energetic chatter from his friends was starting to die down. They would probably come looking for him any minute now. Riz looked the child directly in the eyes and - with every ounce of sincerely and conviction he could put into it - told her [I promise, I will protect you.]

Something seemed to click within her and she slowly crawled forward.  Her guard was up and Riz had no doubt that she would attack if given the opportunity, but she was still moving towards the door.

She made it to the opening and hesitated. Riz held out his arms. [If you don't wanna walk], he said, [I could carry you... if you want me to].

She looked down at his arms, up to his face, and back again. She seemed to consider his offer before raising her arms. He lifted her up and something in his brain screamed 'too light too light too light!' He tried not to think about the pests in her hair, her pronounced ribs, or what could have happened to her while she was down there. He failed.

Her large ears perked up as his friends started to speak in frantic whispers. He looked down at the child in his arms. [Those], he said with a jerk of his head, [are my friends. I'm going to let them know we're here. They won't hurt us. They will keep us safe.]

They seemed to move closer. He heard a sword being pulled from its scabbard. No time for subtlety. "Guys!" he yelled. She flinched in his arms. "Stay there," he said as he tried to calm her.

"...why?" Fabian asked, confused.

"Are there traps?" That was Sandra Lynn.

"Are you in trouble?" Kristen asked. She sounded worried.

The little goblin turned her head towards the voices and growled low and threateningly. Riz had no idea what the hell he was doing, but he held her close and whisped [It's okay, shhh]. "Everything's okay guys," he answered. "I just need everyone to be very still and nonthreatening."

"What the hell is going on?!" Fabian said. He sounded pissed now.

"We know as much as you do," Adaine answered.

"Is it a trap?" Fig asked.

[Everything's fine], Riz answered. He was too busy trying to calm down a tiny goblin to notice that he was still speaking in Ghukliak. [I found a kid. She's in rough shape. Probably needs healing too if anybody has a spare slot.] Riz also didn't realized that he had walked straight towards his friends on autopilot until someone gasped.

"What the hell is that!" Fabian yelled while pointing his finger at the girl. It was a big mistake. She bared her teeth and lashed out with lightening speed. She missed with her claws, but the tiny points of her teeth sunk into the flesh of Fabian's hand. "Ow!" he screamed as she jerked back towards Riz, still growling and grasping Riz's shirt as she tried to look as menacing as possible. It was nice to know that she trusted him to some degree and wanted to protect him, but gods damn!

"First off," Riz stated, starting to feel fatigued, "don't point your finger and scream at something that's growing at you."

"Uah!" Fabian answered with a sharp exhale, still holding his now injured hand.

"Second," Riz continued, ignoring Fabian's reaction, "this would be a goblin." He looked back towards the area he had just come from. Back towards the rows and rows of rusty cages hanging over a metal grate covered floor. Back towards a place that smelled of sewage and death. "She was... locked in one of the cages." His voice got quieter with each word. "She's just a kid. That asshole... he was locking toddlers in cages."

The others froze. Even Fabian seemed to stiffen as he took in the sight with its horrifying new context. They looked back at Riz and then down at the tiny goblin in his arms. Really looked at her. Bones pressing against skin covered in filth. Sunken tired eyes. Nicks along oversized ears, a jagged edge at the tip of one where a point should have been. Their faces all softened.

Fig shifted her weight and crossed her arms. "Good thing that bastard's already dead," she said, eyes filled with fire and rage, "because I wanna kill him. In fact, can we bring him back so I can do that?" The joking tone that was normally in her voice was completely absent.

"No," Kristen answered softly. "We all need the slots to heal everyone." She walked over to Fig and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Besides," she said as she dismissively waved towards the body of the deceased hobgoblin, "that asshole isn't even worth the time it would take to cast a cantrip."

Fig sighed. "Yeah," she said as some of the fight drained out of her. "You're right. But still..."

Everyone stood silently, save for the child and her steady growl. Adaine cleared her throat. "We should probably get out of here," she said to the group. "I don't believe there are any more, but we don't need to take that chance, especially with a small child in tow."

Everyone nodded in agreement and made their way towards the exit. Riz followed a few steps behind the group, hoping distance from the others would help the child calm down. It seemed to work as her growls quieted slowly as the 'threat' seemed to pass, but she was still on high alert. They continued to walk in silence. It had been a long day.

After over half an hour of walking, Adaine paused for a moment. Riz stopped as well, not wanting to get too close. He watched as she pulled out her spellbook and started flipping through its pages. She mumbled to herself, somehow able to both skim its pages and continue walking at her normal pace without tripping. He wondered if it was a wizard thing.

"I could cast comprehend languages," she said to no one in particular. "Oh but... shoot. That only works on me and only on comprehension, not speaking it. Hum..." more pages rustled as their footsteps echoed in the cave.

"Oh!" Adaine said a bit too loud, amplified by the acoustics of the cave. She didn't seem to notice, too focused on her book. Riz looked down, expecting to see the child on edge again. Instead, she seemed calm and curious about the strange girl before her.

"Tongues," Adaine told the walls. "That could work. Oh... but that one would take an hour to cast..." She flipped a page and ran her fingers over the script. "BUT, I can cast it on anyone and they can both understand languages AND be understood. Hum... it also has a one hour duration and no extra components. Yes. I believe that would be the best option." A comfortable silence followed, save for Adaine reading the complicated spell in a steady tone. Amber eyes watched her intently as the mouth of the cave drew near.

The bright light of the outside made the little one squint and hide her face against Riz's vest. He sighed and pulled off his hat, placing it on her head. If he was going to need to be treated for lice anyway, he might as well make her life a little easier.

Normally the hat would have been far too large for a kid her age, but between her thick hair and the layer of dried mud on top of it, the hat fit her perfectly. She reached up to touch the fabric. There was a flash of a tiny smile that was gone as fast as it came. Riz would have questioned if it had happened at all if he hadn't felt her tiny body relax in his arms.

The further the group got from that horrid place, the more they seemed to relax. Sandra Lynn patted her daughter on the arm before running off to scout ahead. Kristen and Tracker started acting like their lovey dovey selves, occasionally looking back to make sure that they weren't frightening their tiny guest. Soon, the whole party was talking and laughing as Kristen, Tracker, and Fig started working on healing.

That was until the first strum of Fig's bass. Little eyes went wide as her grip tightened on Riz. "Hey Fig!" Riz called out, stopping Fig before she could get another spell out. "I think she's scared of your bass."

"Oh shit!" Fig said, pausing mid strum. "I'm sorry little dude."

Riz furrowed his brow, trying to decide the best course of action. Fig looked genuinely upset over scaring the kid, but her skills were needed. Plus, there was no way to avoid using it in the long term. "Maybe," he said to Fig, still turning over all the options in his head, "you can show her that it's safe?"

"Yeah," she answered with a nod. "I could do that. She looks like she could use a heal anyway."

"Just..." he said, holding up a free hand. "Just let me warn her first."

Riz looked down. The child wasn't growling yet. That was a good sign. [Hey], he said to get her attention. She took her gaze off the others to look up at him. [See that lady with the horns?] She looked away from him towards Fig who had moved closer to the pair, but was still keeping her distance. [Yeah. That's 'Fig'. She helps people and beats up bad guys.] Her death grip on him seemed to loosen a little. [She wants to help you feel better. Is that okay?]

She looked back and forth between Riz and Fig. He watched the gears turn as she silently contemplated and examined Fig (for what, he couldn't say). Finally, she pointed a finger at Fig and looked up at Riz. "I think she's saying that you can come over," Riz said without breaking eye contact with her.

"You sure?" Fig asked, hesitantly. As if somehow understanding the intention behind the words, the little hand currency pointing at Fig became more insistent. Fig laughed. "Okay!" she answered. "You got it boss."

Fig made her way towards the pair. "Hey kid," she said, walking backwards as she faced them. Her longer legs allowed her to walk the same speed as Riz (show off). "I'm Fig. You got a name?"

Riz immediately felt like an idiot for not asking. [She wants to know what your name is], he said. The child looked up at him and tilted her head. She looked... confused. Shit. Shit, shit, shit! How long was she even trapped down there?!

Riz looked back up. "I don't think she knows," he said.

"Shit dude," Fig answered as she fell in step beside Riz. Amber eyes watched her closely. "That's really messed up."

Riz was about to say more when a little finger poked his chest. He looked down and was met with a very scrunched up annoyed face. "Huh?" he asked, a bit confused.

"I think she wants you to translate dude," Fig answered with a smirk.

Riz smiled. His heart felt warm. ['Fig' said you deserve a name], he said tactfully. [So we are gonna help you find one that you like.]

Her reaction was unexpected, but priceless. Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. She swiveled her head quickly back and fourth between Riz and Fig, his hat barely staying on her head. She blinked rapidly, trying to process something. Riz wasn't entirely sure how to take the reaction until her smile appeared again. Just the tiniest quirk to the corners of her mouth, only this time it stayed several seconds before it was gone.

"Woah," Fig said. She was smiling too, only it was bright and so big that it made her eyes crinkle. "What brought that on?"

"I told her we would help her find a name," Riz answered.

"Yes!" Fig exclaimed. "We gotta find one that's really cool, like... Bonecrusher or... um..." Fig screwed her face as she tried to think of a second option.

"Fig," Riz said. He was trying to sound serious, but it was hard when you're standing next to someone that though a sexy rat was a great idea. "We are not naming a small goblin child Bonecrusher. That is a TERRIBLE idea. For so many reasons!"

He felt a tiny finger jab his chest again. [Sorry], he said to the aforementioned small goblin child. ['Fig' is really excited about helping you find a name.] The response seemed to satisfy her as she looked back over at Fig.

Fig studied her a moment and slowly help out her bass. "This," she said, pointing to the instrument, "is a bass. I use it to make music, help people, and kick ass. You can touch it, if you want."

The child glanced at Riz. [She said this is a 'bass'], he translated. [It's how she uses her powers. She said you can touch it.]

The child considered this. Fig kept her bass held out as they walked. It was unusual for Fig to be patient about anything. Riz was grateful that today was one of those days.

A tiny hand reached out towards the bass before shooting back. Fig just kept holding it in position. Several aborted attempts later, a tiny hand finally reached the guitar. She looked up at Fig. Fig smiled.

"You wanna hear it play?" Fig asked, her smile now crooked and filled with mischief.

[She wants to know if you want to hear it make sounds], Riz said without being asked.

She looked up at Fig and down at the instrument, her hand still resting on the red finish. She pulled her hand away, only to point at the bass.

"Ask and you shall receive," Fig answered, playing a single note.

A tiny gasp came out of the child as her mouth hung slightly open. Her tiny hand went forward again, hesitant but more sure. She stopped with a finger over a string and looked up to Fig. Fig nodded and her finger went down and plucked a string. A single note rang out. She watched the string vibrate before plucking another with a bit more force. It sounded louder than the first. She tilted her head in a way that was starting to become familiar before plucking the first string again. Then the second. First. Second. First. Second. Her eyebrows furrowed the entire time as if she was unlocking a secret, her eyes focused in concentration. She eventually tried the other strings as well. When she was finaly satisfied, she brought her hand back to Riz and looked up at Fig.

"Not bad for a first try," Fig said, the smile still plastered on her face. She seemed to be enjoying herself and her current audience. "Wanna see something even cooler?"

[She said you did good], Riz translated, [She wants to show you something else... are you're okay with that?]

The child looked up at Fig and waited. Fig took this as a yes and started to play. Normally Fig was loud and brash, but the soft melody was soothing, warm, and laced with a magic that was so very Fig. The child seemed entraced by the song, her sharp eyes watching in awe.

Riz felt the child's body relax as the magic enveloped her. She sighed and laid her head down on his shoulder. Her eyes were still fixed on Fig, her ears pointed towards the sound, but her body was heavy and still. Her grip losened as the magic did its work. Fig continued to play the soft melody as the amber eyes watching her fluttered closed.

