#because now more than ever we need community and it feels like direct rebellion against capitalism

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

if I can never give you peace — two || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 5.8k // Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers // Ao3

↳ It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Warnings and tags (chapter): Descriptions of violence, Threats, kind of dark in general

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The car is late, you think as you smooth over the fabric of your skirt, your mouth twisted in a disapproving scowl. Annoyance is one of the few emotions that ever appear on your face, and you don’t even bother to hide it. You have only been standing there, waiting, for a few minutes, but it already disrupts your perfectly well-oiled routine. This is just one of the many changes that have come with Jungkook taking over, but it could be the one you are the least fond of.

You used to have the routine down to a T. You knew exactly when to leave your apartment so that the car would stop in front of you right as you reached the pavement. There were small hiccups every now and then — traffic, last-minute phone calls —, but most of the time, it went perfectly. You liked that. Having that kind of control, when your life had always been completely out of your hands, was comforting.

That went out the window the day you started working for Jungkook.

When the car stops in front of you, five minutes, that’s three-hundred seconds, after the agreed-upon time, you take a short breath before opening the door and stepping in.

There, of course, is your new boss, sitting with his legs widely spread on the leather seat. He changed your discreet sedan for a limousine, which you find obnoxious, but you didn’t protest. You liked to think that you were better than that at picking your battles

“Mr. Jeon,” you say with a nod, voice even.

Jungkook grins when you call him that. You know he enjoys the title, the power it indicates, particularly since hybrids are supposed to only ever have the same last name as their owners.

“Lot of work to be done today,” he comments, and you know he’s just saying that to rile you up. You used to report to Mr. X, but you worked on your own more often than not. Now, you’re basically Jungkook’s glorified secretary. You wouldn’t particularly mind the change if it didn’t mean that you had to sit and watch him superbly ignore your carefully crafted schedule, as he had every single day for the past week.

“Indeed,” you reply without batting an eyelid. “This morning, you have a meeting with Suga,” this one he should go to, he never misses them, “then you are supposed to eat with Fred Lucas,” chances were he wouldn’t show up to that and make you take him to a fancy restaurant instead, and you would be the one to have to handle the situation with him, “and later today I think it would be important for you to pay a visit to the Mystery Room.” That place was one of the few legal aspects of the business at the moment, if you ignore the drugs that get sold there, and it was not a location you should lose right now. “They have been quite… difficult, since the change in direction.”

That last one is new, and you’re not sure how Jungkook will react to it. Of course, there is plenty more work to do, but you’re trying out new methods to get him to do at least what really matters. You don’t understand why he would hire you if he doesn’t let you do your job, but hey, at least you’re alive. And so is your family.

You don’t know how long that will last, though. Unless Jungkook seriously gets his act together, it won’t take long for someone to think that they can do the same thing he did, and have him murdered. You’re even mildly surprised it hasn’t happened yet. That’s the thing, when a leader gets killed. It weakens the whole structure, and it gives people ideas.

The grin disappears from Jungkook’s face and he nods gravely at that last piece of information. That catches your eye, because it’s new. You tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, he spent the last week riding the high of his victory against Mr. X, and that he will be efficient if there’s trouble, at least.

“Cancel that second thing,” he says. “I want to eat at that restaurant I went to last week. You should get me a reservation there.”

Or not.

“But you can go meet him,” he adds, and you blink.

“Mr. Lucas is expecting to see you,” you say, in case you weren’t clear.

“And he doesn’t get to demand my presence like that,” Jungkook snaps. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from wincing. His voice sounds harsh, cutting. Dangerous. “Did he think that I’d go ask for treats because a human joined us? That’s not how that shit works.”

Okay. He’s not wrong here, but you don’t know about this— approachto the situation. Fred is, indeed, one of the two human leaders who decided to immediately join Jungkook when the news of the death of Mr. X and the uprising of hybrids in various parts of your branches in the city spread. You wouldn’t be surprised if he expected a treatment of favor for that, too, but you’re not sure letting him know how little his gesture was appreciated was the way to go.

“I don’t think—”

“He’s replaceable,” Jungkook says with a dismissive movement of the wrist. “I’ll swap him for one of my men the second he makes a mistake. It would be a lot better if no one forgot that.”

The look he gives you makes his message crystal clear. You feel your mouth getting dry, but you know nothing is showing in your expression, and that at least is a relief.

“I’ll go to the meeting and get you your reservation, then,” you say, pulling out your phone. “Does the rest of the schedule work for you?”

Jungkook frowns, and the tiniest feeling of satisfaction spreads in your chest. You know he’s just applying pressure and waiting for you to crack, but you won’t.You’re used to contorting yourself to please everyone. You’ve made it work for years, and it will take much more than those childish games for you to snap.

Or, at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the past week.

“Fine.” Then he closes his eyes and leans back in the seat. You raise an eyebrow at the sight. You know it’s not because he trusts you, but because he doesn’t think you have the guts to do anything to him — and because, even if you did, he’s pretty confident he wouldn’t have any trouble stopping you. You hate that you find something endearing in that vision. Jungkook was genetically designed to be handsome, and he is.More than that, though, when you look at him right now, even though his long bunny ears are skillfully hidden under a headband, he looks cute.

And he could — and would — take less than a second to snap your neck.

“This afternoon should be fun at least,” he mumbles under his breath, and you hide your grimace.

Shit. That can’t be good.

It’s been clear to you from the very first day that Suga knows exactly what he is doing. It’s also been clear that this isn’t his scene. Being at the forefront of operations, taking the lead — it’s obvious that he would much rather stay in the shadows. You’re not sure how important he was to Jungkook’s organization before, since no one has bothered trying to inform you of that, but you suspect that he’s usually more the type to be in the field.

Right now, though, he’s standing in front of a small group, exposing what the recent developments have been. Sitting behind Jungkook, you listen to him attentively. Those reunions should become less frequent, but right now things could still change completely, and you cannot afford to be taken by surprise.

You are, however, starting to feel less and less comfortable with the fact that nothing seems to be coming out of them. Sure, Yoongi informs you of the people who have sided with Jungkook and of those who are openly opposed to him — a minority, so far — but there is a large group in between that seems to be in no hurry to take position. And you don’t like it.

It hasn’t been long since Jungkook has taken over, but you should at least have gotten someintel by now. You’re not sure what isn’t working here. For now, you don’t want to risk provoking anyone by offering your services. Worry is starting to gnaw at you, though. You could all be driving into a dead-end street at full speed, and that stupid struggle you’re having with Jungkook just isn't worth dying over.

“So not much has changed,” Jungkook comments, tapping his fingers onto the table. He looks nonchalant, but you notice a muscle in his jaw twitching. You wonder if he understands more than he lets on.

“Things have been stagnant,” Yoongi admits without batting an eye. “There hasn’t been any open rebellion, but communication is lacking.”

“That needs to get better.”

“We’re working on it.”

They probably are, but it doesn’t look like that’s going well. Word has reached your ears that some of the branches have been keeping hybrids at bay as discreetly as possible.

“What about that Mystery Room thing?” Jungkook asks, frowning. “What’s going on over there?”

“The what?” Yoongi frowns.

Jungkook looks puzzled — pissed, actually — for a second, then glances at you over his shoulder, and the attention of the whole room suddenly shifts to you. You straighten your back, swallow.

“The owner of the bar has missed a payment to us,” you state calmly, “and it seems that he has no intention of making it and is trying to get out of his contract with us. It would be better if we didn’t lose it right now.”

“What do you mean, ‘it seems’?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his golden eyes at you. His voice sounds more like a hiss, and this time, you struggle to hide your reaction. You haven’t forgotten what it felt like, when you thought he was going to kill you. It’s affected you more than you’d like to admit.

“I have a contact who—”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, and you close your mouth.

“I’m going there today,” Jungkook informs him, and Yoongi nods.

“I’ll be around.”

The two men have a silent exchange of looks. Their relationship is somewhat atypical, not something Mr. X had with anyone. It looks like they genuinely rely on and trust each other. You suppose someone else would find it touching, but you don’t have it in yourself. Especially not when that means they both have it out for you.

“Haven’t you been following what we’ve been talking about here for the past week?” Jungkook snarks at you, and you blink. “Any information you get from now on needs to get to Suga so he can factor it in.” At that, you give him a disbelieving look. That just won’t work. It can’t. Not for the first time, you wonder how much he underestimates you, exactly. If he knew anything about the way you work, about how many contacts you have and how much information you’re usually juggling with, he would never ask that of you.

Yet you nod. You don’t know yet if you’ll send a believable amount of intel to Suga, or just absolutely drown him under it until they tell you to stop, but once more, this just isn’t worth fighting over.

Especially when fighting over something can so easily mean dying over it, in your current situation.

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

He looks displeased, and you know it’s because all he’s waiting for is for you to slip.

“I shouldn’t even bring you to these meetings. You’re not even taking any notes. That’s fucking useless.”

It takes everything in you to bite back a scoff at that. You could tell him you don’t need to take notes when Yoongi is talking about minimal changes in a landscape you know on the tip of your fingers, that maybe you would if he said anything of value, and that this wouldn’t be an issue if people actually feared him.

You marvel at how annoyed that quip makes you. You suppose you don’t like it when your competence is questioned. You don’t like the threat either, though. You don’t want to risk falling out of the loop.

“I’ve gotten you a reservation at that restaurant,” you say. “If things are done here, I’ll be on my way to meet Mr. Lucas.”

Changing the subject. Deflecting. Trying your best to live to see another day. It seems like it’s all you’ve been doing for the past week. You know you can keep it up for a long time, you’re patient enough. You also know that this game is set up to make you lose.

Right now, as Jungkook looks at you, clearly not amused by your attitude, there is a terrifying moment during which you fear that he might just drop the charade. The only point of this whole thing is to get rid of you. He could decide he only wants to do that any second.

“Yeah, right. Be on your way.”

He dismisses you like you’re some low lackey, but that, at least, isn’t anything new, and you know how to handle it. You bow politely, then exit the room.

“You really wanna keep her around?” Yoongi asks once you’re gone, and Jungkook groans.

He doesn’t know why he had expected you to break easily. He’d seen you work for Mr. X, do that same shit he makes you do and survive as long as you had, so he should have known you’d be good at it. He supposes he’d been used to you making decisions for him, back then, and had thought that was a normal thing for you, that you wouldn’t enjoy being in the position of taking orders. But you were, after all, just someone who worked for others that whole time.

Not that he gives a fuck about it. He couldn’t care less why you did the things you did. All he wants is to give you a taste of your own medicine. Dangling a false chance of survival in front of your eyes and let you handle the rest yourself. So as long as you push through… well. He’ll let it slide.

It’s not like you can keep doing it forever anyway.

Fred Lucas worries you. He’s always smiled too widely, been too loud, made too many jokes. You know Mr. X considered him to be some sort of buffoon, but also kept his distance from him. Mr. X didn’t like people who pretended to wear their hearts on their sleeves.

“Always a pleasure to see you, (Y/N),” he greets you warmly when you walk up to him and you give him a nod. If he’s upset that Jungkook isn’t there, he doesn’t show it, just like you don’t show your distaste for his use of your first name. “I’d like to discuss with just you, though,” he adds, eyeing Hector, who’s standing beside you. The fact that you still have him by your side is the only good thing that has come from working for Jungkook so far.

You don’t like that. You’re all too aware of the fact that this is his land, and that the only reason why he’s saying that is that Hector is a hybrid. If that gets back to Jungkook, it wouldn’t be good for Fred — but you don’t think he’ll go down without a fight. You glance at Hector, who looks as placid as always and offers no help. The gears in your head are turning fast. Before, you were protected by how indispensable you were considered by Mr. X. That is clearly not the case anymore, but Fred likely isn’t aware of that. Yet.

On the other hand, sending Hector away would show weakness, and you can’t afford that.

“Hector goes where I go,” you say.

Fred’s smile widens even more.

“Of course, of course, can’t trust anyone those days, can you?”

You wonder if it’s a jab at you and how quickly you changed sides, but he is more or less in the same position, so you could just be paranoid.

“Come on, come on in, let’s get ourselves a drink.”

You don’t want a drink, but you do follow him in. The sooner you do that, the sooner you will be out of here.

Fred has a lot of things to say. Most of it isn’t relevant to anything that is happening right now, but you’ve never been able to tune things out. You always worry you’ll miss an essential piece of information. So you listen as he babbles about his business — getting weapons in and out of the city, something he is decently good at — but also about his family, his friendships, and his favorite kind of alcohol. You let him pour you a glass, even if you have no intention of touching it.

“I hear you,” you manage to interrupt him, “but I am curious to know why you wanted a meeting with Mr. Jeon. It seems to me that you have the situation here under control.”

Flattery has always worked on Fred, and you have no issue in using that against him.

“Of course we do,” he gloats. “It’s just— There are a lot of rumorsfloating around those days, you know?”

You do know. You suspect Fred has heard the same things as you. You also suspect most people have been very careful not to let those things reach Yoongi’s ears.

“People are talking about a ‘human opposition’ forming,” Fred gasps dramatically. “Can you believe it? Some people are really not happy about being led by a hybrid.”

That seems to be more concrete than what you’ve heard, which means that Fred could be exaggerating things… or that he was contacted to join that opposition. And you don’t like that second possibility, not at all. You trust Fred about as far as you can throw him, and that means you certainly don’t trust him to not try and play both sides.

“That was to be expected,” you reply calmly. “I do not doubt that Mr. Jeon knew such a reaction was coming.”

Fred narrows his eyes at you, trying to gauge what you knew then and what you know now. Which isn’t much, but that’s not something you plan to let slip out.

“Do you know of anything specific?”

You see from the glint in Fred’s eyes that he knows the game is on. If you know something and he doesn’t tell you, he will look suspicious, but he could also reveal too much, and you doubt he wants to play his cards so soon.

“I— don’t, unfortunately,” he finally says, and you nod. Either he hasn’t heard of the Mystery Room, or he is voluntarily hiding it from you. Regardless, that limits how useful he is to you. “But the word on the street is that Jungkook may not know what he’s doing all that well.”

You send him a sharp glance. He’s taking a risk in telling you that, you both know it. That doesn’t make the information any less precious.

“I see. And, again, I don’t suppose you know where this— ‘word on the street’ is coming from?”

He shrugs, a true picture of innocence, and maybe you’d have believed it if Fred hadn’t been in the business for longer than you. He knew, he just wasn’t telling because he wanted to preserve his opportunities if something happened.

“I have to go, then. Thank you for the drink, Mr. Lucas.”

“Please,” he says, holding out his hand. “Call me Fred.”

That won’t be happening.

“Goodbye, Mr. Lucas.”

Once you’re out, you take a second to collect yourself, Hector following like a shadow and waiting for you silently.

“Is everything okay?” he asks after you’ve mulled over the conversation that just happened for several minutes.

“It’s fine,” you say as a reflex. You couldn’t stop thinking about how Fred had taken a gamble when he’d proclaimed his allegiance to Jungkook. He’d bet on him coming out on top, and yet you didn’t trust it. You couldn’t think of a reason why he would do that instead of carefully waiting to see how things would go, like everyone else. You didn’t like this. Not one bit. “We need to get to Mystery Room,” you add.

“Of course,” Hector nods, gesturing towards the limo, and you don’t bother repressing a groan this time.

“God. That’s so tacky.”

That brings a smile to Hector’s lips, but you don’t smile back. You never do. Instead, you climb in, roll your eyes at the whole thing, and let yourself be driven away. You can’t come to a conclusion about Fred Lucas just yet, but you have no intention of forgetting about him either.

It takes you a few seconds, once you’re out of the car, to understand that something isn’t right. You’ve never been good with feelings — instincts, as hybrids call them — and the air doesn’t feel particularly tense or charged to you. Hector stands a little close to you for comfort, and you piece things together from there. There are a few cars around, but not too many, which isn’t surprising considering it’s the middle of the afternoon. Still, you can hear voices from inside, and you know there’s an argument going on there.

“Let’s go,” you say with a decided nod, and Hector leads the way, shoulders tense, ready to pounce if needed. You trust him to do his job, and that’s a lot, coming from you.

You frown when you walk into the bar, taking a few seconds to let your eyes get adjusted to the lack of luminosity, and that frown only deepens when you hear the argument going on and recognize Jungkook’s voice. God. The concepts of subtlety and discretion are completely lost on him, aren’t they?

Making your way through the room, you try to evaluate the situation. Yoongi is leaning against a table, looking bored out of his mind, though you’re sure he doesn’t miss anything from what is going on in the room. As if to prove your point, his golden eyes flick towards you for a second when you approach, before looking away, clearly uninterested. Other than him, it seems that the only other people present are the owner and various employees. You think it’s stupid and dangerous that they showed up here basically alone but, for the millionth time today, you grit your teeth and don’t say anything.

There are five men around, including the bouncer and a security guard. They’re probably armed, and that’s to say nothing of anyone you cannot see. Outside of Yoongi, though, no one pays attention to you, not until the bartender asks loudly “Mojito, as usual, Miss (L/N)?”

It’s a bit early for that, actually, but you give him a nod. The Mystery Room isn’t quite your scene — you’ve always been one to prefer classy restaurants — but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re well-known here, and everywhere, actually, which is something that everyoneknows, except your own boss. That is obvious by the way people’s attitude shifts when they see you. The owner bows to you politely. You acknowledge it with a curt movement of your chin. Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. He doesn’t look happy about it.

You wait until you have your glass in your hand to say something. The silence that fills the room is heavy, and you can feel Jungkook’s anger emanating from him, having lost the men’s attention. He’s the man who murdered Mr. X, took over half of his operations without anyone noticing, and their fucking boss, and they’re still treating him like a low-life hybrid.

“You haven’t been paying what you owe us,” you say, almost lightly, when you get your drink. “Has business been slow?”

You know it has. You know people aren’t too sure what to think of Jungkook yet. You also know they’ve still made money. Better yet, you’re sure the men in the room know youknow that. You’re giving them an obvious way out. All they have to do is say “yes”, and you’ll come up with something. You won’t let them go off scot-free, but there’s no need for this to end in a bloodbath, either.

“That’s not the issue,” the man says, voice raspy, and you don’t let it show, of course you don’t, but you’re still taking the hit. They’re underestimating Jungkook.

This might be the last mistake they make.

“I think it would be better for everyone if we could work through whatever issue there is,” you say slowly.

Better for them, really, especially because this is you giving him a second chance. There won’t be a third one.

“I’m afraid we don’t, uh, approve of the recent change in direction,” he replies, a stupid grin on his face. He’s mocking you and your infamous overly procedural speech. You know people say you can’t accept who you’re working for, that you can’t take the idea of having blood on your hands.

You may not care, but you’re well-aware of it, and you really don’t appreciate him saying that to your face. You’ll have to make an example out of him.

You sigh and shake your head at his answer. You’re not going to enjoy this. You’ve seen people’s attempts at rebellion against Mr. X, even if those were few and far between, and no matter how much of a fight they put up, it never ends well. For them.

You’re prepared to just leave the place and arrange for it to be set on fire during the night, when Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of it.

“What’s your problem with the change in direction, fucker?”

The mood changes immediately. Hector’s hand on your shoulder gently pulls you back, and Yoongi hops off the table to come stand next to Jungkook, hands in his pockets. He looks nonchalant and relaxed. He could probably easily kill everyone in this room and not get a drop of blood on his jacket.

The owner squares his shoulders and walks up to him. He’s slightly taller and much larger than Jungkook.

“Listen, bunny…”

You barely have the time to widen your eyes at the word, to think about all the ways Jungkook has made it clear that he’s not your typical rabbit-hybrid before his right hook connects with the man’s jaw, so fast you would have missed it if you’d blinked.

A moment of stunned silence follows, during which the man stumbles backwards, hand coming to cup his face in disbelief. And then, he seems to decide that it’s a good idea to retaliate. The dozens, hundreds maybe, of fights you’ve seen Jungkook win flash before your eyes. He doesn’t stand a chance.

People start moving around you, but it seems like it’s only a fistfight. No guns are drawn, for now, and you’re reminded of how much you fucking hate watching people fight. You take a step back, bored already at this stupid display of strength and violence. Still, you can’t help it when your eyes are drawn to Jungkook. There’s a— curiosity within you. How much has he truly changed, in the past two years?

For one, he certainly isn’t pretending this time, isn’t trying to make this fight last for a few more rounds. There iscertain showmanship there, though, you note. He’s giving time for the owner to recover while he takes out some of the other men with hits of surgical precision. He wants them to seewhatever he’s going to do to their boss. Hector and Yoongi keep the fight contained, don’t let anyone escape or call for help, but Jungkook doesn’t need their help. No one here is a threat to him, and it doesn’t take long for the men to be on the floor, groaning in pain.

The owner pushes himself up, spits some blood on the floor. Jungkook turns to face him and beckons him closer with a flick of his hand. He looks amused.

“You fucking piece of—”

This time, Jungkook doesn’t go for the head. His fist gets the man in the ribs, and that first punch is followed by dozens of others, not giving the man any respite, not letting him breathe. When the man falls back, Jungkook doesn’t stop, though the hits slow down, based on what you can see and hear. You have to clench your jaw to stop yourself from grimacing at the sound of flesh hitting flesh, of the bones underneath clashing. It was drowned out, back when he fought in a ring, but knowing it was there disgusted you back. You don’t know why, you just hate it. It makes you sick.

When Jungkook finally gets back up, he hasn’t even broken a sweat. There are five men on the ground, clenching different parts of their bodies and crying out in pain, and he isn’t even out of breath.

“You should fucking reconsider,” he spits out.

They won’t have to. This place will be gone soon enough.

His eyes meet yours as he walks out, and his expression turns to a disgusted scowl. It almost draws a scoff out of you, but you hold it in, and instead, you follow him dutifully.

Jungkook doesn’t speak to you in the car, eyes instead on his bloody knuckles. It will heal fast, you know, and that’s probably why he doesn’t bother taking care of it. When the car stops, you look outside and find yourself faced with your own apartment building. It’s not even five in the afternoon yet. You turn around to give your boss a quizzical look.

“You’re not needed anymore,” he shrugs. He doesn’t sound like he’s playing this time, though you’re still sure that he wants to get on your nerves.

You hate that it’s working this time.

“The day isn’t—”

“I think you’ve proved exactly how efficient you are today,” he says, obviously dismissing you. “I have no fucking idea how you got this job.”

You bite your tongue not to reply. You don’t care about the job, you don’t care about his opinion of you, you barely even care about the Family. You should just nod, give him the usual “yes, Mr. Jeon,” and walk out. But something keeps you in place a little longer than it should, and that’s how much you hate jobs that aren’t well done.

Your voice sounds distant to your own ears when you say what you’re supposed to, your body doesn’t feel like your own when you walk out and close the door. Your breathing quickens while you hear the car leave behind you like it’s all happening in a dream, your head spins, and you stand frozen in place, staring right in front of you.

Is this your life now? you wonder, feeling your heart thumping like it’s trying to get out of your chest. Are you going to let yourself be so disposable, so mediocre, let everything you’ve spent years building fall apart? This isn’t the time for pride, you’re well aware of that, but it’s still eating at you inside.

You walk back to your apartment like you’re in a trance. There’s a heavy weight on your chest, and you realize you have to make a choice. If things stay like that, you suppose Jungkook will have your head at some point. This is a fight of patience. One you cannot win. But if you make yourself indispensable, then maybe, maybe you can survive it. You’ve done it once already.

You brush aside the little voice mocking your reasoning, telling you that you’re doing this because you don’t want to lose your status. Not because it’s wrong, but because you know that’s not enough of an incentive for you to take a risk. You need something stronger than that. Even if you know it’s a lie.

That doesn’t stop your hand from trembling as you dial Yoongi’s number. You’re happy there’s no one to see you, because God, you couldn’t take your carefully crafted facade crumbling right now.

“Yes?” he answers quickly. If he’s surprised to hear from you, it doesn’t show.

“What are the plans for the Mystery Room?” you ask, satisfied that your voice doesn’t quiver, even if you’re a mess right now.

