#and for what? an empire that treated them like numbers and got rid of them the second they were no longer useful. and what is left??

[starlightartemis]

i am once again feeling unwell over clone troopers

[the-firebird69]

Couple of things we are in receipt of several notices from people who are not in touch with reality. Decided to stop them and we decided to tell them to go away. we we don't have any time for them there's a few other things to note.

- We don't have any time for people to continuously express themselves in the way they are and it is a ridiculous thing they're doing and we need to put them in their place so we can treat them the way they should be and we're getting to it and it's coming together but it will take a bit of time we have two week window here and it has begun and this week will be catastrophic losses for the Morlock across the board and they will lose huge amounts of territory we are going to move into their facilities after we stand like madness and pull everything out and replace everything and it's gonna take a bit we are giving up for that right now I am requesting silence here so we can get some work done we're going to go around and make sure this place is secure. The reason is.

---== About 700 million troops are heading up this way from the SE 200 million from the South Southeast 100 million from the east 300 million from the northeast E 200 million from the north northeast. I added all together is about 1.5 billion more lock and yeah that's the problem with them. They are going to invade the Rings. We don't know if the pseudo empire can hold them off if they use ships they can add the it is are not trying to bring their ships in and that's their problem.

---= We have a high alert going out for this event and others tonight they're building up to twice as much as last night in the Western Hemisphere. I am on attacking people here in Charlotte County who are pseudo empire. And with gusto.

---== We heard John Remallard say that he's going to harm our son while it's going on and he kept on blabbing so gonna make sure he's gone and very very sick of him and his people and they're gonna pay for it coming up very soon.

---== The Morlock are on high alert they are noticing that they are losing people all over the place all over the globe and they're losing troops and keep personnel in positions they're evacuating as a result global population of Morlock is going down rapidly as we've been stating DJA was at 7.42 weeks ago and now he's at 6.8 after night tonight he'll probably be at about 6.4 due to combat and evacuations john Remaard has gone down to 2.9% well he's at 3.4% and he wants to play with the number we do recall that it is about 3.4% and he is going to drop tonight most likely to 3% due to combat and evacuations to the islands and to other areas that are not desegregated. There's a huge deal with this those numbers getting small and they're small and they don't believe it'cause they're all crammed in together and they can't tell. So they're going to get rid of themselves

---= We have a high alert on John Remillard he has to be considered armed and dangerous he's running around town saying he has a weapon a gun in his car. People are pursuing him and when he does this they usually capture him and arrest him he's not supposed to have a gun. He is doing this because he is irate at the treatment he is received and he's mad because of what everyone's doing to him and we can care less it dragged our son through the mud but he's a violent offender and needs to be stopped and people are working on it now. Keeping in mind that he does shoot most people and has not shot at our son.

---= There are a few more things this guy is cocked and loaded and he's crazy right now he got news about the front here and was amazed they're gone he's running around now because of the troops they raised and they're coming in people are telling him to calm down and shut the **** **** and he won't. He's looking forward to grabbing the ball with both horns and going after the pseudo empire and we don't think it'll happen. Not for him. So he's doing it because of the current military maneuver or really separatist maneuver.

- We have several other things to announce we shall in a moment

Thor Freya

Olympus

good

Hera they heat up the said adn ....

are heating 200b now. plan to heat up 800b and will have about 900b left. yes true

Thor Freya

The Immecorlock do not actually have that many ships left once they lose their ships they're gonna start going after the pseudo empire ships yeah there are a bunch of fools.

Right now they've got about 300 billion heated they plan to probably eat 800 billion and yes there are 900 billion left roughly which is about where we put it. At that low number the pseudo empire and others may close in and just finish them off to provoke a response to stop them in areas. We do know that they are incorrect in their behavior and also we have report coming up about the city of separatists areas.

Zig Zag

Olympus

[gffa]

What does balance mean, in terms of the Force? Anakin's supposed to bring balance to the Force, and he does so by killing Palpatine, but I'm a little confused by what balance is supposed to mean in this context. Sorry if this was asked before, something just isn't clicking in my mind about this. I probably saw too many things using the "two jedi, two sith" (meaning Yoda and Obi-Wan and Vader and Sidious) theory for balance, so my entire definition of it in relation to Star Wars is a little off.

Hi!  I’m always up for talking about this again.  :D  I think the thing that trips a lot of people up is the ideas of: - Balance means that there’s the same amount of two things - Balance means equal measures on a scale, rather than about stability That we get caught up in a numbers game, when I don’t think that’s really what Star Wars is about.  If nothing else, look at how Revenge of the Sith ends, with only a handful of Jedi and two Sith, the movie directly tells us it’s not balanced, it’s left in darkness: 

Two Jedi + two Sith = DARKNESS here, not balance.  The GFFA in the time of the Empire reflects this as well, that was not balance, it was about darkness. While there’s no specific, explicit word of god commentary on this, here’s how George Lucas explains How The Force Works, from a 2010 writers meeting for The Clone Wars:

    “The core of the Force–I mean, you got the dark side, the light side, one is selfless, one is selfish, and you wanna keep them in balance. What happens when you go to the dark side is it goes out of balance and you get really selfish and you forget about everybody … because when you get selfish you get stuff, or you want stuff, and when you want stuff and you get stuff then you are afraid somebody is going to take it away from you, whether it’s a person or a thing or a particular pleasure or experience.     “Once you become afraid that somebody’s going to take it away from you or you’re gonna lose it, then you start to become angry, especially if you’re losing it, and that anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering. Mostly on the part of the person who’s selfish, because you spend all your time being afraid of losing everything you’ve got instead of actually living.     “Where joy, by giving to other people you can’t think about yourself, and therefore there’s no pain. But the pleasure factor of greed and of selfishness is a short-lived experience, therefore you’re constantly trying to replenish it, but of course the more you replenish it, the harder it is to, so you have to keep upping the ante. You’re actually afraid of the pain of not having the joy.     “So that is ultimately the core of the whole dark side/light side of the Force. And everything flows from that. Obviously the Sith are always unhappy because they never get enough of anything they want. Mostly, their selfishness centers around power and control. And the struggle is always to be able to let go of all that stuff.     “And of course that’s the problem with Anakin ultimately. You’re allowed to love people, but you’re not allowed to possess them. And what he did is he fell in love and married her and then became jealous. Then he saw in his visions that she was going to die, and he couldn’t stand losing her. So in order to not lose her, he made a pact with the devil to be able to become all-powerful. When he did that, she didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore, so he lost her.     “Once you are powerful, being able to bring her back from the dead, if I can do that, I can become emperor of the universe. I can get rid of the Emperor. I can make everything the way I want it. Once you do that, you’ll never be satiated. You’re always going to be consumed by this driving desire to have more stuff and be afraid that others are going to take it away from you. And they are. Every time you get two Sith together, you have the master, the apprentice, and the apprentice is always trying to recruit another apprentice to join with him to kill the master. The master knows that basically everybody below him wants his job.     “Only way to overcome the dark side is through discipline. The dark side is pleasure, biological and temporary and easy to achieve. The light side is joy, everlasting and difficult to achieve. A great challenge. Must overcome laziness, give up quick pleasures, and overcome fear which leads to hate.”

What this is really getting at is that the Force is about people.  People create it, it creates people, it’s about the emotions those people connect to the Force with, the emotions they pour into it. To balance the Force, it’s not about how many Jedi and Sith there are, but instead about the way people treat each other and what they’re pouring out into the galaxy around them.  And to add another quote from George Lucas on what the most basic meaning of his movies is:

Which says that the light and the dark do not weigh the same. I would instead say that the light is the balance--is there such a thing as too much good in the world?  Too much kindness?  Too much care for other people?  Is the world going to become unstable by people being too nice to each other? George Lucas says that the world works better if you’re on the side of good, so I would say that Star Wars is saying that the light side--the side that’s about caring about other people, about loving other people, about helping other people--is what makes the world work better and that’s basically what “balance” means to Star Wars. What would your own life look like, if you were to say it was “balanced”, on these terms?  Equal amounts of love and hate?  Would you feel that was a stable place to be, emotionally?  Or is it more about how you have some darkness in you, but the point is to face it and overcome it (which is what the Jedi teach + what George Lucas says is how the Force works) and keep choosing love?  That that is what will give you the most stable, balanced form to stand on?

[yesttoheaven]

I SEE YOU – chapter II

pairing – arthur fleck x female!reader

wc – 2.4k

warnings – none, just some rude people. It's gotham.

a/n – I'm late with this chapter, I know... 🙃 but I hope you like it!

chapter one here:

English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.

Y/N – your name

Y/L/N – your last name

A week has passed since Y/N met Arthur Fleck. It was a long week for her – with TV appearances, some biased rumors about a possible affair with her co-star and problems with the city's main NGO. The place was invaded and looters took what little they had to offer to the population. Gotham police were doing their best to find those responsible, but it would take some time.

Despite the problems, Y/N constantly found herself thinking about the brown-haired man. At some point he was always in her thoughts. Since the day she left him in front of a building on Winslow Avenue, they haven't seen each other anymore. Y/N would like to know what he thought of the movie, but the man never came.

Maybe he didn't like the movie, she thought. And that was totally fine. What was not right was this desire to find him again.

On Wednesday, Brian asked if 'the guy with the big shoes' had called her, but the actress confessed that she had not given him her phone number. What the young actress didn’t know, was that Arthur had crossed the city – more than once – just to tell her what he thought about the movie, but his attempts were marked by misunderstandings.

"The entrance for employees is on the other side." The receptionist informed, attracting the attention of Arthur, who was walking through the luxurious hotel lobby. He didn't know if she was talking to him directly, but he approached the counter anyway.

"Huh... Y-You talked to me?"

"You are the new janitor, right?" The woman stopped what she was doing and finally looked at him, repressing the urge to roll her eyes.

Arthur shook his head and with a small smile, he said:

"I'm looking for Y/N Y/L/N." The mere fact of saying her name made his heart run so fast. Arthur could not explain, but since he met Y/N, his days have become colorful. He still suffered from the brutality of the citizens of Gotham, but everything became more bearable.

"Y/N Y/L/N? The actress? Are you sure?" The receptionist asked incredulously and at the same time seemed to hold herself back from laughing. It really seemed like a joke to her. What could this strange man want with Gotham's Golden Star?

"I need to deliver this to her." Arthur showed the VHS tape, hoping it would guarantee his free pass. "What room is she in?"

"Listen, I don't know how you got through security... but you certainly saw all those people out there. Everyone wants to talk to Y/N or just ask for an autograph. The problem is that none of you are allowed to be here."

"Autograph? I'm not here for the autograph! She wants to know m-my opinion about her new movie."

"I'm sure the only opinion that matters to her is that of the Academy of Oscars."

"You are not understanding... We are practically friends, she saved my life in that alley! Ask her! Say that Arthur Fleck is here... S-She... She will remember me!" While Arthur was stuck in his own words, the woman called the security guards.

The moment two men approached, Arthur realized that things were going very, very badly. In his mind everything seemed easy. He found Y/N and she was happy to see him, but in practice he hadn't reached the elevator yet and the security guards were already putting him out.

"Wait! You got it wrong..." He tried to explain and get rid of the men who were holding him, but the receptionist just shook her head, telling them to get him out of the lobby before the residents showed up to see this show. This would not be good for the hotel's image. "I just want to see Y/N..."

"That's what everyone wants." One of the men said, laughing.

"And I wanted her to dance for me." The other security guard confessed, sighing sadly, while that desire would remain only in his dirty imagination.

Near the main door of the luxurious hotel, they treated Arthur like trash, throwing him on the sidewalk. The poor man managed to maintain his balance and remain standing with the little dignity that remained, but that disappeared as soon as a painful laugh cut his throat.

"Go back to your filthy home! You are too old for this fan and idol thing."

...

When the elevator doors opened, Brian left the metal box accompanied by two officers. Because of the police's satisfactory commitment in this case – obviously Y/N's status contributed to this – the actress received good news. The stolen supplies from the institution were found in a shed and a man was caught in the act. Other suspects are still being sought, but the only piece that doesn’t fit, is that the owner of this shed is Thomas Wayne, candidate for mayor and also owner of WayneCorp.

"Tell Miss. Y/L/N that we will capture the responsible."

"Or those responsible." The other officer added, reinforcing his commitment to the citizens of Gotham.

As soon as the officers left the building, Brian intended to go back to Y/N's room and check on her, mainly after receiving new information about the case, but his plans were interrupted by Susan, the receptionist. She showed a big smile, waving, and he approached the counter trying to look friendly.

"Hey, Susan! How was your day?"

"You know, check-in, check-out... The same things." She laughed, shaking her head. Her job was not exciting, but it paid her bills. That was enough. "I saw the cops... Do they have any suspects?" Curiosity was plastered on her face and Brian sighed, fully understanding why she had called for him. Gossip.

"Unfortunately I can't give too many details, but they are doing a good job." He stated, satisfied with the investigations.

"I don't know if that can help anything, but maybe he participated in the theft..." The woman murmured. The words seemed to be directed at herself, like a loud thought, but the bodyguard was unable to ignore and asked:

"What are you talking about, Susan?"

"A man was here looking for Miss. Y/L/N. His insistence scared me. He was determined to go into her room, only God knows what he intended to do, so I called the security guards, they put the man out. But Carl saw him across the street for three days straight."

"You did the right thing. It's unbelievable how Gothan became a fucking asylum!"

"Do you think I don't know? Sometimes it feels like we're living in hell... But the freak left his name. Arthur Fleck. I don't know if it's real, but you should check with the police."

"I will do this... Wait! Did you say Arthur Fleck?" Brian questioned, as confusion appeared on his face. That name was familiar to him.

"It's a strange name for a strange guy."

If it were possible, a lamp would be shining next to Brian's head right now. Arthur Fleck is the name of the guy with the big shoes.

Without any explanation, Brian ran for the elevator, leaving Susan extremely confused behind. When he arrived at the actress' room, he found her talking on the phone. She didn't look happy.

"Oh, he does not want to talk to me? Very busy, huh? You know I don't like to get involved in these problems... but he started it, Alfred!" Y/N had crossed her limit. The only thing she wanted to do was talk to Thomas Wayne about the NGO supplies that magically appeared in his shed, but that would be impossible. Alfred insisted, saying that the billionaire was at an important business meeting and that he had no connection to the theft. "Okay, I will not insist. Maybe when you regain your senses, you understand my side. Have a nice day, Alfred!" She ended the call and looked at Brian.

"I can't believe you called Thomas..."

"Likewise when he called the mayor’s office trying to ban the showing of Midnight Seduction." The actress argued, showing a fake smile. "These NGOs that I help, they are hindering his path, it is not very difficult to see. You know how men like Thomas Wayne build their empires. It's not pretty."

"God, I know... but be careful what you say. It is a very serious accusation." He advised, concerned for her safety. Y/N just walked over to the table in the center of the room, picking up her glass of scotch and drinking all the amber liquid.

"Don't worry, I'm used to white-collar men."

"Oh, I can see it, but I hope you're used to clowns too, because I have news about the guy with the big shoes." Brian started, capturing her attention immediately.

"Arthur was here?" Y/N's voice took on a hopeful tone and a beautiful smile formed on her lips. For a moment it was as if all her problems were gone.

"Well..." Brian cleared his throat, choosing the right words to tell her, but deep down he knew it wouldn't work. "Arthur was committed to seeing you, but Susan did not allow his entry."

"Why she did it? Usually she talks to me first..."

"It is the protocol, but in this case she considered his behavior to be atypical. I don't know if he was nervous and had another fit of laughter in the middle of the lobby, but she believed that he could present you with some danger or even be involved in the theft of the NGO... The security guards kicked him out."

For the first time in this conversation, Y/N didn't know what to say. The words were stuck in her throat. She felt stupid for not giving Arthur her number or simply putting his name on the reception list. Any of these options would have avoided the embarrassment he went through.

"Maybe you should talk to him. Do you know where he lives." The blond-haired man suggested. It was clear as the day outside that Y/N was silently blaming herself for what happened and that was not fair to her. "What do you think?"

"Arthur possibly hates me now..." She murmured, walking across the room. First he was beaten in a dark alley and now humiliated, practically compared to a criminal. All Y/N wanted at the moment was to go down to the lobby to clarify some points with Susan, but Brian was right. Talking to Arthur is the best she could do. "Prepare the car."

"What? Now?" The surprise was tangible in his voice.

"I don't know, maybe next month?" She rolled her eyes. "You have an appointment?"

"No, but you have." Brian added, crossing his arms. It took a few minutes, but as soon as the actress finally remembered, her mouth opened in a perfect O.

"The dinner with Charles is today! I completely forgot!"

"And before that I need to get Misty. If she gets here with the makeup artist and you're on the other side of town, we'll be in big trouble."

"Maybe not." Y/N smiled.

...

"If Misty finds out where we are..."

"First: You need to calm down. Second: She will only know if you open your mouth and tell her." Y/N listed it on her fingers and then took off her sunglasses, looking at the building across Winslow Avenue. "Just trust me."

"I think I will regret this later." He whispered to himself, leaving the interior of the car and opening the door for her. Y/N accepted the help and together they went to the entrance to the building. The next step would be to find out which floor Arthur lived with his mother. "And now what do we do, genius?"

"I confess I didn't think about that part..." The actress replied, looking around curiously. The place was nothing like the luxurious buildings in downtown. There was no lobby to ask for information and the reality here was completely different.

"Do you need help?" Brian and Y/N were surprised by a female voice and found a woman near the building's front door, holding some groceries from the market.

"Oh, hi!" Y/N smiled as the woman approached where they were. "We are a little lost... Do you know which floor Arthur Fleck lives on?" After that question, a mixture of confusion and surprise appeared on the woman's face.

She didn't believe it when Arthur said that a downtown girl saved his life, especially when that girl was the Gotham's Golden Star. It seemed impossible, but now Y/N Y/L/N was here, asking to see him.

Abandoning these thoughts, Sophie smiled, agreeing immediately.

"You are lucky. Arthur and I live on the same floor, I can accompany you there."

The actress smiled appreciatively and Brian offered to help with the bags from the grocery store. As soon as they were inside the metal box, the woman pressed the number 8 button and looked at Y/N, saying:

"By the way, I’m Sophie Dumond."

"Nice to meet you, Sophie. I am..."

"Oh, I know who you are." She stated, dispensing with the introduction. "I mean... Gotham breathes you!"

"Sometimes it is strange to open the window and see your own face on a billboard or on TV." Y/N confessed. The fame was glamorous, but sometimes suffocating.

"It sure is better than opening the window and seeing a pile of garbage. This is the privileged view we have here." The woman argued, laughing at the situation and the elevator stopped on the eighth floor. "Well, Arthur lives there." After leaving the metal box, she pointed to the end of the hall and while Brian helped her with the bags from the grocery store, Y/N thanked Sophie for the information and walked to the location indicated.

Looking at the "8J" sign, she took a deep breath, wishing she had a mirror nearby to check her appearance. She wanted to be presentable to finally meet Arthur again, even though he might be mad at her. Gathering courage, Y/N knocked on the door. To her disappointment, no one came. The apartment continued in absolute silence.

"Don't tell me there is no one at home." Brian appeared beside her. Realizing that the actress was anxious, he knocked on the door again, with more insistence this time. "We can come back another day..."

Without a better option, Y/N was ready to go back to the elevator, when the door was opened unexpectedly, revealing a woman on the other side.

"Hello, you must be Arthur's mother! I'm Y/N and this is Brian, we are friends of your son."

–––––––––––––––––

a/n – I really don't know if anyone is going to read this, but I would be happy to know what you think of the story :)

[eurosong]

Undo my ESC '21 (semi-final two)

Good afternoon folks, and welcome to the second part of Undo my ESC – my annual quest to make the year’s Eurovision better (at least, for me xD) by making a feasible change in each country – it could be something as small as altering a lyric or a staging detail, or as big as a different artist entirely winning the NF. Semi-final one was here so let's jump straight into SF2!

🇸🇲 San Marino: We're thrown into the deep end here with a fan fav that doesn't do at all for me. I'm one of maybe 5 people on the planet who prefers Freaky by far, I guess? I'm happy for Senhit to be getting so much love and for the diminutive serene republic to finally have a shot at a good result - but I'm not so keen on the way it's been done. There's a bit of cognitive dissonance for me because my favourite thing about Adrenalina is Flo Rida's rap, but I don't like the idea of bringing in famed American artists like "ringers" to elevate a song above one with "only" local talent. I would be so tempted to give the rap part to local artist IROL instead to spit some hot bars in Italian.

🇪🇪 Estonia: I had hope this year, I really did, for my era of absolutely adoring Estonia at ESC to be revived after 4 painful years. There were so many good songs at this year's Eesti Laul, like those of Ivo Linna, Egert, Gram of fun, Heleza - but ultimately, my huge favourite was, as expected, Jüri Pootsmann. Anyone who followed this blog back in 2016 knows how much I adore Jüri and was desperate to see him get a redemption arc at ESC itself. Magus melanhoolia was one of the best songs of the season for me and one of the best stagings. As much as I prefer '20 artists to get their shot in '21, problematic Uku with his toxic ex vibes song will have to step aside and let the Jüri renaissance happen here.

