#actual answer? kill every politician ever probably

[erros429]

if you had a deathnote what would you do

i’ll take a potato chip and eat it

[kurthummeldeservesbetter]

So if a Mel and Caitlyn pair up defeats a dictator and wins a war (at least the first part), a Vi and Jayce team up only ever kills kids or fucks up a mission, and l then what does a Jinx and Viktor pair do? What do the other options make?

Here are my ideas, ranking from best outcome to worst or what actually gets done.

Genuinely think a Viktor Mel pair (depending on if they both have some sort of magic) save the world. Both incredibly intelligent. Both caring but can’t be manipulated by emotions easily (influenced is a different story but damn when you’ve got a terminal illness or a dictator mom it’s hard being normal). However I think the arcane writers knew the team up would be too powerful. Also incredibly sexy. If they just had tea together once I think there would be no arcane story to tell.

Cait and Viktor. Not a lot getting done but if we’re thinking season 1 then it’s gonna be so nice and calm. They’re having tea. They’re planning our improvements for Zaun. A harp sings in the distance. They talk about Jayce. Caitlyn asks questions and listens to the answers and vice versa. World peace maybe not achieved but close.

Technically Jayce helped Cait free Vi and helped cover it up, as well as help her when Caitlyn tried explaining what was going on with Silco. Very even results. Nothing major changing here but typical for people who literally just bring out nothing in each other besides…friendship? Siblings? Idk.

Vi and Viktor would probably get along in the sense of they knew an older Zaun. (At least in comparison to Jinx.) Vi can be pretty gentle and Viktor definitely cares. Battle wise he ain’t gonna do much (the only time he really fought was when it wasn’t a good thing for anyone) but he’s bring the smarts to Vi’s streets. They’re gonna win the battle but it will be tough. Some lives may be lost but it ain’t theirs.

Mel and Vi….Vi does not like politicians. Vi does not like people from Piltover beyond Caitlyn (and maybe Jayce?) They argue the whole time. Nothing bad happens but nothing gets done. It’s mostly Vi’s fault but Mel can’t let it go. It’s been three days and they haven’t left the council room. It ends with the mutual agreement to never meet again.

Technically a Cait/Jinx pair saved Vi (after the commune) and also the conversation they had in the jail was actually civil. Don’t think a whole lot is getting done but a good battle buddies I think. There’s gonna be tension though. Lots of arguing and glares. Caitlyn’s hair is now orange and Jinx lost another finger. Lots more damage than necessary.

Mel and Jinx. Someone is dying. It might not be one of them but it’s definitely someone who shouldn’t be dead. Mel’s level-headedness barely works on Vi and it definitely won’t work on Jinx. She’s never had a younger sister. Jinx knows what buttons to push. The building is on fire.

Jayce and Jinx. Mostly everyone is dead except for Vi and Viktor somehow, or the exact reverse. They haven’t stopped arguing since they met. They just keep slapping each other like cats. Jayce keeps trying to hit her with the hammer but she’s elusive and it’s like a game of wack-a-mole. He kills a kid each time instead. Jinx won’t stop making fun of him. Someone lost a limb at some point.

Jinx and Viktor. Everyone is dead. I would say they are too but no, they’re stuck at the end of the universe with each other. It’s equally both their faults. Viktor deadnames her every time she insults him. She never stops and neither does he. They each have a shrine to their respective loved one and it’s the only places they don’t bother each other. She bleached half his hair. He poured out her nail polish. They fight till the end of time itself. Sometimes they have movie nights where their respective hallucinations (Silco, Sky) join.

[moonstruckme]

In a week-

I saw you did royal Bodyguard poly!marauders to sunshine!reader, ans I was wondering if we could get something like that but instead reader is a little sneakt bitch who uses escaping her bodyguards as a fun pastime?????

Thanks for requesting!!

join the party

bodyguard!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 979 words

You’re about to take a sip from your cup when your wrist is gripped by a strong hand, stopping it from reaching your mouth. 

“You have no idea what’s in there.” 

“Hi, Jamie,” you shoot him a smile, warm and loose all over from the drinks you’ve already had. “Sure I do. It’s a rum and coke. Pretty straightforward, actually.” 

“He means,” Remus says, prying your fingers from around the cup and setting it on the bar, “that you probably weren’t watching to see if anyone slipped something into it, and unfortunately for you, we weren’t here to do it for you.” 

You don’t have to look around to know Sirius will be here as well, your three bodyguards relentless and nearly impossible to shake. Still, you’re a bit proud you’d managed to get free for a little over an hour tonight. That’s not an easy task. 

“No one here is going to drug me,” you say, though you know that’s not strictly true, and you go on before one of them can contradict you. “How’d you find me anyway?” 

James gives you a deadpan look, the closest thing you ever get to anger from him. “If we told you, you’d just figure out how to get around it next time.” He sets a hand on your shoulder, pushing you gently away from the bar. “Come on, let’s go home.” 

“I don’t want to go home,” you say, and despite your best intentions, your voice comes out with a petulant edge. “Why can’t we stay here?”

“You know very well you’re allowed to go out,” Remus says as he and James steer you towards the exit. “But we haven’t had time to look around this place, and you’re supposed to be studying at Kate’s.” 

“So this is a punishment.” It’s not a question, but Sirius answers you anyway, draping an arm around your shoulders as you meet him by the door. 

“Yes, it is,” he says lightly. “You almost killed Remus tonight, doll, and attempted murder deserves a time-out at the very least.” 

Even whilst scolding you, Sirius’ voice is teasing. Between the three of them, you know he’s the least upset with you. He might be a bit frustrated, sure, but he seems to also harbor a tiny bit of respect or understanding for what he calls your ill-timed rebellious phase. Though to be fair, you’d never had much cause for rebellion before your mom had forced a security detail upon you. You were used to doing whatever you wanted, and what you wanted had never seemed so wild until one day you needed permission to go outside and your privacy was blown to smithereens. 

You step out into the cool night air, and Sirius rubs your upper arm when you shiver. Remus leads you all towards the parking lot, and you’re secretly glad to be able to get into a warm car even if you’re still stubbornly yearning for the mundanity of the bus. 

“I know you think of running off as trying to get back some sort of freedom,” James says, and his voice is gentler now if not quite friendly, “but it’s not going to feel like freedom if while you’re off by yourself one of your mom’s…critics,” he decides, using the most delicate term possible, “takes the opportunity to kidnap you.” 

“Or kill you.” Remus says gruffly, his posture extra-stiff as he scans the parking lot, eyes skimming over every dark corner and potentially occupied vehicle. 

“Their issue is with her, not me,” you sigh, somewhere between frustrated and resigned. “You should be protecting her.” 

“She’s got her own detail,” Remus reminds you. “And it wouldn’t be the first time extremists have targeted a politician’s family to get at them.” 

You’re silent at that, and the boys let you stew in it, the memory of your mother’s face when she’s gotten the news that her coworker’s son had been killed in their home. She’d grieved for her friend that day, but her panic had been for herself. For you. 

“We’ve got to find a way around this need to escape, angel,” James says, opening the door to the backseat and offering you a hand in. You nod hello to Marcus, your mom’s driver, whose duties have apparently been extended to picking you up when you go “missing” for an hour or two. Sirius gets in on your other side, Remus taking the passenger seat. “Are we really so awful to be around?”

“No,” you say, though you know the question was meant in jest. They deserve to know anyway. “You guys are great. It’s your job that’s the problem.” 

“Unfortunately, it’s still our job,” Remus says, turning around to fix you with a look. It works, and you shrink in your seat. Remus is such a kind, gentle soul, especially considering his profession, so when he focuses his disapproval like this, it always leaves you feeling thoroughly shamed. “Every time you slip off, we have to act as if you’ve been kidnapped, even if we know better. And you very well could be kidnapped. You just—” He shakes his head, and guilt sprouts, winding and thorny, in your gut. “��I don’t think you understand the danger you’re putting yourself in when you do this.”

You nod, forcing yourself to look him in the eye so he knows you’re really listening. “I’m sorry. I’ll…” you sigh, indignation eating at you even as you give in. “I’ll try to work with you guys more.”

“That’s all we’re asking, sweetheart,” James says, bumping your shoulder with his lightly, and you know you’re at least mostly forgiven. 

“For tonight,” Sirius drawls, “are you going to actually stay in your room, or is one of us going to have to tie you to the bed?” He winks. “Because if you need me to, I can totally do that, dollface.”

[brilliantfantasticgeronimo]

66.7512 meters episode!!!

i think i broke his heart! oh well!!!! ÑLKÑLK ruby y are u so happy about this all the time skfljdks1 (waiting for the karmic writing where someone breaks *her* heart....). tbh also very doctor-like. they are *so* unhinged

i was looking for some Spin-off foreshadowing in this war between land and sea business but best i've got is that... it will probably be set in wales ksdlfj

nuclear war is hilarious. fiften u are not all right.

That's the most bizarre "circle" ive ever seen. if anything is the orthogonal projection of a geodesic dome.

"A pee around the back"…….. dr pee foreshadowing

AESOP #1: children, when u are doing "off the road tourism", don't disturb sacred sites

susan twist's "thing" is just gonna be: "take revenge from being killed so many times". like she's just red-shirting all over the place (maybe it's gonna be a bit of meta commentary of the high body count of this show? that it's all for our sadistic pleasure but doesn't always have real significance skfldj)

I guess inflation is a recurring theme this season?

liminal spaaaace

"and then there's the blood""w-what blood?" i laughed ngl sksksk

the different color fonts in iplayer are a bit distracting tbh…...

ah yes. welsh racism...

hmmm… runy sitting in the chair... to wait in front of the tardis... "The one who waits?"

Thats' what men do skdksk love me some "Intergalactic fuck boy" subtext being voice and made text

Poor ruby ):

it's about the [metaphor for being stigmatized]!!!

Ohh the doctor was the first to disappear by the curse, maybe?

"even ur real mother didnt want u" Bro this monster is so mean wtf Kate!!!

AGAINST HIM, SOMETIMES!!!!!!!!! Antagonist kate be coming!!!

"well, that's classified"

This timeline might be suspended along ur event???

WE INVENT THE RULES AND MAKE THEM WORK!!! THEMES!! YOU HAVE TO COUNT EVERY GRAIN OF SALT!!! IT'S THE GAME THEME CONNECTING TO THE SUPERSTITION THEME!!!!!!!!

theeeemes

the more unit gets competent the more sinister they become

her going "cheers!" to her personal satan. i love u ruby

FUCK YEAH. ICON. GO KILL THE PRIME.MINISTER

...only guys in ruby's little montage ]: im heartbroken T.T rip the x5 times wlw companions streak dream it seems

"except the bed thing that was u" narrator voice: it wasnt

"Which is what?" KILL THE PM KILL THE PM DO IT ICON

Rtd connected to the universe skskdk oh beautiful synergy

[also literally how Y&Y starts... ]

"No more" feels loaded/intentional here, considering how it's been used before as an Important Phrase is War's arc.

the emo advisor guy intrigues me

Ruby having to solve this whole thing + cold war vibes.... mmm very ace coded

[lol @ soc dem / liberal writers being so scared of "populism" and "the dumbness of crowds". peak soc dem / liberal] [what is a "political allegory story" by a soc dem without the punchline being that "I think The People are really fucking Stupid actually"] [i do enjoy the side point of british politicians being so desperate for relevancy that they fire nuclear missiles for the fun of it. yeah… that tracks]

[lol becoming independent from nato being a bad thing. lol #"fucklybia!!"#signed:thisepisode]

the directing is very fun in this

Ruby get on your feets and make it happen

She's gonna say u forgot to say hi to this lady

ruby's asking to be shot again sksks

Iris u say…........ eyes emoji

[ok but also. lol not to go " ah, peak liberal again!" but lol. this resolution is peak liberal [ie. fundamentally antidemocratic, a few 1% technocrats (obvs, privileged and from the global north) with the answers "know what's best"]. this lad may have been crazy but they voted for him for a reason that "the system" wasnt providing.but in typical soc dem fashion they can't ever fight the fascists on The Real Deal ie. strength of a proposed political project + material gains resulted from those political projects + committing to real system change, so they have to scramble for antidemocratic solutions like [timey wimey prisons] to ""fight facism""" (ie not fighting it at all and by proxy, just making the fucking cockroaches stronger each "election cycle" because they can't fight them in a meaningful, political sense) bc the people are just too stupid!!! and this is why democracy was a mistake!!!!!!! ... sigh rtd. oh well good thing i didn't expect more on this front tbh sdlkjfdsd in that sense the s1-s4 rewatch prepared me well lol]

clara vibes in this ep in a lot of moments (old!ruby, sort of "mausoleum tardis", etc)

"i didnt travel with him long..." "but it felt like a lifetime" became literal…

"Everyone has abandoned me my whole life" T_T

AESOP #2: kids u are never alone <3 u always have ur inner demons :) and the unrelenting spectra of death~

There's always something a bit unsatisfying about self closing paradoxes... kinda like "oh it was all a dream so it didnt matter". but i think in this one it was crunchy enough with other things that i think it was balanced.

Very turn left-y ending! CONCLUSIONS!! people kept saying in the press this episode was gonna be "super scary" tbh i just found it.... profoundly sad sdxkljflkfj ruby's life just *screams* "missing the important bits by focusing on the unimportant" and "obsessing over things that don't matter" and "companion becomes detached from real life to the point they become super unhinged and callous" ("im sorry i couldn't help you marti")

(c+p some stuff i put on a discord): tbh i rolled my eyes at the political stuff but i don't think im even mad about it this time lol (too tired irl to get properly angry at doctor who these days ig)

anyway i dont think the political stuff is what it was really "about". i found this story very moving on what it was (imo) rlly about: ruby's fear and experience of being abandoned and also the general "fear of approaching death"

and obvs a bit of other emotional beats that are more specific to doctor who's long running stories: like the doctor "always does this" ie leaves everyone of his friends behind and there's the lingering tragedy that this will happen, as well, to ruby inevitably, then also both ruby and the doc becoming 'detached' from real life (ruby basically never investing anything in those relationships w/ those guys bc she was 'absorbed' by this mystery /clearly a parallel to her being absorbed by her parental origin) and also how tourists cant watch where they step / the doctor and co arent always respectful to the 'silly traditions' of the places they visit (tbh excellent bc to overcome my "this show has the white man's burden' engraved in its dna" meta... the show is gonna have to keep making story like and like Demons of Punjab for at least 3 more decades lol) (basically tldr i think it fumbled the politics stuff but it was rlly crunchy where it mattered. also, ....... i think this pretty much confirms that ruby isn't her own mother / the person who let herself at the door step in Christmas, right??? like rtd had said was the short story he had concocted years ago, and was the insp for this... but he kinda used up that trick here… so it must be something/someone else, right?) (another thing: ruby going "i used to be able to make it snow" made smth click....... ---> if ruby's whole focus rn seems to be about "the mystery", and this quest seems to be not only something she *needs* but also something that like... means joy and adventure, and traveling with the doctor... when she finds out the Truth,,, that probably means all the whimsy in her life will go away? (so she may come to a point where she Doesn't want to know Actually (which would be very "thirteen regretting throwing away the watch" realness mirror again)

[moltengoldveins]

yeah boys I think this one is relevant again. (And it’s the ONLY political ‘position’ or ‘opinion’ you’re getting out of me on this app.)

Im no closer to fluency in Portuguese than I was before, but my friendship with her is even closer. I’ve learned to cook Thai, Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Brazilian and Italian traditional dishes in the last few years and I built a passable rapport with my local Mexican grocery before I had to move for health reasons. I still don’t know where to buy decent tamales now, but I’m looking. My coworker is Thai, and when she found out my diet was severely restricted she immediately began sharing recipes and local store locations.

What I’m trying to say is, there is hope here. Keep going. Keep loving. Keep praying. love your neighbor as yourself, and if someone asks you “who is my neighbor, Lord?” When they really mean “Who do I get a pass on mistreating, Lord? Who is NOT my neighbor, Lore?” Keep walking. Ignore them. Because they are your neighbors too, as much as you might like to think they don’t deserve it. Yes, even the politician on the internet. (Yeah, even that one, whichever one you thought of) Yes, even the jerk in a captain America t-shirt who calls you a slur in the grocery store. Yes, even the woman who is (gasp) dating your good traditionally raised daughter. Yes, even the gun rights activists. Yes, even the shooter who killed ten people. These are your neighbors. These are the people you Have to love if the world is to ever change. Part of love is discipline, and part of love is protecting yourself and others, but the love has to be the first thing.

