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all-things-are-nothing-to-me · 4 years ago

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Burn The Bread Book: Industrial Communism Will Not Liberate You

The True Cost of Bread

For years I've watched a man drive his pick-up truck into the forest around me and cut down all the trees that aren't legally protected. So, every tree that isn't a pine or an oak. The moment a carob or olive or hawthorn or mastic or strawberry tree grows big enough to burn, he cuts it down and drags it away for firewood. He even fells trees I planted, while smiling and waving at me like he’s doing me a favor. I glare at him silently but don’t say a word, knowing he has the full power of the state behind him.

He uses the wood to fuel his traditional bakery which has several large outdoor ovens. The much-loved industrial product he produces is bread; a product that has rapidly replaced all the native food-bearing plants of the area as they’ve been cut down to make room for wheat fields.

The villagers are proud of the bakery because it attracts visitors from all over the island and thus creates further opportunities for them to earn profit. The local bureaucracy; the democratically-elected village council, gives the baker free reign to do as he pleases since so many livelihoods depend on his bakery.

Because the baker cuts everything down as soon as it reaches human height, the trees never get big enough to fruit, so they don't spread their seeds and grow new trees. The forest slowly dwindles to nothing but pine trees and can no longer sustain most animal life. The climate dries, the soil erodes, the air grows stagnant and depleted of oxygen. All that’s left in the few remaining forests that haven’t been bulldozed to grow more wheat is a sterile pine desert.

The baker will soon no doubt lobby the village council to allow him to harvest the pine trees too, otherwise the all-important bakery will cease to be operational when he runs out of legal trees to fell.

In just a few years, all the fruits, nuts and berries that sustained the people in the area for millennia are wiped out and replaced with a consumer product that is made from a single grain crop. A thriving ecosystem has been replaced with a wheat monoculture that could collapse at any moment and take the lives of everyone it feeds with it.

It’s worth noting that the baker, like most people in my village, and in fact most people on the island, considers himself a communist. The village has a “communist party” clubhouse and they always elect “communist” local leaders and vote for “communist” politicians in the national elections.

Any anarchist worth their salt has no tolerance for these faux-communists, or “tankies” and their brand of collectivist-capitalism because they cling to money, states and rulers and really only embrace Stalinist politics because of the promise of cushy government jobs for them or their relatives.

The Stalinist politicians openly buy votes by promising jobs in the public service to their supporters. A job in the public service here is a guaranteed free ride for life for you and your family, with the salaries multiple times higher than private sector salaries and benefits out of the wazoo - including multiple pensions. They get a full pension for each gov sector they worked in, and the more connected civil servants are rotated through jobs in multiple sectors in the last few months leading up to their retirement to ensure the maximum pay-out possible.

I’m confident anyone reading this knows Stalinism is designed to enrich the bureaucrat class and give them complete control over the state’s citizens. No anarchist sees that shit as communism. But in a “real” communist society; an “anarcho-communist” society where money, state and class have been abolished, the local baker would presumably still bake that bread, and since it would be offered freely to everyone far and wide, he'd need to bake a lot more of it and thus need more wood. More forest would be razed to keep the bread production going. Everyone living in the village and anyone passing through, and people in faraway cities will expect to have as much gourmet bread on their plates as they desire. More bakeries would need to pop up on the mountain as demand rises for delicious bread in the cities below, with the rural population working hard and doing their duty to feed the hungry urban population.

Over the years, I’ve put a lot of thought into envisioning how the workers seizing the means of production would end the environmental devastation this bread production brings to the mountain. I struggle to see any scenario where communism would stop the devastation being wrought on the ecosystem. The forests would continue to be razed to ensure production won’t slow down.

Free bread for everyone today means no bread (or any food) for anyone tomorrow as the top-soil washes away, the climate warms, the wildlife goes extinct, and the whole mountain rapidly turns to desert. It’s inevitable that soon even wheat will cease to grow in the fields surrounding the village.

Regardless of the economic system in place, the villagers being able to consume as many fresh loaves of baked bread as they can carry means all the forests in driving distance of the village are eviscerated, eventually all the fields become barren, the crops fail, and everyone starves. This is already well on its way to happening, and switching to a communist mode of production would do nothing to allay this inevitability.

“How would you feed people then, genius?” I hear you scoff. The answer is simple; tried and tested for millennia. I wouldn’t feed people. People would feed themselves instead of expecting others to labor to feed them; an entitlement that arose with industrial civilization. People would be inclined to protect the forests instead of bulldozing them for the supposed convenience of industrial food production if they picked their food directly from those forests everyday.

They’d protect the forests with their very lives because they’d need the food that grows in the forests to survive without industrial farms, bakeries and factories outsourcing food production and then hiding the ecocide they cause just out of sight of the villages and their carefully manicured streets.

Bread and other industrial products alienate us from our ecosystem and cause us to stop caring about how our food is produced, so long as it’s there in the store when we want to eat it. Putting food production back into the control of the individual is the only way to preserve the ecosystem. Direct food is the only anarchist mode of production. When other people are tasked with growing your food, they will take shortcuts because the food isn’t going into their own mouths or the mouths of their loved ones. Food harvesting needs to go back to being a way of life for every able-bodied person, rather than something industrial farm workers are tasked with to serve an elite class of privileged office workers who are completely disconnected from the food chain.

All over the world, complex centuries-old polyculture food-forests that sustained countless lives for generations are destroyed by the arrogance of industrial production, replaced for a short while by a wheat or corn monoculture so people can pick up their bread down the street from their home or workplace instead of muddying their feet to gather food from the wild as their ancestors did. This convenience seems like “progress” to civilized people, at least until the destructive industrial agriculture process renders the wheat fields infertile and farms all over the world are turned into a vast uninhabitable dust bowl. A sustainable way of life that kept us alive and thriving for centuries has been tossed aside in favor of a short-lived attempt at industrial convenience that has already proven itself a horrible failure; bringing us and every other lifeform to the verge of extinction.

Industry is not sustainable. Industrial systems are all destructive. Communism, capitalism, fascism, they’re all founded on ecocide. The authority of the baker is upheld over everything else because domesticated people would rather consume “free” industrial bread for a few years than unlearn their destructive consumerist habits. If we are to survive these times of devastating ecological collapse, humans need to go back to fostering vast food forests as our ancestors did for millennia; producing and gathering our own food without destroying the very ecosystem that gives us life in the name of luxury and convenience.

"The People's" Authority: How “Anarcho-Communism” is Authority-Forming

If someone kept cutting down all the trees to bake bread, the people who depend on the forest to survive would of course have to intervene to stop the loggers from destroying the forest and thus killing their way of life.

This happens in rainforests today where indigenous people who have been let down by the state gleefully issuing licenses to corporate loggers, and turning a blind eye to illegal logging, instead take matters into their own hands and shut down the loggers using force.

They put their lives on the line to do this, and a lot of them are killed by the loggers who value their profits over the lives of indigenous people. They know if they don’t act to stop the loggers, the forests they call their home will be decimated and their way of life will have been destroyed forever. They’ll be forced into the cramped cities and have to labor all day everyday to buy the bread and beef that stripped their forests bare.

So how would an anarcho-communist society deal with someone who cuts down all the trees to bake bread? In an anarcho-communist society, everyone will be environmentally conscious and consume sustainably, right...? No. Not if you’re engaging in any kind of critical thinking.

Loggers can only destroy forests at the current explosive rate if the society imbues them with authority. If they have no authority, there's nothing stopping others from using force to end their pillaging of our natural resources. Without the authority of civilization behind them, the loggers have incredibly diminished power and no real motive to risk their lives to fell trees.

Anarcho-communism is an industrial ideology based around the notion of seizing the means of production and then running the factories, saw mills, oil rigs, mines and power plants democratically. Industrial civilization is an incredibly totalitarian authority that is nevertheless upheld by “anarcho”-communist theory, even though anarchists supposedly oppose all forms of authority.

In an industrial communist society, much like in a capitalist society, logging is necessary to further the industrial production the society is built around. As long as production drives the system, trees will have to be felled for all kinds of reasons: from lumber and paper production to making way for crops and cattle.

So, logging is highly valued by the people that uphold the industrial society, and in a real world scenario, these “anarcho” communists would have to take measures to protect loggers from repercussions from a small, uncivilized minority – the indigenous inhabitants of the forest. These measures are, by any definition, an authority. A monopoly on violence. A state in everything but name.

But since the loggers are providing this valued service to good, decent, reasoned, educated, domesticated, egalitarian, democratic, civilized anarcho-communists in big shiny cities who are accustomed to a litany of luxury consumer products being delivered to their doors everyday… Decidedly authoritarian methods will need to be taken to ensure the anarcho-loggers can do their anarcho-work without facing retaliation from the “primmie” forest dwellers. These methods can easily be justified in the ancom’s mind; there’s nothing an ancom loves more than to “justify” authority with their mighty reasoned logic™️.

So when faced with the conundrum that the anarcho-communist city needs lumber, paper, corn and meat, and the only thing standing in the way of production is a few indigenous tribes, the ancom will put their anarcho-Spock ears on and declare: “the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few”. Just as capitalist and socialist states today violently suppress the indigenous people who take action to shut down logging and mining operations that quash their way of life, the anarcho-industrialist will send a red-and-black army in to escort their red-and-black bulldozers and discipline anyone that interferes with the will of “the people”.

The indigenous inhabitants of course won’t give a shit that their forests are being felled by communists rather than by capitalists. They won’t give a shit that the bulldozers are now owned collectively or that the land they’ve lived on for millennia has now been designated as belonging to “the people” (the civilized voting majority) instead of to the state or to capital.

The forest that nurtures the indigenous people and their children is still being decimated to maintain the destructive lifestyles of apathetic city-dwellers. Their lives are still being ended because to civilized people, they’re a backwards, regressive minority standing in the way of progress... Damaging the revolution, inhibiting the growth of their glorious egalitarian civilization. The educated, “progressive” majority outvote them. Anyway, everyone who has spoken to a red anarchist knows primmies are dirty reactionary ableists who want to stop us from building wheelchair and drug factories, right?

Civilized people always have pushed the notion that the “common good” or the good of the many will always outweigh the needs of individuals or small groups of people, ever since Aristotle, in his "The Aim of Man” wrote:

"The good of the state is of greater and more fundamental importance both to attain and to preserve. The securing of one individual's good is cause for rejoicing, but to secure the good of a nation or of a city-state is nobler and more divine." Communism is even more adamant in this “the will of the majority is paramount” shtick, going as far as to declare the industrial-worker class as the only voice that matters, with everyone needing to become part of the worker class in order to abolish class differences.

This logic is why the USSR, China and other communist experiments forced collectivization on self-sufficient indigenous peoples and then slaughtered them when they inevitably resisted. If people won’t consent to being displaced from their ancestral lands to work on the industrial farms and factories that fuel the destruction of their homes, they’re branded “kulaks” and “counter-revolutionaries” and “reactionaries” and are systemically genocided, usually by destroying their food sources.

Industrial goods are valued by industrial society over the forest and its inhabitants because domesticated people want to eat bread and microwaved pizza and the real cost of those products (environmental destruction) is of no real concern to industrial society beyond empty gestures like an occasional “save the rainforests” or “go vegan” banner.

The inhabitants of the forests and their strange foreign culture are too far removed from the busy cities for the average urbanites to involve themselves in their plight. Even the civilized rural people who live around the forests are forever striving to urbanize their villages in the unending quest for upwards mobility. In my experience, they’ll happily trade every tree in sight for a gourmet bakery, Apple Store or coffee-shop so they can feel as civilized as the people in the big cities who tend to look down on them for being “hillbillies” or “country bumpkins”.

“The people in the big cities of Sao Paulo and Rio, they want us to live on picking Brazil nuts,” a farmer says. “That doesn’t put anyone’s kid in college.” (From RollingStone.com.)

The settler-farmers who are burning what’s left of the Amazon rainforest to the ground say they’re doing it for their children... To make the cash to pay for their children to be educated and get good jobs in the city. It shouldn’t be controversial for me to say civilized people value their civilized life and will always put their civilized needs before the needs of uncivilized others.

Civilized people can relate to their civilized neighbours who have the same struggles as them: paying their bills, educating their kids, buying good insurance, washing their car, deciding where to go on vacation, renovating their kitchens, choosing the next Netflix show to binge watch... So it’s not surprising that they’ll do everything they can to prop up civilized people and kick down the uncivilized people who stand in the way of their quest for ever-increasing industrial comforts.

I can already see the denial stage setting in on some of your faces as I type: “But us anarcho-communists aren’t like capitalists, we’re good caring people. Humane people. We’ll make industry green, we’ll manage the forests in a sustainable manner using direct democracy, unions, unicorns and equality!”

Why would anyone swallow that crock of shit? Why would thoroughly domesticated people used to all the comforts of destructive industrial civilization suddenly decide to forgo those comforts because of democracy? Why would 7.7 billion people suddenly change how they live because anarcho-communism has been declared? How would ancom civilization make industry “green” when it’s clearly demonstrable that all industry is destructive to the environment and to wild people, and modelling a society on an industrial system has had disastrous results throughout history, regardless of what the attached ideology was named?

All controlled mass-society, including every historical experiment at building a communist society has created authority; bodies of people that hold power over others. That power grows over time and takes the “communist” society further and further away from its revolutionary origins. Every indication is that authority would continue to be manifested with industrial anarcho-communism. There is no evidence that anarcho-communism would avert authority when it’s so dependent on destructive, exploitative, alienating, domesticating industry and the control and domination of a global population of workers.

All Industrial Goods Free for All People: A Recipe for Disaster

In communism everything is free for the taking and resources are often treated as if they're infinite. If you decide you need something, you take it from the communal store. Kropotkin said no one has the right to judge how much an individual needs, except the individuals themselves.

Since most reds hold that resources should be allocated according to “need”, decisions would need to be made to determine who in the community has “need” of the biggest shares of resources.

I know most ancoms, like Kropotkin, claim every individual will just take whatever they “need” (want) from communal stores, but I'm going to cry foul on that because it's really not practical in an industrial society. Resources aren't infinite and no one is going to spend their life doing gruelling manual labor and then just give everything they produce away to some random stranger who shows up at the communal store with a dumpster truck and says "I need your community's entire monthly output of goods today, so load it up". For some reason ancoms think assholes would cease to exist in a communist society. Why would anyone work their asses off, wasting their life away doing menial manual labor just to watch some shitlord drive away with everything they produced because he announced he “needed” it?

“But as woke anarcho-communists in an advanced fully-automated luxury communist society, labor will in fact be quite limited and fun because we can divide duties between all our comrades! And profit will no longer be a concern since everything we make will be given to anyone that wants it free of charge, so we don’t need to worry about marketing our products and that will further minimize the amount of labor we’ll do, giving us ample leisure time to enjoy the fruits of our production!”

For the purposes of cold-hearted mockery, I’m slightly paraphrasing an ancom who responded to an early draft of this piece. What fantasy realm are ancoms living in where all the massive problems posed by industrial production (including the ongoing extinction of near-every lifeform on Earth) will evaporate when you remove profit and marketing from the equation?

I keep saying this in my writing but here I go again: In an industrial society that aims to give everyone in the world equal access to consumer goods, industry does not decrease; it increases. If everyone in the world suddenly has free and equal access to the mountains of wasteful shit that Western consumers consider necessary to life, not only would production need to massively increase, but we would run out of resources to exploit much more rapidly.

That’s assuming anyone would even want to work in the mines and factories in a supposedly equal society if they no longer had guns to their heads. Why would anyone go back down into that mine once their chains are broken? Does anyone honestly think those Congolese kids give a shit if you have a new phone every year? Should they really be expected to sacrifice themselves for your entitlement? So you can continue to live in luxury with all your little conveniences?

In a real world implementation of industrial communism, communities will no doubt quickly impose limits on what can be taken from communal stores after a few people take way more than they have any right to and other people go without as a result, despite them laboring for hours a day to produce those goods. Kropotkin might insist we’ll all be happy toiling away all day to make this consumerist shit just to give it away to random strangers, but he was a privileged scholar who never had to work a day in his life, so what do you expect?

Industrial society right now is fed by the ceaseless labor of billions of exploited people in the Global South. People are forced to toil in mines from childhood to procure the materials that other people (also including children) then assemble into consumer goods in factories, all for starvation wages. This is debilitating, dangerous work that leaves the people who do it sucked of their youth after a few years.

Anyway, let’s play along with communist mythology for a bit to get to my next point. In an ideal communist society (where I guess minerals are somehow found equally all across the planet and not overwhelmingly located in the Global South as in the real world), outsourced labor would presumably go away because communists would never exploit workers in distant lands (who ever heard of an imperialist communist, right? Right??) So instead production would need to be localized, and then the goods would be distributed according to need.

For resources to be allocated according to need, you'll have some kind of deciding body in place to judge what each person's needs are; what resources each person should be given.

There are lots of factors to take into consideration when deciding someone’s “needs”, like how far they live from work, how far they live from the store, how many calories they burn doing the labor they do, the size of their family, their dietary restrictions, disabilities they might have, their particular metabolism, how many parties they throw, how many friends they have and thus might invite to the parties, their religious and cultural practices, the size of their house, the size of their garden, the type of insulation their house has and how quickly it loses heat, the fuel efficiency of their car... I could list hundreds more things but I’ll stop myself.

Giving bureaucrats this power will no doubt mean certain favored groups / individuals will be rewarded and less desirable groups / individuals will be neglected, or even punished. This is the nature of authority. You’ll need a body of full-time bureaucrats to collect all this data and measure how it should determine your share of the pie, and those bureaucrats are going to have biases. If a computer does it, the programmer will have biases. And you'd still need bureaucrats to collect the data and feed it to the computer. Then they could easily feed incorrect or selective data to the computer because of their biases.

It's always felt like a recipe for corruption and exploitation to me for a bureaucracy to determine someone’s worth... Which is probably why Kropotkin stipulated that everyone should be able to just take whatever they themselves decide they need from the stores.

Of course, the real solution would be to not base your proposed utopian society on industrial production in the first place... Promising industrial production will be unlimited because everyone will voluntarily agree to work real hard in the factories and mines and slaughterhouses and the goods will be distributed to everyone everywhere somehow while maintaining a sustainable ecological green solarpunk paradise just makes you a smug fucking liar. No different than a grinning politician promising to give us freedom, liberty and prosperity if we vote for him.

The only red anarchist tendency that made a modicum of practical sense in my mind was anarcho-collectivism, because at least the workers would receive the direct value of their labor hours instead of having external bodies decide how much value / worth to assign to them as a person.

If you're going to spend your life toiling in a factory or farm to produce goods for other people, would you really want a bureaucrat or a committee or even a direct voter body deciding how much you deserve for that labor, while giving someone who does the same job (or a much easier job) more than you because of potentially biased reasons?

Regardless, anarcho-collectivism still only really values the workers who are most willing to submit to the factory grind and put in the most hours. Anarcho-collectivism still holds ecodical industry and luxuries for cityfolk up above all life on the planet... So that 19th century ideology isn’t going to save you either. Throw it right in the trash with the bread book because this “reform-industrial-society” charade isn’t helping when the planet is on fire.

If industrial communism were actually implemented in the real world, you can be relatively certain that some kind of authority would need to be put in place to prevent bad actors from showing up at the store and taking a community’s entire monthly production. People would need to police the store and judge whether someone is worthy of taking as much as they’re taking. They’d need to become authorities, upholders of law and order. Purveyors of “justice”.

Let’s be clear now because I know a lot of red anarchists are going to try to “justify” this authority as being “necessary for the good of society” as they will do. Policing who can take food and how much they can take is a clear authority. Not a “justified” authority, because such a thing simply does not exist.

And this store-policing is not the anarchist tactic of “direct action” either, let’s make that clear right now, because it’s a frightenly common misunderstanding with red anarchists. Creating a police force has nothing to do with direct action.

Direct action is an isolated use of force unconnected to institutional systems of power. People who engage in direct action are not appealing to a higher authority for legitimacy. Their action is not legitimized by anyone and they receive no protection or reward from an authority as they take the action. There’s no monopoly on violence being granted to them by an authority, so there’s nothing to guarantee their safety from retaliation if the action fails or succeeds.

There’s no institutional power-imbalance being created when someone takes direct action against an authority. The authority already created the power imbalance, and your direct action is a form of defense to shield you, your ecosystem or your community from that imbalance.

Direct action is an entirely anarchist tactic, but pinning badges on people, officiating them, and giving them the authority (and the monopoly on violence) to police a store and withhold food and products from certain people for whatever reason has nothing to do with anarchy. Building a hierarchy like this has nothing to do with anarchy.

Police officers and judges (authorities) ruling over a communal store is authoritarian. An officiated police force is a completely different thing from the isolated use of force by a lone actor or a small group of actors to preserve life and combat authority (direct action).

Creating a police force, even if it’s formed of volunteers, even if they were elected, even if they make decisions collectively, even if their uniforms are red and black, even if the officers placed on duty are regularly rotated, is authoritarian by any definition. There are no anarchist cops. An “anarchist cop” couldn’t be a bigger oxymoron.

Here’s an example of direct action: me punching a logger who is cutting down my favorite tree. This action is completely removed from structural systems of authority because I have no authority or structural power behind me. There’s nothing legitimizing my use of force or giving me a monopoly on violence. My use of force doesn’t extend beyond my own two fists. Since assault is illegal, and his logging is legal, the logger has the full authority of the law behind him, so any action I take to oppose that authority is punching up. It’s fighting to curve a gross power imbalance. It’s anarchy.