*****

Special thanks to @plutosfury for helping me brainstorm the OC and to Pluto and @winterpower98 for being my beta readers. Also, thank you to my wonderful readers @fangirlsftw , @the-ipre , @riz-gukgak , @pete-theplug , Winter, and Pluto who helped me get past my anxiety about posting this. You guys rock! ^_^

[b0x]

i hate that post that's like “we would've gotten a better trilogy if they'd just let rian johnson write all three films than playing hot potato with jj” like i get the point it's trying to make but you're forgetting that rj was fighting tooth and nail for the tlj r*ylo narrative since day 1 so you do realise we would've just gotten the same trilogy as we got now.......

further Thoughts on the trilogy as a whole and a few troc spoilers under the cut

also you KNOW that even if jj COULD have had a hand in saving it... there’s no saving a screenplay written by the guy who did the justice league films

No Comment. No Thoughts. Head Empty. everything post tfa was doomed from the start

have you SEEN the screenwriters for tfa? THAT’S why that one was so good, THAT’S why tfa succeeded as an excellent reboot of a long-dormant franchise. kasdan and arndt and jj should've been on for ALL THREE, and if they couldn’t, then a hiatus was the way to fucking go. rian never should have Touched it, never should have even Looked in its direction.

tfa had the essence of sw BECAUSE the essence of sw wrote it! tlj and tros isn’t sw!!!! 

they rly just tried to make Anakin..... 2! with kylo... but somehow... even Worse. you can’t make an anakin story Without showing kylo’s motives and morals - oh, except, you Did show his motives and morals, and they were in no way redeeming whatsoever! anakin had a whole ARC of complexity that allows for endless discussion on morality and justifiability that led him to earn his redemption. all kylo had was a blood tie to han and leia, which!!!! if anything!!!!!! made his motives and morals WORSE, knowing that he had the most IDEAL most loving and perfect upbringing and he still chose the dark side. that makes any love received from han or leia or luka or even fucking rey completely insignificant because we ALREADY KNOW what it means to him. all of this shit was so worthless!!!!!!!! fuck!

and i have a lot to say about rian johnson because i Cannot for the life of me believe the guy behind BRICK (2005) was taken on for tlj, WHILE TFA WASN’T EVEN FINISHED YET. i really didn’t think this had to be said but that is just NOT how you make a Trilogy. that is how you make Three Separate Films and guess what! that is exactly what we got! and it honestly saddens me to think that the guy behind the beautiful 6 minute music video ‘oh baby’ by lcd sound system, inspired by some of his greatest work in looper (and even brick!), would then take the absolute worst of his worst and apply that to a star wars franchise that desperately needed his best. and there’s something hilarious about that too, that you have this huge sandbox FULL of belief-suspending ridiculousness and STILL somehow make it fail? make it atrocious? that takes skill. it’s like that one post that was like “you have to ACTUALLY put EFFORT into making something this bad” like it’s no longer silly mistakes or lacklustre energy, this was ACTIVE sabotage.

the fact rian Had the Understanding of the core concepts of star wars right in his hands, but somehow completely missed the entire point of them? if you look at the films he screened to his story group during the development of tlj... this handful of culturally and historically significant war films that just seem like he screened for aesthetic and reference purposes only instead of actually exploring and analysing the importance and criticism of the exonerating war propaganda and racist source materials and using these films to inspire the actual groundwork of some of the root themes of current climates and today’s culture in a sw universe... i bet big bucks on the fact that twelve o clock high was only screened to inspire the air battle on crait (red salt planet) and because of ‘VIII Bomber Command’ because ha ha hee hee tlj is episode VIII and hoo hoo hoo *you’ve been gnomed.mp4* 

the general rule is this: when reading ANY report on tlj and tros and something like “the characters came first” is mentioned, just exit out the window, it’s already a botched article/thinkpiece.

i’m also thinking a lot about how arndt translated his first draft for tfa into a script for eight months and said he needed 18 more, which disney and jj said no to, so he left, and IMMEDIATELY after jj kept saying how relieved he was that the release date was delayed and gave him more time that he also needed. like.. you had your lesson then and there. did they learn from it? *disney forcing rian to write tlj at the same time as tfa was still being made* No!

i am ALSO thinking about how they had considered fincher, brad bird, jon favreau, del toro, even getting development suggestions by spielberg.......... and rian johnson is who they called up for tlj.... my head is... empty.

just give the fucking thing to taika waititi he understands the nuances of the socio-political climates of sw’s narratives built around a guise of a fun sci-fi fantasy adventure-drama. he understands. that’s literally the very definition of his style of writing and directing. Makes You Think Why The Mandalorian Is A Hit.... they already gave him 2 mandalorian episodes just give him the whole franchise i cant take it anymore. 

AND NOW THEY’RE GIVING RIAN JOHNSON A WHOLE NEW TRILOGY? RIAN? RIAN JOHNSON? THEY’RE GIVING HIM A WHOLE NEW TRILOGY AFTER WHAT HAPPENED... HERE. SURE.. OKAY . ALRIGHT. IT’S HONESTLY MIND-BLOWING. THE THOUGHT PROCESS THAT GOES INTO CONSECUTIVE DECISIONS SUCH AS THIS. like i would LOVE to see footage of the board meeting for this. no sarcasm i am GENUINELY curious to hear what was said to greenlight this. i have GOT to know what post tros board meetings about this will be like. 

anyway! op of that post! i will be thinking about you when the new rj trilogy drops!

what’s worse about this whole trilogy is that.. they Had it. they had it in the bag with tfa. they HAD the original idea they HAD the power to make a sw trilogy set to current climates JUST LIKE THE PREVIOUS TRILOGIES DID, cos that’s what sw is all about! what it was ALWAYS about! a space opera reflective of current times and climates. but disney turned it into a Keeping Up With The Skywalkers reality tv show that’s nothing more than a sci-fi fantasy light show and vfx flex to keep the brand alive, and personally, i think that’s ultimately one of the reasons it’s so hated and why it failed (of course rampant misogyny/sexism, racism, homophobia under the guise of geek culture within the sw community and in the production itself is a whole other discussion and is another humongous part of why it’s hated and why it failed)

and it’s why hamill had every right to criticise tlj the way he did with rotj, why boyega and isaac and ridley had Every right to their commentary on their distaste of the second and third instalments. how the only reason they’d rescind what they said was due to their contracts. how their silence was necessary to squeeze every last dollar out of consumers because god forbid a potential boycott due to their own star’s “controversial” (Correct) judgements and disapprovals

they really had it in the bag..

a female protagonist who could be a chosen one regardless of her blood and family ties, a protagonist that reflected the importance and validity of found family, and the idea that Anyone can be a “Skywalker”, a symbol of hope and a fighter for justice and goodness and love in the world, especially in the darkest of times... a young woman being just as powerful, as Chosen, as essential as Luke and Anakin were... a narrative that couldve been commentary on the necessity of women needing to do double the work, make double the effort, to earn the same spot of her counterparts. and with the second and third instalments, especially NOW, with the growth and vocalisation of the MeToo movement, the narrative of strength to speak out against abusers, to fight back and to thrive, a symbol of justice, to teach that men such as kylo who refuse consequence, who actively and soberly choose violence and manipulation for the strengthening of the self, who will ignore and deny all opportunities to better the self, to know their guilt, to make up for their actions, are the ones who are irredeemable. that people like him are not owed any time or understanding or belief in, when that belief perpetuates the violent and oppressive nature they are indefinitely attracted to and make themselves defined by.

a black hero raised by violence and refusing to be defined by it and unlocking the force within as a symbol of that strength within over encompassing goodness, to have a hero that breaks that harmful narrative stereotype that black characters have had for decades and still continue to do so, to have a voice and a hero that fights with love and kindness, that is able to find family and support in a place beyond what he believes he is allowed to have, the significance of a hero being deemed a “traitor”, a term that holds weight in the shame of seeking your own independence and identity, versus the cathartic empowerment of thriving in the independence you make for yourself in the end. a black hero that defeats his oppressors, oppressors that belong to a policing fascist regime, a faction that has always from the very beginning been a depiction of nazis, of authoritarian nationalism. 

a canonical gay latino man freedom fighter, being the best in his career as a literal symbol of hope for the resistance, a literal symbol of the climates for lgbt folk in regards to resisting those same fascist nazi regimes, resisting laws against lgbt existence, lgbt employability, lgbt success. a man who grew into a legacy of heroism, surrounded by it, something that could have been powerful poignant commentary on the necessity to sacrifice lives so others like his didn’t have to, the very narrative to fight for a world that the innocents and the ones he loves could have peace in, could have a future in, could Exist in. poe fights in the skies because he knew damn well the effect of believing in someone that is human, like you, instead of a force that is bigger than anything you could ever know or believe in. poe brings humanity and realism to an otherwise fanatical universe of magic and religion and chaos of endless war that means nothing, that is based on nothing. poe is commentary on fighting a fight that you have no choice but to fight, that you are forced to fight from birth just for the very act of Existing. his humanity and realism is a significant grounding necessity for our two protagonist heroes and it is appalling that he’d just be discarded the way he was, shallowly played off as sideline comic relief, much like lgbt narratives and characters are expressed in pretty much ANY media today, so it comes as no surprise. 

the three most vital narratives that should have been told in this trilogy but no of course not (disney voice) gimme my Fackin MANEY. it’s the silence of marginalised voices cleverly disguised under hollow face-value representation.

honestly, even rey being blood-related to palpatine as his granddaughter was such a strong and perfect set-up for The Narrative That Could’ve Been TM, but instead they had palpatine make it a whole weird pseudo-marriage thing that was just so. backwards and unbelievably shocking that it was in a 2019 era star wars film.

wow marriage story and the rise of skywalker really is the same movie huh

yes we wanted a grey jedi protagonist hero that gets tempted by the dark side but this was the absolute worst way that could’ve been explored. like if they were just gonna recycle old characters and old storylines and make them worse they could’ve at least looked at darth maul or asajj ventress and the nightsisters

and NO WONDER oscar looked so DEFEATED every time finnpoe was mentioned cos he fought for that shit tooth and nail and they? ? ? they gave him a funny ha ha hee hee hoo hoo straight flirt scene? ? with like his ex or something, where they imply they get back together? COMPLETELY destroying the ENTIRE narrative of his character that was so lovingly built and developed in the Official Canon Comic Series About Him ? ? ? ? ? ? ?

NO WORDS. there are NO WORDS. head EMPTY. no not even empty there's NO HEAD at all i am BEHEADED

finn had NOTHING in this film. Nothing. how are you gonna make him a joint-protag with rey and give him Nothing? 

anyone with brain cells knows that what finn truly was trying to tell rey the entire film was that he was force sensitive, i will take this to my grave, and that should’ve built up to this grand reveal where they empower each other and take down palpatine and kylo as one, as the joint-protagonists they were Literally Fucking Written And Built Up To Be. they gave EVERY antagonist to REY. what was the POINT. rey had her significant clash with kylo across two films, hell, even in this one (before the Final one), tros was the penultimate film about her family, her bloodline, so her significant final battle should have been with palpatine a la rotj. the person who DESERVED to clash with and take down kylo once and for all was FINN, even a TODDLER would understand WHY. 

but considering everything, i would take the thing finn was trying to tell her the entire film being that he loves her ANY DAY if it meant whatever the fuck we got instead Never Happened.

finn got made general and not only was it a blink-and-you-miss bit but it adds NOTHING, yes it’s something to celebrate and of Course he deserves it, but it holds zero significance to him as a character. like i mentioned earlier, when han was made general, that never defined him. he was still han solo and it took a Dozen other significant scenarios and twists to make him a significant and vital memorable character. han solo isn’t known for “being a general”. he’s known for being han fucking solo, a critical puzzle piece in the taking down of the empire, a scamp-turned-deeply-loyal friend and lover, a man who not only got his own personal storyline concluded to the level it deserved to be (the repercussions of his bounty hunter life, the importance of the falcon, his relationships with lando, luke, and leia, his triumph over his captors even when it was luke and leia who freed him). 

side note, this was maybe the one thing that tfa screwed up, the entire point and development of the original trilogy, it sort of felt a bit moot with how they put a “twist” on han, leia and luke’s relationship, especially when it came to kylo. but i think there are some forgivable aspects to it for the sake of the new trio, and that’s why those executive decisions kind of Worked! this is, of course, for another discussion bc this is about the new trilogy.

