#And the second-most famous was the one that tried to assassinate the queen before being killed by the one that fucks

[adhdedrn]

How annoyed do you think the Prefect of the Cassiline Brotherhood is that the most famous of their number is the one that fucks?

[graphicabyss]

XVII-XVIII Century Royal Queer History

Unexpectedly to myself, I got really engaged in history of Europe of XVI-XVII centuries. I never really had much interest in kings and queens and didn't know much about them but once I began to read and learn about their personal lives, I got kinda hooked. Also, I was struck by how many of them were queer and I began to write down my findings, which inevitably turned into a freaking study. I thought I might as well post it.

I'm gonna start with King James I of England who ruled in XVII century. Now there are several tumblr posts about this queer legend. Some historians think he was weak and unremarkable but he survived several assassination attempts, kept his power over 3 countries and lived to old age, which is pretty remarkable on its own. He also kept all the religious leaders at bay and commissioned the world's most famous Bible, which is still owned by most Christians 400 years later. He was also the one who created the modern wedding ritual. You know, church, vows, rings, that stuff. He avoided wars and was a patron of the arts, even wrote some books, including one about demons, werewolves and vampires. What a nerd. He was very different from Elizabeth who preceded him, so one contemporary epigram stated "Elizabeth was King, now James is Queen". Oh, also he was very gay. Or, at least, as gay as a king can get. His relationships with his male courtiers were notorious. He had several favourites who had way too much influence over him and his court really hated it.

He needs to have a movie made about him, seriously. I found only one semi-documentary film and it was The King James Bible: The Book That Changed The World (2011). While I liked the film and King James was hot, sassy and very cool, it was disappointing he was shown as perfectly straight. They could just avoid his personal life altogether, but instead they chose to show him being a perfect husband. While it is true that he was nice to his bride, by the time he met her he had a 10-year old relationship with a man 24 years his senior (since he was 14). I'm just gonna use this screenshot from the movie instead of a painting because it's too good.

Perhaps the most notorious of his alleged lovers was George Villiers, 1st Duke of Buckingham. Starting out as a son of a minor gentleman, the 21-year old lad caught the eye of King James I and quickly became his favourite teasing him by dancing in intricate performances called masques. He made a brilliant career becoming a knight, an earl, a Marquess, and finally a duke - a title normally being reserved for members of the royal family - within just 9 years. Can you blame him though? I mean, look at that stud.

Btw, James’ pet name for Buckingham was ‘Steenie’, derived from St. Stephen who reportedly had the face of an angel.

The name Buckingham seemed oddly familiar to me but it took some time before I realized he was one of the characters in Dumas's "The Three Musketeers". Now I am someone who grew up on old pure Three Musketeers movies so when I started learning about the real historical figures involved in it it gave me a slight shock as the truth is way more weird and sinister that fiction.

The storyline I remember the most was the one where Anne of Austria, the queen of France, got in trouble with her husband Louis XIII because of her affair with Duke of Buckingham. Of course, Duke of Buckingham was never the Queen's lover, he was the King's. What's more, some historians assume Louis XIII was also queer. There is no evidence that Louis kept mistresses, but he had very intimate relationships with his favourites. He has even been described as “repelled by female contact”. There's also the issue of him struggling to have an heir. His wife had 4 pregnancies that were unsuccessful but that seemed like too few for a king who needed to secure his dynasty. After 23 years of trying, the king and queen were finally able to produce a son and another soon followed, the older son to become Louis XIV, and the younger, Philippe, to be known as Duke of Orleans.

Anne was quite the character for a dramatic story too. After Louis's death she became the Regent and made sure to clear the way for her son Louis. To ensure that Louis's younger brother will not try to usurp the power from him as it was with Louis XIII 's brother, Anne of Austria conducted an early and very wicked gender development experiment. She and her adviser, Cardinal Mazarin, set up a plan to raise the two boys very differently. Queen Anne called Philippe by such nicknames as "my little girl" and encouraged him to dress in feminine clothing, which he sometimes did even as an adult.

I'm just gonna use this quote because this shit is real: The queen and Mazarin discouraged the duc d'Anjou [Philippe] from traditional manly pursuits such as arms and politics, and encouraged him to wear dresses, makeup, and to enjoy feminine behaviour. His inclination toward homosexuality was not discouraged, with the hope of reducing any threat he may have posed to his older brother. Reportedly, Cardinal Mazarin even commanded his nephew, Philippe, to de-flower the king's younger brother.

Well, fuck. The joke's on them though, as Philippe grew up to be a fashion icon AND a fierce warrior. He participated in many battles and was immensely praised for his bravery and valour. In 1677, he led the French forces at the Battle of Cassel against William III of Orange of the Netherlands. Yes, that guy who later gently invaded England and took the throne. By the way, there are some allegations that he was also gay. Anyway, Philippe was so badass in battle that people glorified him as a hero and it made his stallion of a brother so jealous he sent him back and never allowed him on the battlefield again. Louis XIV continued his mother's effort in encouraging his brother's effeminate behaviour and putting up with his homosexual relationships, all the while waging a war of homosexuality in France. I mean, gotta preserve the traditional values, such as fucking 12 mistresses who were often married. There were even rumours Louis fucked Philippe's wife. I guess he was trying to make up for his father, brother, son, and uncle, César de Vendôme. Meanwhile, Philippe gave no fucks. He had a number of favourites and didn't even try to hide his sexuality. In fact, it is said that every time Louis pissed him off, Philippe did something extra gay and in his face. Fierce.

One guy I have to mention is Armand, the Comte de Guiche, who was said to be handsome, vain, and manipulative. Armand was Philippe’s lover, but he is widely thought to have been his wife Henrietta’s lover as well. That apparently wasn’t enough for the guy, because in 1665 he also tried to romance Louise de La Valliere, who was Louis’ chief mistress at the time. Louis exiled him in 1662 for plotting with Henrietta to break up Louis and Louise. What a glorious fucker.

But the love of Philippe's life was Chevalier de Lorraine who was basically a prince of a realm outside France. He's usually called 'Chevallier' but his name was also Philippe. He also had an older brother named Louis. Seriously, couldn't they try a little harder with the names? Anyway, when they met Philippe was 18 and Chevalier 15 and sparks flew. He was described as being “as beautiful as an angel” and was more than ready to use what his mama gave him. He was smart and very manipulative and Philippe showered him with gifts all his life, much to the chagrin of his two wives whose money and estates he often gave away.

He moved to Palais-Royal, the same palace as Philippe and his wife Henriette. Very convenient. Philippe's marriage got kinda crowded. Chevalier got so arrogant, he actually told Philippe's wife she needs his permission to sleep with him and that he could get him to divorce her. She complained to the king and he got Chevalier imprisoned and exiled. However, not for long as Philippe pleaded the king to pardon him and eventually succeeded. Henriette did not get much relief apparently as she wrote: “I see from the ashes of Monsieur’s love for the Chevalier, as from the dragon’s teeth, a whole brood of fresh favourites are likely to spring up to vex me.” Of course, Chevalier also managed to enrich himself immensely by getting Philippe and the king to give him and his family tons of perks, such as make him the titular Abbot of four abbeys, which payed handsomely.

Henriette died very suddenly claiming she was poisoned. The doctors found no evidence of that, but there were still rumours that Chevalier was to blame. Philippe had to find another wife, even if he wasn't happy about it. Chevalier stuck around. He was exiled a second time after he apparently seduced the king's son (more on that later) but was able to return again. Their relationship lasted for 40 years, until Philippe's death.

There was a recent TV show called Versailles that depicts Louis XIV’s reign and it has a fairly accurate though romanticized portrayal of Philippe and Chevalier's relationship. Too bad the show is way too violent for me to watch. They look stunning in it~

Anyway, such relationships were far from rare. In fact, apparently there were the so-called confréries (“fraternities”), which were basically gay brotherhoods whose members hung out together and set up orgies. One elite brotherhood was founded between 1680 and 1682. Apart from Chevalier, it included the king Louis XIV's cousin Prince of Conti who was once proclaimed the King of Poland, and Louis's illegitimate son, the comte de Vermandois. The latter was 15 in 1682 when at the court of his uncle Philippe, he met the Chevalier de Lorraine and his sect and apparently got very personally acquainted with Chevalier's younger brother and nephew. When the king learned about it, the group was forcibly dissolved and Vermandois was beaten before the king, exiled from court, and forced into marriage. Another such group was within the highest ranks of nobility at the court of Philippe II, Duke of Orléans, the son of Philippe and the regent at the time when Louis XV was young. They really didn't bother with names, huh? Anyway, they got involved in a number of scandals, in one of which that happened in 1722 a group of 17 noble men gathered in the palace gardens to fuck. The Regent didn't seem very bothered and even seemed to find it amusing.

The Regent, who did not stop smiling, was satisfied that it was necessary to give the nobles a harsh reprimand and tell them that they do not have the best taste [goût] in the world.

Dad would be proud.

There were also some (presumably) queer queens, like Queen Anne of England. Now you might have seen the movie The Favourite but it's heavily satirized and Anne wasn't really childlike and helpless. Actually, this image was created by Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough, after she was expelled by Anne, and stuck. However, the rivalry between the old and new favourites was very real.

Anne met Sarah when she was just 8. Sarah was beautiful, charming and very persuasive. When Anne became the queen, she made Sarah Churchill her Mistress of the Robes (the highest office in the royal court that could be held by a woman) and gave her a bunch of other really cool titles. She also made her husband, John Churchill, a duke. Thus Sarah became the most powerful person in England after the queen and the queen always listened to her advice. However, as years went by, Sarah became increasingly pushy and insensitive, using the queen to get what she wanted.

Sarah looking fab~

Then comes Abigail Masham, Sarah's impoverished cousin. Abigail was soft, caring and considerate, exactly what the queen needed. Sarah tried to get rid of her but it only angered the queen further and she eventually dismissed Sarah and her husband and banished them with disgrace while Abigale took her place. Sarah then wrote scandalous memoirs, painting the queen as weak and instable, as well as implying that her relationship with Abigail was lesbian. In mid-1708, she helped to circulate a ballad with such lyrics as: “Her secretary she was not / Because she could not write / But had the conduct and the care / Of some dark deeds at night.”

While there is no direct evidence that she and Anne had sexual relationship, there are many letters between the women that are very romantic and intimate. Sarah even used them to blackmail the queen. And you can kinda see why. “Tis impossible for you ever to believe how much I love you except you saw my heart,” the princess wrote in one letter, as quoted in Anne Somerset’s biography of Anne. “If I writ whole volumes I could never express how well I love you,” read another.

Also, like, evidence was hardly even a thing with queer relationships, since the only solid evidence of regular affairs were illegitimate children.

Finally, I really want to talk about Frederick II, the king of Prussia. Buckle up because this is gonna be long.

Until the age of 7 Frederick was growing up with his lit mother and sister. Here they are, looking gorge. I think he's in blue but tbh I'm not 100% sure.

Anyway, as he got older he was taken to his father and that's when things got shitty. His father, Frederick William I, was the model image of toxic masculinity. He was all about power and military and expected his son to be the same. And since the boy was a lot more into music, poetry, and French stuff, his father often beat and humiliated him. He didn't allow him to learn French and Latin because, like, that's so gay. Now he was a real man. With a weird kink for tall guys. He is known for creating the Potsdam Giants, a regiment of very tall men that he didn't use for battle, just dressing them up and making them march. Ultimate straightness. It is probably redundant to say but his father also hated 'sodomy' and it was punishable by death, a law Frederick would repeal.

And the thing is, Frederick wasn't even supposed to become a king. He was the third son. It wasn't even disease. The first son died because a volley was fired close to his crib (because that’s the only way to wake up a real man - canon) and the second died at baptism because the royal crown crushed his skull. And you thought your parents were bad. Poor Frederick didn't even want to be a king, he just wanted to play the flute and do his thing. In a different age he'd be writing musicals on Broadway or something.

Anyway, there are few doubts among historians the man was gay. There's this BBC documentary that downplays it but it keeps saying he grew up in an environment where he was "leading a double life" and that he once wrote to a close friend that he felt he was a mirror that dared not be what nature made it, forced to oblige what was around it. Please.

Frederick's first presumed relationship was at 16, with Keith, the king's 17-year-old page. Unsurprisingly, Keith was soon sent to a far-off frontier. Right after that, however, Frederick got real close with an officer Hans Hermann von Katte. The dude was very woke and they both loved music and poetry but shit got very real very soon. In 1730, Katte and Frederick decided to flee to Britain to escape their despotic fathers. Sadly, they got caught and tried for treason. Although the prince was pardoned, Katte was sentenced to life imprisonment, which his sick dad changed to execution and then forced Frederick to watch it. At execution Katte and Fred shouted to each other endearments in French and before it happened, Frederick fainted. That shit really fucked him up and he got depressed but he toughened up and accepted his fate.

Aged about 20, Frederick was expected to marry. After a few failed attempts, an Austrian bride was selected, Elisabeth Christine of Brunswick-Bevern. Frederick was clearly unexcited and apparently even threatened suicide. As soon as he had secured throne, he sent her away and only met with her out of necessity. They had no children. And some historians are like, "well, they just didn't get along". Well, his folks hated each other but it didn't stop them from having 14 children.

Anyway, his father finally got off his back and as a crown prince, he mostly spent his time reading, composing, watching plays and writing woke political essays. Then his dad died so playtime was over.

Now that sounds like a story of a "weak" king. A man who loved to read books and play his flute. But it's not how it was. As Fred became king, he inherited a very militarized state with a huge-ass army and he worked with what he had. He started expanding Prussia, starting with Austria, which he had old beef with. He wasn't out for world conquest, he struck swiftly and strategically to consolidate and strengthen his state.

Frederick, widely known as Frederick the Great, waged war against much bigger armies with great success and doubled Prussia's size in his reign. Which is why Hitler was obsessed with the guy smh. Would make more sense if he was into the Frederick Senior, with his militarism and his little hobby of inbreeding giants and all. He must have missed the part where he was tolerant, modest and also gay.

Frederick also had a younger brother, Prince Henry, who was also gay. He was an important general in the king's army, though their relationship was quite complicated. Henry married but like his brother, bore no children, ignored his wife and spent time with fine lads.

Look at this unapologetic legend!

When Frederick wasn't battling, he was doing lit stuff. He built a gorgeous palace in French fashion, full of Grecian sculptures and homoerotic paintings. He attracted the best intellectual minds of his time. Voltaire lived there for 3 years btw and he did not hold back to make many "wink wink" references to the king and his Grecian taste.

Speaking of which... One of his closest friends was Michael Gabriel Fredersdorf, an army private and a son of a peasant. Frederick met him as a prince and kept him by his side for the rest of his life, quite literally as he had an adjoined bedroom in his palace. He also made him a chancellor and gave him an estate, which really pissed off the elites.

Frederick is a complex character. Sure, he waged war and very successfully asserted himself as one of the top military leaders in history. But at the time Prussia was a scattered landlocked state, it couldn't just opt out of war so it's not like he could just go "peace out, bitches". But he did so much more. The guy actually believed that the king's duty was to be just and improve the lives of his people. He did some major reforms, improved education, supported art, and practiced religious tolerance, which was pretty woke at the time. He abolished torture and corporal punishment. He made governing more democratic by hiring people based on ability, not just status. Sadly, his cool legacy was utterly destroyed because the Nazi decided to appropriate him as their idol but lately it’s being reassessed. It’s hard to judge him considering how much he went through. But despite it all he became one of the best military commanders in history, one of the most woke and talented monarchs, and of course a legendary queer! 

Disclaimer: I know all of these people did some terrible shit, at least by modern standards, but I'm here to have fun so I'm not going to go there now. Sources: medium.com/@LukeBoneham/the-politics-of-desire-... thehistoryofparliament.wordpress.com/2019/02/21... www.ranker.com/list/life-of-philippe-dorleans/m... cour-de-france.fr/vie-quotidienne/sociabilite-e... aelarsen.wordpress.com/2018/07/20/versailles-th... thedrummersrevenge.wordpress.com/2007/06/22/ref... dirtysexyhistory.com/2017/09/03/a-secret-gay-br... unspeakablevice.tumblr.com/post/82525976110/lou... journals.openedition.org/crcv/14427#ftn161 Marie Antoinette's World: Intrigue, Infidelity, and Adultery in Versailles The Real Versailles - BBC Two

BBC Four - Frederick the Great and the Enigma of Prussia https://medium.com/war-is-boring/historys-greatest-gay-general-fd7d1d311464 https://www.queerportraits.com/bio/frederick https://www.spectator.com.au/2015/10/frederick-the-great-king-of-prussia-is-a-great-read/ http://gayinfluence.blogspot.com/2011/10/frederick-great-1712-1786.html https://www.history.com/news/true-story-queen-anne-sarah-abigail-the-favourite-fact-check

[fairfaxleasee]

"Since when do you have a vendetta against vases?" + any DA2 cast

For @dadrunkwriting

Despite the best efforts of my cat who didn't think I needed to actually finish this.

Pairings: Alistair/Amelia, Fenris/Cass Hawke

Rated: T (horror references)

(The DA2 cast is involved so it counts, right?)

"Since when do you have a vendetta against vases, my friend?" Zevran Arainai turned the current fundamental threat to Ferelden's existence in his hands as though it were actually a vase.

"That's not a vase!" Alistair wasn't allowed to carry his shield in the palace (something about it being 'unkingly') so he was hiding behind the sturdiest-looking piece of furniture in the room. "Now can you assassinate it or not?"

"I am not sure what to tell you, but I am fairly certain this is a vase. However, if you are so insistent on paying my rather exorbitant fees, I could be persuaded to assassinate it for you." Zevran tossed the thing up in the air and caught it a few times.

"Be careful! Just because there may not be poison on it doesn't mean there's not poison in it!"

"Come, Alistair. I believe the stresses of your life are starting to get to you. What could you possibly have to fear from a vase."

"For the last time it's not a vase! I don't know what it is but nothing that woman's involved in is what it seems to be!"

"Ah, so a woman is involved, is she? Does your piccola gazzia know?"

"Amelia? Of course Amelia knows. She doesn't believe me about it not being a vase either but she didn't meet Cassia Hawke!"

The smug grin finally slid off Zevran's face and he set the not-vase thing down. "Cassia Hawke? The Ice Queen of Kirkwall? The most wanted woman in Thedas and infamous poisoner - and I am saying this as an Antivan."

"Yes! That Cassia Hawke!"

"And the vase..."

"Her 'gift.'"

"Did I say my fee would be 'exorbitant'? I am afraid I must revise it to 'ludicrous.' The Ice Queen is hardly a standard hazard, after all..."

"...You know, Zevran, I can't help but feel you're exploiting me."

"I am not the one with a gift from the Ice Queen in my house I would rather have gone. Now, before we discuss just how ludicrous my fee will be, tell me: on a scale of 'she wanted to stab you with a blunt object' to 'she wanted to lower you feet-first into a vat of acid' how angry was she with you when she gave you this?"

"Uhh..." Alistair tried to remember. He was fairly sure they had moved beyond 'stabbing' but he wasn't sure just how close to acid he'd gotten.

"Very well, did she give this to you before or after you told her to smile?"

"I did not tell her to smile!"

"So perhaps only a slightly ludicrous fee then."

"...I may have sort of implied she should be nice."

"Incredibly ludicrous it is."

"I... FINE! Now will you get rid of it."

Zevran sighed dramatically and gripped the thing by the lip. He pulled some sort of black bag out of his armor (Alistair didn't want to think about what the bag was intended to be used for) and placed it inside. Then he tied it shut and walked over to the door out of the room.

He motioned for Alistair to come over to the door. Alistair shook his head. He may be an idiot, but he wasn't that big an idiot.

"All you have to do is close the door! It will be quicker if you do it than I."

With how nervous he sounded, Alistair doubted it was really as simple as the assassin was making it out to be, but he did want the door shut as quickly as possible. He reluctantly got out from behind the chair and crept over to the door.

"On my signal!" Zevran started spinning the bag, then on the signal tossed it into the hallway as Alistair slammed the door.

They heard a muffled crash, then nothing.

"So... what now?" Alistair wasn't quite sure what to expect. He'd never watched an assassination before (well, unless you counted the time Zevran had failed to assassinate him).

Zevran had an ear to the door. "Well, I do not hear anything, and I do not smell anything, so now I think you pay me for solving your vase problem."

"Oh no!" Alistair wasn't getting fooled. "I've already smashed the thing to pieces. It keeps coming back! I'm not paying you until I'm sure it's gone!"

"...you did not think this was perhaps information that would have been useful before now?"

"You're the assassin! Why didn't you ask before now?"

"...very well. We shall just go and bury it then."

"Done that before too..." Alistair muttered mostly to himself as he and Zevran left the room to collect the bag.

He could hear the shattered pieces in the bag clank as they took it outside to the royal garden to bury it.

"There, my friend? Are you satisfied?"

"Not yet! We're going to check and make sure it's not back."

"How can it be back when it is dead and buried?"

"I don't know, if I knew that I'd have been able to kill it myself!"

"...you are lucky I am not charging you extra for this." Zevran shook his head but did follow Alistair back inside.

Where the vase-looking thing was sitting where it had been before Zevran had smashed it looking just like new.

"See?" Alistair threw his arms out just to make sure Zevran would.

"I... do not understand. I put it in the bag, we smashed it in the bag, we buried the pieces. How is it back?"

"I don't know, but I'm not paying you until it's not back anymore! I thought I left the blighted thing in Kirkwall in pieces, but that didn't stop it following me back here!"

"Have you considered it may be easier to beg the Ice Queen's forgiveness and throw yourself at her mercy? I believe at the very least she would kill you faster."

"I... look, how am I supposed to do that when no one knows where she is? Also I don't want to be killed faster, I want to not be killed at all, and if you want to be paid, you'd better get rid of that vase."

"I... very well. As an independent assassin competing with far more famous guilds, I suppose I must protect my reputation for dependability." Zevran grabbed the thing and stuck it into another black bag. "Let us see if drowning will fare any better than breaking."

They checked the bag just to make sure the thing hadn't escaped somehow before they threw it into Denerim harbor.

"There? Now may I please get paid?"

"No! I told you not until I'm sure it's gone."

"Again, you are lucky I am not charging you for two assassinations..."

"If you'd done it right the first time, we wouldn't have needed this second time!"

They kept bickering about who was getting the better end of the deal back to the palace. When they arrived, they ran into Amelia carrying the same vase they'd broken and just dumped in the harbor.

"Amelia! Don't touch that! It's dangerous!" Alistair snatched the thing away from his very surprised wife.

"...Alistair, it's a vase. They're not exactly known hazards."

"It's not a vase, you know where it's from and it won't die!"

"It won't..." Amelia started looking surprised and started glaring at Alistair in a way that reminded him of her father. "Alistair Theirin! Have you been breaking these on purpose? You're just lucky that I counted wrong when my father brought these extras with him after you visited Kirkwall and there are still some left to replace them. It's odd, I could have sworn that last one you just broke was the last one, but when I went back downstairs to look after you broke it I found more."

Alistair leaned away from his wife and back to Zevran. "...they're reproducing now!"

"Yes, and I have decided that in that case they are entirely your problem."

"I... you don't want to get paid?" Alistair looked at the assassin in disbelief.

"Not if it means having to investigate how the Ice Queen has managed to make vases suddenly appear in your palace when she is annoyed at you. No, my friend, you are entirely on your own in this."