🇨🇿 Czechia: I really dig Benny Cristo - he has personality, presence and his own enjoyable style. At first I was kinda disappointed with Omaga because I was expecting something more in the vein of Kemama, with more pronounced Afrobeat influences. But it has grown on me a lot too. My change? Add more Czech than just one blink-and-you-miss-it line, mate! (Article continues below)

🇬🇷 Greece: I see this being talked up as potential televote top 3 and I just don't get it. Maybe it's the way the chorus rhymes dance with itself three times (and uses the term rockin' romance unironically); maybe it's the way that there are better 80s-inspired songs both in ESC and many fallen tributes in the NF season... it just leaves me cold. I actually preferred Supergirl and my change would be for Stefania to bring something with some actual Greek flair.

🇦🇹 Austria: I’ll echo what I said last year about Österreich – how did they go from Conchita to a guy who wished he wouldn’t have gay kids like this? I find both of this guy's songs insipid in different ways and I would invite Pænda back instead to avenge her getting robbed with the beautiful Limits. Or give a second shot at glory to the incredible Cesár!

🇵🇱 Poland: Unpopular opinion, but I absolutely love The Ride, and I feel bad for Alicja, but I much prefer it to Empires. What started as an ironic fondness for Rafał's cringy uncle vibes ended up being genuine appreciation - it's one of the few 80s-inspired songs that sound like they actually could have come out of that decade rather than like modern pastiches. And Raf actually does have an awkward charisma. My change - insert some Polish! Poland does so well with natural sounding bilingual efforts in JESC, they should bring it to the main contest too!

🇲🇩 Moldova: I was lowkey prepared to be disappointed by Moldova - I actually enjoyed Prison a lot and the news that they were going in a completely different direction didn't sit so well with me. And yet, I also love Sugar. Natalia's power! My changes: get rid of that weird scene with literally egg on her face - too on the nose for me. And incorporate a bit of the stellar Russian translation, Tuz bubi, because I'm always going to be advocating for more linguistic diversity xD

🇮🇸 Iceland: Daði Freyr can literally do no wrong with me. Whilst it doesn't have the same intense extra-fandom hype that Think about things did, I think I like Ten years even more. Nothing to change here.

🇷🇸 Serbia: It's no secret that Hurricane were far from my favourites at Beovizija 20, and that I find this a downgrade for Sanja compared to her powerful '16 song. And yet... Hasta la vista grew on me a lot, and so has Loco loco. It's something that is definitely scratching an itch at this year's ESC and the burst of anarchic energy it'll provide will be amazing. I am seriously tempted to change to the acoustic version, though, which has all the attitude of the original but is more beautiful for me and lets the girls' voices shine more.

🇬🇪 Georgia: Georgia keeps serving acquired tastes, and as a patron saint of marginal genres and I love them for that. This year, they've gone for something that even many fans of Tornike find hard to swallow - gone is the roaring rock of last year, replaced with a much more contemplative, soft effort that reminds me a little of Lou Reed. I enjoy both songs, but I can't deny preferring 2020. At the same time, I admire the chutzpah required to send something so different. I just wish there could be a moment to properly showcase T's powerhouse vocals.

🇦🇱 Albania: It was an odd Festival i këngës this year, outdoors in the freezing cold and without the orchestra that makes the songs soar so much more for me. Karma is a perfectly respectable winner, albeit one that lacks the immediacy and rawness of Shaj, Ktheju tokës and Mall. In my ideal alternate reälity, Arilena Ara would have been invited back. She'd bring a song as beautiful as Shaj - and not do a revamp into English that removes its edge this time.

🇵🇹 Portugal: 2015-2020 was a full on Portugal stan era for me. I want to believe that this year is an aberration and that in 2022, our lusitanian neighbours will produce the goods once again. Because ending a colossal streak of not sending songs that don't include Portuguese for this? I am baffled. I wanted the anthemic Joana do mar, produced beautifully by Luísa Sobral, or the timeless Contramão, which sounds like it escaped a Nouvelle Vague soundtrack. Saudade, Por um triz or a number of others would have been grand too.

🇧🇬 Bulgaria: I wasn't expecting much from Bulgaria - I really didn't and don't like TGS and the majority of songs in Victoria's NF-but-not-really aren't my cup of tea. I was happy she got her second chance, but resigned to not liking the song much that would get picked. And then, my fav, which was last in many community ratings, ended up being her pick. I adore GUIGO and believe it has the possibility to do very, very well at Rotterdam and be one of the 'moments' of the evening.

🇫🇮 Finland: CRIMINAL how YLE treated Aksel - it felt like he wasn't the defending champion, and that Erika Vikman had won the previous year. They also - I believe, deliberately - split his vote by making his just one of a number of ballads, so of course what stood out most were the two decidedly non-ballady songs. Finland only two years ago had a single-artist UMK. They could and should have brought it back for Aksel. I'd hope Hurt would win it, because that song is stunning.

🇱🇻 Latvia: I was, and am, delighted that Latvia stuck with Samanta Tina. The lady lives and breathes ESC, even wrote a university thesis about it, and if she tried so many times, finally won and then DIDN'T get to go to ESC, I would have gone to LTV headquarters personally to remonstrate. I really like both her songs. The moon is rising is poised, powerful and like nothing else this year. The only thing I'd change is adding some Latvian because it's a gorgeous language and we've been waiting for ages to hear it again.

🇨🇭 Switzerland: Gjon's song is once again not really my cup of tea, or tears - but I enjoy it better than last year's and I'm glad he's back. Highkey wish it did include Albanian or Romansch like confused commenters last year thought it did.

🇩🇰 Denmark: There is literally no excuse for Denmark's treatment of Ben & Tan. I'm not even a big fan of their music at all, out to not even allow them to compete in DMGP to defend their win with Iron heart? Even though there are songs that competed in DMGP that I prefer a lot, most notably Står lige her, I would probably have let them have a proper second chance.

And the automatic qualifiers voting in this semi -

🇫🇷 France: For me, France had an absolutely enthralling, sincere, perfectly Gallic entry that hit me so hard in the feels. And whilst I respect Voilà, no, that wasn't it. It was Pourvu qu'on m'aime, easily one of the best songs I heard all year inside NFs or out. I find Voilà a little too mannered and affected, whilst PQM is a shot straight from Juliette's heart into mine. In my dream, it'd have won CVQD and be receiving the same love that Voilà is right now.

🇪🇸 Spain: Whilst it is getting next to no love in the fandom and seems quite forgotten, I find Voy a quedarme one of the best songs sent from this country in several years - and I say that having preferred Memoria. I am proud of Blas and love that he had a hand in writing this song. My change? He said recently that the staging in Rotterdam won't be inspired by the poignant music video despite wanting it to be - I would incorporate elements from it in the live.

🇬🇧 United Kingdom: Frankly, I think almost all the Big 5+1 brought it this year, with the notable exception of Germany. Embers is the banger that I never thought was coming from James Newman, and it's been one of the biggest earworms of the season. I wouldn't change anything about it - I'd just ensure that the staging replicated the energy of the video as much as possible!

[ink-feathers-and-paper]

Accepting help

Original Work: The Hurricane

The characters and the story belong to me.

Prompt: Sicktemper 2021 - prompt 23) Ear infection

Number of words: 3458 words

Notes: yeah, I know, it's not September 23 yet but I never do the prompts in the right order anyway... and I didn't want to wait to post it.

Oh, and English isn't my first language, so if there are any mistakes please tell me!

...

Blue was blind. She lost one eye to illness as a child, the other in battle. That wasn’t a fatality in itself. In fact, she didn’t really care about it, she was living fine without sight. She relied on her other senses to hear, smell, taste and feel the world around her. It was how she lived the world, her way, and it was perfect as it was, she didn’t need an extra sense.

Especially when losing her sight meant that she gained so, so much more.

And, oh, wasn’t magic a wonderful thing, letting her feel the presence of everything and everyone around her? From the smallest ant to the biggest of dragons, all had a presence that she could feel.

And that wasn’t all! She was linked to Earth – oh, her dear mother Earth that gave life to her and her people, created them from the back rocks and red sands of her Desert – and thus the ground itself, the one under her feet, was alive and singing to her, chanting for her, humming sweet nothings in her ears.

Yes, magic was wonderful, and Blue’s ears could hear it all and more.

So, when one day she couldn’t hear anything, she frowned.

What’s wrong? she asked, but she got no answer. Of course. The Earth may be alive and sentient, She still was nothing but earth. With no way to hear Blue’s prayer, no way to answer her. Blue could, but She could not.

Perhaps She is just moody today, though Blue with a shrug. It happened sometimes, that magic didn’t want to be seen, heard of felt in any manner. It didn’t make Blue’s life any easier, but she could deal with it.

It never lasted anyway.

Her right ear – the one that was burned – was hurting, but perhaps she just wasn’t used to silence.

Or perhaps the foxes are playing? supposed the young woman a few days later. The magic was still silent, and Blue was getting antsy. Young kitsune foxes fed on the ambient magic and sometimes took a little bit too much.

But she couldn’t feel them anywhere. Where they were usually stood a beacon of magic, in the shape of a fox. Yet she couldn’t hear them anywhere.

They must be gone, they realised they took too much from this place and left to feed elsewhere. They will be back when the magic will be fully replenished.

Still, she missed her companions.

Using magic was getting harder and harder, more tiring each time. It felt like most of it wanted to pool in her head, near her ears, but she needed it elsewhere, so she steeled herself and made it bow to her will.

Days passed, and still nothing. Blue’s other ear was hurting too now, she was tired. Even the smallest of spells took a lot out of her and oh, what if she was losing her magic? – that would explain so much!

(Blue was scared.

She didn’t know what she would do if she lost her magic. Losing her sight was nothing in comparison to what it would mean for her.

Losing her magic would destroy her like nothing ever did before

And she wasn’t sure she could get back up from something like that.)

“Okay, are you going to tell me what’s wrong with you?” asked Youko.

Her friend sounded worried, but her voice was faint as if she were talking from all the way across the room and not sitting just beside her.

“Oh, hi. When did you come back from your mission?”

Her hair still smelled like the sea, like iodine and warm sand. Even a princess like Youko had to do her part in the reconstruction of the Empire. Especially Youko, actually.

“Last night. I wanted to see you, but I was so exhausted, I just collapsed on my bed. Thank goodness I managed to change and shower, Arashi would never let me live it down otherwise.”

Blue giggled. Arashi once came back from a mission so exhausted that he had fallen asleep in his bed, dirty boots, and bloody clothes and all. When the redhead had woken up, he had been horrified to discover that he had brought bedbugs back from his mission. It had taken him a month to fully get rid of them.

Of course, Youko had found this hilarious, and Arashi had been looking for revenge material ever since.

“But, hey, enough about me. Are you okay? You look sick.”

And, if she were being honest, Blue felt sick, too. But it couldn’t be that, her magic protected her.

“I’m fine, I just… didn’t know you were back.”

“You didn’t?”

Blue could imagine her expression, all right. She had seen it so many times before, when one of their friends got injured and didn’t tell her. Wide coppery bronze eyes lighting up in worry and anger and why didn’t you tell me sooner, you bloody idiot?!

(Why do I have to fucking guess when you are injured? I am the team medic for a reason, for fuck’s sake! Come to me!)

“I’m tired,” deflected Blue. “I overexerted myself, I think.”

“… then what are you doing out of bed?!”

Blue didn’t have a chance. Youko manhandled her onto her shoulder (darn, her friend was so strong for a so-called healer!) and carried her potato-bag-style to her room despite Blue’s protests. They grew weaker and weaker as laughter shook her shoulders and the woman resigned herself.

Youko kicked the door of her apartment open with more force than necessary and dropped her captive on the bed. “Phew, you’re heavy! You should exercise more.” Blue protested as she tried to get up but Youko kept a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t you dare move, you hear me? I’m coming right back.”

“I have duties!” protested the dark-skinned woman, fighting the hand that pinned her to the bed. “I can’t just drop them all like that.”

“Sure you can. Bedrest, doctor’s order. Don’t make me use my authority as a princess on you, Blue.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Watch me.” Her friend’s voice got softer as a hand gingerly brushed over Blue’s tightly curled hair. “You are not alone in this, you know this, right? Let me take care of a few things for you. Everyone’s in town. My brothers, Arashi, Ankora… we can help too… if you’d just let us.”

Blue felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. She grabbed her friend’s hand and squeezed it.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and Youko softly kissed her forehead.

“Thanks for letting me take care of you.”

Exhaustion washed over the Mage, and Youko hadn’t even reached the door that she was already asleep.

The next time Blue woke up, she was in too much pain to ignore. She groaned as she tried to stand, but she felt dizzy. She had the mother of all headaches, her throat was dry, and her skin was warm and clammy.

Her ears held the worst of the pain, and when Blue lifted a hand to her head, she had to bite a pained gasp. Her right ear, in particular, was hot and wet under her touch, strange-smelling liquid oozing from it. The whole room smelled like it, actually, her pillow was soaked in it. Yuk. It didn’t look good

(Ha! Blind reference!)

She was sick. Sick. Had probably been for days. What an idiot, she admonished herself. Idiot, idiot, idiot!

And she didn’t realise, didn’t tell Youko.

Oh fuck.

Youko was going to murder her. Gleefully. She was going to cut her into pieces, stamp on them and then burn whatever remained. And she was going to dance on her ashes.

The dark-skinned woman tried to stand up, but her energy had abandoned her and she fell back on her bed with a pained moan.

Great. Couldn’t get up, nobody to hear her call from the corridor and no way to call for a servant either. Blue had requested – demanded actually, you could do that when you were best friends with the Imperial family – for no guards to stand at her door nor servants assigned to her room.

They would always treat her like a fragile thing as if she were made of glass. As if being blind hadn’t kept her from fighting in two bloody fucking wars, as if being blind made her inept to live for herself.

It infuriated her.

Well, in five years, it would be the first time she would regret that particular decision.

The woman sighed and tried to summon her magic. She could call for one of the foxes to deliver a message for her, or…

Her magic sizzled and snapped. Blue cried out, more from the surprise than the pain, and rolled off her bed and on her feet, all weakness forgotten.

She was a trained soldier, and if the last years had made go soft, some instincts were hard to kill.

She stood in her bedroom, raised elbows and ready to fight for her life. She strained her ears, but everything was muted. She tried to feel the earth under her bare feet, the vibrations of the air on her skin.

But there was no one in her room… or no one that she could find or sense. And considering how fucked up her senses were, she couldn’t fully trust what they told her.

“Show yourself!” she panted. She tried summoning magic once again, but her power reared up and snarled like a wild horse. Dread pooled in her gut. “What have you done to me?” she screeched.

The smell of illness cloyed the room and her nose, her ears were out of commission and her magic didn’t answer her.

For the first time in forever, Blue wished she could see. She wished she hadn’t been amputated from a sense, because it made her oh so dependent on the others and she couldn’t function without them.

She was fine without sight, but no sight and no hearing?

That would be the end of her world, chose one or the other, not both.

Weakness started to creep back in her, dizziness filled her head, and Blue fell on her knees.

“Blue!”

Arashi.

“Blue, what’s wrong! Your magic is all worked up!”

A hand on her forehead, a curse. The man scooped her up and Blue didn’t even think to protest.

“Fuck, you’re burning up. Hold on, okay? Hold on.”

Blue barely heard him. She fell in and out of consciousness as Arashi carried her to Youko’s apartments.

(They were closer to her rooms than the infirmary.

Oh, how many times did she end up there coming back from a mission or after a spell gone wrong?

How many evenings did their little group spent there, finally together after months apart, chatting and laughing in the night – forgetting everything but each other – until the sun rose and they had to prepare for yet another day of war?)

Blue could faintly smell medicinal herbs and remedies. She could hear Youko fuss over her, her skin smelling of lavender and her still-wet hair of tea tree. Long strands brushed over Blue’s bare skin, fresh and wet, and Blue sighed.

When she woke up, she was in Youko’s bed, surrounded by her smell and old books. A young kitsune fox was sleeping on the pillow next to her, its tail brushing over her arm repeatedly. It was still too young and weak to appear on the physical plane. It could only exist in the magical plane, for now, making it invisible to nearly anyone but her. Good, my magic sense is back.

It had probably been drawn to the buzz around her head, where the Healer was working her magic, her hands on Blue’s ears. Normal healing magic, that could only accelerate healing – not her battlefield one.

(The one that could reverse time on wounds and then re-apply them on enemies.

The one Youko had inherited from her mother, and now she was the only living being in the world who could use it.

The one that nearly took Youko’s life.)

Blue still opened her eyes when she woke, they weren’t sealed shut by injuries after all. Youko had done a great job at healing the burn on her face, she just couldn't save the eye.

“Oh, good, you’re awake. How do you feel?”

“Awful,” Blue croaked. Her friend laughed.

“I can guess. You had quite a high fever, you’ve slept the whole day off! Didn’t even wake up, just grumbled something as I healed you and immediately went to sleep. It’s early in the morning if you wanna know. Arashi brought you yesterday night.”

“Oh.”

So much work to catch up on! cried Blue in her mind.

“You have an ear infection.” Youko continued. “The right’s worse than the left, it started there. Your magic was completely focused on it, it tried to heal it but, well… it’s not your speciality for a reason. It helped slow the infection down, though. Blue… why didn’t you tell someone that you felt off? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Blue felt her throat tighten up. “I… didn’t realise, I guess. I was too caught up in my work, too… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Sight. A hand in her hair, brushing it back, and Blue leaned into the hand. It was warm, it smelled of lavender under the sting of medicinal herbs and remedies.

“Headslut,” Youko teased, even though she was the same. “I’m gonna ask Ryuu to give you days off. You can’t keep going like that, Blue…”

The dark-skinned woman stood up on her elbows. Ryuu was the consort of the actual Empress of the Guryong Empire. He also was Youko’s older brother. He was in charge of the army and the safety of the Empire. His wife, more diplomatic, handled the politics.

“I can’t!” growled Blue. “You know I can’t, else I would’ve asked someone already. It’s just… I am the only one who can sense magic like I do, Youko. No one else can even begin to imagine what I feel, hear, taste, feel and, yes, see! I am the only one who can detangle those thousands of hundreds-year-old spells through the city and the Empire! I can’t stop ‘till it’s done because my work makes the matrix of spells unstable, and who knows how long it will last? I can’t just drop it like that.”

Youko hummed in answer. Her hands went straight back to Blue’s ears and she started healing again. Neither woman spoke for a while. Then, the Healer sighed.

“I am the only one who has inherited my mother’s power. I am tasked with keeping her legacy alive, her knowledge, her art alive. Did you know she had three full libraries of notes? As well as four labs, only two assistants that knew a tiny part of her projects and over ten ongoing experiments when she died. I had to pick that all up and, well, continue her work. She took some of her secrets with her to the grave, too, so each time I do something, I don’t know if I have all the information… and if it will explode in my face or not.”

“How many times did it explode in your face?”

Youko giggled. “More often than I’d care to admit,” she said. “My point is, we all have tasks that only us can do. And yet you don’t see us neglect ourselves. I try to finish my mother’s life work. Arashi’s the only ambassador we have that can get in contact with the Demon Realm. Soren’s head of intelligence, but now he’s also head of the council and has to give advice to Ryuu. Ryuu, Blue! Do you know how hard his skull is? You have to fucking hammer your point home for him to actually listen to you, and he’s doing better since our teenage years! How is that possible?!”

She stomped, throwing her hands around while she ranted. Blue laughed.

“You know, I think he’s doing it just to mess with you.”

“I know! That’s the worse part of it all, I know he’s just pretending, and I hate that he still manages to make me mad!”

“He’s your big brother, he’ll always be annoying.”

“He’s the absolute worst,” Youko grumbled, but Blue could hear the fondness in her voice. “There,” she added suddenly. “All healed up. But I’m keeping you there for another day, ‘else I don’t think you’re going to follow my orders.”

“Which are?”

Youko grabbed her face with two hands and rested her forehead against Blue’s. “Bedrest. Strict.”

“Hmph!”

“I’m nod kidding. I’m gonna stay in this chair, just next to you, to make sure you don’t leave this bed. And it sucks, because I can’t do my work here.”

They were in Youko’s bedroom, no one wanted her to blow this wing of the palace up. The mental image of a restless Youko, away from her labs and books made Blue laugh.

“Forced vacation for the both of us, then, I guess!” she teased. “Can’t be that bad.”

“Aaaargh! You know what, I take back what I said about Ryuu, you’re the worst.”

“Yep, that’s me, your oldest friend!” said Blue cheerfully. “You’re stuck with me until the end, deal with it!”

Youko whined as if she were dying, and Blue laughed. She had forgotten how good it felt to just hang out with a friend and not working beside one another. It felt like a breath of fresh air after a long time inside, a whiff of spring after a hard winter.