In this civilized world, I could be severely punished by law enforcement for using force to stop his desecration of a forest. As the state gave him his logging permit, he has authority over the forest and every life that depends on the forest to survive. He punches down every time he fells a tree. He is the full embodiment of archy. If I choose to stand in his way, there’s no state behind me, no court, no police force. Me physically stopping a logger from felling trees is an isolated use of force to strike back at a system of authority. The logger destroys life for profit, and if I take action to stop him because I don’t want to see the forest become a barren desert, I don’t become a state or any kind of authority based on that decision to fight back.

Forming a police squad and a bureaucracy to patrol and govern an officiated communal store, appointing authorities to sit and judge how much each individual deserves to eat, on the other hand, creates legitimized systems of power and an institutional monopoly on violence. It creates a state, or at the very least a proto-state that will later develop into a full-blown state as the bureaucracy grows.

The German philosopher Max Weber defined the state as a monopoly on the legitimate use of physical force. State violence, whether it’s committed on behalf of the state by a politician, a judge, a cop or a logger, is always a legitimate force. Any violence the state does is immediately “justified” simply by virtue of it being dispensed by a legitimate state actor who is doing it for the good of the state and its authority.

A logger with an official permit to slice up a forest is thus fully justified in the eyes of society to do as much harm to the forest as is deemed necessary by the authorities who granted the permit.

A state exists wherever an authority can authorize and legitimize violence. There is no way for an anarchist to “justify” a coercive, authoritarian institution such as a police force that will no doubt be biased against minority groups and lead to the accumulation of power by the dominant group, and abuses of power by the people doing the policing. Even if minority groups are involved in the police force, the majority group will still oppress their groups.

A society that mass-produces goods and distributes them in communal stores will manifest itself as a state, regardless of Kropotkin’s insistences that everyone will work voluntarily and then take whatever they want from the stores. There’s no practical scenario where industrial labor is truly voluntary. There’s no practical scenario on this Earth of rapidly diminishing returns where “free” stores won’t need to be policed to deny unlimited goods to individuals and groups who the governing body decides are less worthy of the fruits of their labor.

Anarcho-communism simply isn’t revolutionary as long as we are depleting all our resources in the name of industrial civilization; something anarcho-communism demands as an industrial, work-based ideology that revolves around civilizing the land and its inhabitants in order to extract resources and labor. There’s nothing revolutionary about continuing the global ecocide under the guise of democracy. Every anarchist should understand the difference between isolated force and authority, but very few self-identifying social anarchists seem interested in this and are content prating on about “justified authority”, debating “how an anarcho-communist police force could work” and excitedly discussing Chomsky’s latest speech telling them to vote for a lesser-evil neoliberal politician.

I know I sound bitter, but I’ve been disillusioned with the majority of red anarchists I come into contact with for years now and they only seem to get worse as industrial society plods on and the sands and seas climb further up our necks.

Anarcho-communism is not the solution to fighting authority, it’s simply a skin-deep re-brand of authority. A sparkly new paint job. There’s a reason so many ancoms strive to “justify” authority. They don’t actually care about reaching for anarchy.

Is Communism Always Authority-Forming?

In my mind, communism can only work outside of industrial mass society. A small community gathering or growing supplies and freely sharing them with the rest of the community. Each community trading with other small communities. Marx and Engels ironically dubbed this hunter-gatherer form of society that had long existed in human history as “primitive communism” and suggested it was inferior to their advanced industrial communism that valued the factory and centralized city life above all else.

Mass industry requires mass agriculture, mass labor, mass transport, mass resource extraction, mass construction, mass policing, mass military... Mass society and will only lead right back to capitalism and statism because it's so unwieldy and authority forming. Any communist tendency built around industrial exploitation is going to create all kinds of fucked up hierarchies and just lead us right back to the apocalyptic status quo.

Most communists I’ve talked to about this are unable to accept that some people will still act like assholes if capitalism collapses, which I’d probably find endearing if these people weren’t such giant assholes themselves; calling me a privileged reactionary for daring to suggest their blessed ideology might have some flawed logic. They insist everyone will cease being selfish assholes once capitalism is done away with because “assholes are only assholes as long as capitalism pits them against each other.”

Even if we wake up one morning and marketing, consumer culture and wealth are all done away with, we still have generations of indoctrination in authoritarian behavior to contend with. That doesn't go away overnight. But even without consumer culture to guide them, people are still completely capable of being assholes. Going back to before mass-society even existed, people would murder each other and take their stuff. They'd raid each other's settlements, they'd steal their children, they'd fight over territory and cultural differences. These aren't things that were invented by capitalism and they won’t go away just because communism is declared.

People aren't inherently just or unjust. Humanity is not good or bad. Every person is an individual, each with different experiences, motivations, traumas. Communism expects everyone to be altruistic. Capitalism expects everyone to act out of greed and self preservation. Neither is true because both are ideologically driven worldviews that attempt to define human nature in order to instruct us how to behave by instilling us with their morals. People are greedy, people are generous, people are kind, people are mean-spirited. Every person in the world is all of these things and more. People are not defined by one single personality trait their entire lives.

I’m haunted by every shitty thing I’ve ever done and I’m sure I’ll do more shitty things yet, despite my best intentions. No one is above making mistakes. Mutual aid is a great thing, but it needs to be earned. There are people in our lives that we trust and people we can’t stand to be around. Not everyone is deserving of the products of our labor. Some people in the world will always try to exploit you, even if they already have everything their hearts could possibly desire. Some people will be kind to you no matter how big an asshole you are.

I’ve been accused by communists of being cynical, of being “regressive” and “counter-revolutionary” because I don’t buy into the communist notion that humans are inherently good and they just need the right industrial system to bring that good out of them.

Any society where I’m expected to just sit back and watch as a logger destroys my ecosystem because he’s serving the “greater good” isn’t a society I want any part of. I value my autonomy over the desires of traumatized workers pushing buttons for 8 hours a day in a city far-removed from me. I’d rather take the logger’s chainsaw away than fiddle my thumbs as he takes everything I know, and to hell with whatever bureaucratic process enshrined him with the right to decimate the forest to give bread to the workers. Fuck the workers and their bread and their fully-automated luxury communism and their divine democratic rights.

There’s simply no reason to believe exploitative assholes will go away if communism is ever enacted.

There’s a man I know who constantly exploits me for my labor, and I always go along with it. He dangles a carrot on a stick in front of me every time; promising that after I help him, he’ll hook me up to his well so I can have free water for my trees. For years he’s made this promise.

I’ve spent countless hours doing dangerous work for this guy with no reward. He always disappears after I do the work without giving me what he promised. Then the next week he wakes me up again at 6am on a Saturday by honking his horn, apologizes for not getting around to hooking me up to the well yet, saying he was too busy or in the hospital or had a family emergency, promises he’ll do it this week, and then I’m hanging off a cliff or a roof repairing pipes for him all day while he barks orders at me.

I do it because I’m a fucking pushover who can’t say no to people due to my ridiculous kind nature. But whenever I ask him for anything, I’m met with a blank stare, an abrupt subject change or a sorry excuse. I was stranded a two hour walk down the mountain last week when my car broke down, and he drove right around me and didn’t even slow down. When I saw him later, he swore on his life that he didn’t see me because the sun was in his eyes. I nodded and shrugged.

Communism wouldn’t stop this lying dipshit from exploiting me; he’d still need someone to fix his leaky pipes, start up his diesel generator, saw off the upper branches of his olive trees and climb shoddy makeshift structures for him regardless of the economic system in place. He’d still give me a sob story about his painful ulcer and I’d still do the hard work to spare him the pain of doing it himself. He wouldn’t stop being an exploitative asshole just because democracy is installed in the workplace. He wouldn’t start practising mutual aid when he goes to great lengths to avoid all work and shames other people into doing it for him.

Red anarchists throw every insult in the book at me when I voice my doubts about their wistful ideologies; condemning me for being critical of the amazing breadman Kropotkin or their “green industry” tsar Professor Bookchin... It’s hard to give my perspective as an indigenous anarchist to these people who are so hostile to any worldview that doesn’t validate their luxurious industrial lifestyle and their driving desire to make that lifestyle more democratic in order to receive a bigger share of the pie.

Between the shouts of “reactionary lifestylist” and “dirty primmie” they lobby at me, I try to explain my perspective to them. I see suffering in the world and I want to make sense of it. I’m not satisfied just handwaving it away and clinging to fanciful utopian ideologies designed to energize European factory workers from the 1800s. I don’t believe red-industry will cure society of all its ills and free humans from their chains.

The warehouse I’ve worked in for more than a decade will not become magically liberating if I’m given the power of democracy. It’ll still be a miserable fucking place filled with toxic pesticides that are slowly killing me.

Some ancoms will no doubt unironically reply to this piece with reasoning that just amounts to "no, actually, anarcho-communist industry will be a utopia because Kropotkin said so". They’ll quote a bunch of literature to me that is nothing but empty promises by long-dead European philosophers for industrial egalitarianism. I’ve really run out of patience for that line of thinking. It’s no different than a 7 year old trying to win an argument by insisting “because my dad said so”... But when it comes down to it, that’s all most reds can do. Quote their heroes and cling to the hope that they’ll be proven right some day. That hope is what keeps them going as their miserable civilized lives burn the world up. “All our suffering will end once we have democracy in the workplace”. Those poor, deluded, hope-filled souls.

Everything I know tells me industry cannot be made "green" any more than capitalism can be made ethical. All agricultural industrial society in history has resulted in ecocide and eventually collapse. When you extract resources, burn fuel, manufacture goods and distribute them to millions or billions of people, you do real irreversible harm to ecosystems and human lives. Ancoms are not magical beings that can somehow escape the consequences of this because they're supposedly "good" and “egalitarian”.

If anarcho-communism were ever attempted, half the "nuances" it has will be thrown out for being fantastic, half-baked and impossible to implement in an industrial mass-society. Compromises will be made to make the system functional. A lot of things have been claimed about communism, but whenever its been attempted in real life models, almost none of those claims have come to fruition and they never will because:

a) Resources aren't infinite.

b) Industrial output has a high 'hidden' cost, and most importantly:

c) Work isn't voluntary.

No matter how much you swear you’ll make labor democratic, no one is working because they really want to. They’re working because the system requires them to work to survive. No amount of democracy will stop the system from asserting its authority on everyone inside its suffocating walls. Abolishing the borders between territories will do nothing if industrial civilization continues to box us in and starve us if we dare to resist its rule. If we can’t escape civilization, the whole world is nothing more than one big prison.

Civilized people labor to create consumer goods because the system gives them no other option if they want to survive. The only way people will continue to toil in the factories and warehouses in "a communist society" is if they are forced to by the system. No free hunter gatherer will voluntarily give up their freedom to stand at an assembly line pushing buttons so other people can have Corn Flakes, weedkiller and AAA batteries. It's something that needs to be forced on humans by domestication and the joined threat of violence and starvation that props up the industrial system.

Industry is a clear authority and anarcho-communist theory is completely oblivious to that. Anarcho-communism is nothing more than an attempt to reform the tyranny of civilization to give it a sly smile. It’s the anarchist version of Barack Obama promising change but just delivering more of the same and expecting you to celebrate it.

Seize the Means of Destruction! (And fucking burn it to the ground…)

Ancoms insist “people would choose to produce only what is needed” in an anarcho-communist society. That word; "needed" is really useless. Anyone can define anything as being "needed", but almost none of the things defined as such are actually needed. This is why industrial communism isn't really compatible with anarchy: anything and everything will be defined as "needed" by domesticated people, no matter how authority-forming the things are. If it means they get to keep consuming, anarcho-consumers would happily define everything from pesticides to slaughterhouses to automobile plants as “needed”. This is the power of democracy. Whatever narrative the collective adopts becomes the official, approved narrative and anyone questioning it will be seen as subversive and dangerous and a threat to order and common decency.

This "needed industry" argument is a lot like the "justified authority" argument a lot of red “anarchists” keep making to uphold every shitty authority they cling to all the way up to the state, prisons and the police.

Usually they’ll just rename these authorities “the commune”, “the social re-integration facility” and “the peacekeepers” and be satisfied that they’ve come up with a real change. It's meaningless. Domesticated people will not allow themselves to see past the carefully manufactured alienating world they’ve inherited. Very few civilized people are willing to risk losing what they perceive as the great comforts imbibed to them by industrial civilization.

Even if they recognize how strangling these “comforts” actually are to them and everything else on the planet, instead of rejecting them outright, they draw up elaborate plans to reform the way those “comforts” are produced and dispersed. Most of these plans, when deconstructed and debullshitted, ultimately amount to little more than slapping the word “anarcho” in front of everything and trusting it’ll be all good because it’s anarchized now.

People thrived without industry and agriculture for millennia. Civilization has led to the extinction of near everything on the planet. 99.9% of industrial goods are not "needed" by humanity, they're wanted.

Ancoms aren't going to suddenly decide to give up their phones, Doritos and washing machines when they find out they're environmentally destructive. They'll just rubber-stamp all the things they want as "needed", “eco-friendly”, “sustainable” or “green” and call it a day. And we’ll be expected to keep working our miserable jobs and like it because now they’re anarcho-jobs in an anarcho-society with anarcho-exploitation and anarcho-masters.

Keeping people in the mines and factories building those consumer goods that "the people" decide they "need" will require massive authority that will be just another iteration of capitalism in all but name. Just like “communist” Russia and “communist” China and “communist” North Korea. Not a trace of communism will survive once industrial civilization is done grinding everything up. There’s nothing about “anarcho-communism” that will spare it from the same fate. Claiming to be anti-authority rings hollow when you cling to authoritarian industrial civilization, workerism and all the other authorities ancoms at large decide are “justified”.

A bureaucracy will always be instilled in an organized mass-society and this is why industrial communism isn't tenable. It’s why every time industrial communism has been attempted, it has simply been manifested as a perverse collective-capitalism with even more centralized power than regular-flavor capitalism. The bureaucracy will quickly morph into a state, and by definition the society will no longer be communist. But of course, it’ll keep calling itself “communist” and ensure the distinction between capitalism and communism remains paper-thin so people won’t be able to envision a better world than the brutal industrial wasteland we’ve all been born into.

Any system that allocates resources and polices people is functionally a state, regardless of what it brands itself as.

All implementations of industrial society have failed to liberate people, instead making their lives more and more miserable with each stage of industrialism, and to claim that attaching “anarcho” to the front of an industrial system will make a difference is absolutely fucking ridiculous.

Communism has never succeeded at liberating us historically and will not suddenly succeed just because you promise you’re better than other communists and you and all your super-libertarian ancom comrades will pick up cans of paint and make all the chimney stacks bright green.

Authoritarian behavior will only ever be repeated if society is structured around authoritarian institutions like industrialism and democracy. Both Marx and Kropotkin’s communism are centred around these institutions because their ideologies require that people be controlled by bureaucracy. Whether it be decentralized democratic bureaucracy or centralized party bureaucracy is irrelevant. The result is the same: Authority and control.

Without this bureaucracy, the society would descend into anarchy. Yes, wonderful, amazing, freeing anarchy. The very thing every red fears most because it would mean they’d no longer get to forcibly structure society and people around their sacred ideology and force their authority and morality on them. Domesticated people sit trapped in sterile little boxes, fed a steady drip of pesticide and high-fructose corn syrup as they labor, consume, consume, consume and then die.

This isn’t life. This isn’t anarchy. This is a waking nightmare, a depraved hell-world that has all of us thoroughly brainwashed into thinking it acceptable. Branding it “communist” or “libertarian socialist” or “democratic” or “egalitarian” or “decentralized” or “anarcho-communist” will not end the nightmare. It will not stop the planet-wide ecocide civilization has wrought on all living things. The means of destruction being controlled by industrial workers instead of industrial bosses will not stop the ecocide.

Seizing the factories and making them democratically managed as all reds yearn to do won’t do anything to save us from violence, misery, alienation and eventual extinction.

The only way to destroy authority is to burn industry to the ground before it devours every last lifeform on the planet.

The only chance we have to survive what’s coming in the next few years as our ecosystems are collapsing all around us is to tear down every factory and close every port and slice up every road until civilization is in ruins.

But in all honesty, we’re not going to do that. We’re going to watch television and sip iced tea and we’re going to wait for the end. I’m going to keep watching in silence as the local bread man fells the last remaining wilderness.

Maybe the planet will recover somewhat in a few millennia and maybe the next lifeform that evolves will have more sense than the desertmakers. This is the last hope I cling to.

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bloodbenderz · 4 years ago

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humaniterations (dot) net/2014/10/13/an-anarchist-perspective-on-the-red-lotus/ this article from oct 2014 is very dense — truly, a lot to unpack here, but I feel like you would find this piece interesting. I would love it if you shared your thoughts on the points that stood out to you, whether you agree or disagree. you obv don’t have to respond to it tho, but I’m sending it as an ask jic you feel like penning (and sharing) a magnificent essay, as is your wont 💕

article

i know this took me forever 2 answer SORRY but i just checked off all the things on my to do list for the first time in days today so. Essay incoming ladies!

ok im SO glad u sent me this bc it’s so so good. it’s a genuinely thoughtful criticism of the politics in legend of korra (altho i think its sometimes a little mean to korra unnecessarily like there’s no reason to call her a “petulant brat” or say that she throws tantrums but i do understand their point about her being an immature and reactionary hero, which i’ll get back to) and i think the author has a good balance between acknowledging like Yeah the lok writers were american liberals and wrote their show accordingly and Also writing a thorough analysis of lok’s politics that felt relevant and interesting without throwing their hands up and saying this is all useless liberal bullshit (which i will admit that i tend to do).

this article essentially argues that the red lotus antagonists of s3 were right. And that’s not an uncommon opinion i think but this gives it serious weight. Like, everything that zaheer’s gang did was, in context, fully understandable. of course the red lotus would be invested in making sure that the physically and spiritually and politically most powerful person in the world ISNT raised by world leaders and a secret society of elites that’s completely unaccountable to the people! of course the red lotus wants to bring down tyrannical governments and allow communities to form and self govern organically! and the writers dismiss all of that out of hand by 1. consistently framing the red lotus as insane and murderous (korra never actually gives zaheer’s ideas a chance or truly considers integrating them into her own approach) 2. representing the death of the earth queen as not just something that’s not necessarily popular (what was with mako’s bootlicker grandma, i’d love to know) but as something that causes unbelievable violence and chaos in ba sing se (which, like, a lot of history and research will tell you that people in disasters tend towards prosocial behaviors). so the way the story frames each of these characters and ideologies is fascinating because like. if you wanted to write season 3 of legend of korra with zaheer as the protagonist and korra as the antagonist, you wouldn’t actually have to change the sequence of events at all, really. these writers in particular and liberal writers in general LOVE writing morally-gray-but-ultimately-sympathetic characters (like, almost EVERY SINGLE fire nation character in the first series, who were full on violent colonizers but all to a degree were rehabilitated in the eyes of the viewer) but instead of framing the red lotus as good people who are devoted to justice and freedom and sometimes behave cruelly to get where theyre trying to go, they frame them as psychopaths and murderers who have good intentions don’t really understand how to make the world a better place.

and the interesting thing about all this, about the fact that the red lotus acted in most cases exactly as it should have in context and the only reason its relegated to villain status is bc the show is written by liberals, is that the red lotus actually points out really glaring sociopolitical issues in universe! like, watching the show, u think well why the fuck HASN’T korra done anything about the earth queen oppressing her subjects? why DOESN’T korra do anything about the worse than useless republic president? why the hell are so many people living in poverty while our mains live cushy well fed lives? how come earth kingdom land only seems to belong to various monarchs and settler colonists, instead of the people who are actually indigenous to it? the show does not want to answer these questions, because american liberal capitalism literally survives on the reality of oppressive governments and worse than useless presidents and people living in poverty while the middle/upper class eats and indigenous land being stolen. if the show were to answer these questions honestly, the answer would be that the status quo in real life (and the one on the show that mirrors real life) Has To Change.

