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alto-angel · 4 years ago

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in this post, i would like to present my thesis on why the song metaphor by the crane wives belongs to goro akechi.

"i've gotten good at leaning on metaphors": goro's speech as the detective prince is very flowery, exaggerated, and calculated, in order to please the crowds of people with their eyes trained on him at all times. public appearances, television shows, and interviews are all very important for his image, and as such he's forced to adapt his speech and choose his wording carefully to appease those watching. robbie daymond especially does a very good job of vocally pushing the line of politeness into a tone that sounds just a bit too sugary to be genuine, but not something u would notice unless u were listening closely.

"i've gotten good at living on someone else's page": much like the first line, this one can also refer to goro's public image. because he's put an immense amount of work into his life as the detective prince, he aims to please. or at least, he needs to act as though he does. in order to keep up appearances, he needs to be able to get a read of those around him and keep himself on the same wavelength as them. this also applies to shido—not only does goro need to please his fans, but shido as well, in order to stay one step ahead of him. goro is purposefully putting himself on eggshells every day of his life, and in order to keep that up as well as keep himself safe, this is what he has to practice.

"i cut my teeth on secondhand sentiments": goro is often forced to follow a script, or at least an embellished, public-friendly version of his own thoughts. the things that he says when acting as the detective prince are rarely ever his own thoughts as they would be presented in normal conversation. goro has to hide his true opinion of the phantom thieves behind crowd pleasing buzzwords, keep up appearances by catering his opinions, and even quotes philosophers and other literature ("to paraphrase hegel"). the things that he says as detective prince goro akechi are rarely ever entirely his own, and he's gotten very good at tailoring his speech.

"you can't trust a single thing i say": this one, i think, is fairly self-explanatory. the "you" doesn't just apply to the phantom thieves, but to those goro works with as well. what is it he says to sae; "to trick your enemies, you must first trick your allies"? he uses deception to get what he wants, but his primary motivation for it is to move his plan forward, and to protect himself. obviously, if he were honest with shido, he would've been killed on the spot. goro's proficiency with lies isn't just a tool he uses, but a defense mechanism as well. bc of his fear of and difficulty grasping the concept of opening up to someone, through that skill, he is able to keep himself closed off and in control (that is, until he meets akira).

"i keep my closet free of skeletons": this one strikes me as irony, personally. goro's closet is so full of skeletons that it's practically bursting at the seams. but as the detective prince, something like that just isn't allowed. he needs to play the part, otherwise he pays the price. as himself, as goro akechi, he's got so many skeletons in his closet that he probably can't open the door anymore. but as the detective prince, he has to uphold an air of perfection that seems unattainable to others. goro as the detective prince is the epitome of the culture behind the idolization of celebrities, and the way others place and expect them on pedestals of something near godhood, far above the rest of the world.

"cause i'm much better at digging graves": well, goro akechi is certainly no stranger to the art of killing someone without a trace. we have no idea how many shutdowns or breakdowns he induced over the course of his professional relationship with shido. but i also think this lyric in tandem with the one right before it could relate to goro's tendencies towards repression; the idea that he cannot and should not have any "demons" or "skeletons"—such as past traumas, meaningful relationships, or feelings that he's jammed down and shut the closet doors on, if u will—bc since vengeance is his only objective, then digging graves is his primary task, or the only thing he's good for, in his mind. the word skeletons doesn't have to represent mistakes specifically, but could also refer to how goro views his own heart and how he deals with his emotions. something like, he feels he shouldn't deal with all that turbulence, bc he's far better at warping it into anger—something that he's used to dealing with, and can easily rationalize. the more complicated emotions, not so much.

"but i always dig up bones in your sympathy": this is where i start connecting things to goro and akira specifically. another definition of sympathy entails two people who share an understanding of each other. doesn't that sound like goro and akira to u? so, if u take these lyrics to be from goro to akira, it feels to me like this one could represent his regrets/desire to leave his situation. according to rank seven of his confidant in royal, we know that goro is practically screaming for help before the events of sae's palace. unfortunately, as the player, we are not able to save him. but i think this lyric could represent his desire to connect with akira despite his better judgement—"dig up bones," as in; i'll still arrive at the decision to bury them in the first place, but bc we have an understanding, i'll show u as well as i can that i do not want to be doing this. and that's exactly how rank seven with goro plays out, through the metaphor of a billiards game.

"i can't trust a single thing you say": this could refer to the fact that both goro and akira are withholding truths from each other throughout their relationship, and since they are of equal standing, the same deception that applies to goro would apply to akira as well, albiet in a far different way. however, i can also see it as an unwillingness on goro's part; he feels as though he cannot trust akira not bc akira is truly lying to him, but bc there's no other way for him to rationalize the fact that akira cares for him and wants to spend time with him. as goro akechi, not the detective prince. goro can't trust the kindness akira extends to him not only bc he's used to conditional love (shido, foster parents, etc.), but also bc he doesn't feel as though he deserves it. goro does not have a very high image of himself, as we see later on, and it's easy to see throughout his confidant that he cannot quite understand why someone would want to spend time with him, and not the perfectly crafted version of him that he presents to everyone else.

"don't look too hard, cause you won't like the scars he left in me": the "he" here refers to shido. shido is the sole reason for all of goro's trauma and hardships. he has scarred goro more than anyone else in his life. and goro's sharing of these traumas is very limited: he opens up seemingly out of nowhere, before immediately retreating under the guise of things like "oh, that isn't like me," or "oh, am i bothering u?" such as the scenes that take place in leblanc and the bathhouse. goro cannot fathom the fact that someone (akira) would wish to get to know him, as he is, so he assumes that a normal interaction between friends is somehow too much transparency, and keeps himself at a distance. he mistakes his feelings for akira as hatred, right? obviously, that's entirely the wrong word to describe them. but if goro himself believes that he hates akira, he would likely believe akira to hate him as well; as evidenced by the fact that the dialogue options which give u the most points are the ones where u mention ur "rivalry"—bc again, goro cannot rationalize his emotions as anything other than negative; anger, hatred, etc. it's far easier for goro to blurt out the words "i hate u" rather than "i love u," or "i care for u," isn't it? and this is how he keeps himself at enough of a distance, although simultaneously feels himself drawing closer. emotional closeness is not something goro is well versed in, and bc goro has built his image on being talented and skilled, he refuses to reveal his shortcomings.

"i've gotten good at making up metaphors": the words here are only slightly different than the ones at the beginning, which i think works for goro's further descent into his deal with shido, and subsequent difficulty. instead of "leaning" on metaphors, he's completely making them up. it's more drastic, which could represent a sort of desperation. almost as if he's losing his touch—which we do see after the events of sae's palace, during the tv interview where he monologues internally about his backstory, and we start to really see how damaged he is. goro is frazzled and distraught, enough for it to visibly show, something he prided himself on being able to avoid.

"i've gotten good at stretching the truth out of shape": again, the same situation as before. similar to the beginning, with slightly harsher wording. the lies that goro is immersing himself in are getting more intense, and almost impossible to separate from. his "murder" of akira is a turning point, in a way; akira is the first and only character we see goro kill in what he believes to be outside of the metaverse. he's not only stretching the truth out of shape, but he himself is bent out of shape as well—this stuck out to me on my ng+ run; his sprites in the scene just after akira is reported to be dead from him to shido are very unsettling and absent, as if he's almost completely zoning out. it's a very jarring scene to watch, and i think at least part of that has to be due to the severity of his actions.

"and all these words are sweet and meaningless": this feels to me, if we're going by the timeline i've been suggesting throughout all this, like it's directed at shido. now that akira is dead and the phantom thieves are no longer a threat to goro's plan for revenge, he can focus his energy back on his original objective. goro lays it on incredibly thick in his scenes with shido, so much so that it sometime surprises me that he didn't realize shido was onto him. again with the more intense wording here, which fits with the events i'm corresponding it with.

"you can't trust a single thing i say": now this wording is exactly the same as the first time, but given the progression of everything i've talked about, i take this as a sort of last word to both shido and akira. goro intends to follow through with his vengeance no matter the cost, and this could read as a final nail in that coffin. the song repeats this lyric four times, as well. if i wanted to keep it up all the way up to the engine room scene, and go completely off the rails in the process, i could say that the first iteration of this line is an affirmation to both shido and akira that his revenge takes precedence, therefore it would be stupid to trust him. the second is an affirmation to himself that he is in fact doing the right thing, and everything will pay off in the end, that this is just the way things are supposed to be, as always. the third is a kind of plea, born from confusion, after he's defeated by the theives and they offer to bring him with them to take down shido, an offer he cannot fathom the reason for extending. a sort of "why would u trust me" in the form of "u shouldn't trust me." and the fourth would refer directly to goro speaking to his cognitive self; as he decieves the deciever, making it seem as though he is running back to shido only to close the bulkhead door and resign himself to his "noble" sacrifice.

i hope at least some of this makes any semblance of sense. put this song on ur goro playlists, goroboys.

#persona #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #p5 #p5r #goro akechi #character analysis

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secondpersons · 4 years ago

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One thing I’ll never understand is tinhats who attack the wives.

We’re tinhats, right? By definition, we believe J2 are in love and together and the wives are beards, right?

So what’s with the wink-wink self-congratulatory posts, as if you’re only just proving... that J2 are in love and together and the wives are beards?

I mean, we already know it? Like, it’s in the very name we call ourselves? Because, you know, we’re tinhats?

So why the snickering tone in the posts, like you’ve discovered something hilarious, like it’s a gotcha?

Posts like “something not adding up there, huh G?” and posts like “lying about something, huh D?” and all the million other posts.

Isn’t this something we already know and are agreed on? Isn’t part of loving and respecting your favorite, whether it’s both J or one of them, respecting their decision?

I’m not talking about bloggers who are like people in a movie theater, munching on popcorn watching a disaster scene unfold. Those aren’t fans. They’re watching J2 like you watch a weird, alien creature in a documentary. I would’ve likened it to watching a puppy or kitten chase its own tail and laughing, but there’s a lack of malice there that doesn’t fit those non-fans.

No, the people I’m wondering about are those who are very vocal about loving Jared and defending Jared and everything... then they turn around and attack the woman he and Jensen chose to beard for him.

You don’t like her because she looks ugly? So it’s not that you love him or feel sad that he can’t be with Jensen publicly? You only care that the shape and face of the real human being he chose isn’t to your liking?

So you’ll be happy if Jared had a beard you consider prettier? Problems solved? You won’t mind when that hypothetical prettier wife posts wifey and husbandy stuff, when she posts about timelines that turn out later not to fit (because that’s normal, because they’re all humans who are keeping a secret while being under the spotlight)?

Perhaps Jared should enlist all your help in picking that prettier beard? Should he make a list and have you vote? Because, you know, beauty is relative and what one person considers pretty may be meh or even ugly in another person’s eyes, like so many people swoon over Jensen but he doesn’t do it for me in the slightest?

I don’t get it. They attack her for her appearance, something every woman knows firsthand is unbelievable toxic misogyny.

They attack her for spending his money, which equals sticking their fingers in their ears and yelling “la la la” because they know she has her own money. She comes from a family far, far wealthier than Jared’s middle-class family. She is a trust fund baby. She’s also an actress who worked on a whole series before Supernatural.

I don’t understand. And this is just stuff they do about Genevieve. I won’t even go into Danneel because I have to close this tab and start working.

I mean, there are beautiful posts by tinhats that show J2′s hearteyes for each other. There are wonderful heartwarming gifs that show those clever moments when J2 carefully and intentionally chose “partner” and other non-gendered ways of speaking about the love of their lives.

Those are all beautiful posts that celebrate their love and let us gaze over and over at them. They give us hope that the reality is beautiful and that they’re together. We get the wonderful naughty fics where Jensen is jealous and shows Jared he’s his, and all the other beautiful feelings that come with being a J2 tinhat.

But all the hate against the women who are part of J2′s decision?

I just don’t get it. How can you claim to be a fan of a man who’s been beautifully open about mental health and then start a Save Jared hashtag? How can you claim to support a man who, for reasons that we don’t know because they’re none of our business, is closeted and bearding, then run around snickering in your posts about the “lies” you oh so cleverly caught through all those so-called gotcha moments.

It’s bearding. You know it’s bearding. And you whoop and snicker and pat yourself on the back when you spot proof... that it’s bearding?

#J2 tinhat

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devilsaw · 4 years ago

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rune factory secret santa

hi there @invaderpig !!! I’m so sorry for the delay, i had trouble accessing a laptop sooner to post this...but i hope you enjoy !! Here is the AO3 link to the fic I wrote, and under the cut is the whole thing too!

The music was loud, almost overbearing, and Arthur would've liked much more to be holed up in his office working, but here he was, home for Christmas. And by home, he means back in a stuffy mansion, surrounded by nobles he didn't care to know who were all tipsy on fancy champagne and waltzing their hearts out.

Now, he had made a habit of spending his holidays back in Selphia, but this year he had no chance to refuse his fathers cordial invitation home, pushed into it with cries of "It's been so long!" And "There are old friends coming you just must speak with." Seeing his father, however brief that meeting was, wasn't unpleasant, he had fond memories with the king, even if they feel as they were a lifetime ago. But he didn't care much to see any of his half-siblings, they were mere strangers to him.

There was however one face he was most excited to find in the crowd, the revered leader of the Univir, and Sharance representative, Kuruna. Arthur had met Kuruna many times, and every time he was left with a strange feeling of even more curiosity, it was as if the closer he got the more intrigued he felt.

She was incredibly smart, and even more powerful. Force was behind every word she spoke, yet her edges were still soft. She was clearly out of place in events such as these, filled with nobility, but she was nobility in her own way, and Arthur's father - King Nolan of Norad - was dedicated to learning more of her and her people, and including her as a noble.

"Arthur," Greeted her gentle, yet confident voice. In all his thinking of her he hadn't noticed she had found him herself and approached. "It's good to see you again." He lit up, and geared up to speak in his best 'polite prince' voice, but before he managed to get a word out he found himself taken aback by her leaning in slightly, and cautiously opening her fanciful cape to reveal Will hidden inside.

"I know we aren't supposed to bring animals in here but I couldn't help it." She half-whispered cheekily, "He so hates to be left alone. You won't tell, will you?" He chuckled softly, during the many times he's met Kuruna he found himself enchanted by her fire spirit companion, personality brash and yet so cute in appearance.

"Of course your secret is safe with me, Lady Kuruna." She smiled, pleased with the secret kept between them.

In the moment of silence that followed, as Kuruna made herself comfortable standing beside him, the young prince took the chance to look her over properly.

She was wearing her usual coat, but underneath was a formal dress, shimmering silver, it wasn't anything too big or flashy, but Arthur couldn't deny how simply cute it made her look, of course it was natural to dress nicely for an event at the kingdom capital, he hadn't anticipated her getting especially dolled up.

"How's the settlement?" He asked, politely, of course Kuruna practically represented the whole of Sharance here, her passion still lied primarily with her settlement.

"Especially cold in the Winter." She replied casually, "The desert heat does nothing to sway the cold nights. It doesn't effect me much, but some of the smaller monsters have a harder time dealing with this time of year."

He frowned, pursing his chapped lips together, "I see. Is there anything I can do to help?" "Ever so helpful, Prince Arthur." She remarked, seemingly pleased at his offer, "But no, we have it handled just fine."

"I see. And the rest of Sharance, then?" "Oh it's just gorgeous this time of year!" She gushed. "The hornless really do know how to celebrate the seasons, I'll give them that." And with that she launched into a discussion of the flowers in the winter. "Micah is still working hard somehow, I can't imagine working the fields like this. But he does it all with no complaints."

And when she had exhausted that topic, Arthur took the chance to describe to her the winters in Selphia. "Of course, there aren't flower fields to admire, but Frey still fills her fields with them regardless too." She grinned, having heard about Selphia's local Earthmate enough times she felt as if she's practically met her herself. "We should introduce the two of them sometime!" And Arthur hummed in thought at the idea, deciding that the two would likely get along great, with much in common.

But mostly, as he hummed over that thought, he thought of Kuruna visiting Selphia herself, he had seen Sharance before, having traveled there on business - Trader, not Princely - but Kuruna hadn't once had the chance to visit Selphia herself. She might like Amber, he mused to himself.

