#I just try to circumnavigate it

[imthatwannabeauthor]

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[fabdante]

im sorry this is going to be so incoherent but like

literally no one talks about the guts smellerbee and longshot had enough like

to sit there with their dying best friend. not even just their dying best friend, the guy who is their best friend who found them when they needed it and gave them a life and a purpose, who they followed all the way here, who they believed in and loved and fought alongside and everything. their best friend. this guy who changed their lives. to sit there with him so he's not alone

and to sit there knowing that anyone else can come into that room at any time and they are just a girl with nothing and a boy with a handful of arrows

to sit there and know that but to also know that jet is dying and scared and he's putting on a brave face but he doesn't deserve to die alone in that room

so despite the danger and despite the pain they just stay there with him?

also to the fact the last thing jet does, the last thing we ever see jet do, is try to make katara feel better. he smiles at her. he tells her its ok. he's dying, we all know he's dying, she knows he's dying. but his instinct is to tell her its ok and he's fine and smile at her.

like im just

there's so many layers here like

did jet try to do that with smellerbee and longshot to? did he start to get scared? did he finally let down the façade he's put on for everyone for years because he's had to because he's had to be the leader because he's had to be strong?

did smellerbee and longshot sit there with him crying because its' the end, they know it's the end, they don't know what's going to happen to them and they don't know whats going to happen to jet but they know he's never going to see the end of this war he's been fighting his whole life and they're not going to have whatever future they all fought for together, not with jet in it like??

jet is such a tragic figure and smellerbee and longshot are so brave for staying with him. i get why the gaang left and i feel like it wasn't for us to see, this moment between these three. but like oh my god it's so tragic, it's so sad. i love it a lot.

[ashtavula]

Royalty AU Pt 1: A Meeting With Azul

Housewardens x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 2431

Start Here

You sigh as your carriage bears you down the streets of the capital city. There’s a letter clutched in your hands, and you reread it over and over as your mind swirls with thoughts.

“...come by my agency. I can tell you anything you wish to know about your suitors…I’ll even waive my usual fees…in exchange for your company.”

A small pit forms in your stomach. Azul Ashengrotto is not the sort of man one trifles with on a whim. He puts on a front, acting like a perfect gentleman who only wants what’s best for you, but your loyal advisors have already told you to be cautious. There’s a reason why there are so many rumors about him being a shady businessman who’ll rob you of anything you value. Still, you don’t have much of a choice. You need to learn more about your suitors than just vague rumors and whispered tales. You need facts, and Azul is willing to provide them. 

“Not to mention that he himself is one of my potential suitors…not that he knows that,” you think to yourself. Azul is offering himself up like this to try and circumnavigate the process of selecting candidates, but truthfully, your parents have already told you to consider him. His information is always accurate. Even your own royal advisors have gone to him before when they desperately needed what he could provide. You sigh. “Still, to think that my parents are actually telling me to consider marrying him. He’s just a slimy octopus, in more ways than one.”

The carriage comes to a stop, and you tuck the letter back into your pocket. However, when the door opens, you don’t see your coachman. Instead, you see the same man who handed you the letter in your parlor room. His grin is unsettlingly sharp as he bows. “A pleasure to meet you again, Your Highness. Though, it occurs to me that I didn’t give you my name back then. I apologize for such rudeness.” He straightens up, his hand still on his chest. “My name is Jade Leech. I assist Azul in the daily management of the agency.” The gloved hand on his chest extends itself out to you. “Please allow me to be of assistance to you as well, Your Highness.”

He’s being a gentleman, but you feel a bit unnerved. There’s something in his smile that reminds you of a shark in the water, and you don’t think it’s because of the sharp teeth you caught a glimpse of. You’d like to refuse his hand, but you’re bound by social norms. It’d be rude of you to turn down his help. 

Jade’s smile spreads a little wider, into something nearly predatory as your warm hand clasps his. His long fingers wrap around yours as he helps you step down from the carriage, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve played into some game of his. Especially when he lifts your hand, and he places a kiss on your knuckles. He continues to hold your hand as you enter the Octavinelle Agency. As the oak door swings open, you feel like you’re entering the maw of a beast eager to swallow you whole.

Once the door shuts behind you, you’re a bit surprised to see a man who looks identical to the one standing beside you leaning against a wall. The man’s lips stretch into a wide grin, and he suddenly lunges towards you. You don’t have time to step back before the man is mere inches away. Now that he’s close, you see the differences, even as you pull away. This man’s eyes droop while Jade’s are sharp, and they have different hair. You can see his needle sharp teeth behind his lips as he starts to speak.

“Huh. You’re shorter than I thought you’d be. I thought royalty were supposed to be all tall and imposing.” 

Jade chuckles, and he turns to you. “Your Highness, this is my twin brother, Floyd. Do forgive him; he can be rather blunt.”

Floyd shrugs his shoulders. “Just being honest. Your Highness is all small and cute, like a shrimp. Makes me want to give you a little squeeze…”

You’re left stunned. You’ve never been approached so brazenly, and being told that you remind this man of a shrimp isn’t exactly flattering. As you open your mouth to say something, a third voice interrupts.

“Floyd, I do hope you’re not making a poor first impression.” The voice is smooth, and surprisingly delicate. As Floyd straightens up and moves aside, you lay eyes on the owner of that charming voice.

Azul Ashengrotto. You’d heard a lot about his shady personality, but no one had told you that he was surprisingly attractive. He’s not the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, but there’s a certain charm to his pale features. He gives you a bow, and pushes the silver frames of his glasses back up his nose as he regards you with a smile. “Your Highness, I’m delighted that you accepted my invitation. Please, follow me to my office.”

As you move to follow Azul deeper into the halls of the Octavinelle Agency, you barely notice Jade and Floyd slip away, and go a different direction. You’re left alone with Azul as he guides you into his office.

Once inside, Azul insists that you take a seat on one of the plush leather couches in front of his desk. Azul sits on the same couch, but he keeps a comfortable distance between the two of you, which you’re grateful for. There’s tea and snacks laid out on the table before you, and you give Azul a polite smile as he pours you a cup of tea. As you take a sip, you note that it’s your favorite blend. As a matter of fact, the table is filled with nothing but your favorite snacks. It’s unnerving. Just how much does Azul already know about you? And how did he find out?

If Azul notices how tense you are, he doesn’t say anything. He merely smiles at you as he pours his own cup of steaming tea. “You already know the terms that I outlined in my letter. I’ll share what I know about your suitors, and in exchange, you’ll indulge me with a date. I think it’s more than fair, no?”

You nearly choke on your tea. As you cough, you look at him with wide eyes. “Hold on,” you sputter. “The letter stated that you wanted my company. You said nothing about a date!” 

Azul isn’t fazed, and he continues to smile. “Come now, Your Highness, I thought you’d understood my intentions. Every eligible man in the kingdom, and even some from outside of it, are all eagerly vying for your affection. Truly, can you blame me for also wishing for your hand in marriage?”

He lifts his hand, and he places it on his chest. “You have nothing to be afraid of, Your Highness. I won’t do anything untoward. I am merely asking for a single evening with you, to prove that I too am worthy of your consideration.”

His lips are curved into a smile, and for the first time, you can see the cunning intellect in his gray eyes. You need this information, and Azul is the only one who can provide it. You’ve been ensnared in his tentacles, and the only way out is the promise of a date. After a few long moments, you sigh, and acquiesce to his terms. Azul’s smile widens.

“Excellent. Now, who would you like to learn about first?”

×××

You suppress the urge to sigh as you sneak a glance at Azul. The man has the audacity to look smug as the two of you walk down the street. You're walking arm in arm, as per his insistence, and you can feel the curious gazes as Azul escorts you to the restaurant he selected for your date. As you turn a corner, your brows lift. He's taking you to his mother's restaurant. 

“Hm. Why am I not surprised,” you grumble.

Azul chuckles. “I promised to take you to the best restaurant in the capital, and my mother's is undoubtedly the best. In fact, the king and queen come here once a month. So, I know for certain that it'll suit your royal palate.”

This time, you really do sigh as you approach the restaurant. Even from down the street, you can see the long line of people hoping they can get a table. But instead of heading for the front door, Azul guides you down to a small side entrance. He pushes the door open, and you find yourself in the kitchen. 

Multiple chefs rush around, and you can see a curvy woman bossing them around. When she turns her gaze towards you, you immediately recognize her, despite having never seen her before. The family resemblance is too strong for you to ignore. This is Azul’s mother. Her gaze softens when she sees Azul, and she rushes over. She gives you a polite curtsy as she greets you, but she scolds Azul.

“Zuzu, you should have gone through the front. Royalty shouldn't have to be dragged through the kitchen.”

Azul’s smile tightens a bit at the nickname. “Sorry, mama.” He moves his arm, and lays his hand on your lower back. “But I wanted them to see you. Besides, the side door is far closer to the private table.”

Mrs. Ashengrotto sighs, but there's a fondness to it. She then leads you to a small, private room off the side of the kitchen. Azul pulls your chair out for you, and you take your seat. As Azul sinks down into the chair beside you, he gives you an apologetic smile.

“Allow me to apologize for making you come through the side entrance. However, I spotted Mr. Cater Diamond lurking around the front. I didn’t think you wanted news of our little outing to be tomorrow's headline.”

Your eyes widen slightly. Azul…had actually taken your feelings into account. A dusting of pink graces your cheeks, and you avert your gaze as you quietly thank him for the consideration. He merely smiles, but you can see a similar blush color his own face at your gratitude. He clears his throat, and he pushes his glasses up as he changes the subject. He taps your menu with a finger.