"I... but..."

"Perhaps next time you will not tell the woman to smile?"

"I didn't tell her to smile, I told her to be nice!"

"Eh, either way."

Alistair wasn't prepared to let Zevran off the hook quite that easily, "What about not breaking a contract?"

"The Crows do not break a contract. I, however, am not a Crow. I am a man who enjoys the pleasures of living. And speaking of those, I am going to find Avalonne before she becomes as mad at me as your wife currently is with you."

"I'm not mad at him, Zevran!" Amelia looked mad enough to Alistair, "I'm annoyed he's been breaking these things on purpose!"

Zevran had already started wandering off down the hallway. Alistair was obviously not getting rid of whatever the thing was that way, but maybe if he could explain to Amelia just how dangerous Cassia Hawke was, he'd get her to figure out a way to be rid of the souvenir. "Now, Love, I can explain."

Judging by his wife's reaction, he'd overused that line.

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

"You know, Cass," Fenris shook his head slightly. "This was not what I had in mind when I suggested you needed a hobby.

Cass reached up for his hands to help her out of the cistern she'd used to get into Denerim without being seen. She grinned at her husband, "What? Pottery's not a hobby?"

He shook his head again but she could see him smiling, "Pottery is a hobby. Using the pottery you've made to torture someone who annoyed you isn't."

"I mean, it sounds kinda 'hobbyish' to me. How are you defining 'hobby' that it doesn't meet the definition?"

"Well, 'semantics games' are a safer hobby, but I'm serious Cass - sneaking into Denerim just for that was... it was..." He looked away from her.

She knew it was a stupid risk, but if she had been seen, letting the Ferelden authorities chase their tails to find her in an assassination plot against their King in Denerim should mean no one would be looking for her to slip through the Frostbacks into Orlais.

"I didn't go just for that." She untied the coin purse from her belt and threw it to him.

"...Cass did you steal this from the palace?"

"I don't steal Fenris. I sold my daggers. Wade didn't care who I was or where I came from, he just wanted to study Sandal's runes. He literally opened his safe for me and told me to take whatever I wanted as long as I promised to leave him the daggers."

"Cass!"

"We need the money, Fenris."

"You need to have some protection!"

"I sold my daggers Fenris. I still have the knives, poisons, and acids." She walked over and clasped the front of his armor. "And I have you."

He brushed some hair away from her face. "Always, Cassia."

[ginazmemeoir]

Mughal Women

Ok while I was scrolling through tumblr today on women’s history, one thing struck me odd - there wasn’t a single post regarding the women of one of the richest, most powerful empires in the history of the world. So here’s to you ladies - icons, role models and most of all - badass queens.

1. Isaan Daulat (lit. Good fortune) : Grandmother of Zahiruddin Khan or as he is famous, Babur, the founder of the Mughal dynasty, Isaan Daulat regularly advised her son on statecraft and warfare, and carried out most of his diplomatic missions. According to a source, Isaan Daulat’s husband was once killed in a war against the Shah of Persia. The Shah thereafter proceeded to “gift” Isaan Daulat to one of his generals. However, the same night, Isaan Daulat had her retinue murder him in the courtyard, “while she sipped wine reclining in the moonlight courtyard” as a witness claimed. When the Shah arrived, he questioned her about this action, to which she replied, “Islam gives me a right as a widow to marry by my convenience. You just handed me to him like cattle, and therefore his killing is perfectly justified by Islamic Sharia. You should consider yourself lucky.” The Shah of Persia then sent back Isaan Daulat with the wealth and assets he gained from that war, and declared her and her lineage as his sister and nephews. This later helped to back the Mughals’ legitimacy. Sadly, Isaan Daulat could never enjoy the land her descendants called home.

2. Gulbadan (lit. she with a rose like body) : Gulbadan was Babur’s eldest daughter, and was quite adventurous. She had famously chronicled the lives of her father and her brother Humayun, the second Mughal emperor. She looked after administration while her brother fled from place to place. She had also embarked on a seven-year voyage to Mecca and Medina for The Hajj, encountering the malicious Portuguese (she had to bribe them with a fricking town for guarantee of safe passage), pirates, kings, sufis and many more, and was thus also called Hajji Begum. She held a special place in Akbar’s zenana as his aunt.

3. Hamida Banu : Princess of Sindh, she was married off at the age of 15 to a much older Humayun at the age of 15. She had accompanied Humayun in all his wars and also on his journey to Persia, for asking the Safavid Shahs to help them recapture Hindustan. She was Akbar’s mother.

4. Maham Anagah and Jiji Anagah : Akbar’s wet nurses, they had raised up Akbar while his parents tried to win their empire back. Maham Anagah was Akbar’s chief advisor and head of his zenana, before a failed coup by his son, after which he was killed and later on she was relieved of her post, despite still holding Akbar’s favour. Jiji Anagah’s children extensively married into the Mughal family, and her husband Mirza Aziz Koka was Akbar’s head of finance. Her family, wealth and power grew so much, as the Emperor’s favourites, that they were collectively known as the Atka Khail.

5. Ruqaiyya Begum : Akbar’s first cousin, and also his first wife, Ruqaiyya Begum was Akbar’s chief queen and Padshah Begum of the zenana. Though she remained childless, she reigned supreme in the zenana and commanded her husband’s respect in a society where a woman’s existence was through her children. She was the main force behind Noor Jahan and Jahangir’s wedding, and was also the person who raised Shah Jahan.

6. Salima Sultana Begum : Wife of Akbar’s general Bairam Khan, she was later married to Akbar after Bairam Khan’s assassination. Her son Abdur Rahim was later made Khan-i-Khanan or Commander of the Mughal Army. She was the one who had brought up Jahangir, and thus he was also called Salim. An erudite scholar, she managed Akbar’s library along with her own private collection, commissioning new works and translations of others. She later protected Jahangir from Akbar’s wrath after Jahangir had him poisoned in a bid for the throne.

7. Harkha Bai : Bollywood knows her as Jodhaa, while history knows her as Maryam-uz-Zamani, Harkha Bai was the Rajput Princess of Amer and the daughter of Raja Bharmal. She was married to Akbar as part of a political alliance, and later became Jahangir’s mother. She was the richest woman of her time, her wealth being more than Akbar’s, and she also had one of the most valuable lands (jagirs). There are 2 famous anecdotes on her - 

Once, an English merchant had bought her indigo farms at Bayana, Rajasthan. When she got to know of this, she practically destroyed that merchant, bought back that farm, and later had it burnt.

Another time, the Portuguese had captured and set fire to her ship the Rahimi, one of the largest and finest ships in that time, in a last bid to maintain their hold in India and the Arabian Sea against the increasingly powerful English. In retaliation, Jodhaa had all of their ships burnt, snatched their powers and wealth, and basically made paupers out of them. She died as the richest woman in Mughal history, before Noor Jahan.

8. Anarkali : A courtesan, with whom Jahangir (then Prince Salim) fell madly in love, many historians now consider the very real possibility that she never existed and was instead “invented” by the Mughal family as someone to blame for the tension between Akbar and Jahangir. According to the folklore, Akbar didn’t approve of Salim and Anarkali’s relation, and after she and Salim refused to end things, he had her entombed alive in a wall.

9. Maan Bai : Harkha Bai’s niece, she was Jahangir’s first wife. She later committed suicide by an overdose of opium when Jahangir had her son Khusrau blinded and imprisoned in a bitter war of succession. Her brother Man Singh was one of the Nine Gems (navaratna) of Akbar’s court, and had defeated Rana Pratap in the famous Battle of Haldighati.

10. Jagat Gosini : Princess of Jodhpur, she was the Padshah Begum of Jahangir’s zenana before Noor Jahan, and also the mother of Shah Jahan. She was the biggest obstruction in Noor Jahan’s historic rise to power. She was not on good terms with then Dowager Empress Ruqaiyya Begum (see above) and hence, Ruqaiyya Begum demanded that Shah Jahan be handed over to her so that she could raise him up, and also helped Noor Jahan against her. A local folklore also suggests that she had been the one behind the miscarriage of Noor Jahan after she had come into the zenana. She faded after Noor Jahan’s rise, but still held respect and power.

11. Noor Jahan (lit. Light of the World): The most famous and powerful woman in the history of the Mughals, Noor Jahan was born as Mehr-un-Nisa (lit. Sun amongst Women) to Persian immigrant parents. Brought up in Agra alongside Akbar’s court, Noor Jahan was an intelligent woman full of talent and potential. She was married off at 19 to Sher Afghan, a commander in Akbar’s army. The marriage was a failure, and moreover Noor Jahan suffered through 8 miscarriages with him, before the birth of her daughter, Ladli (lit. Darling or Beloved). After her husband was murdered in a coup, Ruqaiyya brought her to the Imperial Palace as part of her retinue, and later helped her and Jahangir get married, with she being Jahangir’s twentieth and final wife. Her rise to power was quick, owing to her own ambition and intellect, and some help from her father Itimad-ad-Daulah (Royal Treasurer of the Mughals), brother Asaf Khan (a prominent minister in Jahangir’s court) and Ruqaiyya Begum. Her seal as the Padshah Begum became second only to that of Jahangir, and later even surpassed his own. She brought great innovations to fashion, cosmetics, administration, architecture and gardening, city planning, and many more. She was the one who had arranged the marriage between her niece Arjumand Banu and Shah Jahan. Her marriage with Jahangir was a success – both of them were tempestuous and cared and loved each other deeply. Later, as Jahangir’s health started failing due to asthma and alcoholism, she took over the reigns and took the Mughal empire to great heights. The first British ambassador, Sir Thomas Roe, arrived in her time. However, she gave the British no rights or privileges till the Rahimi incident, and extracted a great many gifts from him, including a carriage made entirely of silver. She had designed her parents’ tomb near the Yamuna river in Agra (it was later copied by Shah Jahan), and she also designed Jahangir’s tomb in Lahore (modern day Punjab, Pakistan). She had tried to get Shah Jahan to marry her own daughter, but he refused and so she completely withdrew her support from making him the emperor, and instead opposed him. Shah Jahan thus had to flee to Burhanpur, with his eldest children Dara Shukoh, Jahanara, Aurangzeb and Roshanara in Noor Jahan’s custody. Later, he waged war against Noor Jahan with help from her brother Asaf Khan. Noor Jahan was ultimately defeated in Kashmir. She was deprived of her wealth, status and power and exiled to Lahore with her daughter and granddaughter. Her influence still remained, with Shah Jahan keeping her legacy alive by copying the Taj Mahal from the tomb she designed for her parents.

12. Mumtaz Mahal : Born as Arjumand Banu, she was Noor Jahan’s niece and Shah Jahan’s most beloved. She died in childbirth while giving birth to her fourteenth child – a girl called Gauhar.

13. Jahanara : Eldest daughter of Shah Jahan, she was the one who headed the empire after Shah Jahan was left heartbroken following Mumtaz’s death, and became active in the construction of the Taj Mahal. Noor Jahan is often described as being fond of her, taking care of her education personally. She was known as Padshah Mallika, and her flower-shaped seal was the most powerful. She was an accomplished dancer, poet and a patron of the arts. She conducted the most expensive wedding ever, between her brother Dara Shukoh and Nadira Banu Begum, valued at 2 lakh rupees then, approximately 2 billion USD in today’s time.  She supported Dara Shukoh in his bid to become emperor. Later, she was imprisoned by Aurangzeb after he imprisoned Shah Jahan and killed all his remaining brothers.

14. Roshanara : Shah Jahan’s younger daughter, she was also an accomplished poet, but always at loggerheads with Jahanara. She later supported Aurangzeb as emperor.

15. Dilras Banu Begum : Aurangzeb’s first wife and Padshah Begum of his zenana, Dilras Banu belonged to the Safavid dynasty of Persia. She was mother of all of Aurangzeb’s children. However, she died an year before Aurangzeb’s succession. The Bibi ka Maqbara (Tomb of the Lady) in Aurangabad, which bears a striking resemblance to the Taj Mahal, was constructed by Aurangzeb in her honour.

16. Zeenat-un-Nisa : Aurangzeb’s eldest daughter, she was the Padshah Mallika after her mother’s death. She survived Aurangzeb by a great many years, and was respected by his successors as a remnant of a magnificent past. She was known for her charity, and was buried in the Zeenat-ul-Masjid built by her in Dlehi.

17. Zeb-un-Nisa : Aurangzeb’s favourite daughter, Zeb-un-Nisa was the most accomplished poet in Mughal history, with her works still surviving and enjoyed. She was an atheist, but later converted to Sufism. She led a secret society, and lead a rebellion against the oppressive and harsh rule of her father. She was subsequently imprisoned by Aurangzeb, where she died. She was buried in the Tees Hazari Bagh (Garden of 30,000 Trees) near the Kashmiri Darwaza (Kashmir Gate) in North Delhi. Her tomb was later shifted at Akbar’s Mausoleum in Sikandra, Agra when Delhi was expanded following Independence.

Well people, this has been an informative post. You’re welcome.

Sources : Daughters of the Sun by Ira Mukhoty, Empress : the Astonishing reign of Noor Jahan by Ruby Lal.

[egelantier]

Yuletide Recs

Having had two days of more or less nothing but reading fics, I come bearing recs!

First of all, my amazing gifts:

The Goblin Emperor

For Thy Principles

The nohecharei of Edrehasivar VII were unparalleled in their defense of his person, but there were limits to even their prowess. When Maia first developed the fever, Cala quickly determined that it was not the end result of a magically-based assassination attempt – and from there it had to be left to the court physicians.

Maia falls ill, and Csethiro protects him as best she can.

Beautifully gentle Maia sickfic, with Csethiro holding him together. For me all for meeee.

Benjamin January Mysteries

Dry as a Bone

“Oh. Well, I’ve been better, maestro, been a hell of a lot better to tell truth.” Shaw stared at him for a long moment, and he was stunned to see honest to God grief in his eyes. Even when Shaw had just lost his brother he had been so much more himself than this lost man currently standing before him. “Not that I mean to put anything extra on your shoulders, I’m sure you’ve got enough of your own shit going on at present moment, but it seems like I’ve just lost my job.”

Shaw loses his job, and finally confronts Ben about trust (and lack thereof) between them. It’s GREAT.

The Tarot Sequence - K.D. Edwards

A Distraction Worth Losing

They may never be together, but the gods would have to move heaven and earth to split Rune and Brand apart.

Brand, Rune and The Kiss incident. (Poor messed up babies, somebody save them.)

And fics of the collection:

17776, Astreiant, Raksura, Frederica, The Gentlemen, The Goblin Emperor, Hades, Innkeeper Chronicles, Jeeves, Kate Daniels, King Arthur the movie, My Next Life as a Villainess, Nirvana in Fire, No. 6, Psmith, The Secret Garden, The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty, Swordspoint, The Tarot Sequence, Teixcalaan Series, The Temple of the White Rat verse

17776: What Football Will Look Like in the Future

so far, so fast

When Manny gets a craving for some fancy meal he had once, over ten thousand years ago, Nick decides he’s gonna fulfill that craving, no matter how hard it is. Because real romance is about making the impossible happen for his husband.

Goddamn transcendental.

Go Get It

Sometimes you start out just planning to get some groceries with your husband, and next thing you know, you’re committing to join the most hopeless team in college football.

Nick and Manny decide to play. It’s perfect.

Afterlife

A young man dies six months before the end of human death; his loss saves five lives, which end up much longer than anyone expects. (A series of worldbuilding vignettes about original characters in the 17776 setting.)

Made me cry, in a very cathartic way.

Astreiant Series - Melissa Scott & Lisa A. Barnett

April dressed in all his trim

A quiet evening in spring.

Sweet little slice-of-life with lovely sensory details.

Books of the Raksura

The Second Consort

“When Glow arrives, be friendly and welcoming,” Ember said. “Not scary.”

“Why does everyone think I’m going to scare him?”

Chime said, “They can see your face when you look at him.” He paused, glancing over at Moon. “That face, that’s the one.”

Ember sighed. “I remember being in his position. It’s pretty nerve-wracking coming to a new court and not knowing what’s going to happen to you there - whether they’re going to welcome you or shun you, whether you’ll make new friends, whether a queen is going to claim you…” He came and put a sympathetic hand on Moon’s shoulder. “Glow is probably worried about all of those things, and missing his home and clutchmates, and it’s our job to try and help him relax.” For a moment Moon thought he was just being soft-hearted, until Ember added, “He won’t open up and tell us what’s really going on unless he’s relaxed.”

Jade takes in a new consort, on Moon’s permission, and everybody is delightfully adult about it.

Frederica

Lady Alverstoke

Frederica commences her first Season as a married woman by planning a ball, promising most straitly that her husband will have nothing whatsoever to do …

Sweet and funny slice-of-life post-happy-ending for canon.

**The Gentlemen (2019) **

Even

The week after he intercepts Fletcher, that squirrelly little cunt, outside the London Miramax office, Raymond reluctantly ventures down to Brixton.

Under normal circumstances, Raymond tends to give this part of Brixton a wide berth, but he has unfinished business that needs attending to. Of course, that doesn’t mean he has to like being accosted by the overwhelming smell of greasy fish and chips when he pushes the car door open, doesn’t mean he has to be pleased about stepping into a piece of chewed-up gum the moment he sets a foot on the kerb.

But then, he can always take a shower after an errand in Brixton. The deep-seated discomfort of unfinished business doesn’t wash off that easily.

Raymond tries to pay Coach back for saving his life, and it doesn’t quite go as planned :D

The Goblin Emperor

The Archduke’s Discovery

Prince Nemolis goes on a journey, and learns a bit more than he wanted to know.

Really great point of canon divergence, and true and precise character voices.

Hades

all the spaces between us

For a place full of the dead, crammed with ghostly shades and nothing but the endless lull of eternity unchanging, gossip sure travelled fast in the Underworld.

Or, Zagreus mulls over his relationship with Thanatos while the rest of the Underworld get overly invested.

Slow, slow, slowest of burns.

Innkeeper Chronicles - Ilona Andrews

A Quick Trip

“It’ll be a quick trip,” Maud said, more to herself than to Arland. “No one will even notice we’re gone.”

Pirates are plaguing an ally, just outside of vampire space. Maud and Arland don some aesthetically beat-up armor and try to get more information from the pirates themselves. Of course, plans only last until you meet your enemy. Or your enemy’s giant alien attack boar.

Excellent canon voice, action/adventure sprinkled with badassery and hilarity.

Jeeves & Wooster

August Thirteenth

Discovering that this is not the first August thirteenth that he’s lived through, that certainly was a head scratcher. Luckily Bertie has the stalwart presence of his man’s man, Jeeves.

Very, very great and satisfying use of the time loop.

Kate Daniels - Ilona Andrews

lookin’ like a snack (cake)

It took Barabas a while to figure it out, because he wasn’t used to not being taken seriously.

Barabas considered several ways to phrase it, and finally settled upon, “Do you have a thing for twinks?” Christopher knocked his head back against the headrest: once, then again. “Is that a yes?”

King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)

When Goosefat Bill finds himself in a difficult situation, the last thing he wants is the King to show up and “help”, in his own unique and unexpected way.

Goosefat Bill does not need to be rescued by his King. But he might just enjoy it a little.

My Next Life as a Villainess (Anime)

All I Have To Bring Today

Catarina and Sophia had been discussing the latest in the Devilish Count series, and Sophia had mentioned how romantic the surprise picnic the count had planned for his lover was and how she wished for someone to surprise her like that.

“What about you, Catarina? Have you ever wished for someone to sweep you off your feet?” Sophia had asked.

Catarina makes a choice! As sweet and as hilarious as the canon.

Nirvana in Fire

Adverse Event

What a pitiful man must he have become, if the only thing he could provoke in bed was a monologue on his character flaws.

: or, the famous strategist mei changsu plays xanatos speed chess against truth serum: the fic.

Mei Changsu gets hit with an accidental truth serum; it doesn’t stop him from lying to himself, but it does buy Jingyan a clue.

Records of the Land of Xiang

There was something of Xiao Jingyan there, in the firmness of his jaw, the unforgiving slash of his brows, and most clearly in the eyes that neither saw nor conveyed deception. But Long Zhan was not Jingyan, could never be, no matter how much Changsu might wish otherwise, because Jingyan was dead.

In service to a very-much-alive Prince Qi, Jingyan dons a Jianghu-typical disguise and infiltrates the Jiangzuo Alliance to suss out this Mei Changsu fellow and see if he might be useful in helping them re-open the Chiyan conspiracy case. Basically, a slightly ridiculous premise where everyone is running around the Jianghu with masks, multiple identities, and secret agendas.

Fascinating and fun AU scenario that delves, among other things, into Mei Changsu the jianghu chef, not Sir Su the court schemer.

suffering as I suffer you

The first time Jingyan stays the night at Su Manor, he discovers an uncomfortable truth about Mei Changsu.

Excellent extrapolation of Mei Changsu’s illness into his nightly routine - with Jingyan watching…

Here, In Our Arms

With the world put to rights, however briefly, Xiao Jingyan and Mu Nihuang take the opportunity to make a fuss over their beloved Lin Shu, and will not take no for an answer.

Sweet moment of comfort.

Find the Coals Amid the Ashes

Despite Changsu’s assertions, Lin Chen is a well brought up person. He would never violate his host’s privacy during a social call. It would be inexcusable, for example, to break into a marquis’s private alchemy lab in the middle of said marquis’s birthday party, in order to search said alchemy lab for certain hard to find medicinal herbs, which one has reason to believe can be found therein. These would be the actions of a man without honour, of a man who has only desperation to his name.

Lin Chen crashes a party and makes a new friend.

The best team up ever :D

Dead Letters

Mei Changsu isn’t the only schemer in Da Liang.

Fei Liu fixes things, in the most Fei Liu way imaginable, and it’s great.

No. 6

All Good Things

In the midst of a crisis for No. 6, Nezumi returns to Shion’s side.

A reunion! And cuddling.

Psmith

The Psky Is The Limit

“As this ship’s Orator, my mission is still as it was in the beginning and shall ever be, world without end. It is to hail any message sent by comrades from outer space and pass it on to you verbatim. Well! The hour, I say, has come. The Word has come into being. Here comes Psmith, bearing news of great mirth: the intercom has spoken.”

(A Mike and Psmith Space AU)

Psmith in space! Hysterically funny Psmith in Pspace, at that.

Psmith Pops In

Psmith reached over and solicitously loosened Mike’s scarf, his fingers brushing the skin of Mike’s neck, and that young man, to his horror, felt heat creeping up from where gloved fingers brushed his bare skin. Really, this blushing nonsense was getting out of hand. Ever since Psmith had tried to take the blame in the case of the painted dog, Mike had developed an inexplicable habit of turning hot and cold around him, and these odd responses had become more and more frequent.

Very funny! And then very tragique! And then jussssst right.

The Secret Garden

The Space Garden

When Meri La Nix was sent from the Mars colony to live with her aunt at Missiles Wait Manor, nobody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen. But some of them thought it.

Beautifully inventive space retelling - with gardens, still.

The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty

The sky spinning above him

In which there’s a jewellery thief on the loose, Tang Fan plays dress up, gets a mild concussion and also a boyfriend.

Frothy, sweet, well-grounded and hot. Also hilarious (check the end note!)

truth in fiction

Three days after Wang Zhi leaves the capital, bits and pieces of his extensive library begin arriving at Sui Zhou’s house.

