not that i even include any of the nina project canon on this blog, but what really annoyed me about it all (i mean, basically everything to do with the storyline lmao) is that jane continued to call brenner papa. he claims they're “father and daughter” and offers his hand to her, and she takes it, in order to continue the work. she confirms he is her papa. by calling him that, it continues to implement that he is some kind of role model or positive figure in her life. the fact that she didn't confront him about her childhood until he physically stopped her from leaving and put the shock collar around her neck, is wild to me. all of jane’s development from the very first episode is amazing. in just the end of season one she associates “bad” to brenner, after spending one week with the boys. yes she did try running away from him the moment she saw him, and she was only thinking about helping her friends in working with nina, but she would not have put up with his behaviour towards her. she knew who he was at that point, and if not just to her, then to her friends: he faked will’s death, threatened to kill the boys, destroyed her mothers life. anyway. the point of this post, is that after season two, and her experience with kali, the man who hurt terry, and brenner’s vision, she only refers to him as brenner. there is no more papa. she is not giving him that credit, or allowing him to have that possession over her. if he were to ever come up in conversation, he is brenner, and that’s it.

not that i even include any of the nina project canon on this blog, but what really annoyed me about all that (i mean, basically everything to do with that storyline lmao) is that jane continued to call brenner papa. like he says “as father and daughter” (or something like that tbh i only watched s4 three times so i don’t know it nearly as well as the others), when she took his hand to continue the work. by her calling him papa, it continues to implement that he is some kind of role model or positive figure in her life. and that it wasn’t until he physically stopped her from leaving and put the shock collar around her neck, that she confronted him. all of jane’s development from the very first episode, hell, in just the end of season one she associates “bad” to brenner. and yes she did try running away from him the moment she saw him, and she was thinking about helping her friends in working with nina, but she would not have put up with his shit. she knew who he was is at that point, and if not just to her, then to her friends: he faked will’s death, threatened to kill the boys. ANYWAY. the point of this post. is that after season two, and her experience with kali, the man who hurt mama, and brenner’s vision, she only refers to him as brenner. there is no more papa. she is not giving him that credit, or allowing him to have that possession over her. if he were to ever come up in conversation, he is brenner, and that’s it.

Behind the Playlist - Transformers: Prime Edition (Part 3 of 22: Arcee)

Link to the other posts in my Behind the Playlist series

✧ ✧ ✧

I didn’t want Arcee’s playlist to imply that her grief is her entire identity, but it was hard to avoid it since so much of her character arc and her inner motivations are tied to her losses and trying to move on in a healthy way. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing though. It makes her more relatable and “human,” in a way, which many of us appreciate in a character.

Intended overarching themes and/or qualities: Grief, Painful Memories, Moving on after loss

My personal favorite(s) from this playlist: Walls, Hold Her, Lose You Now, Miss You All The Time, and All the King’s Horses

✧ ✧ ✧

Full song list and explanations under the cut:

Got It In You by Banners

A much-needed reminder for Arcee.

Walls by Trevor Holmes

Regardless of whether you see Arcee’s relationship with Cliffjumper as platonic or romantic, I think this song beautifully captures how Cliffjumper may have seen her. He made it a goal of his to brighten her world and be there for her. Those are great qualities to have in someone.

God Only Knows by for KING & COUNTRY

“Every day you try to pick up all the pieces / All the memories, they somehow never leave you / Nobody, nobody, nobody sees you / Nobody, nobody would believe you

God only knows what you've been through / God only knows what they say about you / God only knows how it's killing you / But there's a kind of love that God only knows”

Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi

“Now the day bleeds / Into nightfall / And you're not here / To get me through it all / I let my guard down / And then you pulled the rug / I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved”

While Arcee knew that Cliffjumper never wanted to leave her, it’s reasonable to assume there was at least some level of anger at the injustice of it all or maybe even at him for not pulling through like he’d done in the past. Losing a friend is hard, especially someone who may have helped fill a hole left by someone else.

Hold Her by for KING & COUNTRY

“She was holdin' on so tight / But why do we still have to say goodbye? / She's all alone tonight

There's nothin' I could do to make it right / Is it ever gonna be, ever gonna be brighter? / Is it ever gonna be, ever gonna be easier?

Hold her tonight / Oh, God, would you hold her tonight? / 'Cause I'm not there to stay close / Keep watch, tell her she's not alone / Hold her tonight”

Again, regardless of the type of relationship you may have seen between Arcee and Cliffjumper, this one hits deep. I could definitely see Cliffjumper looking out for Arcee long after he joined with the Allspark.

Lose You Now by Lindsey Stirling, Mako

And I like to think this one here is from Arcee’s point of view after both Cliffjumper’s death and Optimus Prime’s sacrifice.

Carry You by Novo Amor

No words from me for this one. Just feelings.

Miss You All The Time by O.A.R.

“You know that I don't like to say goodbye / I didn't know that we were out of time / I'm sorry that I couldn't save your life / So I walk, yeah I walk”

“I know that you were only passing through / In a moment you were lighting up the room / Oh, there'll never be another like you / So I walk, yeah I walk / And I try to keep my eyes up on the road / And remember all the stories that you told / Oh, I'm sorry that you'll never grow old / So I walk, yeah, I walk”

Arcee at least partially blamed herself for the deaths of both of her former partners. The apologetic tone of these two verses lines up with that.

Fight Song by Rachel Platten

Arcee has an admirable way of picking herself back up after tragedy. It differs from Optimus Prime’s firm and [mostly] stable grip on hope. When it comes to physical combat or emotional turmoil, Arcee never goes down without a fight, and even when she is down, she does her grieving and then pushes back with everything she has.

You’re Gonna Be Ok by Jenn Johnson

These are the sort of words she’s continually needed to hear and take to spark.

Will I Make It Out Alive by Tommee Profitt, Jessie Early

The unpredictability of war and not knowing whether or not you’ll see the light of day tomorrow would get to anyone. This song speaks of that uncertainty.

All the King’s Horses by Karmina

“All the king's horses and all the king's men / Couldn't put me back together again

There is a reason I'm still standing / I never knew if I'd be landing / And I will run fast, outlast / Everyone that said no”

Sometimes we’re surprised at just how far we’ve come through all the scrap life has thrown at us. I’m sure Arcee had moments of realization like that after The War ended.

Say Something by A Great Big World

“Say something, I'm giving up on you / I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you / Anywhere, I would've followed you / Say something, I'm giving up on you”

Someone I knew for a brief time pointed out how fitting these lines are for Arcee. I couldn’t help but agree.

Destiny (feat. Krigarè) by Generdyn

“I carried you till I buried you / Held your arms around my back / Dragged the ground with every step / I carried you till I buried you / Now a memory's all I have / As our story fades to black / This is our destiny”

“Like a soldier marches on / You are my battle song / Even when my strength is gone / I'm holding on”

Till I See You Again by UNSECRET, The Powder Room

“It's a cold and lonely road / But I'm gonna hold on / 'Til I see you again

Can't you see I'm right here / Locked inside the nightmare / Like a memory

Whispers in the silence / Madness in disguises / Like an enemy

I'm afraid / That I'm miles away from yesterday / And I'm alone

'Til I see you again”

The Wolves by Cyrus Reynolds, Keeley Bumford

I think of this one as a glimpse into what Arcee may have been thinking upon Airachnid’s return. Airachnid was the “wolf,” and Arcee wanted more than anything to be set free from the traumatic memories that came with her return.

Battle Cry by Claire Geurreso

“There must be a better place, a way for me / No, I won’t give up, I will die searching / For a brighter sun, a bigger sky / A better place to live this life

I'm fighting, I'm fighting / 'Til I win this war, 'til I win this fight / I'm fighting, hear my battle cry / Oh, oh, hear my battle cry / Oh, oh, hear my battle cry”

✧ ✧ ✧

Notes:

This post series is in alphabetical order. Next up are Breakdown and Bulkhead.

As I add more songs to the playlist, I’ll update this post.

Some angst with fluff at the end? "Please. I don't think I can do this anymore."

So this was inspired by yesterday’s rooftop anon and @mypanicface. Thank you. It has angst, fluff and is a journey through their life together. Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober

Fictober Day 10

“Please,” Scully says, squeezing Mulder’s hand, looking at him with unshed tears in her eyes. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” And Mulder can’t let go. He can’t let go of The X-Files or the search for his sister, the truth. Most of all, and it hits him violently in the gut, making him dizzy, he can’t let go of Scully. One year ago, she strolled into his basement office with a soft smile and no idea what she’d gotten herself into. Now, his little spy has become his greatest confidant. The thought of losing her is unfathomable.

“I have an idea,” he says, entwining their fingers, and bringing her to the place that up until to now, has been his and his only.

“I didn’t even know your building had a rooftop.”

“Most people don’t.” He grins at her. “I have a key.”

There’s not much space but it’s always just been him, so it was enough. He motions for Scully to sit down on the beat-up chair he found in a corner the first time he’s come up here. She sits with a thankful smile and he crouches next to her, his knees uncomfortable on the cold, hard concrete.

“The sun is setting,” Scully says, her voice as soft as the colors stretching over the sky above them.

“I know,” he replies, watching her instead. “I come here sometimes to think. To watch the sunset and remind myself that the world isn’t all bad. I thought maybe I could… get a second chair, a second set of keys.”

Scully turns to him. There are still tears in her eyes, but the ashen look of desperation in her face has vanished. The last rays of sunshine tangle in her hair and caress her cheeks.

“I would like that, Mulder.”

*

There are two chairs now and only one of them here to use them. He stares at the empty, silent seat beside him. Up above him, the sky is grey, as listless as he is. The sunset is hidden behind dark, angry clouds. Hope is dwindling with every passing day. The hope that they’ll find Scully. That they’ll find her alive.

A sliver of blue finds its way through the layers of bitter clouds, cracks it open just one bit. He clings to that small promise, to the possibility of faith.

Where are you Scully? he thinks, holding her cross between his fingers, trying to find the strength to go on.

*

“Hey,” he says, drawing his chair close to hers.

“I didn’t know where to go,” she says as a way of apology.

He shakes his head. “I told you this place is as much yours as mine.” Her knuckles are white from gripping the armrest. He touches the hand right next to him and she startles.

“I’m just so angry, Mulder. And my mother she… I couldn’t stand the look on her face anymore.” She lifts her head to the clouds. “I can’t believe I’ll never talk to Melissa ever again.”

“I’m sorry, Scully. For your loss, for… everything.”

Their fingers intertwine on their own account. The sun sets right before their eyes, a last hurrah for the day. Tomorrow, they will do this all over again. Just a respite before another fight, before another injustice. Before another loss. Neither of them lets go of the other, not for the longest time, not until they’re engulfed into complete darkness, the night’s cold nipping at them and reminding them that they, against all odds, are still alive. 

*

“You can’t keep doing this,” Scully says, standing next to him, and even though he’s not looking at her, he knows she’s frowning. She’s bundled up in a thick coat, needing the warmth, needing to hide her diminishing body away. No amount of layers can cover up the truth they both know.

She’s dying.