“My mother chooses what to serve every night, but I believe that you’ll find tonight’s selection rather exquisite…”

By the time you’re both having dessert, you’ve grown relaxed. Azul isn’t bad company. In fact, you’re starting to see the cracks in that professional facade. As much as Azul likes to act like he’s a suave, charismatic gentleman, you can tell that he gets easily flustered. Every time you laugh at one of his jokes, or act impressed by his knowledge, his cheeks turn pink. He’s trying to maintain his cool, but you no longer see the conniving boss of the Octavinelle Agency. Instead, you simply see a young man who’s trying his best to impress you. 

It almost makes you wonder how far you can push him. As a waiter clears away the dessert plates, you place your hand on his. “I admit, I had my doubts. But I enjoyed our little date, Azul.” You squeeze his hand. “I’d say you’ve definitely caught my attention.”

Azul’s response is immediate. He gapes at you like a fish out of water, and his cheeks flush a deeper scarlet. It takes him a few moments too long to regain his bearings.

“T-Thank you, Your Highness. Hearing you say that you enjoy my company makes me rather happy.”

He’s trying to be smooth, but it fails. His voice is slightly strained, and it’s painfully obvious that he has no idea how to respond to your flirting. It sends a thrill down your spine to know that you can send this powerful man into a tizzy with a mere touch and a few sweet words. Your hand lingers on his, and you ever so slowly run your middle finger over the gap between his glove and the edge of his sleeve. Azul stiffens, and you hear the faint gasp that leaves his lips. You want to smile, but you force your expression to remain neutral, even as you see Azul’s blush intensify.

“Shall we, Azul?” You stand, and Azul scrambles to join you. You once again take his arm as you leave the private dining room, and head out of the side entrance. Azul keeps stealing little glances at you as you both wander back towards his agency. Conversation continues to flow, all the way up to the front door. 

Azul sighs, and he squeezes your hand. He lifts your hand to kiss your knuckles, but he hesitates before he lightly brushes his lips against your skin. “Have a safe journey home, Your Highness,” he murmurs. He opens the door to your carriage, and he waves to you as the coachman drives away.

As your carriage disappears down the street, Azul lowers his hand. He pushes his glasses up, and he reenters the agency. He needs to write things down, and needs to make careful notes about the things you liked and disliked. As Azul’s brain swirls with thoughts of you, Jade and Floyd step out of the shadows. Their faces are stretched into sinister smiles as they corner him. 

“So,” Floyd drawls. “Tell us everything that happened between you and our little shrimpy.”

Looks like his notes are going to have to wait.

×××

As your carriage makes its way back to the royal castle, it passes by a bakery. Two men sit inside, and their conversation comes to a halt as they catch a glimpse of the royal crest emblazoned onto the carriage door.

“Huh. Speak of the devil,” the taller man murmurs.

The shorter man purses his lips, and he sets his fork down. “Hmph. It’s far too late for them to be out.”

His companion chuckles. He leans back in his chair, and he adjusts his hat. 

“So, what do you think they’re up to, Riddle?”

Riddle stares out the window. The carriage is long gone, but he can still see it clearly in his mind’s eye. “...It doesn’t matter.”

But even as he picks his fork back up, and takes another bite of strawberry tart, Riddle’s mind turns to the carriage, and its royal occupant. Just wait, Your Highness. I’ll prove that I’m the only one who deserves you… 

[randomness-is-my-order]

can we talk about percy’s guilt and self-esteem for a second?? because imo he has an absolutely insane habit of taking the blame for soooo many things and even when he’s the cause of trouble, the lengths he goes to rectify an error are IMMENSE. the most obvious one is him literally accepting a surely fatal prophecy because he feels responsible for bianca’s death (and ofc, he cares about nico but at that time, he also felt like he owed nico) but in the show, they portray this very accurately by having percy readily try and give up his life as a way to circumnavigate athena’s lack of help which he 100% blames himself for and has also verbally acknowledged.

(not that this will hinder him from letting the gods know exactly what he thinks of them but that’s a conversation for another day.)

point is, percy is insanely loyal and he is insanely susceptible to a guilt-ridden conscience. he will hold himself accountable for the smallest of things i am NOT kidding, like he’s the kinda guy to scold himself internally for stepping on someone’s toes by mistake. and this stems from his low self-esteem even though there is loads of nuance here because percy is also very confident when the need arises but in small, more grounded interpersonal relationship moments, his view of himself is so heartbreakingly unfair. he can be admirably surefooted in front of mighty beings like gods but when it comes to his friends and other demigods, he’s constantly second guessing himself and taking blame for the smallest of inconveniences. and i’m just. so. torn up about it. because this taking guilt over unnecessary things continues on into the sequel series too because i so clearly remember him feeling guilty about calypso and i hated it because percy jackson will stand up for everyone and their mothers but he also doesn’t defend himself half as fiercely as he should.

here are some examples from JUST lightning thief about percy and his guilty schtick routine this boy istg he needs to have a higher view of himself goodbye.

[justsescape]

"Where are the pumps, anon?! It's been over five minutes and the milk is going to burst out any second!"

Asuka’s presence in the living room inspired – nay, forced – a bit of creative remodeling. The coffee table, the television, the game consoles, the decorative plants; just about everything was shunted into your bedroom until it resembled a packed storage unit. Ironically, her overdeveloped breasts could fill one up as well. Maybe two.

“Hmph, what a moron… always losing the most important things…”

While your hurried search through various kitchen cabinets continued, Asuka let her arms spread out across the back of the couch like she was lounging in the summer sun. Her boobs, evidently, were just as carefree. To say they resembled beanbag chairs was to describe their texture and heft, but it was to vastly undersell their sheer size. There was a reason you had to move everything out of that room: you could practically hide a car underneath just a single one of her massive, massive tits. In fact, if she were to stand up and lose her footing, she could fall into her own cleavage and get swallowed up entirely like she stumbled into quicksand.

“And don’t complain about not being able to find my nipples again,” Asuka scowled, pointing a finger in your direction. She was only visible from the shoulders up; the rest of her was obscured by her gigantic bust like she was underneath a down comforter. “Just pick up the ends of my chest with a shovel and they’re right there, rubbing up against the damn carpet. Which you should do something about, by the way. It’s so uncomfortable against my skin! Why haven’t you done something about it already?!”

Your eyebrow twitched. Need you remind her of why she was here in the first place? Sightings of her being lifted by crane, or with her garage-wide bust stuck in the sliding double-doors at the local grocery outlet – such incidents racked up bills like you were intending to compete with the national debt. Not to mention the attention it drew. “She’s so big she can’t walk without her wheelbarrows,” one would bystander would say to another. “Do you think she sleeps on them like they’re a mattress?” Any attempt at a public appearance was met with this kind of commentary. And she has had more than enough of the “hyper hourglass” comparisons since she started attending college. It was more like her body was a cyclone: dangerous for most, a force of nature that walloped against buckling support beams and swung like wrecking balls, but always attracting a few foolhardy stormchasers.

Perhaps she’d be nicer if she was reminded of the privilege of being housed in privacy. Finally returning with the pump's accessories, however, did not inspire this sort of kindness.

"It's about damn time," Asuka said, her venomous tongue whipping up often enough to start a cyclone of its own. "Don’t you care about the floor in your own apartment? One day you’re going to be too slow and I’m going to leak all over it!”

Circumnavigating her chest – which required you to slide against the wall like a stealthy video game character – you eventually found yourself at the opposite end of the room. Staring down at Asuka was like being on the opposite end of a long dining table in a fancy castle. Except, instead of such a table, only her quaking boobs spanned the gulf between the two of you.

"St-stop looking at me and get to work, dummkopf!" Asuka crossed her arms over herself as if such a maneuver could still hide her chest. "I can feel it starting down there! Hurry up and find my nipples!"

You dragged towels across the carpet like you were a beaver dragging piles of wood in front of a lake. A shovel wasn't needed; you just handled her breasts by hand, letting her gelatinous flesh bulge and squeeze between your fingers and droop over your forearms. Asuka's skin was peppered with reddened rashes and surfacing veins alike. Occasionally, you would graze against one of the more tender areas and hear her try to mute her own instinctive squeals.

But with how big she had become, the search didn't last long. Nipples had long since won the size competition against manhole covers. Her areolae spread across her pristine skin until they each spanned the width of your outstretched arms. And speaking of stretching, that’s exactly what you had to do to fasten the plastic cups on to her unruly tits. Her breasts didn’t jiggle so much as they rippled like cresting waves.

"Mmmmnnf... nngnnngggh..." Asuka's hands were clamped over her mouth. Eyes shut, shoulders tensed; surely beneath her titanic boobs, her legs were squirming wildly about. When you were burying your arms deep into her underbust in search of her nipples, you could feel how the movement of her legs moved her entire chest around like it was a slinky.

The pump was an electronic device that had forever found its place in the corner beside you. Besides the couch, it was the only furnishing that wasn't allowed to leave this room. The hoses that connected it with the two plastic cups on her boobs were as thick as those that came off the side of a fire engine.

All it took was a flick of a switch.

WHIIIIIIIIRRRRRRR...

The hoses sprang to life in an instant, thickening up as milk flowed through them like they were connected to a fire hydrant. Milk pummeled the insides of the plastic cups like water dousing a windshield in a car wash. The sounds were crushing, deafening – but none of them grabbed your attention quite as much as Asuka's own uncontrollable whimpering.

"Nnnnghh... mmNNNnnfgh... haaah... haaah...~"

To visit a historic landmark; to look up at a rare eclipse; to watch how Asuka's ferocious attitude turned on a dime as the milk started to flow. Her delicate fingers dropped from her mouth and gripped the leather upholstery of your couch like she was bracing for some sort of impact. Sweat dripped from the tips of her eyelashes. Even her legs kicked involuntarily underneath the weight of her boobs like she was being tested for reflexes. There was no question about it. Her boobs ruled her entire body.

