#all this responsibility of carrying the family name and pursuing a destiny put on my shoulders by my parents and im all alone

[timothylawrence]

and if i said anthems for a seventeen year old girl was a maya song then what

[ariainstars]

The Mandalorian: Is He “Better Vader”?

This may sound funny, but please hear me out for a moment. 

The further I watch Star Wars’ new live-action tv show, the more I get the impression is that Mando is meant to be a positive version of Darth Vader (the “dark father”). 

Father figures usually don’t have a thankful role in this galaxy - either they are absent like Anakin’s, terrifying like Luke’s, or well-meaning but failing in their primary duty of keeping their child safe, like Ben’s. 

Not a few fans, though a little mockingly, like to call Kylo Ren “better Anakin” since his conflict is more fleshed out and the whole figure inspires more sympathy. My theory: is Mando meant to be “better Vader”? 

It was repeatedly and amply shown that the cause for the never-ending conflicts in the galaxy lie for a large part on the side of the Jedi, whose stuck-up attitude ultimately failed. Their order prohibited personal attachments, and even the wisest among them were not affectionate. This was what drove the all-powerful but passionate Anakin, who desperately wanted to have someone he could love and protect, to his ruin: the moment he finally became a father he also became a ruthless monster. Mando is introduced as a merciless bounty hunter, but as he opens up to the child, he becomes kinder and begins to find friends. He grows even more valiant, but also learns how to be gentle and caring. 

Since the Jedi are almost all extinct, but Force-sensitive children still are born throughout the galaxy, we are left with the question of what is to become of them. Some were brought to Luke’s new temple later, but we can assume that not all were identified. 

Mando’s little protegee is staying and making life experiences with a guy who doesn’t know anything about the Jedi and has no clue of the source of the child’s mysterious powers, but instinctively does the right things: he keeps him safe, instructs him, scolds him when necessary, and offers him friendship and companionship. (The Mandalorian who adopted him probably was a good father figure, too.) The child never sees his “father’s” face, but nevertheless he trusts him explicitly. Mando is the living proof that coolness and fighting qualities are not opposed to being gentle and caring.

Ben Solo’s tragic fate was the result of failed fatherhood: Luke did not know how to be a father because he had no children of his own and had had no role model, while Han did not trust his capacity to protect his son from his own powers.

The Parallels

Both Vader and Mando are soldiers. Though not Force-sensitive, Mando is extremely strong and well-versed in martial arts; he never shows his face; he wears an armor completed by a black cape which does not seem to have much practical use. He usually speaks only in short, clipped sentences and has a wry, sarcastic kind of humor. 

Vader was a follower of the Emperor, factually a slave who had no choice but to obey his master, and wherever he went he wreaked terror. Mando does take jobs from the bounty hunter’s guild, but essentially, he is a free man and often offers his services negotiating on his own terms. Noticeably, he fights against raiders and mercenaries or remnants of the Empire, peace following in his wake.

When he first reaches out for the baby, it looks like the opposite to another famous scene in the saga: here we have the adoptive but good father, while the other was the biological but cruel father.  Luke did not take his father’s hand, while the baby instinctively reached out to the man who had protected him.

Note also the scenic reversal: one figure is standing on the right side, hand with upturned fingers reaching out into a void, the scene is bathed in cold light. The other figure is standing on the left, hand reaching down, illuminated by warm light. 

When we do see his face once, Mando is lying down and helpless like Vader; he is not disfigured though and despite being injured, he is not dying. Shortly after this he finally accepts his task as the child’s father figure, while Vader died a few minutes after his unmasking and could not fulfil his fatherly task any more. Also, in both cases we learned the person’s real name not long before the mask went off: Anakin Skywalker respectively Din Djarin.

Given the saga’s love for cyclical narrative, this would make a lot of sense. Star Wars is telling us once more how important a protective and kind father is for a child, both as a role model and an attachment figure. We do not know yet how baby Yoda will turn out; but it would have made little sense for the storytellers to think up such a figure in the first place if they didn’t want him to go another (possibly better) way than his more famous predecessor. 

Is the galaxy at last healing after the terrible conflicts caused by both Jedi and Sith, and will the good fathers be responsible for a better future, maybe even for the long-awaited Balance in the Force? I hope so.

May the Force be with the Clan of Two. 😉

(On a side note: Vader / Anakin was in his mid-forties when he died. Din Djarin is about the same age.)

After the closure of Season 2, I would like to add a few details that also set Din Djarin apart from Anakin.

 Attachment vs. Affection

Anakin’s greatest weakness was his anxiety to lose the ones he loved. In the end, he sacrificed all of his ideals for the purpose of saving his pregnant wife. Luke also loved his friends and wanted to save them, but in that fateful moment before Palpatine, he realized that he would have had to give up his integrity for the purpose, and that was when he decided to throw away his weapon.

Din suffers deeply when he has to give up “his” child to a literal stranger for an indefinite time. However, he knows that it must be done because he does not have the knowledge to train him. Grogu also, reluctantly, lets go when he sees that his “father” is doing the same. This goes to show, again, that he is much stronger than Anakin.

 Following Rules vs Following One’s Heart

Like Anakin / Vader, Din takes his helmet off the moment he has to say goodbye to his child. The famous sentence “Just once, let me look on you with my own eyes” comes to mind. Vader was a Sith Lord and Anakin had been a Jedi. Both adhered strictly to their code: Anakin was a faithful Jedi until he became a Sith and Vader obeyed to the rules of the Sith until for a brief moment he acted like a Jedi again (and, also, like a father, which was a first). Mando unmasks not only before Grogu but also

-     Luke, who is a total stranger -     Moff Gideon, an enemy -     Bo-Katan, a possible potential enemy since she pursues the Dark Saber -     Fennec, an ally but not a friend -     Cara, a friend who never saw his face.

That he is willing for all of them to witness the moment he lifts his incognito shows that Mando is finally listening only to his heart. The Way of the Mandalore, which was his guideline for his entire adolescence and adult life (i.e. thirty years or more), has become less significant to him than the bond he has with Grogu.

Anakin’s tragedy was that he could not follow his heart but that some rules defined by an outside source always were in control. He wanted to be a husband and father and loyal friend, a mechanic and a pilot, not a Jedi or a Sith.

Ben Solo’s tragedy was the same; though not born a slave, he also had no choice about what to do with himself and his life. It was either being a Jedi or a Sith. But we know that he wanted to be a son and a lover, and a pilot.

The same fate occurred to Luke, many years later: the kind-hearted, affectionate young man from Tatooine, who so easily befriended everyone and always was compassionate and helpful became aloof and detached on being a Jedi, because he thought that was what this task required. But in the end, it was exactly what made him not understand and even fear his nephew, with disastrous results.

Din Djarin chose the way of the heart, he is no longer adhering to “the Way”: he said himself that now he can’t put his helmet back on. (Alternatively, he could put it on again, but that would mean defying the Way otherwise.) Grogu has witnessed that a man can very well choose family over a code that was taught to him, even if he adhered to it all of his life. Luke is the one who carries him away, but Grogu looks over his shoulder to his “father”. Luke may become his teacher, but Grogu’s role model, his hero, will always be Din; as it was for Ben with his father Han.

 Hints at the Future

Anakin died twice: once on Mustafar, where he also lost his blue light sabre, and on the second Death Star, where he had lost the red one. Din Djarin, at the end of this part of this journey, receives a sabre, although he never wanted it.

With the Dark Saber, a new fate is awaiting Mando. Is his destiny that of being the warrior-king, protective and honorable, that ought to have been Anakin’s place? Maybe. As they say, the best leaders are the reluctant ones. 😊

[simp-for-mha-men]

𝕔𝕠𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕦𝕖 (𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕒 𝕒𝕚𝕫𝕒𝕨𝕒 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣)

A/N: Back at it again with my favorite teacher! This one’s pretty cute, at least to me. I was drinking my coffee this morning and had this pop into my head. I wrote more than I expected, but it is so freaking cute. Enjoy it!

Genre: teacher x teacher fluff with Aizawa, caffeine, and a friend 💞

Word count: 1.5k

♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥

Mondays always started off wrong for Aizawa. Nothing ever went right. The coffee machine was usually broken almost every time, due to Present Mic somehow forgetting to work one over the weekend. This was the reason that Aizawa hated Mondays.

Class 1-A figured out that Mondays with their homeroom teacher were mostly spent in quiet solitude or with a minimal lecture. Tenya Iida, the speedy class president, never spoke a word unless he was asked a question. Katsuki Bakugou, the explosive Pomeranian, was bone-chillingly silent. None of the other students made any sudden movements that would disrupt their teacher. This was the way it was supposed to be.

However, one of Aizawa’s colleagues was always prepared. (y/n) (l/n) was a true phenomenon to him. Every Monday a new coffee beverage was in their hands. One morning in October, he could smell pumpkin and nutmeg coming from their tumbler. Sometime in June, before summer vacation, he could smell caramel and cinnamon. Each Monday, a new drink was to be introduced.

Although this Monday was just like every other Monday, Eraserhead felt that something was off. The weather was normal for this time of year. He didn’t forget anything in the dorm. What could it be? As soon as you walked through the door, his question was answered.

You came in with no coffee tumbler in your hand, dark circles under your eyes, and bandages on your forearms. In short, you looked like you had spent all night trying to quell a fight in an abandoned alley. It shook the erasure hero to his core.

In all of his years of knowing you, he had never once seen you in a such a state. It broke his heart. You were always so put together, but today, you had it worse than rough. He needed to do something to help you out.

“Shouta, I need help” you said, shocking him that you would use his first name. You usually only went by last names for the sake of being “formal.”

“What is it, (l/n)?”

“Come outside with me, please.”

When Aizawa heard it as a plea rather than a question, he sprung up out of his chair and followed you down the hall. 

It was still pretty early. The sun had just started rising about 10 minutes prior so no students would be out and about yet. What could’ve happened that made you need to talk to him? Did you apprehend a spy on the U.A. grounds? Could you have trapped a villain? What did you do?

“I know this seems a little bit strange,” you said, interrupting his thoughts, “but you’re the only one I can turn to for this kind of thing.”

Now he was really confused. You two aren’t close. Sure, you always said hello to each other in the mornings and waved as you passed in the halls, but you never saw each other outside of work. He thought you were a masterpiece. The way you carried yourself with such ferocity while holding kind eyes captivated him. You deserved to be in prison for being too gorgeous. It’s true.

“Did something happen to you, (l/n)?” he questioned.

“First,” you began, turning to face him, “call me (y/n), please. We’ve known each other for so long that you can also address me by my first name, Shouta. Second, nothing bad happened to me. Something happened to an innocent victim.”

You held out your right arm to Aizawa, nodding your head as a signal that he could unwrap the bandages. When he did, he was met with at least 20 little cuts that had bled pretty badly. They were all very tiny, so a knife couldn’t have done it. Actually, no weapon was small enough to make these cuts.

“The victim went into a mode of self-protection when I tried to help it,” you explained simply.

It? Why would you call a person it? Was the person so far gone mentally that they didn’t even deserve pronouns? What could’ve happened? You were always so careful on your missions. This must’ve been a dire situation.

You both continued walking until you made it to the front gate. You walked over to a bush and picked up a large, cardboard box. Placing it in front of your coworker, you knelt on the floor behind it.

“You’re the expert,” you stated. “I...I don’t know what to do for it.”

“(y/n), why would you--”

“Open the box, Shouta. You’ll get it.”

With trepidation filling his core, Aizawa reached for the box and slowly opened it. Once he saw the contents, he let out a gasp of shock. There, wrapped tightly in a lilac blanket, was a sleeping black cat. He noticed the cat was missing spots of hair on its head and ears, probably due to stress or a condition. It shook a bit in its sleep from a nightmare.