“Wait, I was in the middle of my lesson here, why did you interrupt me?” Youko suddenly slammed a hand on her forehead. “Nice diversion here, Blue,” she said with false venom. “Uuugh, I hate you, I don’t remember where I was now!”

“At the part where you are working on the projects your mother left behind.”

“Oh, yeah, right, thank you. I love you again.”

“Yuk!” Blue stuck her tongue out in disgust. “Thank you, but no thank you!”

“You’re impossible” the other deadpanned. “How am I friend with you again?”

“I struck sand in your eyes and you hit me with a book in retaliation.”

Youko teared up. “… fuck, and that’s my tamest friendship. I’m a lost cause, aren’t I?”

“Yep!” Blue popped the ‘p’ childishly. “But we can be lost causes together, so it’s alright.”

“Thank you. Oh, well, back to what I was saying. I hired more assistants, you know? Didn’t want to become stuck in my work as my mother was, I’d end up crazy. I needed help anyway. My point is… you don’t have to do this alone. You could, you know, teach someone.”

Blue blinked.

“Youko, I’m blind.”

“And? That’s never stopped you before, has it?”

“Losing my sight was what allowed me to start sensing magic as I do. My magic sense, it… I only obtained it because I had to develop all my senses to make up for blindness.”

“And your brain gives it the form of sight, I know.” finished Youko. “But that’s not what I was saying. Your students – if you take students, which I strongly recommend– they don’t have to see – sorry, sense – the world like you do, but if they can sense what you sense in their own way, then they could help you.”

It felt like a breeze on her skin, the smell of spring, the earth after rain. So many possibilities, so many opportunities. How did I not think of this sooner?!

Her friend was still piling up arguments to try and convince Blue to take apprentices, the dark-skinned woman lifted a hand to interrupt her.

“Youko, you’re a genius.”

“… I am?”

Blue hated that tiny voice, that doubt weaved in it, with a passion. Her friend was so intelligent, and yet she thought herself below average. If only she had not spent her life comparing herself to her siblings, perhaps she would have more confidence in herself.

“Of course you are. And you know what? I think it’s worth a shot.”

Youko gave a watery chuckle. “You’ll do it?”

“Yes. I’ll make a stop by the Academy at the end of the week, perhaps talk with the other Mages. They might know someone. But only if we start spending some more time together. It’s been too long since our group had a game night.”

Youko laughed. “Of course. First night tonight with Arashi and Ankora?”

“Oh yeah. I know the perfect game.”

Sometimes, you just have to accept the fact that you need help… and that it’s not the end of the world, Blue mused. And that it’s good to have friends. Now, let’s show ‘em who’s boss.

[ofdragonsdeep]

14: Commend

An acquaintance sits in a dismal gaol, and Ar'telan makes a courtesy call.

(Spoilers for SB, ShB sort of)

The sharp tang in the air of the Lochs accompanied Ar’telan on his walk across the great stone bridge to the capital. Beneath him, the vast expanse of the salt lakes stretched, now narrated by the hum and clang of machinery and hammers in the saltery at its edge. The rest of the land, though, still seemed like a skeleton resting where the beast had died, signal fires flickering to mark where it had fallen. The sparse forests of zelkova trees, stalked by manticores and ghosts, the bone-white fish which stalked the lakes, the uneasy fog that settled over the place, all of it added to the sense of decay.

The druvas had been cleared from the bridge in recent days, and so his only meeting was with the guards on the gate. In the many moons since Ala Mhigo’s liberation, the guard had been taught fast vigilance, both against the threat of primals and of Garlean incursion. He was so well-recognised that he was barely bothered on his way through, only a cursory check to ensure he was not an enemy of the state walking in under wicked glamour.

There were any number of attractions within the walls of the capital to captivate a traveler’s attention. A small Ironworks outpost still worked on the question of the Weapons the Garleans had made to throw against both their traitor and their unruly territories, ready to ferry a would-be warrior to the main camp. Citizens played Triple Triad by the aetheryte, eyeing him as he passed to see if he would be amenable to a challenge. The palace, now the seat of a more democratic form of government, offered the chance to reconnect with old friends. And the Royal Menagerie, with its fields of beautiful flowers, suggested a chance for reflection on things long gone and events to come.

Ar’telan ignored all of them, instead walking down the terracotta streets until he was within the mountains the city backed, the guards on the door offering an uneasy nod of acknowledgement as he passed them. Under the rock, the uncomfortable pulse of the sky was easier to ignore, and the thoughts he carried with him were easier to find.

The royal gaol, repurposed into a place to hold the many prisoners of war that had not been killed in the war for liberation. Some of them resented their captivity, some of them would have betrayed their birthplace to the Empire without a second thought. Some of them longed for redemption, cells lying empty as they laboured in civil service under strict watch. And some…

He was not the man he had been when he had first been down here. He took a moment, centred his aether. For all the hell that Hades had wrung from him, he had learned a little, though he was not sure if it would be enough. For all they called the Resonance an artificial Echo, it was a strange beast only alike in the broadest strokes. But perhaps it would do the job.

The cell was still sparse, despite the time that had passed between Fordola’s initial confinement and now. Her clothes were nicer, less rough hemp, but the collar around her neck - dormant without a mage to activate it, but still abhorrent in its purpose - served as an unkind reminder of her station.

“You,” she said, her voice level. He nodded to her, and there was a moment of absolute silence. Her thoughts were a concealed mystery, but her feelings felt loud behind her wall, amplified by two Echo-likes in proximity. She did not flinch.

“I had hoped they would be treating you better, by now,” Ar’telan remarked, and Fordola scoffed, though it was clear she was still confused by the situation that had found her opposite the man who had put her here to begin with.

“Kill a few primals, slay a few beastmen. It doesn’t matter to them,” she said, venom in her voice, but it was tired poison now. “Why are you here?” It was a question, not one he could come up with an answer for, not an easy one. Now that the danger had passed in the First, he did not think it would be long until something surfaced to demand their attention, but for the moment they stood in the lull.

“I wanted to be sure you were ok,” he said, offering a tiny smile. “It’s my fault you’re in here, after all.” Fordola scoffed.

“I put myself in here,” she disagreed. “You and I both know that. Maybe it would have been easier if I hadn’t taken their devil’s bargain, but under it all I’m still the Empire’s Butcher.” Ar’telan sighed, sitting down against the wall opposite her cell door. They had been here before, more than once, and she never warmed to him - not that he expected her to, nor would ever want her to, unless she wished it - but every time things changed.

“Has it eased?” he asked her, and she winced at the question.

“What does it matter to you?” she demanded, even though both of them knew that he had taken every effort to shield his soul from her resonant eyes, to stop her from reliving the horrors in his past just this once.

“They don’t care to ask about it, do they?” he surmised, and she made an irritable noise. “I have-”

“I don’t need your help,” she spat. “And I don’t want it. You think they don’t relish in me seeing the hurt I’ve caused them?” Ar’telan held out a hand, a tiny spark of aether gathering in it. The Light suffused it, shimmering in the darkness of the prison complex, still there despite his victory over it. As she moved forwards, he snuffed it out.

“Perhaps I do not want your sympathy either,” he said, and she recoiled, surprise in the coil of her limbs and a scowl on her face. “It does not have to be a competition, or an exchange of pity. It does need to gain either of us anything, for good or for ill. It has been many moons since the war ended, after all.” Fordola made an irritated noise.

“Then I will consider it,” she said, a compromise he had not expected to achieve with her. “Bah, you’re both as bad as each other. At least it’s easier to tune you out than the boy.” Ar’telan stifled a laugh at that. He knew a little of Fordola’s work with Arenvald and the summoners working with the Flames, dealing with summonings out in Thanalan. Echo was Echo, even by a different name.

I wonder what Hades would think to that?

“I will give you time to think on it,” he said, pushing himself to his feet as she retreated back to her pallet. “Duty calls me back here more often than most would like, I think, so I shall call in when I can.”

“Don’t rush on my account,” she muttered, bitterness still in her voice.

---

It had been Arenvald that told him the story.

The young Scion was ever excitable, and he had been brimming with pride as he had relayed the story of their fight with Ifrit, holding back the Tempered servants who had summoned it, helping to rid the land of the scourge of the summon for just a little longer. It was a different story to the one that Jajasamu had relayed - a bitter man angry with himself for misjudging the convict, and the threat they faced, feeling lesser in his need to stay back from the full brunt of the primal’s fury. Ar’telan wondered if it would have helped them to know of his first fight with a primal, in the same summoning circle at Zanr’ak, blood drawn from the stone of desperation.

He had asked how Ar’telan felt. Ar’telan had offered a reassuring platitude, acceptance of duty and necessity, and he wasn’t sure that he had been believed.

---

The first time he had gone to see her had been after the war was over. When the Qalyana summoned their goddess into a council hall and he had held the line with Arenvald and Fordola, and she had thrown her blade to the floor and walked away. Rejected the idea of death, and shunned the idea of redemption.

The guards had tried to dissuade him as he walked past them into the gaol. He had stood in front of her and neither had spoken a word, her mind overwhelmed with every bitter memory in his mind, every wound the fight had inflicted, everything he mourned. She had looked up at him, hand over her resonant eye as if it would stop the flood, and asked him how he coped.

“I don’t.”

---

The second time he had been met with less protest, at least from the guard. Again he had sat himself outside her cell, her mouth shut in stubborn silence, his hands in his lap lest she think he want to dominate the conversation. The Echo had shown him, when they had been enemies yet, what had happened to her father for the crime of making do in an impossible situation. She waited for him to use it against her, but he did not. In truth, he already had - keeping the secrets close to his heart as he told Lyse that he did not want her to be executed, to the idealistic woman’s surprise. When had it ever been black and white, under the boot of the Empire? He had seen what happened to the people who resisted. Visited the graves of the soldiers, heard the stories of the collateral damage weeping in a half-empty village.

Maybe it was selfish. In the days since, when he had pleaded for mercy for those driven to awful, cruel things, when he saw them crumble in the cell, when the people demanded blood and received it, one way or another, he had thought it might be. The blasted fields of Bozja haunted him still, the memories of a broken Queen and Misija’s choices - one way or another, they were always chosen, even if the perpetrators convinced themselves there was no such choice at all. But still he had begged mercy, that if she had to face the headsman’s axe then it would be after fair judgement. He had stood and watched people break upon the battlefield, and known, innately, that there was no judgement that could be fair.

“You got nothing better to do, warrior of light?” Fordola had spat eventually. “I don’t need the theatre of your head to make my day worse. Got plenty of that already.” Ar’telan had shrugged.

“I thought you might like the company,” he replied, and she scoffed at him. Was the wound too fresh, he had wondered? Of when they had faced off on the field of battle, her resonance overwhelmed by Urianger’s siphon, her choices rendered meaningless in the dust?

“You know how many I’ve killed. Surely there’s better company to keep than me.”

“You know how many I have killed, too.”

She was quiet then, for a long moment, before shaking her head.

“Thought it didn’t count, for you. Killing the Empire. They’re the enemy, aren’t they?”

“As we were yours. The choice is the same. That I am on the side of the victor doesn’t make mine right, and yours wrong.”

“Was that why he wanted to fight you, then? Zenos, I mean.”

The question had caught him off-guard, but eventually he had managed to offer a shrug.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I presented an opportunity to him - a potential for challenge. If I could reach him and face him, then he would need to work to overcome the obstacle. It made him try - think, persevere, strive. It made him feel. I understand it in theory.” Fordola had sighed, shaking her head slightly, though not in disagreement.

“It’s all mad. All of it mad,” she had decided, and Ar’telan had not been able to disagree.

---

The fog had lifted when Ar’telan walked out into the streets of Ala Mhigo, the sun twinkling with the last few moments of the light before it set. It wasn’t perfect - what ever was? - but it was something, and he would let that be enough. If one day she would be able to accept what had happened to give her the gift, if she would go from stony to acerbic, if she would leave the cell and be allowed her freedom, then his plea to Lyse all those moons ago would have meant something.

He did not carry Arenvald’s hope, that she would heal, forgive herself, move on. He had been in the chamber where Krile had been held, where they had stamped the gift into the giftless through brute force. He had felt the aether, the dozens of souls whose lives blazed in her Resonant light. She would never forgive herself for making that choice, and to ask it of her was too much. All you could do was see the death that lined your path forward, and make do.

She would not think it the same, he thought. That the people he had killed - conscripts and volunteers and natives, all equal at the end of the day, on the other side of the Warrior of Light - were the same as the ones that she had damned when she had accepted the experiment. They did not see the world the same way at all, not any more. She was bitter and hard like stone, retreating inward at the cruelty. His mask was passive, the smiles genuine, the burden accepted if only to make sure that no-one else ever had to walk the path that he had. But she yet had room to heal. There was space for her and the souls that walked with her, for better or worse, guided by the hand of the Resistance until they trusted her to guide herself.

And when the day came, Ar’telan would welcome her with a smile.

[hanaasbananas]

and in that moment i became yours

AO3

Inspired by the song Lut Gaye (watch the video omg it's crazy dramatic)

As the eyes arose, love endeavoured to shake off drowsiness and an exchange of hearts was made in the moonlit night

As streets went, this one was fairly unremarkable. Quiet, respectable, and lined with uniform houses. If streets could talk, this one would have nothing to say.

That wasn’t to last, though.

The sky was shot through with streaks of pink, orange and even purple, colours rapidly smothered by the velvety blue-black of the night sky until the only source of light came from the lights decorating the exterior of a hotel at the end of the street.

Faint music drifted out from within, along with the muffled conversations and laughter of all those who had gathered for the wedding. No other sound could be heard, but the silence was thick with anticipation, almost as heavy as the warm summer air, waiting for something- anything to happen.

pop-pop-pop!

Gunfire sounded in the distance, followed by squealing tyres. A young man veered suddenly into the street, his rapid footsteps echoing in the silence. Glancing over his shoulder as he ran, he ducked, narrowly avoiding the bullet that whizzed over his head.

“Shit,” he swore, looking around wildly for a place to hide. Eyes alighting on the large cars parked by the side of the hotel, he grinned, leaping up onto the roof and grabbing hold of a string of lights, shimmying his way up and through an open window.

And not a moment too soon, for just as he dropped down from the window ledge—pain lancing up his side from the rough landing— he heard shouts ringing out below him, his pursuers splitting up to find him.

Sitting back against the wall with a groan, Adrien finally dropped his transformation, catching a woozy Plagg in cupped palms. “That was a close one, huh?”

Plagg only opened one eye to glare at him and he chuckled, stroking his kwami softly between his ears before rummaging in his pocket for a well wrapped packet of Camembert. “Here,” he handed it over, “you deserve it.”

While Plagg devoured his cheese, Adrien fired off a quick text:

Told you I wouldn’t be late. What’s my room number again?

Standing, Adrien hissed, hand flying to his abdomen and coming away wet with blood. “Dammit—” he pulled away his shirt from his skin, peering down to assess the damage and swore again.

“What? What is it?” Plagg asked, flying up to hover in front of his face and Adrien smiled grimly.

“Let’s just say it’s a good thing the suit stopped the bullet from going through me.” He checked his phone for a reply, but there was none. “Great,” he muttered under his breath, setting off down the hallway “the one time I need him to text me…”

It was easy work to snag a room key off a bell cart, even easier to find the corresponding room and slip in. Unfortunately, it wasn’t so easy to find an empty room.

Seriously? He groaned internally. I know the black cat has bad luck but really? The fucking bride’s room?

Moving carefully so that she wouldn’t notice him, Adrien stepped backwards, keeping his eyes trained on the bride—who was sat in a high backed chair, her head in her arms—he curled his hand around the doorknob behind him, preparing to turn it quickly and make his escape.

And then, because the universe really wanted to see how much bad luck it could throw at him, there was a knock on the door.

The bride looked up sharply, her eyes widening when she caught sight of him and Adrien found himself momentarily struck by her delicate beauty. Twin spots of pink bloomed across her pale cheeks, and her brow furrowed, taking him in.

Unconsciously, Adrien stood straighter under her examination—a movement he immediately regretted when it tugged at his wound—and he realised with a start that her large bluebell eyes were wet, tears trailing down her cheeks.

Before he could say anything, the knock came again, more insistent this time. Adrien spun around, staring at the door and then at the bride who had risen, making her way tentatively to the door. Panicking, he grabbed her wrist, halting her in her tracks.

“I’m not here, got it?” He hissed, letting go only when she nodded shakily. On impulse, he plucked the veil that she had clutched in her other hand and wiped away her tears, holding onto it when he released her.

Hiding behind the open door, he leaned heavily against a side table, only half listening as the bride got rid of his pursuers. While she talked circles around them, he let his eyes rove over the room, eyebrows rising up on his forehead as he took in the upturned furniture, the torn invitation on the dressing table, the broken glass and spilled wine on the floor.

The door slammed shut, breaking him from his thoughts. “You’re injured.” The bride stated, eyes trained on his shirt where blood had begun to seep through the fabric.

“Nah it’s nothing,” Adrien waved her off, trying to seem nonchalant. From the unimpressed look on her face, he’d failed.

“There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom. Sit down.” Her tone brooked no argument and he nodded quickly as she disappeared into the bathroom.

He’d only just managed to lower himself into a chair when the bride emerged, brandishing a damp washcloth, unaware—or more likely uncaring—of it dripping onto her dress. Mouth set in a hard line, she set the first aid kit on the floor and knelt in front of him. “Open your shirt,” she ordered.

“Well now,” the corner of Adrien’s mouth ticked up in a smirk. “You’re being very forward for a bride to be.”

“Do you want that treated or not?”

“Alright, jeez …”

She bowed her head, inky hair falling over her face in a curtain as she worked carefully to clean the blood from around the wound. “So, who were those guys?” she asked after a long silence.  “Better you don’t know,” Adrien shook his head. “It’s none of your business.”

She peered up at him, one eyebrow raised. “I dunno, you kind of made it my business when you broke into my room .”

“Didn’t break in though, did I?” Adrien nodded at the door. “I used the key, same as anyone else.”

“Okay, and how did you acquire this key?”

“Does it matter?”

“You know I don’t have to be this gentle with the first aid,” to prove her point, she pressed a little harder against his wound “so are you gonna give me a straight answer or not?”

Adrien held his hands up in mock surrender, lips twitching as he fought to keep a straight face.

“Alright! You got me! I’m actually the stripper your friends hired to get you to chill out before the wedding.”

The bride snorted. “Yeah because I’d definitely hook up with a stripper an hour before I’m supposed to get married.”

“Well…” Adrien drawled, glancing down at his open shirt. “I mean you’ve already got me half naked.” He hissed when she swiped at his skin with an antiseptic wipe, but any protest died on his tongue when her eyes flicked up to meet his, her eyebrow cocked challengingly.

She’s getting married , he had to remind himself nothing is going to happen. His own eyes drifted down to look at her lips, and his heart stuttered in his chest. Even if I kind of want it to.

Holding his breath, Adrien sat silently, tracing the bride's features and committing them to memory as she continued bandaging him, dipping her head low, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Licking his lips, he searched for a different subject, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling. Remembering her earlier tears, he couldn’t help but ask “so uh...you wanna talk about why you were so upset earlier?”

“Nope.”

Adrien clicked his tongue. “Fair enough. I just thought-y’know, a bride is usually pretty happy...” he trailed off, lapsing into silence once more.

“It’s a business merger,” she said quietly after a moment. “The wedding is just a way to really solidify it I guess. Join the families, build an empire, that sort of thing.”

“And you aren’t too happy about it,” Adrien guessed. At her glare he shrugged defensively “what? It’s not everyday you see a bride crying the way you were before her wedding. Not in this century, anyway.”

She didn’t respond at first, and then— “I just thought I’d marry for love, you know? Or at least find my soulmate.”

“You don’t think you could love this guy?” he couldn’t hide the amusement from his voice, and she glanced at him suspiciously before shrugging.

“Maybe. He’s a bit of a cold fish though—” Adrien choked on a laugh, tuning it into a wholly unconvincing cough at the last minute.

“What’s so funny?” She demanded hotly, but he shook his head, pressing his lips together to muffle his laughter, and waved his hand for her to continue.

Changing the subject, she huffed quietly. “And you can stop calling me ‘a bride’. It might be hard to believe, but I do actually have a name. It’s Marinette.”

“Cute—” Adrien froze when her cold fingers brushed his skin, a shock running through his entire body at her touch. The bride— Marinette,he corrected himself—had drawn back so quickly he was surprised she hadn’t fallen, her eyes trained on his chest.

Following her gaze, he saw that his skin was glowing at the point of contact. A quick glance confirmed that her own fingertips were shining just as brightly in the unmistakable sign of...sign of…

Soulmates

Swallowing roughly, Adrien met her wide eyed stare with his own. The universe had to be playing a joke on him at this point.

“I—” Marinette began, her expression stricken. “I can’t—”

Adrien’s heart sank in his chest, and he nodded.

There were stories of course. Stories of soulmates who met when it was too late for them to be together; of those who rejected their soulmate in favour of someone they’d chosen themselves. Numerous studies had been done on the subject, examining the various socio-economic factors that influenced a person's decision to accept or reject, but that didn’t make it hurt any less in the moment.