So they avoid answering these questions honestly in order for the thesis statement to be that the status quo is good. and the only way for the show to escape answering these questions is for them to individualize all these broad social problems down into Good people and Bad people. so while we have obvious bad ones like the earth queen we also have all these capitalists and monarchs and politicians who are actually very nice and lovely people who would never hurt anyone! which is just such an absurd take and it’s liberal propaganda at its best. holding a position of incredible political/economic power in an unjust society is inherently unethical and maintaining that position of power requires violence against the people you have power over. which is literally social justice 101. but there’s literally no normal, average, not-politically-powerful person on the show. so when leftist anarchism is presented and says that destroying systems that enforce extreme power differentials is the only way to bring peace and freedom to all, the show has already set us up to think, hey, fuck you, top cop lin beifong and ford motor ceo asami sato are good people and good people like them exist! and all we have to do to move forward and progress as a society is to make sure we have enough good individuals in enough powerful positions (like zuko as the fire lord ending the war, or wu as the earth king ending the monarchy)! which is of course complete fiction. liberal reform doesn’t work. but by pretending that it could work by saying that the SYSTEM isnt rotten it’s just that the people running it suck and we just need to replace those people, it automatically delegitimizes any radical movements that actually seek to change things.

and that’s the most interesting thing about this article to me is that it posits that the avatar...might actually be a negative presence in the world. the avatar is the exact same thing: it’s a position of immense political and physical power bestowed completely randomly, and depending on the moral character and various actions of who fills that position at any given time, millions of people will or won’t suffer. like kyoshi, who created the fascist dai li, like roku, who refused to remove a genocidal dictator from power, like aang, who facilitated the establishment of a settler colonial state on earth kingdom land. like korra! she’s an incredibly immature avatar and a generally reactionary lead. i’ve talked about this at length before but she never actually gets in touch with the needs of the people. she’s constantly running in elite circles, exposed only to the needs and squabbles of the upper class! how the hell is she supposed to understand the complexities of oppression and privilege when she was raised by a chess club with inordinate amounts of power and associates almost exclusively with politicians and billionaires?? from day 1 we see that she tends to see things in very black and white ways which is FINE if you’re a privileged 17 yr old girl seeing the world for the first time but NOT FINE if you’re the single most powerful person in the world! Yeah, korra thinks the world is probably mostly fine and just needs a little whipping into shape every couple years, because all she has ever known is a mostly fine world! in s1 when mako mentions that he as a homeless impoverished teenager worked for a gang (which is. Not weird. Impoverished people of every background are ALWAYS more likely to resort to socially unacceptable ways of making money) korra is like “you guys are criminals?????!!!!!” she was raised in perfect luxury by a conservative institution and just never developed beyond that. So sure, if the red lotus raised her anarchist, probably a lot would’ve been different/better, but....they didn’t. and korra ended up being a reactionary and conservative avatar who protected monarchs and colonialist politicians. The avatar as a position is completely subject to the whims of whoever is currently the avatar. and not only does that suck for everyone who is not the avatar, not only is it totally unfair to whatever kid who grows up knowing the fate of the world is squarely on their shoulders, but it as a concept is a highly individualist product of the authors’ own western liberal ideas of progress! the idea that one good leader can fix the world (or should even try) based on their own inherent superiority to everyone else is unbelievably flawed and ignores the fact that all real progress is brought about as a result of COMMUNITY work, as a result of normal people working for themselves and their neighbors!

the broader analysis of bending was really interesting to me too, but im honestly not sure i Totally agree with it. the article pretty much accepts the show’s assertion that bending is a privilege (and frankly backs it up much better than the original show did, but whatever), and i don’t think that’s NECESSARILY untrue since it is, like, a physical advantage (the author compares it to, for example, the fact that some people are born athletically gifted and others are born with extreme physical limitations), but i DO think that it discounts the in universe racialization of bending. in any sequel to atla that made sense, bending as a race making fact would have been explored ALONGSIDE the physical advantages it bestows on people. colonialism and its aftermath is generally ignored in this article which is its major weakness i think, especially in conjunction with bending. you can bring up the ideas the author did about individual vs community oriented progress in the avatar universe while safely ignoring the colonialism, but you can’t not bring up race and colonialism when you discuss bending. especially once you get to thinking about how water/earth/airbenders were imprisoned and killed specifically because bending was a physical advantage, and that physical advantage was something that would have given colonized populations a means of resistance and that the fire nation wanted to keep to itself.

i think that’s the best lens thru which to analyze bending tbh! like in the avatar universe bending is a tool that different ethnic groups tend to use in different ways. at its best, bending actually doesn’t represent social power differences (despite representing a physical power difference) because it’s used to represent/maintain community solidarity. like, take the water tribe. katara being the last waterbender, in some way, makes her the last of a part of swt CULTURE. the implication is that when there were a lot of waterbenders in the south, they dedicated their talents to building community and helping their neighbors, because this was something incredibly culturally important and important to the water tribe as a community. the swt as a COLLECTIVE values bending for what it can do for the entire tribe, which counts for basically every other talent a person can have (strength, creativity, etc). the fire nation, by contrast, distorts the community value of bending by racializing it: anyone who bends an element that isn’t fire is inherently NOT fire nation (and therefore inherently inferior) and, because of the physical power that bending confers, anyone who bends an element that isn’t fire is a threat to fire nation hegemony. and in THAT framework of bending, it’s something that intrinsically assigns worth and reifies race in a way that’s conveniently beneficial to the oppressor.

it IS worth talking about how using Element as a way to categorize people reifies nations, borders, and race in a way that is VERY characteristic of white american liberals. i tried to be conscious of that (and the way that elements/bending can act in DIFFERENT ways, depending on cultural context) but i think it’s pretty clear that the writers did intend for element to unequivocally signify nation (and, by extension, race), which is part of why they screwed up mixed families so bad in lok. when they’ve locked themselves into this idea that element=nation=race, they end up with sets of siblings like mako and bolin or kya tenzin and bumi, who all “take” after only one parent based on the element that they bend. which is just completely stupid but very indicative of how the writers actually INTENDED element/bending to be a race making process. and its both fucked up and interesting that the writers display the same framework of race analysis that the canonical antagonists of atla do.

anyway that’s a few thoughts! thank u again for sending the article i really loved it and i had a lot of fun writing this <3

#this is 2.1k words LMFAOO #asks #analysis #do i have an analysis tag?#crit #lok crit

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enderspawn · 4 years ago

Text

so now that we’ve had a few days since the syndicate stream, i think ive managed to cool down and step back to look at it more neutrally. ended up long and pretty rambly since its all pretty flow of consciousness so its under the cut, but heres some thoughts on the syndicate (and a bit on c!techno, since hes the originator)

in universe, techno has only just heard a new place was made. he doesn’t know jack abt it, so he goes over to check it out and learn whats happening. he meets w tubbo, who explains they arent a gov, and accepts it then goes. hes hesitant abt the nukes, but frankly? also understandable, they are nukes. any kind of mass weapon of destruction is something to look out for, same as if tubbo revealed his own wither vault.

i think the reason that i, and many other ppl, had such a NEGATIVE reaction to what is a mainly harmless and completely reasonable interaction is. well, bc we’re the audience. we KNOW more than c!techno does. we know that snowchester very explicitly was formed without a government because they’re afraid of techno attacking. we know that the nukes are made to defend them, based off what happened to lmanberg. we know that ranboo joined partially to try and spare snowchester if worst came to worst.

the reason we the audience were afraid of him going is bc we feared what would happen if he DID deem it a gov. bc we know the effort they’ve done to NOT be one, bc we have a connection to the town that c!techno doesnt.

after then came calling the syndicate/techno tyrannical. after all- if they strike down every government then they are forcing ppl to follow their beliefs under threat of destruction or death. which is uhh pretty fucking tyrannical.

the thing is that in the end the syndicate hasnt even done enough for us to like. KNOW if thats true. techno himself said hes totally fine w just group of people living together, hell hes in a damn SYNDICATE. you can def argue in general abt what gives the syndicate the right at all to decide if a gov deserves to exist, if being “”the deciders”” makes them inherently hypocritical. (this also is pushing that “they decide” bc, well, w the exception of tubbo now, theres very little chance the other ppl would win against techno and crew. it Would just be decimation. if they attack, they’re destroying it all).

after all, they preach abt giving ppl the right to choose but then dont let them choose to form a gov. paradox of tolerance i suppose, since in anarchistic views there isnt like a “non-corrupt” government so every government is worth dismantling. (note, this is all based off my p limited understanding of anarchy theory and also Very Simplified for ease of speaking)

another reason we the audience may have been so afraid is bc, historically, techno doesnt lose. he may suffer personal losses and feelings of betrayal, but narratively hes won every battle hes really been in. its the status quo, so any possible conflict in the future you kind of expect the same. we were afraid of any kind of conflict starting.

i think this stuff does kinda work in character too. c!tubbo admits himself he doesnt rlly know government stuff, and he doesnt seem to really know what techno would or wouldnt DEEM one- thus he has a similar fear to the audience of being struck down for it. ranboo, like stated before, partially joined bc he was afraid FOR snowchester.

again i get that anarchy is against that greater establishment, but theres something to be said for the fact that. well. this is a block game. its systems work a LOT differently than real life, and real life anarchist theory may not transfer over well. there are a lot of good posts ive seen recently analysing lmanberg (specifically early lmanberg) and like. it genuinely worked to protect its citizens. they were able to pool together their resources and man power and protect each other from outside threats that would overpower them seperately. there IS no big overarching societal and deeply built in system to overthrow like in real life, if anything “having a government” IS the new system trying to form instead of anarchy (bc, to my knowledge, lmanberg was the first real “government” and the dream smp’s gov kinda formed as a response) it could def be another reason so many ppl are against enforcing anarchy-- this isnt the real world, and being in solidified groups could help the weak. without that, instead its the strongest survive and thrive while everyone else suffers.

(then again to devils advocate my own point, a lot of times they’re referring in those posts to a time where wilbur, who was actually “in charge” wasnt around a ton, so there was less of a power structure in place. also, you CAN still have a group of ppl without being a “gov” (like snowchester or the syndicate) but then we get back to “what is a gov by the syndicate’s standards” as well as if they want to remove a gov at its start or JUST when it seems “tyrannical” (so if they believe a gov is inherently tyrannical). like if i started a direct democracy gov and explicitly called it a gov, do you take it down? its taking the opinion of all citizens and allows everyone equal power. is that corrupt just bc its ALSO a gov, or does it get to stay? where is the line? idk man maybe give the gov like a free trial. if it starts being corrupt then step in but if they’re vibin they’re vibin. chill w the anarchy /lh /hj JFKDLSJF)

idk man this isnt fully conclusion imo i just wanted to long think abt this. also fuck this block game for getting into legit political theory and ethics and shit. “is someone valid in doing something for another person that they believe will help the other person if it limits their personal freedom” (or, is techno correct in enforcing anarchy bc he believes it is the best form for ppl, EVEN at the cost of their personal freedoms to make a gov) is too deep to be asking for a fuckin block potato pig. this is why i dont do a ton of discourse im just stupid and it starts getting philosophical at some point FDSKLFJ

yall can respond w your own thoughts to this if you want, even debate it!, but idk if ill respond bc uhhhh Brain Empty fdjsklfj i just wanted to ramble and sort out my own thoughts on the matter now that im not uber pissed at c!techno JFKDLSJFKL

#dream smp #mcyt #techno #its not really critical??? but like you Could take it that way #i try to be more neutral #or like. less anti-techno bc i know the day of the stream i was PISSED fjdsklfj #idk man this block game conflicts start coming down to real ass philosophical debates and i op out #'was techno valid in destroying lmanberg?' no bc i liked it :(( THERE discourse ended im right /lh #og post #(jeb bush voice) please clap

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novannna · 4 years ago

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“Let go of my hand.” for nodrian pls

hi anon!!! tysm for the request!!

i have not written nodrian in a hot second, it was weird to write them again ngl

wc:1360

Adrian finds out Nova is Nightmare, and confronts her

Nova looked at the mask held in Adrian’s hands, the glint of metal handcuffs hanging on his belt, the bright red R emblazoned on his chest. Anywhere but his face. He glared daggers into Nova, and the change from his soft gazes filled with joy to this hard stare made her shrink back. The face that used to be soft curves and gentle smiles, was now a mess of barely held tears, a clenched jaw and eyebrows slanted angrily.

Nova’s eyes accidentally caught his, and she flinched at the hatred in them.

Why had she been so damn stupid, to think that there was an ending that ended in something other than tragedy for them.

“Adrian, I can explain-” she started, knowing it was pointless.

“Stop. Talking.” He said tightly. “I don’t want to listen to your lies.”

“Adrian, I swear I’m telling the truth.”

“The truth?” He scoffed, tone incredulous. “Why the hell should I believe you?”

Nova felt tears gathering up, threatening to spill over. “I’m not going to lie to you anymore. I just need you to understand.”

Somehow, his tone got angrier. “Oh, I understand plenty,” he spat viciously. “I understand how you were working against us for months, while we were ready to die for you. I understand how you used me, and Ruby, and Oscar, and Danna, just to get something for yourself. I understand how you pretended to be a Renegade, just so you could bring it all tumbling down. I understand how you faked everything with me, you used me, made a fool out of me. I understand exactly who you are, Nova Mclain.” he paused. “Or, should I say Nova Artino? You’re just like the rest of them. I’d expect nothing less from the niece of Ace Anarchy.”

“Adrian, that’s not true-” she tried. “I did care about you. A lot. Enough to leave my entire life behind.”

“Are you denying it? Are you saying you aren’t an anarchist? You aren’t Nightmare?” He held the bright metal mask up, a reminder of the chasm of lies in between them.

Nova shook her head, the tears finally spilling over. She couldn’t control anything anymore, it seemed. “I was Nightmare. I was an Anarchist. But I’m not anymore. I left, so I could be with you, and I could do good. Adrian, you made me realize that I wanted to be a good person. I wanted to be a hero, not a villain. I was ready to give my whole world up for you.” She dared to meet his eyes, tears still spilling out of her own, tired brown ones.

There was a second where everything was soft. Adrian was looking at her with… it almost seemed like hope. And, though Nova could have imagined it all, it seemed as if there was still some love left in his gaze.

But it was only a second, and reality is never what Nova would wish it was.

“Lies!” Adrian screamed. “Stop manipulating me. Stop trying to make me believe this complete bullshit you are coming up with. You’re just flailing in deep water, trying to claw your way out of this hole you dug yourself.” He inhaled, and straightened, his eyes slightly glassed over, as if he was trying to hide the emotions warring in his mind.

Nova felt a part of herself break apart. “Adrian..” She should put him to sleep, and run away. She should fight her way out of this mess, and survive another day. But she couldn’t bring herself to lift a finger against Adrian. She couldn’t hurt him more than she already had. Nova honestly didn’t think she could live with herself if she did.

“My dad’s and the rest of the council will be here soon. They will take over, and you will have a short trial, and then be shipped off to Cragmoor, like the criminal you are. Then, you will be administered a dose of Agent N, and you will cease to be a prodigy.”

“And you’re fine with all of this?” Nova asked desperately, feeling as if she were about to throw up. “You’re fine with them wrongfully banding me as a criminal, when everything I have done is to help this organization? When you don’t even know the whole story? Adrian, I never chose this. I didn’t ask for my parents to be killed, and for my uncle to be the only one who would take me in. I didn’t fucking ask to be manipulated and forced into a hatred of the Renegades for my whole life. I never had a choice. I was leaving for you. I’m not a criminal, I’m still a scared little girl, who’s screaming as the world's passing me by, looking at all those people who don’t spare me a glance. Please, will you at least listen to me.”

Adrian’s fists tightened. “You didn’t need to stay with the Anarchists. You could have left. You could have forgotten them, and just told me the truth. You never had to hurt anyone. You never had to hurt me”

Nova shook her head. “How? How could I have left my entire life? Everything that I knew was with the Anarchists. They fed my hatred, they fueled me on my journey for vengeance. They wouldn’t have just let me walk, and you know that. Adrian, you need to understand.”

“The council is almost here. I hope you save some of your begging for them.” Adrian’s voice was ice once again. Nova dared to look at his face, cringing away from the anger and hostility radiating off of him.

“For what it’s worth,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry. For hurting you. I never wanted too.” She paused, then added, “and it was all real. My feelings for you. I just wish you could understand it wasn’t my fault, and I’m not the guilty one.”

“Stop talking now,” Adrian spat. “I can’t listen to your voice anymore.”

His wristband buzzed, startling the both of them. He looked down.

“One minute until you’re out of my life forever,” Adrian said tightly.

Nova felt that panic inside her writhe. She wasn’t going to be a prodigy. She’d be forced to spend her life as a prisoner, when she had been ready to leave the Anarchists for Adrian. It would be ironic, except Nova was shaking with both fear and exhaustment, and she was just so tired.

And still, she tried to sway Adrian.

Maybe it was fruitless, but she had to make him understand.

“Adrian, I deserve your hate, your anger, all of it, I do. I lied to you, and I now see that was the worst decision I could have made. But are you ready to succumb me to a fate worse than death, without even beginning to hear my side?”

“The council will give you a trial.”

“The council?” Nova couldn’t help but scoff. “The council are the ones who left me to die 10 years ago. They won’t give me a fair trial. They’ll look at the metal mask, and paint me guilty without bothering to ask me why any of this happened. The council would sentence me to death if they could. Hell, maybe they will!”

Adrian glanced up, looking to the sky. Thunderbird was hovering high above them, waiting to descend.

“Your time’s up.”

No. Nova couldn’t let this happen. She couldn’t let herself be captured. Not now. Not with so many things left unsaid.

Unthinkingly, she grabbed onto Adrian’s hand quickly. It was warm, the calloused skin so comforting to her. She could sense his blood flowing, her heart beating in perfect sync with his.

“Adrian, you cannot let them do this to me,” she begged, fully sobbing now, both from grief and fear.

For a brief moment, Nova thought she had gotten through to him. She thought he was about to step out of her way, and let her flee the city for good. She thought, maybe he finally understood that she wasn’t the villain, she was the victim.

Instead, his voice hardened, and his eyes turned as cold as ice.

“Let go of my hand,” he hissed.

#asks #my writing #nodrian #renegades #angst #nova artino #adrian everhart #ask game #Supernova #anarchists #ty!

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wolfprincesszola · 4 years ago

Text

Discord

Sometimes I wonder why I try to write when I, in fact, have writer’s block. I will never understand, but I’m doing it anyways. Living Tombstone is such a good artist and I recently came back to this song, so have this horribly put together song fic. Enjoy! ————– Summary: Tubbo feels something is wrong and as his presidency continues, he realizes that L’manberg is collapsing on itself.

Trigger Warnings: None

Content Warnings: Swearing, Spoilers

Reference: Discord (Remix) - The Living Tombstone (ft. Eurobeat Brony)

Read it at ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28133694 ————– I'm not a fan of puppeteers But I've a nagging fear Someone else is pulling at the strings

Tubbo never liked manipulation. That was why he chose peace over everything. However, he knew that being a peacemaker was only going to hurt him in the end, which is why he was always looking out for anyone trying to control him.

He was lying awake in his bed when he decided it would do some good to get up. He got out, checking the time. Midnight. Everyone would be sleeping.

Thoughts were spinning through his mind and he just couldn’t get them out. Presidency came with that, he guessed.

He took a walk around L’manberg and the Dream SMP land before stopping by the infamous bench. The one where Tubbo and Tommy usually sat, listening to music.

He sat down, trying to wrap his thoughts. Why was there a part of him that was worried that someone would manipulate him and cause the fall of L’manberg? Presidency held a lot of power and manipulation wasn’t easy to detect. Tubbo could easily-

“Tubbo, what are you doing here?”

Tubbo jumped and looked back to see Technoblade.

“Technoblade?” His fear increased as he backed away from him, “What are you doing here?”

Something terrible is going down Through the entire town Wreaking anarchy and all that it brings

“I couldn’t sleep.” Technoblade admitted. “I have a feeling that something terrible is going to happen.”

He sat on the bench, offering the seat to Tubbo.

“You aren’t....you aren’t going to kill me, are you?” Tubbo asked, pulling out his sword.

Technoblade just snorted, “Tubbo, it’s the middle of the night. I have standards. If I was to kill you, it’d have to be flashy and in front of everyone. Otherwise, how would I get clout? And fear?”

Tubbo just relaxed, deciding to sit next to Techno. “What’s this terrible thing that you think is going to happen?”

“I’m not sure.” Techno sighed, “Look, I’m an anarchist and all. I dislike the fact that you guys literally built a government in front of me, literally betraying MY ideals and-”

“I get it, Techno.” Tubbo rolled his eyes, “Get to the point.”

“I have to give you facts for trying to restore L’manberg, despite all that. I’ve decided to try and give up my violent ways..but I know Dream isn’t. Dream’s angry at you guys.”

I can't sit idly No I can't move at all I curse the name The one behind it all

Tubbo felt his stomach churn. That is not at all what he wanted to hear.

“He’s power-hungry, Tubbo. And he’s not going to stop at any costs.”

“We have to do something about it! Techno, you said that-”

“I’m sorry, Tubbo, I can’t help you there. This is your own battle. I have my own to deal with. Just....watch out for my brother. I know he can be a bit....irrational sometimes and I wouldn’t want Tommy to ruin your progress with L’manberg.”

“Thank you, Blade.”

Technoblade just nodded.

Discord, I'm howling at the moon And sleeping in the middle Of a summer afternoon Discord, whatever did we do To make you take our world away?

Tubbo’s blood ran cold as soon as he heard of the obsidian walls surrounding L’manberg. When he realized it was because of Tommy, he knew that it had already happened.

Dream was the most powerful man on the server and Tommy had just given him power over L’manberg. Because of Tommy, Dream could cause the fall of L’manberg and it would be all Tubbo’s fault. Because he couldn’t have chosen a better vice president.

As Tubbo and Dream talked about what to do with Tommy, Tubbo realized something. Tommy was the only thing Dream didn’t have power over. And Tommy had just given Dream an ability to have power over him.

The only thing he could do was try and keep his best friend from hurting the nation even more.

Discord, are we your prey alone? Or are we just a stepping stone For taking back the throne? Discord, we won't take it any more So take your tyranny away

Tubbo felt his blood run cold as Tommy kept saying that he had power over Dream.

Tommy had reassured Tubbo plenty of times, but Tubbo couldn’t help but try to warn Tommy anyways.

He knew that Dream was pissed as Tommy ordered Dream to tear down the walls and he knew that Tommy had messed up when Dream had started to build the walls even higher.

“Tommy, okay, listen, you’ve fucked up this time.” Dream glared at his best friend.