There’s a silence at the other end of the line, and you suspect he’s considering not answering you, so you take the initiative.

“You need to at least replace the owner,” you say, kicking off your shoes. “You can convince him to sell to us,” — convince, one of your favorite euphemisms — “or get rid of him and get the place from his family. Burning the place down is also an option. We can’t let what happened slide like that.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi says.

“Also, it would better if Mr. Jeon could avoid fighting with people. The last thing we want is people who think they can challenge him.”

“He can take them.”

“That’s not the issue. If people think they have a chance, they’ll keep trying. We don’t want them to do that.”

Another, longer silence.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he’ll listen to you.”

“And you think I will listen to you?”

You roll your eyes. It’s strange, you know you’re gambling your life right now, but the tension you were experiencing earlier has been replaced by an eerie calm. You feel detached from everything.

Maybe you’ve been doing this for too long.

“You don’t have to,” you say, “but this is my job. I’m good at it. If you just let me do it, it would be far more efficient than whatever has been going on for the last week. I know you don’t trust me, but you can probably come to the same conclusions as me in this situation at least.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest. This is an explicit critique, something you would never have risked with Mr. X, and it’s the most open act of defiance that you’ve ever done — and it’s to convince them to let you workfor them.

“We’ll see about that,” he replies dismissively, and your shoulders fall at first, but then he adds, almost reluctantly, “I’ll take what you said into consideration.”

“Good. We also need to talk about tomorrow’s meeting. I’ve gotten some important information about the opposition to Mr. Jeon, and I think—”

As you explain the situation to Yoongi, you feel yourself calming down. Maybe it’s because you’re doing something that’s familiar to you, you’re not sure, but you can breathe again, and that solidifies your conviction that you’re making the right decision.

Finally, you’re ready to take back your life.

Tag list: @chaiwivluv @mintyrae @btswdwsmhrdt @xxquenwxtchxx @fekitza @kimmieloveswho @deeepvibes @lonleycoffee @gookiebts @kpop-baka @taecallsmenoona @mimiinluv @dabbingangels @jooahchu

[creacherkeeper]

im getting a little too in my family feels today and so INSTEAD of feeling those im just going to ramble for a second about why i fucking love paladin!aelwyn because. im. just like this i guess im coping leave me alone

cw for discussions of child abuse, maladaptive coping, drugs and alcohol, self harm, destructive tendencies, basically everything we see in canon and the implications

aelwyn is ... SO interesting to me because for as much of her interiority as we see, as much of her as we think we understand, as much as i could ramble about her character for hours, we know ALMOST NOTHING about her in actuality?? (besides ... one key thing)

(this is like 2k and probably incoherent someone please stop me)

okay. listen. almost everything we see aelwyn do in s1 is maladaptive rebellion against her parents and home life. the drinking, the drugs, the partying, perhaps some of kalvaxus (though i dont think we fully understand how much of that was forced on her as well, kalina WAS watching her when she was talking to adaine about it). you can say like, oh aelwyn is a party animal, she's impulsive, she makes risky decisions, she's bitchy and rude, and its like. okay but IS SHE ACTUALLY. because under her parents thumb she had an EXTREMELY limited amount of freedom, and usually when people are suffering from very little control over their life, they WILL act destructively over the tiny bit they can, either harming themselves or their environment or people lower than them in the pecking order, because in a way, that feels like a reclamation of autonomy. saying "you have so much power over me but can you stop me from hurting myself and destroying what you havent managed to claim yet?". its just like, kind of what human brains do and frequently has little to do with a persons actual personality or impulses, its just. desperate brains trying to control SOMETHING because autonomy is a fundamental human need and when thats taken away we get. very bad off. (this is one big reason eating disorders are SO common with abused kids.) so i think a lot of the s1 aelwyn we see is like. this is a very desperate, abused teenager "acting out" in the only way it is possibly somewhat safe for her to do so because, on a psychological level, the self destruction is weirdly the only emotional tether and its either this or just dissociate all the time (something we do see she has problems with in canon)

and yes, she did treat adaine horribly in s1. she fully did. obviously what we get in canon is what happens but a moment thats interesting to me is in episode 1 where adaine has attacked aelwyn several times, who either does nothing or just bounces it back, when she says "i never cast spells at you" and siobhan immediately retcons it and says "yes you do, all the time" (i havent gone back and watched this bit so i might be wording this wrong). obviously its an improv show and the canon is built between performers as they go, but that was interesting to me. that brennan hadnt intended for her to have fought back in that way. she definitely feeds into the emotional abuse from their parents and participates in all the toxicity there, but we know in canon that she did that because of overwhelming fear and self preservation. and that her self hatred because of it just fed back into the cycle and made her feel like she wasnt good enough to even try to break free from it. this is very common in golden child/scapegoat sibling relationships where the golden child SEES what the parents are capable of and becomes a participant in the abuse out of fear for their own standing. in any way siding with the scapegoat child not only directs abuse at themselves as well, but frequently makes things WORSE for the scapegoat because the parents will take out the challenge to their power on them even more. so, if aelwyn DID ever try to defend or help adaine when they were small, she would have VERY QUICKLY learned that made things worse for everyone. and just. sectioned that part of her brain off, as she's done with so many other things. (and i dont think im reading too much into the forest scene with the abernants to say their parents were VERY QUICK to turn abuse towards aelwyn if she stepped out of line even a little. like, you dont flinch when a hand moves unless. you know. dont need to say it just something to think about. as far as we saw in canon, she had done everything they asked of her leading up to the forest, and we DONT KNOW what happened in it but we do know brennan specifically called out how in broken spirits she was when adaine was summoned, even though they did the ritual to avoid all of the nightmare bullshit)

(the house party is literally a whole separate post but i think its fair to point out that 1) she was super under the influence when that was happening which DEFINITELY is in no way an excuse for her behavior but worth remembering when trying to analyze that 2) her losing that fight did canonically have DRASTIC consequences for her and even if she didnt know exactly how that was going to turn out, i think she knew how bad it might be. and she did not know adaine or any of the bad kids were going to be there in the first place)

all that said, it feels in some ways counterproductive to say that aelwyn is an extremely devoted and protective person (yes we're getting to the paladin shit i know i've been rambling a while) but i think that thats strangely ALL WE ACTUALLY KNOW ABOUT HER. because we've established that her self-destructive and abusive behavior in s1 is almost entirely psychologically scripted for her by her parents, we dont know how much of her villain shit in s1 was LITERALLY UNDER THREAT OF DEATH because we know at least killing the oracle was and we dont know how much of the rest of it was mandated by either her parents or kalina other than that she probably was under orders not to tell adaine the truth, and we know participating in all of this caused extreme self loathing in her that she refused to show to anybody and was too terrified to act on in any way

so, like. what does that actually leave us?

here's what we do know about aelwyn:

- of all the schools of magic, she went into abjuration

- the entire bbeg plan from season 1 hinged on aelwyn's complete faith that her level 1 sister was the most prodigious diviner in the world

- right after (?) the house party, she locked her memories where only adaine could find it with a note basically saying "theres so much bad blood between us but i know only you could find this"

- she desperately wanted to protect adaine and the fact that she was too afraid to do so made her hate herself (and her knowing that adaine now knows this is the turning point in their relationship)

- despite everything, even in the nmk forest, she still loved her parents

- the SECOND she is shown genuine love and affection and care from adaine, and adaine says whatever you do, i am here with you, all her actions from there forward are just about protecting adaine from their father, very nearly at the cost of her own life

- with what she probably thought were her last words (and would have been if adaine hadnt given her the tincture), all she wanted to communicate was how to help adaine and the bad kids, and how despite everything she had always believed in her

- at five levels of exhaustion, unconscious, she used her first spell slot after nine months of torture to build a shield around adaine

NOW we get to paladin!aelwyn. because, once everything is stripped away, the abuse and the control and the maladaption and the threats and the torture, EVERYTHING we ACTUALLY can glean about aelwyn's personality and inner core is that she's protective and devoted. and of course classes arent locked by personality, but that just screams paladin to me. its her WHOLE THING. adaine even says "wizards dont have heals, we dont care about other people" and of COURSE that isnt true for either of them, but? mechanically? aelwyn chose the wizard school that DID let her protect, and DID let her help, but i dont think, at this point, going forward, thats really going to be enough for her (and we could also talk about the parallels between them, how often adaine uses her portents to help other people)

i think a lot of the different reads on aelwyn come from this fundamental disconnect between her actions and displayed personality vs who she actually is and what she actually wants. and i think there are very different interpretations of what thats going to look like for her going forward. but i think, for a girl who's most hated characteristic about herself was her self preservation at the detriment of others, her perceived selfishness, and her fear ... isn't choosing to be braver and more selfless and more protective and shedding that self-preserving instinct for the betterment of others ... and MECHANICALLY being able to act on all those things ... the logical next step? i think its going to be a LONG TIME before aelwyn can love herself, but what other way is there to try? if adaine loves her, and adaine believes she can be better, isnt being better because she trusts adaine kind of a form of self love? saying, i dont believe in myself, but i believe in the person who believes in me, and maybe, in a roundabout way, thats the same thing. she was never able to TRY to be better before, because trying to improve even a little, even when people arent watching, when a harmful force has so much power over you and your actions ... like, the mental dissonance is honestly TOO much to even try, thats WAY more terrifying than letting yourself be bad, to the point where thats psychologically impossible for a lot of people. but now she actually has space and freedom and CHOICE and she CAN embrace the instincts she always had to shove down, she CAN be the person she knows her sister needed her to be

i dont know, i think theres an inherent love letter to yourself in wanting to be better and wanting to improve, even if you justify it by saying its for someone else. and now aelwyn actually CAN improve, and thats probably going to be extremely awkward and scary and there will be set backs and backslides for sure. but. i dont know. i think she wants to make up for lost time. because she never wanted the time to be lost in the first place. and if a protector is who she always wanted to be, whats stopping her from being that now?

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

Tommy’s (and Tubbo’s) Character /rp /dSMP

This is a bit of a rant so like be warned. I have nothing against any CCs mentioned in this, this is all roleplay, lighthearted, and just a bit of fun analysis. Mostly this is a ramble about how I see certain people analysing Tommy’s character on tumblr and twt, and why I think they’re wrong. This isn’t directed at anyone specific, just a trend I’ve been seeing that kinda irks me. I don’t dislike the fandom, just a few ‘takes’ have been really weird for me.

TW for everything below: analysing the effects of trauma, abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, and lack of therapy.

I’m not really liking how victim-blamey everyone is getting currently in the dSMP, both in fandom and canon. In canon with certain characters but especially in fan analysis posts and especially about Tommy and Tubbo. People legitimately celebrating that Tommy might start ‘apologising’ for his actions more and 'growing as a person' somehow don’t realise that hes been made this way through a tonne of negative reinforcement. abuse, and gaslighting. And people blaming Tubbo for actions he had no choice in, rather than the actions he did choose.

Currently, as I see it, Tommy is so scared that anyone would find a reason to be pissed off at him that his fighting spirit has been completely crushed. He was exiled and abused when he should have been helped and given an understanding figure to guide him and teach him how to deal with things non-violently. In everyone’s eyes, the problem was that Tommy was creating violence with no real reason, acting recklessly and commiting crimes. Tubbo, having made him a part of his cabinet, knew that this would only harm the country. So instead of talking to him reasonably, he got angry, put him on trial, and punished him with the logbook (humiliating him by making him report back to Fundy, which he obviously hated). Tommy’s actions were, of course, bad, but did he deserve everyone ganging up on him? No. Especially when Tubbo was supposed to be in his corner, helping him out like he always said he would (”It’s me and you vs Dream” etc). This is the first betrayal of trust from Tommy’s POV. He doesn’t understand what he did wrong to its full extent, and no one can explain it to him. 

However, Tubbo was under a lot of pressure from Dream and George, and he’s a literal child President, so his ‘safety over friendship’ actions are understandable. I don’t believe Tubbo is solely to blame for anything he’s done in season 2, but it can’t all be excused. If you are to blame Tommy for his recklessness, you have to blame Tubbo, at least partially, for his disregard for Tommy’s feelings and mental state. There were other ways to go about the entire thing, including the trial, which was just horrible to watch, and agreeing to give Dream the disc, something Tommy gave him in pure confidence that it would be safe with Tubbo. Yikes moment.

At that time, Tubbo knew a lot of things about Tommy. In fact, he probably knew the most about Tommy out of anyone on the server. He knew the discs were incredibly important and a comfort item for Tommy. He knew Tommy had trauma from being exiled in the past. He knew Tommy was abused, or at least manipulated by Wilbur, in addition to growing up in war. Wilbur once told Tommy to stop being reckless, and Tommy listened, changing his attitude because he looked up to Wilbur so much. Then Wilbur said ‘let’s be the bad guys’ and stopped trying to mentor Tommy. There’s a conflict here, because Tommy was told by Wilbur that he wasn’t good enough to be President (links to the idea of ‘not being strong enough’) but he knows that Wilbur was a bad person. But Tommy is never given the chance to reconsile his feelings surrounding Wilbur, both because of Ghostbur and because of the conflict he starts with George. So he is harbouring a mixture of emotions about his mentor and brother, not understanding how to untangle the ‘real Tommy’ from the manipulated boy he became. 

What was going through his head when he stole from George and griefed him? Perhaps the thought that he needed to show he was still the same old Tommy. Maybe the need to ‘prove himself’ as a strong person? It could have just been an outlet for his trauma. He’s grown up in a world where everyone is either a friend or an enemy. George isn’t a friend. How was he supposed to know that hurting him was bad?

Tubbo was pressured into the actions he took against Tommy, but he was pressured far too easily. There is no moment where Tubbo turns to Tommy and makes sure he’s okay, he views him as ‘selfish’ and overdramatic, and sees his actions that way. This makes sense from Tubbo’s POV, he’s struggling to be President in ways that Wilbur *knew* he would, but in Tommy’s eyes this is the worst betrayal he’s ever known. The moment Tubbo (rightfully, but poorly executed) defies Tommy’s plan to hire Technoblade (ahem, seeing Techno as a weapon again) and exiles Tommy is the moment their friendship shatters. They’re two people who don’t understand each other anymore. Two people who are technically in the right, but only hurt each other. 

What Tommy needed was a therapist, instead he had Dream, who put out the fire of rebellion that made him so strong, and Techno, who was trying to help but doing it in the wrong way. 

People see tommy's change post-exile as a good thing because he's not as rebellious anymore and he’s thinking things through a lot before he does them, but they will soon realise that his rebellion was one of his best traits and the fact that no one saw it as anything but a problem really shows. He now second-guesses himself so much and is so scared of being wrong that everything seems too difficult and too dangerous. Every trait can have a positive and negative side. Tommy's defiant nature would have made him the perfect negotiator with a little practise. In fact, he had plenty of good ideas before he was exiled (using spirit against Dream, though it didnt work in the end, for example). The negative side of this was recklessness and the desire to cause problems on purpose, but what he needed was a friend (looking at you Tubbo) who understood that hes been through several wars, was manipulated by Wilbur, and hasnt known a time of peace where everyone who wasnt on his side was out to kill him. Now that ‘fight’ is gone he's just become easier to manipulate.

He may be getting better (see: telling Dream to go fuck himself) but there hasn't been any long-term growth because he was never told what kind of rebellion was good and what was bad. He was just told it was all bad. By Dream (and by Tubbo). Who he doesn't trust. So he's just going to revert back to his old ways because no one told him what was bad in a way that didn't make him feel like everyone was against him. Dream is the enemy (though Tommy’s feelings towards him are complicated, they make his brain go all ‘flippy floppy’) and Dream told him that rebellion was bad, so rebellion must be good always, right? 

And then there's Techno. Techno did nothing wrong except for when he did. Techno is 100% right except for when he isn’t. He doesn't understand Tommy because Tommy was never fully open about what Dream had done and how it affected him. That's not Tommys fault though, because who the fuck openly talks about their trauma? So neither of them are to blame for pretty much anything up until the confrontation at the community house. 

However, Techno's methods and ideology were not what Tommy needed. He was thrown from one extreme to another over and over again, from complete subservience to total rebellion. Neither of these inforce good attitudes in Tommy. One, as stated before, makes it so that he will regain his negative traits again. The other reinforces those violent traits as good, just like Wilbur did. The only difference is that Techno had good intentions, he wasnt trying to use Tommy, which is why he feels so used when Tommy 'betrays' him (Techno doesnt realise that he himself betrayed Tommy by teaming with Dream, he sees it more as a transaction than a personal thing). Techno feels so hurt by Tommy ‘viewing him as a weapon’ that he goes on with his no-mercy attack, completely dropping Tommy at his lowest point. 

Tommy says he doesn't want to be like everyone he's hated. In fact, he say's he is 'worse' than all the villains. This is very obviously untrue, though he was clearly going down a dangerous path with Techno's influence (see: bullying Fundy, spawning wither, kidnapping Connor, and saying that the discs are more important than Tubbo, more on that later). He's not a villain but who exactly has said he's not a villain. Dream? Techno? Neither of them can be trusted in his eyes. They say he's a good guy, Wilbur wanted to be the bad guy, who's right? He doesn't know. He has a crisis of morality. 

And? Some people want to point at that and say 'aha! Character development! He's finally realising his actions have a negative affect on others!' OH GOD NO??? He's a *child* who thinks that he is worse than his abuser. Does that sound like positive character growth to you? 

Lastly, the discs. We know theyre a comfort item blahblahblah. He hates himself for valuing them more than he values Tubbo. He's literally innocent in this. He’s been horribly manipulated by Dream to believe that the discs are worth anything. Theyre really not worth anything if they are being used as tools rather than, yknow, discs. My poor boy. He doesnt trust people, so what can he trust? The discs. But then he says it out loud and realises he misses Tubbo and he wants to be with his best friend again and and and WAHHHH. This also isnt really character growth its just fucking sad leave me alone. 

Anyways what the fuck guys. @ Niki and Jack what the fuck. Yeah we get it it’s miscommunication but wtf. Kinda worried that the actual lore will make Niki and Jack’s hatred of Tommy justified in some way and take on a big victim-blamey vibe, but I’m hoping that everyone is smart enough to not do that. I cannot praise Tommy enough for how he’s portrayed his character. I’m currently hoping that he himself understands the true complexity of it all. I’m sure he does.

Mostly though im actually pissed off at all the people praising tommy's character for 'maturing' when hes literally just got trauma. Nice one, tumblr and twt users. Thanks. Great job. He hasnt 'learnt his lesson', he’s traumatised. What the fuck.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk, leave your responses in the reblogs and comments.

[anghraine]

“the jedi and the sith lord” - chapter twenty-one

This is the final chapter of The Jedi and the Sith Lord, though it’s less “fin” than “to be continued next episode.”

Last chapter:

“Well, you’ll have to send an agent.”

“Yes, I will,” he said slowly. “In a matter of this much importance, it would have to be an agent of extraordinary capabilities and dedication. One who could communicate their observations and actions without any possibility of detection, and respond to my thoughts and plans in an instant.”

She drew a sharp breath.

This chapter:

“There is no one better suited to the task,” said her father. His tone allowed no argument.

Had he chosen her because she was his daughter? That had plainly weighed into a great many decisions he’d made over the last few months, or longer. There was a—a tie between them, even concern. But she couldn’t think him sentimental enough to risk his plans on that alone.

chapters: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight, chapter nine, chapter ten, chapter eleven, chapter twelve, chapter thirteen, chapter fourteen, chapter fifteen, chapter sixteen, chapter seventeen, chapter eighteen, chapter nineteen, chapter twenty

-

Anakin didn’t hesitate.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Lucy couldn’t help but remember how she’d fought to fly in the Rebellion. The Empire wasn’t much better, as far as she’d seen.

“Why me?” she asked. “All those things you just said—”

“There is no one better suited to the task,” said her father. His tone allowed no argument.

Had he chosen her because she was his daughter? That had plainly weighed into a great many decisions he’d made over the last few months, or longer. There was a—a tie between them, even concern. But she couldn’t think him sentimental enough to risk his plans on that alone. At the same time, she’d never really done anything of this kind. She was a pilot and a soldier, not a secret agent like Leia and Captain Andor had been.

“I don’t know,” said Lucy, but the words were scarcely out of her mouth when she realized that she’d be out of the castle at last. Free! Or something like it, at least.

“The experience will be useful to you,” he said. “For now, what we need is information. The mission should be straightforward enough.”

“Don’t jinx it,” she replied. “How do you know I won’t just run off?”

“The fact that you asked is a strong hint,” said Anakin. “But if you accept, you will have a companion.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed. “An Imperial? You’re sending me with a keeper?”

“A companion,” he repeated firmly. “And an Imperial of sorts. I would hardly send you with a Rebel.”

She had half a mind to tell him that the galaxy wasn’t divided into Imperials and Rebels, or at least to think it at him. But he should know that already, coming from Tatooine. Apparently he’d forgotten.

Well, he’d forgotten a lot.

“Am I—would I meet them on the way there?” she said, trying to get the logistics clear in her head. “Or are they coming here?”

“They are already here,” said Anakin. “I will take you to them, if you consent to the mission.”

Between the promise of open air and her agreement to help him against his enemies in the Empire, her first inclination was immediate assent. And it’d be something to do, some way to exercise her abilities and to do it, amazingly enough, against Imperials. But she’d also be doing it for Imperials. Leia, in her place, would indignantly refuse. Han might go along out of self-preservation, but he’d be alert for his first chance at real escape. Lucy—

She looked up at Anakin, and remembered how Beru had told her that Shmi’s people believed in the young supporting their elders. Not in everything, but where it was necessary. Did this count?

She remembered, too, the terrible dread she’d felt as she flew away from the Rebellion, and the moment when she took her father’s hand in the archives, and the cool air of a starship.

“I’ll do it,” said Lucy, hoping she hadn’t just made the worst decision in the history of the galaxy.

At no point did she sense much doubt from Anakin, but she nevertheless felt a quiet relief from him at this.

“Good,” he said, and turned around, his cape swirling after him.  With a forward gesture, he continued, “Come with me.”

Lucy followed.

After another long trek across the castle—though in a different direction from the archive—she found herself in a large room. She’d never seen it before, but apart from the bedchambers and training hall, one room here was very much like another.

However, it wasn’t entirely dissimilar from the training hall; it stretched longer than it was wide, and at the far end, targets had been set up. Each had holes and gashes clustered in and around the center.

Lucy had no difficulty guessing where they’d come from, because the room also contained a tall woman in an Imperial uniform. She was currently shooting a blaster at the targets, one shot following the other with no hesitation and alarming accuracy. She must be almost as good as Leia.

Lucy coughed loudly and the woman whirled around, blaster raised. As soon as she saw Anakin, however, she lowered the blaster.

Lucy frowned at her. From the front, the woman looked eminently forgettable—brown hair, grey eyes, pale skin, unremarkable features. Yet Lucy couldn’t escape the feeling that she’d seen her before—a feeling that came less from any conscious process than the Force itself. Lucy knew her.

“Have we met?” Lucy asked.

The woman’s glance passed to Lucy, then back to Anakin. She seemed to be waiting for something.

“The situation has changed,” he said. “You are now to offer Lucy any assistance you are capable of. Also, you are to remain near her at all times during her mission.”

“Her mission?” said the woman.

Lucy’s heart nearly stopped.

“Tuvié?”

-

The woman—droid?—turned to her. Though her expression didn’t change, her voice did.

“I did not expect that you could correctly identify me, Miss Lucy!”

Lucy managed to slow her whirling thoughts long enough to say, “You’re pretty unmistakable.”

Tuvié was still functional—and still here? But she was … what had happened? She’d had humanoid prosthetics here and there before, but now, Lucy would never have known her for anything but an ordinary human woman. She didn’t understand.

Tuvié lifted her eyes to Anakin. Lucy tried to wrap her mind around that—Tuvié had eyes now.

“Oh! I quite forgot, sir—”

“You may consider the ban lifted, F-2VA,” he said, removing all doubt.

Lucy took a deep breath.