"...o-okay... y-you did it... hhNNnnngh... just in time..." She may have been on the other side of the room across a horizon of cleavage, but Asuka's smile was unmistakable. It was so warm that it could bring the sun up during the dead of night. "...I guess as... MMMNF... a reward... y-you can p-put that cowbell collar around my neck..."

[alexanderwales]

Pitchposting: Generation Ship

(Pitchposting is a way of giving away ideas that threaten to grow in my mind until they become draft documents. They are free to a good home, though there's no guarantee that I won't try to write them at some point.)

Alright, hear me out: it's a generation ship, one expected to reach its destination with an entirely new generation of people who never knew the homeland, except instead of being a scifi concept, we're doing it as mundane as possible.

I think this is one of those ideas that only appeals to me because I immediately start thinking about the logistics of it all, and there's something in the mundane, gritty realism that really appeals to me. Mostly I'm worldbuilding and problem solving, trying to get at what it would actually be like for people to have been at sea their entire lives, to have a ship that either needs to endure the waves or be rebuilt as it goes.

I was going to say that this needs to be fantasy, but I guess technically it can be an Alderson Disk or something. An Alderson Disk has a habitable circumference of approximately a billion kilometers, a sailing ship can go maybe eighty miles a day, that's a ballpark of 12.5 million days to circumnavigate the disk, which is 34,000 years. That's a hell of a lot of generations, twice as long as we've had agriculture. (But you could also just have it be a fantasy world that's larger than our own, with a generation ship that was only trying to flee to greener pastures that are a hundred years away.)

The purest version of this story is a world that's just water, to match the void of space. The ship sails, repairs are made from flotsam and jetsam and driftwood from unspecified places, rainwater is caught and put into barrels, pitch is used for patching, fish and kelp are hauled up from the ocean, birds are captured from the sky, and the ship must necessarily endure storms and swells.

I've always felt there was something compelling about constrained living situations, places where everyone knows everyone and you have to make it work because there's absolutely no way out — where you're on a knife's edge because there's only so much preparation you can do. A generation ship needs to think about absolutely all of its needs and how it will deal with the deterioration of all things over time, along with problems that might only crop up once every hundred years, or problems that won't become apparent until long after the ship has left the dock.

Let's say you have a sailing ship the size of one of the largest sailing vessels of the 19th century, a thousand people all told. The families are carefully braided to prevent accidental incest, everyone has their position in life, every master has at least one apprentice but probably more so gout or cancer don't eliminate the last person who knew how to make more pitch.

This is clearly an Idea story, one that starts with a ridiculous premise and then explores it, but one of my favorite things about idea stories is finding the characters and the conflicts within them. For a generation ship, the biggest, most obvious conflict is the conflict between generations: the old people who once knew dry land, the middle generation who will likely die before the destination is reached, and the children who will be the beneficiaries of all this travel.

We have a woman who was born to the sea, who loves the sea, who loves the travel and takes great joy in knowing that she's probably not going to see the end of it until she's ancient. We have the grizzled sailor who's nearly risen to the rank of captain and sees the whole mission as utter foolishness. A boy of thirteen who is obsessed with writing stories about the land they've set off toward and keeps his telescope on the horizon, hoping that the predictions were off, that they're somehow two decades early. A girl of sixteen who doesn't feel suited to the marriage that's planned for her, who is secretly in love with her best friend. A scientist who has been quietly advancing the state of knowledge with every new fish brought up from the deeps.

And then there's the plot, which there are so, so many options for. I would start the novel with simple sailing, a few chapters of the daily routine, the personalities, their petty fights with each other, and the stress of being in the middle of unfathomably deep waters whose depths are only glimpsed when the nets bring up something new. Then ... an island, another ship, sea creatures that have a glimmer of intelligence, a storm that makes the ship limp, spoilage that threatens starvation unless drastic action is taken, a political squabble that might bring all the plans crashing down.

Maybe it's a book about being trapped by the past, or about hanging on by what feels like a delicate thread, or about how systems are fragile and careful thinking and brave leadership are the only things that will get us through.

Mostly I think I want to be a geek about a ship that needs to survive in the ocean for a hundred years, and I do not have the time to write this novel, not when there are so many other novels to write.

[scribbledghost]

The Visitor - Part IV

Pairing: Vessel x Fem!Reader (Vessel the character, not the real man behind the mask)

Rating: G

Word count: 1,738

Summary: Vessel and his visitor have a brief moment of respite.

Notes: 3rd person POV, use of she/her pronouns for reader. Fluff. Vessel fully leans into catching feelings. Part three can be found here.

Just as Vessel had expected, Sleep attempts to not only summon him as his visitor slept, but also attempts to invade her mind.

Vessel knows full well what Sleep's plan is - what its preferred modus operandi is. It will attempt to wear her down, forcing her to relive every painful moment of her life over and over again until she is desperate for any kind of relief. That is when Sleep will make her an offer; the same offer it made to Vessel himself, as well as the others: convert, and be renewed.

On the surface, it will seem crystalline. Genuine. An offer of help in such trying times. But it is nothing but a beautiful lie. Sleep will tell her that her visions will stop if she converts, but this could not be further from the truth. Vessel knows this first-hand.

So when he feels Sleep attempt to intrude on the woman's mind as she slumbers, he tightens his grip on her and uses every ounce of his power to force the entity away. He is soon engulfed by Sleep's visceral anger at his obstruction.

If you wish me to aid you in her conversion, she must trust me, he says sternly. I cannot earn her trust if she associates me with pain.

The rage he senses coming from his deity softens, but only slightly. In days past, he may have felt fear at earning such ire, but things are different now.

Circumstances have changed.

Vessel attempts to circumnavigate Sleep, swift in his arguments with the millennia-old pseudo-creature. He has been with Sleep for far too long, and as a result he knows when he can transgress boundaries and when he must acquiesce.

He always did have a silver tongue.

As the woman rests peacefully at his side, blissfully unaware of the tug-of-war happening next to her, Vessel does his best to convince Sleep that giving him complete freedom when it comes to her is necessary for her to convert.

She must still face her demons, he says, but you must allow me to aid her. If she views me as someone who will not harm her, it will be easier to ensure she becomes yours.

You act as though you have any say in the matter, Sleep responds coldly.

Your word is law, Vessel grovels, but I implore you to trust my judgement with this.

Sleep goes silent, though he knows it has not left him yet.

Have I ever broken my word before? Have I ever been anything but yours since my arrival?

Again, Sleep does not speak. But Vessel knows it is pondering its next words carefully.

And how do you plan on keeping your word this time, my vessel?

I will earn her trust, Vessel communes. Be kind to her. Help her when I can. I will be a light in the dark for her. Then, when the time comes for you to offer her a place amongst us, I will push her to agree.

So you will love her, Sleep corrects, then betray her.

Now it is Vessel's turn to retreat into silence. The first part of Sleep's accusation will be - and is - true. The latter portion, however, is not.

He guards his thoughts carefully, quietly hiding the bright flame of defiance stirring in the depths of him. If Sleep sees the slightest hint of a future deception, the deal will be off, and punishment will be swift. He shudders to think of what awful fate will befall his visitor should that happen.

Yes, Vessel says finally, doing everything in his power to seem convincing. If that is what it will take to ensure her safety, then that is what I will do.

Silence falls over the domain, an unsettling quiet blanketing the world. The only sound of life is the woman curled into Vessel's side quietly breathing in her sleep.

I will be watching.

It's all Sleep offers before Vessel no longer feels its presence.

Once he is certain Sleep has left him, he gently retreats into the mind of his visitor.

He finds her sitting alone atop a mountain, a sprawling landscape before her. Valleys and hills abound, interspersed with small lakes and rivers. A fine mist obscures much of the taller mountains, but the sun still shines across the realm despite it. The birdsong is gentle, and Vessel can almost feel the warmth of the sunshine.

Her own version of Eden, it seems.

She hears his approach, turning quickly to him. At first, she appears startled, but as soon as she lays eyes on him, her features melt into a smile.

"Vessel."

He has never heard his name sound so beautiful.

Vessel takes a seat on the grass next to her, wishing he could smell the crisp, clean air. He has not needed to breathe for many, many years now, but he still finds himself taking several deep, slow breaths.

He involuntarily tenses when he feels her shift closer to him. When she nearly backs away with apprehension, he reaches for her, laying a gentle hand on her back to hopefully draw her back in. Thankfully, she obliges, and Vessel once again tucks her against him.

"Can I ask you something?" she says quietly.

"Always."

"Do you... I mean... is your mask really just a mask? Or is it a part of you? I keep thinking I see the eyes blink sometimes, but I don't know if I'm just imagining things."

"It is... difficult to explain," Vessel begins. "It is indeed a mask, first of all. It is a sign of my devotion to Sleep. I can remove it at will, though I do not do so often. But it is also a part of me, connected to my body in a way I am unsure I could properly articulate. The eyes of my mask move with the eyes on my body - you were not imagining them blinking. And it stays connected to me without the aid of any sort of straps or fasteners. But I could not tell you how it does so."

"So, when did it become part of you?" she asks. "You've said before that you used to be human. Did the mask come when you... turned into a vessel? Or did it develop over time?"

"To be truthful, I am unsure," Vessel says, running a thumb along her upper arm. "It feels as though it has always been a part of me, though deep in my subconscious, I know that cannot be true. It has changed over the eons, and has not always looked like what you see now. But I cannot remember when it began to be something other than a simple mask."

She gives only a hum in response, falling quiet for a moment.

"I'm sorry," she says suddenly. "I know I'm asking a lot of questions."

She could continue to question him until the universe expands into infinity and Vessel would thank her for it.

"I will never disparage you for inquiring," Vessel says, gently leaning over to nudge her temple with his forehead before he can stop himself.

It's an almost intimate gesture, and he notices an almost imperceptible hitch in the woman's breath as he does so. He senses her heart rate increase, and vaguely he wonders how it would feel to replace his forehead with his lips against her.