leia IS known for being a general because part of her entire storyline revolves around it and the significance of it!!! which is why finn being made general just feels so... i don’t know! just completely disrespectful, to both him as a character, and to generals who are defined by this position (such as, hello!!!!! poe!!! poe fucking dameron!!!! a man raised by the resistance!!! a man who’s entire life and prior legacy was entirely dedicated to the resistance!!!! him being made general MEANT something). it’s like rubbing salt in the wound of the fact that finn has been discarded as the protagonist he was meant to be, the story, development and conclusion he never got, just to slap general on him and call it a day and then write about his actual development in a novel that 3/4ths of the ppl who watch the films will never read. 

and that's just the core story stuff!!! do NOT get me started on the general lore proposed in this shit. i’m talking about the force ghost nonsense and the convenience of some of the timing choices (rewriting the way death works in sw, claiming that rey “didn’t really die/wasn’t really dead” since she didn’t fade which in itself completely destroys the entire plot they were going for with the resurrection scene, the timing of the fades themselves bullshitted for “dramatic cinematic purposes”), the entire palpatine storyline, the bullshit with snoke and the lack of explanation, all these one-off characters that have the lore capacity of an overwatch character when instead they could have developed the ones that already existed and had the opportunity to be fleshed out and CARED about

the FACT that HUX (hux!!!!!!!!!) had a more interesting storyline in all three films with a total screentime of maybe 10 minutes than these one-offs whose only purpose is to stroke the cock of sw nostalgia seekers and lore aficionados. to make these characters so inaccessible that to fully appreciate them, fans have to dive into hundreds of different novels and comics and games and whatnot. like if you make it so that the Only way someone can experience a character’s full essence is by reading their wiki page then you’ve failed in creating them, in writing them, in including them, in using them, in whatever them. you’ve just failed as a creator.

and the ONLY reason hux got a reaction (a barebones reaction but a reaction nonetheless) out of me was because they essentially just turned him into phasma 2 which is SO telling of the climate of this trilogy.

it’s a recycled trilogy. that’s all it is. it’s a recycled series of films where tfa’s originality was completely entirely scrapped and ignored because rian wanted to write his personal fanfiction more than he wanted to continue the story he was given, and did everything he could to insert that whenever he could, and kennedy, of course, let him, because she realised giving herself indulging content other than fifty shades and radfem articles that she could jerk off to was more important than telling a critical story where its wonder and valuable, influential morals could’ve stayed in this generation’s minds for years to come.

if you want to watch tros just watch the prequel trilogy instead you'll get the same story except actually good.

[metalmiamiclouds]

De-Composing Solange’s Cranes in the Sky

It’s a breath of fresh air on a balmy day--looking up to blue skies and seeing fluffy, white clouds drift along to wherever their destinations may be. The refreshing, directionless wind blows against our bodies just as it does for everybody else. We wonder how everyone else experiences this breeze amid what could be a scorching hot day. We ponder the way which we all have our destinations and focus on our directions, yet all experience similar events in this world due to our nature of being human. So is the feeling of listening to Solange’s 2016 hit, Cranes in the Sky.

Released in an era of maximalist pop music, Solange broke into the 2016 music scene with her album A Seat at the Table, a stirring piece of art which still remains relevant and refreshing nearly four years later. Cranes in the Sky remains Solange’s most listened-to song in all of her discography despite being written long before A Seat at the Table’s release--eight years before, in fact.

The album presents the listener with Solange’s experience of life in America as a black woman. Deeply personal and having strong narrative, the album brings to life Solange’s story filled with instances of racism, micro-aggressions, death, love, culture, politics, and all else encompassed in being black. Narrative, atmosphere, and music are all cohesive in this piece and creates an elevated work of art which remains available and relatable to the masses. Solange demonstrates her artistry in finely balancing contrasting ideas throughout the album. An ethereal and musically ambiguous atmosphere prevails all while supporting very poignant and personal poetry. Decisiveness and tone of narrative also fall within the realm of clear vision which Solange had for this album. In an interview with her older sister, Beyoncé, Solange speaks freely on her ability to know what she wants and how she wants to present herself and her work. Crafting this album, selectivity is evident in the stories which she decided would be told and which vocal techniques she would employ to produce a controlled, sweet tone.

Cohesive yet juxtaposing ideas dominate this album which make it all the more intriguing. Most noticeably is the album’s aural presentation. Focusing on the hit Cranes in the Sky, musical ambiguity sets the atmosphere with the soft and steady non-tonal percussion which opens the song and continues throughout the end. Beneath that percussion lay several layers of bowed stringed instruments which play stacked chords, rendering a lack of certainty in tonality and grounding. Only with occasional interruptions of instruments such as piano, bass, and guitar, does the listener get a sense of tonal or modal centering. Mostly, we rely on Solange’s voice to guide us in the grounding of this piece. Other instruments which occasionally interject (piano, bass, guitar) gently comment back to Solange’s vocal lines, rather than acting independently. The song’s freedom and lack of tonal restraint give way to an experimental sound which allows the musicians to experiment with different modes and colors. 

Moving to the text, the song--as well as much of the album--is set up in a way which is very vulnerable. Little layering occurs in the instrumentation which gives way for the poetry and the voice to shine. Conversely, the poetry relies on the instrumentation to set the intended mood. Solange’s voice enters clearly with the very honest line of “I tried to drink it away.” From there, she lists all the different things she has tried in order to feel whole after a hard breakup from a long-term relationship. In the previously mentioned interview, Solange speaks of the song’s meaning. While she was in Miami to clear her mind, the skies were filled with cranes constructing new high-rises and apartment buildings. It was an eyesore for her. Yet she managed to turn a heartbreak and eyesore into a masterful song.

Continuing to list the things she has done to once again gain her sense of self, the dreamy atmosphere of the music manifests itself in the text as she begins to sing sentences such as “I tried to keep myself busy / I ran around circles / Think I made myself dizzy / I slept it away, / I sexed it away / I read it away.” She then sings “Away” numerous times as the melody ascends and the children’s toy-instrument play high-pitched moving lilting pentatonic chords--adding to the song’s ethereal sonics. When the following text comes “Well it’s like cranes in the sky / Sometimes I don’t wanna feel those metal clouds,” the piano chimes in and stacks open chords like building blocks over the voice and lightens as the pitches ascend. The stacking resembles looking up at a skyscraper--the lowest part is the largest in our eyes and as our eyes move up, the building seems to become narrower and more fragile. So, too, is the sense of sound created by the piano during that phrase to compliment the poetry. A certain firmness and sense of stability seems to be present in the first parts of the piano--when looking at the ground of the building, but as we look up, we become more uncertain of what we’re looking at. Though greatness seems to be built before our eyes, in reality it can all crash down very easily. Similarly, as in Solange’s experience, it seems the more with which we distract ourselves to run away from our problems, the more out-of-touch we become with ourselves and reality--to the point where our heads are aimlessly wandering in the clouds, high above the skyscrapers.

Lastly, Solange assembles this art together in its visual presentation. In the album’s cover, bareness is key. Solange’s portrait dominates the photo without any clothing, in front of a beige wall, with hair let down filled with clips. Compared to her previous work, this new cover shows her focus on minimalism. Keeping this idea cohesive, the music video for Cranes in the Sky maintains Solange’s new-found minimalism. All clothing is kept very simple and highlights the human body and natural scenery which surrounds Solange and her occasional background dancers. Scenes change frequently and differ greatly from each other--perhaps closely following her lyrics of “I traveled 70 states / Thought movin’ round make me feel better.” Yet what unites all these clips together is the emphasis on the smallness of the individual when compared to the greater landscape. Though we all have our own stories to tell, we are all very small parts of this large world in which we abide and experience together.

Solange’s presentation of the song Cranes in the Sky and overall work of A Seat at the Table remain poignant and honest. The pithy narrative and emphasis on minimalism in every facet--musically, poetically, and visually--are what make this work stand out in an overly-saturated and overly-commercialized music scene. This song reminds us that not all of our running and building will pay off. Much of our work will fail, but that is all part of the human experience. Instead of feigning success, honesty and vulnerability shine in this song and bring light to the listener’s mind. The albums quietness are what make it so loud and an overall breath of fresh air.

[kreeborn]

NOTE: The name of Yon-Rogg’s Commander is Jae-Son. While I do know that there is in fact a J’Son in the Marvel comics who is the father of Star-Lord, this Jae-Son has nothing to do with him and the name is a pure coincidence. It’s stated already in the notes on ao3, but once again huge thank you to @soulstcne who allowed me to use Jae in this one, as he is her creation! NOTE #2: mentions of racism, violence, lots of blood in the one-shot!

THUD.

Getting up was a struggle. He was trying, trying so badly. His arms were weak, legs shaking as he laid on the training matts, forehead resting against them as he kept on heavily breathing.

“Come on, Rogg. Get up!” came the strict voice of his Commander.

Yon-Rogg pulled all of his strength into his arms and pushed himself up, only to be kicked in the stomach.

THUD.

He had fallen again, this time letting out a small groan as he rolled onto his back. There was no way he could endure more of this. The training here was so much different while he was training under Tor-Dass, his Commander before the Emperor himself called for him to be his personal military adviser.

“Up. Now!” his Commander didn’t let up.

The young soldier abruptly sat up, getting on his feet, only for his Commander to swipe his foot under his and knock him down again, on his back.

“I can’t get up if you constantly keep knocking me down before I’m even properly up, Commander!” Yon-Rogg protested, which only earned him a kick in the side, a punishment he should have expected for daring to speak up. The young man let out a small yelp, his Commander sneering as he looked at him from above.

“Life will constantly kick you down, Rogg,” the older man replied dryly, a rather unimpressed look on his face. “If you don’t learn now, you will forever remain a weakling. And nobody, mark my words, nobody will want to have any kind of business with a weakling, with somebody who can’t even step up for himself.”

The words alone had Yon angry, to the point where he was up on his feet within seconds, hand balled into a fist and moving to punch his Commander, which the older man efficiently stopped right before Yon’s fist hit his nose. “I. Am. Not. Weak,” Yon hissed, though clearly frustrated that he didn’t succeed in his attempt.

“Then prove it,” the other hissed.

Yon-Rogg sighed, visibly deflating. “I’m trying! I just don’t know how, Jae-Son...”

“Try harder,” Jae-Son told him. “You know how to do it. And you will do it. You fear you’ll never be good enough. And you won’t,” the older man said, a small, triumphant smirk on his features as he saw how slowly he got under Yon’s skin with that.

Yon-Rogg felt himself fuming, anger rising in him, not just at Jae-Son, but at himself as well, feeling his stone-cold façade melt into a deep frown, breaths deep as he tried not to show just how much his Commanders words affected him.

“Oh, don’t pull that face, soldier. You’re in the military now. Here, there’s no place for emotions,” came Jae’s cold voice.

‘You control them, just like you control yourself. All this? It’s to prepare you. I’ll make an elite soldier out of you. People will bow to you, celebrate you… you will be their hero. But for that, you have to work your way up the ranks. You have to give all of you. No distractions.’

It was like a mantra Yon-Rogg kept repeating in his head, completely shutting down whatever Jae-Son was talking about. Somehow, he found his inner peace in those words, despite them being ones that his Commander spoke to him on a daily basis. It was something the young warrior could hold onto, something that kept him going and had him motivated in situations like this.

“…us white ones were living in the shadows of the elite Kree for way too long. This is your time. You will prove to everybody that skin colour doesn’t matter. That we, in fact, are the superior ones.“

The classic injustice of racism speech. Yon was already used to it, and in truth, didn’t want to hear any of that then and there. For too long he witnessed injustice done to the white ones, the lesser Kree, as they were called. It was pure racism, the elite Kree thinking themselves better just from being descendants of those who once began the whole Kree civilization. Yon personally hated it, hated how mere skin colour had such an impact on a whole civilization. He wouldn’t allow such emotions to cloud his judgement, like they clouded Jae-Son’s.

