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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

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Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 25 - ao3 -

“Qiren-xiong! Qiren-xiong!”

Lan Qiren opened his eyes, disoriented and confused at being so abruptly disturbed in such an unexpected fashion. This sort of shouting and running around were not permitted in the Cloud Recesses, lest they disturb the cultivation or quiet contemplation of others, and anyway he had never heard such panic in Lan Yueheng’s voice before. Not even with his first explosion, back when he’d still been afraid of fire.

“Yueheng-xiong?” he asked, unfolding his legs from his meditation posture. Taking that as permission, Lan Yueheng burst through his door. “What’s happened?”

“Something terrible,” Lan Yueheng said. His cheeks were pale, his eyes wild; Lan Qiren had never seen him like that. “Qiren-xiong…it’s your brother – no. It’s He Kexin.”

“Say one, say the other,” Lan Qiren said dryly, trying to lighten the mood a little without any success. “What about her?”

“She’s killed someone.”

“What?” Lan Qiren stood up almost too fast, and his head spun. “Who? Not one of ours?”

“A teacher!” Lan Yueheng wailed. “I don’t know which one, but one of them – an honored teacher – she killed him – ”

Lan Qiren rushed out the door, a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. There were teachers he liked and teachers he didn’t like, teachers that were good at teaching and teachers that were poor, but they were all his teachers – teacher for a day, father for a lifetime, as the saying went.

Even the ones he didn’t get along with so well, he’d made up with in time, and he was on good enough terms with all of them now. So was his brother, for that matter…

A horrible thought occurred to Lan Qiren: would this be the thing that finally broke his brother’s madness? Was blood truly necessary to wash away his obsession – or would he persist onwards, ignoring even this?

Surely that was impossible.

Surely not even their family’s love-madness –

Lan Qiren felt even sicker, and hurried his pace still further.

He knew the histories of the Lan sect better than many others. After all, it was his personal family history as well as the sect's history, and there had been a period in his life when he had briefly focused in on that history to the exclusion of everything else as a subset of his interest in the Lan sect rules; in retrospect, it had probably been in part a misguided subconscious attempt to make himself fit in with the rest of them through study and sheer force of will.

Unfortunately, that knowledge meant that he knew enough not to be able to even finish that thought. His family’s tendency towards love-madness was truly terrible, a panacea in small doses and poison in large: his ancestors had achieved miracles that no one had anticipated on behalf of their loved ones, but they’d done terrible things for love, too. When it was good, there was nothing better; when it went bad, there was no limit to what they might do. There was a reason everyone had been just waiting around hoping for his brother to get over it by himself…

Lan Qiren made it to the hanshi and saw several of his elders there, including a few teachers. Each one he saw and recognized made his heart relieved, and yet also tighten in terror: what about the rest?

Which one had been lost? Which familiar face would he never see again?

He didn’t doubt Lan Yueheng for a second. If he said that someone had died, it must be true - and even if he had harbored any such hopes, the grim expressions on everyone’s faces made clear that there was nothing good to be found here.

It was all happening too quickly. He didn’t have time to think.

(Who would be gone from their holiday feasts, their seat left empty or taken up by someone new? Whose voice would go missing from their debates, their wisdom and insight lost forever? His swordfighting teacher, who he’d butted heads with more often than not? His music teacher, who had praised him and defended him as a child? Who?)

“Qiren, good, you’re here,” one of the elders said upon seeing him, waving him forward and glaring at the other disciples milling around until they scattered. “You’re needed – there must be a trial.”

“Of course,” Lan Qiren said, suddenly alarmed at the suggestion that there might not be one. If there was a death, there would need to be a trial; their sect valued the rules, and would never condone an outright execution without appropriate judgment. “Yueheng-xiong said – a murder?”

“A killing,” the elder confirmed. “It looks to be murder, but there’s been no investigation yet – but she’s admitted committing the act.”

There was no need to specify who. In the last month or so, there had been only one person on everyone’s lips.

Lan Qiren swallowed, braced himself. “Who was the victim?”

Hearing the name was like receiving a blow, making him stagger and want to sit down.

Neither his teacher in the sword, with whom Lan Qiren shared a small enmity and who his brother adored, nor his music teacher, who Lan Qiren held dearest of all and his brother was indifferent towards - but the old one, the one that spoke up only rarely, preferring to spend most of his time sleeping, but which always put in a good word for everyone whenever he did so.

He was one of their oldest, well-meaning if perhaps too strict, a respected teacher for years and years. He had been their father’s teacher, once, and Lan Qiren remembered how he used to keep sweets in his pockets and distribute them to the juniors - in some cases, long after they were too old for such things. Lan Qiren remembered his brother’s long-suffering expression when he was “snuck” such a treat well into his adolescence; he remembered, too, how his brother had eaten the candy anyway and how it had improved his mood - he had even smiled in amusement at Lan Qiren when he had gobbled his own down without any grace at all.

He had praised Lan Qiren’s academic skills and encouraged him - had been one of the ones who took him to see his father every month as a child, had been one of the few who had scolded Lan Qiren’s brother for not being kind because not even Lan Qiren’s father could prevent him. He had a reputation for being a little overbearing, a little nosy, a little tactless with the carelessness of age, but that had mostly come from how much he wanted everyone to get along.

He was someone who was greatly respected and admired by everyone.

“Why?” Lan Qiren choked out.

It made no sense for He Kexin to kill him. If anything, she should have seen him as a natural ally: he was one of the ones who most vociferously opposed the match.

In fairness, by this point, most of the teachers had settled on that position, reluctant as they were to reach that conclusion when it was something that Lan Qiren’s brother so obviously wanted. It was simply too clear to everyone that He Kexin, whatever her somewhat improved opinion of ‘her’ Qingheng-jun was, was not interested in becoming Madame Lan, either now or later.

If Lan Qiren’s brother had had any notion of true filial piety, if he had been strictly taught the rules and taught to keep to the rules, he would have dropped the suit long ago, knowing that his sect demanded more from him than what he was giving to it. But he wasn’t, and he hadn’t, and Lan Qiren recalled with great bitterness all the times when his brother had equated the well-being of the sect with his own interests and no one had opposed him, least of all their father.

Here was where it all ended up.

“Why did she kill him?” he asked.

“We don’t know.”

“Worse than that,” one of the others said, hands gripped so tightly behind his back that his shoulders bent backwards. “We don’t know...the sect leader has been informed, but he has not yet issued a judgment.”

He meant that he didn’t know if Lan Qiren’s brother even would.

Lan Qiren shook his head. “Uphold the value of justice,” he said, and looked at his teachers and elders sidelong. “Take the straight path, reject the crooked path. Do not take a life within the premises. The rules are quite clear: a murder within the Cloud Recesses calls for a trial, and for a harsh response, no matter the personal cost. Do you agree?”

The elders looked back at him, surprised: Lan Qiren had never cited the rules as a warning before. He had never made clear that he, at least, would have no intention of stepping aside this time – brother or no brother, sect leader or no sect leader, this was simply a step too far. There were rules that could be bent and rules that could be broken, ones that could be responded to with punishments and others that had to be dealt with harshly, living up to the demands of justice no matter how bitter.

If they bent the rules on something like this – there would be no point in having the rules at all. They would only be making a mockery of them, paying lip service when whole-hearted adherence was what was required; they might as well throw them out entirely rather than let themselves become hypocrites of the worst sort. Lan Qiren knew that he tended towards inflexibility, that he was too stern and too unforgiving, but this was the sort of thing that simply could not be forgiven; they could not find a loophole, they could not be moved by mercy, they could not simply bow their heads and shrug their shoulders and look away this time, the way they had so many times before.

If they allowed for power and influence, the protection of the sect leader, to overcome their principles – if they punished only those who were weak and had no backing, and refrained when it was the sect leader’s beloved – then they ought to lose the right to call themselves Gusu Lan.

“You’re right,” his teacher finally said. “The rules are clear. We must do what is right.”

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, and braced himself. “No matter the cost, we must.”

This was going to hurt.

Not just his brother. Lan Qiren didn’t know what his lovesick brother would do in response to this fiasco, but he was certain it wouldn’t be good, not for him and not for her and not for any of them, the sect and all. This was going to hurt everyone.

But then again – hadn’t all this hurt them all already?

A feeling of deep foreboding settled deep in his gut, Lan Qiren entered the hanshi, where his brother was waiting, eyes narrow and features set and defiant, standing in front of He Kexin, her own features equally defiant and yet also strangely confused, as if despite the fact that her sleeve was still splattered with blood she had not yet absorbed what she had done.

When all the present elders and members of the main Lan clan had gathered – all the ones who, when all together and speaking in a single voice, were entitled to override the orders of the sect leader – the argument began in earnest.

Everything happened very quickly after that.

After, when it was all over, Lan Qiren didn’t remember the exact words said or the arguments made. He didn’t remember the rules he cited or the positions he took – he barely even remembered that he had for the first time in his life spoke out in earnest, acting as a full adult of the Lan clan with all the rights and privileges he had never felt truly entitled to claim, standing in actual opposition to his brother and refusing to yield and insisting that for once, for once, the rest of the sect refuse to yield alongside him.

He didn’t remember much of anything else, either.

He didn’t remember the details of He Kexin’s defense, didn’t remember the stupid reasons she’d spouted for what she had done – her story only made sense if you assumed the worst in people, and then acted upon it without bothering to check. Thanks to Lan Qiren’s brother’s endless persistence, He Kexin had a terrible impression of the Lan sect; it had made it easy for her to believe it when her friend abruptly claimed that the teacher had engaged in misconduct, when in fact he had only correctly identified that He Kexin’s beloved ‘sister’ was using Qingheng-jun’s love-madness and indulgence to try to benefit her own sect, and had scolded her for it.

He barely remembered the way He Kexin’s story had collapsed in the face of even the most basic of questioning, all of her assumptions falling apart one right after the other, and then falling apart even further in the face of actual presented evidence. The way that it became increasingly obvious that one of her friends had lied to her in order to manipulate her, had been lying for weeks on end and encouraging her to carry on the relationship just to take advantage of her.

He scarcely recalled the exact words that were spoken when even He Kexin’s friend, already captured by Lan sect disciples on account of the crime and dragged in to give account, denounced He Kexin’s actions. If only she had been less arrogant, her friend complained, less overenthusiastic - she hadn’t mean to push He Kexin to go so far as to kill the man, had meant only for her to use her influence with Qingheng-jun to immunize them against the teacher’s criticism. Only in her excess disdain for the Lan sect, He Kexin had jumped straight to the worst conclusions and gone too far, and now she had now ruined everything…

The details didn’t matter.

What Lan Qiren did remember was the look of horror on He Kexin’s face when it all fell into place. He remembered how she stared down at her hands that had killed a man for so little purpose, for no purpose at all, on the basis of false accusations because of her blind trust and unwillingness to question, her refusal to communicate and her unwavering belief that she knew best. He remembered the alarm and very real fear that appeared when the first elder proposed a sentence of death, pointing out that the only appropriate resolution for such a pointless murder was the most severe, that it would be a life for a life in the traditions of the cultivation world –

Remembered the expression on her face when his brother proposed a different solution.

Remembered the expression on his brother’s face, fanatical and determined, the whites showing all around his eyes, the reckless madness of love writ all over his face – it had consumed him wholly. He had given himself away in full, and there was nothing left, nothing binding him back other than the duty that had always weighed him down.

Remembered how he had responded – what he had offered –

“This cannot be,” Lan Qiren said numbly, walking out into the light of dawn – they had argued the whole night through before reaching the end. “What are we going to do?”

“Qingheng-jun is entitled to resign his position and enter permanent seclusion if he so wishes,” his music teacher said heavily, his voice nearly as dull and shocked as Lan Qiren’s. “His wife, whoever she may be, is entitled to do the same, matching her actions to his. It is our sect’s way: that those who travel the same path as Dao companions be allowed to continue down that same path, never being parted in life. The precedent was set years ago…”

“As was the one that dictates that those who are in permanent seclusion cannot be removed against their will for any reason,” his swordsmanship teacher said, his voice equally solemn. “Not even for trial, should a crime later be discovered. As their seclusion is permanent, they are removed from the world – they are considered as if already dead, never showing their face under the heavens.”

Lan Qiren knew all of this. He knew all the stories, all the rules, all the precedent – not that it had ever been used this way, but his brother had always been one to find loopholes in the rules, to bend their letter to his will rather than bend his neck to honor their spirit. If He Kexin was his wife, she could accompany him anywhere, including into seclusion; if they were both in seclusion, she could not be tried; if she could not be tried, she could not be found guilty and sentenced to die.

“He condemns her instead to a living death, then,” he said woodenly. “She doesn’t even – like him.”

“She is not the one who chose seclusion. She is welcome to leave at any time,” his swordsmanship teacher said bitterly. “Provided, of course, that she is willing to bear the cost and lose her life to pay for her crime.”

He Kexin wouldn’t do that, Lan Qiren knew. She was vivacious and bright, full of life and humor and hope; she feared death, as any regular person did, and she was not part of the Lan sect – she didn’t know how strict their seclusion was. She didn’t know how taxing it would be on her, how little she would see of the world, how disconnected and isolated she would be.

There would be servants to care for her in her seclusion, but they would seek to minimize their presence as much as possible to avoid disturbing her, speaking to her only when necessary. She would be able to speak with her husband, to meet with him on occasion – their seclusion was technically shared, and therefore meetings between them were not counted as a breach of that seclusion, but they would not be permitted to meet too often, lest they be distracted from the higher purpose of cultivation by bodily affairs.

Permanent seclusion was rarely chosen by those young enough to allow for the possibility, but should there be any children born into her seclusion, they would be taken from her and allowed to visit only rarely – the exact frequency had not been recorded, and would probably be a matter of debate should the issue ever come up. Their father would likely see them even less often, only on holidays involving filial piety, and whether he would speak to them would be entirely up to him; there was no obligation on his part.

“How could this be worth it?” Lan Qiren whispered. “How could he…?”

“He is in love,” his music teacher said, as if it were a death sentence.

It was a death sentence.

“We must send word to the former sect leader,” his swordsmanship teacher said, shaking his head. “He, too, is in permanent seclusion and cannot be forced out, but he retreated from the world in honor, not on account of a crime; he could break his seclusion voluntarily. He has always cared deeply for the affairs of the sect – surely he would…”

He trailed off, shaking his head a second time. A motion was taken among the elders and members of the Lan clan, each one of them deeply subdued – He Kexin had already been taken away by her bridegroom to perform the marriage ceremony in the memorial hall, without any of the usual trappings of such a festive event – and a runner was soon sent to the rooms that Lan Qiren’s father had selected for seclusion.

Each of them anticipated a long wait, expecting the former sect leader to demand a full explanation of all that had occurred before emerging, yet to their surprise the runner returned within half a shichen, scarcely enough time to get to the rooms and to return.

“Seniors,” the runner cried, throwing himself down on his knees and touching his head to the floor. “I sought to alert the sect leader of what passed here this night. I called his name time and again, rang the bell to alert him of an emergency…”

“And what?” one of the elders demanded. “What happened then? Why have you returned so quickly?”

“He did not respond,” the runner said. “No matter what I did…I thought the situation was desperate, and so acted rashly. I bypassed the prohibitions and looked through the window – seniors, honored teachers, the former sect leader is dead!”

Lan Qiren started violently.

“What?” his swordfighting teacher demanded, rising to his feet – they were all rising up, all but Lan Qiren who only sat there, stiff in shock. “What do you mean? Even if his cultivation failed, it would not be so soon!”

“It cannot be doubted. After what I saw, I went inside to confirm it. He is dead.”

“When,” Lan Qiren said dully, barely bothering to make it a question.

Everyone turned to look at him.

“It has been an entire night,” he said, staring down at his hands. “Bad news flies on swift wings, and spreads as quickly and inexorably as ink in water. Tell me - did my father die by his own hand before or after he found out what his beloved eldest son has done?”

Nobody answered him.

#mdzs #lan qiren #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls #mind the ao3 tags #you all knew it was coming

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thanksjro · 4 years ago

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Dark Cybertron Chapter 1: Welcome to Comic Event Hell

You know what readers love? When the stories they’ve gotten invested in over the course of a couple years get interrupted for some pseudo-crossover bullshit.

And you know what writers love? When the story they’ve been crafting over the course of a couple years get interrupted for some pseudo-crossover bullshit.

Did I say love?

Because I didn’t mean it.

“Dark Cybertron” was penned by John Barber and James Roberts, with collaboration with comic writer and artist Phil Jimenez, and was published from early November, 2013 to late March, 2014. Atilio Rojo, James Raiz, and Livio Ramondelli did the art, each responsible for scenes in specific locations, with Robert Gill filling in as needed. Alex Milne, Andrew Griffith, and Brendan Cahill would also contribute pencils to the first issue and the back half of the series. It was a celebration of the 30th anniversary of the franchise, and the second birthday of Phase Two... which went on for over four months, but never mind that!

Both "Dark Cybertron” and its preliminary materials were made to go alongside the Transformers: Generations toy-line, each issue being included as a toy pack-in with whatever character was being featured… or, at least, that was the plan. Sometimes it didn’t work out. Regardless, this storyline was created to sell toys directly, as opposed to the MTMTE/RID series being made to sell toys more through the power of suggestion. It’s a small distinction, but important, because it will help explain any lack of soul one may perceive while they read “Dark Cybertron”.

“But Hannz!” you cry out, reaching to grab me by the throat and shake me like a rag doll, because to you I’m merely a faceless voice on the internet. “Surely by calling this specific storyline soulless, you’re completely ignoring the very nature of this franchise that you’re almost uncomfortably invested in!”

To which I’ll say this: look, I’m pretty realistic about where my giant space robots came from; Transformers as a franchise would not exist the way it does without Ronald Reagan introducing the Free Market to literal children and fucking up how we interact with media for the rest of time. There is no ethical consumption under capitalism, and that rings especially true when I’ve got a Spinister on my bookshelf staring me down as I write this, that was likely made out of plastics which either involved blood oil or unethical labor practices, if not both.

However!

The choices of a company to have their comic license holders to cook up an entire plot that derails what they’ve already got planned out for toy tie-in comics is a completely different animal than what IDW had had going on up to this point. Phase Two had been about exploring different ideas that hadn’t been able to be explored during the war, and seeing what happens when you take away a third of the logline for Transformers G1 as a whole. Being a part of a brand of toys was almost inconsequential to how the stories were being told; even the Spotlights, which were also toy tie-in comics, had plenty of charm to them, if only because there weren’t quite as many constraints placed on the writers, and they were stand-alone issues.

Of course, being tie-in comics isn’t the only reason that “Dark Cybertron” is a bit of a slog, considering everything IDW itself was trying to get done within this storyline, but we’ll cover the publishing company’s/Simon Furman’s/Transformers’ tumultuous relationship with the concept of gender identity and expression later on, when it becomes relevant to the story proper. This point also ties into the interesting origin of Windblade, who we’ll meet in a few issues, and what happens when you let your fanbase have a taste of power and forget that people might like to see themselves represented in the media they consume.

“Dark Cybertron” is what ended up making me stop reading MTMTE the first time I tried it in 2015. A big part of it was because it forced the reader to need so much information from RID and even events prior to Phase Two, it wasn’t very fun to try to parse what was going on, on top of the writing beginning to flag because of obvious constraints to what Barber and Roberts could actually do, both within their deadlines and the rules put in place by their higher ups for the event.

“Dark Cybertron” is the result of the sort of executive meddling that kills reader enjoyment by requiring writers to cram their two worlds together as quickly as possible, without the option to go for nuance because there simply isn’t time. The reason we have four separate artists for the front half of this story is because Milne and Griffith didn’t have time to draw both their current workload and “Dark Cybertron” at the same time... but sales probably went up due to the nature of how the story was published, so I’m sure they didn’t really see a problem with it.

That’s a general “they”, not a Milne and Griffith “they”.

In short, we’ve got license contract obligations, fan-poll obligations, and gender stuff fighting for space within the next 12 issues, which will be published in the span of roughly four months. Things are probably going to be a little bloated and sloppy.

