#or their violence and inability to be kind is a weakness as much as a strength (butcher)

[jetii]

Mutually Beneficial Arrangement

Part Two | Part Three

Pairing: Thorn x Senator!Reader / Thorn x fem!Reader

Words: 12,428 / 34,682

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! enemies to lovers kinda, forced proximity, bodyguard!Thorn, protective!Thorn, a little more than canon-typical violence, so much arguing and flirting and banter, smut in part 2 part 3

Summary: You're the most infuriating charge Commander Thorn has ever had the misfortune to babysit, and yet, you're also the one he finds himself falling for.

A/N: This was a request from @capricornrabies that got so out of hand I decided to make it its own thing and split it into two three parts. The original prompt was 52. “Just because you're pretty, it doesn't mean you can just get away with anything." / "You think I'm pretty?" from my 500 follower celebration. Featuring my Corrie OCs Burst and Knock! Apologies if Thorn is not necessarily in character, but he had so little screen time this is just build a boyfriend tbh.

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"Commander?"

Thorn freezes, his finger hovering over his datapad before it clenches into a fist.

He glances over at his comm on his desk and heaves a sigh. Well, it’s not his desk, really. Your staff had been kind enough to provide him a private office, tucked away in the fourth level of the estate, far away from the rest of the government officials. They had tried to decorate it for him, but he had waved away most of their attempts, allowing them to only get rid of the garish gold accents and take down the large tapestries that were plastered all over the walls.

But it does still have a lot of useless stuff in it. A lot of useless, fragile stuff. And as much as he’d like to be grateful for the offer of a quiet place to work, he was sure your motives were far from altruistic. He knew exactly what you were trying to accomplish by keeping him so far from you.

 You were by far the most frustrating charge that Thorn has ever had the displeasure of babysitting, and he’d shadowed Senator Orn Free Taa on a pleasure cruise for two weeks, so that was saying something.

You were smart, manipulative, and you had the entire Senate eating out of your hand. The Jedi had no choice but to agree to your demands, and it seemed that every politician under the sun was at your beck and call. It was infuriating, watching you sit there with your perfect smile and your perfect manners, as if the world owed you something, as if you were the greatest thing to ever happen to Coruscant.

And maybe you were, because the last few years have been the most prosperous in recent memory for your planet. You had the support of nearly the entire Senate, and you were able to push through the majority of the legislation you proposed.

If it were not for the fact that you were also extremely stubborn, Thorn might have actually liked you.

But the two of you had locked horns almost immediately after you were introduced, and the past three months have been nothing but a test of wills. And even worse than your annoying personality and inability to stay out of trouble, was the fact that you were one of the few people who could make Thorn freeze up with nothing more than a simple question.

 It was humiliating, really, how weak he was when it came to you. He was a Commander, for kriff's sake. One of the best the Guard had to offer. And yet there was precious little he had in defense against your charming smile and witty comments.

He had no idea how you managed to make him so flustered, and that was the worst part. He never had any idea how you were going to react or what you were thinking, and you had an uncanny ability to make him feel like a complete and utter idiot. He didn’t consider himself an impulsive person, but when he was around you, he found himself speaking before he thought things through, a habit he had been trying to break since he was a cadet.

There was just something about you that threw him off balance. It didn’t matter how many times he saw you or how many meetings he attended with you, the moment you walked into the room, it was like all of his training went out the window, and he was once again a shiny fresh off Kamino, ready to embarrass himself at the slightest provocation.

He should hate you, really. He had no idea why he didn’t. It wasn’t like you got along well, not in the slightest. You had a sharp tongue and you always seemed to be testing his patience, and he found it impossible to relax in your presence. You always made him feel... off. On edge. Like he was a second away from saying or doing something he was going to regret. It was exhausting, really, and Thorn had no idea why you affected him so much. He had no idea what was so different about you. What made you stand out.

What made him act like such a fool whenever he saw you.

Maybe it was because you were a challenge. Maybe it was just the fact that he had been forced to spend so much time with you. Maybe he was just curious.

Whatever the reason, Thorn was beginning to grow tired of it. You had an irritating habit of finding trouble wherever you went, and the past few months have been particularly chaotic, thanks to your efforts.

You were not an easy person to protect, especially since you seemed to have an uncanny ability to slip out of sight when the moment called for it. He was starting to think that you were using the Force, because you would just disappear and then suddenly reappear again somewhere completely different.

Thorn was used to guarding difficult people, but you were taking the cake.

The Jedi Council had insisted that you needed to be assigned a permanent detail, and had tasked him and the rest of the Guard with doing so. And yet, after months, there was not one single clone in the entire GAR that was able to keep an eye on you.

The first time you had given them the slip, Thorn had felt like punching a wall. The second, he was convinced it was an accident. But by the fifth time? It was clear that you were intentionally trying to shake him.

And now, as he stares at his comm, the name of one of the troopers he’d assigned to watch you flashing on the screen, he feels the urge to hit something return with a vengeance.

"Yes?" he answers, his voice tight, and there's a brief silence on the other end.

"We lost her," the trooper admits, sounding miserable. "She said she was going to the refresher and...I guess she wasn't really going to the refresher."

"I see," Thorn says, pinching the bridge of his nose, and he hears the trooper start to apologize.

"It's fine, we'll get her," Thorn interrupts, even though it's far from fine. This is the fourth time they've lost you since they arrived on your home planet, and it was as if your ability to make fools of them all had only strengthened the further they got from the Core. The only solace was that they were far from the watchful eyes of the Jedi Council and the office of the Chancellor, so no one except him knew just how badly they were fucking this up.

“We’ll just track her comm and..." he stops, and his hand falls away from his face. "You did get her to wear her comm, didn't you? Please tell me you got her to wear her comm."

There's another, even longer, pause, and then a small, sheepish, "Sir."

Thorn groans. "She's going to get herself killed."

"We'll find her, sir!" the trooper promises. "We'll scour the entire planet if we have to, she can't have gone too far."

Thorn doubts that, but he doesn't say anything, and instead he hangs up the comm and gets to his feet. He gives a forlorn look to his half-finished report before grabbing his helmet off of the desk and pulling it on, marching out of the office and into the main room where the other Guards are sitting around and playing sabaac.

"Did you get it done?" Burst asks eagerly, glancing over as he strides into the room.

"No, and you're not going to believe what I've just been told," Thorn says dryly, and the troopers all groan.

"What did she do this time?" Knock grumbles. He throws down his cards and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Apparently she went to the refresher and hasn't been seen since."

The group all give each other exasperated looks.

"You know," Burst drawls, "if you just gave us a few minutes alone with her, we'd be able to talk some sense into her."

Thorn stiffens, a rush of...something, some feeling washing over him. It's no secret that his men have become infatuated with you, and Thorn doesn't blame them. You are, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful women in the galaxy, and despite the fact that your personality is atrocious, you somehow manage to be charming.

That's the problem.

You're always charming, and he's the only one who ever sees your less favorable side. It's frustrating, and more than once he's had the urge to pull his men aside and ask them how they can stand it, how they can handle being in your presence without constantly wanting to strangle you.

It's bad enough that you make his blood boil, but having to deal with his own men mooning over you is too much.

"That's not how this works," Thorn snaps. "This is supposed to be an assignment, not an opportunity to flirt with our charge."

"So it's fine for you to flirt with her," Burst says, a teasing note in his voice, and the other clones around him snicker. "I see how it is."

"I don't have time for this," Thorn growls, his hands curling into fists. He can feel his face heating up, and he's glad for the protection of his helmet. "She's out there somewhere, unprotected, and you all are sitting here joking around. Now get up, all of you, we need to find her before she gets hurt. Or worse."

"Fine," Burst grumbles, getting to his feet, and the others follow suit. "Where do we start, sir?"

"Fan out, search the entire manor top to bottom. If she’s not here, we’ll start searching the streets."

"We can't possibly search the whole city," Knock protests, and Thorn gives him a long, hard look.

"We don't have a choice," he says, crossing his arms over his chest. "We're not letting her out of our sight again. Do you hear me? She's going to listen to us, one way or another."

"Yes, sir," the troopers say, nodding their heads, and Thorn lets out a frustrated huff.

"Now let's go."

It takes the rest of the afternoon and a large chunk of the night, but eventually, Thorn finds you. You're sitting in a diner, your hands wrapped around a mug of caf, and you don't even look sorry when Thorn stalks over, yanking off his helmet and slamming it down on the table in front of you. The motion makes the carafe rattle, but neither of you flinch.

"Senator," he says through clenched teeth, and you glance up at him, raising a brow.

"Commander," you reply with a tilt of your head. You gesture to the empty mug placed across from you. "Caf?"

He falters slightly, confused for just a moment before he realizes what you're doing. You knew he would find you here. Of course you did. And you're just as smug about it as he expected, your eyes alight with a mixture of amusement and annoyance, the two of you at an impasse.

Thorn grits his teeth, forcing himself to calm down. He knows he should be angry with you, and part of him is. The other part, the part that is not furious or exhausted, is relieved that you're safe. You've been gone for hours, and as the time ticked by, he could feel his anxiety building.

You were so stubborn, and you had no concept of self-preservation. If anything had happened to you, it would have been his fault.

He should have taken better care of you. He should have been more careful, should have been watching you closer.

He was not going to let it happen again.

"Yes," he says curtly, sinking down into the booth and removing his gloves, shoving them into the pouch on his belt. "Please."

You pour him a cup, and then you pick up yours, holding it out for a toast. He narrows his eyes, but reluctantly he raises his cup, letting the two of you knock them together.

"To peace and prosperity," you murmur, and Thorn snorts.

"For everyone except me, apparently," he grumbles. You grin at that, a slow, dangerous smile that makes his stomach flip

"Don't be so dramatic," you chide him, and his eyes narrow.

"Dramatic?" he repeats incredulously. "Dramatic? Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

"Worried about me?" you tease, and he feels his face flush.

"I—you are—this is serious!" he splutters. "I'm responsible for your safety, and I can't do my job properly if you're running off whenever you please."

"All I want is a little privacy, is that too much to ask?"

“With three assassination attempts in the last month alone, yes, it is," he says flatly. "You are supposed to have a detail. Do you understand me? A detail. That means that there are going to be guards with you. At all times. If you don’t like it, take it up with the Chancellor, I don't make the rules."

You let out a huff, leaning back against the cushions and crossing your arms over your chest. He's sure that you're not used to being talked to like this, and normally he wouldn't have said anything, but he's fed up. It's been three months of constant arguing, of trying to keep you safe. Three months, and he was still no closer to figuring you out.

"I'm not your enemy," he adds. "We are not here to inconvenience you. We are not here to make you uncomfortable. Our only purpose is to protect you and keep you safe. If you would just work with us—"

"I am!" you protest. "I'm working very hard, and I would appreciate it if you would stop treating me like I'm some kind of spoiled brat."

"If the shoe fits..."

You glare at him. "Look, I understand that this is frustrating, but I have a life, Commander. I'm not going to stop living just because the Jedi and the Chancellor don't think I can take care of myself."

"Well, maybe you can't," Thorn mutters.

"Excuse me?"

"Maybe you can't," he repeats, louder this time. "You're not invincible, you know."

"You don't know what I can or cannot do," you hiss. "How can you make any judgements on how I should act when you barely even know me?"

"Because I've had the misfortune of being forced to deal with you," he snaps. "And I've had the misfortune of seeing you make a target of yourself every single day. Just because you're pretty, it doesn't mean you can just get away with anything."

He doesn’t realize what he said until he sees the surprised look on your face, and the color immediately drains from his own. The two of you stare at each other for a moment, your cheeks starting to flush pink, and Thorn feels his stomach drop. He hadn't meant to say that. In fact, he hadn't even realized he was thinking it.

But it was true.

You were gorgeous, and Thorn was not blind. He had noticed the moment he met you, had seen the way the men in the room were drawn to you. You had the same effect on him, although he liked to think he was at least somewhat better at hiding it than most.

Or so he had thought.

"I..."

"You think I'm pretty?" you finally say, a smile starting to tug at your lips, and he feels the tips of his ears start to burn.

"I, er," he says eloquently, and he clears his throat, his jaw clenching. He had walked right into this, and now he was going to have to pay the price.

Your grin widens, becoming impossibly more smug. The white hot anger that had been boiling inside him moments before is quickly replaced with mortification, and Thorn feels the urge to hide under the table.

"Well, thank you for the compliment, Commander," you murmur, and then you stand, gathering up your cloak and picking up his helmet. "But if that's all you came here to say, we'd best be on our way. I have an important meeting tomorrow morning."

"Wait, what?"

You raise a brow, holding the helmet out, and he hesitantly takes it.

"You can escort me home, can't you?"

"I...of course," he says, trying not to sound too flustered. He had expected this to be a lot harder, and his brain was struggling to catch up. He stands, placing his helmet back on his head, and tries not to wince at the smug expression on your face.

"Good," you say. "I'll give you two weeks."

"Two weeks?" he repeats dumbly.

"Two weeks," you confirm, "and not a single other trooper. You and only you. That's the only way I'll agree to this."

Thorn gapes at you, and then he sighs, shoulders sagging. "Why?"

"Because I'm not interested in having a detail. If you can convince me that I can trust you, then maybe I'll consider changing my mind." You shrug, and you hold out your coat, looking at him expectantly. "Well?"

He stares at you for a moment, and then he rolls his eyes and holds the jacket up, allowing you to slide your arms into the sleeves. "You're infuriating."

"And pretty," you say, turning back around to face him. Thorn reaches out to adjust your collar, smoothing the fabric over your shoulders, and you give him a dazzling smile. "So, do we have a deal, Commander?"

He knows it's a terrible idea. He knows the entire Jedi Council would disagree with him. He knows the Chancellor would never approve. But he's so tired of arguing with you, and his men are already annoyed enough. Maybe it would be easier this way. If it was just him, maybe he could find a way to make this work.

"Alright," he sighs, giving a defeated shrug. "Two weeks. And no tricks."

"No tricks," you promise, and despite his better judgement, he believes you. "Come along, then."

"Senator," he says flatly, falling into step behind you, and you give him a cheeky grin.

"Commander." Your voice is sweet, but he can hear the mocking note hidden underneath, and he grits his teeth. "You really are very cute, you know. I'm glad you think I'm pretty."

His blush comes back full force, and he turns his head away, refusing to look at you. Burst catches his eye through the window, giving him a thumbs up, and Thorn wants nothing more than to run into the street and push him into traffic. He gives him a sign to get lost, and the trooper salutes him, turning around and leading the others away.

He can't believe this is his life now. He's supposed to be the Commander of the Coruscant Guard. One of the toughest men in the Republic. How is it that he keeps losing these fights with you? How is it that every time, he's the one who walks away feeling like a complete and utter idiot?

He has no idea how he's going to make it through the rest of the trip.

"Two weeks," he grumbles, a reminder more to himself than to you, and your soft laugh only serves to deepen his embarrassment. He holds the door open for you, and you give him a playful pat on the shoulder as you pass him.

"Don't worry, Commander, I'll be on my best behavior," you promise, and he can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not.

He lets out a long sigh, shaking his head as he follows you out into the street, the door slamming shut behind him. 

"Good," he says gruffly. "Because I'll be watching."

You slip your hood over your head, giving him a smirk. "I'll make sure to put on a good show, then."

He has no idea what you mean by that, but it doesn't stop his imagination from running wild. He has a feeling he's not going to sleep well tonight.

"Come along, Commander," you say, and then you're gone, disappearing into the crowds, and Thorn hurries after you, trying his best to ignore the strange warmth blooming in his chest.

It's going to be a long, long two weeks.

Thorn had been prepared for a fight.

He had spent the entire morning mentally preparing himself for the inevitable battle, going over different scenarios and practicing what he would say. It was something he did often, something that had saved him and his men countless times before, and he had expected this conversation to go exactly the same.

He was wrong.

He steeled his shoulders and knocked on your door, waiting for your soft, "Enter," before walking in, his jaw set, ready for an argument.

But instead of the sharp retort he had expected, the door opens, and you're standing there, dressed in an elegant robe, your hair pulled back in an intricate updo. He freezes, caught off guard by how lovely you look, and you smile.

"Commander," you say, and his brow furrows. "Good morning. Would you care to join me?"

"What?"

"Breakfast," you clarify, holding the door open wider, and he swallows thickly. He hadn't expected you to be so... pleasant.

"Of course," he says after a pause, stepping into your rooms. The suite is larger than any room he's ever stayed in, and as he looks around, he can't help but feel out of place. The furniture is ornate, the walls covered with beautiful artwork, and even the floor is lined with thick, expensive rugs. The Governor of your planet clearly likes to live lavishly, and Thorn's sure the cost of one meal in this place could feed a battalion.

He tries not to dwell on that, and he turns his attention back to you. You've closed the door behind him, and you're busy adjusting the folds of your robe. He watches as you smooth the fabric over your hips, and then he looks away, clearing his throat.

"So, are we having breakfast here?" he asks. You nod, motioning to the table set up near the window.

"Yes, if that's alright. My schedule is rather busy, so I thought it would be best to eat here instead," you say, and he follows you over, quickening his pace to pull your chair out for you. You give him a soft smile, and he feels his heart skip a beat.

"Thank you," you murmur, sitting down and letting him push the chair in.

"Of course," he says, and then he sits down across from you, removing his helmet and placing it on the table. There's a plate of food already set out for him, and he eyes it, wondering if this is all some elaborate trap. A droid wheels up, depositing a pitcher of juice and a carafe of caf on the table, and he waits until it has rolled away before speaking.

"I wanted to talk to you," he says, and you glance up at him. "About this... arrangement."

"Of course," you reply, picking up a fork and scooping up a bite of fruit. "What would you like to discuss?"

He shifts slightly, not quite comfortable with the whole situation. He had not been expecting to get along with you so well, and he wasn't entirely sure what to do with this newfound friendliness.