But he does not. Instead, he pulls away, and immediately senses vague apprehension and confusion in his visitor.

"I apologize if I made you uncomfortable," he says. "I failed to consider if such an act would overstep."

"No," she blurts, then goes quiet again for a spell. "...No. You didn't overstep. It was... it was nice."

He smiles, then leans his head over to nudge her again.

The two of them stay there for some time, quietly soaking in each other's presence amongst the leaves of Eden.

"I'm scared to wake up," she admits softly.

"You have nothing to fear," Vessel says. "I will be by your side."

"...What happens when the visions come again?" she asks.

"I will be by your side for those as well."

"But you can't stop them," she says, pulling away and gazing up at him.

"No," he admits, "I cannot, though I deeply wish I could. I can attempt to transfer some of your anguish to me, but I can only do so when you are actively in pain."

He watches her carefully, his cold heart cracking in his chest as he sees tears well in her eyes.

"I wish I knew what it wants from me," she says.

Vessel tenderly thumbs away a tear that begins to track down her cheek, briefly contemplating telling her of Sleep's plan to break her down and offer conversion. But she cannot guard her thoughts like he can against Sleep, and he fears cluing her in on his plot to spare her would result in Sleep discovering it the next time it probes her mind.

"You will find out in time," Vessel soothes. "Every visitor to the domain does. And when you do, I will be there to help you achieve whatever it is Sleep asks of you."

Then, slowly, he tilts his head down and presses his forehead against hers. However, it does not take long for her to duck down and lurch into Vessel's chest, shoulders shaking as she wraps her arms around him.

He holds her as she cries, petting her hair and offering what he hopes are soothing words.

Vessel has a vague intuition of what his visitor is truly needing. The reason why she was chosen to be a prize for Vessel.

She is lonely. Just as he is.

He can sense it, though he cannot discern the specifics. But she is so desperate for connection, for care, for warmth. For love. Yet, she is afraid. She fears the hurt that can come with vulnerability.

Vessel understands implicitly. Perhaps with time, he will be able to not just erode her walls, but his own as well. Only the future will tell.

As she calms, he senses that she is near waking. After gently wiping away stray tears, he helps her to her feet and extends a hand to her.

"If you would like," he says, "I can introduce you to the other vessels."

She hesitates for a moment, the landscape around her fading back to monotone gray, then slots her hand into his.

[grainjew]

Nikaposting Pt 4: Sun God Tropes

This is the fourth of a series of posts about Nika & associated religious practice in the One Piece world. As I write and post the rest of the series, I’ll add links to this header.

Pt 1: Crypto-Religion | Pt 2: Symbology & Syncretism | Pt 3: Joyboy was Shandian

Enormous credit to @oriigami for being my discussion partner through all of this and having a substantial influence on the final product. Check out our ao3 series Joyful for a narrative rather than analytical take on the Nika tradition, and definitely go read her OP blog @kaizokuou-ni-naru for meta and translation fun facts.

-

#JustLittleSunGodThings

So Luffy’s a sun god, or the embodied power of the wishes for one, or whatever. But does he do mythological solar deity things?

Yes actually.

This post is the fourth and last (as of now) in this series, and it’s entirely for fun. I’ll almost certainly miss things as I go down the list here- if you can think of other solar or dawn deity things he gets up to, please add them in the replies!

With no further ado, here is a list of sun god things Luffy has been known to get up to, & which will no doubt inform the mythology developing around him in the One Piece world. (How many people were deifying this guy even before he awakened his devil fruit? Like it was definitely not zero is all I’m saying.)

Getting eaten by snakes

What started this whole list was me turning to @oriigami in the middle of the night after we’d been rewatching Little Garden and trying to make an accurate count of how many times Luffy’s been swallowed whole and going “you know what’s sun god shit? getting eaten by snakes.”

Sun gods are often doing this. Take Apep in Egyptian myth, who tries to devour the sun god Ra every day. Or Rahu, the Hindu shadow planet and serpent, who swallows the sun to cause solar eclipses.

Luffy is also often doing this. The most notable example is of course the Nola Incident in Skypiea arc, but if we expand the definition of snake to include generally snakeish sort of guys, he also gets briefly ate by Kaidou very shortly after awakening, and just now by Mister Sandworm in ch 1110. (And by Kaidou fish-fish fruit equivalency I’d argue we can also count the Little Garden goldfish and the crocodile that ate him as a kid here but obviously that’s more tenuous and mostly just funny.)

Slightly more tenuously as well, there’s Amaterasu of Shinto lore retreating into her cave (a cave is a kind of snake), as well as the Norse wolf that chases the sun Sköll (occasionally merged with Fenrir), the Javanese god (described as an ogre) Batara Kala who eats the sun and moon to cause eclipses, and the alchemical Green Lion that devours the sun.

Storm and sky gods are also often interacting with, killing, and being eaten by snakes, which is less relevant here except that Nami is storm god coded and she also got ate in the Nola Incident. So that’s fun!

Having a chariot that circumnavigates the world

Many sun gods, especially in the Indo-European sphere of traditions, have some sort of chariot or boat that they ride from east to west each day to carry the sun across the sky. Often they have attendants (sometimes dawn and dusk gods; or sometimes these gods have their own chariots or horses as well) to help them with this.

If you want a list of sun vehicles the wikipedia page for solar deities has a whole bunch of them. Have fun.

I think Thousand Sunny speaks for herself on this front: not only is Sunny a ship designed, destined, and dreamed up to herself circumnavigate the world with Luffy as her captain, but she also has the Sun on the front as her figurehead in a manner that does kinda remind me of some depictions I’ve seen of the sun being carried across the sky in such a chariot. Also, she can fly!

Association with royalty

Kings and emperors love to use sun gods to give divine legitimacy to their rule. This is in no way universal (there’s lots of storm gods out there who also do this, just off the top of my head) but take Amaterasu (Shinto), Inti (Incan), Amun-Ra (also Aten) (Egyptian), Sol Invictus (Roman), etc.

Obviously Luffy is going to be King, and is currently an Emperor. But also, he tends to go around and toppling kings and gods and tyrants and vaguely lending legitimacy to whoever is stepping up to the throne in their place. He’s got the Mandate of Heaven (this is a joke mostly but we HAVE all read Loguetown)! And also distributes it to people he likes. Thanks Luffy.

Solar discs, radiate crowns, and beetles

A solar disc is a flat circle, sometimes with rays, that symbolically represents the sun or the sun personified. If you have read pt 2 of this series, you will recognize the Nika symbol in this description.

In the same vein, when applied to a personified depiction of the sun, the solar disc has the habit of becoming a halo or a radiate crown (such as the one worn by the Statue of Liberty - the radiate crown used to be an emperors and sun gods thing and has since become associated with personifications of liberty. So That’s Fun). Obviously Luffy is not in the habit of having either of these representationally, except of course for. The hat that encircles his head in gold.

The final note on symbology I have here is that the Egyptian god of the morning sun, Khepri, is associated with scarabs/dung beetles. A fact that I think known beetle-lover Luffy would appreciate. Get this guy some scarab symbolism stat. Check these bugs out!!!

Bonus: descending into the underworld and eclipse stories

Katabasis, that is, a descent into the underworld, is in no way a sun god exclusive, although solar myths do often involve the sun god, having traveled across the sky by day, needing to find their way through the ocean, the underworld, or some other sort of nether realm to return, overnight, to their morning home in the east. And it’s very fun to look at in the context of Luffy, eclipse myths, and the Marineford saga.

So obviously the Impel Down arc is is a very literal katabasis. It’s Hell, it’s got all the Dante’s Inferno theming, and, like in so many katabases, Luffy descends to the depths in pursuit of some goal, eventually emerging miraculously alive but unsuccessful (see, for a very quick shortlist of katabases of this type, Orpheus & Eurydice, Inanna, and Izanagi & Izanami).

So that’s delightful. But I think it’s even more fun to think about the Marineford saga in general, eventually culminating in the timeskip, as a prototype for an eclipse story.

Solar eclipses, though predictable, are something like a rarer and more frightening form of night, and so their associated myths have a general tendency to involve a more dramatic and/or violent symbolic death of the sun- see, for example, the various devourers of the sun mentioned in the first bullet point of this post.

So, we have the timeskip. The fire goes out. The sun, having descended into the underworld and pushed himself past his own limits, is defeated, disappearing completely from the world for two years. Until- In a way that was, technically, predictable, if you had the correct sphere of knowledge, he returns, miraculously renewed.

I’d incorporate that into my belief system, is all I’m saying.

-

Thank you all for reading! This is all for the series so far, but not, I hope, forever. Many more thoughts to have and webs to weave!

Have a lovely week!

[aching-tummies]

Circumnavigating on an Empty Stomach

Had an interesting experience that I think people here will appreciate.

Transit in my city took a major blow a day or two ago. My city is large enough to have train lines running through it as well as bus routes. Likening it to anatomy, the train lines are basically like major veins or arteries while the bus routes are little capillary vessels or whatever, often intersecting with the train lines to ferry people all over the city.

A couple of days back I had to be on-campus for a few of the classes I am taking. I usually have to take 2 buses to get from my place to the right train line to get to my campus (there are multiple train lines running through my city and getting on the wrong one could take you to a random quadrant of the city). I ate breakfast around 8AM, found out through checking my emails that a couple of my classes were cancelled, resulting in me getting undressed and tidying up my house for about three hours until I decided to get ready to attend the remaining classes for the day. I headed out for the buses at noon, expecting to get to my campus by around 1:30PM or so and giving me roughly 90 minutes to heat up a packed lunch and eat it before attending a 3PM class.