Before he could vocalize any of these thoughts, he noticed a red glow flare up under Kurunas coat. "Will's getting restless it seems." She said, "I may have to step outside for awhile, give him a moment to stretch, it's not often he's stuffed in a coat for so long." Arthur nodded, understanding how frustrating it must be for Will.

"Of course, there are gardens you could head to, no one is really filtering outside this evening so I'm sure there's privacy there, I can join you in a few moments."

She nodded, moving through the crowd towards a back exit, and Arthur moved towards a large table full of gorgeous pastries, free for anyone to grab. He looked around, before realizing no one would really question the Prince in his own home and shamelessly grabbed as many sweets as he could handle, remembering Kuruna's love of such things.

"I've brought gifts!" He exclaimed, having found where Kuruna took to in the gardens. Will was stretching, well as much as a fire spirit could really stretch, and eyed the pastries hungrily. "I brought enough for everyone." Arthur said, placing them down as delicately as possible.

"Oh! Is that...?" Kuruna trailed off, "Chocolate cake, yes." "Incredible! You remembered, hand it here." She was too pleased to even act shy about her excitement, and Arthur reveled in how cute she looked as she devoured the sweets.

"Do you always celebrate the Holidays here?" She asked abruptly, in between a slice of cake and a cherry danish. "No, not usually." He answered nonchalant. "I usually celebrate them at home." "What's an average Christmas in Selphia like?" "It's...very pretty," He tilted his head to the side, absent mindedly lifting a hand to his face, thinking over his answer.

"We don't do much special, I suppose. But there is a tradition there...More of a legend." "A legend?" She echoed back, pure curiosity etched into her features. "Yes, for couples. Every year two people wish upon a shooting star at the highest point, tonight it's said every wish gets granted." "I see..." She seemed enchanted by the tale. "Of course, it is intended for couples, so many of our residents don't actually partake." "Oh, not many couples then?" "Not many, no. Our doctors are married to each other, then there's our local knight and songstress. But that's about it for locals. It is rather popular among the tourists as well." She nodded, chewing her last bite carefully, "So you've never partook, then?" "No, I've never had the chance."

And as if fate was playing a trick on the pair, a star shower suddenly rained from the sky. "Oh!" He exclaimed, startled at the beautiful sight. "Shall we wish together?" Kuruna asked suddenly. Surprised, Arthur swallowed thickly. "Ah- huh?" Came his dumb reply.

"Together, if you'd like. Like in your home." He locked eyes with her, she looked bashful, her face flushed with an adorable pink color, she knew the full weight of the tradition, and here she was inviting him to partake.

In a moment of pure boldness, Arthur reached out and grabbed her hand, "Let our wishes come true." And he closed his eyes.

"...Did you make a wish?" She questioned after a moment. "I did, and you?" "Yes, of course I did." He didn't think to poke into what her wish may have been, and thankfully neither did she, for he would have been far too embarrassed to admit it to her.

But in the beautiful moment of the stars falling around them, combined with a gentle snowfall, Arthur wished for many more Holidays spent together with the young woman by his side, maybe next year he'll spend it in Sharance, and perhaps the year after that she'll spend it in Selphia.

And thankfully he didn't have to wait a whole year to see her again, for by the time he returned home from his Holiday at the castle, he already had a letter waiting for him inviting him to spend the spring Holidays with her, and he glowed in the light of this newly blossomed bond.

Maybe Holidays in the capitol weren't so bad after all.

#rune factory secret santa

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zealynstan · 5 years ago

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26/2/2016 The day Angie Miller became Zealyn

Today marks the four year anniversary of how Zealyn was made. It all started when Angie Miller releasing a countdown of photos with a Z in front of it on her social media accounts. (I may not have all of them but here's some)

Fans were excited and anticipated what this is about. New music? A song that starts with Z? A collaboration with an artist named Z? Whatever it is, they are looking forward to it. Flashforward on the end of the countdown, Angie posted this tweet alongside a video teaser

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And let's say some of the fans are excited, confused or befuddled. I was in the middle at first like, “What? Why? The music sounds cool but why?" until she announced her debut single as Zealyn called Talk:Listen (which I'm also celebrating its fourth anniversary, the original to be exact). I first listen on SoundCloud and I was blown away by it.

youtube

Previously, Angie was known for singing pop-rock songs under her previous EP Weathered (which is sadly no longer available unless you can find the tracks somewhere on YouTube or SoundCloud) and now as Zealyn, it looks like she's heading a new direction towards indie electronic alternative pop. After re-listening to the song four years later, it still holds up although I prefer the remix version over the original. The 2-minute track consists of two verses, no chorus, and vocal breakdowns.

As of now, the track has 19.3k listens on Soundcloud, 196k plays on Spotify and 43k views on YouTube.

Most of the feedback of the song is positive and there are some who were "eh" about it and there are some who hated it. Ever since the name change, it causes a division of fans. Some have stayed while others have left. Those who stayed were excited when Zealyn released more music in a genre she’s comfortable with while those who left were not into it and they say they want the old Angie back to sing songs in a piano, not that blip bloop bs.

Zealyn didn’t care about losing fans, she cares for the music she wants to make and the fans who supported for many years whether she’s Zealyn or Angie Miller. To quote her from an interview on Talking Lion podcast, “If you don’t like my music, go away.”

Two EPs later and one Reimagined, she continues to rock out and kick ass. Her recent single So Damn Charming is a bop and you should stream it alongside her other songs from her two EPs.

Oh, and for the people who asked her why she changed her name, I’ve compiled links and quotes to provide answers;

We Found New Music

“Well, my sound has definitely evolved a lot. I started as a pop artist and I just- I wasn't being creative, I never pushed myself. It was just very generic pop music and I got really sick of it and I knew that I really wanted to just experiment more and create more and work with artists that had like such incredible talent and that's what I've been able to do with this.”

Wicked Local;

(North of Boston)

“To the city of Beverly, I hope that they know this is in no way me wanting to forget Angie Miller or forget their support. This is me wanting to continue that so, so much. Even though it looks different and sounds different, it’s 100 percent still me,” Miller said. “I’m still a small town Beverly girl with a great family and awesome friends. I’m still me.”

“I started “American Idol” and didn’t know my sound at all. I was 18, I had just graduated high school,” she said. “All I knew was that I loved singing. I loved it and I loved performing and I knew I wanted to do that, but I didn’t know how.”

“I wanted to expand and stretch myself to try new stuff for the first time,” she added. “I’ve been growing up a lot and I think my music has grown up a lot.”

(Beverly)

“I wanted to build my own brand from the ground up,” Miller said about taking on a new persona. “I wanted to make sure my music was what I wanted it to be.”

“If you listen to my music from when I was on ‘American Idol’ as Angie Miller, and listen to what I’m doing now, you can hear the growth,” she said. “It’s better songs and better songwriting.”

Salem News;

"When I played The Cabot four years ago, it was shortly after that that I realized how much American Idol created me," she said. "They chose my branding. They chose my look. They chose my sound. I had some sort of say, but I was young. I was easily moldable. I realized I wanted to start over. I wanted to re-brand myself and be 100 percent myself."

"I know it's probably confusing for a lot of people, but it's so true," she said. "Once I had a stage name, I felt more myself and it sparked so much creativity. I think my choices were, go with this label and have instant money and probably have instant success, but be something you don't want to be — instant gratification but not happy with it. Or go for the long run. I am very happy that I went for this long process."

"A lot of people were saying, 'We want Angie back,'" she added. "But it's still me. It's still the same voice. I love to sing and I love to show off my voice. I think the music has gotten more creative. It's not so cookie-cutter what everyone else is doing. It's a better expression of my creativity."

Unlabelled;

“So that experience releasing my first EP just felt good to learn all of that. And it felt good to release and play shows and get better at- being more comfortable and growing. But then I quickly realized still like I am not just, I don't know, it didn't feel like me. I needed to completely shed American Idol because they created my branding. They created who I was and I wanted to rebrand and start over, just go clean slate. And that's what I did in.... 2016.”

Northshore 104.9 FB Live;

“So I released an EP under Angie Miller and that's when I actually played at the Cabot last time I played all those songs. And it's still- I mean- When you're 18 and thrown on national tv and they're saying, "who are you? who are you? what's your sound?" you don't know anything. Like, I didn't know anything. So American Idol in a way created me. It chose my sound for me and my look and it chose the way I was gonna act and be perceived by America. So they did it all for me, they created Angie Miller and I just, I couldn't stand it. And I just kinda wanted to be me and it's funny that changing my name made me feel more like me. No, I didn't change it legally or anything.

It feels more genuine, it feels more- that's why- there are a few fans who are like, "Why would you not go by Angie?" but I wish people would just know and if people are listening and didn't know I went by Zealyn like, it's me. I'm Angie. It's just a stage name.“

ECHO:

“Angie is not a cool name on a poster, I knew I needed to rebrand and have something that had more mystery behind it, appealing to the eye, plus I knew my sound was going to change and I wanted to set myself apart from American Idol, so that decision was easy. Finding a name was hard and Zealyn was a name that I fell in love with right when I heard it, there’s no crazy meaning.

It’s FREE, I don’t know how else to describe it. I think if people see a live show they get it. I embody this music so much, like it is me. There’s so much joy and pain, there’s so much in my music. I feel confident and free when I make my songs. So, I hope when people listen they feel a sense of freedom.”

Encourage The Artist;

“Well, thankfully I kind of had a test run at first because I released music under my birth name. I think I was 20 or 21 when I finally released like my “first” EP under Angie Miller and it was just really really cheesy pop music and I hated it. It just- it wasn’t me. It was not me. Three months after when I played my first show. Playing all this music for the first time, I was so excited and instantly just hating it. I played a live show and I was like, “Ugh! This does not feel real, I hate this.” And I knew right then and there, I needed to change. I needed to rebrand, I needed to find what I thought was cool, what I thought was inspiring.”

And here are other links as well;

MJSBIGBLOG

Talking Lion

Matt Barker On The Radio (skip to the timestamp 1:33:48)

#long post #Zealyn #my post #my writing #Angie Miller #Four year anniversary #2020 #took me awhile to write this post #belated post #Talk:Listen

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ruffiorocks · 5 years ago

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You don't need to bully people who don't ship what you ship.

Fan 1: "I love Kara in pants!"

Fan 2: "me too!"

Fan 1: "I liked the skirt, but it's nice to have a change".

Fan 2: "I'm glad Melissa isn't going to be cold anymore"

Fan 1 : "yeah!"

Fan 2: "wouldn't it be nice if Kara and Lena were a couple?"

Fan 1: "I'd love that!"

Anti : "Supercorp isn't real!! Lena and Kara aren't gay! "

Anti : "You're a hateful fandom! Stop ignoring the CANON lesbian couple!"

Anti: "You're all racists!"

Anti: "Lena is evil, it's only a matter of time! Lena's a murderer!"

Anti: "Stop hating on Mon El!"

Me: *re-reads conversation*

"erm.. how is the mere mention of the possibility of Kara and Lena being a couple hateful?"

"Did anyone even mention Mon El?"

" Are we obligated to give a shout out to every character on the show whilst discussing Kara's pants?"

"Since when is discussing pants or simply mentioning a head cannon couple racist?"

Why do I feel like I block some crazy anti every time I scroll through my feed on here or even Twitter? I mean it's decended into anarchy! People can't even say they like Lena or even mention the word Supercorp without being called all sorts of hateful things by people who don't know them and quite honestly have no reason to comment on their posts.

Kara gets pants and fans are happy, suddenly they are accused of bullying the show into doing it and taking it as a win even though Melissa has said she was cold.

Any mere mention of Lena is met with hateful comments about SuperCorp when it's not even mentioned.

Those that pretend to be calling people out don't seem to have realised that they are actually the ones causing the trouble. They comb through every post they can looking for any reason whatsoever to be offended. (Honestly GET A LIFE! this is beyond depressing).

Mel saying Kara loves Lena and shippers liking to think it's Supercorp is met with hate! 'a fight for Lena's soul' any head cannon that Kara is fighting for her love of Lena is met with hate! Where was the offense here? What did the poster do that was so awful?

The ironic thing that flys over the heads of people who do this is that whilst they think they are the most noble of people and have taken it upon themselves to rid the Supergirl fandom of these Injustices they are in fact the biggest bullies in the fandom.

Now I know what some of you are thinking, "well the Supercorp shippers are so hateful! They are the most vocal! We KNOW it's not ALL of them, it's the majority! But we're going to harrass and bully anyone who even dares to use the word."

So here's the thing, it is NOT the majority, if you pay attention you'll notice that most of the bullies tend to be the same handful of people. E.g. I saw a Supercorp account on Twitter that had thousands of followers, now I'm going to assume that anyone who likes a Supercorp account probably likes Supercorp, now can any of you honestly tell me that you have seen THOUSANDS of horrible Supercorp shippers? No you haven't. You've probably seen at best maybe 100 or so? So the percentage of hateful people out of thousands, (and remember that's just one Twitter account) is nowhere near 'ALL' of them.

The same goes for Karamel shippers, you've probably seen at best a few hundred of the same people. (possibly less than the Supercorp shippers because Mon El is gone).

Not every Supercorp or Karamel shipper deserves the uncalled for abuse they receive from people they have never even interacted with before simply for taking from the show what they enjoy the most. Whether it be canon or non canon. Whether you think Lena is an evil murderer or if you think Mon El is a misogynistic slave owner you do NOT have to have a go at the person who said it. Scroll past, that post didn't hurt you in anyway, you won't stop breathing because someone likes to think Kara is gay or that Mon El may have been better off with Winn.

Katie McGrath said herself it's art and you can take what you want from it. So you can take away the idea that Lena is in love with Kara or vice versa. You can take away that Mon El was awful or that he was a space puppy. You can take away that James Olsen sucks or you can take away that he is a nice guy.

Your ship doesn't hurt anyone at all because this is ALL fiction.

Now I know the next thing some of you will say "but those toxic fans shit on the actors to! Chris was bullied off of Social media! Mel and Chris even HAD to turn off the comments in their engagement posts".

Ok, first off stop giving social media trolls any credit. You can stand up for celebrities, no one is saying you can't, BUT spewing hate to anyone who simply ships the same ship as someone who was rude to Chris isn't you being a hero, it's you attacking an innocent because you think you're justified. Also news flash! These actors are professionals and ADULTS! They aren't children that need fans they will probably never meet or speak to spewing hate to anyone that breaths on their behalf. You may like to think you know a celebrities life because they occasionally post on Social media but the truth is you dont know them or anything about their lives. Chris is a grown man and you don't really know anything about him other than what he let's you know. Do you really think he's going to scroll through Tumblr proud that his fans are trolling people for simply not liking his character or simply for shipping Supercorp?

"hey Mel look at all these fans being hateful on my behalf? Oh look they're going the extra mile and attacking anyone who mentions Supercorp, neither me or Mon El are even mentioned on the post! Man I love fans that bully people on my behalf". << Yeah no! I don't know anything about Chris Wood but he seems unlikely to be happy his fans are attacking people. Honestly I bet he doesn't give a shit either way, he has a life to live, maybe you should get one to.

Also the comment in the engagement post on Instagram may have had the comments off, but the Twitter one didn't. So unless they are both incredibly dense (which I doubt) the comments weren't off to prevent hate.

The most bizarre things I've seen are:

"you don't watch the show for Kara? Well then you're not a true fan!" Sooo... You can't have a favorite character save the main one? When did this rule happen? Why didn't I get a Google alert that the rules on how to watch a show had changed?"

"I ship this non canon couple, BUT YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO SHIP THAT ONE BECAUSE I DON'T LIKE IT!!!" I can't even with this one 🤦

Oh and hating on Christ Wood because he's engaged to Melissa? I don't even know what to do with that one. But 'actors aren't their characters'. Shipping Mel and Katie in any other context than friendship is freaking creepy and disrespectful and I dont have to personally know either one to know they wouldn't thank you for it.

A few last points:

You are allowed to dislike or simply not be particularly bothered either way by a character even if they are played by a POC without being a racist. Believe it or not characters played by POC can be boring or crap in the exact same way a character played by someone who is Caucasian or Asian or whatever can also be boring or crap.

