Okay, But No One Is Talking About How Problematic That SJM Is Taking Indigenous Beliefs For Her Books.

Okay, but no one is talking about how problematic that SJM is taking Indigenous beliefs for her books. There’s the Thunderbird in CC, but there are others, too. But as Thunderbirds are sacred, powerful being in my culture, I can talk about them more readily than others (ie, sk*nw*lk*rs rhymes with spin lockers in TOG, which you’re not even supposed to say). This is not the same level as faeries, and I have so many mixed feelings about her including Thunderbirds as part of her mythical beings canon, because it certainly doesn’t feel like she did so with enough respect. Also, the whole “they’ve been hunted to extinction” feels a lot like the Myth of the Vanishing Indian, which is not considerate. On the other hand, maybe it’ll get people interested in learning our histories outside of colonialism. But the inclusion of Thunderbirds and other Indigenous cosmological beings as part of her fantasy stories, ripped away from any semblance of their original context, with no credit to the cultures from which they originated, is incredibly upsetting, and a continuation of EuroAmericans taking our cultural traditions and histories for themselves, when we weren’t allowed to practice our religion until 1978. That’s my mother’s lifetime, for reference.

Let Nesta or Azriel call out Cassian for laughing at Nesta when she hurt herself while going down the stairs. What a giant f*cker he is.

Just a little re-write of one of the scenes at the House of Wind taking some of the original text. In the original, Cassian storms away. I've changed this to Nesta leaving and eavesdropping on Azriel calling out Cassian.

Silence fell again. Azriel nodded at her.

‘What happened to you?’

She knew what he meant: the black eye that was finally fading. Her hands and chin had healed, along with the bruising on her body, but the black eye had turned greenish. By tomorrow morning, it’d be gone entirely.

‘Nothing,’ she said without looking at Cassian.

‘She fell down the stairs,’ Cassian said, not looking at her, either.

Azriel’s silence was pointed before he asked, ‘Did someone … push you?’

‘Asshole,’ Cassian growled.

Nesta jabbed her fork into her fillet of beef. ‘No. Cassian watched but didn’t think to help.’

‘It wasn’t far. One flight.’

‘And if it had been further?' Nesta probed. 'Would you have intervened at all?’

The taut mood simmered like a pot ready to spill over. The quiet shadow singer regarded both of them warily.

‘Maybe, one day, Nes, you’ll learn that staggering down the steps in search of alcohol in the middle of the night isn’t a good idea.’

Asshole. She’d needed it. The voices in her head had grown too loud, consuming all of her thoughts. She’d only wanted to stop them for a while, dimmed them enough to cope again.

Cassian went on, ‘I told her earlier today: if she’d bother to train, she’d at least have bragging rights for the bruises.’

Azriel took a calm sip of his water. ‘Why aren’t you training, Nesta?’

‘I don’t want to.’

There was nothing enticing in it for her. The desire to be a warrior did not exist in her. Spending time with Cassian in this way brought her no joy. The very thought of laying herself bare as a novice in front of swathes of sneering Illyrian males who already found her presence to be unsettling filled Nesta with dread.

‘Why not?’

Cassian muttered, ‘Don’t waste your breath, Az.’

She glared at him. ‘I’m not training in that miserable village.’

Cassian glared right back. ‘You’ve been given an order. You know the consequences. If you don’t get off that fucking rock by the end of this week, what happens next is out of my hands.’

Her next retort gathered on her tongue. A lashing against his beloved high lord’s character. Nesta wanted to rage at him. Drop her in the damn mortal lands for all she cared, at least she’d be rid of them all.

‘Go and tattle to your precious high lord about wicked Nesta not training.’

‘Don’t you fucking talk about Rhys in that tone,’ Cassian snarled.

‘I hate him,’ she seethed.

‘Good. He hates you, too,’ Cassian shot back. ‘Everyone fucking hates you. Is that what you want? Because congratulations, it’s happened.’

Azriel let out a long, long breath.

Cassian’s words pelted her, one after another. Hit her somewhere low and soft, and hit hard. Nesta scrambled to build her walls up, to muster a defence. Anything. Her face crumpled. Her food was abandoned as she scurried from the room, unwanted tears spilling down her face.

Nesta hated to cry. Hated anybody ever seeing it. Least of all these two preening Illyrians.

Her path diverted course. If they searched for her, they’d aim first for her room then the library then the stairs. She veered towards the small living room that she was never fond of being in. The door was ajar but no sounds seeped from the dining room. Good. At least they weren’t laughing that they’d succeeded in making her cry.

The shadow singer’s voice breached the heavy silence. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

‘I didn’t mean to say it.’

‘But you did, Cass. You did fucking say it. There’s a reason she’s not training, more than obstinance. Stop seeing everything she says as a battle.’

Nesta heard Cassian’s shuddering breath. ‘But she acts like it is a battle.’

‘Because she’s hurting.’ A long pause followed Azriel’s words. ‘You didn’t even help her when she fell down the stairs? Seriously?’

‘I wanted her to learn a lesson.’

There was no shame or regret in his voice. Nesta bit down on her knuckle so that the pain would give her another outlet to focus on than the burning feel of tears.

‘And what lesson was that? That you won’t be there for her when she needs someone? That you’d rather she suffered? Fucking hell, Cass, what are you doing? Why are you punishing her more?’ Cassian’s attempts at speaking were quelled by Azriel’s swift words. ‘You will regret this.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nesta fell down the stairs and you laughed. You could have helped her. You could have checked on her injuries. You’ve just made her cry. I shouldn’t have to tell you that the female you believe to be your mate deserves basic decency, not further punishing.’  

I love you pre-Autumn. I love you first chilly night after a hot day. I love you first crunchy leaves on the ground while the trees are still green. I love you cicadas. I love you crickets. I love you dusk sneaking in earlier for the first time. I love you deep sigh of relief after summer.

Adorable Polar Bear Plays in Flower Fields

Canadian photographer Dennis Fast took advantage of his stay at the Canadian lodge Churchill Wild in Manitoba to capture this rare sight. Popularly known for its proximity to polar bears, Fast took snapshots of an adorable polar bear playing among the fireweed field. The bear is seen rolling among the lush field, as well as eating some of the stunning plants.

Polar bears are known to be one his favorite subjects, which he captures on ground level, unlike other photographers.His main objective as an artist is to capture wildlife sceneries and adventures, which are rarely experienced by others. 

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