They said you were often drawn to your soulmate even before you’d discovered that’s who they were, but Adrien had never thought the connection would be so immediate. Already, he knew that he would never choose anyone else. Not now. Now when he’d seen Marinette, spoken with her, laughed with her, been entranced by everything that she was.

And all of this only in an hour! How much deeper might he fall, if they had a lifetime together?

But she was about to build a life with someone else.

Adrien’s phone buzzed in his pocket—a reply to the text he’d sent an hour ago,

You’re in room 503 dipshit

He swore, realising just who Marinette would be spending that life with, and clenched his fist around his phone, resisting the urge to throw it across the room. Clearing his throat, he stood abruptly, the chair scraping back roughly. “Uh-th-thanks for...you know,” he gestured to his bandaged chest “for this but I should go. Need to get changed before the wedding and I finally know where my actual room is.”

Instead of looking relieved, Marinette looked even more distressed. “You’re a guest?”

Adrien laughed quietly, “yeah, something like that.”

She didn’t respond, surging up to her feet, an unreadable expression crossing her face, and then—

And then—

And then she was kissing him.

Tugging at the collar of his shirt, she pulled him down, her mouth moving desperately against his, and then he was kissing her back, his hands gripping her waist and holding her flush against him. Their kiss was a hurried clash of lips and tongues and teeth, Adrien chasing the sweet taste of her lips, committing it to memory, his hands tightening before letting go.

Breathing heavily, they pulled away and he rested his forehead against hers. “Why?” he asked. Why would you leave me with this? Why would you show me what I won’t have?

“I always wanted to kiss my soulmate,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. Disentangling herself from his embrace she slumped down in the nearest chair, her head in her hands.

Marinette didn’t look up when he left, but as the door clicked shut behind him, he heard her muffled scream, and found himself cursing the cruelty of the fates.

***

In his room, Adrien dressed slowly, washing the grime from his face, wishing he could just as easily erase the events of the last hour from his mind.

Once he’d deemed himself presentable enough, Adrien resisted the urge to go check on Marinette, and instead made his way downstairs to wait with the rest of the bridal party.

“What the hell happened to you?” Félix groused as soon as he arrived. “You look like shit.”

Adrien rolled his eyes “is that any way to greet your brother?”

“I’m allowed to be snappish,” Félix retorted. “I’m the groom. And you’re late .”

“It’s not my fault you couldn’t text me faster. I couldn’t find my room.”

“I was busy!”

“Look, I’m here now aren’t I?” Adrien snapped “so get over it. When is this thing starting anyway?”

The sooner the wedding was over, the sooner he could make his escape. In his pocket, Plagg pressed against him, trying to comfort him in his own way and Adrien took a deep breath, turning to his scowling brother.

“Sorry,” clapping Félix on the back, he led him to the front “I’m being an asshole.”

“Yeah, you are,” Félix muttered darkly, but there was no heat behind his words. Internally, Adrien sighed. It wasn’t his brother’s fault that he was marrying his soulmate. With Félix set to inherit the company, of course he would be the one roped into the business merger, and Adrien refused to blame him for something that wasn’t his fault.

Well. He could blame him a little. No-one said his feelings had to be rational.

***

As the ceremony began, Adrien forced himself not to look directly at Marinette as she walked down the aisle, led by a man who was easily twice his size. A quick glance at Félix showed that his brother was unaffected, seeming almost bored as he watched Marinette, and Adrien felt a burst of anger at his indifference. How could he care so little, when he was about to marry such an exquisite woman?

Quickly schooling his expression, he made the mistake of letting his eyes skim over the crowd, briefly locking eyes with Marinette, who faltered slightly, hand tightening on her bouquet. He could practically see her mind working, eyes flicking between him and Félix, noting their resemblance. She blanched, eyes never leaving his as she continued down the aisle, though with the veil covering her face, he doubted anyone else noticed.

Struggling to remain calm, Adrien shoved a hand in his pocket, making a tight fist, his nails digging painfully into his palm. It would be over soon, he just had to hold out a little longer, just a little longer...

He’d always dreamt of the great love stories, imagined recreating them all with his soulmate. Turned out all he was gonna get was a tragedy. Already he could feel his heart fracturing in his chest. It really shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did.

Adrien blinked, focusing his attention on the ceremony again.

The officiant was droning on, Marinette was still staring at him over Félix’s shoulder, he heard someone yawn in the audience. The groomsman beside him shifted restlessly, Marinette was widening her eyes at him, one of the bridesmaids adjusted her glasses. The officiant fell silent, Marinette finally looked away from him, glancing over the audience instead, a furrow appearing between her brows that Adrien felt a sudden urge to smooth away.

He realised what she was about to do in the split second before she moved, and he took a half step forward, just as Marinette ripped the veil from her head and threw it.

“I object to this union!” her voice rang out in the sudden silence, before alarmed murmurs began, and she stared at the guests defiantly, daring them to stop her. Adrien had to swallow a laugh when he saw that she stared the longest at his father, who was already half out of his seat, his expression thunderous.

“Sorry, Félix,” Marinette shot him an apologetic smile, reaching around him to grab Adrien’s hand, pulling him forward and dragging him behind her.

Where their skin touched, their hands began to glow again, intensifying with every second that their hands remained clasped until the light was almost blinding, and still she didn’t let go. Adrien barely heard the ensuing pandemonium, transfixed as he was by the light emanating from their joined hands.

The soulmate identifying glow did not last forever. It usually only occured for the first few hours after a pair found each other, but the intensity of it often depended on the pair's feelings. His heart swelled in his chest and he felt dizzy with excitement at the confirmation that it was real-that he wasn’t the only one affected. That somehow, some way, Marinette had the same feelings.

“So that’s why you were being such a baby,” Félix’s unruffled voice cut through the chaos that surrounded them, his expression bemused, and any other time Adrien would have rolled his eyes. Before he could say anything though, Félix had darted forward, pressing his car keys into his hand. “Jesus, will you two go already?! I’ll handle things here.”

They didn’t need to be told twice.

Marinette hitched up her skirts in one hand, never once letting go of him and they weaved through the crowd, pushing against those who tried to stop them until finally, they made it out onto the street. The wedding car was parked out front and they scrambled in, slamming the doors shut behind them.

For a long moment, they simply sat slumped in the seats, breathing heavily and relishing in the sudden silence, Behind his closed eyelids, Adrien could still see the glow from their touch, and he cracked open one eye, peering down to see that while Marinette had loosened her hold on him, she had yet to release his hand. Not that he minded.

Turning to face her, Adrien bought her hand up to his mouth. Brushing his lips across her knuckles, he peered up at her through his eyelashes. “Where to?” he asked, a grin pulling at his lips.

Marinette’s eyes were sparkling, her cheeks flushed. “Anywhere.” She said “Everywhere. I don’t care. As long as you come with me.”

He leaned forward then, letting go of her hand to cup her face instead, one hand sliding behind her neck to draw her closer, the other tangling in her silken hair as he captured her lips in a kiss.

This time, their kiss was unhurried, Marinette’s mouth pliant underneath his as she melted against him. She bought her hands up to clutch at his shoulders, pulling him forward, her fingers burying in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp until he groaned into her mouth, a fire igniting in his blood. Between them, the gear stick dug into his stomach, but he hardly noticed. Eventually, they pulled away, breathing heavily, and Adrien smiled, dipping his head to peck her on the lips once, twice more.

“Always.”

To God in heaven, I have only one prayer to see the moon with you every night

[oceanera12]

The Soldier

Part 1: The Medic (Finn’s POV)

Kix was drunk. He knew it. Maz knew it. So why was she trying to make him see any kind of reason? He stopped listening an hour ago and at this point she was just a fuzzy blob of orange.

He honestly didn’t know how Maz had even spotted him as a clone. It wasn’t like he looked like one. He’d grown his hair out as long as could, got rid of most of his armor (the chest piece and arm pieces remained but he could have gotten them off the black market) and all clones were supposed to be dead a hundred times over.

That thought made Kix order another drink. Maz tried to argue (something about him “having enough”) but he didn’t care. It had been two years since he’d woken up to the day, and the Crimson Corsair crew knew better then to bother him.

Which was why he was confused and angry when someone sat down next to him. It was hard to see who, but the voice cut through the haze. “I’m Finn. Sorry to but in.”

Whoopty do. Kix got his drink and dunked it back, ignoring the babbling shiny kid for the next ten minutes. Finally, the kid’s comm blinked and it sounded like his departure was upon them. Thank the Force. The kid turned to leave and Kix ordered another drink (where’d Maz go? Oh well, no more babbling). It appeared and he started to down it.

“FN-2187.”

Kix’s mind came to a screeching halt. He spat up the vile liquid trying to find air but only found choking because numbers-- why the KRIFF were there numbers?

He turned to the shiny kid, squinting at his blurry form and managed to ask, “What?” The question was unbidden, unwanted, because numbers there couldn’t be numbers-- and not just designations that was spat out far too quickly and far too familiar to be a designation that was a name that was a kriffing name--

“FN-2187... That’s the name the First Order gave me.”

Kix knew about the First Order. The group in support of the old Empire, the Empire that had wiped out the Republic the thing he had sought to protect and had failed, failed so terribly--

He allowed the anger to shine through and managed to grit out, “I see” before  finishing his liquid. The shiny kid walked away, leaving Kix to try and forget about numbers.

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

Kix slept through the following day. He hated sleeping. Sleep brought forward old faces; faces he’d never see again and voices he’d never hear. Guilt swept through his mind at the screams of the dead and fallen.

Jesse had always been concerned about his sleeping habits. If Kix had his way, he would’ve never slept, just kept running on kaf and stims until his body collapsed into black. Then Kix would wake up several hours later with several concerned brothers (and an unhappy Coric) over him. But there had been no dreams.

But on this pirate crew, there was no running from dreams.

Kix shot awake near sleeping hour, falling from his bed and hitting the floor with a loud ‘clunk’. He thrashed against the blanket, trying to free himself from his bonds and finally succeeded, crawling into the corner and hugging his knees into his chest. Breathe Kix, just breathe.

Kix didn’t know how long he remained there, but he found himself somehow in the fresher. He splashed water on his face and looked in the mirror.

That had been a mistake. The face was too familiar. Not for the first time, Kix wanted to tear it off, get rid of it, get rid of the ghosts, make them stop--

The knife was in his hands before he knew what he was doing and the urge to end it all was stronger than it had been in a long time. He was a living ghost and ghosts needed to die.

And then a different voice rose up, soft but piercing.

“FN-2187.”

Kix’s hands froze, tears pricking at his eyes. Numbers. Why was it always kriffing numbers? He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe, shut out the past, don’t think about it--

Jesse slammed his helmet against the ground and screamed. Kix felt like joining him but someone had to be the calm one right now or there might be some treasonous actions later (there would be, but not by the clones).

Kix went to comfort his brother, but Jesse shoved the hands away. “Hundreds of our brothers are dead and all that karking, son of a bantha sees is numbers. Kriffing numbers!”

Kix swallowed down the bile. “Some people distance themselves from pain differently. Maybe General Krell is just doing that by focusing on numbers.” Jesse didn’t even try and believe those words and if Kix was being honest with himself, neither did he.

Rex was no help right now. Krell was keeping him close. Fives was making the situation worse and Kix had no doubt there would be some disobeying of orders in the near future because something was wrong here. Krell was just... wrong and there was nothing, nothing they could do about it.

“Do you ever think we’ll be more than a kriffing number?” The question was sudden and Kix had not been prepared for it. Jesse looked a little calmer and more depressed then angry.

Kix hesitated. “I... I don’t know.”

“Well,” Jesse glared at his hands, “If I ever make it out of this war, I am going to stand in the Senate and yell at them about numbers.”

Kix almost snorted at the notion. A clone appearing in the senate? Not possible. But Jesse didn’t need to hear that. He already knew. “What would you tell them exactly?” Kix indulged him.

Jesse was silent for a moment, just thinking. Then he looked up at Kix, his gaze hard and eyes angry. “Never again.” He didn’t need to elaborate. Kix knew too well what Jesse meant.

Kix’s eyes flew open, tears streaming down his face. He looked in the mirror and found Jesse’s eyes (Rex’s, Cody’s, Fives’, Echo’s, Harcase’s, Tup’s all of them) staring back. 

There was something Kix used to tell his brothers who had just lost someone close to them. It was harsh in words but it had always snapped them back into the present.

Kix took a deep breath then growled at himself the best he could. “Are you a soldier of the Republic or not?”

I’m a soldier of the Republic, sir.

“Then start acting like one.”

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

The Resistance meeting was... interesting. Poe Dameron appeared to be the leader of the discussion, talking about the losses of the New Republic and the Resistance in kind. The shiny kid stood up and spoke about what he’d seen the First Order do during his time among them. Then days of the old Rebellion against the Empire were spoken of and then the meeting was dismissed.

Kix stood in the back, debating if he was actually doing this. He’d informed his captain he would be leaving the crew last night, but the man hadn’t seemed surprised. It might have had something to do with Kix’s sudden haircut (the tatoo helped keep who was staring back at him in a mirror easier to remember) and his stocking up on supplies and the renewal of what was left of his armor. Kix almost brought the helmet but had decided against it. He left it on top of a hill for the elements or thieves, whichever came first.

Most of the attendees were filling out or towards Poe and Finn with thankful words or curses. Kix waited until a good moment then marched forward. Finn didn’t visibly recognize him at first but Kix saw the flash of realization cross his face. Kix came to a stiff attention. Old habits die hard. “I’d like to help.”

Requesting permission to return to active duty, sir!

The shiny kid, Finn, outstretched his hand and gave a warm smile, “Glad to have you...?” The unspoken question for a name sent Kix back to the past for a moment, but with happy memories of meeting new brothers. “Kix.” It brought a rare smile to his face. “Kix... Fivofist”

Kix of the Five-Hundred and First Attack Battalion, reporting.

“What can you do?” Dameron spoke up, sharing a look with Finn (“you know this guy? can we trust him?”)

“I’m a field medic and a soldier. Just tell me what you need.”

Finn smiled, “More medics are always good to have more of.” (“not really but yes, we can trust him”)

Poe nodded thoughtfully, “Ever seen a battle?”

Kix almost laughed. “Hundreds, probably. More than I’d like to admit. There were a lot of enemies and not a lot of friends.”

Poe and Finn shared a look Kix could quite read but no comment was said except for a “Welcome aboard.”

And just like that, Kix had reenlisted into the army.

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

The Resistance was... different. Not bad, just different. Kix learned quickly that his practice in medicine was a little out of date and worked hard to correct it. Many medical personnel tried to befriend him and would invite him to meals, which Kix kindly declined.

It wasn’t them. Kix just needed to focus on the job and not think about brothers in arms or he’d find himself thrown into a panic attack. The only person he couldn’t brush off was Finn. The shiny kid was kind and open and never pushed conversation, choosing to chat away about anything that came to mind. It was the kind of random chatter Kix could handle, sending him back to the days of treating loopy brothers and chaotic Generals.

And then Finn would describe the First Order. The tales he told were nothing like Kix’s in the Clone wars. They were stories about not trusting anyone, trying to be better than anyone, not doing anything out of freewill or you’d never be seen again. Kix had to stop what he was doing sometimes and swallow back the urge to vomit.

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

Kix thought it was a trick at first. Transmissions from Emperor Palpatine? Impossible. The First Order was just trying to scare people away from the Resistance cause. Fear was a powerful way to control.

Kriff, he didn’t even listen to the transmissions at first. Kix just heard about them through other people and rolled his eyes. Of course the Resistance had to treat it as a probability and sent several teams out to investigate (Finn and Poe included).

So maybe it was a blessing when Kix decided to listen to one such transmission in his room for laughs. What kind of impression had the actor done? The Senator Palpatine voice or the Emperor’s gravel?

The smile vanished after a single sentence. By the end of the transmission Kix was out of the room, out of the base, miles from the command center. He fired his blaster at a rock until it refused to fire again. The useless weapon was then thrown at the smoking target with a ear piercing scream.

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

He didn’t know how much time had passed. Kriff, he didn’t even know how he’d gotten back to base after his melt down. All Kix knew was the wall in his room was rough, gray, and rock.

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

It was the shiny kid that finally broke through the haze. Kix hadn’t even heard him come in. Kriff, he thought he was hallucinating the steady voice, talking about the missions. And then after probably an hour of just words there was a pause and suddenly, “Hey, are you okay?”

The question crashed down on Kix’s world.

“He should be dead.” Kix growled. “Why isn’t he dead?!”

That man had used his brothers as a means, as slaves, and then tossed them aside like they were nothing. But they had been men. His brothers. That nightmare had ended for all of them because that man was dead.

Except he wasn’t.

Finn’s voice was steady. “I don’t know... I don’t think we’ll ever know but we will get him.”

Kix almost laughed. Get Palpatine? Like that was even possible. “Kriffing, sithspit--” He turned to find Finn, eyes wide with concern. “That kriffing laandur shabuir should be in a kriffing hole in the ground in the depths of Mustafar. He should be rotting unremembered and disgraced with nothing left of him but the ashes in the wind!” Kix vaguely realized he had slipped into Mando’a and Finn probably had no idea what he was saying but he didn’t care. Kix vented for several minutes, describing in great detail what he would do to that monster. He deserved a fate worse than death.

“He should be karking dead and he’s alive and everything we ever did was a lie, it was a kriffing lie, we were used and pawns and he should be dead... he should be DEAD and he’s alive and they’re not. They’re dead... and he’s...” Kix’s words came to a slow, the tears threatening to break free again. “He’s alive and I can’t... I can’t... I’m sorry, brothers... I’m sorry... I’m a coward... I’m sorry, brothers...”

A hand rested on his shoulder. Kix placed his own on top of it and for a moment just pretended it wasn’t Finn. “I’m sorry, Jesse. Forgive me.” And then the tears came.

The shiny pulled him in for a hug and Kix took it. He needed it, more than he’d ever admit it.

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

Kix had been working in the medbay when Finn came to say goodbye. He was off on another grand adventure with the heroes of the Resistance. Kix would never admit it, but he was a bit jealous sometimes. The medical wing was never dull, but it wasn’t the same as being in the field.

They gave their usual farewells and Finn turned to leave. Kix was turning back to his patients when the thought struck him.

You haven’t told him your number.

Kix frowned at the thought. Numbers meant nothing to him. Why would Finn need to know about his number?

The urge came stronger and it felt as if General Skywalker himself was ordering him into the field. Kix sighed and turned back to Finn calling out loudly, “CT-6116.”

As the words left his mouth a wave of peace enveloped him. Kix was surprised. Numbers were harsh and mean. Names were peaceful and kind. And yet... It felt like a warm hug. A single tear fell down his cheek for no apparent reason. At least, until he saw Finn’s face.

Finn had frozen in place at the words. He turned around now, his eyes wide with disbelief. He looked shook, almost frozen in terror. Numbers were painful. Harsh. Mean. And FN-2187 was anything but those.

Kix forced a smile. “I thought it was time you knew.”

You’re a good man, Finn. Thank you for being my friend.

Finn seemed unable to speak. Instead, he fell into attention and saluted Kix. Kix returned it with a small smile. And then Finn was gone.

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

The sky lit up with lightning from the ground. Kix braced himself against the ship as the pilot screamed out in horror and suddenly he was falling. Falling down with burning debris to the ground. Kix himself was in pain, his head and ears ringing. Something slammed into his head and it sent him spinning. Down and down and down and--

Someone grabbed hold of his wrist and the fall stopped.

Kix blinked. The pain was gone from his head and the world had stopped spinning. He looked down towards the ground, which was still quite a way to fall. The ship he had volunteered for duty in was in shreds and pieces, effectively blown to bits by that kriffing sith. No one could have survived the explosion let alone the fall.

“Are you going to keep staring down at the ground, vod, or are you going to look up?”

Kix’s mind came to a screeching halt. He slowly turned his gaze from the wreckage, following his arm up to his savior.

Jesse was laying down on nothing but air. His hands were holding onto Kix’s arms, the grip tight and unwilling to let go. Jesse smiled, “Sorry, couldn’t resist.” He floated down to Kix’s level, hands still holding his brother’s arm. “Physics aren’t really a thing anymore sooo...”

Kix stared for a second. His free hand shook, coming up to Jesse’s face. He pulled it back at the last second, shaking his head and eyes squeezed shut. This had to be a dream.

Arms enveloped hims in a tight hug and Jesse’s voice mumbled into Kix’s ear. “I’m real, vod. I promise.”

“You’re dead,” Kix dared to whisper.

Jesse chuckled, “Hate to break it to you, vod, but so are you.”

A loud scream from below snapped them both back into the battlefield and the world lit up yet again. Jesse’s grip tightened instinctively and Kix could have sworn he felt a blaster seemingly materialize in one of Jesse’s hands. “That’d be the Generals and our brothers."

Kix frowned. “What?”

Jesse didn’t seem to hear him. Kix found himself being dragged towards the ground as the light dimmed and then faded into nothing. Jesse didn’t take them into the planet (thank the Force). He stopped on the surface and called down, “Is it over?”