I can vividly remember sitting in my (conservative, Christian) classroom, newly out to my friends as ace, listening to a student confidently state that “if you’re not in a clergy position that requires celibacy and you’re not getting married and having as many children as you can for the kingdom, then you’re selfish and disgusting and probably not a Christian at all.” And watching as my professor said nothing to refute it. That day I went home and asked my parents to tell me where the heck a place was for me and people like me in the church. They didn’t answer. I still haven’t gotten an answer from them.

I can ALSO vividly remember sitting vigil at night in the cold on wet grass with my friends after a trans person who hated everything to do with Christianity shot up a Christian elementary school down the street and killed six people, three of them children. A news reporter got in our faces with a camera. I remember being so angry, so bitter and confused, when every trans person I’d ever spoken to in person was so kind and every movement surrounding the LGBT community seemed so well-intentioned. Why would they do this? How could someone do this and blame it on us? On Christians? How could anyone say we deserved this?

These aren’t really comparable experiences, I know, and they also aren’t the most kind or correct or understanding, especially for the website I’m posting this on. But they are actual memories of mine, and actual examples of the kinds of moments that can build up in people and foster resentment. This is what happens without love. This is where the rot starts. This is where the bitter fury roots itself and takes hold. Because when you have a reason to stop loving people, when you’re Justified, everything is on the table. Everything is ok. Nothing you say or do is on you, it’s all on the other person.

I understand the urge to lash out at your professors when they tell you your orientation is a selfish disease. I understand the urge to get blindingly angry at a whole political or social movement because of the horrible actions of a few people. I Get It. But the lack of love is what will kill us, faster than any capitalistic hellscape. The lack of love from bosses for their employees, the lack of love from spouses to their partners or children to their parents or parents to their children. This is what destroys. This is our first and last commandment, and we are forgetting it because “The Other Side don’t deserve love.”

That’s the whole freaking point. They don’t deserve it, and neither do you. But God loves you, and that gives you the margin to love them anyway.

Take the time to ask God or Fate or even the popcorn on your ceiling today that the political figure you hate most in the world has a good day and the Lord’s hand guiding their actions. Then, do something unnecessarily kind to someone in your life who won’t thank you for it. Then, make yourself some tea, take a breath, thank the Lord or the universe or the great wheel of random chance that you can experience life, and do it again. Pray for someone you hate. Put some good into the world without the expectation of reward. Tea. Repeat. Let’s start loving each other on purpose because it’s right, even if it’s hard and we don’t deserve it. This isn’t a call to Christians only, it’s a call to everyone. You don’t need to believe in God to believe this is good and right.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. Good night 💜

SO. Growing up my best friend was Portuguese, immigrated when she was ten, and as we got older her accent left. but, in a truly comedic turn of events, it stuck for me. Now when we talk I have to curb it more than it actually appears for her. And now I see the qsmp with all these multilingual speakers and I can’t quite catch all the Portuguese but there’s some of it, I remember bits and pieces listening to my best friends mom tell her what they were making for dinner, or where they were headed for the evening. And Technodad told us that Techno knew Portuguese (apparently so he could understand his neighbors?!) but never spoke it cause it wasn’t perfect. And there’s so much stuff happening in the world right now, there are so many people dying, and some days I look my faith, a faith Literally Based in the inherent hope for tomorrow and the redeemable nature of humanity, in the eye and I just… can’t muster a genuine belief that everything is gonna be ok. but it is. We are gonna be ok. I speak in the accent my friend did when she was ten. My mom makes her mom’s recipes. My dad smokes her dad’s imported brand of cigars. People learn languages to talk to their neighbors, to roleplay on Minecraft, to learn and grow and live happy lives in communities they would have never had access to. The world is fallen, but xenophobia is not the default state of man. People wake up every day and choose to love each other by action, not just by word. I’m downloading a language app tonight. It’s gonna be ok. 💜

[caparrucia]

36 CorNyx kiss?

…to give up control.

The thing about Cor, Nyx reasons sometimes, at three in the morning, when he's too jittery to sleep and too stubborn to get out of bed and make something out of the hours of not-sleep he's getting; the thing about Cor, it's that he's none of the things anyone ever says he is.

He's not a murderous, ruthless beast, willing to kill indiscriminately, just for the sake of testing the edge of his sword. Nyx is older, now, than he was when they first met. He's found himself working in the depths of the Lucian bureaucracy and the floundering machine that keeps the country going. Nyx knows now, with the certainty of an adept politician, that Cor is a convenient placeholder for the populace to place their anxieties about the war. More than that, he is willing to shoulder anything and everything, to do his part to make sure the King is safe, because he loves the King in a way that would be uncomfortable, if not for the fact Nyx has realized Cor loves Regis the same way Nyx loves Ramuh: with devotion and faith and that edge of irreverence that nonetheless carefully maps out the depths of his worship. Nyx is not jealous of Regis, the same way he assumes Cor is not jealous of Ramuh: it makes no sense to argue with the providence that guides their lover's life.

Cor is taciturn because he doesn't have much to say, but not shy to say what he thinks, when he feels it necessary. He's not particularly violent, either. Just... skilled. It just so happens that skill is very useful when you need someone dead. And while he's committed to carry out his tasks, he's far from ruthless. Ruthless is the King's commands or the Shield's demands, shouldering the blame to be able to give orders, but Cor? Cor answers to no one but his conscience most days. It's why Monica follows him, she told Nyx, long ago, when he really was trying to poach her services and bring her over to the Kingsglaive: The Crownsguard is a bloated, complex, overbearing nightmare of an organization, one that has by necessity and many King's whims, absorbed most of the Government in ways that are probably not healthy. But militarizing everything is necessary, when you've spent two hundred years losing the same war. But the Crownsguard is worth belonging to, Monica told Nyx, because Cor is at the head. Anyone else would lose control of such a hydra. Cor keeps it in a leash, fighting a perpetual, endless fight with human nature, for no other reason than because Regis entrusted him with it.

So no, Cor is not, in fact, any of the terrible things he's always assumed to be, but Nyx is not in a hurry to clear his name because he respects Cor's choice to accept the burden. But also because there's a very petty, very snide corner in the back of his head that is delighted by the fact he gets to enjoy everything Cor actually is, and no one else gets to even know it exists.

No one else will ever know they can walk into Cor's office at home - their home - at quarter past ten, and find him still buried under a pile of memos and a small mountain of things he needs to sign. Cor sets a timer, til eleven, and if no one comes stop him, he'll go on til eleven, and then shuffle upstairs to their bedroom and do his honest best to pass out until six. But Nyx likes to go in, when he's able - he's got his own mountain range of things to sign and read - at quarter past ten, because Cor will look up at him, blinking behind his ridiculous reading glasses, and frown at the interruption. If Nyx were anyone else, he's sure, the frown would be enough to send him scurrying away. But he knows better. He grins at that frown, every time, and then he lets himself into the room fully, walking up to the desk and letting himself fall into Cor's lap. And if Cor didn't want him there, he'd let him know, remorselessly, that he's not wanted. But Nyx knows he is, because Cor leans back on his chair - a very battered, old chair, with worn leather and a very conspicuously missing royal sigil on the back, because Cor never really talks about Mors, but the talismans he keeps of his first King are ever present, if one knows what to look for - making sure there's enough space for Nyx between him and the desk.

"It's barely ten," Cor will say, even as he tilts his head so Nyx can slide the glasses off his face, and leave them on the desk, in the rough quadrant Cor likes to put them, so he'll know where to find them, in the morning.

"It's almost eleven," Nyx will retort, even though it's a lie, and he knows it's a lie and Cor knows it's a lie, and it's alright, because when Nyx drags his fingers through Cor's hair, Cor arches his neck into the gesture, letting his head fall heavy into Nyx's grip.

"You're godawful for my productivity," Cor will mutter, as if that matters, to anyone, and then he'll tilt forward and kiss Nyx.

It is very important, for Nyx, to point that out. It is not him, who kisses Cor. It is Cor who grumbles about interruptions and puts up a token fuss, and then kisses him anyway. Because that kiss is surrender, slow and lazy and not hurried at all. It's not the sort of frantic thing they used to do, back when they were fumbling their way into figuring out where they fit. It's the sort of bratty, reluctant thing that makes a statement, because what Cor is, deep down, beneath the rank and the titles and the horror stories: is a fucking brat. And it says something about Nyx, he reckons, that he finds it so endearing, the way he'll outline all the reasons why what he's doing might be considered a bad idea, and then commits to it anyway.

Nyx is very happy to be Cor's worst idea to date.

They will sit there, sharing the old chair Cor might or might not have stolen from the old King's office, some thirty years ago. They kiss and they bite and they chat about nothing truly dire, just basking in the moment, until it is eleven, and Cor's alarm rings in the office. And then Nyx will take Cor's hand and tug him upstairs, to their room, and Cor will go along with anything that happens there, docile, because the surrender is not the noise he makes when Nyx presses a hand on his chest, holding him in place. The surrender is the kiss in his office, giving up time he'd scheduled for something else.

The surrender is the fact Cor kisses Nyx, nearly every single time it actually matters, and Nyx notices and says nothing about it, because that's his and no one else's.

[imagineyourworld]

Misunderstanding

Echo x Genderneutral!Reader

Summary: After the war Echo runs into you and Rex, who he mistakes for your husband and the father of your children 

Warnings: Mention of death and war

Check out more of my work here

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The moment Echo saw you a thousand memories came rushing back: Your soft hands on his cheek. Your lips on his lips. Your lips on his skin. How your skin tasted under his lips. Your careless laughter as he carried you home after one too many drinks. That time you showed him how to brew the perfect cup of calming tea. The way you said his name and how your voice sounded when you told him you loved him. The happy smile when the two of you reunited after his supposed death. And the sad smile when you told him that you couldn’t go with him.  That had been almost three years ago now. At first both of you had made an effort to talk every day, then, as the war got busier, every other day until it was every week, once a month and then, a little more than two years ago, the two of you had said your last goodbyes.  But now here you were, looking not a day older, and even more beautiful, than the last time Echo had seen you.  He took a moment to just look at you. Your hair was a bit shorter, maybe a shade of two darker as well, and your style had changed. During your relationship he had mostly seen you in your scrubs at work or sweats at home, now you looked more comfortable in your clothes, more like yourself.  Too late, only after he had already called your name and you had turned around, did Echo notice that you were holding the hand of a little girl. Her curious eyes looked him up and down before turning to you. She said something Echo couldn’t hear, but he did see the smile that lit up your face as you walked closer, pulling the girl along with you.  “Echo, I can’t believe it. What are you doing here?”, you asked.  You still said his name the same way, your smile was the same and your eyes lit up like they always did when you looked at him, but all Echo could focus on was the little girl, who was staring at him. Was she yours? The daughter you had with someone else? Someone who had replaced Echo in your heart? He should have known this would happen, it had to eventually, but that didn’t help the pain, not when Echo himself had thought of you ever day for the past three years, when he never stopped loving you.  “I... I decided that it might be time for me to settle, and since most of my brothers have made their lives here on Coruscant I thought I would do the same.”  Echo didn’t add that there had also been the small hope that you might still be living on Coruscant.  “So you’re gonna stay here? That’s amazing, we’ll have to catch up some time soon”, you said, the smile on your face growing with every word. Echo just nodded. What else was he supposed to say? Luckily he didn’t have to say anything else, because the girl took the opportunity to insert herself into the conversation.  “Who are you?”, she asked, her expression both curious and vary.  You looked down at her with a stern expression but fondness in your eyes.  “Leia, you could’ve asked a bit more nicely. But this is Echo”, you told her. Your eyes went away from the girl to focus on Echo. “He’s... and old... friend.”  Yes, the words stung, but Echo understood that it was probably the best way to introduce your daughter to your ex boyfriend.  “And Echo, this is Leia, sh-”, you started, but were soon interrupted by a small voice calling out the girl’s name.  Another child, a boy, appeared, with a big smile on his face and a paper bag in his hand.  “Guess what I have!”, he said with a grin, holding the bag out for the girl to peek into.  Echo was now looking at the boy. He didn’t seem to be older or younger than the girl, so maybe he wasn’t another child of yours but Leia’s friend. Though they did look somewhat alike.  “Luke, you can’t run off like that”, a familiar voice called from behind Echo.  He refused to turn around, as long as he didn’t see who was coming up behind him, who clearly belonged to you and the children, a childish part of himself told him that it wouldn’t be true. But your words confirmed his fear.  “Rex, it’s fine”, you laughed. “Luke’s safe, he was only ahead of you by like a meter.”  Echo now looked at his brother. He looked a bit older than the last time he saw him, probably due to their rapid aging, but other than that he didn’t seem to have changed at all, still caring and commanding and loving. Echo closed his eyes for a moment, he couldn’t bear to look at you and Rex and your children, because from the way the four of you interacted he could tell that you belonged together.  Of course he had known that you would move on, though a small irrational part of him had hoped that you might wait for him to come back to you someday. But why did you have to move on with his brother? And not just any brother, one he had always been close to. And how could Rex do this, he knew more than anyone, other than Fives at least, how much Echo had always loved you.  Of course Echo knew that he should be happy for you, and part of him was, but seeing you and your family, seeing your happy smiles and the love in your eyes, just killed him.  “Echo, vod, it’s so good to see you. How have you been?”, Rex asked as he put a hand on Echo’s shoulder and squeezed affectionately.  Before Echo could answer you interrupted him with an apologetic smile. “Rex, we have to meet Padmé in 10 minutes, we better hurry. But Echo, how about you come by our apartment around 7 this evening and we’ll catch up?” 

-------

Echo had debated whether to actually go and see you, but in the end he decided that he might regret it more if he backed out. Plus Hunter had basically pushed him out the door and left him no other choice.  So here he was, in front of your apartment, which was only a couple of blocks away from the one you had lived in during the war.  His fist had barely touched the door when you already pulled it open and ushered Echo inside.  For a moment the two of you just stood in the hallway, looking at each other and not saying anything.  “Rex just went to buy a bottle of wine, he should be back shortly”, you said as you lead Echo further into the apartment.  He soon found himself in a larger room, which served as both living room and dining room, with the kitchen attached and only separated by a kitchen island. As he looked around he recognized most of the furniture from your old apartment, the one he had spent countless hours in, as well as photographs both old and new with many familiar faces in them. A couple were just you and Rex, but most of them had General Skywalker, Commander Tano, General Kenobi or Senator Amidala in them, along with many of his brothers. He also spotted his favourite picture, the one had had carried a copy of wherever he went, of him kissing your cheek while Fives enveloped the two of you in a hug. He was surprised to see it hanging in your living room. But what surprised him even more was how clean everything was. You had always been a tidy person, but he had suspected that children would still leave the place a bit messy. Speaking of...  “Are Luke and Leia going to join us?”, he asked.  A surprised look crossed your face before you shook your head.  “They’re with Padmé and Anakin.”  Echo nodded. Maybe it was for the best not to have the children around, the dinner would be awkward and they might only make it worse.  “How nice of the General and Senator Amidala to babysit.”  You stopped pouring water in your glass and looked at Echo in surprise.  “They’re not babysitting, the twins are their kids. Rex and I were the ones who were babysitting this morning.”  It was safe to say that Echo had not been expecting this revelation. He had been so sure that you and Rex were the parents. But his little moment of relief was cut short when he realized that this didn’t change anything. You and Rex were still a couple, you still lived together and had a life together, a life Echo had no place in.  “Are you planning on having kids then?” The question was out before Echo could stop himself. This was none of his business, it might even be better if he didn’t know. But he just had to know, having children was the one thing about your future the two of you had never talked about, had never dared to even think about in the middle of a war, but that hadn’t stopped Echo from hoping to one day raise a family with you, and he had to know if his brother was now living that unspoken dream.  “I’m not opposed to the idea, but who would I have a child with? I’m not really fond of the idea of doing this on my own”, you admitted with a nervous laugh.  Echo tore his eyes away from the plate he had been fixating on to look at you. Try as he might, he couldn’t read your expression.  “With Rex, of course. He’s your”, he started before stopping for a moment to scan your fingers for a ring, when he didn’t find one he continued. “Boyfriend. Rex is your boyfriend.”  Saying the words out loud hurt, more than Echo would ever want to admit, but it was your laughter that actually broke his hear, and your words that mended it again.  “Rex is not my boyfriend, he’s my friend. Probably my best friend and maybe more like a brother, but most certainly not my boyfriend.”  After everything he had been through there wasn’t much that could render Echo speechless, but this confession could. It took him a moment, and a thorough scan of your serious expression, for him to formulate his next sentence.  “But the two of you live together”, he finally said.  For a moment you didn’t say anything. Then you took his hand, your skin still as soft and warm as he remembered, and led him over to your couch. Softly you pulled on his arm to get him to sit next to you, closer than he would have sat while still thinking that you were in love with his brother, but not as close as he really wanted.  “Rex and I are friends, nothing more. We live together because no matter how much some politicians try, clones still have little rights and it was easier for him to move in with me than to get his own place. But Echo, I never, ever, though about Rex in any romantic way, nor he about me. I... There has only ever been one person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, one person I wanted to marry and have children with and grown old with, and that person is you. Echo, it’s always been you and it always will be. I loved you ever since you carried Fives into the medbay with his broken leg and I never stopped, not when I though you were dead, not when you went away with the Bad Batch. And seeing you again only showed me how much I missed you, how much I don’t want to let you go again. But of course I understand that you’ve probably moved on.”  There were a million things Echo might have said, but for now he decided to forgo any explanations. Instead he put one of his hands on your waist and the other behind your head. Slowly he leaned closer, giving you every chance to pull way, but instead you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his in a gentle kiss.  “I love you. Always have, always will”, he whispered against your lips before you reconnected in another kiss.  The two of you were so busy with kisses and declarations of love that you didn’t notice the door opening and closing and Rex telling you that he’d spend the night at Cody’s to give the two of you a bit of privacy.  But you didn’t notice and you didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were together again, you still loved each other and the galaxy was at peace, giving you time to rebuild your relationship and relishing in your love. 