Sui Zhou is really committed to research and accuracy in Tang Fan’s porn. It’s delightful.

Time don’t fool me no more

“The electrician is a Tang dynasty spy,” he says, dumping some of his eggs in Tang Fan’s bowl.

Tang Fan nods, shovels more food in his mouth, and starts talking again.

Past or future, Tang Fan has Priorities. And Sui Zhou is weak.

Meeting at the End

Sui Zhou knew he never should have let Tang Fan go alone. He knew he should have gone with him.

Really, really great and desperate whump. Super satisfying.

clever boy

Tang Fan never spares a smile for any of the girls at Wang Zhi’s establishment, he’s noticed. That’s alright, though. It means Wang Zhi gets his attention for himself.

Wang Zhi falling, falling hard; it’s delightful.

a bold and brilliant sun

“You’re sure you didn’t do something to it? They don’t usually stall out,” Sui Zhou says. He looks away from Tang Fan, out the windshield at the endless rust-red of the planet.

Tang Fan pouts at this, and slumps down on the edge of the console, feet propped up at an absurd angle against the pilot’s seat. “You think I’d fake a mechanical issue just so that they’d send a sexy Fleet crewman out here to rescue me?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he giggles. “Okay, I would do that, but I promise that this time the problem is real.”

Space AU! Most excellent space AU condensing all there is to love about the canon in one perfect package.

Blind Taste Test

Wang Zhi invites Tang Fan to evaluate Joyous Brothel’s chefs — but it’s Tang Fan and Sui Zhou who are really being tested.

Wang Zhi, ever helpful :)

Authorial Intent

Sui Zhou and Tang Fan end up in hot water yet again. Kinky sex ensues.

Hilarious, kinky, heartfelt, and in character.

Swordspoint Series - Ellen Kushner

Chrysopoeia

It struck Alec that this would have been much easier if their positions were reversed. Richard would have known what to do if he’d been dragged back here with a hole in his gut. He was quite simply not supposed to be the one on this end of the equation. In fact, it was possible he had done something very bad to deserve this.

Richard is wounded, and Alex is coping. Excellent h/c and excellent bloodplay and sharp, painful slice of Alex’ POV, excellently rendered.

At first — this was just like him — he thought he was hearing god. But it was only the man in the bed, whose face had turned toward him on the ragged pillow.

The Tarot Sequence - K.D. Edwards

Third’s a Charm

Addam asks a favor of Brand.

Addam asks Brand for help, which ends up being exactly what Brand and Rune need.

Pretty good

Five times Brand crawls into Rune’s bed and one time Rune crawls into Brand’s.

Brand and Rune, through the years.

Teixcalaan Series - Arkady Martine

Also in the Act of Reaching

When Three Seagrass arrived at Lsel Station, she was, officially at least, traveling as a private personage. She had missed Mahit and the possibilities they’d both chosen to turn away from. She also had– would always have– a gaping hole in her life where Petal had once stood.

It was simply that, left on her own, Three Seagrass wouldn’t have let either absence drag her to the ass-end of beyond.

Reunion, metaphors and realigment. Subtle and clever and just right.

The (concept of the) World Was Wide Enough

Yskandr Aghavn comes to the world like a drowning man comes to shore, but he is living on borrowed time. Teixcalaan has so many wonderful things to choke on.

Teixcalaan has had his heart for all of his life, has elevated him, corrupted him, and discarded him.

It is Lsel that he thinks of as he dies.

Temple of the White Rat Universe - T. Kingfisher

If Grace Is Too Much

Zale is given a case by Bishop Beartongue which turns out to be more complicated and personal than a holy advocate-priest would prefer.

Clever and sweet and carefully shocking, but in a very right way.

Outreach

“We don’t generally assess the… cursédness… of objects, trees or otherwise,” Beartongue said.

Utterly delightful.

[hotbrownmourningpotion]

The Dragon Prince and History

There’s not a lot of historical references in The Dragon Prince, but I am stuck at home and bored so I may as well put my history degree to good use. I studied European history, and my specialty is the Wars of the Roses, so mostly this is from around that era. Some of these are stretches, really big ones; but if nothing else I hope that this encourages you to read more about these fascinating men and women throughout history. And if anyone has other ideas about historical references in this show please let me know, I would love to open a discussion and hear your thoughts.

Harrow - Edward the Fourth

Edward the fourth was King of England from 1461 to 1470 and then again from 1471 to 1483, until his death. Edward’s father was leader of the York faction of the War of The Roses, who tried to depose Henry the Sixth. But his father was killed in battle and Edward took the throne. Now is when the parallels start to come in. Edward enjoyed military success against the Lancasters during the War of the Roses, a feat we see in Harrow as he did take down a dragon and a magma titan. Like Harrow, Edward’s wife had been married before. However when Edward decided to marry the young widow instead of the woman he’d been betrothed to, his allies turned against him. They deposed Edward and Henry the Sixth was briefly returned to the throne until Edward returned with an army and took back his throne. The remainder of his reign was said to be peaceful, but when Edward died a new conflict arose. Edward’s son was twelve years old when he was set to take the throne but the child king was never crowned because of Edward’s brother, Richard the Third.

Harrow could also be based on King Henry the Fifth for his military prowess and untimely death.

Viren - Richard the Third

Richard the Third was king of England from 1483 to 1485. After the death of his older brother, his twelve year old nephew was set to take the throne. Richard, however, deposed his nephew on the grounds of illegitimacy, as Edward had been betrothed to another young woman before he married the widowed Elizabeth. Richard locked his two young nephews in the Tower of London and neither were ever seen again. It is said that Richard killed them but the bodies were never found. While on the throne, Richard personally drowned his older brother and married the widow of Henry the Sixth’s only son (who he killed.) Like Richard, we see Lord Viren as manipulative and conniving, he is smart and knows how to take advantage of a situation so that things go in his favor. Similar to Richard, Viren locks up the heir to the throne in order to take his crown. Of course he didn’t murder anyone to get to his position (that we know of) except for the creatures he’s used for dark magic, but he is a power-hungry narcissist who did conspire to have his son kill both heirs to the throne. Richard is often regarded as one of the most evil Kings in English history, he was defeated by Henry the Seventh, who then married Edward the fourth’s daughter, Elizabeth of York, and the two of them joined the York and Lancaster houses to end the war of the roses and began the reign of the Tudors.

Callum - Henry Tudor

Okay so this is actually for Callum and kinda Rayla. Don’t worry, I have some for Rayla separately but there are a few parallels in their relationship that I can’t ignore. Symbolically, Rayla and Callum remind me of King Henry the Seventh and Elizabeth of York. The War of the Roses had been going on for generations between the Lancasters and the Yorks, and these two joined the houses of Lancaster and York together with their marriage and ended the War of the Roses. After the defeat of Richard the Third, Henry became the first Tudor King and Elizabeth became his consort. But being consort, she didn’t have the same power as her husband, which is where our second couple comes in.

King William the Third and Queen Mary the Second.

I’m gonna leave the War of the Roses behind now and talk about the couple who co-ruled England. Mary was the older daughter of King James the Second and she insisted that her husband rule alongside her, not as her consort but as her equal. I mention this only because even though I don’t think Callum will ever become King, I think that if he hypothetically ever did he would want Rayla to rule alongside him. Just hopefully no one dies of smallpox this time.

Rayla - Æthelflæd 

Before anyone asks no, I am not sure how to pronounce that, so for simplicity sake we’re gonna call her Ethel. A lot of different historical figures come to mind as potential influences for Rayla, Joan of Arc being a pretty obvious one but I feel everyone knows her story so I am going to tell you about an Anglo-Saxon queen who killed a bunch of Vikings. Ethel was born to Alfred the Great, who was known for being great, around the year 870. Usually women were not allowed political roles but Ethel said fuck that and learned how to fight, which was a good thing because her land was being invaded by the Vikings. She fought against the Viking invasion and won because she was strong and intelligent, avenged a bunch of deaths, and was just an all around awesome badass queen. Her crown was passed down to her daughter, who was later overthrown by some particularly awful male relatives. I feel Rayla embodies the spirit of a woman who could outsmart and kill a bunch of Vikings, as we’ve already seen just how smart and badass she is. However as I've said before, a lot of historical figures could also easily fit into Rayla’s character; some of the others include Grace O’Malley, Black Agnes, and some pretty fierce Scottish queens.

Claudia - Lady Jane Grey

The nine days queen was named heir to the throne by her cousin, Edward the Sixth. Edward was the son of the famous Henry the Eighth and his third wife, Jane Seymour, and he feared that his older sister, Mary, would return the country to Catholicism if she took the throne so a plan was drawn up to skip both Mary and Elizabeth and place Jane on the throne. The fifteen year old Jane fainted upon hearing that she’d be queen. This plan was doomed however, as Mary was popular with the people and was already raising an army. After nine days on the throne, Jane was arrested by her own father and Mary beheaded her cousin. Now you might be wondering what this has to do with Claudia. Well like Claudia, Jane had a father who cared more for what his children could give him than he did for their wellbeing. Claudia is also just a teenage girl who wants to make her father proud and doesn’t realize she’s his pawn. That’s not to say she’s naive, she’s smart but she’s scared and will do anything to ensure her family doesn’t fall apart again. In the end, like young Jane, she is fiercely loyal to her father and wants to do right by him. Do I think this means Viren will abandon his daughter the way Jane’s father abandoned her’s? I actually don’t know. I think Viren loves his daughter very much, but he is taking advantage of her love and her loyalty. I also don’t think that Claudia will ever be beheaded (it is a kids show after all) and I don't think she will be queen but there is another parallel as she was heir to a throne for a very short time when Viren crowned himself King.

Amaya - Marguerite de Bressieux 

(and Christina of Sweden, pictured below)

Wanna hear about the awesome lady knight who killed rapists during the Hundred Years War? Of course you do, so allow me to introduce one of the coolest women of the 15th century. Marguerite was a Lady whose castle was captured by the Prince of Orange (not to be confused with the prince of banana) who assaulted her and other ladies of the castle. So she donned knight’s armour, rode into battle and killed her assailants, making sure to remove her helmet as they were dying so they’d know exactly who’d killed them. It was a proud moment but she unfortunately did not survive the battle. Amaya will never die in battle (we will rise up and kill the writers if that happens) but the rest of her story fits pretty well as it is about a woman overcoming hardships and wanting justice. Amaya is just as badass and awesome as a lady knight who leads armies and such. Of course, this isn’t the only historical parallel with Amaya’s character but it is the most badass. Another historical badass woman she could embody is Christina of Sweden, who lived how she wanted, dressing as a man, loving women, and smashing the patriarchy.

Ezran - Queen Elizabeth the First

Okay so obviously Ezran isn’t a girl but just stick with me for a second here. Elizabeth grew up in a time of great political turmoil and wasn’t seen much as a princess as she was seen as a pawn. She was locked in the Tower of London by her sister Mary, who was a devoted Catholic who earned her nickname “Bloody Mary” by burning an estimated 300 Protestants. When Elizabeth came to power she promoted religious tolerance, and today we remember her as one of the greatest monarchs in history. Ezran has the potential to be a great monarch, one that Katolis will remember. By working alongside Elves and Dragons in Xadia, he is promoting a message of equality that the human kingdoms have yet to see. 

As for the rest, I’m not really sure. I mean, lots of really awesome assassins have existed that could be Runaan but none of them really feel right. And Janai, I’m not too sure who her historical counterpart could be, possibly Arawelo (another awesome queen who said fuck the patriarchy) but that might embody her sister more. Sarai could be Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, who was granted a divorce from her less than favourable first husband and became Queen consort of England but she could also embody aspects of Isabella of France and Cecily Neville. Soren I actually don’t have any ideas. I mean, he could be Richard the Lionheart but I’m not too sure. Ultimately I’m stumped on Soren and Janai.

So there it is, my personal analysis of The Dragon Prince characters and their potential historical counterparts. If anyone has any other theories please share them, I would love to hear other opinions. 

I hope that everyone is having a good day. Stay safe out there friends.

[route22ny]

This is a harrowing read, and in the end you may ask yourself, as I asked myself: how was the nation not protected from such criminality?  Decades of organized crime involvement culminated in the most corrupt and dangerous president in American history, one who now presides over a reeling nation in the throes of a deadly pandemic. 

We watch in horror and disbelief, daily, as he ineptly--or maliciously--mismanages the nation’s response to covid-19, contributing to a death toll expected to surpass that of the Vietnam War...twice.  How did we get here?

This is must reading.

***

IN THE EARLY 1980s it was decided—by whom, and for what ultimate purpose, we can’t say for sure—that Donald John Trump would build a casino complex in Atlantic City, New Jersey—probably the most mobbed-up municipality in the state. Dealing with the mafia might have dissuaded some developers from pursuing a Boardwalk Empire, but not Trump. He was uniquely suited to forge ahead.

Donald’s father, the Queens real estate developer Fred Trump, had worked closely with Genovese-associated and -owned construction entities since building the Shore Haven development in 1947, when Donald was still in diapers (the first time around). Fred was an early mob adopter, the underworld equivalent of an investor who bought shares of Coca-Cola stock in 1919. The timelines is important to remember here. Organized crime did not exist in any meaningful way in the United States until Prohibition. Born in 1905, Fred Trump was just two years younger than Meyer Lansky, the gangster who more or less invented money laundering. Thus, Donald Trump is second generation mobbed-up.

When Donald first ventured from Queens to the pizzazzier borough of Manhattan in the seventies, he entered into a joint business deal with “Big” Paul Castellano, head of the Gambino syndicate, and Anthony “Fat Tony” Salerno, of the Genovese family he knew well through his father and their mutual lawyer Roy Cohn. As part of this arrangement, Trump agreed to buy concrete from a company operated jointly by the two families—and pay a hefty premium for the privilege. Only then, with double mob approval, could he move forward with the Trump Tower and Trump Plaza projects. (Among Cohn’s other clients at the time was Rupert Murdoch, whom he introduced to Trump in the seventies; you would be hard pressed to find three more atrocious human beings).

Atlantic City is in South Jersey, closer to Philadelphia than New York, so to build “his” casino, Trump needed to play ball with the Philly mob. That meant dealing with Nicodemo “Little Nicky” Scarfo, head of the most powerful mob family in Philadelphia. Land that Trump needed for his casino was owned by Salvie Testa and Frank Narducci, Jr.—hit men for Scarfo, collectively known around town as the Young Executioners (the nickname was not ironic). To help negotiate the deal, Trump hired Patrick McGahn, a Philly-based attorney known to have truck with the Scarfo family.

(The last name should sound familiar; Don McGahn, the former White House Counsel, is Patrick McGahn’s nephew. And Don McGahn is not the only Trump Administration hire with ties to the Philly mob. Among Little Nicky’s associates was one Jimmy “The Brute” DiNatale, whose daughter, Denise Fitzpatrick, is the mother of none other than Kellyanne Conway. A number of wiseguys paid their respects at DiNatale’s 1983 funeral. I don’t want to make the mistake of condemning Conway or Don McGahn for the sins of their relations. But given Trump’s OC background, it’s fair to question why he chose two children of mobbed-up families for his inner White House circle.)

Trump acquired the needed Atlantic City property at twice the market value: $1.1 million for a lot that sold for $195k five years before. But there were legal pratfalls, shady dealings, chicanery with the documents. The New Jersey Gaming Commission was investigating the matter, because casino owners could not, by law, associate with criminals. And most of Trump’s friends were crooks. It looked like Trump was in trouble—not only of losing his gaming license, but of criminal indictment.

And then, something miraculous happened. On 4 November 1986, Scarfo and eleven of his associates were indicted on charges that included loan sharking, extortion and conducting an illegal gambling business in a racketeering conspiracy. Prosecutors had tried for years to take down Little Nicky. And now, after all that time, they finally had their evidence. Not only that, but the investigation into Trump? It went away. Poof—as if it never existed.

A confidential informant, or “CI,” is a mole run by law enforcement within a criminal enterprise. Not a “rat,” whose treachery is well known to his comrades, but a craftier, more duplicitous breed of rodent. Crimes committed by the CI are overlooked, or allowed to continue unabated, in exchange for good intelligence—“treasure,” as Control calls it in Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.

A fictional example of a CI is the Greek, a character on the show The Wire (spoiler ahead). Baltimore law enforcement piece together that the Greek is the head of a crime syndicate that deals in narcotics and human trafficking. But when they finally move to arrest him, the operation is kibboshed by the feds, for whom the Greek is a Confidential Informant. This is extremely frustrating for viewers of the show, who rightly regard the Greek as the cause of so much woe in West Baltimore.

In real life, there are two famous examples. The first is Whitey Bulger, the head of the so-called Winter Hill Gang, which operated for decades in Somerville, Massachusetts. In 1975, Bulger became a Confidential Informant for the FBI, handled by a corrupt agent named John Connolly. His intelligence helped take down a rival mob family in Providence, Rhode Island—a city notorious for the influence of organized crime. In exchange, Connolly allowed Bulger and his associates to operate with impunity. At least 19 people were killed by the Winter Hill Gang while the feds looked the other way. When the FBI finally realized its mistake, Connolly tipped off Bulger, who went on the lam for 16 years. He was finally arrested in 2011; by then he was in his eighties. He was killed in prison seven years later.

The second famous CI is Donald Trump’s former associate Felix Sater. Racketeering charges against him back in 1998 ended with a fine of just $25,000—a slap on the wrist. From then on, Sater become a top echelon confidential informant, feeding law enforcement intelligence of “a depth and breadth rarely seen,” as court filings show. “His cooperation has covered a stunning array of subject matter, ranging from sophisticated local and international criminal activity to matters involving the world’s most dangerous terrorists and rogue states.”

The winsome ex-con, still one of the more puzzling figures of Trump/Russia, “continuously worked with prosecutors and law enforcement agents to provide information crucial to the conviction of over 20 different individuals, including those responsible for committing massive financial fraud, members of La Cosa Nostra organized crime families and international cyber-criminals,” prosecutors claim. “Additionally, Sater provided the United States intelligence community with highly sensitive information in an effort to help the government combat terrorists and rogue states.”

His intelligence helped prosecutors break up the “Pump and Dump” and “Boiler Room” mob operations in the 1990s. He turned over useful information about the Genovese crime family (note: the same family Fred Trump fronted for), and provided ample dirt on international arms dealing (note: Jeffrey Epstein’s specialty). And his crowning achievement: he helped the United States track down Osama bin Laden (funny how the Russian mob knew where he was). Sater is proud of his CI work, and has talked it up the last few years, probably to counter his association with the mafiya, and with Trump.

We know about Bulger being a CI because his handler turned out to be crooked. We know about Sater being a CI because he outed himself prior to his sentencing in 2009—and because he keeps boasting about it. If Sater had not come forward, Loretta Lynch, the former Attorney General, would not have been legally permitted to reveal his status.

That’s the thing about Confidential Informants: they are confidential. The informant doesn’t want to be made as a mole, any more than law enforcement wants to burn a source. Both sides are bound to secrecy. It is the good guy version of omertà.

The only way to know for sure if Donald John Trump is a Confidential Informant is if he admits it himself (unlikely), or if law enforcement comes forward (illegal). But the circumstantial evidence is compelling. The pattern is: 1) Trump deals with mobsters as usual; 2) Law enforcement begins investigating Trump; 3) Mobsters suddenly get busted, while 4) investigation into Trump is scuttled. This happened three times that we know about. I’m not counting the first known instance of Trump providing information to prosecutors, concerning Cody and concrete, in the late 70s:

I can conceive of no scenario in which Trump was not a CI, and a top echelon one at that. He’s avoided indictment too many times. No one is that lucky.

Or, put another way: How can someone that lucky manage to run a fucking casino into the ground?

Salvatore Gravano, known as “Sammy the Bull,” was an underboss of the Gambino crime family. After the assassination of “Big” Paul Castellano in 1985—an audacious hit, done in broad daylight—John Gotti was installed as the figurehead capo. But in practice, the Bull was the one calling the shots. His territory? Manhattan. For as long as he was in power, any construction that took place in New York, New York had to be approved by Gravano. “I literally controlled Manhattan,” he told ABC News. He did a lot of business deals with Donald John Trump, and speaks of him fondly.

After his arrest on 11 December 1990, Gravano turned state’s evidence to help put away Gotti, his nominal boss. The lead prosecutor of the case? Robert Swan Mueller III. (This is why, when Trump found out Mueller was named Special Counsel, he collapsed into a chair and muttered, “I’m fucked.”)

We know that Gravano flipped on Gotti. But who flipped on Sammy the Bull?

On 19 July 1990, the Division of Gaming Enforcement (DGE) of the State of New Jersey opened an investigation into Donald John Trump, regarding the Trump Organization’s business dealings with Joseph Weichselbaum, a mob associate and embezzler who had been convicted not once, not twice, but three times. Trump hired Weichselbaum’s company to provide helicopter transportation to Atlantic City, conveying high rollers to and from New York. As a casino owner, Trump was prohibited by law to do any business with the serial felon. He not only continued to do so, but he went to bat for the guy, going so far as to write him a letter of recommendation. (There’s more bizarre stuff with Wiechselbaum, whose case wound up being initially tried by Trump’s sister, a federal judge, but I won’t get into it here).

Six months after the DGE opened its investigation, Gravano got pinched. And once again, as if by the wave of a magic wand, Trump’s legal troubles seemed to vanish.

It’s worth noting here that Sammy the Bull likes Trump personally, then and now, and seems not to blame him for ratting him out. There were likely others who informed on Gravano, too. But given the timing, the investigation against Trump, his disastrous finances at the time, and his long familiarity with federal prosecutors, it stands to reason that Trump, too, turned on his longtime business associate.

The Kurt & Courtney decade was unkind to Donald John Trump. The Bush I recession hit his businesses hard. Trump filed for bankruptcy protection for Trump Taj Mahal (1991) and Trump Plaza (1992). Again: our “lucky” guy had managed to go bust in the casino business. In between those bankruptcy filings, he lobbied Congress for tax relief for real estate developers, began phoning reporters claiming to be a publicist named John Barron, had an affair with a D-list actress named Marla Maples, and divorced his wife of 14 years, the mother of his kids Donald, Ivanka, and Eric: the former Ivana Zelníčková. (Sidenote: Ivana Trump’s father was a big wheel in Czechoslovakia’s Státní bezpečnost intelligence service; Miloš Zelníček helped raise his grandchildren, especially Don Jr., who speaks fluent Czech…but this is a subject for another dispatch).

Things were going south fast. Trump desperately needed a lifeline. He found one in Moscow.

The Soviet Union collapsed on Christmas Day 1991. What the West viewed as the triumph of capitalism over communism was really the subversion of a conventional superpower by the shadowy forces of transnational crime. The Cold War was not over; it just shifted modes of attack. In the early 90s, Russia invaded the United States—not with soldiers, but with mobsters.

The commander of this underworld incursion was a violent ex-con named Vyacheslav Ivankov, known as “Yaopnchik,” or “Little Japanese.” Hardened in the brutal Soviet prison system, Ivankov was a member of the vor y zakone, or thieves-in-law—the arm of the Russian mafiya that originated in the post-Second World War gulags. He was such a nasty, violent motherfucker that when it was necessary to rough someone up to extort them, he didn’t send in a subordinate—he did the job himself.

