#also is the vanguard all men???

[casscainmainly]

Duke Thomas and the Robin Mantle

There's been some minor discussion about whether Duke counts as an 'official' Robin or not. While that discussion is interesting, I actually don't think it's the crux of the Duke and Robin issue. To me, the question is whether or not he should be Robin. And, to me, the answer is definitively yes.

This is purely my opinion, and I haven't read every single Duke comic so it's possible I've misread/missed things. Any Duke fans, absolutely feel free to add or disprove anything here!

The Changing Robin

The first thing to understand is that Robin, as a mantle, has shifted with each person it's been passed to. Tim's Robin doesn't mean the same thing as Jason's Robin, which doesn't mean the same thing as Damian's. A mark of a true Robin is the ability to shift the meaning of Robin by wearing the colours.

Duke absolutely fulfils this criteria. In fact, him and his We Are Robin crew are the biggest shift in the meaning of Robin since its creation.

Cover from We Are Robin #1. The phrase "We're not sidekicks. We're an army!" signals the shift from Robin as individual to Robin as collective; from Robin as tied to the singular Batman to Robin as a wider movement, a socio-political force. The last question, "are you ready?", is vitally important as well. Duke as Robin is meant to be different. He's meant to be non-normative, a groundbreaking turn in what Robin looks and feels like.

At the end of the first issue, a disguised Alfred (who started We Are Robin) thinks the following:

Alfred infuses the phrase "of color" with two meanings: the Robin colours, and People of Colour. By explicitly linking Robin to POC, the comic is suggesting that not only can kids of colour be Robin, but that they should be Robin. Robins of Colour are the "future of this city," and Duke is the vanguard of this future. It's no coincidence that the Robin before (Damian) and the one after (Maps) are both POC. Duke, however, is the Robin that gives the mantle an explicit direction towards diversity: him and WAR use Robin as a social movement, and in doing so transform the colours of Robin into a symbol for the diversity in Gotham and the world.

Robin as Collective

Duke doesn't change Robin alone. The point of We Are Robin is that Robin is a collective, and it's important that Duke doesn't start WAR (as much as people like to say he did). By joining late, the comic demonstrates that Duke is part of a bigger movement.

The Robin community represents POC solidarity, the necessity and ability of the oppressed to band together. Lee Bermejo ends We Are Robin's final issue with "stress on the word "we"" - Duke's arc, in one sense, is learning to rely and work with others (he initially mistrusts basically everyone). The WAR community is essential to both Duke's character development and his tenure as Robin.

So to have this page, affirming his loyalty and love for them, to be followed immediately by them being written out is... something.

Duke appears next in Batman: Rebirth, where Bruce gives him the yellow suit and tells him he's not looking for a Robin. As soon as he stops being Robin, the community around him quite literally falls apart. Izzy sticks around for a bit but fades into obscurity, Riko and Dax turn evil, Dre ends up in Arkham - all of these fates are antithetical to these characters and genuinely tragic.

Batman: The Secret Files: The Signal is possibly the worst Duke story in existence, but it's important to understanding why Robin!Duke mattered. Riko calls Signal 'Bat-Signal', highlighting his sudden reduction to a Batman acolyte. His friends turning on him shows how, by losing Robin, he also lost the community formed by WAR. In every way, his transition into the Signal was saturated by loss.

Robin Doesn't Need A Batman

Bruce giving Duke the Signal suit is borderline insulting. He already had an identity predicated on the fact that he didn't need Batman.

From Batman (2011) #45, Batman: Rebirth, and Night of the Monster Men. "Robin doesn't need a Batman" is an inversion of Tim's 'Batman needs a Robin' - in many ways, Duke is the opposite of Tim, who's rich, White, and whose Robin is the most focused on helping Batman. If Tim is the ideal Robin-as-partner, Duke is the ideal Robin-as-individual. His idea of Robin is not, and has never been, associated with Batman.

People who say Duke isn't an official Robin since he was never Batman's partner miss the point. He is Robin because he was never Batman's partner. That's what Robin means to him - a mantle free from Bruce and all authority.

"Batman is on the gargoyle. Robin... Robin is on the street." Robin is the person on the ground, who lives and belongs to the people. When Duke becomes Signal, this ground aspect - as well as his separation from Batman - is gone.

In this cover from Batman & The Signal, they gave him a Bat symbol and put him on a gargoyle. They erased every single part of his Robin philosophy.

The Original Robin

Post-We Are Robin, Bruce becomes the Batfam member Duke interacts with the most. Besides the insult of Bruce withholding Robin, this fact also strips away one of my favourite aspects about early Duke - he was tied to the Batfamily through the Robins (especially Damian and Dick), not by Batman.

It's Dick, the original Robin, who chooses him.

Dick recognises that him and Duke have a lot in common. He tells Duke in Robin War that he's "got it," and that he's a natural leader - Dick knows Duke has what it takes to be Robin, and explicitly endorses him.

Not only that, but when Dick sends Duke to jail (along with the other Robins, official and unofficial), he tells Duke that he "take[s] care of [his] family". He basically inducts Duke into the family then and there!

Dick's endorsement of Duke makes it more interesting that Bruce doesn't make him Robin. Despite Duke's disillusionment at the end of Robin War (dispelled soon after in WAR), the events in RW confirm that Duke can and should be Robin. Bruce not making Duke Robin is defying both Duke's potential and Dick's right to choose Robins.

Robin as Family

On the rooftop in Robin War, Dick tells Duke that Robin is about family. This is the fundamental connection between them both: Robin acts as the link to the families they've lost and gained.

For Dick, Robin keeps John and Mary Grayson alive, while also symbolising his connection to Bruce. For Duke, Robin is the intersection of three families: the heroic legacy of his parents, the tight-knit community of We Are Robin, and the newfound friendship of the Batfamily.

In Batman (2011) #45, Duke tries to give his friend Daryl a Robin badge. He says, "you and me, we came up together. We're fam[ily]." Even before Dick, Duke associated Robin with family, and Daryl implies in the next issue that Duke became Robin because of his parents' inclination to help. Signal, of course, also comes from his mom; but unlike Robin, Signal isn't a legacy mantle. As Robin, he constantly inducted people like Daryl, Riko, Damian, etc. into his family. As Signal, his circle shrinks immeasurably, until it's really only the Batfamily and the Outsiders if we're being generous. (Daryl also turns evil - a really unfortunate pattern for Duke side characters).

Lark and Conclusion

I'm going to end with this panel from Batman & The Signal #1, which is emblematic of the way DC has treated Duke and Robin as a whole. Bruce tells Duke that Lark is "too soft" a name. DC was probably debating between Lark and Signal, but it's telling what they went with. How is Lark too soft, exactly? How is it any softer than Robin?

By overtly dismissing the bird-like name, Bruce - and DC editorial, or whoever decided this - is definitively moving Duke away from Robin. And it's a shame. In Duke's transition from Robin to Signal, he has next to no agency. Bruce tells him he's not Robin, Bruce gives him the suit, Bruce tells him not to be Lark, Bruce gives him another suit. It's a stark contrast from his induction into Robin - though Alfred arranged it, he gave Duke a choice. Duke chooses Robin.

Duke being disallowed the Robin mantle is, to me, on par with DC stripping Cass of the Bat symbol during the New 52. The racism behind both these decisions cannot be overstated - both Cass and Duke redefined their mantles, and their mantles defined them. At least Cass' mistake has been corrected, and lots of writers and fans acknowledge how horrible that period was. For Duke, he was never given a real chance. And it's unlikely he ever will be.

This is not a knock against the Signal identity or any writers. However, it genuinely saddens me to think that all of this story potential - Duke's redefinition of Robin, his relationship to Dick, his connection to We Are Robin, and above all his ability to choose who he wants to be - has been neglected and cast aside. Even if they never acknowledge his role as Robin, I hope future stories centre him once again, because it's what he deserves.

[world-in-a-nook]

Prediction : the tragedy of Amorpheus

Welcome one and all to my theory crafting around the next HSR planet !

For this, we will use Black Swan's lines about Amphoreus and try to analyse and probably theorize on what Amphoreus' story will be about.

I hope that you pardon my english, it isn't my first language.

I- The story of the planet II-The three paths

I- The story of the planet

A- The state of the planet

First of all, we have all the flags abount an antiquity inspired planet : the name of the achievement, the planet's name and so on.

We also know that the planet is only accessible through "the light from the mirror of the Garden of Recollection" and that Akivilli never reached Amphoreus.

So here is my theory : we are going to use the Graden of Recollection's miror to go back in time to when Amphoreus existed/was in better shape.

The keywords from Black Swan are "reached" and that it "only" possible through the Garden of Recollection. We know that the Garden's task is to gather memories to make sure that the universe is remembered after the Destruction. We also know that their members can "freely traverse between worlds, unconstrained by physical limits." (Data bank ; Factions)

We have seen that with Black Swan and the dreamscape : she can freely go from the dreamscape to reality. So that means that they aren't affected by space. But what if they aren't affected by Time either ? Then, only people unaffected by time from the Garden of Recollection could access Amphoreus, and such Akivilli would have never reached Amphoreus.

This would also explain why the Astral Express would never need fuel after that : it would make it a timeless machine, that goes beyond time and space, a paradox. In a more darker turn of events, it could also be the planet's destruction that fuels the Astral Express.

B- The plot

Since the planet must be either destroyed or in a very catastrophic way. I would imagine the story based on the tragedy : the Astral Express will tell the people of Amphoreus that their planet is destroyed, everyone will try so that it doesn't happen but everything has already happened and it will end up destroyed. This mixed in with a "Fall of Rome" kind of context.

Why am I thinking so ?

First, Rome is known for its political history being a mess.

Rome and Ancient Greece are known for their tragedies. Those have usually prophecies that are trying to be escaped but ended up happening anyway. And by the Astral Express coming from the future, they would be the ideal prophetic role.

The japanese name for Amphoreus is Omphalos. And Delphi's was known to be the center of the world, according to the greeks. Delphi is well known for its oracles.

"Eternal Land" isn't used to be literal. Black Swan is a Memokeeper and as such believes that all "world will eventually perish, but they can live on in another way — through Remembrance." (Databank ; factions). And such, Black Swan would be basically using some dramatic irony (mostly used in tragedies) to mock Amphoreus' people. It is how we view Rome's Fall : there were the signs that Rome would fall, yet nobody could stop it.