"We both have jobs to do," he says slowly, "and I understand that they are sometimes conflicting, but we need to make this work."

"Agreed."

"We can't have any more incidents," he continues, and you raise a brow, the corners of your mouth turning up slightly.

"You mean where I disappear?"

"Yes."

"Well, then," you say, taking another bite, and Thorn's fingers tighten around the edge of the table.

"I don't want you leaving the compound without telling me first. I'll escort you anywhere you need to go."

"Commander—"

"And no more wandering off," he interrupts, ignoring the look you're giving him. "I don't care if you need some fresh air or you're bored or tired, you'll ask me or one of my men first, and we'll make arrangements."

"Is that it?" you ask dryly, and he purses his lips.

"No," he replies. "We will continue to check in regularly, and we'll have a meeting every morning to discuss your schedule."

"So, you'll be joining me for breakfast every day, then?"

"I... yes," he says, surprised by your agreement. You shrug, taking another bite, and he feels like there's a catch.

"Very well. Is there anything else?"

He can't help but stare at you, waiting for the punchline, but you're still eating, and Thorn can't detect even a hint of deception on your face. He lets out a relieved sigh, leaning back in his chair.

"Just don't make things difficult," he says, and then he reaches for his caf. "Please."

"I'll try my best, Commander," you reply, giving him a sly smile. That strange warmth returns, the tightening in his chest, and he has to swallow before replying.

"Right," he says. "Good."

"I have a question for you," you say, and he glances at you, raising a brow.

"Okay..."

"Do you always treat your charges this way?"

"No," he says quickly, and he flushes slightly. "I mean, I've never had a charge like you, Senator. Usually the ones I protect are much more cooperative."

"So it's just me, then?"

"It seems so."

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. "Well, I'm honored. Truly."

He huffs, and then the two of you lapse into silence. Thorn finds himself studying you as you eat, his eyes lingering on the curve of your neck, the delicate lines of your throat, the way your fingers move over the handle of your mug.

He's seen plenty of beautiful women in his lifetime. Coruscant is full of them. But there's something about you that he can't quite put his finger on. You're so unlike the other senators, and despite the fact that you seem to go out of your way to make him miserable, he can't deny there's a certain charm to your demeanor.

He's still trying to figure out what's going on, but he can't quite wrap his head around it. You're not being particularly argumentative, and for once, the two of you are able to sit in a room together without fighting.

"I'm sure," he mutters, and you glance up at him, a glint in your eye. Thorn meets your gaze, and then he quickly looks away, his heart beating a little faster.

He's in trouble.

"Well, I'll be damned."

Thorn's shoulders slump, and he glances over at Burst, raising a brow.

"What?"

"She actually got you to do it."

Thorn scowls, turning back to his datapad. "Shut up."

"Oh, come on, I'm just saying," Burst laughs, plopping down onto the bench next to him. "I didn't think she'd be able to convince you."

"Yeah, well, she did," Thorn mutters. He's not entirely sure how it happened, but you did. And now, here he was, stuck with you for the foreseeable future. It wasn't terrible, not in the slightest. You were actually pretty good company, when you weren't making his life miserable. But it was still a lot to deal with, and he had no idea how he was going to manage it.

He has no idea what it is that makes him act this way around you.

"How'd she do it?"

"Does it matter?"

"Kind of, yeah."

Thorn sighs, his fingers clenching around his datapad, and he stares down at his boots. He doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't want to admit that he was swayed so easily, but he knows that Burst is never going to let it go until he tells him.

"I just agreed to it," he finally says, shrugging his shoulders. "It was either this or spend another few weeks arguing with her, and I just...didn't have the energy for it."

"I guess," Burst says doubtfully.

"Look, the sooner we get this trip over with, the sooner we can all go home," Thorn points out. "It's not ideal, but at least now we can keep a closer eye on her."

"So it's just the two of you now, huh?"

"Yep."

"Just the two of you."

"That's what I said, Burst."

"Alone."

"What is your point?"

"I'm just saying, sir," Burst says innocently. "If you wanted a little alone time with her, you could have just said so. We wouldn't have minded. Hell, we would have encouraged it."

"Yeah, well, I don't need any encouragement," Thorn growls, and then he stands, tossing his datapad onto the bench and heading off to find a quiet spot.

The truth was, he hadn't really thought about it. He hadn't thought about the implications of what this would mean. Being alone with you, day after day, until the two of you could return to Coruscant. And now, he wasn't sure what to do.

He couldn't exactly go back on his word, not when he had agreed to it. Not when you had given him the chance to prove himself. But it was difficult, knowing that his feelings towards you had been... complicated, ever since he had met you. Knowing that, if he wasn't careful, things could easily spiral out of control.

And now, the two of you were going to be spending an absurd amount of time together. Alone. With no one around to stop him from doing or saying something stupid.

He was in a lot of trouble.

The rest of the morning goes smoothly enough, and when lunch rolls around, he goes in search of you. You'd spent most of the day holed up in a conference room with a bunch of stuffy politicians, and by the time Thorn comes to collect you, the room is empty except for you. You're sitting at the table, staring out the window, and he's taken aback by how melancholy you look.

"Senator?"

You jump, glancing over at him, and the gloomy expression on your face is quickly replaced with a cheerful smile.

"Commander," you greet him, and he gives you a small nod.

"Time for lunch," he says, and you give him a wry grin.

"Is it, now?"

"You didn't have plans, did you?"

"Only to avoid you," you say sweetly, getting to your feet. You dress flows like water around you, the soft fabric brushing against your legs as you stand, and Thorn finds himself momentarily mesmerized.

He blinks, shaking his head, and gives you a scowl.

"Very funny."

"I thought so," you reply, walking past him and out into the hall. You don't bother looking back to see if he's following, and Thorn lets out a sigh before hurrying after you. He catches up with you easily enough, and the two of you walk in silence down to the dining room. You're not particularly chatty, and Thorn is starting to wonder if there's something bothering you.

You usually like to talk his ear off, and the fact that you're not makes him a little nervous.

He's about to ask if everything's alright when you speak up, your voice so quiet he almost doesn't hear it.

"Thank you," you murmur, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, and Thorn can't help the way his brows furrow in confusion.

"For what?"

"For agreeing to this," you reply, giving him a wry smile. "I know it's not ideal, but...it means a lot to me."

"Of course," he says, surprised. "It was the logical choice."

"Logical," you repeat. "Is that why you agreed to it, then?"

He hesitates, not sure how to answer.

"Yes," he says slowly. "I'm sure the Chancellor would prefer that I spend a couple of weeks with you rather than chasing after you every day. He wouldn't be very happy if he knew I lost you again."

You give a small huff, the sound more amused than annoyed. "And the fact that I'm so charming and beautiful has nothing to do with it?"

Thorn snorts, shaking his head.

"You are very charming, Senator," he agrees. "And you are a very beautiful woman. But if I have to spend another day chasing you down the street, I'm going to lose my mind."

"Good," you say with a wicked smile. He turns his head away, pretending to inspect the paintings lining the hallway, and tries not to flush. "Then let's get through these next few weeks quickly."

"Agreed," he says gruffly.

He holds the door open for you, letting you enter the dining room first, and the two of you find an empty table. There's an assortment of dishes laid out, and Thorn is pleased to see that they're not nearly as lavish as the previous meals. You'd been quite up in arms about the excess and waste of the food yesterday, and the Governor has clearly learned from his mistakes.

Thorn pulls out a chair for you, and you settle down in it, giving him a nod of thanks.

"I'm glad to see he listened," you comment, and Thorn looks over at the table, realizing what you're talking about.

"Yes, well," he says, clearing his throat. "I'm sure he doesn't want to risk upsetting you again."

"No, I suppose not," you agree, picking up a plate. When Thorn moves back around the table, he finds a seat has already been set for him, and he gives you a puzzled look.

"Did you tell someone to prepare this for me?"

"Don't sound so surprised," you reply, rolling your eyes. "It's the least I can do."

He frowns, but sits down nonetheless. As the two of you settle in, a few of the other guests glance your way, and Thorn doesn't miss the way they look at you. He bristles, feeling a surge of protectiveness rush through him, and he straightens in his chair, his hand resting on his blaster. You don't seem to notice the attention, and Thorn doesn't want to embarrass you by bringing it up, but he's determined to keep a close eye on everyone around you.

The others take the hint, quickly looking away, and Thorn's mouth twists in a smirk. Satisfied, he turns back to his plate, and he picks up a fork, spearing a piece of meat.

"So, what are your plans for the rest of the day, Commander?"

"Watching you, making sure you don't wander off, and avoiding my paperwork," he says dryly, and he gets a laugh out of you. He feels his cheeks heat, and he busies himself with his food, trying not to stare.

You're even more radiant when you laugh.

"I'd apologize, but I know it wouldn't do much good," you reply. "How is the paperwork going, anyway?"

"Awful."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't believe you," he says, giving you a wry smile, and you grin at him.

"You're right," you agree. "But it's the polite thing to say, isn't it?"

"You don't need to be polite," he says, shaking his head. "We're supposed to be working together, remember? If we're going to have a successful partnership, we need to be honest with each other."

"Well, if that’s the case, Commander," you begin with a mischievous gleam in your eyes. "How do you expect us to survive this week without killing each other?"

"I don't know," he says, unable to hide his grin. "But I suppose we'll just have to make it work."

"You make it sound so easy," you laugh.

"Nothing about you is easy, Senator," he replies, and the two of you continue the conversation, the banter between the two of you becoming more comfortable. The rest of the meal passes in a blur, and by the time Thorn realizes what's happening, he's having a good time.

The conversation is easy, and he doesn't feel as uncomfortable as he usually does. He doesn't feel like he has to constantly monitor his words, or worry about accidentally offending you. He's able to relax and enjoy himself, and he's surprised to find that he likes talking with you.

It's the best meal he's had in a long time, and when the two of you part ways, Thorn's stomach is full, and his heart feels strangely light.

You really were very charming, and he's not entirely sure how he feels about that.

By the time the third day rolls around, Thorn has fallen into a routine.

It's a comfortable routine, one that he didn't expect, but one that is welcomed all the same. His men are less than thrilled, especially since they’ve been given no respite, but they seem happy enough to know that he’s taking the lead on the mission.

You have meetings early in the mornings, which means that Thorn gets up early too. It's not his favorite thing, but it's worth it to spend time with you. The two of you eat together, and then Thorn escorts you to the office, where he stands guard outside your door while you meet with various representatives from other planets.

Then the two of you go back to your rooms, where you quickly eat lunch before leaving to stroll through the gardens.

The weather is temperate on your planet, and the gardens around the compound are beautiful. You seem to enjoy the flowers, and he listens as you point out each plant, the names and the species. Thorn finds himself paying more attention to your voice than the words coming out of your mouth, and he can't help but think that he could listen to you talk for hours.

You're not the arrogant, self-important politician that he'd thought you were, and he's beginning to realize just how much of your personality is an act. The woman you pretend to be is someone who demands attention, and she gets it. The real you is far more humble, and you seem happy to fade into the background when necessary.

Your people love you. They're constantly coming up to you, greeting you, asking after your health, and Thorn is amazed by how many you know by name. He had expected that you would treat them the way you treated him, but they seem happy to see you, and you seem equally delighted to see them.

There are also the gifts. Every few minutes someone will come up and offer something, and it's a constant battle to keep you from accepting. You're not supposed to take gifts, and even though most are small and seemingly harmless, Thorn is not willing to risk anything. So he gently turns down each gift, and each time, your eyes widen slightly and you give a slight shake of your head. The gesture is subtle, almost imperceptible, and Thorn finds it strangely endearing.

It's not the first time he's found something about you to be endearing. The list has grown rather long since you've been here, and it only seems to get longer with every passing day. The way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you brush the hair out of your face. It's all so... charming, and Thorn is starting to wonder if this is what the other troopers meant when they talked about you.

He'd always dismissed them as foolish, but now, as he watches you from his spot in the garden, he wonders if maybe he should have paid a little more attention. He knows that there's no chance of anything happening between the two of you, not unless he suddenly becomes a different person, but that doesn't stop him from looking.

"Commander."

He jerks, his attention snapping back to you, and you give him a knowing smile. "Are you feeling well? You seem a bit distracted."

"I'm fine," he says, his ears burning, and he shifts uncomfortably. "Is it time to head back?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so," you say, and Thorn moves closer, holding out a hand. You slip yours into it, letting him help you up, and his skin tingles where you touch him. "I have a conference call with the Chancellor this evening, and I need to prepare."

Thorn frowns. He had forgotten about that. The Chancellor had contacted him the previous night and asked for an update on your safety, and Thorn had told him that everything was going well. He's not sure what prompted the call, but it's not unusual for him to do that, and he tries not to let it bother him.

Still, he can't help but worry. The Chancellor is a busy man, and the fact that he's taking time out of his schedule to speak with you makes him nervous. Maybe the Chancellor is starting to question the wisdom of assigning him to be your personal guard, or perhaps the Council has had a change of heart and is ready to replace him. Either way, he doesn't like it.

"You should wear the purple," he says suddenly, and you turn to look at him, surprise written across your face. "It suits you."

You blink, and then a small smile spreads across your lips, a sparkle in your eye. "Why, Commander," you tease, "that almost sounded like a compliment."

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

You let out a soft chuckle, and Thorn has to swallow hard. "Thank you," you murmur, reaching out to brush a stray petal off of his shoulder. He freezes, his breath catching in his throat, and he can't seem to look away. Your eyes are sparkling, and your fingers are trailing up his shoulder and across his chest, and suddenly the temperature seems to increase by several degrees.

He doesn't know what to say, or how to react, and it takes every ounce of self-control he has not to reach up and grab your wrist. He's not sure if he wants to stop you or hold you tighter, and the uncertainty scares him.

But just as quickly as it happened, it's over. You drop your hand and step away, turning to walk towards the house, and Thorn has to take a moment to compose himself.

"Are you coming, Commander?" you call over your shoulder, and he forces himself to take a deep breath.

"Yes, Senator," he says, and he falls into step behind you, his gaze sweeping over your form, a lump forming in his throat. You look beautiful today, dressed in a pale yellow gown that reminds him of the sun, and he can't help but think about what it would be like to wrap his arms around your waist, to kiss the back of your neck, to feel your skin beneath his fingers.

You look back at him, a mischievous glint in your eye, and his eyes widen.

How long has he felt this way?

He has no idea, and he's not sure he wants to know the answer. You're his charge, his job, and any feelings beyond that are inappropriate. If the Jedi Council ever found out, they would surely be disappointed in him.

He shouldn't want this.

But he does.

And he's starting to realize that the other troopers weren't exaggerating when they talked about how beautiful you were. In fact, Thorn thinks they didn't give you nearly enough credit.

The walk back to the compound is a quiet one, and when you arrive, you head straight to your room. He follows you inside, standing awkwardly in the doorway, and then you turn to look at him.

"Would you mind giving me a moment alone?" you ask.

He hesitates, glancing at the open door, and you roll your eyes.

"I promise not to disappear," you assure him, and he feels his cheeks burn.

"Of course," he says, stepping back into the hallway and shutting the door behind him. He waits a moment, listening for the sound of the lock, and then he walks over to the window, peering out. It's a beautiful view, the city spread out beneath him, the setting sun painting the sky orange and pink. The light catches on the glass buildings, and he can see the faint outlines of ships as they soar overhead.

It's peaceful here, and he can't help but relax a bit. He's used to the chaos of Coruscant, and this is a nice change of pace. The compound is large and well-fortified, and Thorn is confident that no one can get in without alerting the guards. It's a secure location, and it's easy to be lulled into a false sense of safety.

Which is why he's surprised when the door swings open, and a hand grabs him, dragging him inside and slamming him against the wall.

It's an ambush, and it happens so fast that Thorn barely has time to react. He's slammed back again, his helmet falling off, and a foot presses into his chest, pinning him to the wall. A fist comes out of nowhere, and Thorn barely manages to block it, grabbing the arm and twisting, using the assailant's momentum to slam them onto the floor.

The man grunts, and Thorn uses the opportunity to pin him, straddling his hips and trapping his arms, a knee on his chest. His heart is pounding, adrenaline coursing through his veins, and he can't help but smile. He hasn't been in a fight in months, and it's been far too long since he's had a good brawl.

He's not sure what he was expecting, but he's glad that whoever it is isn't going down without a fight. He's been tense for weeks, and the opportunity to release some of that pent-up energy is a blessing.

The man bucks under him, and Thorn tightens his grip, a laugh escaping his lips. "Come on," he taunts, "is that the best you can do?"

"Fuck off."

He's about to respond when he hears the door swing open again, and another figure rushes in, tackling him and knocking him off his opponent. They're much smaller, and he's able to toss them off easily, but not before they manage to get in a few solid hits. They land a punch on his jaw, and he sees stars, his head ringing.

The first man is back on him, tackling him and sending him sprawling, and the second figure lands a kick to his ribs. He groans, the wind knocked out of him, and his vision swims. There's a sharp pain in his side, and he gasps, struggling to breathe.

A moment later, he’s on his back, his arms pinned, and a vibroblade pressed to his throat. The man stares down at him, and Thorn can see the anger burning in his eyes. He's panting, his breath coming in short bursts, and Thorn swallows. 

The man smiles. "Not so tough now, are you?"

Thorn grunts, struggling against the weight on top of him, but the blade digs deeper into his skin, and he can't move. He's pinned, and there's no way he can get free. He watches the second attacker stand, moving towards the bedroom, and he struggles harder, his eyes widening.

No.

The door opens, and he can hear you let out a gasp. Thorn's stomach drops, his heart clenching, and his fingers dig into the carpet. This can't be happening. If anything happens to you, if these men hurt you, he'll never forgive himself. He can't let that happen. He can't let you get hurt.

He can't lose you.