Regardless of any of these points, this is what we’ve got. It’s not like it’s all bad- “Dark Cybertron” has the benefit of being written by two people who had been working closely before it had even been conceptualized. Barber was the senior editor for MTMTE, and IDW as a whole until he left in 2016. It also isn’t a proper crossover- y’know, where two completely separate titles get mashed together for a bit. MTMTE and RID exist in the same universe, just have their own things going on, so a decent amount of things still carry over without you needing to have read every single thing in both. The writing, while not quite up to par with pieces that had more creative freedom and breathing room between scenes, is still recognizable as being Barber and Roberts’. Their voices are still here, they’re just strained under the weight of everything that has to be said inside of 12 issues.

With all THAT out of the way, let’s dive in to Dark Dawn: Dark Cybertron Chapter 1.

We get a quick rundown of the most basic information you’ll need for this entire story to make sense, as we reintroduce the fact that Shockwave is an ecoterrorist with more agendas than a daily planner factory on meth, and also that he grows magic crystals. I don’t care what he says, the Ores are fucking space-magic. If you don’t want to read through all of RID for everything else, please see Robots in Disguise (2012), #1-22- A Recap, For Reference Purposes. We also get a quick rundown of the Lost Lighters’ deal, as Swerve potentially has a meta-episode.

Be careful what you fucking wish for, bucko.

Our story proper starts with a flashback to the shittiest road trip Cyclonus ever went on, as the Ark 1 finds itself at the edge of a mysterious portal. This is likely why he wasn’t super thrilled when the portal to Luna 1 showed up- portals are probably a touchy subject for him.

Jhiaxus doesn’t know what this portal is- surely this means that science has failed us, and it’s time to call in the religious crowd to try and suss out what’s going on here.

It’s moments like this that make me wonder what exactly happened in the Dead Universe that made Cyclonus’ cheek meat just pack up and leave.

Now, we know that Cyclonus is correct here, because we as readers have more knowledge than the characters at this point, but Jhiaxus tries to write off this theory as hogwash, because he is a man of rationality and science. This is a slight removal from his character in the present, whose most notable traits seem to be a lack of ethics and screaming.

Everyone here seems to be slightly different from their current iterations, actually; Galvatron doesn’t say a word as he steps between Jhiaxus and Cyclonus, only using his body to communicate that the scientist might want to back off. Cyclonus himself is certainly the wordiest we’ve ever seen him to be, droning on through his actual thought process before he comes to a conclusion on what exactly they’ve found. Compare this to the Cyclonus of today, who only deigns to grace everyone with his voice if they outright threaten him, have something he wants, or are Tailgate. If he were to ever pull this verbal meandering on board the Lost Light, people would probably assume he’s having a stroke.

Nova Prime- you remember him, don’t you?- gives not a fuck about the Dead Universe, only what it means for him personally. And what it means for him is more locations to subjugate, because he is cartoonishly evil. His character is the least removed from his present-day iteration out of everyone. He tells the crew they’ll be getting a little closer, only for the portal to do the work for them, by way of dark energy tentacles.

Wow, the pilot for the Ark 1 really is just straight-up named Butt, isn’t he? And what the fuck is that face you’re making, Cyclonus? Are you- oh my god, are you emoting? Oh my god, he’s emoting.

As the Ark 1 is pulled to its doom, Jhiaxus makes a quick phone call to Shockwave to tell him he’s his favorite, and to keep up the good work.

In the present, Shockwave reflects on just how friggin’ long this whole ordeal has taken. Fortunately, Waspinator and the Titan are almost here, and he can hardly wait.

Not, uh, that he’s got emotions or anything. It’s been established that he doesn’t have those anymore. Is impatience an emotion? Does that count?

Shockwave seems like he’d be really frustrating to write for.

Anyway, the Titan shows up, the Ore inside him and the Ore in the underground Crystal City combine, and the Titan starts screaming because everything hurts. Shockwave’s about as thrilled as he can be about the situation, given his lack of emotions.

Above Crystal City, we finally get back to that nonsense about the early sunrise, as someone- maybe Starscream, given the color of the narration box- waxes poetic on the planet of Cybertron, wartorn and wild in its rebirth, ruled by paranoia that has nothing to bounce off of, and so creates its own walls.

Then we get a detailed shot of Rattrap’s mug, and the moment is broken.

Rattrap’s character is a lot of fun in everything he gets tossed into, but you’re a goddamn liar if you think he’s pretty to look at. You are lying to yourself, and I won’t apologize for saying it.

Starscream walks out of his room in his hot new body, feeling fine and ready to take on the world. We’ll check in on him later in the day to see how that positive mentality is working out for him.

So, the sun hasn’t moved, and it’s way too early for the sun to even be up right now. That’s weird. Because I guess he didn’t know how the sun works, Starscream’s only just realized that this is perhaps a problem. He does some computer work and realizes that this is indeed a very bad thing, and asks that Rattrap call the Autobots. Not the ones who fucked off into the wilderness, the other ones. The gay, space ones.

Up in space, Orion Pax and his pals have found themselves in dire straits, the collapsing Gorlam Prime sucking their ship back down as the Death Ore consumes everything.

That’s not how engines work! And I think it really says something about the “Prelude” issues that I completely forgot why Wheelie was down an arm for a solid five seconds.

It turns out that Orion was the narrator the entire time, which I should have known- since when is the once and future Optimus Prime not the primary voice in any media he appears in?

It’s looking rough for the fellas, but luckily we’ve got to get the plot rolling, so the Lost Light VZZZZTs into existence and picks up the Skyroller to place it gently into its belly.

Orion isn’t exactly jazzed about the fact that Rodimus didn’t listen to what he told him, not even bothering to thank the guy for saving his life. I say y’all keep going on your Thunderclash Quest and leave this ungrateful loser behind. No space yachting for you, Orion.

The rest of the Pax Posse enter the Lost Light proper, and Hardhead reveals that he nearly joined the Quest, before he saw who all would be coming with, while Garnak has a tearful reunion with Rodimus. The fact that he’s calling him Sir- which I don’t recall him doing in Transformers (2009), at least not in a way that seems reminiscent of an unfortunate Antebellum Period Romance- feels rather weird, but I’m glad someone’s fucking happy to see Rodimus at least. Ultra Magnus asks Orion if he’ll be assuming command of the vessel, as Rodimus tries not to look horrified by the thought alone, but fortunately Orion’s not going to pull his “I’m Optimus Prime and I Can Do What I Want” Card just yet.

Smash cut to the bridge, as Rodimus tries to make himself sound competent, when Starscream calls. Orion doesn’t like that Starscream has their number, Perceptor almost reveals the fact that this ship technically doesn’t belong to a faction, likely due to being purchased after the war, and Cyclonus gets brought in for his professional opinion.

As it turns out, that early sunrise isn’t a sunrise at all, but a portal to the Dead Universe. This is a problem, because the Dead Universe really sucks, and you don’t want to go there, especially if you enjoy being alive. Orion seems more concerned about the fact that Starscream is ruling the planet, and Bumblebee is nowhere to be found.

Speaking of Bumblebee, he and all his camp buddies are psyching themselves up for a confrontation.

Swoop, please, this is hardly the time for crudeness.

The Dinobots, sick of Bumblebee’s dithering about, decide they’re going to fight the fucking sun and gear up. Prowl, though generally disliking their brand of problem-solving, does share his begrudging respect of their can-do attitude.

Their can-do attitude over fighting the fucking sun.

Then an earthquake happens and the ground rips open to reveal that Titan that Waspinator showed up with.

Shockwave takes over the narration at this point, and we get artsy, as we see events that haven’t transpired yet over musings on the nature of... time? Maybe? It would be in line with Roberts’ go-to topics, but honestly the whole thing’s kind of vague so I couldn’t give you a solid answer. Shockwave gets awfully introspective for a guy who shouldn’t care, I know that much. The point is, he is inevitable and is super good at logic and science.

Also, Nova Prime and Galvatron are back, which is cool, I guess. Not sure where Galvatron had gotten to exactly after the events of “Chaos”, but he’s back now, so it doesn’t matter too terribly much. Shockwave serves them, which we’ll probably get an explanation for at some point.

God, you can practically taste the desperation to pin all these plot points together before the entire thing implodes on itself.

#transformers #jro #dark cybertron #issue 1 #maccadam #Hannzreads #overthinking about robots #incoming analysis #text post #long post #comic script writing

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fanfictionaries · 4 years ago

Text

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 5 - It Was You

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

Just when Hermione thought nothing worse could plague her than her constant nightmare, she has a very different kind of dream. How is she ever going to look Ronald in the face again? All she wanted was to do well in her classes, get S.P.E.W. off the ground, and finally get a good nights sleep.

Fred continues to find himself more than amazed at the infinite facets of Hermione Granger.

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note: A second update this week because I like you guys so much! :)

I will now be updating this story every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST)! Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<< Chapter 4

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Moments fall like crimson nights Some stick to my skin tonight Take a breath and shake them off Eyes ahead, don't you wait too long

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“If I have to write one more word about the goblin rebellions, I think I might off myself.” Ron threw down his quill, ink splotching across this parchment, and let his head fall into his hands.

“Be careful. If you do, I guarantee Professor Trelawney will say she predicted it all along because Venus was in retrograde and you’re a Pisces,” Harry responded flatly, resulting in a smile from Ron.

Hermione would never admit it, but she secretly agreed with Ron. While not quite as distressed as her ginger friend, she did find the weekly essays assigned by Professor Binns tedious and incredibly lacking in challenge. Perhaps she found the whole thing tiresome because she already knew everything there was to know about the goblin rebellions, but it also didn’t help that the ghostly professor was about as exciting as an old shoe.

“Hermione…” Ron drew out her name like he had just come to an idea. Hermione, very familiar with this tone, knew exactly what his idea was.

“No,” she responded sternly, scribbling away at her own parchment about the various defense tactics utilized by the goblins.

“Pleeeaaase?”

“No.”

“Pleeeeeeaaaaaaase?”

She sighed. “I will edit and revise Ronald Weasley, and nothing more.”

“You’re the best, honestly.” Ron grinned and picked up his quill again, dipping it in his ink and scribbling away with renewed energy. His stupid grin made Hermione smile and roll her eyes before returning to her own essay. While she wished that Ron and Harry could just do their own work themselves, she did realize that not everyone had the discipline that she had. However, that didn’t mean she had to stop trying to get them to work harder. She knew for a fact that their potential far exceeded their marks.

They worked in silence for a while, the scratching of quill on parchment and shuffle of students walking past filling Hermione’s ears as her brain turned over, pulling out fact after fact.

In a blazing sense of pride, she finished her last sentence, tying her conclusion together perfectly, and placed her quill down on the table. At the click, both Ron and Harry looked over to her with wide eyes of disbelief.

“You’re finished already?” gaped Harry.

“I’ve barely gotten three paragraphs written. How can you possibly be finished already?!” exclaimed Ron. Hermione shushed him, glancing over at Madame Pince’s disapproving glare.

“Some of us, Ronald, utilize our time efficiently,” Hermione responded coolly as she placed her things back into her bag. She didn’t bother mentioning that she spent her last three hours in the library as opposed to their meager thirty minutes, or that she took her break after morning Transfiguration to study as well. Her eyes itched from staring at off-white pages and black script and for once she finished all her work and read ahead in all her classes. It probably had something to do with the fact that she was attending five less classes than the previous year.

There was also the small fact that she no longer slept. Nearly a month into school and she still barely slept four hours a night. When panic inducing nightmares weren’t causing her to toss and turn, she was studying. And when she wasn’t studying, she was working on her new endeavor – the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, otherwise known as S.P.E.W. Ever since the Quidditch World Cup and the horrid treatment of Winky, the house elf, she knew she had to do something. This became even more clear when she found out Hogwarts was run almost entirely on house elf labor. In all her years never did she imagine that her beloved school used essentially slavery to cook and clean. It was wrong. It was barbaric. One would assume that in a world filled with magic, where one was only limited to the bounds of one’s imagination, they would be a bit more progressive. Unfortunately, though, it seemed to be the opposite. In fact, Hermione had never met a group of people so routed in their ways as the wizarding world. Of course, it would be foolish to assume that an entire world would be impermeable to prejudices when the muggle world was not.

Therefore, where all of her time was normally spent in the Gryffindor common room with Harry and Ron or watching the Gryffindor quidditch team practice on the pitch, she now spent it nose deep in a book or attempting to recruit new S.P.E.W. members. Her absence had not gone unnoticed – in fact, it became so blatantly clear that Harry confronted her outright between Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures.

“I don’t understand Hermione, is it something I’ve done?” Harry ran a hand through his unruly locks, distress obvious on his face.

“No, it’s nothing you’ve done Harry,” Hermione picked at her nails, feeling uncomfortable.

“Was it, Ron? I’m sure whatever he said, he didn’t mean it.” Hermione ignored the grating irritation at Harry’s blind defense of Ronald.

“No, it’s not Ron.”

“Then what? Come on Hermione, you know you can tell me anything.”

Hermione looked at her best friend and sighed. His kind eyes shone from behind his round spectacles with sincerity and concern.

“I’m not avoiding you or Ron. I’m just stressed about our O.W.L.s next year—" she paused “—You can never be too prepared, and I need to do well on them.”

Harry looked at her with a confused expression, “Hermione, they’re not for another year! Are you seriously stressing over something so far away?”

“Yes? No? I guess…I guess I’m just used to studying all the time. You know, what with the time-turner last year and all. And then of course there’s S.P.E.W. No one seems to care at all that these poor elves are being worked day and night without any pay. I mean, it’s horrendous!” Hermione half-lied, feeling stupid as the words left her mouth. She wanted to be honest with Harry, but she didn’t know how. The real reason felt stupid. What was she to say? Sorry I’ve thrust myself into my work more than ever Harry; I just can’t stop having nightmares about something that happened nearly two months ago and I’m trying to distract myself.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, “I get it.”

“You do?” His remark caught her off guard as she wasn’t even sure if she understood it.

“You’re an absolute swot. Don’t get me wrong, we all love that about you, but you need to learn when to relax and have some fun,” Harry finished with a grin.

“You prat—” Hermione hit his arm with the back of her book “—Don’t call me a swot. But you’re right. I need balance.”

“And I guess as appointed Secretary of S.P.E.W., I could do a bit more for the cause.”

Hermione lit up at the words. “Really? Oh Harry, thank you so much! I’m making more buttons tonight, maybe you could help me? Then tomorrow we can try and canvas some of the other houses for new members!”

“Well, if you’re so efficient, you should be able to help me finish mine!” argued Ron desperately, bringing Hermione back to the present.

“Ronald, I told you before. I’m not doing your assignment for you. You have to learn it on your own,” she whispered.

“When am I ever going to need to know about all the goblin leaders? Besides, you like doing this sort of stuff.”

“Ronald, I said n—”

“Lovers’ quarrel?”

Merlin, Hermione thought at the sound of unified voices. Rolling her eyes, she turned to see Fred and George standing behind her.

“Hey Fred, hey George,” Harry greeted them cheerfully, placing his quill down – happy for an excuse to stop working.

“Hullo Harry,” they responded in unison.

“Any progress on entering our names for the tournament?” Ron asked expectantly. Much to Hermione’s disproval, Fred and George promised him a try at whatever they whipped up as soon as they knew it was successful, and Ron had not stopped talking about it.

“We’re nearly there,” George grinned.

“So, we’ll know in about two days whether it works or not,” said Fred, leaning against a bookshelf casually. Two days? Hermione thought with alarm. Was it really the 29th of October already? That meant the students from Beauxbaton and Durmstrang, the other competing schools, were to arrive tomorrow evening! She needed to go back to her dormitory and rework her schedule. She had no room to pencil in excitement and new student arrival that week. She opened her planner to begin revising.

“How confident are you that it’ll work?” asked Ron, leaning forward in excitement.

“Extremely,” the twins answered.

Hermione let out an indecent snort and rolled her eyes again. Fools.

“Something you’d like to add Granger?” asked George, looking over at her.

“Yes, hullo to you also. So nice of you to acknowledge us in a friendly manner,” accused Fred sarcastically.

“I think some lessons are best learned through experience, rather than lecture,” said Hermione, carefully picking her words before tucking her planner into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

“But you love to lecture us, are you sure you aren’t raring to tell us how wrong we are?” asked Fred, fluttering his eyelashes sweetly.

Hermione gave a short laugh, “Please. I know a lost cause when I see one.”

“A lost cause? You hear that Georgie? We’re a lost cause.”

“I don’t know…sounds to me like she’s just afraid of a challenge Freddie.”

“It’s not a challenge if all I’m doing is slowly melting my brain trying to reason with the pair of you,” scoffed Hermione.

“Oh, I can melt your brain just fine, if that’s what you’d like,” stated Fred, stepping forward cockily.

“Is your wit really so primitive that you have to resort to sexual innuendo all the time?” Hermione asked, her heart rate picking up in her chest as their conversation turned more heated.

“Sexual innuendo? I have no idea what you’re referring to Granger. I was merely saying I might be smarter than you think. Are you sure you aren’t projecting a bit there?”

“You’re a child,” Hermione bit back, feathers ruffled that Fred seemed to be over his initial shock response to her comebacks and instead was meeting her beat for beat. His eyes held a shine to them as he smiled down at her in excitement.

“Resorting to name-calling now? I thought higher of you,” sighed Fred, tapping the end of her nose condescendingly. Hermione batted his hand away, feeling her hair begin to crackle. She was getting too upset. She needed to calm down and show him that she was better than him.

Taking a small, calming breath, she straightened her posture before replying, “That doesn’t surprise me Frederick. I’m sure it’s easy to think highly of me when your potential is so low.”

Hermione took that moment to make her exit. Turning on her heel, she walked out of the library, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone. A warm flush covered her face and bled down her neck as she scurried through the halls. Adrenaline pumped through her system. Despite his ample fight, she felt quite confident that she won the battle. His lack of biting response as she left, supported as much. Departing before he could speak might have been a cheap way to go about it, but she reasoned there was no clean way to fight when it came to the Weasley twins. A small giggle bubbled up in her chest as she replayed the conversation in her head. Invigorated by the whole event, she ran the rest of the way to the Gryffindor tower. Rounding corners and sprinting up staircases, exhaustion filled her small frame by the time she came upon the portrait of the Fat Lady. Her lungs ached from the exercise and her shoulder and back ached from the heavy books weighing her bag down. She gasped the password through pants and entered as she tried to catch her breath. Fellow Gryffindors cast odd looks in her direction as she scurried up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories, but she didn’t care. Her room was empty and for that she was grateful. The last thing she wanted was a forced conversation with Lavender or Pavarti. Perhaps the physical exertion would act as a sleeping agent and she would finally fall into a deep and peaceful sleep. Best to ride the wave and go to bed while I’m still tired¸ she thought. Sluggishly, she changed out of her uniform and crawled into bed. Nagging thoughts tugged at the back of her mind, telling her to brush her teeth, but the exhaustion in her body told her to sleep. Ultimately her body won, and sleep took over.

Hermione’s mind swam the next day as she sat in double potions with the Slytherins. It was nearing the end of class and Professor Snape was taking the time to explain to them why their potions had been improperly brewed in one way or another. Hermione’s hadn’t of course, but that didn’t stop him from berating her for being an ‘insufferable little know-it-all’, and then accusing her of helping any student that didn’t manage to burn a hole in their cauldrons. She diligently took notes as Snape droned on and on, but her mind failed to connect to the words she was writing down on the parchment. All thoughts and worries were currently focused on an embarrassing personal crisis. The dream.

While Hermione thought nightmares were the worst thing, she could possibly endure in her sleeping state, she had to admit she had been wrong. No, apparently there was something much, much worse stewing in her brain waiting for vulnerable unconsciousness to leap out and take form.

She had been in the library, wandering through the sections of towering shelves when she appeared in a section, she was unfamiliar with. Turning a corner her eyes grew wide at the sight of two older students locked in an intimate embrace. Her heart started to race, and her breathing began to pick up as she felt a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach. She tried to leave but found herself unable to move – her feet glued to the floor. That’s when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist and a pair of lips kissing up her neck. Her hands went up, one grabbing at the fingers that dug roughly into her flesh and the other threading itself through long thick hair. She turned her head only to see that the hair between her fingers was a brilliant shade of ginger. The realization was so shocking to her that she awoke from her dream, sitting ramrod straight – heart pounding, sweat-slicked, and breathing heavily.