“Tuvié, this won’t mean anything to you, but—”

“Yes?” said Tuvié.

Lucy took a step forward, then abandoned all caution and walked straight up to her, wrapping her arms around the droid’s torso. It felt like hugging anyone would have.

“I’m so glad to see you,” she said.

Tuvié patted her head.

“I am familiar with the significance of the gesture among humanoids,” she said kindly.

“I’m sorry,” said Lucy, releasing her and stepping back. “I didn’t mean—I—”

Tuvié’s face didn’t change, and probably couldn’t, but she managed to exude bewilderment anyway.

“Sorry?” she said. “Sorry for what?”

Lucy had no idea if Tuvié had welcomed the changes to her structure, or if it was some bizarre kind of punishment. Either way, she couldn’t believe that Tuvié hadn’t endured Anakin’s wrath in some way or another. And it was all because Lucy had lied and tricked her in a futile escape attempt. That horrified, desperate Lucy seemed almost another person now, but it didn’t negate her responsibility. Did Tuvié really not see that?

She thought of saying I didn’t want you hurt, but without knowing exactly what had happened, and with Anakin right behind her, she couldn’t quite bring herself to.

“I deceived you,” said Lucy. “It wasn’t—honourable.”

Before Tuvié could respond, Anakin strode forwards, his towering form cutting into Lucy’s peripheral vision. Each step thudded in her ears, and his respirator seemed even louder than usual.

“At least some portion of the fleet is gathered on the planet of Pheraz, near the Outer Rim,” he said. “I have obtained codes that should give you access to the base of operations.”

Lucy hesitated, then turned to him. “How?”

“I have my own methods of acquiring information,” he said, the mask and suit revealing no more than Tuvié’s face.

She took that to mean the Force.

“You will be given disguises that should allow you both to pass unnoticed among Varti’s and Jerjerrod’s men,” Anakin went on. “Tuvié, your assignment is simple. You are to remain with Lucy at all times and see that she returns in one piece.”

She might have been imagining it, but she thought his voice emphasized returns more than one piece. It made sense, of course—he had no reason to think she wouldn’t seize her first opportunity at escape, and keeping her under control had to be his first priority—but it made her uncomfortable, nevertheless. She hadn’t agreed out of hope for returning to the Alliance. It was difficult to imagine just waltzing back to the Rebellion as if none of this had ever happened, even if the chance did present itself.

“Yes, Lord Vader,” said Tuvié.

“You know the consequences if you fail me again,” he added.

“I do, sir.”

Lucy’s throat dried. She couldn’t think Tuvié would survive another failure. It was remarkable enough that he hadn’t destroyed her outright, all things considered, and that he’d entrusted her with the same task in more dangerous conditions. That was very odd, now that she thought of it.

It’s a test, Lucy thought. For both of them. Whatever the consequences of failure might be for Lucy herself, they would be disastrous for Tuvié. They had to succeed.

“Lucy,” Anakin said, “you will otherwise take the lead, guided by me. Keep your mind open and your senses alert.”

“I will,” she promised.

“You will both be provided with Imperial identities,” he said. “However, close inspection would trace them back to me and reveal your true allegiances.”

Lucy felt a flicker of doubt from him at this, and bit her lip. He couldn’t really know what her allegiance was at this point. She wasn’t sure she did herself, except to the Force and the liberation of the galaxy. She’d never support the Empire, but her father was neither the Empire nor the Emperor, whatever he might wish. She could help him in this without betraying what she believed in. Couldn’t she?

“Therefore,” he told her, “you should do your best to avoid providing them. You should be unobtrusive, or as much so as you can manage. You will have a uniform, a blaster, your wits, and the Force. That should be enough to carry us through.”

Despite herself, she liked the sound of us. Repressing the feeling, Lucy nodded.

“Do you both understand?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” said Tuvié immediately.

“Yes, F—Lord Vader,” Lucy said.

“Very well,” said Anakin. “Tuvié, you may go.”

Without another word, she walked away, her footsteps light—altogether unlike her old clatter. Lucy didn’t mind it, exactly, but it unsettled her. She’d heard of replica droids, glanced past holos of them, but she’d never seen one, and certainly never seen one made out of another model altogether. She inhaled, steadying herself, and looked up at her father’s inscrutable mask. She couldn’t sense his feelings beyond the usual, either; he must have closed himself off in some way, or simply didn’t feel much else.

Lucy searched the mask anyway, wishing she could at least see his eyes through the lenses. Her aunt always said that Lucy had her father’s eyes, though Shmi’s had been dark. But she’d never seen them in person.

“Father,” she said impulsively, “you can trust me.”

He studied her for several long seconds. Now, she thought she could sense something—not wistfulness, but not wholly unlike it. He wanted to believe her, even if he couldn’t quite manage it.

“We shall see,” said Anakin.

-

Leia Organa never thought of leaving the Rebellion. Not once. But the Alliance’s structure chafed on her at times, all the more in the years since the destruction of Alderaan, which had swayed many of those who wavered before fully realizing the threat posed by the Empire. If it could happen to Alderaan, it could happen to anyone. So many had only needed the understanding that their own people’s lives and welfare were at stake to support the Alliance in some fashion or another.

Cowards. At times, it was all Leia could do to keep her fingernails from cutting into her palms. She clenched her hands under Council tables and behind her back as she stared through viewscreens.

Useful cowards. Cowards who had chosen the right side, in the end. But they brought expectations of a certain kind of order with them, expectations rooted in a Republic that Leia couldn’t remember. She’d been born the very day that the Republic fell—she and Lucy both.

Her nails dug deeper. They hadn’t heard anything of Lucy since the day Leia escaped Cloud City with Lando and the droids. Even their best agents hadn’t heard a whisper of her; she might as well have died. Some people thought she had. But Leia couldn’t quite believe that Lucy’s death would leave the galaxy so untouched, leave Leia herself without any sure way of knowing it had happened. She trusted her instincts, and her instincts told her that Lucy was alive.

Leia had every reason to know that alive didn’t mean well, though. If she’d somehow escaped Vader’s trap, Lucy would have returned to them. She could only be a captive of the Empire—of Vader.

Leia knew exactly what that meant. Was Lucy suffering at his hands and dark powers even now? Her instincts didn’t tell her anything about that. She didn’t feel overwhelmed with foreboding, as she had when Han and Lucy flew away from Yavin 4. She was just afraid for Lucy, afraid for them all, and beyond that, unsettled. Once they discovered Lucy’s location, once they rescued her—Leia refused to tolerate if—Lucy would find the Rebellion a different place than even on Hoth. She’d find the galaxy a different place.

Would Lucy be different? Leia supposed it depended on when Vader had taken her out of carbon-freeze, and how long after that she’d been subject to his ... mercies. Lucy wouldn’t give up the Rebellion; Leia believed that with all her heart. But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t change her. Lucy escaping unscarred seemed increasingly impossible with each day that passed.

And Leia, tangled up in command, could do nothing.

She might have done something for Han, or at least tried. But everything was so slow. Lando had made his contacts with Jabba the Hutt’s minions, and would hopefully infiltrate the stronghold soon. When he did, they could determine Han’s current state. If he remained in carbonite, as all their reports suggested, he could be saved. They had only to penetrate the heart of the stronghold, discreetly extract Han from carbonite despite the danger of hibernation sickness, and somehow escape unnoticed.

Leia didn’t like leaving it all up to Lando. She thought of Lucy again, and nearly had to press her first to her mouth. She couldn’t. She couldn’t stand around in her pristine clothes and neat braids, giving orders while those she loved most in the galaxy were prisoners of the Huttish and Galactic empires. But she couldn’t leave the Rebellion, either.

She’d have to find another way.

-

Janos Varti cooled his heels on Naboo for a good month before Emperor Palpatine deigned to take an interest in his doings. But, finally, the time had come. Varti knelt before a large hologram of the Emperor, keeping his eyes lowered and trying not to think of any dust that might accumulate on the knees of his trousers. Lord Vader might be an inhuman relic, but he was right that Palpatine’s favour could be withdrawn at any moment; that had to take priority over every other concern.

Besides, it let him avoid looking at the Emperor’s face, at least for a few moments.

“Admiral,” said the Emperor, “allow me to offer my congratulations. You seem to be in good health.”

“I am, your Highness,” Varti said humbly. “Thank you.”

This sufficed for pleasantries. Palpatine told him to rise, then closely questioned him on his meetings with Vader. He asked about Bast Castle’s defenses, which he must already know about; he asked about Varti’s conversations with Vader in such detail that Varti could almost have accepted the common belief that the Emperor had spying devices everywhere. Nevertheless, Varti reported as closely as he could recall, suspecting that the month-long wait was at least partly a test of his memory. In fact, he’d always had an excellent one, though he knew better than to depend too heavily upon it.

“Lord Vader warned you that you might not always enjoy my good graces, hm?” Palpatine asked.

His flickering face seemed more amused than anything by this.

“Yes, your Highness,” Varti said.

“That,” said the Emperor, “depends on you.”

Varti nodded respectfully, then added, “So Lord Vader advised me.”

Palpatine studied him, his features now as unreadable as usual. Varti, who had long-since grasped that the Emperor expected submission but despised weakness, managed not to gulp.

“I see,” he said. “Tell me, was there anyone in the castle with Lord Vader?”

“Well, yes,” said Varti, startled. “A number of officers and troops, as well as droids��more droids than soldiers.” Then he remembered his initial reception, with all its peculiarities. “And there was a girl.”

He felt, more than saw, Emperor Palpatine’s concentration narrowing in on him.

“Tell me about this girl,” he ordered.

Varti blinked several times, but had not come this far by ignoring direct orders. “She received us when we first arrived. She seemed about twenty—short, slender, blonde hair, blue eyes. I had the impression that she was some sort of housekeeper or servant. We spoke briefly and she provided tea.”

Maybe it was just paranoia on Palpatine’s part, but Varti couldn’t see why he should feel the slightest interest in that girl. It was possible, of course, that Varti had missed something about her, but it didn’t seem likely. He was an excellent judge of character.

“Did she create any difficulties for you and Lord Vader?” asked the Emperor.

“No,” said Varti, even more puzzled. “She seemed quite accommodating, when she was present. I saw little of her, except during dinners.”

Now that he thought of it, though, that did strike him as odd. Why would Vader invite his housekeeper, or whatever she was—Varti didn’t really want to think about it too much—to dinner with an Admiral of the Fleet? Had he wanted her to notice something?

Something niggled at Varti’s memory. He’d noticed something. What was it?

“I trust no significant business was conducted at these dinners?” said Palpatine.

“You are correct, your Highness.”

In a rush, it came to him. He felt silly to even mention it to the Emperor, but he wasn’t about to hold things back.

“Her clothes were strange,” he blurted out. “Old and faded, but the fabric was very fine—embroidered and such. It seemed peculiar for a servant.”

Palpatine didn’t bother responding to this.

“Did you ever hear her name?”

“Alsara,” Varti said promptly. “Lucy Alsara.”

“Ah,” said Palpatine, with a faint smile. “Her true name is Lucy Skywalker. She was a Rebel and a would-be Jedi traitor, until Lord Vader apprehended her.”

“A Jedi!” Varti exclaimed.

Astonished, he stared into the Emperor’s blue face. Varti had taken tea from a Jedi? A Rebel one, too? And she hadn’t tried to poison him then, or at any of their other shared meals? And Vader had simply left her to wander around?

“She appears to have learned the errors of her former cause, and is now Vader’s apprentice,” said the Emperor.

“She seemed docile enough,” Varti acknowledged, the whirl of his thoughts slowing to something like reason. “Was it a trick?”

“Possibly,” Palpatine said, looking thoughtful. Then he fixed his eyes on Varti, who valiantly repressed a shudder. “Should the opportunity arise again, take care to observe her very closely.”

“I will,” said Varti. At this point he was so bewildered that he presumed to add, “Is this one girl a threat to the Empire, your Highness?”

“No,” the Emperor replied. Horrifyingly, his smile broadened. “I think not.”

[atsukashii]

❝r.i.p to the youth❞ // e. kirishima

SYNOPSIS: ➛ The world has gone to shit and you have lost almost everyone close to you, including Kirishima

» CHARACTER PAIRING: eijiro kirishima x reader

» WORD COUNT: 5.6K cause i have no chill again

» GENRE: apocalyptic au, aged up characters

» WARNINGS: major character death, ANGST with fluff ending, blood, swearing

« masterlist || ao3 »

You were only seventeen when the world had gone to shit. You had been studying with your friends at U.A when you watched the news roll in, villains had popped up everywhere in a large scale attack. After that day, the world had never been the same. Led by Tomura Shigaraki, the league of villains now held hostage the world, ruling it in the very way they knew how. Now labelled The Purge, many of the top heroes were wiped out in the first few months, and more as it followed.

Now today, five years later, you are still trying to survive through an apocalyptic world, where ones who were only students when it started, are now leaders of rebellion… the only force to attempt to rise up against the villain dictatorship. The Rebellion Army was created by pro heroes once the fighting began, however as the years passed, there were newly inducted commanders in charge more frequently than there ever should be. You are one of them. Along with your previous schoolmates and close friends, Izuku, Shouto, Bakugou, Iida, and Momo, somehow you had all become the leaders of the rebellion army. All the previous pro heroes either having been killed or forced into solitude for their safety and the safety of the rebellion. Together, your spread out force had managed to locate some of the existing pro’s, however, they opted to be the voice of reason and advice, and decided to leave the leadership to a bunch of twenty-year-olds. You were inducted as a commander just over two years ago due to the strength of your quirk, your incredible strategic skills, and your ability to be stealthy was far greater than anyone else. You had earned that rank in a time where you didn’t want it. All you wanted was for this all to end.

Looking down at the picture in your hands, you wish you could turn back time and transport back to it. It had been a few months before The Purge began, where the only concern you had was if you were going to pass your final exams, your work-study, and your boyfriend. Not the fate of the world, or at least not until you were a pro.

In the faded image, you were shielding your eyes from the sun but had a bright grin on your face. Your thighs were draped over a shirtless male torso that had your heart hurting inside your chest. He had a carefree, teeth-bared grin on his face, his eyes squinted shut in the sunlight, as he held onto your legs to support you. He looked so happy that day, in fact, you all were. You and your class had gone to a water-park, as a time to relax and just have chaotic levels of fun. It was one of your last good memories before it all fell apart. And now, this picture with your boyfriend was your greatest treasure. 

Because two years ago, villains had discovered your previous location and attacked out of the blue. It had been pure chaos and a mad scramble to evacuate and get away with as few casualties as possible. It was one of the worst days of your life. Because that day, you had been separated from your boyfriend and once the dust had settled, he was gone. You had searched for days, not eating or sleeping. The only thing on your mind was finding Eijiro Kirishima, if it was the last thing you did. You were only forced to stop when Bakugou pulled you away, kicking and screaming.  Everyone had said he was dead, and that you needed to accept it, but Bakugou just reiterated the same line over and over.

‘Shitty hair wouldn’t fucking die like that. We’ll find him y/n.” yet here you were, two years down the line, with still no sign of him. So like everyone else, you had accepted the fact that he was no longer going to be around, and when you found yourself deep within a pit of depression, it was your friends who pulled you from it, helping you take a step every day. You weren’t over it, and you knew you wouldn’t ever be. For that red-head who was sunshine personified was the love of your life, and he always would be.

A knock comes from your closed door, and hesitantly, you shift your gaze from the photo in your hands to the figure now poking their head through the partially cracked doorway. Momo’s kind smile meets you, and when she sees the tattered picture in your hands, it morphs into something soft but laced with pain. You aren’t the only one who is hurting from his passing, it has affected your friends and comrades too. There was too much death these days, too much for people to bear.

“It was a very fun day.” She says, walking over to where you sit on your bed, before sitting next to you. It had been one of your best memories with Kirishima, yes, but also with your other friends. Some who weren’t around now…

“And so different to life now.” You reply, pushing the picture back under your pillow before you turn to your friend and fellow leading commander. “What’s going on?” There had to be something for her to come and get you during your break.

“Shouto wants to move the stealth operation to today. He says he’s got a bad feeling about tomorrow.” You’re not surprised by the idea, so you just nod, not questioning your friends’ instincts for a second. Being in charge of such a large operation, all six of your close friends have learnt the inner workings of each other's minds. And when someone has a gut feeling, a hunch, you follow it, because nine times out of ten, it’s right. And in a world ruled by villains, being wrong means death, and that’s something you don’t want to see happen ever again.   “We want you to lead it.” Of course.

The argument sits heavy on your tongue, but something inside you like always can’t seem to let it out. Maybe it was the guilt, or the fear of not being there to stop something bad from happening again. Because not long after you had lost Kirishima, you had lost your mentor, your work-study agency leader, your friend, in a stealth mission gone wrong. You had almost died that day, unable to save your mentor. Instead, Keigo Takami had saved you, and you weren’t going to let his sacrifice go to waste. You were going to protect every single one of your friends, even if it meant you died in the process.

“Alright.” Together, you both stand and begin the walk to the meeting room. The second you walk in, your eyes meet your four commanding friends, as well as three others. You smile at Jiro, Sero and Shoji before sitting down at a vacant seat. “What’s the plan?” You ask the quiet room, listening as Momo points towards a map of the city in the centre of the table, explaining the plan.

“Jiro’s ear jacks are going to eavesdrop on anything audible inside the warehouse. Shoji and Sero, you are on lookout, and  Y/n, you are on escape routes.” Everyone in the stealth team had quirks that allowed them to do their job quickly and efficiently… but you were just there as back up, as a walking bomb ready to go off if something detrimental should occur.

You’d lost half of your quirk the day you had almost died, and witnessed your mentor sacrifice himself for you. Those flames, ones you can manipulate yourself- but failed to, burnt your wings until the weight that had rested between your shoulder blades your whole life, was gone. Now, you could manipulate fire, but hadn’t used it in almost a year, instead, focusing on hand to hand combat. After that day, you could barely glance at flames without either making yourself sick, or having flashbacks powerful enough that they seemed as if you were actually trapped back in the past. The sensation… the scent… the burning… the screaming.

“Live, little firebird. Save us all.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a sigh before standing to your feet. Everyone in the room looks in your direction, and you look at Bakugou, one of your closest friends and look into his eyes, trying to ignore the nagging thought that they look similar to Kirishima’s.

“We leave at 22:00.” Momo nods to you across the table and you look to your friends who are risking their lives alongside you. “Let’s get some dirt on these assholes.”

                                            ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉

“We don’t get closer than ten metres to any entrance or exits of the building.” You whisper, using your very very little air manipulation to help your words travel to your friend’s ears. You see all three of them nod in response as you creep down the abandoned alleyway. The world is so quiet, the only noise was the slight breeze and trash being moved across the street from it. Everything about this area was abandoned and for good reason. You had discovered through one of the rebellion’s many spaced out informants, that they had seen S class league members frequently visiting this warehouse. This mission wasn’t to take more than two hours, that’s what Bakugou had drilled into your brain.

“Don’t be fucking late because I’m not coming to look for your dumb ass.” You weren’t a moron, which is what you had responded with and you could have sworn the blonde wanted to punch you in the face. It was the usual really, the urge and not the actual physical blow - that never happened. However, you knew that if your team didn’t show up, the blonde would come looking for you and not stopping until he dragged you all back and then tried to kill you himself for being stupid.

Normally, other than villain activity, it is quiet in this part of town. The previous residents having abandoned their homes the second the league of villains moved in. So you are surprised when Shoji gestured to you only thirty minutes in.

‘Figure. 2 blocks.’ He gestured with his hands, not risking to speak so close to the building. Sure you are on the second floor of the building next door, but with Jiro’s quirk in use, you aren’t going to distract her either.

‘Villain?’ You question, using both your hands to communicate the thought back. Shoji shakes his head and instead waves you over to his position. Silently, you manoeuvring until you are next to him, looking out the broken out window at where he is pointing - straight towards a figure staring at the building you’re currently listening on. The person is completely decked out in all black, and you definitely different recognise them, not that you could make out much of their figure other than the fact they were tall and bulk, probably male. If he were a villain, surely he could have just walked towards the building instead of peering at it like a predator watching its prey.

In silence, Shoji and you watch as the figure moves towards the building, carefully using the shadows to hide their body as they slip between alleyways and across the street. Okay, so not a villain… Suddenly the figure disappears behind an alleyway and you look at Shoji with a frown. What the hell was someone that wasn’t a part of the rebellion doing here?

From what you were aware, you were the only current branch within this area, the rebellion spreading wide across both Japan and the world, all under different titles and names, however, you were the leading force in this city, and possibly Japan. You would know if there was another organisation within the city limits. So who the hell was that?

Jiro taps the floor twice and your eyes look to Sero, holding his binoculars, directed straight at the warehouse. They were wrapping up. You tap your wrist to signify that you were to head out in one minute, when a gasp suddenly breaks the silence. Oxygen leaves your lungs as Shoiji tackles you to the floor. Wheezing, you don’t question in when heat engulfs the world outside the window. Your ribs scream in pain from the impact, but over your friend’s shoulder, you see the bright blue flames lick across the ceiling through the open window. Blue flames.

Your screams bounce across the concrete walls of what once had been an office building but was now nothing but rubble. Blue flames lick over your shoulder blades and neck. Your spine, engulfed in a pain you never thought possible, but what has you screaming is the image in front of you. You look up into Dabi’s smirking face, his blue flames swirling around his scarred fist. “This is the end of the line for you gorgeous.” He raises his hands in front of your face and for a second you close your eyes, praying for it all to be over. But then there’s a thump, and you watch in horror as Hawk’s - beaten to a pulp, lands in front of you, his scarlet red wings spread out behind him shielding you from the blue flames.

“Live, little firebird. Save us all.”

The last of his feathers grip your clothes, and you slam out of the rubble, dragging you across town as fast as they can. You cry out and beg to stop as one by one, they fall to the ground, losing their power, until you lay on the sidewalk outside the warehouse on your stomach, trying not to scream. You knew your wings were gone, the heavyweight you had held up your entire life wasn’t there. Only pain, god so much pain, you wanted to die. You had only passed out after you’d heard people mumbling above you, and at that point, you hadn’t cared if it were villains… you just wanted it to end.

Those blue flames… They had brought down your old compound that day, and you had been flying people out of the burning building when you had bumped into Kirishima, about to sprint into battle to join Bakugou and Shouto. You had wanted to beg him to stop, to just get out of the building, but that’s not who you were, and it definitely wasn’t who he was.

“Don’t worry angel, I’ll be back. Get everyone out and I’ll meet you at the safe-point soon.” Kirishima says, kissing you on the forehead before racing out. You hadn’t even had time to tell him you loved him like usual, before moving to pull more people from the wreckage and transporting them. And that was something you would never forgive yourself for. You let Kirishima run into that burning building.

Once you had gotten the last people out, there was a loud crunch, followed by a boom. You and Sero turn around, only to see the roof of the warehouse begin to collapse. Figures flee from the fire, and one is heading towards you at an alarmingly fast rate. The second they reach your position, you do a headcount, tracing peoples faces until you realise there are only four of them. There should be five. Whipping your head back and forth, you quickly spin around, scanning everyone here for that head of red hair...but he’s not there. Where is Kirishima? Where the hell is your boyfriend?

You then look to the very singed and exhausted as-blonde before you. “Where is Eijiro?” Bakugou frowns at you, before looking around, his movements getting more frantic with every passing second.

“He was right there…” You hear hum mutter, only for another loud bang to come from the old warehouse. 

No, god please no...The situation finally hits you, and you jump to action, your wings propelling you forward towards the burning building. You hold out your hands and try to smother the flames with your quirk, but theres too much, and its burning through the building to quickly. 

Your only a few feet from the inferno when you’re tackled to the ground. You try desperately and wildly to shake the weight off, but soot covered hands have pinned your wings so you can’t move.

“Get off me! HE’S STILL IN THERE! I NEED TO GET HIM OUT! KIRISHIMA!”