Mulder looks straight ahead at where the sun bleeds red into the sky. What does it matter to her? Why does she care what happens to him once she’s gone? His thoughts buzz in his head, like a swarm of angry bees. He wants to throw the chair away, to hide the keys. How can he ever return here once she’s buried in the cold earth?

“Mulder, I mean it. What you did… why did you do it? Why did you let someone drill a hole into your head?” Her voice rises with every word she says. He doesn’t have answers for her. He can’s save her and so he doesn’t deserve to be saved. Definitely not by her.

“I can’t- Mulder, please look at me.” He can’t deny her when she’s pleading with him. How can he deny her anything now when she’s dying? With force, he turns his head towards her. “I can’t bear the thought that you hurt yourself. You need to start taking better care of yourself.”

His nod is an empty promise, but she sits next to him anyway. He holds her tiny, cold hand in his and squeezes it tightly before he interlaces their fingers. Maybe some of his warmth, some of his life, can seep into her. She needs it more than he does.

*

“You said you wanted to talk to me?” Mulder is hesitant in sitting down. There’s a gentle breeze in the air, a hint of summer palpable in the rich bouquet of new beginnings.

“Hmm.” There’s a soft, albeit shy smile on her face that disarms his heart. He sits down, glances briefly at the early sunset, not yet in full procession, coloring them in golden hues.

“I must admit I was a bit, um, worried when I got your message because-“

“I want a baby, Mulder.” The smile is still there, now mixed with determination. She wants this. She really wants this. He swallows hard, his mind rushing through all the implications. Scully wants a child.

“That’s um…”

“I got a second opinion for the ova you’ve stored. There’s a good chance that IVF will work for me.”

“That’s incredible, Scully.”

She nods, watching him. “There’s just one problem. It’s not a problem, just- I need…, you know…”

“A father,” he supplies.

“So to speak. I don’t want you to answer right away, Mulder, because I know this is a big decision and one that neither of us should make lightly. I’ve spent all week thinking about it. You were my first thought when Dr. Parenti said there was a chance. During the week, I realized that… I don’t want you to feel pressured or like this is something that you have to do. I want you to think about it, okay?”

“You want me to be the…” now he can’t say it. Father. Scully wants him to be the father of her child.

“Please think about it. I’m going to leave you alone now.” She squeezes his shoulder and he sits there, frozen and shell-shocked. His eyes are trained on the sky where soft, pale blue and pink stripes frolic together. There’s no decision to be made. His heart pounds in his chest.

They’re going to try and make a baby.

*

She doesn’t say a word as she hands him a key. The key to the rooftop. He stares back at her, dumbfounded.

“I thought maybe you’d like it back.” Her voice is clipped, as neatly coiffed as her hair.

“Why?”

“I figured you’d like to share it with someone else.”

“Scully, no.” But she’s already leaving. He catches her right when her hand lands on the doorknob. “This is our place,” he says. “Diana doesn’t even know it exists. Neither would I want her to. Please stay? Look at that sunset.”

She doesn’t. She’s staring at her own hand, wrapped around the knob, still ready to leave. He couldn’t blame her if she did.

“Hey?” He touches her chin, making it impossible for her not to look at him. There’s a glimmer of anger in her eyes. These days, no matter what he does, he’s only making things worse. “Just one sunset. It promises to be pretty tonight.”

Wordlessly, she lets go, trots over to her chair, and sits down. She moves it away from his own, widening the distance. As soon as they’ve both settled, as soon as he dares, he reaches out to take her hand. She lets him hold it and he knows they will be okay again, in the end.

*

“We should have done it like this from the start,” Mulder says grinning up at Scully. She’s perched on his lap, her arms around his neck, and her head leaning against his. It won’t take long tonight, the sun in a hurry to set in the frosty autumn air.

“We weren’t ready then.” Scully’s giggle disappears into his neck where she nuzzles him with the tip of her freezing nose. He can’t wait to get back inside, to warm her up. Who needs sleeping bags when you have a warm bed and the hottest woman on earth?

“You’re not even looking at the sunset, Scully.”

“I’ve seen it before,” she says with a yawn.

“Are you tired? It’s only afternoon.”

“Well, we were busy last night.” Another giggle and a kiss against his jaw. He loves this Scully, the playful one. Sure, he loves every Scully he’s ever encountered; from the bossy badass to the one who needs help reaching the cupboards in his apartment.

“I plan on being busy again tonight,” he says into her hair.

“Can we skip the sunset tonight, Mulder? Maybe we can even see it from your bedroom.”

“You’re right. We should definitely check that theory.”

*

There are no certainties, only a sea full of possibilities, but Mulder knows this is the last time he’ll be sitting here, watching the sunset from the rooftop of his building. His bags are packed; everything he needs ready to start a new life somewhere else. Where that will be, he doesn’t yet know.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Scully says softly, cradling her heavy stomach. He can’t help but smile when he sees her, overcome with love for her and their baby. If only there wasn’t the nagging feeling of fear, too. What if they can’t keep their child safe? What if?

“I thought I’d say goodbye.”

“You don’t know that, Mulder.” She takes her hand in his, their fingers automatically entwining.

“Hmm,” he replies. He does know. This chapter is over. “We’ve had some good moments up here, didn’t we?”

“We did.”

“Sad ones, too.”

“No more sad ones,” she says, putting their entwined hands on her stomach.

If only life were that easier. But as he looks at the sky, the same sky it’s always been, the familiar colors that still find ways to surprise him now and then, he knows that they will be fine. No matter where he is, where she is, the sun will set every day, sleep, and rise again. There’s always going to be hope.

Hiding in Plain Sight

TITLE: Hiding in Plain Sight CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Five AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé.

You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other.

How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

RATING: General Audience

Raven could feel her heart pounding in her ears as Thor looked at her. He glanced at Loki for a moment who seemed to be studying him, curious as to why he was reacting as he was. “Looks like your soon-to-be wife isn’t the only Light Elf you need to get used to seeing.” Thor scoffed. “Like I was saying, I will deal with my situation when it comes to pass, you deal with yours now as it does.” “Get stuffed.” Loki snarled moving to the side to allow Raven passed him which she did in case Thor would say anything. “And don’t go sniffing around my maid. I don’t know why you seem so interested as you never thought them overly interesting as a race but you can cease such thoughts now.”

“I never even considered such but now that you mention it, she is quite pretty, don’t you think?” 

Loki’s response to his brother was to slam the door with his seidr into his face. He walked through the room and to the bathroom where he had watched Raven go out of the side of his eye after she had entered his rooms. “Branna, I...what in the realms are you doing?”

“Cleaning a wound I obtained when you threw an Aesir war prince onto me.”

“In my defence, I did not know you were there.” Loki winced on seeing the deep cut on her forearm. “I apologise but how is it so deep?” he walked over to one of the cabinets and got out a salve he used on occasion. “It was a smooth floor.” “The floor is gold plated, so yes, that was smooth. The armour plating on the behemoth of an Aesir you threw onto me was not.”

Loki grimaced. “I guess I owe you another apology then?”

“I’ll put it on your tab.” 

Loki paused and looked at her startled, surprised to see a playful smirk on her face that caused him to chuckle. “You have a sense of humour?” “Most elves do. You’d know that if you stopped assuming our demeanours based on some unfounded preconceived notion.”

“Your vernacular exceeds that of most women of court.”

“It is expected on Alfheim that you are able to converse with your employer on a multitude of subjects so you must be well learned and you must be able to hold a decent conversation with them. Allspeak is also required in case they have guests from the other realms, it’s common practise really.” Every word she spoke was the truth by Ljósáfar standard. 

“That’s a wise decision. Intelligent servants are not overly common here, ones you can converse with are even less so.”

“‘Pay peanuts and you get monkeys’ as the saying goes.” She cleaned the wound and applied the salve. “That looks better. Hopefully, if I ever marry, he won’t think me mutilated by it.”

Loki scoffed slightly. “He would want to have peculiar standards as to what is mutilated. But that statement on the monkeys?” “I spoke to a Vanir before who spent time on Midgard, it is a saying there. It translates to ‘if you pay badly, only the least qualified will apply’. Alfheim pays well and expects a lot for the money paid.”

“If it is so great, why come here? You stated to my mother you are homesick. You clearly are not overly pleased with your position, so why come?”

“My father wished for me to experience life elsewhere so I ended up here. My choice was made for me so I am making the best of it. It just so happened that my being in a certain place at a certain time meant I was chosen to cover for Tatiana. I guess the Allmother felt a maid with Ljósláfar training would suit you best in her stead.” Raven suggested. “Either that or she is trying to teach you humility before you break a young princess’s confidence or heart.”

“Her heart?” Loki thought that an odd thing to say. “She does not know me to have her heart broken by me?” “We can break a person’s heart without it being from love, you know?” Raven scoffed but Loki looked at her bewildered by such words. “She could come here thinking that she has the potential not even for the love of her life but of a life with happiness nonetheless. A husband that could converse with her at length about politics or even a man with hobbies similar to her own who she could find contentment with. Were she to come and see nothing short of contempt, then that would be acknowledging she could never even have that much. So many arranged marriages turn to caring but what I experienced here today, perhaps your mother wished to straighten out your behaviour in advance, the only issue being I am the one forced to endure it.”

Loki remained stoically in place for a moment thinking of what she said. “Could she have?” “Could she what?”

“My mother?”

“I cannot tell, she never told me anything only that I was to temporarily replace your other maid. No timeframe, no other information.”

“And the Princess, would she really…?” Raven cocked her head. “Earlier, you stated that she would wish to know if I had someone because she…”

“If you think that you alone have the right to other partners, then that is ridiculous.”

“But if she was to have another’s child as my wife…?”

“Well, good thing you’re not scheduled to become king.” Raven retorted before walking out of the bathing room and into the front area of Loki’s rooms and continued her earlier duties that she had abandoned in her anger. 

“That is unacceptable.” Loki followed after her. 

“So is having a mistress in this era.” Raven challenged. 

“You are very angry about a subject that does not concern you personally.” Loki folded his arms and watched her carefully. 

“I cannot stomach double standards.”

“You’re very opinionated for a woman of your position. I can’t see how many in a position of employment would see it as acceptable.”

“Do you find it acceptable?” “I find silent women unsettling. Your gender is as varied in personality as us men meaning there is no reason a woman should be forced to be silent when we commend men for speaking freely.” Loki stated. “I find my mother to be more intelligent than any man, I would be a hypocrite and a fool to think her the only possible intelligent woman.”

“My father always told me I should be more coy and quiet. That my attitude and sarcasm would get me in trouble.”

“That was solid advice.”

“But I cannot remain silent when I see injustice. I would rather be whipped and caned in a stock for speaking out than live in luxury for remaining silent.”

“That is a bold statement.” Loki could not help but be impressed by her conviction. “But if you believe so greatly in such, why did you not reveal the truth to my mother?”

“I don’t know, if I am honest. I ask myself the same thing.”

“Well, thank you all the same.” 

“It remains to be seen if that is a good idea.” She turned away from him and started to do more chores. In truth, having a moment to look at him and study features, Raven was startled at just how handsome he was. Aesir men tended to be burly and stocky but he was elegant and lithe. She had, of course, seen him on her arrival to the room but being in close proximity to him and studying him, she could not deny that he was incredibly attractive, distractingly so. 