Her face blushed just thinking about it. Turning her head casually to the right, she spied one of her best friends. Ronald Weasley sat next to Harry, slumped forward in his seat, head resting in his hand. His long hair hung way past his eyes, concealing them completely. Hermione, knowing Ron, would bet on her life that they were closed, and he was verging on sleep. She knew he wasn’t fully asleep though, because if he were there would be loud snores coming from his direction. Him. He was the one her mind decided to fantasize about. Why? She studied him, her eyes tracing the freckles on the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t bad looking; she always quite liked his hair and pale complexion. He had a kind heart and could be quite charming when he wanted to be, the problem was that rarely did he want to be. He could be quite cruel and insensitive without knowing it, and he didn’t care for much other than Quidditch. Is that really what she wanted in a partner? Hermione scoffed at her mental ramblings. Here she was, wondering if Ronald Weasley were her potential first love without considering that he would probably never be interested in her. After all, her hair was a bushy, frizzy mess, her teeth were far too big for her mouth, and her otherwise plain features left much to be desired. Not to mention her overall swotty personality. Still, hadn’t he told her that she was ‘the best’? And he certainly didn’t mind being her friend. What if he did like her?

“Miss Granger, is there something on Mr. Weasley’s face that’s so interesting that you cannot be bothered to pay attention?” The sound of Professor Snape’s voice brought Hermione out of her thoughts, and she looked up to find all eyes on her. The Slytherins snickered around her, and Ron and Harry looked at her in surprise. Hermione felt her face flush with embarrassment.

“No Professor, my apologies,” she mumbled, looking down at her notes.

“Five points from Gryffindor for Miss Granger’s lack of interest. Class dismissed,” snipped Professor Snape as he turned towards his office. Hermione packed her bag and exited the classroom as quickly as possible.

“What was that all about?” Harry asked, him and Ron catching up to her with ease.

“Sorry guys, I got lost in thought and didn’t realize where I was looking. I guess I should have been paying attention,” Hermione stammered, readjusting her bag on her shoulder.

“No problem Hermione. Snape’s a git and no one blames you. I was almost asleep near the end there too,” Ron piped in with a friendly smile. Hermione felt her stomach flip.

“Thanks Ronald.” She smiled back.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a couple of love birds, boys,” Draco Malfoy sneered as he came up beside them. “When’s the wedding? I’m sure it’ll be just lovely, or at least as lovely as five knuts’ll get you.”

Hermione scowled at the silver-hair bully, with all his sharp pointed features and disgustingly greasy demeanor, as he laughed along with his goons. She rolled her eyes and grabbed both Harry and Ron by the arm, leading them on towards the front of the castle. Ridiculous. That’s what she was being. It was ridiculous to waste her time worrying about some absurd dream when that’s all it was – a dream. Besides, she didn’t know for certain it was Ron who she dreamed about. There were plenty of red heads in the world.

Outside the main entrance they found Ginny next to Neville in a crowd of students.

“Did we miss anything?” asked Ron, looking excitedly about.

“Nothing yet, you’ve made it just in time I think!” Ginny exclaimed in glee. The castle was in a fit of excitement. Even the Slytherins, who didn’t find much joy in anything school related, seemed to be chomping at the bit for their guests to arrive and the Triwizard Tournament to finally take off. Hermione, too, was excited but more at the thought of getting to meet students from other magical schools. She had taken the liberty of reading as much as she could on the histories of both Durmstrang and Beauxbaton and was informing Ginny on their key similarities and differences when several gasps and shouts erupted around them.

“Look!” Ginny yelled, pointing up at the sky above them. Hermione followed her finger upwards to see a large horse-drawn carriage flying through the clouds, pulled by a dozen flying horses the size of elephants. She watched as they soared through the air, their wings pumping up and down in synchronization. The size of the horses was comparable to what they were pulling, for as it got closer, Hermione estimated the carriage to be at least twice the size of her home back in Hampstead. The carriage floated prettily, a pale cream embellished with pastel blue designs and gold trim. Obviously of French provincial style, she concluded that this was clearly the Beauxbaton students. So enthralled by the ornate and bordering ostentatious carriage and the horses pulling it, Hermione failed to notice heads turning and mouths gaping at the Black Lake. In fact, her gaze only broke away from the magnificent beasts when Ron elbowed her from behind. She turned to scold him, but caught her tongue when she noticed a daunting, black ship floating on the lake. It rocked back and forth, sending large waves crashing away from it on the usually glass-smooth surface. Hermione thought it very much resembled what happened when you dropped a large rock into a pond and wondered how it got there. Someone was sure to tell her later – there were plenty of witnesses.

“Way to make an entrance!” exclaimed Ron, followed by loud whoops and cheers as he clapped.

“A bit flashy, if you ask me,” Pansy Parkinson sniffed from a nearby group of Slytherins.

“She’s one to talk,” Hermione mumbled under her breath.

“Hah!” a boisterous laugh sounded behind her. Hermione swiveled and caught a pair of hazel eyes looking at her.

Fred leaned towards her. “Nice one Granger,” he complimented over the babble of conversation around them. His warm breath fell on her neck, all too reminiscent of her dream. Her body jerked to attention, heat creeping up her face before she smiled politely and turned away from the older boy.

“They’re coming up to the entrance!” Seamus Finnigan announced. Hermione thanked Merlin for the distraction and looked down the path leading to the front of the castle. Sure enough, there was a large group of individuals walking towards them. As they neared, the Hogwarts students cheered and applauded them, trying to welcome the foreign students like Professor Dumbledore advised. Hermione clapped softly as the first students approached. A tall and unsettling man led the group. His dark hair, speckled with bits of silver, sat heavy on his head, slicked back from his angular face. The sharp features and the long, grey goatee gave him an ominous appearance fueled even further by the deep scowl set into his mouth and piercing black eyes. He wore midnight black robes paired with a brilliantly white fur pelt over his shoulders. Igor Karkaroff. Headmaster of Durmstrang. The students behind him wore robes of deep crimson, the color sharing an eerie resemblance to the color of blood. Like their headmaster, they too donned thick furs to fight the crisp cold, only theirs held a rich color of brown. They looked incredibly warm. Subconsciously, Hermione pulled her wool robes closer around her as a strong breeze blew around them.

“Bloody hell! It’s him!” Ron shouted, his voice taking on a hysterical tone.

“Who?” asked Harry.

“Victor Krum! It’s Victor Krum! Right there in the front!” Ron pushed himself forward and past Hermione to get a better look at the famous Quidditch player coming towards them. With Ron’s tall figure in front of her, she failed to confirm whether the Bulgarian seeker truly lead the group of Durmstrang students. Ron’s excitement only increased as the visiting students got closer and then passed them into the castle.

“Ronald! I can’t see!” Hermione pounded lightly on Ron’s back with her fists until he snapped out of his star struck trance. The ginger boy turned around, a sheepish grin across his face.

“Sorry about that Hermione. Here.” Awkwardly, Ron shifted over and led Hermione to the front by her waist. For the second time that afternoon a Weasley boy reminded her of her dream, Ron’s touch all too like the arms that held her sensually the night before. She took a small step forward, putting distance between herself and Ron’s grasp. The students from Beauxbaton were the next to make their way down the path. The crowd gawked at the elegant French students as they walked poised and beautiful down the cobblestone in their blue silk uniforms. Hermione, on the other hand couldn’t help but find them annoying. They shivered and chattered their teeth in such an exaggerated manner and looked up at the castle with such disgust and judgement that she immediately took a disliking to them.

“For Merlin’s sake! It’s not that cold,” Hermione groaned as the boys and girls huddled together for warmth. Hermione thought them incredibly rude and found it idiotic that they did not think to wear warmer robes. However, someone in their party evidently had sense, as their headmistress sauntered up the path in a heavy shawl, completely unbothered by the cold. Although, Hermione wasn’t sure anything could bother the woman as she stood twelve feet tall and sturdy. A neutral expression, bored some might even call it, covered her face and despite her size, she too glided gracefully across the ground. As they walked past, Hermione could hear little bits and pieces of snide remarks from the Beauxbaton students. Apparently, they thought Hogwarts would be much nicer than it was. Hermione couldn’t believe her ears. She assumed that as guests, they would have much better manners.

“Honestly, can you believe that rubbish?” Hermione exclaimed, turning to Ron and Harry behind her. Instead of meeting commiserating sentiments like she expected, the pair continued to stare at the Beauxbaton students until they disappeared completely into the castle. Their mouths hung open widely, making them look quite dumb, and Hermione turned to Ginny with a questioning look. Ginny shrugged, also confused over her brother and Harry’s behavior.

Hermione waved her hand in front of the pairs’ faces.

“Hullo! Are you two listening to me?” she asked, frowning.

“Bloody hell, did you see her?” Ron asked, in more of a trance than when he saw Krum.

“Yeah…” Harry said dreamily.

“See who?” Hermione questioned. What was wrong with them? They hadn’t acted like this since…oh goodness. Not since the Veelas at the Quidditch World Cup.

“Ahhhh it seems our poor baby brother has fallen victim,” George stated woefully, placing a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. She looked up at him and then back down at his hand.

“Why are you fine?” she asked, shrugging off his hand.

“Oh, Alicia and Angelina were sure to snap us out of it,” Fred stated, then placing his hand on her shoulder.

“And how exactly did they do that?” She raised an eyebrow, shrugging off his hand as well.

“Like this!” the twins shouted before reeling back and smacking both Harry and Ron in the back of the head. The two fourth year Gryffindors yelled out in pain, grasping at their heads before spinning around and glaring at Fred and George.

“What the hell was that for?!” Harry barked.

“You were drooling mates,” George smirked.

“And it’s time to go back in,” Fred pointed behind them at the entrance to the castle where most of the students were filing through already.

They followed the crowd back into the castle and through the corridor into the Great Hall. It seemed the Durmstrang students took a special liking to the Slytherins as almost all of them were seated at their table. The Beauxbaton students seated themselves at the Ravenclaw table, much to Ronald’s disdain. And it was Ronald’s unhappiness that also fueled Hermione’s sore mood as well. Silently she ate her dinner and watched as Ron fawned and drooled and ogled the girls from Beauxbaton for the entirety of the night. When a particularly pretty one approached their table asking him for the bouillabaisse, Ron was left speechless.

“Honestly, Ronald. She’s just a girl. You know, like every other girl in this school. Including myself,” Hermione tried to reason with him.

Eyes still trained on the French beauty, Ron responded with incredulity, “That’s ridiculous Hermione. She’s no girl. That right there is a woman. Leagues above any girl here at Hogwarts.”

A woman? What did that even mean? She was only a few years older than Hermione. She didn’t even look that much older. Hermione turned her attention back to the food on her plate and found that she had lost her appetite. So instead, she pulled a book from her bag and buried herself behind it, slowly sinking lower into her seat as the night went on. She missed the moment they revealed the cup that competitors were to put their name in, too engrossed in the words on the page, and when dinner was over, she was the first to leave the Great Hall. Only, she didn’t head straight for the common room like she usually did. Instead, her feet carried her through the castle until she found herself in the library once again. As she seated herself in her favorite corner, she was reminded of something Professor Trelawney had said her third year. ‘Oh you may be young in years, but the heart that beats beneath your bosom is as shriveled as an old maid’s, your soul as dry as the pages of the books to which you so desperately cleave.’

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“Another potion successfully made brother.” Fred grinned, stretching the muscles in his neck and back.

Fred and George Weasley currently sat in an abandoned classroom as they finished the answer to all their problems. Well past curfew, the pair had just filled two vials with the clear aging potion and capped them triumphantly.

“I’d say that one was particularly easy, wouldn’t you?” George replied, standing up.

“As easy as beating Percy in a game of wits.”

“Off to bed then?”

“Actually, I think I may pop down to the kitchen and grab myself a bite to eat. Clean up here?” Fred asked, motioning around the room. The classroom was their own personal haven; tucked away in an old corner of the castle that few ventured it was their go-to space for all their inventing and brewing needs. It was only thanks to their time with the Marauder’s Map that they knew about it.

“Yeah. See you in the morning Freddie.” George waved goodbye as Fred exited the classroom and headed down towards the kitchens. The low light of the hallway candles washed the castle in a soft glow that contrasted with the icy chill of nighttime. The castle was always cold at night. However, the frigid temperature didn’t bother Fred Weasley as much as usual that night. He was far too excited to be bothered by much of anything, really. Tomorrow was the big day. They were going to enter their names into the Goblet of Fire, and it was going to be glorious. Fred had no idea if one of them would even be picked to compete, but just the idea of winning the prize money was enough to keep a spring in his step and a surge of determination coursing through his veins.

He kept quiet as he tip-toed through the halls, just in case Filch was lurking around corners. Turning down the last corridor he was surprised to see, not the scraggly old Mr. Filch, but the familiar figure of a bushy-haired fourth year. Hermione Granger stood in front of a picture on the wall, the torches in front of her illuminating her and making her hair glow like an ethereal halo.

“Hermione?”

She spun around, glancing back and forth, looking like a frightened animal. Fred stepped closer, out of the shadows so she could see him more clearly. He watched her relax, her shoulders dropping from her ears and slumping forward. She laughed lightly.

“Merlin’s beard, Frederick! You scared me!” Hermione exclaimed with an edge of relief in her voice.

“Shhhh!” Fred hushed her, rushing forward, and covering her mouth with his hand. “Do you want to wake the whole castle with your yelling or just Filch in particular?”

Hermione’s eyes widened in alarm. She stiffened beneath him, the two of them silently listening for any signs of Filch or his wretched cat, Mrs. Norris. When Fred failed to hear anything, he let out a breath of relief and looked down at the little witch in his arms. Suddenly he was awash with the memory of the last time the two of them had been that close. The night in the forest when they were hiding for their lives. He removed his hand and stepped back.

“I didn’t realize it was so late. I was coming back from the library and decided to go for a bit of a walk,” whispered Hermione, looking up at him under the glowing light of the torches. “How are we going to get back to the tower without being seen?”

“Simple. I know a shortcut. Come on.” Fred grabbed Hermione’s hand, pulling her along with him down the corridor. Her hand was small and cold but fit surprisingly well in his own. His stomach growled, and mournfully he thought of the late-night snack he originally set out to get. He continued down the halls at a quick pace until they reached the tapestry he had been looking for. Tapping his wand five times at its center, he pulled back the tapestry to reveal a hidden passageway. He let go of Hermione’s hand and the two slipped behind the tapestry, letting it fall back into place behind them.

“Lumos,” Fred spoke softly, lighting the dark space with the tip of his wand.

“Amazing, this must be one of the secret passageways on the Marauders’ Map,” marveled Hermione.

They made their way down the narrow passage, taking up a leisurely pace, not feeling the pressure of getting caught by Filch or his cat. The shuffling of their feet on the cold stone filled the silent space around them as they climbed up stairways and weaved around corners. As they walked, a nagging thought pricked at the back of Fred’s mind until he couldn’t help but voice it.

“So, walks about the castle past curfew. I didn’t take you for the type Granger,” Fred teased. Hermione let out a loud and vulgar scoff. Fred turned, looking down at her incredulously, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The young witch lifted her chin in indignation, “What sort of type did you take me for?”

Fred shrugged, “You know, the good girl type. Doesn’t get into trouble. Doesn’t break rules. Perfect Prefect material.”

“I’ll have you know I break plenty of rules.”

“Yeah, but only when it’s Harry or Ron’s idea,” pressed Fred, hoping to goad her into revealing something he didn’t already know.

“That’s not true!” She turned her head and glared at him.

“No, don’t believe it.” Fred shook his head.

“Well, believe it because it’s true.”

“Prove it.”

“Prove it?”

“Yeah, tell me one rule that you’ve broken that wasn’t Harry or Ron’s idea.” He glanced at the younger witch out of the corner of his eye. Her brows were scrunched together, her pink lips pouting as she thought. Then her face opened in excitement, eyebrows lifting and mouth opening, revealing her large front teeth below her upper lip.

“In first year, it was my idea for Harry to sneak into the restricted section of the library over Christmas holiday,” she stated proudly.

“That doesn’t count! You only thought of the idea; you made Harry do all the dirty work,” countered Fred.

“Alright, in second year I brewed Polyjuice in the girl’s lavatory and nicked lacewing flies from Professor Snape’s office to do it,” said Hermione triumphantly as they reached the end of the passageway, coming out the other side right next to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Hermione spun around, crossing her arms in front of her as she waited for his response.

“Who’d have thought that the Hermione Granger was such a delinquent,” praised Fred, grinning widely. He was truly impressed. He had no idea that the bright little witch had it in her to steal from a teacher.

Hermione sniffed haughtily. “That’ll teach you to underestimate me, Frederick Weasley,” she stated coolly, but her golden brown eyes shown with flee, like he had just given her the best compliment in the world. He then watched in awe as she turned around, mutter the password, and disappeared through the portrait into Gryffindor tower.

“It sure will Granger, it sure will.”

Chapter 6 >>

Taglist:

@theworldisugly-22

#fremione #fred x hermione #fred weasley #hermione granger #slow burn #fan fic #fan fiction #harry potter

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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Not everyone is a professional critic, tho. They aren’t going to make the distinction you make. I want to create, and I try to listen to the audiences when something doesn’t sit write with them so I don’t make the same mistake if I achieve my dream. This is still on RT, I’m not going to ask people to cut this one moment some slack when it’s culmination of poor writing. People wouldn’t be complaining if this wasn’t a cog huge machine of a problem with Yang’s character.

Okay, this wound up far more serious than I was planning so bear with me:

I’m not asking anyone to be a professional critic and I certainly don’t hold that expectation for the fandom at large. I do, however, hope that through the act of these metas/recaps/asks people realize the importance of establishing a basic, logical thread through an argument. We’re not tackling literary theory and complex metaphors here, we’re just asking, “You’ve made a confident claim. Can you back it up?” Often fans can’t or, worse, they insist that their interpretation still has merit despite all (or most) evidence pointing to the contrary. And that’s a very dangerous habit to develop.

Not to be #deep on a RWBY ask but I’m going to say with 100% seriousness that developing this skill is crucial. Why? Because the ability to look at a situation and acknowledge the situation’s context, what happened in a moment as opposed to what you assume/want to have happened, and admit to the facts of the event - especially if they go against your larger beliefs - is something we have to do in the “real world,” not just in fandom spaces. It’s our politics, more-so than ever before. On the surface getting disgruntled over an inaccurate RWBY reading seems ridiculous, but people are quite literally training themselves and others to ignore facts and context in favor of their feelings. That’s dangerous. The act of going, “Such-and-such RWBY character did this” in a way that demonstrates they haven’t fact-checked this claim, or are outright lying, and then proceeding to ignore any evidence presented to them is the same sort of thinking that leads to other bold but unsubstantiated statements like, “Climate change isn’t real” and “All black people are violent,” followed by willfully ignoring any of that evidence to the contrary. The real world vs. the fictional world distinction doesn’t matter. In both cases the person in question is ignoring facts, persuasive counters, or both and if you see someone doing that for a fictional story it’s very likely they’ll start doing that in real life too. Not because these two situations are literally equal and we consciously treat them as such, but because this is intellectual muscle memory. If you practice not asking questions, not supporting your claims, ignoring facts, and ignoring evidence that undermines your position, you are primed to repeat that behavior when it’s suddenly not just a silly web-series anymore. The person who practices looking at a statement like “Yang abandoned Blake” and not questioning whether that statement pans out is setting themselves up to be the kind of person who accepts other confident but inaccurate statements like “California... where they found a million fraudulent votes.” If people aren’t willing to question a stranger online about a show that they watched for themselves and know a great deal about, why in the world would they question a powerful leader on a subject they’re probably not nearly as familiar with?

The skills attached to rhetorical analysis are things like, “How do I know what this person (author) wants to persuade me of?” and “How do I determine whether their stance is persuasive or not? What actions will I take in either case?” Those questions might go along with a school paper, but they’re also connected to things like political leaders and advertisements. Do I believe that this $50 cream is going to make my wrinkles disappear because they keep showing me a woman with Photoshoped skin? Do I believe that this politician can fix all our problems because he claims he can in a very confident tone? The ability to work through those questions is necessary for the inconsequential (RWBY talks), the somewhat important (how you spend your money) and the incredibly important (how do I perceive other people and who do I trust to lead us?)