Tubbo stayed quiet, but he gave Tommy a look. He told him not to push Dream and yet he did. Now, the whole nation would pay for it.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, I don’t give a fuck about Spirit, okay? I don’t give a fuck about anything actually. I care about your disks. I care more about your disks than you do. That’s the only thing I care about in the server, actually. I don’t care about Spirit. Spirit was my horse. Died ages ago. I care about your disks because that’s what gives me power over you, and your friends, and everybody that you care about because you care about your disks more than anyone else here. So if you are not exiled from L’manberg, I will build these walls until they reach the sky. Don’t try and threaten me. I don’t care. I have lost-”

Tommy cut Dream off, trying to test what Dream had said and it had only made Dream even angrier. Tubbo couldn’t stop what was happening. All he could do was watch.

Dream gave Tubbo a deadline of three days to exile Tommy.

I'm fine with changing status quo But not in letting go Now the world is being torn apart A terrible catastrophe Played by a symphony What a terrifying work of art

When Dream left, everyone started to yell at each other. They were ripping each other at the throats.

Tommy saw Tubbo was being quiet and Tommy sighed, “Tubbo, he’s only doing this to get under your skin so you turn on me, alright?”

Tubbo finally decided to speak up because he was tired of trying to keep things nice and neat between him and his best friend. “No, actually, I think you made it very clearly what he’s doing. He’s doing this to get your disks because he wants them.”

“But the reason he’s doing this is because he knows that he-”

“You had one job. You couldn’t do one thing for me. You couldn’t do one. Just one thing and it was for your own good.”

Tubbo was hurt. He thought Tommy, for once, could help him with something. But no. It was always about his disks. Never about the good for L’manberg or for Tubbo. Tommy would see the world burn if it meant that he could have his disks back.

Tubbo sighed, “So you know what? If the roles were reversed, as you said, yeah, yeah you probably wouldn’t exile me. Because I would’ve actually listened to you and done what you said! Maybe have a couple ounces of respect! You’ve messed this up for no one but yourself.”

Tommy just looked away from Tubbo, not facing him.

Then, Tubbo didn’t know what hit him, but he let the anger take over him. “Selfish.”

Tommy stayed silent, but his head whipped towards him.

L’manberg would be torn apart because of their friendship. Even though Dream may have started it, Tubbo had to be the one to seal the deal if he wanted the nation to stay together.

L’manberg was crumbling on itself. A terrifying future without the best friends by each other’s sides.

I can't sit idly No, I can't move at all I curse the name The one behind it all

“I have come to the decision that it would be best for the nation...the most logical thing to do is for Tommy to be exiled.” Tubbo had told everyone.

He saw the shift in everyone’s face as they were in bewilderment. But Tubbo couldn’t let Dream control L’manberg. It was best for the nation if Tommy couldn’t hurt Dream from here.

Dream may have been controlling them, but Tubbo knew that the only way for the nation to survive, Tommy had to go. And there was nothing that anyone could do. Because Dream was the most powerful person on the server.

Discord, I'm howling at the moon And sleeping in the middle Of a summer afternoon Discord, whatever did we do To make you take our world away?

Tubbo missed Tommy. It had been so long since he saw his best friend. But he couldn’t go against Dream. Not at the moment. Not while L’manberg was still just recovering from the last war.

What had Tubbo done though? To deserve the backlash he did for exiling his best friend?

Was he a bad person for wanting to do what was right for the nation? Should he have cared about Tommy more?

Discord, are we your prey alone Or are we just a stepping stone For taking back the throne? Discord, we won't take it any more So take your tyranny away

Tubbo knew he couldn’t visit Tommy. Not when Dream was currently helping L’manberg when they needed it most.

So he stayed away for his nation.

Then, Ghostbur had come to him with a surprise.

“I know you’ve been sad. And you’re having a rough time with yourself right now and you have the idea that you’ve done something wrong. I just want you to know that it’s okay. Tommy will enjoy his vacation, it’s just new to him.”

“It’s just an adjustment.” Tubbo agreed.

“It’s new to him, this whole vacation and it’s one of those things where, you know what they say about a vacation, is where the best part is when you’re coming home and getting back to your old house. So the longer that he’s out, the more adjusted he gets to his new vacation home and the better it’ll be when he comes home.”

“You’re looking out for him.” Tubbo had stated.

Ghostbur had nodded. “I know you and him...you know, you’ve got each other, always. So I wanted to make sure that even when you’re distant, you two still know where each other are, so I got you this.”

He had given Tubbo a compass. One that Tubbo appreciated and soon would hold it close to him all the time. That way, Tubbo always knew where Tommy was.

Tubbo missed Tommy, and he knew that Dream was manipulating him. He just...couldn’t do anything about it. He was powerless if he wanted L’manberg to continue to survive.

Discord, I'm howling at the moon And sleeping in the middle Of a summer afternoon Discord, whatever did we do To make you take our world away?

It was apparent that the country was tearing itself from the inside the moment that the Butcher Army had went to hunt down Technoblade.

When Tubbo had arrived with the other three members, he noticed Technoblade had been ready for him. When Technoblade had surrendered, Tubbo knew that Quackity had gone too far, but it was too late.

When Quackity had whispered in his ear to just execute Technoblade, Tubbo couldn’t help but feel compelled. After all, Quackity was part of his cabinet. Why would he betray Tubbo?

So Tubbo did what Quackity said. If Tubbo had seen through Quackity’s manipulation, he gave no notice to it.

L’manberg was destined to fall.

Discord, are we your prey alone Or are we just a stepping stone For taking back the throne Discord, we won't take it any more So take your tyranny away

Tubbo wanted to see Tommy. That was all he wanted to do after what had happened. When he got there, all he saw was the wreckage of what once was Logstedshire....and a tall pillar.

“Surely not.” He muttered to himself as he looked around.

After looking around some more, he realized there was no other conclusion.

He sat in the wreckage, quiet.

It was clear now. Dream was power-hungry. He got rid of the only thing that was resisting him and it was Tubbo’s fault.

No one heard the pained scream come from Tubbo.

#dream smp #dream smp roleplay #tubbo #tommyinnit #ghost wilbur #ghostbur #tommy and tubbo #quackity #powerhungry quackity #technoblade #technoblade and tommy are brothers #dream #can i get clout from this #am i a good writer #cw swearing #cw spoilers #spoilers for the newest streams of dsmp #dsmp

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obsidianfr3sk · 4 years ago

Text

Falcon in the Dive

Summary: Piercing into the sky and higher, Ace thrived. The weak cowered, but the fittest, like him, survived. He didn't wait until the darkest hour, he didn't wait until they spring alive. He, with claws of fire, devoured like a falcon in the dive.

AO3

As my contribuiton to the Multifandom Gift Exchange 2020 (hosted by the wonderful @darkalinas and @scxundress), here’s a gift for my little sister and favorite villain apologist (?) @alecjamesartino. As soon as they told me I was your gifter... well, I was really happy!!! And then x’d I knew I had to write something about Ace and this song just... LIKE I JUST KNEW I HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT ACE INSPIRED IN FALCON IN THE DIVE, ALL RIGHT???? I JUST ✨K N E W✨

Before y’all start reading xd I need to... kinda clarify something. So, I don’t know if you know, but I actually based all of my fics on this timeline made by @honey-hippie-harper and @healing-winston-pratt, and I kinda just started to create my headcanons from it. But, today I decided to throw all of them through the freaking window and base this fic on this timeline, made by my giftee:’))) She uses it for her fic Love and Anarchy (which you should totally read!). That said, this work has nothing to do with my other fics (for example, Rise of the Renegades or The Origins), I’m just experimenting with new headcanons:’)

Another important thing x’d On this fic I mention Leroy’s eyes turn green when he uses his powers and that Hugh’s eyes are gray instead of blue. This are not my headcanons, they’re actually from this drawing made by @healing-winston-pratt. Go check it out and reblog it!!)

Now... well, my dear little sister Alec, I hope you like this gift. I know how much you like Ace and the Anarchists, and I have never written anything about them (Begginings and Endings doesn’t count, it was from David’s POV x’d) so this was a complete challenge for me. But what kept me going was... thinking that I was doing this for you. And honestly, your timeline just gave me so much space to play with new headcanons and scenarios, so thank you for that:’)) Personally I consider myself someone with a extraordinary imagination, but you, Alec, left me dumbfounded (quedé dirían en mi tierra). You are so young, and brilliant, and adorably deathly that I just want to hold you and protect you from the the bad things that happen on this world:’)

I’d say I love you but I’m akward so I’ll just say I’m really fond of you. I think you have a lot of potentential and I hope I get to see you become a wonderful woman. Felices fiestas✨✨✨

Knock in the doors, lock up the city,

track him down through this town,

and be quick about it... now!

How the devil can I ever prevail when I'm only a man?

I can never be duped by that scurrilous phantom again.

Year 0, month 0

“I thought you were going to be taller.”

Ace stopped looking at the chandelier hanging over his head to look at the woman to his right. “Sorry?”

“I thought you were going to be taller,” she repeated almost yelling.

“Fuck, Honey ...”

Ace turned to his left. “What?” Honey asked. “I’m just saying, geez.”

The young man's eyes went from dark to toxic green.

“Leroy,” Ace interrupted, “your chair is ... burning.”

Leroy removed his hands from the armrest of the chair he was sitting in, cursing underneath. There were drops of a greenish liquid coming from his fingers and the wood smelled like a burnt tree. As he did his best to clean up the mess he had made with his powers, Ace turned his attention back to Honey. “Did you think it was going to be taller?”

Honey tucked one of her blonde curls behind her ear. She was wearing a white coat with rhinestone as buttons; a group of prodigies had given it to her in exchange for allowing them to join their ranks. Ace had replied that it was not necessary to pay any kind of tribute and that anyone who agreed with the values of the Anarchists, could consider themselves as such. Despite this, one of the boys insisted on giving Honey the coat, because from the moment he saw it, he thought it was “fit for a queen”. That was the moment when Ace's theory was confirmed: Honey had a weakness for compliments and gifts. She accepted the coat with a smile and even defended the boy when Leroy muttered, “Ahem, simp.”

That was also the moment when he realized that Leroy's weakness was driving Honey out of her mind.

Regardless, Ace could tell that they had some kind of… appreciation for each other. The first time he saw them use their powers was when Honey sent a cloud of wasps to a group of cops who tried to get Leroy into one of their trucks and when Leroy burned the face of a guy who had grabbed Honey from wrist strong enough to make her scream.

Those two were powerful and loyal without falling into blind fanaticism. Ace needed people like that in his ranks.

The whole world needed such people in its ranks.

“I mean, yeah,” Honey continued. “I had heard so much about Ace Anarchy that… well, I have to admit I did build up some expectations.”

Ace fixed his gaze on Honey's feet. She was wearing heels. Obviously. “Why don't you get off those stilts and say it to my face?”

Honey burst out laughing right away and Ace too. He could even see Leroy trying not to smile before crossing his arms on his chest.

The three were on the seat of the cathedral, Ace sitting on the main chair where the priest who officiated the mass sat, and Honey and Leroy on the chairs to the sides, generally reserved for the seminarians who helped during the celebration. He had taken the table out of the way with his powers and stored it in a cellar, in case it was needed again. During those last three weeks that they had been using the cathedral as a base, Ace had given some speeches there. The light coming from the windows illuminated his face and the crucifix behind him made him feel a kind of power that he could not describe. Also, the main chair was wide, tall, and shiny. It would have looked like a throne if it were covered in some golden metal...

Stop it.

“I think no one else is coming,” said Leroy. “we better get out of here. These chairs are uncomfortable.”

“Use a cushion, like me,” Honey commented, proudly displaying the small cushion she had placed on the chair to make it easier to sit.

Leroy couldn’t look more disgusted. “Why would you put your ass on the same cushion you use to sleep?”

As his allies began to argue again, Ace put his arms on the sides of the chair, focusing on the immense doors of the cathedral.

As far as they knew, Ace was waiting for recruits. It was a fairly common thing to happen. Many prodigies (like the simp and his henchmen) had been flocking to the cathedral, seeking help, acceptance, or a chance to prove themselves worthy of being within Ace's close circle. It was a bit tiring at times, but at the moment he couldn't afford to turn them away without even bothering to see what their powers were. If he knew something, it was that no power could not be taken advantage of in some way, and if that way could benefit him, the better.

But at dusk, the chances of people coming to the cathedral began to disappear, because at night the city became dangerous. Thus, Ace knew that he would not receive any new potential recruits until the next morning, and he knew that his allies need to rest and eat something.

However, he also knew that David could be the one to walk through that door at any moment.

Ace was still furious with him. He probably would be furious with him for the rest of his life. David was a condescending, deluded guy who didn't bother to think outside the box for the good of those who were like them.

But at the end of the day, that guy was his blood (whoever he liked it or not) and he wanted to make sure he was still alive.

David Artino would never miss an opportunity to exercise his authority as an older brother and scold him for the first reason that crossed his mind. He could see him hiding like a mole in some hole in the city, losing his mind to the chaos that his younger brother was slowly planting in every corner of planet Earth.

However, he could also see him being killed in the street by an angry horde who knew he was a prodigy, or by a group of policemen who mistook him for one of the hundreds of protesters that had filled the city, and although the thought made him uncomfortable, it might be best if things stayed that way.

After all, if David went out to the real world, the world that was out there right now would probably kick him to the ground, take out his eyes, and eat them before stabbing him and letting him there to die.

Yes, things should stay that way. With Ace Anarchy alive and building the world as it must have been from the start, and with the Artino brothers dead, buried in a sealed tomb from which not even their souls could escape.

He was about to stand up when someone knocked on the door. Honey’s bees, which had been quietly resting on the church pews, began to buzz like watchdogs barking at the presence of a stranger.

Alec knew those four knocks.

Honey and Leroy suddenly fell silent and settled into their chairs almost unconsciously. Ace put on his helmet and then, with a wave of his hand, he slightly opened the cathedral door.

His hair was longer than normal. He recognized the same coat he was wearing the last time he saw him, but he had changed his pajama bottoms for faded jeans. He had a mysterious blow to the head and the deepest circles under his eyes he had ever seen. That, plus that unkempt beard, made Ace even more certain that, had he seen him on the street, he probably wouldn't have recognized him.

At least until he saw his blue eyes. David had unmistakable blue eyes.

“Good evening, fellow anarchist,” Ace greeted from his seat. “How can we help you?”

David gripped the door and frowned. “Alec?”

The bees buzzed louder and Honey turned to see him. “Do you know him?”

Leroy and his toxic green eyes seemed to ask the same question.

“You don't want to mention that name here,” Ace warned, ignoring his allies. “Seriously.”

David did not reply. Not that he expected him to. “Come in,” he assured him, nodding slightly. “Us Anarchists are willing to help any prodigy. We fight for all of them. Even for those who prefer to give in to the system that oppresses us in the first place. "

His allies fell silent. Ace knew he wasn't going to be wrong about them; they were fully aware that their opinion was not necessary at that time.

David's old sneakers squeaked on the marble floor of the church. The white shoelaces were stained with dark blood. “I… I looked for you everywhere,” he muttered.

“I didn't go anywhere,” he replied. “I was always here.”

He resisted the childish urge to ask where he had been, precisely because that was it. Childish. Something that only a kid would do.

And Alec James Artino, the kid, was dead.

David reached the first step of the altar and Ace stood up. “Don’t.”

His brother stopped before taking another step. He even stepped back and put his hands to his chest, as if his heart had ached at that simple word.

You see? Weak.

“I'm not here to take you anywhere,” he assured.

Ace gave a mocking laugh. “So?”

“I'm here to join you.”

The smile faded from Ace’s face. However, he did not interpret it as a sign of weakness, because immediately, he was able to recover from the blow and remain expressionless as his brother's gaze pierced his like stakes.

Even with him there, right in front of Ace, standing in the middle of the cathedral, he knew that David didn't belong there. He was not an Anarchist like them. Something was missing. Maybe courage. Maybe it was determination.

Perhaps what he lacked was that spark of life that rage gave when it started a fire in the depths of your gut.

So why bother?

Before the question slipped from his lips, the answer came to his head and it all made sense to him.

Ace was right. The day anarchy was born, the Artino brothers had died, but there was no one alive to bury them. The ghost of David Artino had spent days searching for his only remaining family, wandering around town like a beggar.

Because deep down, he needed him more than Alec had ever needed David.

How did he explain that the little brother he was looking for was dead, and now only the man he had become remained?

He knew how to explain it, but David was stubborn. Even if Ace chose the most appropriate words for the situation, he could never make him see things the way he wanted him to. At least not if he knew Alec was dead.

He did not know that in an ideal world, the only one still alive was Ace Anarchy.

It wasn't the perfect scenario, but the perfect thing about that scenario was that David didn't need to know that just yet. Alec's ghost could come out of his grave as many times as necessary and Ace could use that to his advantage for as long as he wanted.

That would make the ghost David very happy. And if David was happy and he could take advantage of that happiness, then Ace would be happy too.

Ace removed his helmet and laid it gently on his chair. When he returned his gaze to David, his eyes were full of tears.

He also tried to cry, but couldn't. Therefore, he decided to extend his arms and allow David to stumble his way to him, giving him the strongest hug he had ever received while stroking his hair and sobbing: “I missed you so much, my little nightmare.”

Alec took Ace by the arms and placed them on David's shaking back. “I missed you too.”

But he was lying. He wondered if ghost David was lying too.

He better not.

***

I wasn't born to walk on water,

I wasn't born to sack and slaughter,

but on my soul, I wasn't born

to stoop, to scorn, and knuckle under.

A man can learn to steal some thunder.

A man can learn to work some wonder.

Year 4, month 7

When it all started, Ace did not like to think of himself as a leader. At least not a leader like the previous ones. God, just thinking about becoming one of those who used to rule the world before he turned things around made him feel sick.

However, over time he grew tired of explaining to each of those who arrived, full of desire to prove something (to the world, to Ace, and themselves), that he was not a leader as such. Little by little, he started to ignore those types of comments and just let himself go with the flow.

At least until David noticed his unconformity with the matter and approach him to talk about it.

It was a couple of months after he arrived. Ace was saying his prayers before going to bed when someone knocked on his door.

Four times. As always.

He quickly crossed himself and muttered, “Come in.”

David came in, holding a candle and wrapped in a robe that "the simps" had given to Leroy (it hadn't fit him, but David was so malnourished that it was like the robe had been made for him.)

Ace put on his robe too. “How can I help you?”

David fixed his gaze on the figure of the Virgin Mary that Ace had on a ledge. “Were you praying?”

“Of course,” he answered, feeling a little defensive.

David scoffed. “Wow.”

“What?”

“I thought ... I thought you didn't do it anymore.”

Ace rolled his eyes and pretended to arrange the covers on his bed (they didn't need to be arranged, he was very meticulous about that matter). “How can I help you?” he repeated.

David finally took his eyes off the Virgin Mary and turned to see him.

It surprised him he still had bags under his eyes. He thought that now that he slept in a decent bed, ate decent food, and no longer had to go through the same stressful situations that he went through before, his face would start to look more youthful again.

Maybe the bags under one’s eyes were like expression or acne marks. They would always be there.

Just like experiences.

Then David started talking to him. A lot. About how he had noticed his discomfort when people called him a leader. About him believing that he shouldn't feel that way because being placed in such a position was completely expected and even natural for it to happen. (“Don't interrupt me.” “I wasn't going to.” Oh, but he was going to.) About if he really wanted things to work out, the world was going to need someone to guide it down the path of good, and David did not doubt that someone was Ace.

They spent several hours just ranting about it. There was a point where the two of them were lying on his bed, Ace covered by his red blanket and David tightly holding a pillow against his chest. The candle was getting smaller and smaller, and David had chosen to place it next to the figure of The Virgin Mary as if it had been lit for her from the beginning.

Only that there was a God who saw everything, and that God knew that the candle had not been lit for her.

Ace was staring at the wooden ceiling when David told him, “I could never be a leader.”

“Why?”

Obviously Ace knew that David could never be a leader, but he wanted to know why his brother thought that way.

David clung to the pillow tighter. He wasn't looking at the ceiling; he looked at Ace. Sideways, but he was looking at him. “I don’t know. I think it's just not my… personality. Even when the guys and I were out there doing the… protests and stuff, I never led any of them,” he explained. “I've always been more of a follower.”

Ace did not answer. Yet he hoped David would interpret his silence as a sign that he had agreed with him.

“But on the other hand, you... Alec, you are a leader.”

His jaw clenched when he heard his name. He had to work on it. “What makes you think that?”

“Because… seriously, why wouldn’t you be a leader?” He turned around so he could look at him and Ace felt obligated to turn to see him as well. Only that he decided not to. “People look after you. They know you are a leader and they follow you. See how much you've changed in a matter of weeks. Inadvertently, you have led people up to this point in history. No one had ever come this far. No one except you.”

Then, Ace couldn't take it anymore and turned to meet his brother's eyes. “But won't that make me like everyone else?”

“Everyone else?” asked a very confused David.

Because David never understood anything.

“Like all the other leaders,” he replied, trying not to lose patience. “Leaders who are corrupt and selfish and—“ His brother interrupted his monologue with laughter. Much to someone who had complained when he tried to cut him off in the middle of a ridiculously long explanation. “—What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry,” David replied smiling. “It’s just… forget it.” He put a hand on his cheek and kept laughing underneath. “Alec, you’re not going to be like the other leaders.”