After staring at it for a little longer, Aizawa came to the conclusion that the cat was abandoned. You rescued a cat. However, it didn’t seem to appreciate your help at first. That’s why you had so many “battle scars.” It clawed you until it realized you were a friend.

“Did you give it any food?” Aizawa asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” you nodded, slowly standing up. “I picked some up from a convenience store not too far from here.”

“Did you check its gender?”

“No. It kept clawing me and wouldn’t let me see its stomach.”

“Did you properly treat your wounds?”

“I--”

You began to speak but immediately shut your mouth. Shouta Aizawa, the man you had been quietly observing for years, was indirectly asking you if you were alright. You felt your heart skip a beat. You’ve always thought he was hot, but never have you thought about pursuing a relationship with him. What would the other staff members think? Wouldn’t it be considered unproffessional?

“(y/n)?” he inquired again, louder this time.

“I-I didn’t. I was s-so worried about the poor thing that I didn’t think a-about my own h-health.”

You felt the rain start to wet your face. Wait, it shouldn’t be raining. You then realized you were crying. It was pathetic of you, but that was how your body reacted. 

“(y/n),” Aizawa began softly, “did you even sleep last night?”

Slowly shaking your head, you began to sob. Before you knew what you were doing, you flung yourself into a safe haven: Aizawa’s arms. 

He took a sharp breath in. He never realized that behind your strong facade, you were extremely fragile. He instinctively wrapped his arms around you, and you nuzzled your face into his neck. Sinking down to the ground, he began to realize something. It felt comforting. It felt warm. It felt....like destiny.

During your crying session in Aizawa’s arms, you both failed to realize your furry friend was yawning and waking up. It crawled out of the blanket carefully and slid into your lap. Nuzzling its face into Aizawa’s leg, the rescue fell asleep once again.

You both looked down in affection. Your eyes were soft, and you giggled at how easily it fell asleep again. Aizawa showed a soft smile before glancing over to see your expression. You were a gift to him. He had to take advantage of that.

“Hey,” you said, poking him.

“What?”

“Female. Kohii.”

Aizawa tilted his head, letting a smirk grace his features. “What?”

“It’s a female cat, and I’m naming her Kohii.”

“You’re naming her coffee?”

You nodded your head, sadness leaving you. “Yep! It reminds me of you.”

When Aizawa’s expression changed, you realized what you had just said. Slapping your hand over your mouth, you looked away from him quickly. 

Instead of getting angry, he let out a chuckle and picked up your new friend. “Since you got to name her, you owe me something.”

You quickly snapped out of your trance, trying to ignore the blush on your face. Rolling your eyes, you replied, “Obviously. We’re going to take care of her together. Nezu will grant us permission, I’m assuming.”

Aizawa nodded his head. “Of course he will. However, I need something else.”

“Oh, come on!” you sighed. “What is it? Money? Want me to grade your class? What could you possibly want from me?”

“Coffee.”

His simple response shocked you. He wanted....coffee?

“What kind?” you questioned, cocking your head to the side.

“The kind that lets me drink it with you.”

Now, you knew your face was red. You quickly turned away, missing the mischievous glint in his eyes and smile. Scoffing, you tugged on his scarf. He fell completely backwards, eliciting a belly laugh from you. It was music to his ears.

“When?” you questioned, finally glancing at him.

“Now.” he responded.

“Sure.”

All three of you were smiling. Yes, all three. Kohii couldn’t exactly express it, but she was on the inside. You could tell. It was as if you three were the perfect family.

Standing up, you offered your hand to him. He gladly accepted it and picked up Kohii after gaining his balance. You all headed off campus, and everyone was happy. 

“You know,” you began, “we should prank Yamada next week.”

“Rig the coffee machine before he breaks it?” he asked.

“Oh yeah.”

[wordcubed-writes]

My BNHA villain OCs: Inko’s sidekick

Apparently by “tomorrow” I meant a week later, and by two OCs I meant "four, but each gets a separate post because jeeeezus this’d be too long otherwise”.

Inko has her own journey in Libra, going from homeless single mom to respected villain. Due to how the timeline works out, I needed to create some OCs for her to interact with, since none of the other canon characters’ histories line up with AU!Inko’s in the way I needed them to.

Also, the point of Inko’s character is that she can’t survive on her own. She’s a villain, yes, she breaks the law, and as she grows into her role she even knowingly hurts people. But she’s unusual among villains in that she doesn’t pretend to be strong by herself—her real strength is in the many connections she makes. Inko becomes the surrogate mom to a generation of young villains. A key part of her story is found family.

Hence her organization’s name: the Underground Family.

Today’s character: Kangen Kutsurogi

You can tell this one's important because she has a proper name!

Kangen's role: Inko needed a companion, someone she can interact with through her journey. I wanted them to be younger than her, so Inko is still definitely The Adult in the relationship, but old enough to babysit Izuku, old enough to spend money without raising too many questions, old enough to have political opinions, and old enough to know how to bullshit their way through some things.

(Fun fact: this role was originally going to be Dabi's, but he’s just too young at this point—11 at most—to credibly do some of the things I’d need his character to do. Don’t worry, he still joins Inko's family, just at a later date.)

I also wanted someone to provide an alternative kind of character development. Inko is already a mother, already carrying responsibility, already intensely compromised, and her character growth is about things more grounded than destiny and bigger than personal vengeance. Kangen, however, wants more shonen-esque things: she wants to solve mysteries, she wants to make herself into something.

And boy howdy, does Kangen have a mystery to solve. Because her Quirk isn't hers. And, possibly, neither is her name. This is BNHA, you can probably guess how she has a Quirk that isn’t hers...

Kangen wants to solve the mystery of herself, Inko wants to take care of the people she cares about. All For One can either be the antagonist in Kangen's personal story or he can be the monster who generously tolerates the small fry swimming around him. He cannot be both. Kangen's story is that she must learn to temper her wants and grow around her own scars—like Inko already is.

If Kangen pursues the things she thinks she wants, she'll destroy the things she actually values. (Sometimes, you have to let go of your personal dream narrative to realize the one you've actually been living this whole time.)

Kangen's Quirk: Nonthreatening.

Kangen's Quirk prevents anyone from seeing her as a threat. No matter how hostile or violent Kangen acts towards someone, she can never provoke them. They will never panic, get angry, or get stressed about her. Confrontations become friendly chats and deadly fights become laid-back play-fights.

Nonthreatening allows Kangen to challenge people who are normally very dangerous and walk away without few-to-no repercussions. She’s also used it to steal stuff right in front of the owner's eyes. (At most, they'll sigh exasperatedly and get around to filing an insurance claim. Chasing her or calling the police would mean they’re worried or angry, and that’s not possible with her.) Or brazenly assault people in broad daylight and walk away without anyone trying to stop her. (It is not a stealth Quirk; people can see and remember her normally, they just can't be fucked to pursue/confront her while she's present.)

The exact mechanics of Kangen's Quirk are the mystery, though. Is it an always-on field affecting everyone around her? Can it be suppressed with concentration? Or is it the reverse, and takes work to keep activated? Is she the sole focus, or can she prevent anyone from provoking anybody? Does it work on robots? Can a recording of her have the same effect?

The little answers are ever-changing. The big answer is that her Quirk is very, very old: one of the first-generation Quirks from 200 years ago. Its original user was taken by the government, and used in “Project Kangen”, a series of experiments in "pacifying" large crowds, or potentially even entire populations. Her Quirk is (sometimes) strong because it's actually many Quirks—one of the first amalgamate Quirks forged by All For One—but it's unstable because, well, he was pretty young himself back then, and not nearly as skilled with his own Quirk as he is now.

And Kangen Kutsurogi’s name? Given to whoever the Quirk subject of Project Kangen is.

Kangen's name: It's literally the Japanese phrase "kangen", which according to at least one Japanese dictionary means "leniency and severity", making her name ~meaningful~ by Horikoshi standards. Kutsurogi means something like "comfort" or "relaxing".

Her villain name is Peacemaker, and yes she is going to carry a Colt Peacemaker revolver, because irony.

Kangen's backstory: The desirability of certain Quirks means human trafficking is a big problem in this AU, and Kangen got shuffled all over the place as villain groups tried to use her Quirk for various purposes (anything from petty crime in broad daylight to negotiation to infiltration).

Eventually, All For One decides that the Project Kangen Quirk is his creation and therefore belongs in Japan, kidnapping her. Then, not having much use for her (AFO has far more potent telepathy Quirks under his command) he put her where he dumps all the Quirks he collects but doesn’t use.

That is, he gave her to the actual designated antagonist of my villain!Inko fic: a cult leader villain who worships All For One (and doesn’t realize he’s merely caretaker to All For One's human collection of salvaged Quirks). Kangen’s job there was mostly to suppress the more violent Quirk-users and help raise the younger kids.

In addition to highlighting the uglier side of Quirk society, Kangen also parallels Eri: used by villains for her Quirk, but escapes and runs into a genuinely good person (Inko). It sets up the conflict between AFO's cult and Inko's family in Libra, and (SPOILER) later, in Let the Heavens Fall, the conflict between Overhaul and Inko (who let me tell you is SUPER PISSED that this upstart new villain's first major step is "torturing a child for her Quirk").

[viakook]

Welcome to Destiny’s Destination!

This is a choose-your-own-story fic where you every decision you make effects your outcome.

[!] Before continuing, make sure you’ve read the preface here!

If you already understand the concept of this reading experience, then welcome to your story! Remember to vote on the poll at the end.

Tears were still stinging your eyes as you collected the rest of your things from the plastic containers, well aware of the stares from onlookers. However, you were quick to sniffle and blink furiously to expel the feeling aching to make itself abundantly known on your face as sadness.

It was hard, though. It’s not every day that you uproot everything you’ve ever found familiar to pursue a job in a country you’ve only been dreaming of since you left high school.

So as you took a step away from your family who was still painfully standing on the other side of TSA, watching your back as you left them for an undetermined amount of time, you mustered all your courage to not look back. As you cruised further and further until you were out of their sight you found a weight slowly lifting and a nervousness moving into your chest.

For years you had become so accustomed to the security of your parents while you traveled anywhere, be it driving, by train, or even the subway. Staring ahead of you into the giant building that encased you, a panic began to settle as the realization of your almost complete lack of directional skills was put to the test.

Your fingers fiddled with the boarding pass slid into a random page of your passport, pulling the paper out and reading over the various letters and numbers. Yet, the longer you looked the more confused you became.

Unbeknownst to you, a stranger had perched himself beside you with his gaze set on the directory screen only a few feet ahead. The shuffling of his own papers had drawn your attention upward and you nearly jumped at how close this man was.

It was obvious by how quickly he moved that he was no stranger to flying, and given the tan slacks that barely reached his ankles and the freshly pressed cotton button down, it was clear he was of a higher class. Surely a businessman, you concluded. However, as he turned his head away from you to check his directions, you noticed the odd way his sunglasses hung upside down on his neck, barely gripped onto his ears.

There wasn’t another moment to gawk at the peculiarity of his attire, though, as he was suddenly staring blankly into your eyes. There was a pregnant pause as your breath hitched from being caught, but he only tilted his head.

“Can I help you?” His voice was deep as he spoke and the way his eyes wandered to the boarding pass now being wrinkled in your fingers pulled a grin to his face.

“Um,” you stammered, abruptly turning your gaze away in embarrassment. “M-Maybe?”

“Maybe?” Looking up you found his brow rose and his grin turned smug.

You let out an anxious laugh and glanced at your boarding pass, raising it toward him as you spoke. “I’m not sure how to read this, so I’m not sure where my flight is.”

