#the other was about how objects with different masses fall. which to be fair is somethign that many people get wrong

[debian-official]

Read two unrelated comments/answers today where someone proclaims with the fullest confidence and so much disdain something that is so incredibly, utterly wrong.

[gravitascivics]

WAIT OR PAY

A previous posting, “Lining Up or Paying,”[1] cites a dilemma in capitalist economies.   That is, in distributing goods and services, should the provider institute a queue system – first come, first served – or a competitive pricing system in which a price is set at a level for which the seller draws the highest profit possible. 

The first option does usually allow people from varied income groups to be able to attain the goods or services but leads to various practices – like scalping – undermining such an outcome.  The second, from the outset, excludes those who cannot afford the price, usually lower income people.

          Now, for most goods and services, competitive pricing leads to more efficient production and distribution strategies.  Yet, especially when one is speaking of essential goods and services, the inability of the poor or the not so rich to afford necessary goods and services is a problem.  Enough of that and one creates a disruptive social landscape – one might ask:  how much of that is responsible for the nation’s current turbulent politics?

          The end of the earlier posting referred to above left readers with the following paragraph:

This posting is not an argument for dismissing markets and pricing options in general.  Many advantages are derived from applying that approach to most products.  … And one can readily identify how many (most) aspects of life are better with markets than without.  But as with most things, there are limits and one should be able to acknowledge where and when markets fall short.

Here, the work of Michael J. Sandel is seen to be helpful.  He asks which products should be provided by a queue (or other) system and which ones should be provided by a market system.  He claims that to answer which products should be sold one way or the other, one should consider what sort of product it is.  How should it be valued?

          To address this concern, he writes:

Figuring this out is not always easy.  Consider three examples of “underpriced” goods that have recently given rise to ticket scalping:  campsites at Yosemite National Park, open-air masses conducted by Pope Benedict XVI [the reigning pope of this citation], and live concerts by Bruce Springsteen.[2]

Each of these cases demonstrates a different aspect of this basic question – which form of availability should be employed?  And by reviewing them, Sandel sheds light on an aspect of American (of capitalist) life which affects how meaningfully a nation can promote a partnership sense – i.e., a federated sense – among that nation’s citizenry.

          Yosemite Park is a popular place.  As a national park, its policies, such as setting an admission price, are a government operation.  Since the park belongs to the nation’s public and the nation claims equality as a central value, the admission fee is set low and that includes fees for campsites. 

As of the publishing date of Sandel’s cited book, the fee was $20 a night.  Yet for the common family, the chances of gaining a site at that price are near zero.  Why?  Well, as soon as the sites are made available, they are booked in a matter of minutes.  Is this “first family come; first family served”?

          Here is another bit of information:  by visiting an online site, one can secure that campsite for $100 or $150 a night.  Why?  The sights were purchased by scalpers in large numbers (at the $20 figure) and then offered online at the inflated figure.  These entrepreneurs, due to their access to cash, have undermined the rationale for the initial pricing policy of the government.  Sandel writes:

Underlying the hostility to scalping campsites at Yosemite are actually two objections – one about fairness, the other about the proper way of valuing a national park.  The first objection worries that scalping is unfair to people of modest means, who can’t afford to pay $150 a night for a campsite.  The second objection, implied by the [referred to] editorial’s rhetorical question (“Is nothing sacred?”) draws on the idea that some things should not be up for sale. … [N]ational parks are not merely objects of use or sources of social utility.  They are places of natural wonder and beauty, worthy of appreciation, even awe.  For scalpers to auction access to such places seems a kind of sacrilege.[3]

And this sort of “sacrilege” is not limited to national parks.

          Another example was seen when Pope Benedict visited the US in 2008.  Then, it was arranged that the Pope would hold mass gatherings, in the form of masses at two stadiums, one in New York City (Yankee Stadium) and the other in Washington, D.C.  There, the tickets were distributed for free by the respective Catholic dioceses.  But after the scalpers got their hands on the tickets, and they did in large numbers, they drove the price up to $200.  Again, given the religious nature of this example, the term sacrilege is an apt one to describe what happened.

          Are purely commercial events immune from such practices?  Springsteen concerts prove that they are not.  In 2009, as a sort of payback to his home state, New Jersy, Springsteen put on two concerts and charged a modest fee (modest in terms of the demand) of $95.  One can guess what happened; the scalpers moved in and getting a ticket for the concerts could cost a great deal more than the initial price.  How much more?  Well, a Rolling Stone concert was able to charge $450 a ticket.

          Why not charge the market price, Mr. Springsteen?  Sandel supposes that in that case the singer and his group wanted to pay respect to the challenges of the group’s working-class fan base.  Yes, it was a commercial event; surely the group made a profit, but a more modest profit than the market allowed.  Instead, the scalpers made the difference between the market price and the initial selling price.  Does the word sacrilege describe this case?  Perhaps not, but its qualities overlap with what is sacrilegious.

          Let this blog leave readers with these three examples to give the issue – queuing or marketing – some thought and invite them to the next posting.  It will share Sandel’s thoughts on the ethic of the queue.  Or stated differently, is queuing good or bad, right or wrong, as the practice calls on people to wait or should they pay – as in a regular pricing arrangement?

This question is more important than just having to pay hundreds of dollars more for an experience or item.  Some of those occasions are considered reflective of what sort of a people Americans are.  Therefore, before ending this posting, consider this claim:  federated nations – where the citizenry shares a sense of partnership – should be concerned over the true value of some assets or products.  They should be held as more than marketable items – they should be considered sacred.

[1] Robert Gutierrez, “Lining Up or Paying,” Gravitas:  A Voice for Civics, accessed December 9, 2023, URL:  https://gravitascivics.blogspot.com/2019_09_08_archive.html.

[2] Michael J. Sandel, What Money Can’t Buy:  The Moral Limits of Markets (New York, NY:  Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2012), 35.  The factual claims of this posting are based on what this source reports.

[3] Ibid., 36-37.

[buffaloborgine]

Of Zack Fair, Genesis Rhapsodos and the strange narrative POV of FFVII-Crisis Core (Part IVa)

Part I: https://buffaloborgine.tumblr.com/post/650462647672766464/of-zack-fair-genesis-rhapsodos-and-the-strange 

Part IV preface: https://buffaloborgine.tumblr.com/post/656609254197936128/of-zack-fair-genesis-rhapsodos-and-the-strange  ___________________________________ 

Warning: As always, I copy paste this warning over and over just in case you ignore it and keep reading down.  “This series is very controversial, it may not fit with what you know or remember about Crisis Core. So please, read the former parts (I did put the link to Part I in case you are new reader) before putting your foot further down below.” P/s: I welcome all kind of discussion. I love discussion. But this subject is an OBJECTIVE subject, please make sure to keep your bias and prejudice out of discussion. Thank you.  ___________________________________

A 1st class SOLDIER deserted, taking a handful of 2nd and 3rd class SOLDIERs with him, the mass desertion was so devastating that it crippled the SOLDIER department. But... 

A young man strives forwards with all he can, hoping one day he would be recognized as the “Hero” only to realize that... 

An ambiguous email from the leader of the department, talking with encrypted words... 

The “Hero” who has the privilege to veto orders... 

When everything falls apart, just comfortably throws the blame on someone you has prejudices about, no matter if that is right or wrong. 

What you see may just be the tip of the iceberg.  The question is...  Who is the one that should take the blame? 

1. Zack sees life through rose colored glasses 

Zack’s POV in the beginning of the game gives you an important perspective to examine. It’s his naivete.  Shinra is good.  Sephiroth is his hero.  Angeal is his honorable mentor, who can do no wrong.  Genesis is... an asshole deserter who took a bunch of 2nds and 3rds with him, crippling the department, in other word, Genesis is a traitor in Zack’s eyes.  At the start, to Zack, the world is just white and black, the good and the bad. He has no concept of the in between, the grey zone. 

When Zack first started to join SOLDIER, his goal is to become the “Hero” as he was inspired by the heroic figure, Sephiroth. At the end of Crisis Core, before you fought Genesis in Banora Underground, you also realized that Genesis used to be like Zack, inspired by the “heroic Sephiroth”.

Then what about the other SOLDIERs in the department? How many of them are like that? Inspired by this one “heroic” Sephiroth to join in SOLDIER?

Do you start to feel like this is is similar to fishing with a bait? 

And I know you guys reading up to this point may think that “Yeah, we all know Shinra is evil, what’s the problem with them using Sephiroth as a bait to lure in young men to join SOLDIER?”  Well, congratulation, you hit the right spot. That’s exactly what I want to speak about.  Why do you feel comfortable with that information? 

While you think you are not under the effect of Zack’s POV, the sad news is, you are. Because, you didn’t realize that you too, are being comfortable with just knowing about it but doing nothing.  You see Zack at the protagonist of the story, he is on the right side, which in this case, is on Shinra’s side. So then anything that opposes Zack, or opposes Shinra, must be wrong, no?  No matter how you deny it, saying that you know Shinra is evil, when you start playing Crisis Core, you subconsciously adapt to Zack’s POV, thus, you start brushing off minor, complex and ambiguous details that could rival your belief.

This leads to the next problem that we have to discuss. 

2. Unfairness and Inequality in SOLDIER

So according to Genesis’s diary in Crisis Core and Tifa’s memory in Trace of Two Past, we get the information about Sephiroth has been famous as the “Hero” since he was very young. 

We don’t know the exact date in the diary that Genesis wrote that line “the hero Sephiroth” but we know for sure that he and Angeal joined SOLDIER from when they are still in their teenage years, because Crisis Core began in [ μ ] - εγλ 0000, at that point, Genesis, Angeal and Sephiroth are just 20 years old. So they have to be working in SOLDIER for years before that, for Angeal and Genesis to reach 1st class rank. Therefore we can assume that Genesis and Angeal must have joined SOLDIER in their teenage years.  

The Trace of Two Pasts novel gives us the info that when Tifa was 6 or 7 years old, her mother compared Cloud to Sephiroth, saying that Cloud could be even more beautiful than Sephiroth. Tifa is born in  [ μ ] - εγλ 1987 and Sephiroth is born in  [ μ ] - εγλ 1980, according to the FFVII Timeline on the wikia (if you found any source stating differently from this, please let me know), so we can tell that Sephiroth was just 13-14 years old when he was already hailed as the “hero”, for he was well-known amongst people not in Midgar. 

Even if Sephiroth is truly strong that he can solo defeat many Wutai soldiers at once, but since war is never a solo effort, if Sephiroth fought in one battlefield, there has to be other SOLDIER group fighting on different battlefields during Wutai War, right? 

Then, where are they?  You can say that Sephiroth is a “hero” of one battlefield, but you can’t say that he is the “hero” of a whole war. Even in a possibly mythical war like the Trojan war, there can’t just be one hero. 

We know for sure that it’s not “Sephiroth soloing the whole Wutaian army” because in Dirge of Cerberus online section, we know that Shinra has like 13 SOLDIER Units working during the Wutai war, with the exception of 14th SOLDIER Unit, the Lost Force.   So... if Sephiroth can really solo the whole battle out on his own, according to Shinra hailing him as he only “Hero”, then why do Shinra have to enlist more SOLDIER participants? 13 Units is not a small number of people.  And if they all work together in Wutai War, where are they? Why don’t they get recoginition for their work? 

And then we witness ourselves that Zack works on his own, with Angeal’s guidance, to subdue Fort Tamblin, Sephiroth did nothing there. Still, Sephiroth got the glory of winning Fort Tamblin, Zack’s name was never once mentioned. 

And when Zack got frustrated...

... all Kunsel told him is 

The way Kunsel speaks this sentence shows that this situation has been repeated over and over, it has become a normal custom.  The company’s media decide who will be “hero”, that’s just how it is. 

If we can see this with our own eyes, then what else flowing below the surface can’t we see?  If just like we see Zack being lured in joining SOLDIER by the “heroic figure” of Sephiroth and then Zack himself realizing that he would never become the “hero” because the company “chooses” heroes, then, isn’t it the same case for all the other SOLDIERs in the department, those that stayed/accepted (like Angeal) and those that deserted/refused (like Genesis) alike, and the only exception is Sephiroth, because he is the chosen “hero”?

Isn’t “Heroic figure Sephiroth” just a imaginary title crafted by the propaganda of an evil company?  _________________________________ 

That’s the end for part IVa, thanks for coming to my Ted-Talk.  We will continue this problem in the next part. 

Part IVb: https://buffaloborgine.tumblr.com/post/657521891798614016/of-zack-fair-genesis-rhapsodos-and-the-strange

[flightfoot]

Forgetting Enemies, Rediscovering Friends - Ch. 1

AO3

Thanks to @khanofallorcs for betaing! Set in @buggachat Bakery Enemies AU, before the wine arc.

The morning had started off fine. Marinette had been working on a new design to showcase her talents. A black dress with green trim—great for any occasion.

(Only the most keen-eyed observers would find the small paw print embroidered on the inside of one of the sleeves)

Adrien was hard at work in the kitchen, as usual. Probably plotting how best to steal the Miracle Box, or make her meet the same fate as his mother or—or some other nefarious end. Yes. He must be. No one could be THAT nice, not after everything he went through. It had to be fake. 

*beep beep*

Marinette blinked. Her stomach twisted. “The Akuma Alert app? But it can’t be- unless-”

A video popped up, showing the new threat. 

“Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news! Past Pirate has made the trip from the U.S. all the way to our fair city of Paris. With Ladybug and Chat Noir still missing, we can only hope that other superheroes arrive soon, before everyone in the city forgets who they are.”

Ah.

Not an akuma or sentimonster, then. Just a random supervillain that thought the absence of Miraculous wielders made Paris an easy target. 

Somehow that didn’t make her feel better. At least if it was a sentimonster, she might’ve been able to catch Adrien in the act, prove that he was evil, and recover the lost Miraculous. This- this she could do nothing about.

She was useless.

*beep beep*

A text warning popped up, issuing an evacuation order. A giant orb had been spotted near Collège Françoise Dupont, one that looked very, very similar to the one Oblivio had threatened the city with, all those years ago.

Marinette suspected it served the same function.

She needed to get out of there, NOW.

Her parents were out at dinner on the other side of the city, so hopefully they’d be safe?

The only ones here were her and-

Oooooh crap.

Her and ADRIEN.

...He’d be fine on his own. Right? He got to work every morning after all. He could evacuate on his own. 

But his apartment had to be close by, close enough that it’d be in the evacuation order, too. He’d have to go to some public place for cover.

During a supervillain attack.

With a lot of people scared and worried and having flashbacks to what his father did.

...and with him having one of the most recognizable faces in Paris. 

Crap.

She was gonna have to take him with her, wasn’t she?

She hurried downstairs. Adrien was already putting on his coat, getting ready to run out the door. 

“Wait!”

He froze. An instant later, he turned around. “Marinette? You’ve gotta get out of here, the supervillain-”

She nodded. “I know, come with me.”

He blinked. “Are— are you sure? You don’t need to put up with me just because we’re both heading out, I can go a different direction if it’s more comfortable for you.” His voice dropped. “I know you probably have some trauma associated with what my father did and this situation isn’t helping.”

Why did Adrien have to be so unfailingly nice?! 

Marinette shook her head. “My parents would be devastated if something happened to you and I- I don’t want you hurt, either,” she got out in a rush. “I don’t want you out there alone.”

Adrien stared at her, startled. His eyes softened. “Thank you, Marinette.”

Her face heated up. “Po Noblem!” She shook her head. “I—I mean, no problem! Anyone would do it.”

He shook his head. She didn’t have time to think about that before she grabbed his hand, running out the door.

And into a purple beam blast.

-------

Blinking rapidly, he looked around.

He appeared to be on a street… somewhere and—

A purple blast hit a few feet away from his head.

Right. Get out of here first, figure out what was going on second. Maybe he’d find someone else someplace AWAY from the scary light blasts.

He attempted to run down the street and away from whatever the purple blast thing was. 

“WAAAAH!” 

Attempt at running: failed. Attempt at finding someone else: success!

He winced. “Sorry I dragged you down. Didn’t realize I was holding your hand.”

The girl nodded, eyes wide, still on top of him where she landed. “What’s going on? Who are you?” Her breath caught. “Who am I?”

“I… have no idea.” He admitted. “I don’t remember anything before a minute ago.”

Another purple blast fired. He flinched. “I don’t think sticking around here is a good idea. Let’s get somewhere a little safer first, THEN try to figure out who we are.”

She nodded, getting up and pulling him to his feet. She didn’t let go of his hand. “This way?” she asked, pointing away from where the blast had fired from, down the street the direction he’d tried to run. 

He nodded.

They booked it, running in unison, automatically adjusting their gait to exactly match their companion’s.

After they’d gotten some distance away, they slowed down, huffing and puffing from the exertion.

“You think that’s far enough?” the girl asked. 

He shrugged. 

She started digging through her purse. He blinked, tilting his head. “What’re you looking for?”

She didn’t look up, sticking her tongue out the side of her teeth, appearing to concentrate even harder.

It was adorable.

Huh?

Well, he HAD been holding her hand when he woke up…

“This!” she said triumphantly, holding up her ID card.

He shelved his previous line of thought. For now, at least.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Nice to run into you, Marinette!”

She giggled. “I enjoyed falling for you too, uh…”

His face heated up. “Let me check.”

After looking through a few of his coat pockets (one of which held some cheese. Did he normally like the gooey food that much? It didn’t look that appetizing to him right now) he at last located his own ID. “Adrien Agreste.”

“You have anything else that’s useful?” Marinette asked.

“Let’s see…”

After emptying out his pockets, he concluded he had his phone, ID, that piece of Camembert, a debit and credit card, and 70 Euros.

“Well, at least we’re not memoryless AND broke,” Marinette commented.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Well…” 

She proceeded to pull out several cookies, a sewing kit, a first aid kit, duct tape, an umbrella, a few items that he felt he should recognize that Marinette hastily stuck back in her purse, saying they weren’t relevant to this situation, and a small black box with an intricate red design on the top, as well as her phone and wallet.

Adrien looked critically at the mass of items. “I don’t think all that should be able to fit in that tiny purse.”

Marinette looked at the objects she had pulled out. Then looked at her purse. Her brow furrowed. “Yeah, I think you’re right. Especially that umbrella. Doesn’t matter how I put that in, it shouldn’t fit. Plus that box- that wasn’t there when I first started rooting through my purse, I’m sure of it!”

He tilted his head. “It wasn’t?”

“I’d shoved everything around a few times,” she explained, “trying to see to the bottom of it. The first few times I didn’t see it, though there WAS some black fabric in the way - that was the umbrella - and once I pulled the umbrella up, well, there it was, lying beneath it.”

“Anything inside it?” 

Marinette opened it.

“Nothing,” she said, disappointed. “Just two indentations where something used to be.”

Adrien peered at Marinette. “Maybe it’s the casing for your earrings?”

She startled. “My earrings?”

Reaching up a hand, she felt her ears. “Maybe? Let me see.”

Taking them off, she set them in the box. They fit perfectly.

They also looked different. 

“Spotted earrings?” he wondered. “They didn’t look like that before.”

Marinette blinked. “They didn’t?”

He shook his head. “They were black before, not red with black spots.”

“Maybe the lighting just made them look weird?” 

“Maybe…”

He looked more critically at Marinette’s ears. “Wait. Something’s weird here, too.”

“Here?”

“With your ears.”

“What’s wrong with my ears?!” she said, sounding on the edge of panic.

“Feel where the earrings were, where you took them out of.”

She shot him a puzzled look, but complied, feeling her lobe, then her entire ear. “Where were they?” she wondered. “I can’t find the holes.”

“Exactly. I can’t see them either.”

“Hold on, let me try something,” she said.

Picking up the earrings, she put them back. “Oh that is WEIRD.”

“How’d you do that?” Adrien asked. He still hadn’t seen the holes she was using, not until the earrings were in again.

“I just let my muscle memory do the talking. I wasn’t threading them through a hole or anything, I just stuck them where I felt like they should go and then— then they were there.”

“They’re back to looking black, too,” Adrien said, squinting.

“Wonder whether your earrings are the same?” Marinette said, looking at him - or rather, at his ears.

Adrien felt his ears, his fingers hitting metal. “Huh. Didn’t know I was wearing them, too. Let’s give it a try.”

He wasn’t quite as fast at removing them as she was, needing a moment to unhook and align them so they’d slide out smoothly. He held them out to her. “Did their look change?”

She shook her head. “No, they still look the same.” Looking closer at his ears, she noted, “I can see the holes left behind, too. I don’t think your earrings have the same weird properties as mine.”

“A purse that can hold more than it should, earrings that change color and leave no mark— maybe it’s magic?” Adrien wondered.

Marinette opened her mouth, looking somewhat indignant - then closed it. “I… can’t come up with a better explanation. Don’t know why I’d have some magical objects, though.”

“Maybe you’re a witch?”

“Do those even exist?”

“No idea.”

“It doesn’t feel like the right term. These are just magical objects, right?” she said. “I might not have any magical powers myself.”

“You think anything else has magical properties?” he asked.

“Let’s see…”

After messing about with the duct tape, wallet, and umbrella for awhile, they concluded that, if they had magic, they were keeping it well-concealed. Unless “closing unexpectedly” was the umbrella’s magical power. 

“Any of your things secretly magic?” she asked him. “We checked your earrings, but what about everything else?”

He tried stuffing things into his coat pockets, but they only held as much as one would expect them to. The wallets didn’t have anything special, and the only thing ‘magical’ about the cheese was how much it stank outside of its plastic baggie.

As he was putting it back in the bag (trying not to gag), he glanced at his hand, noticing a silver ring.

Figuring he might as well, he slid it off. 

Light ran over it, turning it from silver to black, with a green pawprint on its face.

“You have one, too!” Marinette cried happily.

He nodded, feeling a warmth in his core. Whatever was going on, he was the same as her. “Guess I’ve got magic, too.”

“Think they do anything except change color?” Marinette asked. 

Adrien shook the ring for a minute. “If it does, I have no idea how to activate it,” he concluded. 

“Let’s move onto our phones, then,” Marinette said, turning hers on. A lockscreen popped up.

She hesitated for a moment as Adrien winced. “That suc-”

Marinette smiled deviously. “Not so fast.” She breathed on it, showing the most common pathways her finger traveled. Swiftly she followed the path, unlocking her phone.

Adrien’s heart went pitter-patter. “Brilliant!” he told her, copying her idea and unlocking his own phone.

“I don’t have a lot of contacts,” he told her, turning it to face her. “Only four people.”

G, Chloé Bourgeois, Sabine Cheng, and Tom Dupain. That was it. “You’re not even in here,” he told Marinette. “Though I’m guessing Sabine and Tom are your parents, at least?”

She scrolled through her own contact list. It was far more extensive than his, easily over a hundred contacts. “Yeah, they are,” she said, comparing the picture for ‘Maman’ with the one Adrien used for Sabine, and the one she used for ‘Papa’ to the one he used for Tom.

“Maybe we should call them?” he suggested. “Especially since they know both of us. Maybe they can help!”

She nodded, clicking on the Call button for Maman. 

“Hello?” she asked, sounding nervous.

“Marinette? Are you okay? Is Adrien with you? I hadn’t checked my phone until just now, I had it on silent. You’ve evacuated from the bakery, right? Without Ladybug around to fix everything, who knows when everyone hit by Past Pirate will recover their memories!”

“I’m— well I’m mostly fine, Maman, I got away from the purple blasts. I’m guessing those were from Past Pirate? Adrien and I lost our memories, though. What should we do?”

“Oh. Oh NO.” Sabine sounded horrified. “That’s very, very dangerous, especially for Adrien.”

“Why is it dangerous for me?” he asked. 

“Oh, Adrien! Glad to hear from you,” Sabine said, relieved. She hesitated, appearing to choose her words carefully. “Your father—he did some very bad things. Things that people blame you for, despite having no part in them. You’re very recognizable, too. If people see you, they could react badly.”