“And die yourself in the process? There’s nothing you can do Y/n.” Bakugou’s voice is in your ear, and you scream out in frustration. The noise is so loud, coming from a place deep inside you that it hurts your vocal chords when it comes out. There's another crunch, and you watch helplessly as the roof completely collapses, finally succumbing to the flames, and the second it falls, part of you dies with it.

“EIJIRO!” You scream again, trying to shake the blonde off you.

“I’m so sorry Y/n.” 

“No, please no.” Your voice is barely there, unable to be any louder. The flames leaving nothing in their wake, devouring everything it comes into contact with. “Not him, not him.” You repeat the words over and over, as you rest your head on the ground. He’s not dead, he can’t be. I can’t- I can’t do this without him. Your heart is pounding inside your ears, unable to hear anything else, and your lungs can't seem to hold any air at all. Before you know it, black dots line your vision, and then everything is dark. Before you pass out, the last thing you remember was the flickering of blue flames. 

Those blue flames took your mentor from you, they took your wings, your freedom, they took the love of your life from you. You had nothing left. And now, those blue flames are going to pay. 

For a year and a half, you haven’t touched your flames. You haven't activated the power that prowls under your skin like a beast. You had smothered it, tried to calm it, bottled it up for months, waiting for a moment to release it. The second you lock eyes with Sero, you nod before rising up off the ground. 

“Get them to the checkpoint now.” You hiss, just as a chuckle echoes from down on the floor below. 

“Running away so easily?” 

“He’s right below us,” Jiro whispers, her ear-jacks still pressed into the concrete. She looks up at you, fear her eyes. How the hell do we get out of here alive? Luckily enough, you already have an escape route.  

“Sero, now!” You yell out, aiming your hands at the floor and releasing a breath. All that unrelenting anger, frustration, grief, fury bubbles to the surface, and the second you see Sero swinging out the window with Jiro and Shoji in tow, you unleash yourself upon the world. Your pent up emotions spread to life in the form of a white flame, immediately melting the floor beneath you, and unfortunately missing the scarred man that it now reveals. 

“We’ve been looking for you, little firebird,” Dabi smirks, even whilst standing in the middle of a world of flames. “The name’s kind of ironic isn’t it, considering how you lost your wings.” You know he’s goading you, so instead, you raise a hand, your own flames swirling around your fingers almost resemble lightning in their color.

“Ironic, considering you’re about to be burnt alive.” You hiss out before releasing your flames upon him. Dabi quickly unleashes a flash of power, only for those cursed blue flames to become overwhelmed by a wave of white melting hot fire. The smug look disappears in his eyes as he takes you in. You can feel the fire bubbling inside your veins, spilling out across your body like a shield, only not burning you. “You took everything from me,” Your throat aches from breathing in the smoke of the building. “and now, I will take your life.” You shout, letting your quirk redirect itself partially to your feet, sending you flying through the air where you fire white-hot fireball after fireball in the raven-haired man’s direction. 

He would not survive this. You would make sure of it.

Your blasts were tearing up the building around you, and the warehouse you had been spying on, yet you did not care. You would set the whole world on fire before you gave him the chance to get away. The second you boost yourself out of the building and into the open courtyard between the buildings, is when you finally notice the fact that they’re barely standing, one slight movement from completely crumbling around you. Focusing back on Dabi, he looks at the buildings before relaxing his stance and glaring back at you.

“Don’t fool yourself, you can’t kill me. You’re nothing but a pathetic waste of a quirk.” He spits back, releasing a volley of blue flames towards you. Placing both your hands above your head, palms facing the sky, you swiftly release a blaze of power as you bring down your hands towards the floor, effectively slicing the incoming blue flames in half like a hot knife slicing through butter. You weren’t going to talk anymore, instead, you would fight him until he felt as much pain as you once had. Until Dabi knew how you had felt every day for the past two years since he had taken everything from you. Since he had ripped the love of your life from your grasp and permanently forced your feet to the ground. 

Pieces of debris began to fall to the floor around you from collapsing buildings. Raising your arms either side of your body, you grin a feral smile at Dabi and aim at the two buildings, knowing fully well that when they collapse, they will bury you both. Quickly catching on to your idea, the man in front of you hesitates, only for a second, as if shocked by your actions. 

“I’ll see you in hell, Dabi.” You release your flames and watch as the world crumbles around you. 

                                           ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉

At first, there is nothing but silence, your body weightless and mind empty of all thought. Is this death? Everything is dark until there’s a shout that echoes so loudly in your brain it hurts, and you feel something grip you tightly but you can’t tell where... and then… Nothing…

When you come to again your eyes blink open instinctively, and you find yourself staring at a concrete ceiling that you’ve seen many times before. The infirmary? 

You blink a few times, vanishing the blur from your eyes. You can hear the scraping of furniture coming from outside the room, but surprisingly, as you glance around, you’re the only one in here. 

Trying to sit up, suddenly your ribs screech in protest, forcing a hissing breath from your lungs. Jesus christ! You pause once you force your aching body upright, and glance around the room again, giving yourself a chance to let the pain settle before moving again. An IV machine stands empty next to your bed, and a bandage wrapped around… well your everything. The white compression cloth fits your ribs like a second skin as well as your arm. You don’t even remember getting injured… All you remember was unleashing hell on Dabi and bringing down a building around you. You were ready to sacrifice yourself to take out one of the main league members like any of your friends would have done.

The only questions that matter right now though are did you succeed? And how weren’t you dead? You can’t seem to come to an answer for either though. 

A loud muffled noise comes from outside, interrupting your thoughts. Curiosity gets the better of you, as you manage to pull yourself off the bed, ignoring your aching body’s outcry. The second your bare feet meet the cold concrete flooring, you can’t hold in the wince as the temperature makes your bones groan. You push on, slipping through the closed doorway, and glancing around, trying to track the source of the noise. You can’t make out the conversations, not until you’re passing through the halls, hunched over and holding your ribs that ache with every slight movement. It’s only once you’ve been walking around for too long do you deduce that the sounds are coming from the main common room of the warehouse. As you head in that direction, you pass a mirror and actually cringe at the image that stares back. 

Yikes.

Any dust and grime that had covered you from the rubble you had most likely been pulled from had been cleared, but you still look as if you have been dragged backward through hell. Small scratches pepper your face, and a massive black eye is forming on the right side of your face. If you thought you could move your arms high enough without wanting to cry, you might have prodded it to make sure it was real. Thank god for small mercies, you suppose.

As you draw closer to the large open doorway of the common room, you see a few people gathered around the entrance, with smiles on their faces. The look confuses you enough to force your feet to scuff along the floor as you stop. The second the noise meets their ears, their heads snap in your direction, and those smiles become grins that are slightly terrifying. How long has it been since you’ve seen faces like that?

“Y/n, you’re awake! I should get someone from the medical team, stay there a second.” An older woman says before quickly jogging back down the hall from which you came. More sound spills out of the room and this time, you can finally catch parts of the conversation.

“I’m going to kill you myself.” Bakugou growls, which doesn’t surprise you. But the fact that his words don’t meet his tone is what surprises you enough to force your legs to move, and to step into the room. Right away, your eyes are drawn towards the cluster of people in the middle of the room. First, you see Sero and Jiro, both looking a bit dishevelled, but mostly okay which has you sighing in relief. The next is the fact that everyone was here… but why? Between the heads of your other friends and comrades, you catch a glimpse of the fiery blonde that has pure murder in his eyes. However, he doesn’t act upon and instead reaches forward and brings someone into a tight embrace.

Oxygen abandons your lungs and for a second, you’re positive that you are hallucinating. Your body is no longer responsive and your mind is an empty void as you try to take in the person before you. He’s still across the room, but you’re asphyxiating under his very presence. His red hair is now black, most likely due to the fact hair dye wasn’t on the list of top priorities of anyone these days, and has also grown out enough to be pulled off his face. It’s so different… but those crimson eyes, ones that gleam like light peaking through rubies is the same… You are dreaming, or dead… you have to be… You had watched your boyfriend die, you had watched Eijiro Kirishima run into a burning building. You had seen the structure fold like paper cards, and you had searched the rubble for days after. You had grieved for two years for the man you had loved since you had first met him in the U.A entrance exams.

There is no logical reason as to how he is now grinning at Bakugou, slapping him on the back with tears filling his eyes. It’s not possible.

It’s not, you searched for so long…

The second he pulls the blonde back into another embrace which earns a string of curses and some laughs, his eyes finally meet yours over Bakugou’s shoulder, and you find yourself transporting back to the day you had lost him.

“Don’t worry angel, I’ll be back”. He never came back,

“Get everyone out”  You had.

“I’ll meet you at the safe-point soon.” He never did.

You’re gasping for air as your heartbeat thunders inside your head. It blocks out all other noise, and black dots dance within your vision. All of a sudden people are looking at you, and you can see Izuku’s lips moving in your direction, his eyes full of panic as he takes you in but you can’t hear him. You can’t seem to look from the ghost in front of you. No… he’s dead… Kirishima was dead. You have grieved him, you have cried over him, you have mourned the love of your life and still were…

Stepping out of Bakugou’s embrace, the man slowly walks towards you with caution, as if not to spook you. Well, that’s too late because I’m not seeing ghosts so I’m definitely off my rocker. With every step he takes towards you, you find the rise and fall of your chest gaining more and more speed, trying to take in more air, but failing to do so. Within seconds, he’s feet away from you, and you can’t take it. You had wanted this, so much… but it was impossible. Shaking your head, you hold your hands up in front of you to stop him from moving closer. Tears are flooding down your cheeks uncontrollably, and when he takes another step, you physically flinch back, a broken noise emerging from your lips that causes him to freeze. No, you’re dreaming! Wake up y/n! Maybe you’re in hell, and you are going to be forced to relive this again and again, only to lose him. If that’s true… Your eyes roam over Kirishima, looking almost the same as the day you lost him, and you know then your heart can’t take much more. You can’t take it.

“I- I can’t - I can’t…” You know you’re not making sense, and you’re not even sure if your words are actually understandable. But the pain and anguish in his red eyes is so similar to your own, it makes looking at him hurt even more. Kirishima finally walks forwards once more, until he is close enough to hold you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stares down at you with so much affection and fondness in his eyes, and so much heartache you feel an echo of it inside your own chest.

“Sorry it took me so long to come back angel, I got a little lost.” oh my god. He says, trying to break the sombre mood with a joke, but you just fall to your knees, weeping and sobbing so hard you can’t breathe. In a split second he’s there holding you, crushing you to his chest so tightly, all you can hear is his heart and all you can smell is his scent. Oh my god, he’s here. He’s actually alive. The thought makes you cry even harder. Oh my god, he is alive.

Eijiro’s alive. Your brain begins to piece it all together. When you had brought the building down… someone grabbing you, a shout. It was him.

You pull back, your trembling hands cupping his wet cheeks as you search his face for any signs that it isn’t him, that it's nothing but a cruel dream. But the pure love swirling in his crimson red eyes and the tears running tracks down his cheeks are enough of an answer. “How I- you didn’t come back. Why? I needed you! And I thought you had died!  I thought he had killed you like Hawks… I needed you Eiji, and god I missed you, so so much!” You manage to get out between the sobbing. Your mouth is moving on its own at this point, and you can’t keep up with what it’s saying. You have so much to say, so much to tell him and feel as if you don’t say it now, you’ll suffocate under its weight.

“It’s a long story sweetheart, but I’m here. I’m never leaving your side ever again.” You clutch his shirt beneath your palms, your weeping quieting slightly, and you rest your forehead to his chest, just relishing in the heartbeat you feel beneath your hands. He’s alive. Eijiro’s alive. Your brain repeats it on a loop as if trying to forever engrave the fact into your brain so it will finally sink in that this is reality. You will no longer have to experience a day without his smile, a night without his warmth, a second without his heart.

“I love you. I love you so much, and I missed you so much Eiji I can’t-.” You whisper breaks again as you squeeze your eyes closed, trying to stop another wave of sobs from breaking through. A warm hand gently lifts your chin, and you find yourself staring back up at your first and only love. He’s alive.

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before rubbing his nose against yours, his eyes not wavering from your own, as if he blinks, you’ll be gone. “I love you so much y/n, I will always come back to you. Always.”

You couldn’t care that you were in a room full of people, you couldn’t even care if villains showed up out of nowhere. Kirishima was back, he was whole and he was home.

©️ 2021 all rights reserved to atsukashii, do not change, edit, translate, or repost any works on any platform.

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober Day 20

Lost

Ao3

Warnings: attempted kidnapping, concussions

-o-o-o-o-

When Dick opens his eyes, he immediately regrets waking up. Everything hurts… like he's just taken on a pride of lions all on his own and had the bruises to prove it. His head especially hurts, more than everything else. So much so, that it's all he can do to keep his balance as he slowly raises himself to his feet, placing his hands on the lip of something metal to keep him steady. 

He pants through his nose, trying to make sense of what's going on. His head really really hurts, and every time he tries to think back on what he could have been doing before waking up here in this… alleyway?… pain spikes. 

So, instead, he tries to figure out where he is now rather than where he was. First things first, he's in his Robin uniform. That's... that's good. It makes more sense for Robin to wake up with a definite concussion in the middle of some ratty alleyway than it did Dick Grayson. 

Next things next, he's wet. Like. Soaked. Which is understandable considering it's raining and he's currently inside a dumpster—leaning against the walls. His bare legs are smeared with foul smelling juices, and his cape is a solid ten pounds heavier thanks towards the water. He leans his shoulder against the side of the dumpster and searches through his utility belt for his communicator, but when he finds the blocky device and pulls it out, he's disappointed to find it crushed. Little wires poke out of cracked plastic like vines splitting a rock. 

He stuffs the broken communicator back into the belt and inhales sharply through his mouth. His head’s  still pounding, and it doesn't feel like it will stop anytime soon. He needs to… figure out what's going on and find Bruce. Bruce doesn't like it when Dick's not by him. 

Dick doesn't like it when he's not by Bruce either. 

He takes in a few more breathes, preparing himself to fight through what will probably most likely be a very uncomfortable experience. Before he can change his mind, he tightens his grip on the lip of the dumpster and hefts himself over the edge.

He hits the cracked asphalt on the other side hard. He just manages to keep his feet under him as his skull pulses like the seven dwarfs were trapped inside, causing his stomach to plead for rebellion as the only thing he's aware of for a few moments is how he can feel the world spinning.

Once he's pretty sure he isn't going to keel over and throw up, he lets go of the dumpster and begins to study his surroundings. It looks like any old alleyway in Gotham. Long, dark, covered in trash and puddles. He risks light-headedness to look up, but all he finds is a cracked gargoyle staring off from the corner of one of the tall buildings making the alley. 

He has… no idea where he is. If he could climb up and get a rooftop view of his surroundings, he should be able to at least pinpoint where the police department is—because Bruce told him to always pay attention to the police department, and if Dick was ever alone and needed help, he should find Jim Gordon. But… looking up makes him dizzy. The thought of climbing up to the rooftops makes him dizzy. 

It's probably best he searches by foot. 

Step one is leaving the alleyway. 

He looks down both ends, and neither look that exciting or familiar. He curls his sopping wet cape around his shoulders and slowly begins to walk down a random direction. He only realizes that he chose the direction the gargoyle was facing when he catches it in the corners of his eyes. 

Bruce likes the gargoyles. 

Dick decides this should be a good direction, then. 

When he reaches the end of the alleyway, he finds himself walking onto the cracked sidewalk lining a narrowed street caged by buildings that definitely look like they've been around since seventeen hundreds. There's no signs on any of the buildings, and the street names are worn down and spray painted over. If Dick had to give a guess on where he was, he'd say it's probably somewhere in the Theater District. There's no other place in Gotham that's as ratty and disgusting even on the streets where civilian's live. 

He just… needs to find a payphone. Or at least a place he recognizes. He's come into the Theater District enough times, more than any other neighborhood in Gotham, in the times he's been fighting crime with Batman.

Even if it hasn't been for very long…

"Okay, Robin," he whispers to himself as he brings a hand to his temple to rub at the migraine, "you can do this…"

He turns right and goes to take a step, but then suddenly a voice calls out. 

And it doesn't sound like a friendly voice.

Dick spins on his heel to look behind him—which makes him dizzy but he's just able to ignore it. His eyes immediately latch onto a group of men, some standing and some sitting with interested faces on the doorsteps of a run down home, sheltering from the rain under a little overhang, each with a cigarette hanging on almost limp fingers or at the corners of their mouths. 

"Oh shit, it is Robin," one man sneers, bringing the cigarette from his mouth and huffing. 

"Where's the bat?" Another man asks, sounding nervous. "They say the kid's never without the bat…"

Dick swallows and takes a weary step back as someone steps out from under the overhang with a grin on their face. "He's here…" Dick says, trying to sound brave. His voice wobbles against his will through, and he's not sure if it's from the sudden fear of being alone, faced against what must be five men each bigger, meaner, and stronger than himself… or if it was simply because of the cold rain that still poured. "So- so stay away and we won't have any… any reason to hurt you-"

"Look at him shake in those little shoes," someone laughs, joining the first man out in the rain. "He's all alone."

And Dick knows right then that he has to get away. Like. Now. These people… they didn't look friendly. Dick can't fight them, he can barely stand. If they catch him, who knows what they'll do to him. Little kids go missing in Gotham all the time… sent to horrible places Bruce doesn't want him to know about yet because he's too little. 

Now all the men are out in the rain, the smoke of their cigarettes leaving a snake's tail behind them as the rain pelts against the foul smelling flame. They pick up speed, grinning maniacally… and Dick runs. 

He turns heel, his breath catching in his throat and his head spinning, and runs. 

Everything hurts, and his body doesn't want to move the way he needs it to. It's all he can do to duck under a grabbing hand and dodge into another alleyway. The people are hot on his heels though, even as he forces himself to run faster. He's… he's scared. His heart is in his chest and he's so cold and he just wants to cuddle up in his bed and cry. 

In a split second of dangerous desperateness, Dick grabs onto his grapple and aims it towards a fire escape placed above him. He presses the trigger, preparing himself for how much this is going to suck with his concussion and nausea, but as he's about to launch upwards, something violently tugs on his neck. Dick watches in horror as the grapple flys onwards without him. He has just a split second of true despair before he's jerked back and tossed to the rough ground by the fabric of his cape. 

His knees and hands scrape painfully on the asphalt, causing various cuts to open up and weep pink into the water. His neck hurts, his head spins, and he's shaking from exhaustion and fear. He tries to scramble to his feet, but then large arms wrap around his middle, pinning his arms to his side, and dragging him up so his legs kick in midair, his back pressed against someone's chest. He can smell tobacco. He can hear laughter cutting through the pounding in his heart. 

"Let go!" Dick shouts, doing everything he can to choke down cries. He struggles in the grasp and kicks out his legs, but nothing works. He goes to scream at them, but one arm transfers from his chest towards his mouth and he's effectively hand-gagged. 

And now he can't keep back a sob. It's all so awful. The people are all laughing and sneering while they drag him back further and further into the alley. 

And for a moment, Dick thinks that this is when it will happen. This is when Bruce will swoop in and save him. 

He looks up towards the rooftops, and all he finds are uselessly staring gargoyles.

Bruce isn't... coming? Dick is alone. If he wants out of this… he has to do it himself.

Which is so much easier to say that it is to do. The hand on his mouth presses harshly against his jaw, which only serves to make his skull pound worse. His limbs feel so weak to where he can only wiggle in the arms holding him captive. His kicking isn't doing anything. He's so small and light—even for an 8 year old—that his struggling is basically useless. 

What can he do- what can he do? 

His fingers brush on his utility belt and he almost stills. That's right, he has more things than a broken communicator and a  missing grapple. Dick's not very good yet at thinking ahead and keeping track of all the tools Bruce gave him. There's so much to remember… but now he thinks… he might just be able to do something.

Which is better than giving up here and now. 

"I have a buddy who works for Riddler," one man says excitingly. "Maybe we can hook up and sell the brat."

"I have some rope at my place…" another puts in. And while being the Riddler's hostage isn't exactly the worst thing in the world—much better than Joker or Scarecrow that's for sure—Dick isn't exactly eager to be put in any death traps that are riddle encrypted.

So, even as his head spins and his body shakes with both fear, adrenalin, and the cold rain, he forces himself to take in a deep breath of air through his nose before grabbing at the small, round cylinders hidden inside his belt. 

He pulls them out, and before anyone can say or do anything, he presses one of the buttons.

He closes his eyes, and he knows the flash bombs have worked the moment the people around him all yell and the arms around him drop. He plummets to his feet and just manages to not faceplant by throwing his scraped up hands out in front of him. Before the flash can dim or anyone does anything, he jumps to his feet and forces his legs to move as quick as he can pump him. 

He runs. And runs. And he doesn't stop, even as he blinks tears out of his eyes and gasps for breath. 

He turns a random corner, as he has done several times before during this night, but he's immediately met by a solid wall of flesh. Large hands fall to his shoulders and he panics. 

"Stop! Let go!" Dick throws his fists out but his wrists are immediately grabbed. Dick hiccups and struggles, even as the shadowed person tightens their hands around his arms and ignores his shouting. 

Dick can't do this anymore tonight. He's so tired. A sob tears through his mouth and his legs give out. He can't he can't he can't he can't-

"Chum, calm down-" a graveled voice says, and Dick freezes like he's just been doused with a bucket of ice. 

Dick… he knows that voice. Sobbing and kneeling on the soaked ground, his wrists still in tight holds, Dick opens his eyes to get a better look at his new captor. 

He recognizes the jaw. The clothes. The cowl. The eyes. 

Bruce. 

Somehow, the realization just makes him cry harder. Only, this time, instead of trying to escape, he flings himself forward and wraps his arms around Bruce's neck the second Bruce lets go of his wrists. His throat feels clogged and snot is probably running down his nose, but he's so relieved to finally be safe. He buries his head into the crook of Batman's jaw and clutches. 

Safe. He's safe. 

And he thinks somewhere at the back of his mind that he shouldn't feel so safe. He's only known Bruce for a couple of months… have only been Robin for a little less.

But when Bruce finally relaxes and wraps his arms around Dick, lifting him up in a way that's so gentle and caring compared to the men who tried to kidnap him… safe is all he can think about. 

Bruce speaks softly, his voice rumbling through his chest like a cat's purr, explaining that he tried his best to find Dick earlier, and that he didn't mean to take so long. He mentions something about Poison Ivy but Dick's too tired and relieved to care. His skull still pounds. He can bug Bruce later on details, figure out why he woke up in a dumpster with a concussion and no memory of how he got there. 

He just holds on tighter, shaking his head when Bruce asks why he's so upset. 

"I want to go home," Dick gasps through a wet sob, and Bruce stiffens all over again. 

Home. Has Dick… ever thought of the manor as home before? 

Before he can panic and take back the word, Bruce tightens his embrace around Dick's body and huffs. "Okay… let's go… home. We can talk later."

Dick can only nod and try to quiet his ongoing hiccupping sobs as Bruce begins to walk away. He wants to fall asleep now, especially with the adrenaline falling, but Bruce notices the concussion and forces him to stay awake until the Batmobile comes to a stop in the cave and Alfred checks him over. 

He goes to bed immediately then, and when he wakes up in the morning he finds Bruce had taken the day off from work. He doesn't ask questions on why Dick was so upset the night before. He just smiles and holds up a pair of car keys. 

"Zoo?"

Dick grins back, even though the concussion still hurts and will probably hurt for a long time. 

But at least he's safe. 

At least he's found, and he has a feeling Bruce won't let him get lost ever again. Not on his watch. 

"Let me grab my shoes!" 

He runs back upstairs, his mouth hurting from smiling while Bruce lets out a genuine laugh behind him. 

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Worth the Risk | Bodhi Rook x Reader (2/2)

Words: 1839

A/N: I hope you've enjoyed this small continuation for [Run Away With Me]. I've been alternating between writing and drawing and I hope to one day tackle those big projects that I've been meaning to do for years. I like to think that my current skills won't do them justice, so I just have to keep on writing, keep on drawing, until I reach that level.