(x)

The problem is not “RWBY fans are frustrated with these large scale writing issues.” As said, I wholeheartedly agree that those issues exist. Rather, the problem is “RWBY fans are allowing that frustration to lead them to misinterpreting or outright lying about what happened in other scenes” and that’s a very bad thing to practice. It’s creating a correlation where none exists and allowing emotions to prevail over basic logic. That isn’t a habit you want to develop. Again, it might seem ridiculous at first to attach such significance to a fantasy web-series we mostly meme about, but how you perceive the world is not formed solely through the Real and Important™ Stuff in your life. It’s also the stories you consume and how you talk about them. When I see people in a fandom making unsubstantiated claims and lots of others agreeing with them without bothering to question that faith... it’s worrisome because those habits tend to repeat. Are you going to bother to fact-check other things in life? Are you willing and able to draw your own conclusions based on evidence? Or are you happy to accept anything that validates your current world view? These questions exist for a lot more than just fun fandom discussions.

To be clear, there’s nothing wrong with being mistaken or with engaging in debate over legitimately complex issues. A lot of RWBY has no “right” answer, but there are times when we can very easily point to the screen and say, “What you’ve claimed never happened.” Those who forgot something in the canon, or interpreted it in a different way with evidence to support that interpretation, or even interpreted it one way before someone else makes a case they come to agree with... that’s all analysis, whether you’re a professional critic or not. That’s all great and I cycle through each of these on a regular basis. But in order for that to happen people have to be willing to question claims in the first place and pay attention to the facts of the situation, not merely accept someone else’s interpretation - or their own biased preferences - at face value. Ask how you came to this conclusion. Ask whether you can back up this conclusion if someone challenges it. Ask whether there’s anything that pushes back against your belief. The inability to do that doesn’t just result in frustration over an inconsequential web-series - “Ugh why would they think that when it literally never happened?”- it’s also the same thinking that leads to systematic problems. That question, “Why would they think that when it literally never happened?” is something I’m asking daily as I watch the news. We’ve got a president who has told a reported 18,000 lies and the normalization of that has had horrific consequences, so I’m not about to let anyone off the hook - myself included! - for willfully lying or mistakenly misinterpreting anything, even if it’s “just” a web-series. Because these habits develop early and they develop in unexpected places. In this house if you make claims you need persuasive and logical evidence to back it up and if someone provides a good counter? Be open to accepting it. Everyone needs to develop this ability.

To answer your question, @electricdemon10

I think RWBY is chock-full of problems - enough that I’ve written god knows how much about it! - but I likewise think that sometimes the fandom will twist scenes in order to provide that validation. It’s any easy thing to do. I’ve done it, much as I strive to avoid it, but it’s something we always need to work to improve on. Not because accurately analyzing a Rooster Teeth web-series is That Important, but because we cannot afford to become - or remain - people who will ignore facts and evidence in favor of our preferences. And silly as it sounds, we get the most practice in this during our downtime, in places like fandom. I love Ironwood and I think he was done dirty this season, but that doesn’t give me the right to make baseless claims about how he didn’t really mean to hurt Oscar by shooting him. We might be frustrated with how Blake and Yang are written, but that doesn’t give us the right to make baseless claims about how Yang abandoned Blake to the Apathy. Baseless claims are a danger all around and thus this has very little to do with being a good critic and a great deal to do with whether you’re someone who asks for proof/persuasive evidence before buying into a perspective. And that is something that goes far beyond a web-series we watch in our free time.

Which is why I answer asks. Not just because I enjoy RWBY and love analysis - it’s a fun hobby for me - but also because analytical skills are something that needs to be taught and practiced. When someone comes to a seemingly illogical conclusion, encourage them to think about why that seemed logical to them at the time. Encourage them to ask questions about their own assumptions. Develop the habit of always - always - demanding of yourself and others evidence for whatever belief you/they hold. Because if you can teach someone to recognize when there’s no evidence, or not persuasive evidence, or aspects that have been ignored, etc. in a low-key web-series, you can likewise teach them to apply that same thinking when it really matters.

#rwby #racism tw #tw racism #rwde #mymetas #Anonymous

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let-me-be-your-comet · 4 years ago

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There's been a lot of questionable behavior in the fanbase lately - I understand emotions are running high. But certain people, in my opinion, are losing sight of the cause and unintentionally damaging the cause.

The thing is, Tana probably knew Brandon was working on his own statement, which was LotF. And ALL she wanted to ask was...'hey, I'm not famous, but surely there's something I can do to help, what can I do?' And people completely ignored her own voice, her own power, as her own person, and immediately (and for a lot of them, exclusively) told her to talk to Brandon and make him say something instead. That's fucked up with a capital F. She has a hell of a lot on her plate as it is, she absolutely does not need us adding to it and I'm appalled that some people don't see the problem with that.

As for the situation in general, these are my thoughts...people were so quick to doubt, and I don't understand why. There was so much jumping to conclusions, assuming 'they're not gonna say anything, they must be against BLM!!', even though we have a decade+ of hard evidence they fall on the liberal side of the spectrum. Hell, Brandon is on record about abortion, of all things, as a very religious Mormon. So it really boggles my mind that so many people jumped straight to 'oh god they're racist, they're against Black Lives Matter' as opposed to 'Maybe they're taking their time, gathering their thoughts, gaining perspective'.

Obviously what they did takes time, and frankly they were very quick - I'd like to see one of the 'tHeY wErE tOo LaTe' people rewrite a song in under a week! Such a heartfelt, beautifully genuine statement they issued, in the format Brandon has always turned to when he really cares and doesn't want to fuck it up by talking.

The band provided a very clear statement with zero room for misinterpretation. Their positive stance on Black Lives Matter is crystal clear in that song, and still so many people - who claim to be on the same side as the band - are spewing hate at them and at anyone who dares to confront or argue with them, all while claiming to be against hate...Instagram in particular is very hostile right now.

It's unproductive, unhelpful, and frankly very damaging to the movement they claim to support - it discourages people who actually do agree with the message from speaking out, because people see that and they internalize this: not only are they going to have to deal with people on the other side attacking them (which is, of course, a given), now they have to be attacked by people ON THE SAME SIDE who say they didn't do enough, they didn't make a statement in precisely the same way they wanted? Nothing is ever enough!

It is okay to say 'hey, the song is great, and I appreciate what you've done, but I was hoping you guys would provide resources as well - here is a link to donate/learn more if anyone wants it!'

It blows my mind, however, that the majority of the comments were outright vitriolic. Those people were not providing constructive criticism. 'OPEN YOUR WALLET' is not a valid response. It's a very peculiar type of gatekeeping, to belittle and bully those on your own side of a cause (fans included).

Curiously, I went through all the comments on their FB post and their Insta post yesterday, and found exactly TWO comments from people who were against the BLM movement and we're angry that the band supported it. TWO. Out of over a thousand comments between the platforms, only two people were against the movement. All the 'god I'm so disappointed in you guys, what the fuck, this is pathetic, this is lip service', whatever the fuck they wanted to say...all of that came from people who were claiming to be on the same damn side as the band, and yet they're spitting venom at their peers for not advocating in a way that fits their apparently extremely narrow definition of activism. How does that benefit the cause? How does that move anything forward? How does that encourage others to speak out, how does that make them feel safe enough to do so?

It doesn't. People already know that by speaking up on potentially divisive issues they're going to face hostility from people on the other side of the fence...so why are people choosing to attack their friends, their allies, those who stand for the same values as they claim to represent?

We know the people in this band, we know where their hearts are. They're good people. They've spent years filling their music with empathy, with compassion. Brandon spent years tracking down people he'd hurt in the band's early years and apologizing to them (sometimes even in public), he has very open about his flaws as a person and his quest to grow and leave them behind, from being an outspoken stuck-up little shit to not being the husband he should have been in earlier TK days.

Brandon at least is on record about pretty much every issue under the sun including abortion...and yet so many people readily turned their backs on them simply because they took longer than a day to post a heartfelt, thoughtful statement.

Before they put out LotF 2, I 100% understood being disappointed - I was a little disappointed myself, but I had enough trust and faith in them as people, in their history, to believe that they would make a statement when they were ready. At no point, though, has this matter been worth the anger some people are flinging at it. That energy would be better spent writing politicians or protesting themselves, not harrassing the band (and their families- such a huge red line).

They took the time they needed and they produced a statement which is clear, moving, and very thoughtful. The song speaks for itself. We have no right to demand more and to insult Brandon and Ronnie and Tana - or any others who speak out on behalf of this cause or any other - for not doing as we may think they should, for not doing it "right".

The band has no obligation at all to make everything a public statement simply because they're celebrities - they choose to speak out, but they're also just regular people and they have a right to live their lives as regular people in any way they can. There is no single right way to show support for a cause. They don't have to tell us that they've donated. If they did, we'd just have people saying 'ok how much? It's not enough' or 'only $X?! That's pennies to you!' If they gave people a link to donate, that'd be attacked as well because 'what did you donate then? How much? Why should I donate if you won't say you did/if you only donated X amount and you're worth Y amount'...there is no way to win with some people. They have a right to donate in private or to contribute in other ways, which they have clearly done. They gave us a beautiful statement, their position is clear as day. They've taken a stand.

We know their hearts are in the right place - privately, as is their right as human fucking beings. It's so disappointing and so disgusting - some seriously were willing to just throw their whole history out the window, ready to skewer them. Absolutely unbelievable. This band is made up of decent people - they have shown so much empathy and compassion, desire to grow and be better as human beings, in what they say, how they act, the music they make - for YEARS and yet people were ready to go for their heads at the slightest opportunity...and still, they are spreading hate in the comments, attacking anyone who dares to confront or argue with them. I've never been so disappointed and disgusted by a fanbase before. I've had the misfortune to be around for blowups like this before, for other artists, but never one with this little justification.

There's really not very much that is "problematic" about The Killers these days, yet some people seem to have decided to actively try to find things to complain about, even if they support the same cause. It's baffling.

I'm all for acknowledging when there is something worth calling them out on, but to me...this is not one of those things. The most problematic, anger-inducing thing I can think of is not giving Sarah Junker photo passes (and let me tell you, I have a big problem with that!)

So I just...I really don't get it. Trying to tear down artists and their families, fellow fans...that is not the point of fandom to me. The point of being a fan, the joy in it, that comes from supporting the artist and being kind to the rest of the fanbase, which a lot of The Killers "fans" seem to be struggling with right now.

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paragonrobits · 4 years ago

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last night i was thinking a LOT about Aang dying several weeks after the confrontation with Ozai, with the central idea being that the spirit water didn’t so much revive him as give him some time: using the Avatar State burned out most of the extra time it gave him, but going from years or months, to weeks. it is specifically Azula’s injuries reappearing on him, manifesting as his heart getting weaker and the lightning coming back.

and he knows he’s going to die, and has to adjust to it:

there’s two routes i see taking it:

1. the sadfic route. more emphasis here on, as opposed to canon (But aimed at fans who use Katara to complain about Aang’s choice), the other characters refusing to accept Aang’s decision. this spurs him to come to the conclusion that they don’t understand his ways, they can never understand him, and so he retreats in bitterness and surrender from a world that will no longer even acknowledge his people’s right to exist, and so detaches from worldly affairs, having served his duty as the Avatar, and returns to the Southern Air Temple to allow his life to run out among the last remnants of the world he knew.

saddest outcome: his friends finally come to see where he’s gone and only work out where he is through trial and error, only to find that Aang died some time ago, and Appa’s own body lays with him and unwilling to leave him even in death. The two last remnants of the Air Nomads, together in death and surrounded by the ashes of their people, and Katara direly muses on how with Air gone from the world forever (with no Air Nomad descendants to ever be found), the next Fire Avatar will almost certainly be the last Avatar, and there is no returning from this.

angry outcome: Aang becomes increasingly incensed at his friend’s refusal to accept his decision, or understand why when he has had to work so hard to understand the rest of the world’s philosophies, and combiend with his existential despair, he actively cuts them away and returns to the Air Temple to live out his remaining life in isolation. thus, when they do discover him, he has completely detached from the world and is free-flying, and he’s not interested in ever coming back down. Possibly have him outright imply that he sees the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes as being equally responsible for his people’s demise? They had to move through oceans and over land to get to the temples, and the other nations let them burn his people to the ground, and only cared when they themselves were threatened. basically a big play on fanworks that get really nasty towards him, but he lashes back here. with stuff of him all but stating that they think sozin was right, because they’re saying that what he did wasn’t wrong, only that he didn’t do it to the right person

2. More positive ending, but melancholy rather than despairing. Aang comes to the conclusion that he truly is the last Air Nomad, and so dedicates the remainder of his life towards ensuring that something will be left behind so future Avatars can learn Airbending, devising a series of writings, instruciton scrolls, and special puzzle arenas to instill Airbending philosophy in order to pass them by. He hides his condition from his friends until the last second; Katara and Zuko independently work it out, but he asks them to tell no one, and he implies he’s just... tired. he is very, very tired.

He will pass away at the age of thirteen, and the world he’s known is gone forever. His people have all died, and there were wlll never be a non-Avatar Airbender. He is alone, in a world that actively punishes his ways and condemns the Air Nomads for daring to believe in their own ways. and he has known nothing but the terrible burden of unlimited power and the burden to safeguard all the world.

#atla #aang #fic ideas #i got really miffed at a fic that used katara to criticize aang for basically having different cultural values and like #that always makes me want angsty or angry darkfic

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timeagainreviews · 5 years ago

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The Filler Fluff of the Cybermen

When is a two-parter not a two-parter? When the first part is tonight’s episode "Ascension of the Cybermen." As stories go, that was pretty damn sparse. I’ll be honest, friends, I don’t have a lot to say about tonight’s story. But that’s not why you come here, so I will try my damnedest to find something to talk about in this latest episode of Doctor Who. Right, now, how many words was that? Sixty-seven? Christ. This is going to be a slog.

I honestly shouldn’t be surprised. It had to happen. I was saying just last week that I hadn’t seen an episode I outright hated so far this series. We were due. That’s not to say I actually feel hate for this episode, more accurately, I feel very little about this episode. Usually, I endeavour to do more than simply trash an episode, but tonight, it’s either that, or I end the review here. So apologies ahead of time.

The episode opens on a Cyberman head floating in space with some knucklehead voiceover telling us about how the Cybermen have been mostly wiped out and what remains of humanity isn’t much better. The episode will now spend the next fifty minutes reiterating this point ad nausea. It was like a Star Wars title crawl, except in Star Wars, the crawl isn’t the plot of the movie you’re about to watch. Funnily, a lot of tonight’s episode reminded me of "The Last Jedi." Our heroes get split up. A slow chase ensues. No new information is gained. And it ends leaving us feeling like not a lot happened.

The Doctor and her companions come to a small human colony in the distant future. There are only seven of them left. The Doctor sets up a series of relays to help this ragtag bunch of humans kill off an oncoming Cyberman attack. Only thing is, they had never accounted for the Cybermen to first send out "Cyber Drones." Now, say you’ve got a room full of artists who love Doctor Who. And you tell them all to design drones that will be utilised by Cybermen. You can imagine they might have some rather impressive designs. Now, gather up all of those beautiful and creative drawings into your arms and throw them in the bin. Instead, we’re going to just use floating Cyberman heads. Was this because Chibnall is the kind of guy who thinks a dude with teeth pressed into his face is creepy or is this because reusing Cyberman heads is cheap? I’ll let you decide.

The Cyberheads and their eye lasers do quick work of the Doctor’s relays and sends everyone scattering to the wind. With three of the humans dead, Ryan, a young boy named Ethan, and the Doctor get left behind. Yaz and Graham, find themselves aboard a rickety gravraft with the remainder of the humans. With the TARDIS too far away, the Doctor decides they need to hijack a Cybership. I gotta give it to the Cybermen, they take better care of their ship than they do their own bodies. It’s almost as if there was no continuity in the design. Or maybe it’s like when you see someone whose life is a total mess but they have a dope car. I’ll let you decide.

After Ethan hotwires the Cybership, the Doctor pilots the ship to the most logical destination- her TARDIS. No, I’m just kidding, that would have made sense! Instead, she goes somewhere. I just double-checked with my boyfriend and we honestly couldn’t remember why anyone was doing anything at this point in the episode. After combing the episode I finally found a bit of throwaway dialogue where Ethan programmed the ship to go to a place called "Ko Sharmus." Meanwhile, the other group of protagonists are floating listlessly in space, making them the most relatable characters in this episode as that’s exactly how I felt.

By now you’re probably wondering why I haven’t gotten to the B-story happening in this episode. I guess here is as good a place as any, as it made just as much sense crammed anywhere in the episode it pleased. We see a young man and woman find a baby. This baby grows up to be their adopted son, Brendan. Brendan becomes a cop. Brendan gets shot and falls off a cliff. Brendan wakes up unscathed. Brendan’s dad looks at him like he’s creepy. Brendan grows old and retires. Brendan’s dad and boss, seemingly having not aged, wipe his memory. It makes as much sense as a wicker toilet and gives us no new information. At one point I thought he may have been Captain Jack’s kid, but then he grows old, so I don’t know what to think. What I do know is that you could have edited it down and made it into a far better cold opener than that Cyberhead floating in space shit.

The humans aboard the gravraft get stranded next to a giant Cyberman ship where a battle has gone down. Remnants of Cybermen ping the hull of their vessel like tiny asteroids. They get the bright idea to use the airlock to give the gravraft an extra thrust into the Cybership. I don’t know if it was intentional, but having Graham say "Don’t panic," right before they release the airlock was a nice little Douglas Adams reference. Or maybe it wasn’t at all, but I’ll take any joy from this episode I can get. Much like the idiotic hip bounce from "Can You Hear Me?" that knocked the sonic screwdriver up into the Doctor’s hands, the gravraft makes a million in one shot directly into the Cyberman ship’s docking bay. If they have that kind of luck sinking shots like that, they should really take their skills to the minigolf course.

The second I saw the ship, I knew that they were going to do the rows upon rows of sleeping Cybermen emerging from their tombs. It’s a Doctor Who trope as old as the Patrick Troughton era. My boyfriend was enjoying these bits as he is less familiar with the history of Doctor Who, so I let him have his fleeting enjoyment. I couldn’t even get jazzed about the new Cyberman design as they had already spoiled it with online photos. Basically, aside from the head-scratching B-story, the plot to tonight’s episode could be gathered by looking at promotional photos. There were new Cybermen. The Lone Cyberman was there. Nothing new to be learned here. Though, I will admit those new Cybermen are genuinely awesome.

The Doctor has a brief encounter with a hologram of the Lone Cyberman, or "Ashad." We learn that Ashad doesn’t just want to destroy all humans, he wants to destroy all life in the universe, for reasons. So I guess it wasn’t all a wash. Ashad heads to the Cybership where he begins waking up the Cybermen by what looks like torture. I have absolutely zero idea why he was doing what he was doing. It’s not at all made clear. Was he giving a titty twister so the Cybermen would accept him as their leader? Because after waking up the rest of them, they all seem to fall in line. Honestly, what the hell was he doing to that Cyberman? It makes no goddamn sense.

One thing I will say that made me happy was that one of my predictions from before episode one came true. They gave Graham a bit of a love interest. I called that shit. This possible love interest came in the form of Ravio, one of the human colonists. I found it rather amusing that in the future humans would still speak with British accents but have lost all context for Cockney rhyming slang. It was a cute bit of dialogue that falls apart if you think about it too much. The Cybermen force the humans into a corner to barricade themselves from the onslaught of Cybermen, and that’s where they’re left until next weekend.

Meanwhile, the Doctor arrives at Ko Sharmus which ends up being a person’s name as opposed to a planet. Chris Chibnall’s ability to name characters has not improved. Seriously, there are characters named Feekat and Yedlarmi in this episode. It hardly matters though as they’re all rather forgettable. I had to comb the episode and the internet just to figure out who was who. The Doctor never even introduces herself to Ethan. I had to figure his name out through one of the many throwaway lines of dialogue. That’s not to say that they don’t have real bits of character development. But you can take all of the character development in the world and wrap it around a hollow plot and it equals a lot of me not giving a shit.

Ko Sharmus was a welcome addition, simply because he was played by the charismatic Ian McElhinney. Turns out he’s a human colonist who stays behind in case any more humans might one day also come to this planet. There’s a sort of gateway or “boundary” out of the galaxy where many humans have gone to escape pursuit by Cyberman. Ko Sharmus’ job is to act as a guide to any possible newcomers also looking to reach said boundary. However, the Doctor quickly learns that the boundary is actually a gateway to Gallifrey. Only now it shows Gallifrey as the Master left it- in ruins.

