ahhhhh we’re leaving TODAY.
I’ve said many, many times that my favorite thing about tamorapierce's “Circle of Magic” universe is the fact that these four isolated children have magic quite unsuited to their stations. Class is the barrier that seems most prevalent in their world (because sexism is incredibly limited, given how many women of power we see as judges, caravan leaders, dedicates, rulers, etc.) and here we’re shown a street rat, who has no property or gardens, being gifted with plant magic. The noble who would never weave her own cloth is a stitch witch. The Traders are known for trading, not creating – and the only magic they appreciate is weather-magic to promote successful travels, but the Trader-girl has the ability to magically metal-smith. Meanwhile the merchant girl, whose family seems to value everything on its marketability, has power with weather. Everything is out of place, and in losing their backgrounds (two are orphaned, one is abandoned, one is rescued from a short life of prison labor) they are able to find who they truly are. This is my favorite kind of self-discovery book – where the possibilities are endless, once the door is opened to them.
However, let’s take a look at what could’ve been. I love the idea of switching Sandry’s and Briar’s magic, and Tris’s and Daja’s. Just to see what could have happened.
What if Daja had been the weather mage? She would live with the Traders training as a mimander, possibly saving her family from the storm that sank Third Ship Kisubo. The Kisubo clan could have become one of the most powerful among Traders, if Daja had born Tris’s magic. I can see her being enchanted with Runog’s Fire, I could see the electricity running through her veins making her hot with impatience in dealing with kaqs, and her love of her family making her occasionally ruthless when dealing with war magic and the pirates who raid the seas.
Nobles shouldn’t sew, certainly, but what if Sandry had Briar’s plant magic? It wouldn’t have saved her parents, but maybe she would’ve shown an affinity for her gardener-cousin, the empress of Namorn. Would Sandry have lived her life preferring her ties to Namorn rather than Emelan? Would she have submitted to her cousin’s rules of court life, and been a pawn in the Narmornese court, or would Sandry’s stubbornness manifested in ways that were dangerous to her? Would anyone have been able to train her?
Tris is cast aside because she offers nothing to her merchant family. But what would they think of a girl who was drawn to metal smithing, who could manufacture trinkets or jewelry or metal toys that could be sold throughout the Pebbled Sea? Tris would still have her intellectual mind… I see her making clockwork toys that dazzle the world, bringing in plenty of money for House Chandler. Would Tris be a different person, were she not denied love? Would her temper be the same without lightning being born in her hair?
And Briar… he lost his family when he was young, and would still likely have a life of crime. But I imagine snatching purses and running away from the law enforcers would be easier if you can tangle people up in their own threads. And a belt-purse made of cloth could easily develop magical holes allowing a coin or two or more to gradually slip out. There are plenty of things a clever, street-smart thread mage could conjure. Perhaps he would’ve gotten away with more, with no pesky plants in nobles’ gardens holding onto him. Who would he have become without Rosethorn to smooth out his sharp edges? (and who might Rosethorn have become – or remained – without Briar under her wing?) And what about the fact that Sandry can weave pure magic? If Briar had that, would he have been able to deal with magical locks and spells in ways no other thief could?
I wonder if this mismatched magic and lifestyle was all deliberate decision-making on Tammy’s part, or if things just fell into place on their own when she was creating it. I love this series because it makes me think and wonder so very much. My heart belonged to Tortall first, like many Pierce fans, but the Circleverse is where I’d rather live.
I don’t understand why sex is more shocking than violence.
- fanwriter: *racebends classic character*
- white dudes: UGH NO CANONICALLY WHITE CHARACTERS MUST BE WHITE FOREVER
- fanwriter: *genderflips classic character*
- white dudes: GENDER ROLES EXIST FOR A REASON NOPE NOPE NOPE
- fanwriter: *creates a lgbt+ headcanon*
- white dudes: GROSS WHAT THE FUCK NO HOMO
- professional writer: *creates original narrative featuring prominent female, POC and/or lgbt+ characters*
- white dudes: POLITICAL CORRECTNESS MAKES EVERYTHING WORSE, NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR ISSUES
- professional writer: *tells true story featuring prominent female, POC and/or lgbt+ characters*
- white dudes: STOP PUSHING YOUR POLITICAL AGENDA DOWN OUR THROATS
- feminism: *points out the overwhelming number of straight white male protagonists and creators, argues in favour of diversity*
- white dudes: WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU COMPLAINING, IF YOU WANT TO SEE THAT SORT OF THING, JUST MAKE IT YOURSELVES, IT'S NOT LIKE IT'S HARD OR ANYTHING JFC
- literally everyone: ...
If you can’t like Captain America anymore because he’s black, there’s a word for that.
For future reference.
For those who would ever need it. -C
reblogging here because i can see this being relevant to anyone who’s ever tried to get out of an abusive relationship
Manila, Philippines: Protest in solidarity with Gaza, July 18, 2014,
'Hey Israel and USA, how many kids have you killed today?'
Q:Isn't it about time for Cyclops and Rogue to hook up?