-

You couldn’t keep still as you neared the village where your parents had settled. They had set up a farm and built connections with their community. When you had asked for directions for their place, the people were hesitant in giving up such information until you told them who you were.

You regret not seeing them sooner. It had been years since you last saw them, but you always made sure that they were financially comfortable. Seeing them rush out of their home with gray streaks in their hair and the wrinkles on their face being more defined, you couldn’t help but cry into their shoulders as their bodies slammed into yours.

Your mother was making dinner with Desa’s help as you spoke to your father about your adventures and run-ins. Then it came to the part where not only were you smuggling goods, you were smuggling people. You didn’t know what to expect when telling them, but seeing the proud smile on your father’s face made you let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, and guess who we ran into a few years back?” your mother said from the kitchen. “That sweet boy that you always used to hang out with back on Jedha. Bodhi. Nice boy, though… he did have an Imperial uniform on…”

“What did you expect? The Empire had taken over Jedha,” your father replied.

“Well,” you said, straightening up in your seat, “He defected. He’s with the Rebel Alliance now. In fact, he had helped destroy the Death Star.”

“Oh, really?” your mother said excitedly, looking over her shoulder at you.

You nodded. “I’ve worked on a mission with him and his crew before.”

“Look at our kid, all grown up and fighting tyranny!” Your father exclaimed. “So, did you get a rebel uniform or something?”

“No, I… I’m not officially part of the Rebellion, but they said I was welcomed to join.”

“Well, why not? This will be good for you. You’d be in good hands. No more doing dangerous dealings.”

“I just thought it’d put the both of you in danger,” you said, frowning. “All this time, ever since we left Jedha, you guys had to hide. If I’m part of the cause that fights against the Empire, I thought that they’d try to go after you two again.”

Your mother sighed, wiping her hands before slinging the hand towel over her shoulder. She leaned against the counter and gave you a smile. “Sweetie. We’re okay. This community was built by people who swore to protect and look after one another and they are certainly against the Empire. I know it doesn’t mean that we’re completely safe, but no one truly is until this whole war is over.”

You leaned back in your chair and absorbed your mother’s words. She was right, of course, and you trying to remain neutral had been proven futile the more you witnessed the aftermath of the Empire’s rotten touch. Being neutral in this war will do no good for anyone. You needed to take a stand and commit to it. But, there was one other thing that you never thought you were afraid of until you looked back on it.

“Mom, when dad would travel to dangerous places or work with dangerous people or cargo, did you ever… thought of the worst? Like, if something were to happen to him, were you scared? Did you ever consider… not dealing with all of that anymore?”

Your mother nodded, taking the seat next to your father. He reached over and tangled his calloused fingers with her worn out ones. “Of course I have. Many times. Even when you grew up and went with him. I thought… our child shouldn’t have to live this life. In an ideal world, you wouldn’t have to. But you two always came back. My two loves. Even before you were born, when your father’s business started honest, it was still risky. We didn’t have much to begin with and there were risks of thieves and pirates stealing his goods. I thought of ways where we didn’t have to hustle and bleed and sweat to get by, but our situation wouldn’t allow that. I figured as long as we were together, we can get through it no matter what.”

She offered you a reassuring smile, untangling her hand from your father who pouted. She rubbed a hand on his back and whispered something about his palm getting sweaty. You followed her to the kitchen where Desa was finishing up the soup.

“How do I know that I’m making the right decision?” you asked her, the image of you breaking through the clouds and preparing to land on the tarmac of the Rebel base made your heart race.

“Did you think you were making the right decision saving all of those families?”

You nodded. “Well, yes, but…-”

“I think,” she squeezed your shoulders and looked you directly in the eyes, “you already know.”

Desa had told you almost the exact same thing, but it felt different coming from your mother. Like she was telling you to let go of your fears and do what your heart is telling you, to do what’s right. It was like a heavy weight had lifted from your shoulders, the sudden light feathery feeling making you anxious and excited.

“Mom…”

“Go, honey! And make you come visit us when you can or at least contact us as much as possible.”

You hugged your parents farewell and looked around for Desa. You didn’t even notice when she had left the house. There was only one place she could have gone. Jogging back to the ship, you already saw Desa warming up the engines.

“My current information claims that the Rebellion resides on the same planet that we had arrived on before,” she said as you aboard the ship, not at all surprised that you were there. “But they will relocate soon.”

“We should head there as soon as possible, then.”

-

Bodhi slid out from under the U-Wing with a long winded sigh, tossing the rag aside, his eyes drifting up tohe clear night sky. It’s a nice night to fly out, but the Rebellion had been on alert for any remaining Imperial soldiers that could find them. He needed to be ready at all times. It wasn’t just casual flying that he was yearning for.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that his feelings towards you became more than friendly, but he did remember his heart aching when he ran to your house and found it gone. All that remained was furniture, everything else stripped bare of any personality, as if your family left in a rush. Not enough time to say goodbye, then, he had thought. Surely, you had your reasons.

There were many times where he imagined how your reunion would go. That he’d be at the markets in Jedha, buying a meal with the extra credits he won from Sabaac, when you’d appear within the crowd, pushing passed everyone to get to him. Or maybe on one of his runs for the Empire, you’d be one of the traders that had his order to pick up. He’d ask you to leave with him, and you’d take his hand and fly away from the Empire.

He never thought he’d be able to defect, to be fighting alongside the rebels that fought against the tyrannical Empire. He went on a completely separate path than where he imagined he’d go. Imagining that you’d change your mind, that you’d come back and stay for good seemed childish now. That jittery childish feeling that he thought he had set aside years ago when he realized that you weren’t going to come back to Jedha had returned when he saw you as the mercenary that would help him and his crew on their mission. It wasn’t as if you’d suddenly show up in front of him, hovering in the sky and readying to land…

The mechanic working on the ship next to him dropped her tools, letting it cling and clatter against the tarmac as she left her station towards the runway. The others seemed to follow suit, everyone dropping what they were doing to look up at the sky. Bodhi sat up slowly, looking around him before following their line of sight.

As soon as you were in range, you made contact with the Rebel communication tower and was fortunately allowed through. You knew that it was a little late in the night for any ship to be arriving, but you didn’t want to wait. Not anymore.

You landed at the nearest empty spot on the tarmac and powered the engines down. You were surprised to see so many people still awake, but you suppose that, from Desa’s reports, they had been restless for the past couple of weeks. Desa lowered the ramp and helped gather your things.

You stood at the top of the ramp, your back facing out, and exhaled slowly. Was Bodhi mad at you? What if he refused to see you because of your avoidant behavior? You wouldn’t blame him, but still.

“(Y/n),” Desa said softly. She laid a metal hand on your shoulder, prompting you to turn around.

There at the base of the ramp was Bodhi. Your Bodhi. You searched his face for any signs of anger or resentment or anything. His eyes were watery as he offered you a smile. He spread his arms wide and waited.

Your heart swelled as you took one step, two steps, three, until you were running down towards him into his open arms. He immediately embraced you, squeezing you tightly as if preventing you from slipping away from him again. You hugged him back, closing your eyes and soaking yourself in his presence.

“I’m sorry, Bodhi, I-” you whimpered.

“Sh, it’s okay,” he whispered, rubbing your back. It was only then you noticed that you were shaking, tears pouring out of your eyes before you could do anything about it.

“I was too scared and I… I just kept pushing you away because of it and-”

“You’re here now.”

“I’m never leaving your side again, I promise.”

“Well, good. I need my stargazing partner.”

This feeling in your chest, like a water dam threatening to burst, was something that you didn’t fully understand. It was the years of suppressing certain emotions, a defense mechanism to protect you from the dangers that the galaxy held. You knew that with each moment that you dropped your defenses, a crack forms on the emotional water dam. That visit to your parents’ farm made you realize that it was okay to just… let it fall and flow freely.

It was now you fully realized what Bodhi meant to you. He was an amalgamation of your lost childhood, a reminder of goodness remaining in this galaxy, a symbol of hope and wonder, and a love that was worth the risk of love itself, the good, the bad, and everything that it has to offer.

[astroseri]

Full Moon in Taurus 🐮

Oct. 31, 2020,  14:49 GMT

Mercury retrograde has entered libra. So people you haven’t interacted with in a while, may still be returning to your life, especially females, old partners or 8th house people/Scorpios. This transit will end November 3rd. On the other hand you will be reflecting heavily on others and perhaps how you have wronged them or vice-versa. People are really going to be critical of others and society during this time, diving into the depths of conspiracy, power, corruption and how these themes and people take advantage of us.

Chart:

30-Day Horoscope (Oct 31 - Nov 30): Full Blue / Blood Moon in Taurus.

The Sun is striking the Moon from the 8th house which shows that other people’s values may be in conflict with your own during this time. And dark or repulsive secrets about powerful individuals including politicians and magnates will be revealed (Sun in scorpio in direct opposition to the moon). 

You may receive some transformative, shocking or conspiratorial information from people. This has a high chance of being from someone else’s daughter (Venus); especially any girl/woman you are partnered with, exchange with or have mutual agreements with (Venus in Libra). These will likely be about material matters including food, money; but about a lack of those things (scorpio) or it could be about dark topics. 

Sun in scorpio shows that during this time, people will be expressing their feelings and convictions about others and society (conspiracies, rants, exposures). These will invigorate a need to rebel (Uranus is conjunct the moon).

Our significant others (any significant person) during this time will reflect to us our wounds and insecurities (Venus Opposite Chiron). Especially involving our unconscious selves. The opinions and insight of others will help us get a more expansive perspective of reality.

The Moon (collective feelings)

During full moons the sun fully illuminates the moon. The moon is in Taurus, so there is an emphasis on material matters, attachments and basic values. Especially matters of the self (2nd cusp in Aries)—very basic needs and wants. It is conjunct Uranus and Lilith. The sun may be shining light on your guilty pleasures, toxic indulgences, and dark attachments to money. And also your need to break free or have emotional outbreaks. It will push a need to express your values and to become self-sustenant 🗣. 

In general, you will see people’s dark sides around money and resources. If you are a daughter, you may have a desire to find more financial independence from parents, especially a mother, but will have trouble actually following through or putting it into motion. Likewise as a son. Younger generations will feel very rebellious or independent. Meanwhile older folks—two Saturn returns or more—may find themselves in a state of confusion about the state of the world (but strongly reflecting on their individuality and subconscious fears). They will feel the need to rebel against parents as well except it will be subconscious. Their “parents” take shape as the government, authority, traditional media, newspapers etc; the structures their parents left behind. Unlike the younger folks, this will take place in the unconscious. So they experience it as fear or as denial instead of anger. Only the conscious and spiritual older folks will be aware of their inner truth.

---

Conclusion (Finding Success) ☊:

We will be blessed with a clear perception of reality during this time. Revelations from scorpio (power and world secrets), will bless us and assist us in forming our own opinions and feelings about the world (North Node is in 9th from sun). During this time we can get our bearings The opinions and expressions of others can assist us in...

 thinking for ourselves.

This is a strong time for self-expression. Thinking a lot about your values, your freedom and your individuality. Rebellion and uprising will be strong in the collective. No matter which country you’re from, you are likely to see footage of foreign or people from other communities rebelling (Jupiter rules other people, and is in the 11th). 9th is in Scorpio so you will get a plethora of revelations about occult topics and secret affairs from others. On the other hand, powerful people will be churning out manipulative information under the guise of being helpful and of being trusted authorities.

Whichever side you’re on, the other will appear to be churning out manipulative information. If you never developed your own system of belief, you will definitely be confused. There’s going to be many very convinced people and then those that don’t know what to believe. The truth is everyone should be like the convinced people, about their truth. Some will choose to have blind faith (martyrdom). This is not supported during this time. The only opinion that won’t confuse you and throw you off center is what... 

you already think on your own.

---

What to detach from ☋: Because, the shadow side of pisces is being gullible, taken advantage of and confused. During this time we are called to detach from external belief systems. Other people’s belief systems will appear to be the reality (10th in Sag). But the South Node is conjunct 10th cusp and is calling you to leave that behind. It is casting a fog over that area. You are likely to unconsciously copy others or be deceived in terms of external beliefs. Leave behind the idea of “reality”, truth, facts and safety. Instead go with beliefs, feelings, intuition and what matters (values). Much credible information will be revealed about our politicians and the people in power, and for many there will be a sense that we have answers to reality. On the other hand, since what is being expressed is scorpio, there will equally be a lot of manipulative information meant to cloud your perception (this will be from powerful people, politicians, social media companies, and magnates). You will not know what to believe, because the north node wants you to believe what YOU already think and your feelings and discard everything else. And, if needed, express YOUR thoughts 🗣

This month will be a fantastic time to do a detox from social media or to delete it temporarily (I will definitely be doing this). As well as from news and media. Ironically these things will be more tempting than ever... (Scorpio topics are magnetic. You will be very tempted to indulge in the world “tea.” It will be endless.) The more you listen to others’ opinions during this time, the less you will know what to believe, and you will lose faith in yourself. It will mislead you from your truth and sense of stability if you try to seek information right now. The important information will get to you by itself.

The Universe is heavily supporting those that only get their information from what their intuition tells them and from day to day interaction with local family and friends. From doing this you will reveal your truth and become a thought leader! ---  I know we are in a political debate, race war, and a scientific frenzy. But the reality is that the world is in a huge RELIGIOUS frenzy (9th house). In terms of the pandemic, people are going back and forth naming beliefs, not facts (because nobody knows the truth about the virus ♏️)). Both sides of the population are calling each other misinformation. But I highly doubt either side are lying or trying to be deceptive. Coronavirus is honestly a religion at this point. There are atheists and believers. To avoid becoming religious during this time you are supposed to take what other’s say and use it to confirm what you already see to be true (discard the rest)! And not to care about the debate. Have faith in your truth. Never believe things you don’t understand. You don’t ever have to do that.

[vvivacious101]

Re-rewatching S06E20 - The Man Who Would Be King

I have no words. This episode manages to floor me every single time. In 2020, when we have season 15 with all it’s blatant focus on Cas and Dean and their relationship, I’m still astounded by the sheer depth of this episode. It is so good. It is so heart-wrenching. It’s like witnessing a break-up. Wait, scratch that, it’s exactly like a break-up.

Rachel: What does God want?

Cas: God wants you to have freedom.

Rachel: What does he want us to do with it?

Cas: [narrating] If I knew then what I know now, I might have said, "It's simple. Freedom is a length of rope. God wants you to hang yourself with it."

This is Cas’ side of the story and it’s humbling. I mean a lot of the choices Cas makes aren’t bad. He realises that angels aren’t really built for freedom but he forgets he’s an angel too and literally freedom isn’t such an easy thing to deal with because as Cas realises with freedom comes responsibility and even so late in season 6, Cas wants to give up the responsibility.

In 4x16, On the Head of a Pin, when Cas first considered rebellion he went to Anna because he wanted her to make the decision for him but she refused which prepared Cas for just how treacherous the path he was preparing to walk on was but in a way, he never really understood it and I feel like Cas only ever learnt responsibilty after this disastrous attempt to do the right thing.

Those first weeks back in Heaven were surprisingly difficult. Explaining freedom to angels is a bit like teaching poetry to fish.

Of course, Cas with his talk of freedom comes in direct conflict with the new boss in town, Raphael who just wants the Apocalypse TFW averted back on the road. Cas tries to resist but it is made amply clear that Cas has nothing on Raphael.

So he turns to someone for help. Is it any surprise that he turns to Dean? I still regret that Dean actually doesn’t know this but the first time Cas was in trouble and he wanted help, he went to Dean but it was only his love for Dean that prevented him from breaching what he saw as Dean’s sanctuary.

And, that’s when Crowley saw his opportunity to strike. He convinces Cas that with the untapped potential of Purgatory on their side, he can defeat Raphael. Crowley of course already has a plan in place to figure out just where Purgatory is and Cas reluctantly agress. He starts a civil war in Heaven and teams up with Crowley to figure out where Purgatory is.

Presently, Crowley wants to get rid of the Winchesters but Cas won’t allow that no matter how good of an argument Crowley presents.

Cas: Don't worry about the Winchesters.

Crowley: Don't worry about... what, like Lucifer didn't worry? Or Michael, or Lilith, or Alistair, or Azazel didn't worry? Am I the only game piece on the board who doesn't underestimate those denim-wrapped nightmares?

Meanwhile, Sam, Dean and Bobby who, now that they know Crowley is alive, are looking for him behind Cas’ back. What they don’t know is that Cas is spying on them and he knows exactly what they are doing? Unfortuantely, Cas let’s slip something he couldn’t possibly have known and that’s when it shatters.

Dean’s trust in Cas. This entire episode is Dean defending Cas against Bobby and Sam but even more amazing is the fact that Dean doesn’t denounce Cas even when Cas admits to working with Crowley. Dean tells him that they can fix it and despite, everything Dean is ready to mend fences and move on and it isn’t till the very end when despite Dean begging Cas not to follow through on what he has set out to do, Cas refuses that these two truly break.

God, the dialogues in this episode are just so good but the ones between Dean and Cas... like, are so intense, like it’s unbelievable. We have Bobby, Sam and Dean confronting Cas and Bobby and Sam are just throwing accusations but you know what Dean’s says, Dean says this -

You got to look at me, man. You got to level with me and tell me what’s going on. Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not working with Crowley.

Like, I literally explode every time I hear this dialogue, like look me in the eye. All Dean wants is for Cas to meet his gaze and it literally doesn’t take him more than a few seconds to read Cas. Like the moment their eyes meet Dean can tell Cas is in fact working with Crowley. How has anyone not noticed just how blatant this moment is?

Cas: Raphael will kill us all. He'll turn the world into a graveyard. I had no choice.

Dean: No, you had a choice. You just made the wrong one.

Cas: You don’t understand. It’s complicated.

Dean: No, actually it’s not, and you know that. Why else would you keep this whole thing a secret, huh, unless you knew that it was wrong? When crap like this comes around we deal with it, like we always have. What we don’t do is we don’t go out and make another deal with the devil!

Cas: It sounds so simple when you say it like that. Where were you when I needed to hear it?

Dean: I was there. Where were you?

Like if this episode was trying to kill me it is doing an amazing job of it.

Dean: It's not too late. Dammit Cas we can fix this.

Cas: Dean, it's not broken.

The whole moment of hesitation that Dean has at the doorway... I don’t even have words for it.

And Cas wants to explain himself to Dean and specifically Dean because after the initial encounter goes to hell in a handbasket, Cas goes to explain himself to Dean, again.

The most important thing that Cas stresses on is that he is doing this for Dean, he doesn’t even try to bring up anyone else because after all Cas’ biggest motivation and truthfully his only motivation to avert the apocalypse and prevent it from ever going down is Dean.

The scene just before the last one in Bobby’s study/kitchen is oddly reminiscent of a similar scene from 4x02 - Are You There, God? It's Me, Dean Winchester. It’s like these two scenes are bookending their own little saga of Dean and Cas with that initial meeting and now with this breakup.

Before, I get into the meaning of it all, I would like to discuss another piece of dialogue. This one -

Sam: Look, Dean, he's our friend, too, okay? And I'd die for him, I would. But... I'm praying we're wrong here.

Bobby: But if we ain't, if there's a snowball of a snowball's chance here, that means we're dealing with a Superman who's gone dark side. Which means we gotta be cautious, we gotta be smart, and maybe stock up on some kryptonite.

Dean: [to Sam] This makes you Lois Lane.

This is a metaphor with Cas being Superman and no one needed to bring up Lois Lane but Dean does, which immediately puts a love interest into mind, specifically Cas’ love interest and the weird thing is Dean declares Sam as Cas’ Lois Lane when we all know that if anybody is Lois Lane in this metaphor it’s Dean. So, thank you, Dean for pointing that out.

Over time, I think I have often come back to this episode to point out that this was the episode that established that Cas loved Dean beyond any shadow of doubt what motivates Cas, what distresses him, the person he needs most on his side are all answers you can find in Dean Winchester. The person who teaches Cas free will and gives him his freedom, the person he turns to for help, the person he wants to protect at all costs and finally the person he desperately wants on his side. After all, he specifically goes to Dean to explain his reasons for doing what he’s doing. At this point, I don’t even think I need to point out that Dean and Cas are very, very different from Cas and Sam or Cas and Bobby. Though Cas betrayed all three of them, he only seems to really care about what Dean’s saying.

But, I think just because the narrative’s focus is on Cas, I forget how important this episode is for establishing Dean’s feelings for Cas. Like the whole “look me in the eye thing”, like that line spearates Dean and Cas and puts them in their own universe like Dean knows Cas can’t lie to him and Cas doesn’t even say a word but Dean knows. I mean for a relationship that consists of the most intense eye contacts in history, I seem to forget how much they seem to communicate with their eyes. And despite everything Cas does Dean wants to help him fix it, he doesn’t give up on Cas not even the second time Cas comes to talk to him, he wants to help, he wants Cas to abandon his plan of action and it’s only when Cas draws a line in the sand that Dean really consider a different course of actions.

It’s amazing how much drama Supernatural can generate simply by pitting Dean and Cas against each other, just a simple line of dialogue and the stakes sky rocket because we all know waht Dean and Cas mean to each other.

[mattbrothersscriptwriter]

My Top 20 Films of 2019 - Part Two

I don’t think I’ve had a year where my top ten jostled and shifted as much as this one did - these really are the best of the best and my personal favourites of 2019.

10. Toy Story 4

I think we can all agree that Toy Story 3 was a pretty much perfect conclusion to a perfect trilogy right? About as close as is likely to get, I’m sure. I shared the same trepidation when part four was announced, especially after some underwhelming sequels like Finding Dory and Cars 3 (though I do have a lot of time for Monsters University and Incredibles 2). So maybe it’s because the odds were so stacked against this being good but I thought it was wonderful. A truly existential nightmare of an epilogue that does away with Andy (and mostly kids altogether) to focus on the dreams and desires of the toys themselves - separate from their ‘duties’ as playthings to biological Gods. What is their purpose in life without an owner? Can they be their own person and carve their own path? In the case of breakout new character Forky (Tony Hale), what IS life? Big big questions for a cash grab kids films huh?

The animation is somehow yet another huge leap forward (that opening rainstorm!), Bo Peep’s return is excellently pitched and the series tradition of being unnervingly horrifying is back as well thanks to those creepy ventriloquist dolls! Keanu Reeves continues his ‘Keanuassaince‘ as the hilarious Duke Caboom and this time, hopefully, the ending at least feels finite. This series means so much to me: I think the first movie is possibly the tightest, most perfect script ever written, the third is one of my favourites of the decade and growing up with the franchise (I was 9 when the first came out, 13 for part two, 24 for part three and now 32 for this one), these characters are like old friends so of course it was great to see them again. All this film had to do was be good enough to justify its existence and while there are certainly those out there that don’t believe this one managed it, I think the fact that it went as far as it did showed that Pixar are still capable of pushing boundaries and exploring infinity and beyond when they really put their minds to it.

9. The Nightingale

Hoo boy. Already controversial with talk of mass walkouts (I witnessed a few when this screened at Sundance London), it’s not hard to see why but easy to understand. Jennifer Kent (The Babadook) is a truly fearless filmmaker following up her acclaimed suburban horror movie come grief allegory with a period revenge tale set in the Tasmanian wilderness during British colonial rule in the early 1800s. It’s rare to see the British depicted with the monstrous brutality for which they were known in the distant colonies and this unflinching drama sorely needed an Australian voice behind the camera to do it justice.

The film is front loaded with some genuinely upsetting, nasty scenes of cruel violence but its uncensored brutality and the almost casual nature of its depiction is entirely the point - this was normalised behaviour over there and by treating it so matter of factly, it doesn’t slip into gratuitous ‘movie violence’. It is what it is. And what it is is hard to watch. If anything, as Kent has often stated, it’s still toned down from the actual atrocities that occurred so it’s a delicate balance that I think Kent more than understands. Quoting from an excellent Vanity Fair interview she did about how she directs, Kent said “I think audiences have become very anaesthetised to violence on screen and it’s something I find disturbing... People say ‘these scenes are so shocking and disturbing’. Of course they are. We need to feel that. When we become so removed from violence on screen, this is a very irresponsible thing. So I wanted to put us right within the frame with that person experiencing the loss of everything they hold dear”. 