“And how are you so sure of that?” he asked a little louder than he wanted to.

David hardly seemed to notice. “Because you are not like that. You are not evil.” He sighed. “Now… there is the potential for evil everywhere, but the only way to combat it’s if more people choose goodness. If more people choose heroism. And you… you are one of those people. I am sure.”

And with those words, the candle extinguished, and Ace decided that it was time for both of them to go to sleep. He allowed David to stay the night. It was not like he had given any sign of wanting to go back to his room anyway. Ace spent most of the night awake, but not necessarily because his older brother's snoring kept him from sleeping.

What kept him from sleeping was thinking that maybe... maybe he was right. Maybe Ace did have to start taking the role of leader. After all, human beings were like that. They were always looking for someone to follow, someone they could cling to that would protect them in some way or another. That someone could be the parents. Older brothers. God himself.

But sometimes that someone was not looking for what was best for them. For example, Ace and David's parents never made the slightest effort to hide how much they hated their children. He was still a kid when his brother took him by the hand, put a coat on him, and told his parents that they were going out to the park. Ace didn't want to go to the park; he wanted to stay home to play with his wooden cubes, but David told him that if he went to the park with him, he would give him a surprise on the way home.

However, they passed the park and David went to a clothing and suitcase store that was near the dock where various boats full of tourists departed. On his way out, he bought his younger brother a lollipop and two one-way tickets to Gatlon City.

They never looked for them. Although if they had, he doubted they would have found them.

For a long time, Ace didn't fully understand what had happened. He just knew that he was never going to see his parents again. Regardless, it was not a thought that haunted him. After all, he hated his parents. And he didn't feel bad about it. Ace had David. David would never hurt him in any way.

At least that's how it was until he grew up. He grew up and realized that David had lied and stolen to get them out of Italy. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing; they would never have survived in Italy anyway. The bad thing was when David lied to him and robbed him for his own benefit. He lied to him about Gatlon's hate towards prodigies and he stole money from his savings when what he earned wasn't enough to pay the monthly rent on his apartment.

And then… there was God.

God existed. Clearly. It was one of the few things Ace didn't feel like he needed proof for. However… God hadn't always been there for him. God had been used as a weapon for hundreds of years to attack prodigies like Ace...

Yes, God was not going to save him. He wasn't going to save any of the millions and millions of prodigies that were counting on Ace Anarchy. God was not a hero.

But Ace could be.

So from that day on, Ace began to be the head in practically all the operations that the Anarchists carried out. Nothing happened without him finding out and approving it first. He recorded numerous videos and wrote dozens of speeches that they would use to spread his word around the world. Prodigies from all countries began to rise against their respective governments, and although some of them gave them what they wanted, the vast majority made the mistake of underestimating them and denying their more than reasonable requests.

Because, well, Ace didn't find anything outrageous about a bunch of people asking their governments to recognize their basic human rights.

Sometimes the prodigies of those places could take down their governments by themselves. However, on a couple of occasions, Ace had to travel to those places to give them a hand. They weren't too far away, so Ace could use his powers to transport himself there, and he still had enough strength left to turn the helicopters and tanks that they sent to try to finish him into unusable pieces of metal. There wasn’t a single place where he had not succeeded, and there was not a single place where people did not make him a symbol and call him a hero.

Not even a single one.

That was why he did not understand people who wanted to leave the trenches.

The first time people from the cathedral had explicitly told him that they wanted to resign were the Benitez twins, Fénix and Tritón. He was a water elemental and she was a fire elemental, who had fought alongside Ace and hundreds of other prodigies like him when they took over the government palace of their country and liberated the population. They were young but strong, like most of those who joined the cause. They spent a year and six months helping on missions that Ace, Honey, or even Leroy assigned them, and never received anything other than good comments from their superiors...

“Then why do you want to leave?” Honey asked them.

She, Leroy, the twins, and he were in what had been the bishop's office after he summoned them all to a meeting where they would assess the situation. Not because he felt a special affection for them; they weren't too different from the other people Ace had in charge of. He just wanted to know why and approve the situation.

Like he always did.

Tritón smiled charmingly at Honey. He and his twin sister had the same curly black hair, but she never smiled. “As we said before… it's nothing personal,” he replied. “Fénix and I were never mistreated here, but... we want to find our own way in life.”

Honey and Leroy turned to see each other. Leroy looked quite indifferent to the situation as if he wished to be in his lab, looking for new ways to finish burning his eyebrows, while Honey seemed quite suspicious regarding the true intentions behind Tritón's words and Fénix's deadly silence.

Ace stood up and looked out the window.

“Are you going back to Mexico?”

“Yes. But not to the same place we came from.”

“And how are you going to—“

“Stop overwhelming them with so many questions, my Queen,” Ace interrupted while turning around. “They are old enough to make their own decisions.”

Tritón sighed in relief, and Fénix didn't even look up to see him. “They had already packed their things, apparently,” and he pointed to the backpacks they were carrying. The same ones with which they had arrived at the cathedral.

“Yes, it's just… we didn't want to make a big fuss about our departure,” Tritón replied. “We want it to be respectful and press-free, please.”

That comment managed to make him smile slightly. “I see no reason to keep you as prisoners,” he said, addressing Honey and Leroy. “If they want to leave, they can.”

Leroy raised his only remaining eyebrow. “Can they?”

“They can,” he repeated. He turned slightly to continue staring out the window. It was a lovely day out there. “Wanting to look for something more than what we are capable of offering is a valid reason to leave.”

“Not that we’re filling like something’s missing here,” Tritón said. “On the contrary, we have never been more… blessed. We promise that we will always keep in mind all the things the Anarchist taught us. We will be on your side even if it is from a distance.”

Now it was Honey's turn to raise an eyebrow. “I don't know, this is too—“

“Excuse me, Queen Bee,” Tritón interrupted, “but ... we're in a bit of a rush.”

“An ally has promised to take us to the border in his truck,” Fénix said, speaking for the first time during the entire conversation. “He's going to pick us up in an hour and it's a long way to the meeting point.

Ace looked through the window to find David welcoming some of the prodigies who had come out to find more supplies for the cathedral. He pointed out where they were being kept and offered to help them carry some boxes up the stairs.

Ace had to go to check on that.

“Acey...”

“Take care of yourselves, Tritón and Fénix,” Ace said, heading for the exit. “Thank you very much for your loyalty. Let me show you the door.”

The twins looked at each other, immediately nodding slowly and leaving the room, walking in front of Ace, shoulder to shoulder, and muttering something. As they walked down the stairs, Ace was too busy thinking about the new shipment that had arrived to care about their conversation, until he tried to overhear them and realized they were speaking in Spanish.

They never spoke Spanish. Not in the cathedral. No one could have understood them if they did. What was the point of hiding something?

Unless they are hiding something.

He turned his attention back to the backpacks they carried. Yes, they were the same ones that they had brought the first day they arrived, but now they seemed fuller than before. And when Ace said fuller, he meant it. Those backpacks were about to explode.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. The twins kept walking as if they hadn't realized that Ace was no longer with them. Honey and Leroy caught up with him, while Honey was saying something about this situation making her babies (the bees) very nervous, and she knew that was a bad sign. Leroy replied that those "babies" should take a Xanax, but he didn't sound too convinced of his words either.

Fénix took his brother's hand and Tritón looked back, making contact with Ace's dark eyes.

The backpacks. The backpacks were too full.

Ace used his powers to rip them off their shoulders, at the same time he grabbed them from the collars of their clothes and lifted them like a mother lioness would have carried her cubs. The two cried out in shock but fell silent when they came face to face with Ace.

Neither of them said anything. Not even Tritón. They only held on tighter by the hand as Ace opened their backpacks, dropped their contents on the floor, and revealed that they were carrying, along with their personal belongings, tons of food and hygiene items taken directly from the cathedral warehouse.

The warehouse that David was supposed to watch.

“My bracelet!” Honey exclaimed. “That... bitch was taking my bracelet!”

A group of bees returned the bracelet to her queen. Honey thanked them in a low voice and immediately, her face was completely changed by her anger. “How dare you?” she asked Fénix putting a finger on her chest. “How dare you disrespect me like that ?! Is that how you were going to pay the man who was going to take you to the border!?” But Fénix didn’t say anything. Again. “Answer me!”

“More like how dare you!” Fénix suddenly yelled. Honey took a step back from shock. “How dare you take everything from people who have nothing!”

“Fénix... por favor...” Tritón whispered.

“Shut the fuck up, Diego!” she yelled at his brother. “Tell me, Harper! How do you sleep at night?” she kept asking. “How do you sleep at night knowing that you have helped destroy the world as we know it? How can you reason that what you’re doing is right?!”

“Eleonor! Eleonor, por favor!”

Fénix started to try to free herself from Ace's grip, but that only made Ace cling tighter to the collar of her blouse. “How dare you even think you’re the good guys?”

Then, she looked him dead in the eye and spat, “How dare you call yourself a hero, Alec Artino?”

Ace thought hearing his name was going to make him lose his mind. Yet some way or another, his face remained expressionless. Even when Honey slapped the shit out of Fénix and the bees began to fly around her, stinging every bit of skin that wasn’t covered by her clothes. He also remained expressionless when he heard Tritón yell at Honey to leave her sister alone, calling her a "pinche vieja bruja" in the process, or when Leroy (who didn't understand anything, but knew it wasn't a compliment) held both of his wrists to prevent it from forming a wave of water that would drown all the bees instantly. It did not cause him anything at all to hear the poison melting Tritón's skin, making him cry in pain, or Fénix yelling and cursing.

And he didn’t even flinch when he broke Tritón's neck. Or when he left Fénix alive just the exact amount of time for her to process what her actions had caused to the only family she had left before breaking her neck too.

Ace dropped what was left of the Benitez twins. The bees moved away from the body and returned to Honey as if they were children hiding in their mother's skirts after having been lost for hours in the market, and Leroy let go of Tritón’s wrists without saying a word. Ace looked around and realized that a big amount of people had watched the entire scene from a distance.

One of those people had been David.

At that moment, Honey's bracelet fell off her hands. Ace picked it up with his powers and Honey whispered, "Thanks, Acey". She tried to put it on, but her hands were shaking so much that Leroy reached out (reluctantly) to help her adjust the clasp.

She didn't take her eyes off the corpses. “Someone come pick them up,” Leroy ordered.

Ace pointed to the first group of people he encountered. “You,” he barked. The trio of anarchists trembled slightly. “You’ve heard Cyanide. Clean up this mess.”

He turned to tell Leroy and Honey to go with him to the office, but they had already made their way to Honey's quarters, while she was babbling about something insignificant and a cloud of agitated bees followed them. David was also not where he had last seen him, but found him turning his back on him and putting the supply crates in the warehouse.

The warehouse that was his responsibility. The warehouse that the Benitez twins had managed to steal from it without anyone noticing.

David couldn’t stay there. He would have to get him a new position, the sooner the better.

Being a hero was not doing things that everyone considered right. Being a hero was to be a revolutionary, one who was willing to make sacrifices to protect the people who were on his side. Especially when those sacrifices meant the death of traitors who only sought their own benefit, completely forgetting the rest of them.

To protect the people who were on his side. Not the enemy. Never the common good.

The common good was not something Ace believed in, because that would mean looking after his oppressors, and they had never looked after prodigies at any point in human history.

Why start doing it now that the tables have turned?

Perhaps those thoughts made him more than just a revolutionary. Ace was probably a visionary.

But did those thoughts make him a villain too?

***

And soon the moon will smolder,

and the winds will drive.

Yes, a man grows older, but his soul remains alive.

All those tremulous stars will glitter,

and I will survive!

Year 10, month 11

For a lot of people, the answer was yes.

Being a visionary was the same as being a villain.

No one had ever said that to his face, but Ace knew it was what they were thinking. He saw it on the journalist’s faces, who came from time to time to the cathedral to report the latest advances in some important mission or some notable event. He felt it in the air of the cathedral, where some of his allies bent down every time they saw him as if they were not worthy to look him in the eye. He felt it every time he looked at his brother's expressionless eyes, working in the basement that served as a workshop where he created weapons for the Anarchists.

However, none of those silent reproaches mattered to him. Ace knew what he was doing was the right thing. Even if that made him not fit into the perfect image society had in its head of what a hero should be.

Ace had learned that there were no heroes or villains. Not like everyone thought.

The world would one day understand it as well as he did. But in the meanwhile, he had to sit down and observe that embarrassing spectacle.

They had managed to fix the TV that was at the former’s bishop's office. The only channels that were still actually broadcasting anything, besides the same old shows over and over again, were the news channels. But then he decided to do it just when it was absolutely necessary, for example, when they lied or got too close to a truth the public didn't need to know.

After all, freedom of speech was a human right.

Leroy was sat on the comfy chair Honey always sat on when they were in Ace's office. David offered Honey his chair and she said that she expected no less from someone as chivalrous as him (“Definitely some men should start taking your example”), but then added he shouldn’t worry about it, Ace was surely going to allow her to sit on his desk. Ace didn't see why not. She even brought her pillow with her. She put it over the desk, at the exact place she was going to sit on, and had her eyes fixated on the TV like she were a little girl watching colorful cartoons.

They were broadcasting from the West Zone of the city. An Anarchist truck was on fire in the background of the image. The trio of prodigies that Ace himself had sent to exchange some weapons for medicines with the usual gangs they always trade with, were tied with a chrome chain as if they were animals. The sky was still blue, but the evening light made the clouds turn orange and illuminated the faces of the two figures standing at the base that held the statue of a man with a copper-colored helmet.

Ace had never seen that monument as an ode to himself. He didn’t even know it was there until David told him about it, after going out to the city to visit that girlfriend of his. It seemed that some prodigies had come together and built it on their own. They hadn't left a signature or a way to prove who were they, but they did leave a golden plaque that read: "Long live to anarchy".

To anarchy. Not him. He was just the face they had given it.

He thought that everyone would think the same, but apparently, that pair didn't see it that way.

Because again, apparently, that pair shared a single brain cell.

One of them had brown skin and his cape flapped in the wind. His entire body looked slightly translucent, probably due to the nervousness that caused him to have that many people looking at him. Ace had met enough prodigies to identify when their powers gave away their mood. However, most of the general public would not be able to know exactly what he was feeling, because a black mask covered most of his facial features and he was not saying a single word.

He was terrified.

Poor little thing… sure.

The other was blond and his eyes were full of courage. The more words that came out of his mouth, the more his cheeks turn red and the tighter he clenched his fists. He was also wearing a mask, but even someone less observant than Ace could tell exactly what he was feeling.

“…and now this!” he yelled at the crowd. “Now this statue! A statue in the middle of the city, as if having experienced firsthand all the misfortunes that his anarchist reign has brought to our lives has not been enough, now he wants to constantly remind us that he won. He won—” His voice cracked, and he tried to hide it by coughing. Honey burst out laughing. “—and he will keep winning until someone stops him!”

The boy in the cape put his hand on the monument. “You know what this reminds me of? It reminds me of loss.” He became invisible and within seconds, he was sitting on the statue's outstretched arm. “Because Ace Anarchy has taken away from us so many things—” He jumped off and fell gracefully onto the base again “—that he took our fear with him.”

“That’s why we are here,” the other continued. “We are fed up with Ace Anarchy and his government, and I'm sure you are too.” He took a deep breath and smiled at the nearest camera. “But we don't blame you if you still don't understand. There is nothing wrong with being paralyzed with fear. That is what Ace Anarchy has wanted us to do during these ten years that he has been in power. The good news is that there is a cure for fear, and that cure is hope.”

A young, dark-skinned reporter pushed her way through the crowd. Her microphone had a number five printed on it, and Ace recognized the channel immediately.

He had killed one of its journalists after she refused to stop digging graves. He had to do it; if she dug too much, she would surely have found Alec Artino's body.

After all, freedom of speech was a human right. Messing up with the dead was just a quicker way for you to end up like them.

“Georgia Rawles, for Channel Five,” the reporter said with a heavy breath. “I think we're all asking ourselves the same question about—” She tried to search for the correct words, but the time was running out and she couldn’t find it, so she sighed and just blurted out, “Who are you?”

Leroy rolled his eyes. “More reporters like her, please...” he mumbled sarcastically.

She handed the microphone to the one with the cape. For a few seconds, he was almost completely invisible, but the insistence of the reporter Rawles brought him back to reality and his voice did not tremble as his legs did when he said: “We are that hope.”

The other boy tapped Georgia Rawles’ shoulder and she swiftly passed him the microphone.

He never stopped smiling. “We are the Renegades.”

Georgia Rawles drew back slightly. He couldn’t tell whether her expression was one of horror or joy because right after replying, the boy smashed the monument to anarchy with a single blow and turned it into pieces.

They both jumped from the base before the monument could crash them. Dread Warden and Captain Chromium ran towards the city, without any reporter bothering to follow them.

Ace turned off the television with his powers, and for about five seconds, neither of them spoke.

“They're not good at picking aliases,” Honey spat out of nowhere.

“So that’s the problem you have with this?” Leroy blurted out.

“Dread Warden… that has nothing to do with his powers,” Honey explained as if she were explaining to a five-year-old why the sky is blue. “And Captain Chromium is too… cheesy to be a real alias. Are we sure they were serious when they gave their names to the reporters from the first channel that arrived on the scene?” She cleared her throat and said (trying so hard to imitate the voice of a teenage boy whose voice hadn’t change yet), “He won,” before burst out laughing again.

“How mature of you…” David muttered.

“Do you have something to say, brother?” Ace asked.

For a second, he thought that David would not answer him, as he had been doing lately whenever he asked him that question. However, this time he did not remain silent and turned to see him. Not in the eyes, of course. “Actually, I do.”

Ace leaned back in his chair. “Go ahead then.”

“I don't think we should take this lightly.”

Honey scoffed. “Who says we are taking this lightly? The invisible twink and his lesbian boyfriend hate us, so what? They’re not the first ones, like… get in line, girl.”

“Well, you don’t seem too worried about the whole situation, to be honest.”

“It's because Honey doesn't shut up about the names thing, right?” Leroy asked in a slightly teasing tone.

“It's just my marketing major talking,” Honey said, slightly kicking him, barefoot. “I know about branding and stuff.”

“You dropped out.”

She put on her left heel and kicked Leroy. “You too!”

David massaged his temple. Ace turned around in his rotating chair and looked out the window. The sky had turned the same color as the clouds.

“Alec,” David called him. “It seems like… they—the Renegades think of themselves as heroes, and… they see you as the villain. I don't know, they could be a real threat, you shouldn't ignore them.”

Ace really wanted to tell David to just go back to his workshop. What did he know? They were just a couple of children who had destroyed a monument, who hadn't even been able to reveal their true identities and hid the entire time behind their masks, like criminals.

They were not a real threat.

But then, the seventeen-year-old Ace Anarchy appeared on the other side of the window, challenging him to finish that sentence inside his head. The seventeen-year-old Ace Anarchy who had dismantled entire governments and liberated millions of prodigies simply by wearing that helmet and its powers.

And when Ace blinked again, it was no longer the dark eyes of his old self that were staring at him from the glass, but the gray eyes of Captain Chromium, with that smug and arrogant smile, that he used to charm the cameras moments ago, passing his fingers through his hair as if his life depended on it.

Ace couldn’t look away from him.

He resembled Ace, but it was not enough. The old Ace didn't smile at his oppressors and he didn't have an unhealthy obsession with his hair either. He did not seek to protect people to win their affection, because he didn’t care if people like him or not, he knew he was doing the right thing.

The old Ace was not a kid playing to be a superhero, because superheroes didn't exist in the first place.

When he blinked, none of them were there anymore. Just his present self.

He smiled at himself to regain confidence.

Ace had learned that there were no heroes or villains. Captain Chromium was going to have to learn it too, and soon. Ace was willing to be the one to teach him that lesson.

And he would, whether he liked it or not.

***

There was a dream, a dying ember.

There was a dream, I don't remember,

but I will resurrect that dream,

though rivers stream and hills grow steeper.

For here in hell where life gets cheaper.

Oh, here in hell the blood runs deeper!

And when the final duel is near, I'll lift my spear and fly!

Year 20, month 5

The main difference between Ace and his brother was that David always fled at the first sign of danger. Always.

When the boys at his school began to suspect that he was a prodigy, David skipped school for weeks, getting his clothes dirty enough to make it look like he had spent breaks running after a ball along with his bullies. When his mother slapped him with the hot metal spoon, yelling he would not eat dinner that night, they both hid in the closet of his room, while David hugged him tightly and sobbed, telling him he rather be dead. When his father came home from work a few hours later and almost killed him, David took them both out of that house and out of Italy.

He said it was because he knew that the next beating would be the last and that when he was gone, Mr. Artino was going to focus all his anger on Alec, who would end up having the same fate as David. He didn't want that for his little nightmare.

What he didn't count on was that if Ace had been in his place, he would have turned around and slammed the bullies into the concrete wall of the school. He would have endured hunger and weariness with dignity and would have killed his father before he could touch a single one of his hairs. Ace wouldn't have turned his back on his problems. Ace would have fought for himself, just as for twenty years he had been fighting for all prodigies.

And now this.

He always knew that David didn't have what it took to be an anarchist. He was too deep in his own thoughts to even make an effort to listen to him. Ace had decided not to bother to explain to him the whole situation because there was no force on Earth able to change his mind anyway, and he had much more important things to worry about.