-------

This is short and unoriginal and corny, but after today’s episode I just had to write something about Echo and the idea of him misunderstanding your relationship with one of his brothers just popped into my head, and due to Echo’s obvious love for and trust in Rex in this episode it just had to be him 

[loveatfirstwriteblog]

A Complete Analysis of Harry Potter

Like a lot of kids, we probably grew up on Harry potter. We were obsessed and rightly so. The universe created in the world of Harry Potter was, and is, a hugely successful one because of the fact it gave kids a world where magic exists! It seemed to be a great world to live in and it made even better with the fact that it included elements of empowerment, Whether it be showing girls can be just as successful if not more in various pursuits(Hermione), or the fact that even if you have a history of bad events, you can have a good heart(Hagrid), Harry Potter teaches us a lot.

JKR has written a mind-blowing plot in a world of magic, wizards, witches, wands, potions, friendship, love. Our inner-five-year olds--and actually most of our young adult selves too--jumps around excitedly at the beautifully penned words that creates an exit out of this world and into one where magic does exist. 

As you get older, though, you begin to think of Harry Potter in a more critical fashion. The thought of “oh my god, it’s magic” no longer completely overrides my mind, but more of “but what are the laws regarding this? Can people just do this whenever they want? Are there no ethics?” 

No matter how much we’re going to expose the flaws and plot holes in HP now, we’ll always love the books--we grew up on them! But some things just niggle you as you get older, and that’s what we’re going to be focusing on in this post.

Something I adore about the HP books is that everyone, including the “good guys”, has flaws. Harry has a “save the world alone, do first, think later” complex, a driving force that makes him go save Sirius, Ron is very, very insecure to a point where he ditches Harry twice, probably when Harry needed him the most, Hermione is a judgemental, narrow-minded nag (her thoughts on Luna, divination, Trelawney, basically anything that doesn’t fit her black and white world), Molly Weasley is misogynistic and blatantly favourites her children—probably being one of the main factors behind Ron’s insecurities, Arthur is condescending towards Muggles and makes several comments you cringe at while reading the books as a young adult/adult, Sirius, Snape, and Lupin still haven’t let go of their childhood grudges and hatred, etc etc etc. 

These flaws are what make these characters so three-dimensional, so layered, so human. But the problem was, most of these flaws are never intentionally acknowledged. And honestly, that could have been such a good character arc, because the main characters are mostly students. No student is the same through their teenage years—they change, they evolve, they get over their flaws, they try to better themselves. I would have loved to see Ron becoming his own person, Hermione opening her mind up a little, etc. 

Neville is not one of my favourites, but I love his growth and development, from someone who was scared of his potions professor to a man who faced down Lord Voldemort. Ginny Weasley could have had character development, from the trauma she went through in second year, but that was never written in.  She went through this terrifying ordeal when she was only twelve years old, and jump to a year or two later and she’s absolutely fine, with no transition from her trauma whatsoever.

Some of JKR’s characters are brilliantly written and fleshed out, but some of her others lack the structure and complexity that usually comes with being vital to the plot—Ginny Weasley for one. Her internalised misogyny also plays a huge part in the way her female characters are written. We see this again in the case of how she wrote the character of Ginny. 

Ginny Weasley is not a favourite of ours (if you don’t know that by now). She feels a lot like a convenient male daydream—when she waits for Harry to notice her by dating other guys, gets annoyed by Hermione “not knowing quidditch”, etc etc—and fits the “not like other girls” archetype too much, almost like she was made for it (hint hint). She’s portrayed to be strong-willed, spunky, and independent, and I love the idea, but I really don’t see it. To me, she’s a very shallow character, the least fleshed out one. 

Just like James Potter wasn’t necessarily redeemed just because JKR said he was, and Ginny isn’t interesting just because JKR writes that she is. 

Hermione also fits the archetype, but she’s JKR’s self-insert, so we really can’t say much about that. 

To make things worse, Ginny and Hermione are pitted against each other in a very subtle way. Ginny is the sporty, pretty, flirty girl who’s never single from book 4. Hermione is the not-conventionally-attractive, nerdy girl who’s had a few dates here and there but never a relationship. They’re very different characters (the only thing they have in common is the archetype) but they’re against each other in the defence of Harry. 

Another place where JKR’s misogyny shows up is the way other girls are written. Lavender Brown is shown as vapid and immature, just because she likes clothes and boys and didn’t know how to handle her first relationship. Cho Chang is perceived as shallow because she’s emotional. Pansy Parkinson is seen to be throwing herself at Draco Malfoy. The Weasleys hated Fleur because she was beautiful and sexy and French, and that was ever really resolved in the end (Molly accepted her, but we never got Ginny’s and Hermione’s opinions again). You see where we’re getting at? The typical “girly girls” are portrayed as insipid, shallow, emotional, and boring, while girls like Hermione and Ginny are seen to be fun and multilayered. 

The problems with Harry Potter don’t just stop with non-fleshed out characters. There are plot devices that go unacknowledged, issues like blood purity—which is the basis of Voldemort’s tyranny—are never really resolved, huge Chekhov’s guns that aren’t fired. 

A common misconception, which if cleared up could probably expose a load of problems in wizarding society by itself, is that the wizarding world is racist. It’s not racist. Muggles and Muggleborns are not a different race, they’re a different class, at least according to pureblood wizards. Mudblood is a classist insult (a direct reference to nobility blueblood and aristocracy).

Another factor that wasn’t talked about but made the HP world so complex and realistic is the inherent classism in every single pureblooded wizard, including the Weasleys.

 The “Light” wizards all operate on the notion “at least I don’t kill or torture Muggles”. The Weasleys refuse to talk about Molly’s squib cousin who’s an accountant, the Longbottoms were so desperate for Neville to not be a squib they nearly killed him trying to force magic out of him, Ron makes fun of Filch for being a squib, thinks house-elves are beneath him, and confounds his driving instructor in his mid-thirties, the ministry workers kept obliviating that muggle at the quidditch World Cup, etc. 

This could have been a metaphor for how small prejudices and microaggressions (kind of the wizarding equivalent of white privilege) enable discrimination and murder, if JKR had actually acknowledged it. 

The parallel to Nazi Germany is very twisted and definitely shouldn’t be taken too far, but the Nazi ideology grew on the basis of everyday antisemitism, “that’s not that bad” little things. Voldemort’s circle and army grew because the wizard superiority complex festered and blew up in some people, egged on by a deeply classist society. 

Ultimately, Harry Potter has very, very shoddy worldbuilding, the kind of worldbuilding that’s obsessed with answering the “what” of the wizarding world, rather than the “how” or the “why”, which is strange, considering that fantasy or dystopian-era novels’ driving plots and conflicts are usually answering the questions the worldbuilding raises--The Hunger Games and The Shadowhunter Chronicles are two of the best examples of brilliantly written YA fantasy and dystopian novels. 

In HP, however, the main plot just avoids the questions the worldbuilding brings up like the bubonic plague. 

Voldemort’s agenda is built on prejudice towards Muggles and Muggleborns, but the plot just validates the negative perception of them—at the end of the day, being a wizard is what’s special. The Statute of Secrecy is the foundation of the main concept—blood supremacists believe wizards shouldn’t be hidden away—but only vague, barely-there answers are given to why it exists (a Chekhov’s gun that was never fired). 

There are love potions that function like date rape drugs (even Harry was given one by a girl who wanted him to ask her out), potions that force people to tell the truth, potions that literally let you disguise yourself as another person, but the ethics are never talked about, and the laws are so lax that three twelve-year-olds broke them and were never caught. 

But at the same time, the worldbuilding is so authentic, because it transforms the wizarding world into straight-up fridge horror. The everyday horrors are just accepted and rolled with. A corrupt government, constant obliviation of Muggles, slavery that isn’t even talked about. These things aren’t obvious to us as readers, or to the wizards as characters, because they match up to the real world, which is filled with things that are horrifying if you dig deeper. The multiple, normalised forms of abuse, police brutality, the violence in prisons that nothing is done about, the glaringly obvious cultural problems we have with consent, etc. 

The abusive authoritative figures in HP, like Rufus Scrimgeour, Cornelius Fudge, Dumbledore, Umbridge, etc, are so authentic because real-life politicians and people in high places of power behave that way, and their abuse is excused. 

The wizarding world is just like the real world. Corrupt, prejudiced, messed up, but if you’re privileged, or at least have certain privileges, you’re probably not going to notice. The ultimate problem is that the plot doesn’t acknowledge a lot of fridge horror things are messed up either, which is why it miserably fails. 

[qqueenofhades]

Okay, y'all. Time to do this one more time. Let the fact that there are so many of these posts right now reinforce the point. Many of you already know this, and I see and love you, but for anyone still ~undecided about their choice, should they be an American citizen of voting age on November 3, 2020:

Time to not be. It was time a long, long while ago, but I am going to have to say it again.

Primary season is over. The endless fine-tooth combing of candidates' policies and positions is over. We are all deeply well aware that the candidates on the Democratic ticket, being human beings and establishment politicians, are flawed. "BUT WHAT ABOUT THIS POSITION FROM 19/ 20-WHENEVER AS JUSTIFICATION FOR WHY IT'S TERRIBLE TO VOTE FOR -- "

No. Stop. Just stop. Stop threatening to hold the rest of us hostage, in the middle of a pandemic, the Great Depression, and racial inequality and protests on a scale not seen from the 1960s, because you did not get Barbie Dream Candidate. That is the behavior of terrorists and toddlers. If your supposedly enlightened morally pure ideology does not involve any action to mitigate the harm that is directly in front of you, it isn't worth a shit as an ideology actually devoted to helping people. If your approach to politics is to shout about how Pure your ideas are on twitter and tear down anyone working within a system of flawed choices to do the good that they can: you're not helping, and frankly, your constant threats to withhold your suffrage as a punishment to us aren't convincing the rest of us that we really need to listen to you or that you have anyone's best interests at heart. The Online Left TM is as much a vacuous, self-reinforcing noise chamber as the Online Right TM, and can sometimes tend to be even more dangerous.

I was saying this in 2016. A lot of us were saying this in 2016. I am just about to turn 32 years old and have been voting in federal elections for almost 15 years. For what it's worth.

This is not an ordinary election. This is not a contest between two flawed candidates who respect the system and want to work to enact their policies in the ordinary way. One is a flawed 90s era Democrat who nonetheless has already been pushed CONSIDERABLY left in his policies and platforms since the end of the primaries (and his existing platform would already make him the most left president elected, even more than Obama). The other is a fascist dictator who has openly spoken about refusing to accept the election results, his desire to abolish term limits and serve for life, and complete the pillaging of any remaining fragile American public funds for him and his cult of cronies. He does not respect the system. He does not want to do anything for anyone that is not himself. 160,000 and counting needless deaths of American citizens have already happened. Will keep happening.

This is the last time Trump has to face voters. This is the last chance the country has to repudiate his entire poisonous ideology and its marching Nazi minions. IF he steps aside, which is already far from guaranteed, he can ride off into the sunset as a vindicated two term president and probably be rehabilitated like George W. Bush was within a few years of leaving office. American political memory is very short. It will happen. Again, if he even leaves.

RBG is 87 and has cancer again. She will NOT survive another four years. Stephen Breyer is 81. Their seats could both come up in the next four years. The Supreme Court could be a right wing rubber stamp for whatever time we all have left before climate change and coronavirus kill us all.

"But if people just thought for themselves and did their homework and didn't vote the party line like sheep, we could support a third party/write in -- " Stop. Just stop. Attend a ninth grade civics class and learn about how politics work in America. Yes, the two-party system sucks. Yes, the Electoral College is a hot steaming pile of absolute bullshit. Magical unicorn fairy dust fantasies WILL NOT change that.

Do not vote for Kanye (who has pretty much openly admitted he is trying to play spoiler to Biden on behalf of his buddy Trump). Do not vote for godforsaken fucking Gary Johnson or Jill Stein who appear on ballots just to give sanctimonious leftists the illusion of virtue-signaling. If you want any chance of fixing the mess that 2020 has left America and the world in, you need to vote for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. The end.

Biden is a flawed old man who was our last choice, sure. He is also a distinguished public servant who has already been in the White House for eight years under Obama and thus we KNOW what to expect. He is an empathetic man who connects with people's personal tragedy and picked as his running mate a younger Black/biracial woman who directly confronted and called him out on past behavior. While the pundit class was simpering and whining about how it was Disrespectful and how could he consider her, Biden did so, and that speaks well to me of the fact that he is willing to learn, to take criticism, and not just accept it from a former Black female rival, but make her his second in command and the potential first female president of the United States.

Can you EVER picture Trump doing that? Not in eight thousand million years.

As for Kamala, we are all aware of her previous checkered history as a prosecutor (and even then, she did plenty of good things as well!). Since joining the Senate, however, she has consistently become one of its most progressive members. She is the co-sponsor of an economic aid package designed to give every American $2,000/month, backdated to March (the start of the coronavirus pandemic) and continuing at least a few months after its end. A Biden-Harris White House could make that happen. Especially if they are put into office with a Democratic House and Senate (for the love of God, Kentucky, kill Mitch McConnell with fire). That is just one example.

Harris's nomination is obviously historic. And Biden didn't choose another Biden (or another Tim Kaine, the blandest white man imaginable). He chose another Obama: a younger rising star of an immigrant background, a person of color, a former lawyer and someone who represents the diversity of the country that the white supremacists and the Cheeto in Chief have tried to paint as its worst and most degenerate evil.

A vote for Biden and Harris means getting rid not just of Trump, but Mike Pence, Vladimir Putin, Jared Kushner, Betsy Devos, the Trump crony destroying the Postal Service, the rampant coronavirus misinformation and bullshit, the destruction of Social Security and Medicare, the spread of Nazi propaganda from the President's twitter account, the likely two Supreme Court picks that would be as bad as Brett Kavanaugh or worse... on and on. Biden and Harris would be elected by progressive voters and thus answerable to them in 2022 midterms and 2024 general. They can both be, and already have been, pushed further left. They are reasonable and competent adults who have demonstrated experience and compassion. I KNOW about their flaws and past actions I don't agree with. But I'm frankly done with any more counterproductive straw man bitching about This One Bad Thing They Did and how it makes it a terribad awful choice to vote for them. Open your eyes. Look at the alternative. LOOK AT WHAT HAS ALREADY HAPPENED AND THE FACT THAT THIS IS NOT EVEN AS BAD AS IT COULD STILL GET.