Buses got me to the station--no problems there. I live diagonally across the city from campus, so it's usually 15 minutes on each bus and just shy of an hour on the train. About two stops since I got on the train, our train came to a screeching halt. Standing passengers got air as they clung to the hand-rails and poles along the train. Backpacks not secured literally soared 6 or more feet over. Loose thermos containers and water bottles went rolling. It took 25 minutes to get an explanation, and part of the explanation was that we would be stalled where we were for at least another 15 minutes. So…45 minutes of my 90 minute buffer disappeared only 2 minutes into a 55 minute train ride.

By the time I got to campus, there was no time to heat up my packed lunch. I just booked it across campus to my class and committed to paying attention as best I could and trying not to think about how it had been seven hours since I'd eaten anything. Breakfast was a distant memory.

Classes ended a little early for me that day and I got word that the train line issues had been resolved, so I headed to the train platform around 5:30PM. I managed to avoid the temptation of buying food on or around campus because I didn't want to justify buying a meal for a day where I went all the way to campus just to attend a class and a half. I was miserable, hungry, and feeling like I had been cheated out of my entire day because classes canceled or ended early without much notice. I spent more time trying to get to campus than I did actually on campus. In my mind, campus had taken my time and my rage--I refused to give it my money too for what I felt had been a day not-so-well-wasted.

Thirty minutes on the train platform with no trains before we got an answer. The incident that had stalled my train earlier had been resolved, but a new one had just occurred on the other side of the line, essentially grinding all train service to a halt. The platform was packed with 5 train cycles full of passengers. Even if a train had showed up, less than a fifth of the people on the platform would have been able to squeeze on. With trains expected to arrive once every half an hour, if at all, we'd be looking at three hours standing on the platform before any hope of catching a train.

I took a detour. I was miserable, frustrated, angry, and hungry. I had zero interest in standing on a crowded platform for three hours.

I wound up walking to a bus zone about twenty minutes (on foot) away from the train platform to board a bus. Unfortunately, from that part of the city my route home would require 5 different buses to get back to my quadrant of the city. Imagine that Campus is about as far to the West as you can possibly plot it on this quadrants thing. My home is just a bit north of the farthest Eastern point of the city. In order to get back home without relying on the failed trains, my trip home was twenty minutes on foot to the farthest Western point (campus is around it, but not directly on it). Bus 1 would take me deep into the SW quadrant of the city. From the heart of the SW, Bus 2 would get me to the city centre. From the city Centre, bus 3 would get me into the SE quadrant. From there, Bus 4 would take me to the eastern point and from there I'd have a choice of Bus 5 or a 20 minute walk up a steep hill to get back home. My alternate route essentially took me on a round-trip through my entire city. (I have altered the quadrants in this telling--what order they appear in to avoid potentially doxing myself, but circumnavigating my entire city on multiple buses on a 3.5 hour, untested route home was 100% real).

I stumbled into my home just after 9PM. Unfortunately, I was so anxious over the experimental alternate route home and making sure that I did not miss any stops that I was pretty tense throughout my journey home. No growls or grumbles 'cuz I guess I was too tightly wound for anything of the sort to happen. There was just this annoying hollow sensation sitting like a ball of led in my gut starting around 3:30 and not budging until I got home and basically face-planted into the patch of floor just within my front door.

[airship-full-of-dragons]

Final review

Merrigan: Incredible... Of everything I had imagined on this search, hearing the Tidelord's voice... Such a profound brush with our very origins! The seers were thankfully able to translate the message, but this raises so many new questions... What was part of the Pillar of the World doing down here? What are these cores and why are they so important? Where are they now? Unlikeliest places? Oof, there's much to learn. And we still don't know what happened to the Tidelord... The damage to his message has me worried that something nefarious is at work. Our dives may be done for now, but there is still plenty of mystery left to solve. I've spoken with the rest of my pod, and we've decided to drop anchor here for a while to help. We'll contact other pods, too, to update them and see if they wish to come help. None of us are accustomed to staying in one place for long, so this is going to be... a challenging adjustment. I don't think we've anything to worry about, though. Aguar has already agreed to serve as an ambassador while we get settled in, and I get the impression you'll be right there with us, too... Just as you have been. I can't thank you enough. We've circumnavigated the oceans for so long with nothing remarkable to speak of, I had settled myself in for a life of boring routines. I'd forgotten the importance of a wayfinder's duties—and more, I had lost sight of the sheer breadth of novelty the oceans contain. Even the eldest of us could never behold the beauty of every reef, every ridge and trench, but there is no greater thrill in life than to try anyway. Whatever comes of the Tidelord's disappearance in the end, I will be heartened to face it beside all of you.

(as during the first effort, I will not be copy-pasting the full recap text, it's up on the page and screencapped here, though. But so this post isn't a mile long, i'm skipping on it)

New images:

[prince-liest]

Hiya, Mr Prince, here's another random question:

In the 666verse, which character would have the strongest/funniest reaction upon learning what Alastor has been up to with Vox in your opinion?

Because personally I've been making myself laugh imagining Lucifer feeling Alastor "sneak out" of the hotel repeatedly (thanks to whatever powers he has as the Devil) and since he's already very suspicious of him he assumes he's up to no good... He spends weeks with these thoughts at the back of his mind and then maybe he confronts Alastor about it (moment of huge internal panic for Al who thinks it's about his deal, deep relief when he finds out it's not) and Alastor just. decides to tell him Exactly what he's been up to (maybe not the details but like "why I've been indulging in the most depraved sexual activities you could imagine :)") . Because he knows Lucifer knows will think he's lying 😆

Honestly I think you're on point with that one, hahaha. The only other contendor for funniest reaction would be Charlie, I think, because the Morningstars are just Like That.

I don't think Alastor would be outright sneaking out (or, if he were being surreptitious, he would frame it to himself as engaging in basic polite discretion, not sneaking), but that honestly would just make it even funnier if Lucifer "catches" him doing something he wasn't outright trying to hide. Like, sorry, IS it your business, your majesty? Would you like detailed reports as to all of Alastor's activities? Are you interested in managing his bathroom breaks, too? Are you this interested in the activities of the rest of the emplyees? Are you interested in managing the other employees, or is your assistance to the hotel limited to snapping your fingers and blowing out of your daughter's life -

Yeah, Lucifer's not escaping that one unscathed, and that's before Alastor decides to be a "you'll never believe me" flavor of truthful, hahaha. I've been wondering at the best way to start the next chapter I'm writing and this may in fact be the inspiration for it.

Charlie, on the other hand, would be, just. So awkwardly, enthusiastically supportive, but also immediately have a whole little stress breakdown behind his back, which would be twofold disastrous because 1) Alastor in no way wants to be congratulated or have a light shined on this in the first place and 2) the things Charlie is stressing about (Vox! The Vees! Valentino! Angel Dust!) have largely been circumnavigated up until this point and if she brings them up then she's gonna be the one blowing it all up.

Also if you thought Angel Dust's well-intentioned just-making-sure check-in when he learned about Alastor and Vox was awkward, you have not seen what Charlie can cook up yet.

[verybadatwriting]

The Cyborg's Apprentice Part 2

Summary: Reader finds a way out of serving the Sith. Or so they think.

Warnings: Reader goes on a mental health/self discovery journey, neck wounds, and trackers

Notes: Part 1 and part 1.5 here

Gn!reader, teen!reader, Sith!reader

Word Count: 4,032

Light rain pattered against the window, occasionally broken by a violent crack of lightning. They didn’t go together. The rain was barely more than a drizzle, one that children could dance in, but the lightning was fierce enough to make some adults cower in fear.

Ahsokah was neither an adult, nor a child. So instead of dancing or cowering, she studied. She’d found some interesting writings on meditation, and was trying her best to follow the steps. The soft rain helped her get into the zone, and the lighting was a good test of concentration.

One thing kept nagging at her. It had been quite a few days since she’d heard from you. Maybe you’d been found out, and Grievous had ordered that your conversations stop. There was another possibility, one she dreaded even more than the last. What if you had sunk even deeper into the dark side, and decided to cut off communication all on your own? You could be devotedly fighting against the Republic on some far-flung planet.

A peal of thunder rumbled outside, and she pulled herself back to her meditations. If you were countless parsecs away, there was nothing she could do. 

Little did she know, the two of you were mere miles apart, and you were growing ever closer. Your hood stayed up over your head, concealing your face. With help from the Force, you managed to circumnavigate the security measures, and began ascending the side of the Temple.

When you reached the right window, you could see Ahsoka sitting there cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, with a scroll unrolled in front of her. The lights were on, just enough to read by. It was shockingly sparse. Only a bed, low to the ground, and a small table.

Hesitating, you raised your fist to knock on the window. What if this was a mistake? You coming here could endanger Ahsoka, get her in trouble with the Jedi Council, kicked out, even. 

But… You needed her right now. There was nowhere else to go, no one else who could understand. So, you lightly tapped your knuckles against the transparisteel.

Her head darted towards the unexpected sound at the window, and when she saw you, her face was filled with confusion. She said something you couldn’t hear, and when you tried to tell her as much, she motioned for you to wait.

Turning, she picked up one of her lightsabers, and drove it into the window. Within a moment, a circular chunk was missing.

“Y/n?” She said, just barely loud enough to be heard.

“Hey 'Soka.” You said, then promptly tumbled through the hole. She grabbed you a moment before you hit the floor, and helped you sit against the wall.

“What are you doing here?” She asked. “It’s not safe for you!”

“I… I didn’t know where else to go.” At that moment, Ahsoka noticed that blood was trickling down your neck.

“Maker, Y/n.” She said, pushing your cloak out of the way so she could see the cut. “How did this happen? Who did this?”

“I did.” You said. “I had to. Grievous had a tracker implanted in my neck.”

Once she had stopped the bleeding from your neck, Ahsoka’s eyes darted over the rest of you. Your clothes were dirty and wrinkled, like they hadn’t been washed in a few days. You had a few minor scrapes and bruises, but you were tired. Every breath took effort, and your eyes were filled with fear.