Did I mention the Master? Well, here he is, making a "grand" entrance. The only thing at this point that was grand about the introduction of the Master to the story was that I was excited that something of substance was actually about to happen. Instead, this is our cliffhanger- this not at all surprising reveal that the Master is still alive. Of course, he is, he’s the Master. It’s a season finale with the Cybermen, of course, the Master is going to be there. It’s been that way for the past two Cyberman season finales. I guess the third time is a charm? What about any of this is supposed to be surprising? Remember how I said I was afraid they were becoming far too reliant on big reveals? This ending is the epitome of that. I think they expected to blow our minds by having the storyline they set up at the beginning of the series come into fruition. Try harder Chibs, this shit was weak.

The biggest shocker here is how little happened. What we were left with was akin to a classic filler episode where the Doctor gets captured. They padded out everything because they didn’t want next week’s episode to be ten minutes longer. Tonight’s episode exists purely because Chris Chibnall couldn’t edit down the script of a single episode into something shorter. This wouldn’t be so egregious if at least one storyline came to some sort of conclusion. If the B-story with Brendan had gone somewhere it might have made the entire episode feel somewhat worth the time and effort. Instead, we’re forced to watch a team of talented actors fill time.

I can’t help but feel like last week’s episode should have been this week’s episode with maybe a bit more setup for the finale. In place of this forgettable fluff, we could have gotten a single contained episode in its place. Something that had a beginning, middle, and end. Because of this, it’s almost as if we’ve been shorted an episode. Because of all of the wasted time in "Ascension of the Cybermen," I can only think of two outcomes for next week. One is an episode crammed so full of exposition that it will feel messy and disjointed. The other is an episode that is as equally underwhelming as tonight’s effort. Do you really mean to tell me they’re going to fit a Cyberman battle, Captain Jack, the Master, Gallifrey, the Timeless Child, and possibly Ruth into an episode and it not be a mess? It’s hard to have faith that there is a reason behind this much wasted screentime. I could use some of Graham’s optimism because at this moment it’s looking a bit hopeless.

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robert-c · 5 years ago

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Why Democrats Should Be in Power and Why They’re Not

The simplest answer is this: the Republican agenda represents and serves only a minority of the populace; the very rich and the very extreme religious right. So how do they manage to maintain so much control for so long? Because while a majority of the populace doesn’t agree with them a significant portion are more afraid of the Democrats.

Some of those fears are untrue and unreasonable but have taken hold after decades of lies promoting them that were not successfully countered. Some are fair concerns based on the fact that the Democratic party has always been a much more “open tent”, welcoming many diverse ideas. Those diverse ideas are important, they often challenge us to think ahead to the sorts of changes that we should be moving toward. At the same time they are often too far ahead of their time. Ideas like the 40 hour work week and time and a half for overtime, were considered extreme, called “socialist” or even “communist” when they were first proposed. The key is they weren’t implemented until the time was right.

Another reason people fear the Democratic party is that it is the party for change, for progress. In our individual lives change is upsetting and stressful, even if it is positive change we ourselves have chosen. In a society it is even more fearful. We also need to remember that in every situation, no matter how manifestly unjust or exploitive, some people are rich and powerful because of it. They definitely don’t want things to change and they will never be so honest as to say it is because they fear losing their wealth and power. They can come up with very persuasive tales. For example, the masses of poor, landless whites who fought for the Confederacy thought they were defending “State’s rights and a way of life”, not that they were defending a relatively few rich plantation owner’s “rights” to own slaves.

The mechanics of modern campaigns give entirely too much influence to the extremes. Here’s how and why. The extremists of any position are the people who let that idea consume their life. The vast majority of their time and/or money go to their “cause”. As such, they are terrific tools for a political party to use. In addition to being a source of volunteers they are also a funding source. But as the party relies more and more on their efforts they naturally want more say in the platform and the policy decisions of any administration or Congress that is elected with their help.

That alone would create an ever increasingly vitriolic partisan divide. One might argue that when there is a clear majority for one side or the other it would be resolved. But that ignores two basic truths about this division. The first is that the more extreme the positions, the more they try to paint themselves as morally superior, making compromise or acceptance of defeat more difficult. The second is that fear of change unifies any diversity of conservative opinions, and that fear always makes conservative positions appear the safest, while the forces for change are often fractured and diverse, and in truth the outcome of these changes is not always easy to predict. Thus extremes on the “right” tend to cluster closer together on their issues and agenda than the extremes on the “left”.

Following the “traditional” political advice of the late 20th and early 21st centuries the Democrats have catered to their extreme left flank. Except that it isn’t a unified flank, and incorporating all of its divergent pieces in the party’s main platform has scared away the significant group of “moderate” voters who don’t agree with the Republican’s extreme right wing agenda, but who think it will create less chaos than the combined ideas of the extreme left.

Historically there have mainly been two ways major social changes occur. In the first the forces resisting change remain very strong, creating an ever greater need for change until the forces for change put aside any differences and agree that getting rid of the status quo is the most important next step. Unfortunately this is usually a turbulent if not outright violent transition. The second way is for there to be a strong voice for change that is more peaceful and less extreme, a choice like that between a Dr. King and the Black Panthers. Of course a mix of these methods is what we often end up with, and that complicates our map forward.

This much seems clear – the forces that want to return America to some version of the 1950’s (institutionalized racism, sexism and all) are much better organized than they have ever been. They have been using their own version of the truth so long that now they feel confident in calling actual facts “fake” while continuing to offer no evidence for their outrageous claims. It is a lesson straight out of history. The Nazis were masters at the constant repetition of lies. Heard often enough, from enough apparently different sources, people inevitably believed that there must be at least a grain of truth in it. Given some of the Republicans most outspoken supporters I don’t think the Nazi reference is out of line.

All of this should lead us to a three conclusions: 1) we need to select a platform and candidates which appeal to those voters who oppose the core issues on which the Republicans stand, without incorporating our most extreme elements. 2) The most outspoken extreme elements need to understand that their ideas still have a place and discussion in the party, but moving them front and center risks making any progress toward them at all. 3) We need to find a mechanism for getting out the message and the vote that is less dependent on the resources (time and money) that have typically been provided by the most extreme supporters.

To the argument that our most committed (i.e. extreme) elements will just stay home and not vote I can only say that I fervently hope they are not that stupid. I can understand that they could be so caught up in their causes that they don’t expend extra energy to get out the message and the vote (that’s why there’s item three above). But failing to vote for a side that isn’t everything you want, while the other side is everything you don’t want seems colossally stupid. One must give the Republicans credit, they have kept their extreme elements at the voting booth, even while only going part of the way down their path under most administrations. Our supporters seem to think “likes” on social media, or even demonstrations count for something, even if there is no voting. Let’s be perfectly clear about this: It doesn’t matter how the majority of people feel, the government only responds to the feelings of those who vote.

Some lies get repeated so long that they seem to acquire an element of plausibility. Like Democrats just want to tax and spend. There is far more truth to the saying that Republicans only want to give tax breaks to the rich and leave the middle class and the poor to fend for themselves. But we don’t seem to spend enough effort exposing that. The elephant in the room, that we don’t talk about, is that conservatives (ever since Ronald Reagan) have harbored a pernicious belief that if you aren’t rich, it must be because you are lazy, stupid or in some other way unworthy. We rarely get to hear them enunciate this clearly, but if you look at the things they say, it is there, even if between the lines.

To call this a naïve and “Pollyanna” view of America is way too charitable. What makes this such a powerful lie is that it is something most people want to believe. Everyone likes to feel like they are in control of their life. It is easier to believe, if you also believe that misfortune is the result of things that someone did wrong. It has the additional benefit of relieving you of any moral or ethical obligation to feel compassion or sympathy for the “less fortunate” let alone any sense of charity. In all, it is about as perfect a delusion as could be contrived to allow a rich, ruling class to feel self-righteously, morally secure. At the same time it’s attractive to the wannabe rich with its promise that they can achieve their wildest dreams of avarice through whatever means, without a shred of guilt. It even appeals to a certain element of the poor who would rather believe that the rich are there because they deserve to be, rather than feel that there should be some call to action on their part. All in all it is a “perfect” belief system for those who are lazy or limited of thought and those who like to think highly of themselves regardless of their actions. It is at the heart of every story from the so called “self-made man”. He (or she) started with nothing and built it all, and if they can do it, so can you. You have no excuse for your circumstances.

To make matters worse, there is a germ of truth in it. Most people can do more for themselves than they imagine. At the same time ‘more’ does not equal enough in every situation. Likewise, there is also some truth to the idea that too much charity and support can breed a dependence that is not good for either the individual receiving it or the public budget. The whole truth is that the ‘more’ people could do, is usually not nearly enough. And whether or not the dependency feared is as prevalent as Republicans would have us believe, it is more often the result of a patch work quilt system that works against itself. Requirements to reapply periodically at government offices during “normal business hours” makes keeping a low wage job very difficult. Most Americans not working at the bottom end of the economy imagine that a day off, or a few extra hours off can easily be approved by their supervisor. This is not the case for the majority of people working at jobs even a few dollars above the minimum wage.

Lately some Republicans have found another bogeyman to blame for the poor prospects of some people – ‘cheap foreign labor’. The next best thing to blaming the poor and less advantaged for their own plight is to give them a scapegoat. If you can claim to slay the scapegoat you can temporarily win their support. Of course it won’t work and can’t last; this is really about changing economies and more reliance on automation and high technology. This is more of a replay of the time when we simply didn’t need buggy whip makers in the age of the automobile.

The solution consists of three parts, I think. First we need to educate our extremes that it is more important to unite for victory, even if all of their agenda is not enacted, than it is to be “morally” superior and completely, uncompromisingly devoted to a single cause.

Second, we need to develop a strategy and tactic for getting out the message and the vote that doesn’t depend on so much manual effort being put in by volunteers (who tend to be the most extreme devotees).

Third we need to tell a simpler story about who we are, one that counters the myths and outright lies that have become accepted by the public.

The second most likely involves social media and perhaps using donation money to pay for Lyft or Uber transport to polling places if there are not enough volunteers to provide rides.

The third probably consists of two parts. The first is to tell stories about the personal impact of the injustices the current system creates. People responded to Ronald Reagan’s myth of the “welfare queen” who supposedly drove a late model Cadillac and lived in a plush apartment all on welfare – even though it was later proved to be a complete fabrication. That story appealed to a bias that people had about others getting around the “rules” that everyone else had to follow. We should have been countering that lie with stories of real people who were struggling through no fault of their own, and for whom the so called “social safety net” had failed.

The second part might be as simple as starting the conversation with the idea of looking at the profit motive. So often touted as the key to America’s greatness, it is actually a two edged sword. Where is the profit in providing a cure for a disease compared to a treatment that must go on forever? If I sell you a promise to pay for medical care (medical insurance), do I make more or less money if I manage to keep you from getting medical care? Remembering that time is money, do I make more or less money even if I only delay paying for your care? In the ordinary businesses of the world, is it easier to make money by cutting corners on quality and service or by educating the consumers about the cost and value of quality? Let’s call out the supporters of “free markets”. Most business people talking about free markets really mean free of taxes and the regulations that make their work environments and products safe. They aren’t talking about a system where there is open access to compete on the basis of price and quality of the goods and services offered. On the contrary, most businesses seek to eliminate their competition and to stifle the emergence of new sources of competition.

And let’s not forget about the reasons we have most of these regulations that are so often treated as inherently bad things. It’s because of the abuses of profit seeking people who thought that it didn’t matter if their promises were lies, and their product was worthless or worse, dangerous. “Let the buyer beware” may be a fine piece of cautionary advice, but it is hardly the basis of a code of ethics or responsible governance.

We like to believe that the “free market” brings about innovation and technological improvement. But the sad truth is most of the actual inventors and innovators don’t make money from their discoveries. They are either bought out (usually for a lot less than the idea will ultimately reap) or suppressed so that the current technology can have a longer life. This has been the actual history of business in America for a long time. Certainly there are exceptions where the actual innovator did make good, but not only are those the exceptions, on closer examination you will often find that they succeeded in retaining the profit of their innovations through the same sort of ruthless and questionable practices of other businessmen. In other words, the system itself, doesn’t reward or properly incent innovative behavior exclusively or directly. In fact, it most successfully rewards a short term oriented, exploitative behavior. All of which alone, are enough reason to regulate and monitor the “free market economy” in order to ensure that there is at least a level playing field for those new to the market or with a longer term idea for the betterment of all.

It is most often government “regulation” from visionary leaders that helps us get to the next stage. Without the FAA promoting and supporting airlines the railroad lobby was more than happy to paint air travel as dangerous and to support the sort of regulation that would cripple the emerging industry. Do you imagine that the people supplying natural gas to the gas lights in cities didn’t try to stop the electric lights from being installed? And aren’t those same fossil fuel magnates the ones trying to convince us that we don’t need to convert to clean and sustainable energy sources?

There is certainly a lot more to be said about the economic system and the myths surrounding it, but if we could just get people to realize that it is not always about the betterment of all; that in fact the profit motive actually works against the common good at least as often as it (unintentionally) helps it, that would be a step in the right direction.

It took decades of slowly building these lies into a cohesive mythos, but we don’t have that sort of time to break them down. We need to tell this story more clearly and forcefully. We need to start with health care because I believe most people will understand that their health is not completely within their control.

The opposition likes to appeal to a bias we all want to believe, which is “bad things only happen to bad people”. We want to believe that because it gives us a sense of control over our lives. To be sure, certain life style choices do have a negative influence on our health; smoking, too much drinking, etc. But that is not the whole story. People who never smoked can get lung cancer, and where is the “moral outrage” over choices like eating lots of red meat and a sedentary lifestyle, which are just as injurious to overall health as things like smoking?

This all goes back to picking the right issues at the right time, instead of trying to make a “full court press” on every issue. Take the issue of the rights of transgender people. Personally I’m only interested in the character and talents of individuals. I really couldn’t care less about their sexual identity unless I’m pursuing them as a sexual/romantic partner. I also think that long term, the majority of people will come to the same idea. But in the meantime, the Republican base likes to promote “anti-transgender” laws to provoke a kind of fear that there is a great movement afoot to push this acceptance on everyone, ready or not. Spending lots of resources to counter these idiotic moves only validates their fears, and wastes precious capital that could be spent on battles we can win. A simple condemnation of these ideas and pointing out their ineffectiveness (any passable transgender could move completely unnoticed through any number of public restrooms etc.) should be all the attention we give it. We are talking about an extremely small minority of the population, not that their rights don’t matter because of those numbers, they do. However, we are in a “battle field triage” situation and we simply can’t afford to spend time and money on fights that only help the opposition make their bigoted cases. Transgender rights and acceptance have a much better chance of moving forward with us than they do with Republicans and so we need to tell our TG friends to keep faith with us, but not expect that we are going to mount a Supreme Court fight over every idiotic law some moronic right winger gets passed in some redneck red state haven.

I do truly hope that my fellow Democrats and progressives will take this to heart. We need to win, now more than ever. And I think I can speak to these tactics because I count myself among those who support some of the more ‘extreme’ positions. I just know that the time is not right for all of them. But it will be if we stay in the forefront and continually push, I believe we will be successful.

I believe personal tales of injustice, where everything was done “right” and according to the “rules” and it just didn’t work will win folks over. People want to believe that we have a basically good society that doesn’t let the deserving get a bad deal. But that isn’t really how it is. We need to show people the places where the system fails and people suffer unfairly. Intellectual and philosophical arguments may win over the better educated, but chances are most of them are already on our side. If we want to reach the vast majority of people we need to engage them with the facts that the simple fixes they think should solve these problems don’t work and let them see people who could but for the grace of God be themselves suffering because that system doesn’t work.

I am a member of that generation called the ‘Baby Boomers’. We grew up with the ‘Greatest Generation’ telling us how great America was, and watching super heroes who fought for ‘truth, justice and the American way’. I remember believing it was a place where no matter who you were, or where you started in life, you could achieve anything your talent could deliver. Later we discovered that America wasn’t quite all of the things we were told it was. We demonstrated, we voted, and all because we wanted it to be the America we thought it was. We need that spirit, that commitment again.

#Democrats #politics #election 2020

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dornishsphinx · 6 years ago

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T, U, and Y!

T: Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending?

Hmmm hard and fast headcanons that I’d die defending

From SOV, Conrad’s mother was a lady-in-waiting and close friend to Berkut’s mother who came with her to the capital when she married into the royal family. Lima was invited to the capital during the famine because the Rigelians were desperate. He saw her there and demanded she come with him in exchange for aid. (I may also be writing a fic on Conrad’s mother, watch this space ^_^)

Wrt Tellius, the United Bird Tribes eventually fall apart, the specific breaking point coming about due to arguments about over succession. The ravens end up putting forward Naesala and Leanne’s raven son and the hawk population are adamant that he not be considered (some going as far as to say that ravens in general shouldn’t be considered) due to lingering anger, the ravens getting angry in turn and moving to once again declare the independence of Kilvas (and taking a bit more territory with them this time since they’re in a stronger position.)

When it comes to Naesala and Leanne’s kids, the heron girl mostly takes after Naesala in personality, though the raven boy is more similar to Reyson than either of his parents (both also have traits from Leanne, but they’re less noticeable on first impression.) Both can sing galdr due to their mother but, especially for the raven boy, its effects are far weaker. (Maybe let’s say in gameplay terms that raven boy can buff and not actually refresh.)

Their heron daughter on one occasion also accompanies Naesala on a diplomatic mission to Begnion, where she decides to learn beorc magic—with Sanaki’s blessing and occasional direct tutelage—as a way to bypass herons’ inability to fight the laguz way, even staying there for a while when he leaves for his next destination. This is a major scandal in the laguz world.

U: Three favourite characters from three different fandoms and why they’re your favourites.

Oh man, it took me a while to settle on who to talk about, but:

Jason Todd (DC Comics)

Jason is the reason I got into DC generally, so I was already biased, but Jason is interesting because he’s a counterpoint to the idea that Batman knows Gotham City better than anyone, as someone who actively grew up on its streets rather than in the safety of a mansion, and someone who came to a vastly different conclusion on what had to be done to make it safer without being painted (mostly) as a clear-cut villain. Also, he’s a literary nerd and it’s such a cute little detail which is never really brought up explicitly on page but is a recurring thing in the background. The antique book collection in UTRH, reading Pride and Prejudice while in jail, really liking school as Robin, and in other bits I can’t remember the context of.

Where he gets fascinating is on a meta level though. We have the juxtaposition between what modern writers want Jason’s Robin to have been (I really love his run as Robin too, he’s such a cutie in comparison to what he becomes later) and how he actually was written, which kinda comes off as the characters themselves trying to convince themselves of something that isn’t true. And I’ve seen complaints about how people treat his death as being so much more important than others’ deaths when he’d hardly the only DC character to die, but it’s precisely because of real-world circumstances that it’s such a big deal–killed off by poll, left untouched for decades, his costume an ever-present ghost in the Batcave and for the Batfamily–it’s one of those things that can only happen in a big shared comicsverse medium.

I’ll never forgive the New 52 for being the reason we never saw, and can never see now, the Batfamily and Red Hood’s relationship develop.

He just became an ally again randomly in a way that screams editorial mandating “make them get along now, we don’t care how.” They just made everyone do a 180 without bothering to explain why or how and I hate it.

(Also, imo, grey morality Red Hood>outright villain Red Hood AND outright hero Red Hood.)

Laurent (Captive Prince)

Man, I know Captive Prince is controversial, but the story is just so good and even though it’s been a while since I read them, Laurent as a character has stuck with me. (I mean, I adore Damen too, but so many of the character concepts

I’ve come up with since reading the books have been Machiavellian princes shutting themselves off from their emotions, I’m pretty sure Laurent is the source.)

He’s had to adapt to survive the personal hell his uncle transformed the Veretian court into when he (and Damen) got the rest of their family killed—and, at the same time, anyone with the power or desire to protect Laurent from him—when he was just a little kid, and has just built up all the walls around himself. Seeing them slowly peel back and reveal the other sides to him he’s been forced to keep hidden for so long is one of the great things about the series. He’s such a well-realised character, and as you read along, you get to the point where you just need to see him succeed in taking Vere back from his uncle.

He always has the best comebacks too. Nearly everything he says when he’s not awkwardly trying to work his way around emotions he can’t properly express, usually when around Damen, is just pitch-perfect sarcasm even in dire circumstances.

Just a great character overall.

Franziska von Karma (Ace Attorney)

Last time I talked about a favourite Ace Attorney character it ended up being Ema, but I did say she only just beat out Franziska, so it’s her turn now. I’m so sad she’s not reappeared in any of the main games since the original trilogy, though at least we have Investigations. She still has to give Phoenix that card back!