We have got to STOP calling people racist everytime they don't like a character who is a POC. Not liking one character does not make you a racist. I don't like James Olsen, it's not a secret, but I LOVE Jonn Jonzz, I loved Myrnn, I loved M'gann, i really liked Julia, I really like Col Haley and I like Kelly Olsen. Not liking ONE character doesn't make me a racist.

If you don't like the Lesbian pairing on the show you aren't necessarily homophobic. It could be you just aren't as engaged with them as characters.

You don't have to mention any canon lesbian couple in any conversation you have about a head cannon lesbian couple. Wanting Supercorp to happen but not being all that invested in Dansen doesn't make you a bad person or a racist.

That was a lot, but if one person reads this and realizes that spewing vile hate at anyone who hasn't done anything other than not ship your ship is a horrible thing to do then it'll be worth it.

Block bullies and trolls. DON'T respond to them, you can't win an argument or discussion with them because they arent going into it with the intention of debate, they just want to bully you. Feeding trolls just makes them bigger and therefore hungrier and they they have to find bigger Bridges to hide under.

Happy shipping people, in the words of Ellen "be kind to one another" ✌️

#supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #alex danvers #supercorp #anti james olsen #kara zor el #karamel #mon el #dansen #kelly olsen #col haley #jonn jonnz #melissa benoist #chris wood #katie mcgrath

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fangsmyth · 5 years ago

Text

100 character development questions || no longer accepting

to save time and space imma be real and just... shove these all in one post under a read more because i got a LOT of these ( tysm!! i love talking about this piece of shit literally ask me anything any time any day of the week i’d be happy to answer )

sooo here we go!

nsfw and unsanitary mentions under the cut

@haemoneiron sent:

002. Do they do anything to celebrate their birthday?

ehhh he’ll call it a celebration, but lanque really doesn’t do much of anything different from what he normally does. he probably won’t even vocalize the fact that it’s his wriggling day, just look around to see if anyone’s already throwing a party that he can crash. if not, on alternia he probably just drank heavily in his room and played edm way too loudly.

here, he’ll probably just go to some bar and fuck somebody. so... what he does pretty much every day

016. What is their choice of weapon?

teeth! teeth! teeth! teeth! teeth! no fr if he had to pick an actual physical weapon it’d probably be a knife or a dagger, definitely something sharp and intimate...... like teeth. i say a lot that lanque isn’t a fighter but he can and will kill if he needs to

044. What disgusts them?

mainly just bad kinks! bad kinks being scat, vomit, piss, and inc*st/p*dophilia i know that’s everyone but what he considers genuinely revolting is just that specific. also people that don’t really bathe/clean themselves

---

@anglerfishnabe sent:

031. Are they superstitious about anything?

ehhh, nah i feel like lanque will see a string of bad luck as a sign that he should just go home for the rest of the day, but i don’t think it would reach much further than that. he’s definitely into people that are superstitious, and taking advantage of ‘signs from the universe’ and shlocky stuff like that, but i don’t think he really personally believes in all of that stuff. lanque is a lot of things, but spiritual is not one of them

034. What’s their view of lying?

he doesn’t see the problem in little white lies that won’t hurt anyone, especially if it gets him what he wants. ( see him HONESTLY trying to tell mspa reader he’s a virgin )

but if people lie about things that will have reaching consequences that will hurt other people, that’s just... really shitty. he does this very rarely if he’s especially desperate to get some sort of reaction out of someone, but generally speaking when he wants to hurt people and make them feel bad about themselves he points out truths based on what he gauges from observation.

---

@feraldeus sent:

013. Have they ever been bullied or teased?

yes! very much so! a lot! to the bitter end, actually! his entire cloister does have valid complaints like how he probably comes back drunk a lot of the time and has a tendency to stir the pot just to see what happens, but lynera honest to god just... hates him so much because of all the attention he garners from bronya she tended to shit talk him behind his back.

i’d imagine part of his reason behind finding it so important to be honest with how he tears someone in half is because of how much it secretly hurt him that lynera spread the occasional lie attempting to leave bronya thinking he’s beyond saving.

not only that, but i’d imagine when he was younger he probably got picked on a lot for crying and being so emotionally vulnerable and open which is why he’s so guarded now!

---

@haruakifusaishi sent:

012. What makes your character embarrassed?

openly and honestly expressing his feelings as shown in the above. generally any positive, warm feelings towards anyone are humiliating as all hell and not in the kinky way. he hates being caught being sappy or expressing romance in the sweet way he does behind closed doors.

with that, honestly if anyone that knows him for his sex drive and general hedonistic tendencies found out about his poetry readings or pretty much any of his written poetry he’d just die! that’d be the end for him!

068. How strong is your character’s sense of responsibility? What kinds of things trigger it?

lanque never feels responsibility for himself or the need to own up to his own actions at all, honestly. his entire kink is being sexy and irresponsible. he primarily feels a sense of responsibility for others’ actions significantly more than his own.

like if he witnesses someone being dishonest or just doing something generally shitty, he feels like it’s his responsibility to call them out since no one else has the balls to do it. if it looks like someone’s going to put themselves in danger, he’ll warn them. if he cares enough about them, he might go out of his way to physically drag them out of it.

it’s all in the moment things, his responsibility is never thought about or premeditated in any way!

073. In a novel, what plot role would your character fill? (hero, anti-hero, sidekick, villain, etc.)

ehhhh i wanna say anti-hero, but at the same time that could be me being inherently biased. i feel like it’d be significantly more interesting if he were a foil for any protagonist, i just seriously doubt he’d ever be the main character in anything as much as he would have the bravado of someone that wants to be?

---

@enradiant sent:

026. What do they consider ugly in others personality-wise?

lying fake bitches!!!! people that try to suck up to people just to get a leg up on others!!!!!! hypocrites!!!!!!! shitheads that aren’t at least a little self-aware!!!!!!!!!!! people that ask too many questions, fuck off!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

027. What is their idea of perfect happiness?

oh god that’s a good question can i take a raincheck i dunno, just a life without any kind of fear or anger? having a perfect soulmate that’s willing to do whatever? everything is going the right way? ultimately he feels perfect happiness is impossible and unrealistic since happiness is never constant and sustainable? uuuugh tbh it’s probably something he’d never consider because he thinks it’s so dumb and not gonna happen

059. List several phrases your character is fond of uttering. Where did they pick them up?

i only use like one of these but let’s play in the space and add some lines i should definitely be using more

“ hey, baby. ” i guarantee you he got this from some movie or game i just can’t put my finger on which one. i hear it so clearly in my head every time i type it out i just hear some chick’s voice i just can’t put my finger on who it is she’s high pitched and horny i just know it’s not catherine it’s either jessie from huniepop or one of her lines in huniecam studio i’m so fucking stupid

“ will you help me feel alive? ” or something along those lines, i feel like it was from some vampire drama on the cw can you tell that i don’t know anything this is just the single sexiest line in his fucking route i’m so angry about it my pants were already off

“ it’s one thing to not want something. it’s another to be told you can’t have it. ” i cheated this one’s from how i met your mother i’m a fucking asshole but he would totally say something in this wheelhouse either to himself or to someone he’s trying to convince

“ we’re only alive once. ” a classier way of saying yolo don’t fucking @ me

“ vampires are always in some kind of trouble. i prefer to be in it with you. ” this is a weekly reminder that i really need to watch true blood

“ i’m all yours, do whatever you want to me. ” it’s jessie huniepop again please he’s just so horny

074. What is your character’s favorite game?

would it be cheesy to say the game/art of pick-up artistry? like convincing people he’s worth their time and that they really wanna forget about their troubles if only for just one night? i feel like lanque finds a lot of fun in the thrill of the chase! he's usually extremely disappointed by how rare it is for someone to actually leave him satisfied, but the last thing he wants to do is consider something a waste of time. sometimes you gotta find the fun

076. How do they express anger?

he doesn’t, or at least not in terms of any sort of emotional projection. lanque isn’t usually someone to hide if something pissed him off. he’ll wait for someone to realize, and if they don’t and/or keep doing the thing he’ll just tell them ‘hey this was really shitty, stop it.’

---

@plumbacks asked:

011. How would your character court the person of their dreams?

as in how he would act in the relationship? terribly. lanque is already really bad in regular relationships and flings, but when he’ll find the one he will be an absolutely deliberate fucking mess. he’ll dig up information just to use it against them, try and express every single one of their flaws (even when they’re flaws he actually kind of likes) he will do anything to get out of that relationship.

he’ll use his poetry as a last resort, intentionally trying to come across as overly possessive and clingy (i mean he already is, but i’m talking like yuri doki doki levels. an intentional exaggeration of his clingyness to attempt to scare them off) but when they just accept it and say that it’s fine, he’d probably blow up at first!

lanque would break up with them!!! all the time!!! the worst on again off again relationship ever!!! it would take a ton of patience for someone that he really adores to get settled into the more genuine, sappy romance he really wants to have. taking them out on trips to the countryside, laughing and sharing picnics with fine wine, discussing books and even trying to write ones together

but getting to that point will take ages! it’s not worth it!!!

#ginger lemon radler ( ooc ) ;;#yeah right ( ask ) ;;#angelic voices ( hc ) ;;#plumbacks #enradiant #haruakifusaishi #feraldeus #anglerfishnabe #haemoneiron

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kagehinataboke · 6 years ago

Note

Todobaku prompt 45. thank you 😊

no problem dear! ^-^

tdbk: [45] you get scared by them in a corn maze and lash out and hit them, quickly followed by apologies.

I WAS PRAYING SOMEBODY WOULD PICK THIS ONE, i went on a tangent and i could go on a much longer one with this tbh

“Fuck. Why are we doing this? Fuck. I hate you all.”

“It’s just a corn maze,” Jirou scoffs, handing the man at the entrance her ticket. He’s dressed as a scarecrow. How cliché. “I never pegged you as the scaredy-cat type, Bakugou. It’s only people in costumes.”

He flips her off, which earns a disapproving stare from the scarecrow. “Hey, fuck off, straw man. I’m not scared,” he adds, this time to Jirou. “I just think this is a huge waste of time.”

“Your hands are shaking,” Kirishima points out to discredit his bravado. “It’s funny: I thought someone like you would love Halloween. Y’know, scaring kids and free candy and reigning terror and all that.”

“That’s offensive,” Bakugou mutters, stuffing his hands in his pockets to hide them from scrutiny. “Let’s just get this shit over with already.”

“You can hold my hand if you want,” Kirishima offers through choked-back laughter as they enter the maze.

“Fuck off. I already said that I’m not scared.” Bakugou pushes past the others and takes the lead to prove it. The maze is dark and cramped, keeping them in an awkward single-file conga line of fear. Knowing that people will definitely jump out at them doesn’t make Bakugou any less uneasy. That’s what he is: uneasy, not afraid. Any normal, sane person wouldn’t like things jumping out at them.

Halloween is a fucking childish holiday: Bakugou stopped celebrating it when he was ten. Candy and costumes and haunted houses aren’t really scary at all. Real people, though, are another story. How is he supposed to know whether or not some real-life ax murderer snuck in and is waiting for them beyond the next corner? He’ll punch their lights out, obviously, but that doesn’t make it any easier to stumble around uselessly in the pitch dark.

“This is lame,” he mutters under his breath. “Nobody’s even jumped out yet.”

“They’re probably in the middle,” Ashido says from behind. “Where you can’t run away as easily.”

“Okay, why the fuck would you say that?”

“Don’t stop walking, Bakugou. I’m gonna trip.”

After a long string of curses, Bakugou shuffles around the next corner—and feels someone run into his back when he stops again. There’s a person standing a few feet ahead, dressed in a dark cloak and wielding an obviously fake Grim Reaper scythe.

A sigh slips from his lips. What was he expecting from a low-budget haunt, anyway? A dancing skeleton would be scarier. The others, however, turn into screeching banshees when the Reaper turns their way. They nearly knock Bakugou over in their haste to run past him. The actor obviously takes off after them, leaving him alone on the dark and muddy path.

“Fucking pansies.”

Bakugou takes his time following them, staring the Grim Reaper asshole down when they cross paths. He ducks his head and quickly continues back to his post to scare the next set of thrill-seeking teenagers. Wise choice. At least there’s no need to be on guard anymore: the maze’s ‘scares’ are about as sub-par as they can get.

There are screams from some part of the maze ahead: his dipshit friends, no doubt. Bakugou rolls his eyes, kicking a fallen corncob. “Idiots. This really was a huge waste of—“

Something cold brushes against his back, and Bakugou’s blood turns cold. He barely has time to yell, “Fuck!” before he’s whipped around and elbowed the masked figure hard in the face.

Instead of a villainous groan or inhuman screech, there’s a muffled exclamation of “Ow.”

Bakugou realizes his mistake instantly. “Oh, fuck. Dammit. Shit.” He stops the flow of curses to add an apology. “I’m so sorry. It was a reflex.”

“I think your reflex broke my nose,” the actor grumbles. His white mask splashes into the mud. “Ouch. Do you have a light or something?”

“Shit, yeah. Hang on.” Bakugou fumbles with his phone, nearly blinding them both when he turns on the flashlight. “Fuck. Sorry.” He’s never apologized so much in such a short amount of time before.

“Shine it here.”

Bakugou does as instructed, crouching in the mud to help his accidental victim. There’s blood streaming down his face and all over his hands, more than any single person should have. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. Is it really broken?”

“I can’t tell.” The actor tilts his head back, and their eyes meet through the dim haze of the phone flashlight. Bakugou wonders if he’s wearing contacts: one of his eyes is dark like the night, and the other is a cold blue. His hair is weird, too. All of him is multicolored. He’s obviously hot, though, even in the dark and with blood streaming down his face.

“Uh… should I get someone?” Bakugou coughs, finally managing to tear his gaze away. “That’s a lot of blood.”

“They won’t come if we shout. It’s a horror maze, after all. I just need to get back to HQ.”

He tries to stand up but immediately wobbles like a top. Bakugou has to lunge to catch him in time. “Okay, yeah, maybe take it slow,” he warns, turning around to double back to the entrance. “I’m really sorry about this. I’m a little… jumpy.”

“You elbowed me in the face,” the actor replies dryly. The sarcasm is less effective with the squeaky vocal quality caused by his plugged nose. “I’d say that’s more than ‘jumpy.’”

“Sorry,” Bakugou apologizes for the millionth time. “Can I, uh… make it up to you— Shit, you’re tilting a lot. Pinch your nose harder, before you bleed out.”

“I can’t because it hurts.”

“We’re almost to the exit.” Bakugou pauses. “I’ll go with you to the hospital if your nose is broken. How about that?”

“You can do whatever you want if you just get me out of this stupid maze. To be honest, it’s a relief to get hit because it means I can leave. They pay me much less than minimum wage for this, in case you were wondering. Maybe I should thank you.”

“I think this blood loss might be making you delirious,” Bakugou says skeptically. You’re still hot, though, his brain adds silently.

“It’s not bleeding that much. And to put it bluntly, I could tell you anything right now and it wouldn’t matter because you just broke my nose.”

“You don’t know it’s broken.”

“Seriously? Just walk.”