She forced herself to concentrate on the work and not the arrogant yet handsome prince. For the rest of the evening, she did everything she needed to do for him. More than once she found herself confused as to what something in front of her was. It was not always easy but she was able to do what needed doing without looking as though she had no idea of what she was doing. Loki was busy dealing with different matters both in and out of his rooms. With him gone for the evening, Raven took her leave and went back to her rooms as quickly as she could muster through the labyrinth of servants stairs that hid in the walls of the great golden palace. On occasion, she saw another servant or maid who nodded in salute as they went about their own business and even once came across two youths of higher families hiding in an alcove kissing which caused her to smile and shake her head, remembering when she was that age and also her first kiss. It was a far more innocent time in her life when she knew nothing of the complexed world of politics that included arranged political marriages. It was in the corridor of rooms that housed royal servants that she realised that there was a maid donning a red belt standing outside her door. “Hello?” 

The maid turned to look at her with a polite smile on her face at seeing the Light Elf behind her. “Oh, thank goodness. I didn’t want to come back without you.”

“Come back?” Raven looked at the maid in concern. 

“Prince Thor asked that I retrieve you and bring you to his rooms to speak for a few moments,” The maid explained. 

“I…” Raven became worried but also knew that to refuse would arouse suspicion. “Can I just change my shoes, these ones are killing me?”

The maid looked down and grimace. “I hated wearing them. Definitely change. Prince Thor said he didn’t care if I came barefoot so long as I was comfortable when he saw me with them one day and bleeding blisters. He won’t mind.” 

Raven smiled at hearing the Aesir Crowned Prince had a heart. Odin was known to be a stickler for tradition but it was clear, some traditions were not overly comfortable for those having to adhere to them so for Thor to allow his maid to wear what appeared to be Midgardian sports shoes instead told her that he had some heart. “One moment.”

She rushed into the room and groaned. She knew what was to come, or at least, the general aspect of what was to come so she prepared herself. When she changed her shows to light comfortable ones, she walked out to meet the maid again who walked her to Thor’s rooms. Raven was frightened that they would walk through the hallway and be spotted by Loki who she knew would be less than pleased to see her going to Thor’s room but instead, when the maid, who remained silent and nameless throughout opened the door at the top of the stairwell, it led directly to Thor’s living area. Slightly startled, Raven looked around curiously. 

“Your Highness.” The maid bowed as she spoke causing Raven to focus of the burly blonde figure in front of her across the room. “Loki’s maid, as you requested.”

“Thank you, Hannah.” Thor gave a polite smile to his maid. “You can have the rest of the evening to yourself.”

The maid frowned. “But your nightcap?”

“I am forgoing it for this evening, I don’t plan to be here.”

“Of course, your highness. Have a pleasant evening and thank you.” She bowed again before nodding slightly to Raven and walking to the hidden door to the servants quarters again. 

For a moment after the maid left, Thor and Raven stood looking at one another analytically as though expecting the other to begin speaking first. 

“What is afoot here?” Thor asked. “The last time I saw the Light Elf princess was four hundred years ago on Vanaheim, she was not yet grown into many of her features but they were distinctive, you have them all, but in proportion. Her name is Raven, you are apparently Branna, the Dark Elf version of the name. I know many people think I am somewhat dim but I am anything but.” Thor stood as tall as he could. “What is afoot? Why are you, a princess who I know for a fact is not allowed to so much as sew because you had that argument with your mother in front of your brother and myself going around scrubbing my brother’s rooms when you are to marry him in a short time?”

Hiding in Plain Sight, Chapter 5

Story Summary - Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé. You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other. How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

Chapter Summary - Loki tries to set things straight with Raven but then Thor is thrown into the mix.

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Raven could feel her heart pounding in her ears as Thor looked at her. He glanced at Loki for a moment who seemed to be studying him, curious as to why he was reacting as he was. “Looks like your soon-to-be wife isn’t the only Light Elf you need to get used to seeing.” Thor scoffed. “Like I was saying, I will deal with my situation when it comes to pass, you deal with yours now as it does.” “Get stuffed.” Loki snarled moving to the side to allow Raven passed him which she did in case Thor would say anything. “And don’t go sniffing around my maid. I don’t know why you seem so interested as you never thought them overly interesting as a race but you can cease such thoughts now.”

“I never even considered such but now that you mention it, she is quite pretty, don’t you think?” 

Loki’s response to his brother was to slam the door with his seidr into his face. He walked through the room and to the bathroom where he had watched Raven go out of the side of his eye after she had entered his rooms. “Branna, I...what in the realms are you doing?”

“Cleaning a wound I obtained when you threw an Aesir war prince onto me.”

“In my defence, I did not know you were there.” Loki winced on seeing the deep cut on her forearm. “I apologise but how is it so deep?” he walked over to one of the cabinets and got out a salve he used on occasion. “It was a smooth floor.” “The floor is gold plated, so yes, that was smooth. The armour plating on the behemoth of an Aesir you threw onto me was not.”

Loki grimaced. “I guess I owe you another apology then?”

“I’ll put it on your tab.” 

Loki paused and looked at her startled, surprised to see a playful smirk on her face that caused him to chuckle. “You have a sense of humour?” “Most elves do. You’d know that if you stopped assuming our demeanours based on some unfounded preconceived notion.”

“Your vernacular exceeds that of most women of court.”

“It is expected on Alfheim that you are able to converse with your employer on a multitude of subjects so you must be well learned and you must be able to hold a decent conversation with them. Allspeak is also required in case they have guests from the other realms, it’s common practise really.” Every word she spoke was the truth by Ljósáfar standard. 

“That’s a wise decision. Intelligent servants are not overly common here, ones you can converse with are even less so.”

“‘Pay peanuts and you get monkeys’ as the saying goes.” She cleaned the wound and applied the salve. “That looks better. Hopefully, if I ever marry, he won’t think me mutilated by it.”

Loki scoffed slightly. “He would want to have peculiar standards as to what is mutilated. But that statement on the monkeys?” “I spoke to a Vanir before who spent time on Midgard, it is a saying there. It translates to ‘if you pay badly, only the least qualified will apply’. Alfheim pays well and expects a lot for the money paid.”

“If it is so great, why come here? You stated to my mother you are homesick. You clearly are not overly pleased with your position, so why come?”

“My father wished for me to experience life elsewhere so I ended up here. My choice was made for me so I am making the best of it. It just so happened that my being in a certain place at a certain time meant I was chosen to cover for Tatiana. I guess the Allmother felt a maid with Ljósláfar training would suit you best in her stead.” Raven suggested. “Either that or she is trying to teach you humility before you break a young princess’s confidence or heart.”

“Her heart?” Loki thought that an odd thing to say. “She does not know me to have her heart broken by me?” “We can break a person’s heart without it being from love, you know?” Raven scoffed but Loki looked at her bewildered by such words. “She could come here thinking that she has the potential not even for the love of her life but of a life with happiness nonetheless. A husband that could converse with her at length about politics or even a man with hobbies similar to her own who she could find contentment with. Were she to come and see nothing short of contempt, then that would be acknowledging she could never even have that much. So many arranged marriages turn to caring but what I experienced here today, perhaps your mother wished to straighten out your behaviour in advance, the only issue being I am the one forced to endure it.”

Loki remained stoically in place for a moment thinking of what she said. “Could she have?” “Could she what?”

“My mother?”

“I cannot tell, she never told me anything only that I was to temporarily replace your other maid. No timeframe, no other information.”

“And the Princess, would she really…?” Raven cocked her head. “Earlier, you stated that she would wish to know if I had someone because she…”

“If you think that you alone have the right to other partners, then that is ridiculous.”

“But if she was to have another’s child as my wife…?”

“Well, good thing you’re not scheduled to become king.” Raven retorted before walking out of the bathing room and into the front area of Loki’s rooms and continued her earlier duties that she had abandoned in her anger. 

“That is unacceptable.” Loki followed after her. 

“So is having a mistress in this era.” Raven challenged. 

“You are very angry about a subject that does not concern you personally.” Loki folded his arms and watched her carefully. 

“I cannot stomach double standards.”

“You’re very opinionated for a woman of your position. I can’t see how many in a position of employment would see it as acceptable.”

“Do you find it acceptable?” “I find silent women unsettling. Your gender is as varied in personality as us men meaning there is no reason a woman should be forced to be silent when we commend men for speaking freely.” Loki stated. “I find my mother to be more intelligent than any man, I would be a hypocrite and a fool to think her the only possible intelligent woman.”

“My father always told me I should be more coy and quiet. That my attitude and sarcasm would get me in trouble.”

“That was solid advice.”

“But I cannot remain silent when I see injustice. I would rather be whipped and caned in a stock for speaking out than live in luxury for remaining silent.”

“That is a bold statement.” Loki could not help but be impressed by her conviction. “But if you believe so greatly in such, why did you not reveal the truth to my mother?”

“I don’t know, if I am honest. I ask myself the same thing.”

“Well, thank you all the same.” 

“It remains to be seen if that is a good idea.” She turned away from him and started to do more chores. In truth, having a moment to look at him and study features, Raven was startled at just how handsome he was. Aesir men tended to be burly and stocky but he was elegant and lithe. She had, of course, seen him on her arrival to the room but being in close proximity to him and studying him, she could not deny that he was incredibly attractive, distractingly so. 

She forced herself to concentrate on the work and not the arrogant yet handsome prince. For the rest of the evening, she did everything she needed to do for him. More than once she found herself confused as to what something in front of her was. It was not always easy but she was able to do what needed doing without looking as though she had no idea of what she was doing. Loki was busy dealing with different matters both in and out of his rooms. With him gone for the evening, Raven took her leave and went back to her rooms as quickly as she could muster through the labyrinth of servants stairs that hid in the walls of the great golden palace. On occasion, she saw another servant or maid who nodded in salute as they went about their own business and even once came across two youths of higher families hiding in an alcove kissing which caused her to smile and shake her head, remembering when she was that age and also her first kiss. It was a far more innocent time in her life when she knew nothing of the complexed world of politics that included arranged political marriages. It was in the corridor of rooms that housed royal servants that she realised that there was a maid donning a red belt standing outside her door. “Hello?” 

The maid turned to look at her with a polite smile on her face at seeing the Light Elf behind her. “Oh, thank goodness. I didn’t want to come back without you.”

“Come back?” Raven looked at the maid in concern. 

“Prince Thor asked that I retrieve you and bring you to his rooms to speak for a few moments,” The maid explained. 

“I…” Raven became worried but also knew that to refuse would arouse suspicion. “Can I just change my shoes, these ones are killing me?”

The maid looked down and grimace. “I hated wearing them. Definitely change. Prince Thor said he didn’t care if I came barefoot so long as I was comfortable when he saw me with them one day and bleeding blisters. He won’t mind.” 

Raven smiled at hearing the Aesir Crowned Prince had a heart. Odin was known to be a stickler for tradition but it was clear, some traditions were not overly comfortable for those having to adhere to them so for Thor to allow his maid to wear what appeared to be Midgardian sports shoes instead told her that he had some heart. “One moment.”