They were both sitting in the tiny white dining room in the apartment where he, Tala, and the girls lived. Ace had arrived unexpectedly so she had put more water to boil because the one they had put in for breakfast had cooled down. She apologized for the inconvenience, but he assured her that there was no problem, she could take all the time she needed. David had a cup of cold tea in his hands. He had never lost that disgusting habit of biting his nails.

No, David was not an anarchist. But Ace never thought he was a traitor.

Not until now.

The kettle began to boil at the same time the baby cried from the other room.

Tala turned off the stove and Ace could tell she was debating between pouring his tea or going to see what was going on.

“Don't worry,” Ace said walking towards her, “I'll serve it, you go take care of your daughter. Would you like me to make one for you too? "

He knew he intimidated people, but Tala took it to another level. She looked at her feet the whole time, her hands were shaking and she didn’t even answer the question before running into the next room, where Nova was complaining about her little sister's cries.

Ace took another splintered mug from the cupboard. With his powers, of course. The place looked clean (they probably spent a lot of time cleaning for lack of other hobbies), but he didn't trust them. “I've always said it: Tala is a lovely woman,” he said.

David didn't even flinch.

He had never been good at hiding his feelings.

“How does she like her tea?”

“Uh?”

He put his hands behind his back and opened the jar where they kept the chamomile tea. “How does Tala like tea?” he asked again.

David finally came back to reality. “Oh… three of sugar. She likes to add three spoons of sugar.”

Ace tried his best not to roll his eyes. I see this wife of yours wants to give herself cavities.

By the time the tea was served, the baby had stopped crying and Tala left the room again, with Nova following her. “Uncle Alec!”

David and Tala turned to see her with a single exclamation on their lips.

No.

But they didn't say anything. It was too late. Nova was already hugging his legs and Ace was stroking her strands of poorly cut hair. “Good morning, Nova, how are you?”

“Terrible,” Nova replied in all honesty. “Evie has been si—“

“Tala, Alec made you some tea,” David interrupted suddenly.

“Oh, that’s true.” He levitated the cup towards her and couldn't help but smile when he saw her recoil as the cup approached her, wondering if this was how she would see the barrel of a pistol approaching her forehead. “With three tablespoons of sugar. Just the way you like it.”

For the first time, Tala looked at him. “I don't like my tea with sugar,” she said in a calm voice. She shot David a stern look. “I thought we have talked about it.”

David looked so... small and weak. “I forgot about it. I'm sorry.”

But that "I'm sorry" didn't sound at all like the "I'm sorry" someone says when the only wrong they've done is forgetting how their wife prepares her tea.

It was the "sorry" of a traitor.

It was the "sorry" that Ace was waiting to receive.

Then he held out the other cup. “I apologize, that was my mistake. Take this cup then. I don't like to add sugar to my tea either.”

Tala accepted the cup. She took a sip and Ace recognized that micro-expression of disgust as she felt the hot chamomile water touch her palate.

It didn't surprise him that she had lied to him. That whole family was full of liars.

Nova turned to see her dad, laughing as only a child could laugh. “Oh, silly papà…” she said, hiding her head in his uncle's neck.

David smiled almost imperceptibly and raised his arms slightly so that Nova could run into them.

It reminded him a lot of when he wanted Alec to run into his arms.

But, like Alec, Nova didn't go to him. She liked being in her uncle's arms. “Oh, silly papà” Ace repeated. “Silly, silly papà...”

And the imperceptible smile disappeared completely.

“What were you saying, Nova?” he asked. "Moments ago. Are you having a terrible day? "

Nova knew immediately what he was talking about. She wasn't too busy drowning in the bitter taste of her lies. “It's just that Evie hasn't stopped crying for days,” she exclaimed with a face of pure exasperation. “We have given her everything, but nothing calms her down, and I always have to—”

“Alec, I have to tell you something.”

David had stood up and his fists were clenched on the splintered table. His knuckles had turned white and his bushy eyebrows betrayed the real nervousness behind all that facade of sternness.

He was so pleased by the image that he didn't even comment on how inappropriate it was to interrupt a woman when she was giving her point of view on something, or when Tala took advantage of this seemingly distracting moment to snatch Nova from his arms.

That was the moment. David was going to ask for forgiveness. He was going to break as he had broken that night when they were hidden inside the closet and just as he had begged his abusive father before he smashed his head against the nightstand. He would tell him that he regretted betraying him and that from now on, he would agree with him on everything. He would accept that he had never been anything but a coward who escaped trouble at the first opportunity and would run into Ace’s arms one more time.

That was the time for David to choose Ace as the god to whom he would pray for mercy.

That was the moment.

But of course, it would have been too dangerous. Therefore, he was not at all surprised, when he looked down at his teacup again and blurted out, “Evelyn has been very ill, and… we have run out of options. You know I wouldn't bother you with this if it wasn't important, but I wanted to know if… you know.”

“If I could get some medicine for Evelyn?”

David nodded energetically. “That's right.”

Ace pretended to stop to think about it. He wanted to see the desperation in his eyes and wanted him to suffer at the thought that he might never get the much-needed medicine for his little daughter.

He wanted David to suffer in every possible way he could, and when he thought it was going to break, Ace replied, “I think I have a contact that could help us with it.”

“When will you—”

“And with that medicine, Evie is finally going to stop crying?”

Now it was Nova's turn to interrupt him. If he weren't so blinded by the pain he wanted to inflict on his brother, he probably would have had found the act of Nova being the one interrupting her father delightful.

Tala tried to hide Nova with her arms when Ace approached them, but it was useless because he used his powers to gently pull Nova towards him, making her laugh out loud at the feeling that the levitation caused in her entire body. “I assure you, Nova, that with that medicine Evie will stop crying,” he replied, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “But in the meantime, you have to help your mom and papà, and keep doing what you say you do to calm her down. Now… how do you calm down your little sister?”

“I put her to sleep.”

David threw down a chair and ran over to Nova. Ace felt like she had been snatched from his arms again.

Having the two of them there, side by side, made him more aware of how similar they looked. Although Nova had always been a perfect mix of her two parents, Ace was much of the idea that one could know a lot about a person by looking into their eyes.

Nova had the same eyes as her father, but without the golden details that gave away the stardust that David was able to manipulate since birth.

The fact that their eyes were very similar but not identical could mean a lot of things. Perhaps it was that Nova had the worst quality of her mother and the only prodigious thing inside her was the half of the blood that ran through her veins. It would be a shame. The world did not need the oppressors to continue to reproduce with the oppressed and to gradually extinguish the spark with their inferior genes each prodigy had. It was only one of the thousand ways in which they were slowly annihilating them.

However, it could also mean that Nova was not like David, but not in the sense of being or not being a prodigy. Maybe those golden sparks were actually that her brother's soul had been born rusty and that was what would never allow him to see the world as Ace did. Instead, Nova did her name justice and could symbolize a new beginning for them, much like the supernova that granted them their powers had been.

For a second, she saw Nova not as a child, but as raw and pure potential.

Did he know? Was David aware of how precious was what his rough hands were holding?

“She sings her to sleep,” he explained hastily. “Nova loves spending time with her little sister, and she loves carrying her. Whenever she cries she insists that we let her hold her and that always calms her down. It is like—”

“Magic?”

David hesitated. “Yes… magic.”

Nova played with the collar of her dad's shirt, thinking about God knows what, until something made click inside her brain. “Uncle Ace!”

“Yes, Nova?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but David silenced her with a severe look.

Ace offered Tala his help with washing the dishes before leaving. He assured them that he would be back as soon as possible and asked Nova to kiss little Evie goodnight for him. He gave Tala a quick (and unrequited) kiss on the cheek and a handshake to David.

The same hands that could have defended themselves from the abusers, that could have stopped the burning spoon before it slapped him, and those that could have wrapped around their father's neck before blood stained the old carpet in the room.

He decided that there would be no survivors. Not even the ghost of David.

David always ran from danger, but now he was the danger that could destroy what it took Ace years to build. Ace wasn't running from him. Ace noticed it, faced it, and defeated it.

Because, in the end, Ace Anarchy was the real danger.

***

Piercing into the sky and higher,

and the strong will thrive.

Yes, the weak will cower while the fittest will survive

If we wait for the darkest hour,

'till we spring alive...

He had already been to the dome of the cathedral on other occasions. The first time he had done it, it was dark. The entire city was in lockdown and there was not a single light because Ace had managed to uproot the building that provided basic service to all the city. Then, he thought that maybe, just maybe, that night the sky would be so clear that he would be able to see the stars. And what better place for stargazing than the dome of the cathedral.

He was right. He could see every last star. Their light was not like the light posts in the parks or the lamps in his old room. Their light was energy, it was strength, and it was sheer power.

They were so present in the sky and seemed so close to his fingertips that he felt one of them himself. But he did not believe that his energy, his strength, and his power was similar to that of any of those stars; it would be like reducing himself to being something that he was not, so he could fit into a mold that he did not to fit in and please people who did not appreciate him.

And like that, under the stars and on the dome of that cathedral, the birth of anarchy was announced with the explosion of a supernova.

Ace Anarchy was a supernova. Ace Anarchy was born on that dome.

Now he wondered if he was going to die there too.

Hugh Everhart was in front of him. He didn't move a single muscle and he didn't make a single face, not even when Ace spat his name like it was a blasphemy. With one hand he held his spear and with the other, he clung to the piece of cloth that passed through his chest and that held a baby dozing on his back. He took a step forward, and Ace imitated him, too blinded by adrenaline to even think that this image was too good to be true and that Hugh Everhart would never give himself up like this, on a silver platter, and without his allies by his side, unless he didn't plan on giving himself up in the first place.

It was the worst mistake he could have made. And he didn't even notice it until he began to feel… that.

It was as if he was being absorbed. Someone ran their hands from his head to the tips of his toes, causing the feeling of lightness with which he had lived for so long to gradually fade away. The cars he launched, the walls, and the corpses he used as weapons against the friends and relatives of the dead were growing heavier and Ace had never carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. At least not that way.

Never like this.

The fire inside him was getting smaller, and smaller, and the only thing that seemed to remain was a single spark.

Ace stepped back, but Hugh Everhart kept on walking towards him.

There came a time when there was no more dome Ace could stand on and he fell to his knees.

For that thousandth of a second, he felt the presence of Tala and the baby behind him, looking at him with a deadpan expression. David's ghost, made of the same stardust that his fingers could manipulate, laid his hand on his shoulder and a tear, bright and white, fell on the fabric of his trench coat.

It was a pure tear, waiting to be paid for with another tear that was just as pure as the first one. But Ace had long since lost the ability to cry.

Hugh Everhart pulled the helmet off his head with such force that he backed away a couple of meters. The air swiped away the ghosts of his brother, his wife, and daughter, leaving only Alec Artino, with his knobby knees and messy hair, looking at him as the lost child in the middle of the battlefield that he was.

He ran towards him and wrapped his thin and fragile arms around him telling him that perhaps it was time to accept his own humanity.

Because… what is Ace Anarchy without his helmet?

His enemy readied his spear and Ace turned to see the boy asking the question, who was looking at him as if his mere presence was the answer.

What was Ace Anarchy without his helmet? Was he that weak child, with a stuffy nose and restless hands? Was he the man he saw in the reflection of his eyes, with a sloppy beard and deep dark circles?

Was he the ghost he would soon become?

Alec held Ace by the cheeks, with those bony little hands that were always cold, no matter how many gloves he wore or how many times David wrapped his around them and rubbed them to keep them warm.

And then he asked him, “How do you kill a god?”

The answer was what brought him back to reality and the one that made him realize, that it had only been a couple of seconds from the moment he fell to his knees and now that he was standing up, Alec’s ghost fading for the last time.

Because David and Alec Artino should have died completely since day one. In a perfect world, the only one alive was Ace Anarchy.

Someday, that vision of a perfect world would become real, and neither Alec nor David would be there to intervene.

Someday...

The only thing that remained inside of him was a spark, but even a single spark could start the biggest of fires.

How do you kill a god?

How do you kill Ace Anarchy?

Oh, my little nightmare.

You don’t.

And with that, he spread his arms and leaped straight into the flames.

...then with claws of fire, we devour like a falcon in the dive!

#multifandom gift exchange 2020 #renegades #archenemies #supernova #renegades trilogy #alec james artino #ace anarchy #david artino #honey harper #leroy flinn #queen bee #obsi's writs #falcon in the dive

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dawniebb · 4 years ago

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Closure pt. 4

I already want to get rid of this so...yeah. This is the last chapter, and it’s about Honey; for those who don’t know, this is a little series about grief, from the canon divergence I share with @healing-winston-pratt. This is the last chapter in the collection :)

You can use this post as a masterlist; you will also find the link to the canon divergence explanation there: https://dawniebb.tumblr.com/post/627798366140694528/closure-pt-3

Tag list: @novadreamer95438 @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff @novas-tunnel-of-anxiety @obsidianfr3sk

-.-

Honey

Whispers

You said it was a wasted promise I thought it was a waste of time You said it was the perfect crime

Nova turned the car’s engine off and leaned her back against the backrest, turning her gaze up towards the ceiling. A few seconds after that, she closed her eyes.

She then tried to enter into a full silence zone, until the outside noises started coming through the closed windows, letting her know that it was time; so, straightening her posture, Nova reached for the brown paper bag she was carrying in the backseat, before proceeding to take the bouquet of flowers that was driving with her in the passenger’s seat, leave the car and start heading out.

She hadn’t been in Gatlon’s cemetery many times, but given that she had a pretty good sense of location, she trusted she wouldn’t see herself in the need to go back to the entrance and ask the gatekeeper for directions; besides, it wasn’t like getting lost were that easy, taking into account what was it that she was looking for. After all, the zone she was heading to seemed to shine under the light of a spotlight.

They were called the Fallen Ones. Renegades and, ever since a couple of years ago, Anarchists; Renegades and Anarchists whose lives had been taking during battle; martyrs; Cragmoor inmates who had been proven to be innocent when it was already too late; civilians who hadn’t survived the Second Battle for Gatlon…all of those people that Nova had lend her voice to, once she convinced the Council everyone had the same right to speak as them.

Even those who were already gone.

If she hadn’t spoken up, maybe these people would still be in the “regular” area of the cemetery, or in the common pit.

The second gate, which led to the Aisle of the Fallen, was always open to the public, for those who had a loved one who rested there or the…curious ones who enjoyed necroturism.

When Nova stepped into the stone pathway, she not only felt she was entering a different cemetery, but a completely different world instead; like an alternative universe where death was considered a very long, well-deserved nap and a temporary goodbye, instead of a reason to cry and mourn.

Despite being overshadowed by the mausoleum Georgia Rawles and Evander Wade shared, the rest of the headstones managed to catch Nova’s eye, with their vivid colors and their pure aura, materialized in white marble; others were rather austere and modest…but there were some others, like the ones who belonged to Renegades who were no longer among the living, that even got to the point to have statues (Genissa Clark’s, for example), and were surrounded by fresh and healthy-looking flowers, helium balloons, letters and even significant objects, like plushies, books or other stuff.

With a sudden bittersweet taste in her mouth, Nova kept walking through that trail that, more than looking like a cemetery, it looked like Walk of Fame.

A gust of wind brought the overwhelming and cloying odor of flowers, and Nova couldn’t decide whether she was nauseous or just dizzy, so she elected to ignore that sensation and found some comfort in the sound of her soles hitting against the crushed stone.

After a while, she moved into the back of the Aisle of the Fallen, where the newest graves were being displayed. The spot around Georgia and Evander’s mausoleum.

For the first time, she managed to confirm that what she was feeling was nausea; although, a different type of nausea from the one she had been feeling the last couple of weeks; it was easy for her to discern that, this time, she was intoxicated by insanely high levels of adrenaline, as she felt, from one moment to another, how nothing about seemed fitting or adequate for this situations; she wasn’t wearing pretty clothes, she wasn’t wearing any makeup, she wasn’t wearing the right shoes, she hadn’t even brushed her hair; she didn’t look…presentable.

Nevertheless, she was already here, and she refused to leave.

As she got closer, her steps became slower, as if she were driving a car and was trying to avoid a big hole she had spotted in the distance, but fortunately (or unfortunately), she managed to get to her destination, and there she was.

Or at least, what was left of her in the living world (that is, in case another world existed).

Suddenly, the air became scarce and Nova just remained there, looking at her, at the same time her hand was tightening around the bouquet, reminding her why was she there in the first place. Thus, before she fully regretted having come here in the first place, she carefully got on her knees and gulped.

For a moment, Honey Harper’s headstone seemed to be greeting here back when she did, with a small, solemn head motion.

Nova had contributed with the money for that headstone, along with Winston and Leroy; but, unlike them, she had refused to see the finished product until today. More than ten years later.

Given the fact this was the headstone for an Anarchist as important as her, it didn’t get half of the attention the Renegades’ ones got, as Anarchists were generally conceived as something bad and not worth remembering; however, janitors were still requested to clean it and let Leroy or Winston know when it needed some type of reparation. For instance, it was safe to say it was in a good condition.

Taking into account what Honey would have wanted, they chose a bee-shaped stained glass, ornamented with a subtle and small crown by its head; it shone under the sunlight, and Nova, wholeheartedly, hoped that would cover the cold simplicity of the inscription where, written in italic letters, could be read:

Honey Harper. “Queen Bee”.

Anarchist.

That was it.

No emotional message added; no “And when the world needed a Queen, there was you” or “You will be missed”; not even a hypocritical “A great Anarchist, peer and mother”.

Mother?

Was there any possibility Honey would’ve liked that?

Did Honey ever consider herself to be that?

Nova didn’t know. Her therapist hadn’t had the answer for that either. And since she didn’t seem to be able to find it by herself, she had given up…because, in the end, the only person who could actually answer that was a few feet below the ground Nova was kneeling on.

Nervous, she licked her own lips and, consequently, pulled them apart, speaking in a voice that didn’t sound like hers at all. Not even when she heard it in her own head.

“I’m making a comeback…and I brought you roses, because they’re super dramatic like you.” She said, putting the bouquet in front of the headstone as if she were offering a sacred object. “But…they’re in white and yellow…without sunflowers, though…because for some reason I completely forgot sunflowers have your favorite colors in them.”

If she wanted to be honest, she considered it to be a pretty cute bouquet, with the same colors a bee had and everything…

Still, she wasn’t lying when she said she had forgotten about the existence of sunflowers. Bringing sunflowers could’ve been way easier…but, again, she hadn’t had a clue until she left the flower shop and saw a bouquet of sunflowers displayed outside.

“I don’t know.” Nova scratched her own arm. “…maybe you didn’t like sunflowers because they’re funny and sort of…me…yeah.”

She bit her lip.

“You would’ve compared me to a sunflower, now that I think about it.” She told the headstone. “You did call me a cute drone once, so…if you’re a rose then I must be a…equally cute but… more…alternative flower, I guess…”

As the nervous laugh started escaping her mouth, Nova decided it was time to remain in silence for a couple of seconds, until she recovered her will.

She wasn’t good at talking, let alone making monologues…but, in the end, she continued what she had started.

“You used to say I was a rough one.” She said, gulping. “And I never said anything because…you weren’t wrong. But maybe you were too… I mean, you were. Absolutely. You demolished a government and that stuff…But I guess you were too…too you to find other adjectives to describe other people. And, like, you had everything I still have to live without to this day…and after all, that was just you. Not that you …awful…”

She chuckled involuntarily.

“…attitude was fine. But we were used to it.”

Nova started at the headstone, waiting for a signal that, of course, never came. And, after sighing, Nova reached for the paper bag, and took the honey jar from it.

“Lately…” She began, still holding it between her hands, gently. “I’ve been drinking a lot of tea… but when I first started drinking it, I needed honey to sweeten it…but you’re no longer here, so I looked everywhere throughout Gatlon until I came across this…organic store in the downtown market. Turns out the owner runs a honey farm, and that’s where I’ve been getting my honey from. It doesn't taste the same, but it’s a little close...way closer than the one from the supermarket, I must say and I… I don’t know why I brought it here because you didn’t like to share your honey but you went apeshit every time somebody brought honey from the street to the tunnels…but I guess that…I don’t know. That’s just what I’ve been up to.”

After that last sentence, she placed the jar next to flowers, and once she saw both things together, next to each other, she felt like an idiot.

However, she also noticed they didn’t look that bad.

In that moment, she became speechless, as if that scene had been enough to shatter and destroy the willpower she had managed to accumulate, and the sound had abandoned her body. She felt intimidated.

But, once again, she refused to run away.

Nova didn’t run away, because that was what she had been taught, and also what she had been reminding herself through all these years; she stayed there, with her hands still on her lap, observing the glass bee that stood in front of her; the same bee that, for a moment, looked like Honey herself, imitating Nova’s posture like a mirror that reflected everything Nova had been after Ace took everything from her.

Being conscious it was nothing but a fantasy of what she desired to see, Nova fought the urge to touch Honey Harper, who was staring back at her with a neutral expression; her perfect skin; her bouncy, shiny blonde curls; her sharp nails with shimmering nail polish, and the sweet smell emanating from her body.

Honey Harper was gone in a blink, as fast as she had appeared, but Nova’s gaze remained fixated in the spot where she had previously been.

“The trigger…is one of the heaviest things I’ve ever had to pull.” She said in a low, hoarse voice. “And…If I’m being honest, I’ll never be able to understand how you guys did it so…easily. “

So then, before she had time to regret it or reconsider it, Nova held her hand forward, until she was able to touch the bee, forcing the words she had been keeping for herself for years to come out.