But yes, I just love Franziska. She is very much part of the running theme of legacy families in Ace Attorney with her need to attain perfection and measure up to the Von Karma name, and her relationship with Edgeworth is sweet in a super competitive way. When she comes back later and spends the night trying to solve the puzzle locks to save Maya, you can also see that she has gone through a lot of development over the course of JFA and T&T.

(I maintain that 6-5 would have been vastly improved if she’d taken Edgeworth’s place, and am not entirely convinced it wasn’t originally written with her in mind. I mean, last time she appeared she was undergoing character development and trying to save Maya in a spirit medium-related setting, and this time had Maya being in a perilous situation in a spirit medium-related setting in a foreign country AND she has a history of working with Interpol. It would have actually made sense for her to show up as opposed to the Chief Prosecutor of a foreign country.)

(Also her design is amazing)

(Foolish fool)

Y: What are your second-hand fandoms (i.e. fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)?

Dragon Age is the big one I can think of. I played a little of Dragon Age Origins before Redcliffe became a never-ending zombie nightmare and I wasn’t able to progress, so I don’t count myself as having really played, but I pretty much know all the spoilers. And have even plotted out who I’m gonna romance when I finally do get around to it. Current plan: Alistair (while pouring one out for the F/F romance with Morrigan that could never be), Fenris and Josephine.

Also Marvel, kinda? I don’t really buy or keep up with Marvel comics anymore aside from going to see the movies. I’ll check it out, but usually it’s only on a whim. (If Agent of Asgard/JiM Loki ever get a run again, you can count on me jumping back in.)

#haha i didn't realise how long the jason bit got oops #my biases are clear #asks

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afjakwritesarchive · 7 years ago

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I love your writing so much, and your fics make my day! May I please request... Some Arthur centric mutual pining within a superhero AU in which Arthur is a villain and alfred a hero

Title: This ClosePairing: USUK Words: 2,287Rating: TAU: Hero/VillainGenre: Romance/ComedySummary: Arthur hates the vast majority of humankind, but not Alfred. A/N: Here you go darling!! Thank you for the request dear!

Arthur Kirkland had been sleep deprived for upwards of a year now. At first, he’d no idea what had caused the restless nights spent tossing and turning, but after retiring to his study at four in the morning for the tenth consecutive night with the same face stuck in his mind, he began to understand.

It took him a shameful amount of time to admit that he was in love. Arthur was a man equal parts science and darkness—surely he couldn’t be brought down by something that was both resistant to reason and fact, and that was entirely pure. Love was completely out of the question for a man like him.

Arthur was proud of the fact that he possessed little empathy for humanity as a whole. He believed humanity to be corrupt and incapable of redemption (with the exception of children, who would eventually be corrupted by the adults in their lives anyway). There were few people on earth who were truly good, and their light was often stomped out by the rest of the cruel world before it had the chance to make a difference anyway. Arthur detested the vast majority of people, including himself. The immeasurable cruelty inflicted upon humans by humans was more than enough to persuade him that his experiments were completely just.

Arthur’s hobby of experimenting upon humans had begun after the death of his mother. His father, a rich businessman, had shipped Arthur off to a boarding school in America a week later, unable to look upon the son who so closely resembled his dead love. Angry and alone, Arthur had quickly taken to using his wealth to gain power, which he then used to keep all the students and staff of the academy under his thumb.

As he grew older, Arthur developed an interest in science. The more he learned about humans—what chemicals caused them to do what—the more he thought of the “what if’s” of human existence. His experiments had been naive at first—he’d looked for a way to make humans better, to amplify certain chemicals and repress others to make them better-behaved, kinder individuals. When this had continued to evade him, he’d grown even more cynical, coming to the conclusion that humans couldn’t be improved without being under the strict watch of someone else who knew what was best better than they did.

Thus, he’d begun his quest to create the perfect brainwashing device; something that could be applied to large groups at once, that granted him total control. Something that he could use to create new people, better people, that would treat others fairly and raise their children right. Something that would help him end the cycle of corruption.

Of course, Arthur acknowledged that he himself was corrupt for wanting such a thing. By craving complete control over every other human, he knew he was just as terrible as them. He knew that he’d have to be killed one day after he managed to create a better society in order to ensure that he didn’t go mad with power and simply enslave humanity for his own personal gain.

Through experimentation, Arthur had also developed many other weapons and items could use. He’d given himself special abilities such as the enhanced speed and strength through a one-time chemical injection he’d developed, and a greatly enhanced memory through a liquid substance he drank four times a year. His methods weren’t completely perfect, but they developed with each day. Eventually, he’d developed a reputation for his experiments and creations, which he often forced upon the public without their consent.

Eventually, he was known by his city as a supervillain. His home—a luxurious four-story victorían mansion on the outskirts of the city—had become a symbol of the evil that plagued the city. Over the years, many so-called heroes had come to defeat Arthur, but all had quickly joined forces with him. Arthur had learned that anything could be bought for the right price; even superheroes who had previously vowed to protect the city. Now, they worked for him; gathering supplies, volunteering as test subjects, or gathering civilians from nearby to be new subjects themselves, for a handsome wage.

There was one hero, though, who refused to be bought. He was the bane of Arthur’s existence; a doe-eyed dream who maintained that he did everything for the good of the people. And, despite Arthur’s numerous attempts to sway him with money, fame, and special abilities only he could provide, the hero had remained loyal to the people, fighting Arthur tirelessly. Since he’d moved to the city last year, he’d thwarted almost every single one of Arthur’s experiments. Though Arthur’s experiments were never dangerous to the safety or health of his unwilling subjects, they were what the hero considered cruel. Arthur used his creations to alter their thoughts, add or remove memories, and outright brainwash them. The hero was greatly opposed to this, claiming that it took away the freedoms of humanity, and had ardently fought Arthur.

This hero was Alfred Jones, and Arthur was completely in love with him.

From the very first time Arthur had set his green eyes upon the angelic face of Alfred, he’d loved him. Everything about him screamed purity, kindness, light. He was everything Arthur believed people couldn’t be—a truly selfish individual, someone who did things not for himself but out of love and respect for others. He was the most beautiful thing Arthur had ever seen. He was magnificent and gorgeous and far too angelic for his own good.

Arthur hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest since he’d laid his eyes upon him.

Even so, Arthur maintained a facade of nonchalant evil whenever Alfred was present. As desperately as he wanted to give in to his love, he resisted. The only thing holding Arthur back from relinquishing all control to Alfred was the American’s hatred of him. He knew that, should he display any affection or kindness for Alfred, the man would reciprocate. Alfred would forgive Arthur for all that he’d done, show the Brit the love he’d been starved of for so long.

And Arthur would fall for it. He’d give up everything he worked for, collapse into Alfred’s forgiving embrace, and promise Alfred whatever he wanted. He’d let Alfred’s light convince him that there was more to people than what Arthur believed. Thus, he made sure to be as rude to Alfred as he possibly could. If Alfred saw even the smallest hint of light in Arthur, the villain would be doomed. He’d let himself taint Alfred, take something gorgeous and beautiful away from the world. Even Arthur couldn’t allow himself to be so despicable as to extinguish a rare spark of true compassion, even though he felt that Alfred was far too naive for his own good.

On this particular day, Arthur had sent an employee of his out into the city to take a few people for a new experimental serum. When the man returned with a person slung over each shoulder, both unconscious, Arthur had nearly gasped. Even without seeing his face, he knew immediately who his employee had managed to capture.

Arthur tried to contain his nervousness and gestured weakly for the woman to set the two people on a couch nearby. She did so, explaining that they’d both wake up within a few moments. Arthur’s hand shook as he handed a check for her work. Then, he quickly handed her extra money in cash.

“Take the woman back, I only need him.” He said quickly.

She nodded, walking back over to the couch and quickly picking her up. This time, she held the woman gently in her arms and walked her out of the house.

Arthur gulped, quickly extracting a stun gun of his own invention from his desk. It wouldn’t render Alfred completely unconscious because of his abilities, but it would at least weaken him enough that he wouldn’t be able to utilize his super strength or speed. Then, Arthur fixed his hair and moved to sit on the edge of his desk, arms folded across his chest and the gun clutched tightly in one hand.

He watched Alfred, marveling over his appearance. He’d never seen the American dressed casually, and he couldn’t help but to view the sight of Alfred dressed in a pair of jeans and a casual t-shirt as incredibly intimate. He also seemed much younger dressed casually. Arthur had originally thought that Alfred was in his late twenties, but the sight of the American now made him wonder if Alfred was old enough to drink yet.

After what felt like an eternity, Alfred stirred. Beautiful blue eyes fluttered open from behind a pair of rectangular spectacles—Arthur hadn’t known he wore glasses—and began to look around. Then, Alfred jerked up, looking around with horror. At the sight of horror, several emotions crossed his face before Arthur could decipher what they meant, and he leapt to his feet.

“What the hell?” He huffed.

Arthur raised the gun and aimed, immediately shooting Alfred. The American absorbed the hit easily, looking appalled. “What the fuck was that?!”

“An employee of mine brought you to be my latest test subject. I’m surprised, Alfred—I didn’t think you would let your guard down enough to be kidnapped.” Arthur grinned, making sure to keep his tone as malicious as possible.

Alfred soured. “Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d be so stupid to keep this shit up even after all the times I’ve kicked your ass. I guess we were both wrong.”

Arthur’s thick brows raised in amusement. He’d always found it funny how foul such a pure man could speak. Alfred spoke as though he were dangerous, capable of seriously injuring someone, though Arthur knew he would hesitate to kill a fly.

“Even so, I’m intrigued. I’ve never been able to get ahold of you as a civilian before. I must say, I much prefer this look.” Arthur grinned, making sure to noticeably run his eyes down Alfred’s gorgeous figure.

To Arthur’s great surprise, Alfred went pink in the face rather than getting angry. He averted his eyes and let out a huff. “Dude, I don’t have time for this right now, okay? I have somewhere I need to be, so I’d appreciate it if you could save whatever batshit experiment you have planned for another day.”

Arthur pushed away from his desk and sauntered confidently up to Alfred, grinning up at the taller male. “Oh? And what could possibly be more important than me?”

Alfred looked down at Arthur and the villain’s breath caught in his throat. There was something in Alfred’s eyes, something painted across his face that made his feelings very clear. His answer to Arthur’s question. Nothing. It was written everywhere. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

“Fuck you. Believe it or not, I don’t like being held hostage.” Alfred said. His eyes spoke, too. I want you.

Arthur felt dizzy. He looked away from Alfred, took a step back. He was so shocked by what he’d realized, he’d lost his composure. Alfred—Alfred wanted him. Whether he admitted it or not, he’d developed feelings for Arthur. It was startling, shocking. It made Arthur want to fling himself into Alfred’s strong arms and be carried off by him. It made Arthur want to turn on his heels and run away without looking back.

“What if I like having you here?” Arthur asked after a moment. He’d dropped his malicious act—his voice was small and hesitant.

Alfred paused, surprised by Arthur’s sudden change in demeanor. “Then you’re crazy.” He replied, looking down at the villain with a surprising amount of gentility in his eyes. “If you like having me here you could always invite me.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “You’d never come.” He scoffed, trying to put up a wall again immediately.

Alfred stepped closer and took Arthur’s arm, pulling him closer. Arthur floundered, knowing he’d lost. He’d shown weakness, displayed his more human side, and Alfred had pounced immediately upon him. It was exactly as he expected, exactly as he’d wanted to avoid, and yet he wanted so badly to stay this close to Alfred forever. He wanted to allow himself to be human forever.

“Not for some sadistic science experiment, no.” Alfred was looking deep into Arthur’s eyes, searching them. “But for dinner I might. Well, I might when you decide to stop experimenting on the public and turn over a new leaf.”

Arthur looked up at him, gulping. “What would you have me do to make up for it?” He asked as he took a baby step closer to Alfred, just enough that their chests bumped a bit as they spoke.

Whatever price Alfred named, Arthur was sure he’d be willing to pay it if it meant that they could be together. He was also sure that Alfred was aware of this. As oblivious as he acted, Arthur knew that Alfred was incredibly perceptive and intelligent. At least, in some areas. Arthur maintained that Alfred acted like a dolt whenever someone else was in danger—he was always willing to take the fall for them, no matter what the consequences to himself could be. Even so, Arthur loved him and all of his flaws—not in spite of them, but because of them.

Alfred grinned down at him. “I don’t know. Maybe we should put it to a vote or something. They’d probably go easy on you if I promised to keep a close eye on you.”

Arthur’s green eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked back up at Alfred. “A close eye, hm? I’ll accept that, as long as the close eye you refer to is about this close.” Arthur purred, closing in the last of the space between them.

#my writing #aph #aph fic #usuk #usuk fic #request #answered #thank you for the request darling!!#prettycheese21

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jamr0ck83 · 4 years ago

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What, Exactly, Have You Done to Help Build a Less Racist America?

So, here it is, the end of November. I think we can all agree that 2020 was not the year we wanted (although I might argue that it’s not all of us who didn’t deserve it). Yes, this year has been an absolute mess. But also, it’s not some grand accident that just happened to befall us. Everything that has transpired this year has been in the making for years, decades, centuries even.

We are getting rocked by Covid-19 because our healthcare system is so inadequate and predicated upon profit that it’s not at all set up to deal with this situation. Also, one of the things that’s always been held as a virtue in America is its citizens’ sense of individualism. Everyone is responsible for their own destiny and has the right to make any and every decision for themselves. That’s what we’ve told ourselves makes us a great nation. The problem with that is, in this pandemic scenario, many people then don’t feel obligated to withstand any kind of personal inconvenience to help keep others alive, even if those others are their own family members. We want what we want when we want it, and we won’t take “no” for answer. Unfortunately for us, pandemics aren’t really concerned with making sure Americans don’t have to play by the same rules the rest of the people on this planet do, and when viruses come to kill you, they will kill you if you don’t respond appropriately, and there’s no chapter in The Power of Positive Thinking that effectively helps you wish death away.

It’s an election year, which should’ve been a surprise to no one, especially not to those of us who have been counting down to this year since the 2016 Presidential Election. And let’s be real; this was an awful election year. Due to the realities (as opposed to promise) of living in a democratic republic, we really only have two viable political parties, and real talk, neither of them are meeting the needs of the people, and that’s definitely not new. The Democratic Party offered way too many candidates, especially when they had absolutely no intention of letting anyone but Biden secure the nomination. And it shouldn’t have surprised anyone that they did this. The Democrats have BEEN riding the wave of appealing to the idealistic and progressive portions of the population for votes and then once those votes are received, their focus is keeping their own jobs. And not even keeping their jobs for the sake of leading the nation and providing the people with what they need; they just want to keep their jobs. And Trump has spent a lifetime of telling half-truths and outright lies, so there was no scenario where he was going to abandon that to become a “respectable politician” this go-round. So, his entire campaign was propaganda nonsense, and because all of our mainstream news outlets are so concerned with ratings, they played and replayed and replayed every ridiculous thing he said, which was helpful to no one. Point being, the way our media corporations are cogs in the wheel of unfettered capitalism, that’s not new at all, either.

And then the #BlackLivesMatter Movement became a thing more than black people were talking about. And to be clear, the movement itself isn’t new and black people being murdered by police with astronomical frequency isn’t new, but apparently things don’t matter until white people care about them, so this became a huge “aha” moment for many of them. But again, all of this? Not new.

My point is that all of these things have been building for some time, and it’s unfortunate that they all decided to implode in the same year, but the implosions were inevitable. But when it comes to #BlackLivesMatter, it seemed like we had reached a crucial moment back in the spring. People saw that video of George Floyd and then heard about Ahmaud Arbury and Breonna Taylor, and there seemed to be an urgent desire to get some societal changes made which would include tackling racism. And a lot of people vowed that this time would be different. White allies were going to rise up in droves and be the ones to see to it that this world, in which their privilege serves to oppress others, was going to change. They said, “we’re going to have to be the ones to end racism, and we will.” And as I recall, black folks were optimistic but skeptical, and there was a sense that many allies were basing their allegiance in their need to make themselves feel better instead of a need to see the humanity of all respected. And to be fair, many of us black folks tried to warn them not to do this. “It’s not about your feelings,” we said. “Basing it on that alone isn’t sustainable,” we said. But allies assured us they were in it for the long haul this time and would prove it with their actions. And I, for one, was willing to see how that went. So, I offered resources where they were needed and provided perspective on some of the issues and then trusted that white people were doing the work. And this was a mistake. And I don’t think the failure of most white allies to actually do the work is the mark of people being malicious; I just think they got bored and were ready to move on. And I think they also saw that this wasn’t going to be as easy as getting everyone to “find common ground”. And as the work began to require them to do more than post a black square and say “black lives matter” out loud, that became too inconvenient and too uncomfortable.

So now, it’s November. And white allies, many of you were beside yourselves with shock to see Trump get so many votes, and it was nearly like 2016 all over again. But what exactly did you perceive had changed since May that would mean less voters would align themselves with the white supremacy antics of the Republican Party? How did you expect those votes to go from Republican to Democrat when you knew just from talking to your family that they had no intention of voting for Democrats? What exactly did you think had been accomplished in the struggle to fight racism? And what were the specific things you did in order to help make this happen? Here; I will list a few examples of action steps, and you can see which of them you did.

Have you read any books by black authors regarding the history of racism in this country and the ways in which we’ve fought against it in the past?

Have you read anything by black authors regarding the contemporary issues facing Black America like higher unemployment and prison rates and the wealth gap to learn more about the systemic reasons why these problems persist?

Have you watched any documentaries about Black History and/or contemporary black issues like Eyes on the Prize, I Am Not Your Negro, and Central Park 5 by Ken Burns?

Have you arrived at the conclusion that the version of American History you were taught is fraught with grandiose lies promoting white supremacy and basically ignores any black people of prominence who weren’t Dr. King or Rosa Parks?

Have you wondered why it’s those two people that have been chosen as our black heroes by mainstream white culture?

Have you realized that even the version of Dr. King and Rosa Parks that you were taught that painted them as passive and nonthreatening is wholly inaccurate?

Have you checked out any black entertainment that you might have never thought to notice before like:

TV shows such as Living Single (which was ripped off and reworked into the mega hit we know as Friends) and A Different World (which tackled many issues of its day including AIDS, bigotry, and date rape AND had such an impact on the black community that, during its original run, enrollment in HBCUs increased drastically)?

Famous playwrights like Lorraine Hansberry and August Wilson?

Famous authors like Colson Whitehead and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie?

Famous poets like Langston Hughes and Nikki Giovanni or even someone more up-and-coming and contemporary like Kai Davis?

Famous artists like Jacob Lawrence and Kehinde Wiley?

Famous musicians like John Coltrane, Earth Wind & Fire, A Tribe Called Quest, and Talib Kweli?

Famous films like Malcolm X, The Hate U Give, and BlacKkKlansman (none of which rely on the overly-played and inaccurate trope of the white savior who ends up diffusing hostile racial conflicts by merely learning to care)?

Have you had any meaningful conversation with friends and family in which you explained the basis and need for the BLM movement and why it’s not a political stance to say that black people should not have to still be fighting to be acknowledged and respected in 2020 AND have you done that without validating any of their bigotry and misconceptions with phrases like “Yes, I agree that both sides are the problem” or “Yes, it’s valid to feel that being pro-western culture does not necessarily mean being pro-white”?

Have you looked inward and really thought about the biases you harbor within yourself, where they came from, and what you can do to re-conceptualize these ideas?

Have you checked on your black friends in these past several months?

Have you realized that you don’t really have any black friends or that you don’t have any black neighbors or that there are no black kids that go to your kids’ schools and see how problematic ALL of those things are?

Have you been aware of all the terrible things that have happened since the death of George Floyd that have traumatized the black community such as the death of Quawan Charles and the fact that the grand jury convened in Kentucky was not even given the option to issue murder indictments against the police officers who shot and killed Breonna Taylor?

Have you been following any contemporary black activists like Shaun King, Tamika Mallory, Gary Chambers, and Stacey Abrams who have been doing the legwork of enfranchising black voters, leading protests, and using their voices to lead and denounce systemic racism?

Have you been willing to determine whether white fragility is something you might unknowingly harbor and resolve to change that?

Have you grown concerned that support for BLM has dwindled significantly between the end of May and now, and have you decided to do something about that?