She rushed into the room and groaned. She knew what was to come, or at least, the general aspect of what was to come so she prepared herself. When she changed her shows to light comfortable ones, she walked out to meet the maid again who walked her to Thor’s rooms. Raven was frightened that they would walk through the hallway and be spotted by Loki who she knew would be less than pleased to see her going to Thor’s room but instead, when the maid, who remained silent and nameless throughout opened the door at the top of the stairwell, it led directly to Thor’s living area. Slightly startled, Raven looked around curiously. 

“Your Highness.” The maid bowed as she spoke causing Raven to focus of the burly blonde figure in front of her across the room. “Loki’s maid, as you requested.”

“Thank you, Hannah.” Thor gave a polite smile to his maid. “You can have the rest of the evening to yourself.”

The maid frowned. “But your nightcap?”

“I am forgoing it for this evening, I don’t plan to be here.”

“Of course, your highness. Have a pleasant evening and thank you.” She bowed again before nodding slightly to Raven and walking to the hidden door to the servants quarters again. 

For a moment after the maid left, Thor and Raven stood looking at one another analytically as though expecting the other to begin speaking first. 

“What is afoot here?” Thor asked. “The last time I saw the Light Elf princess was four hundred years ago on Vanaheim, she was not yet grown into many of her features but they were distinctive, you have them all, but in proportion. Her name is Raven, you are apparently Branna, the Dark Elf version of the name. I know many people think I am somewhat dim but I am anything but.” Thor stood as tall as he could. “What is afoot? Why are you, a princess who I know for a fact is not allowed to so much as sew because you had that argument with your mother in front of your brother and myself going around scrubbing my brother’s rooms when you are to marry him in a short time?”

so revisiting octavia blake (especially after what we’ve seen of her in s5e06 tonight)... what’s your understanding of octavia blake, in relation to bloodreina and also as one of the most disliked characters in the fandom?

 TW – there follows some discussion of abuse so if that is one of your sensitivities, I wish you well and recommend caution with what follows. Are you asking if I still stan Octavia now she’s Blodreina? Because the answer to that is complicated but basically yes. For clarity: stanning, to me, doesn’t involve nailing my colours to the mast and then contorting myself into ever more unlikely shapes to justify every single thing my fave has ever done. It’s possible to love and emphathise with a character, while also acknowledging the terrible things they’ve done or are. Maybe I don’t need to tell you this, but maybe others need to hear it: don’t let ANYONE shame you for loving Octavia. And by that I mean if someone tries, just tune them tf out. They don’t get it, they never will. They aren’t worth your time and energy. Let that truth set you free. So yeah, I still love Octavia, with all her flaws and her sharp edges. I can’t love Blodreina, but while Blodreina is certainly Octavia, Octavia is not Blodreina. Blodreina is the very worst of Octavia. Spoiled, demanding, hard, judgemental, imperious, unyielding, cold, unempathetic and very, very violent. She is the culmination of the story of a non-person, disempowered and locked up under the floor, coming into being and being handed a sword. And power. So much power. She is a product of necessity. She is an amalgamation of Jaha’s lessons, Indra and Kane’s guidance, Kara’s support and Gaia’s teachings. She has a god complex which, imo, can only go the way of Mount Weather. By which I mean it will probably consume everything in its path before blowing to smithereens and taking at least one of our faves down with it. But while Blodreina is certainly real, let’s not get carried away with OCTAVIA IS REVEALED AS FOR THE MONSTER SHE’S BEEN ALL ALONG. Deep breaths everyone, and maybe a sip of water. Blodreina is a persona who enables Octavia to carry out the most monstrous of deeds (hi Jaha!) and live with it. Has Octavia drunk the Blodreina Koolaid? Most certainly. But Octavia embracing her worst is not the same has Octavia being the worst. Also see: Bellamy season 1 and season 3a. Would you look at that A PARALLEL WE LOVE PARALLELS. Blodreina serves a purpose for Octavia-of-the-butterflies too. Because this show is this show and we are never more than a few monologues away from “love is weakness”, Blodreina is also a protective casing that locks away Octavia’s grief, her pain and her misery, her loneliness and self-loathing, along with her vulnerability and empathy. It seems super obvious to me that Octavia’s personal journey this season, apart from trying and presumably failing to keep Wonkru intact, will be about disassociating herself from Blodreina. And that, probably, won’t come without falling spectacularly from grace and facing her pain, and reckoning with the things she’s done. Also see: Bellamy seasons 1-4. Huh. What happens when the exoskeleton crumbles? What’s underneath? What will Octavia-who-washed-Lincoln’s-wounds, come to think about Blodreina and the things she’s done in the name of her people? How will she confront the agony of being Octavia Blake, naked, piteous and vulnerable, the girl under the floor who was denied existence?

I want these things for Octavia. I want the narrative to subject her to the most abject moral scrutiny because that is what you should want for the characters you love. It’s what makes them interesting. It’s what makes them matter. ALSO SEE BELLAMY FOREVER. Now I’ve been in this fandom long enough not to expect many others to see it this way. We are balls deep in moral monochrome here in the Bellarke fandom, and while that gives me pause for a sip of tea and a short prayer to the patron saints of patience, it’s not a situation that anyone can change, least of all me. And why would I? People are free to engage with the show how they want, as long as they stay in their lane.

And look, I get why some people can’t see past some of her sins. I, too, have characters that I dislike with varying degrees of rationality. But objectively, Octavia’s level of moral turpitude is at about the same level as any of the main characters. That’s just a fact. People’s personal preferences, while as valid as any other preference, are just that: subjective opinions. Where I start to sip my tea and raise my eyes to the heavens is when people start presenting their subjective opinions as objective FUCK YOU AND YOUR INBOX truth and thanks but no. It seems to be fanon lore now that Octavia is unempathetic and…it just makes no sense. This is the girl who was filled with wonder at Earth, who refused to let Jasper die even when everyone in camp wanted him to. She saw the humanity in Lincoln when Bellamy, Clarke and Raven could not. She saw the humanity in humanity when all anyone wanted to do was kill each other until they burned in Praimfaya. Wonkru exists because Octavia inspired them with her faith in them. The only way it begins to make sense is when you consider Octavia’s actions through the prism of Bellamy’s experience – which 8/10 is how the BC fandom at least views the show. (Also valid btw. I also project onto my faves! Bellamy among them! But see above for subjective opinion vs objective fact.) With Bellamy, the lack of empathy is real. Octavia, or at least the Octavia of seasons 1-4 high key struggled to see Bellamy as a fully realised person with desires and feelings of his own. But, while this sucks for Bellamy, from Octavia’s perspective it is entirely understandable. No matter how young Bellamy seems to us, to Octavia he is her parent figure. How many of the people on here haven’t put their parents through hell from time to time? I shouldn’t have to point out the bleeding obvious here, which is that teenagers who care deeply about animal welfare, trans rights, LGBTQA+ rights, poverty and climate change can also go through phases of being absolutely fucking awful to their parents. Often, that’s because in our world, teens are subjected to an unholy amount of pressure with which they struggle to cope, and the overspill of that hurt lands on the people responsible for them. It doesn’t make them bad people. And, yes, that can, occasionally, tip over into emotional and, more rarely, physical abuse but we don’t usually call it that. We call that “teenagers being fucking awful” and I am 100% sure that this is the context the writers room is working from. Do I think it’s acceptable, or justified? Hell no. But it’s important to take these narrative threads in the context of the real-world understanding of the people who develop them. This show isn’t created in a vacuum. Now work the scenario I outlined above into a post-apocalyptic landscape with 2x traumatised victims of systemic injustice, one of whom was locked up by the other because of that injustice. Yeah. What is so interesting to me is that the blind spot Octavia has wrt Bellamy – the blind spot that denied him access to the empathy she showed everyone else - has come into play again now she’s Blodreina, but in a different way. After 6 years of having everyone kowtow to her, and after vowing not to love, suddenly Octavia is making concession after concession for her brother at huge personal risk to herself.  It might not seem like that to us, or to Bellamy (and legit! I get why, from Bellamy’s POV), but to Octavia it must seem like she’s trying SO HARD to give him what he wants within the framework of what she thinks is achievable. Consider love is weakness. Consider that she throws herself into his arms on sight, in full view of all of her people. Consider being the arbiter of life and death for 6 years. Now consider Bellamy asking her to trust him. She does and is rewarded with a sonic blast. Bellamy delivers her an ultimatum about Echo, and she concedes. She fucking concedes! When has she ever willingly conceded on anything and ESPECIALLY NOW SHE HOLDS THE POWER OF AN EMPEROR? It’s fairly obvious from the Blake siblings sparring session that Bellamy was the symbolic winner. He got through to her. Octavia NEVER forgives. But she offers Echo – the woman whose sins Octavia will never forget - a way out. When Echo and Bellamy refuse, does she banish Echo? She could do. She’s Blodreina. She’s used to doing whatever the fuck she wants. But, no. She accepts the alternative, and even helps Echo on her way. Yes, it’s brutal and Blodreina-y and serves a double purpose but still, she helps her. She’s not doing that for Echo.  She’s doing it for Bellamy. No, she’s not doing it with a winning smile and a cuddle, but that’s not Blodreina’s style. She tries to thank him for saving them, in the only way she knows how. She reaches out, and he lashes out with cold anger. And perhaps it’s deserved. No, it’s definitely deserved, but GODDAMMIT that was a “you’re dead to me” level of cruelty. Can I just roll back a second and talk about how co-dependent the Blake sibs are? Cool. A friend (I can’t remember who, sorry) once said that Bellamy and Octavia carried their cage back down to Earth with them. And for seasons 1-4 that is absolutely what happened. They are spectacularly co-dependent. Bellamy depends on her to give him purpose, and a direction and reason to live. Octavia depends on him to absorb the overspill of her hurt, to push against, to take the blame for all of the ills in her life. It sucks for them both, and they’re TRAPPED, so terribly trapped, and neither is the other’s jailer but neither can walk away either. And just, what strikes me about the interactions we saw in the sneak peek for 507 is that maybe, FINALLY, Bellamy has broken free of their co-dependent relationship.  He may not even realise it yet, but he has completely re-centred his world around Spacekru now. And I think, that if push comes to shove, he will prioritise Spacekru above Octavia, even if it hurts them both.  It doesn’t mean he loves Octavia any less, but after 6 years of love and support and peace and quiet, Bellamy has broken out of the cage. Bellamy is free. Excuse me while I cry tears of joy. But Octavia isn’t free. Octavia hasn’t had 6 years of peace and support and love. Octavia’s life has been marked by trauma from the moment of her birth, and the trauma hasn’t let up for a single goddamned second it just keeps coming and coming and coming until all she has is her walls and an alter-ego and the hope that she can keep Wonkru together and her brother by her side. Believe me when I say that Octavia is still very much trapped inside the cage which Bellamy has now vacated. IT IS ALL VERY HEARTBREAKING OKAY. IT HURTS. So yes, I still love Octavia and I am ready to see her again when Blodreina falls.

The new German left coalition, Aufstehen, aims to break the morbid consensus of perpetual ‘grand coalition’. Unsurprisingly Wolfgang Streeck, one of the few sociologists who would think to ask the question How Will Capitalism End?, is one of its partisans, making the case for the coalition in a provocative long-form article for Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung. A long-time supporter of Die Linke, he sees in the emerging coalition the chance to realign the left on the basis of an orientation to power.