Still, the topic was very sensitive for the young soldier, as he faced humiliation and degradation because of his skin colour on a daily basis, having to work hard against everybody’s judgement and for himself as well, so he would have a good life on Hala. Though, how good of a life could it be without his brother?

Jae-Son, naturally, knew exactly what was on Yon-Rogg’s mind, so he decided to push it even further. “Is it the thoughts of your brother that plague you? I knew Yor-Narr. Everyone did. But you just had to fail him and kill him as a result.”

“ENOUGH!”

Ah, there it was. He hit the sore spot, and it was just the spot Jae wanted to hit to get a true reaction out from Yon-Rogg.

Yon in return struggled to get his fist out of Jae-Son’s hand, which the Commander almost reluctantly let go in the end. Instantly, upon being released from the firm grip, Yon assumed a fighting stance, both feet planted firmly on the training mats, arms lifted to shield his face. He was ready to fight.

Jae-Son smirked, assuming a fighting stance as well, striking immediately with a frontal punch.

Yon dodged the blow and parried, striking back immediately.

His Commander was ready for it, dodging as well and rapidly grabbing Yon-Rogg by his arm, twisting it rather painfully behind the younger man’s back.

Yon-Rogg let out a painful yelp, the sparring coming to a halt immediately, and he found himself yet again on the ground mere moments later, pinned down, his mentor’s knee firmly pressing against his face and keeping Yon’s head down.

“Pathetic,” Jae-Son spat, keeping the position. “You’re hot-headed and too forward. You act before you think. Nothing will ever become of you in the future.”

The young soldier gritted his teeth, determined not to let out a sound despite the pain. He hated it, hated how his Commander’s words got under his skin so easily and brought out nothing but distress and anger in him.

“No comeback?” Jae-Son asked before finally releasing his grip, standing up, seemingly allowing Yon-Rogg a small break. The younger man relaxed, propping himself on his hands and knees, about to stand up, and then ----…

SMACK.

Yon-Rogg, once again, found himself on the ground, Jae-Son kicking him in the stomach, which had the young warrior curl up on the matts, panting.

‘People will bow to you, celebrate you… you will be their hero. But for that, you have to work your way up the ranks. You have to give all of you. No distractions.’

Once again, he repeated those words in his mind, shutting out everything else around him. Jae-Son’s taunts, the commotion that could occasionally be heard outside the training room, even his own thoughts.

‘…you will be their hero.’

His thoughts went to his mother, the kind and supportive soul who loved him dearly. His sisters, who looked up to him. His father, who despised Yon and thought him unworthy. His late brother, whom Yon adored and looked up to more than anybody else.

‘You have to give all of you.’

One punch after the other are his earliest memories of his training with Jae-Son. The man was cruel, relinquished in the fact that he had the upper hand in almost everything. Ruthless and violent, feared by most galaxies as one of the Empires most efficient Commanders, the perfect candidate to receive the title of High Commander. Insult after insult came with it. He was unworthy, weak.

Not anymore. He has had it.

With the last atoms of his strength in him, Yon sat up, glancing up at his Commander before swiftly swiping his feet under Jae-Son’s. He had Jae-Son on the ground for once. This was it. This was where he’d prove his worth. He smirked.

Pure adrenaline began to rush through him, urging Yon to keep on going.

The Commander smirked a bit as he glanced up. Perhaps there was still some spark in Yon-Rogg after all.

Both of them got up, not wasting a second before getting into a fighting stance. Yon punched him in the face. Jae-Son blocked with his forearm. He punched back into Yon’s rib cage. Then an elbow punch to Yon’s nose.

Yon stumbled back. Blood was oozing from his nose, pain shooting through him. It remained ignored. The adrenaline made it all easier. This time, he wouldn’t be that easy to defeat.

Jae-Son followed up, aiming a high kick to Yon’s head. The young soldier dodged. Arms moved fast, grabbing his Commander’s foot. Jae-Son frowned.

A short pause. They exchanged looks. Seconds later, Yon twisted the leg. Jae-Son’s back once more connected to the ground.

An instant response – Yon was on the ground moments after. Jae-Son got up, delivering a kick in Yon’s face. More blood. Yon-Rogg could feel how his nose broke. Adrenaline, though, still kept him going. Jae went for another kick. Yon blocked it right before it connected with his face once more.

Another twist, they both rolled. Jae was on the ground. Yon flipped him over him, following in suit. Pinning Jae down, the young warrior had his forearm pressed against Jae’s throat – a move taught by his Commander. A victorious smirk appeared on Yon’s face, though it was short lived.

He was knocked off Jae by a side-punch to the jaw. Jae-Son rolled them around, now being the one to choke Yon with the same move. A gasp left Yon’s lips. He didn’t expect that.

Jae didn’t leave it at that. He delivered a few hard punches to Yon’s face. Yon-Rogg cried out, struggling against the pressure against his throat.

‘You have to give all of you.’ ---- ‘You’re a nobody.’ ----- ‘Nothing will ever become of you.'

Something snapped in him. Opening his eyes, adrenaline rushing through him, it took Yon-Rogg a split second to throw Jae-Son off him.

A small break. It allowed both of them to reset.

‘People will bow to you, celebrate you… you will be their hero.’ It’s almost like a prayer to Yon-Rogg. Motivation. Dedication. Devotion. Purpose. This was what he was training for, to come out on top. And it all started there and then.

Jae-Son was once more the first one to make a move.

‘Prepare. Block. Dodge. Hold it. Find a weakness. Exploit it.’

Yon-Rogg was in a defensive stance, blocking off Jae’s attack. They were seeing eye to eye now. Their faces were close, staring at each other’s eyes intently.

“Weakling,” came his Commander’s whisper. A taunt, nothing more, something to get a reaction from him.

The young warrior held still, Jae’s fists in his hands. Yon was assessing the situation, finding a weak spot he was looking for. A knee kick in Jae’s diaphragm was enough. The other stumbled back. Yon used the situation to deliver another kick, much harder one, now to the head. Jae-Son stumbled even more and was once more on the ground, head dizzy and room spinning.

Yon-Rogg stepped closer, panting heavily. Blood was dropping from his face, wrist and ribs hurting more than anticipated now that the adrenaline was letting off. He spat some of the blood in his mouth on the mats right next to Jae-Son’s head, a deep frown on his face.

“I am not weak, Commander,” the young warrior said determined.

Jae-Son didn’t react. He never thought that Yon-Rogg had it in him.

Yon took a deep breath, turning around then and heading to the bench to get his towel. As he moved to leave the training room, he turned to look at his Commander, who was slowly sitting up, one more time. “I’m strong, Commander. And nothing can defeat me. No matter how many times I’ll fall, I will rise up and try again. I will merge victorious and become Hala’s hero. Mark my words.”

The door then slid shut, leaving Jae-Son sitting on the ground by himself, a small smirk playing on his lips. That kid would eventually be an elite Kree warrior, he was sure.

[ ao3 ]

[antoine-roquentin]

Before, McIntosh’s system came close to making virtue and power mutually exclusive. The powerless tended to be virtuous, while the powerful were typically not.

In her new system, McIntosh and those who follow her end up with a strikingly textured identity. The juxtaposition just described means that they contain within themselves a contradictory innocent oppressor, but also the potential for a more heroic role:

[…] there are pressing questions for me and I imagine for some others like me. […] What will we do with [the knowledge of our privilege]? As we know from watching men, it is an open question whether we will choose to use unearned advantage to weaken hidden systems […]

Is acknowledging one’s privilege therefore the precondition for having power and virtue together?

Compare Andrea Smith’s account of her experiences in anti-racism workshops:

[…] despite the cultural capital that was, at least temporarily, bestowed on those who seemed to be the most oppressed, these rituals [wherein people acknowledged their privilege] ultimately reinstantiated the white majority subject as the subject capable of self-reflexivity and the colonized/racialized subject as the occasion for self-reflexivity.

Other people play less dynamic roles within the system. Men originally entered McIntosh’s system as targets, while black people entered it as raw material (for the gender/race analogy). Throughout the Invisible Knapsack, men do one thing – fail to acknowledge their privilege. Meanwhile, black people also do one thing – suffer from their lack of privilege.

According to Fraud, women and various minority communities do a disproportionate share of the activities that make life livable; they therefore constitute resources from which everyone could, if they choose to, draw insights about how to live life in a more sustainable way.

In Privilege, as the lateral ideal faded away, the spotlight shifted from what could be learned from the wisdom of minorities; the role of minorities was now what could be learned from their pain.

As mentioned above, it is plausible to suggest that McIntosh’s new image of oppressed black people was partially based on her earlier feminine self-image. In fact, an alternative analogy to Smith’s colonialization for the role of black and other oppressed people in privilege culture is chivalry – they are set upon a pedestal according to the type of ideal white femininity. Some features of chivalry that are relevant here is that women are presented as supremely sensitive to being wronged, and insults to their honor are the stereotypical justification for conflict and violence.

A model in which black and other oppressed people are treated with perpetual chivalry certainly leads to better behavior than some models, and being on the receiving end can at times feel like a shot of emotional oxygen. But whatever one thinks about desirable and undesirable gender roles, it seems like there are problems with a structure that promises its leaders that they can transcend gender, and meanwhile honors the oppressed with a normatively feminine role, complete with encouragements to value this role and protect it from those who might threaten it.

McIntosh was very conscious of unwritten “maps, passports, codebooks, visas” that could make people of one group “confident” and “comfortable” while making others “inconfident, uncomfortable, and alienated.” Privilege discourse makes some people feel comfortable and others less comfortable – but whom?

When cracking down on problematic statements, common expedients at least superficially eschew conflict, from the menacing “I find it telling” to acknowledging one’s privilege in a way meant for someone else.

When having to backtrack, the culture favors people who can apologize without ultimately losing too much face.

When advancing one’s own views, it can be helpful to talk openly about one’s emotions and vulnerabilities in a way that others will respect.

We have just seen that people in the role of the oppressed will often become the object of a sort of chivalry.

These cultural practices are all compatible with very mainstream ideas about femininity. We could say that setting them up as norms “benefits women.” Which women, though? Women who are ideally placed to leverage a culturally privileged ideal of femininity – in a word, white upper-middle class femininity.

For some people, stringing together “white upper-middle class femininity” is meant as an immediate takedown. That is not the sense in which I am using the phrase. White upper-middle class female culture is a culture like other cultures, running a very wide gamut all the way from the charmingly idealized portrayal of Gilmore Girls to dystopian nightmares like Heathers or Courtney Summers’ novel Some Girls Are.

The issue, however, is that it isn’t the only culture besides white upper-middle class male culture. Do all white women find its norms easy to observe? Do black women? How about black men?

According to white privilege facilitator Paul Gorski,

[…] “white privilege,” was popularized by the feverish, largely grassroots, pre-World-Wide-Web circulation of a now famous essay by my now-equally-famous friend and colleague, Peggy McIntosh. […] The white privilege concept wasn’t new, of course, nor was it uniquely Peggy’s, a fact that she has explained over and over with great humility through the years. Scores of People of Color […] had spoken about the concept of white privilege for generations before Peggy wrote […] Each, despite never using the term, wrote or spoke about white privilege before doing so was hip; when nobody grew wealthy writing and lecturing about white privilege […] Still – and this, in and of itself, is a marker of privilege – it took Peggy’s essay to plant the concept firmly into the mainstream “diversity” lexicon […]

Unease oozes from this paragraph – many white people are now writing and speaking about white privilege, it has become the “hip” thing to do, some of them are becoming “wealthy” doing so. The term itself was invented by the white McIntosh and her essay almost singlehandedly popularized the idea. Gorski attempts to quell the dissonance by claiming, with McIntosh, that the concept (if not the term) was invented by authentic People of Color, that McIntosh merely publicized it, and even there she didn’t do anything particularly special – consistent with the privilege narrative, her success should be attributed to privileges afforded by her whiteness.

Is any of this convincing, though? Let us quote James Baldwin (from The Fire Next Time), one of the writers whom Gorski claims spoke about white privilege before McIntosh:

There appears to be a vast amount of confusion on this point, but I do not know many Negroes who are eager to be “accepted” by white people, still less to be loved by them; they, the blacks, simply don’t wish to be beaten over the head by the whites every instant of our brief passage on this planet. White people in this country will have quite enough to do in learning how to accept and love themselves and each other, and when they have achieved this – which will not be tomorrow and may very well be never – the Negro problem will no longer exist, for it will no longer be needed.