There’s the sound of a blaster going off in the other room, and Thorn feels ice run through his veins.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

He doesn't even think. He just reacts. The rage builds inside him, the fear and the adrenaline and the guilt all combining into one powerful emotion. He lets out a roar, bucking his hips and shoving the attacker off of him. The man tumbles to the ground, the knife flying out of his hand, and Thorn is on him in a second, his fists flying.

He hits the man again and again, until he can taste blood in his mouth, until his knuckles are raw, until a gentle hand touches his arm and stops him.

The world seems to come back into focus, and he can see the man lying beneath him, bloodied and bruised. He's breathing, but just barely, and Thorn's hand clenches into a fist. If you hadn't stopped him, the man would be dead.

He staggers to his feet, turning to face you. You're watching him, a blaster in your hand, and you give him a small smile. "Nice work, Commander."

Thorn can't speak, his breath coming out in ragged pants, and he shakes his head, the rage inside him threatening to consume him. 

"Senator—"

You place a finger over his lips, shushing him. 

"It's alright, Commander," you murmur, your expression gentle. "I'm okay."

He doesn't move, doesn't even breathe, and you reach up, placing your hands on either side of his face, stroking his cheeks. 

"I'm okay," you repeat, and he lets out a shuddering sigh, leaning into your touch. "See? I'm safe. Thanks to you."

Thorn still can't bring himself to speak, and you give him a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. He hesitates, his body tense, and then he relaxes, letting out a shaky breath and wrapping his arms around you, burying his face in your hair. You're safe. You're okay. You're here, in his arms, and he can feel his heart slowly beginning to calm.

You're okay.

He knows he shouldn't be doing this, but he can't bring himself to care. You're here, you're safe, and he needs to feel that you're alive, that you're real, and that you're here with him. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, and he feels your hands slide up his back, your fingers running through his hair, soothing him.

It's a long time before either of you speak, and when you do, it's Thorn who breaks the silence.

"What happened?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. You don't move, your fingers continuing to play with his hair, and he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"They must have been waiting for me," you explain softly, and he can feel your voice vibrating through his body. "That man is a guard. And she—“ you nod your head toward the bedroom “—was a maid. I have no idea how they got past security, but I'm not surprised."

Thorn feels his anger start to build again, and he holds you a little tighter. His hands are still shaking, and his heart is racing. He can't believe how close he came to losing you. "Did they hurt you?"

"No," you assure him. "They didn't get a chance to."

He pulls back slightly, meeting your gaze. "I'm sorry. I should have—"

You shake your head. "Commander, I'm fine."

"If I had been there..."

"You were there," you interrupt, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "You were there, and you did everything right. You protected me."

He's not sure he did, but the look on your face tells him that he has no choice but to believe you. Thorn nods, his shoulders relaxing slightly, and you give him another smile, your hands dropping to his chest. You're so close, your bodies pressed together, and Thorn finds himself unable to look away from you. You're beautiful, and he's not sure how he's ever going to stop wanting you.

"Senator," he says softly, and you tilt your head, raising a brow.

"Commander," you murmur, and his breath catches. Your voice is like silk, and it sends a shiver down his spine.

"You are a very difficult woman to protect."

You let out a soft laugh, and his gaze drops to your mouth, watching as your lips part, and your tongue darts out, wetting them. He wants to kiss you, wants to pull you close and press his mouth to yours. He wants, desperately, to forget all about the danger, the attack, the mission, and just be with you. He just wants you.

The two of you stare at each other, neither of you willing to break the spell, and Thorn's hands tighten on their own accord, pulling you closer. You're so close, your noses practically touching, and he can feel your breath ghosting over his lips.

“Commander!”

Thorn’s hands release you immediately, and you stumble back, turning around to face the window as Thorn spins on his heel and steps in front of you, shielding you with his body.

Burst stands in the doorway with Knock behind him, their blasters raised, and Thorn lets out a weary sigh.

Of course. Of course this would happen. He'd gotten so wrapped up in you that he'd forgotten to check his comm.

He's an idiot.

He should have known better.

Thorn raises a hand, signaling for the troopers to stand down, and they lower their weapons, their shoulders slumping.

"Sir," Burst says, looking between him and the battered body on the floor. "We heard shots fired.”

Thorn glances at you, and he can see the corner of your mouth twitching, the barest hint of a smile. You give him a tiny shrug, and he nods, his gaze shifting to the man on the floor.

"There was an attempt on the Senator's life. We handled it," he explains. The troopers tense, and their helmets dart to you, scanning your body.

"Are you hurt?" Knock asks.

"No," you reply, and Thorn can't help the swell of pride in his chest. You'd handled the situation like a true professional, and the fact that you were unharmed was a testament to your training. "I’m alright. Thank you, Knock.”

Knock nods, taking in the scene. "Good.”

“There’s another one in the bedroom," Thorn says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, and Knock nods again, moving past them and into the other room.

Thorn waits until he's gone, and then he turns back to you. He gives you a soft smile, taking a step forward. "Senator, why don't you go and clean up? I'll deal with this."

You look at him for a moment, and then you return his smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Thank you, Commander."

He leans into your touch, his eyes closing. "Of course, Senator. It's my job."

"And you're very good at it," you murmur. Your hand lingers for a moment, and then it falls, and when Thorn opens his eyes, you're gone, disappearing into your dressing room and shutting the door behind you.

Thorn stares at the closed door for a moment before letting out a breath and scrubbing a hand over his face. He can hear Burst snickering behind him, and he turns around, giving him a hard glare.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing, sir," Burst replies, trying and failing to hide his amusement. "Nothing at all."

Thorn narrows his eyes. "Burst—"

"Commander, you can't deny that this is a bit amusing,” he says as he moves toward the unconscious man. He kicks him over onto his front, and Thorn has to suppress a wince at the damage he did. The man is covered in blood, his nose is broken, and there are several cuts on his face. His eyes are swollen shut, and his breathing is labored. He's lucky to be alive.

“I don’t find any of this amusing,” Thorn mutters, his expression dark. He's angry, and he's not entirely sure why. These men had tried to kill you, and he should be relieved that they had failed. But instead, all he can think about is how close he'd come to losing you, and how easy it would have been for him to get distracted. How close he'd come to not protecting you. How much worse this could have been.

He should have been more careful.

“If you say so,” Burst replies as he crouches down next to the man, a pair of cuffs in his hands. He whistles low under his breath, looking him over. "You did this?"

Thorn clears his throat, his cheeks heating, and he glares at the ground. "Yes."

"Wow, sir. Nice work.” Burst reaches down and pulls the man’s arms behind his back, and Thorn watches as he binds his wrists. The man doesn't move, his head lolling to the side. "I didn't know you had it in you."

"Shut up," Thorn growls.

"Just saying, I'm impressed. You must really like the Senator."

"Burst," he says warningly.

"Relax, Commander," Knock interrupts, appearing in the doorway, and Thorn feels a surge of relief. He’s carrying the woman over his shoulder, her body limp, and he dumps her on the ground next to the man. "We won't say anything."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he lies, but even he can tell that it sounds weak. Burst snorts, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, right."

"Look, this is none of your concern," Thorn snaps, his eyes darting to the door and then back to his troopers. He doesn't want you overhearing their conversation, and the last thing he needs is for this to get back to the Chancellor.

If the Chancellor knew how he felt, if he found out how Thorn had failed him, failed his mission, failed you... well, Thorn would probably lose his position. Or worse.

And it was all because he couldn't keep his feelings in check.

He was an idiot.

The Chancellor had put him on this mission for a reason, and he'd made a promise. A promise to protect you, to keep you safe. And what had he done? He'd let his feelings get in the way, and now he'd failed you.

He couldn't afford to do that again.

“Take them down to the holding cells. Quietly,” he orders, his voice low. “We can’t know for sure that there aren't others. Until we have confirmation, I don’t want the rest of the household knowing about this. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," they say in unison, and Thorn turns his back on them, moving towards the bedroom. It's quiet inside, the door hanging off its hinges, and Thorn surveys the damage, his lips pursed.

The room is a disaster, and he's not sure how long it's going to take to fix. He's definitely going to have to speak to the Governor about the security measures, and he makes a mental note to have a word with him first thing tomorrow. They’ll have to move you to another wing, and the compound will need to be swept for more would-be assassins. He's not going to take any chances.

But those are problems for tomorrow. Right now, he just needs a few minutes to calm down.

He walks over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and leaning forward, his head in his hands. His mind is racing, and his heart is pounding. He feels like he's falling apart, like his whole world is crashing down around him, and he can't catch his breath.

This is the first time he's felt like this in a long time, and it scares him. He'd thought he was beyond this. He'd thought he was above it, the feeling of helplessness, the fear and the panic. But as he sits there trying desperately to get his emotions under control, he realizes that he's not. He's not as strong as he thought. He's not invincible.

And it's all because of you.

He'd thought you were his charge, someone to protect. He'd never expected you to be more than that, to mean something to him. But as he sits here, thinking about how close he'd come to losing you, the terror that had gripped him when he'd thought you'd been shot, the rage he'd felt when he'd seen you in danger, he can't deny it any longer.

You mean something to him, and he doesn't know what he would do if anything happened to you.

Thorn shudders, and he closes his eyes. He can't let himself go down that road. You're safe, and that's what matters. The attack had been averted, and no one had been seriously hurt. Everything was fine. He has to keep reminding himself of that, or he'll drive himself crazy.

"Commander?"

He opens his mouth to respond, his head jerking up, but the words die in his throat when he sees you in the doorway. You're wearing the purple outfit he had suggested earlier, and your hair is styled elegantly atop your head. It's hard to describe the feeling that rises in his chest, a strange mix of relief and awe and longing, and it takes him a moment to compose himself.

When he finally speaks, his voice comes out as a hoarse whisper.

"Senator."

"Commander, are you alright?"

He stares at you, his mind struggling to formulate a response, and you move into the room, kneeling in front of him and placing a gentle hand on his kne

"Commander?"

"I'm fine," he says, clearing his throat and looking away. "Don't worry about me."

You frown as you reach up to brush a lock of hair out of his face. "You're bleeding."

He blinks, startled, and then his hand rises to his forehead, his fingers coming away red. He hadn't even realized he was injured. "Oh."

"Let me take care of that," you murmur, standing up and disappearing into the bathroom. He hears you rummaging around for a moment, and then you return, a small medical kit in your hand. You open it, pulling out a bacta patch and tearing open the packaging.

Thorn lets out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging. He knows he should protest, that he should tell you that he's fine, that you should leave him alone, but he doesn't want to. He's exhausted, and you're being so gentle with him. He can't bring himself to refuse.

You lean forward, pressing the patch on the cut. He winces, and you make a soft sound.

"Sorry," you whisper, your voice barely audible. You give him a half-smile and tilt your head. "Does it hurt?"

He shakes his head, a small grin tugging at his lips. "Not at all."

"Liar."

"Maybe."

You shake your head and sigh, your eyes flicking down to his hands. The blood from his split knuckles has soaked through his gloves, and the red darkens the black leather. "Let me see."

"I'll get a medic."

You frown, and he holds up his hands. "Please, Senator. I'm fine. You're already late for your call."

"The Chancellor can wait," you argue, but Thorn shakes his head.

"You know he can't," he says, giving you a wry grin. "I'm a big boy. I can handle a few scrapes and bruises."

You don't look convinced, but you seem to know better than to argue with him. You stare at him for a moment longer, and then you nod. "Fine. But I'll check on you afterwards. No arguing."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replies, and you give him a sharp look. He smiles, holding his hands up. "No, really, I wouldn't."

"Good," you say, your gaze lingering on his hands. "Will you escort me to the conference room?"

He nods. "Of course, Senator."

You stand up, offering him a hand, and he takes it and lets you pull him to his feet. You smile, and Thorn can't help but feel like his heart is going to burst out of his chest. He knows that he shouldn't, but he loves the way you smile at him.

You lead him out of the room, and the two of you head down the hallway. He folds your arm into his, his other hand resting on top of yours, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. He doesn't know what to say, and he's grateful that you don't seem inclined to talk either. There's nothing left to say.

As you make your way to the conference room, he thinks about the events of the past few hours. It had been a close call, and if you hadn't been so quick, or if Thorn hadn't been there...

He could have lost you. He could have lost this. The thought terrifies him, and he tightens his grip on your hand, unwilling to let go.

He doesn't want to think about what would happen if he did.

It's been three days since the attempt on your life, and the mood in the compound is tense.

No one speaks much, and the troopers are on high alert. You seem unbothered by the whole thing, much to his frustration. He's been watching you closely, waiting for a sign that something is wrong, but there's nothing. You're perfectly fine, and it makes him wonder how often you've been targeted. How many attacks have you endured, and how many has he not known about?

It bothers him more than he cares to admit.

He's been sleeping in the hall outside your new room, taking his shifts with the troopers who patrol the corridors at night. It's not a comfortable arrangement, and he's constantly worried that someone is going to attack him, but it's better than being caught off guard. He's not letting anything happen to you, and if that means sacrificing his own comfort, then so be it.

You, on the other hand, seem unfazed. You go about your day, holding meetings, making plans, and Thorn finds himself growing increasingly frustrated. You don't seem concerned, and while that should be a relief, it's not. You should be worried. You should be scared. But instead, you're acting as though nothing has changed, and it makes him furious.

"You need to take this seriously," he tells you after dinner. You're sitting in your room, reading a datapad, and you glance up at him, raising a brow.

"I am taking it seriously," you say, and Thorn huffs.

"You're not," he argues, and you roll your eyes.

"Are you questioning my judgment, Commander?"

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yes."

You place the datapad on the table beside you and turn to face him. "And why is that?"

"Because," he says, his voice growing louder, "this is your life we're talking about. Don't you understand that? Someone tried to kill you."

"I'm aware."

"Then why aren't you acting like it?" he snaps.

You frown, folding your arms across your chest. "What exactly do you think I should be doing, Commander? Should I cry? Should I scream? Should I cower in fear? What would make you happy?"

"That's not what I mean, and you know it," he growls, pacing the length of the room. "You're acting as if nothing has happened. As if this isn't a big deal."

You shrug, picking up your datapad and returning your attention to it. "It's not."

"Not to you, maybe. But it is to me."

"I'm touched," you reply dryly, and he glares at you. You sigh and shake your head. "People try to kill me all the time, Commander. It's part of the job."

He freezes, his heart skipping a beat. "What?"

You shrug again, not looking up. "It's not a big deal."

Thorn's eyes widen, and he lets out a noise that's somewhere between a laugh and a cry of frustration. He doesn't know whether to be angry or horrified. You're completely unconcerned, and he doesn't know how to respond.

He's always known that your job is dangerous, but he'd never realized just how much danger you were actually in. He doesn't know if the Chancellor or the Council are aware of this, but he knows that he's going to have a word with them. He's not sure how much more of this he can take.

You raise a brow, giving him a small smile. "What?"

"You're unbelievable," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. He wants to punch a wall, or break something. Anything to release the pent-up energy. He feels like he's going to explode, and he's not sure how much longer he can contain his anger.

"Why, thank you, Commander," you say as you turn your attention back to your datapad, and he lets out a growl, pacing across the room. He can't believe this. He can't believe how cavalier you're being, how flippant, and it's infuriating.

He's never felt like this before, and he's not sure how to cope with the emotions bubbling up inside him. He's worried, and scared, and angry, and a million other things, and it's overwhelming. He doesn't know what to do.

"Commander, are you okay?"

Thorn stops pacing and looks over at you, his gaze meeting yours.

"Why are you so nonchalant about this?" he demands, his voice coming out harsher than he intended. "You could have died. Do you realize that? You could have died, and then where would I be?"

Your eyes widen, and for a moment, you look shocked. You stare at him, and Thorn can see the concern in your gaze as you set your datapad down again. "I don't know. Where would you be, Commander?"

Thorn stares at you, unable to speak. He can't bring himself to voice his true feelings. If he does, there's no going back. If he admits how much you mean to him, how much he cares about you, he's afraid of what will happen.

He's afraid that he'll lose control, and that he won't be able to stop himself from telling you everything. From revealing how he truly feels about you. And that would be a disaster.

"Useless," he mutters. "I'd be useless. I'm supposed to be protecting you, and if you had died, I would have been a failure. I couldn't have lived with myself. So, yes, I'm questioning your judgment, and no, I don't think you're taking this seriously."

You're quiet for a moment, and Thorn takes a step closer, his hands on his hips. He's not sure why he's doing this. He knows he's overreacting, and he can't stop the words from spilling out of his mouth. He needs you to understand, and he can't seem to keep his mouth shut.

"Commander," you murmur, "that's not—"

"If you'd died, it would have been my fault," he continues, ignoring you. "I would have failed you, and I would have failed the Chancellor, and I would have failed myself. And I'm not sorry. I'm angry. I'm pissed off. And I'm not going to apologize."

You sigh and lean back in your chair. "I didn't expect you to."

"Good."

"Look," you say, standing up and walking over to him. "I know you're worried, and I appreciate it. I really do. But I'm not some helpless damsel in distress, and I'm not going to stop living my life because someone wants me dead. If I did, I would never get anything done."

Thorn's jaw clenches, and he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I just don't understand how you can be so calm about this. It's dangerous, and I don't like it."

"That's not your choice," you point out, and he scoffs. "I'm not going to hide, Commander."

"Senator—"

"Commander."

"I don't care," he snaps. "I don't care what you want. This is about keeping you safe, and if that means you're not happy, then so be it."

You roll your eyes, turning your back on him and walking over to the window. You stand there for a moment, staring out at the city below, and Thorn watches as your shoulders slump.

"I'm not some pet, Commander," you say, glancing at him. "I have a job to do, and I'm going to do it." 

Thorn's eyes narrow, and he grits his teeth. "I'm not asking."

"I know," you say, looking back out the window. "But you can't stop me."

He opens his mouth, ready to argue, but you shake your head, cutting him off. "And I'm not going to fight with you about it. If you want to spend all your time worrying about me, that's your business. But don't expect me to do the same."

He scowls. "Senator—"

"Enough, Commander."