Aisling Franciosi is next level here as a woman who has her whole life torn from her, leaving her as nothing but a raging husk out for vengeance. It would be so easy to fall into odd couple tropes once she teams up with reluctant native tracker Billy (an equally impressive newcomer, Baykali Ganambarr) but the film continues to stay true to the harsh racism of the era, unafraid to depict our heroine - our point of sympathy - as horrendously racist towards her own ally. Their partnership is not easily solidified but that makes it all the stronger when they star to trust each other. Sam Claflin is also career best here, weaponizing his usual charm into dangerous menace and even after cementing himself as the year’s most evil villain, he can still draw out the humanity in such a broken and corrupt man.

Gorgeously shot in the Academy ratio, the forest landscape here is oppressive and claustrophobic. Kent also steps back into her horror roots with some mesmerising, skin crawling dream scenes that amplify the woozy nightmarish tone and overbearing sense of dread. Once seen, never forgotten, this is not going to be everyone’s cup of tea (and that’s fine) but when cinema can affect you on such a visceral level and be this powerful, reflective and honest about our own past, it’s hard to ignore. Stunning.

8. The Irishman

Aka Martin Scorsese’s magnum opus, I did manage to see this one in a cinema before the Netflix drop and absolutely loved it. I’ve watched 85 minute long movies that felt longer than this - Marty’s mastery of pace, energy and knowing when to let things play out in agonising detail is second to none. This epic tale of  the life of Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro) really is the cinematic equivalent of having your cake and eating it too, allowing Scorsese to run through a greatest hits victory lap of mobster set pieces, alpha male arguments, a decades spanning life story and one (last?) truly great Joe Pesci performance before simply letting the story... continue... to a natural, depressing and tragic ending, reflecting the emptiness of a life built on violence and crime.

For a film this long, it’s impressive how much the smallest details make the biggest impacts. A stammering phone call from a man emotionally incapable of offering any sort of condolence. The cold refusal of forgiveness from a once loving daughter. A simple mirroring of a bowl of cereal or a door left slightly ajar. These are the parts of life that haunt us all and it’s what we notice the most in a deliberately lengthy biopic that shows how much these things matter when everything else is said and done. The violence explodes in sudden, sharp bursts, often capping off unbearably tense sequences filled with the everyday (a car ride, a conversation about fish, ice cream...) and this contrast between the whizz bang of classic Scorsese and the contemplative nature of Silence era Scorsese is what makes this film feel like such an accomplishment. De Niro is FINALLY back but it’s the memorably against type role for Pesci and an invigorated Al Pacino who steals this one, along with a roll call of fantastic cameos, with perhaps the most screentime given to the wonderfully petty Stephen Graham as Tony Pro, not to mention Anna Paquin’s near silent performance which says more than possibly anyone else. 

Yes, the CG de-aging is misguided at best, distracting at worst (I never really knew how old anyone was meant to be at any given time... which is kinda a problem) but like how you get used to it really quickly when it’s used well, here I kinda got past it being bad in an equally fast amount of time and just went with it. Would it have been a different beast had they cast younger actors to play them in the past? Undoubtedly. But if this gives us over three hours of Hollywood’s finest giving it their all for the last real time together, then that’s a compromise I can live with.

7. The Last Black Man in San Francisco

Wow. I was in love with this film from the moving first trailer but then the film itself surpassed all expectations. This is a true indie film success story, with lead actor Jimmie Fails developing the idea with director Joe Talbot for years before Kickstarting a proof of concept and eventually getting into Sundance with short film American Paradise, which led to the backing of this debut feature through Plan B and A24. The deeply personal and poetic drama follows a fictionalised version of Jimmie, trying to buy back an old Victorian town house he claims was built by his grandfather, in an act of rebellion against the increasingly gentrified San Francisco that both he and director Talbot call home.

The film is many things - a story of male friendship, of solidarity within our community, of how our cities can change right from underneath us - it moves to the beat of it’s own drum, with painterly cinematography full of gorgeous autumnal colours and my favourite score of the year from Emile Mosseri. The performances, mostly by newcomers or locals outside of brilliant turns from Jonathan Majors, Danny Glover and Thora Birch, are wonderful and the whole thing is such a beautiful love letter to the city that it makes you ache for a strong sense of place in your own home, even if your relationship with it is fractured or strained. As Jimmie says, “you’re not allowed to hate it unless you love it”.

For me, last year’s Blindspotting (my favourite film of the year) tackled gentrification within California more succinctly but this much more lyrical piece of work ebbs and flows through a number of themes like identity, family, memory and time. It’s a big film living inside a small, personal one and it is not to be overlooked.

6. Little Women

I had neither read the book nor seen any prior adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s 1868 novel so to me, this is by default the definitive telling of this story. If from what I hear, the non linear structure is Greta Gerwig’s addition, then it’s a total slam dunk. It works so well in breaking up the narrative and by jumping from past to present, her screenplay highlights certain moments and decisions with a palpable sense of irony, emotional weight or knowing wink. Getting to see a statement made with sincere conviction and then paid off within seconds, can be both a joy and a surefire recipe for tears. Whether it’s the devastating contrast between scenes centred around Beth’s illness or the juxtaposition of character’s attitudes to one another, it’s a massive triumph. Watching Amy angrily tell Laurie how she’s been in love with him all her life and then cutting back to her childishly making a plaster cast of her foot for him (’to remind him how small her feet are’) is so funny. 

Gerwig and her impeccable cast bring an electric energy to the period setting, capturing the big, messy realities of family life with a mix of overwhelming cross-chatter and the smallest of intimate gestures. It’s a testament to the film that every sister feels fully serviced and represented, from Beth’s quiet strength to Amy’s unforgivable sibling rivalry. Chris Cooper’s turn as a stoic man suffering almost imperceptible grief is a personal heartbreaking favourite. 

The book’s (I’m assuming) most sweeping romantic statements are wonderfully delivered, full of urgent passion and relatable heartache, from Marmie’s (Laura Dern) “I’m angry nearly every day of my life” moment to Jo’s (Saoirse Ronan) painful defiance of feminine attributes not being enough to cure her loneliness. The sheer amount of heart and warmth in this is just remarkable and I can easily see it being a film I return to again and again.

5. Booksmart

2019 has been a banner year for female directors, making their exclusion from some of the early awards conversations all the more damning. From this list alone, we have Lulu Wang, Jennifer Kent and Greta Gerwig. Not to mention Lorene Scafaria (Hustlers), Melina Matsoukas (Queen & Slim), Jocelyn DeBoer & Dawn Luebbe (Greener Grass), Sophie Hyde (Animals) and Rose Glass (Saint Maud - watch out for THIS one in 2020, it’s brilliant). Perhaps the most natural transition from in front of to behind the camera has been made by Olivia Wilde, who has created a borderline perfect teen comedy that can make you laugh till you cry, cry till you laugh and everything in-between.

Subverting the (usually male focused) ‘one last party before college’ tropes that fuel the likes of Superbad and it’s many inferior imitators, Booksmart follows two overachievers who, rather than go on a coming of age journey to get some booze or get laid, simply want to indulge in an insane night of teenage freedom after realising that all of the ‘cool kids’ who they assumed were dropouts, also managed to get a place in all of the big universities. It’s a subtly clever remix of an old favourite from the get go but the committed performances from Kaitlyn Dever and Beanie Feldstein put you firmly in their shoes for the whole ride. 

It’s a genuine blast, with big laughs and a bigger heart, portraying a supportive female friendship that doesn’t rely on hokey contrivances to tear them apart, meaning that when certain repressed feelings do come to the surface, the fallout is heartbreaking. As I stated in a twitter rave after first seeing it back in May, every single character, no matter how much they might appear to be simply representing a stock role or genre trope, gets their moment to be humanised. This is an impeccably cast ensemble of young unknowns who constantly surprise and the script is a marvel - a watertight structure without a beat out of place, callbacks and payoffs to throwaway gags circle back to be hugely important and most of all, the approach taken to sexuality and representation feels so natural. I really think it is destined to be looked back on and represent 2019 the way Heathers does ‘88, Clueless ‘95 or Easy A 2010. A new high benchmark for crowd pleasing, indie comedy - teen or otherwise.

4. Ad Astra

Brad Pitt is one of my favourite actors and one who, despite still being a huge A-lister even after 30 years in the game, never seems to get enough credit for the choices he makes, the movies he stars in and also the range of stories he helps produce through his company, Plan B. 2019 was something of a comeback year for Pitt as an actor with the insanely measured and controlled lead performance seen here in Ad Astra and the more charismatic and chaotic supporting role in Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood.

I love space movies, especially those that are more about broken people blasting themselves into the unknown to search for answers within themselves... which manages to sum up a lot of recent output in this weirdly specific sub-genre. First Man was a devastating look at grief characterised by a man who would rather go to a desolate rock than have to confront what he lost, all while being packaged as a heroic biopic with a stunning score. Gravity and The Martian both find their protagonists forced to rely on their own cunning and ingenuity to survive and Interstellar looked at the lengths we go to for those we love left behind. Smaller, arty character studies like High Life or Moon are also astounding. All of this is to say that Ad Astra takes these concepts and runs with them, challenging Pitt to cross the solar system to talk some sense into his long thought dead father (Tommy Lee Jones). But within all the ‘sad dad’ stuff, there’s another film in here just daring you to try and second guess it - one that kicks things off with a terrifying free fall from space, gives us a Mad Max style buggy chase on the moon and sidesteps into horror for one particular set-piece involving a rabid baboon in zero G! It manages to feel so completely nuts, so episodic in structure, that I understand why a lot of people were turned off - feeling that the overall film was too scattershot to land the drama or too pondering to have any fun with. I get the criticisms but for me, both elements worked in tandem, propelling Pitt on this (assumed) one way journey at a crazy pace whilst sitting back and languishing in the ‘bigger themes’ more associated with a Malik or Kubrick film. Something that Pitt can sell me on in his sleep by this point.

I loved the visuals from cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema (Interstellar), loved the imagination and flair of the script from director James Gray and Ethan Gross and loved the score by Max Richter (with Lorne Balfe and Nils Frahm) but most of all, loved Pitt, proving that sometimes a lot less, is a lot more. The sting of hearing the one thing he surely knew (but hoped he wouldn’t) be destined to hear from his absent father, acted almost entirely in his eyes during a third act confrontation, summed up the movie’s brilliance for me - so much so that I can forgive some of the more outlandish ‘Mr Hyde’ moments of this thing’s alter ego... like, say, riding a piece of damaged hull like a surfboard through a meteor debris field! 

3. Avengers: Endgame

It’s no secret that I think Marvel, the MCU in particular, have been going from strength to strength in recent years, slowly but surely taking bigger risks with filmmakers (the bonkers Taika Waititi, the indie darlings of Ryan Coogler, Cate Shortland and Chloe Zhao) whilst also carefully crafting an entertaining, interconnected universe of characters and stories. But what is the point of building up any movie ‘universe’ if you’re not going to pay it off and Endgame is perhaps the strongest conclusion to eleven years of movie sequels that fans could have possibly hoped for.

Going into this thing, the hype was off the charts (and for good reason, with it now being the highest grossing film of all time) but I remember souring on the first entry of this two-parter, Infinity War, during the time between initial release and Endgame’s premiere. That film had a game-changing climax, killing off half the heroes (and indeed the universe’s population) and letting the credits role on the villain having achieved his ultimate goal. It was daring, especially for a mammoth summer blockbuster but obviously, we all knew the deaths would never be permanent, especially with so many already-announced sequels for now ‘dusted’ characters. However, it wasn’t just the feeling that everything would inevitably be alright in the end. For me, the characters themselves felt hugely under-serviced, with arguably the franchise’s main goody two shoes Captain America being little more than a beardy bloke who showed up to fight a little bit. Basically what I’m getting at is that I felt Endgame, perhaps emboldened by the giant runtime, managed to not only address these character slights but ALSO managed to deliver the most action packed, comic booky, ‘bashing your toys together’ final fight as well.

It’s a film of three parts, each pretty much broken up into one hour sections. There’s the genuinely new and interesting initial section following our heroes dealing with the fact that they lost... and it stuck. Thor angrily kills Thanos within the first fifteen minutes but it’s a meaningless action by this point - empty revenge. Cutting to five years later, we get to see how defeat has affected them, for better or worse, trying to come to terms with grief and acceptance. Cap tries to help the everyman, Black Widow is out leading an intergalactic mop up squad and Thor is wallowing in a depressive black hole. It’s a shocking and vibrantly compelling deconstruction of the whole superhero thing and it gives the actors some real meat to chew on, especially Robert Downy Jr here who goes from being utterly broken to fighting within himself to do the right thing despite now having a daughter he doesn’t want to lose too. Part two is the trip down memory lane, fan service-y time heist which is possibly the most fun section of any of these movies, paying tribute to the franchise’s past whilst teetering on a knife’s edge trying to pull off a genuine ‘mission impossible’. And then it explodes into the extended finale which pays everyone off, demonstrates some brilliantly imaginative action and sticks the landing better than it had any right to. In a year which saw the ending of a handful of massive geek properties, from Game of Thrones to Star Wars, it’s a miracle even one of them got it right at all. That Endgame managed to get it SO right is an extraordinary accomplishment and if anything, I think Marvel may have shot themselves in the foot as it’s hard to imagine anything they can give us in the future having the intense emotional weight and momentum of this huge finale.

2. Knives Out

Rian Johnson has been having a ball leaping into genre sandpits and stirring shit up, from his teen spin on noir in Brick to his quirky con man caper with The Brothers Bloom, his time travel thriller Looper and even his approach to the Star Wars mythos in The Last Jedi. Turning his attention to the relatively dead ‘whodunnit’ genre, Knives Out is a perfect example of how to celebrate everything that excites you about a genre whilst weaponizing it’s tropes against your audience’s baggage and preconceptions.

An impeccable cast have the time of their lives here, revelling in playing self obsessed narcissists who scramble to punt the blame around when the family’s patriarch, a successful crime novelist (Christopher Plummer), winds up dead. Of course there’s something fishy going on so Daniel Craig’s brilliantly dry southern detective Benoit Blanc is called in to investigate.There are plenty of standouts here, from Don Johnson’s ignorant alpha wannabe Richard to Michael Shannon’s ferocious eldest son Walt to Chris Evan’s sweater wearing jock Ransom, full of unchecked, white privilege swagger. But the surprise was the wholly sympathetic, meek, vomit prone Marta, played brilliantly by Ana de Armas, cast against her usual type of sultry bombshell (Knock Knock, Blade Runner 2049), to spearhead the biggest shake up of the genre conventions. To go into more detail would begin to tread into spoiler territory but by flipping the audience’s engagement with the detective, we’re suddenly on the receiving end of the scrutiny and the tension derived from this switcheroo is genius and opens up the second act of the story immensely.

The whole thing is so lovingly crafted and the script is one of the tightest I’ve seen in years. The amount of setup and payoff here is staggering and never not hugely satisfying, especially as it heads into it’s final stretch. It really gives you some hope that you could have such a dense, plotty, character driven idea for a story and that it could survive the transition from page to screen intact and for the finished product to work as well as it does. I really hope Johnson returns to tell another Benoit Blanc mystery and judging by the roaring box office success (currently over $200 million worldwide for a non IP original), I certainly believe he will.

1. Eighth Grade

My film of the year is another example of the power of cinema to put us in other people’s shoes and to discover the traits, fears, joys and insecurities that we all share irregardless. It may shock you to learn this but I have never been a 13 year old teenage girl trying to get by in the modern world of social media peer pressure and ‘influencer’ culture whilst crippled with personal anxiety. My school days almost literally could not have looked more different than this (less Instagram, more POGs) and yet, this is a film about struggling with oneself, with loneliness, with wanting more but not knowing how to get it without changing yourself and the careless way we treat those with our best interests at heart in our selfish attempt to impress peers and fit in. That is understandable. That is universal. And as I’m sure I’ve said a bunch of times in this list, movies that present the most specific worldview whilst tapping into universal themes are the ones that inevitably resonate the most.

Youtuber and comedian Bo Burnham has crafted an impeccable debut feature, somehow portraying a generation of teens at least a couple of generations below his own, with such laser focused insight and intimate detail. It’s no accident that this film has often been called a sort of social-horror, with cringe levels off the charts and recognisable trappings of anxiety and depression in every frame. The film’s style services this feeling at every turn, from it’s long takes and nauseous handheld camerawork to the sensory overload in it’s score (take a bow Anna Meredith) and the naturalistic performances from all involved. Burnham struck gold when he found Elsie Fisher, delivering the most painful and effortlessly real portrayal of a tweenager in crisis as Kayla. The way she glances around skittishly, the way she is completely lost in her phone, the way she talks, even the way she breathes all feeds into the illusion - the film is oftentimes less a studio style teen comedy and more a fly on the wall documentary. 

This is a film that could have coasted on being a distant, social media based cousin to more standard fare like Sex Drive or Superbad or even Easy A but it goes much deeper, unafraid to let you lower your guard and suddenly hit you with the most terrifying scene of casually attempted sexual aggression or let you watch this pure, kindhearted girl falter and question herself in ways she shouldn’t even have to worry about. And at it’s core, there is another beautiful father/daughter relationship, with Josh Hamilton stuck on the outside looking in, desperate to help Kayla with every fibre of his being but knowing there are certain things she has to figure out for herself. It absolutely had me and their scene around a backyard campfire is one of the year’s most touching.

This is a truly remarkable film that I think everyone should seek out but I’m especially excited for all the actual teenage girls who will get to watch this and feel seen. This isn’t about the popular kid, it isn’t about the dork who hangs out with his or her own band of misfits. This is about the true loner, that person trying everything to get noticed and still ending up invisible, that person trying to connect through the most disconnected means there is - the internet - and everything that comes with it. Learning that the version of yourself you ‘portray’ on a Youtube channel may act like they have all the answers but if you’re kidding yourself then how do you grow? 

When I saw this in the cinema, I watched a mother take her seat with her two daughters, aged probably at around nine and twelve. Possibly a touch young for this, I thought, and I admit I cringed a bit on their behalf during some very adult trailers but in the end, I’m glad their mum decided they were mature enough to see this because a) they had a total blast and b) life simply IS R rated for the most part, especially during our school years, and those girls being able to see someone like Kayla have her story told on the big screen felt like a huge win. I honestly can’t wait to see what Burnham or Fisher decide to do next. 2019 has absolutely been their year... and it’s been a hell of a year.

[ms-demeanor]

Thanks for answering my ask, but I wasn’t really asking about the actions of the black bloc/violent protestors at a given protest. What I want to know is if this actually works in any larger sense - cause it seems mostly like it’s just a weird kind of performance, gesturing at full armed rebellion but never going there and never actually effecting change. And like, I accept that I’m a fool for wanting nonviolent change, but I’m not sure the presented alternative does much better?

Now, it’s not really discussed in that article (only vaguely touched on when they mention that the anarchists showed up early for the counterprotest) but based on the timing of certain tweets and calls to action it’s pretty clear that the march fizzled because Andrew Aglin couldn’t get people to show up when there was already a large group of counterprotesters who had made it clear they were not going to respond to violence with nonviolence.

Alt-right protests and marches before Charlottesville didn’t have such clear uniforms and tactics - the khakis-and-polos along with sticks and shields are a fairly clear (to me) indication that the white supremacist organizers saw black bloc as a tactic worth preparing against.

The KKK didn’t fear the hippies. They feared the Black Panthers.

In 2017 20 states saw bills to limit protesting put before their legislatures. Thankfully not many of them passed, but a few did.

These bills varied in their terms, a few naming masks and facial coverings as being a problem but most of them focused on something else: blocking roads.

THAT’S the tactic that these states think is too extreme - blocking the road.

You know, that thing those protestors in Hong Kong were doing. That thing that a bunch of folks online are praising for being “polite” and “classy” and that Hong Kong’s police commissioner is calling a riot.

Here’s the thing, if you’re asking “does black bloc” work you’ve kind of got to ask “does any protest work?”

What does protest accomplish?

About six million people marched at the Women’s Marches in January of 2017. Did they accomplish their goals?

I’m going to say, just from the rollbacks on trans protections and widespread bills that erode abortion protections, “no.”

Now, that doesn’t mean that their mission is complete and that they didn’t hit the mark and decided that “eh, one day of pussy hats was good enough.” They’re still working.

But is it doing anything?

That’s really hard to say.

Also, I’d like to point out that while the Women’s March was praised for its nonviolence commentators were quick to point out how rude and lewd their signs were and how much trash was left behind.

Which is why a lot of anarchists react to the question of “does black bloc accomplish anything” as a form of tone policing that’s almost meaningless.

Black bloc forms up and protects nonviolent protesters and carries injured people away from riot cops. Someone punches a white supremacist and it becomes a meme. All antifa are violent thugs, they’re the real fascists because they want to limit speech through violence.

Black Lives Matter and Occupy Wall Street and Labor Day marches block freeways to protest violence and inequality. They part for ambulances, someone breaks a window. These leftists don’t have any respect for people who are just trying to live their lives and get to work; they care more about burning trashcans and breaking windows than they do about the workers they claim to protect - what if it was a black woman who owned that starbucks that they damaged in their riot, did they ever think of that?

The women’s march is full of speakers telling deeply personal stories, individuals reaching out and offering care and comfort to one another, and even a few stories about how well these protestors can get along with the police; we’re not so different after all! But wow, a lot of their posters had genitals or sexual slogans on them, and they left behind a lot of trash. This isn’t appropriate for children, and if they care about the environment so much why are they littering? What a bunch of nasty, shrewish women. They’re just mad that Hillary lost.

You say:

it seems mostly like it’s just a weird kind of performance, gesturing at full armed rebellion but never going there and never actually effecting change

and I’m going to have to say that all protest is performance. Protests aren’t about *doing things* they’re about showing up and being seen in support of an idea. And I do think that protest accomplishes some things; it lets people know they aren’t alone, it raises awareness of issues. Those are fine things.

As to the armed insurrection bit - well, have a tremendously ironic image:

That sign, being held by a navy veteran, says “if you need violence to enforce your ideas then your ideas are worthless.”

I don’t think you could have a clearer image of the concept of “the state monopoly on violence” than a military veteran chiding protesters for throwing rocks at cops and breaking windows.

The article that featured that photo shows a fascinating tension. You’ve got people at a peaceful protest saying “we’ve got to make sure the nazis know they can’t just show up and spew their hate” who don’t seem to realize that the nazis showed up in spite of the peaceful protest and were chased away by a black bloc. You’ve got the alt-right protest organizer failing to do her paperwork (typical; if your protest fizzles you can always say “the city would’t give us a permit” or “there were logistical problems” instead of “I couldn’t get more than twenty guys to commit to showing up”). My favorite bit of the article is where they admit that police were overwhelmed by antifa and that thirteen arrests were made and there were 6 people injured, two of whom were taken to the hospital. Man, for an out-of control bunch of thugs hellbent on punching nazis that’s some admirable restraint.

So there’s this conflict I’ve got. On the one hand a pretty goddamned big part of me *wants* armed insurrection against, for instance, the police. The police kill people with impunity and I think it’s a gigantic problem, especially considering the issues that we have in the US with white supremacists “infiltrating” the police and military and such.

On the other hand if you’re driving your reinforced bulldozer into an old lady’s house because she used to be married to the mayor who wouldn’t grant you a permit for your muffler shop you’re not exactly part of the solution.

Getting back to insurrection:

One of the things that I DO think black blocs accomplish is to get people to question the legitimacy of the state’s monopoly on violence. The nonviolent clergy could have been badly beaten while the cops looked on impassively except that a bunch of ballsy motherfuckers decided not to let that happen. And some of them got arrested for it. People went to protest Donald Trump’s inauguration and a bunch of protesters got injured after there was some property damage - but there was also video of police targeting people who were helping street medics and of of people protecting injured people from the police. THAT I think is valuable, the illustration that you can do the right thing even if it is illegal. I think that’s effective and I think it’s heroic.