If the ‘realists’ of Die Linke coalesce with the left-wing of social democracy, they could legitimately aim to govern. They could break the deflationary fiscal regime, end the taboo on taxing corporations and the rich, end debt rules that prevent municipalities from writing off their debts and the government from credit-financing infrastructure, address class and regional inequalities, and abandon a decrepit US-aligned foreign policy of propping up some corrupt governments and bombing others. This is an agenda that most on the Left would support.

So why is there a need for a new coalition? Die Linke is surely the one German party that has consistently supported policies like this. What would yet another realignment achieve beyond a further step down the road to a fractal Left? What, given the ambition of Streeck’s agenda, is there to be ‘realists’ about? What is the issue over which there is such “moralising away of fundamental questions” that one needs a new Left?

The issue, at least for the ‘realists’, is immigration. Specifically, it is Die Linke’s commitment to open borders, and its repudiation of former leader Sahra Wagenknecht for dabbling in anti-refugee rhetoric. The ‘realists’ are the Wagenknecht wing, the ‘sectarians’ are the delegates who voted against her. Unable to win the argument in Die Linke, the ‘realists’ are betting on a new political vehicle. This is the aspect of Streeck’s case that I want to comment on. Or rather, because he submerges the argument in the general rhetorical sweep of his recent Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung article, this is the part I want to expand on.

One has to admire, first of all, the parsimony of Streeck’s political taxonomy. As far as arguments on the Left go, there is only one fork in the tree of possibilities. On one branch, we find ‘realists’, accommodating the anti-immigrant sentiment which the Alternative for Germany (AfD) capitalises on. On the other, ‘sectarians’, sacrificing political efficacy to moral posturing, and using the AfD’s far right politics to avoid the issues they raise.

If these sound like the sorts of one-dimensional protagonists one might encounter in a morality fable, they are. Nonetheless, Streeck says, the prevalence of preening sectarians means that the “big questions” are suppressed. Capitalism, democracy, climate, war, “globalism” and “national statehood” are off the agenda while purists ineffectually worry about the “niceties of national and international asylum law”.

From this, one might get the impression that the ‘realists’, led by Aufstehen founder Sahra Wagenknecht, are desperately keen to stop talking about refugees. Yet one thing that one really can’t say about them is that they’ve driven refugees down the political agenda. It may not be the issue they spend most time talking about, but it is the issue that defines them as distinct from their opponents on the Left. Granted that they do, in fact, also talk about war, climate, inequality and capitalism, that wasn’t ever controversial in Die Linke.

Indeed, it was Wagenknecht who chose to make refugees the issue, in a deliberate and predictably controversial break with Die Linke’s policy, by attacking Angela Merkel from the right, beginning in August 2015. Merkel had, in response to a popular sentiment in favour of letting in Syrian refugees, undertook a short-lived pirouette to Wilkommenskultur. The Dublin Regulation, an EU law which says that member-states have to process applications from asylum seekers, was suspended. The purpose of the law is to ensure that migrants who arrive in destinations like Greece, Italy and Spain, stay there. It is linked to an apparatus designed to deter refugees from making the journey to Europe, from illegal ‘pushback’ agreements with Greece and Turkey to the harassment of rickety boats on the Mediterranean seas by Frontex operations. But Germany, for a brief moment, said it would welcome the refugees.

One would be entitled to be a little cynical of Merkel. Though often mistaken for some sort of bleeding-heart liberal, she had cheerfully baited migrants and Muslims, and declared multiculturalism a failure, and bears significant responsibility for the fortification of ‘Fortress Europe’. But when Wagenknecht attacked her, it was for suggesting that Germany could handle the refugee inflow. She later blamed Merkel’s “uncontrolled border opening” and police cuts for causing a major attack carried out by an ISIS supported in Berlin in December 2016.

Nor was Wagenknecht, in making this claim, weighing in with an argument that was under-represented in the political spectrum. The giddy thrill of transgression that palpably comes with such ostensibly hard-headed ‘realism’ is entirely unwarranted. Her argument that open borders was to blame echoed the AfD. The complaint about police budget cuts echoed the social-democratic vice-chancellor, Sigmar Gabriel. More broadly, in attacking the momentarily liberal-sounding Merkel fom the right, Wagenknecht was cutting with the grain of established government policy and rhetoric. There are, further, many ways to describe what such rhetoric does. For example it, demagogically, leverages the emotional response to a devastating event to advance a political argument. But one thing it definitely doesn’t do is break the mould, forcing the long-neglected issues of capitalism, democracy, climate and war back on the agenda.

Still, what if the argument was correct? Shouldn’t that be the most important thing? Should political correctness censor the truth? What could be more typical of the moral Left than its fidelity to abstractions over mucky realities? Anis Amri, the Berlin killer, was after all an asylum seeker from Tunisia: QED. I will not evade this, but I will just briefly pause to point out what might not be obvious, viz. that majority of terror attacks in Europe continue to be carried out by citizens of Europe, not migrants, and that the UN’s study could find no evidence of any correlation between migration and terror. So there is already a problem with conflating border controls with counterterrorism.

That said, Anis Amri was definitely not the beneficiary of any “uncontrolled border opening”. Amri had arrived in the Italian island of Lampedusa by boat in 2011, like tens of thousands of other migrants fleeing the turbulence of the Arab spring. He was held in a detention camp for refugees. Why is there a detention camp for refugees in Lampedusa? I’ll come back to that. When thousands of the detainees rioted, in protest against the notoriously awful conditions – which the island’s mayor compared to a concentration camp – he was among those locked up for it.

It was in a European jail that Amri was spotted and recruited by the jihadists who would link him to ISIS. He was already in the Schengen Zone when he migrated to Germany in July 2015, shortly after his release but before Merkel’s announcement. And while he did apply for asylum, he was turned down and scheduled for deportation – like most asylum applicants in Germany. While the deportation was going through the courts, he was under surveillance by German security services. They determined that he didn’t pose a threat. They were wrong, of course. But neither in the detail nor in the big picture does the Amri case prove anything about Merkel’s suspension of the Dublin Regulation, let alone that Germany is a soft touch and that refugee controls are too lax.

So, far from thinking asylum is a marginal issue, or a distraction, Wagenknecht and allies clearly think it an issue worth fighting over. One for which they are prepared, at key moments, to say things that are emotive, grossly inaccurate, and just a little bit sleazy.

It is clear enough what Wagenknecht was trying to do, and what the ‘realists’ in Aufstehen are now trying to do. Die Linke had been suffering from a prolonged political stalemate. Far from gaining amid capitalist crisis and eurozone turmoil, it had seen its vote stagnate since making a small gain in the 2009 Federal elections. In 2017, it was beaten into fifth place by the FDP and the AfD. The Left Party lost eleven percent of its voters to the AfD between 2013 and 2017, although a far bigger share of far right votes came from the CDU/CSU, and more still were previous non-voters.

Wagenknecht and her allies think this is because Die Linke is out of touch with its ‘traditional’ supporters. The older, less educated manual workers in the East who voted AfD are not reached by squeaky-clean, sanctimonious middle-class activists crying about dead refugees. The rage against refugees, they think, reflects a misdirected class anger on the part of the poor. This poor man’s economism patronises people. It treats them as victims of an astonishingly crude form of ‘false consciousness’, taking no account of the elaborate systems of perception and values in which such beliefs are grounded. Not to mention the sheer stubborn, cussed delight with which people invest their beliefs. It doesn’t ask what it might mean, in terms of their attachment to hierarchies and competition, if people are more offended by refugees than by class injustice.

Yet it is not just an argument about false consciousness. Rather than alienating those who vote for the AfD, the ‘realists’ proceed, the Left needs to understand and address their legitimate concerns, then give them a radical gloss. In an article written with playwright Bernd Stegemann for Die Zeit, Wagenknecht rebukes the Left for feel-good purity, oblivious to the fact that refugees compete for “scarce resources at the bottom of society” and can be a little bit scary and strange at times. Notice that Wagenknecht and Stegemann aren’t, themselves, claiming to be affrighted by refugees with their strange ways. I suspect they would be mortified to confess to such a disposition. For that reason, the attempt confer a certain rationality and grown-up dignity on an everyday prejudice reeks of condescension and bad faith.

It is also, finally, illogical. There is no evidence that the anti-refugee position is driven by any practical experience of competition or brushes with any frightening foreign culture. To the contrary, the AfD vote in 2017 was highest in the areas with the lowest share of foreign-born population: an utterly typical pattern. By that time, moreover, Wagenknecht’s rhetoric had been prominently broadcast across all media for two years. If it was going to woo those racist voters, one might have expected it to do so by then. Instead, it may well have given some voters the motivation they needed to jump ship.

As Aufstehen was launched, Wagenknecht and Stegemann co-wrote another article for the Nordwest-Zeitung, calling for a “realistic” immigration policy, steering a convivially middling course between two unpalatable extremes: “the resentment of the AfD” and “a limitless welcome culture”. Such a policy would fund those volunteers looking after refugees, without allowing people smugglers “to dictate which people can reach Europe by illegal means”. This is a soothing formulation. Realism. Who wants to be unrealistic? Smugglers. Who wants to be on their side? Neither this extreme nor that extreme. Who doesn’t want nuance?

The ‘realists’ are in no way breaking new ground with such rhetoric, so familiar from centrist triangulation. It is not as exciting as blaming open borders for terrorism, but it is utterly conventional for the politicians who empower traffickers by criminalising refugees, to then blame the traffickers. And even, when the predictable casualties wash up in their dozens, even their hundreds, on an Italian beach, threaten to bomb them. Yet, in a world where transport is becoming ever cheaper, what is it that gives exploitation-mongers such leverage? Why, to put it more concretely, has there been a spike of drownings in the Mediterranean in recent years, as those rickety boats run by the traffickers sink?

The number one reason, according to the UN’s International Organization for Migration (IOM), is the ramping up of European border controls, including strategies of “illegal pushback” by land. These strategies have been formalised by Merkel in deals with both Turkey and Greece. Deals which have been faulted for violating Article 4 of the European Convention on Human Rights, outlawing the collective expulsion of aliens.

These policies didn’t follow a huge influx of refugees. The flow of irregular migrants, only a minority of whom were refugees, had fallen sharply in the 2000s. The share of irregular migrants as a proportion of the population has varied from 0.38 to 0.77% of the total European population. There was a short-lived spike in 2015, driven by the Syrian civil war: with one million arriving by sea alone, according to data kept by the IOM. In 2016, it fell to 387,985 by land and sea. In 2017, the figure was 176,452. In a continent of 741.4 million, with over five million born each year, and even assuming that every single new arrival was accepted and then contributed nothing by way of work and taxes, this is simply not the crisis-inducing burden that Wagenknecht has claimed.