“People blame Adrien for what his father did? That’s terrible! Why would they do that?” Marinette said, flabbergasted.

Sabine suddenly sounded very awkward. “Well, dear, sometimes people have trauma and it just latches onto innocent people, even when it’s undeserved. They’re wrong, but I wouldn’t judge them too harshly.”

Marinette still looked indignant. “That doesn’t excuse treating him badly!”

Sabine coughed. “Yes. Well. Just be careful. Maybe try to find a disguise for Adrien if you can, before wandering into public areas? Until you’re back home and this crisis is abated.”

Marinette muttered quietly, “He shouldn’t HAVE to.” More loudly, she told Sabine. “Yes, Maman. I have everything I need for that.”

Adrien could practically feel Sabine beaming through the phone. “You’re always prepared, aren’t you?”

Marinette smiled. “Hopefully I’ll see you soon, with my memory intact.”

Stowing her phone, she reached for her sewing kit. “One disguise, coming right up!”

[dgcatanisiri]

I won’t say this is my last word on the subject of Legendary Edition bullshit, because... Well, I know myself enough to be able to say that I NEVER have a last word, I’ll always want to rant again later on. But let’s just make this a sort of master post of the issues overall.

So... Is it fair to hold a game that is a good roughly fifteen years old to the standards of the present? Not inherently. So if the games were being produced in any sort of unedited format, that it was a strict translation, 1:1 ratio, of the original to the remaster... Honestly, I’d still be bitter as all get out, for reasons I’ll expound on in a minute. But it could at least SEEM justified. I could consider it the kind of thing that would be expected - if KOTOR got a remaster today, I would not expect that Carth and Bastila would be made into bi love interests, or Juhani would have her romance patched up so that it has the same level of detail and attention as the het romances. If Jade Empire were remastered, I wouldn’t be surprised to see Sky or Silk Fox’s same sex romances adapted so that the straight romances had to be closed out first. That is the kind of thing that, on a functional, practical level, I could understand. Doing a translation from old hardware, the old engine, I get the PRACTICAL reasoning for not making things better. I still object to this on the moral level, to say nothing of the representational one. But PRACTICALLY, I see why - y’know, there’s only so much financial resources going in, and changing things like romances, even if justified, means doing new writing and getting the voice cast back in, which has complications the longer since a game’s original release - actors retire or even die, the passage of time changes voices (like listen to the difference of the exact same lines by James Earl Jones between both versions of the Lion King). Even without those complications, that means paying them, which, in the production of video games, for everything that goes in, something else must go out. So that is the practical argument.

BUT!

But.

But, the thing is, even apart from everything else that I’ll get in to shortly, is that there have been a lot of claims from BioWare about inclusion. There have also been A LOT. of homophobic bullshit from BioWare and Mass Effect. And yes, I’m calling it like I see it.

Because we had the game that followed Jade Empire, with a M/M romance option, be Mass Effect, with NO M/M romance option (but FemShep and Liara could bang - the writing obviously favored the MaleShep portrayal, given that there was no marketing use of FemShep until ME3, and we had ME2 give priority to having loyalty conflicts between MALE Shepard’s romances, but not Female Shepard’s, and we even had BioWare hem and haw about how “well, the asari are monogender, so they’re not TECHNICALLY women, so it’s not REALLY lesbians...”). Because the official claim is that they just “didn’t think about it” in time to have these options included in Mass Effect 1. Because we’ve had writers now come out that Jacob Taylor was originally written as a gay man, but in the game itself was a straight man. Because there are plenty of women who throw themselves at Male Shepard, and Shepard is animated with having Significant Looks™ with these women, but not a single man who expresses any interest in him, until ME3 finally offers SOMETHING, which came to just Kaidan and Cortez.

Because we had one of BioWare’s heads, one of BioWare’s founders, say in an interview right around the release of Mass Effect 2 say “Shepard is too predefined a character to be gay.”

That is what I mean by homophobic bullshit.

And I haven’t even started on Mass Effect Andromeda.

And I’m gonna start on Mass Effect Andromeda now.

So after ME3, after Kaidan and Cortez were actually romances, we honestly gave them a lot of faith - they got the message, we said. They understood that they couldn’t just cut out M/M romance in the game, we said. They didn’t need to have the constant observation that demanded they provide good representation, we said.

And then they cut Jaal’s bisexuality, leaving him straight on release, without even a chance to flirt and be turned down, the bisexual male character who did remain not only was planet bound, he also is a character who a solid argument can be made that he falls into the trope of the Depraved Bisexual, a trope that over in Dragon Age, Patrick Weekes specifically said that they wanted to avoid and so didn’t make a character bisexual because of that. And the gay man is not only almost totally disconnected from the game (aside from one point in the plot, he can be avoided entirely and is not included in almost any other group setting among the Tempest crew), he is also an accessory in his own plot line, which was also heavily criticized for being intensely homophobic. And of these, the only thing BioWare deigned to change was Jaal’s bisexuality. (Which, personal note, I’m uncomfortable with personally, because as it’s implemented, it just feels kind of afterthought-y. Much like Kaidan’s in ME3, being unchanged from a new FemShep romance, despite the active inability to romance him in ME1.)

So it is not just a matter of “you have the ability, you’re changing other things, you should do this.” I mean, that is absolutely there - the mods exist for the original game, to the point of being able to even get the romance scene to fire right without Shepard’s gender magically changing once the clothes come off. (I have a vague memory of, at some point, probably around the “too predefined” comment, that being another excuse, that there was difficulty with having the models play nice with one another in that scene.)

But this is about addressing a pattern of behavior on the part of BioWare, that they have to be dragged, kicking and screaming, to the bare minimum that their own statements on matters of representation and inclusion claim they aspire to. That if the fans are not actively holding their feet to the fire, they are GOING to take their fans for granted - “you don’t get better quality content elsewhere, we’re your only choice!” But “only” choice is not a “good” choice. It’s not a choice with quality.

So if we don’t make a big damn deal about this now, when they have a chance - when they have a CHOICE - to make things better, to provide better representation, to correct the mistakes of the past... What will we get in the future? How will they backtrack on this in the future? How will they exclude us in the game they just announced a few months back? How will they continue to tell us that they don’t want gay people in this setting?

Look, I don’t use these words lightly. But that is, whether it’s a conscious attitude at all or not, what they are telling us. By not including us, by making us optionally involved, by making us disposable within our own stories, by cutting out our content, they are saying that they do not envision a world, a future, that includes queer men.

And anyone who does not speak up, does not condemn this, does not demand that they DO. BETTER... That is tacit approval and agreement. Because you’re saying that things as they are now - the removal and undermining of our content, of our EXISTENCE in these games - are perfectly fine and acceptable.

And yeah, I’m sure that reading that has probably made some people mad, believe I’m being unfair by saying that, because it’s going to push away allies. Thing is, and this is one of the things that always comes up in anything even tangentially activism related... THIS ISN’T ABOUT THE FEELINGS OF THE ALLIES. This is about listening to the people who are being hurt and saying “you don’t deserve to be hurt this way, things need to change.”

BioWare needs to change its approach. And, as we have seen, it does not come just because of a handful of angry queers, demanding to be represented in their games. It comes because of the community at large calling them out and saying “this isn’t right. What you have done is not right, and we are calling on you to fix it. To do better.”

Don’t just stand there and shrug this off. Because evidence tells us that if they aren’t called out on this now, the next game will not be better. And we will be in this exact same place, having this exact same argument, all over again, in a few years when the next Mass Effect game comes out. When the queer men are given the shortest end of the stick again, and people who are right now saying “what do you expect from a remaster?” will either suddenly turn around and go “I don’t know why BioWare would do something so homophobic” or, worse, “well, it’s something, I don’t see why you’re upset.”

We’re upset because we keep having this argument. And we are going to keep having this argument until people are willing to actually DEMAND that things be better. This is the chance to make things better now.

At this point, a post-release patch that includes a Male Shepard/Kaidan romance in ME1 that is tracked through to the following games is a bare minimum fix, a change done to make it clear that BioWare understands their mistakes in the past and want to make things BETTER.

It may not be easy, but genuinely fixing problems never is. But it’s work that needs to be done.

[artificialqueens]

A Series Of Mutual Feelings, 1/3 (Scarjah) - Pazinae

chapter 1: i hate u (and the feelings mutual)

Chapter Summary: Ra'jah is determined to have a fresh start and be a better person, now enrolled as a first year fashion school student- but Scarlet has a way of always making her newfound plans falter. With a rocky high school history, the (not so) fortuitous pair endure some mutual hatred

A/N: enemies 2 luvers scarjah everyone xoxo meant to be a oneshot, but got a little carried away n my doc for this is currently 19 pages long ahaha so to be more palatable it will be a 4 chapter story (its says 3, but you'll see). this one is mainly the intro for the story to understand where they're at emotionally in the present, and is mostly ra'jah centric on her growth + kylie friendship fluff bc theyre the cutest, and a bit of scarlet pov. feedback super super welcome, enjoy !!! 

***

Scarlet strode down the hall with a sway in her hips, her heels clacking on the laminate floor. What kind of tacky ass bitch wears heels to school anyways? Ra'jah scoffed internally, watched the girl saunter like she's on a tightrope, each tantalizing step brought her foot exactly in front of the other. Her body fell into a rhythm, stomping the fucking campus like a lion stalking the jungle for the sheer fun of watching it’s prey scamper. Scarlet's bouncing skirt, her signature grin and luscious ginger curls sprouting out her scalp made her gag. And not in the stunning way. Just as quickly as she came she was gone, and, to be fair, she was just another girl sandwiched in the masses just getting to where she��s going. But she could pluck that arrogant little redhead bitch out of any crowd. Not a conscious choice of course, hell, being reminded of her sheer presence causes a battle of trying not to roll her eyes behind her skull. She can't help that she sees her. Not when Scarlet's lips are painted the same shade of bold crimson as the tight, sleeveless top she's wearing, like a fresh drop of blood in a sea of grey clad bodies swimming around in their hoodies.

This isn't high school anymore Ra'jah. A repetitive reminder that needs to be said evermore until it's understood at her core. Because It's different now, she knows that- it has to be. No fucking way are her dreams going to get caught up in everything again, they're too big to be put at stake. She can't live just to be like that again, and this time she's too grown to waste her time on useless people. High school was a bubble, a 4 year trance that she's left and is more than ready to forget about. 

"Hey, Ra'jah!" That southern, velvety voice could only belong to one stunning woman. She turned around to spot her speed walking to catch up. 

"Aye! Kylie!" Ra'jah stopped and gave a little wave as Kylie approached, her highlight shining even in the shitty indoor light. The two moved over to the side of the hall, and leaned against the wall. "If it isn't Miss Kylie Sonique Love," With such a pleasing name, Ra'jah doesn't think she will, or, really can ever get tired of saying the other girl's name. "What's up?"

"Nothin', just tired as fuck," It's kinda cute, the way her accent gets stronger when she's grumpy. "I'mma pass out at some point, I did not get enough sleep." Even as a grumble her voice is so soft and angelic, Ra'jah could probably fall asleep to the blonde reading true crime murder stories. 

"Goddamn, it sure as hell doesn't show!" Which is true, Kylie was as effervescent as always, any visible messy hair from under her beanie looked intentional. Even in her oversized t-shirt and shorts, there was an undeniable, captivating charm about her that made it impossible for her to look bad "You look gorgeous girl" 

"Awh, thanks honey," She smiles a soft, hazy smile. "You don't look too bad yourself." She hums, eyeing her up with a grin. Before she could even argue a response, the country girl quickly perks up and slaps her hand on Ra'jah's shoulder in excitement. "Oh also! I want your opinion- I'm thinking about dying my hair pink." She can see the visible sparkle in the pair of eyes looking at hers. "Thoughts?" She asks, voice becoming giddy "Oooh bitch! You better, that'd be so fierce!" The (mostly) purple haired girl exclaimed, delight evident in her voice "For real, you'd look so good. And you know, ba-BY" she claps her hands together just for added emphasis, "I support ALL the impulsive hair decisions".

"Yess, obviously I want input only from bad bitches with the best hair"

"I told you I did these myself right?" she asked, running her shoulder length hair through her twirling fingers. "I've been really into doing hair recently"

"Wait, really? It looks so pretty, the fade to purple is so good"

"What'd you mean 'wait really' hoe, what you implying 'bout my hair skills?" 

"Just that a talented woman like you should share your expertise!" Even when she was loud her voice was just as comforting, the tone reminiscent of a silk blanket on her skin

"All it took for me was bleach, a bottle of violet Arctic Fox dye, and the holy spirit of Brad Mondo"

"First of all I'm not trusting no mans named Brad," Ra'jah cackled a little because, yeah that's fair. "And secondly, if you're free, come an' help a girl out then!

"You're inviting me over? Wow we're moving kinda fast Kylie" 

"Oh shut up bitch" but the undying twinkle in her eye confirmed the unsaid agreement that Ra'jah would be doing Kylie's hair, at some point.

"I'm free on Thursday, can I visit then?"

"Yea that works" She smiled, and the closeness between the two wasn't something the taller girl ever planned, or really felt before. But she had it now, a friend she really cares about, and she never wanted to lose it.

"Shit what time is it?" Even in her Shitty Human era she was still a timely gal, her mother didn't raise no late hoe. "Don't stress it Raj, we have like 15 minutes. Introduction to drafting and sewing, right?"

"Yes ma'am. Wanna start going?" "Sure thing" This year is for a new start, making new friends, and getting a chance to create new first impressions. Rebrand herself y'know, and the hindrance that is Scarlet's existence, wrapped in all the ancient things she'd rather not think about, won't stop her.

The walk to class was a pleasant blur. With Kylie yawning and walking essentially shoulder to shoulder with Ra'jah had they been the same height, they slipped into both  comfortable conversation, and silence. With all the noise around them, their presence brought an ease without any awkwardness. 

 A trek opted through the outdoor route that was albeit a tad longer, provided some well needed greenery and fresh air.

"You excited for class?" Ra'jah asked, only half aware of where she was walking to. Her body was on autopilot, and Kylie knows the way, probably.  

"You're amazing if you can get excited by class"

"It's fun!"

"Only 'cause you're good at it"

"You're good at it"

"You know what I mean. Isn't this one your favorite?" 

"It's not my favorite" 

"Uh huh"

"I just like it a lot. Maybee essentially jus' cause I don't hafta try" It was a mandatory course, but Ra'jah's not complaining. Perhaps it's a little vain to enjoy something just to remind everyone you can do it, but it was an easy break from the rest of the courses. And a nice little egoboost.

"So I'm right!" 

"C'mon it's October and we're still on basic techniques"

"It's called introductory," She remarked. "Do you even pay attention half the time?"

"No but bitch neither do you"

"True" Kylie grinned in agreement.

"The way you're coming for me but it's easy for you too!" She hasn't been sewing as long as Ra'jah, but she has great taste so it really balanced out. "And let it be known that I use that class time to think about incredibly productive things"

"Oh that's her name?"

"What?" She didn't mean for her tone to drop. Didn't mean for her legs to stop walking, planting themselves into the cement. Didn't mean for the smile on her face to plummet at the implication. Her visceral reaction was louder than the cluelessness she gave off.  

"Calm down" She giggled, as if Ra'jah's reaction woke her up from her grogginess, her breathlessness equivalent to a shot of espresso for Kylie. "You just seem really occupied sometimes is what I meant"

"Me? No I'm not" She couldn't convince herself.

"Okay babe. The models of your fashion sketches just look a little reminiscent"  

"You know Scarlet isn't the only person with ginger hair right?" Ra'jah bites back, the condescending tone not her intention, but not exactly unwanted in the moment. Scarlet is insufferable, she doesn't want her own name slandered is all, being associated with the arrogant shit.

"Baby, I ain't mention Scarlet. That's all you.'' She had a shit eating smirk and maybe Ra'jah takes everything back about how nice friends are. IF there was inspiration, Scarlet is objectively nice looking so it's not a big deal there might be similarities if you squint.  

"She was implied" 

"If you want her to be"

They get inside and take a seat at one of the large tables, divided into stations with a sewing machine and some material at each one. Ra'jah takes a spot at the edge, with Kylie seated to her right. 

 On paper, it's all been planned out for Ra'jah; during her strolls between classes she'll take in all her surroundings and actively look for inspiration, pondering all the natural shapes and patterns of the world in a way she can manipulate into clothing. On paper, she'll make the most out of the introductory class, sketching designs between the minimal notes and sewing practices. On paper, she'll finish the mornings class with ease and have extra time to practice some new things. 

In reality? Paper is flimsy, especially when its accountability is held by a fleeting mind. It's hard to bask in the world when unwanted questions plague her head. Mostly revolving around a certain redhead. God, fuck her. Fuck her pretty eyes and fuck her sculpted face and fuck her euphonious voice. Does everyone who sees Ra'jah see her patheticness? How she allowed some cunt to infiltrate her mind, set up home in her head and take up all the space? Let her infect every cell in the brain like a parasite until her skull is nothing but an infiltrated shell for an infestation caught up with infatuation?

"Ra'jah, you good?"  The girl sat across from her, Trinity, piped up, and Ra'jah had to bite back a smile. The icy, timid girl she met just a few weeks ago was starting the conversation.

"Yeah, I'm fine, why?"

"You just looked a little spaced out" 

"Nah, it's just that this class is a breeze an' I'm just thinking about a project for another class" 

"Mmm"

"Plus it's hard to just think of designs when there's no inspiration"

"I mean, we're supposed to practice gathering and making ruffles right now"

"Oh shit! We are?"

"Yeah girl!" Ra'jah, shaking her head at herself, finally picked up some of the fabric around her and got to work. "You'll be alright?"

"Oh don't worry about me! I'm all good"

"Okayyy if you need anything just yell" Ra'jah replied with a hum and a nod. Watching the girl running the fabric under the machine, memories of the first time they'd talked flashed, days of the nearly silent girl feeling so distant.

  "I really like your earrings" The girl raised her head, looking left and right a little as if making sure it was directed at her. 

"Thanks." She mumbled, vaguely looking at Ra'jah's direction. 

"If you don't mind, where'd you get them?"

"Uh, I thrifted it."

"Oh, cool" Ra'jah smiled, before quickly adding "Thanks". The raven haired girl didn't reply. The start of the intriguing game of 'does she hate me, is she shy, or both?' 

   After all the awkward attempts made for the quiet girl to be comfortable and maybe make a friend, a sense of pride rang through her. She met Kylie and Trinity here a mere month ago, and yeah, maybe she could be nice. She could walk the fineline of warm socialization without being annoying. The new Ra'jah doesn't do unnecessary mean quips just for the sake of a little power rush. She can be authentically her while being polite. New Ra'jah makes friends- not enemies. 

"Oh by the way" Ra'jah snapped her head up at Trinity's voice 

"Yeah, what's up?"

"I know it's a little random but do you know what you're gonna be for Halloween?"

"Huh. Well, I haven't really thought about it" Ra'jah remarked, "I just don't care for Halloween and all that"

"Really? Girl, you're not gonna do anything, dress up, go out, nothing?"

"Baby all that work and money for some costume I'll wear once? No ma'am- and the fuck will I do, I barely have ideas for school!"

"Hey, you could wear anything and it's a costume. Wear a black dress, you're a cat"

"You think I'm that basic?"

"Yeah?"

 "Fuck you" She snorted, and Trinity had a goofy smile, looking at Ra'jah with a sense of familiar fondness. "And thanks, really, but I don't care for all that spooky shit anyways"

"Damn, alright!" Teeth out and all, she laughed. The blonde on the right leaned in a little, a pleasant opposition of Trinity's hesitation is Kylie's eagerness

"Jesus Ra'jah, what did Halloween do to you?" The southern girl butts in. "You could dress as the grinch of Halloween, steal children's candy" 

"You know what, yeah, I'll be a sluttified grinch"

"You're kinda built the same already" Trinity joins with a grin

"Hey!"

"Sluttified? Are you implying the grinch isn't sexy enough?" Ra'jah choked a little at that, found herself smiling with some dopey content, at what exactly she's not sure. 

"Do ya'll think being the grinch would count as like, being a furry?" Trinity asked, voice dripping in an odd amount of seriousness. 

"What? Baby no" Kylie jumped in. "Yes! absolutely, how would it NOT?" Trinity argues, and maybe it's the easiness of everything.  Of how nice it is to just fall into banter when you let people in. Bouncing off the two girls, she doesn't need to think of how to be funny, how to one up herself, remind everyone of why she's worthy. She can just, be. And that warrants a smile. 

With Ra'jah's elbow propped on the table, she rested her cheek against her palm to face forward, before turning a little to face Trinity

"But why do ya ask Trin? About Halloween"

"Oh, kinda last minute but I just want some ideas to figure mine out" She shrugs, and Kylie leans over once more. It's a little heartwarming, how physically close she always instinctively wants to be. 

"Oh! Are you going to the Halloween party this weekend?"

"Nah parties aren't really my thing"

"Awh, but it'll be fun!"

"Yeah standing in a mass of people I won't talk to will be so fun"

"Fine- Ra'jah, are you goin'?" Rajah turns her head to follow the voices like a cat keeping up with a beam of light. 

"Uh..."

"RIGHT, forgot, Halloween's not your thing". A party where she can have a disguise, let loose and have fun. It feels almost embarrassing to admit to her newfound friends that she's never been to a party, and the thought of a Halloween party didn't even cross her mind. Maybe Halloween isn't not her thing, it's just not something she'd indulge in. For reasons. Like, schoolwork. 

"Welllllll…" Ra'jah hummed, dragging on with a small grin

"OH the prospect of partying changes things huh?" 

"You know, me an' Halloween, we complicated okay!" They laugh, but Ra'jah's left thinking. New or old Ra'jah both, spends a little too much time in the internal realm of the brain. 

The class falls silent except the murmurs of the buzzing machines, and the three chatter in whispers. Although usually it's mostly her and Kylie with occasional injections of confirmation from Trinity

"You're insane if you think spaghettini is better than fettuccine" Kylie protested "Spaghettini is literally the objective worst"

"Says who?!" Ra'jah paused sewing to look up at Kylie in defiance

"Me!"

"Trinity which is better" 

"Huh? Ya'll It's too early for this." Trinity complained.

"Oh, says the bitch who asked if the grinch was a furry" Ra'jah retorted, but Trinity brushed her off to look at Kylie "Oh wait! Also, Kylie, what're you gonna be for Halloween?" She gave a little snicker before answering 

"Don't come for me but honestly? Was thinking about being a cat" 

"AAAAAH!" Ra'jah and Trinity erupted laughing.

"But like, a hot one okay!" Ra'jah quickly tried to redeem herself.

"You'll be the hottest ass cat around" Plus, worse comes to worst, Ra'jah will be a witch or something, and they can be hot and basic together. 

When the class ended, they packed their things, and exchanged their goodbyes

"I'll see y'all around!"

"See you! Good luck on your textile project Trin" 

"Thanks!" She waved, yelling a final "Bye!" 

"Bye!" The three part, and Ra'jah makes her way to her second class. History of costume and design was next, and quickly weighing it out, she decided to take a quicker path through the halls. Suddenly, the weight of a body knocked at her side, the two stumbling around for a few seconds. A gust of papers had fallen from both parties' arms, and landed on the floor.

"Oh shit! I'm so-" Scarlet cuts herself off when she looks up at whom she's bumped into.

"Maybe watch where you're going" Ra'jah snorts out of sheer instinct, squatting down to gather her papers where Scarlet follows suit, just a little too close. The vague, sweet scent of strawberries she gives off is suffocating.

"Maybe if you weren't such a stuck up cunt taking up half the hallway I wouldn't hit you" The attention sends a masochistic jolt down her spine

"Uh oh someone's in a bad mood. Stuck up cunt that's a new one! Love the creativity. You should drop out of this school and be a writer" As much as she screamed internally to just shut the fuck up and get your things, it was so easy to slip back to this.