“Y/n,” Ahsoka started, “How are you going to get back to Grievous’s ship?”

“I’m not going back.” You said. “I can’t go back.”

“Well, I can’t hide you here.”

“Tano, I would never ask you to.” 

“What do you suggest I do?” She asked.

“Turn me in.” You said, and Ahoska gave you an astonished look. “It’s the only way you don’t get in trouble with the Council, and I stay safe from the Sith.”

A moment passed, one in which the two of you just sat, inches apart, taking in the gravity of the situation.

“Can we just have a few more moments?” She finally asked. 

“Of course, ‘Soka.”

When Ahsoka called for the guards, they clapped specially-crafted Mandalorian manacles onto your wrists, and brought you to the medic, who patched up the back of your neck. They locked you in a small cell until the Council could be assembled. Waiting there was the worst part. It gave you plenty of time to sit and reflect.

Ever since your encounter with Ahsoka at the ruined temple, the two of you would avoid each other on the battlefield. One night, you received an encrypted message. It was just one short question.

Why did you let me go?

And you replied with the simple, honest, answer.

I don’t know.

From that point on, you become each other's confidants. Strategic information was never shared, since the consequences of espionage were much worse than simply fraternizing with the enemy, but more personal matters– doubts, dreams, dreads– were all fair game. Because of this, Ahsoka knew things about you that you wouldn’t dare tell anyone else and vice versa.

She first suggested you join the Jedi a few months after you started talking. Deep down, you knew what the Sith were doing wasn’t right, but years of conditioning and propaganda with just enough truth sprinkled in was hard to break away from. So you declined her offer.

Again, when you were stranded on a planet with her, she brought up the idea. She even suggested you could fake your death and go back to the Temple with her. It was tempting, and she had convinced you that the Sith were doing more harm than good. Ultimately, the idea didn’t pan out.

You were pulled out of your reminiscing when the guards came to escort you to the Council Chamber. The twelve Jedi Masters were seated in a circle, and you were guided to the middle. 

“Y/n y/l/n.” Began a man with dark skin and a bald head. “We know you are a Separatist, and the apprentice of General Grievous. You have fought against the Republic and the Jedi Order for years, taking down waves of our troops and foiling countless missions. Today you are brought before the Council in a strange turn of events including but not limited to breaking into the Jedi Temple.”

“Your side,” Said a short shriveled green man, “You now must tell us.”

“I was a Separatist,” You said, “But I have turned against Grievous and the entirety of the dark side of the force. I wish to study at the Jedi Temple, but I understand you have your reservations, and that it is a real possibility that I will spend the rest of my days in a cell.

“For now, the CIS are unaware that I have defected, but when they do figure it out, they will hunt me down. I have only one request: Wherever you lock me up, make sure it has the best of security.”

“We will see.” The bald man said. “We have further questions. Why did you go to Ahsoka Tano?”

“She and I met before, during multiple battles.” You replied simply, casting a glance towards the door, where Ahsoka was standing with her master Anakin. “And I felt that our similarity in age would help me gain her trust.”

The questioning went on for a little while longer, until, satisfied with your answers, the green man spoke.

“A moment we must have,” He said, “To discuss. Back to your cell, you will go. Call you we will, when a decision we have reached.”

On your way out, you exchanged the briefest of glances with Ahsoka. A look of thanks passed between the two of you, like Ahsoka was grateful you did not bring up your secret correspondence. 

Not too long later, you were called back to the Council Chamber.

“It has been decided that you will be welcomed into the Order,” Said the bald jedi, who you learned was Mace Windu. “You will live here, and be trained in the light side of the force.”

“Thank you!” You said, a smile spreading across your face.

“Padawan Tano and Master Kenobi, you should thank.” Said Yoda. “Spoke on your behalf, they did.”

“Understand that there are caveats to this agreement.” Master Windu continued, “You will stay on the Temple grounds with supervision at all times. You will not be allowed access to your lightsabers, or communication to anyone outside the Temple.”

“Of course,” Obi Wan jumped in, “You will also provide us with any and all future CIS plans.”

“Of course.” You nodded, just happy they weren’t shipping you off to a prison planet, or executing you here and now. Once the rules were all laid out, they had the guards show you to your room. It was as bare as Ahsoka’s, except it was equipped with a security camera, and the windows were too small to fit through.

A short time later, Ahsoka joined you. She brought some robes and some scrolls for you, along with dinner.

“Honestly,” She said as the two of you sat cross legged on the floor, “I was surprised they let you in.”

“Me too.” You said, scooping up a bite from your bowl. “I thought the whole ‘fighting against you all in a war’ thing would’ve given them a bit more pause.”

“Yes, that,” Ahsoka agreed, “But also, you’re really old.”

“Excuse me?” You raised an eyebrow at her. “I am, like, a few months older than you at most.”

“I know that, Y/n,” She scoffed, “What I meant is that Anakin is one of the oldest people they’ve agreed to train, and even then there were some grumblings about it.”

“Well,” You shrugged, “They already agreed. Can’t go back now!” You had another bite. “How old was Anakin? I can’t be that much older.”

“He was nine.”

“Oh.”

Ahsoka left to go to bed, but said she’d be back in the morning to take you to breakfast and show you around the Temple. 

“I’ve got a few day’s shore leave,” She said as she was leaving, “But after that I’ve gotta keep kicking Separatist butt.”

True to her word, the next morning she was in your room right as you finished getting dressed.

“Do you know where I should put these?” You said, holding up your old Sith robes. The red and black patterning stood out harshly against the soft neutral colors of the room.

“The laundry basket’s in the closet.” She said, nodding her head in its direction. “Let’s go, we’re burning daylight here. The sun’s been up for nearly a half hour! By the time we get to the Refectory, all the good food’s gonna be gone.”

Just as Ahsoka predicted, there was no good food left. After breakfast – which wasn’t all that bad – Ahsoka brought you to a quiet, dimly lit room, then left. Inside was a small group of people, mostly children, seated in a circle around an older Jedi. 

She beckoned you to an empty cushion on the ground, and briefly explained that they were practicing silent meditation, and that the goal was to completely quiet your mind and body.

One of the conditions of your staying here was getting some training to combat the Sith teachings, so here you were, meditating cross-legged with a class of children. The silence sank into your bones, at first you tried to fight it, but when it eventually settled, you found yourself with a strange sense of peace.

You did as the instructor said, and whenever a thought or feeling entered your mind you acknowledged it, and let it drift away. For a moment you felt the anger and pain drift away, too. It was like a weight had been eased off your mind.

But when your concentration wavered, the weight settled on you once more. 

After meditation the older Jedi led your group to the refectory. Ahsoka met up with you there. In the afternoon neither you nor Ahsoka had any obligations, so you spent it in the gardens. There, you saw a Jedi digging through the dirt holding a plant with wide heart-shaped leaves. The edges faded to green, while the rest was a pleasing pinkish red. 

“Oh hello!” Said the Jedi, straightening up from his work, “Have you come to help out in the garden?”

“Uh…” You glanced at Ahsoka, unsure what to say. 

“We would love to.” She said. So that afternoon was spent working peacefully in the garden. The Jedi you were working with was old, like your meditation instructor. He had the odd tendency to be silent for many minutes, state something completely out of the blue, and immediately go back to silence.

“Gardening used to be a popular activity among the Jedi.” He said, “Everyone from Younglings to geezers like me would be up here, digging through the dirt.” He said wistfully, “But that was before the war. Now we’ve got children out there fighting. It’s just us old folks holding down the fort here. Keeping the Younglings learning and such. You two are the only teenagers I’ve seen around here in a long time.” 

“I will be here for a while.” You said, “If that’s any consolation.”

“Hm.” He grunted, and pleasant silence descended again. 

And so went your days. Dinners with Ahsoka cross-legged on the floor, classes in restraining anger, teaching morality, and afternoons in the gardens, and weekly check-ins with the Jedi Council. You were still getting into the groove of things, when one night Ahsoka told you she had to leave.

“Wait what?” You asked, nearly choking on the bite of food in your mouth, “Already? It’s only been a few days!”

“I know,” Ahsoka said, “I know, but this war still needs fighting.” 

“Do you at least know when you’ll be back?” You asked, eyes downcast and voice full of sadness.

“No.” Ahsoka saw the look in your eyes, she continued, “But your information has been invaluable. We’re winning, Y/n. The end is in sight. Soon no one will have to fight.”

“Yeah.” You said. “That’s… Comforting I guess. I just wish that I could talk to you, while you’re gone.”

“We could ask the Council to make an exception to the ‘no outside contact’ rule,” She suggested, “Say that you need someone your age to talk to.”

“That might work,” You said, “I’ll still miss you though.”

“I know. I’ll miss you, too.”

You were granted permission to talk with Ahsoka while she was gone. Nothing about her locations or missions, and they read all your messages before sending them, but it meant you got to preserve the friendship. 

When she finally returned, it was like you were a different person. You happily wore the brown robes, tended the gardens, meditated, and lived without fear. The lessons you had been taught were sinking in, and the peace that came with them washed over every aspect of your life. 

The moment she got back, Ahsoka started looking for you. She found you in the gardens, watering and digging. Your entire demeanor had shifted. You carried yourself like you knew you belonged, and yet humbly. You dutifully attended to your work, and Ahsoka felt more at peace simply being in the same room as you.

“Y/n.” She said. You poked your head up from the bushes, and smiled at her.

“Hey Tano.” You said, brushing your hands off against your robe and standing up, “I’m glad to see you again.”

The two of you walked through the Temple together, talking for hours. 

“You…” She started, “I’ve only been gone a few weeks, but you seem so different now. Happier.”

“That’s because I am.” You said, “Happier, that is. I’m finally discovering peace.”

“Good.” She smiled at you, “Because you deserve it.”