He swiftly plucked the paper from you with two fingers, turning it toward him and scanning his eyes over it before splitting into a boxy smile. “Gate D-18. Looks like it’s your lucky day, that’s my flight as well.”

Your eyes widened at the information and you gave him a smile of your own. “Really? What a coincidence.”

“I’d say,” he nodded and handed the pass back before tucking his own into his back pocket. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

With that the pair of you took off into the airport, winding this way and that with you mostly sticking behind him. He would glance back every now and then and only moved aside when you stepped onto the moving walkway.

“From here the gate will be at the far end on the left. I have a reservation in the VIP area so this is where we’ll part ways,” he explained, palms spread behind him on the railing.

You nodded along and adjusted your backpack. “Thank you so much for helping, I probably would have gone the complete other way.”

He let out a short laugh and let his head fall onto his chest before he looked up. “Cute.”

The abrupt comment left you flustered and you diverted your attention until he let out an airy laugh. “I promise you won’t get lost. And if I don’t see you before boarding, have a good flight.”

Just as swiftly as he had appeared he disappeared, stepping off the moving walkway with his suitcase in hand and turning toward a staircase off to the side. With a final thank you barely making it past your lips you continued forward as per his directions and found yourself stopping just where he had said.

A sigh of relief left you as you found an empty spot to sit down and relieve your shoulders of the weight of your backpack. It hit the floor with a soft thud as you set it down and sat before rummaging through its front pocket for your headphones. With them successfully secured you leaned back and settled in for the next 3 hours before boarding began, Netflix becoming welcomed company.

Your toes curled in your shoes at the gory scene before you, and as if it were a sign from the universe to stop watching, your phone buzzed letting you know your battery was down to 10%. The screen disappeared with a click of the home button, revealing there was still an hour and a half until boarding.

A frown pressed to your lips as you looked at the battery in the corner of the screen, eyes moving up in search of a charging station. With little success from the perch of your seat, you gathered your things and stood to walk around the section. You grazed through aisles until you came across a station with a single port open, but no chairs in sight.

With a sigh, you straightened up to continue on, but a voice suddenly called out. “Do you need to charge something?”

Turning halfway towards the person you found a man donned in sunglasses and black ripped jeans, a scarf tucked neatly inside a denim jacket. His fingers were hovering over a wire plugged into one of the USB ports. “My phone is almost at full charge anyways.”

“Uh,” you began unintelligibly, eyes glancing around at all the filled chairs, but the man was quick to catch on.

His nimble fingers pulled a heavier winter jacket and black bag from the seat next to him, opening a seat which he slid into before he gestured to his seat next to the charger. “Please, it’s not a problem.”

You paused for a moment at how nice he was being but were still hesitant. Yet, with one more glance at your phone your desire to not be bored beyond belief on your flight won over and you cautiously sat down.

“I promise I don’t bite,” he teased, smiling wide to show off a radiant smile. Despite the fact you still couldn’t make out his eyes from behind his sunglasses, you returned the gesture with a small smile.

“Thanks.” There wasn’t much conversation left so you turned to pull your charger out from your backpack, but the man piped up again.

“Where are you headed?”

You bit at your lip as you plugged in your phone and rested the device in your lap, eyes glancing at the stranger. “South Korea. I got a teaching position just outside of Seoul.”

He whistled in response, lips turning down in a manner of approval. “That’s pretty cool. You seem rather young though, do you think you’ll be able to handle it?”

A laugh broke through your lips at the comment and you turned to the man with a sudden confidence. “I do think I’ll be able to handle it. I’ve been a teaching assistant through basically my entire college career and I worked really hard to get this job.”

There was a moment of silence on his end as he pursed his lips before he lounged back into his chair and pulled his glasses off. He ran a hand through his hair and nodded before offering you another smile. “That’s a really good attitude you’ve got there, I don’t see it often.”

“W-Well, thank you,” you blinked, taken aback by the compliment. It was hard to read his character but he seemed genuine nonetheless and it was almost odd the gratification you took in his approval.

He said nothing more, headphones now tucked neatly in his ears and eyes cast onto his phone, screen playing some action scene that he quickly became absorbed in. You took a deep breath and resumed your own distractions, sending texts to family and friends to let them know you would be boarding soon.

The next hour felt as if it was dragging on, boredom making you restless as you crossed your legs and uncrossed them, fiddled with your fingers and picked at your nails. Just as you began to muster up the strength to head to the bathroom, the overhead intercom blared to life, a voice echoing your name to report to the departure desk.

Nerves rushed over you and for a moment it felt as if you were a child being called to the principal's office. You uneasily unplugged your phone and glanced at the man beside you. “Could you watch my things for a moment?”

He nodded and turned his attention back to his phone, paying you no mind as you stood and made your way to the desk where an attendant was flying her fingers over the keyboard.

“Ms. Y/L /N?” She questioned and you nodded. “Our passenger cabin is currently at max capacity for carry-on luggage. We noticed you had two carry-on’s ID’d. Would it be okay if we checked your larger bag for space on board?”

“Oh, um,” you stuttered out.

There was a pang of worry coursing through your chest at the idea of giving your smallest suitcase to be checked. It was for the simple reason that airport staff paid no mind of giving care to luggage that you had put your camera, laptop, and fragile objects in there for safe travel.

“You can say no, ya know.” A husky voice chuckled from behind you.

“What?” You intelligently blurted out as you turned. However, you were surprised to see a man clearly dressed in a pilots uniform, stark blond hair peeking out from under his hat.

“You can say no,” he restated. “They can only ask you if it’s okay if it’s not then they make an announcement to other passengers. Don’t worry.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” you muttered.

He tilted his head to the side, taking a step forward to get a better look at you. “First-time flyer?”

His observation surprised you and you could feel your face flush pink as you nodded and bowed your head. He let out a gentle laugh and softly patted your shoulder to get your attention again. “Take a deep breath, no need to worry that pretty little head of yours.”

With that, he leaned forward onto the counter and folded his arms over each other. “Let her be, it would appear she has too many valuables in her carry-on and isn’t comfortable leaving them in the airport staff’s incapable hands.”

The way he talked to blatantly left you stunned and the desk attendant only held back a smile as the man turned back toward you with a wink. “You’re safe in mine, though.”

The line, although very cheesy, left you blushing harder. He excused himself with a satisfied grin and passed by the desk toward the loading dock of your plane.  You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and shook your head as you made your way back to your seat.

You tried to let the last few encounters roll off your shoulders as you shut your eyes and let them rest for a little while. In those moments your body released whatever tension had built up and a calmness passed over as you reminded yourself of what you were doing.

Two, potentially three (or even longer), years abroad in South Korea, teaching English to middle school students at a public school just outside of Seoul. Although it may not have been what you imagined for yourself, unlike what you told the man beside you, it was still what you called your ‘back-up dream’. It was an opportunity of a lifetime and a journey unlike any other, one that would test you in ways you had no idea were possible.

Pulling you from your thoughts, the intercom sounded again exactly 40 minutes before departure, asking for all passengers in zone 1 to line up. At the call, you pulled your boarding pass from your back pocket and skimmed over the mishmash of words before finding ‘ZONE 3’ printed at the top.

Another few minutes passed and zone 2 was called, leaving your knees bouncing in anticipation. All around you, people had begun to line up and you could feel the pressure guiding you to stand and make your way to the back of the line. After all, they would surely call your zone before you made it to the front.

And that they did, you were still standing out in the main walking area, fingers tight on the handle of your luggage and eyes scanning over you pass again. Yet the sound of chunky boots drew the attention of yourself and others to a boy jogging toward the line before he came to a stop a few feet from you.

His eyes were glued to his boarding pass, only moving to glance at the plane number before letting out a sigh. But he was then moving closer into line and furrowing his brows, head turning this way and that until his eyes locked on yours.

“Um,” he started awkwardly, scratching at his neck as he fully turned around. “What zones have they called so far?”

You blankly stared at him for a moment, taking in his attire which screamed to you that he was most definitely a student. From his boyish looks to the snapback on his head, down to the oversized sweater hiding his frame, it was obvious and adorable.

“Zones 1 and 2, but they just called 3,” you replied smiling only when he let out a groan.

“Of course I would miss my call,” he huffed, shifting his eyes to the back of the line that was curved down the main hallway. From this angle you could see the bags from beneath his eyes, a clear lack of sleep having eaten at him and made him so late. At this rate, he would surely be waiting another 20 minutes before he could board.

“Is it that bad to miss your call?” You queried out of genuine curiosity. Of course, waiting sucked, but you were all headed in the same direction.

“Well for one, they might check my carry-on and that’s the last thing I need right now, and second,” he paused and gazed with a pout at the line. “This line looks terrible.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the way his lips turned downward, a sense of sympathy drawing you to grin and take a step back. “You can go ahead of me. I’m sure they’ll take you since your zone 2.”

“Really?” His eyes were wide and he had visibly perked up at your offer. Another laugh slipped from your lips as you nodded and gestured to the empty space in front of you. “You’re a lifesaver. Thank you so much, seriously.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you waved him off. “We’re all going the same place anyway.”

He grinned at that and shot you a full smile that showed off just how handsome he was. “Well thanks, you’re really kind. I’d give you my bag of pretzels if I knew where you sat.”

You laughed at this and shook your head. “Consider this my good deed for the day––good karma.”

He returned your smile and nodded, stepping toward the desk and handing the attendant his boarding pass before turning back to you with a wave. “Have a good flight!”

“You too!” You call after him. No sooner and he disappeared through the exit doors, leaving you fumbling to hand the attendant your own boarding pass. A sheepish smile creeps onto your lips at the action, and you duck your head as the attendant scans and hands you back the slip of paper.

In seconds you too are through the boarding gate, descending the escalator and drumming your fingers over the handle of your luggage. This was it, in just a few minutes you would be airborne and on your way to a new life. It would be an understatement to say you were terrified.

With high nerves, you followed the backs of other passengers until you were at the door of the plane, a kind stewardess glancing at your pass before directing you to your seat.

Your attention switched between the bold printed letters above the rows and the faded ink on your pass until they both matched up. Pursing your lips you angled your head up at the overhead compartments for an empty spot, finding one directly over your seat.

Despite your best efforts, though, you could barely reach the bag over your shoulders and with the pressure of the line forming behind you, a sweat had begun to form at your temples. A mild panic was settling in and you were mumbling apologies and expressing your dismay with forced smiles until a pair of hands clasped onto your luggage.

“Here, let me help,” came a voice from behind the barrier of your suitcase. However, within seconds the bag was lifted from your hands and into the overhead compartment, revealing a tall ash-blond man with thick-rimmed glasses.

“O-Oh, thank you!” You stuttered out in surprise.

He was smiling kindly, dimples creasing his cheeks as he ducked and moved back into his seat. Yet, as you quickly shook off your surprise you noted how he was sitting in your seat. “Um,” you began awkwardly, pulling his attention back to you. “The aisle seat is actually mine.”

For a second he remained frozen, lips slightly parted until he broke into a sheepish laugh. “Is that so? Sorry, I must have read my pass wrong.”

As he spoke he stood and scooted over into his rightful seat, allowing you to finally escape the eyes of the impatient passengers waiting for you to move.

“No, no. It’s okay. I feel like I’ve been doing that all day,” you replied with your own laugh. A puff of air pushed past your lips as you sat, a relief washing over you.

“Tell me about it,” he scoffed, tilting his head back onto his headrest, a lone finger rising to tap at his glasses. “Even with these I still feel blind sometimes.”

The pair of you share another laugh at the mutual understanding, smiles ending the interaction as you each busied yourselves with getting comfortable. However, before you could plug in your headphones and settle in to watch a movie he spoke up again.