"Thanks but I'm good! When you fail out this year you can give it a try"

"Baby, me? Fail out?" Please don't imply that. Please don't make me doubt that I can and deserve to be here. I don't want to seek approval from others, but I can't help but be hurt at disapproval. Of course, her thoughts don't verbalize as the words that come out of her mouth. "That's a lot of talk for a girl who probably spends more hours getting fucked than studying" Before she can think it through, process the flash of hurt on her face and the way her fingers tense around the last piece of paper, before Ra'jah can really understand the weight of her own words she continues. "But I guess that's how you get yo' A's right?"

Their exchanges were in aggressive whispers, hushed to anyone above them. To most people, they'd find a sight of two girls muttering to one another while they pick up some things they've dropped.

"You're so much prettier when you're quiet" Scarlet huffed, standing up in one swift motion. Those words aren't a compliment. Like, at all. So why does Ra'jah's dumb, twisted heart stop for a second? The implied connection of herself and 'pretty' slows her body and slurs her mind until she's pushing herself up off the ground in slow motion. It's been so many months of mundanity, the small interaction felt all so familiar and foreign and exciting at the same time.But the haziness of her words and their little games makes her forget for a second of what the fuck just happened, and a wave of patheticness washed over her as she started to walk, eyes focused at the cream walls. For all her hemming and hawing, Ra'jah hasn't. Fucking. Changed. 

A rush of everything dives into her guts, a sick adrenaline coated in dread, self loathing and the slight urge to cry, nestling in her stomach like a bird claiming a branch as it's home. Her skin was electric, and she hated to admit she loved it, the thrill of interacting with her, cattiness and all. Imagine feeling this much from fucking bumping into someone? Fingers clenched, nails digging in her own palms at how much she hates her. Intense emotions are a high of their own, and Ra'jah can't help but indulge. The piercing sting of her flesh being pressed in with her nails is intensified as she listens for the faint voice of that lanky girl always accompanying Scarlet. 

"You good Scarlet?"

"Yeah, thanks" She can't look back, but she can't help but wonder- are they hugging? Holding hands? It doesn't- it shouldn't matter to her. The fun amusement pales in comparison to the misery settling in. The realization that she's fighting with Scarlet like they're 16 at the back of English class.

Of all the schools, why'd that girl have to come here? Of all the things to pursue, why the same as herself? Of all the people, why'd it have to be her? Ra'jah didn't have the audacity to explore the last question. What she means, she's not too sure. The only thing in the world she's sure of is that she can't be both New Ra'jah™ and Old Ra'jah™ to different people. The line between the two existences isn't so bold anymore, and painting over the bumps isn't as effective as she'd hoped. 

  ***

  Truth be told, watching herself move around in skirts was one of her favorite things- just about tied with watching others watch her. Maybe that's why she joined cheer in highschool. Especially with the support from (or, lack of thereof) a certain grimacing purple haired girl, a runaway model from a fashion show who wound up wandering this school. She never needed to turn and look, didn't need sight to know there's a burn at her back, nor who it's radiating from. Scarlet always walked with just a bit of a straighter back, just a bit more purpose, and just a bit more stride in her step when her favorite pair of wandering eyes were around. A small part of her always wants to turn around, catch her gaze and watch her frantically look away and pretend she's talking to someone. Or maybe she'll hold it, stare back with just as much intensity. But her wistful attention is enough of an ego boost. The scowl ridden bitch, smile washed away just for her, and yet that's where her attention lied. It made her bite back a smile. 

Scarlet is a pretty thing, and she didn't need constant confirmation to remind her that she's beautiful. She's hot, she knows it, Ra'jah knows it, and Scarlet knows that's all she is to her. A pretty thing. Whatever. She's not important. 

In fear of her brain melting, and/or being fried to a crisp, Scarlet doesn't bother having two classes back to back. Her mental capacity is full, and a nice salad will probably help with that. She's on her way to meet with Yvie for lunch, thinking about their weekend plans, when she takes a misstep and stumbles, all her weight focused in her shoulder which slams against someone else's side.

"Oh shit! I'm so-" the universe is an asshole. May the odds never be in my favor. 

"Maybe watch where you're going" Her sneer is venomous, and the universe has suddenly become just the second biggest asshole. 

"Maybe if you weren't such a stuck up cunt taking up half the hallway I wouldn't hit you" Ra'jah didn't do anything, a rational voice lectures, but she ignores it the way she's ignoring the taller girls face. Scarlet's grabbing at her papers, avoiding eye contact because that selfish pile of shit on her right takes up enough space as is, and if she looks into her eyes, sees that stupid fucking face this close she might do something bad. Like, in the sense of, punching her. Yeah, she can't look at her or she'll beat her up. Because that's a fight she'd win.  

"Uh oh someone's in a bad mood. Stuck up cunt that's a new one! Love the creativity. You should drop out of this school and be a writer" Ra'jah snides, and she needs to drop out before Scarlet gets grey hair from her. 

"Thanks but I'm good! When you fail out this year you can give it a try" Her words are about as empty as her own stomach, because she hasn't eaten since last night, and Ra'jah will quit fashion school and become a science engineer before she fails out. 

"Baby, me? Fail out?" Yeah, with the flawless outfit you're wearing that you sure as hell made just because you were bored one night. Your pants could literally be sold as a luxury brand. The girl who started sewing when she a embryo in the womb, you'll fucking fail out.  "That's a lot of talk for a girl who probably spends more hours getting fucked than studying- But I guess that's how you get yo' A's right?" Scarlet looks up, not at Ra'jah but away from the ground, and the urge to yell, hit her, and cry come up at the same time. She wants to scream, get everyone in hearing range to know that Ra'jah is a loser who will amount to nothing. She wants to reach out and choke her. But articulating her anger into words is too much, and she ends up just whispering whatever words are willing to come out as she gets up, not caring if she left any papers behind. 

"You're so much prettier when you're quiet" And that's the closest thing to honest Scarlet's said all day. 

In the distance, she sees Yvie walking towards her, so she waits until the freshly dyed green haired girl is caught up beside her. 

"You good Scarlet?" 

"Yeah, thanks" The two walk together, side by side, and Scarlet loops her arm through Yvie's, linking the pair. 

"You know, Scarlie, you should stop wearing heels before you break your ankles"

"Hey!" She giggled, slapping the taller girl's arm in response. "I never fall, people just get in my way" Yvie scoffs, unable to stop the corners of her lips turning up and giving her away, forever endeared by the shorter girl. Scarlet's affection makes her forget that they've only known each other for a month. They reach a set of blue doors, and Yvie opens it, holding it for Scarlet to come through. Her face seems puzzled 

"Are you down to go to Mika's Cafe? I want to get some coffee" 

"Sure, they have nice breakfast sandwiches and omelettes, I'm down" It's only a few minutes away from campus 

"What's on your mind"

"Just like, school stuff. I have to make a dress for creative fashion design, and I'm just thinking about it, and what I wanna do" Would it be tmi to blurt that Ra'jah is insufferable? 

"Cool," Yvie hummed, and spiteful words cycled through Scarlet's head, deciding on what exactly to say, before Yvie beats her to it, whipping her head in some seeming urgency

 "OH by the way, I know you're busy with your project and you're determined on getting in the top 5 and all," 

"Uh huh" 

"Buuuuut, there's a Halloween party this weekend, and I was gonna go with Brooke and her friends but they're not going anymore," Scarlet knows how Yvie feels about Brooke, and to be fair she's only met her a few times in passing, but how someone like Yvie could fall for someone as uptight as the boring blonde is beyond her. She doesn't dare bring up another possibility of why her dorm mate would be avoiding the stoic girl, a possibility involving a particularly hot headed latina glued to the Canadians side. "They decided clubbing downtown would be more fun or whatever," They're outside on the pavement now, and the afternoon breeze graces their skin. It's a welcome environment, and Scarlet slows down her pace to enjoy the air, with Yvie quickly matching her pace. 

"Wouldn't you rather go clubbing though? Like not with Brooke and them but with others," Scarlet is friendly and all, but she swears Yvie is somehow friends with half the school. She sure as hell can find a group to go with.

"I guess, but I want to go to the party," she quiets a little as she continues, "There are some people I want to see there, for fun and stuff"

"Mmmm!" Scarlet widens her eyes, looking at the taller girl with a knowing glare, sprinkled with a teeny bit of judgement. 

"It's kinda lame to go there alone!" 

"No it's not!" 

"Scarls, yeah it is"

"Why do you even care? Wanna impress some girls?" In response, Yvie rolled her eyes so hard Scarlet could practically feel it. 

"'Cause you want me to go to a fun Halloween party by myself? 

"Yes! You could walk up to anyone and there's like an 80% chance you already know them, and a 100% chance you'll become friends anyways" The quirky girl's charm is undeniable, she'll be fine without Scarlet. Yvie gives a defeated sigh

"Seems kinda homophobic" 

"Ugh you know what's actually homophobic? The fact that more people aren't madly in love with me. I'm LITERALLY perfect" The prospect of love feels like it's been dangled infront of her, her whole life. Imagine looking like Scarlet, and never dated before?

"You're right girl, you are" Yvie laughed her deep, hearty cackle and Scarlet wanted to melt a little. 

"Thank you, finally someone with taste" Looking at her outfit, she remembers that the tall girl's taste is kind of debatable, and Scarlet almost wants to say she takes it back

"You think Ra'jah has good taste then?" 

"What?" 

"Also a party seems like the best way to meet more people y'know?" She brushes over her last question, and it's much better that way.

"You know what, whatever 'll go with you" Scarlet agrees so she'll shut up. If she hears her roommate bring up she-who-shall-not-be-named-because-shes-a-stick-in-the-ass anymore she might lose her mind. And, she really doesn't have any other plans for the night so might as well.

 ***

AN: going to be a while for the next chapter bc im busy so here's a lil thing lol xo

***

They weren't supposed to meet here. Weren't supposed to see each other. At least, that's what Scarlet tries to tell herself.

"You are such a fucking pain, oh my god" Scarlet seethed because everything is hazy except the impassive girl standing before her and she can't think straight. Her cold eyes are apathetic and Scarlet wants to implode, like a glass thermostat engulfed in a burning heat where it's not a question of if, but an inevitable when? "Maybe I am arrogant" Her voice was coated in a sickly sweet frustration. She pushed further into Ra'jah's space, the taller girl stiffening at the ever decreasing space between the two. How can she be so still, so unreactive? This is all so amusing to her? Is she having fun, so fucking detached from everything and watching Scarlet crumble? Pretending like she cares about Scarlet past her pretty face? Enjoying her sadistic game? Fuck her, fuck her, fuck her. 

"Maybe I am narcissistic" Their faces were inches apart, and Ra'jah could feel the angry womans hot breathe on her cheek, the pungent smell of alcohol intruding her nose.

"But I'd rather be a confident, arrogant narcissist than whatever kind of sad fuck you are" 

Scarlet growled, and she wanted to breathe fire, burn Ra'jah's existence out of her mind and scream at everything she felt because of her. Except that she sees her, and wants her, wants to hurt her and touch her and without thinking her hands are digging around Ra'jah's waist.

"You are such-" Scarlet was interrupted as the other girl leaned in, framed the shorter girl's face with both her hands, and pressed her lips against Scarlets. Any thoughts or mental functionality she had were put to an abrupt stop. This wasn't supposed to happen. It's been so long, but no time has passed since they were last like this. The plug to her brain was pulled, and it's all static and her bodys done a full 180. Ra'jah's piercing lips are numbing, and her overheated body feels like it's been dunked in ice where all her nerves are all in shock. They weren't supposed to do this anymore, it's the only thing they've ever been able to agree on. She was frozen, unable to move, or think, far too busy being hyper focused on the familiar sugary lips on hers, sending waves of nostalgia through her body. Time has only heighted the intoxication. She gains some composure and surges forward, but Ra'jah's pulling away, opening her mouth to finally say something.

"You're so much prettier when you're quiet"

[esmeraldablazingsky]

I’ve finally hit my limit on the number of bad takes on the Lan parents I can see before I have to lay out all the reasons I disagree, so hello, I’m Blazie, and in this essay I will justify my visceral dislike of the assumption that Qingheng-jun married/imprisoned/had sex with Lan-furen against her will.

    Warning for mentions of rape (in context of Interpretations I Really Hate) and a very, VERY long post below the cut.

    Before I start going off about the finer points of all this, I want to make sure people are on the same page regarding what we actually know about what went down with Qingheng-jun and Lan-furen. What I say is based off the EXR translation of MDZS, for the sake of clarity, and although I don’t think the exact wording should be too important, feel free to let me know if you think I’ve missed an important bit of nuance or something (the whole story is in Chapter 64.)

    The story we get is told by Lan Xichen, and it goes like this: a young Qingheng-jun falls in love at first sight with Lan-furen, who doesn’t return his feelings, and at some point kills one of Qingheng-jun’s teachers over unspecified “grievances.” Although he’s understandably very upset over the murder, Qingheng-jun sneaks Lan-furen back to Cloud Recesses and officially marries her in order to announce to his clan that anyone who wants to hurt her has to go through him.

After that, he locks Lan-furen in one house and himself in another as a form of repentance. Wei Wuxian speculates that this was because “he could neither forgive the one who killed his teacher nor watch the death of the woman who he loved. He could only marry her to protect her life and force himself not to see her.” 

    A central detail of this story that I think people don’t give the import it deserves is that aside from marrying and protecting her, Qingheng-jun’s other option was to let Lan-furen be executed by his clan. His purpose in marrying her wasn’t just for kicks/out of a possessive sort of love, it was so she wouldn’t straight up die. How she felt about this arrangement isn’t stated, but I’ll get into that in a bit. In addition to that, Qingheng-jun and Lan-furen live separately, which was apparently purposeful on Qingheng-jun’s part, and runs counter to the interpretation that he intended to take sexual advantage of Lan-furen.

Though there aren’t many concrete details in Lan Xichen’s retelling, he does specifically inform Wei Wuxian that his mother never complained about remaining in her house. What exactly this signifies is unclear— whether she was simply putting on a brave face for her sons, or whether she was in fact at all content with the situation— but it at the very least serves to further muddy the waters on how she and Qingheng-jun felt about all this. 

Beyond what Lan Xichen and Wei Wuxian are saying out loud, there’s also quite a bit of subtext in this scene, especially in light of later events and revelations, like Lan Xichen’s confession for Lan Wangji at Guanyin Temple. 

So what is Lan Xichen trying to convey with all this? There’s a lot of memes about this scene, most of which err too far on the side of Himbo Airhead Lan Xichen for my liking, but one that I do find amusing emphasizes how Lan Xichen draws parallels between Wangxian and the story of his parents (Lan Xichen: [flute solo] please use your one brain cell to connect the dots.) If Wei Wuxian hadn’t completely lost his memory of Lan Wangji defending him against his own clan elders, one would assume that Lan Xichen’s story would have had a much better chance of hitting home. 

In hindsight and side by side, the parallels are much clearer— Qingheng-jun, “ignoring the objections from his clan… told everyone in the clan that she would be his wife for the rest of his life, that whoever wanted to harm her would have to pass through him first.” Similarly, according to Lan Xichen in Chapter 99, “for [Wei Wuxian,] not only did WangJi talk back to him, he even met with his sword the cultivators from the GusuLan Sect. He heavily injured all thirty-three of the seniors we asked to come.”

In that context, it makes a lot less sense to interpret Qingheng-jun as an aggressor towards Lan-furen, as in Lan Wangji’s case, the narrative clearly establishes that his actions are to secure Wei Wuxian’s safety. The action of Taking Someone Back To Cloud Recesses is— okay, actually, it’s a little more nuanced than I took into account when I started writing that sentence, so let me go a little deeper into Lan Wangji’s actions and how they relate to his father’s, story-wise. 

My intent is not to dive into the terrifying underworld of novel-versus-drama discourse, but simply put, Novel!Lan Wangji as he is written isn’t exactly the poster child for clear consent. (I’m going to entirely leave off the extra chapters for the sake of everyone’s sanity, so I’m just talking about the main body of the novel here.)

He means well, and I’m sure we can agree that he does actually love and want the best for Wei Wuxian, but his lack of communication on this point means that he accidentally gives Wei Wuxian the impression that he wants to imprison and/or punish him in Cloud Recesses at least twice off the top of my head (pre-timeskip, as we know, and post-timeskip immediately after Dafan Mountain when he actually drags Wei Wuxian back to his room.) 

That all likely has something to do with MXTX’s narrative kinks and regular kinks and all that, and can absolutely be taken with many grains of salt. However, these events establish how easy it is to misinterpret the action of Taking Someone Back To Gusu as an attempt to imprison rather than protect them (much to Lan Wangji’s chagrin.)

Failing to communicate his purpose to Wei Wuxian doesn’t mean that Lan Wangji actually had any intent of hurting or caging him— that was just a misinterpretation on Wei Wuxian’s part, and we, as the audience, find that out in due time— but as written in the novel, it can be really uncomfortable to read. Because of that, many people choose to accept CQL canon regarding Lan Wangji’s more possessive actions or mix characterization from different adaptations, which, to be clear, I completely understand and respect. 

However, Qingheng-jun doesn’t get the benefit of the doubt as often, which I frankly find baffling, because nowhere in the text does it state that Lan-furen objected to being taken back to Cloud Recesses, while even Wei Wuxian clearly objected the first few times. In fact, while we’re on this note, I’ll take it a step farther— I find it baffling that people seem to default to an unsympathetic view of Qingheng-jun, because nowhere in the text does it state that he overruled Lan-furen’s wishes in any way. The text doesn’t clarify a lot of things, actually, and that is part of the point. 

The narrators of MDZS are, in many situations, highly unreliable. This is, presumably, very purposeful! MDZS can easily be read as a sharp criticism of reputation and mass judgment and the concept of condemning people without knowing their motives! And I don’t want to sound mean, but guys… did any of us learn anything from that? Here, I’m going to put it in meme format for a second to convey what I mean. 

MDZS: It’s easy to condemn someone as a villain if you don’t know their story or the reasons behind their actions

MDZS: Anyway, here’s a character whose story and reasons behind his actions you know nothing about

Some Parts Of This Fandom: Ah, a villain 

    Memes aside, here’s what I want to point out. It’s entirely possible to assume Qingheng-jun was a bad person who disregarded a woman’s wishes in marrying and confining her when all you have is Lan Xichen’s (actually very neutral, thank you Lan Xichen for being an eminently reasonable and concerned-with-evidence character) account of what happened. It would also be at least that easy to assume Wei Wuxian was just an evil necromancer if he hadn’t un-died and brought his own story to light, or even to believe that Lan Wangji had somehow tamed Wei Wuxian into submission and being a respectable cultivator if you were an average citizen of Fantasy Ancient China with nothing but rumors to operate on. 

    The thing about Qingheng-jun and Lan-furen’s story, then, is that there is nobody left alive who knows the full tale. Nobody knows what they thought about anything, really. Nobody even knows why Lan-furen killed Qingheng-jun’s teacher. Wei Wuxian asks why, and Lan Xichen can’t tell him, but I think the best answer would be something along the lines of I don’t know, Wei Wuxian, why did you kill people? Your guess on the motivations of your own thinly disguised narrative parallel are as good as anyone’s. 

    So, while it’s not technically impossible to assign darker motives to Qingheng-jun, the cautionary tale of MDZS seems to warn against that exact assumption. 

    I’ve refrained from getting too salty on a personal level thus far, but now that I’ve said a lot of the more logical and story-based points of my argument, I will say that at least some of my annoyance with the interpretation of Qingheng-jun as a possessive rapist and Lan-furen as his victim stems from the fact that I just think it’s straight up boring. Where’s the nuance? Aren’t you tired of reducing these characters to the flattest possible versions of themselves? Don’t you just want to add a little flavor? 

    In a slightly more serious phrasing of that criticism, I find that making Lan-furen a helpless prisoner strips her of whatever agency she might otherwise have. To be fair, she’s more or less a non-character in keeping with the general state of the MDZS universe, but making her a damsel in distress only consigns her more deeply to hapless, milquetoast innocence. 

    It’s perfectly valid to enjoy ladies who have done nothing wrong, ever, in their lives, but like… Qin Su is right there, if that’s your ball game. There’s also really no need to make Qingheng-jun someone who doesn’t respect women. Isn’t Jin Guangshan enough for at least one universe? 

    Anyway, ultimately, you do you. I don’t like arguing on the internet, and will just ignore things I don’t agree with (or write an 1800 word vaguepost) like a mature human being. I’m just saying, if it’s a cut and dry tale of imprisonment and assault you’re looking for… you probably don’t want to turn to a woman who committed a murder and a man who loved her enough to forfeit everything to keep her safe. 