There are no invisible hidden systems here, just not being beaten over the head. There is no wish for whites to acknowledge their privilege; Baldwin thinks that whites might be better off if they would just work at loving themselves. The only sense in which Baldwin and McIntosh are talking about the same universe is that they both refer to black people as being in some way disadvantaged.

And even without discussing the other supposed intellectual progenitors of McIntosh, we have hopefully made a plausible case that the specific concept of white privilege that has become “hip” is so thoroughly interwoven with specific aspects of McIntosh’s spirit and will, as to raise serious doubts about whether it could have been “discovered” by anyone else.

this is the third in a three part series and goes into a lot more detailed criticism than what’s here, but i particularly like the way it points out how much the privilege system draws from the experience of upper-middle class white women. this is exactly the sort of person over represented in mcintosh’ field, and exactly who she would have drawn much of her ideas from as well as who she would have needed to impress to move upwards. it also tends to be the primary demographic to carry on the use of the privilege metaphor, typically to benefit their own academic work. it’s similar to how so many aspects of feminism reflect upper-middle class desires, like the way radical feminism tries to liquidate trans women and sex workers through direct state violence against those women, because both are seen as lower class practices and as threats.

[capwilsons]

Today in I Hate Fandom - Whataboutisms

Are you ever frustrated about something that you’ve seen happening regularly from a group in fandom, but when you go to speak out about the issue you’re hit with a wall of “Well what about ...?” that completely derails the topic? 

Whataboutisms are a pretty commonly used tactic in just about any argument (and has been seen a lot in politics both historically and currently, and has particularly been utilized in Russian/USSR propaganda). You derail a valid comment/conversation about issues present, particularly within a group of people you side with, or are a part of, by trying to implicate the other person is being hypocritical in some way. Doing that, of course, helps you completely ignore bad behaviour that you or people you support propagate, and helps you feel like you’ve gained the moral high ground. Not to mention you fail to actually directly confront, refute, or dispute the argument they bring forward. This basically amounts to no one actually learning anything and no one fixing their shitty ass behaviour. Good times.

Alright, let’s lose some followers.

It’s interesting to look at this tactic, which has been used in a very impactful way to derail political conversations and promote propaganda, on a small scale within fandom. Of course, our stakes are much lower. But pointing it out here might also help us recognize whataboutisms on a regular basis, so who knows, maybe this will be a bit useful. Or at least it’ll mean more than me writing a rant essay about things that annoy me. Plus, a lot of issues in fandom do centre around very real and impactful problems (i.e. racism, transphobia, misogyny, homophobia, etc), so again, maybe this will mean something. 

You can see this in the real world particularly with USA/USSR relations during the Cold War (and continuing into current USA/Russia relations) as the Soviets were one of the first to use this tactic on a really large scale. When the States dared to criticize human rights violations in the Soviet Union, it was turned back with “Ah, but what about the continued issue of race relations and lynching of black people in America?” It’s tough because that is a fucking big issue! The Soviets weren’t wrong that the USA was [and is] a shitshow of human rights violations, and has particularly massive issues with race. You attempt to invalidate the critic by pointing out serious issues with their own system. But this completely fails to acknowledge or refute the initial criticism, and creates a weird false moral equivalence about the two issues. There are a lot of interesting ways to counter whataboutisms when you come across them, however right now I’m going to focus on how they turn up on a smaller scale within fandom, and how we can avoid using them as a tactic in the first place.

Whataboutisms are particularly rampant in fandom. You bring up a very poignant issue about one group, and someone (usually a rage-typing anon in your inbox at like midnight) fires back at you with “well what about that time your group did the same thing?!!” Which to be fair, can sometimes be a valid argument. But the problem is that we haven’t taken the time to actually address the original issue. And moreover, it basically starts an endless back and forth that tries to assert which group “started it”. All in all, a pretty pointless endeavour. Both groups go away believing they’re in the right, and no one learns a goddamn thing. 

I mean a perfect example of this within the marvel fandom is probably surrounding the issue of Tony Stark. Honestly mentioning his name is already enough to either lose a few followers, or get a few nasty responses. But the point of this isn’t to discuss him as a character at all. If you want that just scroll through either the pro and anti tags for 5 minutes and I’m sure you’ll find what you want to see (there’s another point there to be made about only seeking out evidence to support your own conclusions, but that’s for another day). He’s definitely a character that brings out a lot of strong opinions, which is totally fine! It could be a source for interesting debate, or really lots of wank or pro posts. That’s not the issue at hand. The point is the dirty tactics employed by members of each side. This is already I’m sure going to spark someone saying “but I’ve never -” or “but what about -” and I’m here to say, “Shhhh right now just listen.”

Both the pro and anti camps definitely have people who are being respectful and ‘staying in their lane’ about their opinions. They also both have people who send passive aggressive [or straight up aggressive] anon messages, inappropriately tag pro or anti posts, derail pro or anti posts by adding unnecessary commentary on something that wasn’t intended to be a subject of debate, and do loads of other shitty stuff. You might not do it, but we sure as hell like to point it out in the other side while ignoring the shit in our own backyard. 

It’s not just about ‘staying in your own lane’, or not interacting/having debates about anything. That kind of conversation can be good! It can be enlightening! You can disagree and never come to a concrete conclusion and thats okay! What I’m saying is that when someone says, “this is a particular issue i’ve seen and i’m really upset by it, and find it inappropriate”, you shouldn’t dismiss that claim. You need to acknowledge it, and think about it, and in particular, how you’re contributing to the problem. Are they being hypocritical by pointing that out in your side while their side is employing the same tactics? Yeah, probably.  But if both sides are engaging in the same terrible behaviour, and neither of them can validly call each other out on it, then no one will ever actually change? And does it really change their claim at all? What they are saying is still valid and needs to be addressed. 

When someone says for example, “I’m frustrated that you’ve tagged this in an inappropriate way such that it shows up in a pro/anti tag that it shouldn’t be in” or “This post wasn’t intended for that kind of opposition response/debate, and I don’t appreciate you derailing it,” you shouldn’t be responding with “yeah but you guys are always putting stuff in the wrong tag,” or “the tags are a mess anyways [because of everyone else] you should just ignore it and move on,” or “my posts always get derailed by you people!” You are still contributing to the problem! You are still adding to the shitshow! It would be like if you threw trash on the ground and someone then points out that you shouldn’t litter, to respond with “well everyone litters so I might as well”. It’s not helpful and doesn’t address your bad behaviour.

Now I need to be clear. I’m sure that we’ve all been guilty of this at one time or another. That’s kind of the point of this to be honest. I’ve been guilty of it before and so have people I like. But I’ve been making efforts to be better on this front, and lets be real, we probably all need a bit of self reflection here. When someone brings up something that you or “your side”, for lack of a better term, has done wrong, your go to instinct shouldn’t be to deflect and minimize. You should be thinking about how maybe you contribute to that problem, or even just acknowledging that it exists. Even saying something like, “I know this is an issue that exists in many facets in our fandom, and you’re right, maybe I [or someone I support] have/has had a hand in it in some ways. Thank you for making me more aware of this, and I really want to do better in the future.” I mean that’s hella wordy, but the point is that hopefully you actually mean it, or take that sentiment to heart and try to apply it. Just step back and think, hey maybe I can admit I was wrong here and then try to fix you behaviour for the future. At the end of the day we all need to just pause and reflect a bit more, and maybe have a bit more understanding and empathy towards other opinions. 

TLDR: Empathy and self reflection is key. Instead of trying to flip the conversation back on the critic, acknowledge that they might have a point about something you (or people you support) are doing wrong, and maybe think about how you can do better.

[fewfavoritethings]