Check your registration or register at vote.gov.

DO NOT LOOK AT POLLS AND DECIDE "EH BIDEN IS CLEARLY GOING TO WIN, I DON'T NEED TO VOTE." THAT IS HOW WE LOST LAST TIME.

Unseating incumbents is HARD. It is even harder when the other side has openly laid out their plan to cheat in great detail, and there is nothing really stopping them from doing it. The only thing, in fact, is massive, unfalsifiable results on an undeniable scale.

So:

Vote.

Vote for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris.

Thanks a lot.

[bitch-for-a-rainbow]

So there's a blanddcheadcanons post that says that "Kara is the mortal avatar of Rao" and I really don't like it, especially in the context of SG 3x04 (The Faithful). At best, as was pointed out to me by a friend with whom I discussed this post, the House of El is likely blessed and somewhat sponsored by Rao, which probably doesn't do much but produce Krypton's greatest heroes, given what the word "El" **means** in Kryptonian. I'm interested in your thoughts on this (pls post your answer).

    I reject the headcannon solely because if it were true it would mean Coville was right and I fucking hate that bitch.

     In all seriousness, though, this is an idea I've seen a lot and I'm not a huge fan of. I don't know much about Raoism beyond what appears in the show and that which can be inferred off of the show. One thing I would point out though is that El in Kryptonian (while obviously being intended to mean God by the original comic writers) can mean Sun or Stars, and since the Kryptonians in the show are, as far as I can tell, monotheistic, and worshipped only one particular star, the El family is not necessarily named God. It would, however, signify their enormous prestige on Krypton and contribute to the famous El pride (or rather, arrogance). I’m not sure it would necessarily have to mean anything more than that-- that the Els are a respected house who have produced a variety of successful politicians, civil servants, and scientists. And (this time reaching a little bit) that they are perhaps so old and respected that their house name was once a title. 

      There is a certain allure to the theory, for sure. Kara is a paragon character. She always, always does what she thinks is right, regardless of the cost, personal or global, and regardless of what other people might think of it. She has a very direct moral compass, and there are only a handful of times when she doesn’t follow it, all of which involve saving Lena. Ship who you want, but it is notable that Kara routinely prioritzes Lena’s life over that of others given the rarity of that happening otherwise. She never even considered breaking Rick Thompson’s father out of prison when he kidnapped Alex, and all he’d committed was bank robbery. Kara has lines she does not cross (though murder is clearly not one of them). She is a character that has seen some of the worst that sentient life is capable of, has seen more death and suffering than most people could imagine, and she came out of it with an all-encompassing desire to protect others. She lives to give people hope. Plus, the humor of having Kara-- the one person most offended by the idea of being an Avatar of Rao-- turn out to be an Avatar of Rao is great.

       But, I would also say that having Kara want to do good because she is the avatar of a benevolent god is reductive and not particularly true to her character. It is true that helping and protecting people is a large part of the core of who Kara is. But there is a difference between altruism and the self-destructive, bordering of suicidal desperation to save absolutely everyone that Kara practices. And to anyone who doubts the suicidal bit, I direct you to the season 1 finale where Kara literally goes on a goodbye tour because she thinks if she goes out to fight Non she’ll die. She still goes because she has hope, but that hope is that she can at least save Earth with her life. She doesn’t fight because she is certain in the ultimate victory of good and justice. She does it because she more afraid to lose another family than she is to die. Kara doesn’t become Supergirl and risk her own life because she believes in good, she does it because she can’t stand to listen to people suffer-- because she has suffered. To use Alex’s words in 1x13 “You fight everyday to keep people from struggling like you have.” Notably also in 1x13, Kara wakes up from the Black Mercy and her first words are “Who did this to me?” and then she goes after Non in what could arguably be described as a homicidal rage-- a rage that is fueled entirely for personal reasons, not the greater good of Earth (though that comes as an added benefit), which is.... not very befitting the avatar of a benevolent god. 

     A major part of season 1 is Kara dealing with grief and rage. She nearly breaks a guy's arm in episode 6 because he screamed at her for damaging his car, to hell with the children he'd almost hit with it. In season 3's Midvale flashbacks we see her first put both hands through a lunch table, then attack Jake when she suspects him for Kenny's death. She gets better at controlling it as the seasons progress, but during Crisis she very nearly melts Lex. Also not particularly godly of her. 

     Then there is the fact that so much of who Kara is is shaped by fear: fear of the government, fear of humanity, fear of abandonment, and fear of herself. In her civilian life, Kara is, for the most part, unnoticeable. She's polite, soft-spoken, doesn't wear a lot of bold colors or styles, and is often a pushover. As shown by her encounter with Red Kryptonite, Kara would not dress or speak the same way to people without the pressure of hiding her identity (though much of her dialogue is purely the loss of her "don't be an asshole" filter, some of it is stuff she had every right to say before and just didn't). I have always found that episode to be very interesting purely for the fact that Kara doesn't actually seem to be seeking harm on others so much as seeking their attention. Her argument with Alex is almost entirely about how much she hates having to hide and pretend to be less than she is. Kara drops Cat off the balcony and then catches her. She attacks the police when they point weapons at her but doesn't kill or even hurt them that badly, instead of destroying the car they're using as shelter. Red-K removed her inhibitions, made her angrier, yes, but if her goal was to actually hurt people, she could have done so-- would have done so, and with great ease. She goes to a public bar and uses super strength to smash bottles by flicking peanuts. Why do that at a crowded bar? Why not just flick potato chips at the windows in her own apartment?

      This is Kara at her absolute worst-- but does she seek out the DEO agents who shot her out of the sky? Does she go after Maxwell Lord or Non? No. She tries to make people pay attention to her. Her most shameful and hideous desire is for people to give her respect. (Admittedly, respect gained through fear, but still.). Kara's a nice person-- much, much nicer than average-- but a lot of that "nice" is just her avoiding conflict to avoid attention.

      Kara is a good person. Kara inspires people. But that is because Kara gets up every day and chooses to be good and to inspire. It's one of the reasons I enjoy Non as a villain so much-- he and Astra are Kara's narrative foils. They also remember Krypton and grieve its loss. They also were trapped in the Phantom Zone. But where Kara had the Danvers to convince her that some good people existed and would risk themselves just to help others, Non and Astra had Alura sentencing them to eternal suffering rather than helping them save their planet (through the means they thought necessary) and then landed on Earth and found it headed on the same path as the planet they'd just lost. Kara had people to help her grieve. Non and Astra were surrounded by misery. They lost hope. Kara discovered it.

     Kara is the Paragon of Hope because she has been hopeless. Because she has suffered so much, seen so much, and because she chooses to believe in a better future. She didn't have hope her first time in the Phantom Zone. She didn't even have hope for a while on earth. From what we can gather, Kara's choice to start actually believing in the future was a gradual shift that occurred sometime after Kenny's death and has lasted her ever since. For Kara, hope is learned. She chose to hope and she won't let it go, and to assign that incredible victory off to her being a God is an insult to her growth and to her character. 

   Now I personally thought “The Faithful” handled this concept very well. 3x04 is one of my favorite episodes of television in general, let alone in Supergirl. Season 3 is my second favorite season, and that says a lot for its good episodes when the bad of season 3 is so, so very bad (To say nothing of the episode to episode production value, we have the waste of Argo, Mon El’s return as obviously he’s grown he has a beard Mon El, and whatever the hell was going on with Kryptonian genetic engineering eclipse causing witches). To this day I don’t know why Kara had magic dreams. The show did nothing to explain it and I can’t imagine up a reason. 

     But “The Faithful” works because it highlights the whole paragon part of who Kara is. When you realize that every person in the room of Coville’s cult is a person she has personally saved-- that hits hard. Especially since only a fraction of the people she’s saved would ever set foot inside that building with the totally not-creepy, entirely wholesome way they deliver the invitations. (“Your daughter is special. She has been chosen. As have you.”) It works because it focuses on how the average human must view Kara, the ones who don’t see her argue with her sister over potstickers and crush her phone when she gets mad. It works because of how desperately hard Kara tries to be a human. It works because the writers know that we, the audience, do not see Kara as anything but a regular person with irregular abilities: a kind and remarkably devoted person, but not a god. 

[kellykadesperate]

a lil teaser for the football fic with no name yet!

It’s pissing down. The umbrella he’s holding earns its forty quid by staying up right as the wind whacks against his back and pushes him further towards the pitch.

Robert looks up and hears a few Brighton fans laughing and joking, cheering about seagulls or something as they make their way out. Robert knows no Hotten fans are around, they’d be fools if they wanted to stay to hear the other team banging on about absolutely thrashing them on their own ground.

The result just so happens to be the icing on the already shit cake he’s got to eat for the next few months.

And he can’t quite believe it.

Robert moves his foot onto the pitch and watches as his shoe seeps into the sodden grass, sinks down into the mud further and further. That does it, it’s the cherry on top as he yanks out his phone and scowls down at Lawrence’s number, it takes all of two seconds for him to answer the call.

“Oh Robert, you’ve arrived then?”

“What sort of shit is this you’re playing at?”

And maybe, maybe it’s no way to speak to him but he does because right now he couldn’t give an absolute shit.

“What does that mean?”

“Hotten?” Robert spins around and stares up at the empty stands. “Hotten?” He shudders. “When you said a team’s interested in signing you for the season, that it’d be a good opportunity to get me fit again, I thought you meant West Ham or Wolves, not –”

“Hotten are a good team.”

Robert knows what that means, it’s means they’ve got heart and passion and Match Of The Day say they play brave football sometimes. It doesn’t mean they’re successful.

“Aren’t they bottom of the table?”

Lawrence says absolutely nothing for a second and then he clears his throat. “Not for much longer.”

Robert doesn’t know what to do, or what to say, because it’s all sounding like he’s their miracle worker and that definitely does something for his self-esteem, something that he needs after being on the sidelines for over a year.

For a second, the smallest second, he feels like a little boy wanting someone to say he’s special. He remembers being a lanky sixteen-year-old signing the contracts and having Lawrence tell him that he has a lot of potential to make it into the first team. He absolutely hates himself for it.

“What so … you think I can actually make a difference?”

Go on. Robert wants to say. Compliment me right now.

Lawrence is predictable, he says he should make a difference and Robert’s got all that weight pressed on his shoulders again.

“I didn’t agree to this.” Robert bites, slips back into himself. “I agreed to stretch my legs, have an opportunity outside of Leeds but this … it’s …”

It’s degrading. It’s taking a league champion and plunging him into a team that are lucky to still be amongst all the others. It’s telling everyone Robert’s career is over, that he’s not bounced back from his injury and he’ll never be who he was before it happened.

And it’s not like Robert doesn’t know that himself. It’s what keeps him up at night.

“Happening whether you like it or not.” Lawrence says. “I don’t think you know how lucky you are.”

“Lucky?” Robert knows he should be grateful about a lot of things going on in his life but how can he be in his career. “I was the best of the best and then I get kicked in the knee so hard I needed surgery. And now, now I’m not needed anymore, and now I’m standing on a pitch that looks like it’s quick sand and …”

Robert looks up and sees someone staring at him.

“If you would like to come with me.”

Robert wouldn’t actually. He hangs up by the phone and then stares down at the time. It’s nearly nine, the team’s probably gone by now and for some reason that makes his shoulders relax a little.

Robert walks with the woman in silence, she prattles on about the stadium, its history and the trophy cabinet. He passes it and doesn’t look back; it might as well be empty.                                              

“We���re really happy that you’ve decided to come and see us.” He finds out that the woman, Vanessa, is part of the medical team and she makes him feel a little important until he’s walking towards an office and being told to wait outside for a second.

Robert rolls his eyes, leans back against the wall and then spots Clive, his manager walking towards him. He shoots off the wall and shakes his head.

“Is this where you say there’s been a mistake or something?” Robert says. “As in you’ve told Lawrence where to go?”

Clive shakes his umbrella against the floor and runs a hand through his hair. “No.” He says. “Because it’s this or sitting up in the stands watching younger kids pass your club records. So suck it up.”

Robert bites his gum hard. “I could fire you; you know that?”

Clive scoffs, “Yeah? Try finding someone dumb enough to replace me.”

Robert scowls and then the door opens to reveal a very pink Paddy Kirk standing there looking like he’s going to be sick.

“Hello.” Paddy waves a hand out and Robert does his best not to roll his eyes. He knows about Paddy; he went viral last season for asking an interviewer to repeat a question three times because he couldn’t understand it. He’s hapless and yet somehow he stays around. “Um, come this way.”

Paddy tries to show him to the only empty seat in the room like he has to, and Robert sits down awkwardly. He’s staring at Pollard and the back of someone’s head until he turns and sees that it’s Aaron Dingle. He looks about as pissed as Robert feels and it relaxes Robert for a second in this really weird way until he realises that Aaron should be kissing his feet. He’s saving his club.

“Hi Robert, glad you could join us.” Pollard says, and then he brings his hands together and smiles. “We’re all glad you’re here.”

Robert could do without the pleasantries so he just nods.

“I hope I’m not treading on anyone’s toes.” Robert says after a few seconds of just staring at Dingle looking like he’s about to throw Pollard through the window.

“Oh no, nothing like that.” Pollard says. Only Aaron just has to scoff, pull his head into his hands and sighs. He’s acting like a kid who’s been told he can’t play outside even when his older brother can.

“So there is a problem?” Robert says, he stares right at Dingle as he speaks.

Aaron scowls. “We’re rival teams you know.” It’s the first thing that comes out of his mouth. It tells Robert all he needs to know.

Robert laughs.

“What?” Aaron wants to deck him already it seems.

“We’re hardly in the same league. Pun intended.” Robert has this smile on his face. Aaron looks like he wants to punch him.

Aaron only sits up straighter. He looks like he’s going to explode. “You ain’t being a hero here, let’s get that straight now.”

It’s Robert’s turn to scowl. “Did I dream that result you just got?”

“More than you’ve got recently.” Aaron blurts out and Robert can’t help but find his anger a little amusing.

Robert’s eyes flicker. “Is that right?”

Aaron nods his head so vigorously and then looks back at Pollard. “Surely if we need someone, we should get someone who’s actually fit enough to make a difference.”

“Aaron.” Paddy whispers.

Robert smiles. “No. Let him carry on, let him be the captain that watches his team lose 6-1 every week. It’s not my fault you couldn’t step up to lead this lot.”

“What did you just ...” Aaron stands up like he’s going to do something, his eyes are wide and blue, and he probably thinks his towering over Robert when in reality he isn’t. He looks like an idiot.

“Aaron.” Paddy stands too, shakes his head at Aaron and Clive starts speaking about how he won’t let Robert be undermined like this, by the likes of this football club.

Robert sits back, waits for Aaron to sit down again and then he looks at Pollard.

“I deserve some respect.”

“Of course you do. All my players do.” Pollard says, like a politician trying to appease the crowds.

Robert sits forward and then looks at the way Aaron is bouncing his leg again like some sort of caged animal or something. He knows about Aaron, the underdog, the hero of the hour, the down to earth lad from the small village with a big dream.

Robert knows that he’s good at what he does. It doesn’t mean anything now.

“Of course.” Clive says. “But if Aaron doesn’t show respect, than none of his players will.”

Aaron breathes in deeply, everyone hears it. Robert can’t help but think he’s the most dramatic person he’s ever met.

“Fine.” Aaron mutters. “I just ain’t keen on us becoming Sugden FC.”

“Could make a change from Dingle FC.” Robert shrugs his shoulders, it’s not really helpful but he can’t help himself.

Aaron scowls at him, if looks can kill and all that.

“You work around us, not us around you.” Aaron says, like he’s the one in charge of the demands made around here.

“We’ll make this work.” Paddy keeps nodding his head like if he says it over and over again it’ll actually happen.

“Why don’t I have someone give you a tour of the place whilst me and Clive talk business?” Pollard says.