[bestworstcase]

Hi, I really love your thoughts and analysis on tts so I wanted to ask if you have read The Vanishing Village Book? It made me really think about Eugene's character. I sorta disliked him in the book and felt his relationship with Rapunzel was different and strained. I guess my question is if you think Eugene is a good character? I feel that I am biased for liking the story and relationship between Cassandra and Rapunzel so perhaps I am not seeing him in a fair light but there's just factors that make me feel he might not be the best for Rapunzel. I love their relationship and value & dedication towards each other but their relationship can feel a bit stale sometimes and Eugene can come off as not understanding and dismissive towards Rapunzel sometimes so ig I'd like to be proven wrong and be reminded that Eugene is good for Rapunzel

i have read vanishing village (and i remember liking it better than lost lagoon) but i have to admit i don’t remember anything but the very broad strokes of the plot, so i don’t feel equipped to do any analysis of eugene based on it; that being said -

i do really like eugene as a character in the sense that he is. interesting / engaging / compelling, which yeah to my mind that’s what makes a “good character” but also has nothing to do with the, kind of, moral or personal question of but is he a good guy or is he likable or sympathetic or that kind of thing. and on that my feelings are more ambivalent kfjfjdhs

on the one hand i do find his relationship with rapunzel in tts to be fairly refreshing. it’s nice to see a fictional m/f couple that is just… comfortable with each other, friends with each other, able to talk about their problems collaboratively with each other. that is so rare in fiction, where the tendency is so often to rely on miscommunication to manufacture relationship drama or do the will they won’t they, on again off again nonsense which is just so tiresome - and it feels good to have a m/f couple that eschews that altogether. and it’s also imo really nice that the m/f relationship fades so much into the background vis a vis the wider plot, which i know is not necessarily a popular opinion [vague gestures at all the ‘eugene was sidelined’ discourse] but, like, i feel like i can count on one hand the number of stories i know where the female protagonist *has a male love interest* without the story being ABOUT him, and with the male love interest filling this supportive narrative role while quietly and subtly dealing with his own problems on the side? it’s so difficult to find stories where men aren’t centered and so i appreciate eugene and new dream a lot for that reason too.

but at the same time like - eugene def falls victim to the plot-driven writing just like every other character does and that frustrates me because i think ultimately having all these loose threads hanging with him means his character feels a bit stagnant, and that in turn makes his flaws more glaring because they’re never… worked on or addressed, they just sort of persist or silently fade away for the most part. (which again, is true of literally every character because the storytelling of tts is highly plot driven and episodic)

& that phenomenon can make character interpretation a little convoluted, because… well the intentions of the narrative are signaled pretty baldly (eugene grows out of his selfishness and becomes a compassionate hard working leader for corona, which he has embraced as his home) without having much if any on-screen development to back it up (indeed the premise of flynnposter involves eugene shirking his new responsibilities, and then it concludes with a commitment from him to take the captain gig seriously - but thereafter the only time we get to see this demonstrated through him encouraging project obsidian [which makes him look the opposite of compassionate or responsible given he is excitedly planning to extrajudicially murder cassandra] and then joining the fight against zhan tiri [which literally everyone in corona does]). so do we take what the textual development shows us and conclude that eugene is, at the end of the day, just another cop, or do we take the narrative signaling as a given and fill in the textual gaps with our own imaginations? i tend to fall heavier on the textual side but i do try to take intentions into consideration when they are signaled so clearly, because i understand the structural and corporate limitations on what the tts team were able to do with the story.

anyways - i also have some fraught feelings about new dream because, in the film, it’s not a relationship that i can buy into at all. rapunzel is 17, a few days shy of 18, when an adult man in his mid-twenties tumbles into her bedroom, hits on her, tries to take advantage of her naïveté so he can recover his stolen goods and screw her over because he’s spent his life cultivating an attitude of selfish disregard for anyone but himself, but she’s so sweet he decides to give emotional vulnerability a try and within three days they’re in love and then they get MARRIED?? and he’s literally the first person rapunzel has ever met who wasn’t her “mother”? excuse me???

and i get the impression the tts team was fully cognizant of that problem and made a real effort to address it, as much as they could within the context of the designated disney princess couple - that’s how we get things like the BEA proposal and rapunzel and eugene talking their feelings out afterwards and agreeing to take things slower, and that’s how we get things like rapunzel having cass and eugene having lance so they have lives and identities and relationships outside of each other, and it’s why eugene has a little arc of becoming less self-absorbed in the front half of s1 and why cassandra overtly criticizes his treatment of rapunzel in BEA and so on and so forth. like no one says it OUT LOUD in the series but rapunzel’s and eugene’s relationship is fraught with peril because of the way they met and came together, and it takes significant emotional work from both of them to navigate that to arrive at a healthy place, and i enjoy watching that play out.

so yeah eugene is sometimes too in his own head to notice when something is wrong with rapunzel, like how he misses how unhappy she is in BEA because *he’s* so jazzed about palace living, and sometimes they struggle to get on the same page with each other in general; but that’s just, kind of the gig where relationships are concerned. what matters to me is that whenever these hiccups happen we see, typically some confusion or distress from him or rapunzel or both, and then they reach out for each other and talk about it until they reach an understanding, which is the correct healthy way to manage this sort of conflict in a relationship. and of course through it all eugene is pretty unflagging in his absolute support of rapunzel - even if he doesn’t always *express it* in a good way, he is always very invested in rapunzel’s happiness and well-being. like even the BEA proposal, eugene’s fuck up lies in assuming that rapunzel felt the same way he did about everything and that proposing now would make her happy - there’s self-absorption there but not to the point where he isn’t concerned about her feelings, so when he upsets her he immediately realizes that he screwed up and shelves his own feelings to focus on hers, which is very Good Partner of him.

and then again on a metatextual level i do kind of hate that rapunzel’s arc is essentially, trapped in corona -> adventure! -> adventure is traumatic time to go home -> exact same circumstances she started in but she’s happy about it now. not to say i object to rapunzel embracing her role as a princess/queen per se, but in an ideal world i would like that to come from a place of rapunzel remaking her role to suit herself rather than just kind of… this ‘well got the wanderlust out of my system forever!’ vibe i get from plus est. this isn’t directly related to eugene at all but i think it does splash over onto him on account of him being so closely intertwined with her life in corona. if rapunzel were given an arc about tearing down institutions that stifled her in s1 and really rebuilding corona to be better (something that is lightly implied in canon but never quite makes its way to outright text) then of course eugene would have been her number one supporter - but she doesn’t get that arc and so eugene ends up just kind of being there while rapunzel settles into the role laid out for her. (the destiny narrative being played painfully straight in this regard doesn’t help either.)

this is all a bit of a ramble but i guess what i’m getting at is i think at the end of the day the thing that makes new dream feel a bit stale or stagnant is the series sticking to this aggressively pro-monarchy, status quo is good, mass market appeal narrative enforced by the reality of Disney Princess Show, and that’s not eugene’s fault or any character’s fault, it’s a corporate issue and writing issue.

oh and also personally i think eugene’s biggest flaw in the new dream relationship is he has a tendency to enable rapunzel’s worst impulses via unquestioning support - a little healthy skepticism can be very good for a relationship vs just being your partner’s yes man. so when i imagine a character trajectory for him post-series it involves eugene getting more comfortable pushing back when rapunzel is pursuing ideas that are bad in some way.

[shyrose57]

Brothers anon. Sorry about the previous ask I get nervous easy and feel like I need to check im not annoying anyone at times. If I am ever annoying you though or you want me to do anything though please tell me!

Watson is close to everyone from the group, because he's seen as the dad figure and an easy person to talk too. Besides from that Jackie and Grievous are close and often train or play games together, and Jackie and Ran are close, they don't do much expect just hang out and since their both the youngest that helps them feel a bit closer. Ran and Grievous aren't really close, though Grievous wants to make attempts to become closer to Ran, potentially by inviting him to training sessions or game nights.

The other fighters from the Pit are still around! They mostly aren't around the Pit as they have jobs and other stuff to take care off, but they try to vist often. Like Genevieve and Levi come over on a regular basis to train with them all and just hang out. And sometimes Genevieve and Levi participate in the Pit's fights just for fun.

He was kept in a room in Mizu. The room was reminiscent of a jail cell, with no glass in it, and a door that required a key to be opened, he wasn't completely chained down but they did put cuffs on his wrists to prevent him from moving around to much. Benjamin honestly just kind of felt like something was off, because most people don't commit mass murder without a reason and he couldn't find a reason for Ranbob doing it. And he has reported multiple times (along with the others) feeling a strange weightless feeling near dreams room, almost like their getting sucked into a void, while also hearing a distant voice in their head calling them to come closer. When everyone said they heard the voice, with Ranbob even saying from where he was that he heard the voice but much clearer, and sometimes he feels like he doesn't control what he's doing. Benjamin and Isaac decided to block off the room and nearby rooms and made it a rule that if anyone heard the voice or felt like that to report it to them and where they felt it so ot could be blocked off.

Because Ranbob said he heard the voice too Benjamin started thinking that maybe Ranbob wasn't in control and there's something deeper going on. They specifically figure out its the mask when Charles finds it and brings it up to the group, where reports of the voices and feeling come back ten-fold, and even Ranbob who was starting to show progress and become a bit more willing to talk harshly backtracked to where he almost tried to attack anyone who came into the room. So Charles quickly puts it back as far from the group as possible, with Cletus following him to make sure he actually puts it back. Later they talk about destroying it but the question of what will happen to the possession on it stops them, as what if when they break it, the possession type thing (its not actually a possession I just forget the word oop), moves onto another object? Maybe even connect to them or Ranbob?

Ranbob does learn how to sew! Charles helps him learn actually and it helps the two get close! Cletus and Isaac are forbin as of now to return to Mizu, there are talks about going back later in time but for now everyone agreed it'd be best to hang back and avoid Mizu no matter what.

Life in the house is very hard to adjust to at first for Ranbob especially, its mostly awkward and learning boundaries. But after a few weeks to months living with the fishermen Ranbob becomes much more comfortable to open up a lot. Closest to Ranbob is definitely both Benjamin and Charles, as Benjamin is the one who recognized what was happening to Ranbob and Charles is the one who he spends most time with (mostly teaching Ranbob random skills).

Even after the fight ends Ran is still incredibly mad, and when Ranbob is so much as mentioned he growls and gets more aggravated. The fishermen are mostly surprised, Ranbob did mention there was a survivor that he remembers almost killing before they escaped, but because it seemed like a sensitive topic they never pressed him to tell them more. They never would've expected the survivor was his brother though. And the gladiators are completely surprised, expect Watson, Ran told Watson his past about Mizu and his brother (because I like to think Ran has night terrors due to Mizu and Watson is often the one to comfort him). Its only once Ranbob gets taken off to the medical bay and Ran goes to blow off steam in the training area the two sides talk. Where what they've been told is shared and connections and understandings are made. And they all manage to agree to try to get the brothers at least on talking terms, so they can talk about what happened and at least attempt to fix their relationship.

They are not! Other enderman hybrids do exist but their very rare due to complexity with passing the enderman genes. Though Ran and Ranbob did have a family of 6 they where apart of (the 2 other siblings where younger than them) but not every member had enderman genes.

They do notice how Jackie looks similar to Tubbo but they mostly just brush it off, as if Cletus takes off his head gear he looks like Quackity and of course Ranbob looks like Ranboo with the mix of black and white skin.

Hey, don’t worry about it, seriously. I do the same thing with people, so I kinda get it. I really do enjoy reading these, so really, I should be thanking you for sending them!

The bonds between everyone sound interesting. So Watson’s just generally the dad friend? How does he feel about that? Has he just unironically adopted all these dorks? Is it something of an inside joke? Jackie and Grievous sound like quite the combination. Honestly I can imagine these two either being very chill, or very chaotic, depending on the day. Ran and Jackie just hanging out sounds neat, what do they do together? Do they play games like Jackie does with Grievous, or do they just nap and cloud-watch, or something similar? And Grievous trying to bond with Ran sounds nice, how does that work out for him? Do they find some sort of activity that brings them closer?

I saw you mentioned Ran and Jackie were the youngest, which brings up two things. One, does the height difference remain? I’ve seen a lot of art depicting it as such, and honestly, the thought of some new fighters being tossed into a fight with these two, and A, seeing this short kid next to this ridiculously tall guy, and B, their expressions when being told Ran’s not an adult is very amusing to me. 

And two, what exactly is the age limit for going into the Pit? It’s probably not incredibly young, but how old are Jackie and Ran to be stated as the youngest? In their early teens? Late? Older? What kind of rules are there in the fights, no deaths aside?

The other fighters still being around is pretty cool, how do they get along with the gladiators? I imagine fairly well, since you’ve said they hang out, but are they close with anyone is particular? And what exactly is the Pit, besides a tournament? Do people fight for money in there? Do they just fight to fight? Is it open to a lot of people?

So the fisherman hung around Mizu and talked to Ranbob? It must have been strange, seeing the change in their would-be murderer. It does bring up the question of how in control Ranbob was when he first met them. Was he relatively himself at the start, and only begin to fall more under Dream’s thrall later, or was he under it from the start? And how do the fishermen feel about this? 

Actually, how young even is Ranbob? I believe you mentioned him to be Ran’s older(?) brother, but as previously said, Ran’s among the youngest of the gladiators, so how much older is Ranbob?  How old was he when he was led to kill the residents of Mizu?

I believe the word you’re looking for is possibly spirit? I’m assuming? And yeah, pretty smart of them to get away from it. Do they ever end up dealing with that in the future, or is it a ‘let’s just agree to never go near that thing again.’ kinda deal?

Charles and Ranbob bonding! Very nice! What other skills does Charles have, and where’d he learn them? Actually, what’s the general backstory for the fishermen? Is it anything that could tie in later, or no?

But that adjustment period can’t be easy. As we saw, the fishermens’ house was pretty small, and for Ranbob, to go from literally being the only person there in a huge city, to such an arrangement, well. It can’t have been easy. How did it affect him, and how did the fishermen deal with it?

In relation, how did Ran deal with going from Mizu to outside it? I imagine the lifestyle was a bit different from what he was used to.

So the relationship isn’t so easily fixed, hm? Y’know, all things considered, that’s pretty fair. How do the two groups get along, once they’ve decided to get the two brothers back together? And what kind of plan do they come up with? Perhaps deciding to travel together? Or maybe stick around and fight more? How does that work out for them? 

How does Ran feel about the brother that almost killed him being around his new family? And how does Ranbob feel about finding him again? Did he even think he was still kicking, or believe him to be dead?

So Endermen hybrids aren’t that common huh? Does that happen to be why Porkius was so interested in them? And are any of the fishermen or gladiators hybrids as well? Philza’s often shown with wings, and honestly, I’m curious to know if your AU’s Watson is a similar hybrid, or otherwise. 

Also, how do the gladiators fight? Are there double battles and team ups? Is there anyone they fight better with? What’s their general strategy? 

And how does Porkius feel about these new developments? Does he know? Help out, or let them sort it themselves? What’s going on with our resident king?

[hunnybadgerv]

Restless Energy | Mass Effect | Guardians in the Darkness

Summary: Always one to let her thoughts chip away at her, Nyx gets overwhelmed by the fears and worries. Sometimes it helps to have someone else there to give you a hand wrangling them.

a/n: Written to fill a prompt for Nyx and Kaidan from @Chyrstis. From the Training Turned Tension Starters prompt list.

Link to AO3

Restless Energy

Though Shepard never would have doubted it, Liara’s observation about the Major having become quite capable rushed back to the forefront of Shepard’s mind as her back hit the floor and the air rushed out of her lungs. His hand-to-hand tactics had clearly improved since the last time they’d sparred with one another. Of course, the last time it had just been the two of them it had turned into an event for the entire crew—two biotics probing one another’s limits on the ship. It was a heck of a draw. This bout skimmed under everyone’s radar. Though maybe the Spectre vs. Spectre aspect could have been at least as entertaining.

This time though, the rules were different. Nyx’s restlessness had piqued in the middle of the night following one of the more disturbing dreams she’d been having of late.  She’d slipped out of her quarters on her own to run off the nervous energy that kept her from being able to fall back to sleep. She hadn’t woken him, even despite his request to do just that a few weeks earlier. To be fair, she had thought about it, but he looked so peaceful; his face bore none of the stress that weighed on both their shoulders. As such, she just couldn’t bring herself to take that kind of relaxation from him, especially since good sleep was a commodity since the Reapers initial assault.

Despite her consideration, something had woken him, and he’d come to find her in the gym running full tilt, like she was being chased. He’d stood in the door watching until she noticed him. An open admission of her restless insomnia led them to this—going blow-for-blow with one another in the center mat.

It took a moment for her body to finally gasp in a breath, by then Kaidan loomed over her. Being beneath him on the mat, his hands pressing her wrists into the coated cushioning lining this area of the floor. It taunted another kind of restlessness. Even so, she kept her mind mostly on the objective—beating him.

Nyx returned his wicked smirk with one of her own, whether he thought it was a truce or not, she managed to shift enough to get her leg curled between them. She didn’t break their gaze until she flung him bodily over her.

The slap of his body against the mat came with a low groan. She rolled, breaking his grip on her wrists and trading it for one of her own. Straddling his ribs, her hands pressed into his and laced their fingers. Nyx leaned over him and kissed the tip of his nose.

“Should have stayed on your feet, Major” she told him with a smile. “You gave you your advantage.”

Kaidan didn’t move his hands; he just gave hers a squeeze. “Probably so.” He seemed less than concerned about his current situation, almost content.

She brushed the tip of her nose against his and tried to focus on that one moment. It was hard to keep out the ghosts and the doubts. The whispers of the mistakes she’d made with him and the dark unknowable future that might never be. Trying to keep it at bay, she kissed him. Hard. Like somehow, his lips on hers might chase away all those thoughts and feelings of guilt and failure that loomed at the edge of the little bubble they shared right there and then.

The silent sob shook her shoulders. A second tremor broke their kiss. Kaidan traded his hold on her hands for a tight embrace.

“What’s going on, Nyx?” he whispered into her hair as she collapsed against his chest.

“I can’t just stay here,” she mumbled into the curve of his neck. She straightened, holding herself up on her hands, which she placed on either side of his head. “But that’s what I want. All I want. To be right here in this moment, with you.” The frantic speed of her tone slowed with the last two words. “Sometimes I can keep the questions at bay, gag the voices that whisper what ifs at the edge of my mind. Not always though,” she admitted, sitting up.

Kaidan, while loosening his embrace, did not take his hands from around her. He rested them atop her thighs as he lay there, listening.

“I know how lucky I am—that you’re alive, and here, with me. And sometimes I can’t help but think how much I want this, which always twists into how much I don’t want to lose it again.”

With that, the major shifted beneath her so he could sit up with her now on his lap. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know that.” Her fingers cradled the back of his neck. “Neither am I. But we don’t know—”

“Exactly,” he said. “We don’t know.” He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. “We don’t know a lot of things, Nyx. We don’t know if one of us won’t wake up tomorrow, or if one of us won’t make it back from the next mission we take, or if Reapers will tire of the fight and just wipe every habitable planet out of every system. Or if maybe they’ll just fly off back to wherever the hell they were hiding before.”

She sighed and rested her forehead against his as that same old weariness crept into her. Silence fell around them and inside her head for a moment as he held her.

“I do know one thing,” he said. “I’m here, and you’re here. Right this second.” His hands were warm on her cheeks when he tipped his head up to kiss her forehead. “And whatever is going to happen out there in a few hours or tomorrow or next week I couldn’t tell you. But right here, right now I know what is going to happen.”

Her eyes met his. “You do?”

“Yeah, because I can make it happen.” His hands skimmed over her back. Maybe he was giving her a moment to figure it out as well. “You see.” He brushed a few wisps of hair away from her eyes. “I’m going to kiss the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with, however long or short that may be,” he swore.

Shepard could only smile, not only at the plan, but the fact that he was right. Right then, right there, the decisions were theirs to make, even if it didn’t always feel like is.

When Kaidan’s lips brushed hers softly, Nyx kissed him back. Cradling his face in her hands, she shifted her weight to regain her leverage on him and get him back to the mat. Of course, it was short lived. Kaidan rolled them over, trading their positions and settling himself wholly against here. Her fingers fisted in the soft fabric of his shirt and his hand glided over her ribs. The pace became frantic as the two of them made out like a pair of teenagers home alone. Once again, their pulses were racing in their veins, but for whole other reasons.

“You know?” she gasped between deep kisses, hooking her leg over his hip

He hummed at her, not really offering her the chance to expound more than a word at a time before his mouth was on hers again—needy and demanding.

“When your kissing me, I don’t think quite as much.”

That halted him and he leaned over her. His fingers glided through her hair which was loosening itself from the messy tail she’d put it up in before their impromptu sparring session. Kaidan grinned at her, his breathing fast and deep. “Is this your subtle way of telling me I should spend more time with my tongue in your mouth.”

“Well, not just there,” she crooned with a mischievous raise of her brow. “It works elsewhere, too.”

Kaidan’s dark chuckle rumbled through her body as his mouth met hers again.

Nyx wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and held him close, opening her mouth when his tongue teased at her lips. Sometimes she could fall into the moment, lose all those doubting thoughts and voices, all the guilt over the wrong choices she’d made. Sometimes she could just let herself be happy, to be in the moment.

He’d put into words exactly the thought that haunted her at the moment. She was going to be with him as long as they had left. What always soured the thought for her was that not knowing if they’d make it through this war. It was bittersweet. They’d found a way back to one another in the most desperate of moments. A moment that either or both of them might not even survive.

Even still her romantic brain and foolish heart kept painting pictures in her head—fantasies of a home, maybe back on Earth. He had people there, she still might as well. Maybe a … she could barely let herself think it. Kids had never been part of the story she told about herself or her future. But a little part of her wanted that, with him, a family. Children, grandchilden, the two of them growing gray and frail together.

A thought hit her like a truck. She wanted more than the Austenian romance that ended when love was declared and promises were made to one another. Nyx broke their kiss and blinked up at him. “I want the boring part.”

“What?” he asked with an amused smile. Confusion played over his brow.

“I want the part that nobody writes about. The happy part that just continues along with no rising action or climaxes. The part after we find one another, after we make it through the struggles. The quiet domestic bit that they never put in the stories because it’s not dramatic enough.”

His face softened and the backs of his fingers ghosted over her cheeks. “So do I, Nyx.” His amber gaze held hers, as he stroked the side of her face tenderly. Kaidan’s smile bloomed wider, lighting his eyes, and crinkling the skin at the corners of them. “Though I am kind of hoping we can keep the climaxes. At least a few of them,” he teased.

Shepard laughed, burying her face against his chest. “Maybe that part was hasty, but you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I know.” He kissed her again, and Nyx fell back into it. Somehow, telling him about the thoughts creeping in on her seemed to chase them off for a time.

“By the stars,” someone muttered sometime later.

Kaidan and Nyx both tipped their heads toward the intrusion.

“Really, commander? You’re like the only people on this ship who actually have a room,” Vega taunted.

“Too much furniture,” Kaidan chided without missing a beat. “Needed more floor space.”

Nyx chuckled beneath him, her smile going quite wide. “Occasionally, you just need the extra room to maneuver.”

James narrowed his eyes at the pair of them. He knew they were messing with him. “Mmhmm. Yeah well, unless you want an audience you should take it upstairs.”

“That’s an idea,” Kaidan mused, looking at Nyx.

“He could learn a few things,” she agreed.

“True. He is still young and brash.”

“Might help him learn a little more finesse.”

James sighed at the two of them. “Talk all the shit you want,” he replied as he programmed in his workout to one of the machines. “I have a routine to keep.”

“Well, we’d hate to interfere,” Kaidan told him. Then he bowed his head and kissed Nyx again.

Sure that Kaidan had no intention of giving the lieutenant a show, Nyx embraced him savoring that playful kiss meant to further the officers’ game. The sound of reps continued in a set rhythm.

“Don’t think he’s phased,” she chuckled quietly against Alenko’s mouth.

“Might be getting used to us,” her lover agreed.

“I think we should go. Maybe you could rub my back.”

Kaidan retreated slightly. “And what about mine?” he asked in a scandalized tone. Kneeling between her feet, he set his hands on his lower back. “I mean you launched me pretty hard.”

The glee dancing in his eyes, however, insisted he was playing with her.

“You started it,” she replied, leaning up and stealing a quick peck before she sprang to her feet.

“Eh.” He shrugged and tipped his head. “Maybe a little.”

“A little, huh?” She turned and gave James a tiny wave as the two of them made their way out of the training area.

Kaidan slipped his arm around her waist, and lifted her off her feet, catching her off guard.

Nyx giggled and wrapped one leg around him as he pulled her closer.

“You still feeling restless?” he asked with a growl.

Nyx grinned at him and pressed a kiss against his mouth. “When you ask like that, I can only say yes.”

[mysticstronomy]

WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN METEOROID AND ASTEROID.

Blog #17                                     Wednesday, September 9th,2020

Welcome back,

In our solar system there are billions, possibly trillions, of rogue objects orbiting the sun. These spacefarers are too small to be called planets and are given the names of comets, asteroids, meteoroids, and if they reach Earth, meteors or meteoroids. With so many labels, it’s easy to forget which is which.

Asteroids, meteors, and meteorites.... It might be fair to say these rocks from space inspire both wonder and fear among us Earthlings. But knowing a bit more about each of them and how they differ may eliminate some potential misgivings. While all these rocks originate from space, they have different names depending their location-i.e. whether they are hurtling through space or hurtling through the atmosphere and impacting Earth’s surface.

Let’s start with a brief definition of each.

ASTEROID 

At first glance, asteroids may seem like run-of-the-mill space rocks, but these ancient solar system remnants come in all shapes, sizes and flavors.

Despite their small stature (the mass of all the asteroids combined is less than Earth’s moon), asteroids are also called minor planets or “planetoids.” They range in size from the smallest boulders, 3 feet across (1 m), to the largest asteroid, Ceres, which is nearly a quarter the size of Earth’s moon (about 590 miles in diameter, or 950 km). Ceres is so large, it received a promotion to the status of a dwarf planet in 2006, the same controversial distinction given to Pluto.

Most asteroids look like giant space potatoes, with their oblong shapes and surface that's pockmarked by numerous craters caused by collisions with other asteroids. Only a small number of asteroids are large enough that their gravity forms them into spheres, such as Ceres. The composition of asteroids range from dark, rocky clumps of rubble consisting of clay and silicate rocks to bright and solid amalgamations of metals such as iron or nickel, according to NASA. Nearly all asteroids are found in a doughnut-shaped region between Mars and Jupiter, called the asteroid belt. The belt formed not long after the birth of Jupiter when the massive planet's gravity trapped planet-forming leftovers, causing them to collide with one another and form the millions of asteroids we see in the belt today.