Ivankov arrived to the United States in 1992, ostensibly to work in the film industry. Even the new Russian government warned the FBI that he was up to no good. The feds lost sight of him almost immediately, even as he traveled from New York to Florida and everywhere in between, consolidating power, and displacing the Italian mob. (That brazen 1985 hit on “Big” Paul Castellano was instrumental in achieving this Vor hegemony, as the Gambino boss neither liked nor trusted the Russians). Per the testimony of Bob Levinson, the FBI’s foremost Russian mob expert:

Ivankov’s organization’s income was derived from a number of sources: his group was implicated by sources to have been involved in the “gasoline tax scam” whereby so-called “daisy-chains” of petroleum handling companies were established with the specific intention of defrauding governmental tax authorities using non-existent or ghost companies to pay the gasoline taxes due.

A primary source of the group’s funds was the collection of “krisha” or protection money from wealthy Russian and Eurasian businessmen operating between North America and the former Soviet republics. In addition, the Ivankov organization organized the collection of, in effect, a “street tax” from Russian-born and Eastern European criminals who were operating their illegal enterprises in North America. Ivankov organization members fanned out across the United States and Canada identifying and then approaching these criminals saying that each now had to contribute to an “obshak” (mutual benefit fund) being collected and organized by the Ivankov group.

In addition, Ivankov and other members of his organization settled business disputes for Russian and Eastern European businessmen operating between North America and the former Soviet Union, receiving in return a percentage of the amount in dispute, usually hundreds of thousands of dollars. Through his authority as a “thief-inlaw” and the head of a criminal organization, Ivankov was able to exercise a kind of informal power in the émigré business community tantamount to decisions made by formal, official courts of law. Those who went against the decisions made by Ivankov and his associates were usually met with violence, including beatings and/or murder.  

As Little Japanese worked the States, Semion Mogilevich, the current head of the Russian mob, set up his base of operations in Budapest, Hungary, where he moved in 1992 with his Hungarian girlfriend. “The Brainy Don,” as he is called, soon acquired a bank in Russia, which allowed him access to the global financial system. Meyer Lanksy may have invented money laundering, but it was Mogilevich who took it to Hollywood, so to speak: Lansky wrote the book, and the Brainy Don made it into an international blockbuster. (Note: Levinson, the FBI agent, moved to Budapest around this time, to investigate Mogilevich more closely.)

For three fruitful years, Ivankov did his thing, laying the foundation for what would become the world’s pre-eminent organized crime operation—more S.P.E.C.T.R.E. than GoodFellas. He ran amok. Law enforcement had no idea where he was….until, one day in 1995, they found him living in a deluxe apartment at—you’re not gonna believe it—Trump Tower. And that was not the only Trump property he frequented: Ivankov was also a regular at the Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City. He was arrested in June of 1995, convicted, imprisoned, and deported to Russia in 2004 to face murder changes. Once home, he was promptly acquitted. He was gunned down in Moscow in 2009.

This monster was living in Trump’s building, gambling in Trump’s casino.

What was Donald John Trump doing in 1995? Failing tremendously. That was the year when he declared a loss of an unfathomable $916 million on his tax returns. It was also at this time that Trump Tower became a sort of Moscow on Fifth Avenue, with any number of Russian mobsters scooping up apartments—an arrangement that began in 1984, when the Russian mobster David Bogatin purchased five condos for $6 million. Trump Tower was one of just two buildings in all of New York City that allowed units to be purchased by shell companies. Why did Trump, virtually alone among New Yorkers, allow these fishy deals?

As the indefatigable Craig Unger writes in the Washington Post,

the shady Bogatin deal began a 35-year relationship between Trump and Russian organized crime. Mind you, this was a period during which the disintegration of the Soviet Union had opened a fire-hose-like torrent of hundreds of billions of dollars in flight capital from oligarchs, wealthy apparatchiks and mobsters in Russia and its satellites. And who better to launder so much money for the Russians than Trump — selling them multimillion-dollar condos at top dollar, with little or no apparent scrutiny of who was buying them.

Over the next three decades, dozens of lawyers, accountants, real estate agents, mortgage brokers and other white-collar professionals came together to facilitate such transactions on a massive scale. According to a BuzzFeed investigation, more than 1,300 condos, one-fifth of all Trump-branded condos sold in the United States since the 1980s, were shifted “in secretive, all-cash transactions that enable buyers to avoid legal scrutiny by shielding their finances and identities.”

Unger continues:

The Trump Organization has dismissed money laundering charges as unsubstantiated, and because it is so difficult to penetrate the shell companies that purchased these condos, it is almost impossible for reporters — or, for that matter, anyone without subpoena power — to determine how much money laundering by Russians went through Trump-branded properties. But Anders Aslund, a Swedish economist, put it this way to me: “Early on, Trump came to the conclusion that it is better to do business with crooks than with honest people. Crooks have two big advantages. First, they’re prepared to pay more money than honest people. And second, they will always lose if you sue them because they are known to be crooks.”

It is simply inconceivable that a creature of the underworld, a man who had extensive dealings with mob figures for his entire career, would, in a moment of dire need, be unaware that mobsters were buying his properties, using shell companies to conceal the origin of the dirty rubles.

It is also inconceivable that a mobbed-up real estate developer—a crook whom the government of Australia would not grant a gaming license because of his obvious mob connections; the subject of a 41-page initial investigation by the Department of Gaming Enforcement in the State of New Jersey that, taken together, is positively damning—could have avoided indictment for all these years unless he was covertly helping out law enforcement. Trump is a criminal, yes, but his crimes are not as heinous as Ivankov’s, or Gravano’s, or Scarfo’s. Prosecutors would happily toss a minnow like Trump back into the sea if it helped them catch the big fish.

Nothing about Trump’s term as president suggests he’s turned his back on organized crime. He hasn’t “gone legit.” His Twitter antagonists comprise a “Who’s Who” of the FBI’s Russian mob experts: Robert Mueller, Andrew McCabe, Bruce Ohr, Lisa Page. He has attacked the credibility of those who know what he really is. That is what made Trump’s attacks on Mueller so ironic. He impugned the former FBI director as corrupt, while depending on his incorruptibility to not reveal his (alleged) CI status.

To reiterate: we cannot know for sure if Trump was a CI unless he admits to being one (maybe Yamiche Alcindor can goad him into admitting it?), or if the federal prosecutors in the know break protocol to expose him.

As it stands, prominent G-men have given us clues. When McCabe was fired, he began his statement thus: “I have been an FBI Special Agent for over 21 years. I spent half of that time investigating Russian Organized Crime as a street agent and Supervisor in New York City.” The subtext there is that McCabe knows who Trump is.

In the excerpt of his book Higher Loyalty sent to the press, James Comey compared Trump to Gravano. “The [loyalty] demand was like Sammy the Bull’s Cosa Nostra induction ceremony—with Trump in the role of the family boss asking me if I have what it takes to be a ‘made man.’ ” Of all the famous mafiosos, why did Comey choose Gravano, a relatively obscure figure, as the comp? He wants us to dig into Gravano.

(Gravano himself was asked about the Comey pull-quote by Jerry Capeci of Gangland News; he said, “The country doesn’t need a bookworm as president, it needs a mob boss. You don’t need a Harvard graduate to deal with these people…[Putin, Kim, Xi] are real gangsters. You need a fucking gangster to deal with these people.” This seems to indicate that Sammy the Bull thinks Trump is a “mob boss” and a “fucking gangster.” Takes one to know one?)

Unless he thought it would help him avoid prison, Trump will never cop to being a Confidential Informant. We can only infer that he served that function by presenting the circumstantial evidence to support the hypothesis. But plenty of people can confirm or deny (rather than refuse to confirm or deny) Trump’s involvement. Bob Mueller, certainly, but every prosecutor too that dealt with Scarfo, Gravano, and Ivankov, and plenty of smaller cases besides.

When a Confidential Informant is deliberately fucking up the federal government’s response to a pandemic—when his willful negligence will cost hundreds of thousands if not millions of American lives—protocol must be sacrificed for the greater good. Is not the purpose of that law, of all laws, to protect the people from enemies foreign and domestic? And has not the COVID-19 response, or lack thereof, proven Trump to be an active enemy of the United States?

We don’t need more careful legalese. We don’t need more cryptic phrasings along the lines of “If we had had confidence that the president clearly did not commit a crime, we would have said so.” We need to hear, loud and clear, what the FBI knows. We need to be told, unequivocally, that Trump is an inveterate crook—a real crook; an actual criminal; not just a cute Twitter assertion—and, even more surprising, and contrary to all recent evidence, that he is capable of telling the truth when it serves him.

Notes:

This piece was written under the expert guidance of Lincoln’s Bible. If you don’t already do so, please follow her on Twitter, and check out her own mafiya reporting at Citjourno.

I encourage everyone to read the State of New Jersey Department of Gaming Enforcement investigation report on the allegations against Donald John Trump in the Wayne Barrett book Trump: The Deals and the Downfall.

The late Bob Levinson was the FBI’s best Russian mob fighter. His Ivankov testimony is also essential reading.

The photo at the top is the Greek, from The Wire—the best show in the history of television.

https://gregolear.substack.com/p/tinker-tailor-mobster-trump

[anonwrite]

The Broken Road to Elysium (working title)

We have our first feedback submission!

There are several ways to give feedback.

Reply here or reblog with your own comments.

Go to this link and comment on the specific part using google drive commenting options. 

Send me a message as anon with tag “feedback on the broken road to elysium”

What type of feedback are you looking for? (your characters, descriptions, vocabulary, etc.)

I am looking for feedback on characters and description and if the writing is coherent/understandable.(not confusing)

I want constructive criticism, and would like to hear the truth in order to improve.

——————————

Ch.1

“Nova! Hey, wake up. Nova!”

Nova bolted up right to a sitting position. She could feel her heart beating thunderously in her chest, and a cold sweat on her skin. She blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the light in the room. She looked over at the man who had woken her up from a nightmare.

“Hey, Apollo…what’s up?” She smiled weakly, already assuming the screaming in her dream had manifested to the real world.  Apollo smiled at her, but it didn’t completely disguise his concern. His dark eyes watched her for a second, then he walked to the foot of the bed and sat down. His handsome structured face, wore a five o'clock shadow, indicating he hadn’t quite started his morning routine.

“You were kinda yelling in your sleep again. Thinking about Lucian, or the war?”  He asked, curiosity in his voice.

Nova looked around the room, visibly embarrassed. Why can’t I have one peaceful night?

“Nova, you know you can talk to me, stop being so hardheaded, we both saw some horrible—”

“Sorry for waking you up.” She interrupted.

“No worries, I was already up. It’s a beautiful morning out there, we should take advantage. I finally got a day off from work.” Apollo crossed his arms across his bare chest, he rarely wore a shirt, proud to display his muscular athletic build to the world. He sighed, as Nova averted her gaze to the navy-blue bedsheets, sulking like usual. He grabbed a small pillow and tossed it directly at Nova, hitting her square in the face.

            “Apollo! What the hell was that for?!” Nova shouted angrily. 

Apollo had already made a run for the exit, stopping inside the door frame, his back to Nova. “Stop brooding, I have those nightmares and memories too, but instead of feeling sorry for myself, I push forward and have hope. One of us has to, I guess. Can you imagine two brooding twins?”

Nova was now up on her feet but had stopped midway to the door once she heard Apollo’s words. He had a point; she had been pessimistic with their current situation. His words irritated her, mainly because there was truth in them. Apollo had never been the type to be subtle; which started a lot of arguments in his life. One of these days that smart mouth of yours is going to really get you in trouble. She pushed the thought out of her mind, she didn’t want her brother to get hurt, but he constantly tempted fate.

“I’m not brooding! You just woke me up from sleep, you’d be mad too!” Nova exclaimed. Apollo waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder without looking back into the room.

“Yeah, yeah, if you say so, sis.” He continued walking into the hallway.

Nova walked back to her bed, picking up the pillow that was now lying on top of the small black faux fur carpet near her bed. She suddenly heard Apollo’s footsteps returning to her room. “What do you want now?” She said, irritation coating her words. Her back faced the door.

 "What’s with the attitude? Is it that time of the month?“ Apollo said, mockingly.

Nova turned to face him; pillow gripped tightly in her hands. “Apollo, I am in no mood right now.”

Apollo grinned at her. “You see this?” He pointed at his smile, “If you did this more often, you’d finally have a girlfriend, grouch face.”

Nova threw the pillow in his direction, missing, and hitting the wall to his left.

“Nice aim, Marine.” Apollo chuckled out his sarcastic statement. “I just came back to tell you I had made breakfast, but now I don’t think you deserve my glorious cooking.”

Nova pouted and crossed her arms in front of her chest, she loved her brothers cooking and hated when he used it against her. After the war had ended, Apollo had invested his time and money into building a restaurant. He had always been a great cook. He spent time learning family secret recipes, which quickly became popular. He practically became famous overnight in Eureka. Food was one of the things that helped bring their small outskirt colony together.

“Also, I will be heading into Eureka tomorrow, I have been requested to help prepare food for the Mist Castle Summit. I will be out there for about a week.”

Nova’s stomach felt uneasy at the mention of the summit, her face quickly washed over with worry. “What? Why didn’t you mention this earlier? I’m coming!” Nova rushed to her closet, grabbing a duffle bag, which she let drop to the floor. She started selecting clothing she thought were appropriate for the trip.

“Nova, stop. I will be fine, plus, you know it’s not safe for you to come with me.” Apollo walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a light reassuring squeeze.

Nova stopped searching through her clothes and turned to face Apollo. He stood a few inches taller than her, at 6'0 foot, she never understood how they could possibly be twins, yet look so different. Nova had a much paler skin complexion, compared to Apollos’s tan skin. His eyes were a dark brown, practically black, while hers shone green hazel. His black hair was a medium length up top and shorter on the sides, always nicely styled. She admired the fact that her brother always had time to look his best; even while shooting an M16-A4 rifle down the battlefield.

She guessed they had a similar face structure, and nose, they were a good-looking pair of twins. They were athletically built due to playing sports in school, military training and their obsession with fitness. But that’s where most of their similarities stopped; other than their stubbornness, they were practically polar opposites in personality.

Nova was always the quieter and observant twin; it wasn’t easy for her to make friends and even harder to open up to people, to include her own family. She struggled with self-care, and self-love. Her father took a larger role in taking care of her and boosted her confidence, which helped her join the military. Apollo on the other hand, was extremely outgoing. He always made friends easily, everyone in the family always talked about his charms and how he never lacked when it came to women. He helped Nova ask out her first crush in high school; which later turned out to be very toxic. Genesis…so many red flags.

The memories of their fun filled; and carefree past played on her mind now. I miss those days…I miss Dad….and Luc—

Apollo woke Nova from her reverie with a tap on the nose. “Earth to Nova, you in there?” He smiled, waiting for her to fully acknowledge him. He knew she had drifted into her head space. His sister found sanctuary within her mind a lot lately. It worried him, but he knew better then to try and pry information out of her. He had noticed some of her childhood quirks return after the war, making her spend a lot of time alone. He tried his best to be there for her, but understood that she was coping with things as best she could.

He could see her attention was back on him and he smiled. “You know you can’t come. It’s too dangerous for you. The people around here don’t know what you are, and wouldn’t accept you living here. I am one hundred percent human, and I run no risks; the route is well guarded. Plus, someone needs to stay behind to keep mom company. You know she has been anxious lately; due to dads lack of communication.” Apollo started walking to the door once more. “Come eat breakfast before it gets cold, mom should be joining us. Please try to be civil.” He disappeared into the hallway. “Oh! and make sure you at least look decent; you know how mom gets!”

Nova watched her brother exit the room. She let her shoulders slack and jaw relax. She knew her brother had a point. It had been 10 years since the end of the war, but most humans still feared her kind and others like her. She had managed to keep her inner demon a secret; luckily for her it had not manifested fully. She had small mutations reveal themselves when she was in danger, but she lacked full control over them. She thought back on the actions that brought an end to the war; and the semblance of peace that had fallen on the earth, once President Joseph Yaeger had been assassinated. The killer was never captured, but their actions brought an end to the civil war in the states; also causing a cease fire around the world. Most world leaders decided peace was now more lucrative, as opposed to their heads on a stake.

Nova looked around her room, it was adorned with a queen-sized bed, two average sized cabinets, and a small desk with her laptop and books. The room was very nice and neat, she had a minor cleaning compulsive disorder. Cleanliness and organization were a big part of her upbringing, since her father was a Master Sergeant in the United States Marine Corps. The room was painted a light grey, while its furnishings were mostly a dark brown. A picture of her early years in the military, standing with her platoon, was hanging high on the ceiling with promotions and awards below it.

Nova was proud of serving in the military, even though it had brought some misfortunes and hard times. She stretched her limbs, still feeling stiff from sleep. She then entered the adjoining bathroom and stepped in front of the mirror. She observed her current state with disdain.

She noted her skin was paler than usual and sighed when she noticed dark circles forming under her eyes. Her hair was a frizzy tangled mess, of curls that hung slightly above her mid back. 30 never looked so good. She thought sarcastically to herself. She had been slacking on her self-care, but the long nights on patrol and small missions had given her an excuse. She had just arrived home two days prior, after a supplies recovery task that lasted over one excruciating month.

Nova quickly washed her face and combed her hair. She wasn’t looking forward to her mother’s visit. Mom, you really need to start visiting for dinner not breakfast. It’s too early to play dress up. She walked back into her room and selected a pair of black jeans, a grey Henley shirt and brown boots. She decided to keep her attire simple, knowing her mother would disapprove of anything that wasn’t a dress. She would give into her mother’s demands on special occasions, but this wasn’t one of them. Once satisfied with her appearance she quickly made her way to the kitchen hoping her mother hadn’t yet arrived.

[full-favor-of-a-god-blog]

[Doomstrange] 32 B.C. Roman AU

Imagine there is a 32 B.C. Roman AU in the Battleworld, similar to “1872” and “1602” from the comics.

 The following info is taken from the www.doomipedia.gov.bw/battleworld/realms/32-BC/ page and various other sources.

 TL;DR: Doom is the ruler of Roman Empire and Stephen is his chief priest “Vishantian Maximus”. They were known lovers and received many praises in the society in forms of literature, visual arts, performances. Even the imperial historians characterized Stephen as "the love of Victor's life", "his only true love", "his first love", "his last love", "moral compass in the iron fist". The term "Victor Stephanus" became the synonymous for "Undying love between soul mates". Instead of calling lovers "my dear", Romans call lovers "my Stephanus", in which case, it's not just a sign of affection, but also a praise for beauty and virtues in a lover. Stephanus was often depicted as an idealized symbol for supreme beauty and divine purity. Roman people at the time firmly believed the love between Victor and Stephanus was Platonic, but various folk tales many centuries after often suggest otherwise.  

Different classes of Roman society

Imperial (Victor became)

Patrian = ruling class (Stephen born into)

Plebeian = common people (Stephen became)

Slaves (Victor born into)

  Main Characters

 Victor Cynthius Augustus, a war slave decadent turned gladiator. He later won his glory, influence, and popularity in the war with Barbarians. Victor started his political career as the Roman Military Tribune. He is then elected as consul of the Roman Republic. After many years of struggle with the Senates, lead by Reedius and Antonius, Victor was voted the dictator perpetuus (Dictator for a life time). After joining forces with King Namor, they eliminated Reedius and turned Antonius into a mere figurehead. Victor became Imperator Doom. Senate honour him with the agnomen “Augustus". Finally he reformed Roman society from a republic into an empire. During his reign, Victor and his second in command Stephanus were loved by the Roman citizens like never before. Passing lex Stephania (Law of Stephanus), Victor and Stephanus' abolition of slavery made these people the royal subjects to Emperor Doom like the Roman citizens.

 Stephanus Eugenius Propheta Cordatus, aka St. Stephanus was one of the few Romans with four names, son of a patrician family and the adopted heir of former Vishantian Maximus (Chief priest) Iao. Stephanus was a chief preist in training who always show empathy and compassion to even social classes way below his own. He was famous at a very young age for his intelligence, and talent in both medicine and magi (magic). He later gave up his title, inheritance, and religious power merely to save innocent slaves. Stephanus lost everything, and since he is no longer the patrician class, he defaulted his birthright to pursuit the religious path. He was then elected as the Tribuni Plebis (Tribune of the people) for a record of ten consecutive years. Stephanus became the lover of Victor and his second-in-command. He was appointed Vishantian Maximus after Victor's coronation as Emperor Doom.

 Antonius Amandius Houarnus, adopted heir of former Tribuni Aerarii (Treasury of the State, $$$$) Houardius. Antonius is a famous supergenius inventor. Since his childhood, Antonius developed a close friendship with Stephanus and Reedius. Later the three were alternatively known as "Triumvirate Illuminati". Despite the fact Antonius hated and never trusted Victor, and was once the first senate to challenge Victor's consulship and Victor's intentions as consul, Victor respected Antonius, calling him "almost my only intellectual equal", "intellectually inferior only to Imperator Doom himself". Antonius was elected Magister equitum of the republic, for his genius weapon inventions and influential family background. He was the only high official maintained his office after Victor violently and miraculously eliminated Reedius and restructured the Senate. Antonius openly resented consul Victor and offended Victor with endless hostile actions, trying to bring Victor down as consul. Victor finally lost his patience and planned moves to stripe Magister equitum's power from its title. After wounded in the war, Antonius lost his interest in politics and started several genius infrastructural projects that were far beyond people's imagination at the time.  

 Reedius Richius is often referred to as "the smartest Roman once lived" by himself and his supportors. Obviously, such statements are discredited by Doomipedia.gov.bw as a false, criminal statement. Anyone who dares to make such statements within various Battleworld realms, should be prepared to face the wrath of God Emperor and will likely by prosecuted by Thor Corps. The information on this person from various source (including illegal ones) is limited, controversial and conflicting. He was born into a rich patrician family and was loved as a do-gooder among all social classes. A genius inventor, arguably even smarter than Victor. He became a successful politician at a very young age, and was a head of a secret senate inner circle rumored to be "Illuminati". Reedius was originally attracted to Victor's intelligence and heroic victories in the war, so he helped Victor's campaign to be elected as consul, despite Reedius' best friend Antonius' prejudicial accusations against the slave born hero. Victor helped give birth to Reedius' daughter Valeria, and became her godfather. Later on, however, the ongoing disagreements and struggles between Reedius and Victor intensified the conflict between the consul and the senate. Victor hated Reedius so much that it became openly known personal. Reedius went missing on a tour. Rumors have it that Victor murdered or sent someone to assassinate his political enemy. Victor orders to find Reedius dead or live, but Reedius just seemed to miraculously disappear. His wife Susanna Richius later married Victor and became the second Roman Empress.

 Oanda Eryca Augusta is the daughter of the uprising leader Erycules. In Vishantian Maximus Iao's prophecy, Oanda is a queen of chaos. She will either bring prosperity or doom to a dynasty. After her father's defeat to Victor, her mother Magda, a former Vestal Virgins, begged Iao to take care of Oanda. Iao took Oanda under his wings and engaged her to his adopted son Stephanus. Oanda's beauty most caused wars between neighbouring nations, and she was called the "modern day Helen of Troy". Other than her beauty, we don't know much about her youth, other than the fact that Stephanus was rumored to be madly in love with his bride-to-be. However, before the wedding ceremony, Victor forced Stephanus to give up his bride. Later the same year, Victor himself took Oanda as his wife. She received the name "Augusta" after Victor became Imperator Doom. Despite Oanda's striking beauty, Victor quickly grew weary of his wife. After decades of marriage, Oanda produced no heir. Victor's political enemies accuse Victor of being asexual, for Oanda was the most beautiful woman ever known to men. Like many politicians at the time, Victor was exerting a sexual magnetism that was attractive to both man and woman, which added tremendous political charisma. This accusation of asexuality hurted Victor's popularity as a charismatic leader, as it was seen as lack of manhood. Victor vehemently denied and forbid this accusation, but Oanda's silence did not help the situation. Victor later annulled his marriage with Oanda to marry Susanna. Oanda married Visus and mothered twin sons.  