The words sting, and Thorn takes a step back, his face twisting in anger. "Fine," he growls, stalking towards the door. "If that's how you feel."

You turn, giving him a hard look. "It is."

He shakes his head and slams his hand against the door panel. The doors slide open, and he pauses, looking back at you.

"For the record, Senator, I do worry about you. A lot. And not just because it's my job. And I'll continue to worry, whether you like it or not."

Your face softens, and Thorn steps into the hallway, the doors closing behind him. He stands there for a moment, his hands clenched into fists, and then he lets out a frustrated groan, leaning against the wall.

He's an idiot. He's the biggest idiot in the entire galaxy.

He's never felt like this before, and he's not sure how to process his emotions. He's worried about you, and angry, and afraid, and he's so tired of arguing with you. But most of all, he's hurt. He thought that you understood, that you would listen to him. He thought that you would see that he's just trying to protect you. But you don't.

He doesn't know how else to convince you, and he doesn't know what else to do. He can't force you to change your mind, and he can't stop you from putting yourself in danger.

But he can try.

Thorn stalks down the hallway, his boots thudding on the floor, and he tries to clear his head. He needs to get his emotions under control. He's acting like a child, and he knows it. But he can't help himself. Why does he have to protect such an infuriating woman? Why does he have to want you so much? Why does he have to care about you so much?

He's been trying so hard not to let his feelings get the better of him, but he's failing. And it's only going to get worse. He can feel it. Every time he's around you, his emotions are in overdrive, and he's having a harder and harder time keeping them under control. He knows he should back off, but he can't. You're like a magnet, and he's drawn to you. He can't stay away. He doesn't want to.

And that scares him more than any assassin ever could.

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[auntie-histamine]

My therapist just sent me this article, and I think it should be required reading for everyone who's feeling scared this morning. Tumblr won't let me put the whole article under a readmore, so I've included a shorter, edited version below. I highly encourage everyone read the full article, especially as I couldn't include everything here that I wanted to.

Please be aware that I will not be interacting with comments and/or reblogs, unless it is to help with directing to resources mentioned in the article. I am grieving too, like many of us, and I don't have the spoons to facilitate anything more. Read, share, and get organized.

The below are selections the article "There is hope - 10 ways to be prepared and grounded for another Trump presidency" by Daniel Hunter from Waging Nonviolence.

1. Trust yourself I started writing this list with strategic principles (e.g. analyze your opponents weakness and learn to handle political violence), but actually the place to start is with your own self. Distrust fuels the flame of autocracy because it makes it much easier to divide. We can see that in the casual nature of Trump’s rhetoric — telling people to distrust immigrants, Democrats, socialists, people from Chicago, women marchers, Mexicans, the press and so on. This is a social disease: You know who to trust by who they tell you to distrust. Trust-building starts with your own self. It includes trusting your own eyes and gut, as well as building protection from the ways the crazy-making can become internalized.  This also means being trustworthy — not just with information, but with emotions. That way you can acknowledge what you know and admit the parts that are uncertain fears nagging at you. Then take steps to follow through on what you need. If you’re tired, take some rest. If you’re scared, make some peace with your fears. I can point you to resources that support that — like FindingSteadyGround.com — but the value here is to start with trusting your own inner voice. If you need to stop checking your phone compulsively, do it. If you don’t want to read this article now and instead take a good walk, do it.

2. Find others who you trust Hannah Arendt’s “The Origins of Totalitarianism” explored how destructive ideologies like fascism and autocracy grow. She used the word verlassenheit — often translated as loneliness — as a central ingredient. As she meant it, loneliness isn’t a feeling but a kind of social isolation of the mind. Your thinking becomes closed off to the world and a sense of being abandoned to each other. She’s identifying a societal breakdown that we’re all experiencing. Under a Trump presidency, this trend will continue to accelerate. The constant attacks on social systems — teachers, health care and infrastructure — make us turn away from leaning on each other and towards ideologically simple answers that increase isolation (e.g. “distrust government,” “MAGA is nuts,” “anyone who votes that way doesn’t care about you”). If Trump wins: Get some people to regularly touch base with. Use that trust to explore your own thinking and support each other to stay sharp and grounded. I’ve written an agenda for such gatherings right after a Trump win that you can use.

3. Grieve No matter what we try to do, there’s going to be a lot of loss. The human thing to do is grieve. If you aren’t a feelings person, let me say it this way: The inability to grieve is a strategic error. After Donald Trump won in 2016, we all saw colleagues who never grieved. They didn’t look into their feelings and the future — and as a result they remained in shock. An alternative: Start by naming and allowing feelings that come to arise. The night that Donald Trump won, I stayed up until 4 a.m. with a colleague. It was a tear-filled night of naming things that we had just lost. It wasn’t anywhere near strategizing or list-making or planning. It was part of our acceptance that losing a presidency to an awful man means you and your people lose a lot. Ultimately, this helped us believe it — so we didn’t spend years in a daze: “I can’t believe this is happening in this country.” Believe it. Believe it now. Grief is a pathway to that acceptance. 

4. Release that which you cannot change Under a Trump presidency, there are going to be so many issues that it will be hard to accept that we cannot do it all. I’m reminded of a colleague in Turkey who told me, “There’s always something bad happening every day. If we had to react to every bad thing, we’d never have time to eat.”  Chaos is a friend of the autocrat. One way we can unwittingly assist is by joining in the story that we have to do it all.  Unaddressed, this desire to act on everything leads to bad strategy. Nine months ago when we gathered activists to scenario plan together, we took note of two knee-jerk tendencies from the left that ended up largely being dead-ends in the face of Trump: - Public angsting — posting outrage on social media, talking with friends, sharing awful news - Symbolic actions — organizing marches and public statements The first is where we look around at bad things happening and make sure other people know about them, too. We satisfy the social pressure of our friends who want us to show outrage — but the driving moves are only reactive. The end result wasn’t the intended action or an informed population. It’s demoralizing us. It’s hurting our capacity for action. Public angsting as a strategy is akin to pleading with the hole in the boat to stop us from sinking. Symbolic actions may fare little better under a Trump presidency. In whatever version of democracy we had, the logic of rallies and statements of outrage was to build a unified front that showed the opposition many voices were opposed to them. But under an unleashed fascist — if it’s all you do — it’s like begging the suicidal captain to plug the hole.  Let me be clear. These strategies will be part of the mix. We’ll need public angsting and symbolic actions. But if you see an organization or group who only relies on these tactics, look elsewhere. There are other, more effective ways to engage.

5. Find your path I’ve been writing scenarios of how a Trump presidency might play out. The initial weeks look chaotic no matter what. But over time some differentiated resistance pathways begin to emerge. One pathway is called “Protecting People.” This might mean organizing outside current systems for health care and mutual aid, or moving resources to communities that are getting targeted. Further examples include starting immigrant welcoming committees, abortion-support funds or training volunteers on safety skills to respond to white nationalist violence. Another pathway is “Defending Civic Institutions.” This group may or may not be conscious that current institutions don’t serve us all, but they are united in understanding that Trump wants them to crumble so he can exert greater control over our lives. Each bureaucracy will put up its own fight to defend itself.  Insider groups will play a central battle against Trump fascism. You may recall government scientists dumping copious climate data onto external servers, bracing for Trump’s orders. This time, many more insiders understand it’s code red. Hopefully, many will bravely refuse to quit — and instead choose to stay inside as long as possible.  Institutional pillars understand a Trump presidency is a dire threat. Then there’s a critical third pathway: “Disrupt and Disobey.” This goes beyond protesting for better policies and into the territory of people intervening to stop bad policies or showing resistance. Lastly, there’s a key fourth role: “Building Alternatives.” We can’t just be stuck reacting and stopping the bad. We have to have a vision. This is the slow growth work of building alternative ways that are more democratic. Each of us may be attracted to some pathway more than others. Your path may not be clear right now. That’s okay. There will be plenty of opportunities to join the resistance.

6. Do not obey in advance, do not self-censor If autocrats teach us any valuable lesson it’s this: Political space that you don’t use, you lose. I’m not coaching to never self-protect. You can decide when to speak your mind. But it is a phenomenally slippery slope here we have to observe and combat.  Put simply: Use the political space and voice you have. 

7. Reorient your political map A Trump presidency reshapes alignments and possibilities. The bellicose, blasphemous language of Trump will meet the practical reality of governing. When you’re out of power, it’s easy to unify — but their coalition’s cracks will quickly emerge. We have to stay sharp for opportunities to cleave off support. Even if you don’t want to engage with them (which is fine), we’ll all have to give space to those who do experiment with new language to appeal to others who don’t share our worldview of a multiracial true democracy.

8. Get real about power In Trump’s first term, the left’s organizing had mixed results. It was elections that ultimately stopped Trump. This time will be much harder. The psychological exhaustion and despair is much higher. Deploying people into the streets for mass actions with no clear outcome will grow that frustration, leading to dropout and radicalized action divorced from strategy.  Trump has been very clear about using his political power to its fullest — stretching and breaking the norms and laws that get in his way. The movement will constantly be asking itself: “Are you able to stop this new bad thing?”  We're not going to convince him not to do these things. No pressure on Republicans will result in more than the tiniest of crumbs (at least initially). It will be helpful to have a power analysis in our minds, specifically that’s known as the upside-down triangle. This tool was built to explain how power moves even under dictatorships. In our country, pressuring elite power is reaching its end point. Power will need to emerge from folks no longer obeying the current unjust system. This tipping point of mass noncooperation will be messy. It means convincing a lot of people to take huge personal risks for a better option.  As a “Disrupt and Disobey” person, we have to move deliberately to gain the trust of others, like the “Protecting People” folks. Mass noncooperation does the opposite of their goal of protection — it exposes people to more risk, more repression. But with that comes the possibility that we could get the kind of liberatory government that we all truly deserve.

9. Handle fear, make violence rebound Otpor in Serbia has provided an abundance of examples on how to face repression. They were young people who took a sarcastic response to regular police beatings. They would joke amongst each other, “It doesn’t hurt if you’re afraid.” Their attitude wasn’t cavalier — it was tactical. They were not going to grow fear. So when hundreds were beaten on a single day, their response was: This repression will only stiffen the resistance. Handling fear isn’t about suppressing it — but it is about constantly redirecting. Activist/intellectual Hardy Herriman released a studied response about political violence that had some news that surprised me. The first was that physical political violence hasn’t grown dramatically in this country — it still remains relatively rare. The threats of violence, however, trend upwards, such as this CNN report: “Politically motivated threats to public officials increased 178 percent during Trump’s presidency,” primarily from the right. His conclusion wasn’t that political violence isn’t going to grow. Quite the opposite. But he noted that a key component to political violence is to intimidate and tell a story that they are the true victims. Making political violence rebound requires refusing to be intimidated and resisting those threats so they can backfire. (Training on this backfire technique is available from the HOPE-PV guide.) We can shrink into a cacophony of “that’s not fair,” which fuels the fear of repression. Or we take a page from the great strategist Bayard Rustin. Black civil rights leaders were targeted by the government of Montgomery, Alabama during the bus boycott in the 1950s. Leaders like the newly appointed Martin Luther King Jr. went into hiding after police threats of arrest based on antiquated anti-boycott laws. Movement organizer Rustin organized them to go down to the station and demand to be arrested since they were leaders — making a positive spectacle of the repression. Some leaders not on police lists publicly demanded they, too, get arrested. Folks charged were met with cheers from crowds, holding their arrest papers high in the air. Fear was turned into valor.

10. Envision a positive future We’ve all now imagined storylines about how bad it might get. We would do ourselves a service to spend an equal measure of time envisioning how we might advance our cause in these conditions. As writer Walidah Imarisha says, “The goal of visionary fiction is to change the world.” In my mind if Trump wins, we’ll have to eventually get him out. There are two paths available to force him out. The first: Vote him out. Given the bias of the electoral college, this requires successfully defending nearly all local, state and national takeovers of elections such that they remain relatively fair and free. Winning via the path of electoral majority has a wide swath of experience and support from mainstream progressive organizations and Democratic institutions. It’s going to be a major thrust. In my scenario writing I’ve explored what that strategy could look like, including preparing electoral workers to stand against last minute attempts by Trump to change election rules and even stymie the election with dubious emergency orders. They don’t obey — and go ahead with elections anyway. The second strategy is if he illegally refuses to leave or allow fair elections: Kick him out. That means we are able to develop a national nonviolent resistance campaign capable of forcing him out of office. I’ve written several versions of this: One where large-scale strikes disable portions of the U.S. economy. If you recall from COVID, our systems are extremely vulnerable. Businesses running “just in time” inventory means small hiccups in the system can cause cascading effects.  Sustained strikes would face deep resistance, but they could swing communities currently on the fence, like the business community, which already is concerned about Trump’s temperamental nature. Trump’s own policies might make these conditions much easier. If he really does mass deportations, the economic injury might be fatal. In another scenario I explore another strategy of taking advantage of a Trump overreach. Autocrats overplay their hands. And in this imagined scenario, Trump overreaches when he attempts to force autoworkers to stop building electric vehicles. UAW workers refuse and keep the factories running. Eventually he’s unable to stop them — but in the process he’s publicly humiliated. A very public loss like this can cause what Timur Kuran calls an “unanticipated revolution.” He noted many incidents where political leaders seem to have full support, then suddenly it evaporates. Kuran’s analysis reminds us to look at Trump’s political weakness. Political hacks like Lindsay Graham appear to be sycophants — but if given the chance to turn their knife in his back, they might. This means exposed political weaknesses could quickly turn the many inside Trump’s campaign against him. That feels far away from now. But all these remain possibilities. Practicing this future thinking and seeing into these directions gives me some hope and some strategic sensibilities.  On the days when I can’t sense any of these political possibilities (more than not), I zoom out further to the lifespans of trees and rocks, heading into spiritual reminders that nothing lasts forever. All of the future is uncertain. But using these things, we’re more likely to have a more hopeful future and experience during these turbulent times.

[lurkingshan]

Hi! I love reading your opinions and I have just started The Sign. What are your opinions on the show and what route are you hoping it would take for the second half of the show? Take care and happy new year!

Hello anon! You picked such an interesting moment to send this ask. We’re halfway through the show and I think its strengths and weaknesses have become fairly clear. Let's talk about it!

Strength: The Chemistry

I think this is the thing that had all the girlies losing it right out of the gate: Phaya and Tharn are hot and their interactions are hotter. The pull and chemistry between them is palpable and the set up for their romance is compelling. Kudos to whoever found Babe and decided to pair him with Billy: you, sir or madam, are incredible at your job and deserve a fruit basket. We are all dying for these two to finally fuck.

Weakness: The Pacing

Which is why it's kind of frustrating that the show is dragging its feet on letting their relationship advance. The first four eps were delicious tension-building, but as the show starts to stall and use dream sequence fakeouts to provide smut without actual relationship development, the audience is clearly getting antsy. The show's pacing is all over the place in general, with wildly varied episode lengths and inconsistent action and plot advancement from week to week. And the desire to drag out the romance without a compelling alternative plot to fill the show in its absence is causing some damage to the characters, most notably Tharn, who is just starting to seem unreasonably antagonistic to a person we know he likes, not to mention unperceptive in his continued inability to notice what is going on around him.

Strength: Production Values

This show is absolutely gorgeous; you can tell most of the money went into making every frame of it beautiful. The strength of the production values and hard work of the crew to create the look and feel of the world was evident from the first episode with all those beautiful training sequences on the beach. And this is used to particularly strong effect whenever we visit Phaya and Tharn's past lives and see the magical world that exists around them come to life.

Strength: The Supporting Cast

The show also has a great ensemble, with Yai especially a standout character who brings a lot of fun to the show, along with his girlfriend Sand and the police squad bros. This is not surprising, as big, messy, chaotic, endearing queer friend groups are an IdolFactory staple. As of last week, we officially have a lesbian side pairing! Tharn and Phaya also have interesting family histories with sweet grandmas and loved ones who lend depth to their characterization.

Weakness: The Copaganda

It was perhaps too much to expect that this bl about cops would have a more sophisticated perspective on law enforcement, institutional corruption, and the so-called "justice" system, but that does not stop me from groaning out loud every time they pause the story to let these characters wax poetic about the nobility of their jobs.

Strength: Thai Folklore

This show is teaching all of us some things about real Thai folklore about the garuda and nara, including local customs associated with celebrating these tales, and the depiction of these stories in the show is just beautiful. Despite it basically being a tourism advert (complete with couple shirts for no reason??), I really enjoyed the episode that took us to Nong Khai and the Mekong River to see how modern Thai folks interpret and celebrate the myths at the center of this show’s story and ground us in something real.

Weakness: An Underdeveloped Take on Toxic Masculinity

This show uses violence quite a lot in its story, including violence in interpersonal dynamics, and it sometimes seems to want us to be alarmed by uncontrolled male anger, and sometimes impressed by it. At this point, Tharn and Phaya have both struck each other in anger during personal disagreements, and there hasn't been any real reckoning with the fallout of that. On top of that, the show has given us some crime cases that highlight the harm of toxic masculinity while also seeming to glorify and revel in it, most notably in the framing of a man who kidnapped and retraumatized sexual assault victims as a hunky folk hero. It's a confused take, to say the least, and I'm not sure the show has the depth and precision necessary in the writing to take on some of what it's throwing at the wall.

Strength: Villains

All I can say is Heng was born to play an evil snake god. The show has done a good job at making him feel like a real threat and building the antagonism between him and Phaya to the point where Phaya has been isolated from support and made to look crazy in front of Tharn. Dr. Slow Motion is very good at this.

So, what's the TL; DR? This show is a lot of fun, but has some obvious weaknesses in the writing, so do your best not to take it too seriously if you can. I am ready to see Phaya and Tharn get together and finally start working as a team, for the full backstory and epic battle they are waging to come out, and for the motivations of the rest of the cast of characters to become clear (I just know there are some additional past life reincarnations waiting to be revealed). It's a great time if you don't think about it too hard, and I really hope the back half will pick up the pace so that we can all just enjoy the ride.