#i could write pages and pages of this tbh #bless #todobaku #bakutodo #tdbk #answered asks #meet cutes #my writing #bnha #long post

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ofanxiousallergies · 5 years ago

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I got tagged by @kindcrgartcncxup so yeet (og post by @xleafyheartx

Tagging: uhhhhh no one,,, do this if you want--

I’ll be writing my answers in bold

001. When is their birthday? - April 23rd! 002. Do they do anything to celebrate their birthday? - Cake and presents! Also a party 003. Does your character like coffee better, or tea? - He doesn’t particularly like either, but he likes coffee more 004. Do they prefer being alone or with others? - Alone if he can help it 005. Are they in good health? - Not really 006. What sense do they most rely on? - Vision! 007. Is your character an optimist or a pessimist? - Both, but more pessimist 008. What is their favorite fairy tale? - Beauty and the Beast 009. Do they believe in happy endings? - Not all the time, no 010. Do they believe in love at first sight? - Nope! He needs to get to know someone

011. How would your character court the person of their dreams? - Awkward “hey can we sit together at lunch and play at recess” while stammering 012. What makes your character embarrassed? - People mentioning his obsession with germs. He hates it 013. Have they ever been bullied or teased? - Oh, definitely 014. Detail one secret shame your character feels. - He wishes he didn’t have his obsessions 015. Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? - Tongue 016. What is their choice of weapon? - His own fists 017. When does your character think that violence is justified or deserved? - When his own life, or the life of someone he cares about, is in danger 018. Your character wakes up to find that war has been declared. What do they do? - Freak out for a good hour or two 019. If they could have a superpower, what would they choose? - Super strength! 020. What are their hobbies? - Collecting cool rocks he finds and he also wants to learn how to knit 021. How do they display affection? - Gently leaning on someone’s shoulder without saying anything. Just enjoying the moment. And lots of compliments 022. What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? - Any flower that isn’t green 023. What do they consider beautiful in others physically? - Smiles! He likes seeing others smile 024. What do they consider ugly in others physically? - Nothing 025. What do they consider beautiful in others personality-wise? - A good heart 026. What do they consider ugly in others personality-wise? - Rudeness and ignorance 027. What is their idea of perfect happiness? - Being able to relax with friends and family 028. What makes them laugh out loud? - Hearing others laugh he’s also a sucker for stupid puns 029. What sort of sense of humor does your character have? - Somewhere in the middle of dark and normal humour. A grey humour. 030. Do they believe in the afterlife? - Yep! Doesn’t know what he expects from it though. 031. Are they superstitious about anything? - Walking under ladders and breaking mirrors? BIG NO NO 032. Does your character believe in ghosts? - Yeah, but he’s shit scared of them. 033. Do they keep their promises? - He tries!!! 034. What’s their view of lying? - Hey, if you’re doing it for protection, there’s no harm. If he’s lied to, he goes wild 035. What is the most important rule your character lives by? - An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind 036. How honorable is your character? - Eh, not very. 037. If your character saw someone drop a large sum of money and knew that they could probably take it without anyone noticing, what would they do? - He’d hand it in automatically!! He doesn’t want any bad karma 038. What bad habits do they have? - Fidgeting, biting his lip and nails too 039. What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? - Murder or torture 040. What is their obsession? - Germs, order and Destructotron 041. Are they comfortable with technology? - Pretty comfortable. He sees/uses a lot of it at the doctors! 042. What is their greatest achievement? - Going almost a full day without needing his inhaler 043. What will they stand up for? - His mum’s company and his friends 044. What disgusts them? - Dirt and mess 045. Does your character have any chronic medical conditions? - Asthma and OCD 046. How do they handle getting sick? - Freaks the fuck out, thinks he’s dying even if it’s just a cold. Can and will take a week off just for a cough 047. What was the last medical problem your character had? - ... asthma and OCD 048. Do they have any allergies? - Green flowers 049. How does your character feel about growing old? - He’s excited for it until he hits real old age 050. How does your character feel about their own mortality? - It scares him, but he tries not to think about it 051. If they knew they would die tomorrow, what would they do today? - Spend as much time as possible showing his friends and family how much he cares, making amends 052. What is your character’s worst flaw? - He’s a stubborn little fuck sometimes 053. What is your character’s greatest strength? - He can stand up for himself when he needs to 054. Does your character want power or authority of any kind? - Nah, he’s not fussed about that stuff 055. Is your character an introvert or an extrovert? - Introvert 056. Has your character ever struck someone in anger? - Yep! He slapped someone and he cried for two hours after even though they said it was okay 057. Has your character ever killed anyone? - No, but he has considered it... probably 058. What is your character’s idea of a perfect day? - No asthma attacks, no freaking out. Just spending a good day at kindergarten 059. List several phrases your character is fond of uttering. Where did they pick them up? - “These are so dirty.” and “Oh God, that wasn’t supposed to happen”. Managed to create both himself through daily life 060. What is your character’s attitude toward education and learning? - He loves it! He enjoys learning a lot 061. Does your character prefer adventure or safety and security? - Safety and security 062. What sort of legacy does your character wish to leave behind? - He doesn’t want one 063. How well does your character handle difficult people? - He tries to ignore his anger and talk to them calmly. “Hey, you’re being an ass. Mind stopping?” 064. In what ways does your character annoy others? - Repeatedly asking questions and asking them to not touch him/his things before using hand sanitiser. It pisses a lot of people off 065. Is your character better at leading or following? Which do they prefer? - He prefers following, but isn’t opposed to leading sometimes 066. Does your character prefer city life or being out in nature? - City life! Nature is dirtier and full of allergens 067. Does your character believe in fate or destiny? - Yeah. Big believer of destiny is particluar 068. How strong is your character’s sense of responsibility? What kinds of things trigger it? - He takes responsibility when he can see people doing things the way he wouldn’t do it, but his sense of it isn’t that great 069. What about your character is heroic? - He’d stick up for someone if he absolutely needed to (he’s helped Ted out with Felix a lot, even though Felix kinda scares him) 070. What about your character is cowardly? - If he has something he has to say, he’d get someone else to do it for him 071. How kind is your character? - He’s pretty 50/50. He’s hostile to people he sin’t familiar with, but he’s nicer when he gets to know them. 072. In a Dungeons & Dragons game, which class would your character be? (wizard, fighter, bard, priest, ranger, etc.) - Wizard (I know nothing about D&D) 073. In a novel, what plot role would your character fill? (hero, anti-hero, sidekick, villain, etc.) - The witty sidekick with funny one-liners 074. What is your character’s favorite game? - He likes Hopscotch and anything he can play with Destructotron 075. Is your character ticklish? - Super!! He hates being tickled though. Like, if you did it enough, he’d hit you 076. How do they express anger? - Crying and screaming. Sometimes he just won’t even say anything. 077. How often do they cry? Over what? - He cries when he’s angry, when he’s worried he’s gotten germs or if his routine is messed up. Sometimes he cries for no reason. Keep an eye on him 078. How emotionally stable is your character? - Yeaaaaahhh not very. It’s easy to send him off the edge of stability 079. How easy is it for them to read the emotions of others? - He’s pretty good at it! At recess he keeps to himself and it’s his chance to observe everyone. 080. How easy is it for others to read your character’s emotions? - Easy enough. He expresses it a lot with his body 081. Is your character religious? - Nah 082. What are your character’s sleeping preferences? - Sleeps on his back or his right side (HAS to be his right) with both of his ears covered 083. What is the first thing they say and/or do when they wake up? - He takes his medication before doing anything 084. Describe your character in one word. - Awkward 085. Describe your character in three words. - Awkward, but trying 086. How would your character describe themself in one word? - Tired 087. How would your character describe themself in three words? - Lonely, still friendly 088. Is your character quiet or loud? - Mostly quiet 089. How vocally expressive is your character? - More than you’d think! He has no problem expressing what he thinks of something or someone 090. How bodily expressive is your character? - He uses his body as his main expression gateway 091. What type of music does your character like? - He likes stuff like Gorillaz (his mum plays it sometimes because he enjoys the tune) but also nursery rhymes 092. What emotion does your character evoke in others? - Confusion 093. What is your character’s goal in life? - To be a little less... him 094. Name three things most would not expect your character to be able to know.- What his conditions even mean, the best ways to take care of a plant, how to fix a toy

095. Name three things most would not expect your character to be able to do - Write a good few sentences, stick up for himself, kill

096. How do they move and carry themselves? What energy do they project? - Chaotic energy, Moves quickly and with lots of small movements 097. How well do they adapt to change? - He fucking hates it. Will have a meltdown if its bad enough 098. Does your character like animals? - Yes for the aesthetic, no for the germs 099. Do they talk to inanimate objects? - All the damn time 100. Does your character dream? If so, what do they dream about? - He dreams about his friends, and being happy

#Filthy Is As Filthy Does || OOC #Are Your Hands Clean? || IC #tagging as both lmao #i'm listening to cavetown as i answer this :')#also the formatting might be weird #i apologise #this took forever lmao

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glovenose82-blog · 6 years ago

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Social Media Has Made Hip-Hop About Rapping Again – Not Creating Songs

Guest post by Martin Connor. This article originally appeared on Soundfly’s Flypaper

Here’s the thing about being the dominant musical genre in the world: you get so ingrained into mass culture that you simultaneously become indispensable and invisible — almost like air. You become so widespread that people barely notice when you show up now; you’re simply always there.

This happened to rock, then it happened to rap, and it will happen to whatever youth-embraced genre comes next. But social media platforms and the complete industry overhaul towards streaming have added a special twist to the usual story of musical ubiquity. Now, someone can be a rapper without even really releasing a song, much less a single, or, heavens forbid, an album.

And to me, this is really exciting. It is yet another example of how hip-hop has been able to innately adapt and creativity respond to whatever the world throws at it, which is, for many rappers, a fundamental tenet of the genre’s content as well.

“People are tired of glamorous pop acts?” Fine, us rappers will show the ugly side of life in our lyrics.

“The courts won’t let us producers sample music without paying insane fees?” Fine, we’ll release it for free and we’ll be our own labels from now on.

“Rap has no melody — they don’t even write their own music!” Oh yeah, how about The Roots, Kendrick Lamar, Chance, Dre, J. Cole, Odd Future?

So, how can a rapper “rap” without releasing a song?

Cruise the social media pages of any rapper under the age of 21, and you will find no announcements of forthcoming tour dates, no photos of them gracing a recording studio vocal booth, no links to new singles dropped on Tidal. It’s just rap, in the purest and most unadorned way possible.

Take Deep South up-and-comer RichBoi Streeter, for example. In tweets like these, RBS takes rap off wax and puts it on Twitter. The cinematic emojis make up their own little music video as Streeter writes in alternating accented and unaccented syllables that clearly spell out the structure of a normal musical bar.

Lil Yachty, now newly 21 years old, raps on his Twitter all the time.

Here’s a quirky zinger by the newly 22-year-old rapper Ugly God.

Social media is the vessel now; it’s gone beyond “streaming platforms” for some young rappers. Now, releasing music is more about putting it immediately in the ears of their fans, with no filter. Take 15-year-old rap phenom Bhad Bhabie. Her discography boasts no more than nine songs, three of them have somehow miraculously made it onto the Billboard charts, and her fans have memorized the lyrics to all of them. How is this possible?

Surely, Bhabie’s national viral fame was aided by an appearance on the Dr. Phil show, but she was bound for internet success no matter how you play it. Her maximization of fame from a minimum of recordings is a result of the generation of organic buzz traffic from social media with tweets like this.

Take a look at that video, and wonder: it’s someone else’s rap, with someone else’s beat, and she obviously lip syncs lyrics — and yet, there’s no plagiarism or rhyme-biting being thrown around here. But of course, she’s got serious chops when it comes to fan network validation tweets like this one.

It’s the post-2000s iGen generation’s way of engaging in the celebrity, social-media conversation that pop music culture — that is to say, hip-hop — has become. And you could call this evidence that contemporary art-making is being overtaken by image, superficiality, or marketing… or you could look at it as yet another way hip-hop culture has sought to go back to its roots: that pure, unfiltered message delivered straight to the people with no middlemen. Twitter is the new Bronx street corner.

Is there actually a difference between either format’s artistic integrity if the work is good?

For young rappers of this generation, YouTube channels and Instagram stories are the new version of the seemingly antiquated “label demo.” Why keep these gems private and unheard? Share every tiny musical advancement with the world and bring your audience into your world every chance you get!

RichBoi Streeter’s Spotify page only has two songs, both of them are , and there’s definitely no physical release out to support them, but they haven’t gotten much love (less than 1,000 plays each). “Hang Around” is especially great — it would feel right at home in the playlist of any listener who enjoys other trappers like Future, Migos, or Gucci Mane. On RichBoi’s YouTube page, however, which only dons four home-produced tracks with no real “video” element, three of the tracks are up over 10,000 views.

When this young generation of rappers do end up “publishing” songs, they often can’t help but communicate on them like it’s still a social media post. When the Stoneman Douglas High School shooting happened in February 2018, rather than using 280 characters to share his thoughts, late rapper XXXTentacion created and put out a song almost immediately dedicated to the victims called “Hope.” By releasing it within just a couple days of the shooting’s occurrence, XXX managed to transport the immediacy and urgency of social media to his music, rather than the inverse.

XXXTentacion’s song “Hate Will Never Win” so frequently intersperses snippets of Donald Trump’s equivocating press conference after the violent 2017 event in Charlottesville, VA, that it sounds like a real-life “Twitter @me battle.”

Rappers who claim they’re not rappers, like Lil Yachty, are supposedly proof of rap’s empty value system. In reality, Lil Yachty and his insider-outsider brethren aren’t disrespecting the culture; they’re simply recognizing the reality of how the “music industry” reflects only a part of what hip-hop really is right now, and they’re trying to reclaim this nomenclature as greater than the reductionist view of “studio artists making songs and publishing them.”

This dynamic is also found in Childish Gambino’s proclamation that he doesn’t want to be a rapper; it’s in Kanye West’s assertion that people use the word as a slur against him; it’s in Blac Youngsta’s diss track against the old guards of hip-hop; it’s in Jake Paul becoming a YouTube superstar and then deciding to start his own record label like his idol Dr. Dre. And so these pronouncements are less a dissociation from rap, and more an aspirational expansion of what rap can and should be. Social media has thus helped to take rap back to the basics — nothing but “beats, rhymes, & life” (as A Tribe Called Quest put it back in 1996).

Hip-hop is really just a way of life. Full stop.

And it isn’t the most important genre in the world today simply because people somehow magically like rap more than, say, EDM. It’s storytelling in real time, every day, out on the street and buzzing in your pocket, not waiting two years for the record store shelves to fill back up. Hip-hop is the most popular genre in the world because it makes use of all available contemporary communication media to tell its stories, and it does that really, really well.

Source: http://www.musicthinktank.com/blog/social-media-has-made-hip-hop-about-rapping-again-not-creati.html

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fangirlofmanyfandoms · 6 years ago

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This is a hard post for me to make but I feel like I need to say some things.

First of all, I don’t want anyone to think I am pushing my opinions or beliefs onto them. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. I personally believe that some things are completely and ethically right and some things are completely and ethically wrong. And then there are some things that could go either way based upon someone’s opinions and personal beliefs.

I am a Christian who was born, raised, and still lives in the Bible Belt. I have been taught all of my life and personally believe that skin color does not matter, that we should judge by the content of each person’s heart and character. I have been taught and personally believe that we should pray and respect our President, whether we voted for him or not. I have been taught that our President at any time has been put there as an authority figure and that we should constantly have him in our prayers, even if we don’t share the same beliefs. I have lived through four different presidencies, three of which I have been old enough to form my own opinions on.

I do not want anyone to read this and think I’m pushing my beliefs or opinions on anyone.

I just see so much hate and negativity from both sides on this website. People don’t seem to understand that everyone is entitled to their own opinion, even if it is considered wrong by others. There is the right to free speech and for people to support whoever they want, even if others do not agree with them. I’ve seen several celebrities get verbally shot down or receive hate from tumblr users when that celebrity states that they will respect whoever is in office. If they feel so inclined to respect whoever is in office, there isn’t anything wrong with that. You can respect whoever is in office by simply respecting the position of President and understanding the weight of the office. You can show respect to whoever is in office and still disagree with them. You can respect whoever is in office without supporting them or their policies. It’s okay to question certain policies or even outright disagree with them.

I am neither a Republican nor a Democrat. I don’t want anyone to think that I am making a post specifically about President Trump, Former President Obama, or Former President Bush.

I have just seen and heard so much throughout my life, most of it along the lines of “Oh, you don’t support __________, then you must be trash!” Or “Oh, you believe in __________, then you must have drank the KoolAid!”

As someone who lives with a lot of anxiety, political posts just tend to be very stressful for me, no matter the content. I just felt like I needed to say something

Generally when people think of Christians, they have a certain image in their head of Bible-thumpers who hate Obama because he’s black but love Trump because he’s white and they want to “make America great again.” I just want people to know that not every Christian is like that.