Have you realized that, if you were shocked by how many people STILL voted for Trump in this election, that probably means you’re not as in tune with the prevalence of white supremacy in modern America as you thought you were?

Have you re-examined your base level of respect for the Republican Party after witnessing them spend the last couple of months trying to steal this election and how that was in direct response to the belief that they couldn’t allow too many black votes to be counted because they’d likely be against them, which is not at all the way of a democracy?

Have you maintained the same anger and determination to “be the change” that you felt when you watched that video of George Floyd having the life choked out of him?

Have you finally come to the conclusion that grounding your fire to combat racism in your feelings CANNOT be the way to move forward, because the second you feel better, your desire for change will wane, even if nothing has really improved?

How many of these things can you honestly say you’ve done? And I don’t ask that as some sort of indictment on your character or to shame you. I ask because I am being honest and realistic when I tell you that any plan you might have that does not include the majority if not all of these things is not a plan that will work. There are established methods for being effective allies; nobody is asking you to figure that out on your own. People have been working to secure the rights of the oppressed for centuries, and it’s pretty certain that you’re NOT going to invent some new way that gets the job done AND allows you the comfort you are used to. This can’t be like Covid-19 when many Americans assumed the rules of science don’t apply to them because they didn’t want them to. And you don’t get to sit on this until you feel like playing a more active role is convenient, because people are dying while you make your plans for the holidays. And maybe that’s a low blow, but I don’t know else to put it. Black people are not a cause you can keep putting on the back burner because you’re not ready to deal with it. And obviously no one has the power or ability to make you engage in ways in which you are not comfortable, but if that’s the case, then you need to own that. And stop acting like racism is some rare occurrence in America that is largely on the run. IT IS NOT. So, stop telling black people that lie, because none of us believe it, and it’s insulting to constantly be told that, anyway. You don’t have to be an ally, but you don’t get to opt out of being one and still claim to be a defender of all humanity. Either you are someone who believes something is wrong and you want to work to change it, or you are someone who doesn’t care. There is no middle ground, there are no further considerations to be made. It’s not hard to decide which of these people you are. So, which one are you and what are you going to do about it?

Above image from WAM Theatre

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anannd-morrighan-lus-mor-blog · 7 years ago

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Why I call the Morrigan “Mother” (Please Hold Your Hate Mail Until the End)

You know, I think when most people are speaking of the Morrigan, even the aspect of the Morrigan that they work with, something like this is what first comes to mind.

(The Morrigan, artist unknown)

And this is both right, and fine. Because no matter whatever other aspect you work with her in, or whatever constellation of the Morrigna has called to you, the Morrigan is a war goddess (or spirit, as I have heard others say, but this post here will offend you enough...we’ll get to that in another post...), and very likely her biggest focus is war, all aspects of war. But especially victorious, bloody war. She is not a soft goddess. She is not a tender touch. She rains fire and blood on her enemies (literally, read the lore), her battle scream incites her favored side to rage and strikes fear into the hearts of those who oppose her. She is the death of Cu Chulainn, one of the greatest heroes of Ulster, because he unknowningly offered her extreme disrespect. She is still, despite her growth in popularity, one of the more feared and respected goddesses in the modern pagan world along with Hekate, Kali (when we appropriate her from Hinduism, that is) and Hel. She is Weapon, she is the Weapon of Weapons, as she is Leader and Beserker and Strategist, the worst atrocities of war and the best, most bloody results. At the end, she is the gatherer of Macha’s Acorns: the heads and souls of the slain. (The head was the spiritual seat in the Celtic World.) She is bloody death smiling at you at the end of a spear point, and the crow calling out your name.

Which is why so many people look at me like I’ve grown a second head whenever I call her “Mother” and insist that motherhood is one of her little known areas.

And the images that come to them are likely something along these lines...

Happy, lovely, fluffy mother who loves us all and will heal our boo boos and make the earth bloom with flowers and unicorns! (This is “Gaia” by an unknown artist, by the way.)

Well, no, mostly no.

Or they think of this one!

Fecund! Fertile! Bursting with life! The all-source of life that serves as Mother to All and that is her only REAL function! (Venus of Willendorf that we all know and love.)

Erm, no. Again, mostly no. I mean...no.

She’s a Maiden, Mother and Crone since she’s a triplicate! Of COURSE she’s a mother since it’s a part of the...

...I can’t even finish that. Good Heavens No!

(I think this sculpture is by Maxine Miller, who actually did a very nice Morrigan statue.)

Okay, and since I am who I am, I am going to get this out of way now...

She’s the peaceful, pacifist, loving mother! In her heart! She secretly wants everything to be all peace and all good and she wants to do nothing but watch over us and pray for us...

Again. No. No no no no no.

Have we got that out of our systems, now? All the ridiculous assumptions that are often made when connecting the Morrigan with the word “Mother”? Good. Let’s talk about how the Morrigan IS a Mother, and how the Morrigan accomodates such a role, and how limiting our gods/spirits is just as bad as making them out to be everything for everyone.

---Why we can’t limit her to lore, why we can’t rely only on UPG---

The lore is all we have to get culturally significant information on the Morrigan and concerning the Tuatha De Dannan. Notice I didn’t necessarily say “accurate”- the Celts did not keep much in the way of written records, at least not for the time period wer’re looking at... for materials that speak of a pre-Christian age, most of them were written down by Christians from the twelfth century onwards. While the great cycles of Irish Mythology have been recorded for us to enjoy, they were not exactly copied down by people without motive or who did not change the texts to suit their own religious views. This is not to say that everything, or even the majority, was changed to demonize or ridicule the old gods, but we’re pretty sure it happened. An example is the appearance of the Dagda being described as “gross”, with a tunic that barely covers his stomach or backside (depending on who you ask) and a penis that drags the ground in a comic display. We all know the Dagda as a great King, mighty Warrior and Father god who had a voracious appetite for life, women, mead and porridge. We know that Christians sometimes twisted the appearance or characteristics of the pagan gods to make Jesus seem better by comparison. We also know that fertility gods and humorous appearances (especially extra large genitals) go together like peas and carrots, and if you don’t believe me, google “Sheela Na Gig”. There are places where it is really hard to tell!

Further, it’s likely safe to say that the lore we have is likely not all of it. There are myths from many cultures that have been lost to time, and it is a possibility that important myths of the Morrigan are included in that group.

However, the lore is what we have, and through it, we are able to glimpse the stories and mythos of the Tuatha De Dannan, because much still survives that pulses with the life from before the first century. While this should be our first source, we must also keep the other points in mind.

Sometimes, the Morrigan will grant us UPG (Unverified Personal Gnosis). Sometimes, this is something meant for you and the Morrigan only, and this is fine. Sometimes, UPG might hearken back to lost lore, and the best way to judge that is to see how many others end up drawing the same conclusions...like following a thread. You can’t prove it, but something about it rings with authenticity. And...sometimes you’re just hearing what you want to hear. We all do it. I can usually tell this happened to me or someone else if the UPG fizzles fast, or if someone clings to it for dear life. If there is something to it, the UPG will stand for itself. Don’t discount your UPG, but don’t run after all your UPG...compare it to the lore.

A good example...why do so many of us assume the Morrigan’s hair is black? I mean, yeah, she loves her ravens, but there aren’t a lot of references to the Morrigan with black hair. The majority of the lore states the Morrigan has blazing red hair, red eyes brows and in one instance, “9 undone tresses” which means her hair is likely very, very long! Or full. She even appeared to Cu Chulainn in mostly head to foot red: hair, eye brows, dress, cloak. I have even seen references to her eyes being red. There are even references to her being “white” or “brilliant in color!”

And yet...so many of her representations are primarily dressed in black, adorned with black hair, with the head of a raven, with raven’s wings...and she is pleased! It’s because this UPG has become part of her presentation, and since it does not conflict with her nature, she is pleased by it, can be connected with by it. Is it explicitly in the lore? No. But it works!

Finally, keep in mind that the Morrigan may choose to change (even more than a hairstyle), and while we would still have her past forms still valid, there are also new forms that may or may not make themselves known. Brigid is an excellent example of this: She was/is Brigid the goddess of poetry, smiths and midwifery (among other things), she was/is St. Brigit, also called Mary of the Gales and proved to be mostly, if not entirely based on Brigid, and she is also Mama Brigitte, one of the few white lwa (in Voodoo, wife of Baron Samedi) and a result of the comingling Haitians and Irish (I think especially in New Orleans, but I could be wrong). (The more romantic story is the Baron fell in love with Brigitte, seduced her and brought her from Ireland to Haiti.) The same life runs through these figures, and each form is powerful, true and alive in it’s own right. Each form is still accessible without taking from them other, through the story still moves forward.

And yes, the above is my own UPG. Tear it apart later, there is more.

---The Morrigan is MY Mother---

Just like so many have matron goddesses, tutelary spirits and others that take a motherly role, the Morrigan has taken a motherly role with me. I address her as mother. Even over the years when I pursued other interests, she has always been there as my mother. And now, she has gone from being in the background to taking me in hand. Since then, she has not only acted as my High Queen, my High Priestess and my Lady, she’s been my mother, too.

This is solely a personal part of our relationship. I’ve seen her come to others this way, and I’ve seen her come to others a different way. It doesn’t have to be the same for everyone, but this is actually the number one reason I call her mother.

That’s it. That simple.

---The Morrigan is a mother, and no, it doesn’t necessarily make her a Mother---

I’ve not often seen references to the Morrigan’s children, though they do exist and I will mention them briefly.

1. Meche, sometimes said to be in the form of a drakkon, sometimes not, definitely said to have a heart, or three hearts that were filled with three serpents that would devour all of Ireland. He was killed by Dian Cecht.

2. Sometimes she is said to have Danu’s triplet sons who were smiths, their names escape me. (I’m writing most of this off the top of my head.)

3. Sometimes she is said to have 20-30 sons and 20-30 daughters (or even 50 of each!)...a testament to her fertility and strength, surely.

Being a mother doesn’t necessarily make her a Mother goddess. But to deny her motherhood in this way is insulting to Herself. To borrow from another mythos, Nephytys was the mother of Anubis but NOT considered a Mother goddess. To outright say, “Just because she gave birth doesn’t make her a mother” is really blasphemous, and the same goes for the Morrigan.

Even if you never agree that the Morrigan is a Mother, she is always mother.

(The Morrigan by Unknown...see blog in water mark)

---The Morrigan’s Many Faces---

There are honestly so many ways to see the Morrigan, so many ways she can appear, that it makes your head spin...part of this is because she’s a shape shifter and can pretty much appear the way she wants. This is made abundantly clear in the Tain, when she and Cu Chulainn are making their respective animosities known to one another. So already, we have a goddess who can appear as she pleases and who, by her nature, takes up many aspects.

The Morrigan very obviously oversees death and war and sorcery, which I think we’ve covered above. She also oversees prophecy (as evidenced by the prophecy she gave at the end of the war with the Formorians...) and poetry. Not the same kind of poetry as Brigid, but specifically poetry linked to prophecy or war. Nevertheless, I doubt that skill in the craft is lost on her. She oversees sovereignty (likely through her association with Macha) and guardianship of the land...some say she IS the land (hang on, we’re getting there), and fate, and I’ve even seen some people insist upon rebirth since she is so intimate with death. Same with performing the role of psychopomp, being compared to Norse Valkyries. Perhaps we are straying from lore, but some of this is relevant. I have even seen that the Morrigan represents the full circle of life, to represent water and overflowing emotions (and boy, is THAT another post!) and, finally, that she is indeed a mother, and a fertility goddess. Which is appropriate, since she’s also a goddess of sex, sacred sex and the marriage with the land in particular (see the Dagda). She is also associated with ghosts, with the Sidhe and witchcraft, usually of the darker or negative kind. Livestock was also a big part of her guardianship, as are storms, which can be linked back to the rain of fire and blood mentioned before. Some of this, we will return to.

So, wither or not we can find this in the lore (and most of it we can), we can certainly see where a lot of this comes from. I’ve heard a lot more over the years, but I’ve only included a short variety of what I personally give credence to. Your mileage may vary, and that’s okay. But let’s continue into briefly talking about the Morrigna.

The Morrigan is often simply listed as a singular entity, The Morrigan. And as any of us know, the Morrigan can be seen to seen to be a name or a title: An Mhor Rhaign, usually translated as “The Great Queen” or “The Phantom Queen”. Seeing this, I’d say that Queenship and Sovergnity, along with Identity with the Land, go hand-in-hand with this. Just sayin’!

She is often associated, or identified with other goddesses with their own identities, termed the Morrigna (or as I heard before, each Morrigna is like a piece of the whole Morrigan...don’t know how I feel about that, but I thought I’d include it anyway). Sometimes, the Morrigna as seen as sisters of the Morrigan, or as sisters that make-up the Morrigan.

Many of the Morrigna are as follows...I’ll leave their Wikis rather than do a lot of writing and distract from the article:

Badb: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Badb

Macha: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Macha

Nemain:https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nemain

Fea: Sorry, she doesn’t have a wiki, but you can find her online.

Anu:https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anu_(Irish_goddess)

Most often, you will see references to Badb, Macha and the Morrigan. This is the primary triplicity in the lore.

Sometimes, you’ll see Badb, Macha and Nemain or Badb, Macha and Anu. I’ve even seen 3 Badbs or 3 Nemains. I’ve seen UPG combinations. The list goes on.

But let’s go back to the primary triplicity...this one is found in the lore, I might mention. The listing is for Badb, Macha and the Morrigan, whose name is Anand. Which, in case you didn’t know, is one of the cognates of Anu.

Now, we can look at this two ways:

1. So this just means that Anu is one of the goddesses associated with the Morrigan. Anu, who everyone probably associates with all those pictures of mothers that I posted to be antagonizing. Who personifies the land, might be the same as Danu (who IS Mother of the Tuatha De Dannan, IS a Mother Goddess)...who is all about all those life and rebirth and fertility things I mentioned...

2. Anannd is the Morrigan. Which means Anu and the Morrigan are the same goddess in different aspects. What about Danu? Which means Anu REALLY isn’t who we think she is, at least personality wise.

I really have doubts about #1. For the simple fact that the other goddesses are associated with her, and Anu was said to BE her, outright. So that really leaves us with #2...which we should look into further.

--- Anu and the Morrigan---

Some information on Anu...Anu is mostly known for being a bounteous Earth-mother type, associated with the wealth and abundance of the Earth. Morpheus Ravenna (Pg.101) also suggests alternative definitions of the name, such as womb or vessel. Hmmm! Her breasts are immortalized as the Paps of Anu (and I do believe the Morrigan has a similar monument): two mountains in green and lovely Ireland in the shape of breasts, with expertly placed cairns on the top and center. While she doesn’t have any known myths herself, she has been described as “the one who nursed the gods”, and she has often been put in the shadow of, or completely identified, with Danu (more in a minute). To quote Ravenna, again, “...once we have disentangled her from the shadow of Danu, we can more easily recognize her own maternal identification as a territorial land-goddess and provider of wealth and plenty through the land itself...Anu is mother not in the sense of primal creatrix, but in the sense of one who nurses, nourishes and sustains.” (Pg.106) A goddess of the Earth, of the fertility of the land.

As I will say below, there is more than one way to Mother.

(By the way, “Book of the Great Queen” by Morpheus Ravenna is my absolute favorite out there, and is worth every penny to get it. I heartily suggest you get your own copy.)

Okay, fine: I’ve pointed out that the Morrigan and Anu are equated and I’ve talked a bit about Anu. It sounds like they have nothing in common and we should leave Anu and Danu together and forget this whole mess.

Well...except that Anu and the Morrigan DO have some pretty important things in common.

- not only is she equated with the Morrigan several times (yep, several), she is listed, with Macha and Badb, as a daughter of Ernmas.

- She is EXPLICITLY IDENTIFIED with the Morrigan, as the goddess bearing the name as a title. Morrigan, who is Anand could be read as “The Great Queen, who is Anand”, using the name Morrigan as a title.

- They both intimately identify with the land and fertility and they both have similar monuments, i.e. the Paps.

- Both are linked to poetry.

-Anu, like the Morrigan, is thought to be one of the wives of the Dagda.

-Sometimes, Anu is said to bear three sons who are smiths, similar to the Morrigan.

On the surface, they are very different. But underneath, through the cult of the land, fertility and sovereignty, they link intimately. The lore we have to identify with even identifies the two as one. You CAN’T get more explicit as that!

(Ravenna, Pg. 102-105)

However, that leaves the question of Danu. Some like to say that Anu was absorbed by Danu, and that the two are one divinity. They certainly seem to have more in common.

Except that scholars and pagans are split over wither or not Danu existed in the ancient world. Unlike with Anu, Danu’s existence may be purely literary as even her name is a reconstruction from the name of her people. Many of the traces we do find of her can be attributed to either Anu or the Morrigan. She and the Morrigan have the same father and again, Danu is the mother of the same set of triplets.

However, I would like to say that the Tuatha De Dannan would not be the same without Danu, and whatever her origins, she is a living, vibrant goddess now! (Perhaps, evidence of UPG gone right.) As opposed to Anu’ s earthy fertility, Danu has become a Mother in the way of Divine Creatrix, an ancestral figure, a maternal source of secrets, strategy and wisdom...the personification, if you will, of the divine waters of creation.

And while I leave it up to you to make up your own mind, I do not equate the two. I think of them (The Morrigan and Danu) as sisters with tastes in common, but who are different enough as they wouldn’t be mistaken one for the other. Perhaps the absorption of Anu’s cult, at whatever time, has done this? Finally, I do not equate the two since it is not in the lore, and is not at all mentioned.

And so, Anu/Anand and the Morrigan are one...Anu gives the Morrigan a whole different presence, the Morrigan gives Anu a different vibe. Perhaps both names fit the same complex, savage, loving, wonderful goddess.

This is actually why I call myself Anand Morrighan- in homage to my mother as a Mother of Life, as the land upon which I stand that feeds me, helps be get stronger, shapes me and then will eat my bones and drink my blood when I am placed back in her arms.

(Yes, I am aware that my Irish is terrible. I’m working on it. In the meantime, it is what it is!)

Because of course your Land shapes you. Where you live. Where you’re from. Where you’re going. Where you will rest. It’s a two-way relationship, though we don’t know it anymore.

---So, what kind of Mother IS the Morrigan?---

Well, to draw from other cultures, she’s not Demeter. She’s not Isis. She’s not the Coatlicue or Gaia and she’s not any other you can think of. Although, these mothers also have their terrible aspects.

But considering everything, and using the Wiki definition (since it’s there and easy to get to), “A mother goddess is a goddess who represents, or is a personification of nature, motherhood, fertility, creation, destruction or who embodies the bounty of the earth”...The Morrigan can MORE than add “Mother” to her titles, based on this alone.

Let me ask you one question...why assume an Earth Mother is soft? Is Gaia soft? Would Uranus call her soft, who loved him and them had him castrated? How about Coatlicue, who wore a necklace of human hearts, hands and skulls, and was depicted as a loving mother and insatiable monster...still a mother? Is Demeter always soft, who would have let creation die unless her daughter was returned to her, who still lets the world freeze, in some parts to death, waiting for Persephone? I’m sure you can think of other examples.

But don’t worry, the land is a brutal mother, and she has to be- I am not saying that the Morrigan is a fluffy, sugary mother. Quite the opposite. Because, well, what is life, if not war?

In our cushy lives, we’ve forgotten that survival is not a guarantee. Some places in the world truly know this. The same land that lifts up the crop devastates it, or withholds it all together. Storms run through and our blood feeds the earth, just as the same storm cleanses the junk we’ve stuffed the land with. She, as the fertility of the earth, makes the buds blossom and as the land in blight, makes them wither. Livestock flourish, as if cradled, and then fall to disease. The weak and feeble among the newborn do not survive the winter. The same hand that blesses, chastises.

The Morrigan is the mother who would fight to the death to defend her children, who would sacrifice our of her own self to nourish us and watch us thrive...but she’s still the same mother who would cull the pack, leave behind who couldn’t follow and, without hesitation, fatally wound to ultimately cure.

Because life is war, in the end. And the Morrigan is a goddess of war. All aspects of war. But especially victorious, bloody war. And life is a bloody endeavor from the beginning.

Our Mother is a good mother...but she’s a brutal Mother, too. I believe the term often used is “Dark Mother”? She is strong, warlike and uncompromising, even in her tenderness and her love. But having her love is more than worth it.