METEOROIDS and  METEOR

Meteoroids are the true space rocks of the solar system. No larger than a meter in size (3.3 feet) and sometimes the size of a grain of dust, they are too small to be considered asteroids or comets, but many are the broken pieces of either. Some meteoroids originate from the ejected debris caused by impacts on planets or moons. If meteoroids happen to cross paths with a planet's atmosphere, like Earth's, they become meteors. The fiery flash given off by meteors when they burn up in the atmosphere can appear brighter than the planet Venus, which is why they've earned the nickname "shooting stars," according to NASA. Scientists estimate more than 48 tons (43,500 kilograms) of meteoritic material falls to Earth every day. If a meteor survives its descent through the atmosphere and hits the ground, it's called a meteorite.

When Earth passes through the trail of debris left by a comet we're treated to the dazzling fireworks display of a meteor shower, where thousands of shooting stars can be seen in the night sky. The Perseid meteor shower is one of the most spectacular, occurring every year around Aug. 12. At its peak, 50 to 75 meteors can be seen per hour if the sky is clear. The Perseid are caused by the meteoroids broken off from Comet Swift-Tuttle. These brilliant meteor showers serve as a reminder that despite the seemingly empty expanse of space, we're more closely connected to our solar system than we imagine.

COMING UP!!!

(Saturday, September 12th, 2020)

THE BIG BANG WASN’T THE BEGINNING, AFTER ALL.

[adragonhoardingstories]

Daminette Soulmate AU Headcannons (3)

Damian was not worried. He was just going to introduce his literal soulmate to his friends and allies to the superhero community. That was the whole reason for this brunch. 

It was just that Marinette should have been here already but he hadn't heard a word from her.

Ya Amar, where are you? Jon is getting rather impatient for my surprise.

Sorry Habibi. She seemed out of breath. Emergency. Final battle. Paris. Damian didn't usually get scared, it had been trained out of him, but…

It's being covered live. She added for his benefit and that was all that he needed to bolt downstairs. 

"Out of my way." He snapped at Superman, pushing past him and making a bee line to the room with the giant television.

Jason and his friends were there. He snatched the remote out of Roy's hand just as he was about to hand it to his daughter and changed the channel. 

Normally he would get shit for this and normally he knew better than to behave like this around a kid but he felt like his behavior right then was justified. 

He ignored his father who had stormed in after him demanding he apologize to Kal-El as well as Roy insulting him.

Thankfully, Jason seemed to understand that something was wrong, he just turned his attention to the T.V. and just in time for him to find the right channel. 

"-been raging for over five hours. It has been the longest duration of time for which Hawkmoth has been sighted. It seems like our heroes are fully determined not to let him get away this time."

His father had shut up, finally understanding his behavior. He placed a hand on Damian's shoulder and another on Jason's, "She'll be alright."

"We're aware of that." Damian snapped as the room started filling in with other heroes. 

"We don't need you to tell us that." Jason was as tense as he was. 

"I'll fly to...Paris isn't it, and help." Clark said. 

Damian clenched his knuckles. 

"The fuck you will!" Jason growled. "Sit your ass down and don't move."

"You will only hinder her work. No outside help until she requests it or don't you think we'd have been there already." 

Both Jason and Damian loathed the fact that they couldn't be there fighting by her side but she had forbade it and as much as he hated it, her reasoning was sound. 

"But we can't-"

"Kal-El," His father thankfully spoke up. "Shut up before my sons make you. I've approved this. She'll be fine, I'll explain later." More people were filling into the room, curious if what they were hearing. 

The camera panned to the different heroes. "There has once again been a mass akumatization and the the battle seemed to reach a decisive point. Draka, Viperion and Queen Bee have successfully held off Hawkmoth, Mayura and Volpina as Ladybug purifies the akumatized civilians and now Lady Noir is back in the fight."

The camera shows as the teams flawless change their position so that Hawkmoth is left for Ladybug, Mayura being taken care of by Vespa and Draka and Volpina by Viperion. 

However, Volpina as always did not play fair. Somehow, all three ended up away from the fight with her while Hawkmoth found a partner in Mayura against Lady.

It was impressive, the way she shifted her fighting styles and even her alter egos, going from Lady Bug to Lady Noir in a matter of seconds to counteract their attacks. She kept up wonderfully well for having two such skilled adversaries.

But they had been fighting for hours and it was very clear to Damian that the Kwamis wouldn't be able to keep doing this. 

He was so glad at that moment that there was a bunch of superheroes in his house. If needed be, Marinette would get the whole Super community as backup if she asked. 

However, she was still outnumbered and soon she found herself in a dead end with both Hawkmoth and Mayura caging her. 

"That's it." Jason cursed. "We're going."

Damian wanted to agree with him but he felt her determination, her decisiveness and he smirked. 

"No wait." He pushed his brother back to sit. Jason turned to look at him like he was crazy which soon turned into confusion as he saw his expression. He knew Jason still had some trouble adjusting with their bond.

"She has a plan." He confided. "She has them right where she wants them."

Jason stared at him for a few more seconds before he turned back to the screen. 

"Give me your Miraculous and I won't hurt you." So predictable. Damian almost rolled his eyes. 

His soulmate slowly raised her hands up, trying to seem as a non-threat, which is why they were taken by surprise when she extended her baton so that it slammed into Mayura's stomach. 

Immediately after she vaulted over her fallen villian, letting her transformation roll off. She rolled on the ground, to hide her face and brought a hood and a mask that hid her mouth and nose up. 

"Is that your league uniform?" Jason asked Damian. 

"It's based off of it." He replied. "She liked it so she made one for herself in parallel with my new one."

"So you have a fancy costume, doesn't mean you can beat me now. It reduces your chances actually."

Even through the mask Damian could see her annoyance. 

Mayura charged at her. She was clearly the smarter one of the two villains, her doom came with the fact that she listened to Hawkmoth. 

Marinette seemed to see that too because she whipped out a gun. 

"Did you give her the gun?" Damian asked amused. 

"Of course, I did." Jason seemed smug that she was actually using it. 

Before the villians could react, she made a perfect shot, aiming at Hawkmoth's Miraculous. 

Of course, a normal weapon wouldn't hurt a transformed hero, where their skin was covered but momentum was more than enough to make his butterfly brooch fall, letting the transformation off and revealing Gabriel Agreste to the world. 

Before he could do anything else Marinette threw a bola at him, incapacitating him. It was rather funny seeing him wriggle around like a worm. 

"I gave her the bola too." Jason informed the room. No one was surprised. 

That left Mayura. She leapt in front of Gabriel, intending to take him away but Marinette threw something, once again with terrifying precision that ended up with the peacock Miraculous pinned to the wall and one unveiled and frozen Natalie Sancoeur.

The camera panned to the object and showed it as a batarang. 

"I gave her that one." His father informed them, he didn't need to look over to know that he was smirking or that the other occupants of the room were staring at them in total confusion. 

Meanwhile, Marinette had already recovered both of the Miraculous. 

"How-" Natalie asked as Marinette walked to her. She didn't seem interested in fighting anymore, she seemed too shaken up.

 Marinette simply smirked, not that it was visible to anyone. "The sincerest compliments from the Batfam." Then she decked Natalie knocking her unconscious, right in time for the other heroes to land on the roof.

Dick and Stephanie whooped and Tim and Cass laughed. Damian hadn't noticed when they came in.

"Good job." Draka said, throwing Volpina down. 

"Likewise." She stepped back and out the gun back in it's holster on her thigh. 

"Spots on."

Ladybug crouched next to Volpina, and took her necklace and crushed it, a dark butterfly coming out of it. 

She made quick work of purifying it, leaving Lila Rossi there. 

The heroes each grabbed a villain and made the way to the police as Ladybug summoned her lucky charm to fix the city. 

She had a smile on her face and Damian could feel how at peace she was in that moment as she followed her teammates to the police. 

The camera went closer to her. "Ladybug." The voice that was reporting and that he had tuned out, called out.

"Hawkmoth has finally been defeated, how are you feeling?"

"Definitely relieved." She smiled before Turing serious. "But it's not over yet, Gabriel Agreste and Natalie Sancoeur will pay for their crimes."

"And what do you think of Paris' Golden Child, Adrien Agreste involvement in this affair?"

"Well now that they have been defeated, I can say this. Adrien Agreste is a hero. Our victory today has been possible because of him. After finding out who his father is, he came to me and together we decided on the safest course of action which was to send him away incognito." An outraged what could be heard in the background. "He will be returning to Paris shortly and will have a press conference to clarify everything. I ask of everyone in Paris to not judge a son for the sins of his father. Adrien is a hero in his own right and has suffered enough through this debacle."

"That is some shocking news. I understand that you have to deal with the police now, I won't hold you for much longer. We've noticed that you've used a batarang in your fight if I'm not wrong, and you mentioned the Batfam. Is there anything you'd like to say to them?"

"I suppose." Ladybug laughed, then she turned to the camera and winked. "Sorry for missing brunch. I'll be there as soon as I finish dealing with this."

"Damian." His father said and the whole room which consisted of almost all the heroes in the world turned to look at them. "Tell her to invite her teammates as well, I think they deserve a celebration."

Damian nodded his eyes turning blue, on the screen they could see Ladybug's eyes turning a familiar shade of green. 

"Uh, are you alright?" The reporter asked. "Your eyes turned...green."

 She smiled reassuringly. "Nothing to worry about, that was just my soulmate." 

"What did he say?" A voice asked and the three other heroes were seen coming back into the frame. 

Ladybug smiled that one smile that promise chaos. 

"Oh this is going to be good." Tim had become an admirer of her schemes. "That's the smile she gives before she's about to wreck havoc."

"Oh, not much" she said innocently, "Just that you've all been invited to brunch."

All three of them froze, while the red clad heroine looked like she was having the time of her life. 

"The brunch you were supposed to be at right now?" Viperion asked. 

"With the entirety of the Justice League, Young Justice, Teen Titans, the Outlaws and basically every other hero in the world." Draka continue. 

"Uh huh." She smirked. 

"I don't know what to wear." Vespa muttered. She seemed...in shock.

There was an enraged yell heard and Ladybug sighed. "Alright, break time is over. Let's go."

"B-but-" Vespa muttered. It was so different from the confident, sassy hero Paris knew. 

"You can take something of mine." Ladybug said. "That goes for both of you as well. Now shall we get to work, or else we'll never be finished in time."

They all turned to her for orders. "Viperion, Draka you are guard duty, I also need you question them all they know about Emilie's Agreste situation."

It was clear to everyone in the room that while she was talking to her team, she was fully aware of the camera still recording her and made sure to phrase her orders in a way that the people watching would have an idea of what was going to happen next. 

"I am heading to Agreste mansion to contact Adrien and find Emilie and after talking to them both I'll be reviewing the crimes Gabriel, Natalie and Lila are being charged with."

The other heroes were pleasantly surprised at how professional and organized she seemed. 

"Vespa, you are going to talking to the Mayor and the police, submitting all the evidence we have against them and liasing with the Italian Embassy about Miss Rossi. Send them the evidence we have of her willing working with Hawkmoth. Also, get her parents before you do anything, because she is ultimately still a minor."

The heroes dispersed and the reporter started giving a rundown of everything that had happened, was happening and would happen. 

Meanwhile, in Wayne Manor, Barry asked the question every other non-Batfam member was asking themselves. 

"Okay so who the hell are they and how did we not know of them before?"  

@persephonebutkore @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @satans-favorite-homo @mystery-5-5

@abrx2002 @clumsy-owl-4178 @daminett4life @18-fandoms-unite-08 @bluerosette23 @dawnwave16 @imanerddealwith @heldtogetherbysafetypins

@st0rmy-w1th1n @northernbluetongue @chez-pezeater @thebananathatwrites @black-streak

@ghostcryptid @zerotosiki @krispydefendorpolice @dur55

@weird-pale-blonde-person @casual-darkness @maude-zarella

@sonif50 @zalladane @dast218

I tried to get everyone in the tag list, sorry if I missed someone

[octerminal]

I’ve talked before about how Nadia being Earthborn is the central reason she’s renegade leaning, but I really want to get into it again because I’ve been listening to Hadestown a lot recently and that always makes me think of Nadia because the musical touches on how traumatizing poverty is. And also just because, well, I always want to talk about Nadia.

But before I can do that, I have to talk about a few other things first.

(This is going to be niche and also super self-indulgent, but it’s my blog, so who cares. Note that because of what both Hadestown and the Earthborn background entail, this is going to get slightly political. But again, it’s my blog, so who cares.)

Generally speaking, Mass Effect has an issue with downplaying trauma. Ashley, Tali, Garrus, and James all go through the traumatic experience of being sole (or almost sole) survivors. Tali goes through this twice, because the comics show that before she even met Shepard she lost the team she’d been traveling with. (And that’s not even counting the fact she also loses a chunk of her team on Freedom’s Progress. They use this trope with her a lot.) Liara loses her mother in the first game and she has almost no reaction. Shepard dies in the beginning of the second game and spends the rest joking about it, with very few opportunities to express anything but humor over the situation.

People respond to trauma differently, and the game is also told primarily from Shepard’s point of view, so consequently we only see what Shepard sees. All of these characters likely grieved in private, and they definitely do carry scars (literal and figurative) from what they’ve gone through. But I also think that Mass Effect likes making characters go through objectively traumatic things without fully considering how someone might act coming out of it. In fairness, that’s the fun of fanfic, and I also do think everyone on the Normandy has some degree of experience in compartmentalizing because they simply don’t have the time to sit down with their feelings. (A lot of them are also just averse to doing this.)

But exploring that trauma is what I’m interested in the most, and that’s how I approached Nadia. Earthborn is my favorite background for that reason. It’s not a single event that’s shaped their life thereafter, but a sustained stressful environment they endure for years and only escape once they sign up with the Alliance. And in that regard, Nadia rather sees it as trading one cage for another, but that’s neither here nor there.

Like, to go back to Hadestown (I swear I’m not going to write Hadestown meta on this blog), “When the Chips are Down” is one of my favorite numbers because it so accurately describes Nadia’s response to poverty. “How can you expect me to care about another person and put their wellbeing above my own, when doing that will result in my own death? How can you expect me to trust another person, when that could result in my own death? How are you going to lecture me on having no morals when if I had prioritized morality, I never would have survived?” (This is something I love bouncing off Kaidan, but I’ll get to that later.)

In other words, and this is an incredibly obvious thing to say, poverty is traumatizing and violent. It is an incredibly violent thing to put another human being through, to make them worry for their basic safety, to live their day to day in a constant limbo of uncertainty that permeates every facet of their life. Will you be able to eat today? Will you be able to sleep in a safe environment? Can you trust this person you’ve never met? Will trusting them endanger what little safety you’ve managed to achieve? How much money do you have? How long can you make that money last? Where will you be tomorrow? How about the day after?

This is something that leaves its mark on anyone it touches. It’s hard enough for an adult to plan for the future when they don’t have the luxury of knowing how they’ll even survive the week; when you’re a child, and that sort of stress is all that you’ve known, how do you even imagine a better life when you’ve known nothing different?

Before I get any further, I want to pause for a moment. Something that’s always been curious to me are the codex entries for Earth. Here’s a portion of ME1′s codex:

Here’s a portion of ME3′s codex:

(Written transcripts of the complete codex entries at the links.)

In both of them, they talk about how humanity is in a new golden age. A lot of pollution and common diseases have been eliminated. The colonies have brought in more resources. There's even been some correction to the damage early climate change caused. Then the Fire Nation—I mean, Reapers, attacked and ruined all of this. Except, take a closer look at ME1′s codex:

“While every human enjoys longer and better life than ever, the gap between rich and poor widens daily. [...] Less fortunate regions have not progressed beyond 20th century technology, and are often smog-choked, overpopulated slums.”

This seems incompatible with the idea of Earth being in a golden age. How can Earth be thriving if the class disparity is growing, not narrowing? How can Earth be thriving if entire swaths are still "smog-choked” and using centuries old outdated technology?

It’s not incompatible if the idea is that Earth has entered a golden age only for the ones who can afford it. And this is the reality Earthborn Shepards were raised in: the idea that their suffering is an unimportant, insignificant underbelly to an otherwise “prospering” homeworld.

So, resuming with that in mind: the way Nadia sees it is that to allow poverty to exist is an inherent societal failure that reflects on the government. This is why Nadia has no loyalty to the Alliance, and why she doesn’t trust them. This is why she subsequently has no loyalty to the Council, and why she doesn’t trust them, either. It doesn’t matter that the Alliance and the Council weren’t personally responsible for her childhood, because they’re still governments. She knows that governments will lie and exploit and allow for people like her to fall through the cracks if it will benefit them. She knows they will broadcast only the best of what they have to offer while conveniently pretending people like her don’t exist.

Like, personal politics aside, as shown above with the codex entries, this is just...canon. And Thane’s loyalty highlights poverty on the Citadel through Mouse and the concept of “duct rats,” so we know that it exists there, too. How the Council presumably feels about poverty on their station is outlined if you speak to Avina on the Citadel in the second game:

AVINA: Asari futurists believe poverty cannot be eliminated without “cornucopia” technology, which will create anything the user desires. Such technology is unknown outside science fiction.

Essentially: yeah, unfortunately, poverty exists on the station, but what can you do? Believing poverty is avoidable is actually utopian and therefore unrealistic, sorry! 

But when you meet Anoleis on Noveria as Earthborn, he can literally tell you poverty doesn’t exist on Sur’Kesh. (And sure, he could be lying, and we have no proof either way. It doesn’t erase the fact that, at the very least, the existence of widespread poverty is something that even a corrupt and money embezzling salarian thinks is an easy jab.)

ANOLEIS: My homeworld is clean. Poverty is non-existent. If you take some perverse pride in that overheated, acid-washed slum, that is your business.

There’s nothing about the Alliance and poverty that I know of¹, which makes sense considering the main branch of the Alliance we see throughout the games is its military branch. There are still plenty of instances in the trilogy where the Alliance does exploit the vulnerable, or attempts to cover up their self-inflicted shortcomings. An obvious one is with Kaidan and Conatix; Kaidan literally tells you the Alliance is the one who “made mistakes.” That in their haste, they allowed a man to brutalize children for the sake of research. And when it backfired, they sealed the documents and pretended it never happened.

UNC: The Negotiation is one of my favorite ME1 missions for this reason, too—it highlights a part of the Alliance the series doesn’t really focus on otherwise. Darius tells you that the entire reason he’s operating in the region at all is because the Alliance is the one who set him up there. 

DARIUS: You see this gun? This is your gun. Your military set me up here, and now it wants to pretend it doesn’t know me! But I know the truth. The Alliance needed me here! So treat me with the respect I deserve!

SHEPARD: You said we set you up. Did the Alliance give you weapons?

DARIUS: After the batarians were driven out of the Verge, the Alliance wanted to stabilize the region. I had the strongest syndicate in the area. They gave me the weapons and money I needed to take over.

After the mission, Hackett implies the entire reason he sent renegade Shepard to cover a diplomatic negotiation is because he expected and wanted them to kill Darius, because he was now more trouble than he was worth.

HACKETT: I’m sorry that you were unable to negotiate with Darius peacefully. His death is regrettable. Nevertheless, the resulting chaos will create a power vacuum that makes future raids upon our miners unlikely.

SHEPARD: You didn’t think I’d negotiate with him. You wanted me to kill him.

HACKETT: Sometimes extreme measures must be taken to ensure humanity’s safety. Or did you think you were the only one willing to break the rules to get the job done?

(Link, so you can watch the mission yourself.)

None of this is me saying the Council and the Alliance have no redeemable features whatsoever, or that they have never contributed positively to galactic wellbeing. It’s just me citing instances in canon that support why Nadia has the opinion she does of them, and why she’s not exactly incorrect in having them. 

So, to loop this back around to Kaidan? As I said, he’s not a stranger to government-level negligence. But Kaidan had a much different reaction than Nadia did, and this is something that absolutely fascinates her once she finds out.

Before that, though: the two of them don’t really hit it off in the beginning—though they’re both still professional—and this is mainly due to Nadia being, well, Nadia. She is not a people person and she never tries to be, which consequently makes her off-putting to most people. On her end, she’s generally unimpressed and uninterested in the people around her. She sees a lot of them as puzzles to be solved and then to move on from, or threats to assess.² The rare times someone does pique her interest enough to act on it, she still prefers to not linger around for long. So, you know, just general unhealthy behavior.

So, Eden Prime is illuminating for them both. Like, on Kaidan’s end: Nadia comes off as callous. She doesn’t care about the colonists, she doesn’t care about Jenkins’ death. On Nadia’s end: Kaidan comes off as naive. How has he been a marine for this long and she has to tell him to suck it up after someone dies? (This is one of the reasons why she didn’t want to work with regular marines again; in my canon, Anderson had to needle her³ into accepting the Normandy position.)

But the truth of it is that the reason Nadia comes off as callous is because she’s thoroughly desensitized. Like, when you grow up poor, on the streets, and in a gang? You’re both witnessing and being put through a lot of traumatizing situations. Akuze, of course, only adds onto this. There’s this one dialogue option in the beginning of the second game when Miranda and Jacob are assessing Shepard’s memory, and while Nadia doesn’t take this option in canon, it is how she feels:

JACOB: You enlisted, and you survived a thresher maw attack that wiped out the rest of your team. Do you remember that?

SHEPARD: Yeah, I remember it. Everyone screaming, gunfire, blood everywhere. I was the only one focused on survival.

Paragon Shepard focuses entirely on the other marines: how they were their friends, how something like that can destroy you if you let it.

Renegade Shepard barely thinks of anyone else at all. There were fifty other marines on Akuze, and renegade Shepard thinks they survived simply because they were the only one focused on it. For Nadia, that’s because that’s what her entire life has already been until that point.

Look, there are a lot of different ways to play renegade; it runs a much larger gamut than paragon, in my opinion. Nadia is more of a neutral renegade. She’s not particularly bigoted, just dispassionate and apathetic⁴. She resorts to violence and intimidation because it’s the easiest way to control her surroundings, not because she thinks what she’s doing is particularly righteous⁵. This can get brought up in Samara’s loyalty when talking with Morinth:

MORINTH: Violence is the surest expression of power.

SHEPARD: Violence is a means to an end. Power is that end.

Like, Nadia is a person who’s had to live a life surrounded by violence, not because it’s what she initially chose, but because it was repeatedly inflicted on her. She didn’t have the luxury of nursing her compassion and generosity, or of prioritizing morality. Those things would’ve gotten her killed. What she focused on instead was survival: the best way to survive, the easiest way to survive, the way that consistently ensured her own safety. This meant violence, and in order to survive, she became very good at inflicting violence.

That’s what I meant when I said Nadia thinks she traded one cage for another: the Alliance wasn’t freedom in the truest sense; she’s still doing what she ultimately would’ve done if she had remained with the Reds⁶. She’s just doing it with government approval and a steadier paycheck. She knows she’s still being used, and it’s only who’s using her that’s changed. All that’s to say, she isn’t an N7 ranked infiltrator because she feels strongly about protecting Alliance space and dirtying her hands to do it. She’s an N7 ranked infiltrator because it’s simply what she’s good at.

One of my favorite renegade lines in the entire trilogy is during Thane’s loyalty because it perfectly highlights Nadia’s philosophy on her situation:

SHEPARD: Your father and I have killed a lot of people. You haven’t. There’s no reason you should start.

To Nadia, her life is what it is because of the circumstances she was raised in and the decisions she made in response to that. She doesn’t deflect blame for the sort of person she’s become; she holds herself the correct amount of responsible.