I’m not very good at writing things like this and the last thing I want to do is offend anyone. I simply believe that everyone has a right to their own opinion, to support who they want, without fear of repercussions. We shouldn’t shut people down because one doesn’t agree with the other.

I’ve received different degrees in Criminal Justice and Legal Studies and the right to free speech is something that I need to support because once that right is taken away, all of our other rights can easily be stripped from us. This doesn’t mean I believe hate speech is alright. I absolutely despise people who make racist, sexist, or homophobic threats or comments and then try to claim that it is their right to do so under the right to free speech.

No!

Threats and hateful comments are not something that can be thrown around under the protection of free speech.

On the other hand, if an unpopular opinion is being expressed, as long as that opinion doesn’t count as any type of hate speech, then that person has the right to that opinion, whether they vocalize it or keep it to themselves.

I may not agree with every opinion, but I will fight for everyone’s right to have one, and I will fight against anyone who believes that hate speech is protected under the right to free speech.

I’m sorry, I’ve gone a bit off track. As I said, I do not intend to offend anyone or push my beliefs onto anyone. I just am tired of all the negativity and the politics in this country. I hope I conveyed my beliefs and opinions well enough to make sense

#personal thoughts #politics #trump #obama #bush #opinions

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hgfstreamchats · 7 years ago

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Christmas Eve Eve Stream

Welcome to the 'highglossfinish' room. Knock Out: To you too! blythe1: Hey all Knock Out: Hello there! thenightetc: Hi! thenightetc: Don't know why chat wasn't working there Knock Out: Livestream hates Christmas, clearly. thenightetc: Apparently! blythe1: Livestream will be visited by three ghosts tonight to rediscover its love for Xmas. blythe1: I've lived in worse towns. thenightetc: ...Oh, right, and you put the wrong link in the post. thenightetc: Left out the "original." at the beginning Knock Out: Let me fix that! Knock Out: There we are. Thank you for letting me know! Shockbox: Ah. Shockbox: Of course. Shockbox: Good evening, folks. thenightetc: Good evening. blythe1: Hi Shockbox Knock Out: Good evening! blythe1: We need a robot who looks good in red with an ever happy smile to be Santa, Knock Out do you know someone like that? Knock Out: I may know a mech. Knock Out: But I demand my own Christmas special. blythe1: If only.

thenightetc: They didn't think this through very far. Shockbox: The height of comedy. Shockbox: Hm. If I recall correctly, I only saw the very end of this episode last year. Knock Out: There's a reason it's a yearly staple! Shockbox: I think I understand that now. Shockbox: Here we are, I recall this. thenightetc: I do like that ending. blythe1: I like a show with a nice clear moral Shockbox: It's decent. Shockbox: So, what's this about a calf? Knock Out: Also a tradition. blythe1: I;m curious about that cockatiel thing there! thenightetc: Oh no. Knock Out: And of course, the drugged children. thenightetc: Honestly, days should all be silent, too. blythe1: I kinda want to ask those kids to blink twice if they need help. Knock Out: When Breakdown and I first heard it, that's what we thought was she was saying. blythe1: This is GENIUS!!!! thenightetc: Good content. Knock Out: Birds certainly are...something. Shockbox: //Clasping hands together. Shockbox: Agreed. Shockbox: Ah, it briefly sang jingle bells. Clearly this is a christmas video. Shockbox: Very relevant to this stream. Knock Out: 100 percent. blythe1: Thank you KO! Knock Out: Of course! Shockbox: Oh, this looks vintage. Shockbox: Early 2000's? Knock Out: 1997, apparently. Shockbox: Close enough. blythe1: It has the voice of Blanche from the Golden Girls in it. That can't be recent. blythe1: Sounds like he ought to have wished for a newer truck. thenightetc: Oh, great. Knock Out: Grandpa's consideration for his disabled grandson's comfort is something to behold. Knock Out: Just bring the barn children along so they can snuff out matches on him between songs. Shockbox: //A gentle sigh. thenightetc: I know, right? Knock Out: They look like siblings. Shockbox: How is that canine waving with its ear? Knock Out: Something demonic. Shockbox: I am under the impression that all of the fauna presented are not of earthly origin. thenightetc: Don't nail boards to your child. Shockbox: ...I /must/ wonder what Soundwave would think of this..."Representation". thenightetc: Whooops, I guess Aunt Agnes has been drinking too much eggnog. blythe1: Finally a character I can empathise with, where is that 2nd bottle of wine. thenightetc: The hell? blythe1: Oh, wait. Nope, Can't empathise with a childkidnapper. Although I can empathise with her being a pennypincher. Knock Out: She should have had more eggnog. She wouldn't care so much about childnapping. blythe1: Now that is a message I can get onboard with, KO blythe1: Eggnog for everyone. Shockbox: The barn burnt down, but luckily, every animal in it survived. Shockbox: Those are not ears, I'm thoroughly convinced they're some type of arm. blythe1: Oh. Did anyone read about that fire at London Zoo this morning? It didn't have as happy an ending, they lost an aardvrk and 4 meerkats. It was so sad. thenightetc: Oh no! Knock Out: Well, that's depressing. thenightetc: ...This just took a turn for the surreal Shockbox: Hm. Knock Out: Why couldn't these animals have died in a fire instead? Shockbox: I'm sure this old mythical man has plenty of time to stand around to talk on christmas eve. thenightetc: ...What. Shockbox: The horse is flirting with that human. blythe1: There was once a guest on Jerry SPringer who claimed his horse was flirting with him Knock Out: Of course he did. Shockbox: Was he one of those..."Bronies"? blythe1: This was pre-Brony era. But he did marry his horse live on air and kissed it. Shockbox: I...See... Shockbox: I see Blaster landed himself a voice acting gig. blythe1: Well that cockerel just volunteered to be Sunday Dinner. blythe1: Just a PSA, kids. Never Drink and Drive. thenightetc: oh boy Shockbox: This family is a mess. Shockbox: ...You can't gift the calf, she's sapient. thenightetc: I think this is one of those uncomfortable universes where they're not aware of that. thenightetc: After all, it's a "secret" that they can talk Shockbox: I suppose Santa of all people wouldn't be against slavery. blythe1: Seems like the drunk aunt might have a point? thenightetc: Well, NOW there's no passing it off. Shockbox: ...The pig just spoke in front of all of them. Knock Out: He goes into the house and writes a small novel about it. Shockbox: He's shown to be literate, after all. blythe1: I feel like this raises many questions, especially about the food system in this universe. thenightetc: You know they're raising that pig to eat him. Shockbox: Too many 'talking animal" universes have this problem. blythe1: Again, I feel like drunk aunt Agnes might have a point. blythe1: again blythe1: I mean, nothing wrong with a second opinion from a specialist. thenightetc: AT some point they're probably going to be shown eating meat. thenightetc: And nobody will comment. blythe1: We've already seen them leaving milk out for Santa Knock Out: That's probably why grandpa impregnated Annabelle's mother. Knock Out: ...Had her impregnated. Shockbox: .....Knock Out.... Knock Out: It's out there. Now we all have to live with it. Shockbox: Primus. blythe1: Lives on a farm, can't identify a cow. Shockbox: She's two days old, maybe back off? Knock Out: You're all talking because a fat man sprayed you with magic dust. Shut up. Shockbox: Oh here we go. Shockbox: Obligatory musical number. blythe1: This reminds me entirely too much of the song sequence from Watership Down. Knock Out: Dear Unicron, you're right. caffienatedconfetti: henlo Shockbox: Greetings. blythe1: Hi caffienatedconfetti: what are we watchin Knock Out: Annabelle's Wish. Shockbox: Deranged Calf Show caffienatedconfetti: is it any good? Knock Out: No. thenightetc: Uhhhh Knock Out: Can't fences be mended? thenightetc: This doesn't seem legal blythe1: I feel like that should require a court order. caffienatedconfetti: that is definitely illegal Shockbox: This shouldn't be legal at all. Shockbox: It's a few pieces of wood. blythe1: Not to mention even I could have fixed that fence. All it needs is wood and nails. caffienatedconfetti: heck i coulda fixed it and i don't know anythin about fences blythe1: He could get those from dissassembling one of the porch benches Shockbox: "You touched my flimsy pieces of wood? Well, I guess I'll just take one of your food sources without your consent." caffienatedconfetti: NO caffienatedconfetti: NO caffienatedconfetti: NOT THIS thenightetc: ...A calf is definitely more valuable than a music box caffienatedconfetti: ANYTHING BUT THIS caffienatedconfetti: COUNTRY MUSICCCCCC Shockbox: Song count: 2 caffienatedconfetti: NOOOOO caffienatedconfetti: auuguuhu Shockbox: I would average the song quality to be, on average, 2.5/10 caffienatedconfetti: i hate country musc so, so much Shockbox: You can mute the tab. caffienatedconfetti: thank you caffienatedconfetti: tell me when it stops Shockbox: Will do. blythe1: That calf doesn't seem to be growing, they should call a vet blythe1: Some sort of pituitory problem there, surely. Knock Out: The last one was nice. They doubled their mileage by applying it to sick human children, apparently. caffienatedconfetti: she's secretly an alien Knock Out: The intergalactic community doesn't want her. Shockbox: Finally, the song is over. blythe1: Song's done caffienatedconfetti: thanks! caffienatedconfetti: my ears didn't need that cancer Shockbox: It seemed to go on much longer than it wanted to. Shockbox: *needed Shockbox: ...Sign language exists. Shockbox: Nonverbal forms of communication exist. thenightetc: Now trample them. caffienatedconfetti: ah, the old "bullies don't like girls" caffienatedconfetti: how original Knock Out: It doesn't seem like a sign language kind of town. Shockbox: Sigh. blythe1: I think they only know one hand sign there. caffienatedconfetti: "hhneh" Knock Out: Sign language, court orders, doctors... thenightetc: Hhahaha caffienatedconfetti: what's this? caffienatedconfetti: who is that screechy blonde witch??? Knock Out: Drunk Aunt Agnes. caffienatedconfetti: why does she want him?? blythe1: Drunk aunt agnes, who is unpleasant but has been in the right. thenightetc: I'm not really clear on that, to be honest. blythe1: He has been in danger on the farm, he does need a second opinion, eggnog is a basic human right! caffienatedconfetti: the animals are agents of chaos Shockbox: She apparently just didn't want to celebrate christmas alone. Shockbox: That is her entire motivation. caffienatedconfetti: lord caffienatedconfetti: end me caffienatedconfetti: so why can't the kid talk...??? thenightetc: There was a fire Shockbox: He was in a barn that caught on fire and....Was presumably traumatized? blythe1: From context, smoke inhalation has damaged his vocal chords. I think thenightetc: and presumably he inhaled some smoke and damaged his lungs or something Shockbox: Or, perhaps, the smoke destroyed his vocal chords. blythe1: SInce he's only been seen by the old country GP, it could be anything. caffienatedconfetti: santa is a WITCH thenightetc: Do they not hear that rooster Shockbox: Yes. Yes he is. blythe1: Cocaine? caffienatedconfetti: ah, the magic of hard narcotics thenightetc: But the magic dust only lasts for a day. Shockbox: Way to get the child's hopes up. blythe1: I'm not sure that is how child removal orders work? blythe1: I feel I may be being too mean for this movie. caffienatedconfetti: great caffienatedconfetti: their children will be HIDEOUS thenightetc: Really. Shockbox: Why has her face not changed at all. thenightetc: Oh, I guess it didn't just last the one day. Shockbox: That is not the face of an adult cow. caffienatedconfetti: the face of pain caffienatedconfetti: and cheap animation Knock Out: Those antlers are probably weighing down her old neck. caffienatedconfetti: "SANTA COMES, TO FULFILL YOUR DARKESTS DREAMS" blythe1: Is Santa also the Grim Reaper? thenightetc: ....Maybe? Shockbox: It's probable, in this universe. Knock Out: You can't prove he isn't. Shockbox: *There was only green under his jacket.* Shockbox: If you stare underneath the old man's jacket, you stare into the void. caffienatedconfetti: ...but females don't have antlers??? thenightetc: It's a christmas miracle! Knock Out: They actually do! blythe1: I think it depends on the deer species caffienatedconfetti: huh Shockbox: You're all missing the obvious conclusion. caffienatedconfetti: female reindeer have antlers? Shockbox: They're transgender. Shockbox: Case closed. caffienatedconfetti: that was my first thought, actually blythe1: I just want to say, I should have drunk far more wine before watching this one. Knock Out: According to your datanet, female reindeer have antlers. And during your holiday season, the males don't. caffienatedconfetti: i left by accident caffienatedconfetti: oh my god thenightetc: So are all of Santa's reindeer animals he rescued(?) and magically changed the species of? caffienatedconfetti: ....'santa and the ice cream bunny'? Shockbox: It's possible, according to that movie. caffienatedconfetti: oh my god, is this MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER??? Knock Out: It's rifftrax. We used up our MST3K Christmas quota the last two years. caffienatedconfetti: lel Shockbox: Mmmm. Shockbox: I suppose we won't have much to say, they'll do all the riffing for us. thenightetc: If Santa *weren't* also Death then why wait until she was apparently dying to show up. caffienatedconfetti: what are they singing even? blythe1: The Christmas palm tree? blythe1: Global warming is really taking its toll. Shockbox: And then...Santa ran into Amelia Earhart. blythe1: And ate her? Shockbox: No, no, he watched her get eaten by crabs. Shockbox: "It's not Christmas, therefore helping you is outside of my jurisdiction." blythe1: Santa stuck in Florida? Is this an I Dream of Jeannie crossover movie? Shockbox: Is...This some kind of opera? caffienatedconfetti: i think it is blythe1: Santa is tripping caffienatedconfetti: judging by the hand-flailing Shockbox: He's very bored with his situation. caffienatedconfetti: i love these guys caffienatedconfetti: DOG caffienatedconfetti: oh my god caffienatedconfetti: they know what we're thinking Shockbox: Is Santa casting some sort of spell on the humans of the world? thenightetc: Maybe? blythe1: I'm thinking, "Jimmy Saville's home videos" right now. caffienatedconfetti: THEY KNOW caffienatedconfetti: SANTA CALLS thenightetc: I guess the Time Stop wore off? caffienatedconfetti: KAZOOS caffienatedconfetti: KAZOOOOOOOOOOS Shockbox: He's just summoning all of these random children to this unspecified island? caffienatedconfetti: THE KAZOOS thenightetc: Santa is the Pretend Spirit Knock Out: That can only end well. Knock Out: NO. caffienatedconfetti: i swear to god they're psychic thenightetc: Search your feelings. You know it to be true. Shockbox: This is directed and written in a manner that is uncomfortably close to modern productions that are /meant/ to be vaguely disconcerting or frightening. caffienatedconfetti: i love mystery science theater SO GODDAMN MUCH thenightetc: Is that a racoon thenightetc: it IS a racoon caffienatedconfetti: i can't stop laughing caffienatedconfetti: aaaaand i just snorted my seltzer blythe1: Be careful with raccoons, one attacked a baby in philedelphia a couple of days ago Shockbox: Good job, CC. blythe1: got in the house and mauled a four month old caffienatedconfetti: there is exactly one black child thenightetc: And they all immediately kneel down Shockbox: Ah, Representation. caffienatedconfetti: BOW TO YOUR LORD blythe1: Santa endorses child labour thenightetc: Is he going to turn them into reindeer and make them pull him around Cardinal: Hello! Knock Out: Cardinal! Hello! blythe1: Hi Cardinal caffienatedconfetti: henlo, we're watching 'santa and the ice cream bunny' Cardinal: wh Cardinal: what is this caffienatedconfetti: 'santa and the ice cream bunny' Shockbox: A masterpiece. caffienatedconfetti: DOG caffienatedconfetti: cut dog, good dog Shockbox: A horrible masterpiece. caffienatedconfetti: *cute caffienatedconfetti: just let me pet the dog Cardinal: what is this caffienatedconfetti: 'santa and the ice cream bunny' Shockbox: A masterpiece. caffienatedconfetti: DOG caffienatedconfetti: cut dog, good dog Shockbox: A horrible masterpiece. caffienatedconfetti: *cute caffienatedconfetti: just let me pet the dog blythe1: Did the spell wear off? caffienatedconfetti: the pied piper of the north pole caffienatedconfetti: ....what caffienatedconfetti: what caffienatedconfetti: i dont thenightetc: Where did she get a gorilla caffienatedconfetti: what blythe1: It is the ghost of harambe Shockbox: Ah, I see, she recruited bigfoot. caffienatedconfetti: i don't Cardinal: . . . caffienatedconfetti: this is oddly sexual caffienatedconfetti: it's the grunting okay Shockbox: ...He just needs his sleigh out of the snow, doesn't he? Shockbox: Er. Sand. Cardinal: Wouldn't it help if he . . . got out of the sleigh. Shockbox: Why doesn't he *get out of it* before asking people to move it. thenightetc: Yes, you'd think he could pull it out himself. Shockbox: //Snort. thenightetc: It doesn't look that heavy. blythe1: It does not look like a heavily built vehicle, Santa himself must weigh more than the sleigh caffienatedconfetti: angry pig thenightetc: Exactly. blythe1: Oooh, the Christmas ham has arrived. thenightetc: Maybe he's stuck. thenightetc: Or just very stupid. caffienatedconfetti: wait why would a pig work better than a mule and a m man in a gorrilla suit??? thenightetc: Oh so he CAN get out! Knock Out: Dear sweet Unicron. caffienatedconfetti: those poor animals Shockbox: There he goes! It's not that hard. caffienatedconfetti: sobbing blythe1: I'm guessing this movie did not get the "no animals were harmed" award thenightetc: Were they even trained animals? blythe1: trained better than the film makers caffienatedconfetti: the raaccon and the dog were obviously somewhat trianed blythe1: Oh it is the cast of the last movie caffienatedconfetti: ohhh, that poor horse! their hooves aren't built for sand!! caffienatedconfetti: poor baby caffienatedconfetti: stop hitting the horse!! blythe1: Yes, get out! caffienatedconfetti: STOP caffienatedconfetti: THAT POOR HRSE IS SO CONFUZZLED thenightetc: The horse just seems confused. blythe1: These kids are obviously within walking distance of a populated area. Go walk there and phone for a taxi. blythe1: It isn't even slightly buried. thenightetc: Is he. Still trying to sit in the sleigh and dig it out a tthe same time. thenightetc: Does anyone else find it strange that it's just him in the sleigh, and no presents? Knock Out: He's not Santa at all, just a bad man. blythe1: Oh god, singing. Cardinal: . . . Knock Out: With filthy pants. Shockbox: ...Well, at least we went for a good few minutes without having to endure this singing. Cardinal: Didn't Rudolph establish that Santa is a bad man? caffienatedconfetti: yes caffienatedconfetti: we're in hell blythe1: Either in hell, or on a hell of an acid trip Shockbox: Is....Is this really happening? thenightetc: I'm so confused. Shockbox: Okay. Cardinal: WHY caffienatedconfetti: we're dead and in hell caffienatedconfetti: *get sshot in spanish* Shockbox: And *then* the protagonist in this movie will start talking about a protagonist from a *different* story. caffienatedconfetti: i can't stop laughingggg Knock Out: I'm wheezing. thenightetc: Why is the ceiling in there so low blythe1: Remember when asking for children from witches and the fey always be specific in your wants. They love to screw you over with exact words. caffienatedconfetti: i love these guyss blythe1: The ceiling is so low because she bought it cheap from Yoda's estate caffienatedconfetti: "buy cheap, this house, you will" thenightetc: pffff thenightetc: They were really desperate to fill out the running time, huh. blythe1: duck into a swan, an anthem for the CRISPR generation Shockbox: Apparently. caffienatedconfetti: WHEEZE caffienatedconfetti: ....that looks like a boy wearing a wig caffienatedconfetti: "you and i are going to have fun together" blythe1: That is some bad CSO, even for this movie thenightetc: Uhhhhhhhhh caffienatedconfetti: is that a man in a frog suit caffienatedconfetti: WHAT HAPPENED TO SANTA caffienatedconfetti: i think marriage is a consent thing??? blythe1: WTF? thenightetc: Are they supposed to be... insects? thenightetc: I mean, the extra..... limbs blythe1: Giant shrooms, I think I've found the explanation for this movie thenightetc: Is her mother even looking for her? thenightetc: She can't be too far away blythe1: the snow in old movies was actually asbestos. Not even joking about that, they used to use asbestos for fake snow thenightetc: Well, that's cheery caffienatedconfetti: assbestos thenightetc: yikes caffienatedconfetti: why this Shockbox: ...How much longer. Shockbox: How much longer is this film. blythe1: It never ends caffienatedconfetti: it will last for eternity caffienatedconfetti: this is hell after all blythe1: It lasts forever, ahahahaha thenightetc: This is what happens when you get on Santa's naughty list! Take note. blythe1: Damn, I didn't realise just how naughty I must have been this year thenightetc: errrrr blythe1: A saga of child trading and forced marriages, such a classic tale for Santa to tell kids. caffienatedconfetti: wait caffienatedconfetti: I JUST REALIZED SOMETHING caffienatedconfetti: THAT MOLE MAN IS WEARING THE BODY PART OF THE GORILLA SUIT thenightetc: Oh my god. Yeah, plus a coat Knock Out: By the core, it is! thenightetc: I'm so uncomfortable with how they keep saying how young she is and how she's a child. thenightetc: "you're such a beautiful child! marry me" thenightetc: :| Cardinal: uhhhh caffienatedconfetti: jesus thenightetc: see? blythe1: A day, but it feels soooooooooooo much longer. thenightetc: "but I AM rich" caffienatedconfetti: it puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again thenightetc: "he'll die pretty soon and then you'll be a rich widow!" Knock Out: This couldn't have less to do with Christmas. caffienatedconfetti: i don't know where i am thenightetc: Please tell me the bird's not going to try to marry her, too blythe1: I think I actually miss drunk Santa at thispoint caffienatedconfetti: yes Knock Out: AHHHH! blythe1: She is not a human being, she grew fully formed from a seed caffienatedconfetti: plant hybrid caffienatedconfetti: OH MY LORD blythe1: I can't imagine there could be a worse fate that being in thiis movie blythe1: Winter is coming! Shockbox: So...When will this have anything to do with an ice cream bunny? blythe1: It melted Shockbox: At the beginning? Cardinal: . . . . blythe1: Another forced marriage? blythe1: I seriously question the message this movie is pushing thenightetc: So... what about her mother Thebes: Oh man I'm late--what fresh nonsense is this? blythe1: I hope those flower buds they are standing in are the same as those from little shop of horrors thenightetc: So, they absolutely just spliced another entire story in, didn' tthey blythe1: back at Santa's cult thenightetc: Credits and all thenightetc: Er, movie blythe1: Yes, Santa is dead, we're freeeeeeeee Cardinal: . . . caffienatedconfetti: am i on crack thenightetc: No, this is really happening Thebes: This feels like a festive fever dream blythe1: THE SIREN MEANS THE NUKES ARE COMING, RIGHT? blythe1: And they just ran over the camera man, which must be a relief for him caffienatedconfetti: screaming blythe1: You know the worst apart about this? caffienatedconfetti: i am screaming caffienatedconfetti: the screaming never ends thenightetc: The dog turning to look at the camera blythe1: I hear Michael Bay has signed on for a remake. Thebes: I feel like that's untrue but... cite your sources blythe1: He's signed on for a reboot for everything else. caffienatedconfetti: eeend me caffienatedconfetti: hwy tjhs caffienatedconfetti: whys blythe1: Just get him on the car and drive to the closing credits, already. thenightetc: The dog seems kind of freaked out at the bunny, there. caffienatedconfetti: please kill mee blythe1: Just for the record, that is not the right way to crank start a car blythe1: if it kicks back then it can break your arm. thenightetc: Look at that kid struggling to keep the dog from running off. thenightetc: ....So could he have done that at any time, or Thebes: I... I don't know blythe1: Is it over, truly? caffienatedconfetti: thank god thenightetc: That description caffienatedconfetti: i am freed Knock Out: It's over. Dear sweet Unicron, it's over. Knock Out: But will we ever be free? That's the question. blythe1: I'll be good next year, promise. Knock Out: I promise nothing. thenightetc: That was really.... something. blythe1: I have to look up that movie's IMDB page to see if anyone in it ever worked again Knock Out: Wasn't it just? Knock Out: Thank you all for stopping by and enduring it! thenightetc: Thank you for infli--*sharing* it with us. blythe1: Wouldn't have missed it for the world, KO. Thank you. blythe1: I love your Christmas livestreams. THey are always great. caffienatedconfetti: goood night Thebes: I only caught the end, but even that was...amazing, shall we say. thank you! Knock Out: You're all very welcome! caffienatedconfetti: it was endless pain caffienatedconfetti: and trauma thenightetc: That description caffienatedconfetti: i am freed Knock Out: It's over. Dear sweet Unicron, it's over. Knock Out: But will we ever be free? That's the question. blythe1: I'll be good next year, promise. Knock Out: I promise nothing. thenightetc: That was really.... something. blythe1: I have to look up that movie's IMDB page to see if anyone in it ever worked again Knock Out: Wasn't it just? Knock Out: Thank you all for stopping by and enduring it! thenightetc: Thank you for infli--*sharing* it with us. blythe1: Wouldn't have missed it for the world, KO. Thank you. blythe1: I love your Christmas livestreams. THey are always great. caffienatedconfetti: goood night Thebes: I only caught the end, but even that was...amazing, shall we say. thank you! Knock Out: You're all very welcome! caffienatedconfetti: it was endless pain caffienatedconfetti: and trauma caffienatedconfetti: it will be in my nightmares blythe1: Merry Christmas, everybody. caffienatedconfetti: mebby chruistmun Knock Out: Merry Christmas, happy holidays, may Santa's filthy pants keep clear of your dreams! thenightetc: Same to you! And goodnight. blythe1: Since it is now 5am in my timezone, I will bid you all good night. See you all next year. Thebes: good night!