[linktoo]

I got an ask wondering about who is my favourite character in Disco Elysium, which I stand by my answer of being not really one in particular. But, Dora is one character I've been thinking about a lot and I think I want to expand on that.

The story is told through Harry's eyes, and regardless of his in-depth analysis of and narration of his attributes, it's unreliable. Undeniably so. This is part of the story, I really do feel for Harry's inability to move on. I feel for his aching loneliness, and his need to be needed. The crushing feeling of missing someone so achingly bad, only for them to learn that they have actually forgotten a lot about you and moved on is a feeling of deep rejection, devastatingly demoralizing and painful.  "I betrayed her, overwrote her, and happier for it" is a visceral line of feeling the alienation of someone you've lost to time, someone you used to know but has moved on without you. 

But I really can't help but feel so much for Dora's position in all of this. As a woman in a male dominated society your emotions are seen as both weak yet mature, you are constantly objectified down into pieces of meat, and seen as vapid and shallow when you put yourself first. When you choose to finally stand up for yourself, that is long after you've known better, long after you’ve been embittered by your initial innocence and first experience.

“You were my first. My first kiss, my first time to have sex.”

The game continues to emphasize how Harry loved her, how Harry missed her, and yet I get deeply uncomfortable with how her presence is described with her physique rather than her actual self as a person. 

“A dolorian figure, cut in black, moves below. It's still her. Her legs, her breasts, her hips…”

[...]

“‘No, Harry.’ She shakes her head. ‘It's just regular skin. I'm not as beautiful as you always thought I was.”

It’s reductive. It’s dehumanizing. It’s not about her, it’s what she represents. The most perfect goddess of a woman, put on a pedestal and quite literally turned into a deity. Not to be loved romantically, but to be worshipped as a religious figure. Worshipped for the violence and destruction she creates to degrade him and feed into his self loathing, and thus Dora becomes Dolores Dei.

There is a selfish hope and longing that comes with any sort of kindness or pity she give him. She knows that and her words are cautious, she has been through it before, and no longer feels any sort of way about it. She is vulnerable, she did used to care, she is sympathetic to his pain, but she firmly does not anymore and will not allow her empathy be used against her.

YOU - "But… that's not a very good way for things to be." DOLORES DEI - "It's not, but…" She looks at her feet. Little golden sandals cover her toes. YOU - "But what? Tell me there's something good…" DOLORES DEI - "I don't know why I said but. There is no but." YOU - "That's it?" DOLORES DEI - "That's it, yes," she looks up from her toes. "We've talked about it a million times. You will get over it, just like I did. People do. Things will get good for you again…"

I understand that detachment so deeply.

There is a pain to know men you trusted and cared and loved only to be seen as a reductive version of yourself. The one who is “nice”, the one who is “ethereally beautiful” and that’s… about it. You’re not good for each other. It didn’t work out. But by finally deciding it is best to remove yourself from that relationship, you are considered the slut that left him. You are considered the gold digger, the shallow bitch, the uncaring freak of a woman. We didn't really get to know about her and I don't think she was good to him either.

And I just can’t help thinking about that. I’m glad she’s happier now.

[yandere-daze]

I’m the anon who sent in that ask about the alt world royals. I don’t mind that you took a while to answer it; in fact, it was mostly sent in with the intention of simply sharing some thoughts since I didn’t have anywhere else to put them heehee. But I’m glad you liked it, and I thought I’d share more! Been a few months since I played it, though, so sorry if there are any minor inaccuracies.

Two of my three favorite alt royals to think about are the Brodians. I think alt Diamant would get soooo jealous of his counterpart. He’s everything he wants to be; confidant, brave, and the object of your affections. Strong enough to protect you. Though if main world him is still dancing around his feelings for you, it makes him both relieved that you’re single, and frustrated. THAT’S the one thing he has in common with his counterpart??? An inability to confess?????

For alt Alcryst, his jealousy would manifest as anger. What do you MEAN this cowardly, pitiful version of himself is the one you have feelings for?! This other him can’t even work up the courage to confess to you! Yeah, your alt self didn’t like him back, but at least he was willing to shoot his shot! But despite your obvious attraction to him, his counterpart is blind to it!

My third favorite alt royal to think about? Fogado. Hoo boy. I can actually see him falling for you despite never knowing your alt world counterpart. He and his friends were busy roaming around and having their fun, while alt you was off elsewhere. Maybe you were friends with alt Timerra, but during a time he was very much actively avoiding her. So he just sees main world you and suddenly his heart is beating fast and hard. The only people he’s ever given a shit about are his two deceased best friends, but this is… something different. He wants to do horrible things together with you like he did with them, but he also wants to hold you. What in the world is this feeling, and how does he make himself feel it more? And of course, there’s also the fact he canonically mentions wanting to kill and replace main world Fogado….

Welcome back anon! I really did love reading your thoughts on alt world shenanigans and I agree so much!

Alt Diamant is so sad and unconfident and he sees his counterpart just casually talking to you and he feels even sadder because he wants to have the confidence to do that as well. :/ If only he was stronger, if only he was more worthy of being with you. It hurts knowing that in an alternate world, he might have stood a chance but as he is now, there´s just no way for his dream to become reality.

For alt Alcryst, it´s kind of the opposite sentiment. He´s strong, he´s confident, he has it all. And yet you would prefer to hang around that pathetic wimp of a man posing as him? He refuses to believe that there´s any world where he would be this weak. It angers him to just watch you fuss over this "alternate self" of his while he continues to wallow in self-pity. What could you possibly see in him? Alt Alcryst doesn´t understand and the more he has to see this go on, the angrier and more jealous he gets. He refuses to debase himself by acting so pitifully and yet he´s at a loss on how to earn your affection. The you of this world rejected him and yet he can´t help but yearn all the same. He´s way more deserving to be the one by your side instead of that weakling!

As a sidenote, I 100% that Alt Alcryst wouldn´t hesitate to kill his main world self out of pure jealousy.

Boyyy Alt Fogado really is something. I don´t think I´m breaking any new ground when I say that he´s probably the creepiest of all the alt royals. He rejoices in bloodshed and violence and he´s just all around pretty messed up. So for him to fall in love with someone? That´s scary.

I actually don´t think Alt Fogado could ever love someone normally, even if I didn´t specifically choose to portray him as a yandere. I can´t imagine him being really wholesome, he´s not that kind of person. he just feels his heart beat fast when he thinks of you and from then on he makes it his mission to make you his, no matter the sacrifices. In fact, sacrifices are a plus for him! Especially if it´s that troublesome other self of his. It really annoys him when he sees that guy stick around you so much. Who does he think he is, laying his hands on the person that no doubt belongs to him? He´ll be sure to set him straight.

[bad-fucking-omens]

The Witch Twin (Alec V. x OC) - Chapter 25 - Verdict

Summary: When I thought about my future, I was sure that I had the rest of my life vaguely planned out.

Then, my older sister moved up from Arizona to stay with us — and turned my entire life upside down.

I had no idea just how bad it had gotten until I was standing in a castle in Italy, convinced that I was about to die.

Length: 2.3K words (Complete fic 71.8K words)

Fic warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, explicit smut (M/F), referenced/implied past child abuse, emotional manipulation by sibling

Chapter warnings: None

Read on AO3 or read below

25. VERDICT

Chelsea was the first. She attempted to weaken the familial bonds between the Cullens, but her eyes widened in shock after a moment.

‘I can’t find them,’ she told us. ‘It’s as if they’re not there.’

I replied, ‘It has to be Bella’s shield. She’s protecting them. . . . All of them.’

Jane’s mouth twisted into a determined line. I saw Edward lurch towards Carlisle and, at first, I thought he was her target, but neither of the men dropped to the ground, screaming in agony.

‘I can’t touch them,’ Jane snarled furiously. ‘I can’t touch any of them.’

Bella grinned smugly at us and Jane hissed in anger. Alec put a comforting hand on her shoulder. The guard mindlink rippled with anxiety at the fact that the Cullens had so much protection from our gifts.

Aro instructed, ‘Eve, try to connect to their minds. Perhaps if you are able to link to them, her protection will be moot.’

I glanced out at the group and settled my eyes on Renesmee. It should have been easier, since I had linked to her mind previously. But when I tried to reach out, it was as if she wasn’t there. I could physically see her, so I knew exactly where her mind should be, but I couldn’t reach it.

‘I can’t reach them, either.’

‘Alec,’ Aro ordered.

Alec released my hand. He turned his hands so his palms were facing up. Black smoke curled between his fingers before it poured from his hands, gathering on the ground. It crept along the field, the dark smoke a stark contrast to the white snow. It wasn’t affected by a sudden gust of wind, or the crack that abruptly formed in the ground, although the latter made the kings break apart to stare at the ground in wonder.

The thick, black smoke continued to crawl towards the Cullens. Then, it hit an invisible wall. Alec’s lip curled into a snarl and his smoke began to creep along the sides of the barrier and upward, seeking for any weakness in the shield. I could tell from the annoyed look on Alec’s face that he found none.

Alec pulled his smoke away from the shield, but he let it linger around the base, still searching for a weakness. If Bella lost concentration for even just a split-second, it would slip in and they would be unprotected from Alec, at least.

At last, Aro spoke.

“Before we vote, let me remind you, whatever the council’s decision, there need be no violence here.”

Edward laughed darkly.

“It will be a regrettable waste to our kind to lose any of you,” Aro said. “But you especially, young Edward, and your newborn mate. The Volturi would be glad to welcome many of you into our ranks. Bella, Benjamin, Zafrina, Kate. There are many choices before you. Consider them.”

He let his words linger for a long moment before he said, “Let us vote, then.”

Caius said, “The child is an unknown quantity. There is no reason to allow such a risk to exist. It must be destroyed, along with all who protect it.”

“I see no immediate danger,” Marcus said softly. “The child is safe enough for now. We can always reevaluate later. Let us leave in peace.”

“I must make the deciding vote, it seems,” Aro murmured.

“Aro?” Edward called suddenly. The guard shifted uneasily at his confident tone.

“Yes, Edward?” Aro asked. “You have something further . . . ?”

“Perhaps. First, if I could clarify one point?”

“Certainly.”

“The danger you foresee from my daughter — this stems entirely from our inability to guess how she will develop? That is the crux of the matter?”

“Yes, dear Edward,” Aro agreed. “If we could but be positive . . . be sure that, as she grows, she will be able to stay concealed from the human world — not endanger the safety of our obscurity. . . .”

“So, if we could only know for sure exactly what she will become, then there would be no need for a council at all?”

“If there was some way to be absolutely sure,” Aro said, somewhat hesitantly. He was suspicious of what Edward was getting at. “Then, yes, there would be no question to debate.”

“And we would part in peace, good friends once again?”

“Of course, my young friend. Nothing would please me more.”

“Then I do have something more to offer,” Edward said with a grin.

Aro’s eyes narrowed. “She is absolutely unique. Her future can only be guessed at.”

“Not absolutely unique. Rare, certainly, but not one of a kind. . . . Why don’t you join us, Alice?”

“Alice,” Aro breathed.

Five others appeared at the opposite edge of the forest. They ran into the clearing, stopping between Edward and Carlisle. No one in the guard missed how they seamlessly passed through Bella’s shield. Now that we knew that it would not keep us out physically, Felix began to eye Bella eagerly.

“Alice has been searching for her own witnesses these last weeks,” Edward said, addressing Aro. “And she does not come back empty-handed. Alice, why don’t you introduce the witnesses you’ve brought?”

Caius snarled. “The time for witnesses is past! Cast your vote, Aro!”

Aro raised one finger to silence his brother, his eyes stuck on Alice, who stepped forward.

“This is Huilen and her nephew, Nahuel,” Alice said in her light, airy voice.

“Speak, Huilen,” Aro commanded. “Give us the witness you were brought to bear.”

The woman glanced nervously at Alice before she looked back at us and began to speak.

Huilen told us that she was a century and a half old, and that she had a sister, Pire. Her sister had told her of an ‘angel’ who found her in the woods and visited her by night. Huilen had warned her against seeing the man, especially when she saw the bruises on Pire’s skin. Pire disregarded her warnings and continued to meet with the man.

A short while later, Pire told Huilen that she was carrying the man’s child. She had planned to run away, knowing that their parents would get rid of both Pire and the child. Huilen followed her sister into the deepest parts of the Amazon, searching for the man, but he had disappeared. As time passed, Huilen cared for her sister, speaking of how she hunted for Pire, who ate animals raw and drank their blood. That was when Huilen finally realized what the child was.

Huilen spoke of how Pire loved the child inside of her. She named him Nahuel when he grew strong and broke her bones while still in her womb. Pire died when Nahuel ripped himself from her body to be born. Her last wish was that Huilen care for her son.

The boy bit Huilen when she tried to take him in her arms. She described the burning pain that shot through her body, and how she thought she would die. But when she woke from the pain, the child was curled up at her side. She cared for him, and they had been living in the Amazon by themselves for the past century.

Aro pursed his lips. He addressed the male that had arrived with the others.

“Nahuel, you are one hundred and fifty years old?”

“Give or take a decade,” he answered with a shrug. “We don’t keep track.”

“And you reached maturity at what age?”

“About seven years after my birth, more or less, I was full grown.”

“You have not changed since then?”

He shrugged again. “Not that I’ve noticed.”

“And your diet?”

“Mostly blood, but some human food, too. I can survive on either.”

“You were able to create an immortal?” Aro gestured toward Huilen.

“Yes, but none of the rest can.”

A shocked murmur rumbled through each group.

“The rest?” Aro asked.

“My sisters.”

Aro stared at him in pure amazement for a moment before he said slowly, “Perhaps you would tell us the rest of your story, for there seems to be more.”

“My father came looking for me a few years after my mother’s death. He was pleased to find me. He had two daughters, but no sons. He expected me to join him, as my sisters had. He was surprised I was not alone. My sisters are not venomous, but whether that’s due to gender or a random chance . . . who knows? I already had my family with Huilen, and I was not interested in making a change. I see him from time to time. I have a new sister. She reached maturity about ten years back.”

“Your father’s name?” Caius asked, his voice still filled with fury.

“Joham. He considers himself a scientist. He thinks he’s creating a new super-race.”

Caius looked at Bella and Edward. “Your daughter, is she venomous.”

“No,” Bella said quickly.

Aro looked at them all for a long moment, considering everything that had happened and what we had just been told.

Finally, he said, “Brother, there appears to be no danger. This is an unusual development, but I see no threat. These half-vampire children are much like us, it appears.”

“Is that your vote?” Caius asked, his tone clearly frustrated.

“It is.”

“And this Joham? This immortal so fond of experimentation?”

“Perhaps we should speak with him,” Aro agreed.

“Stop Joham if you will, but leave my sisters be,” Nahuel said. “They are innocent.”

Aro nodded solemnly. He turned towards the annoyed, frustrated guard with a warm, placating smile on his face.

“Dear ones. We do not fight today.”

All at once, the guard relaxed. Alec finally — though reluctantly — pulled his smoke back into the air. The low guard began to leave, with about half of the high guard, as Marcus, Caius, and the wives drifted towards the edge of the clearing that we had entered from. Alec and I remained with Aro, Renata, Demetri, and Felix.

“I’m so glad this could be resolved without violence,” Aro said to the Cullens. “My friend, Carlisle — how pleased I am to call you friend again! I hope there are no hard feelings. I know you understand the strict burden that our duty places on our shoulders.”

“Leave in peace, Aro,” Carlisle said stiffly. “Please remember that we still have our anonymity to protect here, and keep your guard from hunting in this region.”

“Of course, Carlisle,” Aro assured him. “I am sorry to earn your disapproval, my dear friend. Perhaps, in time, you will forgive me.”

“Perhaps, in time, if you prove a friend to us again.”

Aro bowed his head and finally turned away from them. We fell into step around him as we left the clearing.

“Eve,” Aro said. I stepped up to walk beside him, Alec drifting forward with me. “I am not sure if you noticed while I was listening to Edward’s memories, but it appears that the Cullens have told your father that Bella and the rest of their family are not human.”

I froze. Alec grabbed my hand as terror and rage filled my body. Aro turned to face me and I looked up at him in horror.

“He . . . he knows?” I whispered in a small voice. Aro nodded, watching me carefully. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut for a moment before I opened them. I begged, “Please, please, just do it quickly. He shouldn’t suffer for her crimes–”

Aro held up a single hand and I fell silent, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek. I gripped Alec’s hand so tightly that I could hear a high-pitched whine as a crack formed in his hand, but he didn’t even try to pull away.

“I have no intention of having your father executed, young one,” Aro said. “You, your mate, and his sister are the crown jewels of our guard. If allowing your father to live keeps you happy, then it is a miniscule price to pay.”

“Thank you,” I breathed in relief.

“Of course, young one,” he murmured with a small smile. Then, he said, “I do feel the need, however, to remind you that you still cannot contact him in any way.”

“Yes, I understand,” I said softly.

He nodded, then drifted away with everyone else. Alec and I remained where we were standing, choosing to follow them later.

“She is reckless and such a narcissist,” I hissed angrily. “She put my father’s life in danger, after she begged me to stay with him to protect him! I don’t care if she was absolutely sure that Aro wouldn’t have him killed because of my place in the guard, but it was still incredibly dangerous.”

“All she thinks of is herself,” Alec agreed. He took my face in his hands and said, “But your father is safe, my love. And, though you cannot contact him directly, you can still follow his life from afar. I’m sure that Demetri would be able to track him for you if you simply asked.”

I sighed and wrapped my arms around his waist. Alec put his arms around me as I tucked my head into the crook of his neck. “You’re right. . . . God, I’m just so tired of dealing with Bella and all of her shit. I thought I’d never have to deal with her again after today.”