Chief Justice Roberts, Vice President Harris. Speaker Pelosi, Leader Schumer, Leader McConnell, Vice President Pence, and my distinguished guests, my fellow Americans, this is America’s day. This is democracy’s day. A day of history and hope, of renewal and resolve. Through a Crucible for the ages, America has been tested anew and America has risen to the challenge. Today, we celebrate the triumph not of a candidate, but of a cause. The cause of democracy. The people, the will of the people has been heard and the will of the people has been heeded. We’ve learned again that democracy is precious. Democracy is fragile. And at this hour, my friends, democracy has prevailed. So now, on this hallowed ground, where just a few days ago violence sought to shake the Capitol’s very foundation, we come together as one nation under God, indivisible, to carry out the peaceful transfer of power as we have for more than two centuries. As we look ahead in our uniquely American way, restless, bold, optimistic and set our sights on the nation we know we can be and we must be. I thank my predecessors of both parties for their presence here today. I thank them from the bottom of my heart and I know-- And I know the resilience of our Constitution and the strength, the strength of our nation, as does President Carter who I spoke with last night who cannot be with us today but whom we salute for his lifetime of service. I’ve just taken a sacred oath each of those patriots have taken. The oath first sworn by George Washington. But the American story depends not in any one of us, not on some of us, but on all of us. On we, the people who seek a more perfect union. This is a great nation. We are good people. And over the centuries, through storm and strife, in peace and in war, we’ve come so far, but we still have far to go. We’ll press forward with speed and urgency for we have much to do in this winter of peril and significant possibilities. Much to repair, much to restore, much to heal, much to build, and much to gain. Few people in our nation’s history have been more challenged or found a time more challenging or difficult than the time we are in now. Once in a century virus that silently stalks the country has taken as many lives in one year as America lost in all of World War II. Millions of jobs have been lost. Hundreds of thousands of businesses closed. A cry for racial justice some 400 years in the making moves us. The dream of justice for all will be deferred no longer. The cry for survival comes from the planet itself. A cry that can’t be any more desperate or any more clear. And now a rise of political extremism, white supremacy, domestic terrorism that we must confront and we will defeat. To overcome these challenges, to restore the soul and secure the future of America requires so much more than words. It requires the most elusive of all things in a democracy. Unity. Unity. In another January, on New Year’s Day in 1863, Abraham Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation. When he put pen to paper, the president said, and quote, “If my name ever goes down into history, it will be for this act and my whole soul is in it." My whole soul is in it. Today on this January day, my whole soul is in this. Bringing America together. Uniting our people. Uniting our nation. And I ask every American to join me in this cause. Uniting to fight the foes we face: anger, resentment, and hatred, extremism, lawlessness, violence, disease, joblessness and hopelessness. With unity, we can do great things, important things. We can right wrongs. We can put people to work in good jobs. We can teach our children in safe schools. We can overcome the deadly virus. We can reward — reward work and rebuild the middle class and make healthcare secure for all. We can deliver racial justice, and we can make America once again the leading force for good in the world. I know speaking of unity can sound to some like a foolish fantasy these days. I know the forces that divide us are deep, and they are real, but I also know they are not new. Our history has been a constant struggle between the American ideal that we are all created equal and the harsh, ugly reality that racism, nativism, fear, demonization have long torn us apart. The battle is perennial, and victory is never assured. Through Civil War, the Great Depression, world war, 9/11, through struggle, sacrifice, and setbacks, our better angels have always prevailed. In each of these moments, enough of us, enough of us have come together to carry all of us forward, and we can do that now. History, faith, and reason show the way, the way of unity. We can see each other not as adversaries but as neighbors. We can treat each other with dignity and respect. We can join forces, stop the shouting, and lower the temperature. For without unity, there is no peace, only bitterness and fury, no progress, only exhausting outrage; no nation, only a state of chaos. This is our historic moment of crisis and challenge and unity is the path forward. And we must meet this moment as the United States of America. If we do that, I guarantee you we will not fail. We have never ever ever ever failed in America when we have acted together, and so today at this time in this place, let’s start off fresh all of us. Let’s begin to listen to one another again, hear one another, see one another, show respect to one another. Politics doesn’t have to be a raging fire destroying everything in its path. Every disagreement doesn’t have to be a cause for total war, and we must reject the culture in which facts themselves are manipulated and even manufactured. My fellow Americans, we have to be different than this. America has to be better than this, and I believe America is so much better than this. Just look around here we stand in the shadow of the Capitol dome as was mentioned earlier completed amid the Civil War when the Union itself was literally hanging in the balance. Yet we endured, we prevailed. Here we stand, looking out on the great mall where Dr. King spoke of his dream. Here we stand where 108 years ago, at another inaugural, thousands of protesters tried to block brave women marching for the right to vote, and today we mark the swearing-in of the first woman in American history elected to national office, Vice President Kamala Harris. Don’t tell me things can’t change. Here we stand across the Potomac from Arlington Cemetery where heroes who gave the last full measure of devotion rest in eternal peace, and here we stand just days after a riotous mob thought they could use violence to silence the will of the people, to stop the work of our democracy, to drive us from this sacred ground. It did not happen; it will never happen, not today, not tomorrow, not ever. Not ever. To all of those who supported our campaign, I am humbled by the faith you have placed in us. To all of those who did not support us, let me say this hear me out as we move forward, take a measure of me and my heart. If you still disagree, so be it, that’s democracy, that’s America. The right to dissent peaceably within the guardrails of our Republic is perhaps this nation’s greatest strength. Yet hear me clearly disagreement must not lead to disunion, and I pledge this to you I will be a president for all Americans, all Americans. And I promise you I will fight as hard for those who did not support me as for those who did. Many centuries ago, St. Augustine, a saint in my church, wrote that a people was a multitude defined by the common objects of their love defined by the common objects of their love. What are the common objects we as Americans love that define us as Americans? I think we know. Opportunity, security, liberty, dignity, respect, honor, and yes, the truth. In recent weeks and months have taught us a painful lesson. There is truth and there are lies, lies told for power and for profit, and each of us has a duty and a responsibility as citizens, as Americans and especially as leaders, leaders who have pledged to honor our Constitution and protect our nation, to defend the truth and defeat the lies. Look, I understand that many of my fellow Americans view the future with fear and trepidation. I understand they worry about their jobs. I understand like my dad they lay at bed staring at the night — staring at the ceiling wondering can I keep my healthcare, can I pay my mortgage? Thinking about their families, about what comes next. I promise you I get it, but the answer is not to turn inward, to retreat into competing factions, distrusting those who don’t look like — look like you or worship the way you do or don’t get their news from the same source as you do. We must end this uncivil war that pits red against blue, rural versus urban or rural versus urban, conservative versus liberal. We can do this if we open our souls instead of hardening our hearts if we show a little tolerance and humility and if we are willing to stand in the other person’s shoes as my mom would say just for a moment stand in their shoes because here’s the thing about life, there’s no accounting for what fate will deal you. Some days when you need a hand, there are other days when we are called to lend a hand. That is how it has to be, and that is what we do for one another, and if we are this way, our country will be stronger, more prosperous, more ready for the future, and we can still disagree. My fellow Americans in the work ahead of us, we are going to need each other. We need all of our strength to preserve--to persevere through this dark winter. We are entering what may be the toughest and deadliest period of the virus. We must set aside politics and finally face this pandemic as one nation, one nation. And I promise you that this as the Bible said weeping may endure for a night but joy cometh in the morning. We will get through this together, together. Look, folks, all of my colleagues I have served with in the House and the Senate up here, we all understand the world is watching, watching all of us today, so here is my message to those beyond our borders. America has been tested and we’ve come out stronger for it. We will repair our alliances and engage with the world once again, not to meet yesterday’s challenges but today’s and tomorrow’s challenges. And we’ll lead not merely by the example of our power, but by the power of our example. We’ll be a strong and trusted partner for peace, progress, and security. Look, you all know we’ve been through so much in this nation. And in my first act as president, I’d like to ask you to join me in a moment of silent prayer, remember all those who we lost this past year to the pandemic, those 400,000 fellow Americans, moms, dads, husbands, wives, sons, daughters, friends, neighbors, and coworkers. We will honor them by becoming the people in the nation we know we can and should be. So, I ask you let’s say a silent prayer for those who’ve lost their lives and those left behind and for our country. Amen. Folks, this is a time of testing. We face an attack on our democracy and on truth, a raging virus, growing inequity, the sting of systemic racism, a climate in crisis, America’s role in the world. Any one of these would be enough to challenge us in profound ways, but the fact is we face them all at once, presenting this nation with a — one of the gravest responsibilities we had. Now we’re going to be tested. Are we going to step up, all of us? It’s time for boldness for there is so much to do. And this is certain. I promise you we will be judged, you and I, by how we resolve these cascading crises of our era. We will rise to the occasion is the question. Will we master this rare and difficult hour? Will we meet our obligations and pass along a new and better world to our children? I believe we must. I’m sure you do as well. I believe we will. And when we do, we’ll write the next great chapter in the history of the United States of America, the American story, a story that might sound something like a song that means a lot to me. It’s called American Anthem. There’s one verse that stands out at least for me, and it goes like this. “The work and prayers of century have brought us to this day. What shall be our legacy? What will our children say? Let me know in my heart when my days are through America, America, I gave my best to you.” Let’s add — lets us add our own work and prayers to the unfolding story of our great nation. If we do this, then when our days are through our children and our children’s children will say of us they gave their best. They did their duty. They healed a broken land. My fellow Americans, I close today where I began, with a sacred oath. Before God and all of you, I give you my word I will always level with you. I will defend the Constitution. I’ll defend our democracy. I’ll defend America. And I will give all, all of you, keep everything you--I do in your service, thinking not of power but of possibilities, not of personal interest but the public good. And together, we shall write an American story of hope, not fear; of unity, not division; of light, not darkness; a story of decency and dignity, love and healing, greatness and goodness. May this be the story that guides us, the story that inspires us, and the story that tells ages yet to come that we answered the call of history. We met the moment. Democracy and hope, truth and justice did not die on our watch but thrived, that America secured liberty at home and stood once again is a beacon to the world. That is what we owe our forbearers, one another, and generation to follow. So, with purpose and result, we turn to those tasks of our time, sustained by faith, driven by conviction, devoted to one another in the country we love with all our hearts. May God bless America and may God protect our troops. Thank you, America.

President Biden, Inaugural Address

[chaoticlamphoagietaco]

Racism and G

G and me had a fight, we’re going to process more on Sunday, but...

Live been thinking about his racism more....

He tries, like others, but is still wrapped behind a mask like me,

You can espouse black knowledge all day long,

But reinstate white supremacy by occupational entitlement.

He went to the protest, he talks about serious matters with his loved ones and friends,

He tells his students that philanthropy by itself isn’t enough, he makes sure his teaching incorporates black culture,

But as time has show up again and again,

Toleration and equality is different then equity and equality.

Tolerance, is putting an effort towards confronting the issue, but passively accepting t he status quo, in my definition, within this writing. As we accept the status quo, or don’t work to grow and develop our impact, or passively say yes to racism or passing people along, we allow supremacy to reign within education.

For example, if a group of students are studying a standardized test and their scores are examined, statistically speaking, minority students typically score lower than white counterparts, which is influenced by teaching styles.

If a teacher, with this same group, is prepping the course based on toleration and equality, they would give as much attention as they could to every student while also attuning to the learning style of each student within the he time frame a teacher is given, under a certain pressure with probably a minimal amount of time, the teacher knows inherently, or unconsciously, that the white students are more likely to succeed in the class. Through indirect and consequential actions, the teacher will appease their unconscious bias while trying and failing at helping minority students due to a lack of resources, experiences, and training, which are all rich with white culture. As this cycle portrays the stereotypical teacher, the white students will succeed while the minority students become frustrated with education, feel disconnection from the institution of education, and subsequently results in dropouts, suicide rates skyrocketing, and high rates of drug anarchy alcohol abuse. This is the fucking system.

Alternative methods of performing arts, HBCUs, and other programs are aiding in the fight for equity, but... in this scenario, my bf is a part of this cycle.

My bf is a part of the cycle that demeans minorities and initials white supremacy, which is a scary thought to have, but one that I won’t hold over him. One I will process with him and talk about at length, but I want to find the root of this process or my thoughts before I came to him, or at least closer to the root.

I think this is why I’m pushing him to be a academic coach or work outside the institution of academia. His heart is in the right place, but theirs many twists and knots in the way. How do I compassionality bring this up to him?

Besides he,s going back to his teacher mode with me, backseat driving, and sliding back to habits. I wonder if this is because of my relation back into tobacco. I’m coming closer to naturally wanting to quit I think, but something inside me tells me it’s not the right time.

When I was angry with my bf last night, I had a wicked headache. I was fillled with rage, at one point that turned to homicidal ideation, and it was a bit scary since I hadn’t gone that far even in my thoughts in a long time. Like I’ve kept them locked in. A cage for some time..., I’m not sure where it came from or where it’s going but I’m gunna keep trying to journal more often,

I feel like as I turn 25, everything within my occupation desires, relational wants, are maturing as I also accept my mothers death. Even mentioning it has lost it’s painful tingle. But becoming a personal trainer, becoming a marketer, becoming a manager, I’ll be unstoppable in making a six figure income, which could frankly happen by the time this pandemic is over, wouldn’t that be something?

I’ve been obsessing over Spain lately,

Although their racism with black people is direct towards Africans rather than African Americans, there is still an inherent racism that I’m wondering will manifest if I move there, will people look at me strange in passing, will I be fired or not promoted from a job due to the color of my skin? Or are all these things just stories I’m creating? I haven’t traveled there before, so my context is solely research and pictures. However, their way of life is so appealing, going home during lunch time, everything moving at a slower pace, and beaches that are magnificent... it’s seducing. Properties range from cheap to ridiculous with beach front to Celtic lands, and the only downside, besides what might manifest, is learning the Spanish that derives from Spanish, I think it starts with a C. Which is a pretty fun way of engaging with people, engaging in social normalizing behavior, and tactfully getting the lay of the land and the people inside of it.

When I have children, I have a certain amount of conditions, given this is a long time from now. But I couldn’t raise children in the city, or near gang violence or where crime rates are sky high, no I don’t want to shelter my child and live in a castle away from civilization and a yard away from a neighbor, I want a happy balance of maybe the outskirts of a city, a suburb with a tremendous amount of things to do, or beach front property of course, with weather conditioning installed.

I want my child to be bilingual, artistic if they choose to be, but also grounded in esptimoloogical intelligence in a plethora of institutions. I want to instill yogic practices as foundational to family time, while instilling meaningful and engaging activities that derive from my child too. I want my child to be able to experience anything that their mind wants, of course within reason and process, while knowing deviant behavior. I want my child to be free in any representation of gender and/or sexuality, with of course reason to physical altercations. I don’t want my child to accept mediocrity because of the choices I’ve made in my life. If they choose that for themselves then that is perfectly fine, but they have the range to do virtually anything they can perceive.

I’m honestly scared to have a girl, I feel like I don’t have enough strong female representation. Within my geographical desires to adequately raise a female. Yes, Research will be done, and I’ll make sure to contact people, but people are people, we only care about ourselves.

With boys, even if the transition, I have a comfortablility there that I can’t deny. Bias, but every part of their maturing would be enhanced by my actions and of course my bf or possibly husbands. Still this is a long time from now, but I really want boys.... twin boys hahahahahahaha hahahahahahaha hahahahahahaha

Penis,

[sinrau]

In some ways, what Donald Trump didn’t say on Saturday night in Tulsa, Oklahoma, at a rally that was billed as his big post-pandemic return to the campaign trail, matters more than what he did. In more than ninety minutes onstage, not one mention of the murder of George Floyd. Not one mention of the murder of Breonna Taylor. Barely a mention of the hundred and nineteen thousand Americans killed by COVID-19, or of the tens of millions thrown out of work, facing uncertain futures for themselves and their families. This is the President who was, just a few weeks ago, supposedly considering a big speech on race and unity. Instead, on Saturday, Trump did a cool twenty minutes on his experience of walking down a slippery ramp after delivering the graduation speech at West Point last weekend. He also bragged about the stock market; called COVID -19 the “kung flu”; accused Representative Ilhan Omar, who was born in Somalia, of wanting to turn America into a failed state “just like the country from where she came”; and said that he instructed a military officer during negotiations with Boeing not to put anything “in writing,” because he wanted to potentially skip out on paying a multimillion-dollar order-cancellation fee for new Air Force One planes.