“If you happen to get tired, you can use my shoulder. I wouldn’t want the flight attendants to hit your head with their cart,” he chuckled, eyes kind as he spoke, but a blush rising on his cheeks. “That is if you want to, o-or if you feel bad because it happens by accident? I’m just saying–“

“Thank you,” you cut him off with a laugh and he nodded, diverting his attention to a book perched on his lap.

The rest of boarding continued smoothly and after another 20 minutes the plane was officially airborne, a take off that had you gripping at your armrest. As the unease of getting in the air washed away, you found yourself falling into a movie marathon. All the blockbuster movies you had missed the past few months were delightfully at the tips of your fingers.

For a while, you were happily going from movie to movie, but all the concentration on such a small screen began bugging your eyes and nurturing a growing headache. After what you presumed to be your third movie, you turned off the screen and laid back in your seat, giving yourself a rest in hopes of ridding the pain in your head.

It didn’t go away. A pit grew in your stomach and pain was blaring behind your eyes every time you opened them. Deciding that sleeping it off, you rose a heavy hand and mustered up the courage to press the assistance button on your screen.

Within seconds an attendant was at your side, his eyes wide, hands behind his back and an inquisitive look taking over his features. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yeah,” you began, attempting to sit up straight. “I have a really bad headache and was wondering if you had any painkillers?”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” he frowned with furrowed brows. “Let me go check.”

He disappeared for barely a minute and returned to your side with a cup of water and a tiny enclosed packet of what you assumed were the painkillers. After gently placing the cup in front of you he squatted down to your side hand outstretched to drop the packet into yours. “I’m not sure how strong there are so if they don’t work within half an hour, call me again.”

“Okay, thank you,” you smiled as you twisted your fingers over the paper of the packet to give it a firm rip. Yet, the paper refrained, the plastic coating over top aiding in keeping it together and further irritating you.

After another attempt, the attendant, who had been silently watching in amusement, lightly offered his hand out to open it for you–an offer you gladly accepted. He swiftly rose the packet up to his mouth, pearly white teeth showing as he bit the paper and pulled it down, successfully opening it.

“Wow, you seem like a professional,” you comment in surprise. It wasn’t that you were impressed, but for such soft features as his, you weren’t expecting such an exaggerated means to open the packet.

He only shrugged his shoulders, eyes turning to crescents as he dropped the pills into your hand and stood up. “It’s part of the job description,” he said and held up his fingers, putting each down as he spoke, “show passengers to their seats, serve them food, give them water, tear open their pills.”

A giggle fell from your lips as he spoke and he couldn’t help but to do so as well, a delightful sound ringing in the air between you two. However, he no sooner was pressing a finger to his lips through his own laughs. “Sh, other passengers are trying to sleep.”

At that you sealed your lips and held in a muted laugh, nodding your head in thanks as he gave you one last smile and walked off.

For another minute or so a smile lingered on your face at the encounter but as the painkillers began to work their magic your lips fell and eyes closed, sleep finally settling in. You weren’t sure how long you were out, but a sudden rock of the plane shook you awake nearly two hours later.

Your vision was bleary as you looked around and stretched your arms ahead of you. The man beside you was still out cold but the flight path showing on his screen answered the question you had to ask. Only an hour and a half left on your flight, then it was time to face your new life.

A sigh escaped you as you adjusted yourself in your seat again, yet with a simple lift of yourself to reposition, a sensation fell over you and you clamped your legs together. You began to wrack your brain for when the last time you had gone to the bathroom was and came up in pain when you realized it was only a little before you had boarded.

Suddenly your nerves were spiking again at the prospect of leaving your seat and mainly having to wait out in the open for the bathroom to open. As your bladder seemed to squeeze itself, though, you swiftly found yourself unbuckling your seatbelt and rising to stand in the aisle with a wave. However, you steeled your nerves (and your bladder) and moved as quickly as possible up the aisle given the situation.

Approaching the stalls your heart drops at the sight of a man already standing there, both bathrooms occupied with little red lights above the doors. So the two of you stand there in silence, but it was clear the man was slightly annoyed as he muttered under his breath.

“Seriously?” He huffed loudly after a moment. “How long does it take to take a piss?”

You held back your smile and tilted your head down, but he only spoke louder with the intention of getting your attention. “I’ve been standing here for almost 5 minutes now and they were both closed when I got here.”

Staring at him you were a taken aback by his brazen attitude, but it was obvious he was only poking fun at the situation as he still had a lighthearted tone. “I even tried the bathroom in first class but the line is 3 people long and I thought I didn’t have time to wait.”

You stifle a laugh and wave your hand at the sound of a toilet flushing behind the door. “I’m sure they’ll be out soon, don’t worry.”

“Thank the Lord, I’m about ready to explode.”

“Tell me about it,” you huffed. “The last I went to the bathroom I wasn’t even on the plane.”

At that, the door lock snapped and the frail barrier opened as a teenage girl stepped out, headphones secure in her ears. You shared a look with the man and he could only seem to roll his eyes.

“Alright, well don’t take too long in there,” you piped up after she passed you.

He paused, though, unraveling his hands from his chest and then waving you to go into the bathroom instead. “I think you probably have to go a lot more than me.”

“What? No, you’ve been waiting here way longer. I can wait a little more,” you protested but he kept shaking his head.

“It’s okay, I insist,” he ushered you again, moving closer with a hand hovering at your back. “I’d suggest you go unless you want some cranky old people to start nagging at you.”

Taking a glance back you notice the two elderly women behind you with deep-set frowns. You duck your head at them and turn back to the man.

“O-Okay,” you give him a grateful smile and move toward the bathroom. “Thank you.”

He nods and waves you in again with a grin smoothing over his lips. You’re quick inside the bathroom and when you emerge he’s still standing there, offering you a wink while you trade positions. “Looks like the ladies overheard me. I’d hurry back to my seat if I were you.”

You let out another giggle and give him a final thank you before scurrying back to your seat for the rest of the flight.

Unboarding goes by relatively quickly and you find yourself yawning quite often as you walk hurriedly through the airport. Immigration goes by in a blink and before you know it you’re waiting at the luggage carousel for the appearance of your two bright yellow suitcases.

It’s a bit much to manage on your own, but after getting a firm grip of two handles in one hand and your largest suitcase in the other, you’re setting off toward the taxi stop. People are flying by around you and yelling across crowds, and for a moment it feels like you’re moving in slow motion as the doors open and you step outside.

Years of preparation, time spent abroad here to decide if this is what you wanted to do, and you’ve finally achieved that goal. Yes, it wasn’t exactly the job you wanted, but it was a stepping stone to a life you had worked so hard for.

Air whipped at your face as buses flew by but the breeze was accompanied by a hint of the ocean courtesy of the island the airport was settled on. A smile was sneaking up on your lips as you shut your eyes and took a deep breath. Nothing could live up to this moment.

“Stop my luggage!”

But something sure could shatter it, just not in the way you would think.

Congratulations on completing the prologue! 

Now comes the most important part of your journey: who will you share it with?

→ The dapper CEO, Kim Taehyung [Unavailable] → The energetic traveler, Jung Hoseok [Unavailable] → The suave pilot, Min Yoongi [Unavailable] → The late student, Jeon Jungkook [Unavailable] → The sweet grad student, Kim Namjoon [Unavailable] → The kind flight attendant, Park Jimin [Unavailable] → The brazen actor, Kim Seokjin [Unavailable]

Take the poll to help the author decide whose routes to unlock first!

Take Poll

[h3llostrang3r]

Without You (TRR)

Drake x Sophie

Song Suggestion: Driveway - Miley Cyrus

Word Count: 1,726

Summary: From the @choices-september-challenge prompt, “Heartache”. Before it was KIng Liam and Queen Sophie,  it was Drake and Sophie...

Notes: All my fics are in an AU. Like Drake, Sophie is half-Cordonian, half-American. However, unlike Drake, she comes from a powerful family in the noble court.

Cordonia, 2 years before Liam’s bachelor party in New York.

It’s Sophie’s last day in Cordonia before she leaves for America. She has said her goodbyes to her family and is spending her last day at the palace. She has had multiple conversations about traveling abroad and renting a place together in New York with Drake. He has kept quiet and avoided giving her a direct answer, tonight is it. This is her last shot to convince him to take a leap of faith with her.

Sophie and Drake are hanging out in the back of his pickup truck, they are parked on a hilltop overlooking Cordonia. The sun is starting to set, the blue sky is being washed away by vivid colors of orange and red. The weather is warm, but the clouds threaten to bring rain. A blanket is spread out and pillows comfort their backs as they enjoy their dinner. Sophie insisted on having dinner from their favorite fast-food spot. Their spread consisted of cheeseburgers, fries, sodas, and mini Cordonian Apple Pies.

“A toast!” Sophie raised her soda in the air towards Drake. He looked at her questionably, but raised his soda anyways.

“Alright Thorn, what are we toasting to?”

“To you, to me, and to everything in between.” She clanked her cup against his and sipped on her fizzy drink, savoring the way the bubbles tickled her tongue.

“Everything in between?” Drake joined her in taking a sip, but by the expression on his face he was a little confused.

“Ya, you know. These moments, where we’re just simple people enjoying the simple things in life. We’re not trying to impress anyone or put on some sort of front for the court. It’s ‘Just Sophie’ with ‘Just Drake’. ” She stared into the sunset with a blissful smile. All her life she was raised to uphold her family’s name. She loved her family and respected their traditions, but she was so exhausted just learning about the court. She knew her mother explored the world on her own before she met her father and moved to Cordonia. Her mother made a name for herself in New York and carried that legacy to Cordonia, and Sophie wanted that for herself. To discover what her destiny was, to pave her own path.

Her parents decided that it would be focusing on self defense training, business, politics, and trying to woo the crown prince’s younger brother since she refused to go after Leo. Sophie didn’t think that Leo was bad on the eyes, but his spirit was too wild even for her. She understood the importance of having some discipline in her life. Her summers were spent at the palace getting to know Liam, but that proved difficult with Olivia Nevrakis hanging on to him at every moment. Sophie didn’t mind, but she would get bored waiting for a chance to spend time with Liam that didn’t involve boring courtly politics.

Drake tried his best to avoid Sophie every time she came to visit, but she knew he wasn’t hanging out with anyone else. She loved that he enjoyed spending time outdoors and didn’t want to talk about the court. She finally caught his attention with her archery skills, proving she wasn’t just a cute face trying to grab Liam’s attention. She wasn’t afraid to get dirty and speak her mind.

“Sophie, what’s this?” Drake pulled out a manilla envelope from underneath one of the pillows.

“Open it.” Sophie watched him closely to see what his reaction would be when he read the letter inside. His brows furrowed the more he read.

“It’s a letter from the school I’m attending, they said they would be willing to take you in as a student, but you have to submit your application. You could finish school with me in New York. I already have the apartment, and you don’t have to worry about rent. I know you’ve been avoiding giving me an answer, but this is your shot to get away with me.” Sophie took Drake’s hands in hers, offering a smile that was half tucked under her teeth.

Drake held his head low and shook it, too afraid to look her in the eyes. “ Sophie, I - I can’t. Savannah is here and she needs me and Liam…”

“But Drake, I promise we’ll come back. I just wanted you to experience this with me. We’ve been through so much already. Why not learn about where our mothers are from?” Her face hurt, she was trying to keep her expression still. Her eyes stung trying to fight back the tears.

“Sophie, and what happens when we come back? Your parents will expect you to keep pursuing Liam, not shack up with his commoner friend. It’s what they’ve always wanted for you. I’m not your future, Liam is.” He finally gained the courage to look her in the face, but she was already making her way out of the bed of the truck. “Sophie…”

“Take me back to the palace.” She hopped in the passenger seat and slammed the door before Drake could make his way to her. He opened his mouth to protest, but she stopped him. “Don’t speak to me. Just take me back.” She wanted to scream, why was he doing this? Drake walked towards the back of the truck slamming the tailgate closed. Why couldn’t she let it go? Why couldn’t she let him go?