(Mother by Someone really awesome)

#Morrigan #Celtic #faery magick #celtic reconstructionism #Celtic Shamanism

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utopianparadoxist · 8 years ago

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Witch of Space==> Ascend : What is Jade Harley’s Story?

Alright here we go I finally get to write about Jade. My biggest Homestuck secret is that for how relatively little I talk about her, Jade is actually probably my favorite Beta kid.

I love the others and Rose and Dave in particular are intensely personal to me but Jade vibed with me in a way pretty much no character in fiction ever did because she’s an unabashed furry and that’s basically the subculture that raised my preteen catholic ass.

So Jade means a lot to me, and the way her narrative grows has always spoken to me as much as Dave’s narrative about overcoming toxic masculinity, or Rose’s struggle to find existential meaning. In a way, Jade’s struggle IS Rose’s struggle! Jade and Rose have narratives that lead us to twin conclusions about the nature of Homestuck’s reality.

That’s getting ahead of myself though, and I’m going to do this wild thing where I try to impose some structure on my approach so hopefully you can come away with a clear idea of what I think Homestuck is doing. (I want to give special thanks to @landofsomethingsomething for helping me out with the feedback that led me to striving to improve in this respect.)

So. This post has three thesis statements that I hope you come away with at least seriously considering, if not outright buying into.

1. Jade’s character arc was as thought out and deliberate as any of the kids’. She was not “shafted” by the story. The two reasons fans most likely seem to think she was were the Three Years trip she spent alone, and that she “didn’t do anything in Collide”. I believe both are misreadings of the canon.

2. Jade’s arc is meaningful both for herself and for the broader narrative, and builds to one of the most important revelations about Homestuck’s universe.

3. Jade and Davepeta are not only canon but deeply romantic, and Davepeta stands to improve one of the biggest reasons fans feel Jade got “shafted”--not to mention that some fans might take issue with Jade’s lack of a romantic arc, and Davepeta...well...is her romantic arc.

But before we can talk about where Jade’s arc succeeds, we need to talk about what it is, which means we need to talk about her title--Witch of Space. For the record, here’s my view on the mythological roles:

They aren’t a pasted on set of superpowers, and they aren’t given to the kids by Skaia. The titles describe the nature the kids had all along, and the way their patterns of thought reflect onto the world around them. They also foreshadow their narrative arcs and trajectories in their entireties--Just like the titles Hussie was inspired by in creating the system, the Hero of Time and Hero of the Winds structure from the Legend of Zelda.

I’ll begin by tracking Jade’s similarities to her fellow Witches and Space players. By pointing these out I believe I should be able to give you an idea of what I think Jade’s arc is about, exactly.

After that, I’ll expand my reading of Jade as a Witch of Space to include her later narrative turns, as well as explaining how I feel Davesprite--and later Davepeta--is inherently tangled up in her arc, as well as being a better romantic partner for Jade than basically anyone else in the story.

Let’s go. I’m hoping this is the beginning of something really excellent.

Where lies the Witch’s magic?

The first striking similarity between Witches is their bond with an outside force much more powerful than they are representing their Aspect. For Jade, this is Becquerel. For Feferi, it’s Gl’bolyb-who is about as Lifey an entity as it gets. It is, after all, defined by being unknowably massive, incomprehensible Living things, with conscious awareness of its own.

It is simply a completely alien kind of Life to our own, and thus the Cosmic Horror. Gl’bolyb also requires the consumption of vast quantities of Life that Feferi has to provide it, tying it to Life’s themes of edible consumption. More on Life stuff when I write about Jane soon, though.

Like Jade, Feferi has little direct power early in her life. But she’s able to accomplish stunning feats through her connection to her guardian--which functions effectively as a Witch’s familiar. Before ascension, a Witch’s power is linked to the symbol that identifies her as a Witch in the first place.

Feferi is also ambitious. Not only did Feferi originally aim to change the rules of Life in troll society imposed by the Condesce’s will, but through her connection to the Horrorterrors, she’s able to fundamentally change the rules of Life on a metaphysical level, allowing Ghosts to exist inside dream bubbles in an unnatural limbo.

Damara has an outside power figure linked to Time, too--Lord English, who she associates with and wishes to work for. She also changes her relationship with Time--turning it into a weapon to use against her friends as revenge as opposed to a tool and series of systems she needs to serve like Aradia and Dave do during their sessions. She’s quite willful and ambitious about both her relationship to her “Familiar” and her use of her Aspect.

Both witches are driven primarily by their own ambitions and desires, and both witches are also fundamentally Changed by their Aspects. Feferi loses her life and becomes a ghost, her will becoming almost indistinguishable from the Horrorterrors’. And Damara’s primary use of her Aspect coincides with a drastic change in outlook and personality, making her cynical, bitter, and willing to serve her Familiar over connecting with others.

Now--if Witches are ambitious about and defined by both changing and being changed by the domain of their Aspect, then what is Jade’s field of ambition in this regard? To answer this question, it’ll help to look at her fellow Space players.

The weight of Space

We don’t see Porrim pre-session, but from their introductions, Jade, Kanaya and Calliope are all defined by a unique passion for Sburb. This makes sense--Sburb, after all, is the construct that defines the Space they will exist in their entire lives.

Waking early on Prospit also essentially makes them grow up in two environments--places--at once, meaning that they grow up influenced by the culture inherent to two different environments.

This is particularly notable with Kanaya, who is uniquely untouched by Troll culture compared to her friends. Her morals are much more aligned with Sburbs’ spirit of growth and cooperation, and she takes a passionate interest in fashion--which is to say, the expression of ideas about oneself through clothes.

This kind of self-expression is something Sburb encourages constantly, and is in fact it’s core philosophy. Kanaya internalizes it completely to such an extent her identity is created by her relationship to Sburb--and Space--much more than by her relationship to Troll culture. Calliope, too, is so inspired by Sburb’s philosophy of cooperation and possibility that it works against her Cherub sociology.

This connection also allows them to use the insight gained from one environment to influence the other. Space players tend to set the stage for their own sessions, laying the Setting for their games in their own unique ways.

Calliope--the Muse of Space--inspired Dirk and Roxy to set the stage for the Alpha session, and influenced Jake into setting the stage for the Beta session as well. Lord English’s particular exploitation of Trolls was also influenced by her, setting the grim stage for both the troll sessions as well. Kanaya used Rose’s guide and her visions to help set up her session, too.

Finally, all Space players seem to end up somehow becoming entities they surround themselves with and are influenced by in life, in this sense being drastically affected by their own environments. Kanaya grew up influenced by troll rainbow drinker novels, and just so happened to develop an affinity for the Alternian sun.

And once she died, she was outright reborn into one. Sylphs being the Passive Creation class, this makes sense--Kanaya heals and Re-Creates herself as her own ideal image. If her ability to do so is intrinsic to her being, that’s no surprise, since Sylphs are considered a kind of Fairy or Elemental, and so are intrinsically connected to and created by their Aspect.

Once she transforms, she gains super speed--ie: an increased ability to navigate space-- and the ability to fill her environment with Light, which she always found highly desirable. This pattern is repeated across Space players--Calliope is able to inspire others to see her as a Troll, while Jade is able to deliberately Change herself into a Furry. More on that later in this essay.

Now a picture begins to emerge.

The Witch is the Active Change class. One could parse the title as:

One who Changes X, or Changes through X.

With the corollary attribute of One who is Changed By X.

And as Sburb defines everything about the setting of Homestuck, and the enviroments of Space players growing up. And given Witch’s ambition and zeal, it makes perfect sense to think Jade’s ambition and execution would concern Changing not just Space, but Sburb itself.

Which is true! Among the main kids, Jade is uniquely passionate about actually playing the game. She sets up her session, gets Rose interested, and takes charge of orchestrating and executing the plan that leads to the Beta’s victory.

And she is uniquely changed by the environments the game exposes her to--the divide between Jade’s Dream Self and her Waking Self is by far the widest of any Player.

Dream Jade is relatively pampered and aloof, and while having access to a whole other world makes Waking Jade’s life far less distressing and lonely than it might otherwise have been, she still ends up more practical.

And once the game really gets going, also more demanding. In her desire to protect people and be an asset, Jade holds herself to a very high standard. As such, she actively tries to be strong and keep an upbeat attitude, and in execution Jade’s approach to this is quite similar to John’s--she ends up coming off as weirdly emotionally detached from the consequences of what she’s doing.

The difference is that Jade willfully uses that detachment for her own benefit, like Jake does. After all, reviving Dream Jade this way directly leads Jade to becoming a God Tier, and embodying Space as a First Guardian.

Dream Jade, meanwhile, dies, and is greatly changed by the stagnancy and fatalism inherent to the Dream Bubbles. Jade tries to comfort Jadesprite, but this also brings us to another core facet of Jade’s. Jade has a habit of bottling up her emotions in a big way, like Jane. Jade wants to be reliable and useful, and to her that parses as a focus on practicality and solution-oriented thinking.

So when Jadesprite--who’s another version of her--fails to live up to her standards, Jade tries to be caring... but tries to find practical solutions which go ignored as Jadesprite copes with the trauma of her circumstances. Jade’s frustration with the game, with Jadesprite’s defeatism, and with Jadesprite as a reflection of herself build until finally she gets fed up and...

Blows a gasket. Jade’s got self-loathing issues just like anyone in Homestuck, and for her they manifest as being angry at what she could’ve become under different circumstances. She hates Jadesprite for being so malleable to her environment, and for being something she sees in herself--Selfish. Jade didn’t think too much about Becquerel before creating Jadesprite, after all, did she? Active classes are intrinsically self-motivated, and Jade is no exception.

Jadesprite is the only character Jade is quite this cruel to other than Karkat, who torments her for years and exhausts her with hyperemotional debates that distract her and waste her time. But this attitude is still something she carries across her relationships. She’s kind to Tavros, but his logic turns circular for long enough that she gets frustrated and turns their attention towards practical matters.

She extends much more time and patience to her friends, consoling Rose when her Mom dies...but even then is immediately concerned about what she will do with her feelings. In this pesterlog she also begins to question the nature of the game they’re playing, beginning to note Sburb seems outright cruel at times--foreshadowing her more intense struggles with the nature of the Space she inhabits.

Which brings us to Davesprite. Dave and Jade had a special relationship growing up, and Davesprite is a Dave brought into being by the game Jade is so invested in. And Davesprite is the one who finds Jadesprite at her lowest, and comforts her. He then makes her aware of her own power...

And encourages either Jade’s first great feat of magic as a Witch of Space. Immediately after this, Jade ascends, becoming one with Jadesprite and bringing the entire session under control--an action Davesprite bears witness to in it’s entirety. Soon after, Jade and Davesprite start dating during the three year’s boat trip. But…

It doesn’t work out. Why?

Well, there’s two reasons. The first is that Dave is an abuse victim, and that isn’t really the kind of trauma Jade could easily relate to--she’s been exposed to neglect and isolation, but the experience of being subjugated under an overbearing guardian would be alien to her-- and she never takes it particularly seriously growing up.

Grimbark Jade clues us in on the second. Davesprite also feels set apart from the kids, distanced by his Sprite status. He considers himself auxiliary to Alpha Dave, the same way Hal does with Dirk. John even rubs it in a couple of times, and openly wonders about Davesprite’s importance relative to Alpha Dave himself. And of course, Davesprite himself admits it.

This is something Jade can relate to to some extent--she was solely a Sprite for a time, and distanced and set apart from all society besides that. But the game fixed both of those for Jade, through bringing her closer to her friends and God Tiering. Not so for Davesprite.

Note what these issues have in common, though: Neither abuse trauma nor existential marginalization are problems that come with practical, tidy solutions--which are Jade’s instinctive method of dealing with things.

Jade wants to look for something to Do about everything, but there’s nothing to really Do for Davesprite. So Jade bottles her feelings of frustration up, only to have them come out when she goes Grimbark. But even while evil, brainwashed, and pissed off about Davesprite breaking up with her...

She still sticks up for Davesprite’s validity and personhood. Now, let’s move on to the retcon.

Davepeta happens, obviously--Nepeta acting as a Rogue to “Steal” Dave’s Heart for his own benefit. Davesprite transcends both his issues with his Bro and his tortured sense of auxiliary identity. Nepeta benefits from this arrangement, too--but we’re talking about Jade, so let’s see how the retcon treats her.

In the Post-Retcon version of the three years trip, Jade ends up completely alone and isolated. Fans usually hate this about her arc, but hear me out, because this is where I make my case for the first point I laid out at the beginning of this:

This isn’t just about tormenting or “shafting” Jade. It isn’t Hussie being lazy or not caring about her. Jade is struggling with her Aspect, the same way Dirk is tormented by his Splinters, Terezi by her Choices, and so on. And as she struggles with Space, she also struggles with the Game--and the label it seemingly “assigns” her. Space. She dreams about and meets Alt!Calliope, who tells her the Game has ordained this tragic reality for her, and as a result Jade feels distanced and set apart from her friends--just as Davesprite once did. When she meets Alt!Calliope again, she reinforces this notion, seemingly telling Jade that it is in a Space player’s nature to be alone.

But that’s not all she tells her. As she’s exposed to the fully-fledged Muse of Space the longest, Jade is also uniquely privy to the deepest secret of the nature of all of the entire Homestuck multiverse. A secret implied and built up to literally from the moment John first bites Sburb’s apple and enters the game(citation pending--I’ve got that video recorded already):

That Paradox Space is composed out of the abstractions of thought called the Aspects. This is the root of my second point, that Jade’s narrative is important both for herself and the wider Homestuck story--not to mention our understanding of it’s Multiverse.

The implications of this stunning revelation are enormous. Calliope literally states that ideas are made up of the Aspects, and what the Alchemy system does is make physical objects out of ideas. All of Paradox Space grows outwards from these twelve tiny elements of thought, and so reality is literally something created by those perceiving it. In Homestuck, existence is created by thought--and so too is all physical matter.

This is why I argue all depictions of Light in Homestuck symbolically contain the Light Aspect’s fundamental ideas--because Light as a physical presence is simply a concentrated enough amount of Light aspect abstractions to be visible in physical reality. The same is true of every Aspect--in this same sense, you can argue all food is made out of Life, and all absence out of Void.

Imagine being granted the key to understanding the entire universe. That’s what is happening here. Jade doesn’t understand all of it right away, but the core idea gets across. And understanding the true nature of reality this way could take Jade’s interest in science to an entire other level. There’s practically no limit to what she could do with this information, I mean--if all of reality is created by thought, then what are the real limits of what’s possible for anyone?

Having delivered this information, Calliope leaves--leaving Jade as close to the biggest symbol of Space in the comic--the Green Sun--as she could get. Jade lingers, waiting, under the impression she is inherently meant to simply comply with the will of her Aspect and Paradox Space, when along comes…

Davesprite, freed of all the issues that made their relationship originally unworkable. Only now it’s Davepeta, and Davepeta is a wholly new entity, completely and utterly defined by their relationship to the Game that functions as one of Jade’s primary domains of power and influence. It would be literally impossible for Jade to have met any version of any person even remotely like Davepeta elsewhere. It had to be here. It had to be through Sburb.

Davepeta also has unique insight into the nature of the Player’s ultimate reality, and is one of the few characters with more insight into that reality than Jade herself.

In keeping with the Light motif with Homestuck’s romantic relationships, Jade lingers in the dark Void of her loneliness, not knowing whether she should Do anything, by a hyper-incandescent 2xSprite, an entity literally created to provide aid and information as well as giving off Light physically.

As if that weren’t enough, Davepeta is also a twice over Passive player--a Knight who serves their friends Time, or serves them through Time, and a Rogue who can Steal Hearts for the benefit of others.

And Davepeta is also coded as a cat and a bird, simultaneously--the two animals most commonly associated with Witches.

Do you see where I’m going with this? Now that Jade is a fully ascended Witch who has mastered Space, along comes Davepeta, framed perfectly to act as the Witch’s Familiar. A Familiar whose existence reflects not just dominion over Physical Space, but mastery over both Sburb and the nature of Paradox Space.

And what does Davepeta do when it’s, for once, Jade at a loss for what to do next, trapped in a circular spiral of logic on whether to even move forward? Davepeta says that’s dumb, and that Jade should do whatever she wants to, and offers her a practical solution to help her do it. Making it clear that Davepeta is capable of being a partner and aid to Jade’s desires and ambitions.

Jade then wakes up, and decides to follow Davepeta’s (and Calliope’s) advice: She has fun.

In Collide, Jade chooses not to fight, but rather to use her space powers to play with Bec Noir and PM, distracting them and keeping them busy. Doing this leads her to Changing the game in the most powerful way possible.

The two First Guardians are completely equalized by Bec’s influence on them, making them equal in power...but also giving them equally powerful feelings of love for Jade.

This gives PM the advantage. PM is the one able to control her own emotions, find nuance in her situation, and take a middle solution between really hurting Jade and complete inaction--which Jack is unable to do.

By setting up this situation, Jade turns the core fatalism of Sburb on it’s head--setting up a scenario where White can do the impossible and defeat Black itself. That’s about as “Changing” the nature of “Space” as it gets--a Witch of Space, fully realized.

And now Jade is hanging out, happy with her friends and not lonely or isolated at all. Jade is having fun and enjoying herself on Earth C. That’s a pretty satisfying narrative, as far as I’m concerned.

Jade struggled, but she also gained unique insight and knowledge entirely in keeping with her Aspect. At the very least, considering the importance of the information Jade got from her journey and all the thematic imagery surrounding it, I think it’s likely that approach was intentional and not a byproduct of Hussie “not caring about Jade” or “shafting” her.

Whether you guys do or don’t like where he took Jade’s arc is another conversation, albeit one I’m willing to have--I’m just arguing there was intent behind the chaos.

That said, now I’m going to do something I don’t usually like to do, and speculate about Jade’s future a little.

I personally think Jade’s “arc” is complete enough as it stands now--Davepeta’s a compelling romantic partner, but it’s not like Jade necessarily needs a romance in the first place. I won’t be upset if I end up wrong about this stuff-- I just think the nature of all this build up between Jade and Davepeta makes it more likely than any alternatives I can think of.

So here’s some thoughts about the Epilogue you may want to consider:

Whether Davepeta will survive to meet up with her again is, admittedly, an open question...but considering all this narrative buildup, the fact that we already know Sprites exist past the end of the Game, and that Davepeta already fought Lord English and survived, I have a hard time believing they’re going to be killed off at this point.

Especially considering [S] Credits is clearly setting up the Masterpiece, and if we see the Beta kids get sucked into that Juju it’s likely we’ll also see them pop out the other end...in the Void, where Davepeta is.

And one last thing:

We already saw Roxy steal something from nothing, so it’s not impossible to think Davepeta could reach across the Timelines they already see, and steal the Heart or Time Game Over Jade spent with John and Davesprite in the original timeline back from the Game that took those experiences from her--fitting into Jade’s motif of Cheating the game to suit her desires.

This is the nature of my third and final point--that on top of everything else Davepeta adds to Jade’s narrative, they could subvert the lasting pain and suffering the Game inflicted on Jade across those three years, enabling her to remember her relationship with Davesprite, and also potentially giving John and Roxy another person who remembers the old timeline.

No idea if that’s gonna happen, or be shown in detail if it is. I just think that given the sheer depth in which Davepeta’s and Jade’s arcs are interwoven, it’s not impossible. If it doesn’t, I’m personally pretty happy with Davepeta giving Jade some good advice and helping her out at the end. Feel free to let me know what you think! :)

Alright, that’s all I got on Jade for now, guys. Hoping to write one post about Jane soon, but I’m going to be refocusing back towards video editing and job hunting, so these written posts may slow while I devote more energy to making videos. This has essentially been a side project to my Homestuck, Explained series as I gathered my thoughts on the endgame enough that I thought it warranted posting some more of them.

If you’re interested in enabling me to write more of these posts and making more videos, it’d be cool of you to check out my Patreon. We’ve got a neat little Discord community of Homestuck aficionados thinking and talking about a bunch of different Homestuck analysis topics, and doing so can also get you perks like previews of my video scripts and previews of the videos themselves.

That’s all for now, peeps. As always, thanks a ton for reading.

See you again soon, everyone.

Until then, Keep Rising.

#Homestuck #Jade Harley #Davepeta #davepetasprite^2 #Classpects #Witch/Heir #Sylph/Maid #Witch of Space #My MSPA Analysis

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