The night before Ahsoka left again, she brought you dinner.

“Hey Y/n.” She said, holding a greasy bag up, “I brought you some food from Dex’s, since refectory food is all nutrition, hold the flavor.” Just like that first night, you sat on the floor of your room, and talked late into the night.

“Imma miss you.” You said as Ahsoka was just about to step through the door.

“I know,” Ahsoka paused, “But I have some good news. My friend Barriss Offee’s gonna be here for a bit. I think you’ll like her.”

And sure enough, you and Barriss hit it off. She was a little older than Ahsoka, and was able to give you some guidance. She often joined you in the garden, or for meditation. 

She was interested in your swap from the Seperatist’s side, perhaps a little too interested. She often asked about what you were taught as a Sith, which made you uncomfortable. Whenever that came up you steered the conversation away.

It was probably just her naturally investigative personality. That's another thing you liked about her, she was smart. You could point to any plant, painting, or carving in the Temple and she knew something interesting about it.

Occasionally, she would share her doubts about the Order with you. It reminded you of your secret correspondence with Ahsoka, back before you joined the Jedi, so you indulged her. Her concerns were similar to those Ahsoka had, mostly centered around the war, but they were different. These weren't just lamentations that the world was messed up and the Jedi Order needed reform, they were more like subtle hints that the Order itself was the problem. 

It was almost like she was probing you to see if you shared these beliefs. You brushed it off the first few times, but as the hints became less subtle, and her ideas less like ideas and more like plans, you resolved to tell the Council at your next weekly check in. It was just a few days away. In the meantime, you compiled all the worrying things you’d heard Barriss say so you could show them to the Council. 

The day finally came, and as you walked down the hall to the Council Chamber, you had your head buried in a tablet, going over what Barriss said one last time. You tucked it away just before entering the room. 

It was dark. The room was empty, except for one man lurking in the shadows. He stepped forward, and you saw it was Obi-Wan.

“They thought it would be better if you heard it from me,” he said. You were close with Obi-Wan, and often sought him out for advice. He stuck up for you during the Council’s private discussion, since he truly believed in you.

“Master Kenobi,” You said, “Is everything okay? Where are the other Masters? Is Ahsoka in trouble–”

“No,” He interrupted, “She’s fine. I’m here to return these to you.” He opened a small box, which contained your Sith robes. They seemed familiar and yet out of place. Just a relic of a part of your life that was long gone.

“Why would I need these?” You asked. Kenoi stayed silent. Searching for an answer, you looked at his face. His eyes were filled with regret and resolve.

“I’m so sorry.” He said.

“Why would I need these?” You asked again, voice more serious.

“You are part of a prisoner exchange.”

“No.” You shook your head, “No, I can’t go back. I’m not going back! They’ll kill me! Master Kenobi please-”

“They don’t know you defected.” He said, once again interrupting you.

“Then where do they think I was?” You questioned.

“As far as they know, you were imprisoned by the Republic.”

“How is this fair?” You spat, “I betrayed the CIS, the Sith, and everyone I used to know for a chance at joining the Order, and this is how it repays me? By manipulating me to get all the information it needed and then sending me back to the very same evils I fled? 

“The Jedi Council never manipulated you.” Obi-Wan said, his voice infuriatingly serene and steady.

“Really?” You scoffed. “You imprisoned me, and didn’t even bother to let me know. I trusted you.” 

Your voice lowered to barely above a horse whisper. 

“You let me believe I had a future here.”

“I thought you did, too.” He said, “I’m sorry.”

“Can I at least say goodbye?” You asked after a moment of silence. Tears started to gather in the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. 

“No.” He replied. “We have to leave now.” 

You nodded, and followed him to a transport shuttle. It took about a day of travel to get to the exchange point. First you took a small shuttle, then a larger ship, a landing pod, and finally you rode on the back of Cody’s speeder. The whole time you didn’t utter a single word. 

It was a remote planet. Just farms with little to no strategic value. You were wearing your Sith robes once more, and your arms were shackled behind you to align with your ‘prisoner of war’ story. You’d gotten there before Grievous, so you leaned against the bike while the clones and Obi-Wan sent out snipers to stay hidden in the surrounding hills’ shrubbery. The long grass rippled in the slight breeze, and the sun beat down. A few wispy clouds drifted lazily across the sky as the minutes ticked by.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the CIS finally showed up. Their speeders kicked up a storm of dust, which could be seen from miles away, even with the rolling hills. They slid to a halt on the other edge of a dusty clearing in perfect formation; Grievous at the center, flanked by a v shape of commando droids. 

The metallic General dismounted, pulled a tied-up Jedi from the back of his bike, and shoved him to a droid. Cody started to grab your arm to lead you forward, but you shoved him off of you and affixed a look of disdain to your face.

Back when you first met him, this attitude would have come naturally, but now, after learning empathy, you actually felt bad for the clones. They didn’t ask to be soldiers. They never had a choice. But you couldn’t think about that right now. You had to keep up the guise of a disgruntled young Sith, complete with eye-rolling and sneers.

Cody walked you halfway across the patch of dusty ground while a droid brought over the captured Jedi. After confirming that the Jedi was alright, Cody signaled to Obi-Wan, and the exchange was confirmed. Before you left, Cody passed you a box containing your lightsabers. As you were rushed to the Separatist speeders, you dared to cast a final glance back at the Republic forces. 

They were too busy welcoming their returned friend to even look at you. 

“Each time you find yourself scooped up by the Republic reflects poorly on me.” Grievous continued berating you as the commando droids loaded the bikes onto the shuttle. “Have you learned nothing? When will you stop allowing yourself to be snatched by these pieces of Republic scum?” 

“Those reflections are deserved!” You spat back. “You seem to forget that it is your job to teach me to fight. Instead you’re too busy chasing down Kenobi for some personal feud that he doesn’t even seem to know (much less care) about.” 

Those words hung in the air for a moment.

“Ha.” He laughed hollowly, “Perhaps you have learned something.” He then climbed into the shuttle. You knew he expected you to follow, but you could tell your emotions were reaching a boiling point. Instead of thinking about leaving Ahsoka without saying goodbye, or how the council betrayed you, you changed the sadness into blind rage. 

The wood of a nearby tree splintered as though an invisible hand crushed it. You looked at your hands, squeezed into fists so tight that your nails broke the skin, and realized that had been you. You had unintentionally channeled the Force. Slowly, you loosened your fists, and a few splinters fell away from the tree trunk.

From that day on, anger would be your fuel, and it would serve you well.

Tag!!! (You're it)

@thegirlinrainbowsworld

[siswritesyanderes]

Read your Yandere Phineas fic again cause I love it.

Couldn’t help but think about Candace Flynn in this situation, who finds out about Reader.

Candace, who realizes she has to intervene and stop her brother because his obsessive, stalker behavior is a problem that has to be stopped.

Candace, who always fails to bust her brothers.

This is great in a lot of ways, because immediately I'm thinking about Phineas's reaction to knowing Candace's intent to stop him, and it's like...

In the show he's consistently positive and chill about the fact that Candace is trying to bust him and Ferb. Sometimes he acts like he doesn't know she's doing it, like when he'd say something to the effect of "Oh, Candace! You're here to also play with the thing we made!" But he explicitly knows she's trying to bust them. He's said as much in the show, pretty casually. The fact that he knows she's trying to end their fun but remains all smiles with her suggests so much.

First of all, he knows she isn't going to actually successfully ruin anything for him. Stuff has worked out for him always and it's going to keep working out for him because he has a brilliant mind, a positive attitude, and great friends. He sees her scrambling to get their mom to interrupt the fun he's having, and he does not perceive her as an actual threat. She's just his sister being silly.

Second of all, he usually doesn't take what he's doing that seriously. If Candace did get his mom to see that he's building a roller coaster and Linda said to stop building a roller coaster, he'd probably just say "Aw, man," take apart the coaster, and build a different thing tomorrow. (That one episode where they get busted and go to imagination jail or whatever was just a dream Perry had.) We might assume Linda would want to crack down on them doing any more dangerous things in the future, but I think Phineas would be surprised if that was the case. Their dad already knows about some of the stuff they've been up to, and he's been chill about it.

Third of all, Candace's antagonism is a part of the game. It's not even an obstacle in the game. Candace tries to bust them in the same way that Buford "bullies" Baljeet– it's just a thing that happens that isn't genuinely hurting anyone. It's character, it's color. It's a part of her, and she's his sister, and he loves and admires his sister.

But taking all of that in, the times when he's lost his temper at Candace have been when she's actually shown that she might ruin his project for the day. He wants to circumnavigate the globe before sundown, and if she doesn't get on the trike right now, they won't have all met the deadline, so he yells at her to get on the trike. Also, that one time in the Marvel episode. Idk, I only saw that one once, but basically she was such a big Marvel fan that she kept messing stuff up in his work space and he told her to get out.

All of this to say:

If Candace were to confront him like, "Hey, are you stalking that girl??" he would initially take it pretty lightly.

Initially, it's just another round of her hassling him about whatever he's doing while he stays positive. Honestly, he might go, "Yes. Yes I am."

If she lectures him about the moral implications of what he's doing, he would just muse about it with her like they're doing a fun thought experiment, reach the conclusion that what he's doing is actually fine (or resolve to make some small, trivial change to his approach and then brightly thank Candace for reminding him), and just generally shrug everything off.

But if she actually shows signs of taking meaningful steps to stop him– especially trying to warn Reader about what he's doing –he would lose his patience for her part in the game.

I don't think he would yell; he has a better hold on his temper than he did when he was ten, and I'm pretty sure he regretted yelling at her in the Marvel episode. No, he tries to just smile and politely explain to her why she shouldn't get in his way. His smile is tight, like a cheerful warning.

When she refuses to be talked down, he stops smiling. He stops explaining. She can see hints of his adolescent temper behind his eyes, but he doesn't yell.