Alec pressed a kiss to my temple and rubbed his hand along my back.

“Be patient, my love. I doubt that the Cullens will be able to keep themselves out of trouble for long. They will make another mistake, and they will not be able to slip through our grasp any longer.”

“I hope so,” I mumbled.

He laughed softly. He leaned back, then reached up to gently tilt my head up. Alec kissed me fiercely. His hand slid up to thread his fingers through my hair. I moaned, pulling him as close as possible.

When we broke apart, Alec hummed and combed his fingers through my hair.

“Come, sweet girl. Let’s go back home.”

[fatalism-and-villainy]

To follow up from this, I'm trying to put into words what I genuinely find so fascinating and galaxy-brained about Bedelia as a character. Part of it is her blend of amorality and complete inability to stomach violence. That’s not necessarily a unique combination in a character - it’s a fairly common villainous archetype, cowardice as a marker of weak moral fiber. But the way these traits manifest in her in the context of the show - it’s not a matter of cowardice, exactly, but more of taste. Hannibal is a show that’s far more concerned with aestheticism than with morality, and her feelings about violence are appropriately free of moral concern. Her slow and steady realization of Hannibal’s true nature is premised not in moral outrage, but in taste. It’s an interesting contrast to someone like Will, whose morals are more diametrically opposed to what Hannibal stands for, but who does share his taste, who’s predisposed to be able enter the theatre of Hannibal’s mind and revel the beauty in murder.

Another part of it, I think, is the fact that the show as a whole features numerous different manifestations and deployments of violent impulses, frequently posing a question as to who is capable of violence and under what circumstances. Violence is often thematically tied up in the question of control; control over one’s own impulses, control over others’ perception of oneself, control over others. Violence is, of course, frequently a way of asserting control over others, but on the show it also frequently constitutes a loss of control in some fashion. With Hannibal, his violence is the “true self” that he keeps firmly under wraps with his public self-image (the “person suit”). With Alana, it’s the only possible culmination of her losing control of the situation with Mason Verger, with her being forced to follow the abdication of her morals all the way to the end point. With Will, it’s ceding to the impulses that he struggles to keep in check and bury.

Bedelia is an interesting variation on that theme, because she’s so guarded and self-contained (and thus, such an enigma, especially at first). She’s obsessed with image, down to her character design, always perfectly coiffed, and always so careful and deliberate in how she deals with others. There’s a certain irony in her calling Hannibal out on his person suit, because what is she wearing if not a person suit? And one so impeccably tailored that her internal thoughts are so elusive and hard to perceive beyond the exterior she shows others. That need for control comes from the same place the appeal of violence comes for her - at least that’s my takeaway from the injured bird dialogue. In her mind, violence is a show of power, a means of asserting her superiority, and an abhorrence of weakness. But in reality, violence constitutes for her a shattering loss of control - it’s where the cracks in her perfectly maintained physical image and façade of emotional placidity show.

And I’d say Gillian Anderson’s performance adds a lot to these character elements. Bryan Fuller describes her character in the DVD commentaries as bringing a mixture of camp and melodrama, and that kind of self-consciously filmic delivery and affect just… heightens the character so much, and is such a great addition to the gothic horror, slightly-to-the-left-of-reality setting of the show. I was going to say her reactions to Hannibal, particularly in Florence, are a more “realistic” response to him than Will’s, but realism isn’t exactly in play in her emotionality - there’s an almost hyperreal quality to her fear and trepidation that complements the generally exaggerated, capital-R Romantic sweep of the story in general.

[shirohige-pirates]

Just Like Fire

CisFem Reader x Portgas D. Ace

CW: angst, language, erotic, violence, serial killer, stalking, poisoning, over-bearing controlling parents, attempted forced marriage, possible dub-con, Munchausen by proxy (aka Factitious Disorder), wildly cute and fluffy despite the warnings. 18+ only

Summary: You're Sabo's biological sister in this AU. After college you moved in with your dear brother and his two sworn brothers in order to avoid going back home. You and Sabo despise your family equally.

Chapter 1: Nakama

“Thanks for letting me stay here.” You say for probably the fiftieth time in as many hours, setting down a small box of personal items in the room you’d been provided.

Sabo, your beloved brother, smiles at you. “Of course, (Y/N), I told you as long as you can deal with Ace and Luffy, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.” He gives you a hug as the two of you hear a crash from downstairs, and can hear Ace and Luffy starting to squabble. “… Try to make it a month, at least.”

You start to laugh as the two of you head toward the stairs to see what happened.

“Oi! Be gentle with it Lu!” Ace snaps, picking up the scattered books carefully while his younger brother helps him.

Ace, Sabo and Luffy had been “brothers” since they were little kids. Your parents blamed Sabo’s rebellious nature on the other two, but there wasn’t much they could do about it. You knew Ace and Luffy were cursed, Sabo had talked to you about it when you were considering moving in with him. Cursed people had all sorts of things they could do, but the cost was an inability to swim. There were some other weaknesses, something about a certain kind of stone or metal, but unlike your parents you didn’t care if someone was cursed or not.

People were born that way, there wasn’t anything they could do about it, for better or worse. Just like how you and Sabo had been born to parents that didn’t suit you – there wasn’t anything you could do to change that.

“Honestly, we could just dump them.” You say, coming down the stairs.

“Oh, those are The Books, huh?” Sabo asks, his voice changing when he says ‘the books’.

“Haha, yeah, yeah.” You smile as you pick one up. Luffy looks confused, and so does Ace for a moment before he smiles. “Dad’s collection of must read titles.” You roll your eyes. “I couldn’t control what got packed, so these ended up coming along. I’m not going to suggest we burn them, but if you have a wobbly table or something?”

“What’s so bad about these books?” Luffy questions, flipping through one idly. “Aside from a lack of pictures.”

“It’s a bunch of flawed philosophy. Blood purity bullshit,” you say with a grumble. “Debunked theories and bigot science.”

“Burning stuff like that could be bad for the air.” Ace says flatly. “Oh! I know what we can do with ‘em – Lu, help me get ‘em gathered up.”

“Might I ask-?” You start as Ace looks up at you with a smile.

“It’s a surprise!” He beams up at you.

You tilt your head and feel Sabo’s hand on your shoulder. He gives you a reassuring smile before he continues past you to help the other two gather up the books.

“We’re going to the station, I assume?” He asks and both Luffy and Ace chime in the affirmative. Sabo looks back at you. “The station’s cooler and usually filled with some rough-.”

“-but nice!” Luffy interjects, head popping up over Sabo’s shoulder as your brother takes a second before continuing.

“-but nice people.” Sabo finishes. “You might not need a jacket, but you might want to dress warmer.”

“Any chance of a meal while we’re out?” You ask, already heading back upstairs.

“You just ate.” Sabo gapes.

“Just was nearly three hours ago, dear brother.” You correct. “We’ve been hauling boxes up these steps for the last three hours. I am hungry.”

“How does something so small eat so mu--.” Sabo stops as he and Ace look over at Luffy who’s already laughing. “Never mind.”

With the books eventually gathered, the four of you loaded into Sabo’s car.

“I still can’t believe you ended up with the Odyssean.” You muse as the box is loaded into the trunk. You clear your throat when you see a smile from Sabo, and confusion from the other two. Doing your best impression of your father you open your arm toward the vehicle.

“A masterpiece of bespoke stitching and sustainable design, this mainstream produced Bentley offers a balance of luxury and quality, while still leading the edge of sustainability and viability. A perfect first car for my chosen heir.” You rolled your eyes at the end. “If dad hadn’t said the words ‘mainstream produced’, Stuffy might have actually kept it.”

“Pfft – hahaha.” Ace laughs, Luffy breaking into a laugh with him. “Stuffy, ah-hahaha!”

You grin. “You’ve met him, it seems.”

“He came camping with us once, remember?” Sabo says as Ace holds the passenger door open for you with an exaggerated flourish.

“Oh right, he pitched a fit for weeks to be allowed to go, and then was livid when he came back.” You laugh. “I’d almost forgotten, you were what, eleven?”

“Mm, it was one of the few times I had been hoping that father wouldn’t give in.” Sabo sighs.

“How long are you staying with us?” Luffy asks as the drive begins.

“A few months. I was thinking a year tops if you can all put up with me that long.” You answer with a smile, turning a bit to look at Luffy while you talk. “That should be enough time to job hunt and then start apartment hunting.”

“You should just stay!”

“… HUH?” You feel your mouth go slack.

“There it is.” Sabo says flatly.

“Well, it’s been decided.” Ace says with a smile.

You recover quickly and laugh. “Just like that huh? What in the hells just happened?”

“Luffy determines friend or foe very quickly.” Sabo explains as you sit back in your seat.

“I am in the friend column, it seems.” You muse as you hear Luffy laughing.

“No you’re not.” He says, still laughing, and there’s a second of tension in the air. “(Y/N) is nakama!”

“Sorry, what?” You ask, turning fully toward the backseat.

Ace points to everyone in the car. “Nakama.”

“Is that like siblings?”

He shakes his head. “Think of it like a step up from friends. Kind of like a found family, but not necessarily familial.”

You can feel your face starting to heat up and turn away before it shows. “Well… thank you then. Not even done with my first official day and I’ve been adopted.”

Sabo reaches over and pats your head. “It’s going to be a lot of adjusting. Ace and Luffy are doing a good job of holding back.” He admits. “Luffy usually hugs everyone he likes, and Ace is pretty handsy too.”

“Han- HANDSY?! Don’t say it like that, it makes me sound like a pervert!” Ace growls, hand on the headrest of your seat as he leans forward. “I give better hugs than Luffy, and I’m not asking to see people’s panties like Brook.”

“Will Brook be at the station?” You question, trying not to sound too concerned.

“Huh, no – er – he works at the Library downtown with Robin and Nami.” Ace answers you. “The guys at the station are pretty tame, you don’t have to worry about them.”

You can’t help yourself. “Mm, but I do have to worry about you?”

Sabo and Luffy are laughing as Ace’s entire face goes red. “No, I’m-.”

“Y-you can-can not say you’re tame!” Sabo manages between laughs. The infectious laughter hits you too and the car’s filled with it for a couple minutes.

“Ah, haha, haaa,” Sabo wipes a tear from his eye. “Oh, but you can trust Ace and Luffy, (Y/N), as I’ve said before. No matter anything else, they’re my brothers for a reason.”

“Brothers with you cause they’re menaces just like you are.” You tease, causing Luffy and Ace to laugh at Sabo’s expense. Which seemed only fair since you’d been tossing around teasing one another all morning.

The rest of the car ride was a continuation of the same. A little roasting, a lot of chatting, by the time you made it to the station you were pretty tired. Between all the moving you’d done that morning and all the laughing you were starting to run on fumes.

You let out a yawn and Sabo pats your leg. “I’ll go get us something to eat after I drop you off. Will you be okay with Luff, and Ace?”

You nod. “Even if all I had was your trust of them, but it’s been a fun few days moving with their help. I trust them on my own.”

Sabo smiles as he pulls into the fire station’s lot. “I’m just going to grab some grub - given the time should I-.”

“Oi!” A man with brown hair, a wide smile and a scar on the side of his face is waving at the car. “I recognize that beauty anywhere! What timing you lugs have!”

Ace opens the door getting out. “Whaddya mean, Thatch?”

“Izou and Marco just came back with a truck load of subs and sodas. There’s plenty to go around come on— oh, hello Miss.” Thatch offers you a wide smile. “You must be the mysterious sister.”

You open the door with a grin. “The mysterious sister does vaudeville on the Red Line.” You tease, offering your hand for a shake. “I’m just the disappointing sister, (Y/N).”

“Disappointing to our parents maybe.” Sabo says after putting the car in park and shutting it down. “Food’s already here? How fortunate.”

“Yeah, it’s Ducky Bree’s birthday and we’re just having some grub.” He explains. “Nothing too over the top.”

“Birthday?! Thatch did you make a cake!?” Luffy asks, nearly tackling the older man.

“Yes,” Thatch says, hooking Luffy with his arm and holding him back. “For later, you unhinged little black hole!”

“At least make sure the birthday boy gets a slice first, Luffy.” Ace teases. He holds out his elbow toward you with a smile. “Would you like an escort, oh mysterious sister?”

You laugh, putting your arm through his offered one. “I see you offered your elbow so as not to be too handsy, hm, Mr. Portgas?”

Sabo laughs as Ace’s cheeks flush a little. “Not living that down huh?”

“We’ll see.” You say with a smile as the two of you walk toward the station. “Sabo said you’re a firefighter. Luffy as well, yes?”

“Yeah, he’s a part-timer, he does volunteer EMT work for the main hospital. He’s good friends with a couple of the doctors there. I mean, it’s Luffy, he’s never met a stranger.” Ace explains.

“I don’t feel like you have either.” You say with a smile.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He says, unthreading his arm from yours and opening the door. “After you, Miss.”

The man-door opens into a huge, cooled room with several large fire trucks in it. There’s lines painted on the floor to direct traffic, and where to park the trucks. There’s poles, stairs, and gear everywhere, and there’s a few fold out tables set up with food and drink on them. There was a small mess of people inside, all well-built guys walking around in little more than pants and boots with the tops of their fire gear hanging around their waists. Some wore t-shirts. Some did not.

Everyone looked warm and kind, and several people greeted Luffy, Ace, and Sabo. Most of them gave you a wave from a comfortable distance – they probably knew they could be an over-bearing and rowdy bunch and were doing their best to hold back a little.

Ace brought you a seat, and Sabo brought you something to eat, the two sitting with you for a while.

“You doin’ alright?” Ace questioned.

You nod, swallowing your bite of sandwich. “Yeah, my uh, constitution’s a little weak, but I do well enough.”

“The move’s worn her out a bit.” Sabo offers. “If it had only been a day or two it probably wouldn’t have caught up like this.”

“Oh. Oh, hey, if you need to stay in we can go back, I didn’t mean to drag you out when-.”

You put your hand up. “It’s okay. I promise.” You say reassuringly. “I don’t like to let it hold me back if I can help it. If I was really worried, I would’ve spoke up though, I promise.”

“Alright.” Ace accepts it, looking at you for a moment before going to get himself something to eat.

“He and Luffy will likely worry about you,” Sabo says. “I hope it’ll be okay.”

“Mm.” You nod. “It’s genuine concern, I can’t fault that. It’s not like what mom and dad did my whole life.”

“Once he comes back I’ll go get some-.”

“Sa-boo.” You tease, sticking out your tongue a little. “I’m good, go get something to eat. These guys aren’t going to eat me if you leave me alone for a minute.”

Sabo grunts a half-hearted laugh before getting up and going to get his own food. You look around a little while you eat, noticing some pictures taped onto the wall. There’s a bunch of guys in various states of uniform dress in the pictures. You recognize quite a few of the guys who are here right now. You find a couple pictures with Ace and Luffy in them, and even a few pictures with Sabo reluctantly hauled into the middle.

It warms your heart. Growing up with your parents wasn’t easy for either of you. Sabo came away from it with physical scars, and you came away from it with emotional ones. Both of you were considered disappointments to the rest of the family, but once they shifted all their hopes and dreams onto Stebby’s shoulders things almost got worse.

At least for a little bit. Once you were both able to leave for more than just a few hours a day, things began to improve. You’d both specifically chosen Universities and jobs in the New World, instead of the East Blue. It kept you further from home, which suited you both. Ever since the One Piece had been found, the New World had been the center of growth and opportunity. Maybe a little rough for you, but Sabo had a solid foundation here and that gave you a better chance of getting your own feet under you.

The better you could do for yourself, the less likely you were to get dragged back home.

“Ah, you found the pictures, huh?” Ace asks, sitting back down and breaking your train of thought.

You smile. “I did. Quite the lively bunch. I can see how you and Luffy fit in.”

Ace beams. “They’re good guys. The Family I didn’t know I needed sometimes.”

“Nakama.” You offer, and Ace smiles wider. You feel your heart skip a beat at that smile.

“Exactly! Catching on fast.” He says taking a few big bites of food. You’d spent a couple days with him and Luffy now, though most of it was packing, moving, unpacking, organizing and then sleeping like the dead, so you hadn’t really had time to just chat. But you’d seen the two of them eat, and your only thought was how your parents would be appalled.

Somehow, it made it endearing.

You’d matched up most of the people in the photos to the people in the station, but there were a couple you didn’t see. Either they were off today, which seemed unlikely, there were a lot of people in the station in civilian clothes, and it seemed everyone meant to come by for the celebration. Or they had moved on to something else.

Ace talks you through some of the people in the photos, pointing from them to the hubbub in the room. He gives you names, and little anecdotes about them. Sabo joins in when he comes back, sprinkling in complaints about what some of them had nearly done to his favorite hat. One you realize he isn’t wearing right now.

“Who’s that?” You ask, pointing to a man with shaggy black hair and an impressive beard for a guy running into burning buildings.

Ace’s eyes darken. “Teach.” He says before giving you a sheepish look. “He… was executed.”

Your eyes go wide.

“We kept the one picture up because for a long time he did save people, yoi.” Marco interjects, causing you to look over at him. You recognize the blonde from Ace’s earlier run down of people, and already you know he has a high regard for the older man. “Doesn’t excuse what he did, but -.”

“No, I get it.” You say, looking back at the picture. “The good he did doesn’t excuse the bad, but the bad he did doesn’t invalidate the good. People are complex like that.”

Marco’s eyebrows raise a little before he tips the bottle of soda toward you and the picture. “Well said.”

“… I think I remember the story about that.” You admit quietly.

“It was international news.” Sabo agrees. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“He was… cursed, right?” You ask tentatively. Sabo nods, but you can see Ace is getting uncomfortable. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-.”

“Ah, no – no, it’s okay.” Ace interrupts, giving you a sad smile. “It’s just-.”

“It’s an extra sour subject for us.” Marco interjects again, having come a little closer. “Most of the people at this station are cursed.”

You make a dissatisfied face. “There needs to be a better word for that.”