There is a scene in And The Band Played On where Matthew Modine’s character explains the origins of the phrase “The Butchers’ Bill”: a phrase coined by British Admiral Lord Nelson when asking for the daily casualty reports of soldiers lost in the Napoleonic wars. In the film, Modine’s character creates his own Butchers’ Bill for the AIDS epidemic, and it remains one of pop culture’s most poignant visual reminders of the devastating cost of the disease in human lives.
The Butchers’ Bill in the ongoing violence on the Gaza Strip is equally heart-breaking. In less than two weeks time, Israel has launched airstrikes against Palestinian residents of Gaza targeting over 1500 sites; Hamas has also launched over a thousand rockets into Israel that have all been largely ineffective. As of today, the Butchers’ Bill for Palestinian residents of Gaza nears 350 after 11 days of fighting, nearly fifty of those dying in the last 72 hours at the hands of invading Israeli ground troops. The United Nations estimates that three-fourths of Palestinians killed in Gaza by Israeli offensive actions this month were non-militants, and approximately 50 — a third of them killed since Thursday — have been children. An additional 2000 Palestinians have sustained serious injuries in the attacks. The UN reports that yesterday the number of Palestinians displaced by the violence has nearly doubled to 40,000 — all seeking refugee status in one of 34 UN shelters.
There are no words to describe the rage and grief I feel in watching this senseless killing unfold. But the price of my silence — and the silence of too many of us in America — is also far too high.
On Wednesday, reporters and bystanders watched in shock and horror as an Israeli gunship brutally slaughtered four young Palestinian children (none older than eleven) on an otherwise deserted Gaza beach. After an initial strike, the Israeli planes returned to chase and gun down the four young boys — all cousins — as they ran screaming for their lives. Just 24 hours later, seven children were shot — four of them fatally — by an Israeli naval gunboat while they were playing soccer on a Gaza rooftop.
In the last two weeks, four Israeli have lost their lives.
Too many of us are allowed by the comforts of distance to pretend that what is happening in the Gaza Strip right now does not affect us. That distance comes in many forms: geographic distance, cultural distance, religious distance, racial distance, and linguistic distance. That distance gives shelter to our assertion that what is happening to Gaza is not happening to us. It gives shelter to our rationalizations and our justifications. It gives shelter to our dehumanization of the Palestinian people. It gives shelter to our silence.
That distance is also a lie and an illusion.
David Palumbo-Liu writes about how violence in Israel-Palestine is a matter of American studies, particularly in light of our country’s hand in shaping the conflict. He and many other writers have noted the US State Department’s stance in defense of Israeli airstrikes targeting Palestinian civilians; President Obama defended that stance to Muslim American guests at the White House’s annual iftar dinner. Like it or not, America is involved in what is happening in Israel-Palestine.
Let me be clear: most of us do not know what it is like to live as a Palestinian in the Gaza Strip. As a Canadian-born (East) Asian American, I do not know what it is like to live as an occupied people in my own Holy Land. I do not know what it is like to live under constant threat of overwhelming military violence and death. I do not know what it is like to find myself staring down the barrel of an assault rifle, or be targeted by the sophisticated weapons mounted on a gunship or an F-16. I also do not know what it is like to be brown and Muslim, and to have these two simple facts of my being cast me as a villain and a terrorist.
But, what is happening in Gaza still touches me on a fundamental level.
For so many Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders, the plight of colonized people is familiar and deeply personal. Most Asian and Pacific Islander countries still bear the scars of both military and cultural occupation, whether by Western powers and/or by other Asian nations; some of our lands still remain occupied to this day. Most of us in the AAPI diaspora share a blood memory of the violence that is wrought by occupying forces against indigenous peoples, and the political, cultural and militaristic tools that have been used in the exploitation of our lands and our people.
Most of us can still identify the after-shocks of colonialism on the course of our lives. Some of us share family memories of the atrocities of war that came with revolution against occupying forces. Some of us are in America as refugees fleeing the violence of war. As Americans and/or descendant of certain Asian nations, many of us are complicit as colonizers; some of us also still live as colonized peoples today, and for many of us that fight against the colonizers rages on.
It is true that I am not Muslim and I am not Palestinian. I also do not need to share in those identities to see the connection between their struggles and my own political narratives. I do not need to share in those identities to recognize the humanity of the Palestinian people in the Gaza Strip, and to lament their devastating and senseless slaughter. I do not need to share in those identities to stand in solidarity.
I need only be human.
I do not know how to end the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. All I know is that this bloodshed has got to end.
Millions of activists around the world — including protesters in many Asian countries — have taken up the cause of the Palestinian people fighting against occupying Israeli forces. It is time for Asian Americans to join our voices to this expanding international chorus of outrage.It is time for us — as AAPI and as moral humans — to take a vocal stand in solidarity with Palestinian people, and all our Muslim American brothers and sisters in the States. We can no longer allow others to pay the price for our silence; for now we are again reminded that the price of our silence is too high.
Acknowledgement: Many thanks to Tazila Ahmed (@tazzystar) for inspiring, and providing many resources, in the writing of this article.
i can’t believe we’re leaving tomorrow.