As if things couldn’t get any weirder Captain Rex and General Skywalker seemed to materialize out of thin air. “It’s over. For real this time.” Skywalker nodded, satisfied about something. Rex nodded, “Thank the Force.”

Kix stared at them, confused. "What’s over?”

Rex smiled. “Palpatine is dead.”

Kix doesn’t remember falling to his knees and he doesn’t remember when he started to cry. But he does know that Jesse is holding him and Rex has his hands on Kix’s shoulders and he can hear Fives, Echo, Hardcase, Tup, Dogma, and everyone gathering around and speaking quietly and--

Kix knows he’s finally home.

[imagine-that-one-thing]

The Rise of Glory || Chapter 4

                                                Illusions.

                                   ❃ ❃ ❃ Flight to London ❃ ❃ ❃

Harry rests his head on my shoulder, taking a clear view of my screen and begins to read what I have spent the last hour typing out. We haven’t said much since the meeting and catching the flight; I am a little irritated with things in general and how at the drop of a hat we had to once again pack things up and go home at his convenience. I know it isn’t exactly his fault, but I can’t deny the fact that I am bothered by things. Deep down, I am still somewhat bitter that he stole my thunder and accepted a deal to branch to New York when I had the initial plan, I just couldn’t go through with it. I am not as powerful as he is or as knowledgeable, I do sometimes feel like he used that to his advantage. And, yes, what’s his is technically mine so it shouldn’t matter, but it is the principal. It was something I was doing on my own without the help of my family or the help of Harry’s business, I had him with me as support ut I had done all the plans and ideas myself, it was my incentive. 

❝The purpose of this petition is to gather a sufficient number of signatures from qualified Styles & Co Owners to recall / remove all current board members (9) nine. (DPOA By-Laws: Article 8, a & b)

Immediately upon receiving the required number of signatures, the current board will be replaced with an interim board of 3 until such time as a special election can be held to vote in new members. (Interim board is not to exceed a maximum of 90 days).❞

Harry stays quiet for a minute, and I gently shrug him off my shoulder, “Do you not have anything to say?” I curiously ask. I don’t necessarily like the fact he doesn’t have much to say on the matters. He is never one to be quiet, as a CEO, he always has a booming opinion and doesn’t tend to back down from a fight, but right now, he seems to be silent. 

Harry hums, “Yeah, I thought you quit.”

I glare over at him and he offers me nothing but his grin as he chuckles quietly to himself, “Or do you retract your statement of wanting to resign?” Harry smirks, he is attempting to be lighthearted and a smartass but I don’t find any of this amusing. I am quite offended by his board.

“Get rid of the board or I quit entirely.” I threaten, not wanting to be apart of a business that has a board as he does. They are useless and only do what benefits them. 

Harry sighs, “Why are you giving me an ultimatum? I didn’t do anything, I can’t even vote.” Harry defends himself softly. 

I know that it isn’t his fault and he is the middle man, but I expected him to stand up for me, not just because he is my husband but because he is the CEO, he hired me for my work, he knows I am good at my job and deserved more than what they did. I deserved better. I would hate for them to be treating any other woman the same way they have treated me. It is atrocious, in my opinion. A leave of absence is none of their business, my worth ethic has not been compromised. 

“Find a way to kick them all off and restart it with us. Sign the petition.” 

“Baby, when it is notarised and properly done and placed on my desk, I will sign it and do what I can do to make it happen.” 

“I mean it, Harry.” I press, wanting him to understand that I am not joking.

I’m not doing this because they have done me wrong, I am pressing this matter because it started with them ordering him to take a leave of absence and freezing his accounts, it continues with them phasing me out, and their next step could very well be to take him down and make him forfeit the business that he has established from the ground up. 

“I do, too.”

I shake my head disapprovingly, “There is no need to account to them when we are the shareholders of the cooperation, we don’t need them managing anymore. We can either wait for the annual shareholders’ meeting at the end of the term or get rid of them now, I want to overthrow them now.”

“Elle,” Harry sighs, “This is the only six hours of rest I will get, can we discuss something other than this?” Harry questions.

“Harry, this needs to be done.” 

“Okay,” Harry nods, “When I get to the office, I will call the lawyers, and I will schedule the meetings so we can talk and figure out the reasons for not electing them. If we remove a director without cause, the director can sue us for damages. So, let’s talk to the lawyers, we will figure it all out, I promise. We will take the board back and have control.” 

“I don’t know how you haven’t already fired them, they forced you to step down and have an interim CEO.” I remind Harry of what happened a few years ago, they forced him to step down and have Niall as the interim CEO, they froze the assets and audited everything without much of probable cause besides his physical health. 

We didn’t dispute things, we didn’t take them to court or bring lawyers into the mix, they got away with everything once, but I will be damned to see them pull things again on Harry. He has worked too damn hard for his company and what he has to have the board continue to dictate things. This isn’t necessarily just about me and their treatment towards me but things have to end here before it goes too far.

“I haven’t had the time to take on firing the fucking board, between getting married, getting in a car accident, the downfall of the business, dealing with suddenly having two brothers, one dying, the other one being psychotic thanks to my father, then having to deal with my father shooting me while trying to take over my empire, and having a baby with you, I haven’t exactly had the time. As you can see, I still don’t have time but if you drop the conversation and let me spend the next few hours relaxing, I promise that I will do everything to replace the board.” Harry looks at me with tired eyes, his hand reaching over to grab mine, “I promise, Elle,” Harry assures me, offering me his sweet and reassuring smile before leaning over and kissing my cheek.

“Okay,” I agree, “But we can’t fire Niall, he gets to stay,” I instruct with a grin. There is no way Niall can leave the company. 

“Okay, sweetheart.”

“And, I want Mr Seattle on the board, I like him.” 

“We will see what we can do. While you do that, I am going to sleep.” Harry ends the conversation and leans his head on my shoulder, falling asleep rather instantly, leaving me to pass time on the flight. I use the time to continue drawing up the petition and researching ways to overthrow the board and legal things we can do. It won’t be easy and it will probably take a lot of lawyers meetings and perhaps even a lot of money, but it will be worth it in the end when Harry doesn’t have the members of the board making decisions for him. If we buy out some of the members and replace them, I think we can pull this off. Harry needs to take over chairmen and have the overall say when it comes to the board and decisions. 

London.

I manoeuvre around the kitchen, doing my best to put the groceries away with Alex at my legs, craving my attention as if he hasn’t received any all day. Alex goes through spells of which parent he wants to cling too, today it has been me. From the moment he woke up, he has been attached to me; I’ve barely had a moment to myself. Sometimes it’s sweet to have Alex need me and want me but sometimes it gets bothersome. 

I pick Alex up and bounce him on my hip and I sift through the mail that has piled up on the counter. Harry doesn’t understand the purpose of collecting mail. You collect it, you open and read it, and throw it out when it’s no longer useful, he on the other hand thinks it’s okay to just pile it on the table or on the counter whether it’s opened or not. “Harry, what are we doing for dinner?” I call out with a sigh, irritated that he’s still perched on the living room couch with his laptop. The house stays quiet for a moment and I roll my eyes at the lack of response, “great response,” I mutter, my finger slipping under an envelope and ripping the tab open to reveal yet another bill. 

I hear the heavy footsteps of Harry echo off the floorboard before he’s by my side and pressing a late kiss to my cheek. 

“What’d you say?” Harry questions, taking Alex from my hip, well aware that Alex has been clinging to me all day. 

“Thank you for the help with the groceries,” I sarcastically begin, glancing over at him before staring back at the paper bill. “Do you know there’s this thing called auto pay on bills? It would be great to use since you don’t open the mail,” I gesture down at the pile of mail on the counter. 

“Mhm, but I like a paper trail.” Harry lifts his shoulders into a shrug. 

“Well, you need to start writing the checks and not leaving these bills on the counter, they’re going to end up getting lost and we will end up with no lights.” I am not sure how we haven’t had the lights cut off on accident at this point. 

“I did go through the mail, I just forgot to tell you about it,” Harry shrugs with a slight smirk. 

“Whatever,” I heavily sigh, “What are we doing for dinner?” 

“Let’s order pizza, do you want me to get the cheque book?” 

“No, I’ll do it… I don’t know why you wait for me to say something before you want to do it,” I somewhat chuckle, not annoyed too much with him. I’ve learned that there’s no point crying over spilt milk when it comes to small things in the marriage, such as, wh pays the bills and who leaves the mail on the table for the other one to read. 

Harry hums and shrugs, “Force of habit.”

“I’m going to go write these cheque’s later after dinner since you live in the ’90s and won’t do auto pay.” I wink, poking fun at him for his ways.

“Paper trails are the way to go, keeps everything aligned and proper. No need for phones to do absolutely everything.” 

“Whatever, Styles,” I roll my eyes and pick up the last envelope that has cursive writing on the front addressed to Harry and me. I turn the envelope over and see the flap has already been open. I take out the card-stock paper inside the envelope and look down and begin to read the invitation. 

I look towards Harry and raise a brow before I hold up the invitation to his sister’s wedding. “Oh, yeah, thanks for telling me my sister got engaged,” Harry comments, taking me by surprise. He isn’t too pleased by the slightest.

I had no earthly idea about the engagement, I have been far too busy to talk much to her lately and to be quite honest, I haven’t wanted to get between her and her brother. Their relationship is rocky at the moment, they’re both as stubborn as each other when it comes to certain things. 

It has been three years since the horrible December night that Harry’s father held myself, Charles, and Harry in a room at gunpoint, and it has been three years since Logan passed away tragically. With everything that happened in the year of 2021, both the good and the bad, what really strained Harry and his sister is the fact he kept secrets from her and their mother. Gemma struggled with the information of Logan and the fact Harry knew the entire time about Logan and had the chance to properly meet him, even if they didn’t always see eye to eye. Gemma began to resent Harry for his share of secrets, especially when word got around about what happened on that December night. After that night where she nearly lost her brother and I nearly lost my husband, the love of my life, Gemma began to take a turn for the worst and began to go back to her old self, the old Gemma that I first knew when Harry and I started to date. Slowly, she began to find herself at the bottom of a bottle and put her energy towards resenting her brother and the family secrets and ties that Harry did everything to try and hide from her. 

Gemma hasn’t cut all ties with Harry she calls now and again, mainly to check up on Alex and to make sure everything is okay. But the conversations her and Harry do have are usually minimal. There are times I have to force Harry to speak to her and to keep communication, unfortunately, the relationship is getting no better, it seems to be getting worse with each day that passes.. 

“Harry, I didn’t know about it either,” I inform Harry of my lack of knowledge about the engagement. 

“Mhm,” Harry hums and shrugs, “We aren’t going so it doesn’t matter.” 

“Speak for yourself and not me,” I sternly state, “Why didn’t you tell me about it? How long has this invitation been sitting here?” I question, looking back down at the invitation and trying to find the RSVP. 

“Harry, we missed the RSVP,” I glance over towards him, “The wedding is two months away.” 

“And I’m not going.” Harry stubbornly responds with an unrelenting stare. 

“Harry, it’s your sister’s wedding.” 

Harry shakes his head, “She didn’t even have the balls to come and tell me herself, she has no damn respect, and I’ll be damned to kiss her feet just because she’s getting married. She could have called to tell me at the very least.”

“Harry—“ 

“No,” Harry shakes his head, “If she wants to continue to hold grudges then that’s on her, I tried to protect her from everything and this is how she thanks me? Fuck that, Elle.” 

“Language,” I mutter, “We can finish this conversation later when little ears aren’t around.”

Harry shakes his head, “I’m not going, that’s all there is to it. No need to finish this later, it’s done.” 

Harry doesn’t want to hear my opinions or continue the conversation any further. I know if I continue it will turn into an argument, but he is making the wrong decision here. His sister hasn’t always made the best decisions with things, she has come a long way since the first time I met her when Harry and I started to date many years, she no longer finds herself at the bottom of the bottle, but sometimes she falls off the earth and forgets to maintain her relationship with Harry. They’ve been rocky for years, they love each other and would do anything for each other, Harry would lie his life on the line for her if it meant saving hers, but they are so damn stubborn and hold grudges. I see both sides of the matter, I know Harry had reasons for keeping things, he was trying to keep his family whole and safe. He didn’t want to see his mother and sister go through any distress because of their father; Harry felt the need to protect his mother and sister from the turmoil. On the other hand, I can see why Gemma would be upset and have a hatred towards Harry, she had every right to know about Logan fully, she had every right to not be kept in the dark with everything, especially with how everything almost left Harry lifeless. 

“Harry—“ 

“No, Elle. If she wanted me to truly go, she’d have had the respect to tell me herself and not like this. This is wrong and you know it.” 

Harry has a point, Gemma should have told Harry herself, even if it was a text or a phone call, she didn’t even tell me. She could ave told him she was engaged when it happened, we have no clue how, when or even who. As far as I know, we haven’t met this man she is marrying. She has never been one to bring men around, in fact, there has been one boyfriend she has managed to bring around for us to meet but it wasn’t very often. I am not even sure if the one she is marrying is the same man. 

I let out a sigh, “You two need to talk it out. That’s your sister, Harry.” 

“Love, you know she’s in the wrong here.” 

“I am going to be blunt.” I begin.

Harry groans, “Can’t you drop it?” 

I shake my head, “You have one brother you had to bury on bad terms, don’t fuck things with your sister. She is all you have.” 

“This isn’t my fault, she hates me for things that aren’t my fault, I didn’t ask for the family drama. Fuck, she acts like it is all my fucking fault. You don’t even talk to your sister,” Harry reminds me of my family feud with my sister that I have barely spoken to. I don’t even think she knows Alex’s birthday, her and I parted ways years ago and it was for the best.  

“Harry, drive up there and hash it out.” 

Harry shakes his head, “No, I’m tired and I don’t want to leave you here alone with Alex.”

“Okay, since you don’t want to discuss your sister, feel like discussing what happened last night?” I ask, reminding Harry of what he wishes to forget. 

I don’t tend to question the things he does but last night is something that is out of character for him. Harry doesn’t just suddenly not come home after work and come home at an ungodly hour after spending time at the bar. 

He shakes his head, “I’d rather argue over my sister.” 

“Harry, we need to at least talk about it. We agreed to communicate about things.” I sigh as I cross my arms over my chest, watching as Harry runs his fingers through his hair and look up at the ceiling, not wanting to discuss things but knowing deep down, it is for the best for us to talk.

❃ ❃ ❃  flashback ❃ ❃ ❃

I fell asleep on the couch waiting for Harry to come home. He does a lot of late nights but it is rare that he doesn't’ text or call me and tell me he won’t be home or is staying at the office or penthouse. To be honest, rarely, he doesn’t come home and at least tuck Alex in before he hurries back to the office. “Where have you been?” I instantly question Harry as I hear the door close and his shoes sound against the marble flooring in the foyer. 

I hear the shuffling of Harry walking closer before his shadow appears and he throws his keys and wallet to the coffee table before his shoulders shrug off his suit jacket. “Harry, it’s three in the morning, I’ve been worried sick about you.” 

“Elise,” Harry begins with a heavy sigh, “Do you want the truth?” 

“What the fuck else would I want?” I respond bitterly, tired and irritated with his behaviour. 

He usually texts or calls me when he’s working late, tonight I got nothing. 

“I was at a bar, Elise.” 

I raise a brow and cross my arms, “On a fucking Wednesday?” 

“Yes, on a fucking Wednesday.” Harry nods his head, his hands reaching to his collar and beginning to undo his tie.

“You have work, Harry.” 

Harry rolls his eyes and huffs out of frustration, “Who are you, my mother? I’m aware I have work. I needed a fucking drink, okay?” 

“What has gotten into you?” 

“Look, I don’t want to deal with this right now.” 

I become quiet for a brief moment before my words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them, “Harry, are you going off the deep end?” 

“No, I’m tired, I’m going to bed.” 

I watch Harry as he wanders away from me, continuing to unbutton his shirt as he walks back across the marble flooring in the foyer, “Elle, are you coming?” Harry calls, a small indication that he isn’t trying to be an ass with me. I heavily sigh and know that I need to let this go and pick it back up when he is in a better headspace and can have a proper conversation with me about what his problem is...

*end of flashback* 

Harry sighs as he places Alex down, “Go play outside for a minute, mate, I’ll be out in a minute,” Harry escorts towards the glass doors and lets Alex outside along with our golden retriever, London. 

Harry steps over towards me and he sits down on the bar stools while I continue to sort through the mail. “Elle,” Harry begins, grabbing my attention, “I uh— Can I tell you something without you thinking I am nuts?” Harry softly begins, “Because I know how crazy it sounds.” 

I nod my head, “Yes, darling, you know that.” 

Harry takes a deep breath and looks outside to keep an eye on Alexander for a moment before Harry looks back in my direction, “Everywhere I turn, I swear I keep seeing my father.” Harry begins in a whisper, “And when I take a double look, he’s gone, but it’s bothering me. Elle, I don’t know how to explain it.” 

“Is that why you went to the bar?” I question, beginning to put the pieces together on what has caused him to be like this.

Harry looks down in defeat and grows silent. I walk around the counter and I place my hand to his back, rubbing small circles. “He’s not getting out of jail for a while, you know that.” 

“Doesn’t make things easier, Elle. I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind.”

“Drinking won’t help.” I sigh, not wanting him to go down the wrong path like his sister did many years ago. 

“Thanks, Elle,” Harry scoffs, “Tell me something I don’t already know. I saw what it did to my sister.” 

“Maybe you need time off work so you can decompress, I think you’re far too stressed.” 

Harry shakes his head, “I have the media up my ass, now is the wrong time to show defeat, plus until we figure out a routine with you working from home and stepping down a bit, I can’t take time off.” … “Elle, what if he got released?” 

“Harry, there’s no way he was released early.” 

“Maybe he escaped?” Harry suggests, beginning to come up with different theories on what could have happened.

I assume there is a logical explanation for things but I don’t think he is truly seeing his father everywhere. 

“Harry, you haven’t slept much lately, you need a good rest.” 

“Mhm,” Harry hums, “A good rest and a good shag might fix it.” 

“Don’t get your hopes up,” I playfully hit his shoulder, “Maybe if you call your sister, you might get lucky.” 

“No. I’m not calling and I’m not going to the wedding.” Harry shakes his head. 

I lean down and kiss his warm cheek and slowly move to his neck. “You know, it is a turn on when you’re the bigger person and don’t hold grudges… You’re so tense right now,” I leave trailed kisses down his neck. 

“I’m going to that wedding, aren’t I?” Harry sighs. 

I hum a response, “Now go play with Alex, we can finish this later.” 

“I hope we are finishing these neck kisses later and not this discussion.” 

I roll my eyes at Harry as he stands up and offers me a wink, “Go, I’ll order pizza,” I gesture towards the garden where Alex is patiently waiting, kicking his ball around. 

❃ ❃ ❃ 

I step out on the back porch after calling for a pizza, and I smile as Harry and Alex chase each other around the garden, giggles filling the air while the fairy lights twinkle, the sun beginning to fully set as darkness begins to spread itself out. I watch the two of them playing, both of them seeming as content as can be. There was a time Harry was unsure about having kids, he thought he would never make a great Dad, he had his doubts, but with every day that passes, I see a man who has grown into a fantastic Dad. Harry does his best to always be there for Alex, he does his best to put Alex before the business. Harry makes sure to be there for important events and milestones. Soon Harry will teach him how to ride a bike and before I know it, he will be showing him how to tie his tie for the school dance. 

“Careful, mate,” Harry extends his arm, grabbing Alex as he stumbles over his own feet, “Go give Mummy a hug, she looks a bit cold,” Harry gestures towards me with a smile. 

Alex peers over at me with his bright eyes and a beaming smile, “Mummy,” Alex grins, rushing towards me. I squat down and open my arms for him as he runs into them. 

“Ahhh, big hug,” I chuckle, wrapping my arms around Alex and picking him up, “Let’s wash up and get inside to eat.” I kiss his rosy red cheek, “Harry are you—” I begin but instantly stop as his phone begins to ring and he digs into his pockets. 

“Daddy’s phone keeps ringing,” Alex informs me innocently. 

I nod my head and bounce him on my hip, “Let’s wash your hands, Daddy will come in with London,” I assure Alex, gazing at Harry and gesturing that we are going inside. Harry nods his head and begins to pace along the grass while on the phone. 

I take Alex inside the house and begin to clean him up, making sure his hands are clean for dinner. While I watch him wash his hands, I glance out of the glass doors where Harry sits on the steps of the porch, still on the phone. 

Sometimes that phone causes more harm than good, and other times that phone has been a blessing that couldn’t come sooner. I can only hope the current phone call is a blessing, but from the way he is perched on the steps with his head hung low, I am starting to believe it is not the blessing we are anticipating.

❃ ❃ ❃

I step outside with a blanket wrapped around me and I wander closer to Harry as his head is in his hands. “You okay?” I softly challenge and I rest on the step beside him, my hand immediately beginning to massage his back. 