The drive back to the palace was silent and awkward. Sophie kept her gaze to the sky, watching what was once a beautiful sunset turn to a gloomy storm. Drake kept his focus on the road, trying to get them back as fast as he could. He knew she wouldn’t finish the conversation until they reached their destination. She needed somewhere to run if she completely lost control of herself, she always had an exit plan.

They finally pulled up to the backside of the palace where they could go at it without an audience. As soon as Drake set the brakes they both planned to bolt out and race to the other’s side. Drake’s seat belt got caught so Sophie got to his side as soon as he closed his door. Both hands on his firm chest, she slammed him into the driver’s door. He stood there, towering over her. Pain, guilt in his eyes, but he didn’t move, she needed to let it out.

“Why are you being like this? I have taken so much shit for you, Drake. My parent know I’ve been with you, and they still push me, and I push back.” Sophie couldn’t tell if she was trembling from how cold the air had gotten or from all the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

“You showed me that there is more to life than the court. I stood up for you so many times and for the ‘common’ people. We’re all human, the titles are just that. What am I supposed to do to prove that I will always fight, that I- that I…”

Sophie prayed so hard and it must have been heard because the rain started to fall. Her anger finally settled and all that was left were tears hidden by the raindrops that continuously fell.

“Me and you against the Cordonian court. I’m not embarrassed to be with you, Drake. I will cry to all the heavens if that’s what it takes to prove what you mean to me.” She knew he wasn’t going to change his mind no matter how hard she pleaded. This is where he could hide, in the shadows and slump back into his old ways. His debt in life would never be paid, Liam brining Drake and Savannah into his home was too great of a price. Savannah would always need him because their mother couldn’t take that responsibility.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” That’s all he could say. He pulled her into his embrace and gently swayed her. Kissing the top of her head as she cried into his chest. His heart hurt , but she didn’t need him. He was just her way to escape during the summer , and maybe she was his escape too. Away from Olivia and the other stuck up brats of the court. Her parents would never let them be together and he didn’t blame them. She could rule the world if she wasn’t so hell bent on being a rebel. Drake placed a finger under Sophie’s chin and tilted it up until she could see the hurt in his eyes. He whispered, “I’m sorry,” as he brought his lips to hers.

All those summers spending countless hours together, laughing, horsing around, doing nothing at all. They would always cherish the moments, but this was it. No more Drake and Sophie. The end of their era was here. They never wanted their kiss to end. They lost count of how many times they came up for air before they found each other’s lips again. Sophie grabbed his collar with both hands as if it was the last thing holding her onto the earth. Drake tangled one hand in her hair, and held her waist so tight there was no space left between them. Don’t stop, never stop, Sophie thought to herself. But he did. It took everything in him to break the last kiss and hold her in place.

He brought his lips to the side of her temple as he held her in a tight embrace, “You’re going to do amazing things, Thorn. Just Sophie.”

She brought her hands to her face. If she didn’t look , it wasn’t real. This couldn’t be how it ended. Just a few more moments, Sophie and Drake, Drake and Sophie. She could feel his warm hands parting her’s from her face. “Let’s go, Thorn. You’ve got a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

She shook her head as she backed away from him. Her eyes met his, they were colder and filled with pain.“I can see myself in... Just Sophie.” Arms crossed in front of her chest she marched up the driveway to the palace.

Drake watched her walk away. This was for the best. She was strong and she could do this without him. She was Sophie Thorn, a fighter, a believer, a leader. He wasn’t what she needed and she deserved so much more.

[willel]

The world is not black and white people.... there are so many shades of grey you cannot name them all.

The entire Byers family (except Lonnie's ass) is a victim of circumstances.

When we insist Joyce and Jonathan need to talk, it's because Jonathan is placing a responsibility on himself that only Joyce can release. Of course she didn't purposely parentify her son, but due to their life circumstances, that is what happened and she is the cure.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all that, but it's better now. You don't have to do this. I love you so much, thank you. You're such a good son."

Anything that can reassure him he no longer needs to carry such a burden is necessary. Even the actors know this.

The Byers family is not "19 Kids and Counting", the parentification was not purposeful or extreme. But it did happen and it does not make Joyce a bad person or Jonathan a bad person. Literally no one is bad here.

I lived through a similar situation as Jonathan (except due to where we lived, I wasn't able to work part-time and support the family. I would've liked to during the 2008 housing crisis. It was a worrying time) Do I think my mom has victimized me? Is she a villain for giving me extra parental like responsibility over my little brother because she was a single mom and had to work multiple times just to keep us in our house?

Of course not. I don't even think she had to ask me to pick up responsibilities. It's something I did on my own because if not me, who else? As much as he was a snot nosed brat, he was my little brother. (and I had to make sure he didn't nearly set the house on fire trying to cook dry ramen in the microwave. Yes. He did that)

The time of being a parent for my little brother came to an end when I graduated from college and went to live in the dorms. Funnily enough, I have this conversation about parentification with my mom the other day. I don't know what I was expecting to hear from her, but all she said was, "Aw, you did so much. You're such a good big sister."

I didn't feel much from her saying it lol. Maybe a little pride? A little bit of "Wish it didn't happen that way." But I'm sure if others were in my shoes, they'd feel more. (I didn't feel much because her AND my dad are constantly like "You should talk to your brother and sister about this and that. They won't listen to me :C Please tell them to do this and that. They listen to you so make sure you tell them this and that." Like I'm some kind of mouth piece. I have to constantly remind them I am not my sibling's parents)

I'm so confused why people insist this conversation is not needed or essential or required. "Jonathan did this to himself!" Even if he did, isn't it time someone saves him from himself? Like his mom, who loves him dearly and would want him to put down his burden and pursue his dreams?

Even if Joyce tells him it's ok and he doesn't put down the burden right away, I truly honestly believe just hearing her say that could bring him so much relief and a little bit of pride. It could either jump start him into taking his destiny into his own hands and pursing what he wants, or just the final nail in the coffin where he's already decided what he wants and now he won't have any regrets or fears over his choice.

People should stop trying to make everything a him versus her situation. This is not that kind of conflict. Not everything is a fight waiting to happen. There is not always someone trying to make someone else a victim.

This conflict is something that can be resolved by sitting down, talking, and hugging it out. With some crying. Yes, lots of crying. I think it's more strange that people just... don't want this to be addressed at all. Why are people so against some family feels and some really tame and heartfelt family drama?

Was that scene of Jonathan addressing him distancing himself from Will and making an effort to become close again not deliciously sweet???? Don't you want some more???? What's the problem?

Did you read this? https://at.tumblr.com/queenofthearchipelago/is-it-an-unpopular-opinion-to-think-that-joyce/hr7zv1l2o0fi

I totally agree. A lot of what Jonathan is doing for Will is his own choice. Joyce wants him to go to the college, have friends (she loved seeing him with Nancy!), live his life. She may be a bit absent at times bc of the stress in her life but she doesn’t pressure him. Jonathan has trust issues but he’s independent, and that’s what made me interested in him: to reduce him to the role of the involuntary victim of Joyce’s parenting is uninteresting and not the great take some of his fans think it is.

What’s up with pitting Joyce and Jonathan agst each other?

These are both terrible takes: Jonathan isn’t responsible for his own parentification at the age of 12—the “Jonathan is doing this to himself” from the link, smh.

Nor is Jonathan the “involuntary victim of Joyce’s parenting”—altho, again, this makes it sound like he’s voluntarily choosing what happened with Lonnie and the circumstances it created, including of course for Joyce.

No it’s all a lot more complicated than that but it’s also wild to say Jonathan did this to himself and manage to…completely forget Lonnie and his effects on their whole family? And also, he isn’t just asked to every once and awhile to drive Will to school lol; it’s a lot more than that (from looking after his family’s well being, to more logistical things).

Jonathan is naturally protective; he’s not forced to become protective. But he’s def, bc of circumstances, had to assume way more responsibilities and familial worries than other people his age.

He def has an independence (that’s in part from growing up earlier), and also has a family who has depended on him and doesn’t quite know how to operate out of that role, in part bc he naturally gravitates towards it and is used to gravitating towards it.

One of the complexities of how they have (accidentally it seems) depicted his parentification is it’s in the context of also a loving family after Lonnie leaves. Like Joyce loves her sons so much and wants the best for them. She does want to see him go to college, supports his relationship, doesn’t want him to carry around guilt. He still though has had a lot put on him and also feels the need to step up and provide stability at various points as a direct counter to Lonnie and bc of the effects of him.

In any case, since Jonathan and Joyce haven’t talked for seasons and he still has trust issues and still feels like he has to be there in a certain way, they need to talk.

But, no, blaming Jonathan for assuming a protective parent role, as if there wasn’t a whole set of complicated circumstances that put him there that also mesh with his instinctive, fierce loyalty and love of his family…uh no. That’s a v bizarre take to just say: ‘actually, it’s just his own doing and something he created.’

[ourmomzone-blog]

Wings of Fire: Autobiography of APJ Abdul Kalam, the Missile Scientist Turned President of India

I: Autobiographies, An introduction:

Writing an autobiography is a risky affair since any person is subject to personal weaknesses and failures. He is expected to openly admit his failures, notwithstanding the criticisms. Only a very few people like Mahatma Gandhi would be able to venture it. Since they are very great people their failures and weaknesses would not be able to diminish their popular and genuine images

There are some autobiographies, covering only one aspect of their lives (say, their profession), where there is not much exposure to their personal weaknesses. So there is no need to openly tell them since they will not come in the way of their narration. Most of the autobiographies we read nowadays belong to this second category.

II: Autobiography of APJ Abdul Kalam:

'A.P.J Abdul Kalam' is a magic name, sending electrical signal to millions of Indians, especially the youth who want to achieve something in their lives for the country. He is like Mahatma Gandhi in simplicity, Kennedy in charisma and Einstein in advancement of Science and Technology. As told in the foregoing paragraphs, in his autobiography he has covered the 'failures' in his experiments and personal losses too and hence his autobiography is also a must read for all the youth, like 'My Experiments With Truth' of Mahatma Gandhi.

In this book, he has covered important aspects of a Missile Technologist and how to come out successful in his mission. In the course of his narration, he has also given importance to Faith in God with a secular approach, devotion to elders, obedience to teachers, utmost loyalty and single minded dedication to duty, efficient managerial capabilities with a sense of team work etc which have taken him to the highest step in the ladder of profession and public life.

This is a brief review of his autobiography presented for the benefit of readers with a request to share the pleasure of taking right managerial decisions at the right time.

III. A Brief Discussion of His Autobiography:

His life may broadly be classified into three parts:

1. His early life till he becomes a missile Scientist, for which only a brief coverage is given in this review.

2. His role as a Scientist and Head of DRDO: This is the essential part of his book and hence this review. His rise from an ordinary Science Assistant to Chief of Directorate of Defence Laboratory with reasons thereof up to the eve of retirement is explained in this part.

3. Life after his retirement including his getting the highest civilian award Bharath Rathna and also his service as the President of India (2002-2007) are not covered in the book and so or in this review. Let us sincerely hope that concluding part of his autobiography, covering these aspects of his life may come out in a near future for our pleasure.

IV: His Early Life till He Joins as a Technical Assistant.

The first three chapters, widely classified into one group under the head 'Orientation' Cover his early life till he becomes the chief of the Rocket launching station at coastal town Tumba (Kerala).

He was born in an ordinary family in the Holy coastal town of Rameswaram in Tamilnadu, India. His father was a boat owner having fishing as his profession. He had a very humble beginning and had a very simple life as a school boy. On several occasions he had to earn to take care of himself.