The planet's destruction would be a political crisis from the three paths (a word of them ahead) with a stellaron at play. My theory would be that one of the paths would want to exploit the stellaron for power linked with the hybris theme (the theme that men always try to be as powerful as gods but end up punished). We could also link it to Cesar's deification signaled by a comet.

Post Scriptum : If the Astral Express aren't the one announcing the planet's destruction, we could have an apparition of the Omen Vanguards, Terminus' followers (since they "They are dedicated to drawing prophecies from Terminus's obscure words.").

II- The three paths

"Human behavior flows from three main sources : desire, emotion and knowledge" - Plato

Erudition - Mourning Actors- Enigmata

Erudition :

For the fact that Ancient Greece had an immense impact on today's intellectual (look at Dr.Ratio's design).

The Genius Society, Nous' followers, are already known to be quite prideful so it would made sense for the hybris theme.

We don't know Nous' creation and ascension to aeonhood. So we could have Nous' followers in that point in time.

"Knowledge comes at the price of suffering." (Fu Xian voiceline Chat : Third Eye) and so, following my idea, it would be the knowledge that the planet will end up destroyed/dead that makes the Trailblazer and the Astral Express suffer.

We need another path for the trailblazer

Mourning Actors :

Their performances are akin to greek tragedies

Like Nous, we do not know when Aha arose to aeonhood.

Despite doing greek tragedies, their philosophy is closer to Pascal's (“Distraction is the only thing that consoles us for miseries and yet it is itself the greatest of our miseries.” ; replace Distraction with Elation and you have it.). And Pascal also has some quotes about truth. I wouldn't be surprise if we see Mourning Actors get inspiration in Amorpheus.

Enigmata :

Purely out of opposition to Erudition, first and formost.

The romans were well-known to copy the greeks (even in their mythology) yet hate them. So Enigmata being opposite to Nous would fit the bill but also Rome could be replaces with Enigmata : taking history and changing it.

There is the sentence of erasing someone from History known in ancient history and it would fit the Enigmata pretty well.

Enigmata has been hinted through Gallagher in Penacony and Hoyo doesn't show us something just for the sack of it.

Enigmata could be seen as an easy antagonist for the arc. (And if we follow my idea, Nous' followers would be the one creating their demise)

Side note : Beauty is a path that I have seen mentioned in theories and could be (since Aeneas, the founder of Rome, is seen as the son of Aphrodite, goddess of love ). Though I have to say that it wouldn't fit with the idea of "balance" because it doesn't have a counterpoint.

Thank you for reading my messy theory ! Have a wonderful day/night ! (It is 2AM when I finish writing this).

[cringefaecompilation]

reading comprehension questions about dorian storm

why did dorian storm not want dariax zaveon to join him in returning to bell's hells? were his actions or intentions for doing so actively villainous or malicious?

robbie daymond confirmed dorian storm to be anti-god in the out of character aftershow. how much of this opinion has been directly stated in canon? did robbie daymond say that dorian fully agrees with ludinus da’leth and excuses all his actions?

why might dorian storm have a negative opinion on the gods? is there anything that may have happened to him recently with the gods that may inform this worldview?

is there any context that dorian storm may lack about ludinus da’leth’s hypocrisy that he has not witnessed due to being apart from bell’s hells?

dorian storm witnessed his friends scream at ludinus da’leth and refuse to join him. would dorian want to join the ruby vanguard if his friends are so vocally opposed to it? what about his friends is a focal point of dorian storm’s characterization?

what is dorian storm's relationship to orym of the air ashari in canon? would dorian do anything to intentionally target or specifically trigger orym's trauma or de-legitimize it in favor of his own?

is dorian storm particularly known for being unreasonable or aggressive with his opinions? are there any other members of the party that also refuse to step away from their biases or are known to be agressive?

are there any other characters in the party that agreed with ludinus da’leth? if so, would you consider them willing to join the vanguard as well?

does dorian storm blame himself for what happened to his brother and the crownkeepers? how does this differ from ludinus da’leth sidestepping all accusations towards him or excusing all his actions as being lesser because he does not have the same amount of power the gods do?

robbie daymond is multiracial and part native while the rest of the players are white or white passing. what stereotype does it play into that bell’s hells must re-educate dorian storm on the ruby vanguard and talk him down from becoming violent and irredeemable? are there any stereotypes about native men specifically that this may play into?

[landofanimes]

CLAMP Exhibition (2024)

July 3 - September 23, 2024 in Tokyo

The biggest CLAMP exhibition to date, the event showcases the original artwork from 23 works made by the group of four women, from RG Veda to Card Captor Sakura: Clear Card (technically 22 but they're counting Legal Drug and Drug and Drop separetely).

Over the years CLAMP has published a variety of manga, including those for boys (shounen), girls (shoujo) and young men (seinen), depending on the magazine they were published. Appealing to readers of all ages, genders and countries, their work continues to captivate.

The exhibition will feature a total of 800 original manuscripts (200 in color, 600 black and white), divided in 7 areas: Color, Love, Adventure, Magic, Phrase, plus Imagination and Dream.

C for COLOR. CLAMP colors the world.

Displaying a total of 200 original colored pieces from all 23 works (100 for each half of the exhibition).

This area showcases the variety of artstyles, techniques and tools CLAMP used over the years on their different manga. Includes pieces with colored ink, Copic markers, acrylic gouache, pastels, and digital art.

Even when publishing 2 different works at the same time the group likes to vary their tools: RG Veda (1989-96) was colored with ink and airbrushes, while Tokyo Babylon (1990-93) was colored with screen tones. The artstyle also changed depending on the publisher.

2. L for LOVE. CLAMP draws the forms of love.

The artwork in this area are divided in 8 types of love seen throught CLAMP's manga.

"The love depicted by Clamp is not singular—there is a straightforward love towards a significant other, but it can also be a determination to protect loved ones, a thought character keeps in their hearts, or even the conflict itself." (from tokyoartbeat article)

3. A for ADVENTURE. CLAMP weaves the stories of adventure.

350 manuscripts from 6 action-packed manga series: RG Veda, Tokyo Babylon, X/1999, Magic Knight Rayearth, Cardcaptor Sakura, and Tsubasa: RESERVoir CHRoNiCLE.

Includes a synopsis of each work and selected scenes to follow along parts of the story.

4. M for MAGIC. CLAMP casts its magic.

The fantasy, magic, and mysterious powers seen in CLAMP works are seen in the moving manga pannels projected in 3 large screens in this area.

5. P for Phrase. CLAMP spins the phrases.

The first room showcases 40 manuscripts from xxxHolic.

The second room focuses on the power of words spun by CLAMP, exhibiting quotes form their works on the walls. Visitors can also pull one phrase sticker from the Phrase Box from CLAMP and take it home, or stick it to a wall in the room. There are 120 different phrases to pull.

6. IMAGINATION

Timeline of 35 years of creative work, from 1989 to 2024, featuring manga volumes, magazine issues, and more.

An installation in the center of the room also features quotes from a new interview with the four women specially for this event.

This is also the only area which features CLAMP's work in other media, including various collaborations. There is a selection of color illustrations, rough design drafts, and other artworks from Soryuden: Super Dragon Brothers, CODE GEASS, BLOOD-C, HiGH＆LOW g-sword, Cardfight!! Vanguard, GIFT (picture book by Ice skater Yuzuru Hanyu), The Grimm Variations, and HELLO KITTY.

7. DREAM

The last area is solely to exhibit a new illustration featuring Ashura (RG Veda) and Sakura Kinomoto (Card Captor Sakura: Clear Card), representing CLAMP's beginnings and future through their first and latest work.

"Kuro" (Black) and "Shiro" (White) are also the names of the new artbooks titled COLOR, which compile the artworks seen in the exhibition. A deluxe edition will be released at a later date compiling both volumes in one.

............................................

The audio guide during the exhibition is provided by Jun Fukuyama, who has played Kimihiro Watanuki in the anime series xxxHOLiC, Kobayashi Kotaro in ANGELIC LAYER, and Lelouch Lamperouge in Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion (CLAMP is responsible for character design in Code Geass) .

The place also features a store with a long list of products.

They also have the first volume of their various manga available to read, and a TV showcases the recently shared announcement video of the new anime project of Magic Knight Rayearth.

CLAMP Exhibition National Art Center in Roppongi, Tokyo First Half: Wednesday, July 3 - Monday, August 12 Second Half: Wednesday, August 14 - Monday, September 23

Sources:

Tokyo Art Beat

Fashion Press

Bijutsutecho (+)

Natalie Mu

Internet Museum

Official Clamp_ex Twitter

[hanzajesthanza]

i like to imagine more really awkward hanza interactions. on top of the canon ones. like when they get angoulême in the company and cahir is like ‘i’m glad we have another girl on the team 😊’ and angoulême taking the piss is like ‘what do you care 🤔 you want to be next to girls so badly’

cahir gets embarrassed trying to explain his comment and can’t meet milva’s curious gaze so geralt says something lukewarm like ‘it’s good to have understanding between the company’ and milva gets offended like ‘you think i can relate to this chit better than to you’ (angoulême in the background sweet and sarcastic ‘but we have so much in common, auntie! 🥺’ which infuriates her more)

geralt ventures ‘there are some things… which are men’s, and… some things, which are women’s…’

dandelion takes this moment to interject, ‘like pregnancy!’

geralt uses all his strength not to facepalm, in the background angoulême is being insensitive (‘pregnancy?!’) , dandelion starts yammering ‘well look, it was four to one, now it’s four to two, so anyway, the company’s still mostly men’ (he swings an arm around geralt, who is furrowing his brow) ‘so it’s not like it will change much,’ (milva is also making this face 🤨 counting on her fingers during this moment as she points to each member) .

regis from the vanguard on draakul suddenly speaks a correction : ‘three to one to two’

‘what’

‘i’m not a man’

dead silence across the group

[texasobserver]

From “‘Drag is so Healing’: Austin’s Queens Won’t Back Down” by Digital Editor Kit O'Connell, originally published in the September/October issue of Texas Observer magazine. Photography by Cindy Elizabeth:

In an orange prison jumpsuit and chains, a tall, lean drag queen writhed to a cover of “War Pigs” by Brass Against, which sounds like someone swapped Black Sabbath’s lead singer for a woman and added a highly caffeinated marching band. As she lip-synced, Hermajestie the Hung completed a dramatic strip tease down to an army fatigue jacket and fishnets, all to riotous cheers and a rain of dollar bills. 