“I don’t know where you went, Honey. Or if…you went anywhere at all.” She lowered her gaze, only to lift her head up again a couple of seconds later.

“But I hope you know that you hurt me, and I hurt you…but it’s all forgiven. So I hope you can forgive me too.”

Heart pounding, Nova caressed the inscription.

“You were out of control. Someday you’ll understand.”

Being that said, she tried to shake the dreadful sensation out of her body and got on her feet, taking the dust off her jeans with her palms.

“I l…” Nova closed her eyes and massaged the bridge of her nose. “I...I’ll see you later.”

Hoping her broken voice had gone unnoticed, Nova turned around.

She waited until she was far enough from Honey’s headstone, in the privacy of her car, to use her empty arms to hold herself; she had come into terms with the fact she had no more tears to shed from that night at the cathedral, but she still teared up a bit.

Then, as she felt the closure her heart had been pleading to have, she finally managed to smile a little, as the position of her arms changed, moving towards her belly.

Deep down, through the unknown itch and the foreign feeling of freedom, a thought crossed her mind. About how Honey always claimed to be able to know when a woman was expecting just by staring into her eyes.

And for some reason, it seemed funny to her.

Maybe, when her baby bump was a little more noticeable, she would come back to visit and tell her all about it.

#renegades trilogy #marissa meyer #renegades #archenemies #supernova #supernova spoilers #nova artino #nightmare #honey harper #queen bee #if you're wondering #Nova is between 26 and 30 here #just for the record

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piracytheorist · 4 years ago

Text

So, I finished Death Note. Spoilers under the cut!

In a way, the machinations and the thought put behind them by the writers were amazing, and it was great fun to follow along and see how they would fix things.

Of course, the problem is... A bit after the time where Misa, Light and Yagami Sr. were put into detention (and we're certainly not gonna talk about how they completely ignored the psychological impact their detainment should have had on them cause we don't have time to unpack all that.jpg), it felt like the show took a bit of what BBC's Sherlock did some years after it; it presented us the result of Light's and N's machinations, and then they explained what they did.

Like how the fuck am I supposed to think N would've won when they were hiding from us that when Kira's puppet went that time to the bank, it was an unexpected outing and N's henchman was following him, which concluded in the henchman finding the real notebook? It's a bit of a stretch, and a bit annoying, that we weren't given a clue that N would win other than the fact that he's a prodigy. I mean, I don't think the show could've ended with Kira surviving and everyone else dying, pray tell what lesson would that give to the youngsters, but at the same time it felt like they wanted to make N's win such a surprise that we couldn't have deduced it ourselves no matter how prodigious we were ourselves. You can't boast about writing a good mystery/crime show when you're hiding stuff from the audience. And I'm not even saying it didn't look like it was planned, or that it was silly! I do think it was a bit of a stretch, how easily N and his henchmen got access both to the fake and the real notebook that the puppet had, but it does have logic to it.

But I am saying that by hiding those little movements by N, it didn't give us any sight as to how more deeply he was acting and foreseeing. Ok, we get it, he's smart. But the writing behind him is not fair towards an audience that, up until a little while ago, was given enough clues to be able to deduce what each character would do. L was smarter than him; yet we were able to follow along his plans.

Though, I'll be honest, a lot of my befuddlement has to do with the fact that I have no fucking idea what I'm supposed to see in N, cause currently I see a ton of hypocrisy. He stands in the end and tells Light "Oh you're just a mass murderer" and like, I don't think Mr. "I will let the Death Note fall into the hands of actual kidnappers and criminals by not revealing my psychotic brother's identity so that me and him can surpass L, lol" can actually be the judge of that. Matsuda judges Light for how his actions caused his own father's death and like, are we ignoring how N knew who Mello was, had a picture of him, saw him enter his headquarters (which had like four FBI agents inside) and let him walk freely? Cause I think we are.

Surely, I am anarchist af but I don't condone Light's actions; he was seduced by the notebook's power and his own pride, thinking that he could rule the world his own way, as well as the challenge that at first L and later N provided. And of course his actions as Kira eventually led to his father's death... But they weren't the only reason Yagami Sr died, and no I don't mean the latter's refusal to kill Mello on the spot. Part of it was also N's pride and his obsession to surpass L, and like, okay, N and Mello together managed to surpass L... once, by catching and stopping Kira for good. Boy have I got news for you, cause now N is all on his own, has admitted that on his own he's inferior to L... and L looked still quite young before he died, after having solved numerous troubling cases all on his own. Seems like the whole latter part of the story was just to satisfy N's obsession to at least once see himself as better than L. And you know it's not gonna happen again. And yeah, it's a little annoying that the show ended on a theme of satisfying N's obsession. Frankly I couldn't give a fuck, from the first moment he felt like a replacement for L, with all the weird sitting and the compulsion to build towers out of stuff and the weird eyes and the sometimes almost childlike behaviour... so yeah. Couldn't give a fuck, and I am frankly a bit pissed that it was the replacement who got the satisfaction, especially since we know it was a one-time thing and he wouldn't be able to repeat that now that Mello's dead.

That said, I've heard that the live action adaptation Netflix did is a crime against cinema and I'm so ready to hate watch it.

#lillpon watches dn #and is done #wow I did have a lot of thoughts #I may sound pissed but it's just because of that little fcuker #overall it was very interesting to follow through #and there were many times that i felt my heart beat fast from the suspense #it's just... the ending #sometimes it's hard #and it's definitely hard to satisfy everyone so I'll see myself out

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librarycards · 5 years ago

Note

im super new to the idea of anti-psychiatry and if u have a chance/the time or energy i had a question as someone who is seen as “treatment resistant” & has been in the system for many years. im curious if u think that seeing a therapist/having a dr/patient relationship in any scenario is unhealthy/harmful and it is impossible to see real reward from any type of treatment like that? i dont generally have much energy to research/read long bodies of text so i was hoping i could ask! thank u!

no problem, thanks for asking! as a fellow-supposedly "treatment resistant" (im still here bitch!) person, i've given a *lot* of thought as to what an anarchist treatment model, as it were, might look like, particulalry with se/lf-harm/su/cidal dep. + eati//ng dis/orders. many people ask me this and i ask myself; it's an important question for anyone seriously thinking about deinstitutionalization + antipsychiatry.

also, before i start, i think a great way to begin engaging with antipsychiatry is to turn a critical lens back to your own usage of language: what do you mean by "unhealthy/harmful"? that reads as psychopathologizing language in and of itself! this isn't to say you said something "wrong" or w/e but instead to point out that medico-psychiatric hegemony is everywhere, including in our critiques of it. we struggle to find a framework for our thoughts about right and wrong without framing them as well/sick; cured/diseased; sane/insane. a great exercise for someone starting out might be to keep track of some of the quotidian judgements you make and look at their indebtedness to ableist/saneist norms.

ok, so to address your q!! below is a little long, i tried to keep it as brief as possible but if you're having trouble with it (re: having trouble with long bodies of text) please feel free to ask clarifying questions in my inbox or DMs. :)

in terms of dr/patient relationships - whether you're a materialist or a poststructuralist (personally, i'm nonbinary); whether you think the access to material transformation/isolation/etc. is the locus of the power differential there, or whether you see the locus of power in the act of naming someone a doctor or marking someone as "sick," you're going to find a clear, unavoidable hierarchy between the professional and the patient, of whatever stripe.

the most decent drs and therapists are well-aware of this, are unafraid to name it, and are willing to act as collaborators w/ patients to engineer a liveable mode of non-compliance, to game "the system", and to prioritize survival over cure. the mere fact of having a certain type of medical/psychological knowledge doesn't suddenly render someone an evil person, nor do i think individuals are "innately" good or bad or anything at all!

however, virtually every dr, psych, social worker, therapist, etc. is to some extent educated in a system that continues to reify medical/psychiatric conditions. this training predisposes them all to understand "patients" as "afflicted" subjects. to see us as "cases" to (re)solve. some have the courage and wherewithal to resist what in many cases amounts to academic brainwashing. most don't. all have internalized the systems of oppression embedded in scientific disciplines & the world we live in and are capable of inflicting harms based on these on marginalized patients, up to and including death.

all this being said, let's return to awareness of hierarchy. my best dr (and current GP), as well as my most recent 2 therapists, are aware of this hierarchy. i see a doctor because, uh, i'm actually a reasonably decent fan of being alive and an even bigger fan of getting the fuck VACCINATED! and also like, participating in college and other stuff that requires check-ups. i started seeing a therapist consensually, for the first time ever, when i was eighteen and seeking primarily 1) a "gender dysphoria" dx and thus access to biomedical intervention and 2) an adult autism dx in order to get the living accommodations i needed at college. i remained "in therapy," as it were, after i no longer *needed* it, because, surprise! it's nice to have someone to talk to whose job it is to hang out with you. the notion of talking out your problems in order to find ways of dealing with them is a good one. everyone does it. i'm not currently in therapy for reasons that are probably obvious, but i certainly wouldn't make carte blanche statements of therapy's "uselessness."

drs that are aware of hierarchy also understand that the constructions of the "treatment resistant" patient are embedded in this notion of compulsory cure. the patient becomes treatment resistant when they "fail" in pursuit of the successful cure they are presupposed to want. mind you, these are the cures drs themselves dream up for us –– hence the word "resistant". treatment resistant often = resisting medical authority. that is, noncompliant; that is, lacking insight, that is, Mad. rather than take apart the relationship between antipsychiatry and those who "can't get better" (including myself!) i'm far more interested in looking at ways to make life survivable outside the binary of sickness and health. how do the conditions under which a "patient" lives determine their resistance to treatment (e.g., is it treatment-resistant depression, or is it "i'm poor, jobless, estranged, and subjugated by capitalism"? if it's the latter, hell, who wouldn't be suicidal?).

further, are they treatment-resistant because they object to the form or method a treatment might take? because they're traumatized? because they feel unsafe with those doing the treating? all of these are questions that can only be addressed when we make visible the dr./patient power relationship. i have had recent medical and therapeutic experiences that have helped me and even felt affectively rewarding, and recent experiences that have made me feel like utter garbage. the difference isn't that in one case, i was fixed, and the other, i was ill, but instead that some providers are willing to engage with me where i'm at and trust me as author(ity) of my own life, and others treat me like a lineage of problems that can't be fixed.

i don't know if that helped, this is more an infodump but i tried to organize it in a potentially helpful way! again, please hmu with questions.

#survivingpsych #suicide m ////#saneism #ableism #medical industrial complex #psychiatric industrial complex #ask #Anonymous #madness #critical mad studies

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inumaqi · 5 years ago

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top ten tagged by @linkspooky 🍊 explanations under the cut! sorry for rambling xo → rules: name your top ten favourite characters from ten different fandoms, and then tag ten people - @osomanga @kara-suno @anonimarevolts @zeninmaki @wildbishonen @shysheeperz @tkmewthyou @kaldurlenn @joxterism @marshmallowdonutsprinkles

snufkin okay so he’s the only one not from an anime or manga but i had to put him on bc he’s the most important fictional character to me, ever. i grew up watching the moomin cartoons in the 90s and thinking about it instantly calms me down - they used to air the episodes early in the morning when it would still be dark outside: the landscapes were moody and cosy, the characters were so softly spoken and articulate... it’s just peak nostalgia. anyway, snufkin is moomin’s best friend; he returns to moominvalley every year to be with his friends during the spring and says his goodbyes to go adventure again come winter. it upsets moomin when he leaves but snufkin is adamant that quiet and solitude are important and healthy, and it’s not fair to expect him to compromise on his independence - that made a really big impact on me as a kid, especially as someone who never really had their ‘own’ space (twinsies). relationships aren’t weakened by physical distance or time, they’re about communication and understanding. that was important too. i don’t think i realised just how influential it had been until i was an adult but snufkin is an anarchist. he first shows up in the comics when moomin and sniff are talking about opening a bank - he tells them they should plant fruit trees instead. he destroys private property and rescues orphans, he refuses to participate in things that don’t bring him joy. when he’s asked where home is, he replies, “nowhere. or everywhere! it depends how you look at it” - the whole world belongs to him, and the whole world belongs to everyone else too.

yomo renji in general, i like characters that trudge along in the background and do the nitty-gritty work that supports the main story. i like people like that irl too. more than anything else, yomo is desperate to form human connections, even though he’s shackled by self-doubt and self-loathing. he just wants to positively contribute to a community, thinking he’s most useful keeping a quiet eye on people who might need protection/guidance (while still giving them space to grow and act themselves) or foraging for human corpses so that others aren’t in danger or moral anguish doing it for themselves.

bird boy is a total weapon - “the perfect ghoul” - and you’re reminded over and over again but a lot of his growth is about rejecting violence and repurposing his power as something productive that he can use to help the people around him instead of hurting people (the yang to uta’s yin). in the first few chapters, he says he kills humans (he’s a ghoul, humans are food, it’s natural) and yet he’s consistently framed as a scavenger who seeks out ‘roadkill’ [suicide victims] for sustenance, even before coming to anteiku, and implements a system so other people can do the same.

suguru getou i was originally gonna say meg bc i love him but, having just finished The Flashback Arc, i can’t stop thinking about getou and i’m beyond impressed with how akutami has managed to ground him so well, so sympathetically. getou is the sick, warped darkness to the hopeful light that gojou commands but... in an uncomfortable twist, the reverse is true, kind of.

actually, gojou is arrogant and confrontational and hyper individualistic. he’s a dissident. getou is obedient, compassionate, self-aware... he has a sense of social responsibility and passionately believes that his skills should be used to protect those who can’t protect themselves - non-jujutsu sorcerers - and all of the suffering he endures as a result is worth that. idk if others are reading his downfall differently but, from where i’m standing, that overwhelming responsibility never goes away, he doesn’t give up on it - he just starts to view the social landscape differently and begins to see how jujutsu sorcerers are vilified and mistreated in spite of all the good that they do. the ‘weak’ aren’t really weak when they’re able to organise and assert collective power over a minority, and so his sympathies shift.

the nail in the coffin for getou is learning that the hurt and pain could be eradicted from the world by cutting the head of the proverbial snake: non-jujutsu users generate cursed energy, so get rid of non-jujutsu users and cursed energy won’t be generated. it’s all horribly, weirdly rooted in good intentions that weigh him down and misdirect him. shinazugawa genya i feel like the bond that slowly starts to develop betwen tanjirou, and zenitsu and inosuke (in particular) is nicely foiled by genya’s lonely journey towards becoming a pillar. after losing almost all of his family and having sanemi walk away, genya is angry, antisocial, rude, violent, evasive...

he’s characterised as competitive, as if he hates his peers and wants to leave them in the dust as an act of self-satisfaction, a power fantasy or whenever, but this is a deliberate misdirection to cover for the fact that he’s scrambling to be a pillar so that he can reconnect with his brother and prove to him that he can protect himself; that sanemi doesn’t need to shoulder everything alone like he used to. his entire goal is an act of apology.

and in a story where so many characters are able to hone these exceptional skills, genya is uniquely disadvantaged as the only one who can’t master breathing techniques. rather than having a hero moment and powering up, his need to reconnect with sanemi is so strong that he essentially decides to compromise his humanity and become a kind of monster by ingesting the demons he’s pledged to annihilate. amajiki tamaki i wish i had a a longer explanation for this one but it’s actually super simple: tamaki is a really, really, really good portrayal of a person burdened with severe anxiety. the way he physically carries himself, the way he hides his face, his manner of speaking, his dependency on his mirio, how he interprets compliments as trickery, how he needs to be pushed and pushed and pushed before he’s finally able to release his potential... every single scene with tamaki felt deeply personal when i was reading bnha and i knew exactly what he was supposed to be feeling. shinmon benimaru sometimes good, nice people don’t fit a little friendly mould and i like that benimaru is hostile and rough and antisocial, even with people he cares about. he doesn’t expect anything of people, he doesn’t want them interfering with him, and he wants to help and support them all the same because he believes in community. he’s completely oppositional to the special fire force because he thinks it’s a tool to pursue an ideology rather than to protect people, which is why it’s so important when the eighth are finally able to win his approval - they become the only company the seventh consider allies, and it’s proof that their objectives are righteous. despite his reputation as... kind of a nuisance, his skill is acknowledged by everyone and he’s universally regarded as the strongest fire soldier there is. in spite of his antisocial attitude, he agrees that it’s important to share that with younger fire soldiers - he’s incredibly patient and understanding with them, helps them to individually adapt. the way he (and others in company seven) operate in contrast to the other companies when fighting infernals is really cool to me for two reasons: (1) it provides a commentary on how cultures and traditions often struggle to survive when they’re systematically (forcefully) replaced through power and wealth - although the subtext is a little troubling because it’s unclear whether ōkubo is conflating multiculturalism with globalisation which, uh, big nope; and (2) philosophically speaking, the approach to death is interesting. where the other companies essentially perform last rites and offer absolution to the deceased, benimaru personally takes responsibility - at the request of the people in his district - for sending them off in huge public display, kind of like a festival intending to celebrate their life. i think it speaks to how profoundly he values life. akihiko kaji i liked akihiko from the beginning because he’s stoic and introspective and also excitable and dumb. he’s a people watcher and waits for opportunities to softly guide uenoyama and mafuyu when they’re quietly crying out for help but doesn’t interfere any more than he thinks is necessary because he knows they can make their own way to where they need to go. i liked akihiko even more when he got really fucking messy. his relationship with ugetsu is sweet and it’s incredibly ugly and unhealthy because they both fail utterly to communicate with one another - they’re both to blame for avoiding and hurting each other, and i think that’s a really normal issue that people find difficult to overcome. i’m super interested (and really nervous) to see how his relationship with haruki develops. he’s done some horrible things to haruki and i want him to be accountable for those things and have them affect their relationship in a realistic way.

tanigaki genjirou one thing i really, really love about golden kamuy is the way noda satoru incorporates the importance of minority cultures into the story, and tanigaki’s apparent abandonment of his matagi heritage is really beautifully written. matagi hunting traditions shaped his life as a young man, it’s how he was able to really assimilate to the people around him and form relationships and - without getting too spoilery - he divorces himself from it all when he’s overcome by grief and hatches a plan for revenge against the person responsible. so, by allowing himself to surrender to negative feelings and thoughts instead of seeking support and learning to heal from what happened, he becomes a total shadow of himself.

makimura takeshi i know i’ve gushed about it before but i can’t properly explain just how incredible it felt seeing an asexual character in manga dialogue about being asexual, and devils’ line does it twice. the reason i’m so attached to makimura in particular is because he doesn’t seem to have fully figured it out - and he’s kinda... comfortable with that. he wants to be with someone and he wants to be monogamous but he can’t understand why he doesn’t feel sexual desire towards her; he knows his feelings aren’t platonic but doesn’t know whether they can really be called romantic either.

not to go dark mode but i very vividly remember just how lonely and horrifying it was battling with those uncertainties when i was a teenager, thinking i was broken because i didn’t have Normal Human Feelings and needed to be fixed. i was so worried about it that i thought about all the boys i knew, picked the one i thought was the nicest and actively tried to develop a crush on him. it was dumb as fuck but, ten years later, i realise it was really desperate and sad too. i forced myself to have ~my first kiss~ (it was horrible) because i felt like i was getting left behind and i think i would’ve put myself in worse situations as i got older if i hadn’t suffered with such bad social anxiety.

i hadn’t really thought too much about a lot of this stuff for yeaaars but it all came flooding back when i was reading devils’ line. it was bittersweet bc i was remembering all of those shitty feelings but also watching this character grapple with those same questions and go: i don’t know yet and that’s not weird, let’s just grow with it. i still don’t totally know whether i’m ace or aro or bi, or whatever, but i’m trying to be okay with just... not knowing.

misora shuuji anyway, devils’ line isn’t actually a manga with a specific focus on sexuality and gender but shimanami tasogare is and all of the characters are written beautifully. if you haven’t read it yet... then why haven’t you read it yet? misora is only about twelve years old and watching them battle with their growing pains is really compelling - they’re closeted but, through the lounge, they have somewhere to explore their gender and all the questions they have about it. they’re amab and present as traditionally feminine wrt clothes, wigs, makeup, etc. but can’t quite tell if they see themselves as a girl, a boy or non-binary.

with the onset of puberty and anxieties about physical changes to their body, misora’s story puts a lot of emphasis on the pressure they face to just ‘make up their mind’ about something that’s actually incredibly complex and doesn’t have any easy answers. they snap and shout and get upset, especially when tasuku (the protag) tries to push them into a corner because he wants a concrete label or identity he can attach to misora, even though space is exactly what misora needs.

#jujutsu kaisen #given #kimetsu no yaiba #boku no hero academia #enen no shouboutai #tokyo ghoul #shimanami tasogare #devils' line #golden kamuy #moomins #mine*edit

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returnn-of-the-mac · 5 years ago

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Companions react to Sole having been an FBI agent before the war? Bonus points if they’re basically Spencer Reid. (I’ve been watching criminal minds and it’s amazing)

Oh my goodness, what? I actually wrote something! Merry Christmas! 😂

I decided to work on this one because it hits very, very close to home, and it’s one of the major causes of my Current Life Stress™️. But I digress.

Unfortunately, I don’t watch criminal minds, so I wasn’t able to make Sole like Spencer Reid. Sorry, sorry! But hopefully you enjoy this!