Paddy shoots up to do it, stupid smile on his face and says he’ll lead the way. “Aaron can come and …”

Aaron’s already by the door. “I’m shattered, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says, and Robert tells himself it’s the wind that slams the door and not Aaron and his stupid self.

[soyforramen]

Prompt: betty, jughead, the same hooded/masked figure keeps showing up at their door on Halloween. Creepy or funny? Your choice!

(This is so much better than trying to figure out elasticity of demand, and I absolutely cracked myself up with this, so thank you)

xxx

“Howdy neighbor!” 

Jughead gritted his teeth and nodded at Brett.  Betty elbowed him in the side, smoothly turning it into a wave. While neither of them really liked their neighbors across the street (at least it wasn’t Donna outside setting up the Halloween display), they had to pretend to be polite for a little while.

“Good morning Brett!  Already hard at work I take it.”

“Someone’s got to take back the Pumpkin King title from Southside Lane,” Brett said as he leaned on his pitchfork.  His truck was loaded up with enough hay bales and pumpkins to start a petting zoo.  “Let’s bring some pride back to this neighborhood.”

“It’s fucking September,” Jughead muttered. 

In Brett’s yard was the most benign, suburban version of Halloween.  Pumpkins carved with emojis, hay bales impaled with cartoonish, oversized bats, and gravestones with terrible puns (though Betty had to admit the, I was hoping for a pyramid was pretty amusing).  It was everything that Jughead hated about Halloween, and Betty couldn’t help but be tickled at the thought of him having to see it every morning.  

Jughead grumbled, the rain clouds over his head darkening with every second spent looking at the set up.  

“Good luck with it.  Looking good,” Betty called out.  She herded Jughead and the rest of the groceries into the car, already stifling a laugh at the rant she knew would be coming. 

Nancy Thompson let out a scream just as a knock came from the door.  Jughead and Betty glanced at each other - neither were expecting company, nor had they ordered anything.  Betty set aside her laptop and padded towards the door.  She peeked through the peephole and gasped.  

“Jughead,” she hissed.  

He glanced up and she waved him over.

“What the hell?” he whispered when he looked through the peephole.  “Is that -“

“Somebody dressed up in a Regan mask?” 

“I knew this place was upper middle class, but …”

“But why?” 

Jughead stepped away from the door and shrugged.  “Probably a bunch of high school kids playing a prank.”  

“Still…”

Betty stood on tip-toe to peer through the door.  “And, they’re gone.  I’m going to post this on Nextdoor, certainly we can’t be the only ones who’ve had Regan show up at their door.”

“Honestly zombie Regan would be the best thing that could happen this year,” Jughead said as he walked back to the couch.  

“I’d rather have zombie Nixon.  At least he was impeached,” Betty said, following him to watch Glenn fall into a deep sleep.

Xxx

One week later, and they were watching Keanu Reeves go on a face journey through Transylvania.  The door rang, and Jughead groaned.  Betty snuggled in closer to his side and they both ignored the doorbell.  Insistently, it rang again and again, only to stop suddenly.  He untangled himself from her and went to the door.

“I swear, if it’s Archie needing a ladder again … It’s Obama,” he whispered.

“What?” 

Jughead shushed her.  “I think it’s that weirdo again.  Only they’re in an Obama mask this time.”

Betty rushed towards the door and pushed him aside.  “What the hell?”

As she watched, the figure turned and walked off into the darkness of night.  She waited until the figure left, and cracked open the door.  

“Gone again.”  Jughead stepped onto front porch, Betty close behind, but they couldn’t see any sign of life.  “What did your Nextdoor people have to say.”

“You mean our neighbors?” Betty shook her head and pulled out her phone.  “No one else has seen anything, but Mr. Tate’s cat escaped again, so you might want to slow down when you turn the corner.”

“Hey guys!”  

They turned to find Archie, their next door neighbor, waving at them from his garage.  

“Do you think I could borrow your ladder?”

Xxxx

Two weeks until Halloween, and the neighborhood had exploded in festive decorations.  The Blossoms’ two story manse had exploded in gothic horror decor imported from the south of France - “Allegedly,” Jughead had snarked - while the Lodge-Andrews had gone with simple, yet tasteful hints of the season.   Along with the change in temperature had come an orange, passive-aggressive reminder about the HOA’s suggestion that every house participate in celebrating the holidays as a way to join the neighborhood in camaraderie. 

“Let’s just put out a pumpkin -“

“No, not happening,” Jughead snapped.  “I didn’t buy a house just to have some yuppie board - who aren’t even elected -“

“Just because you protested voting doesn’t mean they weren’t elected,” Betty reminded him. 

“-Trying to control how I spend my time and money, it’s, it’s…”

“Un-American?” 

“Immoral!  To take a commercial holiday like Halloween, meant to sell more candy and increase dental decay, and turn it into some requirement -“

A knock at the door and a cheery voice cut through their argument.  They both cursed when they realized who it was.  Jughead stalked off to the basement and Betty made a mental note that this was the third time he’d left her to deal with the Westen Wallis’ alone.  

“For better or worse my ass,” she muttered as she went to the door.  

“Guten Morgen, neighbors!  Donna made of her famous delectable pumpkin Tartts’ Tarts -“

“Tarts from the tart,” Betty muttered before she opened the door with a wide smile.  “Why thank you, this is ever so thoughtful.  And me without anything else to send back with you.”

Brett’s smile grew, and Betty feared for her soul.  “Actually, I don’t know if you saw the flyer -“

“Yes, about the Halloween decorations?  I just don’t know if we’ll get to it this year.  Jughead’s been so busy with school, and I’ve -“

“It’s just that it’s a traditions, you know.  And we do it for the kids,” Brett said.  Betty slowly shut the door, but he continued moving to keep eye contact.  “It’s the talk of the town, and it would -“

His words muffled and Betty walked straight to the kitchen and dumped the tarts into the trash.  

“You owe me Jones,” she yelled out on her way upstairs.

xxx

“Why doesn’t she just go outside again?” Betty asked. 

Black Christmas, while not technically a horror movie, was still on Jughead’s required October Horror-Thon, as well as on his anti-commerical-Christmas playlist.  Despite seeing it twice a year for the last fifteen years, Betty still hadn’t gotten a good answer out of him for the seemingly huge plot idiocy.

“Horror movie rules,” Jughead said through a mouthful of popcorn.  “If she goes outside, they don’t have a way to establish how big of a threat the killer is.”

“Then why doesn’t he just wait outside to kill her?”

“That’s not -“

A knock came from the door, and Betty gave him a look.  

“I dealt with your neighbor this morning.”

“You’re right, it was terrible and treacherous of me, I’m a terrible husband,” Jughead said.  He kissed Betty on the tip of her nose and she pulled him down to meet his lips.  The knock came again and they both rolled their eyes.  

“Don’t forget to put out your pumpkin,” Betty called in a sing-song voice. “Who is it this time?”

“Taft or Cleveland.  Which one had a mustache?” he asked as he turned towards her. 

“Both of them I think.”

“Do you think if I tell them we’re socio-anarchists they’ll go away?”

Betty snorted.  

He opened the door and leaned over.  “At least they left a ransom note this time.”  

Jughead closed the door and double checked the locks while he waved an orange paper at Betty.  

“Let me guess, decorations?” Betty took the paper from him and squinted at the paper.  “Does that say pumpkin or party favor?”

“Either way I refuse to participate.  Did you fast forward this?”

xxx

The day before Halloween, and Jughead braced himself for the onslaught of gaudy, irredeemable tons of plastic and paper decorations that would end up in the trash two days later.  A waste of good materials, and all for what?  A waste of a perfectly good holiday, that’s what.  

He squinted against the morning sun, throwing his school bag into the back of the car.  Seven AM came far too early when all the parents wanted to argue about last night was whether or not Halloween costumes should be allowed rather than thinking about shifting some of the football budget towards something more useful, like new textbooks.  

“Ohayogozimasu!”  Brett chirped from across the street. He looked both ways - twice - and jogged his way over to where Jughead stood.  

Jughead dropped his head and counted to ten.  He wasn’t caffeinated enough for this. 

“Hello, Brett.”

“I see you haven’t put anything out for Halloween yet.  I have some extra decorations if you want.”

Murder is not an option, Jughead thought in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Betty.  Especially when my commute is only ten minutes, the voice reminded him.

“No, thank you Brett.”

“Are you sure?  Because I know you and Betty have only been here for a few months, but we’re all really big -“

“No, thank you, Brett,” Jughead said through gritted teeth.  

Brett held up his hands and smiled that inane politician smile of his.  “Okay, but if you change your mind…”

“Goodbye, Brett,” Jughead said as he opened his door.  Safe in his now locked car, Jughead dropped his head to the steering wheel and reminded himself that they’d moved here because of Betty, for Betty’s career, and it didn’t matter how idiotic the rest of the world was, not when -

A tapping on the glass and Jughead rethought over the consequences of manslaughter.  Ten to fifteen wouldn’t be that bad.

“Yes, Brett,” he said after he’d cracked the glass.

“Just wanted to remind you that me and the missus are having a little get together tonight about Halloween candy -“

Jughead slipped the car in reverse and let it roll towards the street.  Brett jogged to catch up.

“-After all, we don’t want the children -“

It wasn’t until Bon Nuit street that Brett finally peeled off to finish his early morning jog on Stonewall street, that Jughead could breath a sigh a relief.

Xxx

“That was ad libbed,” Jughead said through a mouthful of noodles.

“What?  The dominatrix suit?” Betty asked.  She stole his wonton and he put up a fight even though they both knew he’d have given her his entire order if she asked.

“‘Jesus wept.’  Originally it was supposed to be ‘Fuck off.’”

“Good change.”

The knock at the door came again, and both residents slammed their bowls down.  Together they walked to the door and jerked it open.  George Washington, sans dentures, stared at them.  

“Well?  What do you want?” Betty asked, arms crossed.

The figure held out a sheet, and Jughead shook his head.   “No more games.”

With a growl, the figure yanked off the mask to reveal …

“Donna?” 

“Put out a damn pumpkin,” Donna snapped.  “I have been listening to Brett bitch for the last month, and if I have to listen to one more -“ she pitched up her voice and in a simpering tone said, “-Betty and Jughead I will murder everyone on this block.” 

Donna threw the paper at Jughead and stalked off into the night.  

“And put up a damn snowman in December,” she yelled.

Betty and Jughead exchanged glances.  

“No decorations?”  she asked.

He smirked.  “No decorations.”

[kimberly-spirits13]

Right Hand Man (Loyal to the End) Pt. 2

Pairing: Damian Wayne x reader

Synopsis: You were like Talia’s daughter. The only thing was that you weren’t and instead, you had grown up in the foster care system and at a young age were taken by and personally trained by Talia. Along the way, you meet Damian and the two of you start to work side by side and eventually, after some time become closer and closer. However, when disaster in the league strikes, you face balancing an old, forgotten life as a normal child and the burden of right hand to the demon heir.

Also, I didn’t want to have Damian so young in this so just go with it. I’m thinking maybe early 15 or almost 16 at the most. Idk I just don’t like writing for young Dami.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2273

Pt. 1

        You walked around the squad that you were assigned to watch over this morning. It was an easy viewing as you picked out each mistake that was made by the fighters. The objective of this time was to make improvements in skills where needed in the time that you were waiting for Damian to arrive for sparing. Now that you were older, the two of you trained outside almost to set an example for the rest of the members in lower ranks. It was almost a shaming method as well. Look at these two teenagers, they are years ahead of you in skill and training.

        A few minutes of this routine had passed. You were getting tired of no action yourself. Damian must have been attending to some private matters since he was never late. Talia made sure of that for one part. Eventually, the mood shifted into something even more serious and focused and you knew that he had entered the training grounds.

        “How kind of you to finally show up.” You said drawing your sword.

        “I had previous arrangements to attend to.” Damian returned taking his own sword in hand.

        “An eventful morning for the demon.”

        “Indeed, it was General.”

        You could tell that there were eyes on you the entire time that the two of you were training. It wasn’t uncommon but for the longest time, it took a while to get used to in the start of this newer training environment. Eventually you did get very accustomed to it and started playing harder. It was important to look like you really had the best training and grasp of what you were doing. Otherwise you were a bigger target. That was something you didn’t want under any circumstances. Damian didn’t mind. Instead, he seemed to like the challenge you presented. It wasn’t often in the field he ever got any sort of action like this. It was pretty typical for take downs to be easy, child’s play really. At least, that’s what he liked to think of it.

        For what started feeling like hours, you and Damian trained along with the rest of the recruits. It was sweltering hot outside. The sun’s heat beat down on everyone there without any sign of stopping. The cloudless sky offered no shelter from the rays either. You finally defeated Damian for the last time. Your fights would go until the other slipped up and then they’d start over until you both new that it was time to leave.

        “You haven’t heard anything about strange happenings or something of concern of late have you?” You asked entering the building.

        “No, I didn’t. Today was a common briefing of training and education. I anticipate you will have a meeting with mother at a later time over the same subjects.” Damian replied as the two of you turned into a different hallway heading to the cafeteria, “Mother was acting strange this morning however. I do not know if it has to do with our shared concerns.”

        You didn’t say anything, instead you just nodded before the two of you entered the giant room that everyone sat and ate in. There were different rooms situated inside for different ranks but mostly everyone sat together. It was difficult to escape the people which was something that was meant to be established but for the top players. They stuck together. That’s another reason why you and Damian were so close.

        “I want you to sit with me today instead of with the other group.” Damian said as the two of you took what you wanted for lunch and walked to where he and his mother always sat and ate. Talia was to be late today because of matters she was handling by herself. You two sat in silence for some time.

        “The recruits seemed ... mostly normal for the decent part of today.” You said, “In other words, there have been no red flags of anything internal. I walked around the entirety of the grounds to check.”

        “Maybe Mother and Grandfather are planning something that will just be sudden.” Damian pondered out loud, “We most likely won’t have to worry about it.”

        “It will probably affect me more than you.” You commented, “I’m pretty certain that you’d be safer when it came to some mass elimination scheme.”

        “You should be confident in your place among the League.”

        “I am, I just know that things can change at the random.” “That’s what makes it exciting around here.” “You know, other than the constant threat of being killed.”

        Damian spared you a smirk at the comment but nothing else. You saw it and knew he understood for some part.

        “Where is your next mission?” He asked.

        “It’s to Italy.” “I should only be gone for two, maybe three days at most.” “It’s basic kill a diplomat here, a politician there kind of mission before you ask.”

        Damian cocked a brow, “How did you know I’d ask?”         “You always do al Ghul.”

        “That is the one part of your training and job that I envy.”

        “And that is?” You asked.

        “You get to go and actually do things outside of the League’s headquarters and fight.” He answered simply.

        “Don’t let your mother hear that.” You chuckled only a bit to yourself.

        It was only in times like these or even just only on the roof tops that you’d ever let yourself crack a smile or make anything close to a joke. It was the only time you’d actually be even a sliver of yourself around someone. That is, whatever of yourself was left from all of these years spent here. You thought that what you did was important. It kept your branch of the League together even. Assigned to watch over Damian and be his right hand, that is what you defined yourself by. It was always position to you. Whether you liked it or not, this wasn’t the place to be friendly or all that different from the rest besides in skill and ruthlessness.

        “We’d better get to our class.” You said breaking the silence that came between you two.

        Damian stood up followed by you and the two of you headed to your tutoring session. It wasn’t long before this was over, in fact today was probably the last you’d see your teacher alive.

_______________________________________________________________________

        The tutor seemed to know just as well as you and Damian that this was their last day probably seeing the light of day. The room that the two of you were seated in was a well- lit room with only a table and large chalk board. You could practically feel the nervous energy that your tutor was radiating today. It got worse and worse every day leading up to it. You almost wanted to feel bad for him but you didn’t. That’s where you sometimes come to question the League. It was always taught in some lessons that it was human nature to be compassionate and not disassociate from others. People were supposed to need and feel for each other. You didn’t though. The League made sure of that very quickly.

        The lesson was quick, you didn’t really care much about what the tutor was saying. It was mainly just an overview of what you and Damian had learned. You two exchanged looks at the end of the session before walking out of the room. Talia was there with another recruit. You knew what the other was there to do when he walked into the room you were just in, you didn’t know however why Talia was there.