It is always a risk to play the numbers game. For a lot of people, any number is too high when it’s refugees and immigrants. They have been defined in advance as a problem, by newspapers, politicians and policies intended to demonise them. To downplay the number of refugees implies that it’s just as well there are fewer, because ‘they’ are indeed a problem. Worse, this tends to have a retroactive effect. If new migrants, refugees or not, are defined as a problem and a burden, then it follows that they must always have been a problem and a burden. Therefore today’s citizens, whose parents and grandparents arrived as migrants, are always potentially a problem and a burden. But it is useful to underline just how separated from reality anti-asylum rhetoric has become.

The logical position, if you’re anti-trafficker, is to wind down the panic, and roll back the policies known as ‘Fortress Europe’. Rather than spending €25bn over six years to expand the EU borders apparatus, let more refugees in and let them build new lives. And, to her credit, Wagenknecht has in the past voted against asylum restrictions, and called for such invidious measures as the Dublin Regulation to be permanently cancelled. Yet, that increasingly is not the tenor of her rhetoric around immigration. And nor, in view of the publicity around Austehen, will it be the tenor of the new organisation.

It would be convenient to dismiss this as mere political opportunism. And, in part, it is: to give up difficult strategic terrain for short-term, tactical gains, is the essence of opportunism.

Nationalism and anti-immigrant racism have long been major pull factors drawing millions to the Right. The centre-left traditionally attempts to neutralise it, electorally, by appropriating it. Shortly before losing the federal election in 2005, Schroeder unavailingly mimicked Merkel’s attack on multiculturalism, worrying that immigrants were failing to integrate, creating “lawless zones or parallel societies”. Their coalition partners, the Greens, joined in: “integration is no game”, they said, abjuring multiculturalism “if it means that anyone can do whatever they want”.

This was not a response to a real situation. Multiculturalism had never meant anyone doing “whatever they want”. Germany was not dotted with “lawless zones”. But the SPD and Greens believed that others believed in this fantasy, and it was easier to attempt to ventriloquise them than abandon their hardline neoliberal reform agenda. It is difficult not to see an echo of this in the Wagenknecht strategy, from demagoguery about terrorism to middle-steering, difference-splitting rhetoric about the AfD. But, even in cynical, electoral realpolitik terms, it doesn’t work. It never works. It merely sustains the emotional basis for racism, what Spinoza called the ‘sad passions’. And those who want immigration-bashing can usually smell a bullshitter and will vote for the real Armani. If the radical-left doesn’t defend immigrants and challenge the racism driving the AfD vote, even at the cost of offending the sensibilities of potential voters, no one else will. And the beneficiaries will be the Right.

It is not just opportunism, however. This is where Streeck’s piece does usefully clarify the stakes. In his sophisticated analyses of capitalism’s modes of crisis management, and the brick wall it hit in 2008, Streeck has repeatedly asserted the legitimacy of the national state against globalisation. If capitalism is to be subordinated once more to democratic control, the key strategic locus for that control is the nation-state, which is not just a material fact but a legitimate civic and political community. In this he opposes the necessarily rooted nationality of democratic citizenship to the cosmopolitanism of investors and bankers.

For Streeck, as for Lafontaine, Bernie Sanders, and many others on the social-democratic Left, immigration controls are essential for any viable left-wing government. If you have open borders, Streeck warns, it is harder to regulate labour markets and suppress wage inequality. You can’t take account of what infrastructural capacity there is to support migration. A “pragmatic” policy would dispense with such abstractions and determine socially-just criteria for admissions and exclusions. Points systems, for example, as well as means to keep out undesirables. Given, moreover, that Streeck accepts the nation-state as the only viable locus of social solidarity and democracy, open borders is morally unacceptable. Hence, he worries about fellow citizens – AfD voters, one presumes – being declared “Nazis and racists” because they don’t want the collective goods they have financed through taxation “to be declared morally liable to being expropriated”. It is not clear whom the expropriators are supposed to be here, if not migrants.

Of course, believing all of this need not lead one to engage in the kinds of public baiting that some of the ‘realists’ have. One could believe every word of the above and still think that there should be fewer and less restrictive border controls than there currently are. One could, as Streeck does, flatly dismiss the open borders position, much as one might dismiss the case for flying saucers, without thinking that one can somehow bait-and-switch racist voters. There are as many varieties of ‘realism’ as there are ‘sectarianism’.

Yet, the fact that in the case of the ‘realists’ he lauds, it does lead to demagogic baiting – and soft-peddling the argument with the AfD, and vague genuflections to the ‘issues’ they raise – is grounds for questioning it.

Is it really plausible to oppose nation to capital in the way that Streeck and so many other social-democrats do? How ‘cosmopolitan’, really, are investors and bankers? Are they not wholly dependent on nation-states to furnish them with stable currency and infrastructures and advance the global institutions which entrench property rights, investor rights and capital mobility? Are they not largely integrated into their respective national states? Has the strength of the nation-state really waned, or is it more the case that the position within nation-states of subaltern groups, and their democratic self-expression, has waned? Is the Left’s task to re-empower national states and to rally round the civic communities subtending them, or to shift the balance of power within them?

On the question of migration, it is not clear that what Streeck adumbrates by way of strengthening the nation-state’s role is in any sense inconvenient to capital. In what way would a points system, for instance, not subordinate labour mobility to the interests of capital, and further entrench labour market segregation? In what way is it better for workers that states assume more right to restrict their mobility in the coming years? Presumably the idea is to use tighter borders to create tighter labour markets and support wage claims supposedly threatened by competition from migrant labour.

This is known as the “lump of labour fallacy”, neglecting as it does the fact that migration tends to increase total employment, rather than raise competition for existing employment. Even in the Schengen Area, where the ‘pull factors’ are shaped by institutionalised precarity, weak unions and emaciated welfare, there is little evidence of such effects in the aggregate. Even having a points system in place, however, doesn’t stop migrants from being blamed for low wages, despite the paucity of evidence. To put it bluntly, whatever immigration regime you have, there will always be people falsely blaming social problems on immigration. Not because it’s the fault of immigration but because some people are xenophobic or racist. Why should the Left give ground to this?

Finally, is the nation-state really the exclusive plausible basis of democracy and social solidarity, as Streeck suggests in his debate with Adam Tooze? The Left didn’t always think so. Much of its history has been characterised by social movements and alliances which deliberately practiced democracy and solidarity on scales other than the nation. This is a matter of taste, no doubt. But I prefer the Left that is uncompromisingly in solidarity with migrants and refugees, recognising them as class brothers and sisters, to the Left that will throw them under the bus for the mirage of “political power and responsibility”.

Lights, Sound, Screwdriver! | Chapter Eight

“Ow! Jesus fuck!”

“You better shut the fuck up before I pound your teeth in!”

What did I do to deserve this, thought Mike. Currently, he was being shoved into a locker by none other than Troy Harrington. The asshole had already clocked him in the jaw while he was unsuspectingly making his way from the washroom to his history class for his presentation with El, and now was violently attempting to fit all six feet and three inches of Mike into a locker that couldn’t have been higher than his shoulder.

Troy also kept repeatedly punching Mike in the stomach so that he was winded and couldn’t fight back. He supposed it was actually a pretty smart plan; a good way to keep him from bolting away from Troy as he usually did. Finally, dickface managed to get most of Mike inside the locker, leaving only his feet sticking out of it and the rest of him cramped into the much too small space as he tried to avoid Troy’s fists. Troy then proceeded to slam the door as hard as he could multiple times, and Mike felt like maybe Troy was trying to break his ankles or something.

“That’ll fucking teach you not to mouth off. Who do you think you are, Wheeler, huh? Fucking pussy…” Troy slammed the locker door one last time and then stormed off, leaving Mike with his eyes squeezed shut and trying hard not to scream at the injustice of it all. What the hell had he ever done to Troy to warrant the shit he’d had to put up with for the last eleven fucking years of his life?

Mike got out of the locker and leaned his head against the wall next to the block, breathing deeply. He looked at his watch and cursed. I’m five minutes late, she’s gonna kill me. He wasn’t sure if the she he was referring to was El or their teacher, and he wasn’t sure whose wrath would be worse. He rushed down the hall as quickly as he could, limping a little because of the door’s impact on his poor ankles and holding a hand to his jaw where he knew a bruise was going to be obvious very soon.

Turning to where his class was located, Mike saw El standing outside the doorway of the room looking up and down the hall. When she spotted him coming, she ran to meet him.

“Where the hell have you been?” She exclaimed, but then she noticed he was limping and holding a hand to his face. His hair was also very messy, which it usually wasn’t because Karen Wheeler refused to let her son out of the house with what she called a “rat’s nest” on his head. “Wait, what happened to you?”

Mike groaned. “I’ll tell you later, it’s not important. Let’s just get to presenting, alright?”

El threw him a sideways glance as she led him through the door as if to say, Oh, you’re definitely telling me, buster.

He smiled at Mrs. Bubkes as he walked in. She didn’t return it. “How wonderful of you to join us, Michael.”

“Sorry, I lost track of time in the washroom.” Cringing upon hearing what that sounded like out loud, Mike went over to stand on El’s other side. She had already drawn their timeline of major events on the board and was just waiting for him to begin.

“So, our project was on the seventies. Raise your hand if you remember those golden years!”

By the end of the period, Mike would say that their presentation had gone pretty well. There weren’t any major slip-ups and he thought the flow of information might actually be making it into his classmates’ heads. Mrs. Bubkes looked pleased. All in all, he thought they’d get a good grade.

Back in the hall during the five minutes between classes, El cornered him and demanded he tell her why he’d been late.

Mike sighed. “Troy…”

Her nostrils flared. “I swear to god, I will punch that bastard’s lights out. When I get my hands on him…”

“El, it’s fine. He just shoved me into a locker, is all. Tried to close the door but I’m too tall and he just ended up slamming it on my feet. That’s why I was limping.”

She glared. “He just shoved you into a locker? As if that’s not bad! But you have a bruise on your face, too.”

He looked down, cheeks burning. “Okay, so first he actually clocked me in the face when I came out of the washroom, and then he punched me in the stomach and shoved me in the locker. He left after that, though, so it’s fine.” Mike wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him right there. He couldn’t even look El in the face, he was so embarrassed. God, what a weakling. Can’t even keep myself from being shoved into a way too small space. No wonder he called me a pussy, he’s right. This is why no one likes me.

El put her hands on either side of his face and pulled it up so he’d make eye contact with her. “Look at me. Nothing about what he did to you is fine. It’s unacceptable. There’s literally no reason for him to do any of the shit that he does to you, so I don’t want you blaming yourself.”

He blinked, taking in her words.

She paused, then continued. “Remember what I told you? You deserve all the love in the world, you’re, like, one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met! Troy has problems he doesn’t know how to deal with, but that’s not your fault and it doesn’t mean he can take it out on you.”

El paused again, anger crossing her face. “I’m still gonna teach him a lesson, though. I’ll see you after class.” She let go of him and stalked away into her math classroom.

Sitting in English, his last period of the day and his favourite class, Mike was completely unable to keep his focus. He could hear Mr. Reid going on about the significance of the blood Lady Macbeth washed off of her hands, but he wasn’t really paying attention. He was thinking about what El could possibly do to Troy.