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fialleril · 7 years ago

Text

Double Agent Vader fic: Flowers for the Emperor

Finally, a new DAV fic! I apologize for the long wait. Also, alas, this one does not get us any closer to Bespin, but it does fill in some of the gaps in the unknown family drama.

Because what this ‘verse really needed was some more irony. So here, have the life story of Pooja Naberrie and seven years’ worth of seditious flower messages.

This fic jumps around a bit in the timeline, with the first scene taking place twelve years after ROTS, and the final scene happening basically simultaneously with Bedrock and the events at the beginning of ANH. In the middle, we also get Pooja’s view of the Empire Day when Moff Pirus so graciously volunteered to be a fall guy.

This fic began life as a bit of crack based on this post, which @grand-duc expanded on in a beautiful way here. Full credit for the Bouquet of Disdain becoming a serious thing in this ‘verse goes to @grand-duc.

Flowers for the Emperor

Pooja’s grandparents had been furious with terror when she announced that she would accept the position of Imperial Senator for Naboo. Her grandfather had yelled and her grandmother had cried and they hadn’t spoken to her for over a week. They hadn’t come to her swearing in, either, but they’d sent a note.

“We love you,” it said. “Come back to us.”

Pooja didn’t blame them. She remembered, all too well, the sight of Aunt Padmé, still and cold as she lay in state, haloed in flowers. She remembered just as clearly the strange conversation she and Ryoo had had with their parents after the funeral.

Aunt Padmé had been killed by the Jedi, her mother had said – at least, that was what they would have to tell people. It was the story they would have to abide by, but Sola wanted her daughters to know the truth. To know, and to bury it deep down, where it could become a fire burning in their bones.

And they couldn’t tell anyone about Uncle Ani, either. That had been true before, of course, and Ryoo and Pooja were very good at keeping secrets, even from their own grandparents. But it was even more important now, Sola said. The Emperor hated the Jedi, and he hated democracy, and he had killed Aunt Padmé because of that.

Only a few hours before Aunt Padmé’s funeral, Sola had made a public statement against the Jedi. She had cursed them for her sister’s death, and praised Palpatine for his swift action against them. Now she was saying the very opposite.

Pooja and Ryoo had looked at one another in confusion. What could their mother mean?

“It’s like a story,” Sola had said, pulling her daughters close. “Like the legend of Queen Polana. Remember how she tricked the wicked King Aprana and brought democracy back to Naboo?”

“Oh,” Pooja remembered Ryoo exclaiming. “We’re going to be spies!”

And Sola had laughed, startled but no less determined. “We’re going to be spies.”

That was twelve years ago. Pooja and her sister had grown to adulthood in a house of covert rebellion.

Ryoo worked at Theed University now. She was a professor of ancient literature. It was a solidly academic posting, rarely visited by inspectors from the Imperial Ministry of Education. After all, the poetic musings of lovers from thousands of years in Naboo’s past could hardly pose a threat to the smooth functioning of the thoroughly modern Galactic Empire.

Pooja smiled to think it. It was quite obvious Palpatine had never dedicated much time to reading Naboo’s ancient romantic poets. If he had he might have been more worried.

Their grandparents might have been more worried, too.

As it was, their worry was reserved almost exclusively for Pooja. Why couldn’t she have chosen a safe but meaningful career, like her sister the professor, or her mother the data technician, or her father the architect? Why did she have to go into politics?

Pooja didn’t tell them that Ryoo’s poetry reading group at the university doubled as a Rebel cell. She didn’t tell them that Darred spent much of his time designing hidden spaces and disguised safe houses. She didn’t tell them that Sola’s work at the Central Hub gave her access to a shocking amount of classified Imperial data – data that was vital to the Rebellion. She didn’t tell them that she’d met with the Queen just prior to her swearing in as senator and had received directly from Her Highness the codes and frequencies she would need to communicate with the Rebel Alliance.

All she told them was, “I want to help the people of Naboo, and this is the best way I can see to do it.”

“You’re too much like her,” Jobal had said, her voice laced with a bitter and still raw grief, and Pooja had said nothing in reply. It wouldn’t help her grandmother to know that Pooja took her words as a compliment.

The Imperial Senate was more or less exactly what she’d expected. Pooja had never had any real illusions about her ability to affect positive change in the Empire through legislation. The Senate was effectively toothless and it had been for years now. The Emperor’s word was all that truly mattered, and even the most unimportant of the Moffs wielded more actual power than the most prominent senator. Yet her colleagues still postured and squabbled as though their actions would determine the balance of power in the galaxy.

Pooja remembered overhearing Aunt Padmé complaining about the very same behavior to her mother several times, and she even remembered Uncle Ani, on one of his rare visits, laughing at Aunt Padmé’s disgust. He’d said that all politicians were the same, with only a few exceptions, and Sola had jokingly agreed with him, leaving Aunt Padmé to splutter in indignation.

Perhaps things had been different under the Republic, but the Imperial Senate seemed determined to prove Uncle Ani right.

They still had committees in the Senate, though Pooja was honestly not sure why they bothered. Perhaps her fellow senators simply wanted to maintain the illusion of relevance. But Pooja had chosen her own committees carefully to achieve nearly the opposite effect. The Heritage Committee. The Committee for the Preservation of Imperial Culture. The Senate Hospitality Committee. Three committees that were largely regarded, even within the increasingly powerless Senate, as either frivolous or merely sycophantic. As though that didn’t describe the entire Senate.

She wouldn’t learn much information that might be useful to the Rebellion there, but the truth was she wouldn’t learn that in any of the Senate’s committees. Nothing really important was shared with the Senate prior to its implementation. Information had to be obtained through other channels, and she had plenty of those. So instead Pooja had chosen her committees the better to craft her image. Naboo, under the Empire, was regarded as a quaint, beautiful, peaceful and innocent place, the jewel of the Empire, and Pooja had created her own political persona to be its perfect match.

Senator Pooja Naberrie was everything that Senator Padmé Amidala had not been. She was a vocal supporter of Naboo’s native son, Emperor Palpatine. She was in favor of the consolidation of power in the Core, the system of regional governors, and the steps the Empire had taken to preserve traditional culture and strengthen the military. The only piece of legislation she had so far introduced in her eight months in the Senate was a bill to officially recognize the anniversary of the end of the Clone Wars with a state holiday. The bill had received instant approval from the Emperor.