“Eh?” Marco’s head tilts and Ace looks at you questioningly.

“Cursed is such a negative connotated word. But you’re not. You’re not monsters. There’s nothing wrong with you. If anything, … I don’t know. If anything, I think people should at least be kinder about it, I guess.”

There’s a moment of silence and you see a flicker of blue slide over Marco’s shoulders.

“Sabo, your mysterious sister is divine, yoi.” He says before smiling brightly at you. “Pardon me, but I think you need to meet everyone.”

“Wha-uh, sure?” You question as Marco leans down and lifts you up easily onto his shoulder. You yip a bit as Sabo and Ace move to steady you if Marco loses his grip, but the older blonde has a good hold on you.

“Sons of the New World!” Marco says getting everyone’s attention. “Meet the guardian deity of the station!”

“… the what?” You murmur, holding onto Marco’s head as he steadies you easily.

There are hoots and cheers and people are raising their bottles of soda and water. Thatch cheers over the crowd.

“Three cheers for (Y/N)! Hip!”

“Hoo-rah!”

“Hip!”

“Hoo-rah!”

“Hip!

“HOO-RAAAAAAAHHH!!” Even Sabo and Ace were cheering for you by the end of it.

Your face was burning hot as Marco set you down. You were smiling, even if you were confused to no end.

“What just happened?”

“Nakama.” Ace says with a smile, catching your gaze. “Feeling okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, a little confused, but I’m good.”

“The New World is a little more accepting of the cursed,” Marco explains. “But there’s a lot of fear and anger around it still. Most of us end up in jobs that are dangerous, yoi. People expect us to take the risk, but there’s not much acceptance or reward to go with it.

“Hearing you say something like that, it’s kind of its own reward, yeah?”

“Ah, but I’m nobody.” You try to say, but the words die on your lips a little. You might not like your family, and you might not like that they are your family, but you and Sabo are still nobility.

“Even if your family was different,” Marco says, crouching down to catch your gaze. “What you said shows you get it. That’s rare, yoi.”

After that there was a blur of face-to-face introductions with the people at the station. You met enough people you were losing track of names, but the faces were easy to remember. Eventually, Ace remembered why he had dragged everyone to the station in the first place and got a few people to help him bring the books from Sabo’s car.

The books were set near a brick wall out in a small training area.

“We train everything except live fires here.” Ace explains as he, Marco, Luffy, Izou, Jozu and Thatch help him set up a hose. “It’s enough to help keep us all warmed up without any big risks. Stand there.”

Ace points and you do as he instructed. Sabo is nearby, but he’s standing away from the set up. Ace stands behind you, with Marco on the other side of the hose. The other men line up behind the three of you.

“We’re going to brace the hose, so don’t worry about that.” Ace says, continuing his explanation. “Put your hands here, and here. When you’re ready, we’ll turn it on.”

“… You’re letting me use a fire hose to …?” You prompt, tilting your head.

“It’ll tear those books to pieces.” Ace beams. “C’mon, this is why we came here.”

“I’m not strong.” You admit a little reluctantly.

“We are.” Ace says, making sure you realize how many people are keeping the hose steady. “You’re not alone, I got your back. Sabo’s at the emergency shut off, it’ll be okay.”

You grip the hose a little more surely. “O-okay, let’s do this then.”

“Good, you can brace against me, it might buck a bit even with all of us holding it, but don’t worry.” Ace assures you.

“S-Sure.” You nod, setting your feet in a way that you hope is a little more steady than how they were.

“Relax, (Y/N).” Marco says.

Easy for you to say, you think. You don’t have your brother’s unexpectedly hot roommate ‘braced’ against you.

Ace has you put your hand over his as he engages the hose. There’s a small jolt as the pressure’s released and a jet of water shoots out of it. Ace lets you guide his hands as you take out one book after the other. There’s a thrill in the rush of water, and the catharsis of destroying the damnable books – especially in the company of the kind of people the books lambast.

You’re giggling and the guys holding the hose are laughing and cheering. You don’t even know if they know what’s written in the old books, but the whole thing gets your heart pumping.

After a few minutes, Ace turns the hose off and the blast of water turns into a slow trickle. A few shifts in the wind had misted you a little, but the cool water was refreshing and it was still plenty warm out.

“Oh – whew – that was more fun than I expected!” You say, bouncing a little as you head over to the ruined books. Sabo and Ace follow you as the others get the hose put away properly.

“Father would be furious to see these in this state.” Sabo says with utter delight in his voice.

You laugh. “Yeah. I almost want to take a picture.”

“What’s stopping you?” Ace asks.

“I wouldn’t get to see the looks on their faces when they opened the email.” You say with a devilish grin. “I’d much rather tell him in person.”

“Going back home anytime soon?” Sabo questions.

“Nah, but I’m not going to forget this day for a long time.” You admit with a smile.

[chantryexplosion]

1 - 4 - 11 - 21

for the dark urge ask game <3

(questions from this post)

(also prefacing these by saying i am not known for being very good with words and making sense of my thoughts lol)

What circumstances led to your Dark Urge becoming their Class/Subclass?

so, ronen is an oath of vengeance paladin, and it's kinda like. you'd think it'd be impossible for any paladin durge to keep their oath pre tadpole right? and the oathbreaker knight does mention in game that they saw each other a lot before. so what i think is, ronen chose to be a paladin partially as kind of a cover, a way to be able to exist outside of the temple without people questioning him too much, and a way to give him easy access to non culty things when he needed it. and i said partially before because i also think maybe a small, mostly subconscious part of him was trying to resist even then. despite all that i do think he and mr oathbreaker knight saw each other Very Often.

4. What would your Dark Urge consider to be their greatest flaw? Is this accurate?

hmmm. the thing about ronen is, his guilt levels are astronomical. so i think, to him, his biggest flaw and failure is what he believes to be his inability to handle the urges better. he thinks himself to be weak willed, because if he wasn't he could've resisted more, fought back more, and maybe if he had alfira would still be alive. and then the fact that her death at his hands affected him so much to the point that it kinda paralyzed him, he thinks he should've been able to handle that better too. he hates how much and how deeply things affect him.

and as for if that is accurate, i'd say not really. i think he did fine considering everything lol. and this would be far from his biggest flaw

11. What motivates your Dark Urge to either embrace or resist the Urge?

ronen resisted the urge the whole time. or as much as he could anyway. and this might be kind of a basic answer but he just. wanted to be good? he woke up with no memories, and with just a few things on him, including the book with the oath of vengeance tenets. so if he's a paladin then he must be good, right ? good and righteous. but then all evidence kept pointing to the contrary and that was really messing him up. it felt wrong. he felt sick at how much he enjoyed being violent, how much he enjoyed killing and how much he loved the taste of blood in his mouth. whatever he was before, he didn't want to be it anymore. (that said, he still enjoys violence and killing and probably always will)

and then it's also that he wanted some sense of control. he hated not being in full control of himself and not being able to predict his own movements and his own thoughts. whether good or bad, he doesn't want to be a puppet to any urge or father or god. he wants to be free and to belong to himself only.

21. What are 2-3 songs that your Dark Urge would relate to?

oh boy i have a whole playlist (its very unfinished) but 3 songs from it are:

family tree (intro) by ethel cain worn by king woman somewhere i belong by linkin park

thank you so much for asking !!!

[cosmicjoke]

What do you think about ash’s fate on banana fish? On one hand, he will no longer suffer and did die knowing that at least one person cared about him. On the other hand, it is death and he doesn’t have a chance for a happier future either. I kind of dislike how some people say that ash suffered so much that he was better off dead. The ending feels so tragic but people dying suddenly and unexpectedly happens very often in life.

Hi there,

I've written a few posts about this specifically. Obviously, Ash's death is incredibly tragic, but I also feel it was the only ending that Banana Fish could have and should have had. It's the right ending. I often hear people who complain about the ending say "But it wasn't fair" or "Ash didn't deserve to die", and I'm like, no shit, Sherlock. Nothing that happened to Ash in his life is fair. If you're going to say his death wasn't fair, then you have to say the entire story wasn't fair. But that's the point. Child abuse isn't fair. The consequences of it aren't fair. The fact that any child has to fall through the cracks the way Ash did isn't fair. None of it SHOULD have happened to him, just like no child who in reality ends up homeless or abused should. The entire point behind the story is to show the injustice, cruelty and unfairness of children like Ash ending up where they do.

I feel like the ending is deeply important to the story working as a whole, because by embracing the tragedy of Ash's life and ultimate death, it refuses to let the reader undermine or brush off that tragedy. They don't get to ignore the brutal and horrible reality of the kind of life Ash was forced to live. They don't get to ignore the violence of it, the cruelty of it, the devastation of it, and in the end, the tragedy of it.

I also feel like people who insist that the ending of Banana Fish enforces toxic belief systems about abuse victims having no chance at happiness fail to understand or acknowledge that, for SOME victims of abuse, it's just not that simple or easy to move past what's happened to them. I know that makes a lot of people uncomfortable to hear, but I've heard people who have experienced abuse in their lives say they relate to and love Ash specifically because they see their own struggle to overcome their trauma in Ash's struggle. The fact he isn't, in the end, able to move past it is reflective of a very real percentage of real life abuse victims who aren't ever able to move on. I've talked at length about how this doesn't make them weak, or failures. It just makes them human. Each person has a different capacity and ability to cope with the things that have happened to them. Ash wasn't weak or a failure for being unable to just let go or move beyond what was done to him either. That's what makes Ash such a real and deeply moving character. This insistence by some that if you just work hard enough, or try hard enough, or go to enough therapy, you'll be able to move beyond your trauma is, in my opinion, infinitely more harmful to people who CAN'T move past it than just accepting that they can't, and allowing them that, and acknowledging that what they've been through is too tough and too horrible for them to "get better". Because what are we telling those people when we insist that they CAN get better when they just simply can't? We're telling them they're failures, we're telling them they just aren't doing enough, we're telling them it's some failing in THEM that's preventing them from magically finding happiness. That's not how trauma works.

Some people can't get better. They can't ever move past it. And again, that doesn't make them weak or a failure. It's just an acknowledgment that everyone is different, and has different capacities to cope. It's our own inability or refusal to accept that, that exposes so many's supposed desire to see others "get better" as nothing but it's own selfish coping mechanism, to make US feel better, because it's simply too hard to accept the reality that, for some, certain trauma's just can't be overcome.

And truly, in the end, we should never put pressure on anyone or undermine anyone's trauma and abuse by insisting to them that they can get better, as if they haven't tried, or as if it's that easy. We should never make anyone feel like a failure or like what they've been through isn't that bad by telling them, even badgering them with the notion that all it takes is hard work, and they'll be right as rain.

Again, that's why I feel like the ending of Banana Fish is integral to the story working on the level that it does. Because it shows us, in Ash, those people who couldn't get better, and it shows us that it's okay, and even important, to acknowledge those people. It might make all of us work harder ourselves to prevent anyone from ever having to go through what Ash went through in the first place.

[heaven-said]

7 CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS: GABRIEL. ( Saw this on the dash a lot ages ago and finally got around to it lmao ) ( You do not need to read all of these explanations it is extremely long and I'm sorry fgddksghhsd but if you're curious about why one is on there I try to explain! )

From the top, left to right:

Pearl! At least two people have outright said that Gabriel's dynamics with others reminds them of Pearl from Steven Universe and-- guilty, I used to write her! But they have so much in common in a weird way, being both perfectionists that mask their neuroticism behind flawless grace only achieved through that neuroticism, beings that exist for servitude that both lost the thing they used to serve and now are haplessly trying to carry on in their stead. Do you see my vision?? I'm saying pearl is a metaphorical angel and--

RAMSES !! The sheer irony of Ramses himself being the inspiration for Gabriel, the angel that helped punish him for his stubbornness-- knowing darn well stubbornness is one of his own most dangerous traits. But- most of all, Ramses is here to perfectly represent his relationship with his brothers juxtaposed to his relationship to his servitude and fear of weakness. I could go into it but-- watch Prince of Egypt its a gorgeous movie you'll know what I mean in the first scene with Ramses' brother lol.

Undyne !! Another character I used to write ngl, i clearly have a type but-- Undyne reflects two traits, one being the almost comical tendency towards aggression and over the topness, the utter inability to resist a challenge and the tendency to play just a little too rough. And two, the supernaturally strong will power archetype! ( one of my favorites ) Undyne's resolve for determination exceeding any normal monster is a perfect reflection of Gabriel's "Will of God" determination.

The song Hero from RWBY! ( That's a picture of the lyric video i didn't just type words on a black box sdgkhsh-- ) I could have put Ironwood from the show on here himself, but 1- I hate RWBY as a show itself and 2- I don't know his character too well-- but his song? *chefs kiss* No other song I know captures his drive and motivation, including a part that mentions of worrying he feels like a "machine" due to his single-mindedness, but deciding that isn't such a bad thing.

A very specific "otherworldly entity tries to understand humans" archetype! Represented here by Elizabeth from Persona 3, who in herself has the dignified eloquence of a powerful and ancient being but silly playfulness of something that very rarely gets to explore life without following a command. One defining trait of catching Gabriel when he isn't working is that he is deeply curious, almost naively so, like he is still very inexperienced with humanity's day to day existence despite his ancient age. He's fascinated by simple things, like the way icecream feels.

Ghirahim....... here to represent all the worst impulses Gabe has that can't be dismissed as well intentioned. Finding joy in violence, vain about his form, cocky in the face of a challenge-- especially from what he perceives as fundamentally lesser than divinity, Gabriel is the kind of person to taunt and play with his food, deliberately asking that you strike him just to prove he can take it without flinching. Luckily, Gabriel's better nature keeps this side of him far more under wrap than Ghirahim, but it's there..... ALSO however-- note how Ghirahim is still a servant, and a deeply devout one, reflecting how despite Gabe's arrogance there is not a single facet of him that believes himself greater than his god.

Elidibus, warrior of light !!! Only very recently, but mun over at Lilyspoke helped encourage this one lol. Elidibus has become the inspiration for Gabriel's behavior surrounding his immortality and his imperfect memory surrounding God's teachings. Gabriel has been alive so long and has gone so long without hearing his Father that he's beginning to forget the sound of his voice... a very sad reflection of how Elidibus is driven madly by his mission for the Light agains the Dark due to a promise he made so long ago he forgot who he made it to. And, a metaphor for how Gabriel's motivations have wandered from being perfect or pure and that there is no one left who perfectly remembers what their God once said. Also-- the speeches they give before battle is so similar lmao.

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Karate Kid (1984)

Before today, I had never seen The Karate Kid. I assumed the love directed towards it came from nostalgia and the film being released at the right time, in the right environment. I couldn’t have been more wrong. This is a sweet, surprisingly deep crowd-pleaser with many memorable scenes to go with its iconic characters and great performances.

In 1984, Daniel LaRusso (Ralph Macchio) and his mother (Randee Heller) move from Newark to Los Angeles. After befriending Ali Mills (Elisabeth Shue), Daniel is beaten by her jealous ex-boyfriend, a karate black belt named Johnny (Billy Zabka). Taking pity upon Daniel is Mr. Miyagi (Noriyuki “Pat” Morita), who senses that Johnny and his gang’s bad behavior stems from their instruction at the Cobra Kai Karate club.

Like John G. Avildsen’s Rocky, The Karate Kid shows relatively little of its sport but makes you care for it more than you thought was possible by betting its chips on the characters. It’s impossible not to relate to Daniel. Bright and good-natured but filled with self-doubt thanks to his lower-class status and inability to stand up to the Cobra Kais, you desperately want things to work out for him. You want him to develop the karate skills necessary to defend himself. More importantly, you want Daniel to become confident enough for him and Ali to become an item. It helps that Ralph Macchio and Elisabeth Shue have terrific chemistry. Whenever something threatens to keep them apart - be it Ali’s snooty parents, Johnny, normal teenage drama or Daniel’s insecurities - your emotions swell.

If you weren’t already invested, you hate the Cobra Kais so much you keep watching, hoping they'll get their (hopefully violent) comeuppance. This is where Mr. Miyagi comes in. He could’ve easily been a stereotype or a one-dimensional supporting character; an excuse to get the plot going. Instead, he’s a fully realized person with a unique brand of humor and wisdom. It’s hard to choose if the film’s best scenes are the tender dates and heartfelt talks between Daniel and Ali, or the training sequences with Daniel and Miyagi. The latter contain big laughs, a touching father-son-like relationship and unexpected depth.

Behind Daniel and Johnny, we have two very different teachers. The second we walk into the Cobra Kai club, we see photos of John Kreese (Martin Kove) proudly showing off his military career and belting out his mantra that mercy is for the weak, that the point of karate is to brutally crush your opponent. He cares nothing for his students and has only contempt for kind Mr. Miyagi. By contrast, the humble Okinawan immigrant does not flaunt his martial arts skills or military career. He comes to offer his services to Daniel because he wants to teach the boy self-defense. To Miyagi, karate is an extension of everyday life. He teaches the sport by putting Daniel in real-life places and situations that incorporate the moves his pupil needs to practice. Karate is a naturally occurring process, whereas Kreese hammers the idea of violence into his students. The brutality he forces into their lives manifests as aggression and they become twisted; violent. The methods of instruction couldn’t be more different.

The Karate Kid has a lot to offer. The soundtrack is terrific. The story takes you through a full gamut of emotions - everything from heartbreaks to laugh-out-loud laughs, the joys of first love, the tears of joy from a perfect birthday gift and the exhilaration of a competition whose final match might as well symbolize the triumph of good over evil. The performances are uniformly strong. The screenplay is thoughtful. The characters are unforgettable. It’s no wonder if popularized karate in North America. This is no mere “right time, right place” movie. It has lasting power and will delight audiences for generations. (September 10, 2021)

[justmybookthots]

The Cruel Prince

4.5/5 stars

This book ruined me for fae books and I'm not even sorry. It also doesn't help that this was my first literary introduction to fae (Midsummer Night's Dream doesn't count). The prose is so lyrical and beautiful and had me feeling as if I were utterly lost in Elfhame / an otherworldly, fae-filled realm. (Also funnily enough, I read this series while I was down with COVID, so maybe the delirium added to the otherworldliness of it.)