He knew she was most definitely a force to be reckoned with, and he clearly remembered that the reason they’d even met was because she’d been sent to the office for stabbing the very same asshole with a goddamn screwdriver. But he also knew that Troy was probably insane, and wouldn’t have any qualms about hurting El just because she was a girl. Mike didn’t want her put in Troy’s sights because she’d tried to defend him. He’d gladly take the other boy’s beatings for the next eleven years if it meant he’d leave El alone.

When the bell signalling the end of the period rang, Mike’s stomach was in knots, and it only got worse when he saw that El was coming down the hall in his direction. She never does that. She must be coming to get me.

Indeed, that was exactly why she was there. She grabbed his hand and dragged Mike with her in the direction of the school’s entrance, where she claimed to have seen Troy after school every day. Upon arriving in the hall that led outside to the parking lot, Mike saw that Troy was, in fact leaning against the row of lockers closest to the doors, surrounded by his goon friends.

“No, El- don’t-” He struggled to keep her back.

“Shut up, Mike. Let me deal with him,” she hissed.

He felt like his stomach had fallen out of his ass when she yelled in the direction of the boys by the door. Mike was taller than all of them, but he was skinny and had almost no upper body strength (and no coordination, either). Just one of them could easily take him out.

“Hey, McFucking bitchface!”

Everyone in the hall turned to stare, taking in the tall, stick-thin Wheeler kid and the small spitfire that was Jane Hopper standing by his side. She had a look of murderous rage on her face.

The boys didn’t answer, not knowing that the name was directed at one of them. “Yeah, I mean you, Harrington!”

Troy smirked and pushed himself off the locker he was leaning against. “What’s up? Mayfield finally take me up on that date?”

Mike gulped and internally said a quick prayer for his life as El walked forward to stand close to Troy, bringing him with her as he was still holding her hand. “No, and she’s never going to. She has standards,” El spat, her eyes narrowed to slits. She seemed to realize in that moment that the hallway was full and whatever confrontation she had planned wouldn’t go over well. “Everybody clear out! This isn’t going to be pretty.”

She then waited until most of the other students were gone, leaving the hall empty but for herself, Mike, Troy, and his beefy friends. The bully leered. “What do you want, then, Hopper? Or have you come to defend pretty boy Wheeler?”

Mike closed his eyes. He’s going to go apeshit on her. I can’t let that happen. “El, I really think we should-”

She looked at him, and he saw the look again, the one she’d given Hopper when Mike was at their house, but it was about ten times angrier. “No. He’s getting what he deserves.” With that, she turned and socked Troy right in the nose.

He bent over, howling, and his buddies backed up. “You broke my nose!”

El whipped something out of her pocket and held it under Troy’s chin, forcing him to stand straight. Glinting in the sunlight streaming through the doors, Mike saw that it was a screwdriver. He was so shocked by her punch that all he could think was, Huh. Guess she wasn’t kidding when she said she carried it around.

Troy’s nose was bleeding and it looked crooked, appearing to have been broken just as he’d said. El glared at him, digging the point of the tool further into the skin under his chin. “Do you want to fucking try that again? You remember what happened last time. If you so much as lay one finger on my boyfriend again, I will fucking gut you. And you can’t do anything about it because is the chief gonna believe you over his daughter? I don’t think so,” she seethed. “Don’t even fucking look at him, Harrington, I swear to god.”

The group of boys surrounding Troy looked scared, and were avoiding looking at Mike. Troy gulped and opened his mouth, probably to say some stupid shit, but El pushed the screwdriver up and he closed it. “Get the fuck out of here before I do something I regret, assholes.”

They didn’t need another warning, James bodily hefting the limp Troy over his shoulders and the rest of them running out the doors as quickly as they could.

Mike’s throat was dry when El turned to face him, satisfied that the assholes had left. “I’m sorry you had to see-”

“I’m your boyfriend?” He croaked.

She let go of his hand quickly and blushed, looking away. “I know, I know, it just came out. Just pretend I didn’t say that.”

He closed his eyes tightly for a few seconds, then opened them again and El was still standing there, still blushing at the fact that she’d accidentally called Mike her boyfriend. This was real. HOLY SHIT.

“Can I kiss you?”

Her eyes snapped to his. “What?”

“Can- can I-” She cut him off by nodding, and that was all the incentive he needed. He reached his hands to her waist and pulled her closer, bending down to press his lips gently to hers. For a few seconds it was just that, lips touching lips, but then El’s arms wrapped around his neck and one hand went into his hair and somehow they were closer.

It was everything Mike had ever dreamed it would be, and he had dreamed of this moment a ridiculous amount of times before. Her lips were soft and warm, and for a first kiss it wasn’t too bad. A shiver ran down his spine and he felt like there had been a fire burning in his chest that had just spread to the rest of his body. All of him was warm when he pulled back from her to breathe. He only had to look at her face to want it again.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

El opened her eyes and giggled at his expression. “You look like you just narrowly missed getting hit by a train,” she said.

“It feels like I did,” he answered. “Can we do that again?”

In response, she simply leaned up and kissed him again. And god, was it amazing to be kissed by El Hopper. It felt like everything in the world was alright if she was kissing him, and nothing could ever go wrong again.

She pulled back this time, looking up at him with a smirk. “So what does this mean?”

“Well, I hope it means you like me because I like you so much that sometimes I don’t know what to do with it,” Mike said nervously.

She frowned. “You’re a dumbass if you think for a second that I don’t like you. I probably like you more than you like me.”

“Hate to break it to you, but that’s scientifically impossible.”

“Sure it is.”

“Hmm, maybe. You are the one that accidentally said I was your boyfriend, after all.”

“Shut up!” She shoved him playfully and he caught her hand, lacing their fingers together.

“El Hopper,” Mike started, “Will you take upon yourself the arduous task of being my girlfriend?”

At that, she grinned. “There’s nothing I’d rather do.”

Mike’s heart soared.

The Racist Treatment of Bonnie Bennett

I contemplated coming up with some cool title with a ring to it, or maybe something veiled that made you scratch your head and wonder, before reading further, BUT... why not just call a spade a spade? - “But, BB8fan, that’s such a BOLD statement to make!” I KNOW. But don’t worry, I have the facts to back it up! 

The definition of the adjective “racist” is showing or feeling discrimination or prejudice against people of other races, or believing that a particular race is superior to another. In this article, I will prove that Bonnie Bennett has been CONSTANTLY treated, made, and portrayed to feel as though the predominantly white characters of “The Vampire Diaries” were superior to her. #RacistTreatment

DISCLAIMER: LET THIS POST SPARK EMPATHY AND AWARENESS, NOT ANGER AND HATRED, LEST WE BECOME ADVOCATES OF THE VERY THING WE DESPISE... 

Firstly, when it comes to men: 

Bonnie Bennett has been treated, made, and portrayed to be the least desirable of the three female leads of TVD. While Elena was sought after by the hunky Salvatore brothers... and Caroline by the all powerful, Klaus, All-American, Matt, beefcake wolf, Tyler, Professor Alaric Saltzman, AND STEFAN to boot... BONNIE was sought after by Ben (who only wanted to use her), Luka (who only wanted to USE HER), Jeremy (who was grieving over the ex, he later CHEATED ON HER WITH), and Enzo, who had literally exhausted all other options! 

IT IS DISGRACEFUL! IT IS STOMACH CHURNING DISGUSTING, AND BLATANTLY IN YOUR FACE, WHEN YOU PAUSE TO ACTUALLY LOOK AT IT! THE RACIST TREATMENT... 

Elena was given the show leads, Caroline was given literally EVERY GUY ON THE SHOW, while Bonnie was whiny Jeremy’s third choice (after Vickie and Anna), and irrelevant Enzo’s third choice, for that matter! (Don’t forget CAROLINE and Lily! ;)

WHY have BOTH of her only relevant love interests end up with her BY DEFAULT?! And WHY IN THE WORLD couldn’t Ben or Luka start out using her, and then GROW TO CARE FOR HER?! Why did her stupid STEP BROTHER not even want her?! She had to literally THROW herself at him! WHY DID THE WRITERS TREAT THE BEAUTIFUL BONNIE BENNETT IN SUCH A DEMEANING MANNER??! In my opinion, she’s the most gorgeous of all the females, but NO. TVD made her undesirable. They put her white friends on a pedestal, and portrayed her as the inferior oddball NOBODY wanted and NOBODY CHOSE FIRST. #RacistTreatment  

But in case you need more evidence... 

Secondly, when it comes to empowerment:

Bonnie Bennett has been treated, made, and portrayed to be the most powerless out of the three female leads of TVD. ‘How so? Elena was a weak human for 3 seasons! And Bonnie’s the baddest witch in the land!’ I’m glad you asked... YES Bonnie’s a fierce witch, and yes, Elena was human for 3 seasons. BUT! 

1) Bonnie was possessed, beyond her control. (S1) 2) Bonnie was held back by Stefan, while Damon KILLED HER MOTHER. (S3) 3) Bonnie was CONSISTENTLY FORCED to do magic for Klaus! (S3) 4) Bonnie helplessly witnessed her grandmother being tortured by the spirits, to the point where she lost the ability to do her magic. (S4)  5) Bonnie had to lay there and watch Jeremy die right in front of her! (S4) 6) Bonnie’s dad was KILLED RIGHT BEFORE HER VERY EYES! (S5) 7) Bonnie lost her magic. (S5) 8) Bonnie became the anchor, and had to undergo enormous magnitudes of pain. (S5) 9) Bonnie was stabbed, chased, and tormented by Kai. (S6)  10) Bonnie had no magic. (S6) 11) Bonnie was hunted by the armory and had no magic. (S7) 12) Bonnie had NO MAGIC! (S8)

So yes, Bonnie’s an all powerful witch! But HALF THE SERIES she’s spent WITHOUT HER MAGIC! Elena was weak and human, and used for the cure! BUT Bonnie has been used as a magical tool EVERY OTHER EPISODE - and by literally EVERY character on the show! It’s not just Klaus and Katherine who’ve made her feel powerless! BUT Damon, Stefan, Katherine, Klaus, Silas, Enzo, and EVERYONE!!! 

Elena watched Jenna die. But Bonnie watched Jeremy AND her DAD die! She found her Grams dead, and was held back while her Mom was killed! 

This woman has been beaten down in ways that are just deplorable and unheard of! She has been FORCED, she has been ABUSED, she has been TRAUMATIZED in the appalling ways she’s been made to feel and be POWERLESS! More times and with more damaging magnitudes than with any other female lead! Fight me on this! It’s #RacistTreatment

But just in case you still REFUSE to see the light...

Lastly, when it comes to worth: 

This is the most serious and damaging of them all! Fine! Portray your only lead POC character as undesirable! Portray her as powerless! But worthless? This is just unacceptable... But TVD did it! My gosh they DID it with Bonnie Bennett!  

Caroline doesn’t put her life above Elena’s so why should Bonnie? TIME AFTER TIME AGAIN??! And then not only does she do it with Elena, she does it FOR JEREMY TOO!!! She literally GAVE HER LIFE for the two them! For Jeremy to be alive, and for Elena to be “happy,” she GAVE UP HER LIFE, because it is worth THAT little! Or so the show would have Bonnie believe, - AND the other characters, as no one has ever corrected her, - and we, the viewing audience! 