It’s April at the Swan Dive on Red River in Austin’s club district, where “Tuesgayz” night LGBTQ+ gatherings—which include “Queereoke” sing-along sessions—are a tradition. For over a year, the Black-led drag troupe Vanguard, with an informal membership of about a dozen performers that includes both drag kings and queens, has opened each show with the same invocation:

“On our stage we proudly proclaim that Black lives matter, trans rights are human rights, no human is illegal, all bodies are beautiful, and my body, my choice.” 

Hermajestie—who described herself as a “postbinary, polyamorous, pansexual pot-smoking parent” and goes by “any pronouns but he/him”—explained later that she started each night the same way because she “realized that once I mention these things, the trash usually takes itself out.” 

(We are using performers’ stage names in this article to protect their privacy.)

Vanguard, she explained, serves as a “declaration and celebration of queer freedom, queer love, queer existence and queer solidarity.” The space she has created is often politically charged. Each night, she recounts the latest legislative attacks on queer rights, urging her audience to get involved. Tuesday’s routine culminated in her holding aloft the severed head of former President Donald Trump and hurling it into the audience (a similar stunt that earned comedian Kathy Griffin public censure shortly after Trump’s election). 

The members of Vanguard represent an evolution in drag. While elder performers were often cisgender, gay men, many of today’s queens are transgender or nonbinary and explore their identity through the art form.

Austin’s drag scene is thriving: From the heart of downtown to the Hill Country, patrons can attend events every day of the week, including late-night revues and brunches on weekends. One monthly show highlights new, amateur queens, another the elders of the community. Drag has made inroads in non-LGBTQ+ spaces as well—queens frequently perform at birthday parties, fundraisers, and, last year, at a new student orientation at the University of Texas at Austin. 

At the same time, drag is under attack. Senate Bill 12, scheduled to go into effect September 1, will levy fines against venues that host performances appealing to an ill-defined “prurient interest in sex” where minors are present; performers could also face up to a year in jail. The legislative affront goes hand-in-hand with protests and harassment from right-wing activists outside of nightclubs and on social media, where drag performers are frequently doxxed. While most performers remain defiant in the face of oppression, the growing pressure leaves them concerned for their future. 

(Editor’s Note: As of September 18, 2023, SB 12 is under a temporary restraining order while a judge rules on a lawsuit led by the ACLU of Texas.)

Read more at the Texas Observer.

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN || SEASON 5 EPISODE 03  || FREE WILL ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

The sound came again from the back of the house, somewhat louder; a noise midway between a squeal and a growl.[...] His eyebrows also rose in surprise, and I leaned over his arm to see.

A woman peered out from between two hillocks of goods, looking round suspiciously, like a rat peering out of a garbage dump. She was not particularly ratlike in appearance, being wavy-haired and quite stout, but she blinked at us in the calculating way of vermin, reckoning the threat. “Go away,” she said, evidently concluding that we were not the vanguard of an invading army. “Good morning to ye, ma’am,” Jamie began, “I am James Fraser, of—” “I don’t care who you are,” she replied. “Go away.” “Indeed I will not,” he said firmly. “I must speak with the man o’ the house.” An extraordinary expression crossed her plump face; concern, calculation, and what might have been amusement.

“Must you?” she said. She had a slight lisp; it came out as mutht you? “And who says that you must?” Jamie’s ears were beginning to redden slightly, but he answered calmly enough. “The Governor, madam. I am Colonel James Fraser,” he said, with emphasis, “charged with the raising of militia. All able-bodied men between the ages of sixteen and sixty are called to muster. Will ye fetch Mr. Beardsley, please?” “Mili-ish-ia, is it?” she said, handling the word with care. “Why, who will you be fighting, then?” “With luck, no one. But the call to muster is sent out; I must answer, and so must all able-bodied men within the Treaty Line.” Jamie’s hand tightened on the crosspiece of the inner frame and rattled it experimentally. It was made of flimsy pine sticks, the wood shrunken and badly weathered; he could plainly rip it out of the wall and step through the opening, if he chose to do so. He met her eyes straight on, and smiled pleasantly. She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, thinking. “Able-bodied men,” she said at last. “Hmp. Well, we’ve none of those. The bond lad’s run off again, but even if he were here, he’s not able; deaf as that doorpotht, and quite as dumb.” She nodded toward the door in illustration. “If you care to hunt him down, you’re welcome to keep him, though.” It didn’t look as though there would be any hue and cry after Keziah, then. I took a deep breath, in a sigh of relief, but let it out again, swiftly. Jamie wasn’t giving up easily. “Is Mr. Beardsley in the house?” he asked. “I wish to see him.” He gave an experimental tug on the frame, and the dry wood cracked with a sound like a pistol shot. “He’s thcarce fit for company,” she said, and the odd note was back in her voice; wary, but at the same time, filled with something like excitement. “Is he ill?” I asked, leaning over Jamie’s shoulder. “I might be able to help; I’m a doctor.” She shuffled forward a step or two, and peered at me, frowning under a heavy mass of wavy brown hair. She was younger than I’d thought; seen in better light, the heavy face showed no cobweb of age or slackening of flesh. “A doctor?” “My wife’s well-kent as a healer,” Jamie said. “The Indian folk call her White Raven.” “The conjure woman?” Her eyes flew wide in alarm, and she took a step back. Something struck me odd about the woman, and looking at her, I realized what it was. Despite the reek in the house, both the woman’s person and her dress were clean, and her hair was soft and fluffy—not at all the norm at this time of year, when people generally didn’t bathe for several months in the cold weather. “Who are you?” I asked bluntly. “Are you Mrs. Beardsley? Or perhaps Miss Beardsley?” No more than twenty-five, I thought, in spite of the bulk of her swaddled figure. Her shoulders swelled fatly under her shawl, and the width of her hips brushed the barrels she stood between. Evidently trade with the Cherokee was sufficiently profitable to keep Beardsley’s family in adequate food, if not his bond servants. I eyed her with some dislike, but she met my gaze coolly enough. “I am Mrs. Beardthley.”

~ The Fiery Cross

[astralleywright]

i feel GENUINELY insane because nobody in canon or fanon has brought up ruidusborns in these conversations.

@caeslxys made a very good post about it, shout out to Peyton, but in general you're totally correct! imo, a lot of people are discursively motivated to disregard the plight of ruidisborn or justify the suspicion and ostracization they face, because to do otherwise is to admit that Liliana Temult is a sympathetic character.

(When she brought up the fear of the gods and their followers retaliating against ruidisborn, regardless of involvement, if Predathos was subdued, most of the responses i saw either called her delusional, said it would be her fault, or even a few "good"s.)

(Also Orym saying this, which I'm assuming was a line he had on the tank for a while regardless of what Liliana said-which, lmao-given that the other option is that he's saying ruidisborn being hunted down would only start to make up for Will and Derrig's deaths, and I don't think that's what Liam meant to imply.)

But no, it's the same viewpoint applied to undead like Laudna and every mortal whose had negative experiences with the gods-they're making a big deal out of nothing, and if it really is happening its their fault. The oldest rhetoric in the book for dismissing the concerns of the marginalized. The fact that Ruidisborn are a more X-Men style of oppression doesn't change the way these systems work on them, and in fact just further heightens the cycle of suspcion and isolation leading to anti-social behavior, leading to punitive measures and further suspcion and isolation. See: people saying that if ruidisborn are all hunted down, its the fault of Liliana and other ruidisborn who joined the Ruby Vanguard to get the first chance they've ever had at understanding and belonging.

In the last week or two there's been a growing appeal to the idea of a silent majority in Exandria who have a great relationship with the gods, actually, and who don't deserve to have their loves disrupted for the sake of those who don't. The truth of this claim doesn't particularly matter, because it serves the same purpose as people saying that it made sense for people to chase Laudna out of towns because undead are scary, or isolate Imogen because having to talk to someone who can read minds is uncomfortable; it's a grotesquely utitilarian way of saying that the people on the outskirts are acceptable sacrifices. It's "fuck you, I got mine" disguised as "looking out for the little guy." It's "those that matter, and those that don't" with a friendlier, broader vision of who matters.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(GFL Short Fic) "Holding out for a T-Doll"

Alternative title: "Local Woman Too Angry To Die"

On an infiltration mission to the inner cities, AK-15's S/O has been kidnapped due to their relation with Griffin and Kruger.

Unfortunately for the kidnappers, Task Force DEFY has a tracker on every member of the squad, and they do not take kindly to anyone attacking their own. Post-edit note: SURPRISE SONG FIC!...People still do these, right? This feels super corny but also kinda funny. It's like writing a 90's action flick. Word Count: 2.3K

AK-12's eyes scanned the building, her glowing pink irises subtly changing colors every few seconds.

AK-15, RPK-16, and AN-94 said nothing as they watched from on top of a skyscraper, looking downward at the warehouse.

(AK-12) "Confirmed. I'm reading S/O's tracker in there."

(AK-15) "Threat assessment?"

(AK-12) "Humans. Doesn't look to be affiliated with Sangvis, or any of the protesters in the city. Might just be human traffickers."

(AN-94) "Our orders were not to cause a scene-"

(RPK-16) "Kind of hard to do when AK-15's beloved is taken, is it not?"

AK-15 just crossed her arms, making no visual recognition of the teasing.

(AK-15) "This is not a matter of relations. S/O is simply a comrade in arms, and a vital source of information on the inner workings of Griffin. If they were to be sold to Sangvis, it could have dire consequences."

(AK-12) "I'm sure that's the entire reason."

AK-15 glared daggers at 12, who simply just shrugged while keeping her smug smile.

(AK-12) "Regardless, I agree. You'll be happy to know I'm ordering that we're going loud, given our primary mission was already accomplished before this whole ordeal happened."

(AN-94) "Our orders?"

(AK-12) "94, get us a ride out of the city and call for the Commander. We're going home after this. Had enough of this place, anyway."

AN-94 nodded and moved downstairs. AK-12 turned to RPK-16.

(AK-12) "I want you to provide cover fire and a distraction to catch their attention. We'll signal when we're all ready, and commence the rescue on your signal. AK-15, you'll be our vanguard to save S/O. I'll move in the shadows to secure your escape in case they get any funny ideas. I also didn't scan anything that could be a significant threat other than a few low grade explosives."

(AK-15) "Understood."

AK-15's ponytail flowed in the wind, stomping towards the stairs and her scowl growing angrier by the second, quickly followed by the other two members of DEFY.