   Before I get into the actual love story of Doomstrange in 32 BC, I'd like to mention that the plot of this story came from Sheriff Stephen's dream. He once revealed part of the plot to God Emperor Doom. However he carefully did not mention the name of the Roman emperor in his dream. Though he tried to skip the plots of Stephanus' romantic intimacy with his emperor, it's quite apparent to Doom (or any listener) that Stephanus was madly in love with the emperor and longed his love in return. Doom was omnipotent, not omniscient. He doesn't know who the emperor is in Stephen's dream.

 The next day, as Stephen reports to God Emperor Doom, Doom asks Stephen if he noticed any change in the many realms of the Battleworld. Stephen summons the all seeing eye and glance over the world realm by realm. He reports what he sees in each realm, until he suddenly falls dead silent, for he now sees a realm in 32 B.C. Rome, where his counterpart Stephanus is kissing the Roman Emperor. Sheriff Stephen sees the gorgeous face of the emperor, from his charismatic aura, he immediately learn the Emperor is Doom.

Basically Doom created this AU in the reflections of Stephen's dream.

 Stephen drowned in happiness, which is quickly replaced by bitterness. He grew very sad that Stephanus and Victor can live happily together as lovers, while he is but Doom's right hand.

 (TBD)

[kinetic-elaboration]

May 21: The 100 2x11 Coup De Grace

It’s late, my computer’s more tired than I am (and hardcore hates me and very well may decide to eat this entire post who even knows), and this is probably a bad idea but I’m gonna do it anyway.

Or at least start.

Another episode, or partial episode, of The 100.

This opening torture sequence makes me so uncomfortable. Which like I get is the point but tbh I’m just not into ‘look how unflinching we are at the realities of Bad Stuff.’ Especially when my tired computer is skipping and the sequence becomes, like...trippy. Trippier.

This is probably a super bad idea because my computer literally cannot handle video lol. I am going to restart it.

It’s actually kind of nuts that Monty’s been missing for 2 days and Harper even longer and Jasper and Maya are like ‘this is weird and upsetting but I guess we’ll find them somewhere!!’ Well, Maya more than Jasper. Mount Weather isn’t THAT big.

“You have to look like nothing’s wrong. Like everything’s okay” is so sad. I think it’s situations like that that make S2 my favorite, just b/c I’m a sucker for scenarios of enclosed tension. Like, forget war and blah blah blah, I want this, like... secretive, spying, being spied upon, uncertainty. That’s the real horror in a satisfying way.

Gosh his haircut is awful though.

When does Clarke learn to ride a horse?

I have literally no idea what’s happening bc I rewatch these eps so infrequently.

Clarke just got “yes ma’amed.” I find that semi-hilarious, not because she’s 18 but because you knew Grounders used words like “ma’am.”

I love Clarke’s single-mindedness. “We can’t stop for water. We can’t stop for anything. We’re on a mission. And Bellamy might have called!” AWWNH!Clarke is so OOC lol but she has a different background okay?

I’m not really in the mood to trust Abby about anything. Does she... actually make good decisions? I feel like you’d have to track her through all of the seasons but I am inclined to say...perhaps......not.

So the Mountain Men tried to assassinate Clarke and Lexa. Completely forgot about that.

The introduction of Echo. I just... I just have no opinions on her, I guess. Literally my only opinion is that she should have been the Ice Queen and, not being the Ice Queen, she’s just not interesting to me. I will say, she couldn’t have been in Mount Weather long if she knew who the Sky People are, as they’ve only been on the ground about a month. But also...why does she hate them? They were only fighting with Trikru, and Azgeda territory isn’t even, like, in the vicinity.

I love Dante but he has some major balls looking Jasper in the face and saying he doesn’t know where his friends are. I mean, he doesn’t, because Cage stole them, but how do you just MISPLACE people in a 600,000 square foot bunker? Where COULD they go?

I’m sure I’ve said this before but as someone who went to a high school with a uniform I find it HIGHLY unrealistic that all these teenage boys tuck in their shirts and keep them tucked in all the time without exceptions.

Jasper being protective of Monty <3<3<3.

So it was MW that told them there were no Ark survivors. Did I know that? Did I forget that? Not that it matters as my Clarke/Maya fic is done lol.

Dante is the most Hilarious and Wonderful of all of the attempted father figures on this show I said what I said--they’re all terrible but at least he bring the Weird Father Figure energy to 11. I’ll lie to you but it’s to protect you, call you son (always weird), super good at self-defense--ah-ha! sword at at your neck!

“This is not a toy.” If the sword is in MW it’s probably Important and Famous.

IMO and I completely stand by this assessment, it’s harder for Jasper to be brave than it is for other people, and he was really brave, and it worked, and I’m proud of him.

I realize this is also a problem with the literal world but we actually do know that torture isn’t effective so Indra being all upset that she’s not allowed to torture Emerson is just so....exhausting to me. Like Clarke isn’t suggesting not torturing him bc she loves the high ground and must walk it at all times. She’s suggesting not torturing him bc the last time she tortured someone, she got 0 good information. And even though neither of them know it, it was the shit information garnered from torture that led Finn to TonDC! Also if they had let Emerson die, the Grounder would have also still died--it’s not that they chose to use resources on one and not the other. They had two different types of wounds. I mean I guess if they’d brought them in faster without patching up Emerson in the field? That’s probably what she meant. However the Grounder Death Cult and their complete willingness to declare their fight over at the merest papercut makes me again less sympathetic to this point of view.

I’d literally already forgotten that someone tried to assassinate Clarke like an hour earlier. Abby doesn’t need to be concerned about that, lol, Clarke’s used to it!

Okay first I did have a longstanding headcanon that Echo had a crush on Bellamy going way back--I mean that’s practically canon, yeah?--but now I’m super convinced because in their second scene together, he sacrifices himself for her using information she gave him (that MW takes the loud/strong looking ones), even though she greeted him by spitting in his face, and actually, that was very heroic and selfless of him. I’d fall in love too.

Second, I thought she had no tattoos because she’s a spy or w/e but I CLEARLY see tattoos on her legs. And they are not white either.

I don’t think I ever realized that Maya found Bellamy because she was in the infirmary/harvest chamber looking for Harper and Monty. I do not have a good memory for each scene leading into the next. AND she think she’s found them when she sees how fast the random patient’s treatment is working, because that has to be a Sky Person and she would never guess Bellamy.

They really do just talk about their little torture machine casually all the time. “I need to go over the treatment schedule so I know how many cages to clear.”

Hey so like how did Maya get in if she’s not cleared for this facility?

What a wonderful time to remember yet again that if Bellamy knows who Maya is from her reference to Jasper, Clarke, who saw Maya and Jasper flirt like ONE TIME, must have told him about them, which is cute and funny all at once.

Maya: “I wanted to see what was so special about him, but... he’s dead.” Bellamy: Ah yes! I’m dead! * immediately closes his eyes * Why am I laughing so hard at this?

Good thing they take dead bodies down slowly instead of just thunking them on their heads.

Maya, Bellamy, and Echo v. Lovejoy is a pretty satisfying fight. Also, what did Clarke just say about Emerson talking b/c they saved his life? Echo helps Bellamy because he saved her life. Sometimes you get more flies with honey.

I tend to forget that Bellamy literally strangled this guy with his bare hands. Like it was self-defense to some degree, in that this had to be a fight to the death, but it was also just pure fucking rage. Like he said, he (like Clarke for a while) wants to kill everyone in the Mountain.

And then he thanks Echo and asks Maya if she’s all right. A True Catch. Tbh I could see something forming out of Echo and Bellamy here, but not after some of the later twists and turns in the later narrative.

Honesty, I’ve always loved Maya but... let’s just appreciate her, shall we? That was horrific, seeing someone she knew killed in front of her--and helping, because she knew he was on the wrong side, even though that was the same side she’d been on her whole life. Is she completely in the moment, or is she already seeing that there’s no way out for her here? That the people they’ve brought into the Mountain are really going to destroy it?

Bellamy coming out in Lovejoy’s clothes looks like a kid trying on new clothes at the mall before the new school year. Except he’s just dumped a body down a trash chute.

Like “I’ll come back for you, I promise”--I can see a basis for a ship in that. So far it is 100% built on how Echo would have to be dumb not to fall in love with Bellamy but still.

This Maya and Bellamy scene is amazing. I love every aspect of it.

Lemme just...watch that Jonty hug on repeat.

Honestly they even ended the scene with them walking out the door together even though there’s no way anyone could have moved Harper that fast and there’s also no indication of who moved her or how. Guess she’s...not that important...?? LOL??

Kane has only two modes: fairly ineffectual bastard or utterly ineffectual neo-hippie. “You’re not grasping the situation! We’re nice! Be nice to us!” I probably shouldn’t mock him bc he is me lol, I also would not know what else to say to Emerson other than ‘please????’ but still. Common sense and peace and love would be great but those aren’t shared values I guess.

And then he goes 180 to ‘let’s torture him then?’

What you should be doing is good cop bad cop. Or like, wearing him down with repeated questioning? I heard that’s an effective interrogation technique, although here Emerson has a certain advantage of time and that his interrogators are way more easily annoyed than he is easily worn down or confused.

Anyway I remember now. Clarke ultimately solves this problem with that ultimate BDE moment, sending him with a message and 6 hours of oxygen. She really is just the Smartest.

At least Kane acknowledges that the Chancellorship is a completely random title since Abby literally just kinda stole it? Like Jaha is the rightful Chancellor and Kane is the second-most-rightful Chancellor and she’s just sorta...there? But it also doesn’t matter because as established, Clarke is the one actually in charge.

This Bellamy and Maya elevator scene is also the kind of tension that I like. Is Bellamy...legitimately considering shooting him? In the elevator? That would end badly lol. He has this idea to just start randomly offing people in public/enclosed places, while Lexa is all like ‘we can’t save TonDC bc it would blow Bellamy’s cover!’ like the irony.

I wonder if the MW classes are like...to some end, like, mandatory schooling that must be completed, or if they’re just like for funsies? I think the second, partially because it’s an “Expressionist class” which doesn’t seem like the Three Rs and partially because this dude doesn’t seem upset that Maya didn’t show, like he’s just vaguely wondering where she was.

“We’ve accomplished great things” in that tone is like the MOST American thing I have ever heard. (I can say this because I’m American.)

“We’ve been bleeding people to stay alive for generations. That’s our legacy” is true in the sense that Dante’s line in the sane is...truly in the sand. But also has it been ‘generations’? I’m not sure you understand how time works, show-as-a-whole. I mean maybe this is technically true? They probably discovered Grounders like....50 years ago? Which is sort of “generations.” But when you say it like that it makes it sound way longer.

You wanna root for Dante over Cage because he’s on the side of our heroes but in terms of like bitter logic Cage has the advantage. What they’ve already done and what Dante has managed to rationalize to himself is bad enough. They’re already Doing Bad Things, doing yet more bad things isn’t going to bother anyone. Especially when these extra bad things (1) come out to the same--torturing/killing people and (2) lead them to a permanent home on the ground.

I wonder if Dante/MW justified what they did to Grounders with stories of them being like...irradiated mutants. Like literally inhuman. So it ‘doesn’t count.’ I mean objectively they’re wrong of course but I mean in their heads. And then for Dante the line is so obvious between killing radiation casualties and killing just normal humans like themselves, whereas for Cage--who sees the Grounders more because of Cerberus, and knows they don’t look that much different, that they are also just people underneath the masks and big clothes--sees no difference between the Grounders and the Sky People, and if he’s already sullied himself by using one set, he can continue sullying himself, for a greater cause, by using the other set. It’s just a question of which story you’re telling yourself and how much you’re willing to lie.

The plotting of this season is, overall, very good. Especially in the second half.

I think Clarke’s default mode when stressed is order giving. It’s part of the control thing. She’s okay if she has everything under control, and if she knows everything, and when she has all that knowledge and control it just...spills out of her, directing people with what they need to do and where they need to go.

Whereas Raven’s in full ‘falling out of love with Clarke’ mode.

Also I think Clarke is very quick to comfort people and she is genuine in this but because she ALSO has her agenda and her strident tone and her controlled demeanor, it can look like manipulation. Or at least, if I were her friend, I would always wonder if she really cared or if she just wanted me to calm down so my emotions weren’t in the way of The Plan.

My 15 second Raven, Clarke, and Octavia scene. Lemme just rewatch this a bunch of times too.

“Jackson found genetic marker anomalies that can only come from someone born on the Ark.” Remember when people were theorizing that this was a big deal in some way? The Arkers were genetically modified to withstand space? I remember that being a theory. Anyway in retrospect, it’s just a Plot Device. Possibly a Pseudo-Science Plot Device I would not know.

Never mind. “We were genetically engineered. They weren’t.” So it is in fact canon, just meaningless canon. HOW IS THIS SOME RANDOM THROWAWAY LINE?

Clarke’s feral moments are the best.

It’s cute how Abby continues to think Clarke isn’t in charge.

Having Bell run into Lovejoy’s son is cheap but effective. I still remember that scene and I can really feel the full effect on him through Bob’s acting and the music. I also always remember that line “What did you expect you’d find here?” Because the answer is obviously ‘monsters.’ They had their simple narrative too: about how MW were the bad guys and thus they could destroy them all and it would be vengeful and feel good. But it’s more complicated than that: everyone in the Mountain is complicit in terrors. But many of them passively so. Bellamy was ready to kill all of them, and so was Clarke, but he changes his mind based on this encounter, tells her about it over the radio, and makes HER change her mind and in fact change her entire plan, by the time she explains it in 2x15.

And it’s sad for Maya too because Bellamy is being aided by her but she is still a Mountain Person. It’s easy to say ‘she’s an exception, she’s Jasper’s friend, she’s our friend.’ But she’s done everything he hates the Mountain for. If the whole Mountain is evil, she’s evil. And to the extent you can’t be both pro-MW and pro-Sky People, she’s put in this impossible position of choosing sides, or trying to switch sides abruptly. Bellamy sees that, and it’s like yet one more additional layer to his guilt over what he did, because he sees a new angle to how it affected Maya,  without whom he’d be dead.

Jonty the leader couple. And Jasper’s face when Monty says “We’re not safe here.”

S2 is my favorite bc of plotting like this episode: just as the 47 are about to leave, Cage stages his coup. Just as Bellamy is about to see his friends, the doors lock and they’re trapped. The moment when Jasper sees Bellamy--with absolutely no reason to believe this could even be possible. In trying to plan fics that use S2 I tend to get confused about the plot bc it goes back and forth and circles around a lot, but in actually watching it, it’s quite effective, and I think part of the circling confusion is just bc there are so many moving parts, people need to be in the right places at the right times, meet and separate at the right moments, so it can read awkwardly in summary. But they did a good job ultimately, I think.

Another thing about S2 generally is that even though it’s much more expansive than S1 in terms of locations and number of characters and groups of characters, ultimately almost everything revolves around one story (except for the CoL setup stuff), and 2 main locations that have meaning, with various points in between. So it is more concise and more centralized and more meaningful than later seasons, which become increasingly spread out and disjointed. Or so I try to explain to myself at 1am.

Yaaaay emotional Princess Mechanic and then Bravenlarke. I live for these moments when characters are just like...emotional together.

I don’t know if I find it realistic that Clarke would be like ‘it’s over’ so fast but nevertheless I like Raven and Bellamy picking her back up.

Clarke’s relieved face...she’s in love.

Bellamy: I’m fine. Me: He’s a liar!!! But I guess they can talk about his emotions later.

When they’re all together, they’re all better. Like immediately. Even Clarke’s “Raven’s going to help you” with a little look to her, like, this isn’t an order, and Raven nods....

I love that Bellamy took Maya’s expression to mean “It’s not a problem” when it quite obviously meant “It’s a huge problem.” But also Clarke smiled for .05 seconds so I think she knew he was a-lying. This could be a sitcom if it were a totally different show.

Weirdly, I watched part of 2x15 again for a fic I decided not to write atm and...they don’t actually use the Grounders as a Trojan Horse army. Their plan NOT to kill everyone including the kids meant basically that they used their real army as a distraction and then just took the inside-Grounders out the back way. Or that was the idea. Which in retrospect is actually kind of disappointing.

Clarke’s power walk through the hallway with her Grounder Entourage is just so....satisfying. This is the emotional payoff that got me into this show.

Clarke just literally staging a coup against her own mother, using the Grounder force that sees her as a leader, is so.... I feel like I have never appreciated it before this rewatch. I think in the past I found it kind of annoying tbh. But this time I like it a lot more. I like Clarke’s just insane levels of confidence and self-assurance. It is a good look.

First of all the parallel to the Wallaces. But more importantly, I always wanted this big story line of Delinquents Versus Arkers that never fully came as I wanted it, but this is pretty close, where she’s just used to being in charge by now, so you know what, she is. And the only thing she needs to make her desire for power real is muscle, which she has, thanks to Lexa, so she uses it. It’s also very satisfying. And should ultimately have been the groundwork for the delinquents to form a separate community but WHAT DO I KNOW?

All that said, and this isn’t contradictory, but Clarke picks like the MOST inflammatory way to go about her plan. She just does it, she gives no explanation, she stages a showdown at the gate with her own Mom the Chancellor. There is a subtler way of doing this. But I like that she didn’t do subtle because it’s IC for her. It’s IC for her age (who is more Dramatique than a teen?) and it’s IC for her place in her hero’s arc: under L’s influence, she’s becoming big-headed, leaning into the sin of pride, here in the form of “I do can do no wrong,” and by 2x16 in the form of “I can do no right, no one has ever been more wrong than I, no one has ever been more sorrowful than I, let me perform penance in the woods.”

Pride: the most annoying deadly sin.

Anyway.

And Kane, who always bows to the Alpha Female in the room, immediately enables Clarke’s Drama.

“Let our people go and we’ll let you live. It’s just that simple.”

“The Grounder army is bigger than you think and the acid fog can’t hurt them” is honestly a bluff though? Because again, they do not use or even PLAN to use the inside Grounders and they DO plan to take out the acid fog so??? I guess the point, if she was protecting Bellamy, WAS the bluff, WAS the distraction.

I think it was unnecessary to take out his O2 but I guess she’s really just showing off, which again is IC and I guess has the purpose of showing MW she means business and is Not To Be Fucked With. Still, it is important that her message make it to MW since it’s the distraction Bellamy asked for, so it seems like something of a risk to make it hard for the messenger to arrive home safely.

I do like that she gets to use that classic retort “That sounds like a you problem.”

And so.... I meant to go to sleep like 3 hours ago, and my power is flickering. Time for bed. The end, goodnight.

[snowfall-fanfictions]

Beware the Frozen Heart Ch. 14- The Reunion

Previous Chapter

Ao3 Link

FFN link

Eryn and Torvond have a little catching up session

Minor rape tw for this one folks, proceed with caution.

Eryn had to admit, the cell he was thrown into wasn’t the worst he’d been in. It wasn’t the largest nor was it the most well lit, but he had been locked away in literal caves before. They were even kind enough to give him a bed, unlike many other dungeons he’d been in. The cell was underneath the local barracks in the heart of town, a usual setup for small villages so that it’s harder for criminals to escape. Eryn laid back on the bed cot in the corner of the cell, placing his hands behind his head. Lineaus had to do… something or other, Eryn was too busy cursing out the ice harvester in his head to pay attention. When could that oaf have taken the dagger? He was better than that! Eryn bounced his foot angrily as he imagined burying his knife into the ice man’s throat for making him look like a dumbass. His mind then shifted to how Anna would react, seeing her fiance dead in a pool of his own blood. I’d be gone before anything could be done about it, so why not just beat the shit out of him and split? He thought, concentrating on the wooden floor above him. God, Eryn. When did you go soft… oh, right….

As he schemed about the future, he heard loud footsteps thudding down the staircase. Turning his head, he saw Lineaus arriving at the foot of the stairs, glaring at him with hands clasped behind his back. Eryn took special note of the various medals and ribbons that adorned the man’s jacket as they glistened in torchlight.

“As if I didn’t have enough problems already, you just had to show up…” Lineaus growled.

“Ah, Lineaus,” Eryn chuckled, “Got yourself a promotion, I see?”

“Shove it, Eryn! you have some gall to show up in Arendelle again. Especially after what you did.”

“Oh? You mean brought justice to a family where you and this godawful country refused to? Besides, I needed to come back. I’ve got important business here...”

“And what, pray tell, would that ‘important business’ be?”

Eryn let out a soft chuckle, “Well, I’ve found a glass slipper from the royal ball and I’ve been looking for the maiden who lost it…”

“Do I look like I have time for this foolishness, Eryn?” Eryn swung his feet to the side of the bed, “Ah, there’s the old ‘no nonsense’ Lenny I remember! It’s just like the old military days all over again!” “Don’t. Call. Me. That. You lost your right to call me that when you betrayed Arendelle.”

“Why do you care so much about this shithole, anyway? Not like this place did anything for you.”

“A soldier doesn’t expect anything in return for service to his country. Not that you’d understand,” Lineaus approached the cell bars. Eryn could see veins protruding from Lineaus’s neck.

“Oh, puh-lease, Lenny, we both know why you signed up in the first place.”

“Don’t you dare, Eryn…”

“You joined up to try and get close to the crown princess, to woo her with your devotion to this backwards country.”

Lineaus’s face turned bright red, “L-like you had a more noble reason to enlist!”

“It was like most wide eyed new recruits, I wanted to make a name for myself in this world; become famous, earn some glory, the usual things boys join up for.”

“Eryn, you and I both know there’s more to it than that.”

The assassin let out a gruff sigh, “Always perceptive, aren’t you, Lenny? Arendelle only cares about the high and mighty of society. Look at how they put Urlaf on a pedestal while ignoring the people he ruined.”

“Ugh, this again? Urlaf was a good ma-”

“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE DEFEND THAT RAPIST, YOU IGNORANT MORON!” Eryn jumped from the bed and marched over to the bars of the cell, meeting Lineaus’s face with his own.

“Oh, I see what’s going on here…”

“Do you now?” “You were jealous of Urlaf, so you made up an excuse to kill him-”

Eryn struggled not to strangle Lineaus through the bars. “Her name was Malia. She was only sixteen when Urlaf violated her. Her father and mother were threatened with charges of treason if they tried anything. I get that you idolized the bastard, but do you understand that doesn’t mean ‘suck his cock every waking second?’”

“Why would Urlaf try and cover up something like that? Especially when King Agnarr had two daughters of his own, surely he’d interve-” “You say that as if Agnarr would’ve given a damn,” Eryn began pacing the small room, “He locked the two of them up in the castle, didn’t he? Even then, the bastard was too busy throwing men to the north trying to get through some fog to care about anyone else, especially his own people.” 