Harry lifts his head and takes a breath before shrugging his shoulders, “The board are trying to control New York, I need to buy them out, Elle.” 

“Let’s buy them out.”

Harry shakes his head, “Baby, it’s a lot of money.” 

“What are we talking about here? A couple of thousand?” 

Harry laughs and shakes his head, “I wouldn’t be worried if it was a few thousand.” 

“Soo…” I trail off, unsure of how much money it could take to buy the board back and create a new team. 

“The average compensation package for board directors is $4.17 million. With how much money my business is worth and the fact I am one of the biggest CEO’s, they will not let me buy them out cheaply.” 

“Okay, so we pay them 4.17 million.” 

“Darling, it is per member we get rid of. We are looking to buy out at least twenty million,” Harry informs me. 

I grow withdrawn, unsure of what to do or say… twenty million is a lot of money to fork out all at once. 

“What are we going to do?” 

Harry places his arm around me and kisses the top of my head, “I don’t know, sweetheart, I don’t know. It’s something we will have to talk about, we can sell the Windsor Estate, but I don’t want to do that, I only have five million in the offshore account and I don’t want to dig that up, that is for emergencies if anything happens again like my business going down or our assets being frozen again.” … “Could attempt to prove serious board director offences, such as failure to meet fiduciary duties, but that would be hard, any misconduct will be hard to prove, it’s our word against theirs, they have been in the business longer than I have— Money talks, buying them out is the best way to shut them up and get rid of them.” Harry laments, unsure of what the most desirable option is, “Could buy-in under Meyer Enterprises but they know you have that company.”

“Well,” I begin, trying to come up with a logical solution that doesn’t involve paying these pricks millions of dollars, “We could sell Meyer Enterprise, it is worth quite a bit or we could offer them nine percent each of Meyer Enterprise shares, it would still give me the overall say, they’d just own nine percent each. They’d have forty-five percent amongst themselves.” I offer a solution and Harry grows quiet for a moment. 

“I don’t know, we can talk about it after Alexander is asleep, I’ll make a few more calls and talk to Niall.” … “I am sorry about being a dick last night, you deserve better than how I acted, things got the better of me, but that is no excuse. And I am sorry if I come across as an ass when it comes to my sister, I just don’t think what she has done is fair either.. None of it was my fault but I got the short end of the stick.”

“I know.”

“Doesn’t mean I should take it out on you,” Harry presses, “I am sorry, I know last night’s mistake calls for flowers and a bottle of wine— all of which I don’t have right now, but I am sorry.”

“Sincere, I see,” I gently nudge him, “The flowers are definitely a factor in whether I accept it or not.” 

“I’ll pick them up on my morning run tomorrow with London.” 

“”I was only joking, I accept your apology, but while you’re out, coffee would be nice from that coffee shop that just opened.” I assure Harry. “Let’s get some pizza before Alex throws his after dinner tantrum.” 

Harry sighs and stands to his feet, offering me his hand, “Mmm, my favourite time of the evening,” Harry sarcastically mutters, helping me to my feet and placing a kiss on my forehead.

“Terrible two’s will be over soon, he is three in a few months.” 

“It doesn't suddenly end once they turn three,” Harry laughs, leading us inside the house. I close the door behind me and turn to see Harry already heading towards the small sectioned off play area where Alex is playing with the plastic balls, rolling them around everywhere. 

❃ ❃ ❃ 

“Can I make a suggestion?” I ask as I walk closer to the desk that has papers scattered across it. 

Harry nods his head and looks up at me, his pen between his fingers as he leans back in his chair with a sigh. “Instead of getting rid of the whole board right now, let’s go for the chairman, pay him out and you take over chairman and then we handle the others slowly and phase them out.” 

Harry nods his head, “He wants a payout of compensation to leave.” 

“How much would we have to pay him?” 

“How much I would earn this year, my entire salary.” 

“But they can’t estimate that, can they?” 

Harry nods his head, “Well, with how the stock market is, as long as it doesn’t crash and as long as I keep the current investments and clientele I have, it is estimated I would have to pay him a lot more than the ten million I would be paying the other members.” 

“How much are we talking here?” 

“Do you never check the accounts?” Harry chuckles. 

I shake my head, “No, I don’t keep up with how much you earn.” 

“We,” Harry corrects me, “We earn.” 

I shrug my shoulders, “By December we are meant to bring in just over thirty million.”

“Holy fuck, I could have sworn we were clearing about five million not thirty.”

“Been working my ass off, Elle, so many good investments and whatnot. He hasn’t earned thirty million to be handed to him just because they’re being assholes. There’s still tax on the money… If I hand my entire year's salary to him, one bad move and we could be broke and not be able to pay bills. If I have no income and the stocks go down, we are fucked. We need to make a decision on Alex’s school and pay for that—” Harry begins to name off the possible things that could happen and what we need to pay. 

“Stop,” I instruct, well aware that he is going to go down the rabbit hole and consume himself with his thoughts if he continues to think about all the possible outcomes of what could happen. “If you’re concerned about the income, we need to sell Meyer Enterprise or part of the shares. Give him just under half of the shares.” 

“He won’t want to be a silent shareowner.” 

“We can sell the family assets I have.”

Harry shakes his head and transfers closer to his desk, “No, you’re not selling your family assets.” 

“Maybe my Dad and Uncle can help?” I suggest. 

“I am sure they might have some advice, I will give them a call,” Harry sighs before he spreads his fingers through his hair, “I’m sorry,” Harry begins, “It is always one thing after another.”

I extend him a meagre smile and wander around the desk to where he remains, “It’s okay. Years ago we were just two Uni students trying to make ends meet and now we don’t have to worry about the power being cut… Not yet, anyway,” I chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood and make Harry aware of how far he has come. Sure, it may not have always been the easiest route and there has been a lot of bumps in the road, but he has worked hard for everything he has. 

Harry grins, “Those were some rough times, could barely afford to buy you flowers,” Harry laughs, “And to think, somehow, I managed to win you over.” 

“Yeah, we all wonder how,” I laugh, gently nudging Harry before pressing my hand to his back. 

“Thanks, babe, love you, too,” Harry laughs, “Glad I never stopped pursuing you, the best thing to have happened to me.” 

“Mhm,” I hum, “I love you,” I wrap my arms around him from behind, my arms draping over his chest, “Anything I can do? Any paperwork or anything to help?” I volunteer, wanting to take some of the stress of his shoulders while I have a spare few minutes to do whatever needs to be done. 

“You could help me by letting me take you across this desk… Could push everything off the desk right now,” Harry responds, his hands rubbing up and down my arms. 

“Like old times, huh?” I grin, stepping in front of him and moving to sit in his lap, straddling him as his hands move to rest in the small of my back. 

Harry raises a brow and cocks his head to the side, my agile hands clasping to his shirt and embracing the touch of my fingers against the fabric. Harry draws me closer into him and begins to kiss my lips while I undo his buttons, leisurely and effortlessly. While entangled in sweet kisses and mumbles, my brazen hands elect to move from their position on his shirt and investigate the texture of his body, gradually moving up and across his abs, examining his body. They progress up to his shoulders, feeling his taut steely muscles before taking their time in wandering back down. I trail down his torso before resting at his pants. “Why are you making me do all the work?” I playfully tease which causes Harry’s eyes to brighten and his lips to curve into a grin. 

“Really?” He breathes. He moves my hands away from his chest and positions my hands to rest by my sides, there’s a second of silence between us before he forcefully kisses me like his life depends on it, igniting the fire between us and moving his hands under my shirt and bringing them to dance their way to my front, “Uh-ah,” Harry hums, not permitting me to move my hands to caress against his chest, “Don’t do any work,” Harry urges, his lips falling to my neck and causing my breath to hitch in my throat, “Not a damn thing,” Harry breathes against my neck before continuing to leave sweet kisses down to my collar bone, his hand gradually moving down my torso before he reaches my jeans. He unbuttons the jeans slowly and dips his fingers inside them, gently teasing me against the lace. 

“Harry…” I breathe out, “Don’t tease.” 

“Don’t tease?” Harry chuckles, “Not fun, huh?” 

“Harry—” I begin but he cuts me off as he caresses his lips back to my neck, and I tilt my head to the side, the kisses propelling sweet tingles down my body with every fevered kiss. His fingers cease when he touches the lace again hidden under my jeans. He leisurely inches his agile fingers to fondle the lace line, delicately dipping his fingers under them, the bold caress of his tongue becoming further filled with passion, his fingers mildly teasing you by the gradual incline he takes. 

We both immediately pull away as we discover the soft cries from the staircase followed by Alex calling for us, “I’ll get him and put him  back to bed, meet me back in the bedroom?” Harry advances softly while I discreetly get off of him and stand to my feet. 

I nod my head, “If he doesn’t end up wanting to sleep with us,” I respond as Harry stands up and presses his hands to his shirt, adjusting it and buttoning his shirt up. 

“We can’t keep letting him do that,” Harry sighs and we both step out of Harry’s office and walk towards the foyer and the staircase where Alex is standing at the top, peering through the rails. “What’s the matter, Alex?” Harry questions while Alex sniffles and rubs his hands over his eyes, mumbling something inaudible while waiting at the baby gate.

Our child has figured out how to master climbing out of his cot, and it is almost impossible to keep him in his room, even in New York he would manage his way out of his cot and find us. I can only assume his separation anxiety is starting to kick in, as it happens with most children. “Time for a bed,” Harry mutters as he adjusts the baby gate and we both walk up the stairs towards him. 

Harry has been on board the big boy bed train for the last few weeks, and I agree with him now. It is time, he is going to keep climbing out so it is best that he is in a bed where if he does want to get out, he doesn’t have to climb. I heavily sigh and nod my head, “You’re right.” 

“I don’t hear that often,” Harry laughs, reaching the top step and opening the baby gate  before picking up Alex. “What’s the matter? Hmm?” Harry hums, “Jus’ want some cuddles, I see,” Harry sighs when he gets no response and instead Alex rests his head on his father’s shoulder. 

The Next Day.

The last few days have been one hell of a rollercoaster that I wish I could get off of and never have to get back on. Unfortunately, life is like a rollercoaster, there are some dips and curves we will like, and there are some that will make us wish we never got on the ride, to begin with.

I overhear the office door open, “Harry’s in a meeting,” I murmur as my eyes stay glued to the documents I’m reading. I’m not too interested in whoever is at the door; I’m just ready to read this document and go home. 

I’m tired. Mentally, physically, and emotionally tired. 

Harry tossed and turned all damn night and it kept me awake, too. I don’t blame him for being on edge and struggling to sleep, he has two businesses to keep afloat, a father in prison who seems to be managing to cause him hell still, plus he has the media slandering him and setting up camp outside his buildings. He got a call this morning that the building in NYC was swarmed by the media trying to pry information from his workers. We managed to hop on a flight just in time to miss the chaos last week. Harry made the executive decision to fly us back to London in the hopes to settle everything and to stay under the radar and away from the media, but it hasn’t done much. The media are perched outside waiting like hungry lions that are ready to pounce on their prey. They’re outside the building, they’re outside our house, they are everywhere and they follow us everywhere. I’m so glad that I don’t need to be at the office as much and that this is my last full day, Harry has granted me the ability to step down and work from home for the most part until I’m ready to be in the office. 

“Good, I can talk to you instead, Elise,” the voice speaks and makes my heart skip a beat, and my throat suddenly feels as though it's tightening. The voice is familiar but there is no way the person should be in front of me.

I lift my eyes from the document in front of me, and for a moment, I feel as though the world has completely stopped. Surely, this is an illusion, I have to be seeing things like Harry is.

One, two, three, four… I’m still breathing... but I feel as though maybe I shouldn’t be, for what— whom—  I see before me isn’t who I had intended to view. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Logan chuckles, rather amused with himself as he steps closer to Harry’s desk and waves his hand in front of me while I continue to stare at him. 

I’m stunned and confused. Speechless you could even say. 

I stare at Logan and my world feels as though it’s spinning and ready to crash down on me. 

My words fail me and don’t come to mind as I stare at Harry’s brother who I watched bury in Cheshire. 

“You’re meant to be dead,” I respond harshly.

“And you’re meant to be the nicer one,” Logan laughs, “Where’s my brother?” 

“Logan, I—” I begin but I stop, shaking my head as I stand up from the desk, “Give… Give me a minute,” I stutter, unsure of what to do or say in this situation. I still feel as though my world is spinning, I am still hoping this is some sort of nightmare of hallucination.

[wetalkinboutbooks]

Realm of Ash by Tasha Suri

Summary:  The fate of an empire rests in the hands of a young woman with magical blood and nothing left to lose, and an outcast prince determined to save his family at any cost, in this "dark, melodious, and memorable" new fantasy (Library Journal, starred review) from the author of the award-winning Empire of Sand.

The Ambhan Empire is crumbling. A terrible war of succession hovers on the horizon. The only hope for peace lies in the mysterious realm of ash, where mortals can find what they seek in the echoes of their ancestors' dreams. But to walk there requires a steep price.

Arwa is determined to make the journey. Widowed by a brutal massacre, she's pledged service to the royal family and will see that pledge through to the end. She never expected to be joined by Zahir, the disgraced, illegitimate prince who has turned to forbidden magic in a desperate bid to save those he loves.

Together, they'll walk the bloody path of their shared past. And it will call into question everything they've ever believed...including whether the Empire is worth saving at all. (Taken from Goodreads)

Our Ratings:  

 → Geena:  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

 → Kae: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ 

Overall: Realm of Ash is a great follow-up to Empire of Sand, where we follow Arwa who was introduced briefly in Empire of Sand. There is quite a bit of political intrigue in the first half which sets the pacing a bit slow but picks up quickly once the characters go through big revelations. The characters and their motivations draw you in, and overall it was a good read!

~Check out our spoiler Full Review Below

A QUICK SUMMARY: 

So, this book picks up twelve years later from where we last visited this world in Empire of Sand. In this book, we are following the story of a once minor character, Mehr’s little sister, Arwa. Arwa has grown and married and been widowed when we meet her again. She is on her way to a widows hermitage where she is to live out the rest of her days in mourning, after losing her husband. 

Since the Maha’s death, this world had descended into chaos. The daiva, aka, eternal spirits, aka CHILDREN OF THE GODS, have been wreaking a bit of havoc on the world. If you remember, the Maha was manipulating the dreams of the Gods to favour the kingdom. When he was defeated, those dreams had begun to take their natural course. With dreams come nightmares. And those nightmares have taken form. BUT. The daiva protect their own blood, which is the Amrithi people. Arwa is half Amrithi, but she isn’t sure if the daiva are there to protect or hurt her. In addition, her mother (aka stepmom) raises her believing that Amrithi are cursed and savages, and essentially taught her to hate herself. 

In the widow’s hermitage, she meets an influential widow, Gulshera, and realizes she has connections to the imperial family and because Arwa doesn’t care about anything she offers herself up as a tool to the royals. So, Gulshera takes Arwa to serve under Princess Jihan, we’re subjected to court politics and meet Prince Zahir, aka a bastard. Together, Arwa and Zahir work together to find the Maha in the Realm of Ash (essentially a spirit world) so they can unlock a way to save the empire from ruin. Princess Jihan turns around and essentially implies that she sent Arwa to Zahir to ‘PLEASE’ him in an INTIMATE fashion. Arwa doesn’t take it and gets mad but Zahir isn’t here for it and it’s smooth sailing again. 

During a trip into the Realm of Ash Arwa realizes the truth behind her Amrithi blood and the Maha’s crimes and shares it with Zahir. They both struggle, Arwa being staunchly anti-empire and Zahir trying to do something to prove his worth to his sister. When the emperor dies, he names Zahir as the Maha’s heir and Jihan’s older brother Prince Akhtar as Emperor. A few murders later, a different Emperor sits on the throne and Zahir has a bounty on his head. Zahir and Arwa use the aid of a secret women’s society Zahir’s mom was a part of to escape to where the Maha was stationed to find the secret to the empire’s success, discovering cursed towns, ghosts from their pasts, and their feelings for one another. 

The Good:

→ Zahir

Kae:  So ZAHIR! I love him. He is as kind as a kitten. As sweet as an apple pie. But because he is a bastard, he is hidden away in tombs that were converted to be his rooms. There, he does research on how to restore peace and order to the Empire. He knows his days are numbered, being the bastard son of the Emperor, so he is essentially doing research to bargain his own life. Besides that, he genuinely likes learning and spent the majority of his days doing that anyway before he was banished to the tombs to live in secret. 

When we first meet Zahir, he is studying by candlelight in his rooms. Arwa finds a bit of power in him not noticing her, and takes the time to watch him for a moment. She thinks he’s handsome with his ‘pretty face’ and sharp, slender form. She’s like “damn he’s kinda hot… but I'm a widow… I’m not allowed to think boys are hot anymore.” But alas, she thinks he handsome. So they assess each other for a moment and agree to be apprentice and teacher.. Zahir gives Arwa poems and books to read that will help her better understand about the Realm of Ash and what he is working on. 

Geena: Arwa wears a veil for 90% of the book because such is the way of the widow, so she makes a point to stare at Zahir through her veil because she knows he can’t see her checking him out. And this boy turns around and hands her poetry, the more we learn about the nocturnal prince the more you realize he’s such a Soft Boi™ who loves literature and wants to desperately prove that his life has worth. His mother was killed because she tried to give the Emperor some advice, and the Empire of Ambha drinks the ‘women aren’t shit’ juice so she was labelled a traitor and murdered. Zahir only survives because Princess Jihan loves him, and as a legitimate spoiled princess she has to be pampered. Zahir has the ability to study and work with magic, because his mother was part of a secret women’s society that did so and it was passed onto him, so he’s been tasked with figuring out a way to stop the Empire’s decline ever since the Maha died. 

His character made me sad a little bit, because he feels like he should have died with his mother to some extent. And Jihan has led him to believe that his life being worth something depends solely on the fact if he can find the Maha’s spirit and save the empire. He’s treated like trash by everyone else because he’s a bastard and into witchcraft, even Arwa thinks he’s a weirdo in the beginning. But he’s such a kind-hearted soul?? Who btw respects women, when Arwa accuses him of tryna sleep with her, Zahir is like “MA’AM, I RESPECT YOU WITH MY WHOLE HEART IDK WHAT SHIT MY SISTERS BEEN DRINKING BUT I WOULD NEVER!” well, he’s less dramatic than that but yea he suggests laying out rules so they don’t cross the apprentice/teacher dynamic. Also, during one trip into the Realm of Ash and Arwa’s veil comes off and she literally snaps at him to not look at her face (bc it is not the widow way) he straight up doesn’t look at her face ever for a good portion of the book after that skfjdf.  

Kae: YEH HE JUST LOOKS AT HER HANDS. SOFTIE. I LOVE HIM. 

Geena: Hand fetish IM JOKING… BUT SNDKFJDNST THAT’S ALL I COULD IMAGINE.. Arwa was like “Man, my veils off but this boy is still looking at my HANDS” 

The Bad:

→ Gulshera and the Royals

Kae: Gulshera! Ohh, she made me mad at the end. But like, I get it, ya know? So Gulshera, our bow-wielding widow, was Princess Jihan’s nursemaid and confidant. So when Gulshera finds out Arwa is Amrithi (because Arwa got caught trying to rid the Hermitage of daiva) she basically goes to Arwa like “You know you gotta get up outta here right? You can’t stay here, shawty.” But she gives Arwa the option of possibly going to the Empire and devoting herself to the Princess and her cause for solving the Empires bad luck. So Arwa goes, meets Zahir, yada yada yada. 

Gulshera asks Arwa very vague questions about what she’s doing but doesn’t exactly want to know what Arwa is doing. She just a lil nosey. So after a while, the Emperor dies and the named prince is killed by his brother. Zahir is next and he and Arwa escape. Eventually, they are found in the desert where Gulshera shoots the shit out of Arwa’s shoulder. It’s such a bad blow that Arwa is pretty much bleeding out. I was like, yo what the FUCK GULSHERA. 

Geena: YEA LIKE SHE PRETENDS TO BE HER ALLY AND CARE FOR HER BUT TURNS AROUND AND IS LIKE “SORRY BABES IMPERIALISM ALWAYS WINS” 

Kae: AND THAT’S THE TEA BAYBEEEEEE. IT was such bullshit. But again, I get it. Gulshera is like “It’s either me or you… And I raised the princess so imma do what she says and also I knew her longer soooo…. Bye Arwa. This will haunt me for the rest of my days… but it be like that.” 

Geena: Kae covered Gulshera really well! But yea she was a stank old lady in the end, like you’re essentially the reason Arwa is where she is but you’re acting like you had nothing to do with anything. BUT N E WAYS, I’m gonna talk about Princess Jihan a lil bit because she annoyed me too. She was privileged and used Arwa like a ragdoll, actually not even just Arwa but her brother she claimed to love too. Jihan really guilt-tripped the FUCK out of Zahir being all “Did I save you from nothing? Do I deal with other’s scrutiny for nothing? Prove your worth to me brother, prove that I’ve placed my love in the right man” and I was like……  bitch…. She might have been a princess but she was the queen of emotional manipulation. Also, she claimed to be for the women but essentially told Arwa that one of her jobs was to fuck Zahir and like…. Hello….. What is wrong with you. 