A long spring of pain has just ended in America; on the first night of summer, Trump both proved incapable of addressing that pain and confessed that he has contributed to it. From the moment COVID -19 emerged, Trump has done his best to downplay the disease. “I like the numbers where they are,” he said back in March—a sentiment that then became government policy. More recently, Trump has become fixated on a peculiar, circular argument about testing. “If we didn’t do any testing, we would have very few cases,” he said in May, an assertion as inane as it is inarguable. On Saturday, Trump took things a step further, telling us—bragging, really—that he’d discouraged government officials from trying to get a full picture of the outbreak. “I said to my people, ‘Slow the testing down, please,’ ” he said. Within minutes, Trump’s aides were trying to clean up his mess, saying the President had been “joking.”

That we have a President whose priority is denying reality is a public-health catastrophe. But what did he even want his supporters to take away from this confession? Campaign rallies play a special role in Trump’s life and his politics. These events are where the legend of his connection to his base was born. White House reporters often tell us that Trump’s aides think of these events as Presidential mood enhancers: when things are tough, Trump can blow off a little steam and enjoy the fawning of thousands of fans clad in merchandise bearing his name. But Saturday’s event, which was supposed to make a big show of the country bouncing back by attracting a capacity crowd to a big indoor arena, was a logistical nightmare for Trump’s campaign. Public-health officials in Tulsa begged the President not to hold the event, and the campaign, though it didn’t require the use of masks, made attendees sign health waivers in order to secure tickets. On Saturday, news came that a half-dozen campaign employees who worked on organizing the rally had tested positive for the coronavirus.

The rally was originally scheduled for Friday, which was Juneteenth, the holiday that commemorates the end of slavery in America. In 1921, Tulsa was the site of the Black Wall Street massacre, in which white residents of the city killed hundreds of their black neighbors. The legacy of that event continues to inform the relationship between the city’s black residents and the police. Following an outcry about the date of the rally, Trump was forced to move the event by a day. The crowd that turned up on Saturday could hardly fill even the lower half of the nineteen-thousand-seat B.O.K. Center. A separate, outdoor event where Trump was slated to speak was scrapped for lack of an audience. Trump’s campaign tried to blame the media and protesters for scaring people off, but protests in Tulsa on Saturday were small. (“We had some very bad people outside,” Trump said early in his speech—an echo of the way he once described white-supremacist marchers in Charlottesville, Virginia, as “ very fine people.”) Meanwhile, teen-agers on TikTok were claiming that they’d helped to kneecap the event, by making thousands of phantom ticket requests online—out-trolling a President who has made trolling his chief political strategy. There’s just no escaping the interconnected crises facing the country right now, even at a Trump rally. Waivers or no, the red “Make America Great Again” hats had to compete with blue and black face masks.

The over-all effect of the event was to show a campaign and a candidate struggling to figure out what to say. “We will make American great again—again!” Mike Pence said at the end of his introductory remarks. “Keep America Great,” the slogan that Trump had worked up for his reëlection bid, seems to have been scrapped. Trump filed for reëlection the day he was inaugurated, in 2017—his governing style is one of permanent campaigning, and he has never stopped running for President—and yet he billed Saturday’s speech as a kind of campaign launch. “We begin our campaign, we begin our campaign,” he said. Clearly, he was hoping for a kind of reset, at a moment when his poll numbers are cratering.

When Trump did speak of the coronavirus, he spoke of it not as an illness (a topic which always unnerves him), nor as an economic calamity for many, but as a force which robbed him of a key campaign talking point. Without the pre-pandemic unemployment numbers to tout, he spoke of judges, military spending, tax cuts for the wealthy, and deregulation. He barely mentioned his two big campaign promises from 2016, building the wall and draining the swamp—both now reminders as much of what he hasn’t done as what he has. He took some shots at Joe Biden, attacking him from the left in one breath (“America should not take lectures on racial justice from Joe Biden”) and from the right in the next (“Biden is a very willing Trojan horse for socialism”). Another President might have something to work with here, facing a candidate with Biden’s record of backing “tough on crime” legislation in the Senate at a time when people are in the streets protesting against police violence and systemic racism. But Trump is the President who, three years ago, encouraged police officers to rough up people they arrest. He’s the President who, three weeks ago, tweeted, “When the looting starts, the shooting starts.”

In Tulsa, Trump seemed to be enjoying himself. He was doing his arm flaps and his struts and his small-mouthed yelling like it was the summer of 2016. (He even took some shots at Hillary Clinton.) But the past few months have made his limitations more visible than ever. He’s been unable to shout down a virus, or to make protests a wedge issue. What will Trump be able to campaign on in the months ahead? The public has sided with the people demonstrating in the streets. Polls show that large majorities of Americans believe that racism is a major problem in the country. This is a change. And, as much as it is an accomplishment of the Black Lives Matter movement, it might also have something to do with the special, public abuse that the man in the White House has unleashed these past five years on black people, Muslims, Latinos, and Asian-Americans. (Not to mention women, the disabled, and gay and trans people. The list is long.) Meanwhile, on Saturday, even before Trump was finished giving his speech, people were sharing clips on social media of MAGA -clad fans in the audience, yawning as their President rattled on.

Donald Trump’s Empty Campaign Rally in Tulsa #web #website #copied #to read# #highlight #link #news #read

[pancakpop]

[This was suddenly deleted from the requests in our inbox but I managed to screenshot yours long before. Enjoy!]

Also the read more thing isn’t working so I’m sorry!

Pairing: Vernon x Black Female!Reader [Anyone is allowed to read this though]

Genre: Angst and Fluff

Warnings: Implied racism, colorism, just pure ignorance, cursing, and implied sex.

A/N: I just wanted to say that this request was such a pleasure to write because it hits home for a lot of black women who often go through this. Not only that but I really tried to put in a lot of the colorism and racism that goes on in so many countries such as South Korea. Things like that are no joke, racism is not a joke and dismissing black feelings and lives is not a joke but rather shows the ignorance this world has. I just wanted to bring this to light because believe it or not there is a lot of antiblackness within the K pop community. That needs to end, racism needs to end. Thank you for reading this.

[Also please do not come into our inbox with some dumb shit saying that antiblackness in the kpop community is not a thing. Because unless you’ve been a victim or have seen that shit first hand then you are not allowed to speak. If you have any questions about this topic or just to let out your feelings then our inbox is open.]

—Tee

The life of an idol is a lot more delicate than you would think.

They can’t even tiptoe over the imaginary line without a consequence.

Whoever they date will also face the consequences. Their career will face the most consequences, everything they’ve built up will crumble to the ground in seconds and it’s impossible to know if they’ll be able to build it back up. So when you agreed to come on this interview you were filled with regret. These thoughts started to haunt you, but Vernon always told you not to worry about it.

“You’ll be fine,” he told you but deep down inside you both knew that he was lying, he was lying to you but you couldn’t be mad at him. No you couldn’t because Hansol has and always will be an optimistic person, he always was reassuring about the simplest things. Don’t confuse it for him being a fool however, that boy was so fucking aware of the racial issues in the world, he himself going through it. 

But he couldn’t compare that to what you’ve gone through in life. 

You looked at him, you looked at him and he looked at you and without words you both were able to speak to one another. You were not going to be fine, if anything the rest of the interview would be questions about how and why you two decided to pursue a relationship knowing the racial divide between you both. After they soaked in the fact that you were black, especially half black. Oh shit would definitely hit the fan.

“I’m scared Hansol, I don’t want to lose my shit and then they’ll call me a monkey or something. You know how crazy I can get.”

He gave you a breathy laugh, “keep calm and stay classy. If they say anything disrespectful to you then you bite back but in a classy way. You do it all the time, besides if no one can look past your skin color…then well fuck them they don’t deserve to be bothered with.”

Even with him basically lifting your spirits up a bit, you still couldn’t shake away the feeling of dread at the moment. This interview was tomorrow and thousands of people would either love you or hate you. The outcome was most likely the latter and dating an idol in one of the most successful groups this time around was not going to help your case. “That doesn’t really help me.” 

You got up off the couch and went to the bathroom locking the door behind you immediately sitting on the the toilet and burying your face in your hands. You couldn’t do this, you just fucking couldn’t. 

Maybe it was your mother’s strength that she had given you genetically or your own loyalty and desire to keep your boyfriend happy but you were sat in your seat on a Friday looking above at the television that played the recording of the interview that was taking place. “Lord don’t fail me now please.” You mumbled a few more prayers and swept your hair over your left shoulder and smoothed out your dress as your hands struggled to keep still. Fucking anxiety.

“So you all are leading towards your five year anniversary of being a group. There are obviously more privileges now that you all aren’t rookies such as dating. Your dating ban was lifted last year I believe?”

The boys all nodded, and this was it, this is where they bring up Vernon’s dating rumors with you. You were proud to be able to say that you were with the most handsome and humble man you’ve met but to some people love just didn’t cut it. “We can date now, but a lot of us don’t have the time or haven’t found the one.” Seungcheol spoke as Vernon begun to get flustered thinking about you.

“I hear that only five of you are seeing people. Jun, Vernon, Hoshi, Joshua, and Mingyu correct? How does it feel to be able to have someone by your side and how do they deal with you all being idols.”

There were multiple answers going around. Some were that their significant others were very supportive and tried to see them as many times as they could. For other such as Vernon and Jun, their own relationships were rocky and it was always a constant battle between their career or love.

“My girlfriend lives in the states so seeing her is already hard enough. It’s tough being so far from one another and then having the group, the—” He had to stop himself from mentioning some of their fans as being the cause of some of the hardships in their relationship. A lot of them didn’t like the fact that he was with someone, and now bringing her out to show the whole world—her skin color would make them hate her even more.

“It’s pretty much just distance that’s the problem.”

“Well,” the mc said smiling, “distance is no longer a problem for the moment right? Isn’t she here today with you?”

You and Hansol have this weird ability to read each other with ease. By the look on his face, the way he bit his lip and forced a smile that looked quite convincing—he was panicking and not because he didn’t want to show you off because trust and believe the man did he so badly wanted to do that. The whole thing with far from the beauty standards there…and being half Black and Korean. It made his head spin.

Staff had fixed your hair, and makeup, your usual curls now straightened without you having the strength to protest against them using a flat iron. Your wider nose had been contoured to appear softer. Last but not least they had tried to use foundation and concealer shades lighter than you actually were but both you, Hansol and Joshua had put a stop to that immediately. You weren’t broken, so they didn’t need to fix you.

One of the women whom you held multiple conversations with regarding how terrified you were about going out there because of the issues with people with darker complexions she had given you this short advice to plant into your head. If you’re on a journey, the only people who matter are the ones making sure you reach your endpoint. In other words, if their main wish is to see you be better or be happy then they mattered. If not they were nothing but gum on the sidewalk.

“This is the first time we’re seeing her. I’m a bit nervous. Tell us Vernon on a scale of one to ten how beautiful is she?”

“Nothing can measure her beauty,” Vernon spoke about you like you were a Goddess, like you were everything to him and the world needed to know that you held his heart in your hands and he was praying that one day you wouldn’t let go. “She’s amazing and I never thought I’d get the say that about someone.” Despite him being confident while speaking about you, his face went from tan to red after receiving stares from the crowd who were as surprised as you on his confession.

“God I love you Hansol.”

“You’re turning into a real man. Women make men stronger. I think everyone would like to see her now. Do you want to go get her? I think she might nervous”

He was more than okay with having you by his side in a moment that would change his career and how people see him. The boys watched Hansol get up, their own throats forming lumps as anxiety hit them all. They didn’t understand why you, Hansol and Joshua were scared for dear life but they knew that their friend was taking a risk when he decided to date you. They could see the love in Hansol’s eyes as he stared at you at times or the happiness that spread to his face as he spoke about you. All they wanted was for him to be happy.

You were biting your nails again, Hansol knew that you were definitely about to break down. “Hey, it’s going to be alright okay?” As his warm hands caressed your arms you backed away from him, your emotions so mangled up that you were afraid of lashing out at him.