There were several reasons for his possession of an honest, faithful, devoted, orthodox and secular outlook all along his life. He belonged to a simple orthodox Muslim family and hence he followed Muslim way of worship. He was born in a Hindu Pilgrim Centre (A visit to Rameswaram will clear a Hindu from all his sins) and so he had (and continues to have) great respect for Hindu Religion. He was taught by Christian and Hindu Brahmin teachers whom he acknowledges as the greatest influence in his life. Above all, he is an un-tiring worker who works 18 hours a day, even at the age of 81. Later chapters in this book show him as a very good go-getter, having excellent command over team working which are the most essential qualities of management. He is a lover of Karnatic music and is able to play Veena one of the most difficult musical instruments. He is highly religious, has unshakeable faith in the Divine will and pre-decided destiny. For this, he often quotes from Quran and other religious scriptures. He is a poet himself and writes poems in his mother language Tamil successful single mothers stories.

An account of his education at Rameswaram, Ramanathapuram, Trichy, and M.I.T at Chennai was given in the beginning chapters. Then the book narrates how he narrowly missed a job in Air force and got a job in Directorate of Technical Development and Production.

The rest is History and is covered in subsequent parts.

V: The Becoming: The Success Story of India's Space Rocketry.

In fact, the Techno-Scientific life of Dr Kalam started so early as when he, along with his two juniors constructed a model Hover Aircraft named Nandi (Bull, the vehicle of the Hindu God Shiva), which was appreciated by none other than the then defence minister of India Mr V.K.Krishna Menon. However, the project Nandi was shelved. Later he was sent for a six months training in NASA which changed the course of his life.

Abdul Kalam traces the History of Indian Rocketry to the period of Tipu Sultan who ruled Mysore in 1799. After the death of Tipu Sultan, Indian Rocketry also met with its demise, to be reborn after 150 years due to the technological vision of the then Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru and Prof Vikram Sarabhai, the Chairman of Indian Space research Organisations.

The following is the sequence of Space missions sent directly under the supervision of Mr Abdul Kalam.

V.1. On his return from NASA, India's first rocket launch took place on 21st Nov, 1963. It was a sounding rocket named Nike-Apache and made at NASA. It provided excellent flight data. (Dr Kalam records with deep regret, the assassination of J.F.Kennedy, the then President of USA, the next day evening.)

V.2. The first Rohini rocket, consisting of single solid propulsion motor weighing a mere 32 kg lifted a nominal 7 kg payload to an altitude of 10 km was launched next. It was followed by another, to which one more solid propellant stage was added to dispatch multi-experiment payloads weighing nearly 100 kg to an altitude of over 350 km.

V.3. Prof Vikram Sarabhai, Director decided in 1969 to go full steam ahead with the task of establishing indigenous (fully made in India) capability in building and launching our own satellites. SHAR Rocket Launch Station was born in Sriharikota, near Chennai. It was then the Satellite Launch Vehicle was conceived.

On 10th Aug, 1979 the first experimental flight trial of SLV 3 was launched. The first stage was a success. There was a smooth transition to II stage. Suddenly it went out of control. The flight splashed into sea 560 km away from Sriharikota.Hence, launching of SLV 3 on 10.8.79 was a failure.

VI: Failures and Losses:

As hinted already, Dr Kalam lists out the failures in his mission and tragic losses in his family in his autobiography. He listed three major failures of his career in his book. The first one was the death of his hovercraft project (Nandi), the second one was shelving of the project RATO (Rocket Assisted Take-off System) and the third was abortion of the SLV 3.

On the family front, he mentions about the death of his parents and his elder brother, thus he had to take the burden of his entire family, mainly his brother's younger daughter. In the beginning, he met only with failures. How did he pursue fresh dreams and came in terms with success is the most important part of his autobiography, which he shares with the readers without reservations so that youngsters will stand to gain and start Dreaming about a prospective future. "Start dreaming in a constructive manner" is the Mantra of Dr Kalam and thousands of youth were benefited by following this guidance in achieving their goals in their lives.

VI: Further Space Missions:

VI.1: The First Success: Un-deterred by the failures in missions and losses in family, Dr kalam started concentrating in his further space missions. On 18.7.1980, SLV 3 was again launched with Rohini Satellite carried as payload. Dr Kalam writes so: "Mission Director calling all stations. Stand by for an important announcement. The fourth stage apogee motor has given the required velocity to put Rohini Satellite into orbit". He says that these are the most important words he spoke in his life. There were happy cries everywhere; there was a great jubilation and celebration. The mission was a total success!.

The modesty and simplicity in Dr Kalam makes him to contribute this success to the Team and not for him. While he accepted the whole responsibility for the earlier failure, he shared the victory with all. Is it not a good quality for a Manager to be followed by everybody?

VI.2: If launching of SLV 3 with Rohini satellite is number one important day in his life, inauguration of IGMDP (Integrated Guided Missile Development Programme) was considered the second important day in his life. The proposed (integrated) projects were reflections of India's long cherished self reliance and christened in India's most traditional names as follows:

[spilled-chai]

“Nueva Destina" [Inspired by Aimee Bender the Remembere] By Emmeline Fernandez

My lover is experiencing uncertainty. 

There is no time to spare, no memories to halt.

“J,” I say to his slender body poured into the living room recliner, “can you come here?” he looks my way with a half-smile. 

He’s grown prone to lounging. All he does is admire our California sun, hoping that in our southern wind, he will find the answer to his northern destiny.

In just two short weeks, he will be living up North, pursuing a bachelor's degree in Economics at the University of California, Berkeley. 

“If one of us is uncertain, this isn’t going to work,” my voice is patient with an undertone of deceit. 

“You can’t be mad at me for wanting to try.” Long distance relationships are tough, they say. Only commit to them if you are patient, they say. When I was nine years old, I had a purple teddy bear named Kevin. I named him after Fred Savage’s role in The Wonder Years. I took Kevin everywhere, even funerals. When I was 15, my grandfather passed away and as the only US Citizens, my sister and I were given the role of grief. My parents flew us to Mexico City, where we said an entire family’s goodbyes and were swiftly on our way. 

We came back to the states with a sense of maturity magnified through grief, and Kevin. 

Although no one was dead, I felt grief as the date for J’s admission approached. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to carry the grief of his absence.  As an understanding girlfriend, I wanted to assure him everything would be okay. I didn’t realize I’d be left to reassure myself along the journey, too. 

January 11th would be the day our love would die. 

“How often will you come down?”

“I don’t know--every two weeks?”

“That’s excessive.”

“Once a month?”

“We’ll hardly see each other!”

“I just won’t go until I have time. How about that?”

Nearly every conversation whirled around chance. We left everything to fate by choosing to ignore our future.

I don’t want us to become the couple that finds themselves together yet interacts separately. You know, those couples that walk together into stores, one in front of the other. No hand holding or interlocking of arms. If they get a phone call they claim to be together, but in what context?

Oh yes, Jill. I’m here with Bob running errands, when Bob is two aisles down looking at what beer is on sale. 

I knew we were drifting apart. But I’ve always loved love and went at every endeavor wholeheartedly. If this relationship would end, it wouldn’t be by me. I would never give up. 

---

I wake to my first alarm at 5am. The soles of my feet harden as they flatten to the mold of my tiled floor. Its Saturday, which means I have work. Being that I am still in school, I’ve resorted to only working the weekends. I must admit I’ve also chosen this schedule to have more time with J. 

While the thought of him leaving hurts, I can’t help but notice how being away is not clouding his mind. Whenever I bring up the conversation of what things might be like, he blows me off. “Can you stop? Let’s just enjoy the time we have.”

I figured he meant the time we have left before he goes off to the Bay. I never figured he meant the time we had left as us. 

I’m not sure what day it was, and I’d like to keep it that way. All I know is the pain I felt listening to his silence on the other line. A silence that made what little I had in my stomach curdle. That soundless noise of chaotic mystery, a ringing of absence. 

“Do you still want to be with me?”

…

“Do you? Don’t be a coward, do you?”

…

I smeared the phone from my right ear, down to the bottom of my cheek and waited for a sound, anything. It was two AM and there we were, talking. 

I couldn't take it anymore, his silence beating my eardrum and turning my insides. 

“Just say it. Just say you want to break up.”

Finally, it spoke. 

“I don’t want to lose you. I’m just, I’m such a bad boyfriend.”

I heard him out. Only because I knew he was right. 

The beginning of our relationship started innocently, over some coffee and college prep. He had been with one of my close friends for about five years so yes, it was innocent as I did not pursue the friendship in hopes of anything escalating. It was during conversations like this when I doubted whether I had made the right choice by ignoring my gut and following my lustful heart. 

Always listen to your gut. 

The next morning went on as if nothing had happened. It wasn’t until the end of the night that I even heard a smidge of an apology. 

“Sorry about last night. It hasn't really been easy to adjust.”

While I was adjusting to a long-distance relationship, he was adjusting to the relationship, a new environment, school, and a new apartment. Was I being inconsiderate to his demanding change in lifestyle? Or was it just as irresponsible of him to put all feelings aside, which led to this predicament in the first place?

The fight was pegged more on my part. He was upset with how I was constantly looking for a response to my last message or simply because I was looking to receive a call at the end of the day. I understand that I was asking for more than he could give me and, in that moment, realize there had never been a smidge of compromise in our relationship. Our relationship was 90/10 and always had been. While it was clear we were over, we continued to go back and forth on who was the one to blame, exhausting every avenue and getting nowhere. 

Then, the skies began to clear. We began to weed out the unnecessary verbiage of what we felt had to be said and finally began speaking our truths. That night, our love died. And with Kevin by my side, I fell into a state of grief and said my goodbyes. 

Keep up with Emmeline & her work on Instagram

[robininthelabyrinth]

Legends Recap

Because while I was determined not to (I was three episodes behind!), sometimes a girl's just got to scream into the void: "HOW DO THESE WRITERS KEEP THEIR JOBS?"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Raiders of the Lost Art: Wow, I don’t care about Rip. Also, you had the fucking spear of destiny through all of season 1? Fucking incompetent.

I’ve seen the Mick scene before. *hugs Mick*

…Nate is such an annoying frat boy. 3AM blasting bad music? In a small space near other people’s sleeping quarters? And just “oh, yeah, sorry, I needed to do a thing” as an explanation? We have a name for those people: assholes.

Again: Indiana Jones is an archeologist. Not a historian.

“Anyone would have made the call to save Grey!” “Would Rip?” Answer: no, because Rip doesn’t care about the team. Remember how he did that repeatedly last season?  Why is this show trying to push Sara’s weird (and out of nowhere) crush on Rip?

I have literally no interest in Rip’s issues. Zero.

Fear of giant toads, somehow related to Mick’s mother (reference to “mommy talk”). Dragon!Mick confirmed?

Mick’s expression of “you’ve got to be kidding me” is going to be the highlight of this episode, I can tell.

I’m pleased they remember that Mick can knock someone out without harming them. I’m less pleased that they seem to have forgotten that Sara can do the same?

“Oh now, our way out is block! Pity we didn’t bring Jax, so that we could literally Firestorm fly our way out! That would have made sense, but cost precious CGI money!”

Mick’s tradition of carrying people continues.

Oh god, this episode’s only halfway over. Make it stop.

Goody, Stein insulting Mick to his face. Also, emotional problems leading to hallucinations are a serious problem??? Even if it’s just “emotions”, there are hallucinations?

NOTE TO AUDIENCE: Not having 4 PhDs or a history degree = total inability to read words!

NOTE TO AUDIENCE: Not being an inventor or a historian makes you useless!

Also, apparently getting mugged once can cause a change of career after dropping money and time into it.