OH AND ANOTHER THING… when it’s revealed that the Maha used Amrithi people to shape the Empire’s success, and Zahir confronts Jihan about this she’s like “Yea, and?” like she saw no problem in using a group of people and villainizing them in the same breath…  Imperialism is a hell of a drug 

The Ugly:  

→ The Nightmare

Kae: So the Nightmare was truly… A nightmare. 

When we first learn about how Arwa became a widow, we learn about an incident that took place at a military base called Darez Fort. Darez Fort is where Arwa stayed with her husband, Kamran. We learn some soldiers come back with what they think is a Daiva, trapped in a little cage/crate thing. When they open it up, it appears to be a childlike creature. But it soon reveals a face of white bone and attacks everyone in the fort. The Nightmare makes the men turn on each other as well and it’s quite literally a blood bath. Everyone is dead. The maids, the cooks, the soldiers, and Kamran. All killed. BUT THERE IS A DAIVA THERE. It’s Arwa’s litter guardian angel. She knows her blood protects her, so in a panic, she makes this big ass cut on her arm and surrounds herself with her blood. The Daiva protects her from the Nightmare and she is the only survivor of Darez Fort. 

The Nightmare leaves a sense of fear in Arwa that literally makes her shake. She can kind of sense when it’s near. So on her journey with Zahir and a guards woman named Eshara, they end up at another fort for a rest. Some soldiers are ordered by this mean ass general to stay inside the fort because they aren’t allowed to leave. This is when Arwa gets that chilling sense of fear as she did in Darez Fort. SOME EVIL SHIT IS AFOOT. 

Geena: Yesss, the nightmares are like anti-daiva essentially. I really liked their concept and how they factored in with the worldbuilding. What makes them terrifying is that the Maha spent how many centuries fending off nightmares by using Amrithi, but suddenly without him to control how gods dream, nightmares are flooding the empire. Arwa manages to defeat the nightmares by unlocking the memories of her past ancestors from the Realm of Ash and crudely dancing a rite that locks nightmares in cages. Along with Zahir, Arwa figures out that nightmares consider themselves some sort of god and love to be worshipped. Both Zahir and Arwa decide that the empire can rot, and the nightmares can do what they want but they’ll teach anyone with amrithi blood to dance the rite and worship the nightmares to prevent any more massacres like Darez Fort.

→ Maha

Geena: God….. This stankass wrinkly-ass bitchboy really sunk his claws so deep into the Ambhan people that after he died, he was thought to be a martyr. Like 12 years after his death and people still worship him, and mourn his death? Mehr and Amun went through so much to end his reign of terror yet the empire continued to worship him. I’m sure they didn’t have the time or power to go around and spread the truth behind the Maha’s work but good LORD was it grating to read people missing that disgusting man. But thinking back on it, even if Amun and Mehr had exposed him… would people have believed an Amrithi couple that killed their beloved Maha? They probably would’ve killed them instead :(

Though, this was an interesting detail that Tasha Suri included. That, despite the evil being defeated, people will refuse to acknowledge it as evil and continue to point fingers at marginalized people for the problems caused by the evil being. 

The Awesome:

→ Arwa and Mehr

Kae: If y’all could see me now, you would see me doing a little dance because BIIIIITCH. I WAS LIVIIIIING SOLELY FOR MEHR AND ARWA TO MEET UP AGAIN. EVERY PAGE I WAS LIKE “is Arwa gonna talk about Mehr? Does she miss her sister?” AND SHE DID SOMETIMES AND I LOVED IT. AND THEN ARWA SAID SHE WAS TOLD HER SISTER HAD DIED AND I WAS LIKE NOOOOO. SHE IS ALIVE, ARWA. SHE IS ALIIIIVE. 

So when Arwa was in the Realm of Ash, she had seen Mehr and was SHOOK. Because you can only see dead relatives in the Real of Ash. So she actively avoided Mehr in the Realm because it hurt too much to see her there. It just confirmed that her sister was dead. And even I was confused because I was like “Ummm, Tasha… I know you didn’t kill off my girl after she done went through all that shit.” So I started thinking…. Because in the Realm of Ash, you saw the dead as grey ash. Shadows. But she saw Mehr in colour and full of life. So I had this theory that since Mehr has Amata (Amrithi spiritual magic closer to the ancestors) that she was seeing Mehr in the realm because of how close Mehr’s amata was so the ancestors and daiva. 

GUESS WHO WAS RIGHT BITCH? MEEEEEE. I CALLED THAT SHIT. IT’S MY SUPERPOWER. So like, as Arwa is dying from that arrow bitchass GUlshera shot her with, she ventures into the Realm and see’s Mehr again. She calls out to her, and Mehr sees her. She promises to find her. 

When Zahir and Arwa escape from his sister’s claws, the daiva take them out into the desert. Mehr eventually finds them and brings them back to her home. When Arwa wakes up, she is greeted by Mehr bandaging her up. They cry and hug. I CRY BECAUSE I’M SO DAMN HAPPY. I LOVE A GOOD REUNION. MEHR LOVED ARWA SO MUCH AND ARWA LOVED MEHR. AND THEY WERE SEPERATED AND HADN’T EVEN KNOWN THE OTHER WAS STILL ALIVE. AND THERE THEY WERE. TOGETHER. AND ALIVE AND HUGGING AND CRYING. It was beautiful. I was like, ugly crying. So thank you, Tasha. Thank you for writing that scene so well because it was happy and emotional and they both deserved to see each other again. It will go down as one of my top 5 reunion scenes. 

I’d also like to say, unrelated to Mehr-- That Awra and Zahir did admit their love for each other and kissed. And Zahir was Arwa’s, and Arwa was Zahir’s, though they made it clear that they belonged to no one. They belonged to each other. And their love was so soft and built on mutual respect. They were both very lonely and longed for one another, but never pursued because Arwa didn’t want to break the honour code of the “widows way” or whatever, and Zahir didn’t want to disrespect her. BUT THEIR MINDS. THEY LOVED EACH OTHER. So they both finally gave in. And it was lovely. 

Geena: ugghh yess, Arwa and Zahir’s relationship was based on mutual respect and love (just like Mehr and Amun!). In both instances, people forced them together but it was only through their own agency that they fell in love with one another, and support each other wholeheartedly. 

ALSO, THE REUNION KSJNFKSJF I had a suspicion that Mehr was alive too based on everything that Kae mentioned too! So, when Mehr says to Arwa that she’ll come for her I sCREAMED!!!! I loved it so much, them crying in each other’s arms… Arwa seeing Mehr’s own kid… LIKE HELLO??? 

Kae: AND TASH SAID HER AND AMUN COULDN’T HAVE KIDS BECAUSE OF THE RITES SO I WAS SHOOK AND HAPPY AND OMG. literally SCREAMING. 

Geena: YEA I REMEMBER THAT, BUT THEN I ALSO REMEMBERED YOUR THEORY! Where the Maha had said that people that danced the rite couldn’t have children because he tried to impregnate amrithi women he enslaved but it didn’t work… and Kae you’d said it was probably because he was shooting dust and YOU WERE RIGHT!!!

Kae: IT’S MY SUPERPOWER. IM TELLING YOU. I CAN GUESS THE SHIT OUT OF SHIT. 

Geena: KJDSFNKSDJF I LOVE YOUR SUPERPOWER!!! My only complaint was that we didn’t get a longer scene with Mehr/Amun and Arwa/Zahir bonding :( I wanted mooorreee… other than that it was everything! 

Conclusion

Geena: TO CONCLUDE! Tasha Suri didn’t disappoint with this sequel… and it’s so easy to write a shitty sequel but she was like nAH WE’RE NOT ABOUT THAT LIFE. And we loved it! There was a slow start as we read Arwa struggling with her internalized hate, but after she realized that she came from a people who have survived in Ambha in the face of adversity the book sped up real fast. The romance was so soft and wholesome and everything that we want in a relationship, Tasha knows EXACTLY what she’s doing when she’s writing romance. I don’t trust anyone else with a romance this soft, and I cannot wait to read her upcoming series that feature a wlw couple.  

Kae: GEENA SAID IT ALL. Tasha knows how to write a romance. I love soft boi’s that will also murder a man for you if need me. LIKE YAAAS HE’S SENSITIVE AND RESPECTS ME AND WILL BEAT SOMEONE'S ASS FOR ME. WE LOVE TO SEE IT. Honestly though, overall, this was such a stunning sequel. Because Geena and I have read some sequels that were…. How to say this nicely… fucking terrible. Tasha is a phenomenal writer and I know her upcoming series will be great too! This book was full of lessons. One being, SELF HATRED IS FUCKING TRASH. SO LOVE YOURSELF AND YOUR RICH BACKGROUND. BECAUSE PEOPLE WILL LOOK DOWN ON YOU  FOR WHO YOU ARE AND WHERE YOU COMF FROM SOMETIMES, AND YOU JUST GOTTA SAY FUCK ‘EM AND KEEP IT MOVING. 

Geena: JKSNFKJSNDSKJF YAAAS, ALSO IK IT WAS BRIEF BUT LIKE DAMN… TASHA REALLY WENT HARD WITH THE AMRITHI IN THIS BOOK AND HOOBOY… Like the insights into past ancestors? And the fact that there are so many mixed Amrithi people that have been forced to hide their heritage… once again…  I M P E R I A L I S M and G E N O C I D E… this series covered it pretty well… PLEASE READ AND SUPPORT TASHA 

[the-firebird69]

We have a couple more things to announce one is we are putting active APB and warrants on people and we are going to put it on anyone who is insulting attacking trying to discredit trying to steal money from our son trying to abuse him and or our daughter and we are going to enforce the law and we're going to make sure that other people do as well and in your crazy circles until you go down the toilet drain speaking of which

-you raised our son's rent stan so we're going to raise yours. He only said it once and you started repeating it like a madman he can't do that to me I'm in charge here and since when does trying to extort someone mean that you're in charge it means you're some sort of scumbag criminal so we are going after you and suing you I'm going to take all your properties before the pseudo empire can and we're going to start taking theirs because they're a huge assholes already and the empire and the foreigners in also going to take your ships when the cream puffs come back for the ships

-on the islands the minority warlock are attacking New Zealand and Australia and they need ships and they want to take them before you lose them all they need the ones that go into the tunnels they need them to take care of stashes and caches honest to goodness other groups are coming here foreigners and us and some acts get in and the max are horrible too they're horrible people any format and we're going after a lot of them just because they're Max

-there's another thing happening our son is sick and tired of going to the freaking laundromat and being treated like a poor boy and having his money regulated by idiots and it's on and on with them they're incessant losers everybody is taking everything from them and killing them and they can't figure it out their leaders are not necessarily retarded but have retarded frontal lobes and do a lot of stupid things and they're in a fix and you can't get out of it and their race is not helping them and they have no support so they're violent and dangerous and evil to our son and that's what it is they do some things at work but really they're trying to kidnap him the whole time and we're going to finish them off as well this week we're going to start I've had it with this routine he was sick of it when he first got here

-there's a number of people here who do not obey any laws and we mentioned it we are going to enforce it and we are going to jail you and imprison you and we are taking over and so are the foreigners and some of the max who still have a program and they're getting rid of you and they can see your actions near reviving The clan and you don't know it. They saw you today snickering about bringing back the clan and having our son mention it and to put potency into it and all sorts of stuff like he cares or something and they stop snickering and said what do you care said what the f*** is wrong with you people so God damn stupid I'm going to go after you dumb but f****** morons and why would I not say that so they felt bad and said we suck so bad they will yeah they will you suck so bad I will stop saying a million times and forget it and they go around saying and they forget it

-there's other things to announce it is getting kind of dicey here and we have to do some work real quick

Thor Freya

Olympus

We can see that moving around and flipping around and stuff they really need to leave it's really just Dave right now but we need them out permanently what a nightmare we need these people out permanently from day one two years ago we hate them

Hera Zues

We see that it's a personality conflict and it's personal business that they started and they won't let you off if they started it to get into physical altercations and yelling matches with our son and with Hera of lime and stuff we are going to kill him right now they're eating up 500 million chips heating them and we're going after them there's only about 7 billion left now is about 10 billion left but really trumpsters only have about three point five billion and enormous change but they're winners okay so they're going to keep on doing this and after a Time the more luck fleet will be engaged by the pseudo empire. And they're also winners and they're saying so what and it says it's your program that is nothing not mine that's nothing and it's starting to say it too we don't have any use for him I don't have any use for you stupid f**** and the foreigners too and some happens to me I disappear you get to get nuked. That's actually one of our plans and people have that too and see it all the time cuz you're stupid

We're preparing an assaults on the idiots they're going after Stan he's a huge b**** and pill and can't figure anything out we're going to take from all of them now

Frank Castle hardcastle

We are answering your requests Hera and we're going to get the job done and we know it's very serious because he's saying it and says they just don't know anything and they have no grounding at all and we get that too and they're instructing a lot of others and globally and I will look at it more and come up with something to help we think that they're being used and they are we think that they're being used in there are and I said we're going to have to use foreigners and stop being chickenshit and I do understand that we're going to use foreign

Duke nukem Blockbuster and it's going to happen anyways

[levaer]

THE BIG BLEACH HC MEME centering around politics, repost & fill out! For anyone who wanted to explore those aspects more, considering it played a big role in the story. Some things may be unknown to your Muse, just think in WHAT IF then & well, have fun and take your time!

BASICS

Name:   Askin Nakk Le Vaar    / / /    Age:   1000+    / / /    Gender:   Cis male Race:   Shinigami / Quincy / Hollow / Fullbringer / Visored / Human / Other Currently lives:   Soul Society / Hueco Mundo / Silbern / Living World / Hell  Exact Location:   Half of his life is set in the Wandenreich. Post-war, his location varies. Group(s): Quincy / Sternritter / Schutzstaffel

QUESTIONS

- Would your muse consider themselves more: GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL ? - Would your muse consider their group more: GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL ? - How does your muse think others see them: GOOD / EVIL / NEUTRAL ? - How does your muse think others see their race: GOOD / EVIL / NEUTRAL ? - How does your muse think others see their group: GOOD / EVIL / NEUTRAL ?

- Is your muse considered a threat: YES / NO ?  From whom?:  No, because I hc that the Shinigami aren’t actually aware Askin survived; if they knew, however, there’s the possibility he’d be deemed a threat.  - Is your muse powerful: YES / NO ?  Could they be considered OP:  YES / NO ? - Did your muse commit any crimes: YES / NO ? - Does your muse think they are doing mostly the right thing: YES / NO ? - Would society think the same: YES / NO / MIXED OPINIONS ?

- Does your muse think they are treated unfairly: YES / NO ? - Does your muse feel understood from others: YES / NO ? - Is it important for them what others think of them as a person: YES / NO ? - Would they welcome death:  YES / NO ? - Will they ever find peace:  YES / NO ?

01.0.  Do they fully stand behind the group they are part of? YES / NO. Why is that? Explain: Askin likes to think he’s rootless, and that’s true for the most part, but he’s still a human being. He was rootless enough to drop everything he knew, his entire world, and embark on a journey with a blurry destination - but not enough not to feel a little bit of sense of belonging to the Wandenreich, which he has been serving for over a thousand years, and for the Quincy as a whole. They’re not all good or bad, they’re people; he’s not all good or bad, either. But they’re his people, a part of his, even if not aloud, acknowledges this.

02.0.  Do they like as things are in Soul Society? YES / NO / INDIFFERENT. 02.1.  Is there anything they would change? Explain here: Askin is not one to judge. He would not condemn the many for the sins of the few, but ... he would not forgive the few for the sins of the many, either. He’s not too informed about the specific dynamics of Soul Society, though he’s familiar with the violent foundation of it since he fought against the first generation of the Gotei, during the First Quincy War. Let’s say, he would not change anything in particular, but he would not mind if all got wiped away, either. 

03.0. Would they ever actively try to bring change (in general)? YES / NO. 03.1. Is your muse more: passive / active ?  Introverted / Extroverted ? 03.2. Does your muse care more about: others / themselves ?  / /  all of Askin’s life has been projected on someone else’s dream. Ultimately, he looks after himself, but he led a strongly collective life for so long, it kinda shaped him. 03.3. Do they trouble their mind over a lot of problems, others? YES / NO. 03.4. Do they mostly involve: the world / everyone / themselves / comrades / friends / family / elderly / kids / teenagers / home / workplace / strangers / souls / humans / quincy / shinigami / nobles / fullbringer / visored / hollows / espada / arrancar / (former) boss(es) / pets / animals / zanpakuto spirit / enemies / partner / lovers / soul king / god / other…(add more) 03.5. Name (up to) three which are the most on their mind (optional, adding names): Askin has a tendency not to hold onto anything. His own thoughts feel light as clouds to him as they cross his minds, and he’s definitely not the type to obsess over something or someone. After the war, Urahara Kisuke has been on his mind for a while; mostly, he wondered whether he had succeeded in taking him down. Grimmjow too; I think, especially for a Quincy, the feeling of a Hollow’s claws is not something easily forgotten.  

04.0. Do they think frequently about politics? YES / NO / SOMETIMES. Why is that? Explain: More frequently than he would like to, actually. His social background demanded of him at least some basic knowledge of the feudal system, administration and interrelations with other Quincy families and with the central power of the Carolingian empire. That said, Askin never let himself got too involved, but growing up witnessing his lord father administering justice, taxes, law-making etc. kind of left an imprinting. He spent a thousand years serving as a soldier in an army where all the power was intensely centralized, so he did not have much to do with politics - that’s how the Wandenreich was, as Yhwach really wasn’t a politician, anyway. Post-war though, if he contributes to the reformation of a Quincy nation, he will have to get involved whether he likes it or not.

05.0. How do they feel in their current location: POSITIVE / NEGATIVE / NEUTRAL ? 05.1. Why is that?:  Silbern gives him vertigo. He preferred the instability of the Lichtreich more, but still, he’s not one to complain. The world of the living is as colorful as he remembers, always shapeshifting, and it’s really nice to see the light blue sky again after being hidden in the shadows for so long.

06.0. Does your muse have any goal: YES / NO ?  BIG / SMALL ? - 06.1. Does it involve anything world-changing: YES / NO ? - 06.2. If goal or not, any future plans? Share here:  You know how Askin is, he goes where the wind takes him. He only ever committed once in his life and it wasn’t even to a dream of his own, it was Yhwach’s design, so it would be really unkind to ask him to think about the future haha. In my rebuild verse, any plans for his immediate future involve making himself useful to the new Quincy state. Best way to keep himself occupied.

07.0. Does your muse know about the Original Sin of Soul Society*: YES / NO ? * curious? Read about it here. 07.1. If they knew, would it change their views on Soul Society: YES / NO ? 07.2. More: POSITIVE / NEGATIVE / NEUTRAL ?  / /    I’m not sure Askin would care to the point of completely changing his opinion on Soul Society, since it’s already a pretty negative one. It would feel somewhat eerie to him, thinking that the victim of the original sin was Yhwach’s literal father, though.

08.0. Who is the worst person in their eyes?:  Mayuri Kurotsuchi. 08.1. What should happen to them?  Execution (quick / slow death) / Imprisonment / Stripped of their powers / Torture / Repay for their sins / Pay a Fine / Social Work / lose their loved ones / Exile / other… (add more). 08.2. Explanation: he’d kill Mayuri off quickly, as one gets rid of a thorn. It wouldn’t be a painless death, but it wouldn’t take too long; Askin is not a sadist by nature, and he would just want to make sure the bastard doesn’t take one more breath in the world.

09.0. Thoughts on: Quincy Massacre if they knew: POSITIVE / NEGATIVE / NEUTRAL ? 09.1. Would they be alright with such thing happening again: YES / NO / INDIFFERENT ? 09.2. Would they try to prevent it: YES / NO / DEPENDS ? 09.3. Explanation:  I said this already, the Quincy genocide is a generational trauma for the Quincy, even those too young to be born at the time. Askin is unmoved by most things, but he witnessed with his own eyes those of his kind that were captured and killed and experimented on.  It’s something you just don’t forget, and Askin doesn’t forget easily anyway. If such a thing were to happen again, and lbr there’s a possibility since the numbers of the Quincy are always carefully monitored, Askin would fight, despite his general dislike for overall idea.

10.0. Would they ever switch sides: YES / NO ?  10.1. If yes, What could bring them to do so?:    - 10.2. Would they create a new one: YES / NO ?  or join a current one? If so, which:  Until his defeat, Askin’s allegiance is to Yhwach and betraying him / switching sides like some Sternritters did is off the table. After the war, however, he’s free of bonds, so if someone were to try and gain his loyalty, he’d consider it. He doesn’t fuck with Soul Society, though.