        “Y/N, I need to speak with you about your upcoming mission.” She said.

        You nodded goodbye to Damian before leaving with Talia.

        “I trust that your lessons were more than suitable?” She asked.

        “Correct, they were of desirable level.” You replied walking by her side.

        “Good. Now about this mission.” Talia turned a corner and into a room before shutting the door behind you, “This isn’t just another simple mission.” “The diplomats that you’re targeting will have highly trained security teams. You must choose the right moment to strike which I’d like to think you might be able to do from your training. Make sure there is as little of security as possible. After you accomplish stage one, move your squad onto stage two of killing the others and then return as soon as possible.” “Any questions? This should be standard by now.”

        “Understood.” You nodded.

        “In addition, with the success of your past few missions, it has been decided that you will be elevated into a newer status of High General. Still by the same title, you have more tasks and control over your own squads. I do expect that you will handle this well. You start after your mission with the same schedule. However, you will be training more in the middle ranks.”

        “Thank you, I am honored.” You said sincerely before cocking a brow, “However, I must ask since it has been troubling me for the past few days. Is there anything that I should be expecting that will happen? Are there any sweeping of the ranks that I should know about?”

        “I see that you must have picked up on something.” Talia said, “This is confidential information. I am only sharing this with you because of your status and position. There have been concerns raised of an attack from outer forces. We have not figured out which ones yet, you should not concern yourself with that yet. However, the only thing besides your mission and daily tasks you should be concerned with, is the safety of my son, the heir to the League. There is no true telling information on what will happen so keep on your highest guard.”

        “Yes Talia.”

        There was a pause that filled the room. You knew that there was something else.

        “General. That is the position you have been given. That is not however your only job.” Talia started, “Your main, most important job is to be my son’s second hand. If something were to ever happen to myself or The Demon Head, I fully expect you to stay with Damian over everything. Do not make me regret my decision in picking you off the ground of that orphanage.”

        “My loyalties are well placed Talia. I stay with him until death just as I was assigned from the start of this all. As High General, as the Demon’s second, you have my word.”

         Eventually, you left. The rest of the day was ahead of you and tomorrow, you’d be suiting up for Italy. Ready to leave the League even for a mission, you were antsy the rest of the day. Not enough for notice as usual though. Damian knew however. He could tell that your game was a bit off since this morning. He could tell that you were either anticipating more than what you gave off, or you were preparing yourself for this next mission a bit too much.

_______________________________________________________________________

        That night he confronted you as the two of you sat on the rooftop.

        “You were off of your game today Y/N.” Damian said almost catching you off guard.

        “So, I was.”

        “What caused this rarity?”

        “I am just ready to start my mission. I have a brewing feeling that it should go over very well.” You answered, “That is what Talia wanted to discuss with me earlier today.”

        “It was just this and nothing else?” Damian cocked his brow suspiciously.

        “Correct.” You reassured, “There was nothing else besides talk of schooling. She did inform me that I will be taking the High General position which was gratifying.”

        “You have my congratulations Y/N.” He commended.

        “And you have my appreciation Damian.”

        “The only thing that I did pick up from the conversation wasn’t... much. Just keep on your highest guard.”

        You didn’t bother saying anything else. Watching the stars and then the clouds float by every now and again was enough. It was easy to just stay up there and do nothing. There was no schedule besides having to get at least some sleep that night. There were no recruits training out in the heat. And best of all, it was silent and cool outside. This was the best time and always would be a place of your favorite memories from life.

        “So, do you have any plans of changing your squad?” Damian asked.

        “In what way? My squad is perfectly formed. There shouldn’t be any issues within it. Not unless you’re insinuating that you want to join al Ghul.” You smirked.    

        “No, not at all. I’d rather not be taking orders from my right hand.” He shot back.

        “And I’d rather not be giving orders to one of the most stubborn people I know.”

        “Very funny L/N.”

        “Oh, so we’re on last name status. I must have said something to upset the young Demon.” You poked fun at him as you typically did.

        “You’d like to think you could.”

        “Anyways, regarding your question. I will not be adding or eliminating anyone from my squad unless I find someone in the lower ranks more suitable that can and will advance faster. Nevertheless, I am not actively looking for any new blood as some might call it.”

        “I understand.” Damian stood up to leave, “Will I see you before your mission tomorrow?”

        “Most definitely during breakfast. My team and I are leaving for Italy right after that though.” You answered jumping down from the roof top and onto the pavement below before walking inside, and down a hall until you eventually split from Damian to go to your room.

I hope you guys are enjoying this series. I have the series lined up in my schedule to post this time so hopefully it doesn’t just ... die lol. Anyways I hope you’re all having a wonderful day and week and are staying safe and healthy!

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@idkmanicantenglish

[llendrinall]

Hi I have a writing promt.

A story that is written from both pov's that shows Draco and Harry falling in love with each other. Little moments together where they fall a bit more in love. Things they do that make the other thing "Wow I'm so in love with him". Ect.

Harry had always been starkly aware of Draco, but it was after the war, in the Wizengamot, when he actually noticed him for the first time.

Draco was sitting next to Pansy Parkinson, holding her hand so tight that he was leaving white marks. Harry got a glimpse of them when Pansy was called to give her testimony.

Then the unthinkable happened. Instead of demurring, which she was allowed to do –was expected by everyone to do, was what every other member of a Death Eater family had done so far– Pansy answered all the prosecutor’s questions. She gave true testimony and denied her parents the imperius defence.

Draco was waiting for her when she came down from the stand. He grabbed her hand and led her away with measured steps so it wouldn’t look like they were running.

 *

The second time Harry noticed Draco like that, as a person rather than as an opponent, was, coincidentally, the first time Draco saw Harry as Harry. Not as a school enemy or a war enemy or The Boy Who Lived or The Saviour Of The Wizarding World. Not even as Harry Potter. He saw Harry as just Harry.

It probably helped that Harry was unrecognizable under a thick layer of soot and grime so Draco didn’t know who he was calling an idiot. Draco also yelled to stop immediately and step back and, miraculously, Harry did. No hesitance.

Not all Death Eater had been arrested and not every awful individual had joined Voldemort, which meant that there were plenty of terrible people out in the world. Someone, Death Eater or not, had attacked Wisteria House. The house where rescued and freed house-elves were hosted.

Draco understood that the house-elves weren’t the goal. They were just the bait, a cheap collateral. The point of the attack was to have someone (maybe Harry, most probably Granger), cross the door quickly, without looking around them, and walk straight into a deathly trap.

Draco saw the trap, called out a warning and Harry listened. He listened to Draco.

Both of them walked away with a different opinion of the other. No one comes out the same from a burning building.

 *

 The third time went like this.

“Occupied.”

“Je- Blimey!”

“Find your own corner in the shadows to hide, Potter. This one is mine.”

“I don’t have time to find another spot.”

“Too bad. W- wait! No, quit it!”

“Scoot over! We can share.”

“No, we can’t. This is my dark spot, go away.”

“Either we share or I make sure they find you too.”

“As if I care. I’m not hiding from your devotees. Go away.”

“It’s Clay Buckthorn.”

“… be quiet, then.”

They hid in there for an hour, talking in whispers and sharing a bottle of butterbeer, while Secretary Buckthorn, the most persistent and insufferable politician to ever crawl out of the Ministry, looked around for a popular face to join his campaign. They were about to leave when in came Rita Skeeter, pressuring Percy Weasley to answer her questions. They watched from the shadows as she pressed and cajoled and he resisted. It was a bit like watching some sort of fight sport, only after ten minutes they weren’t sure who they were supporting.

 *

Harry thought Draco was dating Pansy Parkinson and maybe he still was. Evidently, it was all for show. No need to read so much into it.  

There was this old witch complaining about tradition and values. Nothing no one hadn’t heard before many times. People these days had no respect, it was disgraceful and so on. But then she turned to Dennis Creevey and his boyfriend (some Slytherin kid, Harry didn’t know him), and she asked if their families weren’t ashamed of them. Two men together. They ought to be.

Harry wasn’t sure if she knew about Dennis’ brother or not. It was hard to believe that people could be so deliberately cruel to a stranger. The question stopped him from immediately jumping to her neck. He had been accused of blowing things out or proportion before. And by before, he meant that morning when he called out that rude shopper who cut the line before a goblin.

Meanwhile, Draco rolled his eyes in that magnificent way of his. For someone who acted so proud and proper, Draco had a very expressive face and the rolling of his eyes was a spectacle to behold. He stood from his table, grabbed Theo Nott by the lapels, and kissed him on the mouth long and hard right in the middle of the crowded restaurant. Afterwards he sat down, perfectly composed, and both Theo and him turned to look at the witch like the smuggest pair of snakes in the forest.

The witch left the restaurant soon after. Dennis lost the wretched look on his face and Harry paid the bill on Draco’s table, earning a nod from him on the way out.

*

The day Draco’s heart began to beat a different rhythm was a hot Thursday in summer and someone had tried to kill him.

It wasn’t a particularly well thought attack and Draco took precautions. He wouldn’t have gotten anything worse than an intense headache and maybe some sore muscles. Still, Harry felt the need to push him to the floor and shield him with his body from the sparks and shrapnel falling over them. Harry had stopped the hex in mid-air, which was admittedly impressive. Draco watched the purple rivulets of the failed curse slowly descending around them and wondered if he was in shock. That would be embarrassing. This clumsy attack on his life didn’t deserve any shock.

Harry jumped from him (so nimble!) and chased down the would-be murdered, on foot, like a muggle. He, he just ran down the street, didn’t even cast a spell until he caught up to him and brought him to the floor. Draco was sorry to miss that part, although there were very good pictures on the newspaper the next day. Harry looked amazingly heroic. One of the pictures had him jumping in mid-air.

Draco didn’t know if this was something Harry did for everybody or if it was just for him, nor did he care. His chest and stomach and… other parts, were confused enough about how to feel, and his heart, in particular was beating to a new tune.  

*

So Draco could make moving shadows to play stories and it was amazingly beautiful and Harry loved it, he loved it, and no, it was not the potion talking, he was perfectly sound of mind. St Mungo was about to let him go! But Draco had come visit him and when Harry complained about being dreadfully bored, Draco had put on this absolutely magical spectacle (yes, Harry knew they were both wizards, it was still magical; no, no potion talking, it was an honest opinion). In the end Harry stayed the night, just like the mediwitch had begged him to, and fell asleep with the shadows performing a dance before him.

*

Draco didn’t call it love because he was quite an obstinate young man, but he was at that stage where he would easily admit that he was willing to lay down his life for Harry. He only had trouble with the word, not with the sentiment itself and its manifestation.

They were at the Ministry. It should be a pretty simple and straight-forward process. Go in, Pansy signs the documents, Draco bears witness and signs his own documents, go out. But of course it wouldn’t be so simple. A pretty pureblood witch doing anything against her family was a spectacle. The press wanted photos, people wanted to see it live, and, of course, there was the ever present mob who just wanted to shout awful things. Usually Pansy dealt with the mob by herself, swiftly and with a sting.

But today was different, hence why Draco had informed Pansy he would be accompanying her before she could ask him to. It wasn’t like the day she gave her testimony, but it was close enough. In a way, it was worse. A year ago they had her testimony to think about. Today it was just signing a document. That could hardly distract them from the crowd waiting for them.  

A push. A yelp. A crash. And Harry Potter gallantly preventing a very old wizard from having a huge flower vase fall on top of him. Somehow, Harry didn’t cast protego in time, so he avoided being brained by the vase but was splashed by the water and stood completely drenched in the middle of the Ministry main hall.

Across the mass of curious people and reporters and workers and people who had come to shout awful things, Harry looked at Draco. He gave him A Look. If he had more time, Draco would stop and think of a suitable metaphor for Harry’s eyes, their colour and intensity. But he didn’t, so he grabbed Pansy by the elbow and together they crossed the hall without the crowd noticing. Everyone’s attention was naturally fixed on the way the Saviour of the Wizarding World’s wet clothes clung to his chest.

Afterwards, once he had seen Pansy safely (and discreetly) home, Draco went to find Harry. He was perfectly dry now, but he had a faint scent of flowers around him.

“The rose garden is lovely in June,” Draco said, which should be enough but of course Harry didn’t understand him. Harry was kind, brave, handsome and clever in the most useless way so Draco had to actually explain, with words, that Weasley and Granger must have realize by now the extent of their fame and what it would mean if they married at the Burrow, where anyone could break in. Hence, why Draco mentioned his lovely rose garden where they could get married if they chose to without anyone invading their privacy.

“Hermione’s extended family is muggle.” Harry said, and dear Merlin it was even worse than Draco thought. They were going to pick a muggle place. So not only people breaking in, but a violent attack against the muggles too. Just what you want for a wedding.

“The Malfoy family marries for power, not blood purity.” Draco explained in a whisper. “There is no repello muggletum in our houses.”

“What!?” Harry cried, drawing immediate and sharp attention to them so they had to leave quickly and find a quiet place where Draco explained that Grandmother Imogen –that is, Lucius Malfoy’s mother– was a muggle but, most importantly, a peer of the Realm.

Harry stood in shocked silence for a minute, and after a lot of “whats” and “hows” and “no, really, how could you join Voldemort?” he accepted to at least extend Draco’s offer to the happy couple.  

*

Draco said he didn’t plan on attending the wedding. Just because he was offering his summer house it didn’t mean he expected an invitation. He got one anyway, because Draco had showed them his summer house and two country houses belonging to his muggle cousins and was very careful not to mention Malfoy Manor at any point. Ron appreciated it even more than Hermione.  

He rejected the invitation anyway because he said he much preferred to sit by the gates and send stinging hexes to anyone trying to intrude. It was his one chance to curse people indiscriminately and he didn’t want to waste it.

He showed up later, during the reception, looking handsome and with a pleased smile on his face. He grabbed a glass of champagne, immediately transformed it from a flute to a pompadour without wasting a drop, and sat himself next to Aunt Muriel whom he proceeded to engage in a long and acrid dispute until Ron and Hermione had left. Dear Aunt Muriel didn’t get a chance to insult the bride, or the groom, or any of their families really.

It was right then, while Draco forged a lifelong enemy (her life, not his) by insulting her garden (how did he know so much about flowers), that Harry realized he was in love. He was in love. He was in love. He wanted to be with Draco and insult people together and scandalize prejudiced old bats until they themselves were old bats.

*

Harry picked up a fight with the officiant (to be fair, that comment about the goblins was very unfortunate) and they ended up getting married at a muggle register’s office and Draco was so, so, happy. His family was obviously displeased. Cousin Nerissa said that her fiancée could officiate and was very offended when Fred Weasley said no one wanted to be married by a man named Cuthbert. It was amazing. George Weasley sat next to Cousin George, the baron. Hermione and Ginny Weasley started a fight with the most traditional-minded relatives (from every side). Cousin Audrey came out to the family when she was caught propositioning Luna Lovegood. Pansy Parkinson got engaged to no less than three lords and said they could sort between themselves who got to marry her.

Draco was so in love. It was amazing.

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 5x05-- And the firm had two partners...

Hello and happy season 6 renewal! I think I assumed TGF would last three years when it premiered—not five, and certainly not six (this assumption was because I thought the CBS All Access experiment would fail and it would take three seasons for them to admit defeat). Now, I kinda think TGF might just run as long as the people involved want to do it. The way I’ve come to think of TGF is that, because it has no overarching arc or plot and because it is always topical, it is a show without a clear end point. That’s why it’s still fresh even though it is a spin-off in its fifth season. I could see it still feeling fresh in its tenth season if it continues to evolve and change. Anyway, here’s to season six!  

Thoughts on season five, episode five, which I didn’t really love, under the cut.

The episode kicks off with TikTok and Jay’s hallucinations... yay. I’m hooked.  

Look, before we get further into this episode, I’m going to comment on Jay’s plot as a whole. I am really, really glad this show decided to dedicate screentime to showing how horrific COVID is, and especially how horrific the disparities in treatment by race and class were. The hallucinations pay off about as well as they could. And I still do not like anything about this plot. I wish I could say I did.  

Rivi is now out of the hospital and suing Harbor Hospital. He claims that his daughter died of COVID due to their improper care.  