FO4 Companions React: Sole Being an FBI Agent

MacCready

“FBI? Weren’t those guys like super-secret police?” MacCready asked, genuinely interested.

Sole nodded and MacCready nervously scratched his arm.

“So...uh...I hope you weren’t trying to read too much into me when we first met. I mean you probably did...”

Sole remained silent and their companion continued.

“I just hope you didn’t get the wrong impression of me. Our first encounter could have been better,” the ex-Gunner babbled, “I guess what I’m trying to say is I hope you don’t still think I’m a bad guy. I’m just trying to survive out here like everyone else, and I was just doing what I had to do for both myself and Duncan.”

Sole smiled in understanding, and a wave of relief washed over their anxious companion.

“Thanks for understanding.”

...

Longfellow

“So you were an FBI agent, huh kid?” Longfellow asked, chucking, “You know, you never cease to amaze me. And trust me, I’m a jaded, old sea dog. It takes a lot to impress me.”

...

X6-88

“So Father wasn’t joking. You really were a Federal agent?” X6 asked.

Sole confirmed and X6 nodded in approval.

“That’s truly fascinating, [sir/ma’am]. It definitely explains your aptitude for combat and your resourcefulness in the Commonwealth.”

...

Piper

“Wow, Federal Bureau of Investigation, huh? I’ll bet you know some pretty top-secret shit,” Piper probed.

Sole— knowing where this was headed—shook their head.

“Aw, c’mon! I’m sure there’s something you can share! I’m sure not every single detail is classified!”

Sole shook their head once again, prompting the journalist to grunt in annoyance.

In one final attempt to get a good story, she tossed her notebook and pen onto a nearby sofa.

“Look! No pen, no paper, no direct quotes! I’m all ears!”

Sole turned on their heels and exited the room, much to the annoyance of their disgruntled companion.

...

Hancock

“You were a Fed?” Hancock scoffed, “And here I thought we were on the same wavelength, [brother/sister].”

Sole frowned and Hancock chuckled.

“I mean hey, Fed Gone Anarchist is a pretty badass title, if I do say so myself,” the ghoul continued, “Besides, I got nothing against crime-stopping; I commend it. I just prefer vigilante type shit. Definitely more excited than organized law enforcement. Ya know?”

...

Curie

“Special Agent for the...Federal Bureau of Investigation?” The synth asked innocently, “I am sorry to say, [Madam/Monsieur], but I am not familiar with that title.”

...

Danse

“The Federal Bureau if Investigation?” Danse asked, studying the badge in his hands, “As in the domestic security and intelligence organization?”

Sole nodded, prompting the Paladin to light up.

“That’s truly incredible, soldier. I knew I saw something in you when you came to our aide in Cambridge.”

Sole smiled, and Danse continued.

“And that certainly explains how were able pass all of our phase I tests with aplomb; our new recruits usually struggle with the fitness portion until they receive a formal training plan,” Danse explained, “As a matter of fact, you scored so highly, Maxson gave the okay to forgo the mandatory formal training. That’s how you got promoted so quickly.”

...

Cait

Cait leaned over Sole’s shoulder to examine the badge.

“Secret agent, darlin?” She smirked, “Definitely somethin sexy about that.”

Sole glanced at the redhead, prompting her to wink.

“Brawn, brains, n all the charm. Full package if ye ask me. What more could ye ask for?”

Sole cracked a smile, making Cait shake her head and let out a chuckle.

“So, ye gonna tell me about any of ye top secret missions? Or is that all ‘confidential?’”

...

Strong

“FBI?” Strong asked, looking puzzled. “No know what that mean.”

...

Gage

“FBI huh?” Gage scoffed, “Buncha narcs.”

Sole crossed his/her arms.

“What? Them smooth-talkin agents used to turn bad guys all against each other,” the raider shook his head, “Managed to pinpoint all the Tekashis and convince em to snitch on their own kind. Ain’t somethin to be too proud of, boss. ‘’Specially not when you’re hangin around a buncha raiders, yanno?”

...

Deacon

“FBI?” Deacon hollered, “BUDDY...YOU WERE A SECRET AGENT!? SICK!”

Sole chuckled at their companion’s enthusiasm.

“Yanno, if the world wasn’t, like, destroyed, I would‘ve totally done something like that for a living,” he continued, “Did you do any undercover ops? Did you wear suits and sunglasses every day? What was the most intense mission you’ve done?”

When Sole explained that information was classified, Deacon pouted.

“C’mon. I’m sure your boss and coworkers aren’t even around anymore.”

Sole kept their lips sealed much to the annoyance of their partner.

Deacon decided to drop it for the moment, but would never fully give up on trying to convincing his partner to share their stories.

...

Preston

“General! You were a Federal agent!?” Preston asked in alarm, “That’s incredible!”

Sole smiled and Preston continued to gush.

“We’re so honored to have such an able, talented, and inspirational individual lead the Minutemen,” the Colonial continued, “Thank you so much for your service; in the past, and today!”

...

Nick

“Federal Bureau of Investigation, huh?” Nick chuckled, “That explains it.”

Sole looked at the detective quizzically.

“C’mon, don’t give me that look,” the detective stated, “Your resourcefulness, intelligence, your ability to track me down in Skinny Malone’s hideout...those assets don’t come without some sort of professional training. And clearly, you’ve received the best of the best.”

Sole smirked.

“I’m assuming you worked out of their base in Chelsea?”

Sole nodded.

“Our department has worked with them in the past, namely on the Eddie Winter fiasco,” Nick explained, “I wonder...if we have ever crossed paths.“

...

Codsworth

“YOU WERE A FEDERAL AGENT?” Codsworth shouted in alarm.

Sole laughed at the frazzled Mr. Handy.

“All those late nights...so they weren’t— pardon my disrespect, [sir/mum]— booty calls?”

#ask #answered #fallout 4 #danse #deacon #maccready #strong #cait #piper #curie #hancock #gage #longfellow #preston #nick #react

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novannna · 4 years ago

Text

Same Sea, Same Soul, Same Heart

Danna is the daughter of a noble in Gatlon city. Gatlon is ruled by King Hugh and King Simon, members of the Renegades, the gruop that saved it from the anarchists and Ace Anarchy. Nova is the niece of Ace Anarchy and is the worlds most feared and dangerous pirate. She kidnaps Danna as ransom, and while they travel back to Danna’s father the two girls begin to realize they weren’t so different after all…

Nova must finally exchange danna for her ransom, and both girls struggle to leave eachother forever

link to masterlist

link to chapter 5

wc:2876

Moxie clambered aboard, breathless from rowing across the choppy sea.

“Well?” Nova demanded. “Any word?” they had been waiting right out of view of a coastal town for almost a week now, waiting for Danna’s father to write back.

“Yes!” Moxie handed Nova a letter. “And even better, I heard the servants talking in the manor. Apparently his Grace is here already.”

Nova grinned. “Excellent.” Slipping a dagger out of her pocket, she slit the envelope open.

The letter had been written in a hurry, several ink blots, and smudged words on the parchment.

“What’s it say?” Genevieve asked, joining them on the deck.

Nova smiled grimly. “He agreed. He’ll meet us on the dock, alone, tomorrow with 10,000 gold pieces.”

“You really think he’s going to obey those instructions Nova?” Viv asked nervously.

Nova scoffed. “Of course not. The entire fucking army is going to be there.”

“So… what’s the plan?” Moxie glanced at Nova nervously.

“Stays the same. We go in with Danna, we leave with the gold.”

“Nova, once they have Danna, they are going to kill us.”

“I’m well aware of that Moxie,” Nova said. She slipped her dagger back into its sheath and slipped the letter into her waistband.

“Then how are we going to get away?”

“They won’t catch us.”

“Umm, Nova? We can’t stand up to them, and expect to survive,” Viv said nervously. “How are we going to survive then?”

“Simple.” Nova grinned. “We change the meeting time.”

Realization dawned on their faces. “We don’t let him come to us…” Moxie breathed.

“We’re going to him,” Viv finished.

“Exactly.” Nova tilted her head back and smiled in the sun's light.

“So… when are we leaving?”

“An hour. Wake up Miss Bell. She has an important meeting I would hate for her to miss.”

Viv nodded, and hurried off.

“Hey Nova?” Moxie asked cautiously.

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Nova looked at Moxie, surprised. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Well… it’s just that you and Danna seem close. Connected almost.”

Nova burst into laughter. “That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said to me,” she snorted. “Me… and Danna?” Nova gasped for breath, tears in her eyes. “That’s actually hysterical.”

“Nova, I’m serious.” Moxie actually looked concerned.

Nova straightened. “Look, you don’t need to worry about me and Danna. She’s the epitome of everything I hate. A rich noble. A Renegade. She could be dead, and I wouldn’t care. Understand?” Nova stared at Moxie, her eyes burning holes into the other woman.

“Yes captain,” Moxie sighed. “I understand.”

“Good. Viv’s are coming with me, you stay and watch over the ship.”

“You're only bringing two people? Is that smart?”

Nova raised an eyebrow. “You forget who you're talking to. We’ll be fine.”

Moxie nodded, then pulled Nova into a tight, bone crushing hug. “Please keep my wife safe,” she whispered.

Nova nodded. “I will. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

“I know you won't. But Nova, take care of yourself too. I know you want us to believe you're invincible. But you're human too. You have your limits. Don’t push them too far. We need you back. We need our captain.”

“I’m Nightmare,” Nova said. “My limits won’t be a problem. I built myself up from nothing. If anyone is unstoppable, it would be me.” Nova bit her lip, and looked at the endless sea. “I need to get ready. I want Miss Bells wrists secured, and a bag over her head. She’s a risk I don’t want. Clear?”

Moxie sighed heavily. “Crystal, Captain.”

---

Danna sat in the swaying boat. She tried not to panic, but it was hard when all she could see was darkness, and her wrists were bound against each other, a hard rope chafing her raw skin.

“Comfortable, Miss Bell?” Nova’s clear voice asked.

Danna tried to control her breathing. “Perfectly, thank you.” She had no idea where they were going, only that Danna wasn’t able to see anything.

“Good.” Danna could almost see Nova’s lips curling up into a smirk. Her blue eyes twinkling, like the sun on the sea. Danna could see Nova in front of her, clear as day. It hurt when Danna opened her eyes, and the dark greeted her instead.

“Where are we going?” She had asked at last. Danna didn’t expect an answer, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“Unfortunately, your time on the Nightmare has come to an end,” Nova responded. “You’re on your way to be reunited with your father, and we’re on our way to get a lot richer.”

No…. Danna was going home. She was going back, away from the pirates. Back to normal life. So why did she want to stay? A part of her yearned to stay on the sea. In the few weeks she had stayed on the ship as a prisoner, Danna had experienced more freedom than she had ever known. She didn’t want to go home. But that wasn’t all. Part of her wanted to stay with Nova. A foolish, idiotic, stupid part of her body wanted to stay with Nova, and be free. Her heart wanted Nova.

But Danna refused to acknowledge it. She hadn’t fallen for the notorious pirate captain, the king of the seas. Had she? In her mind, they seemed like two separate people. They were two separate people.

Noah Artino, the dreaded Nightmare, terror of the seas was not the same person as Nova Artino. They couldn’t be. But as Danna felt the rough rope chafing her hands, she knew that she had overlooked all of Nova’s faults. She had forgotten why the stories about Nightmare had scared her when she was younger. She had seen the real person, and forgot the legend. Forgot that Nova had two sides. Forgot that Nova and Nightmare were the same person.

“Finally,” Danna said lightly. This was good. She was getting home, safe and out of danger. “It’s about time.”

She could see Nova’s smirk in her head.

“You’ll miss us, won’t you my lady,” the captain sneered.

“Of course not. I’m happy to finally be leaving your clutches,” Danna replied, trying to keep the tears from spilling out of her eyes. She was glad they couldn’t see her face. Her eyes were screwed shut tight, and her mouth was curled into a grimace. She was in pain.

Nova was completely right. Of course she was. Danna was going to miss it all. She would miss the sun on her face, and the wind in her hair. She was going to miss the smiling faces who genuinely wanted to be with her. They didn't care for power. She was going to miss the feeling of genuine friendship. But… most of all she was going to miss Nova. The dry humor, and witty comments. The grace the captain moved with, and her lethal skill. SHe was going to miss the captain’s dark hair, and sparkling sea eyes. She was going to miss her warm hands, roughened from years of hardship. She was going to miss the girl who hated her more than anything else. It was ironic really. The same person who hated everything that Danna stood for, was the same girl Danna loved with her entire heart. Danna realized with a start that she really did love her. She had known for some time, but she realized it now.

She loved Nova. Danna Bell was in love with this pirate. And Nova didn’t love her back. She never would. That was just the way life would work.

They were about to part, never to see each other again. Shouldn’t Danna be grateful? She was never going to be in danger again. She was going home. Back to the life she knew.

But she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay on the sea with Viv and Moxie and the rest of the crew. Danna wanted to stay with Nova. She never wanted to see her family or the court again. She wanted the one thing she could never have. She wanted Nova Artino.

And Nova Artino didn’t want her.

The boat bumped against something and Danna jolted backwards.

“We’re here.”

Danna felt Nova’s arms snake under her, and yank her up.

“I can walk on my own,” Danna said frostily, trying to ignore Nova’s warm skin on her body.

“Can you? Then, by all means, walk.” Nova laughed softly.

Danna didn’t move. She couldn’t see anything.

“That's what I thought.” Nova yanked her forwards, settling her onto a soft surface. Sand trickled between her toes. “Lets go,” Nova growled, and pulled Danna forwards by the hands.

The sand quickly changed to a hard packed dirt road. Danna hissed as her toe kicked a rock.

“Careful My Lady,” Nova said dryly. “Don’t want you to get hurt, now do we?”

“What do you care?” Danna asked. “I know you don’t give a shit about me.”

Nova inhaled sharply. “I don’t want to have your value decrease,” was all she said.

Danna bit back a sigh. Why did she keep hoping Nova was going to change her mind?

All Danna was to her was a pile of gold. Nova only saw her as a source of profit. Nothing more. Why did Danna keep hoping Nova would not give her away? She was only hiring herself more.

“Where are we?” Danna asked.

“Quiet,” Nova hissed. “We’re at the edges of Gatlon.”

“But my father doesn’t live anywhere near here!”

“He’s staying in your vacation home.” Danna could hear the scorn in Nova’s voice. “That's where we’re going.”

“Oh.”

They halted.

“Viv, go ahead and take out as many guards as you can. Then stay as watch. You know the signal if something goes wrong?”

“Yeah,” Genevieve responded. “I’ll meet you back here then?”

“Yes. Good luck,” Nova said curtly.

“You too. It was a pleasure, Miss Bell,” Viv said. Danna pictured her sinking into a small bow, a playful smile on her face.

“Likewise,” Danna responded, a smile on her own lips.

Nova ripped the bag off her head, and Danna blinked in surprise. Nova wore an outfit almost identical to the one she had been wearing when they first met. A long black coat with shiny gold buttons. A black hat that covered her face and hair. Her waist was lined with swords, guns and knives. She looked like Noah Artino, dreaded pirate lord. She looked anything but Nova Artino, the girl of Danna’s dreams. But still Danna ached to be close to the girl.

“I’m going to need you to behave,” Nova instructed. “I can’t lead you. So follow me, and we all get home safe and sound. Got it?”

Danna nodded. “Got it.”

“Great. Follow me.” Nova hurried off through the shadows. They were a block away from her house. She recognized the houses, decked in gold and mosaics. The beauty that once awed her now disgusted her. How many lives could that have saved if the money had gone to people who had actually needed it? How many people would have never starved or been killed? Danna’s lip curled.

“Hurry up!” Nova hissed.

Danna jogged to catch up. Her long legs carried her over to Nova.

She couldn’t help but gasp when she saw the gleaming manor.

It was so familiar. How many times had she stood in this very spot?

“Ready to go home?” Nova asked, smirking.

Danna breathed in, and out. “Yes. I can’t wait to get back to civilization,” she said haughtily.

“Of course you do.” Nova shoved her forwards.

“What are you doing?” Danna asked. “Are you just walking in?”

Nova scoffed. “Of course not. That would be rude. We’re knocking first.”

Danna couldn’t help but laugh. “You kidnapped me. You broke into my house in the middle of the night. You can’t possibly be worried about manners.”

Nova smiled slightly. “Ah ah. That wasn’t me, that was my crew. I would never be that callous.”

“Nova?” Danna said gently.

Nova’s grip tightened on her, but she didn’t say anything.

Danna breathed in deeply. Chances were she would never see Nova again. Better to say it, wasn’t it?”

“Look, Nova, I know you hate everything I represent. And I understand, I really do. I hate me too. I just… I want you to know that I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.” Danna bit her lip and looked down.

“I could never hate you either,” Nova said tightly.

“Then don’t make me go back!” Danna said quickly. “I can’t stand my life. The time I’ve spent with you was better than anything I had ever known. I can’t go back! It will kill me.”

“I have a job to do. I’m sorry, Danna. But this is goodbye.”

Danna nodded. “I understand. I just wanted you to know, Captain.”

“You can call me Nova,” she whispered. “It’s nice to know that someone outside my crew and my family remember me.”

“I could never forget you… Nova Artino.” Danna attempted a smile. “Let's just get this over with, yeah?”

Nova nodded, and breathed in shakily. “It was nice knowing the real Danna Bell.” She stepped forwards, and knocked twice on the door.

“I’m sorry,” Nova whispered to Danna, and jabbed a needle into her arm. “This is the only way.”

Danna collapsed, her head lolling backwards. The last thing she saw was Nova’s sea blue eyes full with tears.

---

Nova held a knife to Danna’s throat. The girl lay collapsed against her.

Nova felt terrible. She was a terrible person. How could she be doing this? Danna didn’t deserve this. She was forcing her to go back to a life she didn’t want when it was so easy for them to run away together. But she was too scared to disobey Ace. She couldn’t bear to see his disappointment when he saw that his niece was in love with a noble.

The door opened, and Danna’s father stood in the doorway, fear on his face.

Nova pasted a smirk on her face. This was her way of life. She could do this.

“Hello, Mr Bell,” Nova said.

“Danna!” He said. “Oh thank god, you're alright.”

“Not quite.” Nova tilted the blade up. “Where is my money?”

“What did you do to her? Our agreement was that you would meet me at the dock, tomorrow. And she would be safe and unharmed.”

Nova grinned despite the tears threatening to spill over her eyes. “Never trust a pirate to keep his word. Especially me.”

“What do you mean?” The duke trailed off. “You’re Nightmare.”

Nova winked. “I am. And your daughter is fine. She’s just drugged. In a few hours, she’ll be fine. Ish.”

“Nightmare doesn’t take prisoners…”

Nova groaned. “I don’t have time for this! Give me the money. Or else I kill your daughter here and now.” She pressed the knife against Danna’s throat, cutting a small line of red. Nova tried not to wince.

Danna’s father nodded shakily, and whistled. A servant appeared, and the man whispered something into their ear.

“You’ll get your money, Noah Artino,” he hissed.

“I’m counting it,” Nova replied coldly. “It’s not like you need it, anyways.”

They stood there, glaring daggers into each other.

The subtle rise and fall of Danna’s chest comforted Nova, and she fought the urge to brush a strand of hair out of her face.

Finally, the servant reappeared, carrying a huge chest. Their face was bright red from the effort, but Danna’s dad didn’t care.

“Trade me Danna, and you get your treasure,” he said.

“How do I know you won't attack me from behind while I’m busy carrying the chest.”

“You have my word. And unlike you, I actually mean it.”

Nova shrugged. “Fine. If you attack me, you will regret it.” She laid Danna down on the ground. Her hair spread out, a halo around her face.

“Set the chest down, and back away.”

“No.”

Nova pulled out her gun, and placed a finger on the trigger. “Would you like to rethink that?”

The man shakily backed away.

Nova whistled sharply, and Viv melted out of the shadows behind her.

Danna’s father gasped.

“Carry the chest,” Nova hissed under her breath. “I’ll cover.”

Viv nodded, and hefted the chest up as if it was nothing.

“Nice meeting you!” Nova called out as they hurried away. She kept her gun trained on the man.

“It went alright?” Viv asked.

Nova nodded. “Yeah. it was fine.” The look of pure betrayal was still fresh in Nova’s mind though. The way Danna had looked at her while her body fell onto Nova.

Nova never should’ve let herself get so attached to Danna. It had come back to bite her in the ass, and Nova’s chest felt like there was a gaping whole in it.

“Fine?”

“Yes, fine. Hurry up, it won’t be long before the Renegades come after us.” Nova looked back over her shoulder anxiously. “We have what we came for.”

“Do we?” Viv looked at her, concerned. “You seem…”

“I am fine!” Nova screamed. “Hurry up, or I’m leaving you behind. We did what we needed to do.”

“Yes, Captain,” Genevieve said heavily, and hurried after Nova. “You know best.”

Tag list: @novissa @thepurpledragon4444 @phobidawg @janisarkisian @rvbell @redassassin @styeenza @ifyouhadntbutyoudid (let me know if you want to be added/taken off!!!)

#Same Sea Same Soul Same Heart #danna bell #nova artino #nobell #novanna #nova x danna #fic #my writing #Renegades #renegades au #renegades fic #archenemies #Supernova #yeah no more fluff </3 #sorry #but they gotta be sad for a while now #my fic recs

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