This is unhealthy, abusive, and DAMAGING, this belief system! But it has gone unchecked and uncorrected for YEARS! AND TO ADD INSULT TO INJURY,  the one time people claim their “superior” white faves did sacrifice for Bonnie is complete BS! Talk about #RacistTreatment

The ignorance of the show BLEEDS into the fans/viewers of it, and it is SCARY! To say that Elena or Damon sacrificed ANYTHING in season 6, when Kai linked her life to Bonnie’s, is not only absurd, it’s HORRIFYING! I don’t know if people are losing brain cells watching this terribly written show, but Elena was IN A MAGICAL COMA! That was done! It happened! -- NOW. The loophole is that she could wake up, IF BONNIE DIES! So when people say Elena sacrificed, and Damon sacrificed, they’re literally saying “Delena didn’t KILL Bonnie, they’re supposed best friend! What a sacrifice!” 

They’re literally patting them on the back, for not MURDERING their “friend!” Do you realize how messed up that is?!... But then again, a messed up ship breeds messed up fans! And a messed up show breeds messed up viewers! Bonnie’s life isn’t worth anything! That’s been the running theme of the show! So why wouldn’t viewers pat DE on the back for not killing her?! She isn’t worth crap! 

“Bonnie’s superiors are her white friends, and she needs to be ready and willing to lay down her life for them, at all times!” 

That’s the message of TVD. I am SICK. I am utterly disgusted and SICK! I cannot BELIEVE I wasted SO MANY years of my life on this show, thinking they cared about this beautiful person of color! CONVINCING myself they were saving Bonnie for DAMON, and that was the reason for her lack of love interest! Reasoning they were making Bonnie a stronger, more layered character, by putting her through so much crap! Believing they’d have the right man DECLARE Bonnie’s worth to her, and put a stop to her self harm!

NOOO! 

They’re not saving Bonnie for Damon. Why would they put the “inferior black girl” with one of the most desirable males of the series?! Even though Bamon is canon in the books, they will not even share a KISS! They will be the only important book!ship left COMPLETELY UNEXPLORED (they even did Meredith/Alaric!), when if this were Bonnie Mccullough they’d already be MARRIED! 

You know, back in season 3 of the show, I started to wish for Bonnie’s death. I thought, ‘if her character is going to be used and abused THIS much, she might as well be gone... Kat Graham deserves better, and I deserve better than to be stuck watching this show for her!’ But TVD kept her alive. They kept their token black person to keep their demographic viewers.

And yeah, a couple seasons later things seemed to be getting better... but then season 8 happened. :/ But I guess I should be thankful! My eyes are OPENED because of it. 

Bonnie Bennett is ENDLESSLY treated, made, and portrayed to feel undesirable, powerless, and worthless, next to her white friends. It’s #RacistTreatment and she deserves better. Kat Graham deserves better. And we as VIEWERS deserve better. 

I am SO DONE with this show, and I hope you will be to! Don’t put yourself through the heartache! Don’t put yourself through the twisted brainwash! I wish more than ever now that Bonnie Bennett would die. There’s just no winning. :/ She deserves better than emo Enzo AND self-centered Damon, who doesn’t give a crap about her! So just kill her! The writers have been emotionally stabbing her from the beginning anyways... 

I’m hurt. This hurts me... In a world full of constant injustice for people of color, I thought I was finally witnessing a powerful character... an attractive and beautiful black woman, who would be cared for and loved by others... It turns out she was nothing more than a plot line punching bag, created to make Elena, Caroline, the writers, and the viewers of this show feel better about themselves. :/ The abuse Bonnie Bennett has undergone has abused me worst than I think I’ve ever experienced in life. They have subliminally consistently told me I am less desirable, less powerful, and less worthy. I didn’t realize it before unfortunately, but I realize it now! And I’m DONE listening to the lies!

Well, I hope this article has enlightened you all! Don’t get so happy next time you see a diverse cast! Pay attention to the way the show/movie TREATS their people of color! Don’t be fooled, and left heartbroken and damaged, after believing and putting your faith and support into complete filth... 

Last, but not least, don’t let the ugly behavior of this world turn you into the very thing you despise. Fight hate with LOVE! And remember, we’re all brothers and sisters, whether we like it or not! 

Pray for the writers of TVD. Pray for the actors. Pray for it’s fans. Pray that they see the error of their ways, and learn to love and treat others the way they’d want to be treated... We all make mistakes. We’re all human. “We all have sinned.” Now it’s about moving FORWARD from that, and not repeating the same mistakes! :)

P.S. Go show Kat Graham’s twitter page some love! As hurt as I am by Bonnie’s treatment, she’s probably 10x more hurt! It’s probably why she decided to leave the show! She knew things weren’t going to get any better for her... :/ Anyhow, go show her some love! Thank her for gifting us with the lovely Bonnie Bennett! And compliment her on being the gorgeous and talented PROFESSIONAL she has always been! 

God bless!

angry, ambivalent, receptive.

I tell you how totally great God is? He is an infinite circle, with no beginning or end. He is infinity. We are completely not, our understand of everything is finite. But walking with God is like being on those model train tracks that loop in the infinity sign. You may pass the same thing on the journey, over and over, but it’s only after the umpteenth time that you really appreciate or learn from the view. Barry H. Gillespie puts this much better than me when he said,  “the path isn't a straight line; it’s a spiral. You continually come back to things you thought you understood and see deeper truths.” 

One thing I always return to in my faith is the frustration and then the peace that being a woman gives me. To say that our Church is not embedded in an androcentric culture, instead of a Christ-centric culture, would be a lie. In spite of every argument I’ve ever heard, I am not ok with the lack of female representation on our clergy. I’m not okay with the fact I can’t take communion when I’m on my period, even though Christ healed the bleeding woman. I’m not okay with the fact our liturgy only asks for the prayers of our Holy Fathers and not also our Holy Mothers, as if they didn't exist. I hate the boy’s club that exists at every level of our church, and I hate the way that I have been told that practicing obedience - even if it hinders my salvation - should be the way. This just touches on the tip of the iceberg, and I’m not interested in anyone debating me on any of this. I did not ask to be born into this body. I did not ask to be treated as inferior. I am so freaking tired of everyone blaming Eve! First in sin, second in order of creation. Please, pass me a bucket.

I say the church is androcentric, not Christ-centric, because none of this reflects Christ’s teachings. Christ raised up women. He subverted patriarchal rule. He repeatedly showed that there isn’t room for gender roles in the Kingdom of Heaven. 

Don’t get me wrong; learning to find joy and pleasure and peace in being a woman has been largely founded in feminism and in Christianity. Both have had jarring and problematic ideas about being a woman, but somehow when I mixed them together, they neutralised each other. I have integrity because I am a mirror of Christ, I am a ambassador, I am a woman struggling towards godliness. I have learnt to practice that integrity through many of the teachings and wisdoms of feminism. Both taught me to reject the androcentric view that women are objects, are possessions, are distractions, are dispensable. 

There was a time where going to Church left a bitter taste in my mouth. I was sick to my stomach hearing words and teachings that very regularly erased my existence. I was angry that female saints - women who lived deviant lives by the world’s standards - were brushed aside. The height of this anger climaxed in 2014, where the injustices of women weighed on me like a physical burden. Sometimes when I think about all the women currently being abused, currently suffering, and all the generations of women who have suffered since the dawn of time, it’s like I ingest their pain. I feel it. It makes my knees buckle. It makes me want to rip my way out of this body. The Church was where I was supposed to be restored, where the wonders of my womanhood was to be fulfilled for a divine purpose. To sit in Church, opposite the Holy Altar, made me feel sick. I am forbidden to enter that space because of the body I was born into. Above it floats the Holy Theotokos, and her presence there seemed twisted and ironic. Both Virgin and Mother, she represents an idea of womanhood that is impossible for any woman to attain. She is the only woman allowed to be present in that space. 

How sad, that the Mother of the Church came to symbolise something so poisonous for so long? I will tell you this. I truly believe the Virgin Mary would shudder at the thought of any woman being excluded from salvation as a result of the Church itself.

Anyway, I often expressed this fury. Sometimes inarticulately and sometimes full of teary rage. I expressed it to priests, to laity, to atheists, to my parents, to anyone. Some didn’t give a shit. Some told me that they felt the same but didn’t care enough to do anything about it. Some tried to make me think that this exclusion was made up in my head. Even when I got good or solid advice about this, I still felt too much rage to care. God, I was angry. Where were the voices of holy women? I needed to hear those voices. I needed to understand womanhood through a voice that wasn’t a man’s. I need the Holy Mothers.

My mother, who doesn’t really get why I’m such a hardcore feminist (or a hardcore Christian for that matter, I’m hardcore with everything) tried to help in the way she always tries to help. She bought me half a dozen books detailing the lives of the spiritual mothers, their teachings, their words, their experiences. She was like, “Look! Here it is! It exists!” I was still mad, though. “I know they exist,” I wanted to yell. “But no one else seems to care!” 

I was too angry at the time to read those books. I would get worked up about the fact that out of thousands of Orthodox books and writings, my mother (who is the queen of scouring the internet) only found about five. It bothered me that learning about these holy and hard women would still be limited to my private sphere. I didn’t touch the books.

Maybe about a year later, when the rage had quietened into a jaded ambivalence, I returned to those books. I had already read one of the essays (it was just as indignant and frustrated as I was, and although I found solidarity in her brilliant words, it made me more bitter.) I tried to read on about the life of a female saint but - oh man, oh man - it was so bloody boring. I got through the first chapter and felt a multitude of things. Not just ambivalence but guilt. I wanted these voices so badly, but I couldn’t get myself excited about this. Unrelatable, aloof.  I was underwhelmed, and I gave up. 

However, I think it was around that time I found Saint Maria of Paris and man oh man, I ate her up. She inspired me in ways I cannot put into words. In fact, I related to her so much that after reading her story and her teachings I just prayed to her, so openly and honestly, like you may chat to an aunt or older sister, thanking her so much for even having just existed. A rebel, a poet, a nun, a member of the french resistance. And an Orthodox saint. I couldn’t shut up about her. I shared her story to so many people that we started a little cult following by accident. Do you know how many guys I know - priests even - who now constantly quote her as a result? Pirouettes with joy. What a role model.

I have found a few other church mothers since and their teachings are like diamonds, rare but wonderful. Every time I find one, my heart does a little skip. Each illuminate Christ, each are unique. And I relate to them deeply. 

Just now, on the spiritual blog I run, I’ve kicked off a series called Hard & Holy Women, which is to coincide with Women’s History Month. (Clearly my passion for amplifying the voices and teachings of female saints still remains). I created graphics and posted the history of the female saints I already have learned about and admire. But of course, I needed more than just those two or three, so as always, I needed to dig more. 

I took out one of those books my mum bought me ages ago, which once angered me, and then exasperated me, and finally, finally, after pouring through the pages, I found actual writings and teachings of those female saints. And they were so beautiful. So insightful. Truly gold. And finding those readings, looping back to those books, definitely came at the right time. I have gained the maturity (somewhat) to understand their words and their lives in a way that truly reflects Christ, and reflects womanhood. It’s so good to be here, in this place. Where I not only have the voices of female saints, but I also have the ability to listen to them.