...

S/O remained tied up in the chair with a piece of cloth crudely fastened over their mouth. The two men in the room spat on the ground looking at them and left.

(Guard 1) "Why the hell aren't we just killing them, they're part of a fuckin PMC with those tin cans!"

(Guard 2) "Apparently boss said we can get some money if we talk to the right people. Let's just-"

The intercom suddenly came alive in the warehouse, making the two men grab their weapons.

(Guard 2) "The hell?!"

The intercom began blasting music at such a high volume that it made them recoil. It was quickly accompanied by several men shouting and rushing throughout the warehouse with their weapons at the ready.

The two went towards the main lobby that had crates and all sorts of construction equipment scattered, everyone taking positions. One of the guards stood near the door where the intercom system, trying to turn the music off.

(Guard) "Turn that fucking thing off already!"

(Guard) "I-I can't! Things not-"

A fist suddenly came through the wall and intercom, grabbing the guard's face and violently dragged him away as he screamed, startling everyone and making them aim their weapons at the rubble.

Before anyone could get a sense of what was happening, the same body burst through the rubble, a massive, angry looking woman dressed in black with a long white ponytail emerged, her light purple eyes glowing.

A panicked guard pulled the trigger once, a single gunshot reflecting off her shoulder, and all she did was give them a glare, scaring the absolute hell out of everyone further.

AK-15 dove behind a crate as gunfire rained down all around her. Trying to analyze the area, she then recognized what song was playing over the intercom.

"Where have all the good men gone And where are all the gods?

(AK-15) "...Seriously?"

"Where's the streetwise Hercules To fight the rising odds?"

An exacerbated sigh left AK-15's mouth before she refocused her attention, reloading the pistol the guard she killed had. Some of the guards had moved to flank her while her position was suppressed, which she immediately turned to shoot.

"Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed "

She pulled the trigger three times, each one entering the head of S/O's kidnappers, and AK-15 snuck around the corner they had entered.

"Late at night, I toss and I turn And I dream of what I need"

She stopped right at the end of the crates as the gunfire followed her position. Without warning, a hail of bullets tore through the upper windows, hitting every one of the guards trying to pin her down. AK-15 grunted in thanks, which RPK spoke up.

(RPK-16's Voice) "Coming from the door on your left."

"I need a hero I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night"

AK-15 saw the door swing wide open, and before the men inside could open fire, she kicked the forklift towards them. The machine skidded across the floor and slammed right into the doorframe.

"He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast And he's gotta be fresh from the fight"

Wasting no time, she sprinted up the stairs as more guards came from below, all attempting to shoot her.

She didn't bother to fire back as she dodged the oncoming bullets, knowing that with every second passing, S/O might be in more danger.

"I need a hero I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light"

The door she was about to enter had another group exit, one that noticed her approach far too late. She grabbed one of them by the collar and effortlessly tossed them over the railing before punching the next one in her way.

(AK-15) "Get out of my way."

"He's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be soon And he's gotta be larger than life Larger than life"

One of the guards managed to open fire, she was far too close to escape, and the bullet tore into her chest. Even though she felt some amount of pain, she clenched her teeth in ever increasing anger, grabbed the arm holding the gun and snapped it like a toothpick.

With a vicious headbutt, she completely knocked them out and more than likely broke their nose and some of their teeth.

"Somewhere after midnight In my wildest fantasy"

Hearing the fight happening outside, S/O tried to get out of their restraints until a guard ran into the room. The guard immediately had their weapon pulled out and wrapped their arm around S/O's neck, backing away in fear from the door.

"Somewhere, just beyond my reach There's someone reaching back for me"

AK-15 disposed of another group that tried to engage her in close quarters and failed.

Finishing off the last one in the hallway with a bullet to their chest, she felt her head budge towards the wall, accompanied by a metallic clang.

"Racing on the thunder And rising with the heat"

Turning towards the source, one of the guards had gotten up and stared in horror at the metal pipe that was now completely bent in their hands.

"It's gonna take a Superman to sweep me off my feet"

She grabbed the pipe from them and slammed it against their head, the pipe shattering completely as she found S/O's signature, right behind the door with another guard, using them as a shield.

"I need a hero I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night"

S/O and the guard saw the outline of a massive figure standing outside the door, making the guard panic even more.

(Guard) "C-COME IN, AND I'LL PULL THE TRIGGER!"

"He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast And he's gotta be fresh from the fight"

The door flew off the hinges and almost slam into the both of them, the guard diving out the way and aiming for S/O. AK-15 rushed in and immediately got in front of S/O, with her back tanking an onslaught of bullets that opened fire.

S/O looked horrified, more for AK-15 than themselves. She clenched her teeth making sure not to move until the only noise was clicking.

"I need a hero I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light"

AK-15 spun around and was prepared to mutilate S/O's attacker before AK-12 leapt down from the vent, on top of the guard and knocking him out.

Her pink eyes glowed in the darkness, addressing them coldly, devoid of her usual emotions.

"He's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be soon And he's gotta be larger than life"

(AK-12) "Everyone blocking your escape is dead. Proceed."

AK-15 nodded and ripped off the restraints on S/O, being a bit more gentle when it came to their mouth.

(S/O) "T-Thank you!"

(AK-15) "Do not thank us yet. We have yet to escape."

(S/O) "Right...By the way, what's with this music?"

(AK-15) "I do not know, I just wish we could've used a less annoying distraction."

(S/O) "If it's annoying you, then it must be annoying the enemy, right?"

AK-15 made a noncommittal grunt before they moved to escape.

"Up where the mountains meet the heavens above Out where the lightning splits the sea I could swear there is someone, somewhere watching me"

AK-15, S/O, and AK-12 ran out the room and down the hallway, kicking open the door they found an empty parking lot. They stood on catwalk that was dozens of feet above the ground.

And without waiting, AK-15 carried S/O bridal style and leapt off with AK-12, making them scream in surprise.

"Through the wind and the chill and the rain And the storm and the flood"

As soon as they landed, several of the guards burst out from the door across from them and tossed grenades at the three.

I can feel his approach like a fire in my blood

AK-15 dropped S/O before grabbing a nearby dumpster, dragging it across the ground and slammed it in front of them, right as the explosions went off.

AK-12 covered S/O as debris ran down, tearing apart their already dirty and battered suits.

(Like a fire in my blood, like a fire in my blood Like a fire in my blood, like a fire in my blood, blood)

Before the guards could do anything else, they dove for the concrete when a wild barrage of bullets almost took their heads off, firing wildly across the wall.

I need a hero I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night

RPK-16 continued to lay down suppressive fire as AN-94 sped into the parking lot, slamming on the brakes and kicking open the door towards the side her comrades were on.

"He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast And he's gotta be fresh from the fight"

Not needing to say anything else, AK-15 picked up S/O like a suit case and threw them into the back seat, quickly joining as AK-12 closed the door behind them.

As the bullets flew through the windows, AK-15 held S/O tightly to shield them from any potential stray shot.

"I need a hero I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light"

AN-94 put the pedal to the metal, quickly escaping the warehouse and dodging oncoming traffic and onto the main road so they could not get tailed.

Once they were out of harm's way, S/O took a deep breath as AK-15 released her grip on them.

"He's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be-"

(AK-15) "Turn that off already."

AK-12's pink irses flashed gray before she closed her eyes, the music in the car being shut off. As soon as her eyes closed, her signature smile came back.

RPK-16 rolled up her windows as she turned the safety on her machine gun.

(RPK-16) "I thought the song was quite fitting, honestly."

(S/O) "That was intentional?"

(AK-12) "It was. Clearly it was worth it, seeing how you're in the car with us now."

S/O looked worried at how damaged everyone was. AK-15's suit was almost threads, with the amount of bullets that either flew off her, or entered.

AK-12 and RPK-16 did not fare any better, and even AN-94 had parts of her blue suit scorched with black marks.

(S/O) "I'm...I'm so sorry, everyone. One second I was inside my room, and the next-"

(AK-15) "The fault is mine. You were supposed to be under my watch and-"

(RPK-16) "I don't think it particularly matters whose fault it is. After all, we're still breathing, aren't we?"

(AN-94) "Affirmative. Our damage is superficial. Yours is not."

(S/O) "...I guess I can at the very least say, thank you."

(AK-12) "Hm.~ Apology accepted. Besides, if we let even one of those men lay a finger on you, 15 would've torn us to shreds."

(AK-15) "Please, shut up already."

S/O laid a hand on her back and felt a piece of metal slightly out of place, making them recoil. Sighing, AK-15 grabbed their hand.

(AK-15) "I will be fine. I am entering sleep mode for the duration of the drive."

S/O nodded and moved to give her space before realizing AK-15's grip was not budging. She wanted their hand there. Slightly blushing at that, they rested onto her as well, both of them sleeping.

(AN-94) "A Griffin Black Hawk will be picking us up as soon as we reach the destination."

(AK-12) "Which is how long?"

(AN-94) "Four hours."

(AK-12) "Make it three. I already feel like I'm intruding on their love nest just sensing them."

(AN-94) "Understood."

(RPK-16) "...That song sure is interesting. Music in general is quite fascinating, given how humans normally are-"

AK-15's eyes opened and glanced over to RPK-16.

(AK-15) "Do not start singing it."

RPK just smiled and looked out the window as AK-12 scooched away from S/O and AK-15.

The duration of their escape was a quiet but surprisingly comfortable one. DEFY's mission was successful, and they were leaving with every member accounted for.

[c-estmabiologie]

where the ache came from | Critical Role Fic

Had some Imogen and Liliana feelings this week, so I finally dusted off this AU where Imogen was raised by Liliana adjacent to the Ruby Vanguard. My AO3 account is full of cobwebs and it's not even for Halloween.

Also on AO3

Imogen always thought she was being watched as she grew up. She would feel eyes catching at her like fishhooks everywhere she went. When she was younger she would think people were always looking at her because she was special. It wasn’t just glances. People would just stare and not look away, even when she met their gaze. They’d flinch but they’d keep watching, like they were waiting for something. That was before she could hear their minds. Now she knew that they didn’t think she was special; she just looked like Mama. She still thought that she might be special.

When she began to dream of the red storm she wasn’t afraid. Nearly everyone around here knew the storm and she’d hoped it would come for her someday. When it did, Mama had been there. She’d grabbed Imogen’s hand. Run, she’d said, and they’d torn across the ground together toward the whipping winds.