Why did they move the chair into Mick’s room? HOW did they? (Why were we, the audience, deprived of the glorious scene of Mick and Stein hauling it down the hallway)

Also, Mick has been interpreting Stein’s academic technobabble without a problem the whole episode, and yet, everyone on board thinks he’s stupid…

I’m incredibly pissed at this episode for raising hopes of Len and then destroying them. Both for Mick, and for the audience.

I’m also not here for the Rip/Sara thing. Also the fact that this show seems to assume people will be super disbelieving despite being on a goddamn spaceship.

Oh, my bby! Mick’s head is literally SLICED OPEN in that scene! WTF?

I get all the Star Wars references, I just…don’t care…

George Lucas is holding the spear of destiny, which makes him a great director…or, at least, married to one. He’s a good tech guy, at least.

In which the Guy Who Has Never Been In A Fight Decides Not To Run From Evil Bad Guys Because…Plot.

Mick’s little smile when he says “ghost” and the heartbreak after it is just…unnecessary. Also, wtf, Stein, hallucinations are not a usual response to grief, okay?

Ugh.

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Legion of Doom:

Damien’s intro is more interesting than 95% of the normal Legends’.

Okay, why is Merlyn having Feelings about Darkh dying? (Also, wouldn’t removing Darkh from the timeline mean that that timeline no longer happens? Why do G. Lucas’ ~~feelings~~ about filmmaking have an immediate impact but literally removing the person who doesn’t go on to do any of the shit he later does not?)

Fucking writers. This could be such a good show if they cared even a LITTLE.

I do enjoy the sheer bitchiness of the bad guys. Pity they’re Nazis. Also, do we need all the scenes of tortures?

ALSO: why the hell would his daughter help with a mystical artifact? Like, I see that she does because of plot, but couldn't they have put any effort into explaining why her specialty is required? Also, why does she have a radiation detector in her pocket when she goes to get coffee?

Bad guys: bitch-bitch-bitch.

Bad guys: bitch about each other.

Bad guys: yet MORE bitching!

Bad guys: worst bank robbers ever?

Mick’s difficulty thinking of the word is adorable. And yeah, she deserved to know. Everyone acting super weird about her, and she doesn’t know why? She would have wanted to know. It was clearly deliberate, too (I love how he goes to “asphyxiation”!)

Bad guys: going back to bitching. With swords! (See, I’d like them, but: Nazis.)

Stein is moping because Mick “spilled the beans” on a secret he shouldn’t be keeping. So sad.

Both sides figure out Eobard, finally. Also, can’t Eo just phase out through the wall?

Speedster: not…use…speed…force? I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand?

Eo’s terror face is hilarious. Also, did everyone just forget about phasing?

Stein’s family drama, yeah, yeah.  Stein: Can’t you stay? Lily: No, the budget can’t afford another regular. I mean, I have protein-folding to be doing instead of LITERAL time travel with future science! Because that’s totally how normal people/scientists make decisions!

--------------

Turncoat:

Mick’s intro is lovely.

Interesting mention about “time travel” being fun – I assume not all the memories are back in place. That, or being a Time Master is even more dull than I’d previously imagined.

I’m in for Gideon killing everybody! *notes down fic idea*

Go Mick! Use your skills! (Ray deserves all the arm twisting.)

Nate and Amaya – boring. And seriously, with the ‘falling into his arms’ thing?

Good lord, someone actually makes a plan that includes the line “and then if there’s trouble, Firestorm”? I thought I’d never see the day.

(Ray should totally go as a toy. And Ray, stop making faces at Mick – you’ve been a dick to him all season, only fair he gets some licks back in.)

“Oh you’re married to a black woman! Don’t you know we were racist back then!” says the man in late 18th century New Jersey, where rich black women could still vote. (No, really, in a handful of states black women could vote as long as they owned property. This was one of the rights that was lost when the US got itself a federal government. But the past was always racist! because we didn't make this joke enough when Kendra and Ray were dating!)

Ray’s “Mer-ry Christmas!” is amusing.

Mick identifies the problem faster than anyone else, as usual. Mick disapproves of Rip’s behavior – and Rip’s attempt to compare the two of them. For shame, Rip; as usual, thinking the worst of Mick.

“And Rory.” “That was implied.” Yeah, sure.  At least Jax gets next Captain after Sara goes! First time I’ve seen any reference to Jax’s leadership skills in…the entire series…

Really. Twice. That doesn’t make it funny.

“I’ll bet a hundred yous you’re wrong” = Mick is the best. Georgie isn’t wrong about there being rules of war, but Mick is still the best.

Jax. Jax. I love you, but there is a DIFFERENCE between “wow, I’m in charge of a handful of people and need to make decisions” and “I’m going to do a potentially life threatening activity involving literally digging into my friend’s stomach (which is filled with organs that, if nicked, could cause sepsis and death) with a knife, and I’m going to do it without a guide or any experience”. Stein wins this one hands down.

Okay, let me just be clear: somehow, Amaya has been on this ship for months and months and never heard the term ‘dating’ and is instead using ‘courting’, which is the most formal of formal terms used in the past. Because obviously a man – to use old-fashiony language like this show wants to – “called on” or “stepped out with” a woman a few times before officially declaring a courtship. Because the past didn’t have one-night stands, because people only developed libidos around the time of the internet. SERIOUSLY SHOW? People have been fucking for fun since forever. The whole “sexual revolution” thing was a revolution because women could have sex for fun WITHOUT RISK OF PREGNANCY.

Before then, they still had sex, they used what contraceptives they had and hoped for the best. There’s a reason shotgun weddings were a thing. And why

And I was told they went with the “huddling for warming -> sex” thing, I knew it was coming, it’s just…disappointing. Boring.

Jax Home Alone looks like it’s going to be fun.

Rip – the most ahistorical haircut, or the most ahistorical haircut? Ugly, too.

Georgie: “Don’t punish Mick! He’s not guilty!” Mick: “You bet your ass I am! Possibly not at the moment, but of many other things! And also, just generally speaking!”

Still bored with Nate/Amaya.

Jax Home Alone is not anywhere near as fun as I was hoping. Boo.

Mick: So I’m getting you out of here. George: No. Mick: *tries insults* *it’s not very effective* George: *stirring speech* Mick: *stirring speech* *it’s super-effective!* George: …

“Oh, no, what about George Washington and Rory!” says the person happily having sex and napping instead literally five minutes before.

Awwwww, Ratigan! That is some terrible CGI.

Why are they selling the Rip/Sara? It’s icky. (This is me: totally believing that Sara’s dead. Really. Totally. Even for five seconds.)

First, the historical critique: they shouldn’t ALL be standing around at a hanging with primed guns, that’s a recipe for disaster.

Second: I don’t even care this is glorious. Mick saves everyone! Mick tackles four people! George uses his superior height!

Also, if Mick convinced him early in the evening, then they literally spent all night talking.

First instance of Georgie-boy! (though poor Mick is still suicidal, oh dear)

George: …yeah, Americans out, stage left, pursued by bear.

Jax, Jax, baby, just shoot him in the kneecap. What the hell is with these heroes? Sara’s back and decides to use Christmas against everyone because…no, I have no idea why. Is it just me or does it feel like these episodes are massively out of order?

Awwww, Georgie and Mick drinking together <3 Mick and the criminal justice system! And then they hug! Mick finally has a good friend!

“Rebel spirit, steadfastness, crass yet effective use of language, you’re the best of what our new nation can be” – Mick is now officially embarrassed and hiding. Man, if I hadn’t already written that Barry/Mick fic, I would now.

Sara and Jax bro-ship is perfectly okay. More of that.

Mick in a hat! Mick with his new rat! <3 Mick kissing his new rat!

“We have nothing to celebrate – including Mick getting a statute!” – why, guys, why?

(Mick’s face of “yeah I still got nothing” whenever the statute is mentioned is adorable)

“Because the League may have everything – smarts, beauty, cunning, charisma…wait, where was I going with this?”

[garancefranke-ruta]

American Jews hear the footsteps of white nationalists and worry

Chanting “White lives matter! You will not replace us! and Jews will not replace us!,” several hundred white nationalists and white supremacists carrying torches marched in a parade through the University of Virginia campus. (Photo: Evelyn Hockstein/For The Washington Post via Getty Images)

WASHINGTON — The day after the election in 2016, Nancy Goldstein, a 55-year-old Brooklyn writer and academic who has never been to Israel, opened up her computer and began the process of applying for Israeli citizenship.

In Washington, D.C., 49-year-old entrepreneur David Bennahum began the complex process of moving his family and startup business to Montreal, finally establishing all four of them and the company there in July.

The one thing they had in common: They are both Jewish. And both had looked at the campaign of Donald J. Trump and decided they would be safer as Jews and as liberals if they had an exit strategy from America.

The question of living as a Jew in America under Trump has provoked varying degrees of anxiety in the year since he tweeted out an anti-Semitic meme about Hillary Clinton — the infamous Star of David tweet — and then sought to defend it as a “Sheriff’s Star.” That’s when I first started to hear the half-panicked, half-joking conversations about exit strategies if Trump won and considerations about where to go if America were ever to become unsafe. A friend whose grandparents had fled Germany talked to her mother about going back there. A half-Jewish, half-Australian friend decided to pursue — and ultimately secured — dual citizenship and an Australian passport.

Contemplating worst-case scenarios is something practically encoded in the Jewish DNA, a legacy of 2,000 years of persecution culminating in the slaughter of 6 million Jews in the Holocaust less than a century ago. And given that most American Jews are Democrats and political progressives, the sense of foreboding that Trump has provoked has been compounded by his actions and rhetoric against other groups Jews have stood in solidarity with in America: refugees, immigrants, religious minorities, people fighting for civil rights.

Now the events in Charlottesville, Va., have triggered more difficult historical memories, and forced some Jews to freshly confront troubling questions about their personal and community safety. And it’s forcing many of them to weigh how much they trust America against how much they trust their own fears about where their country is going under Trump.

“What happened last Shabbat was terrifying. Seeing Nazis marching with torches on American soil touches our deepest vulnerability, our collective trauma. Hearing the leader of our country refuse to take a stand against them reminds us of so many closed borders, so many who turned away when our parents and grandparents were running for their lives,” Rabbi Rachel Timoner of Congregation Beth Elohim wrote in a letter to her Brooklyn, N.Y., congregation urging them to not feel alone in their fears, and to stand with in the wake of the Charlottesville car attack.

Three days after Charlottesville, Eran Greenberg, a 42-year-old doctor who works in Northern Virginia, had a different response: He retook possession of the gun he’d bought years ago but kept stored outside his home. “Seeing this up three blocks from my house set me off,” he said, sharing a photo of an Identity Evropa poster proclaiming “Our destiny is ours” on a lamppost in Old Town, Alexandria, Va. Identity Evropa is an American white supremacist group, and the offices of “alt-right” leader Richard Spencer are in Alexandria, making the city a hub of white nationalist activity.

“Every Jewish person I know feels pretty much exactly the same way. And it’s this sort of sense of dread because we don’t know when we’re being unnecessarily frightened and when to take it seriously. It’s the question that’s been asked by Jews around the world: When is it time to go? When is it time to leave? And when is it too late?” asked Kaili Joy Gray, 39, a D.C.-based senior editor at Share Blue media, who unspooled a Twitter thread asking similar questions after Charlottesville.

“Most of the time for American Jews, now, in 2017, we feel pretty safe. We don’t necessarily stand out. We don’t necessarily get a lot of attention, and we are used to thinking about the horrible things that have happened throughout our history as historical things. And in the last few days we’ve seen Nazis, saluting Trump and saying ‘Heil Trump’ and it stirs anger and frustration and fear and makes you realize it’s not history, it’s right now and this movement — this hatred — is being fueled by the president of the United States and that’s terrifying,” she said.