She kills people for the Alliance, she kills people for the Council, she kills people for Cerberus. Other Shepards might dress it up differently when death is unavoidable: “it’s a shame, but it was necessary,” said along with the appropriate amount of guilt. Or: they were a terrorist, they were a mercenary, they forced my hand. To Nadia, it’s all death, and there’s no inherent difference between killing someone “to protect humanity” (read: protect the Alliance’s interests) or killing someone “to protect the galaxy” (read: protect the Council’s interests) and simply killing someone in a situation paragon Shepards would deem unnecessary. And to Nadia, if you haven’t had to live a life like this—why start? You still have other options. Use them.

One thing I love about Hadestown is how it discusses the simple accessibility of being able to live your life, let alone live it virtuously. Like whether or not I agree with that, it’s an interesting thing to explore, and it gets brought up multiple times:

“When you’re hungry and there ain’t enough to go round / ain’t no length to which a girl won’t go / [...] and sometimes you think / you would do anything / just to fill your belly full of food” 

“See how the vipers and vultures surround you / and they’ll take you down, they’ll pick you clean / if you stick around such a desperate scene / see, people get mean when the chips are down” 

“Aim for the heart / shoot to kill / if you don’t do it, then the other one will / [...] nobody’s righteous / nobody’s proud / nobody’s innocent / now that the chips are down” 

“Go ahead and lay the blame / talk of virtue / talk of sin / wouldn’t you have done the same? / in her shoes / in her skin / you can have your principles when you’ve got a belly full” 

“I did what I had to do / that’s what they did too” 

“Some flowers bloom / where the green grass grows / our praise is not for them / but the ones who bloom in the bitter snow” 

Again, I’m not going to meta about Hadestown⁷ and the precise context for these verses are different in that canon (for starters, Eurydice never kills anyone), but the concept is similar: when you’re poor, you’re often driven to desperate measures to survive. Sometimes that means stepping over other people, or otherwise ignoring how your actions will affect them. Often, this is to your own detriment. And it’s really, really easy to cast judgment on the poor people driven to these decisions when you were never in their position. It’s really easy to just live when you’re not in a situation where you had to worry about your survival on a day-by-day basis.

I bring up Hadestown because it’s a nice conduit to explain Nadia’s issues. She’s not renegade because she thinks she’s on a crusade and anyone who gets in her way is acceptable collateral damage. She’s renegade because her survival depended on it, and as Sha’ira points out, it’s what has allowed her continual survival:

“I see your skin, tough as the scales of any turian. Unyielding. A wall between you and everyone else. But it protects you, makes you strong. That strength is what kept you alive when everyone else around you was dying. You alone survived. You will continue to survive.”

For her to survive her childhood, she had to step over other people and put herself first. This meant not allowing herself to get close to other people, and to not care about them beyond what they can give her to ensure her own survival.

And this is why Kaidan interests her. Kaidan’s response to brain camp wasn’t to minimize the importance of his morality, it was to double down on it. (Yes, partially to his own detriment, but that’s a different post.) His response wasn’t to distrust others, because after all, one of his defining characteristics is his compassion. It’s just that Kaidan’s inclined to troubleshoot everything, even his interactions with other people. He might be “once burned, twice shy” but he’s not going to be “once burned, byedon’tfollowmeI’mgoingtorelyonlyonmyselfforever.”

Like, he still wants to help...

SHEPARD: So why are you telling me this? Are you saying I’m cutting corners somewhere?

KAIDAN: I’m saying...it’s probably inevitable that we’ll have to. And when that happens, I want to help you. When someone important to you is up on a ledge, you help them. Keep them from mistakes better made by a kid.

SHEPARD: I’m a big girl, Alenko. I don’t need your help.

KAIDAN: I didn’t say you needed it, I said I’m offering it.⁸

...even though his desire to help (because he cares, because he thinks it’s the right thing to do) is precisely what led to the culmination of his trauma.

KAIDAN: He hurt Rahna. Broke her arm. She reached for a glass of water instead of pulling it biotically. She just wanted a drink without getting a nosebleed, you know? Like an idiot, I stood up. Didn’t know what I was gonna do...just, something.

He figures out what went wrong and tries to avoid repeating that mistake. He doesn’t just stop trying at all. He doesn’t lose his faith in having faith.

It’s antithetical to how Nadia responded to her own circumstances, and she can’t quite process the logic behind...why you would be this way. It’s not that she expects everyone to be like her. She’s seen a lot of different people traumatized, and consequently a lot of different ways people have reacted to trauma. It’s more like: “fool me once” is enough for Nadia. There are no second chances after that. She sees no point in ruminating over why something went wrong. Just accept that it did. (Or don’t, but never think about it, anyway.) She thinks living any other way is akin to, I don’t know, laying down in a snake pit right after one just bit you. Stupid, in other words.

(I should also clarify: this is mainly when it concerns people. She will troubleshoot when it comes to things like tech.)

Like, I’ve joked about this to a friend, but when Nadia first reads Kaidan’s file⁹ her impression is: alright, boy scout. Then she actually meets him and she thinks her assessment was more or less spot on, and she loses whatever vestiges of interest his file did manage to leave despite its otherwise boy-scouty-ness. 

But the thing is, Kaidan isn’t naive. He chooses to have the faith he has in the Alliance despite what they’ve put him through. He’s acutely aware that the Alliance is capable of mistakes, because he’s been on the receiving end of it—yet he still wants to help and feels that as a biotic, the Alliance is his best avenue to do that:

KAIDAN: I’m not looking for “the dream.” I just want to do some good. See what’s out here. 

KAIDAN: Commander, I thought real hard about how to use my talents. When I swore the oath to defend the Alliance, it wasn’t on a whim.

Like, Nadia thinks Kaidan giving his loyalty to the Alliance is a stupid reaction, yes (in fairness, Nadia thinks loyalty to organizations in general is stupid), but it still fascinates her precisely because Kaidan has some semblance of an idea of what the Alliance’s negligence can and has caused, and yet he still continues to put his faith in them. Kaidan hasn’t had the easiest life¹⁰, but instead of closing himself off, his reaction was to give the Alliance a second chance, to still place his faith in others, all because he still wanted to do some good.

It’s not what Nadia has done, and she can’t say she understands it, but realizing that Kaidan isn’t the ignorant boy scout she pegged him as goes a long way when it comes to the development of their relationship. (For instance: it allows the relationship to develop at all, lmao.) And the development of their relationship is one of the early domino pieces in a long line of dominoes that sets Nadia down a much healthier path.¹¹

~

¹ We do know, however, that the Alliance does offer to pay college/university tuition in exchange for serving with them in some capacity, thanks to conversations with Traynor and Ashley.

² You know that one Iron Bull banter with Cole where he talks about how one of the first things he does when he meets a new person is to figure out the best way to kill them? Yeah, that’s Nadia.

³ This is because Anderson’s brain is huge, and he understood no one can forever live life the way Nadia was living hers unless they’re a death seeker.

⁴ One of the most in character renegade lines in the trilogy is, once again, during Thane’s loyalty (a big reason why it’s one of my favorites: it’s really, really good Nadia content) when you choose the first renegade check during the interrogation. Shepard sounds so bored, so matter-of-fact. That’s the kind of renegade Nadia is.

⁵ This is probably worse to some people compared to “hard” renegade, since at least “hard” renegade can genuinely believe in what they’re doing, even if others consider it evil. Fortunately, I don’t care.

⁶ I don’t really think she killed anyone during her time with the Reds. (Or, if she did, it was only one person and it would’ve been near the end of her time with them.) I think they primarily used her for cybercrime. She still would’ve witnessed and been expected to participate in a lot of beatings, etc. And, as previously said, had she stayed with the Reds I do think this would’ve ultimately progressed into her killing for them, too.

⁷ Though if you enjoy criticisms of capitalism, an exploration into the traumatizing effects of poverty, and an ultimately hopeful message that meaningful change is possible even when everyone is conditioned to believe it’s not, I recommend giving it a listen. It’s easy to follow along through audio alone, but you can find a low quality bootleg pretty easily, too. (Be warned that some of the songs will differ from the official album recording, though.)

⁸ If the remaster brings better lighting to Kaidan’s little hub area and doesn’t hideously whitewash him like in ME3, this is absolutely one of the first things I’m going to gif because it’s one of my favorite moments in the entire romance.

⁹ Nadia reads the files of everyone she’s going to work with, not because she’s particularly interested in them, but because she wants to know what level of incompetency to expect.

¹⁰ Unrelatedly: ask me about my headcanon about how disgustingly rich Kaidan’s family is, and how much Nadia wants to kill him when she finds this out.

¹¹ This is absolutely not saying love, romantic or otherwise, cures her lifetime worth of unpacked trauma.

[devilrising]

Fallen Draco, Pt. 22

This story is following a prompt set out by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry

Word Count (Part 22): 3,056

Word Count (Total): 69,636

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic), war preparations, beginning of war

***

2nd May, 1998

A hand on my shoulder shakes me awake, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I’m rolled over and shaken again, but I’m already alert. It’s Harry, crumpled with sleep and an expression he’s hidden away on his face. I smile up at him and pull him down for a kiss. We could die today, and I want to make the most of the time we have left.

Harry smiles softly as we kiss, gentle caresses with our lips. He pulls away, his smile fading.

“I’m sorry Dray, but I’m not in the mood.”

I nod. “Fair enough,” I say as I sit up. My head spins and my back cracks. I stretch, my arms lifting above my head. I roll my shoulders, the muscles stretching and burning as I move. It’s too bloody early. All I want to do is flop back over and bury my face into the pillow.

“What’s the time?” I grumble as I stretch.

Harry does a weird half-laugh-half-depressed-breath next to me, and doesn’t even pause to check. “5:31am, the crack of dawn.”

“Great,” I mutter as I stifle a yawn.

Now Harry does actually laugh at me. I want to be offended, but I’m just so happy to see him laughing that I let it slide.

“Here, take this.” A bottle filled with green liquid is pressed into my hand, the glass cold against my skin.

“What’s in it?” I ask.

Harry doesn’t reply, just raises an eyebrow and gestures for me to drink it. Trusting that he won’t poison me, I take the rubber stopper out and knock the liquid down. It tastes fine, nothing noteworthy. Nothing changes either. Until I feel my exhaustion lifting from me, like it’s being pried off my very bones.

“Wideye potion,” I say, suddenly wide awake with not a hint of exhaustion left over.

“Yep,” Harry confirms. “I’ve already taken one, but none of the others will have. Come on.”

Oh yeah, the others. Somehow, I managed to forget that there was a whole army worth of wizards and witches asleep in our house. Our house? Where did that come from?

I rush through getting dressed, putting on the clothes laid out for me at the end of our bed. Hermione must have chosen them, as they’re breathable, light, flexible, and most of all, fit me. They’re made of an especially stretchy faux leather, that’s been charmed to act like muggle gym clothes. The shorts extend to my mid thigh, and the shirt covers down to my elbow. I’ll have to spell shields around the rest of my limbs to protect them from enemy fire.

Harry tugs me out of the room the second I’m clothed, closing the door behind us and not looking back. It’s strange. I assumed that he would want a bit of time to look around. To remember everything that’s happened here, to take time to say goodbye. Chances are we won’t come back here after today. I thought he would have wanted to grieve his godfather’s house, but apparently not.

Voices clamour as we descend to the ground floor, people shouting to each other about trivial things to distract themselves. As we turn to the back door, I take in the masses of witches and wizards lounging around. Some talk with others nearby, some lay on the ground in pretence of sleep. All of them are tired, muscles aching and staring at Harry and I like we’re important. I guess we are; or we will be.

“Start passing these around,” Harry murmurs to me. He blinks and a tray of bottles appears next to me, floating. I want to say something about the display of magic, but his look cuts me off. I lick my lips anxiously and peck a kiss to his mouth. People coo at us but I ignore them and pick the tray out of the air.

“I’ll see you before we leave,” I promise him. Harry nods, all business now.

I weave through the crowd, thinking I might as well start at the back and work my way forward. The people sprawl out for ages, and by the time I’ve walked past everyone and spun around, I can barely see Harry anymore. If I squint, I can make out his shape talking with Hermione and Ron, but I shake my head. I have to work now.

The people around me jump to their feet and run to me, practically begging for this potion that will wake them up. I don’t bother to say that the fact they’re running already demonstrates some level of wakefulness, just hand out glass bottles. They nod and smile at me in thanks, and each grateful person fills a hole in my heart. I am well and truly on the right side now, my past forgiven by each of the people to wordlessly thank me. I can see it in their eyes that it’s more than thanks for the potion.

I smile as I pass out the bottles, enjoying the rhythm of the motions. It’s easy and repetitive, but doesn’t allow me much time to think as people keep asking me questions—most of which I can’t answer. Occasionally, someone will ask me something about Harry and I. I always blush no matter the question, and try to give them an answer. I don’t take offence, don’t think too much about it. These people want a distraction, and if I can give them one that also happens to be about the Boy Who Lived, who’s going to blame me?

As I walk back to the patio to refill my tray a few minutes later, Ron approaches me.

He looks at me curiously, raises a hand as I open my mouth to speak. I close it again, sensing that he wants to say something important. That he needs time to think of how to word it. He takes a deep breath, and starts.

“I haven’t mentioned this before because I didn’t think it was necessary, but since we could die today, I wanted to tell you that I’m cool with it. Cool that you’re with Harry, that you’re a Risen Angel, all of it. Just wanted to make sure you knew,” he finishes with an awkward cough and waits for my reaction.

My heart swells with happiness, a smile breaking onto my face. “Thanks Ron,” I say. “It wasn’t necessary, but I’m glad you told me.” It makes such a big difference, even if I’d never thought he didn’t accept me before this.

“Good, mate,” Ron replies. His face flushes red and he turns around. I follow his gaze to find him looking at Hermione.

“Go,” I nudge him in her direction.

Ron flicks a glance at me over his shoulder, before practically running to her. I watch as he sweeps her into a kiss, one she easily returns. I smile, happy to know that they’re still going strong, even in the face of war.

I refill my tray and continue handing out the potions. People knock them back quickly, draining them. It’s entertaining watching as their faces gain colour again, as their eyes shake off sleep. I walk through the crowd, and each step I take fills me with a sense of purpose.

“Everyone, organise yourselves into your ranks! We will be leaving shortly!” Harry’s amplified voice rings out over the crowd, and everyone stares for a second. Then they start moving all at once. People gather their belongings and cross the ground, arranging themselves into an order I don’t understand. Realising that I have to move at some point as well, I charm the tray to float above my head and make my way over to Harry.

He’s sweaty already, face red and breathing heavily. When I lift an eyebrow, he nods to the stacks of random objects and crates. Portkeys. I smile at him, a soft, private smile to tell him I’m grateful.

I move closer and bend down so I can murmur to him. “I don’t know where to go,” I confess. “I haven’t been told what rank or whatever I’m in.”

Harry bites back a chuckle. “We’re in the front together, just stay close to me and that’s all you need to know.”

I nod at him and take his hand. He grins, kisses me quickly, and then tugs me out onto the grass.

Harry leads me all the way to the front line, and if that isn’t fitting for our relationship as a whole, I don’t know what else could be. Harry pulled me from the back of a war I wasn’t remotely interested in, and lead me all the way to his side. To becoming powerful and strong; to war. I swallow the thought and allow him to guide me.

The few things I have on me should be enough, but I check them all over anyway. There’s little I can’t do with my wand, so the only other things I have are spare wands, bandages in case I lose those wands, and a muggle dagger. I doubt I’ll use any of them, but I was told to take them anyway. I don’t think about where the spare wands came from. With one last look at Harry, I nod. I’m ready.

Arthur Weasley is walking around, random objects floating along behind him. As he works his way across the ranks, he sends them flying towards people in the crowd. He walks closer still, and I watch as groups form around the objects. Portkeys. A tiny vase slaps into my hand, and people rush to hold onto it. Harry’s hand is right next to mine, tan skin against white.

“How did they get so many?” I whisper to Harry.

“Ron persuaded Arthur to take them from the Ministry. Ron then charmed them all himself.” Harry looks extremely proud of his friend.

I nod in understanding. That makes the risk a lot higher—there’s no way the Ministry hasn’t noticed their Portkeys have mysteriously vanished.

“Get down!” Hermione’s voice rings sharply over the crowd, and the assembled soldiers immediately fall to the ground. I linger, not knowing what’s happening. Harry grabs my hand and tugs me down, and I land on top of him in the grass.

“What’s going on?” I ask as everyone around us starts putting up shields.

“It’s an army cry. Someone is armed.”

“We’re all armed!”

“No,” Harry says, no humour in his voice now, “someone outside is.”

“Someone’s outside?”

“Clearly.” Harry’s jaw is firm, teeth gritted. He is the picture of bravery; fake bravery.

I swallow. If Harry is scared, it can’t be good.

I look up, keeping my head down and trying not to attract any attention. I can’t afford to be singled out and killed before we’ve even left. My eyes rove over the crowd, looking for Hermione. I find her standing in the doorway to the house, head covered with her arms and a blue shield wrapped around her. She stands straight, trying to appear strong. She’s terrified though. Shields aren’t meant to be blue, they’re meant to be transparent.

The force of a spell hitting the wards knocks me back to the ground. I land with a thud on top of Harry, who instantly pulls me down again. A streak of red explodes through the air, colliding with the shields over the property. They shouldn’t be able to see the house, so I have no idea how they’re aiming at it. Harry’s wards seem to be holding though. This house has survived a war with Voldemort already, surely it can do so again.

An orange ball slams into the wards, but the shield doesn’t even shake under the force. An idea forms in my mind, and I smile slowly. With a wink at Harry, the sky darkens overhead. The house and property fall into darkness, the sky becoming black. Voices murmur around us, then rise into shouts. The spells have stopped after less than a minute, but no one knows how. I do though. With the sky dark over a non-existent house, the Death Eaters are terrified.

“How did they find Grimmauld?” I say at a normal volume to Harry. Nobody is able to hear over the cacophony of voices anyway.

“I don’t know,” he replies grimly.

“What if they placed a spell on Narcissa when she was taken to the Ministry, and they tracked her back here?”

I turn to find Hermione approaching us, standing normally now that the fear of wards collapsing has disappeared.

“That’s plausible, but the wards should have stopped any tracking spells.” Harry chews the inside of his cheek and tips his head to the side.

“There’s no other explanation,” I say. “It’s either that, or we haven’t been safe the entire time.”

Harry frowns. “Let’s go with Hermione’s idea then.”

“It won’t matter anyway,” Hermione speaks up. “What’s the chance that we’ll come back here after today?”

“Not high,” Ron’s voice joins in. “Sorry mate, but either the house will turn to rubble, or we’ll be dead.”

Harry looks like he could break down at that thought, spoken so plainly, and I wrap my arm around his waist.

A loud, high pitched sound reverberates around the crowd, and everyone stops talking to cover their ears.

“Thank you,” someone says over the noise. It rings out, and shuts off. I turn to look at the voice, and see that it belongs to Kingsley Shacklebolt. “Now that we appear to be protected, it’s time to leave. Your Portkeys will begin to activate within the next two minutes. There are no spares. Make sure everyone is holding on tight, we don’t know what we will see when we get there.”

I swallow hard. We have no idea what we’re teleporting into. It could be a trap, it could be a battlefield. I shake my head and turn back to the group. The vase is cold under my fingers, and I extend it out for the others to take again. Their hands all join mine on the vase, and we stand there waiting. I watch as the people around us move and get into place. So many wizards, so many witches. So many people that might never make it out of the Ministry.

The vase shakes under my hand, and then I’m being squeezed into nothing.

***

The Ministry is devoid of life, silent, their reflections the only ones on black glass. It’s odd. Normally the Atrium would be bustling on a Saturday morning, all the weekend workers eager to get started for the day. There isn’t anyone here though, and that doesn’t sit right with me. It’s too simple. Way too easy.

A flash of white light shoots across the wide corridor, slamming into black marble walls. Outraged cries rise up from our army, and I realise that we’re all still in our ranks and groups. The Portkeys were charmed exceptionally well, and I’m… proud of Ron.

“I saw someone move at the other end of the Atrium,” a wizard with long brown hair tied into a ponytail declares. “It’s no problem though, whoever I saw will be dead now.”

Shouts of fury fill the Atrium.

“Why would you kill when you don’t know who it is?!”

“What spell did you use?!”

“Where was the green light?”

“Why would you encourage the battle to start early?”

Everyone tries to talk over each other, all chastising the wizard and questioning his judgement.

“It’s a spell of my own,” the wizard says. “Not recognisable as the Killing Curse without green light, but essentially the same spell.”

Hermione scoffs from behind me, and I whirl to face her. I had no idea she was so close to me. I feel a slight bit safer with her at my back, knowing how capable she is with a wand.

“We don’t have the time to discuss this,” Lupin says. His voice is amplified to fill the room, the outcome of a very strong Sonorous charm. “We need to keep moving,” he announces before disabling the spell. There’s no room for argument, and the army starts moving towards the elevators.

The lifts aren’t that large, and there aren’t that many of them. It’s a problem normally, with so many workers trying to move about. It’s even worse with hundreds of people trying to get to the same floor at the same time. It would have made more sense to get a Portkey straight to the Department of Mysteries, but the wards prevent any form of magical transportation. The elevators will have to do.

The front line files into the first three lifts, the second line following. Lupin is in the same elevator as me, his face set and jaw clenched. His eyes look far away, as if he’s remembering something else. Something dark. I watch as he shakes his head and leans out the elevator to talk to Kingsley. They agree on something, and then the doors are sliding closed. Harry is opposite me, somehow in the same lift despite the chaos. I smile at him, and he returns it. He reaches a hand out to me, and I take it. It’s warm, full of life. It might not be by the time this ends. We stare at each other for a while, before the elevator’s voice announces the 9th Floor.

We walk out of the lift, standing ready for attack in the corridor. My wand firm in my hand, gripped hard. The incantation for the exploding charm on my tongue, I watch as Ron steps forward. He looks over his shoulder at us, eyes searching someone out in the crowd. He seems to find them, nods, and then turns to face the only door on this floor. Ron leans in close, his wand held up to the lock. Everyone holds their breath as he murmurs a password, moving his wand in a complicated manner. Arthur must have given him the password. I look around and find the man standing in the crowd towards the back, smiling and looking incredibly proud. I’d say I’m right.

The door clicks open. Ron puts a shield charm up immediately, acting as a buffer between the department and the rest of the army.

“Harry Potter…” A voice hisses from inside. “Why are you there? When you could be here, by my side?”

***

A/N: Aaah I’m so sorry for the wait! I got caught up with another fic for a fest (all done now, no I can’t say anything about it), and just didn’t have the time. Also note that I’m going into an exam period, so I can’t promise I’ll get another chapter next week either. But I’ll never drop this fic (especially not so close to the end!) so don’t worry about that. Have a lovely week Xx

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[aboveallarescuer]

Dany being self-critical or at least self-aware

As I was rereading ASOIAF, I made it my goal to compile all* the book passages demonstrating either certain key attributes of Daenerys Targaryen (e.g. that she's compassionate and smart) or aspects of hers that are usually overstated (e.g. that she's ambitious and prophecy-driven).  Doing such a task may seem exaggerated, but I'd argue it's not, for many, many misconceptions about Dany have become widespread in light of the show's final season's events (and even before).

It must be acknowledged that it can be tricky to reference, say, ADWD passages to counter-argument how she was depicted in season eight (which allegedly follows ADOS events). Dany will have had plenty of character development in the span of two books. However, whatever happens to Dany in the next two books, I would argue that there is more than enough material to conclude that her show counterpart was made to fall for flaws that she (for the most part) never had and actions that she (for the most part) would never take. (and that's not even considering the double standards and the contradictions with what had been shown from show!Dany up until then, but that's obviously out of the scope of these lists)

Another objection to the purpose of these lists is that Game of Thrones is different from A Song of Ice and Fire and should be analyzed on its own, which is a fair point. However, the show is also an adaptation of these books, which begs the questions: why did they change Dany's character? Why did they overfocus on negative traits of hers or depicted them as negative when they weren't supposed to be or gave her negative traits that were never hers to begin with? Another fact that undermines the show=/=books argument is that most people think that the show's ending will be the books', albeit only in broad strokes and in different circumstances. As a result, people's perception of Dany is inevitably influenced by the show, which is a shame.