Her act was solely for Palpatine’s benefit. No one else was likely to notice how very unlike Senator Amidala she was, because no one talked about Senator Amidala anymore. Her name was never mentioned, her face never seen. It was like she had never existed at all.

At first Pooja had been surprised by this. Aunt Padmé’s funeral had been widely publicized at the time, and the official line that she had been murdered by the Jedi should have made her an ideal object of propaganda. Instead Palpatine had quietly disappeared her.

But after only two audiences with the Emperor, Pooja thought she could now guess why. The reason was petty and shockingly mundane for a man who wielded absolute galactic power, and that, paradoxically, gave her hope.

Padmé Amidala had once been Naboo’s most popular politician. The people of Naboo had even tried to amend the constitution to keep her in power. The coup Palpatine had been forced to work years to achieve, she had been offered on a silver platter. And she had turned it down.

And Palpatine, Pooja suspected, had never forgiven her for that.

The thought brought her a small measure of satisfaction. It was a cold satisfaction, but it was something to cling to, and today of all days Pooja desperately needed that.

It was a thought she clung to during the endless, monotonous meetings of the Senate Hospitality Committee. It was a thought she reminded herself of continually as she smiled inanely and directed the workers around the Imperial Hall of Culture, as though the placement of flowers and the proper arrangement of food were of vital galactic importance.

That evening they would celebrate the twelfth anniversary of Empire Day, and everything had to be perfect.

It was Pooja’s first Empire Day on Coruscant, and so far she thought she’d done well simply to get through the day without punching anyone. Even that had been a near miss with Moff Pirus, who was perhaps the worst combination of smug bigotry and ignorant bluster she had ever encountered in a politician. And that was certainly saying something. The festivities, speeches, and military parades seemed endless, and Palpatine’s image was even more omnipresent than usual.

At least this gala would be the final event of the evening and then, at last, she could just get away from it all, drink a toast to Aunt Padmé, and sleep.

“Excuse me, Senator, I’m terribly sorry, but there’s been a mix up with catering and we’ve only received two of the twenty orders of Tilesian caviar – ”

Pooja allowed herself half a second to paint a strained society smile across her lips, then turned back to the crisis of the moment.

If the process of setting up the gala had been tedious, the party itself was ten times worse. There were more speeches, more displays of military might, and yet another interminable proclamation from Emperor Palpatine himself. This, of course, was met with riotous applause.

And then there was the mingling. Pooja dreaded mingling.

Her face was beginning to ache from holding her smile. She’d long ago stopped really listening to the inane comments of her fellow senators. Her mouth was on autopilot, replying by polite rote while her eyes cast all around the great hall, desperately looking for anything that might ease the tedium.

There was an array of buffet tables, lined with the finest delicacies all beautifully arranged. There were all twenty orders of caviar. There was the band, a quartet from Naboo’s lake district who had the singular distinction of being the most forgettable performers Pooja had ever heard. There was a dance floor on which no one was dancing, but plenty of genteel conversations were taking place over canapés. And there were the large bouquets of flowers strategically placed around the room.

In the absence of anything else interesting, Pooja studied the flowers. Most of the blooms were in shades of red and dark purple, appropriate enough for Palpatine’s signature colors, though here and there a yellow or an orange peeked out. There was very little foliage in the arrangements, which was slightly odd, but perhaps the designers had wanted the most vibrant pop of color possible.

The majority of the flowers appeared to be native to Naboo. Pooja shifted on her feet, some unknown feeling piercing through her vague interest. There was something about those flowers –

Naboo’s notoriously complex flower language was no longer widely known beyond the meanings of a few of the most common flowers associated with romance. But Pooja had a sister who studied the romantic bards of Naboo’s past, who made extensive use of the symbolism of flowers. And, although she’d been too young to fully appreciate it then, she remembered that Aunt Padmé had loved the clandestine poetry of the secret language of flowers. Uncle Ani used to send her flowers during the war. Pooja remembered once watching her aunt study a brightly colored bouquet with all the focused intensity she usually reserved for reading legislation.

Pooja hadn’t considered before that flowers might be used to send any message other than the romantic. But she was certainly considering it now.

There were five arrangements set around the hall, the most prominent and impressive of them marking out the center of the Emperor’s dais. It was impossible that Palpatine could have missed it.

It was just as obvious that he was unfamiliar with his home planet’s traditions of flower symbolism.

The most prevalent blooms in the arrangement were blood red tipala lilies. An accusation of injustice. Stabbing through the lilies at the very center of the arrangement was a single purple sword iris, so dark it was nearly black. A vow of vengeance. Purple canthaé sprays marched around the circumference of the gilded urn: a defiance of power. They were joined by the pale yellow fronds of billa ferns, foliage that was typically only used in funerary arrangements. Memory that survives beyond death. When paired with canthaé, they carried an implication of wrongful death at the hands of political authority.

But most startling of all were the sprigs of lacy red Queen’s mantle peeking out amongst the other blooms. I am deceiving you.

Pooja tried not to stare.

Someone was sending the Emperor a message. A message in the archaic flower language of his own people. A message he couldn’t read.

“Senator?” asked Bardan Toobis of Corellia, startling Pooja out of her thoughts. “Are you quite all right?”

“Oh!” said Pooja, shooting him a bright smile. “Yes, I’m terribly sorry. I’m afraid I’m a bit overtired.”

“Quite understandable,” he replied jovially. “You’ve done such lovely work with the day’s festivities. You must be exhausted!”

“Thank you,” Pooja said, too distracted to be troubled by resentment. Who had ordered those flowers? The order hadn’t come from her committee, she was certain of that. She hadn’t seen any invoice. They had been delivered by a florist just as the desserts were arriving, and at the time she’d thought nothing of them. She didn’t even know what shop they’d come from.

“Well, I congratulate you again on your fine achievement today,” Senator Toobis said, already beginning to move away, back into the milling crowd. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Certainly,” Pooja said, shooting him perhaps the fakest smile she’d worn all day. “Good evening, Senator.”

Free for the moment, she drifted slowly but with purpose towards the nearest flower arrangement. It was conveniently placed atop one of the five long dessert tables, and whatever else she might have thought of the festivities, she had to admit the chocolate-dipped shuura slices were delicious.

The flowers were no less startling up close. There were more Queen’s mantle sprigs than she’d initially thought, some of them hidden beneath and among the other blooms in a way that indicated something close to mischief. Whoever had sent this message had fully expected that the Emperor would not be able to read it, and they were gloating about that fact.

But who could have sent it? Pooja was certain that no one on her team could be behind the bouquets. Naboo’s flower language was hardly widely known even on her home planet. But it was even harder to imagine an outsider becoming fluent in it. And to take the risk of sending them to the Emperor, himself a native of Naboo…

“Does something about the flowers trouble you, Senator?”

Pooja jumped. In hindsight, she’d be embarrassed to realize she couldn’t even claim to have been just startled. Her feet actually left the floor and a yelp of surprise left her mouth.

Then she heard the breathing.

If she’d ever interacted personally with Darth Vader, Pooja couldn’t recall it in that moment. It was difficult to recall anything beyond a sharp and purely instinctual terror. The sound of that measured, harshly mechanized respirator seemed to overshadow every other noise.

She turned to face him, her heart thudding in a bruising beat against her ribs, and stumbled through a greeting. “Lord Vader.”

He didn’t apologize for startling her. That would have been the polite thing to do, and the expected thing besides, and in the face of his looming presence and his utter lack of apology, Pooja had no idea what to say.

He was very tall, she thought absurdly. At least a head taller than her. And he was just standing there, his hands clasped behind his back in a way that was oddly unsettling, staring at her. Well, she assumed he was staring. It was impossible to tell behind that mask. But she certainly felt that she was being stared at. Pooja breathed deep and repressed a shudder.

“Happy Empire Day, Lord Vader,” she managed, and instantly felt like a fool.

Vader still said nothing.

Oh gvalé, Pooja thought. There were whispers that Vader could read thoughts, like the Jedi of old. She remembered, distantly, Uncle Ani saying once that it didn’t actually work like that, but she’d been very young then. Had he meant that a Jedi couldn’t read someone’s thoughts, or simply that they wouldn’t? She couldn’t imagine Vader abiding by any rules the Jedi might once have kept.

And Vader was still staring at her. Pooja froze her face in a smile and tried to stop her mind from thinking. If he could read –

“Do you disapprove of the flowers?” he rumbled.

Pooja blinked. She’d been prepared for any number of terrifying pronouncements, but that had not been one of them. “The…flowers?”

“You were studying them rather intently,” he said. Pooja was half convinced she was dreaming. There was simply no way that she could be standing here, in the midst of an Imperial gala, chatting with Darth Vader about flowers. It was absurd.

Unless…

She chanced another quick glance at the bouquet with its seditious message before turning back to Vader. His blank mask was far worse than any expression she could have imagined. But after all, what were the odds Lord Vader was somehow familiar with Naboo’s poetic language of flowers, when even the Emperor was not?

“Well, they’re lovely, don’t you think?” Pooja said, smile and voice both overly bright.

Vader’s mask tilted to one side and he shifted on his feet, but his arms remained linked at his back. That shiver of familiarity passed through her again. She could feel him staring.

Pooja babbled. “And, well, I’m having a small soirée next week, you know, and they’re just so lovely and I thought I might want something similar, for the party, not as grand of course, it’s only a small party, but they’re very pretty and I was hoping the florist – ”

Vader turned and walked away. He said nothing to her, and made no excuses. The end of his cloak snapped against her skirt as he went.

Pooja was left gaping. Well, her thoughts whispered from somewhere very far away. How rude.

She puzzled over the strange encounter for the rest of the evening, but the mystery only deepened. Vader did not approach her again, and he spoke only very briefly with a handful of other senators, all of whom approached him first. Once or twice he was drawn into conversation with groups of Moffs. But mostly he seemed to stand behind and to the side of the Emperor’s throne, silent and looming. There were chairs interspersed throughout the hall but she never once saw him sit. He left with the Emperor, and Pooja couldn’t say she was sorry to see either of them go.

As a member of the Hospitality Committee, she was obliged to stay until the last of the guests had left. It was well into the early hours of the morning when the servants came to remove the leftover food and clear the decorations. She watched them work, feeling half asleep on her feet, until they came to the flowers.

It was a risk, but not much of one. They were only flowers. They Emperor hardly seemed to have noticed them, and taking them would fit easily within Pooja’s carefully crafted public image.

She took the bouquet from the dessert table, the same one Vader had abandoned her to, and commed her handmaidens to bring the speeder. She was more than half asleep already by the time they reached the Naboo senatorial apartments, and only managed a mumbled good night as Tila ushered her into her room and Nimé disappeared into the living room with her vase.

So she didn’t find the note until the next afternoon. It was tucked between the vase and the liner, printed on a piece of old-fashioned cardstock. Tirvané Occasions, and an address and comcode.

Had it been there last night? It must have been. She hadn’t exactly gone peeking around in the vase with Lord Vader looking on, after all. So she must have missed it last night.

She could call and ask who had ordered the flowers. But if her suspicions proved correct, she would find it had been an anonymous order anyway. And if her call was logged, as it certainly would be, someone in Imperial Intelligence might wonder why she’d been so curious. It was a small risk, but an unnecessary one. She could live with her curiosity.

She brushed her fingers over the frothy red sprays of Queen’s mantle and allowed herself a small, sad smile. “Happy Empire Day, Aunt Padmé.”

The celebrations of Empire Day seemed more odious every year, but Pooja had begun to almost look forward to the gala. After that first year, when she’d seen how many senators brought their aides despite the supposedly strict guest list, she’d started bringing Tila and Nimé with her for the evening. The flower messages were infinitely more enjoyable when she had people to share them with.

And the flowers came every year. The message was never exactly the same: some years there were more sword irises, other years more canthaé or tipala. The Queen’s mantle was a constant, though some years it was more prominently displayed than others.

On her fourth Empire Day, Pooja broke out into a startled coughing fit in a desperate effort to disguise her laughter. She couldn’t meet her handmaidens’ eyes for nearly an hour, and other senators kept wishing her a swift recovery from the illness that was obviously plaguing her, which hardly helped. She took two bouquets home that year. For weeks, the vibrant yellow blooms of the malla flower cheered her after long, pointless committee meetings with their message of irreverent mockery.

The malla was a flower normally only used in romantic arrangements. It meant “the one you seek is before you,” but in this case the anonymous sender clearly meant the sentiment quite differently. Whoever had sent the flowers must have been someone attending the gala, and someone the Emperor interacted with regularly.

“He has a secret admirer,” Tila laughed, arranging the two bouquets at either end of Pooja’s dining table. “Can you even imagine?”

Even Nimé giggled, though she normally preferred not to discuss anything remotely seditious, even obliquely, for fear of the ears that Palpatine had everywhere.

Pooja laughed so hard she snorted, and didn’t bother to apologize. The malla blooms were entirely surrounded by near-black sword irises.

The next year, Pooja’s fifth Empire Day on Coruscant, was Leia Organa’s first. Pooja had actually been almost looking forward to spending the gala with Leia. It was too dangerous for her to spend much time with Fema Baab or Artab La or most of her fellow Rebel senators, with whom she officially had nothing in common. But Leia was the senator for Alderaan, historically Naboo’s closest ally, and she was young like Pooja, so they could be expected to associate without creating too many questions.

But Leia had stepped out onto one of the balconies with Moff Pirus early in the evening, and ever since she seemed to be almost deliberately avoiding Pooja’s company. That was probably an overstatement on Pooja’s part, but it sat uneasily with her nonetheless. Even the addition of deep red varyn blossoms in this year’s bouquet – a sign of regret, and one of the more puzzling flower messages Pooja had seen – wasn’t enough to distract her from her worry.

Leia escaped the gala early, just after Palpatine’s departure, without ever speaking to Pooja. The evening wound down, but the air of unknown danger that had haunted her all night never dissipated. Pooja slept briefly and fitfully, and woke to the news that Moff Pirus had been found a traitor to the Empire. His ultimate fate was not disclosed.

The flowers she’d taken from the gala this year sat on her bedside table, their delicate scent filling her bedroom. Pooja sat and stared at them.

Moff Pirus had been the furthest thing from a Rebel agent.

It took her another three days to arrange a meeting with Leia. Pooja, in desperation, had organized another soirée, this time for “young, up-and-coming Imperial leaders,” which was probably the most absurdly meaningless bit of political nonsense she’d uttered since, oh, yesterday. She was doubtless due to spend the next four hours at least sharing Senate gossip, but it was worth it if it offered Leia, her co-host, an excuse to arrive an hour early for set up.

Leia and her aide, Fiura, had barely stepped through the door when Pooja activated the scrambler. Tila, Nimé, and Fiura exchanged a quick glance and slipped away as one in the direction of Pooja’s receiving room. Someone had to actually prepare for the party, after all.

Pooja grabbed Leia’s hand and all but dragged her into the small converted closet she used for secure communications. The scrambler never left her hand.

“What happened the other night?” she demanded as soon as the door closed.

Leia responded with the same brusqueness. It was something Pooja had always appreciated about her. “You were almost compromised,” she said. Pooja sucked in a sharp breath. “Moff Pirus was planning to report you. He wanted to catch me in his net, too.”

“What are we – ”

“It’s taken care of,” Leia said quickly. She paused, and Pooja could see her working out exactly how much she should say. “We have someone…one of our agents. On the inside. You’re not compromised. I’m certain of that.”

“But how did Pirus know in the first place? If there’s a leak – ”

“We don’t think there is,” said Leia. To Pooja’s surprise, she laughed. “It’s actually much more ridiculous. We think that he may not have had much real evidence at all. He had a gut feeling and possibly a plan to frame you.”

Pooja smiled tightly. “So our agent framed him instead.”

Leia’s expression slipped. “Yes,” she said.

Pooja wondered how involved her friend had been. Not directly, she didn’t think, but Leia plainly knew more than she was willing or able to share. That wasn’t surprising. She was Bail Organa’s daughter, and his main representative here on Coruscant. It made sense that she would have connections across their network.

“Well,” said Pooja, trying for casual although her heart was still thudding painfully. “I can’t say I’m too upset about it. He always hated me, though I could never figure out why.”