The Ku Klux Klan protested on July 8, 2017 in Charlottesville, Va. (Photo: Chet Strange/Getty Images)

D.C.-area residents, like New Yorkers, have since Sept. 11 been urged to develop evacuation plans in the event of a terrorist attack, and many work in offices that continue to hand out emergency kits with items such as whistles and face masks. The fact that so many Jews live in communities that have already been on high alert or targeted by al-Qaeda doubtless contributes to the conversations about exit strategies and escape routes, along with the political environment and recent worries about a conflict with a nuclear North Korea. But mainly it’s Trump.

“My husband and I have talked about [having to leave] only since Trump took office. In the last half-year, we’ve said, you know it’s a possibility,” said Maia, 40, a business development specialist in Washington, D.C., who asked that I not to use her last name or place of employment.

“Thank God there’s an Israel and we have property there,” she added, noting that that would be the couple’s destination if they ever felt truly threatened in America. Israel, of course, routinely comes under rocket fire from armed militias and has been subjected to waves of terrorist attacks that dwarf anything seen in America.

“Personally, it’s not as threatening to me as 9/11,” Maia said of the neo-Nazi marchers. “That felt more like an assault. This feels like a lot of empty rhetoric without a lot of planning. I hope that this can bring us together like 9/11.”

Bennahum’s reasons for moving to Canada were more complex than just the attentiveness to politics that comes with being a son of a Jew who survived World War II in Nazi-occupied Romania. There were serious business incentives, such as not having to pay healthcare costs for his employees, thanks to Canada’s single-payer system. And he speaks French.

“What opened the deal was the election and then what closed it was the incentives offered by the federal government and the Quebec government to companies like mine to relocate engineers and resources,” he said.

But he also has a dark theory about what’s happening in America, where he sees a democracy that has been under assault since the 1994 Gingrich revolution. The “deeply bad” Bush v. Gore decision, the “nihilistic Republican Congress from 2010 forward,” and Clinton’s loss of the White House despite winning the popular vote are, along with Gingrich’s move to polarize Congress, “four sequential fundamental battering rams to the social norms of the republic” that have helped weaken the American project, he said.

“I put the chances at one in three that the republic is over. Full stop. That the grand American experiment, the world’s oldest continuous democracy — 240 years young — I put it at a one in three shot that it’s out. If Republicans hold Congress in 2018, it goes to one in two. And I think if Trump is reelected with a Republican Congress in 2020, it’s one in one. It is over. … It’s all going to be decided in the next, what, 41 months,” he said. “If I’m wrong, great, then I’ll come back. It’s not complicated. If I’m right, I’m really sorry.”

“I think everyone needs an exit strategy. It doesn’t mean you have to exit right away. But if you have not executed on your path out, you’re naive. If your plan is just to wait and see, that’s not a good story. We know how that ends. That ends in tears, at best,” he said.

Not everyone is so apocalyptic about the future for Jews in America.

“Give me a country and I will tell you we are a lot better off than that country in the Jewish community,” said Ira Forman, the former special envoy to monitor and combat anti-Semitism at the U.S. State Department. “I’d much prefer being a Jew in the United States in terms of anti-Semitic threats than even Canada, France or the U.K.”

“Anti-Semitism in the U.S. has been almost qualitatively different from what we see overseas,” he said. “We are not in the ’30s, and we are not the German Jewish community in the 1930s. It is sure as heck not that. But we can’t be complacent.”

Fighting anti-Semitism is hard, and some of the most obvious approaches, such as taking down Twitter and Facebook accounts of white supremacists, don’t do as much to solve the problem as people might hope. What works best, what is most powerful, Forman said, is the power of social opprobrium.

“One thing we know a fair amount about is civil society speaking out. Heads of churches, civic leaders, business leaders, even common people — when people speak out and the haters pay a social cost, that’s a very powerful tool. We need a lot of folks to speak out. Not just political leaders. We need civil society to rise up,” he said. “It’s got to be consistent, it’s got to be long term and it’s got to be a lot of people.”

The Jews I’ve spoken with are less afraid that the U.S. government will turn on them with the organized ferocity of the Third Reich than that independent armed bands of anti-Semites and white supremacists will gain enough strength and engage in enough acts of terrorism, harassment and negative propaganda to bring what has been the golden age of America for Jews to an end.

Fear of civilian anti-Semitism and mob violence, and not just official state actions, is deeply grounded in the Jewish experience of non-state actors being the vanguard of anti-Semitic violence when egged on by government officials.

Toppled and damaged headstones rest on the ground at Mount Carmel Cemetery in Philadelphia. Pa., on Feb. 27, 2017. The Anti-Defamation League found an increase in cases of anti-Semitic intimidation and vandalism in 2016, evidence that anti-Jewish bias intensified during the election. (Photo: Jacqueline Larma/AP)

“The ‘very fine people’ comment sent shivers down my spine, because the Latvian man who led the murder of my grandfather’s family and the rest of the inhabitants of his tiny village ended up immigrating to Canada after World War II. He settled in Toronto, where I grew up, and in fact lived in the same suburb as I did, not far from my house,” said Lavi Soloway, 50, an immigration lawyer in Los Angeles who in 2004 became a U.S. citizen. “Why am I afraid? I know that ordinary people, patriotic nationalists, people with hatred for the other, specifically hatred for Jews, can be driven to insane acts of violence.”

“Those Charlottesville marchers are a danger to us all. And I cannot simply write them off as a small band of loonies, not with the president giving them succor,” he said.

And then there is the deep pain caused by watching elders taking note of the new anti-Semitism in their waning days.

“When the Nazis invaded [my grandmother’s] hometown of Lodz, Poland, she was 18 years old. She watched as her parents and all the members of her family were killed. She survived three years in the Lodz Ghetto and internment in Auschwitz, Hainichen and Theresienstadt concentration camps,” said Soloway.

“She has lived a remarkable life, and thus it is so monstrously unjust that after having succeeded to rebuild and raise a family, and see her grandchildren grow to adulthood and start families of their own, she is now confronted with the rise of racist nationalism and anti-Semitism, not just in the U.S. but certainly in Europe as well.”

Children too have been frightened in a way that hurts. “Yesterday my 9 year-old saw some footage from Charlottesville. Then she asked me if there would be a second Holocaust,”  tweeted writer Peter Beinart on Friday.

Younger Jews in general are having trouble reconciling the idea of Nazi marches in America with how they think about this country, said Michael Uram, executive director and campus rabbi at the University of Pennsylvania, Trump’s alma mater.  A lot of students, particularly those at large universities in major cities who grew up on the coasts, “think of anti-Semitism as something that existed for their grandparents and parents.”

To confront it as something they too might have to fight is jarring. “There was an incredible sense of shock and disorientation that all this bubbled up,” he said. “They have not felt marginalized or prohibited from doing anything — and yet the story of anti-Semitism is coming up. It’s very hard for students on campus to integrate, to understand how it fits into their Jewish story.”

Some scoff at the idea that Americans would ever turn against Jews in a threatening way. Jewish Americans are, by and large, well assimilated, educated and successful. Trump’s own daughter Ivanka converted to Judaism when she married Jared Kushner, one of the president’s most trusted advisers. The public views Jews more warmly than any other religious faith, according  to a Pew Research Center study from 2014, although the numbers are higher among older Americans than those under 30. As well, “Jews receive their most positive ratings from whites,” according to Pew, demonstrating that there is a deep well of good faith toward Jews among the population from which white supremacists seek to recruit.

The widespread public condemnations of the marchers in Charlottesville and the rejection of the president by business, arts and charity leaders since his widely panned remarks Tuesday has been heartening to opponents of white nationalism. In Boston on Saturday, thousands of anti-white-supremacy marchers — the official police estimate was 40,000 — turned out to counter a “Free Speech” rally by Trump supporters and white supremacists that drew fewer than 100 attendees.

But fear is visceral, not rational. “Rationally, the reaction to Charlottesville by everyone in America who isn’t Trump is reassuring — it suggests there is no significant constituency for anti-Semitism in America. Irrationally, I’ve been thinking about the mechanics of leaving the country and even of last-ditch resistance, ever since last November,” said Adam Kirsch, a poet and literary critic in New York City.

Jews make up only 2.2 percent of the U.S. population, so even if only a tiny minority of white Christians choose to agitate against them, it could be felt profoundly given the broader demographics of the country. The Ku Klux Klan at its peak in the 1920s had a membership that constituted roughly 4 percent of Americans and was able to wield terror against African-Americans throughout the South.

The increasingly bitter polarization of U.S. politics is also a troublesome turn for Jews, in that they overwhelming vote for only one political party: The Democrats, now out of power at every level of national government. Of all the measured religions, Jews voted for Clinton at the highest percent, casting nearly three-quarters of their ballots for her and 24 percent for Trump, according to Pew . By comparison, only 16 percent of white, born-again Evangelical Christians voted for Clinton.

“The Jewish community has learned to live with the fact that one of the parties nominated — and White House came to be inhabited by — someone whose most fervent supporters are white nationalists racists and anti-Semites and those are the supporters he takes care not to alienate,” said Yehudah Mirsky, associate professor of the practice of Near Eastern and Judaic Studies at Brandeis University in Boston.

“Does [Charlottesville] make Jews feel more threatened in America? It can’t not,” he said. That said, he added: “I don’t think American Jews have reason to be terrified. American society and American democracy are strong and healthy in all sorts of ways, but there are disturbing currents around, and president of the United States takes every opportunity to fan the flames.”

“Jews with historical memories always have their passports up to date, that’s just a matter of course,” Mirsky said. But “this isn’t France, where a Jew can’t walk around with his yarmulke on his head without fear of being beaten up.”

“Frankly one reason we don’t have that in America, is that as far as I can tell American Muslims are not anti-Semites,” he added.

Indeed Benjamin Sax, 42, a scholar at the Institute for Islamic, Christian, and Jewish Studies in Maryland, said his group has found that Jews, with their refugee experiences, and Muslims, currently fighting Trump’s ban on refugees and Muslims, have been coming together since the election to build bridges around opposition to the president. Rather than fueling anti-Semitism, he sees Muslims in America making common cause with Jews.

“One silver lining is that my organization has responded to numerous requests, mostly by Jewish and Muslim women, looking to connect, so that’s actually been a pretty amazing community. And allies who wouldn’t normally align are finding their ways to our organization.”

“I live in Baltimore so I don’t feel at all under siege,” says Sax, but he too has felt compelled to consider over the past year to consider where he would go if he couldn’t stay in America. “I wouldn’t move to Israel, I lived there for five years. I thought about Germany. And I know that there’s a strange irony in that, but my wife grew up in Europe.” Denmark, which they visited on a recent trip, also looked attractive. “It’s very easy to get swept away in a European culture and ignore the demons that are in their closets,” though, he noted.

There is also the option that many Jews are taking for now, to stay and fight. Build the self-styled resistance movement. Protest, organize and trust in America. “As the white Jewish mother of a black teen, I deal with my ‘Jewish anxiety and safety concerns’ by teaching marshaling for demonstrations and nonviolent civil disobedience and by helping to organize fierce, disruptive but peaceful protests of varying sizes. Building resistant, defiant, loud community is my jam,” Alexis Danzig, a member of the anti-Trump group Rise and Resist said, quoting from my query.

“And then I lie awake at night wondering how to get my kid out of the country.”

Seven months into Trump’s first term, Goldstein has completed all the paperwork and been approved for Israeli citizenship upon completing one week of residency there, but it’s a step so fraught, she is still hesitant to take it.

The president’s reaction to Charlottesville wasn’t a wake-up call for her but an example of what she feared and expected from his presidency. What she really wants, though, is to feel safe here again, not to leave America.