Of all the places she’d been stationed, Imogen hated the Hellcatch the most. She hated the endless dust and desert of it. She hated the clank of the Warders. She wondered if the Moon of Ill Omen would mean trading dust for new dust. If the grit of it would taste different in the air. She hoped everything would be different.

She’d had a home once, when she was young. Her only memories now were imaginings fashioned from what Mama had told her. There had been a farm. There had been horses. A brook where Mama would take her, where she’d roll up the legs of their trousers so they could both splash their feet. Her father had been there, too, but Imogen could never imagine him right; she gave him the faces of other men. Men she knew. He was a good man, that’s what Mama had said  (and Imogen liked that he was good), but he didn’t understand them. He would never understand them. And the town hadn’t understood them, either. Had hated them, really. They would have left anyway, even if they hadn’t been Called. Here, instead of hating them, people were afraid. People were afraid of Imogen because she looked like Mama. People were afraid of Mama because she might kill them. The fear wasn’t so different from hate, Imogen thought. The edges blurred together. 

Destroy them all. It was a constant refrain and a promise since she’d first realized that the storm had a voice. At least Imogen thought it was a promise. She was certain that Predathos only fed these thoughts to her. She knew most of the minds around her: they were vile and often vulgar, but they never echoed with calls for retribution like hers did. Maybe they hadn’t been chosen to hear.

Destroy them all, she agreed. Except Mama. The god-eater never conceded to her addition, but she sent it out to them anyway, the thought like crossed fingers behind her back.

Otohan took her to the Key to hear Ludinus speak. It was important, they told her, to make appearances at these events. They never said it was important to hear what Ludinus had to say, and anyway Imogen often found it hard to focus with the crowds that would show up. They were hopeful, nervous, fretful crowds who would cling to Ludinus’s speeches like they were roads leading home. Most of them were nomads. Mama would often be standing at his side, looking stolid and powerful. Mama wasn’t a gentle woman. (but she could be gentle with Imogen. Her fingertips knew how to trace Imogen’s temples and her mouth knew how to conjure comfort and shh, shh my darlin’. I know it hurts. I know. )( She’s weak, Otohan had said once while she’d pretended to sleep, her head still in Mama’s lap, Mama’s fingers still smoothing stray hairs from Imogen’s face over and over again. She’s sensitive, Mama had replied. Proof she’ll be more powerful than any of us one day. She’d said it like she’d hoped, for all of their sakes, that it were true.)

Today, Mama was escorting prisoners. They looked so small, like it was impossible that they could cause any trouble at all. Imogen’s braid felt too tight.

She and Otohan remained among the shifting masses. As they often did, Otohan had a firm grip on her arm.

“Don’t you dare close yourself off,” they told her.

So, she didn’t. Her mind burbled with the thoughts of hundreds. Her head felt full. Ludinus droned on. He mentioned gods. He mentioned death. A lance of fear that wasn’t her own cut through her skull. Then another from someone else. She thought about striking out, Psychic Lances to punish them for being so loud. But Otohan would never stand for it if she caused a scene.

A gout of blood burst from her nose. She brought her hands up to her face, but Otohan slapped them away.

“Stay with it,” they said. With a gesture that might be tender if it came from someone else, they pinched Imogen’s nose and tilted her head back with their other hand. When she started to gag on the blood, those four cool fingertips left her forehead and roughly stroked her throat to help her swallow. Through it all, her mind kept boiling; she felt like she was drowning. She felt turned around in the current of other people’s minds, like if she kicked her feet and reached out, she would find the bottom of the ocean instead of surfacing. Underneath it all, she felt angry, and Imogen cherished the feeling because she recognized that it was hers.

Destroy. 

Sometimes her anger was confused by the rage that she felt when she reached for Predathos. Both were a trapped sort of anger, hot coals with no kindling to catch into something bigger. Starving to burn. She thought they understood each other in that way. They both hungered to see everything that hated them destroyed. To make a home where the hate had once lived but would no longer.

Imogen gagged again and Otohan withdrew their hands with a huff of disgust. Otohan kept their thoughts shielded but Imogen didn’t need to pry to know that they thought she looked pathetic. The blood on her upper lip was already drying to a crust. The dribbles that she’d caught in her palm were congealing.

The coal of Imogen’s anger was still simmering in her gut. She was going to be a vessel. (You won’t be ready in time, Mama had said. But she would be. She was ready.) She was going to be the one to bring the gods to their knees. She would kill them. Then Otohan would look at her with the kind of awe reserved for gods.

“I’m going to—” she held up her cupped hand of blood. Otohan looked away from her.

“Don’t go far.”

She really wanted to go back to her tent and scrub her face clean, splash herself with water and maybe change her clothes, but that would be too far. And the gathering really was meant to be momentous. She really shouldn’t leave it. She headed for the caverns instead. She could duck into an alcove. She’d have to use spit and her shirtsleeve to clean up, and she’d rather no one see her do it.

That’s when she heard strange music. It was unrecognizable. It was bare feet dabbling in the cool waters of a brook.

It didn’t belong here. Turning a corner, she found its owner.

“What are you doing?” Imogen said, her voice pulling from deep within her chest. The stranger froze. Like a prey animal, Imogen thought, but that wasn’t quite right. The stranger looked vigilant, but not scared.

“Oh,” the stranger said after a pause, her stance relaxing just perceptibly so. “You’re not her.”

You’re not her, as in: you’re not your Mama. You’re not a threat. Imogen felt lightning crackle at her fingertips. She could destroy her. She should destroy her. She barely had to skim her thoughts (strange, musical) to recognize that she was here to attack all that the Ruby Vanguard had been working for. All that she was meant for.

“Your nose,” the stranger brought her own fingertips up to her face. The lightning evaporated into a fizz of static and ozone as Imogen rubbed the back of her hand against the dried blood. It came away in flakes that stuck to her skin. This was mortifying.

She expected the stranger to leave or take advantage and cast a spell, but she was just waiting, watching her intently.

“Can I—?” The stranger raised her hand and cast Prestidigitation. Imogen felt her cheeks blazing. She could have done that herself.

She felt a tug at the edge of her thoughts. Something was happening. She should get back. 

She ignored it. 

“How many others are there?” she asked, even though she knew already. The stranger was thinking of the others, of warning them, of getting back to them. She just needed to keep asking questions to get her to stay. She should command her to stay.

The stranger gasped.

A red glow rose from Imogen’s skin like a mist. She felt permeable. It felt amazing. 

The stranger, on the other hand, looked alarmed. 

“Does it hurt?” She asked, and it was too earnest. Her thoughts were so earnest. No glow was emanating from her. Something deep and unwilling inside Imogen softened.

“It doesn’t feel like anything,” she lied.

Destroy . 

The hunger was palpable. She felt her tongue pressing against it inside her mouth.

She ignored it.

Imogen always thought she would know the moment when her life would change. She always thought she would come into her own in an explosion of power, exaltant. She didn’t think she’d be undone by a stranger doing almost nothing at all. The mist didn’t matter. It scattered light like a sunset as it drifted away from her, back towards the crowds.

She really should be getting back. And though she was sure it was a mistake, she turned her back on the stranger. 

“You’re going to ruin everything.” 

As she said it, she knew it was the truth. What scared her was that she thought she might welcome this ruin.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Militant about joy

We want to connect joy to militancy for a number of reasons. We are interested in how the capacity for refusal and the willingness to fight can be enabling, relational, and can open up potentials for collective struggle and movement, in ways that are not necessarily associated with control, duty, or vanguardism. We want an expansive conception of militancy that affirms the potential of transformation at the expense of comfort, safety, or predictability. A common definition of militancy is to be “vigorously active, combative and aggressive, especially in support of a cause.”[29] We are interested in the ways that putting joy into contact with militancy helps link fierce struggle with intense affect: rebellions and movements are not only about determined resistance, but about opening up collective capacities. With joyful militancy we want to get at what it means to enliven struggle and care, combativeness and tenderness, hand in hand.

However, the historical associations and current renderings of militancy are complex. Historically, militancy is often associated with Marxist-Leninist and Maoist vanguardism, and the ways these ideologies have informed revolutionary class struggle and national liberation struggles. These ideals of militancy have been challenged, especially by Black, Indigenous, and postcolonial feminists, who have pointed out the pitfalls of rigid ideology, patriarchal leadership, and the neglect of care and love. The traditional figure of the militant—zealous, rigid, and ruthless—has also been challenged by situationism, anarchism, feminism, queer politics, and other currents that have connected direct action and struggle to the liberation of desire, foregrounding the importance of creativity and experimentation. From this perspective, the militant is the one who is always trying to control things, to take charge, to educate, to radicalize, and so on. This kind of militant tends to be two steps behind transformations as they manifest themselves, always finding them lacking the correct analysis or strategy, always imposing a framework or program.

The contemporary discourse of counterterrorism associates figures of militancy with ISIL,{2} the Taliban, and other groups named as enemies of the United States and its allies. In this way, the specter of the “militant extremist” helps justify further militarization, surveillance, imperialism and Islamophobia. The suspected presence of one militant is enough to turn a whole area into a strike zone in which all military-aged men are conceived as enemy combatants, and everyone else as collateral damage. Within this discourse, the militant is increasingly the ultimate Other, to be targeted for death or indefinite detention. In all of these representations—from the Maoist rebel to the terrorist extremist—the figure of the militant tends to be associated with intense discipline, duty, and armed struggle, and these ways of being are often posed in opposition to being supple, responsive, or sensitive. It’s clear that militancy means willingness to fight, but in its dominant representations, it is cold and calculating.

At the same time, there are other currents of militancy that make space for transformation and joy. When we interviewed her, queer Filipino organizer Melanie Matining spoke about its potential to break down stereotypes:

The word “militancy” for me is a really, really hard one. It was used a lot in Filipino organizing. I would always connect it to the military industrial complex, and I didn’t want to replicate that. And then as I started peeling back the actual things we need to do… As an Asian woman, to be militant—that’s really fucking rad. It breaks down sterotypes of submissiveness. The concept of militancy is a new thing for me, and to embrace it I’m unpacking notions of who I’m supposed to be.[30]

Artist and writer Jackie Wang argues that militancy is not only tactically necessary, but transformative for those who embody it. In the context of anti-Blackness in the United States, Wang shows how the category of “crime” has been constructed around Blackness and how mass incarceration has led to a politics of safety and respectability that relies on claims of innocence, contrasted implicitly with (Black) guilt and criminality. Rejecting the politics of innocence means challenging the innocent/criminal dichotomy and the institutionalized violence that subtends it. This form of militancy, Wang argues, is “not about assuming a certain theoretical posture or adopting a certain perspective—it is a lived position.”[31] Drawing on Frantz Fanon, Wang writes that militancy has the capacity “to transform people and ‘fundamentally alter’ their being by emboldening them, removing their passivity and cleansing them of the ‘core of despair’ crystallized in their bodies.”[32] Living militancy, from this perspective, is inherently connected to a process of transformation that undoes the knot of subjection around innocence, challenges the carceral logics of anti-Blackness, and opens up new terrains of struggle.