“You’ll be okay, but what about me?”

“What about you? You’ll be fine darling, years from now this thing will be the past. People will get over it, in order to continue this chapter in our lives you have to come out there with me. Please, baby please.”

Again it was the love you had for him that made you ready to go through with what will be a year of hell and wanting to give up. His fans would not give you a break after they find out about you, they would not let you breathe without reminding you how Vernon could have done so much better and he could have but he chose you over everyone else. “Fuck, let’s do it.” A warm smile is what he had upon hearing your words, his heart bursting with love but his belly still holding the unknown.

He took your hand and you two started to walk towards the entrance to the stage. The audience was waiting with a curious look as it had been a few minutes since Vernon had left, even the boys were starting to get worried. There was a curtain separating you from the audience and mc, and had Vernon not quickly pulled it to the side you would have ran off to throw up.

The lights from the set almost blinded you and you felt your heart trying to escape your chest. This felt wrong, it was wrong, this was the worst thing you had to endure this year—the silence, the shock on everyone’s faces. Even disappointment from some of the younger girls. Slowly though, as Vernon had stood there with you, his hand gripping yours tightly, someone had started to clap, followed by many other who cheered for you two.

Relief.

Total fucking relief.

Although it seemed that the audience wasn’t as racist as you would have expected them, that didn’t stop the mc from commenting on the obvious difference in your skin tone from Vernon’s. It bothered you, it really did because it was the twenty-first century and people have yet to accept the fact that races were mixing and people were happy that way. You could take all of his snide comments, you had thick skin and a whole lot of experience with ignorant fuckers so this was just normal.

For Hansol it was slightly different, he too had his share of bad memories when it came to being mixed but he was the type of person who avoid confrontation and preferred to hide away even though you knew he couldn’t handle it. “Halfies always date halfies I’m guessing.” To the audience it was a joke but for you and Hansol you could hear the hatred in his voice which prompted you both to keep a straight face, you weren’t here to entertain these people.

“You date the person you like.” Hansol clapped back with a small smile on his face.

“Did girls come flocking to you in primary school? I mean- can all see that you’re clearly not Korean.”

What? You couldn’t stop your legs from bouncing as you tried so hard to bite back your tongue and to not go off on the mc. Was that man really trying to erase Vernon’s and even part of your heritage, especially on live television where he was making a fool of himself?

“I am Korean, and for your question I wasn’t the best looking-”

“Because you’re not fully Korean? But that’s okay you’re handsome now right ladies?”

Then came the cheers from the audience, the ignorant cheers and whistles as they knew nothing of what was actually happening. Or, maybe they did but they simply did not care. Lord you wish you had more strength in you today because you were so close to losing it. He placed a hand on your leg, squeezing it tightly as he was telling you to be calm, and to be very honest you didn’t want to be calm, now you wanted to be crazy. 

“Y/N have you ever tried whitening cream?”

My skin is fucking flawless, I love how my brown skin look in the sun and I don’t ever want to lower myself into your ideal standard of looking like someone threw a bag of flour at you. All you said though was, “no.” You knew what was going to come next, he would say ‘you should buy some’ and then you would nod your head and smile at him as if you weren’t going to kill him in his sleep.

“You are very beautiful, your dark skin suits you.”

“Your hair isn’t straight? Why is it like that?”

“Now that I think about it you would look better with lighter skin.“

To say that you were tired was an understatement, after having to let yourself be discriminated against for the sake of your boyfriend’s career you were drained emotionally and mentally. You felt so numb that when Hansol tried to whisper sweet things into your ear as you all rode in the car back to their dorms you sat there in silence, making him wonder if things between you and him were okay still.

You sat on the edge of his bed, taking off your shoes slowly as Hansol watched you from the doorway, closing it behind him once you looked at him. You could see the sadness on his face, the guilt and regret—he blamed himself. There was no way you was going to let him stand there and think that this was all his fault, the two of you knew that this would happen, you were ready for it. “I’m not mad at you.”

“I know.”

“I’m just so fucking tired.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you look guilty?”

He sighed, “I don’t know.” He walked over to you and knelt down, moving himself to be in between your legs as his arms wrapped around your waist and his head laid on your chest. “I’m sorry for putting you through that.” All you could hear was mumbling but you picked up on the ‘I’m sorry’.

You chuckled lightly, “I know.”

“Seungkwan is okay with sleeping with the others tonight so it’s just me and you in here. Are you hungry?”

“Oh yes, after a hard day a girl needs to eat.”

A small laugh came from him, and he was smiling with his eyes as he stared at you, his everything right now. “Pizza? I know that you haven’t eaten any non Korean foods while you were here. It’s quick and cheap too.”

Most would think that in the middle of two people speaking about food is a time where you don’t kiss them, but for you this was perfect. His head on your chest, your hands rubbing his back soothingly and his arms around you securely. You let your hands touch his face, titling his head up to you where you pressed your lips against his. “Pizza it is baby.”

Requests are open! We do moodboards, reactions, texts, and imagines for Seventeen, BTS, Got7 and Blackpink.

[shaunfloyd-blog]

a list of hikers;

i just left namibia. what a sad thing to say. my attachment to this country is more deeply rooted than ‘it was a cool country, i saw lots of epic landscapes and lions and shit’. people define a country more than anything else and it is the culturally diverse people of namibia who made my experience unforgettable. haha man that’s cheesy, but it’s what i’m saying.

in namibia, and perhaps all of southern africa it is very common for people to hitch hike, more commonly known as hiking. now, i have a car. in it is two vacant seats. it would be pretty inconsiderate to drive past people walking along the road, kilometers from any signs of life, so i picked up a few. here are their stories. (if i was worth my salt i would have photos of each of their faces but all i can offer is my words. and this irrelevant photo of the car with elephants walking by. sorry).

Unknown #1: a short, timid Damara kid got a ride with me along the way to Hoada Community Campsite. he wrung the hell out of his floppy hat the whole journey but was vibing when i put Kendrick on.

Robby: legend. favourite namibian. father of 5 plus or minus 3. super intelligent and well-travelled for a Herero growing up in tiny, rural Warmquelle (he was the youngest to start schooling when the school opened, at 7 years old). i picked him up on the 4x4 track to ongongo falls and along the way he explained the corruption behind the ‘community camp’. none of the absurdly priced N$500 nightly camping fee goes to the community, instead landing in some rich businessman’s lap in windhoek. to combat this and attempt to maintain trust in tourists visiting the area he started his own campsite right next door. also, him and a colleague published a book of original poems capturing Herero traditions, in the hope that what is written will not be forgotten.

Unknown #2: Herero teen and his mother jumped in as robby jumped out. the mother didn’t speak english so she didn’t speak. the son was drunk so he spoke excitedly but mostly incoherent. when we arrived at their small farm (~5 cows, <20 goats) i was introduced to the rest of the family who remained seated in the shade of their mud hut. i was told that i could take photos but the family didn’t look impressed to see me there so i left. the boy asked for money for beer and i said no.

Herero Schoolkids: i honestly don’t know how many kids squeezed into my two spare seats but it was at least 7. out of bushes and huts they ran screaming and giggling into the car, and didn’t stop for almost the whole journey. each time everyone was silent for a minute they would burst out in laughter, humoured by the silence. i took their photo on my film camera and the eldest asked urgently for a copy so i took down their school address and intend to send one from malawi. i don’t think they liked my music. i dropped them in opuwo.

Rejection #1: a Herero mother looked deep into my eyes and mistook my tired, sun-affected watery eyes for drunkenness. her daughter translated “you can go”. i translated further to “keep driving creep”.

Young Punk: he had a short mohawk. i drove him 1km up the road to a shebeen.

Rejection #2: a woman waved me down, squinted at me, then walked away.

Themba Boy: my friend. mentioned in my previous post. i drove him back to reception where his mum was.

Himba Couple: outside the hippo pools campgrounds a Himba couple approached and enquired “Ruacana?” and i responded with a thumbs up. this couple could’ve been royalty. the man was handsome and well-dressed in vibrantly patterned modern-africa-man attire. the woman was tall, lean and radiant from having a newborn child. she moved with confidence and grace, except when she had to get in and out of the car (their traditional jewellery is not designed for this). i mentioned before that they didn’t speak english so we didn’t talk much. my eyes were repeatedly drawn to hers in the rear-view mirror. they were beautiful, but more striking was the calm and knowing look within them. i dropped them at a government building in town which i could only assume is where they collect an allowance. the spell under which they had put me burst.

Junior: the young son of the Ovambo caretaker for the Ondangwa missionary accompanied me to town. his big eyes bulged out of his head, giving the impression of constant curiosity. i tried to start a conversation but each question was combated with a conclusive ‘yes’. he only spoke otherwise when we needed to turn or when we went passed his school. there were around 40 elderly people waiting at the post office for income from family, usually working in windhoek. it was too hot to deal with the stares confronting me so we left and went to pick n pay to sit in the air conditioning. those big expectant eyes and swinging legs, along with more stares from customers made it impossible to relax so i bought the kid his first ever kinder special and drove back to the missionary.

Mistikal Rapper: i was beginning to feel a little guilty, having passed a few people without stopping so when i saw a smiling man hailing me down i skidded to a stop. he was waiting outside a Kavango village of 50-100 people, dressed smartly in an ironed white shirt and dress pants, and accompanied by a suitcase. he spoke ethusiastically. he was on his way to renew his passport in Ondangwa so that he could take a trip to south africa. his original plan was to go next month but as a business owner, it didn’t make sense to leave during ‘money month’. Ovambos from the city migrate home in december to holiday with their families so spending goes up. instead he will go next year some time when business is quiet. i asked about his business and he responded with a brief of his life, as people tend to do here. after schooling he had moved to windhoek, ‘became a rasta’ (this isn’t the first i’ve heard of rasta culture in namibia), and started a reggae band. a few years later his uncle offered him work helping to run a store in his home village so he returned. him and his uncle didn’t agree on business matters so he started his own, and he now owns two ‘corner store’ style shops selling newspapers, tobacco etc. he still plays music and is about to record a second song which he is excited about because his message will reach more people. a message, i gathered, of one people, without tribalism or racism.

Maria: as Mystical Rapper got out of the car, expressing gratitude for having started his day with meeting me, a young Kavango woman with concern contorting her face, nervously asked for a free ride to Nkurenkuru, 153km down the road, because, y’see she had no money because her uncle had sent her some but the postal system had failed so she had no money and could she please ride for free. “yeah, it’s fine” i replied casually. “thank you so so much” as she got in. she spoke awkwardly of her uncle’s guesthouse where she worked as a kitchenhand, cooking mostly traditional meals of meat and pap. the conversation soon died and she napped for some time, waking to scold a couple we picked up along the way who weren’t gonna pay which is fine with me but no they must pay. haha hypocrite. before i dropped her off she showed me where to get a nice lunch at ‘Smart Bar’ and took me to the Kavango River where half a dozen big black people happened to be bathing naked. a grand procession was taking place in front of her uncle’s guesthouse, to celebrate the president coming to speak. to fill you in, the one and only SWAPO party has lost confidence in their leader and the senate is to vote on a new one. this is dividing the party for the first time since independence in 1990, it seems.

Michael: the young man was genuinely stoked to be given a lift 2 km to Nkurenkuru town, showing his gratitude with a long handshake and an exchange of names.

Unknown #3: she was finishing her final year of studying education at rundu, 100km from her home village. i had seen more of namibia than she had. she hadn’t been to windhoek but hoped to move there after first working at a school near her village for a few years. her family has cattle, goats and sheep. they fish from the river and once relied on it to bathe and collect water but now there is a tare which makes it expensive. her brother has a VW golf which she hopes to learn to drive in but he is usually busy working as a police officer. this girl had a healthy level of skepticism about me and wouldn’t let me drop her where she was staying. this i understand. guys are often creepy here.

Chubby Girl: the young lady needed a ride to the next town to go to the hospital. she never said why. she carried with her a bucket with a lid on it. i asked what was in the bucket and she said ‘porridge’, meaning the mealie pap. her eyes smiled with wisdom beyond her years.