“My theory is that he just hated the Senate,” Leia said. “Many of the Moffs think that it’s outdated, that it just gets in the way of their ability to govern.” Her lip curled in a sneer.

Pooja snorted. “At least we’re accomplishing something, then.”

But her mind was still turning over what Leia had said before. She thought of the flowers in her bedroom, with their vibrant blooms of regret and deception. They were messages that only made sense if sent by someone who was fairly close to Palpatine.

“So,” she mused aloud. “Your agent on the inside. Are they the one sending the flowers?”

Leia blinked. “The flowers?”

Pooja told her.

She described each of the five bouquets she had seen and their meanings, and all the while she watched Leia’s face. Her friend had a decent sabacc face, but only when she really concentrated, and right now she wasn’t making much effort to hide her reactions. Pooja saw amusement, surprise, and even a hint of unabashed glee. Leia obviously knew who was sending the flowers, and she was just as obviously not going to tell Pooja.

Pooja pressed her luck anyway. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Maybe,” said Leia. They both knew she meant yes.

“Well,” Pooja said with a grin. “When all of this is over, I hope you’ll tell me who it is. I want to thank them.”

Leia’s expression turned surprisingly serious. “I hope you can,” she said softly. “I hope someday we can tell all these stories openly.”

Pooja reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “That’s what we’re fighting for, isn’t it? For everything that’s hidden to be made known.”

“Is there a flower for that?” Leia asked. She was smiling again, but Pooja didn’t think she was joking.

“You’d need a couple, I think,” Pooja said slowly. “Let’s see… Pirené blossoms mean truth. And a branch of river sasté would mean an obligation. And of course the lyané rose is the flower of democracy.”

“There’s a flower representing democracy?”

“There are quite a few. Technically, the lyané indicates democracy victorious over the forces of tyranny.” Leia looked more than a little bemused, and Pooja smiled ruefully. “I know you’d never guess it from our most famous son, but Naboo actually has a long history of resistance to authoritarianism. I grew up with stories about Queen Polana, who led a rebellion against the evil King Aprana, who wanted to do away with elections and establish himself as ruler for life. I even dressed as Queen Polana one year for the festival of remembrance. But of course children don’t learn those stories in school anymore.”

“One day they will,” said Leia. There was a ferocity in her eyes that left Pooja almost breathless. “One day we’ll tell all the stories again. And we’ll have flowers.”

Pooja started to reply, but there was a knock on the closet door, and her words dissolved in a sigh. “But for now, we have Senate gossip,” she muttered, releasing the secure seal and letting the door slide open.

Leia followed her into the receiving room, where Tila, Nimé, and Fiura had set up a lovely spread of drinks and finger foods. The flowers Pooja had taken from the Empire Day soirée were prominently displayed, still fresh and bright three days later. Leia’s eyes went to them immediately, and Pooja watched as a secret, fond smile lit her face.

Leia was not present for Pooja’s seventh and final Empire Day on Coruscant. She’d left nearly a week previously on a diplomatic mission to her home planet, and Pooja had been battling a nebulous feeling of dread ever since. Whatever mission Leia was really involved in, Pooja knew it was nothing the Empire would consider remotely “diplomatic.”

The annual Empire Day gala, too, seemed fraught with some unknown sense of danger. Pooja’s role was the same as it had been every year previously, but she found it difficult to concentrate on issues of catering and décor, even as there seemed to be far more little issues that required her attention. There were missing tablecloths, an inaccurate order of cakes, and too few servers to be found. Pooja, Tila, and Nimé were bustling about right up to the arrival of the first guests. The flowers arrived early in the evening, but she spared them only a brief glance. The fun would have to wait.

The feeling of vague unease only increased as the Emperor delivered his remarks and the gala began. Pooja’s fellow senators all seemed overly cheerful, while the Moffs mainly stuck to themselves and the Emperor sat unmoving on his throne. He looked somehow smaller without his omnipresent shadow. Darth Vader, too, was absent from Coruscant on some mission that no one would name.

A thrill of fear shot up Pooja’s spine. She hoped Leia was safe.

It was Nimé who first noticed the flowers. Pooja heard a sudden, sharp intake of breath at her side and felt her handmaiden’s hand on her shoulder. Her voice was low and breathless. “Milady, look at the flowers.”

Pooja looked. Her own breath caught.

Whoever was sending the flowers had taken pains to be sure this year’s bouquets would look little different than previous years. The colors were the same: dark purples and reds, with occasional highlights of yellows and oranges. The shape and size of the bouquets were the same. The urns were the same. To the untrained eye, nothing about these flowers would seem unusual.

But this was not a message to the Emperor. It was a message meant for her. There was one difference, small but startling: in the very center of the arrangements, a single, understated white bloom. A pooja flower.

The rest of the bouquet hardly required interpretation. It was an arrangement that would once have been instantly recognizable to any child on Naboo. Queen Polana’s bouquet, straight out of the stories: the flowers she had presented at King Aprana’s celebration of the constitutional amendment that allowed him to consolidate his power. Polana had been Princess of Theed then, not yet suspected by Aprana of anything but naiveté, and as the stories went, she had saved most of the resistance with her cleverly disguised message.

That same message was presented now at the very foot of the Emperor’s dais. There were the small, dark red blooms of eirna. You are betrayed. There were purple vayoo lilies, surrounded by blood-colored sprays of casta. Democracy dies in darkness. There were the faint, nearly hidden sprigs of yellow aenoo peeking around the flower that was her namesake. Safety lies in secrecy. Pooja counted four sprigs: they had no more than four days to prepare.

It was over.

Blood pounded in her ears. She thought, ridiculously, of her grandmother’s note. “We have to get out,” Pooja whispered.

She would never know how exactly she made it through the rest of the gala, or the cleanup that followed. She remembered almost none of it after she’d sent Nimé, feigning illness, to send out an urgent message to all the agents she had contact with in the Senate. Somehow Pooja endured another three hours surrounded by the extravagances of Palpatine’s ode to himself. And, just as she had every year before, she took the flowers with her when she finally went home.

Then it was another long period of waiting, just to be sure she wouldn’t be tailed, and then the careful, circuitous route she took to the meeting place: a hidden room beneath Dex’s Diner in Cocotown. Once, long ago in a very different galaxy, her aunt Padmé had met her secret husband there. Pooja liked to imagine that some part of her aunt could still be felt there, and she prayed now that Aunt Padmé would protect them all.

The place was closed up at this hour, but Pooja had the code. Dex himself ushered her quickly inside, his face for once devoid of his usual smile. Nothing could make him forget his hospitality, though: a moment later, Pooja was gratefully sipping a warm ardees as she slipped into the secret room.

She was the last of her dozen Rebel Senate colleagues to arrive, and she wasted no time with pleasantries. “The Emperor is planning to dissolve the Senate,” she said, meeting each horrified pair of eyes. “There’s going to be a purge. We have to get out.”

There was an instant bombardment of noise, too many questions for Pooja to focus on any one of them. She swallowed a steadying breath and waited.

It was Fema Baab who called for quiet. The noise died slowly and the room moved subtly to reorient itself around her. Pooja felt a sharp and unexpected surge of relief.

Fema was the longest serving Rebel agent in the Senate, and, though she’d certainly never confirmed it, Pooja knew that she was widely considered by her fellow agents to be Mon Mothma’s chief deputy. She would know what to do.

“How long?” asked Fema. Her voice was perfectly steady.

“Not more than four days,” said Pooja. “He’s going to move quickly, and without notice.”

“How do you know?” asked Maryo Trassa of Chandrila.

Pooja grimaced. Any explanation she might offer would provide more questions than answers, and she couldn’t risk this being dismissed. In the absence of other options, she was left with what Leia had once jokingly called the old standby of a spy. “I can’t say. But I’m absolutely certain of this intelligence, and of the threat we face. We’ve done what we can here, but it’s over. We have to get out.”

“But – ”

“Pooja is right,” Fema cut in. “If the Emperor has decided to do away with the last illusions of democracy, there’s nothing more to be gained here. We cannot hope to effect change from within. I think we’ve all known that for years now.” She smiled tightly. “This isn’t a reform movement anymore. Maybe we’ve only been deluding ourselves in thinking that it was. This is a revolution.”

Pooja felt the world still around her. The collective intake of breath was loud in the sudden silence that followed Fema’s words. It felt both momentous and inevitable. Some part of Pooja had always known it would come to this.

“We should make our plans now,” Fema continued. “But we won’t leave yet. Not until the opportune moment. If he notices people disappearing, the fallout will be worse.”

“But how will we know?” Pooja whispered. The flower message had been meant for her, but she didn’t know who had sent it, and Leia was away already. Whoever had sent the flowers was unlikely to send Pooja a bouquet just before the Emperor’s announcement.

“I’ll announce a press conference,” said Fema. “When you hear the announcement, go. Don’t wait, don’t communicate with one another. You all know your assigned rendezvous points. Go, and if the Force is with us, we will see each other again.”

No one asked how Fema herself would know when the time came. She was Mon Mothma’s deputy. She would know.

They left Dex’s one at a time and by separate ways. Pooja was the last to go. She wondered how many of her friends she would see again.

By the time she returned to her apartments, it was early morning, but just late enough that a holocall to her family on Naboo would raise few suspicions, given the time difference.

“Pooja!” her mother exclaimed, her eyes twinkling even as she scolded. “I haven’t heard from you in weeks. I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten you had a mother.”

Pooja just managed to summon a longsuffering sigh for effect. “Mom, please. I’ve been busy. You know that.”

“That’s what you always say, little voorpak,” Sola laughed. “What was it this time?”

“Just the usual procedure,” Pooja said. “I never realized that service to our great Empire would be so taxing. But it’s worth it, of course.”

To Sola’s credit, her smile held and no sign of surprise or dismay showed on her face. It was a code they’d agreed upon a long time ago, and they’d practiced it every time Pooja returned home, just as they’d discussed their exit strategy if the worst should happen. Palpatine had taken Aunt Padmé from them, but he would not have any other Naberrie.

They kept up the conversation for another half an hour, simply for the appearance of it. When it ended, Pooja submitted herself to her handmaidens’ ministrations for the next hour and a half. Then she made her way to the Senate rotunda, exactly as she did every other day the Senate was in session.

Three days later, Fema Baab called a press conference. The topic, supposedly, was her intention to present a bill proposing changes to Imperial education requirements. Pooja didn’t bother to read the full press release.

She hadn’t packed much. She’d be traveling light and in secret, and she wasn’t likely to need many of her elaborate Senate gowns any time soon. She took only what was necessary: her secure communications equipment, an array of simple, practical clothes, her holos of her family, and the small painting of the Theed palace gardens that had once belonged to her aunt. Tila and Nimé had even less to carry.

Dex had arranged their passage on a nondescript freighter piloted by a grizzled Twi’lek woman who’d spoken of evading possible Imperial pursuit the way most people spoke of a casual trip to the pub. Her ship was docked near the diner and ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

Pooja swept one last glance around the Naboo senatorial apartments she might never see again. There was nothing left to prepare, no further precautions she could take. It was over.

“Goodbye, Aunt Padmé,” she whispered, and turned her back on the last vestiges of the old Republic.

On the desk where she’d once poured over increasingly meaningless legislation, she left a final message for Palpatine, a message he would never understand: a single lyané rose.

The announcement was broadcast across every holo network in the Empire two days later: The Imperial Senate was officially dissolved. The Empire would now be guided directly by its wise head, Emperor Palpatine, and directed by the Moffs as agents of his will. The elimination of the last cancerous remains of the corrupt Republic would ensure the increased strength and security of the Empire.

Pooja watched the proclamation from a bunker on Melirrun V. She hadn’t heard from her family since that call six days ago, and there was no news of Leia. She could only hope her fellow senators’ escapes had gone as smoothly as her own. But Tila and Nimé were here with her, and if she wanted answers, she’d managed to land in the same base as the person most likely to have them.

Pooja watched the proclamation, and Mon Mothma watched her. Pooja could feel her curiosity, but she didn’t look away from the farce unfolding on the holoscreen, where a strikingly small pack of now former senators were furiously applauding Palpatine’s decision. She wondered how many had departed the capital already, and how many had been killed.

“How did you know?” asked Mon at last.

Pooja smiled to herself. So, even the famously patient head of Alliance intelligence had her limits. That show of humanity was strangely comforting.

“You’re going to think it’s ridiculous,” she said, turning at last to meet Mon’s eyes.

Mon smiled wryly. “You were right about Palpatine’s move, and about the timing. Obviously, your source was reliable. I need to know what you know, and how you know it.”

Pooja exchanged a glance with Nimé and Tila. There was no arguing with that.

“It was the flowers,” she said.

“Go on,” Mon said levelly.

Pooja told her, just as she’d told Leia. But Mon was an intelligence operative to the core, and her reactions were far harder to read. Pooja guessed that Mon had an idea of who must have sent the flowers, but she couldn’t gather anything else from the other woman’s reactions. When Pooja had finished her story, Mon said, “Thank you,” and nothing else.

“You don’t think it’s ridiculous?” Pooja pressed.

Mon offered a tight, secret smile. “No. On the contrary, it’s very interesting. And illustrative, I think.”

Pooja scowled. “You’re actually enjoying this, aren’t you? Being all mysterious. I thought it was just Leia.”

The head of Alliance intelligence laughed in delight. “We must savor the little things where we can,” she said with a smirk. But a moment later she was the same earnest, uncompromising Rebel leader Pooja was used to. “You understand, of course, that all of this is classified at the highest level. The protection of sources and methods is paramount. Who else have you already spoken to about this?”

“I informed our other agents in the senate that there was an urgent need to meet, but I didn’t offer anything else,” Nimé said.

“And I told them we had to get out,” Pooja said. “But I didn’t tell them how I knew, or anything about the message I’d received. Mostly because I was afraid it would jeopardize my chances of being believed.” She hesitated a moment, then added. “I did tell Leia about the earlier flower messages, though. I hope that was all right. From her reactions, it seemed pretty clear she already knew who was sending them.”

Mon nodded, apparently satisfied, as though Pooja had just confirmed something for her. That was interesting.

“You’ve done quite well,” Mon said, smiling warmly. “The Alliance owes you a debt of gratitude.”

Pooja didn’t smile. Leia was still missing, and it might be months before she learned if everyone else had escaped Coruscant safely. They’d outwitted Palpatine this time, but it hardly felt like a victory.

It was another three days before Pooja’s family arrived on Melirrun V. They came in a small, ancient Corellian freighter that couldn’t have been meant to hold more than five people. In other circumstances, Pooja might have laughed at the picture that thought painted.

Her parents were the first to emerge from the hold, running towards Pooja before the ramp had even touched the ground. Ryoo quickly followed, her spouse Tio carrying their twin daughters just behind her. And finally there were her grandparents.

When all the hugs and tears were over, Pooja looked around at the members of her family: her mother, exhausted but fiercely joyful; her father, his shoulders stooped but his face lit with relief; Ryoo soothing Taré as Tio rocked Tinoo; and her grandparents, their eyes haunted, looking shockingly old. And Aunt Padmé, the ever present ghost they would never name.

Pooja swallowed thickly and took her grandmother’s hands. “I’m so sorry, Grandma,” she murmured. “I know you never wanted to leave Naboo. I know you didn’t want this. I’m – ”

“Hush, dear,” Jobal said, her voice rasping but strong. “You’re alive. You’re alive. That’s what matters. You came back to us.”

“I came back,” Pooja whispered, and hugged her grandmother close.

#i write things #star wars #double agent anakin #naboo flower language #pooja naberrie #leia organa #mon mothma #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #sola naberrie #and the rest of the naberrie clan #dammit uncle ani pls talk to your niece like a normal person #honestly when everything finally comes out this is going to be the most awkward family reunion in history #in other news #yes that is a washington post reference #i couldn't resist #and of course the naboo have multiple flowers representing democracy #of course they do #the lyane rose is the flower padme's parade dress in tpm is made to look like #also i'm continuing my one person campaign to write fema baab as a master spy #in all universes apparently #and finally it's possible the bits with mon mothma at the end #conflict in minor ways with rogue one #tbh i really don't care #sorry not sorry

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