When we asked Indigenous political theorist Glen Coulthard about his conception of militancy in the context of Indigenous resurgence, he called it an “emergent radicalism” that destabilizes relations of domination.[33] Coulthard’s work focuses on Indigenous resurgence and resistance to settler colonialism. He reveals the ways that Empire represents Indigenous peoples’ oppression as a constellation of personal failings and “issues” to be addressed through colonial recognition and reconciliation. He also focuses on Indigenous refusal and resistance, the revaluation of Indigenous traditions, and a rise in Indigenous militancy and direct action. Militancy, in the context of Indigenous resurgence, is about the capacity to break down colonial structures of control, including the state’s monopoly on the legitimate use of force; it is a break with the colonial state’s attempt to subjugate Indigenous people and ensure continued exploitation of Indigenous lands. This emergent militancy isn’t based on a single program or ideology, but comes out of relationships, as Coulthard says:

It’s emergent in the sense that it’s bottom-up. But it also emerges from something, and that’s those relationships to land, place, community. So that is the emergent part. Emergent doesn’t mean entirely new, because those relationships to place are not new. They’ve always been there, and are always re-emerging. It comes in cycles. The always-there emergent militancy is acted on through management strategies, recognition and accommodation, whatever. That has its effects: it dampens the crisis, it overcomes contradictions temporarily. And then the militancy will emerge again. And we’ve seen this four or five times in the last half-century, these series of containment/management strategies. …What’s always prior is agency of Indigenous peoples, and capital and the state are constantly on the defensive, reacting. As opposed to thinking that we’re always reacting to colonialism, when we privilege it. It’s this resurgent Indigenous subjectivity that the state is constantly trying to quell or subdue. And it’s successful, but never totally successful. And it boils over, comes to the surface, and some new technology is deployed in order to manage it, and reconciliation is the latest tool that is doing that work. But it’s always because of our persistent presence: we’ve never gone away and we’ve been articulating alternatives in words and deeds.[34]

This conception of militancy as emergent is important because it doesn’t come out of thin air, or from an enlightened vanguard of militarized men who suppose that they can see things more clearly than common people. It comes out of the ongoing refusal of Indigenous peoples to give up their ways of life. As Kiera Ladner and Leanne Betasamosake Simpson write in their introduction to This is an Honour Song,

The summer of 1990 brought some strong medicine to Turtle Island. For many Canadians, “Oka” was the first time they encountered Indigenous anger, resistance and standoff, and the resistance was quickly dubbed both the “Oka Crisis” and the “Oka Crises” by the mainstream media. But to the Kanien’kehaka (Mohawk) people of Kanehsata:ke, who were living up their responsibilities to take care of their lands, this was neither a “crisis” at Oka, nor was it about the non-Native town of “Oka.” This was about 400 years of colonial injustice. Similarly, for the Kanien’kaehaka from Kahnawa:ke and Akwesasne who created “crises” by putting up their own barricades on the Mercier Bridge or by mobilizing and/or mobilizing support (resources) at Kanehsata:ke, this really had nothing to do with Oka, a bridge or a golf course. This was about 400 years of resistance. Like every Indigenous nation occupied by Canada, the Haudenesaunee have been confronting state/settler societies and their governments since those societies began threatening the sovereignty, self-determination, and jurisdiction of the Haudenesaunee. It was not a beginning. Nor was this the end. This was a culmination of many, many years of Onhkwehonwe resistance resulting in a decision to put up barricades in defense of, and to bring attention to, Haudenesaunee land ethics, treaty responsibilities, and governance.[35]

Indigenous resurgence and events like Oka are not joyful in the sense of being happy, but in the sense that they are deeply transformative and able to catalyze solidarity across Turtle Island. But unlike Marxist conceptions of militancy in which the vanguard is supposed to usher in a global revolution, it is clear that Indigenous struggles do not implicate everyone in the same way. As it breaks down colonial structures of control and dispossession, Indigenous resurgence implicates us, as settlers, in complicated ways: it unsettles us and our relationship to land and place, and throws into question received ideas about who we are, our responsibilities and complicities, what it means to live here, and our received ideas about what “here” is. It compels us to learn, together, how to support Indigenous resurgence and resist settler colonial violence.

Joyful militancy has also emerged in spaces where people generate the capacity to move with despair and hopelessness, to politicize it. In her study of the queer movement ACT UP, queer theorist and activist Deborah Gould shows how their militant tactics not only won institutional victories that prolonged and saved lives; they were also a process of world-making:

From its start and throughout its life, ACT UP was a place to fight the AIDS crisis, and it was always more than that as well. It was a place to elaborate critiques of the status quo, to imagine alternative worlds, to express anger, to defy authority, to form sexual and other intimacies, to practice non-hierarchical governance and self-determination, to argue with one another, to refashion identities, to experience new feelings, to be changed.[36]

The militancy of ACT UP was not only about a willingness to be confrontational and defy conventions of straight society and mainstream gay and lesbian politics; the movement also created erotically-charged queer atmospheres and sustained networks of care and support for members who got sick. Catalyzed by grief and rage, it blew open political horizons and changed what was possible for people to think, do, and feel together.

When we asked the Argentina-based intellectual Sebastián Touza about militancy, he discussed the danger of defining it once and for all:

I don’t know if militancy can be defined “as such.” Probably it is not a good idea to define it that way because that would entail a general point of view, an interchangeable and abstract concept, valid for all situations. But, on the other hand, I would say that a militant is somebody who struggles for justice in the situation … Thus we have to pay attention to the situation, to the encounters that take place in it, to how meaning is elaborated there, to the subjectivities that arise as a result of those encounters.[37]

This “situated” militancy does not start from a prefabricated notion of justice. It is an attempt to intervene effectively in the here and now, based on a capacity to be attuned to relationships. An example of this could be Touza’s discussion of the struggle of the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo, a feminist organization that formed in resistance to military repression in Argentina in the 1970s:

Mothers grew up not from strategic plans but from below: from the pain of mothers seeking to recover their children who had been kidnapped, tortured, and “disappeared” by the state. Because they have not separated affects from political activity, Mothers never consider each other means toward ends. Nobody has to be subordinated to strengthen the organization. Rather, they regard each other as ends in themselves. What bonds them together is not an idea but the affect, love and friendship that arises from supporting each other, sharing intimate emotions, moments of joy and sorrow. They organize themselves through consensus, understood not as a system of decision-making or conflict resolution, but as a direct engagement with the lives of one another. As in a now long established feminist tradition, for them the personal is political. Mothers guide themselves by an ethics of intimate conviction whose exercise cannot be detached from everyday life. They have a profound distrust of ideologies and party lines and are proud of their autonomy from the state, political parties, unions and NGOs. Their autonomy does not consist in fighting against a dominant ideology, which might summon the need for the specialized knowledge of a vanguard party, but rather … in the affirmation of liberating aspects of popular culture that already exist among them.[38]

The Mothers are a powerful example of how militancy often springs from everyday life and the bonds of kinship, rather than abstract ideological or moral commitments. These struggles eventually waned or were absorbed by Empire, at least partially. The Argentinean government eventually began using the discourse of human rights and began to offer money and services as an attempt to relegitimize the state and regain control, causing deep divisions between the Mothers and other movements in Argentina.[39] The Canadian government used treaty negotiations, reconciliation discourses, and other formal processes in an attempt to quell Indigenous resurgence and militancy. As Coulthard explains above, new forms of militancy tend to provoke new strategies of containment and absorption by the state, leading to the invention of new forms of struggle. None of these movements stayed frozen in one form: in various ways they transformed, dissolved, shifted, or were institutionalized. But the fact that Empire always invents new forms of containment is not evidence that movements have “failed” or that they were misguided. Joyful transformation sometimes ebbs and flows, becomes captured or crushed, grows subtler or percolates into everyday life, but always re-emerges and renews itself.

Militancy is not a fixed ideal to approximate. We cannot be “like” a militant because militancy—in the way we conceptualize it here—is a practice that is based in the specificity of situations. We cannot become these examples, nor should we look to them as ideals. Rather than boiling joyful militancy down to a fixed way of being or a set of characteristics, we see it arising in and through the relationships that people have with each other. This means it will always look different, based on the emergent connections, relationships, and convictions that animate it.

In relation to this, we believe it is important to hesitate, lest our understanding of militancy become another form of rigid radicalism. Not everyone we spoke with has been enthusiastic about this word. For instance, in our interview with them, writer and artist Margaret Killjoy was ambivalent, emphasizing its connection to armed struggle:

I guess I see it as being someone who is “actively” involved in trying to promote radical social change, and in a non-reformist way. It’s dangerous as terminology … I don’t use it much myself … because of course the first implication it seems to have is that of armed struggle, which is far from a universally applicable strategy or tactic.[40]

We hope that joyful militancy allows for questions and uncertainties that are too often smothered by conventional conceptions of militancy. We also recognize that many will still prefer different language. We are not suggesting that all joyful struggles share an ideology, a program, or a set of tactics. What the above examples have in common is that they express a form of militancy that is attuned to their local situations and arises from people’s needs, desires, and relationships. What we are calling joyful militancy is not a shared content, though we do think there are some shared values and sensibilities. Rather it is an attunement and activation of collective power that looks different everywhere, because everywhere is different.

Besides these highly visible examples, joyful militancy also lives in art and poetry that opens people’s capacities for thinking and feeling in new ways. It is expressed in quiet forms of subversion and sabotage, as well as all the forms of care, connection, and support that defy the isolation and violence of Empire. It is not a question of being a certain way, but a question of open-ended becoming, starting from wherever people find themselves.

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

ASOIAF entities as main pop girlies

The Night's Watch = Katy Perry

Once upon a time, pop's most influential hit maker suddenly decided to dye her hair blonde and get a pixie cut, got political, and publicly spoke to a therapist who told her to get her shit together. Thus began her never-ending flop era.