What I Ioved about fae was that they couldn't lie. And Cruel Prince really does work that in parts - seeing Cardan use wit and cleverness and lies by omission to sidestep that "weakness" in him. Even until now I haven't quite seen a book execute that to the degree Cardan displayed. Books like ACoTaR just eliminate the inability to lie in their fae, which is a huge step down, in my opinion.

I also adored Jude, which is very rare for me because most heroines in fiction annoy me or they're either too bland for me to care. But Jude - JUDE - she was hardworking, ambitious and determined without being a special, overly snarky Mary Sue about it. She actually showed her smarts, imo best demonstrated when she outwitted Balekin (that exchange with the poison made me SCREAM).

Speaking of poison - she poisoned herself everyday, trying to build an immunity to poison. It was painful, and I cringed for her, but she did it. And throughout it all, she never had any special ability until the third book, which barely showcased said ability. Jude got through the trials and tribulations by being clever and cunning and human. She wasn't half-fae; she wasn't given special gifts in combat like Feyre - she was just herself in a world of immortals, and she worked her ass off to compensate for it.

But what makes the book for me isn't really Jude, though she's a big part of it. It's Cardan - whom I fell so deeply for; cruel, pathetic drunkard Cardan.

Was he a little too weak for my tastes? Yes. Was he a little too drunk, to the point that I found it repulsive at times? Yes. Was he kind of sucky in bed? Yes, though that's more because it's YA and they weren't going into detail about the spice.

And yet the way he spoke - how he could wax poetic and make it sound like a dagger or a kiss - OH MY GOSH. I also just love a boy who was able to be socially adept when he needed to, and manipulate people to his advantage. I loved how he had to teach Jude at the end of the first book to win allies over, and how he once (very exasperatedly, might I add) told her that murder (brute force / violence) wasn't the answer to everything.

I loved how cruel he was at the start and how he slowly became kinder, more trusting, more willing to love himself and accept that he loved Jude. And if there is one trope I hate in books, it's trauma-bonding, but there wasn't that. Jude's past was nowhere as wretched as his, and they never once felt like (... for lack of a better term) edge-lords pretending they were more special than the world because of their childhood histories. Cardan slowly came into his own without needing Jude to "fix" him.

I don't often feel my heart beat for male leads in books anymore, not for a long while. I've become very jaded, or something. I don't know. But I did for Cardan.

Shut up 😭😭😭😭

That's not to say this series is perfect. I have my gripes with it. The last book was meh and too short and could have done with more Cardan instead of him as a snake. I think there was a lot of potential wasted with that book. The first and the second are much, much better, though I still reread the third the most because they were far more certain in their love then. Also I do wish Jude was a little weaker just to seem more human, and Cardan a bit stronger.

I'm still mad at this series because it put me in book slump for a good bit. I couldn't get over it. It wasn't until some time later that I finally managed to start reading and enjoying books again. Even until today, I haven't read any books that portray fae as wonderfully as Holly Black did, and that is a problem because fae are everywhere, which makes my Cruel Prince hangover even worse.

Also, Holly Black can write her fucking ass off. She's one of the prettiest writers I've read. If there is one thing I hate, it's modern slang in a fantasy setting (to be honest, I just... despise modern slang in any setting... lol), but she nailed the prose for this book. It was so pretty and enchanting without it being too purple.

I need to get to Stolen Heir and I don't know why I haven't. I thought Oak was really cute in the Cruel Prince series, though I heard he becomes a real piece of work in the new book and I am very, very scared.

- Read in April 2023

[mediaevalmusereads]

Spinning Silver. By Naomi Novik. Del Rey, 2018.

Rating: 2.5/5 stars

Genre: fantasy

Part of a Series? No

Summary: Miryem is the daughter and granddaughter of moneylenders, but her father's inability to collect his debts has left his family on the edge of poverty--until Miryem takes matters into her own hands. Hardening her heart, the young woman sets out to claim what is owed and soon gains a reputation for being able to turn silver into gold.

When an ill-advised boast draws the attention of the king of the Staryk--grim fey creatures who seem more ice than flesh--Miryem's fate, and that of two kingdoms, will be forever altered. Set an impossible challenge by the nameless king, Miryem unwittingly spins a web that draws in a peasant girl, Wanda, and the unhappy daughter of a local lord who plots to wed his child to the dashing young tsar.

But Tsar Mirnatius is not what he seems. And the secret he hides threatens to consume the lands of humans and Staryk alike. Torn between deadly choices, Miryem and her two unlikely allies embark on a desperate quest that will take them to the limits of sacrifice, power, and love.

***Full review below.***

Content Warnings: child abuse (physical, verbal, emotional), alcoholism, violence, body horror

Overview: I was kind of lukewarm on Naomi Novik's Uprooted, but I usually give authors multiple chances before giving up on them, so I acquired a copy of Spinning Silver. Unfortunately, after this reading experience, it seems that my attitude towards Novik's books is still lukewarm, so perhaps I'm just not the target audience or type of reader that enjoys Novik's work. Novik clearly has a talent for taking inspiration from fairy tales (without fully replicating them) and creating believable worlds full of magic and beauty; however, I do think this book suffered from a sluggish pace and a weak plot. There were moments of interest, but personally, I felt weighted down by the overabundance of detail. For that reason, this book only gets 2.5 stars from me.

Writing: Novik's prose is generally well-crafted and creates a somber, chilling atmosphere, which enhances the mood. I liked the way Novik described the harshness of winter, especially at the beginning, and the iciness that seems to follow the fae characters around. I also think the prose is very clear with little ambiguity, so readers won't feel overwhelmed or lost when going through this novel.

However, I also think Novik has a tendency to overwrite and include a lot of things that slow the pace down. Large chunks of the book are dedicated to describing things in seemingly minute detail - pages devoted to running in the forest, chapters devoted to mundane life in the fae realm, and so on - and while some description is nice, too much of it makes the book feel bloated. Personally, I thought Novik spent too much time on things that didn't contribute to plot or character development, and as a result, this book didn't feel like it was building towards anything.

I also personally felt like there were too many POVs. Most of the book is divided into 3 primary POVs (discussed below), which is fine - those in themselves would be easy to follow. However, Novik also adds random POVs (Stepon, Magreta, Mirnatius) that don't seem to add anything to the narrative. It's another example of overwriting, and I would have liked to see Novik get more creative using restraint.

Plot: The plot of this book follows three main POVs: (1) Miryem, the daughter of a moneylender, whose aptitude for turning a profit catches the attention of the Staryk - a race of fae creatures who are obsessed with gold; (2) Wanda, a servant, who is sent to work in Miryem's home in order to pay off her abusive father's debts; and (3) Irina, the daughter of a Duke, who is married to an evil tsar.

Each POV had moments of excitement followed by long stretches of dull, plodding narrative. For example, I was very interested in Miryem's arc when she decided to save her family from poverty and worked to get her finances secured, but my interest tapered off when she ventured to the Staryk world and spent multiple chapters figuring out how to command servants to bring her meals, a bath, a sled, etc. Personally, I don't find books compelling when characters spend large chunks of time just kind of reacting to their world; I like plots that have a bigger picture, and this book, sadly, didn't quite seem to have one.

Moreover, I felt like the overall plot for the book was somewhat weak in that most of the big moments felt unsupported. There isn't much suspense in this book or the feeling that scenes were building on one another towards a climax; instead, I felt like characters were making a lot of decisions in the moment, and it was hard to look forward to the eventual cumulation of the narrative. Even when a climax did happen, it felt overshadowed by the pages and pages of unnecessary detail about mundane things, and some scenes forwent any sense of intrigue in favor of descriptions of things like day to day life. For example, there is a moment in the book when it is revealed that in order to capture the Staryk king, the characters will need a silver chain and a ring of fire. Rather than make these items mystical or difficult to obtain, Novik takes for granted that they are on hand. As a result, we don't really get a plan for capturing the Staryk king; characters just kind of wing it and we're left with passages about travel, about dressing for a special occasion, etc. I personally didn't find it compelling.

Characters: There are a lot of characters in this book, so I'll only cover a few of them, for brevity.

Miryem, the POV moneylender, is somewhat interesting at first when she makes the decision to be hard-hearted in order to Dave her family from starving. I really liked that she took matters into her own hands and that there was tension between her and her parents as a result. However, once she subtracts the notice of the Staryk king, she didn't seem to be especially clever or interesting, as she spends a lot of time in conflict with the Staryk and her motivation, in my opinion, for wanting to go home wasn't made particularly emotional or heartfelt.

Wanda, Miryem's servant, was perhaps even less interesting because she doesn't really do anything special and Novik doesn't make her ordinariness out to be something treasured. Granted, we are told that Wanda has a good heart and is loved by Miryem's family, but personally, I didn't feel like I was being invited to long for a family with Wanda.

Irina, the duke's daughter, is a little more interesting because she is clever and calculating, and I liked that she was willing to make har decisions for the good of the kingdom. Her dynamic with her husband is interesting to watch, and I liked that she was able to run circles around her enemies because she was so overlooked her whole life.

The Staryk king is something of a mixed bag. At times, I liked that he was so cold and distant, and I liked that the book never tried to romanticize his negative traits. I do think Miryem threw her lot in with him way too quickly, and it was unclear why they decided to get together towards the end, so more could have been done to make him both more inhuman and more complex.

Mirnatius, the tsar, is interesting in that he is possessed by a fire demon, and the bargain he has struck with it has made his life miserable. I think having him be dissatisfied with his life was more compelling than just making him evil or completely innocent, and I liked his dynamic with Irina. Sometimes he could seem a little childish, and I do think his psyche could have been explored more deeply, but he wasn't a main character, so I guess it's not the worst thing.

Magra, Irina's nursemaid, and Stepon, Wanda's youngest brother, both seemed sweet and caring but ultimately didn't add anything to the narrative. I didn't think their perspectives were needed, and they didn't develop much as characters.

TL;DR: Spinning Silver suffers from overwriting and a weak plot, the latter of which is characterized by poor pacing, a lack of suspense, and stakes that don't quite resonate emotionally with the reader. While some of the characters were compelling, most of Novik's talents are overshadowed by the bloatedness of the book as a whole, and personally, I think it would have been more effective if Novik reevaluated the shape of the plot and cut back on detail.

[horizon-verizon]

Why was Joffrey Cersei's favorite son?

*EDITED POST* (8/14/23)

Consider what I say below contextualizes Cersei more than what I allow myself HERE.

Definitely Joffrey. Shows her judgment but also her fears. He is the firstborn, the first child she ever had, and introduces her to motherhood and love and one of her new reasons to live and be as aggressive as she is.

I also assume that willfulness and pride equaled "strong" to her since she spent her entire life twisting and angry at the constraints held against her for her gender as well as the societal emphasis on strength for men and warriors. The glorious honor or acclaim that society tells them all comes after that, and the political edge Cersei believes it would.

I don't really remember Cersei's specific thoughts toward him (don't have my book with me, lost it), but I remember her feeling that his psychoticness was better than Tommen's reluctance and shyness. For them and herself. She liked that Joffrey was "willful" and more assertive basically. Tommen was "weak" and more of a burden because she felt she had to push him or drag him to do "what he must" so she abused him, complained about him, and disregarded his feelings multiple times. At the same time, she also very much believes she is looking out for him due to her belief in his inability to meet threats or contention as fiercely as his siblings.

As Joffrey is the firstborn and has that kind of assertiveness, Cersei seems to feel her position is safer with him being the person to be the Lannister ruler and survive. He is, to her, what a Lannister, man, king, and leader should be as well as what she thinks she should always have been if she were a man and already is kinda but pseudo-self-barred from appreciating. And that she, herself a definitely "strong" person and true Lannister, is proven more as one through him.

She's "borrowing" human power (in her mind power = male power) and political power through him psychologically and politically as his Queen Dowager mother. To keep said power, the son must also be "strong". And she's not wrong for thinking that her own power as Dowager and its continuation depends on her children's ability to keep power themselves (I mean that the kids stay in position, not that the kid goes out on diplomatic or very dangerous missions, etc.,, as Joffrey actually has others od that for him)...she, however, flattens the nuances of how someone can keep power because she believes aggressiveness & violence will carry the day (from Tywin and his constant controlling the family and others through fear).

Raising the less assertive and gentle, even a bit nervous Tommen feels more like she's more in danger of losing said power AND makes her feel less of that Lannister leader/"producer". By Tommen being the way he is, Cersei feels more vulnerable and losing control, and closer to the woman abused by her husband as well...which she hates.

Her grief over Joffrey both reveals this and motivates her harsher on Tommen "for his own sake".

[dotdotslump]

Is misandry the other side of the coin of Incel mentality?

I've been on radblr for roughly 6 years now, i'd like to extend an invite to @rad-siren for opening thoughts, awesome new person on radblr, but please do rb/reply at your leisure, as this has been on my mind as i've noticed what-would-be internet troll extremes a few years ago start to manifest in real life lately. @radfae @desaturated7 @terf-scorpion please get in here too. I'm a massive advocate for women growing up with a backbone, acquiring self-esteem, strength, and having the confidence to do whatever they want in their lives without the ever-lingering concern about the interventions of men in their lives setting them back. Being a man, I can clearly see the power imbalance, it exists on all levels, and begins at the most basic level, the fact that we live in a material physical tangible world, that men are on average, larger, more aggressive, and physically stronger than women, and that they have a much wider range of capacity and willingness to exert violence to meet their ends. This tiny advantage, while large and important a long time ago, is now much smaller in the grand scale of things, but is one of many of things that keeps a perceived "advantage" in the minds of many men I've encountered, among all the other crap that tends to poison the minds of developing boys that rots their behaviour going into their teens/adulthood into that of a permanent moid. Their inability to look past their nose leaves them blind and incapable of befitting the shoes of the other sex, even in emulation, and gives them the blissful capacity to commit incomprehensible horrors they'll never understand nor care to. On the other hand, women are taught at very young ages to be submissive, to stay thin and beautiful (don't build muscle mass, stay weak), to be kind and forgiving; even in the face of firsthand injustice. It's so painful to see women exerting genuine kindness from their soul knowing this harsh world is going to snuff out the smile from their face and spring from their step one day. Their attempts at maintaining this character in the face of such vileness turns their stomaches, fills them righteous fury, and they either collapse mentally, from realizing the world they were promised was a lie; the men that cross their lives are spiteful piece of shit they wish they've never encountered; and never want to again, and they either retreat and give up, take their own lives; stuffing themselves away mentally; silently suffering in this world. Or they survive, and fight the uphill battle, of being a woman in this world, each finding their own way to do it. I've read so many passages by women describing what their experience is like in their lives, they tend to invoke and describe a miasma of melancholy, a tired smile, a genuine human experience. But I've yet to see an honest man write how they truly view a woman's experience without the goggles of their own manhood. In my eyes, being born a woman is like being a protagonist character in a Shakespearean tragedy, cursed to live a dreadful journey of events from the beginning. It's so sad, how the good of this world is brought up only to be stomped out by the evils of Men. I don't want to derail, just wanted to build the right context, so let me pull it back to the topic of discussion. So on the one side, we have these fucking idiots with large capacity to exert violence, with the capacity to do so, and are raised with the seeded idea that the world is theirs and to take what they want and do as they please. on the other, we have these (tend to be) physically smaller creatures, who are generally raised to be good in nature, trusting, docile, and to stay weak and only take what they need, and be forgiving no matter what. Of course this is going to end poorly, I don't know why people keep raising their children this way, baffling. Pardon my mspaint, but in my mind the average radfem sits a healthy 4-6 on this scale.

Where anyone sitting in the 1-3 area just probably hasn't had their "peak men" moment but hold some dislike for your average idiot, and everyone -10 to 0 lives lalaland; in a tower in a faraway castle on a cloud, or is an extremely sheltered child of a very wealthy and good intentioned loving family that has overprotected them for far too long. But even women in the 4-6 region, let some men into their lives, or hold some fondness to have one in their lives, but wish they didn't have to go through the bullshit that is dealing with 99 porn brainrotted assholes to find 1 man; who may not even be a match. And I genuinely admire everyone in the 7-8 region of hate, because they know whatsup and have an extra kick of energy/fire that just makes you stop and say, damn. But, 9-10, to utterly deject and go out of your way to oppose half the population and want no association with them (to the point of political lesbianism in very few extreme cases). I see this as the same branch of mentality that drives the creation of Incels - dejected, ugly (physically, mentally, spiritually), spiteful men, who would only want the opposite sex to meet the means to an end("Women should be slaves"). All because women reject them and their inherent ugliness, and their lack of desire and intent to genuinely introspect leaves them twaddling their thumbs in intense frustration quelling for the grace of Pisteis in their lives. While Misandrists are generally arising of people who have had an overwhelming instance(s) of "Peak Men" moment(s) that just flipped the table, and though their cause and anger are just, their calls only invoke violence and create situations where men are silenced in the same way women have been. When a man saying an opposing viewpoint leaves him looking like hes trying to say "not all men", or a Woman bringing up her differing experience leaves her as a "pickme", he/she will be instantly written off without thought and silenced because the embarking situation heeds no call from the opposing side, it's a cry of rage and spite that wants to place a blanket viewpoint and erase everything that it covers. Even though these two sides arise for much differing reasons; from this point of view, the way they're arrived at where they are comes from the same path of intense hatred for the opposite sex, where they just want to quelch the other side. it's destructive, and achieves nothing but short lived "victories" in the name of banners raised in hate. P.S, send me misandry memes in pms i think they're the funniest thing ever and i love seeing guys throw a fit over them when i drop them in social media group chats. The truth only hurts those who live a lie.