I’m intrigued by Rivi’s wife. She’s deaf and reads lips, and her first scene—where she reads the lips of Harbor Hospital’s lawyers privately discussing settlement—establishes that she’s a partner to Rivi and not “just a wife.” (I think this is going to also help distinguish Rivi from Bishop. Both care about families, but we all know Bishop had his wife killed.)  

Julius and Diane talk about Kurt’s case. Diane looks incredulous when Julius floats the idea of Kurt taking a deal. I almost laughed at Diane’s expression because, well, she’s talking to Julius, her former client who spent time in prison for something he didn’t do. Luckily the show remembers its history, and Julius notes this to Diane.  

Julius also points out that Diane is acting more like Kurt’s wife than his lawyer in this situation, and he won’t share things that are relevant to her personal life but not her professional life.

I am also not going to recap too much of the COVID stuff. Everything I have to say about it is going to be a variation on what I said above-- I'm glad they’re spotlighting important themes but I still don’t like this plot.

I do like that Jay notices Carmen saying “darn” instead of “damn.” She blames parental training and notes she also starts every email with “Dear.”

I do not like that Jay now hallucinates a woman who is literally credited as “naked woman” to illustrate that he has a little bit of a crush on Carmen.  

Why are they already bringing the suit before they have found any evidence of discrimination at Harbor Hospital and before they’ve looked into what type of care Pia Rivi actually received?  

Jay asks Carmen if she wants to join a group of RL staffers for drinks. Carmen says she’ll think about it. Yay for Carmen plots that bring her into the firm’s social circle.

I also don’t think I’ll have much to say about the Diane and Kurt plot. These FBI investigation plots are always the same: a lot of rehashing of the same fights, lots of new twists and turns where it always feels like the facts are changing, and a clean slate when all is said and done. I was thinking about this the other day and was like, “Ah, wouldn’t it be nice to go back to the good old days before the stakes got so high that the FBI was always investigating one of the regulars”? And then I remembered that season 1 of Wife has a plotline (which ends up being mostly inconsequential) in which the FBI investigate Peter.  

The FBI’s investigation of Peter in season 1 is so inconsequential, in fact, that it brings us Elsbeth’s first appearance and I STILL see people thinking that Executive Order 13224 in season 3 is her first appearance. It is forgettable enough that people manage to forget ELSBETH TASCIONI.

Anyway my point here is just that this feels like familiar territory and until the writers prove to me they have something new to say, about Jan 6 or about the FBI or about Diane and Kurt’s marriage, I... am not that invested.

Julius calls Diane out on being part of every conversation with Kurt. This is a good point. This is something that I would like to see the show address more. Didn’t Kurt ask Diane last episode not to be involved? Why don’t we get to see the fallout of that decision and how it impacts their marriage? I know this show is not character driven in the way I’d like it to be, and I know that is part of why it always feels fresh. It just tries my patience sometimes.  

Diane looks really red in this scene.  

LOL @ the stock footage of an ambulance pulling up in front of Harbor Hospital that clearly says “LOS ANGELES CITY FIRE DEPARTMENT.”  

One problem I have with Jay’s plot in this episode is that it feels very, very similar to the hospital episode of Evil. This is only a problem because the episode of Evil is much better. The hospital episode of Evil uses horror to show racism in the healthcare system; it’s very innovative and suspenseful. This episode wants to do the same thing... but I don’t think the writers found the exact right tone to pull it off. I can see what they are trying to do and admire that they are trying, at least.

I am struggling to articulate why I dislike this plot so much! The best I can say is that something just isn’t clicking. And, honestly, this may just be a problem with how little I’ve ever understood the hype around Jay. I’m not sure if I’ve ever said this before, but the show seems more enamored with Jay than I am, and I’m always at a little bit of a distance from the character. (I suspect it’s an acting thing, not a writing thing.)

There is also just a LOT going on in all of the Jay/hospital scenes, probably more than is needed to get the point across. It’s like the episode can’t decide if it’s all in on being horror, if it’s trying to be surreal, if it’s trying to be quirky, if it’s trying to be heartfelt, if it’s trying to be pointed, or if it’s trying to be about Jay’s emotions. I actually think this plot would’ve worked better if it were a little toned down.  

Starkey is in Diane’s office and it’s time for one of those scenes that happens in all of these FBI plots where the FBI agent is annoying and then the person they’re annoying walks away and is sassy towards the FBI. This scene feels like a mix of the one in the season two premiere where Starkey tries this strategy on Maia and some of the clunkier moments of the TGW series finale.

Danny Pino is on The Good Fight now! I’m excited to see him! He’s super charismatic; I see why they had him playing a politician on BrainDead. On this show, he insists everyone call him Racehorse.  

Racehorse is now representing the hospital, and Carmen is a little outmatched.  

Predictably, Racehorse’s strategy is to try to force Rivi to testify by bringing a countersuit. Testifying is obviously bad for Rivi since he runs a criminal enterprise and would have to answer questions under oath.  

Really long pause before the credits. Also, I don’t like this thing where we don’t get to see Liz until after the credits. I demand more Liz!  

This episode is called “And the firm had two partners” but has nothing to do with Diane and Liz and the drama about who should be a name partner. It barely even has anything to do with Liz! Misleading.  

Yay for Nikki M. James, who directed this episode!

Okay, I saw a post on Reddit about how everyone looks red in this episode and didn’t think anything of it, but on rewatch? That post is spot-on; everyone looks red. The scenes in Diane’s home are particularly bad. Kurt looks like he has an awful sunburn.

I’m glad to see Diane’s home also has a kitchen; I was getting concerned it really was just that one room.

I love Diane and Kurt but sometimes their plots rely too heavily on just being like, she’s a liberal! He's a conservative! Tension ensues!  

This episode is, sadly, Wackner free and very light on Marissa. I am fine without Wackner for an episode (sometimes a break from gimmick is nice) but I really miss Marissa’s energy.  

Diane asks Marissa to investigate something related to Kurt’s case. Marissa’s not thrilled, seeing as she is no longer an investigator and has two other jobs, but she agrees anyway.  

Diane doesn’t learn, does she? Two scenes ago she was apologizing to Kurt for meddling and revealing info he didn’t want her to reveal (the name of the rioter) and now she’s trying to get more information so she can... put herself in a position where she can act on more information Kurt doesn’t want her to act on? Cool.

LIZ!!!!!! FINALLY!!!!!!!!!!!

Rivi and Isabel want to talk to Liz without Carmen present. Isabel, wisely, wants Liz to be on the case along with Carmen. Liz protests, but Isabel insists. She notes that she could see some associates using a racial slur against Rivi... and Liz knows she has to join the case to keep Rivi on as a client. She apologizes and then fires all three associates involved in the joke.  

There’s a whole subplot about a doctor who posts TikToks that allege racism at Harbor Hospital, but also silly TikToks to boost her follower count. I do like that they allow this doctor to be both someone who wanted to do good and someone who wanted fame.

After this, though, we lose the thread of the TikTok dancer (and of the COTW, kind of) because the plot becomes more about Jay. That’s fine, though it’s a little bit clunky.  

There’s a reveal that Jay’s hallucination of Frederick Douglass is actually a fellow patient who was in the COVID pit at Harbor Hospital with him. As I said before, this is the best payoff for the hallucinations possible, but there were still too many scenes of the hallucinations.

Wow, I actively do not want to watch these scenes a second time.

NRA lady from the season 2 panel (with Adrian, Mr. Elk, the Florrick fan, etc.) is back. She is friends with Kurt, because of course she is, and could speak up and defend him. She doesn’t want to.  

God, I hope he isn’t fucking her. I can barely do another one of these FBI plots—don't make me sit through another Kurt Likes Pretty Ladies with Guns plot.

Even though NRA lady doesn’t want to speak up, Marissa has followed Kurt and identified her.

More stuff happens with Jay.  

What if the hallucinations don’t end with this episode? I like showing that Jay is a long hauler but omg do I loathe these hallucinations.  

I do like that Jay clues Carmen in on the hallucinations.  

Why is Julius even allowing Diane to tag along on visits to Starkey, and why must this gag with the dead birds keep going?!?  

More Jay stuff.  

I just don’t get why they’re asking about the Pit, where Jay and lots of other black or brown people with COVID were held, before they have any idea where Pia Rivi was held in the hospital. Are they just trying to fact-find?  

Shockingly, Pia Rivi was never sent to the Pit and actually received special care because no one wanted to anger Rivi. I... would have assumed this from the start or looked into this before bringing the suit? I know the whole point of this case is to get to explore Jay’s experience in the hospital and shine light on disparities in healthcare but I can still nitpick!  

Jay recalls hearing someone say that he was taken out of the Pit and given better care after the hospital received a call. He asks Liz if she made that call—she didn’t. She says she wishes it had been her, but she didn’t know the situation was that bad. I’m a little surprised we didn’t get references to Adrian or Marissa here. If they could’ve made a call, they absolutely would’ve. Adrian’s like a father to Jay, and Marissa is a loyal friend. Adrian has enough sway to get Jay better care, and you KNOW Marissa is resourceful and connected enough to get him good care.

I really love this Liz and Carmen scene where Carmen asks Liz for advice and Liz helps her out. I like that Carmen still has things to learn—and knows it—even as she’s a great, capable, talented lawyer.

Carmen starts to leave, then turns around and says, “I want to learn from you. I don’t... My attitude is knowing, but it’s just my attitude. It’s not who I am.” YES! I’m so glad we’re getting lines like this that make Carmen’s personality clearer. She’s not a malicious sociopath who wants to defend drug dealers and help bad people get away with horrible crimes. She’s a new lawyer who wants to be ready to handle anything, make a name for herself, and come across as untouchable. This line makes everything click into place: this is why she’s willing to represent Rivi, put forward her own strategies, and be so polite it's rude to Liz... and why she also would rather stay at RL than go work full time for Lester.  

Liz smiles, realizing she’s gotten through. “Carmen. When I was your age, I acted exactly the same way. I wanted to be perfect. So, I acted like I was perfect. Because bluff is always a part of it, but just... just let me help you, when I can. Ask questions.” I believe it. And now I really just want to see an episode where young Liz and young Alicia face off. My guess is Liz tried to project boldness and fearlessness, while Alicia tried to project hyper competence and that’s why they clashed (and why Alicia was thought to lack a “killer instinct”). Okay, okay, I’ll stop talking about Alicia.  

Racehorse deposes Rivi and it ends with Rivi beating the crap out of Racehorse. I assume this is setting up a longer arc. You don’t introduce a personality as big as Racehorse played by a Kings-favorite like Danny Pino without having plans.  

Also, it’s heavily implied that Isabel is a huge part of the leadership of Rivi’s drug empire. I’m no longer surprised by “actually the wife isn’t so innocent and is also a criminal!” reveals, but I still like this. I think it works better because there’s never any implication that Isabel is an unknowing innocent. Rivi treats her like his equal from their first scene together; she clearly is aware and okay with his prison time and the accusations against him.

We spend a lot of time on how the whole fight was caught on camera. Wonder if that will come back. (I can’t remember—did that accidental sex tape of Maia and the DNC girl ever come back into play?)

Diane threatens NRA lady until she agrees to help Kurt out.  

Jay asks Diane if she made the call to help him. She didn’t. Like Liz, she’s apologetic that it wasn’t her.  

Turns out it was David Lee. He claims it was a business decision. Sure, David. This is so fitting with David Lee’s character—he's always doing stuff like this. And he always likes to say it was about business. I think he secretly has a heart, though.  

(I don’t have much to say about this reveal since it’s familiar territory for David Lee.)  

I like that Jay’s hallucination appears to him as his friend, rather than Frederick Douglass, in his last scene of the episode. I hope that is the end of the hallucination plot.

Kurt gets the news that NRA lady is going to speak up for him. He tells Diane and says “it’s amazing how close we came to disaster right then,” as they have a drink. KURT AND DIANE, YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER—IT IS NOT OVER UNTIL IT’S OVER. And this? Is not over! Does anyone really think this is over!? It will be more surprising to me if NRA lady actually follows through and this all gets wrapped up than if there’s a Big Twist.  

I know these writers and I know these arcs. They are meandering and full of twists and turns and add up to a complete picture that doesn’t really hold together. That’s why I’m so negative on this episode even though I’ve been positive on the arc in the past. This feels like the mid-season misdirection that it almost certainly is, and I was hoping this arc would be a little more about commentary and a little less about convoluted plot nonsense.  

Diane and Kurt dancing at the end of the episode HAS to be a reference to Diane and Will’s post-victory dances, right?  

[legobiwan]

Whumptober #2

“pick who dies”

Notes: This got out of control. I was going to add an Obi-wan + Anakin section but I had to cut myself off as I do have other things I need to get to today. This is less whump than...a set of pretentious character studies with THE LINEAGE (including Rael) and an excuse to explore the trolley problem within a Star Wars setting. I blame my recent Hannibal obsession for what you see below. First part here, rest under the cut. Note, I am a musician, not a philosophy student, so allow for some creative interpretation here. 

General Whumptober tag

Whumptober 2020 #1

~~~~~~~

(excerpt from “The Padawan’s Guide to Philosophy.” Eds. Masters Thrife-Foran & Ugaaalich. 616th e. Coruscant, 940 ARR. Holobook.)

Premise:

You are out for an afternoon walk in the outer regions of Thymilla, a moderately-populated city on the planet Ungar. On your walk, you pass by a set of hovertrain tracks, which branch into two separate arms - one an extension of the main track, the other a smaller offshoot which leads to a cargo loading zone, about fifty clicks south of where you are. (Diagram 3)

As a hovertrain approaches from the north, you hear screaming, the words of the driver becoming clearer as the hovertrain barrels towards the switch. The brakes of the train have failed and there is no chance of repair. If the train continues on its current path, it will kill five workers making repairs on the track. If you pull a switch, the hovertrain will divert to the offshoot, where it will kill one worker at the cargo loading zone.

Because of an anomaly in Ungar’s atmosphere, you cannot access the Force.

Do you pull the switch or do nothing and allow the train to speed forward?

~~~~~~~

“Your thoughts, Padawan.”

Dooku shifted on his meditation pod, the firm material groaning as he uncrossed his legs from the lotus position, gingerly setting both his bare feet to the cool, tiled floor of his Master’s chambers. The young man allowed himself a small wince with the action. Yoda might have been able to keep that damnable position for hours, probably days on end, but Dooku was just a few months shy of his eighteenth life day, and another recent growth spurt seemingly focused all on his legs made sitting for any long amount of time…uncomfortable, to say the least.

Which was likely why Yoda had had him trapped him here for the past three hours, running through one ethical thought experiment after the other, poking his literal and metaphorical gimmer stick precisely at each gnarled and swollen joint in both his body and thoughts.

To act - to pull the switch - would mean to commit premeditated murder, even if it were for the greater good. Hardly a Jedi-like action. But then again, they had been taught - indoctrinated, really - with the idea that is was acceptable to sacrifice one life for the lives of many. A supposedly fair trade-off, although Dooku had seen enough of the Jedi’s relationship to the Senate, had seen enough of the Council’s internal politics, to know that two lives did not necessarily hold equal weight.

But to not act - to let the train barrel through, to leave it up to the will of the Force...Dooku clenched his teeth. That seemed more in line with the Order he was coming to know, was consistent with the Council’s lack of action on Protobranch, when Sifo-Diyas had seen the calamity that was to befall the planet and yet the Council, his Master, had done too little, too late, preferring to allow events to transpire as they would, the Jedi only impassive bystanders.

What was the point of their abilities, their training, their place in the universe, if they weren’t able to change the course of events for the better?

“I suppose,” Dooku began slowly, coming to stand, suddenly not caring if he was maintaining his proper meditation position. The young man padded towards the slightly shuttered windows on the other side of the room.

“I suppose it depends on the relative worth of each life,” he said, turning away from Yoda as to not see the subtle moue of distaste Dooku was certain would cross the old Master’s face.

“Is not all life sacred, Padawan?”

Dooku barely bit back the dark chuckle threatening to escape from his chest. Only in the holos and classrooms and the empty rhetoric of the Council was all life sacred. The Jedi could do so much more, he could do so much more to change the galaxy and yet the Order allowed itself to be chained to politicians, leashed like akk-dogs until receiving command.