“This is about your father, isn’t it?”

“Leave him out of this!”

“I remember seeing that report. An entire platoon, lost in an avalanche due north of here. Eryn, I-”

“Don’t even act like you understand. When he died, no one came to inform us, my mother and I had to find that out from an ice harvester who was passing through. But, no, I understand completely. I mean, two months later, when my mother was taken by illness, Arendelle didn’t do anything to help, either. Why try and help an eight year old with nowhere to go to when there’s a group of FUCKING TREE PEOPLE to save?!” Eryn kicked the stone wall with all his might, letting out a small whimper as he limped back to where Lineaus was standing.

“You can’t expect a government to oversee all of its subjects. I’m sorry that happened to you but-”

“This isn’t about me. What about Malia? A sixteen year old girl who was violated by the highest ranking general in Arendelle, and she never saw justice. You had a sister, Lineaus, surely you would understand.”

Lineaus paused for a moment, almost as if he was contemplating Eryn’s words. “How do you know Urlaf did any of this? This is a serious thing to accuse him of…”

“I saw it. The night I left, I was on night patrol when I saw him drag her to her tent. I saw the blood on her forehead where he struck her. I took his knife while he had his way with her, and slit his throat with it. After that night, I made it my mission to make Arendelle remember my name, no matter what.” Eryn’s memory fell onto that horrid night, how the knife began talking as the general’s blood ran through the runes etched into the blade. He remembered how it slipped into his mind, projecting a strange voice into his mind.

You wish to be remembered, boy? To etch your name and likeness into the hearts and minds of all throughout the world?

More than anything.

And you would be willing to do anything?

Yes...

Submit to me, then, and I will give you the power to ensure no one will ever forget you…

 Eryn decided to omit this information, knowing it would surely land him a permanent stay in an asylum. Lineaus processed this information, a worried look plastered on his face.

“Eryn… I want to believe you, I really do, but there isn’t really any kind of viable proof that-”

“Malia moved to Karnisvarne. She still lives there today, next to the Abhramsons. You remember Rolond, right?”

“Heh, how could I forget Rolond? Old man has a heart of gold and a will of steel.”

“I’m sure she’d be more open about it now, especially with Elsa in charge.”

“Ye- wait! How do you know Elsa well enough to call her by her first name?”

Fuck, Eryn thought as his whole body went rigid, “Well, I, uh… it’s a bit of a long story honestly…”

Lineaus’s eyes went wide, “Eryn, you’re not back in Arendelle for the reason why I think you're back, are you?”

“Depends on what you're thinking…”

“Are you here to kill Elsa?”

“What makes you think that?” “You want to make sure that Arendelle never forgot who you were. What else would do that than killing the queen herself? So I’ll ask again, are. You. Here. To. kill. Elsa?”

Eryn felt his heart sink to his stomach. He contemplated his answer for a moment before saying, “That… was the idea at first…”

“‘At first?!’ What in the hell do you mean ‘at first?!’” Eryn could see the veins in Lineaus’s neck bulge out again as his eyes narrowed in on him.

“Keep your pants on, I was going to call it off before you decided to butt in. Some old bag in Karnisvarne paid a king’s ransom in Weselton gold for her head on a pike.”

“What was a man with Weselton gold doing in Arendelle of all places?”

“Makes sense, going to Søderlund, the place that hates Arendelle’s guts so much the whole province would sing of her death for generations. You’re the only one who really loves this place from there.”

“So what changed? Why were you going to call it off?”

“...Because she turned out a lot different than I had anticipated. Here I was thinking there was another Runeard or Agnarr on the throne, but Elsa… Elsa’s completely different. She’s kind, caring, and her heart’s full of love for her people. So full in fact, that she doesn’t have enough room to love herself. She feels like she needs to put the weight of the world on her shoulders, that she needs to prove herself to the world that she’s worthy. It’s… heartbreaking, in a word. I didn’t think she deserved to die…”

Lineaus let out a deep sigh, “You should’ve seen her when Agnarr and Iduna were still around. You remember the induction posts, right?”

“Y’mean where we had to serve a whole year as castle guards before being deployed anywhere else? I’ve noticed they’ve added onto the whole place…”

“Heh, well I managed to see Elsa a fair bit during my time,” Lineaus let out a long sigh, “Poor thing always walked around cradling herself, never allowing anyone else to touch her. She always looked like she was on the brink of tears.”

“Must’ve been even worse when the king and queen died.”

“You’re not the one who had to break the news to them. Both Anna and Elsa. They were devastated. Elsa didn’t leave her room for months, not even to attend their funeral. It reminded me of Freya when our father died.”

Eryn felt guilt resonate through his body. He remembered hearing Lineaus talk about his sister before she took her own life, how she was bubbly and full of life, and how her death inspired him to join the military. Imagining Elsa in that same position felt like a kick in the chest.

“So you’d do anything in your power to protect her?”

“Absolutely, even if it meant I had to scale Yggdrasil itself.”

“Then listen to me, she’s currently here in Fjellby, at the Sleepy Troll Inn, top room on the left. Make sure she’s safe and I’ll hand you the man who hired me.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“LINEAUS!” 

The two men averted their gazes to the staircase. Eryn felt his blood run cold. Elsa was standing there in her commoner clothes, her hands placed on her hips and looking quite annoyed.

“Ma’am I’m sorry, but visiting hours are-” Elsa undid the bonnet she was wearing to reveal her long platinum blond braid. Lineaus went pale as his eyes grew to the size of saucers. “Y-Your Majesty!”

“Lineaus, why is my bodyguard incarcerated?!”

“Bodyguard?!”

Eryn scratched his head, “Yyyeah, probably should’ve told you that…”

Lineaus shot Eryn a dirty look before returning to the queen, “Elsa I had no idea this was your… personal guard.”

“Having some old bag shoot at you will do that-”

“Derrik, I don’t want to hear it. Lineaus, release him immediately.”

“Derrik? Since when have you gone by that, Eryn?”

“What?!” Elsa began tapping her foot on the floor.

Eryn slapped his hand up against his face as he felt the room get colder. Think of something, you idiot! He thought.

“Um… Derrik is my middle name! I use it whenever I need to, uh, avoid Weselton following me…”

Lineaus gave Eryn a death glare as he fumbled with the keys to the cell. With a loud clanking noise, the cell door swung open as Eryn casually walked out.

“Elsa, if I may-” Lineaus began.

“You have a lot to explain, Lineaus!” Elsa snapped, “I sent you up here to process the bandit situation, and you never reported back! Not only that, you threw my personal bodyguard in prison for no reason! Care to explain what Derrik did?”

“Because ‘Derrik’ is… wait, you haven’t been receiving my letters?”

It was Elsa’s turn to look shocked, “Letters? As in more than one? How many have you been sending?”

“I’ve been writing one every day for the past month.”

“The past month? I haven’t gotten a single letter! So you’ve taken care of the bandit situation, then?” “That’s just it, there aren’t any bandits around here, at least from what I’ve seen. I’ve tried talking to Governor Haadrikson about it, but he simply just waves my recommendations of withdrawal off with a ‘they’re out there, I just know it!’”

Elsa pursed her lips, deep in thought. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow, Lineaus,” she said, “For now, just make sure no one knows I’m here, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,”  Lineaus saluted the queen as she returned her bonnet to her head, concealing her hair. Eryn gave Lineaus a small nod before turning to Elsa, who gave him a ferocious glare that could scare wolves. He honestly never seen her this mad since… well, since two days ago. God, she looks hot when- DAMMIT! NOT NOW! He thought as she walked up the stairs. Eryn followed suit, unsure of what the queen had in store for him.

 XXXXXX

“I cannot believe you got yourself arrested, Derrik!” Elsa scolded in a hushed tone, “I thought the idea was that we needed to be hidden around here.” The two of them were back in The Sleepy Troll Inn, next to the fireplace. Eryn sat in a velvet chair, watching the flames in the hearth dance around the charred logs as he contemplated his answer.

“It’s not like I was expecting to run into Lineaus,” Eryn retorted, “Man’s always been high strung ever since we met.”

“That’s another thing, why didn’t you tell me you knew Lineaus? I’m sure I could’ve arranged something more friendly between you tw-” “The last time Lineaus and I met was less than friendly. Asshole gave me a black eye, I broke several of his ribs. Even told me that if I ever came back, he’d be the one to string me up on the gallows.” Looking over to Elsa, Eryn was confused on whether or not she was shocked at him calling Lineaus an asshole or finding out what had happened between Eryn and Lineaus.

“Lineaus wouldn’t do tha-”

”Men can do awful things when people don’t care enough!” he snapped. He watched as Elsa’s eyes went wide. “S-sorry.”

“What drove you two apart?” Elsa took a seat in the chair right next to him, leaning against the armrest. Eryn let out a small sigh.

“I witnessed a man Lineaus looked up to, who he aspired to be one day, commit a horrid atrocity. I tried to explain it to him, but he wouldn’t believe me. I… had to take matters into my own hands. Ended up getting called a traitor and had to run for my life.”

“I-I can’t believe Lineaus would do something like that. He’s never been like that around us before.”

“My guess is that he didn’t want the image of his role model tainted. He was a different man back then, with big aspirations. I don’t blame him for reacting the way he did, but it pained me that he still holds some kind of grudge.”

Elsa placed her hand on his arm, “Derrik, I’m sorry that happened. When this is all over, I’ll look into this myself and make sure Lineaus doesn’t bother y-”

“I appreciate that, your majesty, but that won’t be necessary.”

“Of course it is. You’ve done so much for us already, keeping me and Anna safe, apprehending the man who poisoned me, it only makes sense that I do something to help you.”

Gulit settled in the bottom of Eryn’s heart like sediment along the bottom of a river. “I-I think I’ll turn in for the night. Got a big day ahead of us,” he said rising up from his seat

“Derrik, are you sure?” Elsa asked as she followed suit.

“Positive, g’night,” Eryn hastily walked up the stairs and slinked back into his room. He softly closed the door behind him and slumped against it. Here she was, offering to help him and for what? He had tried to kill her twice, lied to her face multiple times, and even attacked her brother in law. He just needed to get away from this hellhole once and for all once this situation with the governor had been resolved.

Strangely enough, Eryn’s thoughts lingered back on his father. What would he think, seeing Eryn as nothing more than a shifty murderer? How would he react seeing his son disgrace his name, going around lying and ruthlessly killing people? Eryn buried his head in his hands as he felt tears form in the corners of his eyes for the first time in years.

One way or another, he needed to leave Arendelle behind forever, for his and Elsa’s sake.

XXXXXX

The moon shined high over the Arenfjord, its rays dancing on the water in spectacular fashion. The people of Arendelle were fast asleep, save for a small tavern in the heart of the town called The Summer Flurry, named in honor of the queen’s magic. Inside, a small group of men were gathered around a fairly large table, each cloaked to hide their faces. Everyone huddled together and began talking in hushed tones.

“It’s been over a month! What has he been doing?!” “Is he dead? He has to be!”

“She’s just one woman! How can some ditzy broad best Eryn?”

The man in the middle slammed his fist onto the table, silencing the others almost immediately.

“Look, it’s obvious that Eryn has failed,” the mysterious man said in a soft hushed tone, his voice nasally and high pitched, “It’s onto us now to finish the job.”

“How?” one of the others whispered, this time a rough and coarse voice, “Eryn knew the most out of all of us, and if he’s out of the picture-”

The man in the middle pulled his cloak back to reveal a middle aged man with blond hair and an eyepatch covering his left eye. The light of the lantern in the center of the table glistened in his working sapphire eye. “Not a problem,” he said, “We have enough information to work with. There’s a major event in the North Wing tomorrow around 6:30. We just throw this in the room,” he pulled out a small round metal ball with a small cotton string sticking out of the top, “and BOOM! The queen is blown to bits.”

“And Eryn?”

“Fuck him, he had his chance! We’ll just take the gold for ourselves and leave this hellhole once and for all!” Everyone at the table murmured in agreement. The time for waiting has passed, and the time for action is now.

Tomorrow night, this charade ends, and the Snow Queen will be dead...

[skylanders-after-the-end]

Frozen Heart

The desperate hunt for the Golden Queen has been in operation for months and remained unsuccessful. However, the Skylanders didn’t give up and continued to send out troops that would go to different islands in hopes of finding the rogue queen. The next place that would have to be visited was the Leviathan Lagoon, which the Skylanders visited years ago while looking for the Elemental Sources. Many Skylanders offered their services to visit the tropical island, mostly because it was one of the most popular holiday destinations since the Eternal Water source has been removed from it. Finally, Nightfall, Smash Hit, Roller Brawl and Chill were chosen to go on the mission. Nightfall used her vehicle, the Sea Shadow, while Smash Hit borrowed Dive-Clops’ Dive Bomber to travel to the huge island. As soon as the Superchargers and their companions arrived, they begun the search, even though some had other things in minds.

“I’m so glad I finally get to visit the famous Leviathan Lagoon!” Smash Hit slammed the door of the Dive Bomber open and jumped out with joy. The warsupial inhaled the humid salty air and looked around himself. “I really envy the guys that were here when they were collecting the sources.”

“We’re not on vacation, Smash Hit.” A distorted raspy voice spoke up. “We are looking for the Golden Queen, she could have gone anywhere, even here.” Nightfall finally exited her vehicle as well and floated over to the fellow Supercharger.

“Of course, focus on the mission!” The Earth Skylander put a stern expression on and tried to be more serious about his duty. “But if she’s not here we could visit the beach.” Smash Hit looked over to the dreadwalker with his one healthy eye, who only sighed in return.

“Fine, but don’t expect me to stay in the sun all day, it’s already exhausting.” While the sunlight didn’t hurt her, it still was the opposite of Nightfall’s natural habitat and she had a hard time adjusting to intense light.

Roller Brawl soon got out of the Dive Bomber as well, followed by Chill leaving the inside of the Sea Shadow. Oddly enough, the ice warrior was regularly wearing her blizzard armor instead of her regular attire. Despite Roller Brawl preferring that version optically, she was confused as to why Chill would wear her old guard armor. She already asked her friend about it, but the Water Skylander has grown more distant and silent since their intense adventure in the Ice Kingdom.

“You haven’t been on any missions for a while now, huh?” Roller Brawl smiled as she looked at her friend’s emotionless expression, attempting to make her smile.

“I haven’t.” A short and clear answer from Chill.

“I don’t think you’ve been here before either. I already love this place.” Roller Brawl observed the waterfalls as they poured down from the stone walls and into the seemingly endless sea.

“This is my first visit here too, yes.” Chill took a few steps forward without giving the skater another look and discussed the plan with Nightfall.

Roller Brawl was upset. Chill has become her closest friend over the years, but now she doesn’t even want to leave the Academy and she hasn’t seen her smile for months. The vampire hoped that the relaxing atmosphere of the lagoons might bring the Chill she knew back.

At the Academy, Stealth Elf was just headed to the library. The Skylander has been visiting it quite often for the last few months, and she didn’t plan to change that anytime soon. The elf opened the heavy wooden doors and stepped in. A few of her allies turned their heads towards her before going back to their books. The library was always calm and silent, perfect conditions for Stealth Elf to focus on her work. The assassin walked up the stairs and started to look for a few certain books. As she pushed them along the shelf, she spotted a familiar figure in the corner of the room.

“Star Strike?” The elf didn’t think she would ever get to see the mysterious Skylander again, but now she was right there sitting on a chair in the library.

“Oh, hello Stealth.” The alien briefly lifted her eyes to greet the bewildered elf before going back to her book about worlds beyond Skylands.

Stealth Elf still couldn’t believe her eyes. “Why are you here?” She asked more calmly and wanted to know why Star Strike didn’t pull through with her plan to leave the Skylands and return to her home. “Didn’t you want to go home?”

“I did.” The Magic Skylander turned over to the next page. “We were able to open the door, but there were… complications.” The cloaked being remembered what she saw back then. The entrance to her home darkening itself before a spirit emerged from it and fled. Both her and Enigma tried to forget about it, but it’s haunting them, and they fear that they might have freed something terrible.

“Why didn’t you try again?” Stealth Elf didn’t want to sound like she wanted Star Strike to leave for good, but she also realized how much she truly misses her home.

“The realm collapsed in itself. We tried, but we couldn’t find it anymore.” Star Strike knew that there were multiple entrances to the realm, but it already took Enigma years to find this one, so she didn’t get her hopes up.

Stealth Elf was silent for a few seconds. It all sounded very dramatic, but that gave her the desire to make the Academy feel like Star Strike’s true home. “So, you’re staying here?”

“I never wanted to truly leave all of you.” Star Strike did want to go back, but she made many friends along the way and didn’t want to lose that either. “But I wanted to go back home more.” She finally closed the book in between her hands and looked at the elf. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

Even though she couldn’t see it, Stealth Elf felt that Star Strike was happier than she used to be. She put her hand on the Magic Skylander’s shoulder. “I’m sure you will.” The assassin left her friend in solitude and continued with her own research.

After a few minutes, the Life Skylander found all the books she required and made her way over the several wooden planks that were present in the library. At the other side of the building, the Skylander reached a grand wooden closet filled with books. She put the ones she had in her arms on the ground and pushed the closet to the side. Behind it was a dark tunnel with torches lighting it up on the side. The assassin picked her books up and entered it before pushing the closet in front of it back into place. At the end of the tunnel was a small area with an opening above allowing light to shine into it. In it were countless books which the elf gathered over the last few months, and now she had more to add. She sat down and picked one of the books out of the mountains surrounding her. They weren’t all the same, but they all had something in common – it was always about the history of forest elves and records of orphaned children from many years ago.

Back on the Leviathan Lagoon, the four Skylanders asked some of the few inhabitants about seeing any strange occurrences that were related to gold. None of them had anything useful to tell them. While Nightfall continued to look for herself, Smash Hit already considered the job done and went to the beach.

“What are you doing?” The irritated dreadwalker asked the Supercharger as he just grabbed a lounger and a towel.

“We asked everyone about the Golden Queen, she’s not here. So I’m going to the beach!” Smash Hit didn’t bother to reason with the grumpy Skylander any further and went off to find a nice spot next to the ocean.

Nightfall was in no mood to argue and floated after him. “Smash, we did not come here to have a beach trip. There could be clues to where she’s gone. It’s been months and she must have been to some places-”

“Isn’t this exactly what you did the last time?” Smash Hit interrupted the Dark Skylander who abruptly stopped in surprise. “You were looking for the Doom Raiders for about two weeks with this exact strategy, and you could only find them when Sprocket escaped and brought you to them.”

Nightfall was at a loss for words. She did not expect the laid back and usually chatty Earth Skylander to react in such a way. “They teleported themselves to an island we never heard of before, we couldn’t-”

“I’m not trying to tell you that you’re doing your job wrong, but I think you have trouble learning from your mistakes.” Smash Hit pushed the lounger in his arm up when he felt it slowly slipping down before continuing his lecture. “You would have never found them if you kept looking for them like this. And it’s been months with the queen now. She hasn’t done anything so far and she won’t until she’s settled down somewhere. And when she does, we will find out about it and stop her, just like we always do.”

The Supercharger turned around and left without another word. Nightfall was caught off guard and for the first time had nothing to say in return.

Meanwhile, Chill and Roller Brawl were also done investigating the tropical islands and were ready to head back. Chill walked straight into one direction without speaking a word with Roller Brawl, who awkwardly skated next to her. They have only communicated when necessary during their trip and Roller Brawl didn’t enjoy feeling this uncomfortable around her friend.

“You have any plans for the rest of the day?” The roller skater attempted to start a conversation. “The weather is nice, even though I can’t stay in the sun for too long and you don’t like the heat either, we could do something-”

“I’m going back to the Academy as soon as the mission is done.” Chill responded before her friend could finish and continued walking while Roller Brawl slowed down until coming to a halt.

“Chill what happened to you?” Roller Brawl finally asked a question that made the ice warrior stop as well.

“What do you mean?” The Water Skylander’s Russian accent made all of her sentences sound harsh and colder than they already were.

“You know exactly what I mean.” Roller Brawl was getting tired of Chill’s behavior and decided to finally confront her. “For the last months you have been distancing yourself from everyone, even me!” The skater stared at the Skylander’s back who didn’t feel the need to face her angered ally. “We used to be best friends, don’t you remember?”

Chill was silent and didn’t move. Roller Brawl desperately looked at her friend, hoping that she would finally talk to her. Suddenly, the warrior turned around and tossed her javelin right past the vampire. Roller Brawl looked back to see a bunch of marine monsters emerging from the water, one of which was just hit by Chill’s weapon.

The Undead Skylander clenched her teeth and was about to skate towards them, when a trail of ice spikes suddenly impaled one of the enemies. Roller Brawl looked behind her to see Chill using more advanced ice powers to defeat the enemies in a rather brutal way. That didn’t stop her to continue throwing her javelins and creating spikes to pierce through the enemies one after the other. It was a gruesome view, even for an undead such as Roller Brawl. After a few moments, all foes were defeated and their lifeless bodies sunk back into the depths of the sea.

“We should go find Nightfall and Smash Hit.” Chill said as cold as always and continued her way.

Roller Brawl sighed before going after her friend, who still didn’t give her an answer to her question. But the Skylander wouldn’t give up that easily.

Spyro was inside of the Academy hospital. The dragon has been walking from left to right for minutes on end. He was nervous. Nervous was an understatement. He was utterly anxious and terrified. After Cynder has been resting and the doctors at the hospital have been trying to do everything they can, the results for her condition were finally here. They would finally know whether or not Cynder could ever fly again. Spyro waited in front of her room to receive the news first. The dragoness wanted her closest friend to tell her. Whirlwind soon got out of her main office and approached Spyro. Her expression already told the Skylander that the results were anything but positive. After a short conversation, Spyro finally entered Cynder’s room where she eagerly laid in her bed waiting for the news.

The undead dragon looked over to her friend who had a neutral expression. No smile, no frown. She didn’t want to wait any longer. “And?”

Spyro took a deep breath and sat down next to his friend’s bed. He couldn’t hide his disappointment any longer. “Whirlwind told me that they have run many tests and considered every possible option, but…”

Cynder’s hopeful attitude started to fade while the dragon was hesitating to finish his sentence. “I will never be able to fly again.”

Tears started to form in Spyro’s eyes as he looked up to his friend. He only shook his head to confirm her assumption.

Cynder inhaled and looked at the peachy orange wall of her room. A despicable color in her opinion. She had the urge to leave the hospital and soar back to the dark and gloomy place that was the Undead Realm, but now she could never do that. She could only walk. Slowly, carefully. If she fell off an island, she would have to rely on others to save her. Cynder started to picture her entire life without the ability to fly and couldn’t stop tears from running down her face. Tears which lead to her sobbing and clenching the sheets on her bed with her silver claws, almost tearing it in the process.

Spyro rose up and embraced his friend, who continued to cry and sob on her friend’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.” Spyro was as devastated as his friend and wanted to do everything he possibly could to help and support her through this hard time.

“Nothing will ever be okay again.” Cynder had to inhale loudly and irregularly to not choke while she was sobbing. “First Malefor and now this.” She remembered the return of the dragon who kidnapped and raised her to be a harbinger of death all those years ago, and he was still out there. If he ever managed to escape Hex’ grasp and attack them again, the dragon wouldn’t even be able to properly defend herself against him.