Anarchists have been debating the value of violence as a mover for social change for, like, a hundred years. You’ll note that we’re not dealing with assassinations or bombings in this discussion, but punching a few guys. Like, seriously, this is something that is very contested among anarchists and that individuals feel conflicted about even within themselves.

But, like, black bloc isn’t generally an “armed” insurrection unless you count baseball bats.

Here’s the deal: in my ideal world every time the alt right showed up with twenty dipshits talking about a white homeland there would be ten thousand peaceful protesters there with kazoos buzzing their nonsense away. (Credit where credit’s due; I think I saw this concept articulated this way by tumblr users argumate and pervocracy before I started using that phrasing myself) Actually one of my favorite kind of protests is simply drowning out the bullshit or making it appear ridiculous. Wanna see one of my heroes?

GOOD JOB. DIRECT ACTION. FUCK YEAH.

Making nazis look ridiculous is almost as memeworthy as punching them in the face and much more palatable to the wider public. Also the nazis FUCKING HATE IT. Hard to be taken seriously with your talk about white genocide when you’re backgrounded by the baby elephant walk.

(god, seriously, everyone go get electric kazoos and mini amps and practice bagpipes, you don’t have to be good at it you just have to be loud)

If you want nonviolent change over time I recommend looking into Food Not Bombs; they’re doing good, nonviolent work that they still get arrested for and that hasn’t really made a dent in policy since they were founded in 1980.

I don’t think you’re a fool for wanting nonviolent change. That’s what I want too. But honestly all of the alternatives look kind of shit right now. You’ll get just as arrested for throwing a milkshake at someone as you will for nonviolently blockading a courthouse. Six million people peacefully marched to support reproductive rights and we’re still looking at the possibility of seeing Roe V. Wade overturned. Journalists covering the J20 protests were charged with felonies (until charges were dropped), maybe a simple assault charge for decking some asshole isn’t that bad.

But until we do figure out something that works I’m not gonna shit too hard on the only tactic that has been proven to suck the fun out of being a nazi.

Because remember - it’s not really the government that black bloc is deployed against; it’s the fascists for whom that the government provides no impediment.

(oh also a general reminder that most direct action is criminalized: be a good anarchist and feed hungry people in your community today)

[deihy]

SLYTHERIN ADORA AN EXPLANATION

My take on this tweet made by Noelle Stevenson.

__________________________________________________

Ok, so, as much as I liked that Hufflepuff Catra was confirmed, reading “Adora is a Slytherin trying to be a Gryffindor” has been the single most interesting thing of this week, and is what I wanted to focus on because how can Adora NOT be a Gryffindor? Well, I tried to find that answer and I think I get it now.  

But, before we begin:

*Disclaimer: I’ll be using the split model created by “thesortinghatchats”, which divides each house into a Primary (why a person does things, their priorities and motivations) and a Secondary (how a person does things, what are their methods and styles to accomplish goals). I like it because I think it allows for more nuance in character analysys, but I also know there are people who don’t find the system useful and may want to skip this.

With that clarified, here we go:    

________________________________________________________________

The reason is so hard to think of Adora as anything other than a Gryffindor is that she IS one: a Gryffindor Secondary.  

                                 “So, what do we do now?

                                 We do what we do best.

                                         We improvise”.

                                   -  Adora, Roll With It.

By that I mean three things:

1.   Adora has a knack for improvisation. She may plan beforehand, but if the plan falls apart (which tends to happen to her a lot), it doesn’t matter since she won’t let that stop her. For instance, she might not be able to heal the land of Plumeria, but she can try to stop the Horde soldiers that are there. On top of that, she is very good at making things as she goes and at using the tools available to her advantage. (See: Every Catra vs Adora fight ever).

2.   Her way of doing things is to be bold and direct (both in her words and actions).

Adora’s MO is to decide what should be done, and then doing it, no matter how hard. Be it joining the Rebellion the same day she leaves the Horde, fighting for Plumeria when its people won’t do it themselves, or going against Glimmer’s wishes and leaving for Beast Island to save Entrapta. And it’s the same for how she talks; most of the time, you know what she’s thinking and how she’s feeling because she’ll just tell you if you ask her, even if she’s not the best of communicators.

This does not mean she is incapable of being discreet (sneaking in and out of The Fright Zone and then of Bright Moon), or of telling lies (to catch the Horde spy), or considering other possibilities before acting (the different plans in “Roll with it”). However, these are the exception, not the rule and, in the case of the lies, you can see how uncomfortable she feels when she has to tell them.

3.   This unwillingness to let fear stop her or to be dishonest in who she is or what she thinks, it inspires people. Like in the cases of Perfuma, Huntara and Angella.

She’s not a Gryffindor Primary, though.

Why? Because she values her friends, her most important people, more than anything else. 

     “If you wanna take down Adora, you have to go for the heart.”

                                    - Catra, Princess Prom.

Ok, so. Being a Slytherin tends to be associated with selfishness, with a lack of care for anyone other than yourself and your own, and this is seen as a bad thing. Though it can be a bad thing, depending on the situation, for a Slytherin is just right to value yourself and those who are important to you, and they expect the same from everybody else.

In Adora’s case, she had Catra and Shadow Weaver. She felt she could be herself with the former and that she needed to make the latter proud. Once she found out Shadow Weaver had manipulated her, that all she had ever been told was a lie, and that Catra was aware of it, it became very hard to separate her best friend of the betrayal she felt. When Catra refused to come with her, attacked her and then left her in Thaymor, Adora was left with no one.  

That’s when Bow and Glimmer come in, and by being kind, supportive and patient with her, the way Shadow Weaver never was, they quickly became two of the most important people for Adora. From then and throughout the whole series, Adora has established, again and again, that she fights for her friends, and the surest way to hurt her, or to get her to do what you want is by threatening to hurt the people she loves.

These are my friends. They've been kind to me. Something you never were.

               You never loved me. You just played your twisted mind games.

                                           (…) This is who I am.

                    You hurt my friends, so, now you're gonna pay.

                             - Adora, in the Shadows of Mystacor.

                                                    I'm not Mara.

                                 I'm not the She-Ras of the past.

                                I didn't do this to fulfill my destiny.

                                 I became She-Ra to help others.

                  My attachments, my friends, are a part of who I am.

                                          - Adora, Light Hope.

                                    Your mission is to fix the planet.

                                  My mission is to help my friends.

                                           - Adora, Light Hope

In Plumeria, it isn’t not being able to heal the land what makes her feel bad, is the fact she couldn’t be what her friends needed her to (all I've done is disappoint an entire kingdom. I'm sorry I let you guys down). In “Light Hope”, she had to choose between healing the planet as She-ra, or healing Glimmer, and her response was: “I'll do whatever you want. (…) But I have to heal Glimmer first”.

Friends are also her Berserk button. It isn’t until Catra implies to have hurt Bow that Adora forcefully grabs her in “Princess Prom”. In “the Promise”, Adora only reason to be angry at Catra is that she kidnapped Bow and Glimmer and both were hurt because of it. And once she realizes Catra won’t stop trying to hurt her friends, is when Adora finally stops trying to convince her to come with her.

On top of that, they are also the fastest way to crush her. When both Light Hope and Shadow Weaver tell her she puts her friends in danger just by being near them, or that she’s going to fail them and make everything worse, it’s almost enough for her to give up and do what they want. This is much worse when it comes from her friends’ mouth directly: Well, maybe your best isn't good enough! If it was, my mother would still be here!

To clarify, none of the above means Adora doesn’t have a moral code or that she wouldn’t go against a loved one to do what she thinks is right. After all, she and Bow disobeyed a direct order from Glimmer to save Entrapta. (see also: Catra and Adora’s relationship after she the latter leaves the Horde).

What it does mean however, is that Adora’s motivations will be at least a little tinted by her need to put the people she values first.

Adora thinks is possible for people to change and that others deserve that opportunity, but she also needs to see if the person who raised her (and who she once loved) has any good deep, deep, deep inside of her. She thinks deactivating the heart should be their priority, but it also helps that Light Hope betrayed Mara and then lied to Adora, so she doesn’t feel she can trust her. She wants to protect everyone, but because that’s the hero she thinks Glimmer deserves. And she can fight war against the Catra while still missing her all the time. 

                                      I told you, we can't trust her.

                                            She betrayed Mara.

                                                She lied to me.

                                             She's the bad guy!

                                               - Adora, Fractures.

Now, let’s talk about loyalty. As I said before, Slytherins believe one must do right by the people who are important to you. For Adora, in particular, it means you shouldn’t try to hurt, lie, manipulate or use the people you claim to love.

Just look at how much she hates being used as bait by Glimmer, How angry she is on behalf of Mara because Light Hope (Someone who she loved) betray her, but also how angry she is that Light Hope lied to her as well, and how upset she gets when Glimmer snaps at Bow or her. There’s also the anger and frustration she feels when she realizes Shadow Weaver has been lying and manipulating her all these years.

Speaking of Shadow Weaver, I personally believe this is also why Adora’s bond with her breaks so easily in comparison to the one she has with Catra. I think after the first time Adora saw her hurting Catra, a part of the love she had for SW just vanished, because, how can you say you love me when you hurt someone that you know I love? Plus, once she could compare SW’s brand of love with the one Bow and glimmer gace her, it was easy for Adora to see SW wasn’t doing right by her, so she didn’t feel she owed her anything anymore.

                          It's my fault! The Horde nearly destroyed Etheria.

                                         We were barely able to stop it.

                  If this plan isn't perfect, if I'm not perfect, everyone will

                                               - Adora, Roll with It

One more thing to talk about is Adora’s sense of self. As I said earlier, Slytherins don’t just care about their important people, they care about themselves. Adora, though, is the kind of Slytherin that ties all of her self-worth to her ability to do right by her closest ones.  

Try re-watching the series or reading the episode transcripts and you will find plenty of examples of Adora expressing her need to be worthy of her friends. She needs to be the hero Glimmer deserves, she feels the need to apologize if her powers are not enough because she hates letting her friends down, she feels she should present herself as She-ra because she’s much better than plain old Adora, and so on and so forth.

   From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were different. You were

                                                       - Special?

                No, what you always told me was that I didn't matter.

                             I was special only as long as I obeyed you

                                      - Adora, The Prince of Power

It’s funny that Adora would say this to Shadow Weaver and recognize it as a negative thing, but not realize she’s still following this pattern of basing her worth on what someone else want (Or what she thinks they want, at least).

                                       What? Did you really think this was about you?

                              - Catra, The Battle of Bright Moon

Something else I noticed is that Adora has a pattern of making things personal. Things are her fault, it was her idea, her plan, her decisions, her responsibility, her destiny, her planet. Nowhere is clearer than in her interactions with Catra. Due to their abusive upbringing, Adora grew up loving Catra, but also seeing her as her responsibility. Once they are on opposite sides of the war, Catra is always hers. She always goes after Catra first, whatever she does is in order to hurt Adora, and she is the only one capable of stopping her. Both in Battle of Brightmoon and in Princess Prom, her need to go after Catra leads her to get distracted by her.  

_______________________________________________________________

Final thoughts: I think Adora’s character Arc has been about accepting more of her Slytherin side, the one that concerns her own self worth. It has taken a long time, and there’s still work for her to do, particularly with regards to her belief that she only deserves love if she is useful to others, and in realizing that she is allowed to want things for herself, just because. Still, she has managed to move past taking the blame for everything, especially what involves Catra. We can see this when Adora refuses to let Catra blame her for opening the portal, and later on when she won’t let Glimmer blame her for losing Salineas. She also learns to become more vulnerable with the people she loves; by telling Glimmer she needed her.

I hope we get to see her put herself first more in the future.

_______________________________________________________________

[theculturedmarxist]

I’ve encountered leftists that are understandably displeased by the state of things regarding the left. They are correctly dissatisfied in regards to the level of understanding they have of existing leftist theory, to the level and competence of leftist organization, of the actions those leftists and those organizations, such as they are, might be engaging in.

Insofar as the United States is concerned, the state of the Left is anemic, where it is not nonexistent. It’s easy to blame this on those now counting themselves Leftists. It’s always an easy thing to do, for those with a more advanced education to disparage those with less. “You pitiable fool, how can you not know?” It’s easy for those that have been to the top of the mountain to appreciate its views while others behind them continue to struggle. It isn’t as though I’m not guilty of this same thing. It’s easy to forget the sweat and effort that has brought you to this peak, elated as you are with the fresh views it brings, while others toil behind, unaware of the rewards it brings, or the miles yet to go.

The death of the Soviet Union marks the end of an historical epoch. From 1848 to 1991 is itself a discrete section of communist history for the Left in the United States. Believe it or not, but the United States was once the home of the most class conscious and militant section of the working class. It isn’t spoken of, but the period of its history between the end of its civil war to the beginning of the second world war is a period of ongoing and open rebellion between the workers and the government that pretends to represent them. Perhaps, had the wind blown a little more this way or a little less that way, we would have a very different world than which we have now.

The period after the second world war, the so-called “Cold War,” is in fact a hot and active one waged against The People. In the US, the attrition was relentless. The detriment to the Left was such that by the death of the Soviet Union, the Left in the US had effectively ceased to exist. Alas.

Alas, for what might have been, and alas for what was. Shed a tear, but do no weep overmuch. Any student of Marx or Marxism, of History or its dialectic knows that few things end entirely, but change their form, and that existing historical circumstances always produce in them the seed of what is to come. There is no true threat of capitalism eradicating communism, because capitalism is what produces Communists!

In the intervening period, Capitalist propaganda has lain dormant. Convinced that it had reached the end of history, that it had vanquished its challenger, it felt no need to keep up its campaign of disinformation. The field lay fallow. Fresh fruit was allowed to germinate, cultivated and fertilized in no small part by capitalism itself.

Capitalism was allowed a good quarter century or so to prove itself. And what did it prove? That it was every bit as rapacious and destructive as its detractors claimed. The Pacific Garbage Patch swelled like a tumor. Fish populations were decimated year after year. Despite having vanquished its ideological foes, having secured for itself hegemony across the planet, capitalism kept conjuring up new threats to linger at the edge of the campfire light. The world was made safe for democracy, but that did not make the world safe, as promised.

Our current society offers no answers to our problems. Having reached the End of History, capitalism has no vision for what comes next. It offers only endless war and election cycle after election cycle. There is no end in sight, no hope, no expectation of relief or improvement. Capitalism it tells us, has brought us the best of all possible worlds. Now shut up, and get back to work.

We are in a period now of rediscovery, as proletarians across the world grope and reach for the history and ideals denied to them by bourgeois society. They are rediscovering class consciousness, have to teach themselves over again what their grandparents were made to forget, must relearn the hard-won lessons of ancient decades. It’s easy to disparage the ignorant for not knowing, not so to reach out and say, “here, come, and we’ll learn together.”

We are experiencing a glorious reawakening! The young are rediscovering the language or resistance, the ideas that the working class itself produced through struggle, through study, through its own blood and sweat and tears. They are taught the stultifying, dead ideals of the bourgeois class in their schools and they feel them ringing hollow. Lucky are those that touch the edges of the vast territory their forebears left them. In sorrow do the ignorant continue, hopeless.

The young are finding that the bourgeois world that they have been excluded from is not the only one, that a new world is possible, and that they can build it, that people just like them in decades past have catch glimpses of it, and that these glimpses can point them in the direction. As they pour through the innumerable pages and oceans of ink previous communists and socialists have written or have had written about them, they learn, and they communicate. It is understandable and perhaps right to feel frustration at their progress or lack of it, their action or inaction, their right thought or the vestiges remaining of bourgeois ideology which clings to them like leeches.

For good or ill, the working class struggles, and even if those struggles are guided by right communist thought or not, they are laying the groundwork—doing the hard labor of preparing the foundation or furrowing the field for what is to come.

The working class is now in a state of rediscovery. It has to rediscover and reteach itself what it has been made to forget. We see this in the Leftists who in the spirit of good intentions argue about the tendencies of the past. They mistakenly believe that the way forward has been discovered, but that it was inexpertly articulated or implemented, or that outside interference thwarted it. Perhaps they are right in some respects. Time marches on, however, and what might have served in 1920 will not in 2020. This is the fact which the Left is facing in the coming phase of class struggle.

We cannot move forward without understanding the past. We cannot found innovative thoughts without an understanding of the ones that have come before, those that have failed and those that have succeeded. A hundred and fifty years of communist and socialist thought and history have to be encountered, explored, studied, understood, and synthesized. If any were in themselves wholly correct, we would not be here now. We would be in the embrace of socialism, perhaps communism, and enjoying the fruits which a society democratically organized and operated promise. What works must be extracted, and what has failed must be left behind.

One of the deficiencies of the Left now is that it has only old ideas to offer. It images that capitalism, being an old system, and previously dressed down by communist thinkers, needs only to have those deficiencies exposed in order to fall, that once the mass of peoples in general come to understand the failures and predations of capitalism, that it will be replaced out of hand. Leftists study the old ideas and dedicate themselves to their favorite dogmas, oblivious to the obvious fact that they have each and every one failed to produce socialism or establish the conditions for communism. Like dying men clinging to debris, each is swallowed up by the waves hoping that the flotsam and jetsam of history will deliver them.

The coming task is not one of rediscovery, but of innovation. In Buddhism, the highest proverb is “if you meet the Buddha, kill the Buddha!” There is great appeal in old words, especially those which are so desperately needed, and which inspire hope in the hopeless. It is a failure and a detriment though to cling to those words! Dogma is poison. Too many leftists now quite theory like scripture, taking it as right because of who said it, rather than because it holds up on its own. The Left now is taking its first steps into a future that it doesn’t yet see. It clings to the old in a reactionary way, because they’ve learned the wrong lessons.

Do not take this as a disparagement. It is only a natural step in the process of learning. Growth is ever a painful process. For the Left, its lessons are always dearly bought. They’re volumes written in blood on human parchment. The volumes pile high as workers are stuffed like refuse into unmarked graves.

Fascism is appealing. It offers a safety and security in an illusionary past which the Leftist too can appreciate as they daydream of what might have been, had Lenin done this instead of that, had Debs spoken this instead of thus, had Fate decided yeh instead of nay. A perfect yesterday is always an appealing refuge against an uncertain tomorrow. It doesn’t hurt that Fascism is given every support and succor by the establishment. There are broad sections even now among the Left which despair at the ubiquity of the so-called Right and the power it holds among the state, among the army, among the general population. They despair because they’ve learned the wrong lessons. They’ve taught themselves history, but not the historical process. They despair because they think the argument already made and already ended, not realizing that the argument continues. There is no finality, just the process, the evolution which is ongoing.

“Study, study, study!” Say the old murals of Lenin. Yes, study! A worker is not a Leftist if they do not study, if they do not make the effort to understand the world that was and the world that is. It isn’t enough, though, only to understand the world as it was and the thoughts that were. Now it is time to imagine a new world, and to articulate it, this better world, this world to be made.

That is the weakness of Fascism! That is the weakness of all reactionary thought! It offers no hope in what is inevitably to come, because it is blind to it! It denies reality, both what is, and the fact that our world, our people, our societies are ruled by the inviolable natural law of change! Fascism can offer no vision of the future, because it denies that the future exists to be made. It looks always to the past, defines itself by it, chains itself to it. Only Communism can offer hope, because only Communism understands that the future exists to be made. Communism respects the past, but only to learn from it. It had its time, and it is gone. Like dust let it be swept aside so that the new can take its place.

A new world does not yet exist. A new world yet is possible—possible, because we will build it, together!

[emperorsfoot]

In which the Princess Alliance realizes maybe they probably should have sent out a memo about Horde Prime. 

...

“What in the ever loving high holy heck does Adora think she’s doing now!?” Lonnie demanded of the open sky.

She, Kyle, and Rogelio were inspecting construction of the new supply storage bunkers when the sky suddenly and inexplicably cracked open with a light so bright it cut though the perpetual smog layer that blanketed the Fright Zone. Lonnie glared at it, the shape slightly distorted by the haze. But it looked like a cut across the sky. A cut like with a magic sword. So, of course, it had to be Adora and her new friends. After all, what else could it be?

“We do have a way of communicating with Brightmoon, right?” She asked of her companions. “That wasn’t destroyed when Catra and Hordak decided it was a fun idea to blow-up central command, right?”

Both human and reptilian only shrugged. They honestly had no idea. After the portal fiasco when all of the Horde’s upper leadership disappeared, the trio’s focus had been on damage control and reestablishing some kind of infrastructure. Lonnie –whom took over the vacant position as Leader of the Horde- was more concerned with maintaining supply lines that brought grain and rice into the Fright Zone, the things their ration bars were made from. Their food. The stuff they needed to survive. None of them really gave much thought to the equipment that would allow them to put in a call to their enemies.

“I, uh, I can check.” Kyle volunteered.

He rushed off to do exactly what he said he could do.

Rogelio growled something that Lonnie didn’t quite understand. But when the reptilian dashed off after Kyle, she assumed he said that he was going to make sure Kyle didn’t hurt himself in the –still destroyed- Sanctum.

Though neither man could see the action, Lonnie nodded. Kyle was well-meaning and always eager to help. But he was also clumsy and not very mindful. Rogelio would keep him from carelessly injuring himself. Which was good. One less injury meant fewer medical supplies that had to be used. And now that she found herself in command, Lonnie was all about cutting down on needless supply usage and waste.

She turned her attention back to the bunkers she was inspecting.

“Well, show me the new vacuum seals that are supposed to keep vermin out of the food stores.” She commanded the soldier that had been showing her and the other two around the newly constructed bunkers. “We can’t just drop everything we’re doing every time there’s a big light in the sky, or a rainbow knocks over a tank, or a Princess seduces your boss’ boss, or the central command blows up.” She reminded them. “We all still have jobs to do!”

Making their way through the Fright Zone, back to the central command building, Kyle was still getting used to people stopping and saluting him.

Just a few months ago, he, Rogelio, and Lonnie were all still just ‘cadets’. But, dang!, did a lot happen in those few months! Catra set off a portal in Hordak’s Sanctum, then disappeared along with Lord Hordak himself, there was a short disagreement between the remaining Force Captains and Lonnie about who should fill the newly vacated leadership position, and –somehow- Lonnie ended up on top. The Commander of the Horde. And as her best friends and teammates since forever, Kyle and Rogelio became her lieutenants.

Where Kyle used to have to be the one to stand to the side and salute if another soldier was walking in the opposite direction than him, now it was the other soldiers that would move out of his way. Flattening themselves against a wall, standing at attention, offering a well-practiced salute. Sometimes even going so far as to say ‘Morning, Lieutenant.’

This had been going on for months now and Kyle still wasn’t used to it. He didn’t know if he’d ever really get used to it. He spent so much of his life so far as metaphorical dirt. He was used to being walked on. He didn’t know if he could ever be the one doing the walking.

Rogelio took his hand and Kyle’s heart jumped for an entirely different reason.

But all the reptilian was doing was bringing to the other man’s attention that they passed the entrance to Hordak’s Sanctum. Kyle was so caught up in reflecting on his new elevation in the Horde, he hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going and passed their destination.

“Right. Sorry.” He demurred. He had to remind himself that he might be a Lieutenant working directly under the new leader of the Horde now, but he was still just the same old Kyle. Absentminded and probably useless. Lonnie only made him a Lieutenant because they were friends.

Inside the Sanctum was mostly bare.

After the initial explosion, the lab and surrounding chambers had been searched for bodies. But the actual clean-up of the Sanctum hadn’t happened until much later. Cleaning up Hordak’s mess wasn’t really a priority. But Lonnie was also practical and not in the habit of leaving usable resources to collect dust just to spite the guy they used to belong to. The Sanctum was cleared out and cleaned up. Anything that wasn’t bolted down got taken out, sorted and repurposed. Scrap metal was melted down, tech that still worked and served a function was repaired and placed back into circulation, tech that was beyond repair and unusable was taken apart and its pieces cannibalized for other machines. The floor was swept and the area was closed off.

Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio were the only three in the Fright Zone who knew the new passcodes to get in.

Anything that wasn’t bolted down was cleared out, but there were still a lot of things bolted down. Chief among them, the main monitor display and corresponding computer terminal. If anything had a feature that could get a call through to Brightmoon, it would be this computer array.

Kyle switched it on.

There was a loud humming sound as it booted up, and an uncomfortable scraping sound that implied the inner workers of the computer might not be in as good condition as the exterior would imply.

Kyle chanced a glance at Rogelio to see if the other man might somehow blame him if the device failed.

But reptilian only shrugged his shoulders. Who knew how well any of the crap in Hordak’s Sanctum ever worked in the first place? The guy never really let anyone else in here except his pet Princess, and look how that turned out.

Once the computer was finally booted up and the homescreen appeared –with a few lines going through it to indicate the screen was damaged- Kyle found the communications application easily enough. There was a short delay as the computer dialed Brightmoon. The tech the Rebellion used was not from the same origin as Horde tech and the two were not perfectly compatible. It took a moment for the devices to connect to one another.

The image of Bow appeared on the screen. The device they connected with must have been his Tracker Pad which scanned for incoming signals anyone. He was talking to someone off screen, his head turned so that Kyle and Rogelio only saw him in profile.

“…hang on, my Tracker Pad is picking something up.” He was saying. Then turned to actually look at the screen, and saw that it was just Kyle and Rogelio from the Horde. “Oh! It’s you guys. Now’s not really a good time. Can we put off any new declarations of war for a while?”

Rogelio growled something that nobody understood but Kyle got the distinct impression that the reptilian was commenting on the other man’s assumption that this was a war declaration.

“No-no, it’s nothing like that!” Kyle assured him. “Lonnie just wanted us to call and see what it was Adora was doing this time. Ya see, this bright light just appeared in the sky, and it looks kinda like a cut, like with a magic sword. And Adora’s the only one we know of with a magic sword so… you see where I’m going with this?”

Why did Kyle feel so awkward? Was it because had hadn’t been in a command position long and didn’t know how to talk to people and command respect? Or was it because he was unfit for a command position at all? At least when he was a grunt cadet, he knew his place and where he stood –with enemies as well as allies. Now, as a Lieutenant with responsibilities, he felt so out of place he wasn’t sure he even had a place anymore. He certainly had no idea how he was supposed to talk to the Rebellion’s Tech Master.

“Don’t worry about that.” Bow tried to assure them, sounding much more like he was trying to assure himself. “We’ve got it handled.”

His tone implied that they did not have it –whatever ‘it’ was- handled.

Bow ended the call.

Kyle and Rogelio looked at each other. Just as confused now as they were when the cut of light first appeared in the sky. Bow hadn’t actually given them an explanation as to what it was or what was really going on. That was all Lonnie wanted to know.

“Should we call them back and ask to speak to Adora this time?” He asked.

Rogelio only shrugged. He was also a little unsure as to what to do in his new leadership role.

…

Everyone in Brightmoon was in one stage or another of freaking out.

They all knew this was coming. They all knew Horde Prime was coming.

Entrapta had warned them. Catra had taunted them. Heck! Even Light Hope kinda alluded to this coming, no in so many words, but more in that cryptic and open to interpretation way she did. The fact of the matter was, no one should have been surprised.

Except that no one really believed it would happen this fast. This soon. It took Hordak years –decades, actually- to build a working portal. What reason did they have to assume that Horde Prime could get one working, open, and stable in just a few short months?

It was lucky that Entrapta already finished the weapons she promised. But she had only just finished the ones for Brightmoon. Salineas, Plumeria, and the Queendom of Snows were still unprotected. No to mention all the other territories and Queendoms on the planet.

Micah had met people from Fallen Star Mountain, the territory ruled by the Star Sisters and invited them to join the Alliance. They said that with Hordak defeated there wasn’t a reason to anymore. They were unprotected and unprepared. Sweet Bee and Peekablue sent their reply in the same message, one piece of paper bearing both their seals –apparently, the two Queens were together at the time- it was written in Peekablue’s handwriting and simply said ‘the timing isn’t right yet’. Well, was the timing right now? Now that the other Horde from outer space had ripped open their sky and was poised to drop down on them at any moment!

Needless to say, things in Brightmoon were a little anxious.

Perfuma was the first to show up at the palace. Plumeria sharing a border with Brightmoon on the opposite side from the mountains of Dryl, her’s was the closest Queendom to Brightmoon. She appeared, flower crown askew, pink dress rumpled, without her teal green shrug over her shoulders. As if she’d left in a rush.

“Is it the Horde?” She demanded. “I mean, of course it’s the Horde. But, like, the other Horde. The bigger one. The one we’ve been trying to prepare for.” She took a deep breath, attempting to force herself to calm down. “I mean, we’ve been prepared for this, so everything will be okay. We have the She-Ra on our side. I’m sure everything will come to a harmonious conclusion. There’s no need to give into negative energy.”

She said this. But Perfuma was definitely giving off negative energy. The negative energy of fear, anxiety, and doubt. She was giving off negative energy in buckets.

Speaking of buckets, not long after Perfuma arrived, a giant wave crashed through the Brightmoon harbor, nearly capsizing Sea Hawk’s ship. He was already bailing buckets of the excess water off the deck when the wave receded, revealing Mermista. She was holding her trident, and look more impatient and annoyed than fearful and concerned.

“Ugh… the Geek Princess hasn’t even been by to build my weapons yet.” She groaned at no one in particular, brushing an errant lock of hair out of her face. “Can’t the evil space emperor wait, like, six more month before coming to try and kill us all. So stupid.” Then she noticed the Dragon’s Daughter Five listing in the bay. “Oh. Hey, Sea Hawk.”

Sea Hawk gave a non-committal grunt in reply. They hadn’t exactly spoken socially since their breakup was official. He honestly didn’t know how to talk to her anymore. Certainly, he couldn’t talk to her like he used to.

Frosta was the farthest away and the last to arrive.

Everyone was already in the War Room when the youngest member of the Princess Alliance arrived.

Micah was arguing with Shadow Weavers. Adora was shouting warnings over the table. Spinnerella was holding Nettossa’s hand to try and calm the other woman. Bow was fiddling with his Tracker Pad trying to see if the device could analyze the sky rift. Perfuma was trying to perform a calming chant. Memista was groaning at how chaotic this was. And Sea Hawk was ringing saltwater out of his socks. Glimmer had no control over her War Room, or the meeting.

Then Frosta barged in. Doors banging open with a sound loud enough to make everyone pause. Stopping their squabbles or shouts to look across the room at the child-Princess.

“Alright! So, what’s the plan for kicking these bat-faced jerks butts!?”

The room exploded back into noise and chaos again. Everyone talking at once. Giving opinions of things they were not informed enough to give opinions on.

Bow’s Tracker Pad beeped with an alert just as someone asked him a question. Thinking the device had found some information for him about the rift, he turned his attention to it. “…hang on, my Tracker Pad is picking something up.”

Those seated closes to him quieted down to also see what the Tracker Pad had found.

But all that appeared on the screen were the faces of two Horde soldiers. The Etherian Horde. A human, Kyle, and a reptilian, Rogelio. People they knew. Not the new Horde from outer space. There were not bat-faced monsters that looked like Hordak giving them a call.

“Oh! It’s you guys. Now’s not really a good time. Can we put off any new declarations of war for a while?” Bow asked, assuming that even under new leadership the Etherian Horde would want to continue the generations old feud.

“No-no, it’s nothing like that!” Kyle assured him. “Lonnie just wanted us to call and see what it was Adora was doing this time. Ya see, this bright light just appeared in the sky, and it looks kinda like a cut, like with a magic sword. And Adora’s the only one we know of with a magic sword so… you see where I’m going with this?”

Oh. Had no one read-in the new Horde leadership about what was coming? Did they honestly not know? Bow never even considered that! In a room full of chaos was not the time to debrief someone new. Especially not someone that Bow wasn’t sure which side they would choose. He didn’t want to be helping and clueing in a new enemy. While he did generally try to give people the benefit of the doubt and see the best in people, now was not the time to be the better man. Sometimes, the practical man had to be a bit rude.

“Don’t worry about that.” Bow tried to assure them, sounding much more like he was trying to assure himself. “We’ve got it handled.”

He ended the call.

“Who was that?” Asked Sea Hawk. He hung his still wet socks over the back of his seat and sat down next to Bow.

“That was… the Horde…” Bow answered truthfully. Then, when everyone looked horror stuck, he quickly rushed to explain. “I mean, our Horde. The Etherian Horde! The guys in the Fright Zone. Kyle, and Rogelio, I think are their names. Nobody ever told them what was going on, so they have no idea what’s coming. They saw the portal in the sky and freaked out.”

“Oh.” Said Glimmer.

There was a beat.

Then Perfuma suggested, “Should we… invite them to join us?” Even as she asked this, she did not seem very secure in the idea. “I mean, do you think they’d be willing to help? They live on Etheria too…”

“We have no reason to assume they won’t join Horde Prime the moment they learn of him.” Shadow Weaver informed the room. “Inviting them into the Alliance would be like inviting a wolf to your back.”

“I’m sure that was true when Hordak was in charge.” Micah argued. It was hard to tell if he was arguing for the Horde because he honestly and truly felt the Etherian Horde could be helpful, or just to take an opposing opinion from Shadow Weaver. “But Hordak has been removed from power and is under house arrest in Dryl. Command of the Etherian Horde is now in the hands of Etherians. As Princess Perfuma said, they live here too, why wouldn’t they want to defend the Home Ground?”

“Because they were raised by Hordak and Hordak does not teach altruism.” Shadow Weaver reminded everyone. Never mind the fact that Hordak didn’t raise any of the Fright Zone orphans, and that job was actually delegated to Shadow Weaver herself. A fact Adora could confirm for them all.

Adora might even have done so and called Shadow Weaver out on her misplacement of responsibility, had she not be lost in thought at that moment. Really considering the possibility of the Etherian Horde as allies. She grew up with them. She, better than anyone in the room, understood them. In a deeper and more intimate way than Shadow Weaver did.

“Lonnie’s in charge now.” She began, still considering and weighing outcomes as she spoke. “She’s very practical… If we can convince her that working with us is the better choice over siding with Horde Prime…”

She did not get to finish that thought, however, as Bow’s tracker pad beeped again with another message. This time, when he answered it, it wasn’t the nervous and unsure faces of Kyle and Rogelio. It was the exasperated and angry face of none other than Lonnie, Commander of the Horde, herself.

“Put. Adora. On. The. Line.” She commanded before any pleasantries could be exchanged.

Adora took the Tracker Pad from Bow. “Hey, Lonnie, we were just talking about-“

“What in the ever loving high holy heck are you doing this time!?” Lonnie cut the other woman off. “Haven’t you had enough of meddling with forces beyond mortal understanding and breaking the universe!? I am still trying to rebuild what Hordak and Catra ran into the ground and you’re cutting up the sky for fun! Now I have a panic to deal with on top of construction delays and lost supply shipments! I thought all you shimmering Princesses wanted was ‘peace’! Can’t I have a moment’s peace to work on my own territory!”

She paused for breath.

Adora looked back at the rest of the Princess Alliance to make sure they heard the Commander of the Etherian Horde’s rant. She wanted peace, and she wanted to repair the damage to the Fright Zone, the damage to ‘her Territory’. Lonnie might be ‘Commander of the Horde’, but she was thinking like a Princess.

“I’m sending Kyle over there to see what you’re all really up to!” Lonnie continued before anyone else could speak. “I’m sending Kyle because he is the least threatening person I know and hopefully that will keep you sparkleheads from shooting glitter at him on sight. Think of him as a sort of ‘emissary’. I don’t want to have to fight you guys again if I don’t have to! But, I swear, if you keep making things difficult for me, I will! So, let’s try and get along.”

She ended the call.

Adora passed the Tracker Pad back to Bow. “So… I guess that answers the question of which side she’ll be on if it comes to it.”

“How?” Frosta jumped up, standing on her seat to be better seen. “She said she didn’t wanna fight us because she’s still licking her wounds in the Fright Zone. We don’t know that the moment Prime shows up she won’t go running to him the moment she realizes he’s got bigger guns and more resources to share with her.”

“That’s assuming Horde Prime is the type to share.” Mermista countered. “There is another angle to this. Regardless of what Lonnie things of the bigger Horde, the bigger Horde might not think much of Lonnie and just sweep her away. They might get rid of her for us and then the question of what to do about the Etherian Horde becomes a non-issue.”

“That’s terrible!” Perfuma was horrified. “Sure, they’ve been our enemies for as long as I can remember. But they’re still people, and living things. All life is precious.”

“They’re still the ones who ruined Princess Prom!” Frosta shouted.

Everyone assumed she was trying to make a point about respecting truces, cease-fires, and safe spaces –all of which Princess Prom was supposed to be- and that if they couldn’t do that, what reason did they have to trust them in a truce now. But all it sounded like was that she was saying parties were just as important as leaving beings. For fear of derailing the conversation into an unnecessary ethical debate, everyone collectively agreed to ignore that comment.

“There’s no point debating this until the Horde’s emissary gets here.” Glimmer announced, taking control of the meeting. She was Queen, but most of the time she still felt like an inexperienced and frustrated rebel child.

“I know Kyle.” Adora added. “He won’t make trouble while he’s here.” A pause. “On purpose. He won’t make trouble on purpose.”

But ‘trouble’ did have a propensity to just happen around him. It wasn’t that Kyle was particularly clumsy, forgetful, or rude. No more than any other child soldier raised in the Horde. He just seemed… out of place no matter where he went. Almost like… almost like he wasn’t meant to be on Etheria. Of course, Etheria being trapped in an isolated shadow dimension, she couldn’t image where else he could belong. But then, she’d seen weirder things than just an out-of-place and accident-prone soldier.

The debate might have gone on longer, but a page entered the War Room, unannounced, and passed a letter to Glimmer. “Message from Fallen Star Mountain, my Queen.”

Taking the envelope, Glimmer ripped it open to read the contents. Then she sighed. “It’s from the Star Sisters. They also wanna know what the light in the sky is.”

No sooner had she read that, than another page came in with more messages from Elberon, Seaworthy, Erelandia… Heck! They even got a crumpled and dirty piece of paper from the Valley of the Lost in the Crimson Waste. Apparently, the whole planet saw the rift in the sky and wanted to know what the Princess Alliance was up to now…

Glimmer slumped in her seat, putting a hand to her head where she felt an on-coming stress headache. Who knew the worst part of Horde Prime’s attack would be the confusion before the storm?

[dailyaudiobible]

12/07/2019 DAB Transcript

Hosea 6:1-9:17, 3 John 1:1-15, Psalms 126:1-6, Proverbs 29:12-14

Today is the 7th day of December. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian. It’s great to be here with you as we complete, shutdown, and release into…into history the first week of this month of December. And as we conclude this week we will be going back into the book of Hosea in the Old Testament and then if we remember, we read second John in its entirety yesterday. So, when we get to the New Testament today, we will read in its entirety, third John. But before we get ahead of ourselves, we’re reading from the English Standard Version this week. Hosea chapters 6, 7, 8, and 9 today.

Introduction to third John:

Alright. So, we…like…like we talked about a minute ago, we read second John in its entirety yesterday. And, so we’ll do the same thing today with third John. And this letter was probably written somewhere around the same time as the other two letters. And like the other two, was probably written from Ephesus where it's thought that John spent the latter part of his life. But third John is just a little different than the other two letters. It’s actually more like Paul's letter to Philemon because third John is a personal letter and it was written to a man named Gaius who was a good man, a believer within the network of churches that John had influence over and leadership in. And John wrote this letter to personally encourage Gaius because he was passionate about the gospel and it wasn't just a passion that he gave lip service to. He was willing to serve and support those who were traveling around teaching and sharing the good news, those that John would send throughout the churches. So, like, this isn't…this isn’t like a new idea…an old idea that we've never heard of before. This still happens today, the custom of welcoming itinerant ministers and caring for their needs as…as they travel. Sharing the message that God has given them is common and was common. And John saw this personal letter as a necessary communication because there was another church leader named Diotrephes who was distancing himself from John and refusing to offer hospitality to these…these ministers that were moving around the churches. And then to make it even worse, Diotrephes was throwing people out of the church who disagreed and assisted itinerant ministers. So, John wrote this personal letter to Gaius to…to encourage him and commend him for doing the right thing for…for his care and his hospitality to those who were bringing the gospel. But this would've held more weight than just a personal encouragement, like a nice email that you get that just encourages you. Like this is a letter that put John's opinion in writing that Gaius was doing the right thing. And, so, you…you…you can imagine that a personal letter from one of the 12 disciples of Jesus Christ would've probably carried pretty…pretty good amount of weights against this Diotrephes who was stirring up all the…the problems in the church. So, third John gives us this personal glimpse into some of the tensions that were existing in the formative years of the church and it gives us an opportunity to understand that they were struggling with, you know, the same sort of heart issues that…that we face in our own lives. And, so, we read third John.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for another week in Your word and we thank You for bringing us through this first full week of this final month of the year. And on this, the 341st day of the year, we express our gratitude, our love, our devotion, our faithfulness, our worship for You. And yet we also confess that after the same fashion that we’re reading about in Hosea, we have drifted away at times, we have…we have run away at times, we have entered into direct and knowing rebellion against You at times. And then at other times we’ve just not been vigilant. And when endurance has arise…arisen in our lives we’ve just been taken out. So, it is Your faithfulness that actually makes it even possible for us to consider being faithful. It was Your love for us first. You came for us when we didn't even know You when we were Your enemies and You loved us, and You drew us to Yourself and You adopted us and made us Your children. And, so, we confess it's preposterous to even consider that we would ever betray that and yet we confess that we have. And, so, we repent here at the end of this week and we look forward to going into the new week together discovering anew how profound Your love for us actually is and how important that it is that we realize that You are loving the world through us and that we must open ourselves to love. Come Holy Spirit we pray into all of this. We ask in the name of Jesus our Savior. Amen.

Announcements:

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And it's Christmas time. So, that's what’s going on around here. Seems like that’s what’s going on everywhere. But I remind you of the Daily Audio Bible family Christmas Box for 2019. That is available in the Daily Audio Bible Shop and we have packed it full of our most popular resources. So, check it out.

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If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible as we move into the final chapter of this year then I think you with absolute humility and absolute gratefulness. Thank you deeply. We are a community and we come around the Global Campfire and the Global Campfire burns because we all throw logs on from time to time. So, I thank you humbly for your partnership. There's a link that's on the homepage at dailyaudiobibe.com or the mailing address is PO Box 1996, Spring Hill Tennessee 37174 or if you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner.

And that is it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi family, this is Suzanne calling. I have stopped and started this so many times I can’t tell you. So, I really hope that some of those accidentally didn’t go in…go through. I just want to say, first of all, thank you Brian so much…it’s December 3rd…for the message today about how the…the light that Christ pours into us really needs to go out to others. And I am having a real struggle with my family. I am the only Christian in my family and there’s a lot of dysfunctional behavior that goes on and I ended up being extremely hurt over Thanksgiving. There was a lot of verbal abuse and just real selfish inconsiderate behavior towards me and I just ended up feeling so unloved and so unappreciated and ended up crying all day on Friday. So, what I really want prayer for is for me to understand how to…I just need to find tools and how to not accept unacceptable behavior and do it in a loving Christlike way so that I have His motives and I have His love and so that they can see the light of Him shining through me rather than my hurt self. So, I just need your prayer family and I appreciate it very much. God bless you.

Hello DAB this is Carla with a Broken Heart calling back again. I was just sitting here thinking about what a wonderful platform this is for people to be able to hear God’s word and to minister to one another and be able to call in with prayers because it lets me know that I’m not the only one going through when somebody else calls in with difficulties and I don’t feel so alone and too because the fact to know that I have someone that’s praying for me and don’t know anything about me or even knows anything about my situation but loves me enough to go before God for me on my behalf and my struggles means the world to me. And to be able to have a place where we can fellowship like that means everything to me. Going through my hard times and through my struggles, I feel alone a lot but just now after I made my first ball I sat here and thought about all those who pray for me, who call my name out, let’s me know that I’m not alone and that I am going to be able to get through. So, it’s just awesome to be able to have this even though Brian ministers the word and…and he reiterates the word at…at the end and his soothing voice is so peaceful to me, but just the prayers of the saints and those that call in who are struggling so that we all can love on one another means the world to me. And I can’t express how important DAB has been for me. I’ve been a member for more than 10 years and it’s carried me through some hard times and especially this time right now. I just praise God for. I just wanted to say that. Thank you. God bless.

Diana Davis this is Angel from California and I wanted to tell you my sister that I am praying for you. I know that you called in November the 30th in the podcast and you said that you were a Christian author and that you had to children with autism and that your husband is out of the home, you’re dealing with stage IV cancer. And I pray for you my sister. And I want you to know that the Lord is going to strengthen you and is gonna give you your heart desires. Praying for you. Don’t give up hope. God is the God of impossibilities. God bless you my sister this is Angel from California.

My name is Patsy, my husband’s name is Andy. We have two beautiful daughters together. He has one child from a previous marriage. I ask for prayer today. This time last year my husband left us. He said he was done, and he left. I would like to pray for reconciliation. I would like for my husband’s heart to be touched and so he’ll know that the…that divorce is not the answer, that we can work things out. I can’t change my husband, I know that, and I know that with God and through God things are always possible. God is so much bigger than this. Thank you, Daily Audio Bible for everything. You’ve gotten me through so, so much this one year alone. I’m Patsy and I love you.

Hello everyone, this is Paul calling from Barcelona. As we come into the Christmas season I might be so busy that I’ll forget to say this so I’ll say this right now, a very Merry Christmas to so many of you my friends across the world. But my heart has, you know, kind of set on one group of people in the DAB community that are almost never mentioned. And, so, I’m also sending them the warmest of readings from the bottom of my heart in the name of Jesus and that group are people struggling with their sexual identity, with her sexual orientation within our community. You know, in…in the church across the world this has become a very polemic and taboo subject. I won’t go there. I just want to talk to each one of those men and women who are dealing with this struggle with the day to day of this and often amongst us the feeling of being absolutely invisible and having nowhere to turn. And I just want to encourage you. Some of you may be listening are not able to go home to families who have rejected you because of the things you’re dealing with but I just want to give you encouragement and just want to point you to the Lord Jesus and just lay your head on His chest as I often like to say, just rest there, talk to Him about everything, share Him…share with Him everything that’s on your heart. You know, the Lord knows our hearts and His sheep know His voice. So, share everything that you want to share with Him this Christmas season and know that you’re deeply, deeply loved by your father and that’s all I have to say. I wish you peace and I wish you love. I send it for myself from Barcelona.

Good morning DAB family this is Danny from Southern Oregon. I just want to lift up those who are hurting this morning due to loss, specifically the man who called in from Florida who found his friend and neighbor passed away. Just the fact that you called your DAB family for comfort is just such a testimony to what this family does for each other. So, give us an update on how you’re doing. Praying for you for comfort and so sorry for your loss there. Also praying for Vicki from Arizona. Vicki I’ve got you on my calendar for December 10th. I’m going to be on my knees for you sister. Just the pain that you must be going through, I just can’t I can’t even imagine. So, lifting you up, praying God’s peace on you that you would feel so loved. And praying for Karen from Hemet who just lost her husband from Parkinson’s. And you described your sadness it’s…it’s just pouring over you like an ocean…like ocean waves. And I just…I just pray that that you would feel peace, that God would help you get through this difficult time. I just…I just pray for all of you who are hurting and have lost someone. Father, just wrap your loving arms around these people who are hurting, just fill them with peace Lord, let them know that you are there, surround them with love Lord and just…just…just send them people who will comfort them and build them up Lord and just love them. And I just thank You and praise You for this DAB family that we can all pray for each other…