In an unrelated sequence of events, Aegon I Targaryen (a weird blonde man) invaded Westeros, created a central political unit, told the different kingdoms to get their shit together, and cut off the NW's weekly supply of men since there were no more pointless wars going around. Thus began their never-ending flop era.

BTW Jon Snow is the NW's 'Harleys in Hawaii'....their first and only hit in a really long time :(

The Kingsguard = Taylor Swift

Very famous, very rich, very influential, actually has a history of producing incredible material. But every now and then, you get a pop album that's just so..... bleh :/ And is Jaime Lannister the Westeros version of Taylor's Reputation era? Idk, you tell me....

Also, remember how TS had a feud with KP but got more famous and successful as Katy faded into irrelevance? Yeah, me too. In the same vein, the KG continues to maintain its high reputation while its counterpart (the NW) becomes even more irrelevant than it already was, if that's even possible.

The Golden Company = Gaga

Exclusively for the gays and no one else. There's really no doubt about it. But Gaga hurt the fanbase when she decided to pivot into acting, which is currently giving her more success than the music stuff. The GC has a great reputation but comes from a history of flop rebellions. So they've pivoted to a "Targaryen" pretender in hopes that they can win big this time around.

The Rainbowguard = Charli XCX

Huh?? Shouldn't the Rainbow Guard be Gaga??!

Please 🙄 don't be ridiculous. They do not have the material, and that's the T. But they're both for the gals and the gays. And in the same way that Charli had like two hits then faded into the shadows, the Rainbow Guard really can only claim Loras and Brienne. The rest are inconsequential.

The Brotherhood Without Banners = Dula Peep (aka Dua Lipa)

Who doesn't know THE Albanian pop princess Dula Peep?? She new, she's hot, and she's from out of town! She's got good music, but critics say that she's been recycling the same sound for a while now which is getting stale. The BWB has fallen into the hands of a foreign red god, and critics say that they can't produce a hit anymore since they kept recycling the same Beric. They did it six times, which got a little stale...

The Faceless Men = Grimes

Grimes makes really good music, I think? Also, remember when she dated a douchebag billionaire, got dumped, then staged a PR stunt reading the communist manifesto? Me neither. Anyway, the FM are known for being very good assassins who sell their services for the highest price possible. They were also founded by slaves, but that's probably unrelated.

Maesters of the Citadel = SZA

The talent is there, the influence is there, and the reputation is there. But you cannot trust them because they like to lie a lot...unprovoked.

[BONUS] Robb Stark's Vanguard = Bebe Rexha

Bebe is responsible for some of the greatest pop hits of the 21st century; she's even written one of the greatest K-pop songs of all time, that's a whole other region!! She's the very face of talent, but she's unfortunately a blink and you'll miss it type of gal. The average Joe would most likely struggle to name more than two songs from her. Robb's Vanguard also has the talent. They have the material. But sadly, 90% of us would struggle to identify anyone not named Dacey Mormont. I mean, did you even remember that this group existed?

[BONUS] Tywin Lannister = Nicki Minaj

A very talented but messy bitch who likes to play around with extremely problematic people...do I need to elaborate any further?

[thymbraeusrising]

From Ashes: A Salamander Story

So I've started a fic set immediately after Vulkan was revealed to the Salamanders, focusing on a Salamander squad who is acting as protection for a Iterator who is trying to diplomatically incorporate a reasonably advanced Terran world into the Imperium and I just want to yell about it a bit.

FIRST UP THE SQUAD:

Sergeant Shoen'tal Agonn: A skilled tactician, Agonn is everything a Salamander strives to be. He is brave, selfless, and willing to die for his men. He is plagued by every soldier he has lost, and keeps a list of those lost under his command attached to his armor. Battle-Brother Mulbakaan Vel'gan: The squad's second in command and a sturdy defender. In his first deployment, he held a site of contention by himself against a swarm of tyranids until the rest of his company could arrive by making effective use of choke-points and explosives. He has a giant scar that stretches from his left ear to his chin from one of those tyranids that got too close. Techmarine Par'dak Numatar: A genius engineer who had his tongue shot out by an Ork. He has special gauntlets that are much more dexterous than usual space marine armor, basically functioning as a second skin, that both let him communicate in sign language and also give him better manual dexterity when it comes to working on machines. Battle-Brother Zarton Numatar: Par'dak's brother and a master of offense. There is only one thing he loves more than getting to test his brother's inventions, and that's being a loyal servant of the emperor. He is passionately devoted to The Emperor and carrying out his will, and sees every order given to him as a blessing. Epistolary Rodondiel Vallatar: A skilled improviser, Vallatar is well-known among his brothers for being able to think on his feet, something that has saved the squad more than once. Agonn fully trusts him without hesitation, and any suggestion the Librarian gives will be accepted without question. Battle-Brother Ze'phast Zytal: The largest of the group, Zytal has an "I could do this all night" approach to war, and has no problem with extended combat. In fact, he prefers it, as his extreme stamina lets him outlast most opponents. Battle-Brother Kronak Tu'reth: The big guy with the flamer, Tu'reth is almost as hardy as Zytal. He and Zytal often have competitions during battles to see who can go the whole fight without a moment's rest. Vanguard Vorpaar Ven'nerr: The dude with the flaming hammer and the squad's most vicious fighter. Unlike the others, Ven'nerr is quite in favor of starting fights, and is rather un-Salamander-like when it comes to taking pleasure in destruction. His behavior occasionally has put innocents at risk, something Agonn has had to discipline him for. Apothecary Ba'tsen Praetor: The squad doctor with a terrible bedside manner. Praetor is concerned first and foremost with getting his patients back to fighting fit as soon as possible, and while he is not heartless, he is more than happy to use less than pleasant measures to get them up and moving faster. Neophyte Vel'zan Vallal: The young kid on the squad who is hoping to soon earn the promotion to Battle-Brother. He is in awe of his squad mates and strives to embody the ideals of the Salamanders, almost to the point of naivety. A bit of a risk-taker, it has taken him a bit longer to reach Battle-Brother than others, but he is hoping to show his dependability to his new squad. Iterator Ambrosius Corinant: A no-nonsense diplomat whose ability as a social chameleon is slightly off-putting to the Astartes who protect him, but his openness and bluntness with them has earned their respect.

THE MISSION!

The squad gets sent down to the planet Mimas to talk to the local emperor/king/etc to get them to join the Imperium. They seem eager and willing but there always seem to be something wrong or something that is putting off a full agreement. Meanwhile, up on the orbiting ship, the Navigator is losing his mind as it is corrupted by Chaos originating from somewhere beneath the planet's capital. He goes on a murder spree and essentially maroons the ship. Down on the planet, negotiations are falling apart, and it takes a nosedive when the Iterator is found murdered. Due to the actions of the Navigator, communication with the ship is impossible and the squad attempt to discover who killed the Iterator while waiting for orders. Their investigation is interrupted by the source of Chaos breaking out from beneath the city and attempting to take over the ship as a means of escaping the planet that has been its prison for countless millennia.

....I may have a list of how everyone who DOES die is going to die.....it might be the first thing that I wrote lol

[isa-ko]

Soult and Mortier Correspondence (Part 2)

This is part two to this post.

So now the year is 1800. At this point, Mortier had been originally called to go to the Army of Italy, where Soult and Masséna were, but that ended up not happening. Instead, the First Consul decided to put him in command of the 17th division in Paris. This is where Soult and Mortier start writing to each other updates on random things…like pen pals! Yay!

This first one is the beginning of Mortier’s fangirling on Bonaparte.

To Soult, who had served with him, under Lefebvre, in the vanguard division of the army of Sambre-et-Meuse and who, second in command under Masséna at Genoa, had his leg shattered and had remained in the power of the enemy, he wrote, in Alexandria, on August 3: "We are finally approaching the end of this deplorable war! A strong, just and regenerative Government will allow us to enjoy a peace which will spread over our ills the consoling balm that we would have long sought under the domination of the Directory and the yoke of the two Councils. It is to Bonaparte, my dear General, that we will owe the enjoyment of true freedom and the maintenance of our Republic, because, believe it, without 18 Brumaire, France was heading towards total dissolution. God knows what we would have become by now! the revolutionary and surveillance committees were going, once again, to work vigorously on the mass of blood; the very idea of it makes me shudder..."

Next, here is a letter of Mortier updating Soult on the burial for Kleber and Desaix. I also read that apparently Mortier and Kleber were pretty close too.

As for Kleber's death, it was not known in France until two and a half months later; it was Mortier who confirmed it in Soult on September 9: "Your intentions have been fulfilled, my dear General, and I have subscribed, in your name, for the monument to be erected in the memory of General Desaix. Today we have new tears to shed and it is Kleber who makes them flow! The all too unfortunate certainty of its tragic end has reached the Government; you will have learned the details from the papers. The Consuls have just decided that a monument would be erected in his memory and that of Desaix, on the Place des Victoires; these two great men died on the same day (25 prairial), at the same time and in the same quarter of an hour.”

Because Mortier was in Paris, he was able to talk more directly to Napoleon in favor for his friends. I’ll do another post where he just sends a bunch of letters to past comrades asking them to give him errands😭💖 HE’S SO SWEET. Of course, he asks Soult if he needed anything as well.

He was informed, on August 8, to General Soult, who was recovering from his wound in Alexandria, that he saw the minister for his patent, which was sent to him but did not reach him; he requested that a duplicate be made. "I have often spoken about you to the First Consul; I assure you that he esteems you infinitely and values your military talents in the highest regard. It was he who, on his return from Italy, assured me that we had the hope of seeing you soon recovered... I am going to request your exchange (if it has not already been done) for Lieutenant General Spork.”

While waiting for this exchange, Brune entrusted Soult with the higher command of all of Piedmont, as the latter, from Turin, wrote to Mortier, on September 25. Soult's correspondence, with Mortier, who deals with different things he asks of him (among others, the exchange of his brother Jean-François Soult, taken by the English, the previous month of Germinal, on board the privateer L'Heureux, from Bordeaux, where he served as first lieutenant), is frequent; on December 9, Mortier wrote: "The First Consul, my dear General, has just assured me that you were exchanged for Mr. de Zaag; he will use your talents in the army of Italy. I think I can assure you that he thinks highly of you; ….”

This next one involves one of the assassination attempts on Napoleon and mutual hate for Britain.