The friends were heartbroken and comforted each other by hugging and crying out all of the feelings and thoughts that were in their heads. Would Cynder truly have to live her life without ever being able to use her wings again? As terrible as it may sound, that was the reality they were currently in, and there was nothing they could do to change that.

Chill and Roller Brawl soon found Smash Hit relaxing on the beach and enjoying the bright sun, which was slowly disappearing behind a layer of clouds. He held his hands behind his head and looked over to the Skylanders with his one eye before closing it again.

“Where’s Nightfall?” Chill asked directly, disturbing the Supercharger during his tanning session.

“She took the Sea Shadow to look for more clues.” Smash Hit didn’t think about moving in the slightest, even though he could slowly feel the warm sunshine disappearing.

“Golden Queen wasn’t here, we checked everything.” Roller Brawl wanted to get off the islands as soon as possible now. The monsters and Chill’s cold behavior ruined her mood.

The Skylanders then heard something strange beneath the water. They looked at it when suddenly a purple light emerged from the depths and left a black hole behind itself. The Sea Shadow then ascended from the sea and flew above the others’ heads, landing on the yellow beach sand.

Nightfall quickly exited her vehicle and rushed to the others. “Watch out!”

Even Smash Hit opened his eye when a great blue leviathan followed the Sea Shadow by jumping out of the water and flying in mid-air. Before anyone else could react, Chill raised both of her hands and created large icy spikes which pierced right through the creature’s body. Blood spurted out of the wounds and the fish flinched for a few more moments, before the injuries of the spikes took its last breath.

Everyone, including Nightfall, stared at the dead body in shock and then at Chill, who showed a hint of surprise herself.

“Why did you do that!?” Smash Hit got out of his chair and confronted the warrior. “You just killed one of the rarest creatures in Skylands!”

“It was about to attack us.” Chill wanted to justify her actions and looked at Nightfall to confirm her statement.

“It is forbidden to kill them. I wanted to distract it so no one would get harmed.” Even the gloomy dreadwalker seemed mortified by the Water Skylander’s actions.

Chill finally looked over to Roller Brawl who covered her mouth with her hand in shock. The ice warrior couldn’t take it anymore and ran off. The Superchargers looked after her while Roller Brawl decided to follow. The clouds in the sky have turned into a dark grey and covered the entire area. Chill ran over one bridge after the other, she wanted to get as far away from her victim and companions as possible. But no matter how fast she ran, she wasn’t able to outrun Roller Brawl.

The vampire soon caught up to her. “Chill, stop!”

Chill did as she was told and once again stood there without facing her friend.

“I’m worried about you, Chill.” Roller Brawl slowly approached her friend and carefully tried to get closer to her. “We have all hurt and even killed enemies before, but what you’re doing… it’s too much.”

Chill remained silent and didn’t move an inch. She stood there as if she was frozen.

“You’ve been like this for months, and I want to help you, I really do.” The Undead Skylander was now almost right behind the guard and stopped moving. “You just have to let me.”

Chill clenched her fists and Roller Brawl noticed that she was starting to shake. Suddenly, the Skylander turned around with tears in her eyes. “I can’t!”

Out of nowhere, snowflakes gently fell out of the sky and onto the torn friends. Roller Brawl was surprised, but she couldn’t focus on that after seeing her friend like this. She knew that Chill needed help. “Why not?”

“I don’t deserve your help, or anyone else’s.” Chill looked down at the ground and held herself with both arms as if she wanted to warm herself up. “I don’t deserve anything.”

“Don’t say that!” Roller Brawl couldn’t believe what she heard and decided to put her arms onto Chill’s. “You’re my friend and a Skylander, you deserve to be happy.”

“How could I?” Chill removed her friend’s arms by turning back around and looking at her reflection in the water. “How could I after what I’ve done?”

Roller Brawl was afraid she would hear that. She was aware of how deeply affected Chill was by their visit to the Ice Kingdom and her confrontation with the Snow Queen. She put her hand back onto Chill’s shoulder.

“When I defeat those enemies with my spikes, it always reminds me of… her. How I killed her.” Chill started to sob but quickly caught herself and repressed her tears. “I killed my queen.”

Roller Brawl took a deep breath. The vampire has already tried to calm her down before she completely shut her out, but it seems like Chill would never truly get over it. “You know you did the right thing. She wasn’t the queen you remembered. She got corrupted by power and-”

“But I swore to protect her with my life.” Chill looked at Roller Brawl’s glowing purple eyes and tried to not start crying again like she did many times after they returned from that excursion. “I was supposed to be her guardian.”

“I know.” Roller Brawl sighed and wasn’t sure what to do anymore. She finally came to the idea to look at herself as an example and use her own experiences to help Chill. “I’ve been where you are before.”

“You have?” Chill looked at her friend with questioning eyes.

“Well, not exactly, but something similar.” Roller Brawl was talking about the time her brothers got kidnapped and she blamed herself for that. “I also beat myself up over something that wasn’t my fault. I was the victim of the evil intentions of another person. Of course, it can’t be compared to your situation, but I realized that by accepting the fact that it happened and that I can’t undo it anymore, only then will I be able to fix it.”

“But what is there to fix?” Chill used her cold hands to rub the tears out of her eyes.

“You, Chill.” She looked at her friend with a soft smile and felt like she finally understood what this was about. “You may not be able to fix your kingdom, but you can fix yourself.”

Chill was silent for a few moments. The snow falling from above was slowly starting to disappear and the guardian finally returned a smile after so many months. She stretched her arms out and embraced the vampire in a hug. “Thank you, for not giving up on me.”

Roller Brawl returned the hug and was overjoyed that her best friend was finally back. While the friends embraced each other, the dark clouds vanished, and the sun reappeared to complete the warm setting on the beach.

The two Skylanders returned to the Superchargers, this time Chill looked far livelier and more like her old self.

“Did you two talk things out?” Smash Hit asked as he impatiently waited in front of the Dive Bomber to leave before anyone would notice the impaled leviathan.

“You could say that.” Roller Brawl smiled and looked at her friend, who happily returned a smile.

“Then we can go.” Nightfall hopped into her vehicle and the others soon followed.

The Skylanders made their way back to the Academy, where Chill and Roller Brawl would finally spend time together again, and occasionally talk about their feelings with each other rather than shutting them out.

[xeno-aligned]

copy & pasted under the read more in order to have a local copy.

A Brief His and Herstory of Butch And Femme

BY: JEM ZERO 16 DEC 2017

When America’s LGBTQ+ folk started coming out of the closet in the 1950s, the underground scene was dominated by working class people who had less to lose if they were outed. Butch/femme presentation arose as a way for lesbians to identify each other, also serving as a security measure when undercover cops tried to infiltrate the local scenes. Butch women exhibited dapper and dandy aesthetics, and came to be known for being aggressive because they took protective roles during raids and other examples of homophobic violence. The image of the butch lesbian became a negative stereotypes for lesbians as a whole, leaving out femme lesbians, who are (pretty insultingly) considered undetectable as lesbians due to their feminine presentation.

In modern times there’s less need for strict adherence to these roles; instead, they become heritage. A great deal of political rebellion is wrapped up in each individual aesthetic. Butch obviously involves rejecting classically feminine gender expectations, while femme fights against their derogatory connotations.

But while butch/femme has been a part of lesbian culture, these terms and identities are not exclusive to queer women. Many others in the LGBTQ community utilize these signifiers for themselves, including “butch queen” or “femme daddy.” Butch and femme have different meanings within queer subcultures, and it’s important to understand the reasons they were created and established.

The Etymology

The term “lesbian” derives from the island on which Sappho lived—if you didn’t already guess, she was a poet who wrote extensively about lady-lovin’. Before Lesbos lent its name to lesbians, the 1880s described attraction between women as Sapphism. In 1925, “lesbian” was officially recorded as the word for a female sodomite. (Ick.) Ten years before that, “bisexual” was defined as "attraction to both sexes."

In upcoming decades, Sapphic women would start tearing down the shrouds that obscured the lives of queer women for much of recorded history. Come the ‘40s and ‘50s, butch and femme were coined, putting names to the visual and behavioral expression that could be seen in pictures as early as 1903. So, yeah—Western Sapphic women popularized these terms, but the conversation doesn’t end there, nor did it start there.

Before femme emerged as its own entity, multiple etymological predecessors were used to describe gender nonconforming people. Femminiello was a non-derogatory Italian term that referred to a feminine person who was assigned male—this could be a trans woman, an effeminate gay man, or the general queering of binarist norms. En femme derives from French, and was used to describe cross-dressers.

Butch, first used in 1902 to mean "tough youth," has less recorded history. Considering how “fem” derivatives were popularized for assigned male folks, one might attribute this inequality to the holes in history where gender-defying assigned female folks ought to be.

The first time these concepts were used to specifically indicate women was the emergence of Sapphic visibility in twentieth century. This is the ground upon which Lesbian Exclusivism builds its tower, and the historical and scientific erasure of bisexual women is where it crumbles. Seriously, did we forget that was a thing?

The assumption that any woman who defies gender norms is automatically a lesbian relies on the perpetuation of misogynist, patriarchal stereotypes against bisexual women. A bisexual woman is just as likely to suffer in a marriage with a man, or else be mocked as an unlovable spinster. A woman who might potentially enjoy a man is not precluded from nonconformist gender expression. Many famous gender nonconforming women were bisexual—La Maupin (Julie d'Aubigny), for example.

Most records describing sexual and romantic attraction between women were written by men, and uphold male biases. What happens, then, when a woman is not as openly lascivious as the ones too undeniably bisexual to silence? Historically, if text or art depicts something the dominant culture at the time disagrees with, the evidence is destroyed. Without voices of the Sapphists themselves, it’s impossible to definitively draw a line between lesbians and bisexuals within Sapphic history.

Beyond White Identities

Another massive hole in the Lesbian Exclusivist’s defenses lies in the creeping plague that is the Mainstream White Gay; it lurks insidiously, hauling along the mangled tatters of culture that was stolen from Queer and Trans People of Colour (QTPOC). In many documents, examples provided of Sapphic intimacy are almost always offered from the perspective of white cis women, leaving huge gaps where women of color, whether trans or cis, and nonbinary people were concerned. This is the case despite the fact that some of the themes we still celebrate as integral to queer culture were developed by Black and Latinx LGBTQ+ folk during the Harlem Renaissance, which spanned approximately from 1920 to 1935.

A question I can’t help but ask is: Where do queer Black, Indigenous, and other People of Color fit into the primarily white butch/femme narrative? Does it mean anything that the crackdown on Black queer folk seemed to coincide with the time period when mainstream lesbianism adopted butch and femme as identifiers?

Similar concepts to butch/femme exist throughout the modern Sapphic scene. Black women often identify as WLW (Women-Loving-Women), and use terms like “stud” and “aggressive femme.” Some Asian queer women use “tomboy” instead of butch. Derivatives and subcategories abound, sometimes intersecting with asexual and trans identities. “Stone butch” for dominant lesbians who don’t want to receive sexual stimulation; “hard femme” as a gender-inclusive, fat-positive, QTPOC-dominated political aesthetic; “futch” for the in-betweenies who embody both butch and femme vibes. These all center women and nonbinary Sapphics, but there’s still more.

Paris is Burning, a documentary filmed about New York City ball culture in the 1980s, describes butch queens among the colourful range of identities prevalent in that haven of QTPOC queerness. Despite having a traditionally masculine physique, the gay male butch queen did not stick to gender expectations from straight society or gay culture. Instead, he expertly twisted up his manly features with women’s clothing and accessories, creating a persona that was neither explicitly masculine nor feminine.

Butch Queens Up in Pumps, a book by Marlon M. Bailey, expounds upon their presence within inner city Detroit’s Ballroom scene, its cover featuring a muscular gay man in a business casual shirt paired with high heels. Despite this nuance, butch remains statically defined as a masculine queer woman, leaving men of color out of the conversation.

For many QTPOC, especially those who transcend binary gender roles, embracing the spirit of butch and femme is inextricable with their racial identity. Many dark-skinned people are negatively portrayed as aggressive and hypermasculine, which makes it critical to celebrate the radical softness that can accompany femme expressions. Similarly, the intrinsic queerness of butch allows some nonbinary people to embrace the values and aesthetics that make them feel empowered without identifying themselves as men.

Butch, Femme, and Gender

It’s pretty clear to me that the voices leading the Lesbian Exclusive argument consistently fail to account for where butch and femme have always, in some form, represented diverse gender expression for all identities.

‘Butch’ and ‘femme’ began to die out in the 1970s when Second Wave Feminism and Lesbian Separatism came together to form a beautiful baby, whom they named “Gender Is Dead.” White, middle class cis women wrestled working class QTWOC out of the limelight, claiming that masculine gender expression was a perversion of lesbian identity. The assassination attempt was largely unsuccessful, however: use of these identifiers surged back to life in the ‘80s and ‘90s, now popularized outside of class and race barriers.

Looking at all this put together, I have to say that it’s a mystery to me why so many lesbians, primarily white, believe that their history should take precedence over… everyone else that makes up the spectrum of LGBTQ+ experiences, even bi/pan Sapphics in same-gender relationships. If someone truly believes that owning butch/femme is more important than uniting and protecting all members of the Sapphic community from the horrors of homophobic and gendered oppression, maybe they’re the one who shouldn’t be invited to the party.

As a nonbinary lesbian, I have experienced my share of time on the flogging-block. I empathize strongly with the queer folks being told that these cherished identities are not theirs to claim. Faced with this brutal, unnecessary battle, I value unity above all else. There’s no reason for poor trans women, nonbinary Black femmes, bisexual Asian toms, gay Latino drag queens, or any other marginalized and hurting person to be left out of the dialogue that is butch and femme, with all its wonderful deconstructions of mainstream heteronormative culture.

It is my Christmas wish that the Lesbian Exclusivist Tower is torn down before we open the new chapter in history that is 2018. Out of everything the LGBTQ+ community has to worry about already, petty infighting shouldn’t be entertained—especially when its historical foundation is so flimsy. Queering gender norms has always been the heart of butch/femme expression, and that belongs to all of us.

[morningsound15]

Clexa Week 2018

Day 6 — Friday, March 2nd: Famous

The Commander is the most recognizable figure within the 13 Clans.

But Wanheda comes in a close second.

Read the earth, that is sufficient on AO3.

(I and mine do not convince by arguments, similes, rhymes, We convince by our presence.)

The Commander is the most recognizable figure within the 13 Clans. Clarke knows this; Lexa knows this. She cannot walk out onto the street without being swarmed by admirers, without being besieged by a multitude of queries and problems. She cannot travel without an Honor Guard, lest some naïve, bold assassin — perhaps a holdover from when the Ice Queen still maintained a modicum of power over a certain subset of society — make an attempt on her life.

The Commander is the most recognizable figure within the 13 Clans. She’s as close as they come to royalty, to celebrity, to a queen and monarch and God. It’s obvious by the way she commands a room; by the way people bow to her when she walks past; by the way children whisper stories and legends about her amongst themselves at night; by the way her people not only revere her, but also adore her. It’s obvious by the way they come to her with their problems; by the way the sick reach out to her on the street; by the way merchants and vendors offer her their goods for free, practically begging her to take them, and by the way she refuses any such item which she cannot pay for immediately.

The Commander is the most recognizable figure within the 13 Clans.

But Wanheda comes in a close second.

It surprises Clarke, the first time she realizes. Within her usual circles — among political leaders, generals, Sky People, and other Ambassadors — she knows that she is recognizable. But she (perhaps foolishly) thought that the knowledge of her appearance stopped at the edge of those particular groups. Legends about her may spread throughout the 13 Clans, but in a crowd, Clarke has always believed herself to be relatively invisible. To those who mattered, she was known; but to the everyday citizen, she was a ghost; a story, not a person.

At least, that’s what she always thought.

It happens on an innocuous day, when Clarke is visiting the local markets. She loves exploring the streets of Polis, loves the way the people flock to and flood the busy city centers. She loves experiencing the intermixed cultures of the different clans, all congregating as one united citizenry in their capitol. She loves looking at the craftsmanship on pieces of furniture, loves marveling at the new weaponry. Most of all, she enjoys when she has an opportunity (and a need, really) to actually shop. And today is her favorite instance of all: when she must purchase new art supplies.

Clarke has no significant wealth to speak of. She possesses a few tradable goods — things she’s picked up over the last year, items she’s found or bartered for — but mostly what she is able to trade consists of food, and Lexa’s personal wealth.

She doesn’t like to do it. It took months for Lexa to convince her that their belongings were meant to be shared, that she had no use for the wealth afforded to her position, that nothing would make her happier than the ability to purchase the very few luxury items Clarke desires.

So she doesn’t like to do it, doesn’t like to take Lexa’s money with her when she goes to the markets, but Lexa has been insisting so vehemently — and Clarke does have a birthday approaching, and she is in desperate need for some new paints — that she hesitantly, begrudgingly acquiesces.

She spots a stand a few hundred yards away, and just from one glance she can tell it’s perfect. She makes her way carefully through the crowds and her eyes light up when she draws closer. It’s a new vendor — Clarke doesn’t think she recognizes the woman from her previous trips here — and her selection is extraordinary. She has jars of paints, leather-bound notebooks, reams of paper, and dozens and dozens of pencils. Clarke is awed by the sheer variety of it all, and her fingers glide carefully along the spines of sketchbooks, her knuckles brushing against the pencils almost reverently.

She pauses over a pallet of paints, bright and oily and untouched.

She reaches into her coin purse and grabs a handful. Looking up at the woman inside the stall, she gestures towards the pallet of paints. “How much?” She asks.

The woman shakes her head and says something in a language Clarke does not understand. It is not Trigedasleng, but one of the other regional dialects. Clarke is not familiar with them all, not yet, so she cannot place her origin.

Clarke frowns, and again holds out her coins. But the woman pushes her hand away from her and shakes her head more vehemently. She repeats her phrase, yet Clarke still does not understand.

She turns to the warrior at her side (the man Lexa insists she take with her, whenever she leaves the safety of the tower). “What’s she saying?” She asks him, in English.

“She is saying it is free for you, Wanheda.”

Clarke blinks in surprise. “No,” she says, then turns back to the woman. “No, I… I can’t accept… these are expensive, and I have the money.” She glances back at her guard. “Rivo, can you tell her?”

He speaks to the woman, his voice gruff, his words stiff and a little unnatural. Her language is not his, but Lexa’s best warriors all know a little bit of every language, just enough to get by when they need to. The woman responds to him, her voice fluttery and light and overly-excited.

“She says she will not accept your money, Wanheda,” he addresses her, while still squinting at the woman in front of them, who has not stopped talking. “She says you destroyed the Maunon. They took her brother.” Clarke swallows thickly. “She says you will never have to pay, here.”

Clarke shakes her head. “Beja,” she begs the woman, frustrated by her lack of ability to communicate with her effectively, “let me pay you. I have enough.”

“You should accept her gift, Wanheda,” Rivo says quietly, out of the corner of his mouth. “To refuse would be an insult.”

Clarke shakes her head. “The Commander always pays. Even when they try not to let her.”

Rivo chuckles. “The Commander is firm. She does not bend. They accept her money only when she wears them down.”

“I…” Clarke looks helplessly at the item in her hand, then back to the woman who is still beaming at her. Clarke smiles back, weakly. “Thank you,” she says sincerely. “Mochof.” The woman bows, so low her forehead touches her table.

Clarke walks away from her feeling distinctly uncomfortable, distinctly visible. She looks around at the market they’re caught in the middle of, and suddenly she starts to see it differently. People make way for her as she walks past them. Children giggle and run after her in the street. Men and women she has never met before nod politely at her, even though they do not afford the same courtesies to other strangers.

Clarke runs a hand through her hair, a little flustered. “How did she know who I was?” She asks her guard quietly.

He shrugs from his spot next to her. “You are Wanheda,” he says, like it’s obvious. Maybe it is to him. “You wear the Commander’s colors; you wear the Commander’s braids. You defeated the Maunon. You brought peace to our people. Anyone would know you.”

The Commander is famous; it’s as simple as that. So when she travels, news of her activities spread throughout the 13 Clans. When she engages in a particularly ferocious duel, or when she wins a particularly difficult victory over an impossible enemy, it takes only a few short days for the entire Coalition to hear of it. And when something happens to her, fear and anxiety ripple through her soldiers, through the people of Polis. It sets the entire energy of the city off-balance.

Lexa lives a dangerous existence. Clarke knows this about her. She knows the risks Lexa takes every day when she climbs out of bed. She knows that peace is hard-fought, and precarious at best, short-lived at worst. She knows men fall easy and naturally into war. She knows that Lexa’s duties take her into hostile lands, and among hostile people. She knows this, and she tries not to dwell on it.

But every once in a while, she is cruelly reminded.

Once, in the dead heat of summer, Clarke is awoken in the middle of the night by a soft hand, gently shaking her awake. “Wanheda,” a quiet voice whispers, and Clarke jerks up and out of her sleep immediately.

“What is it?” She asks, suddenly alert. She’s never been woken up like this, before. Not without Lexa here. It’s Lexa who must see to business in the dead of night, Lexa who must slip from the bed and staunch fires and quell rebellions. No one has ever come for her, before. Which can’t mean anything good. So Clarke wakes up immediately, her heart already beating just a little bit too fast. Something like anxiety, like trepidation, like premonition sinks into her stomach.

A young Healer stands near the foot of her bed. Clarke recognizes her as one of the women Lexa has accompany her, when she travels. She is one of the Commander’s most trusted fisa. Clarke sits up straighter in bed, her heart already full of dread. “Roma?” She asks, and her voice shakes a little as it exits her throat. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Heda and her warriors were only a day’s ride from Polis, when Azgeda natrona…” Her jaw clenches. “There was an ambush.”

Clarke’s heart stops beating in her chest. “What happened? Where is she?” She scrambles from the bed immediately and starts throwing on whatever is nearest, not caring for a single moment that Roma has seen her climb, naked, from the Commander’s bed.

“She is with her fisa,” the girl says. She hands Clarke a pair of boots, which Clarke gratefully accepts. She shoves her feet into them without bothering to tie the laces. “They only made it back about an hour ago. I came to find you as soon as I was able.”

Clarke grips the woman’s arm tightly. “Mochof, Roma.”

She nods sharply. “Come. I will take you to her.”

Lexa looks small, in her bed. Small and young, and unburdened by the deaths of thousands, unencumbered by the responsibilities of leadership. She always looks like this, when she sleeps. It’s part of the reason Clarke relishes any opportunity she can get to see her so vulnerable.

But not like this. Never like this.

Lexa’s face is still a little bloody, from a long and sharp cut that stretches from her temple up into her hairline. Clarke knows that it will likely scar. Her arm is wrapped in bandages, her ankle wrapped tight against a nasty sprain, and underneath her covers, Clarke knows that at least two of her ribs are cracked. She’s been unconscious for nearly six hours, now, and Clarke has felt every minute pass with a slow, unendurable kind of agony.

She holds Lexa’s hand lightly in her own, her fingers brushing slow circles along the broken skin of Lexa’s knuckles. She hasn’t been able to sleep, not since Roma brought her down here. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep properly until she knows that Lexa is alright.

“What will the people say—” Lexa’s teasing voice sounds from the bed, raspy and rough from sleep and dehydration. Clarke’s gaze shoots up to hers immediately— “when word gets out that you spent all night by my sick bed?”