No, Dooku thought. There was no balance - not here and not in the Force.

“From the information you’ve provided,” Dooku said, ignoring Yoda’s question. He peered through the slits of the rotor blinds into the watery illumination of Coruscant’s night sky. The dome of the Senate building rose through the rain like an oddly-shaped umbrella, shielding those in power with its wide beadth. “We can assume both parties of victims are of equal social standing, being manual laborers. Because of this, we must find other ways of determining their worth, their ability to enact change in the galaxy.”

Dooku clasped his hands behind his back, daring to turn to face his Master’s displeasure.

“The question becomes whether you want to hold sway over the transit network of a forgettable city, or the imports and exports that may go off-world. Exports which might include valuable resources or even smuggled goods. Items which could affect the governance of our imagined city and therefore, by extension, an even larger part of the populace.”

“Which is why, in this case,” Dooku concluded, his posture straightening, “I would choose to allow the hovertrain to continue its course and save the cargo worker.”

Yoda folded both claws over his gimmer stick, frowning. After a moment, he let out a small grunt, his features now inscrutable.

“And see yourself as the final arbiter of worth, do you, my young apprentice? Stand you above all others holding a golden scale, you do?”

Don’t we, as Jedi, hold these scales every day and yet choose to ignore them? Dooku thought.

“Someone,” the young man replied, “will make the judgment regardless. Is it not better for the Jedi to use our powers to make such decisions?”

This time Yoda did let out a wet sigh, shaking his head.

“Dangerous, these thoughts are, my Padawan,” Yoda grumbled, gesturing at the meditation pod. “Sit, young Dooku. Much we have to discuss.”

~~~~~~~

“Your thoughts, Rael.”

Rael Averross slung an arm over the back of Dooku’s couch, sleeves of his Master’s borrowed robe hanging long near the tips of his fingers. It had been the third time that month Rael had “misplaced” his own robe, his Master’s foisted upon him in the wee hours of the morning, Dooku grunting something about “Jedi propriety” before shoving Rael out the door. (The things were a damned inconvenience, and made him look like something straight out of a space station ghost story, to boot. Was it so surprising he showed up to Dooku’s quarters in a state which his Master referred to as “half-naked?”)

Rael bit his lip, trying to not think of all the times he had actually been half-naked in the Temple. Those were fun times. Unfortunately, Dooku could probably mind read them out of him right now if he weren’t so concentrated on this thought experiment.

“Why not save them both?” Rael drawled amiably, scratching at the beginnings of a beard with his other hand as he hoped to distract his Master from any hint of his past indiscretions. It was about time, too, he thought. Never going to look my age going around all smooth-faced like a transparisteel window surface.

Dooku gave a small smile. “You cannot, Rael. Those are the rules of the scenario.”

“Rules,” Rael scoffed, picking at the hem of Dooku’s overly-fancy robe before suddenly launching to his feet, unable to contain his restlessness. The younger Jedi paced up and down the length of Dooku’s couch, grateful his usually strict Master was allowing him this indulgence. Not that Dooku had any problem sitting still for what felt like forever - stiff as a board, that one - but Rael was too jittery, too full potential energy to keep his thoughts in neat line with his body. “Rules are meant to be broken, Master,” Rael gave a swift chop with his hand in illustration. “You’re the first one to tell me that.”

Rael heard his Master let out a soft snort in response. Only Dooku could make such a noise sound dignified. “I suppose I did,” the older man answered evenly.

“So there you go! Blow up the train and everyone’s fine.”

“And kill the driver?”

Rael spun to face Dooku, the other man’s eyebrows raised not in condemnation, but genuine interest. It was days like this Rael truly appreciated having Dooku as a Master. Sure, he was as pretentious as any big-city Senator, a hard taskmaster in his lessons, and an even tougher dueling trainer - but at the end of the day, Dooku only expected Rael to follow Dooku’s rules, and not the Order’s.

And as much as Rael chaffed under any collar, he’d take Dooku’s version of the Code over the Council’s any day.

“I mean, the driver is the one in control of the train,” Rael shrugged. “Sure, it’s an accident, but the they were going to be dead either way once they hit those other bodies. Probably would go flying through the window and bash their skull in. This way, you save six lives,” Rael gave his best used speeder salesman grin. “Buy five, get one free.”

That little addition did cause his Master to roll his eyes.

“You are…” Dooku pressed his lips together, sitting back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. It was as close as Dooku ever got to a casual posture. “Colorful rhetoric aside, you are essentially advocating for pre-emptive action. Very interesting, Rael.”

“Interesting as in,” Rael pulled a sour face, imitating Dooku’s proper Serennian accent, “‘And now I will assign you five Jedi moral precepts to memorize and write a five-page essay about’ or interesting as in ‘I will now have you learn the complete codified law of the Umbargans, whose entire military strategy revolved around non-preemptive attacks.”

Dooku chuckled - actually chuckled - at Rael’s minor impertinent outburst. “Neither, Rael. Although, I must say you have provided me the perfect means by which I may punish you later on.” Damn, dug my own grave with that one, thought Rael. 

“No,” Dooku continued, “I merely find your stance on this matter to be refreshingly…original.”

“You mean the Council wouldn’t approve?”

It took his Master a full minute to answer, his gaze shifting beyond Rael, beyond the confines of their shared quarters, Dooku seeming lost in some memory.

“Hardly,” he finally said. “And that is for the best.”

~~~~~~~

“Your thoughts, Padawan?”

Qui-gon Jinn sat motionless on the small patch of grass, listening to the susurrations of the light breeze in the Room of a Thousand Fountains finger through a nearby thicket of Borto reeds. Across from him, Master Dooku sat in a mirrored pose, long legs crossed over the other in the lotus position, expression unreadable, his presence in the Force - or, his effect on the Force presence on the vegetation around him - one of controlled expectancy, a single blade of grass erect and ready despite the buffeting winds.

“We shouldn’t have to choose, Master,” Qui-gon replied, trying to steady his own uneven thoughts and emotions. Although he had been Dooku’s Padawan for almost five years now, Qui-gon still found himself worrying his responses to thought experiments like these would not pass his Master’s high and stringent intellectual standards.

“In an ideal world, Qui-gon, we wouldn’t. But as you have learned - as I have shown you - the status quo rarely measures up to our ideals.”

The status quo, Qui-gon thought. Code for the Senate, for the Council, for the Republic at large. That much he had figured out, had learned from Rael, whose ability to translate Dooku’s sometimes opaque rhetoric to something more digestible never ceased to amaze Qui-gon.

The status quo. The more years he spent with Dooku - with Rael, when the younger man was around - the more Qui-gon understood. Perhaps he always had a predilection to question, to challenge what was “known,” the dictums etched in stone handed down from the Council to the Council’s Masters to its Padawans. But with Dooku’s guidance, and with his own exploration of the Jedi prophecies, Qui-gon had developed his own sense of right and wrong, of how the galaxy ought to work in consonance with the ideals of the Jedi Code and his own moral compass.

“In that case, I would ask the Force for guidance,” Qui-gon replied, thoughts slipping back to the many hours he had spent in the Archives, poring over ancient holocrons. The Force had provided for the seers of old, why shouldn’t it provide now?

“Perhaps the Force cannot provide all the answers,” Dooku countered, as if reading his mind.

Qui-gon frowned, tilting his head. “Is that not what the Jedi teach, Master? What you teach? To follow the Force?”

“To a degree,” Dooku assented, rare amusement curling the side of his lips. “But the Jedi work in symbiosis with the Force, and even that is within a certain self-imposed definition of what the Force may or may not be capable of.”

Self-imposed definition? Qui-gon ran his hands through the soft grass at his sides, no longer able to keep that perfect stillness now that Dooku had so upset his equilibrium. Had his study of the prophecies not proven that exact point? That the Jedi of now no longer regarded the Force with as open a mind those of millennia ago?

“The Force is more infinite, has more potentialities than the confines of what we could possibly hope to study in a thousand lifetimes,” Qui-gon hedged.

“And so you hope to use prophecy to save these doomed beings?” Dooku retorted with a small wave of his hand. Ah yes, the hovertrain problem, Qui-gon grimaced. He had almost quite forgotten about the whole reason for this conversation.

“I would hope to…” Qui-gon cocked his head, watching a pair of butterflies flutter over a Byrsonima crassifolia, fragile leaves fluttering in their wake. An action - or a lack of action. If he saved one life or saved five. What would the repercussions be? How could he know he was making the right choice? How could the Order know, if not for guidance from the Force, in all its possible iterations?

And yet, the study prophecy of was considered at best, an esoteric hobby - at worst, a dangerous arm of mysticism by much of the Council.

Which is why your Master encourages you to think beyond the dictates of the Council, Qui-gon concluded.

“Yes, then,” Qui-gon stated, suddenly more confident in his answers. “I would hope to ameliorate the situation by using a similar mindset of the prophets. One of openness, wonder, and possibility - to find my way in this situation.”

“And just how far would you be willing to take supposed,” Dooku trained him with an enigmatic expression, “openness?” The word weighed heavy with implication.

Qui-gon started. What exactly is Dooku trying to get at here? Hadn’t it been his Master who had introduced him to the prophecies, to the Force beyond the dictates of the Code? So far, Dooku had not steered him wrong, and yet just as the nearby Byrsonima crassifolia cast a long shadow over the open grass, so did Dooku’s unspoken entreaty.

But before Qui-gon could cobble together an answer, Dooku seemed to break out of his trance, chuckling slightly as he got to his feet. He extended a long arm to Qui-gon, who took it without hesitation, coming to stand at his Master’s side.

“Meditate on the answer, Qui-gon. For now, I believe it is past time for dinner.”

~~~~~~~

“Your thoughts, Padawan.”

Obi-wan Kenobi shifted in the overly-large, overly-plush velvet chair which threatened to swallow him whole. He and Qui-gon had been dispatched to Barstovia, a little-known desert mining planet in the Mid-Rim. A simple mission, really, overseeing a trade deal between Barstovia and Ord Mantell, opening up some shipping lines of the rare fermenium mineral to the Republic. A wholly forgettable mission, if Obi-wan were being honest, except for the fact the diminutive race of Barstovia seemed to prize, of all the unlikely things, oversized, over-upholstered furniture.

While Obi-wan struggled with a crimson throw pillow the size of his torso, his master, Qui-gon Jinn, sat across from him, perfectly serene in his eight-foot tall, royal blue armchair.

“Well, Master,” Obi-wan said, words strained as he punched the pillow to his side with un-Jedi-like ferocity. Of all times for Qui-gon to pull out a thought experiment.

“The prevailing wisdom would say to sacrifice one life to save five - a utilitarian outlook and the most practical, at least on the surface.” Obi-wan pushed down on the seat of his chair, trying in vain to straighten his posture, to lend his answer some form of credence beyond his words. Inevitably, Qui-gon would hold the exact opposite opinion from Obi-wan’s, and while Obi-wan had often kept his feelings to himself under the guise of “picking his battles,” he preferred to express his thoughts while at least looking the part of an almost eighteen-year-old Padawan, and not some child stuck in a chair too large for him.  He struck at the recalcitrant cushion one last time. “But as Jedi, we often prioritize a single being or beings if they hold an important role.” 

“In the short-term,” Obi-wan grimaced suddenly, pulling an impossible second pillow from under his right thigh, “we would lose four lives over one, granted. But in the long-term, that single life lost might mean the eventual deaths of hundreds, perhaps thousands.”

“But you do not have this information, Padawan,” Qui-gon replied, a crease of annoyance in his brow. Obi-wan noted there was no accompanying crease in the cushion of his Master’s chair. “All you know is the number of beings.”

Obi-wan bit down on a caustic reply. Yes, I know that, Master. I hadn’t gotten to my point yet. But when did Qui-gon actually ever listen to him?

“Yes, Master, this is true,” the younger Jedi answered, Obi-wan impressed with the evenness of his own response despite his increasing irritation. “Which is why I would endeavor to save them all.”

A beat. a raised eyebrow coupled with a subtle sigh. “Quite the feat, Obi-wan,” Qui-gon finally said, his words laced with skepticism. “How would you accomplish such a thing?”

How in the world is he not drowning in that chair? Obi-wan thought, distracted by his Master’s impenetrability, despite the audacious situation. There was Qui-gon, halfway across the room, composed and neat - well, as neat as Qui-gon ever got - against the regal backdrop of the humorously-sized chair while Obi-wan floundered in a sea of crimson, just out of his Master’s reach.

And wasn’t that the perfect metaphor for their troubled partnership?

Obi-wan wiped at his brow. “It’s quite simple, Master. The hovertrain could be diverted, or at least impeded by a third party inserting themselves into the equation.”

Something in Qui-gon’s expression shifted at the statement, earlier annoyance now melting into something closer to concern. The older man leaned forward in his chair, for the first time exhibiting a pang of discomfort as he battled the voluminous material.

“And who might that be?” Qui-gon asked, batting at the tsunami of beige woven blanket at his side.

“Myself, of course.”

Dead silence met Obi-wan’s words.

Wrong answer, Kenobi. Absolutely the wrong answer. Disappointment was written all over Qui-gon’s body language, even emanating from his usually controlled Force signature. Obi-wan fell back into the chair, not bothering to fight the dunes and valleys of velvet threatening to overtake him, averting his gaze to some preposterously-sized side-table and vase. Hopefully, his failure to provide the correct response would be the end of this increasingly uncomfortable conversation. Qui-gon would assign him some reading and meditation, and let the matter rest until they returned to Coruscant.

But Qui-gon only peered at Obi-wan with a piercing stare, apparently not ready to give up on the exchange.

“You would sacrifice yourself to save the others?”

Obi-wan found himself mirroring his master’s movements.

“Isn’t that what it means to be a Jedi?” he asked, genuinely perplexed. “We are servants of the Republic, of the Force - if our actions can save lives so that Republic may continue in peace - “ Obi-wan’s mouth opened and closed, trying to form the words that would express his devotion to the Order, the Code, his own sense of honor - but found himself gaping like an Ithorian cuttlefish.

Once again, Qui-gon fell into contemplation, back arching against tall, bulbous pillows, brushing his mustache with a single finger. A minute, then two went by, the only sound the clicks of a nearby chrono. Over eighteen feet tall, the clicks sounded more like the steps of a lurking gundark than a timepiece, doing nothing for Obi-wan’s nerves.

Finally, Qui-gon broke the uncomfortable semi-silence. “Don’t be so hasty to throw away your own life, Padawan. As you rightly said, the death of a monarch may cause the deaths of many others down the road. But you cannot know how many lives would remain unsaved if you were to treat your own so lightly.”

Obi-wan’s eyebrows rose. That had not been the reaction he was expecting.

“But how am I to know when that sacrifice is necessary?” he asked automatically. Obi-wan would make that sacrifice gladly, although...to be perfectly honest, he would prefer not to die as a seventeen-year-old Padawan. 

“The better question is how you can work to reach a more productive option rather than coming to such a dire conclusion.” Qui-gon’s voice softened. “I am serious, Obi-wan. You have much to offer the galaxy. Don’t let your strict adherence to Jedi ideals extinguish your star too early. Not only would the Republic be at a loss, but…” Qui-gon looked away, staring down at some invisible pattern in the corner of the room. “I would, as well.”

Obi-wan’s mouth dropped open. “Master, I - “

“Ah, Master Jedi!” A new voice squeaked from the gargantuan entranceway. “Thank you so much for waiting,” proclaimed the three-foot Minister of Commerce, Parhary Hatch, bedecked in a long, flowery robe whose velvet train stretched back several feet. “Please, if you would,” he gestured towards the tall archway.

“Yes, of course, Minister Hatch,” Qui-gon replied in his diplomatic voice, jumping neatly off the chair, his landing as elegant as a Coruscanti ice skater.

Obi-wan frowned, joining his Master in a slightly less dignified, but no less effective maneuver. They had been on the verge of…something, some kind of understanding, or at least a truce. Whatever words had remained unsaid between would likely stay so, the moment gone, the trip back to Coruscant, and then to a Hutt outpost taking priority over these types of conversations.

Another time, then, Obi-wan sighed to himself, following the slinking violet trail of the Bartovian minister and his Master into the long corridors of the palace.