Despite the fear that such expeditious justice should have inspired, the year 1800 was not to end without a new plot against the First Consul who escaped by miracle, on December 24 (3 Nivôse), from the explosion of the infernal machine on rue Saint-Nicaise.

December 25, Mortier wrote to Soult: "We owe to the good fortune of the First Consul the happiness with which he has just escaped an unprecedented attack and the details of which make one shudder with horror! Scoundrels had placed in his path a small cart (or a cabriolet, because all that remains as a vestige are two half-burnt hubs) loaded with one or two barrels of powder and placed on Rue Nicaise; when he passed there yesterday, around 7:30 in the evening, on his way to the Opera, fire was set to this powder which, with its explosion, blew up the entire neighborhood. The First Consul's car was going very fast, all the windows were broken; the car even rose from the ground and, undoubtedly by a miracle, the First Consul nor any of those who were with him were injured! Ah! You would have had to be on the scene to understand this scene of horror, the degree of sadness and indignation that everyone feels and, in the middle of all this, to hear yourself say he is not saved. There is no harm, what thanks we have to give to the Supreme Being who preserved it for us! No, it is not possible that such a project was designed by the French; it came out of British hell, it won't be taken out of my mind. The First Consul, cold and calm in the midst of all this, only showed sorrow for the unfortunate people who were victims of the explosion; Unfortunately, there were around thirty of them, both killed and wounded. The indignation is general and we have never felt better how many tears the whole of France would have to shed if it were to lose Bonaparte.”

The response that Soult, commander in Piedmont, addressed to Mortier from his headquarters in Turin, on January 4, 1801, testifies to the same feelings of extreme indignation against the crime and enthusiasm for the First Consul: "Hell alone is not capable, my dear Mortier, of giving birth to a project as atrocious as that which was carried out on the 3rd of Nivôse in Paris; there is more villainy here than all the evil geniuses since the creation of the world have imagined. Will we ever believe that at the end of the eighteenth century, in the middle of the capital of a triumphant and civilized Republic, a few unfortunate people, seduced by foreign gold, wanted to dig the volcano which, in its eruption, was to bury a considerable population and a victorious hero in different parts of the world, the one who saved his homeland, the one who wants to make it enjoy the benefits of peace, the one finally who, in other times, would have been brought to the rank of the demigods.... You who sometimes approach the First Consul, lead him to take more precautions; he owes his preservation not only to France but to all of humanity. Be close to him my organ and assure him of all the joy that your friend feels at seeing our first captain and our first magistrate saved by a miracle from the eminent danger he ran.”

*internally screaming* AAAAA … Soult calling Mortier his organ ANYWAYSY😭😭🥺

Ok, there’s a few more letters I want to add but this post is getting long again, so I’ll do a Part 3.

[scotianostra]

24th July 1411 saw the Battle of Harlaw, near Inverurie.

Get this "biggie" out of the way first, it is also known as "Reid Harlaw" (Red Harlaw)

Is it okay to have a favourite battle? Well maybe not the event itself, it was a bloody affair by all accounts, and sadly an all Scottish affair, classified as a clan battle,part of a feud between the Clan Donald and the Stewart royal family the reason I like it is more to do with the song and the monument to those that fell.

In 1411 Lord Donald of the Isles and his army marched across the north east of Scotland. Two miles north west of Inverurie the Highlanders met a Lowland army to resolve competing claims to the Earldom of Ross. The battle was inconclusive, but the Highlanders withdrew.

The battle has become shrouded in myth and mystery and means different things to different people. From the time of the battle onwards it has cast a large shadow. Writing only a generation later, John Major recorded that school children in Aberdeen played out the battle during play time. The first ballads to record and commemorate the battle date from 1548. Ballads, songs and stories continued to be written concerning the battle over the centuries and have embellished, exaggerated and distorted the reality of Harlaw, which makes it great for those looking into as so many differing accounts have been written.

The immediate cause of the battle was a struggle for power between Donald, Lord of the Isles and the Earl of Mar, Alexander Stewart over possession of the Earldom of Ross. However, the roots of the battle are feudal and relate to an ongoing power struggle in the country at the time. On the one hand were Donald, Lord of the Isles and a number of clans. On the other hand were elements of the Stewart family, particularly those known as the Albany Stewarts.

The battle itself took place where Donald chose to camp, near Harlaw, two miles north of Inverurie. Harlaw has been described as a town, but it was more likely to be a 'fermtoun'. Typically these comprised several families and a number of houses.

Donald's forces chose a strong defensive position in this predominantly farming country they stopped on a plateau, which was surrounded by wet land to the east and west. Mar broke camp and crossed the River Urie. Mar split his men into two divisions and the vanguard was led by the sheriff of Angus and constable of Dundee leading the Angus and Mearns men.

Donald's forces were rallied by a battle song, which also shows that Donald's forces were in three divisions. Red Hector of the Battles, Hector Roy Maclean of Duart, was Donald's overall general, leading the forces on the right wing, at the head of his clan. The left wing was led by Callum Beg, chief of the MacIntoshes, whilst Donald commanded the central battle force. Mar's vanguard was lead by Scrymgeour and Sir Alexander Ogilvy, sheriff of Angus. The vanguards clashed probably near to where the present day monument stands.

The battle was probably entirely fought on foot. The wealthier lairds and knights may have worn plate armour. Chiefs on the Donald side may well have worn mail with a conical helmet and jupon, a jacket or tunic worn over or under armour. The main body of the men, on both sides, would have been armed with lances, spears, axes and swords and would not have worn armour, or anything that would have weighed them down.

Donald's forces chose a strong defensive position in this predominantly farming country they stopped on a plateau, which was surrounded by wet land to the east and west. Mar broke camp and crossed the River Urie. Mar split his men into two divisions and the vanguard was led by the sheriff of Angus and constable of Dundee leading the Angus and Mearns men.

Donald's forces were rallied by a battle song, which also shows that Donald's forces were in three divisions. Red Hector of the Battles, Hector Roy Maclean of Duart, was Donald's overall general, leading the forces on the right wing, at the head of his clan. The left wing was led by Callum Beg, chief of the MacIntoshes, whilst Donald commanded the central battle force. Mar's vanguard was lead by Scrymgeour and Sir Alexander Ogilvy, sheriff of Angus. The vanguards clashed probably near to where the present day monument stands.

The battle was probably entirely fought on foot. The wealthier lairds and knights may have worn plate armour. Chiefs on the Donald side may well have worn mail with a conical helmet and jupon, a jacket or tunic worn over or under armour. The main body of the men, on both sides, would have been armed with lances, spears, axes and swords and would not have worn armour, or anything that would have weighed them down. I don’t normally go into the apparel, but this relates to the video in the song, which will become apparent if you watch it.

In the immediate aftermath of the battle both sides claimed victory but in reality it had been a bloody and costly engagement for both sides. Nevertheless, Alexander Stewart's actions had saved Aberdeen and checked Donald of Islay's attempts to expand his influence eastwards. Alexander later went on to defeat Donald of Islay's son, also called Alexander, at the Battle of Lochaber (1429). However, two years later Alexander Stewart was defeated at the first Battle of Inverlochy in 1431.

The Battle of Harlaw is often mentioned as the biggest clan battle in Scottish history, and it demonstrated the tensions that were part of the political intrigue in the country at the time.

The Monument which stands on the approximate site of the battle was designed by Aberdeen architect William Kelly It was commissioned and paid for by the Corporation of the City of Aberdeen and built by John Smith of Inverurie at the cost of £325 and inaugurated in 1914 .

The coats of arms are a more recent addition and are those of Alexander Stewart Earl of Mar, The City of Aberdeen, Lord of the Isles, Clans, Davidson, MacLean of Duart, and Irvine of Drum.

The Battle of Harlaw by Old Blind Dogs.

As I cam in by Dunidier, And down by wetherha There were fifty thousand Heilanmem A marching to Harlaw.

… The Heilanmem William their long swords, They laid on us fu sair; And they drave back our merrymen Three acres breadth or mair.

… The first ae stroke that Forbes struck, Made the great Macdonell reel; The second stroke that Forbes struck, The great Macdonell fell.

And siccan a pilleurichie, The like ye never saw, As was amang the Heilanmen When they saw Macdonell fa.

… And sic a weary burying, The like you never saw, As there was the Sunday after that On the muirs down by Harlaw

And gin Heilan lasses speer at you, For them that gaed awa, Ye may tell them plain and plain enough They're sleeping at Harlaw!

[castellankurze]

I do actually have one serious criticism of Dawntrail's storytelling, which is one plot point in particular with a basic failure of "setup, reminder, payoff."

Following the first attack on Tuliyollal and the subsequent Vanguard dungeon, in the first part of Heritage Found, on two occasions we are given what should be a very important piece of information. In one MSQ quest and one aether current quest, we're told about a weakness in Zoraal Ja's robot army-

Wuk Lamat: Cahciua said you're a hunter, but wouldn't it be easier for those mechanical soldiers to guard this place? Strika: It would, if not for the fact they're weak to lightning. The Thunderyard being what it is, they've been ordered to steer clear. Strika: Some good they are, eh? But these facilities are vital to the upkeeping of Alexandria's infrastructure, so it falls to hunters like me to deal with any fiends.

Dorian: These soldiers require energy gathered from lightning, and yet lightning also proves to be their weakness. Apparently, it took a nasty jolt in the Thunderyards and went berserk. Dorian: Honestly, why are they tinkering with offensive output when they could be correcting this glaring flaw in the design? Rest assured, the engineer in charge will hear all about this in my report...

Naturally, knowing G'raha has been in contact with Y'shtola via linkpearl, we grab his ear and relay a message to Koana, who as Vow of Reason moves quickly to ensure Tuliyollal's defenders are given lightning-aspected weapons ... don't actually do anything with this info? In fact it doesn't seem to be brought up again.

When the two armies ultimately clash again we're shown the good guys winning by virtue of ... mostly just not being taken by surprise this time, as they fight back using an array of blades, guns and magic, and the trump card of having a dragon show up to play havoc with the enemy airships. It's a nice "yay everyone came together to protect Tural" scene insofar as it goes, but it feels rather cheap and makes the hollow men seem weaker in comparison to their first (terrifying) appearance when they can just be fought off by conventional means.

It's ultimately a small complaint in the grand scheme of Dawntrail's storytelling, but by the same token it's such a basic error it's hard to swallow, and has the ring of "people in the writing room not talking to one another."