I hope these lists can be useful for whoever wants to find book passages to defend (or even simply explore different facets of) Dany's character in metas or conversations.

*Well, at least all the passages that I could find in her chapters, which is no guarantee that the effort was perfectly executed, but I did my best.

Also, people could interpret certain passages differently and then come up with a different collection of passages if they ever attempted to make one, so I'm not saying that this list is completely objective (nor that there could ever be one).

Also, some passages have been cut short according to whether they were, IMO, relevant to the specific topic of the list they're in, so the context surrounding them may not always be clear (always read the books and use asearchoficeandfire). Many of them appear in different lists, sometimes fully referenced, sometimes not.

I listed the passages back to front because I felt doing so highlighted Dany's evolution better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To justify the existence of this list, let's see examples of widespread opinions that I feel misrepresent Daenerys Targaryen:

[I]f you are the person who has freed countless souls from chains -- when all those people never imagined freedom was a possibility -- you would feel you know better than everyone else what is best for them. (The Take)

~

And for Dany, the whole concept of "breaking the wheel" was always just about her taking more power so that she could dispense what she believed to be justice. It's a truly terrifying megalomania and one that I think she's had all along, we just didn't always see it. (x)

~

She wants to rule with love, not fear.

It doesn’t always go that way for her. And when it doesn’t — when the people she would rule don’t adore her — she tends to react fiercely. (x)

~

But Dany’s arc is not contrived or “coming out of nowhere” or “out of character”. This is precisely the character that she has shown herself to be from as far back as season two. She has made selfish and rash decisions one after another. She has failed to recognize the larger picture and the true needs of the people around her more times than can be chalked up to “youthful” mistakes. The seeds have been laid, the decisions have been made, and her thoughtlessness towards others and zeal for her own destiny have distorted her intentions. (x)

~

Dany’s true downfall is one of ego, impulse control and rage – and that is a human story, not a gendered story. She has become obsessed with destiny. It seems she doesn’t even have one except in helping set up others, more deserving, to lead. This certainly shows the folly of ego, presumption and dominion without listening and learning. (x)

~

She always has had a tyrant in the making kind of vibe. In addition to mass genocide, what do tyrants have in common? They all have a big ego, which needs to be massaged every now and then. Noticed how often Danny [sic] tells the story about the time she broke the chains and slaves rose up against their masters? It’s the narcissist in her, who not only loved it when people took her name as she passed through the crowd in Meereen after murdering the masters, but continues to tell that story to boost her own ego. (x)

Does Dany "[feels] [she] know[s] better than everyone else what is best for them"? Does Dany have a "truly terrifying megalomania"? Does Dany tend to "react fiercely" "when the people she would rule don’t adore her"? Are Dany's decisions "selfish and rash" in nature? Does Dany have problems with "ego, impulse control, rage, presumption and dominion without listening and learning"? Is Dany a "tyrant in the making" with a "narcissist in her" whose ego "needs to be massaged every now and then"?

I would argue these claims certainly cannot be made after reading the books (some can't even after watching the show's first 71 episodes, but the show can be all over the place and ... I digress), so take a look at these passages.

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

Her tokar and veils she had abandoned in the pit, and her linen undertunic had never been made to withstand the hot days and cold nights of the Dothraki sea. Sweat and grass and dirt had stained it, and Dany had torn a strip off the hem to make a bandage for her shin. I must look a ragged thing, and starved, she thought, but if the days stay warm, I will not freeze.

~

Dany did not need a glass to know that she was filthy.

~

Once I dreamed of flying, she thought, and now I’ve flown, and dream of stealing eggs. That made her laugh. “Men are mad and gods are madder,” she told the grass, and the grass murmured its agreement.

~

If I stay here, I will die. I may be dying now. Would the horse god of the Dothraki part the grass and claim her for his starry khalasar, so she might ride the nightlands with Khal Drogo? In Westeros the dead of House Targaryen were given to the flames, but who would light her pyre here? My flesh will feed the wolves and carrion crows, she thought sadly, and worms will burrow through my womb.

~

You took Meereen, he told her, yet still you lingered. “To be a queen.”

You are a queen, her bear said. In Westeros. “It is such a long way,” she complained. “I was tired, Jorah. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. I am only a young girl.”

~

Dany, starved, slid off his back and ate with him, ripping chunks of smoking meat from the dead horse with bare, burned hands. In Meereen I was a queen in silk, nibbling on stuffed dates and honeyed lamb, she remembered. What would my noble husband think if he could see me now? Hizdahr would be horrified, no doubt. But Daario ...

Daario would laugh, carve off a hunk of horsemeat with his arakh, and squat down to eat beside her.

ADWD Daenerys IX

Soon Dany was as clean as she was ever going to be.

~

How queer, the queen thought. They cheer me on the same plaza where I once impaled one hundred sixty-three Great Masters.

~

The day she wed Khal Drogo, the arakhs had flashed at her wedding feast, and men had died whilst others drank and mated. Life and death went hand in hand amongst the horselords, and a sprinkling of blood was thought to bless a marriage. Her new marriage would soon be drenched in blood. How blessed it would be.

~

“I suppose I must be thankful for small victories,” the queen said.

“One step, then the next, and soon we shall be running. Together we shall make a new Meereen.” The street ahead had finally cleared. “Shall we continue on?”

What could she do but nod? One step, then the next, but where is it I’m going?

~

Her lord husband stood and raised his hands. “Great Masters! My queen has come this day, to show her love for you, her people. By her grace and with her leave, I give you now your mortal art. Meereen! Let Queen Daenerys hear your love!”

Ten thousand throats roared out their thanks; then twenty thousand; then all. They did not call her name, which few of them could pronounce. “Mother!” they cried instead; in the old dead tongue of Ghis, the word was Mhysa! They stamped their feet and slapped their bellies and shouted, “Mhysa, Mhysa, Mhysa,” until the whole pit seemed to tremble. Dany let the sound wash over her. I am not your mother, she might have shouted, back, I am the mother of your slaves, of every boy who ever died upon these sands whilst you gorged on honeyed locusts. Behind her, Reznak leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Magnificence, hear how they love you!”

No, she knew, they love their mortal art.

~

Pale Qartheen, black Summer Islanders, copper-skinned Dothraki, Tyroshi with blue beards, Lamb Men, Jogos Nhai, sullen Braavosi, brindle-skinned half-men from the jungles of Sothoros—from the ends of the world they came to die in Daznak’s Pit.

~

“Magnificence, the people of Meereen have come to celebrate our union. You heard them cheering you. Do not cast away their love.”

“It was my floppy ears they cheered, not me. Take me from this abbatoir, husband.”

~

In Westeros the septons spoke of seven hells and seven heavens, but the Seven Kingdoms and their gods were far away. If she died here, Dany wondered, would the horse god of the Dothraki part the grass and claim her for his starry khalasar, so she might ride the nightlands beside her sun-and-stars? Or would the angry gods of Ghis send their harpies to seize her soul and drag her down to torment?

[...] In the smoldering red pits of Drogon’s eyes, Dany saw her own reflection. How small she looked, how weak and frail and scared. I cannot let him see my fear.

ADWD Daenerys VIII

No queen has clean hands, Dany told herself. She thought of Doreah, of Quaro, of Eroeh … of a little girl she had never met, whose name had been Hazzea. Better a few should die in the pit than thousands at the gates. This is the price of peace, I pay it willingly. If I look back, I am lost.

~

You saw me as defeated, Dany thought, and who am I to say that you were wrong?

“...Never trust a sellsword.”

Or a queen, thought Dany.

~

“The dragon has three heads,” Dany said when they were on the final flight. “My marriage need not be the end of all your hopes. I know why you are here.”

“For you,” said Quentyn, all awkward gallantry.

“No,” said Dany. “For fire and blood.”

~

Her voice echoed off the scorched stone walls. It sounded small—a girl’s voice, not the voice of a queen and conqueror, nor the glad voice of a new-made bride.

~

She could hear the dragons screaming as she led the boy back to the door, and see the play of light against the bricks, reflections of their fires. If I look back, I am lost.

~

I should never have taken him into my bed. He was only a sellsword, no fit consort for a queen, and yet …

I knew that all along, but I did it anyway.

“My queen?” said a soft voice in the darkness.

Dany flinched. “Who is there?”

“Only Missandei.” The Naathi scribe moved closer to the bed. “This one heard you crying.”

ADWD Daenerys VII

Meereenese seldom rode within their city walls. They preferred palanquins, litters, and sedan chairs, borne upon the shoulders of their slaves. “Horses befoul the streets,” one man of Zakh had told her, “slaves do not.” Dany had freed the slaves, yet palanquins, litters, and sedan chairs still choked the streets as before, and none of them floated magically through the air.

ADWD Daenerys VI

Their eyes followed her. Those who had the strength called out. “Mother … please, Mother … bless you, Mother …”

Bless me, Dany thought bitterly. Your city is gone to ash and bone, your people are dying all around you. I have no shelter for you, no medicine, no hope. Only stale bread and wormy meat, hard cheese, a little milk. Bless me, bless me.

What kind of mother has no milk to feed her children?

~

Dany gazed across the camp, to the many-colored brick walls of Meereen. The air was thick with flies and cries. “The gods have sent this pestilence to humble me.[”]

ADWD Daenerys V

The weaver raised her head. “Every day we told each other that the dragon queen was coming back.” The woman had thin lips and dull dead eyes, set in a pinched and narrow face. “Cleon had sent for you, it was said, and you were coming.”

He sent for me, thought Dany. That much is true, at least.

~

“Others blamed Daenerys,” said the weaver, “but more of us still loved you. ‘She is on her way,’ we said to one another. ‘She is coming at the head of a great host, with food for all.’”

I can scarce feed my own folk. If I had marched to Astapor, I would have lost Meereen.

~

“Even then some said that you were coming,” said the weaver. “They swore they had seen you mounted on a dragon, flying high above the camps of the Yunkai’i. Every day we looked for you.”

I could not come, the queen thought. I dare not.

~

“It is good that you have come,” she told the Astapori. “You will be safe in Meereen.”

The cobbler thanked her for that, and the old brickmaker kissed her foot, but the weaver looked at her with eyes as hard as slate. She knows I lie, the queen thought. She knows I cannot keep them safe. Astapor is burning, and Meereen is next.

~

You warned King Cleon against this war with Yunkai. The man was a fool, and his hands were red with blood.”

And are my hands any cleaner? She remembered what Daario had said—that all kings must be butchers, or meat.

~

“Cleon was the enemy of our enemy. If I had joined him at the Horns of Hazzat, we might have crushed the Yunkai’i between us.”

The Shavepate disagreed. “If you had taken the Unsullied south to Hazzat, the Sons of the Harpy—”

“I know. I know. It is Eroeh all over again.”

Brown Ben Plumm was puzzled. “Who is Eroeh?”

“A girl I thought I’d saved from rape and torment. All I did was make it worse for her in the end. And all I did in Astapor was make ten thousand Eroehs.”

“Your Grace could not have known—”

“I am the queen. It was my place to know.”

ADWD Daenerys IV

“Then heed me now and marry.”

[...] “Tell me, can this king puff his cheeks up and blow Xaro’s galleys back to Qarth? Can he clap his hands and break the siege of Astapor? Can he put food in the bellies of my children and bring peace back to my streets?”

~

“...In him the prophecies shall be fulfilled, and your enemies will melt away like snow."

He shall be the stallion that mounts the world. Dany knew how it went with prophecies. They were made of words, and words were wind.

~

“Why would you want to help me? For the crown?”

~

“...The Seven Kingdoms will never accept Hizdahr zo Loraq as king.”

“No more than Meereen will accept Daenerys Targaryen as queen. The Green Grace has the right of that. I need a king beside me, a king of old Ghiscari blood. Elsewise they will always see me as the uncouth barbarian who smashed through their gates, impaled their kin on spikes, and stole their wealth.”

~

“Bright queen,” he said, “you have grown more beautiful in my absence. How is this thing possible?”

The queen was accustomed to such praise, yet somehow the compliment meant more coming from Daario than from the likes of Reznak, Xaro, or Hizdahr.

~

What have I done? she thought, huddled in her empty bed. I have waited so long for him to come back, and I send him away. “He would make a monster of me,” she whispered, “a butcher queen.” But then she thought of Drogon far away, and the dragons in the pit. There is blood on my hands too, and on my heart. We are not so different, Daario and I. We are both monsters.

ADWD Daenerys III

“I want no slave. I free you.” His jeweled nose made a tempting target. This time Dany threw an apricot at him.

Xaro caught it in the air and took a bite. “Whence came this madness? Should I count myself fortunate that you did not free my own slaves when you were my guest in Qarth?”

I was a beggar queen and you were Xaro of the Thirteen, Dany thought, and all you wanted were my dragons. “Your slaves seemed well treated and content. It was not till Astapor that my eyes were opened. Do you know how Unsullied are made and trained?”

~

“Meereen is a free city of free men.”

“A poor city that once was rich. A hungry city that once was fat. A bloody city that once was peaceful.”

His accusations stung. There was too much truth in them. “Meereen will be rich and fat and peaceful once again, and free as well. Go to the Dothraki if you must have slaves.”

~

Groleo had been a most unhappy man since they had broken up his ship to build the siege engines that won Meereen for her. Dany had tried to console him by naming him her lord admiral, but it was a hollow honor; the Meereenese fleet had sailed for Yunkai when Dany’s host approached the city, so the old Pentoshi was an admiral without ships.

~

Ser Barristan went to one knee before her. “My queen, your realm has need of you. You are not wanted here, but in Westeros men will flock to your banners by the thousands, great lords and noble knights. ‘She is come,’ they will shout to one another, in glad voices. ‘Prince Rhaegar’s sister has come home at last.’”

“If they love me so much, they will wait for me.” Dany stood. “Reznak, summon Xaro Xhoan Daxos.”

ADWD Daenerys II

A shadow. A memory. No one. She was the blood of the dragon, but Ser Barristan had warned her that in that blood there was a taint. Could I be going mad? They had called her father mad, once. “I was praying,” she told the Naathi girl. “It will be light soon. I had best eat something, before court.”

~

She was the blood of the dragon. She could kill the Sons of the Harpy, and the sons of the sons, and the sons of the sons of the sons. But a dragon could not feed a hungry child nor help a dying woman’s pain. And who would ever dare to love a dragon?

~

All the dogs are just as guilty. The guilt …” The word caught in her throat. Hazzea, she thought, and suddenly she heard herself say, “I have to see the pit,” in a voice as small as a child’s whisper. “Take me down, ser, if you would.”

~

What sort of mother lets her children rot in darkness?

If I look back, I am doomed, Dany told herself … but how could she not look back? I should have seen it coming. Was I so blind, or did I close my eyes willfully, so I would not have to see the price of power?

~

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought. Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros? I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I.

ADWD Daenerys I

A boy came, younger than Dany, slight and scarred, dressed up in a frayed grey tokar trailing silver fringe. His voice broke when he told of how two of his father’s household slaves had risen up the night the gate broke. One had slain his father, the other his elder brother. Both had raped his mother before killing her as well. The boy had escaped with no more than the scar upon his face, but one of the murderers was still living in his father’s house, and the other had joined the queen’s soldiers as one of the Mother’s Men. He wanted them both hanged.

I am queen over a city built on dust and death. Dany had no choice but to deny him. She had declared a blanket pardon for all crimes committed during the sack. Nor would she punish slaves for rising up against their masters.

When she told him, the boy rushed at her, but his feet tangled in his tokar and he went sprawling headlong on the purple marble. [...]“Enough, Belwas,” Dany called. [...] But as he left the boy looked back over his shoulder, and when she saw his eyes Dany thought, The Harpy has another Son.

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

When she was dressed, Missandei brought her a polished silver glass so she could see how she looked. Dany stared at herself in silence. Is this the face of a conqueror? So far as she could tell, she still looked like a little girl.

~

All my victories turn to dross in my hands, she thought. Whatever I do, all I make is death and horror. When word of what had befallen Astapor reached the streets, as it surely would, tens of thousands of newly freed Meereenese slaves would doubtless decide to follow her when she went west, for fear of what awaited them if they stayed ... yet it might well be that worse would await them on the march. Even if she emptied every granary in the city and left Meereen to starve, how could she feed so many? The way before her was fraught with hardship, bloodshed, and danger. Ser Jorah had warned her of that. He’d warned her of so many things ... he’d ... No, I will not think of Jorah Mormont. Let him keep a little longer.

~

“The city bleeds. Dead men rot unburied in the streets, each pyramid is an armed camp, and the markets have neither food nor slaves for sale. And the poor children! King Cleaver’s thugs have seized every highborn boy in Astapor to make new Unsullied for the trade, though it will be years before they are trained.”

The thing that surprised Dany most was how unsurprised she was. She found herself remembering Eroeh, the Lhazarene girl she had once tried to protect, and what had happened to her. It will be the same in Meereen once I march, she thought. The slaves from the fighting pits, bred and trained to slaughter, were already proving themselves unruly and quarrelsome. They seemed to think they owned the city now, and every man and woman in it. Two of them had been among the eight she’d hanged. There is no more I can do, she told herself.

~

“I will admit you helped win me this city ...”

Ser Jorah’s mouth tightened. “We won you this city. We sewer rats.”

“Be quiet,” she said again ... though there was truth to what he said.

~

“Bring me the book I was reading last night.” She wanted to lose herself in the words, in other times and other places. The fat leather-bound volume was full of songs and stories from the Seven Kingdoms. Children’s stories, if truth be told; too simple and fanciful to be true history. All the heroes were tall and handsome, and you could tell the traitors by their shifty eyes. Yet she loved them all the same. Last night she had been reading of the three princesses in the red tower, locked away by the king for the crime of being beautiful.

~

But Daario is right, I shouldn’t have banished him. I should have kept him, or I should have killed him. She played at being a queen, yet sometimes she still felt like a scared little girl. Viserys always said what a dolt I was. Was he truly mad? She closed the book. She could still recall Ser Jorah, if she wished. Or send Daario to kill him.

~

That night her handmaids brought her lamb, with a salad of raisins and carrots soaked in wine, and a hot flaky bread dripping with honey. She could eat none of it. Did Rhaegar ever grow so weary? she wondered. Did Aegon, after his conquest?

~

“Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. But all I have brought to Slaver’s Bay is death and ruin. I have been more khal than queen, smashing and plundering, then moving on.”

“There is nothing to stay for,” said Brown Ben Plumm.

“Your Grace, the slavers brought their doom on themselves,” said Daario Naharis.

“You have brought freedom as well,” Missandei pointed out.

“Freedom to starve?” asked Dany sharply. “Freedom to die? Am I a dragon, or a harpy?” Am I mad? Do I have the taint?

“A dragon,” Ser Barristan said with certainty. “Meereen is not Westeros, Your Grace.”

“But how can I rule seven kingdoms if I cannot rule a single city?” He had no answer to that. Dany turned away from them, to gaze out over the city once again. “My children need time to heal and learn. My dragons need time to grow and test their wings. And I need the same. I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I’ve freed all over again.” She turned back to look at their faces. “I will not march.”

“What will you do then, Khaleesi?” asked Rakharo.

“Stay,” she said. “Rule. And be a queen.”

ASOS Daenerys V

Balerion floated nearest; the great cog once known as Saduleon, her sails furled. Further out were the galleys Meraxes and Vhagar, formerly Joso’s Prank and Summer Sun. They were Magister Illyrio’s ships, in truth, not hers at all, and yet she had given them new names with hardly a thought.

~

Many of the freedmen believed there was good fortune in her touch. If it helps give them courage, let them touch me, she thought. There are hard trials yet ahead ...

~

“Your Grace.” Arstan knelt. “I am an old man, and shamed. He should never have gotten close enough to seize you. I was lax. I did not know him without his beard and hair.”

“No more than I did.”

ASOS Daenerys III

Arstan Whitebeard held his tongue as well, when Dany swept by him on the terrace. He followed her down the steps in silence, but she could hear his hardwood staff tap tapping on the red bricks as they went. She did not blame him for his fury. It was a wretched thing she did. The Mother of Dragons has sold her strongest child. Even the thought made her ill.

~

Dany fed her dragons as she always did, but found she had no appetite herself. She cried awhile, alone in her cabin, then dried her tears long enough for yet another argument with Groleo.

[...] The anger burned the grief and fear from her, for a few hours at the least.

~

If I look back I am lost, Dany told herself the next morning as she entered Astapor through the harbor gates. She dared not remind herself how small and insignificant her following truly was, or she would lose all courage.

~

Dany mounted her silver. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest. She felt desperately afraid. Was this what my brother would have done?

ASOS Daenerys II

“Yet I must have some army,” Dany said. “The boy Joffrey will not give me the Iron Throne for asking politely.”

“When the day comes that you raise your banners, half of Westeros will be with you,” Whitebeard promised. “Your brother Rhaegar is still remembered, with great love.”

“And my father?” Dany said.

The old man hesitated before saying, “King Aerys is also remembered. He gave the realm many years of peace. Your Grace, you have no need of slaves. Magister Illyrio can keep you safe while your dragons grow, and send secret envoys across the narrow sea on your behalf, to sound out the high lords for your cause.”

“Those same high lords who abandoned my father to the Kingslayer and bent the knee to Robert the Usurper?”

“Even those who bent their knees may yearn in their hearts for the return of the dragons.”

“May,” said Dany. That was such a slippery word, may. In any language.

~

[“]So tell me, why is that ugly harpy not sitting beside the godsway in Vaes Dothrak among the other stolen gods?”

“You have a dragon’s eye, Khaleesi, that’s plain to see.”

“I wanted an answer, not a compliment.”

A Clash of Kings

ACOK Daenerys V

Jhiqui had braided her hair Dothraki-fashion, and fastened a silver bell to the end of the braid. “I have won no victories,” she tried telling her handmaid when the bell tinkled softly.

Jhiqui disagreed. “You burned the maegi in their house of dust and sent their souls to hell.”

That was Drogon’s victory, not mine, Dany wanted to say, but she held her tongue. The Dothraki would esteem her all the more for a few bells in her hair.

~

Pale men in dusty linen skirts stood beneath arched doorways to watch them pass. They know who I am, and they do not love me. Dany could tell from the way they looked at her.

~

It was not by choice that she sought the waterfront. She was fleeing again. Her whole life had been one long flight, it seemed. She had begun running in her mother’s womb, and never once stopped. How often had she and Viserys stolen away in the black of night, a bare step ahead of the Usurper’s hired knives? But it was run or die. Xaro had learned that Pyat Pree was gathering the surviving warlocks together to work ill on her.

~

“...Give me a son, my sweet song of joy!”

Give you a dragon, you mean. “I will not wed you, Xaro.” His face had grown cold at that. “Then go.”

“But where?”

“Somewhere far from here.”

~

Dany would get no help from the Thirteen, the Tourmaline Brotherhood, or the Ancient Guild of Spicers.

~

Sailors, dockworkers, and merchants alike gave way before her, not knowing what to make of this slim young girl with silver-gold hair who dressed in the Dothraki fashion and walked with a knight at her side.

~

“Sheath your steel, blood of my blood,” said Dany, “this man comes to serve me. Belwas, you will accord all respect to my people, or you will leave my service sooner than you’d wish, and with more scars than when you came.”

The gap-toothed smile faded from the giant’s broad brown face, replaced by a confused scowl. Men did not often threaten Belwas, it would seem, and less so girls a third his size.

ACOK Daenerys IV

Her voice was no more than a whisper, almost as faint as theirs.

ACOK Daenerys III

The drapes kept out the dust and heat of the streets, but they could not keep out disappointment. Dany climbed inside wearily, glad for the refuge from the sea of Qartheen eyes.