He doesn't do anything to stop her. As she walks away from him, he just returns to his multi-screen computer set up or whatever other work space he has by this point.

He has contingency plans for this.

He just needs to think of the kindest way to get her out of his way.

[darthstitch]

Professor Cryptid Wet Cat

Look, Professor Gadling being a secret immortal cryptid has already reached peak meme status. The Gdoc is a rabbit hole to get lost in on a rainy day.

But Professor Murphy? Hooo boy. The students are just getting started.

Nobody calls Professor Murphy by his given name of "Thomas." Like, you could try, but he's not going to respond to you, as if the name was just something tacked on for the sake of appearances.

One of the class overheard Professor G calling Professor Murphy "Dream." Now, everyone initially thought that it was just another adorable pet name (there's a running list of them in the Gdoc). But then another student who had been getting drinks at the New Inn had overheard this sweet little boy calling him "Uncle Dream." Go figure.

Here's the thing, though, "Murphy" is an Irish name but there isn't a trace of the Gaelic's music in his accent, proper RP that it normally is. Unless you're an Irish student and suddenly, there's the lilt and the sweetness of the Goídelc in his voice when he talks to you, echoes of the tales of the Children of Lir and Cu Chulainn, best heard as the bards sung them.

The language thing doesn't stop there. Professor Murphy seems to inexplicably know every language ever spoken, happily chatting away in a mix of Tagalog and English with the Filipino students, Welsh with the kids from Wales, French and Italian and Polish and Russian and Swahili and Igbo - circumnavigating the globe as neatly as you please without losing any stride. And then, going back in time, as it were, straight to Middle English.

6. Middle English, as everyone knew, was the language Professor Gadling tended to slip into from time to time and there was something unbearably sweet about how Professor G would refer to his husband as myne owne hertis rote, only for Professor Murphy to answer with my heart's gleam and that lovely little smile. But one hadn't lived until they heard both Professors absently talk to each other in Middle English as if they'd been born speaking that language and had temporarily forgotten that they were already in the 21st century.

7. Suspicions about Professor Murphy being a vampire abounded, until they had all seen him walking in sunlight, with Matthew the Raven on his shoulder. Then it became rumors about Murphy being a Twilight-variant of vampire because he literally glowed in the sun. And had so obviously sent poor Professor Gadling dot exe crashing at the sight.

8. This conversation also happened:

"Who is Edward Cullen and why would he sparkle? And why would all of you be Bella Swan?"

All of the students look at each other. And then:

"I will fong the first person who explains Twilight to poor Professor Murphy, I swear to Christ, I will fong you."

"Perhaps I should ask Matthew."

"Caw! Nevermore!"

9. One of Professor Gadling's classes had taken a trip to the Tower of London and Professor Murphy had just tagged along, much to his husband's delight. Every. Single. Raven. from the Tower had just converged on Murphy as if he were their long lost King or something, cuddling close, cawing in delight. Matthew was so obviously, adorably jealous at the whole thing and somebody could've sworn they heard a distinctly American voice holler: "HEY CLAWS OFF YOU ASSHOLES. GET YOUR OWN DREAM KING!"

10. Sometimes, the students could swear up and down that Matthew the Raven could really, truly, talk. Professor Murphy and his raven have often been seen sitting together, often with Murphy apparently showing the bird something on his smart phone or tablet, deep in discussion with him. Everyone tried very hard not to think about this too deeply, especially since Murphy would often return to the classroom with a better understanding of current jokes and memes once he'd had a "conversation" with Matthew.

11.

"Darling, why do you have a plushie of .... good lord, is this Cthulhu?"

"A gift from my students, my love. We had a rather engrossing lecture on Lovecraft the other day."

"Oh. Oh no. Don't tell me you had the same sort of thing going with him as you did with bloody Shaxbert!"

A huff. "Certainly not. Such a small-minded young man, utterly arrogant - though he did have potential. I thought to teach him a lesson by showing him how insignificant he truly was in the infinite vastness of the universe. His mind almost broke from it."

"Ah. And where does Cthulhu come into this?"

"Lovecraft had a horror of marine creatures, specifically those of the class Cephalopoda. I often took the form of this creature in my nightmare aspect. The wings were an inspired touch, I believe. He was near out of his mind with terror - some of my finest work."

"Of course you were bloody Cthulhu, why am I not surprised? My adorable little eldritch abomination..."

"Hob Gadling, there is nothing adorable about me -- a;dkjf;adlkfja;dlkf!"

12. Rose Walker's first novel Into the Night was a best seller and readers everywhere rejoiced when they heard it would become a series. Readers also fell in love with the enigmatic King of Dreams, the antagonist in Ms. Walker's book. Thus, the second novel in the series, The Prince of Stories, was eagerly awaited by many. Once again, the same mysterious voice actor did the audiobook, which quickly climbed to the top of the charts in all the platforms of its release. But what drove Professor Murphy's students into a tizzy was Ms. Walker's dedication: "For Uncle Dream, our Prince of Stories" and the following exchange:

"Professor Murphy, we didn't know you were a fan of Rose Walker."

A proud smile. "My niece has quite the story to tell. I've been looking forward to reading her next book."

"You're Rose Walker's Uncle Dream?!"

-end-

Am I writing more of what I started in this POST - yes, yes, I am.

Do you guys want to see a more complete version of the first story? It's in AO3.

[bambamramfan]

This is obviously a critical response. Also Scott has posted his follow-up post "Highlights from the Comments" here, which I'm also responding to.

Now, even if you aren't conservative I think there is real value in saying "a major cultural change, focused on some sectors, recently happened. WHY did it happen. What were the turning points and structural factors." And I don't think "because we suddenly became better people" is a good answer to that. So exploring the cause and effect from civil rights law to the social justice shift is not, a priori, a bad idea.

Hanania's very partisan and activist slant on the question I disagree with, but it doesn't mean he makes no good empirical points. If you only read the people you agree with, well, they tend not to circulate inconvenient facts to your side and then you get blind-sided. And despite his reputation, I really do like RH's writing on China. And I'm on the record that running large parts of employment regulation through a very tiny errata of the Civil Rights Act, leads to absurd and bad outcomes and bad law.

But I'm pretty disappointed at his book (as summed up here) and Scott's moderate reaction to it. I'm glad Scott pointed out "these administrative changes in the 1970's are unlikely to be responsible for a cultural shift that hit max velocity in 2014." Because Scott gives a lot of credit to the dystopia it paints of government and corporate hiring programs forced to circumnavigate huge vagaries by implementing contradictory and Orwellian hiring standards. The second comments post does this even more so. And I feel that even when these anecdotes are factually correct, they are leaving out extremely important context. To wit:

Bureaucratic hiring processes are already this Orwellian process of doublespeak that pay attention to a lot of factors besides who would be the best at the job. All the procedures people describe were already in place, just for other types of qualifications. Random example: Harvard prides itself on always have a student from every state in it's undergraduate body. Some of our states represent about 0.2% of the population. To guarantee that say Wyoming or Idaho always have someone on campus, you basically have to target geographically - and not by merit. Or a hedge fund that wants to impress investors by hiring graduates from the right schools, even if they've found ambitious state school students are better bang for the buck. It was never the case that employers cared purely for merit and then race came into play, even if it is the case that race is now one of several factors they have to juggle for.

Here's the bigger issue. The book and review really emphasizes how terrible it is to be caught in the bind that the US government wants organizations to be racially equitable, but it doesn't just give a list of rules to follow. It says "you figure it out. So long as you don't cause a problem that's fine. But if someone thinks you're racist, they can sue, and we'll have to prove it out in court." This creates an environment where the rules are unclear, and the best you can do is follow the best practices that similar organizations do, and say you were trying your best. And so if some organizations for idiosyncratic reasons take diversity more seriously, everyone else is forced to follow suit. For certain types of people this causes scrupulosity spirals. I agree that sucks. But this is by design! Not just in civil rights, but in the entire US administrative state, it was decided long ago. See, you can have a legal environment where regulations are enforced either through: a) An agency draws up all the rules for companies to follow, and has the workforce to go inspect every company to make sure they are complying. This is what we do with cars or restaurants, and most of Europe does with a lot more areas than we do. b) The government says "don't fuck this up. You're on your own" and you are left alone until someone thinks you've fucked it up enough that they sue you. Trials are a TERRIBLE way to work this out, but it's supposed to motivate you to be extra careful. This is much more random but much less costly tax wise, so it is the system the US has decided to go with for many of its laws.

So I agree "government by lawsuit" is a terrible curse upon America (and why we have so many more lawyers per capitate than other Western nations.) It leads to all the moral problems this book and review highlights. But it's not limited to the realm of race relations and it's by design so that we don't have to pay more bureaucrats. I doubt Hanania would want us to move to the European model which has less scrupulosity issues.

[jeannereames]

Obviously we will never know, but do you think/imagine Alexander would've returned to India to try again? Also if Alexander really was looking towards Carthage, what do you think made him decide to head West instead of Arabia?

First, just to clarify, I think he intended both to attack Carthage and circumnavigate/subdue Arabia. Both would have served distinct purposes for securing his new Asian empire and trade, as well as provided a campaign in the West.

As for India … no, I don’t think he’d have gone back. In part because I think he was looking for a way to get out of there even when he was there. In a recent post, I pointed to an article by my colleagues Tim Howe and Sabine Müller, “Mission Accomplished: Alexander at the Hyphasis.” Their argument (simplified) is that the famed “mutiny” wasn’t, and served as an excuse to turn back from what he knew an impossible campaign without losing face (timē). If you look at what he did, it was to re-establish Persian influence/sovereignty in the Punjab. He didn’t push past where the Persians had already been. I used to think he might have liked to push on, but I’ve come to doubt that.

I believe his chief interest in India was trade, and that the West was calling too loudly.