Clarke laughs wetly, wiping at her eyes. “Like they don’t know,” she says with a small smile, relief flooding through her at once. She bends forward and presses a soft kiss to the side of Lexa’s forehead that is uncut and unmarred. “Roma came and got me from your bed.”

“From our bed,” Lexa murmurs.

Clarke chuckles. “Right. Our bed.”

Lexa rolls her neck a little, her eyes still heavy and lidded. “Water?” She croaks. Clarke nods and grabs the glass from her bedside, bringing it to Lexa’s lips carefully. She drinks greedily, until the cup is empty.

Clarke takes Lexa’s face in her hand when she has finished. Her thumb brushes against the woman’s bruised cheek, and smiles down at her with tears in her eyes. “You almost died, yesterday.”

Lexa nods. “Almost. But not yet. Today, my spirit stays where it belongs.”

“Don’t joke about that, please,” Clarke whispers, shaking her head. “It’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry, Clarke. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You upset me by almost dying. Your jokes are terrible; not upsetting.”

Lexa smiles, just a little bit. “You say Roma got you from our bed?”

Clarke nods. “I was expecting you back tonight. When you didn’t show, I thought you must have been held up.”

Lexa hums softly. “It’s interesting,” Lexa says, more to herself than anyone else. “They don’t seem to care. I always thought they would. That if they ever saw me with…” She shakes her head. “Titus always made it seem—”

“Titus doesn’t know what he’s talking about, most of the time.”

Lexa laughs at that, but immediately the sound is cut off by a groan of pain. She presses her hand to her wounded side, her face twisted in a pale grimace. Clarke squeezes her hand tightly until the wave of pain seems to pass over her. Lexa takes a few deep breaths before she opens her eyes again. “I always thought that it would matter more, to them,” she continues her explanation. “That they would want me to be alone, and without distraction. That it would make them angry, if I had a… partner. A houmon.”

Clarke flushes at the term, but she does not dwell upon it. “Your people love you,” she says instead. “I don’t think you know just how much. They want you to be happy, after everything you’ve done for them.”

“And they know that you make me happy.”

It’s not a question, but still, Clarke answers her. “I should hope so.”

[cali-holland]

Isolation- Loki One Shot

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Prompt: You are a princess and, when your kingdom gets attacked, the Avengers save you. They relocated you to a secret cabin with Loki assigned to protect you.

Word Count: 2600

Background: For this, Loki works with the Avengers and is an outsider to them; they trust him only because Thor does.

~~~

“I demand to know where I am being taken.” You said angrily as Happy drove you in the sleek Audi. He shook his head regretfully.

“Sorry, your highness, but I was given orders from Tony to keep your location a secret.”

You let out a huff in annoyance. Your whole week was going horribly. The duke, a close friend of your father’s, was assassinated, and there was an assassination attempt on the top member of your country’s Parliament. Your father decided it would be safest if you, the princess and heir to the throne, were relocated elsewhere until they discovered the culprits behind these attacks. That’s when the Avengers showed up in your palace. The famous Black Widow escorted you away from your royal home and onto a Quinjet, and it was from there where you were flown to the Avengers Compound in America. They, as in Iron Man and Captain America, informed you that you would be moved, once again, but this time to a secret cabin “up north”. You wished more than anything else to return home, where you could read anything in your exquisite library, roam about the large rose garden, and be pampered endlessly. The team of superheroes would not even allow you to take your gowns; they insisted you wear clothing that will make you blend in in America and they handed you a suitcase full of commoner clothing.

“We’re here, your highness.” Happy announced, pulling the car into a lonesome driveway. The rustic cabin and its surrounding area was covered in a thin layer of snow. Happy helped you out of the car and grabbed your suitcase. He lead you to the modest front door and opened it for you. You stepped into the cabin and immediately felt warmth. There was a fire burning in the fireplace and it cast a faint orange glow over the room. As Happy shut the door behind him, you looked about the room as a way to study it. In the middle of the room, there was a large, plushy red couch and it faced a small television. The room transitioned to a kitchen on the far side. There was a simple oak staircase leading upwards beside a large bookcase. It was a very traditional, modest cabin home- the opposite of what you were used to.

“Thank you, Happy. I’ll be fine from here.” You spoke softly.

“I can’t leave yet-” He said, before calling out “Loki! We’re here!” You looked at him confused before a new figure, Loki you assumed, made his way down the stairs.

“You’re a horrible guardian already.” Happy stated.

“I’m here though, aren’t I?” Loki asked with a smirk.

“Excuse me? Guardian?” You questioned, looking at Loki.

“Yes, guardian. I was assigned to stay here with you as a way to make sure you are safe. Hello, your highness. I am Loki of Asgard.” He took your hand and kissed it as he bowed. You felt butterflies in your stomach from his casual, yet mysterious nature. He slowly let go of your hand and turned to Happy, “You may leave now, Happy.”

“I’ll have Tony check in on you two when I return to the Compound. Hopefully by then we have a game plan.” Happy said. “It was lovely meeting you, your highness. Stay safe.” He exited the cabin without another word and you heard him drive off in the Audi Stark had given him.

“Am I allowed outside of this cabin at all?”

“Unfortunately no.” Loki said casually as he took a seat on the couch with a book in hand.

“How long am I to stay here?” You asked, not having moved from your spot.

“To be decided.” He replied and you sighed. You glanced down at your watch to discover it was well into the night in your home country, which would explain the exhaustion you felt.

“Where is my room?”

“The bedroom is the only door on the left. Bathroom is second on the right.” You waited for him to move to assist you, but he made no motion other than flipping the page of his book.

“Will you not take my luggage to my room?”

“Your highness,” Loki said, finally looking up at you, “I am your protector- I am simply here to make sure you are safe. It’s not in my job description to be your slave.” With that, he turned back to his story and gasped in shock. You had never been talked to in such a manner. You huffed and grabbed your suitcase. It was heavier than you thought, so you struggled to carry it up the stairs. You were relieved to make it to your room. The queen size bed sitting in the middle of the far wall was grand and inviting. You set your suitcase on the windowsill and searched for pajamas. Unfortunately for you, the Avengers had not given you your choice of silk pajamas, and, instead, they left you with fleece pants and a baggy t-shirt, both of which were items you never wear. You changed into the comfortable clothing and snuggled down in the large bed in hopes of getting a decent amount of sleep.

~~~

Loki really did not like this mission all that much. Thor had approached him about having the “most important” job for a new mission, and, when Loki accepted, he didn’t realize that meant babysitting an European princess. The benefit from the mission was that he could be left alone in peace, for the most part at least. The other Avengers were scattered out in attempt to help her family. Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Clint were all busy running undercover ops in Europe. At the Compound, the ops were run by Tony, Thor, and Bruce. Wanda and Vision were protecting the queen and king at the palace. They were all trying incredibly hard to work quickly in finding the assassins.

Loki’s quiet reading time was interrupted when a new sound struck his ears about a hour after you had left. Sure, he had been listening to the snow falling faintly against the cabin’s windows; but there was a sound that grew louder in a matter of moments. It was crying- no, screaming- coming for the bedroom. Loki hurried up the stairs; he would not allow himself to fail on the first day. He felt a wave of relief rush over him when he discovered that you were dreaming and no one was in the room murdering you. He quietly walked over to your sleeping figure and gently tried to shake you.

“Your highness, please wake up.” He said, kneeling beside the bed. You awoke with a start. Your heart was racing and your breathing was heavy. “It was just a dream,” Your eyes settled on Loki and you threw your arms around, pulling him closer to you. He held you closely, despite it being a bad position for him. “It was all just a dream. I’m here,” He whispered soothingly.

“I-I’m sorry.” You said, letting go of him once you had finally calmed down, “It was so realistic.”

“It was just a nightmare, your highness-” Loki reassured you.

“Y/N, just call me Y/N. I may not even have a kingdom at the end of all this. There’s no reason to call me ‘your highness’ anymore.”

“I will call you whatever you wish to be called, but do not say that. The team will fix this and your kingdom will be restored.” Loki said confidently, though he did not fully believe it himself.

“I’d like to get more sleep, but can you- well-” You stopped yourself short and he offered you a kind smile.

“If you wish for me to stay, then I shall stay.” He stated. You scooted over in the bed, so that he could join you. He held you tenderly as you fell asleep in his arms. Yes, he was a stranger, but there was something about him that made you feel completely safe.

~~~

A few days had passed and you had yet to hear anything directly regarding your kingdom. Loki, on the other hand, knew that chaos had erupted over there and that his brother and friends were currently working on controlling the damage. In your isolation from the rest of the world, you two grew close. Loki would hold you until you fell asleep every night because the nightmares would otherwise consume you. You introduced him to simple board games that you had grown up playing and the two of you even cooked meals together. On the third day, Loki grew worried as he stood in the kitchen.

“What is it?” You asked as you arrived downstairs at the beginning of your day.

“Stark seemed to have miscalculated just how much food two people, especially a God, would eat.” He said and you made your way over to where he was standing to look into the pantry. He was right; there was only a couple cans of beans left and few slices of bread. You already knew from yesterday that there was little milk left in the fridge and only three eggs sat in the container.

“Will he be bringing us more food?”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Loki replied, knowing that Stark was currently battling rebels in your home country. He walked over to the coatrack in the corner and grabbed his black coat.

“What are you doing? You can’t leave me here alone.” You said, fearing someone would find you if you were left by yourself.

“Then come with me, princess.” He said, handing you your fur coat. You blushed lightly at his nickname and tugged on your coat. You both put on your shoes and Loki lead you outside. He groaned looking at the grey sky above.

“We’ll have to be quick.” He unlocked the small grey truck that sat in the driveway. He held the door open for you to enter and then he got in on the driver’s side. Despite the cabin’s isolation, it only took a few minutes for the two of you to be in a rural town’s grocery store. Loki rushed inside with you trailing behind him. The two of you got milk, eggs, and foods that you could count on to last a while. You quickly got checked out and Loki drove both of you back to the cabin. You both just barely escaped the snow storm as it struck the cabin. As Loki placed the groceries in their rightful places, you sat on the ground in front of the fire with your back leaning against the sofa..

“Hot chocolate, princess?” Loki asked, holding a mug out to you.

“Thank you,” You replied, taking the offering. With his own mug in hand, he sat beside you. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into him. “I miss them.” “I know. It will be over soon.” He said. It hurt him to lie to you, but it hurt him even more to see you worrying. He couldn’t let you know the pain his teammates were going through.

“I wish I could see them again. I wish we could go back to before.”

“If you were still at the palace, we would have never met.” Loki stated, attempting to ease your mind.

“You’re right,” You took a sip of you warm drink and turned to him with a smile, “You’re the one good thing coming from all of this.” You snuggled back into his side, just as you were before. “I’m glad to have met you.”

“And I am glad to have met you as well.” He replied, rubbing your arm gently with his hand.

“Would it be crazy for me to say that I have enjoyed this isolation?”

“Well, I know I have enjoyed it.” He paused, “Would it be crazy for me to say that I quite like the company I have?”

“I know I like the company.” You let out a small laugh, looking up at him once more. He slowly leaned down and placed his lips on yours. You could taste the small hint of hot chocolate on his lips as he timidly kissed you. He moved his hand from your arm to your cheek in a way to deepen the sweet kiss.

You were interrupted by a loud roar of thunder from outside. Loki pulled away with his eyes fastened on the front door. He slowly stood up and made his way over to it, protectively keeping himself blocking you. The door opened with a bang to reveal his brother.

“Thor,” Loki sighed in relief, “You had me worried. What is the news?” He asked. The blond looked past Loki to see you and then reverted his eyes back to his brother.

“I think it’s best if we discuss the matters at hand alone.” Thor said.

“Y/N,” Loki started and you nodded, cutting him off.

“I’ll be in my bedroom.” You vanished up the stairs, leaving the two Gods alone.

“The king has been killed.” Thor stated, “A palace guard betrayed him. Wanda avenged the king, but it was too late for he had already passed. The queen was also killed by the same guard. That leaves Y/N as the current ruler.”

“It’s not safe for her- she cannot return.”

“The rebels were all stopped. Our captain found their base and destroyed it. The country is stable once more. Upon Y/N’s return, there will be both a coronation crowning her queen and a funeral bidding farewell to the late king and queen.”

“Brother, is it a good idea to let her go back so soon?”

“I know what you feel for her is stopping you from letting her go, but the kingdom is without a ruler right now. The longer she stays away, the more likely it fall again.” Thor spoke the truth and Loki knew that. With sadness growing in his heart, he looked over at the staircase.

“You may return to the others, brother. I shall bring her to the Compound in the morning.” Loki said. The God of Thunder nodded and left the cabin. Loki proceeded up the staircase and discovered you staring out your bedroom window.

“Is the news truly so bad that you must relay it to me?” You asked quietly. Loki placed a hand on your shoulder and you moved your head to rest on it.

“I’m so sorry, my princess.” He replied with his voice barely above a whisper. You lurched forward as your body began to shake with sobs. Loki held you close to him, allowing you to cry your sorrows onto his chest.

~~~

The next morning, Loki did as promised and brought you back to the Compound. It was a silent morning between the two of you. You were grieving over your parents while also worrying about being pronounced queen. Loki knew of your thoughts and let you be for the time being. He rode beside you on the Quinjet back to your country, holding one of your hands gently in his.

“Am I fit to rule a kingdom?” You asked him in a hushed voice.

“Yes, you are.” He replied.

“Stay.” You told him and he looked at you questioningly, “Stay with me here. I can give you a title- anything you’d like. You are the reason I made it through this past week.”

“I don’t need anything but you, my queen.” Loki said, making a smile form on your face for the first time all day. He never left your side after that day. He stayed by you as your top protector and as your partnering king.

[aion-rsa]

Pixar’s Soul: Who Are All of 22’s Mentors?

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This article contains Soul spoilers. You can find our spoiler-free review here.

22, the incorrigible soul voiced by Tina Fey, has resided in the Great Before for a very, very long time. But just how long is that? Centuries? Millennia? By virtue of her name, a number designated to her soul upon arrival in the Great Before, it is hinted that she’s been watching our world with skepticism since the very beginning: a soul who’s had eons to say, “No, that living thing is not for me.”

In all that time, she’s also had countless mentors: Souls who completed a life on Earth and before going to the Great Beyond agreed to take some time off on the other side to offer 22 pointers on the finer things of life. Until she met a guy named Joe, it never ended well. That said it sets up one of the movie’s best running gags. Throughout Joe and 22’s experiences, the film frequently flashes back to random insert jokes about 22’s past, highly esteemed teachers.

It creates an opportunity for Pixar to dabble in the strangest bit of referential humor we may have ever seen in a kids’ movie. After all, how many young minds are familiar with the works of Carl Jung? It also  gives parents time for a couple of specific laughs, and maybe the chance to talk with their children afterward about just who those floating heads were. For that reason, we’ve compiled this handy list and brief guide to 22’s mentors.

Abraham Lincoln

One of the first dropped names from 22’s past mentors, and the one most often referenced in the film, is Abraham Lincoln. Perhaps this is because unlike George Orwell, most American school children under the age of 10 should be familiar with the 16th President of the United States.

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Elected in 1860 and reelected in 1864, Lincoln is cited by many to be the greatest president in American history due to his ability to lead the nation through its greatest existential crisis, the Civil War. During that cataclysmic moment, he preserved the Union and eventually ended slavery, first in rebelling states via the Emancipation Proclamation and then more completely with the 13th Amendment. He then became a martyr in the eyes of the generations to follow since shortly after his reelection and the end of the war, he was the first president to be assassinated.

Most kids should know that, and they definitely know he’s on the penny. Hence the terrific joke of 22 asking Lincoln, “Are you really okay with being on the penny?” He insists it’s a great honor. But when she twists the knife and says, “Even with Jackson on the 20 [dollar bill]?” he breaks in abject horror. Not Jackson!

Mahatma Gandhi

Another name dropped early—though I’m not sure we ever see him as an actual mentor—is Mahatma Gandhi, the nonviolent civil disobedience Indian leader who helped India achieve its independence from the British Empire.

Born in 1869 Gujarat, India, Gandhi had a profound effect on world history in the 20th century and beyond. After being educated in London and spending his early professional life in South Africa, where he raised a family, he returned to India and led anti-colonialist campaigns against the British government that occupied British India, as well as pushed for reforms that would create a religious plurality. He was briefly President of the Indian National Conference between 1924 and ’25, and eventually took to wearing his now famous loincloths and shawls as an act of solidarity with the working poor of his country. His image as the fasting leader of nonviolent resistance influenced civil rights leaders around the world.

In 1947, Britain resigned itself to granting India independence, but split the British Indian Empire into states, India and Pakistan, the latter becoming a country for India’s Muslim population. The resulting hostilities and tension eventually led to Gandhi being assassinated in 1948.

Mother Teresa

An honest to goodness saint, Mother Teresa was a Roman Catholic leader who dedicated her life to wholeheartedly caring for “the poorest of the poor.” So when she tells 22, “I like everyone except you,” you know 22 just has the devil in her—if such a thing exists in a theoretical construct like the Great Before!

Born Mary Teresa Bojaxhiu in 1910, Teresa grew up in what is modern day North Macedonia, before she left home at age 18 to join the Sisters of Loreto in Ireland. Soon moving to India, where she lived the rest of her life, Teresa took her solemn vows to become a nun in 1937 and in 1950 founded the Missionaries of Charity, a Catholic congregation that’s seen its sisterhood of nuns grow by the thousands. Until Mother Teresa’s death in 1997, she helped oversee her missionary’s fourth vow, again to serve the poorest of the poor, by managing homes of people dying of leprosy, tuberculosis, and HIV/AIDS, as well as managing soup kitchens, dispensaries, and orphanages.

Teresa was canonized as a saint in 2016, with Sept. 5, the anniversary of her death, now being a feast day in the Catholic religion.

Nicolaus Copernicus

One of the older mentors we meet in flashback, Nicolaus Copernicus was a Renaissance Man who really took the concept of being a “renaissance man” to heart. Both a polyglot and polymath, the Prussian thinker was a mathematician, astronomer, physician, classics scholar, translator, governor, diplomat, economist, and a doctorate in canon law with the Church. He spoke either five or six languages, and most importantly, is considered one of the pioneers of the Scientific Revolution in the 16th century. Indeed, this early era of scientific progress is also called the Copernican Revolution.

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That is due to the fact Copernicus published his model of the universe shortly before his death in 1543. With his astronomical findings, he posited that the sun, as opposed to the Earth, is the actual center of the universe. This discovery—which really rediscovered a forgotten breakthrough from antiquity postulated by Greek astronomer Aristarchus of Samos in the second century B.C.E.—led to a better understanding of the universe, and eventually that the sun was merely the center of our solar system. Copernicus shattered the eco-centric view of the universe preached by the Church forever.

So when he tells 22 that she needs to stop thinking “you’re the center of the universe,” it’s pretty damn funny.

Muhammad Ali

The self-described Greatest to ever enter a boxing ring, Muhammad Ali remains arguably the most famous heavyweight champ in boxing history, as well as a significant figure in the anti-Vietnam War and counterculture movements of the 1960s. So when he calls 22 “the greatest… pain in my neck,” she better listen up!

Born Cassius Clay Jr. in 1942, the man who would become Ali first won the heavyweight belt after beating Sonny Liston by TKO in 1963. At age 22, Clay became the youngest fighter to ever take the heavyweight title from a reigning champ, a record he still holds to this day. Shortly after the victory, Clay joined the Nation of Islam and eventually changed his name to Muhammad Ali.

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Despite being the Greatest, Ali lost four years from his peak athletic career when he refused to be drafted into the U.S. military and serve in Vietnam on the grounds of being a conscientious objector. He was found guilty of draft evasion, stripped of his boxing titles, and denied the ability to professionally enter a ring until the U.S. Supreme Court overturned his conviction in 1971. Older but arguably even bolder in rhetoric, Ali suffered some losses in his later career yet still reclaimed the heavyweight title when he knocked out George Foreman in the eighth round of the “Rumble in the Jungle.”

Marie Antoinette

The French Queen does not say anything particularly pun-y to 22, but her floating head is a great visual sight gag to anyone who knows how the French Revolution ended!

Marie Antoinette, a doomed and largely misrepresented monarch, was Queen of France from 1774 to 1792. Prior to that she was born an archduchess of Austria, one of the Emperor’s youngest children. She was married off to the French dauphin Louis in an arranged and loveless marriage at the age of 14 in 1770. Her standing in court improved after she began having children, however she became a popular figure of resentment in anti-monarchist pamphlets, which painted her as a promiscuous harlot whose children were illegitimate, and who conspired with her native Austria against France. It is from this caricature where the lie of Marie Antoinette saying, “Let them eat cake” was born.

Eventually she and King Louis XVI were arrested by leaders of the French Revolution, who eventually abolished the monarchy in 1792. Her husband was executed in front of the mob in January 1793; in October of the same year Marie Antoinette was tried by Revolutionary Tribunal for high treason. Two days later she likewise was executed by guillotine before the cheers of the mob.

Carl Jung

About as cerebral an easter egg as one might expect from a Disney movie, Carl Jung appears briefly in a montage to tell 22 to “stop talking, my unconscious mind hates you!” We’re sure any parents who ever took a Psychology 101 course smiled.

Considered one of the pioneers of modern psychology, Jung was the Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst who founded analytical psychology. Born in 1875, Jung saw the world change drastically during his lifetime and career from the 19th century until his death in 1961. This includes in the breakthroughs made by him and his onetime mentor, Sigmund Freud. Freud, the founder of psychoanalysis, considered Jung his heir until their diverging visions for the future of a “talking cure” created a schism between the men.

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Jung’s analytical psychology was founded largely upon the idea of individuation, which related to the lifelong psychological process the mind is said to go through, separating an individual’s conscious and unconscious elements. This also led Jung to develop concepts like the collective unconscious and extraversion versus introversion. Whichever 22 is, she clearly doesn’t want Jung’s company!

George Orwell

One of the funniest, and honestly most subversive, easter eggs is only quickly alluded to when 22 (inside Joe’s body) drops some George Orwell truth bombs on an impressionable young girl, and Joe’s jazz student. “Like my mentor George Orwell used to say, ‘State sponsored education was like the rattling of a stick inside a swill bucket,’” 22 announces. “‘The ruling class’ core curriculum stifles dissent.’”

While the real Orwell didn’t exactly say these words (at least as I can find), he was of course an extremely wary and sharp critic of both governmental and capitalist control. In another Orwell chestnut, he opined the future is “a boot stamping on a human face – forever.” Never the optimist, Orwell wrote perennial high school favorites Animal Farm—a parable about the corruption of the Soviet Union and Bolshevik Revolution with talking animals—and Nineteen Eighty-Four, the ultimate dystopian text about an authoritarian regime controlling every facet of citizens’ lives, with propaganda being administered by the “Ministry of Truth,” as but one example.

Orwell likely was skeptical of state education, and probably would have been even more so of the recent phenomenon of corporate sponsored education, since he wrote, “The most effective way to destroy people is to deny and obliterate their own understanding of their history.” In this vein, he did refer to capitalism’s use as advertising as “the rattling of a stick inside a swill-bucket” that led to the “blind worship of the money-god.”

That this is quoted in a Disney movie intended to sell toys, theme park attractions, more “swill” to the masses is a little amusing… if disheartening that the quote was reappropriated to overlook the fully anti-capitalist thrust of Orwell’s sentiment.

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