~

“I see a deep sadness written upon your face, my light of love.” He offered her a goblet. “Could it be the sadness of a lost dream?”

“A dream delayed, no more.” [...] The Pureborn were notorious for offering poisoned wine to those they thought dangerous, but they had not given Dany so much as a cup of water. They never saw me for a queen, she thought bitterly. I was only an afternoon’s amusement, a horse girl with a curious pet.

~

Yet the men who sat in them seemed so listless and world-weary that they might have been asleep. They listened, but they did not hear, or care, she thought. They are Milk Men indeed. They never meant to help me. They came because they were curious. They came because they were bored, and the dragon on my shoulder interested them more than I did.

“Tell me the words of the Pureborn,” prompted Xaro Xhoan Daxos. “Tell me what they said to sadden the queen of my heart.”

“They said no.” The wine tasted of pomegranates and hot summer days. “They said it with great courtesy, to be sure, but under all the lovely words, it was still no.”

“Did you flatter them?”

“Shamelessly.”

“Did you weep?”

“The blood of the dragon does not weep,” she said testily.

Xaro sighed. “You ought to have wept.” The Qartheen wept often and easily; it was considered a mark of the civilized man. “The men we bought, what did they say?”

“Mathos said nothing. Wendello praised the way I spoke. The Exquisite refused me with the rest, but he wept afterward.”

“Alas, that Qartheen should be so faithless.” Xaro was not himself of the Pureborn, but he had told her whom to bribe and how much to offer. “Weep, weep, for the treachery of men.”

Dany would sooner have wept for her gold. The bribes she’d tendered to Mathos Mallarawan, Wendello Qar Deeth, and Egon Emeros the Exquisite might have bought her a ship, or hired a score of sellswords.

~

The crown was the only offering she’d kept. The rest she sold, to gather the wealth she had wasted on the Pureborn. Xaro would have sold the crown too—the Thirteen would see that she had a much finer one, he swore—but Dany forbade it. “Viserys sold my mother’s crown, and men called him a beggar. I shall keep this one, so men will call me a queen.” And so she did, though the weight of it made her neck ache.

Yet even crowned, I am a beggar still, Dany thought. I have become the most splendid beggar in the world, but a beggar all the same. She hated it, as her brother must have. All those years of running from city to city one step ahead of the Usurper’s knives, pleading for help from archons and princes and magisters, buying our food with flattery. He must have known how they mocked him. Small wonder he turned so angry and bitter. In the end it had driven him mad. It will do the same to me if I let it. Part of her would have liked nothing more than to lead her people back to Vaes Tolorro, and make the dead city bloom. No, that is defeat. I have something Viserys never had. I have the dragons. The dragons are all the difference.

~

“The Arbor makes the best wine in the world,” Dany declared. Lord Redwyne had fought for her father against the Usurper, she remembered, one of the few to remain true to the last. Will he fight for me as well? There was no way to be certain after so many years.

~

“I mean to sail to Westeros, and drink the wine of vengeance from the skull of the Usurper.”

[...] “Will nothing turn you from this madness?”

“Nothing,” she said, wishing she was as certain as she sounded.

~

Even so, it would be years before they were large enough to take to war. And they must be trained as well, or they will lay my kingdom waste. For all her Targaryen blood, Dany had not the least idea of how to train a dragon.

ACOK Daenerys II

Dany felt shabby and barbaric as she rode past them in her lionskin robe with black Drogon on one shoulder. Her Dothraki called the Qartheen “Milk Men” for their paleness, and Khal Drogo had dreamed of the day when he might sack the great cities of the east. She glanced at her bloodriders, their dark almond-shaped eyes giving no hint of their thoughts. Is it only the plunder they see? she wondered. How savage we must seem to these Qartheen.

~

“...The Thirteen will come to do you homage, and all the great of Qarth.”

All the great of Qarth will come to see my dragons, Dany thought, yet she thanked Xaro for his kindness before she sent him on his way.

~

The Usurper will kill you, sure as sunrise, Mormont had said. Robert had slain her gallant brother Rhaegar, and one of his creatures had crossed the Dothraki sea to poison her and her unborn son. They said Robert Baratheon was strong as a bull and fearless in battle, a man who loved nothing better than war. And with him stood the great lords her brother had named the Usurper’s dogs, cold-eyed Eddard Stark with his frozen heart, and the golden Lannisters, father and son, so rich, so powerful, so treacherous.

How could she hope to overthrow such men? When Khal Drogo had lived, men trembled and made him gifts to stay his wrath. If they did not, he took their cities, wealth and wives and all. But his khalasar had been vast, while hers was meager. Her people had followed her across the red waste as she chased her comet, and would follow her across the poison water too, but they would not be enough. Even her dragons might not be enough. Viserys had believed that the realm would rise for its rightful king ... but Viserys had been a fool, and fools believe in foolish things.

Her doubts made her shiver.

~

“The high lords have always fought. Tell me who’s won and I’ll tell you what it means. Khaleesi, the Seven Kingdoms are not going to fall into your hands like so many ripe peaches. You will need a fleet, gold, armies, alliances—”

“All this I know.” She took his hands in hers and looked up into his dark suspicious eyes.

Sometimes he thinks of me as a child he must protect, and sometimes as a woman he would like to bed, but does he ever truly see me as his queen?

ACOK Daenerys I

“...Ten thousand warriors went with him. You have a hundred.”

No, Dany thought. I have four. The rest are women, old sick men and boys whose hair has never been braided.

A Game of Thrones

AGOT Daenerys X

She could feel the eyes of the khalasar on her as she entered her tent. The Dothraki were muttering and giving her strange sideways looks from the corners of their dark almond eyes. They thought her mad, Dany realized. Perhaps she was. She would know soon enough. If I look back I am lost.

AGOT Daenerys VIII

Trembling, her eyes full of sudden tears, Dany turned away from them. He fell from his horse! It was so, she had seen it, and the bloodriders, and no doubt her handmaids and the men of her khas as well. And how many more? They could not keep it secret, and Dany knew what that meant. A khal who could not ride could not rule, and Drogo had fallen from his horse.

“We must bathe him,” she said stubbornly. She must not allow herself to despair.

~

“I will not leave him,” she said stubbornly, miserably. She took his hand again. “I will not.”

~

“That one means you no good, Princess,” Mormont said. “The Dothraki say a man and his bloodriders share one life, and Qotho sees it ending. A dead man is beyond fear.”

“No one has died,” Dany said. “Ser Jorah, I may have need of your blade. Best go don your armor.” She was more frightened than she dared admit, even to herself.

AGOT Daenerys VI

Dany was near tears as they carried her back. The taste in her mouth was one she had known before: fear. For years she had lived in terror of Viserys, afraid of waking the dragon. This was even worse. It was not just for herself that she feared now, but for her baby. He must have sensed her fright, for he moved restlessly inside her. Dany stroked the swell of her belly gently, wishing she could reach him, touch him, soothe him.

AGOT Daenerys IV

His fingers dug into her arm painfully and for an instant Dany felt like a child again, quailing in the face of his rage. She reached out with her other hand and grabbed the first thing she touched, the belt she’d hoped to give him, a heavy chain of ornate bronze medallions. She swung it with all her strength.

AGOT Daenerys III

“Hit her, Mormont. Hurt her. Your king commands it. Kill these Dothraki dogs and teach her.”

The exile knight looked from Dany to her brother; she barefoot, with dirt between her toes and oil in her hair, he with his silks and steel. Dany could see the decision on his face. “He shall walk, Khaleesi,” he said.

~

“Have you forgotten who you are? Look at you. Look at you!”

Dany did not need to look. She was barefoot, with oiled hair, wearing Dothraki riding leathers and a painted vest given her as a bride gift. She looked as though she belonged here. Viserys was soiled and stained in city silks and ringmail.

~

Her supper was a simple meal of fruit and cheese and fry bread, with a jug of honeyed wine to wash it down. “Doreah, stay and eat with me,” Dany commanded when she sent her other handmaids away. The Lysene girl had hair the color of honey, and eyes like the summer sky. She lowered those eyes when they were alone. “You honor me, Khaleesi,” she said, but it was no honor, only service. Long after the moon had risen, they sat together, talking.

AGOT Daenerys II

There are no more dragons, Dany thought, staring at her brother, though she did not dare say it aloud.

~

“What should I do?” she asked Illyrio.

It was Ser Jorah Mormont who answered. “Take the reins and ride. You need not go far.”

Nervously Dany gathered the reins in her hands and slid her feet into the short stirrups. She was only a fair rider; she had spent far more time traveling by ship and wagon and palanquin than by horseback. Praying that she would not fall off and disgrace herself, she gave the filly the lightest and most timid touch with her knees.

And for the first time in hours, she forgot to be afraid. Or perhaps it was for the first time ever.

AGOT Daenerys I

Her brother held the gown up for her inspection. “This is beauty. Touch it. Go on. Caress the fabric.”

Dany touched it. The cloth was so smooth that it seemed to run through her fingers like water. She could not remember ever wearing anything so soft. It frightened her. She pulled her hand away. “Is it really mine?”

“A gift from the Magister Illyrio,” Viserys said, smiling. Her brother was in a high mood tonight. “The color will bring out the violet in your eyes. And you shall have gold as well, and jewels of all sorts. Illyrio has promised. Tonight you must look like a princess.”

A princess, Dany thought. She had forgotten what that was like. Perhaps she had never really known. “Why does he give us so much?” she asked. “What does he want from us?” For nigh on half a year, they had lived in the magister’s house, eating his food, pampered by his servants. Dany was thirteen, old enough to know that such gifts seldom come without their price, here in the free city of Pentos.

“Illyrio is no fool,” Viserys said. He was a gaunt young man with nervous hands and a feverish look in his pale lilac eyes. “The magister knows that I will not forget my friends when I come into my throne.”

Dany said nothing. Magister Illyrio was a dealer in spices, gemstones, dragonbone, and other, less savory things. He had friends in all of the Nine Free Cities, it was said, and even beyond, in Vaes Dothrak and the fabled lands beside the Jade Sea. It was also said that he’d never had a friend he wouldn’t cheerfully sell for the right price. Dany listened to the talk in the streets, and she heard these things, but she knew better than to question her brother when he wove his webs of dream. His anger was a terrible thing when roused. Viserys called it “waking the dragon.”

~

Somewhere beyond the sunset, across the narrow sea, lay a land of green hills and flowered plains and great rushing rivers, where towers of dark stone rose amidst magnificent blue-grey mountains, and armored knights rode to battle beneath the banners of their lords. The Dothraki called that land Rhaesh Andahli, the land of the Andals. In the Free Cities, they talked of Westeros and the Sunset Kingdoms. Her brother had a simpler name. “Our land,” he called it. The words were like a prayer with him. If he said them enough, the gods were sure to hear. “Ours by blood right, taken from us by treachery, but ours still, ours forever. You do not steal from the dragon, oh, no. The dragon remembers.”

And perhaps the dragon did remember, but Dany could not. She had never seen this land her brother said was theirs, this realm beyond the narrow sea. These places he talked of, Casterly Rock and the Eyrie, Highgarden and the Vale of Arryn, Dorne and the Isle of Faces, they were just words to her. Viserys had been a boy of eight when they fled King’s Landing to escape the advancing armies of the Usurper, but Daenerys had been only a quickening in their mother’s womb.

Yet sometimes Dany would picture the way it had been, so often had her brother told her the stories. The midnight flight to Dragonstone, moonlight shimmering on the ship’s black sails. Her brother Rhaegar battling the Usurper in the bloody waters of the Trident and dying for the woman he loved. The sack of King’s Landing by the ones Viserys called the Usurper’s dogs, the lords Lannister and Stark. Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar’s heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes. The polished skulls of the last dragons staring down sightlessly from the walls of the throne room while the Kingslayer opened Father’s throat with a golden sword.

She had been born on Dragonstone nine moons after their flight, while a raging summer storm threatened to rip the island fastness apart. They said that storm was terrible. The Targaryen fleet was smashed while it lay at anchor, and huge stone blocks were ripped from the parapets and sent hurtling into the wild waters of the narrow sea. Her mother had died birthing her, and for that her brother Viserys had never forgiven her.

She did not remember Dragonstone either. They had run again, just before the Usurper’s brother set sail with his new-built fleet. By then only Dragonstone itself, the ancient seat of their House, had remained of the Seven Kingdoms that had once been theirs. It would not remain for long. [...]

They had wandered since then, from Braavos to Myr, from Myr to Tyrosh, and on to Qohor and Volantis and Lys, never staying long in any one place. Her brother would not allow it. The Usurper’s hired knives were close behind them, he insisted, though Dany had never seen one.

At first the magisters and archons and merchant princes were pleased to welcome the last Targaryens to their homes and tables, but as the years passed and the Usurper continued to sit upon the Iron Throne, doors closed and their lives grew meaner. Years past they had been forced to sell their last few treasures, and now even the coin they had gotten from Mother’s crown had gone. In the alleys and wine sinks of Pentos, they called her brother “the beggar king.” Dany did not want to know what they called her.

~

Last of all came the collar, a heavy golden torc emblazoned with ancient Valyrian glyphs.

“Now you look all a princess,” the girl said breathlessly when they were done. Dany glanced at her image in the silvered looking glass that Illyrio had so thoughtfully provided. A princess, she thought, but she remembered what the girl had said, how Khal Drogo was so rich even his slaves wore golden collars. She felt a sudden chill, and gooseflesh pimpled her bare arms.

~

Dany could smell the stench of Illyrio’s pallid flesh through his heavy perfumes.

Her brother, sprawled out on his pillows beside her, never noticed. His mind was away across the narrow sea. “We won’t need his whole khalasar,” Viserys said. His fingers toyed with the hilt of his borrowed blade, though Dany knew he had never used a sword in earnest. “Ten thousand, that would be enough, I could sweep the Seven Kingdoms with ten thousand Dothraki screamers. The realm will rise for its rightful king. Tyrell, Redwyne, Darry, Greyjoy, they have no more love for the Usurper than I do. The Dornishmen burn to avenge Elia and her children. And the smallfolk will be with us. They cry out for their king.” He looked at Illyrio anxiously. “They do, don’t they?”

“They are your people, and they love you well,” Magister Illyrio said amiably. “In holdfasts all across the realm, men lift secret toasts to your health while women sew dragon banners and hide them against the day of your return from across the water.” He gave a massive shrug. “Or so my agents tell me.”

Dany had no agents, no way of knowing what anyone was doing or thinking across the narrow sea, but she mistrusted Illyrio’s sweet words as she mistrusted everything about Illyrio. Her brother was nodding eagerly, however. “I shall kill the Usurper myself,” he promised, who had never killed anyone, “as he killed my brother Rhaegar. And Lannister too, the Kingslayer, for what he did to my father.”

“That would be most fitting,” Magister Illyrio said. Dany saw the smallest hint of a smile playing around his full lips, but her brother did not notice. Nodding, he pushed back a curtain and stared off into the night, and Dany knew he was fighting the Battle of the Trident once again.

~

Magister Illyrio’s words were honey. “Many important men will be at the feast tonight. Such men have enemies. The khal must protect his guests, yourself chief among them, Your Grace. No doubt the Usurper would pay well for your head.”

“Oh, yes,” Viserys said darkly. “He has tried, Illyrio, I promise you that. His hired knives follow us everywhere. I am the last dragon, and he will not sleep easy while I live.”

The palanquin slowed and stopped. The curtains were thrown back, and a slave offered a hand to help Daenerys out. His collar, she noted, was ordinary bronze. 

[leafenclaw]

For the “Ask questions about my WIPs!” game

@inkstainedfingers97 asked:

“Perchance would you be willing to send me a brief summary of the premises of "Gem" and "Fearful Symmetry" ?”

First of all, thank you for asking! ^^

Gem is actually one of my earliest Mentalist works, one of several character studies I wrote in preparation for another story called Visions (which I was supposed to go back to right after Chasing Storms, but then Kindred happened x3). The concept was quite simple, a long drabble in which Lisbon was pondering all the ways Jane reminds her of a diamond (the dazzling smiles, flashy tricks, cutting edges of his personality, the fatal flaw at heart, etc.). That said, 400-ish words in I realised I was pushing that metaphor just a little bit too far? XD So unless I recycle parts of it for Kindred at some point (perhaps for 2x09, with that subplot about a diamond Jane lost in the bullpen? ^^), it’ll probably never see the light of day and to be honest I’m pretty okay with that. x)

Fearful Symmetry is a different animal entirely. I don’t know if you remember 2x10 well, it’s the episode where Jane gets hit by a baseball and gets a concussion, so he spends the whole episode fainting and having intrusive memories of his father? And in one of those memories, you see him and his father conning an old lady and her dying granddaughter. For some reason as I was watching I started thinking on that kid, wondering what would happen to her if she survived after this. Would she think the crystal really saved her, or would she know it’s a con and resent the Janes for it? I followed those thoughts for a while, got mislaid by a few Shakespeare references, and ended up with a story in which Celia (the dying girl) is Red John, because the application of the crystal nearly killed her and she wants revenge on the boy who lied to her. x)

It’s not a happy story. Written in 2nd person from the POV of an extremely unreliable narrator, it’s meant to be an illustration of how a healthy mind can sink into really unhealthy thought patterns because of a single event, how holding onto hate and a desire for revenge usually ends up poisoning your own life, and (as the title implies) it was also meant to be a commentary on thematic parallels between Jane and Red John, how similar they are, how you just need to fill in a few blanks to realise they have the same nature.

Anyway. x) It was SUPER cathartic to write and I was all set to publish as soon as it was done... until a computer mishap ate half my progress (more than 5k gone, I had almost 12k by then), including a scene I struggled a lot on, so it never recovered. I’m still keeping that one on the back-burner though, it’s one of ten stories across all my fandoms that I definitely intend to come back to and complete.

Excerpt under cut. Trigger warnings for obsessive thoughts of hatred and revenge, graphic descriptions of pain, some internalised ableism, and violent rejection of morals and religion. (There may be other things, as I said it’s not a happy story.)

(Feel free to comment but please don’t reblog.)

*****

Fearful Symmetry

*****

"Breathe," says your grandmother softly.

And you do, one laborious inhalation after the other, even as the wet, squelching sound makes you shiver, and the pain tears you apart. You do, and you clutch the crystal against your chest – because it will help, won't it? It must. Your grandmother says so, and the Carney man at the fair said so, and the boy. The boy said so. The beautiful boy who cried for you, with the golden curls that makes you want to giggle and sigh and feel their softness under your fingers. He said so.

"Breathe," repeats your grandmother, and you do – again and again and again and why isn't it working?

"I'm sorry to tell you, ma'am. You were robbed," says the doctor, shaking his head. "Crystals aren't magic. They can't heal anything."

But neither you nor your grandmother will listen to those lies, because you saw it. You saw the blister on the boy's finger heal with your own two eyes. How is that not magic? So you breathe, and breathe again, and cough up phlegm until even your grandmother pales and shakes her head.

*****

"What if – " you ask, then cough some more. "What if it needs to be inside?"

"Direct application," whispers your grandmother, eyes feverish. "Yes! We could put it in your oxygen tank – that should work. It will work, Celia. I promise."

Of course, no doctor will allow her to put a foreign object in your oxygen tank, not even a magic healing crystal that could save you. You should have known. They never took you seriously, even in the beginning. That's why the cancer was allowed to spread so far.

But you and your grandmother know what you're doing. You've seen it work. And when it does, when you're healed, you will walk back to the county fair on your own feet and kiss that boy right on his generous mouth to thank him for everything he did.

One day. If you dare. You need to heal first, for that to happen.

So you and your grandmother talk about it, and come to a decision.

Forget about the doctors.

Trust in the crystal.

Trust in the boy.

"Keep your eyes closed," whispers your grandmother, a handful of carefully grounded crystal in her palm. "I will blow it toward you. And when I say so, take a deep breath, as deep as you can. Are you ready?"

You nod.

"Now!"

You open your mouth wide and breathe, and cough, and open your eyes because it hurts so much, and dust flies in your eyes and your mouth is burning, your eyes are burning, your lungs, NO, burning scratching burning bleeding leaking painpainpain –

You scream.

*****

"What were you thinking!" bellows the doctor, somewhere on the other side of the door.

Your grandmother is crying, all hysterical sobs and blubbering mess, incoherent words of desolation falling out of her mouth like a waterfall. You want to tell her it's not her fault – it's not her fault, it's the boy's. The lying boy with his lying tears and those lying curls of shining gold you still want to feel under your fingers, except now you want to feel his lying throat bobbing up and down as you squeeze it just as much.

You want to tell her, but they hooked you up to your oxygen tank and you can't say a word, and you can't reach out to her either because you can't see with all those bandages covering your eyes.

Can’t, can’t, can’t do anything, anything at all.

"It's a miracle it didn't kill her on the spot!" yells the doctor again.

You can hear the angry breath he takes and releases, almost covering your grandmother's cries.

"Your crystal dust buried itself in the tissues, scarred her lungs and cornea," the doctor adds, so quietly you have to strain your ears to hear him speak. "If she was to live, it would be a miracle for her to escape pneumonia and infections. But as it is..."

You shouldn't be listening to this. But you do, you do even if you're not supposed to, even if you're supposed to be sleeping, and resting, and recovering. That's what they told you to do, anyway. Rest, and don't bother your pretty little head with grown-up talk.

Rest.

Rest in peace.

"Her last days will be painful," concludes the doctor. "Dying will be a kindness."

Your grandmother's wail covers every other sound.

The pang of shock in your mind covers every other thought.

Until shock turns to helplessness.

Then anger.

Then hate.

*****

You lie on your back, eyes closed as the priest anoints your forehead with oil, muttering blessings for your soul. Your grandmother cries softly by your bedside as you take one painful inhalation after the other. They've all given you for dead already, talking about you in past tense, hushed murmurs and sniffles in every corner of the room.

You don't care.

You're such a raw mass of unending pain. Nothing else matters but the burning in your lungs and the fever in your eyes and the pounding in your head that erases all ideas, all thoughts, all emotions.

Except one.

And the growing thirst for revenge sustains you in a way nothing else – no medicine, no prayer, no crystal – ever could.

*****

You never knew there was an emotion so powerful as to conjure up miracles – but if you had, you would have bet on love.

And you would have been wrong.

Love, in the end, wasn't enough to save you. Be it the love of God with its many prayers all through the night, or the love of Science on the altar of which you sacrificed your hair – both utterly failed you. Even the love of your grandmother only brought you worse suffering instead of the promised peace and relief.

Love wasn't enough.

But hate is.

Hate allows you to survive night after night until a full month passes. Hate allows you to hang on by a thread until breathing comes easier, until pain ceases. So slowly at first nobody notices you healing. So slowly at first you don't even notice it yourself.

Until you do.

Until they do.

"It's a miracle. Praises be to God," says the priest, and you want to tell him to shut up shut up shut up, because there is no miracle, there is no God, there is only hate burning bright and hot inside you, turning the cancer to cinders and coal dust.

"It was the crystal. It gave her back her life," says your grandmother, and you want to tell her to shut up shut up shut up, because the crystal nearly killed you, the crystal scratched your eyes away and even hate couldn't give you back your sight.

"It was the treatment. In a few months, we may be able to graft her a new cornea," says the doctor, and you want to tell him to shut up shut up shut up, because the medicine was never helpful to begin with, they didn't even bother treating your eye infection properly when they thought you were dying, and when you finally get out of here you will never trust a doctor again.

But you don't say a word – because you may be healed but you're still weak, and arguing over what exactly saved you would be a waste of time, a waste of energy. Instead you let hate eat away at any warm emotion you once felt, shield your mind with its cold, hard shell of frozen magma.

Who cares what they all think anyway? You know the truth, and at night you dream of a thousand humiliations and pains for the boy who grievously betrayed you.