11.0. Does your muse follow a certain moral code*?:  YES / NO / GRAY AREA ? * (ethics) A written, formal, and consistent set of rules prescribing righteous behavior, accepted by a person or by a group of people. 11.1. What does it involve?: it’s more of what’s in his character than a real set-up code, he’s not so chivalrous. He lives by the principle of letting people live their lives without prying and being chill, mostly.  11.2. What does it NOT involve?: Askin is not a sadist, although he can be a real bastard if he commits to it. He has no problem killing, no matter how gruesomely, but he’s not entirely comfortable with harming children. He’s also not a creep lol, he wouldn’t give someone unwanted attention. 

YOUR MUSE’S VIEWS / OPINIONS ON THESE GROUPS ?

Central 46:   positive / negative / neutral.   ━   because: the core of Soul Society executive functions, and by extension, the most fucked up.

Four Great Noble Clans:   positive / negative / neutral.   ━   because: he’s not knowledgeable enough about the specifics of Soul Society politics to have an opinion on its nobility. Askin is nobility too, after all. 

Royal Guards / Gotei 13:   positive / negative / neutral .   ━   because: they’re the ones primarily responsible for the genocide, the ones Askin fought against during the first and the second war, the ones who reinforce the violent supremacy of Shinigami and who openly oppose his people. 

Fullbringer:   positive / negative / neutral.   ━   because:  doesn’t really know them, doesn’t care. A human with hollow-based abilities is somewhat of an abomination in the eyes of a Quincy, I believe, but Askin is an open-minded person.

Visored:   positive / negative / neutral.   ━   because:  Shinigami AND Hollows? Ew.

Espada:   positive / negative / neutral.   ━   because:  his only experience with an Espada in canon was Grimmjow, and it’s a tricky subject. He’s never come in contact with Aizen’s whole elite, so not much of an opinion could be formed.

Quincy:   positive / negative / neutral.   ━   because:  he’s a Quincy. It doesn’t matter how disconnected Askin might feel from his people, he devoted his entire life to the Quincy as a group, though indirectly. Askin has a cynical and disenchanted look on the world, he doesn’t buy into the romanticized concept of ‘Quincy pride’, but at the end of the day, he remains a Quincy. The millenary story of his people, their culture and powers are integral to Askin’s upbringing. He thinks he’s rootless, but he’ll never be able to uproot the Quincy in him.

YOUR MUSE’S VIEWS / OPINIONS ON THESE (IMPORTANT) PEOPLE ?

Aizen:   positive / negative / neutral.   ━   because:  he knows Aizen by reputation alone, as one of the Five Special War Powers; he’s been told the guy is a real asshole, but Askin doesn’t judge. 

Yhwach:   positive / negative / neutral.   ━   because:  Yhwach is awe-inspiring. The sense of wonder he got Askin to feel, unmoved by the passing of centuries, is the closest thing to feeling really alive he ever experienced in his life. It’s not that Askin is loyal to Yhwach himself; he’s loyal to that deep-seated feeling of wonder, the thrill of diving into the sea without knowing what’s awaiting under the surface.

Mayuri:   positive / negative / neutral.   ━   because:  his gratuitous cruelty and the horrible things he did to Quincies viscerally nauseate Askin. And you know it takes a lot to upset him.

Kurosaki:   positive / negative / neutral.   ━   because:  he’s just a boy. Why is everyone obsessed with this boy? 

Soul King:   positive / negative / neutral.   ━   because:  Askin is, and always has been, quite divorced from religion. He knows the guy is literally God. He knows Pernida and Gerard are directly linked to him, parts of him, and that Yhwach is his son but ... that’s about it. 

EXTRA(optional): add more characters which hold some meaning to your muse.

Grimmjow:   This is largely self-indulgent, but being (almost) killed by Grimmjow was like catching an disease you have been vaccinated against. The illness is meeker, sort of slowed down, but you feel the clash with the vaccine within your veins, you feel it distinctively. For one who lives between life and death, the experience Grimmjow gave him, that of a frozen instant in which he’s both alive and dead, is something Askin will never forget. He will never forget the feeling. 

CONGRATS, you managed till to the end, now tag your fellow bleach partners!

TAGGED BY: myself, @senboago​ and @tatarfora​ TAGGING: steal it.

[superhero-boogie]

Criminal Empires (Part 1?) Jason Todd x Mob!reader

A/N; I got this idea and just had to take it out of me, hope you guys enjoy it. It was super fun writing this one. Let me know if I got something wrong!

Request; (none) You were one of Gotham's most feared mob chief, your code name was Nulla Falcone, Red Hood comes after you.

Life in Gotham wasn’t easy. Its fame wasn’t just made-up stories that parents told their children to keep them out of trouble, even though most of them were already in trouble themselves. Your life wasn’t easy, you were born and raised in Gotham and have never left the city in your whole life.

When you were eight your family lost everything you had because the company that built your house was embezzling money and used cheap material, making it unable to live in. That’s when your dad got involved with the mob, fist it wasn’t a big deal, some favors here, some services there, until he got Falcone’s attention, growing fast inside their circle. At first, you were happy that suddenly you guys had a good house, lots of food in your fridge, and didn’t have to worry about the money, but then... you lost your dad. Shot in a crossfire with the police. You were twelve, and as fast as the money came, it left. Your mom didn’t get involved in that side of the law again, not if meant you could lose her too. But her shitty job as a waitress wasn’t enough, so when you turned sixteen, a teenager full of anger, resentful of life, desperate to prove yourself, you did the most reckless thing. You had walked into Falcone’s club, demanding to him right away, and that you wouldn’t take no as an answer. You almost got shot, but as you weren’t a treat, a teen that barely fit in her clothes, they let you in. Falcone remembered your father.

-He was a good man. Great in the job, and I could trust him.- He said.- Can I trust you? 

You were as good as your father, sometimes even better. Cops could barely be called an obstacle, your steals were clean, you made sure no one got hurt. And if some of your partners shot someone, you made sure to shoot them in the same spot. You never let your mom found out, you told her about a half-period job in some random shop, and every time she asked, you would change the name. Her only concern was your school, but that wasn’t a problem anymore since you got a scholarship in Gotham's most prestigious academy, obviously your boss’s doing. You learn Italian has a Thank You.

 Fast, you turned in Falcone right arm; you were ambitious but would never betray someone who did so much for your family. As for Falcone, he saw your potential and send you to Coast City to finish your studies. Your mom radiated pride even if melancholic because she would miss you.

You were in the last year of college, the normal life not appealing anymore when Falcone died and left you with his empire. You were now twenty-one and decide to not keep lying to your mom; she was beyond mad. And beyond worried. While you’re gone a new vigilant had shown up on Gotham. The Red Hood. You wanted to laugh, so many times you fooled the Big Bat himself, who was someone that got their name from a fairytale against you? 

Your empire grew, Gotham’s biggest villains respected you, and since no one knew your real name, soon enough you became Nulla Falcone, the Italian word to nothing. Just like the one before you, better than the one before you. Your first encounter with Red Hood was hilarious. One night he broke in thinking that was the day of a big drug operation and ended up scarring the kids you had brought home to feed. You knew your radio frequency was being listened to, so you changed the codes. It was fun screaming no sense words with an Italian accent and even funnier when he tried to calm you down. In your second encounter, he didn’t see you since you were watching from the cameras. 

He got in and barely got out. You had paid a former League of Assassins to train your employees so when normal people did martial arts; he figured it was time for a strategic retreat. Now here you were. Heading for the third one, you couldn’t believe it. He had a nerve coming after your mom. You looked at the picture of your mom through her window an unknown number sent you.

- Your mother is adorable. Does she know what you do for a living? What happens if I tell her? 

Want to meet up? - You reread the text, for what it seemed the thousand times, and checked if the place were right. Going in the abandoned warehouse you got your gun ready expecting the worst.

- Hello there, Falcone. What brings you here? - His sarcastic voice echoed through the empty warehouse.

- The fact that you got a picture of my mother, you son of the bitch. - It was your quick response. You look up to see him on one platform.

- Oh, no need to go for the mothers, Y/N. You know, your real name is prettier than the Nulla bullshit. 

- Says you. Tell me what you want so I can leave, Hood. I’m a busy woman.

-Well, you sure have an empire to run, but who said anything about me letting you leave? Besides in a corpse bag, of course.

You evaluate the situation, you couldn’t leave; He could go after your mom again. You could kill him, but you would be doing more damage than not. The thing was; the job Red Hood did? Helped you. He got rid of the disgusting part of the scum and, sometimes, even of your rivals. So you tried to stall him for more time.

- How did you found out about my real name?

- It was a coincidence, really. I was messing with some old stuff and saw an old group picture. Found this pretty girl I was sure I knew, the problem was; I couldn’t remember from where. Then it hit me; the Italian lady. And with your surname, it was easy to find your background. - His explanation caught you off guard, you were never really a group person, so how could he have found a PUBLIC old one? The only place where you did this was school.

- So you went to school with me? - You said trying to remember your classmates.

- You wish, sweetheart. No, it wasn’t my old stuff. - He said leaning on the platform’s handrail.

- Again, What. Do. You. Want? 

- You know I just didn’t go to your place and decorate your floor with the inside of your head, Y/N? - It was his response.

- Why? 

- I got curious. Impressive, huh? You see, for you, I had to do some research, because even on Batman’s computer you came out of nowhere. And that’s not even the unusual part. You seem to fight crime from the inside. You take homeless kids and feed them, you train outcasts men to work with you, and you shoot criminals when they shoot civilians. So tell me, what are you; a hero? A vigilant? One of the bad guys?

- Someone growing tired of your bullshit, Red Hood. Are going to kill me? Are you not? - You asked seeing him get down from where he had been when you enter. - Like I said I’m a busy woman. I was born in Gotham, so what if I don’t want to see my people fall deeper into this hell? Do you know the difference between a criminal and a villain? No? Well, let me explain to you. A villain enjoys when someone suffers, a criminal doesn’t care about nonworking laws. Wanna guess which one I’m?

He was almost six and a half feet from you now, gun still in his hand, but since it wasn’t aimed at you, you left your down.

- How about we make a deal? - He said confusing the hell out of you.

- What do you want?

- There you go again with this question. Listen, I let you live, and you give some information about a friend of yours? How does that sound?

- What friend? I'm not a snitch, everyone is a bit dirty in my business segment.

- Oswald Cobblepot, are you close to him? - The sound of your rival's name made you smile.

- What do you want to know? - The implicit question was "how much?"

- Where will he be next?

- The fair grand opening. He has been invited to speak.

- Are you sure of that?

- You can come for me if I'm wrong.

- Okay. We're good to go. It was nice to meet you, Nulla.

You turned on your heels and headed for the exit.

- Delete me and my mother pictures, Hood. She has nothing to do with my job. If anyone comes after her, I am coming for you.

[gold-eyes-vengeful-heart]

Amaurot

((Sorin ( @aetherstitch ) and Runya pay a city a visit.))

===

Runya yawned, as he looked out over the ghost of Amaurot.

The sudden sound made Sorin jolt a little next to him; they had sat so long in silence that he, clearly, hadn’t been expecting Runya to make any noise at all. Sorin was looking at him now, he could see that much out of the corner of his eye, but he waited a few long moments before actually saying anything.

“Quite pointless, don’t you think?”

Sorin cleared his throat, seemingly lost for a ‘good’ answer. 

“Come now, you can say what you’re thinking to me,” Runya hummed, his sly golden eyes wandering across the landscape once more. “Even if it’s to disagree with me.”

Thankfully, Sorin took the offer. “It’s very...interesting,” he slowly started. “But what it represents...”

“Mmm, yes, what it represents--the dreams of a madman pining for an age long gone, even when it meant having to messily slaughter millions...or is it billions?...for the sake of bringing it back.”

Sorin was looking at him again, now. “Runya--”

But Runya barreled on. “You know, Daeyona feels some pity for him, I’m sure. She concerns herself with asking why he didn’t do something different with that grand cosmic power of his than use it to torment untold numbers of people. But all I regret about the entire thing was that I wasn’t the one to strike him down. I ultimately deserved that honor.”

Sorin just sighed heavily. “You still helped, Runya. And I don’t think it would have helped you even if you had killed him.”

Oh, what dangerous territory his friend was treading into; had this been anyone else, he might have immediately set the draconian egi lurking at his side at them, but since it was Sorin, he got the saving grace of a few moments to explain himself, even if danger danced in Runya’s eyes as he turned to fully look at his friend. “Oh? And why is that, dear Sorin?”

But the other Miqo’te was unfazed, though the way he tightly folded his arms betrayed that yes, actually, he did realize that he had chosen a difficult topic to bring up with him. “I’ve noticed,” he said quietly, “after a lot of things, as a warrior of light. After watching my friends getting to do just what you wanted to do.”

He didn’t have to say Daeyona’s name for it to linger between them anyway.

“And none of them have ever said that it helps.” Sorin sighed. “In fact, sometimes exactly the opposite. It doesn’t mean that it isn’t worth it to remove a major danger on the level of an Ascian,” he added, seeing Runya’s increasingly thunderous stare, “no matter what was driving them. No amount of grief ever justifies all that he did--”

“Mmm, most people don’t make giant murderous torturing empires multiple times over because they were sad, do they?” Runya chuckled, but the sound held no humor in it. “Even I have standards.”

“Yes...” Not that Sorin looked entirely convinced of that, but he chose to not say anything about it at the moment. Still, his next sentence was such a side-eye in verbal form that it struck Runya like a whap to the ear. “Most people don’t consider murdering entire cities of innocent people for it, either.”

“Oh, you and your cheek. Do go on.”

Sorin, thankfully, obliged. “What this place represents is exactly what I fear about you, and what you might think is acceptable in your own upset.”

Ah, so it was finally out on the table, then. Runya just spread his hands, smiling away in that same dead way he always did when these things came up. “Oh, is that all? You worry about me doing something naughty to the people that tortured me, murdered my friend--treated me like a thing instead of a person? Afraid that I might become the next Emperor, are you?”

And yet, Sorin refused to let the subject go, his own gaze getting that much sharper. “Runya. You know exactly what I mean. Stop getting hyperbolic about it.”

Hyperbole was one of Runya’s favorite things, of course, but he didn’t so much as get a chance to say so before Sorin kept going.

“When it comes to the people that actually did this to you, or just helped it happen, I understand, Runya.” Sorin blinked rapidly, but shook his head. “I wouldn’t tell you that you shouldn’t get rid of them. I read all of what happened to you and it was...” He didn’t seem to have a word for it, but that was alright--Runya never had words for it, either. “...I wouldn’t object to you doing whatever you had to, to make sure that people that terrible or those willing to help them are stopped for good. I would never deny you that.”

Admittedly, it surprised him slightly, to have that admission out of the other Miqo’te. It had always been a subject that they had been more keen to avoid than discuss, in favor of Sorin’s strange insistence that he leave the “innocent” Garleans alone. But...

“But I would not see you deciding to follow that same path, especially not for the same reason.” Sorin shook his head. “Even if I have to fight you over it. Even if the people directly responsible, I hold little pity for.” 

Ah, Sorin and his standards. The only reason that Runya wasn’t blithely ignoring them was because, perhaps, Runya could see a glimmer of himself in Sorin--the same sort of loss, of everything he held dear and a significant amount of what he thought he didn’t. Some part of him (the same part of him that ached for company despite himself, no doubt) refused to simply ignore Sorin because of it. Some part of him sank at the realization that he, more likely than not, would wind up clashing terribly with him over it at some point in the future...

...Maybe. Maybe not. It wasn’t as if he was going to get to do it anytime soon, after all, and the last bloodied shred of optimism that refused like an undead to die wondered if maybe it wouldn’t come to that.

(But then what would all of this scheming and blood and sweat and tears been for?)

“Oh, come now, don’t make that face.” Runya chose that line of thinking instead of addressing it directly; even with the sudden uncharacteristic thoughtfulness on the subject going on in his own head, he had little desire to hash it out even with dear Sorin at the moment. “I’ll humor you and at least start with them. There’s more than enough of them, after all, I’m sure you saw. And some of them clearly escaped.”

Sorin sent him a look, and Runya actually leaned away slightly and raised a brow. “What? You just said that you didn’t mind me taking out those.”

“I want you to promise me that that’s the extent of it, Runya.”

Really stubborn thing, wasn’t he? But perhaps that was another thing that was usually fairly endearing, to Runya...if just not right now. He leaned over and lightly poked Sorin--who was now crouching near him--on the nose, smiling away as he did.

“It would be rude of me to make promises that I can’t ensure that I’ll keep, dear beloved friend of mine.”

Sorin’s nose wrinkled and he lightly batted at Runya’s finger with a couple of his own to get it off. “Could you at least do it for me? If nothing else?”

Of course it would come down to him asking that, but Runya had been quite keenly aware that it would come up at some point and so he just chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain, don’t you? I’m not sure if I should take it.” And before his friend could say anything more, Runya got to his feet and stretched, though he grimaced as his joints popped and cracked in the process. “Mm, I’ve been sitting there too long. We should get going, hm? Little else to see here, I’m afraid, unless you enjoy watching a bunch of ghosts wandering about doing the same things over and over again.”

Yet again, it looked to him like Sorin was contemplating saying something; his earlier answer had clearly irritated his friend, and far be it from Sorin to ever let a hopeless cause related to Runya drop. (Perhaps, in turn, Sorin saw a lot of himself in Runya, too.) But Sorin left it at flicking his ears back against his head and letting out a mirthless grunt, shaking his head. “I don’t enjoy seeing things that refuse to change, no.”

Runya chose not to respond to the pointed barb in favor of starting to walk. “Then let’s go do something better, shall we?”

And with that, they were both gone, leaving the ghosts behind.

...Well, some of them, anyway.

[wrong-shaped]

something that’s become a meme in terf circles is “pattern recognition” and how we should all recognize “patterns” a trans women as male abusers. i can write this off personally as pseudo-intellectual posturing with no basis in any coherently articulated theory about anything, because it is, but that doesn’t make me feel any less anxious about how potentially effective that type of rhetoric is so i will.. try to explain what i think is effective about it, and hopefully undermine it to whatever extent i can.

the way that the point is generally put is basically, you are all pretending that trans women aren’t really male predators and abusers, and hiding behind phony theories about how to think so would be transmisogynist or to buy into stereotypes of trans women as perverts, but if you just look around you’ll see that actually, no, trans women are dangerous sexual predators. not all of them, but enough of them that they shouldn’t be trusted not to be any more than men. “how many trans women have to be outed before we all collectively recognize a pattern at play?” is the big rhetorical question.

aaand, it’s not meant to be answered. the answer is, there have already been so many that you’d have to be fucking naive to think that the pattern isn’t evident! the answer to the rhetorical question is a monolithic rhetorical plenitude of trans women who have used bogus libfem queer theory to “break through the cotton ceiling” and it doesn’t matter how many exactly.. just a fucking lot of them!

so what if we uh, actually fucking try and answer that question. how about twenty? thirty? a hundred? i mean if we go back and look at the past few years of lgbt/trans/feminist/whatever social media there have been probably about a couple dozen cases of relatively prominent trans women being outed as being sexual predators of one sort or another, that is true, it would be pointless to deny that and it can basically be empirically checked so whatever. and so like, that’s a high number right. so many! clearly enough to establish a pattern. well.. is it?

the thing about talking about pattern recognition is that, well, like anything to do with cognition or epistemology or whatever, it requires a lot of thinking. like a lot a lot. more than people regularly do on fucking tumblr. i’m not going to pretend i’m an expert in the field, but rather say i “know enough to know i don’t know very much at all.” i know that the way we detect patterns is pretty fucking context-dependent and subject to all sorts of things related to the way that general cognition is structured, like affective biases and prejudices, assumptions about the boundaries of reality and about what kinds of meaningful entities exist. in other words.. no you certainly cannot just “recognize a pattern” without a lot of critical evaluation lol.

so like, back to the semi-regular social media shitstorm wherein some trans woman who is somewhat prominent gets outed as a sexual predator. we can all acknowledge that this happens a few times a year, i think. or maybe not idk, but it’s something i personally cross paths with on about a monthly basis. i’m not talking about the “prisoner gets sex change and gets moved to womens prison” type stories, specifically trans women in “activist” circles who write or post a lot about transmisogyny, and end up outed for some serious sexual impropriety. more often than not there is to some degree of a defense of her behaviour, or rather a denial that accusations are true because they seem to resemble transmisogynistic stereotypes and therefore simply cannot be true. more often than not she loses credibility as the accusations gain it, occasionally the accusations turn out to be actually kind of horseshit, sometimes to a greater or lesser degree she continues to leverage a “following” who believe her to be some sort of martyr to transmisogyny, but most of the time she just ends up getting pushed out of the community in disagrace because she’s a fucking sexual predator, it’s pretty ritualized at this point.

so, pattern right? this happens way too often to be a coincidence, we have to stop pretending the theory of “““transmisogyny”““ is real or that trans women are anything other than testosterone crazed males and a very real threat to females. lol. the problem with all of this, is that there are a lot more patterns than just, trans woman abuses innocent cis women/trans men/whatever afabs happen to be available to her in her position. [as a side note in my experience most trans woman abusers most commonly abuse.. other trans women, not directly relevant but yeah].

as huge as the number of instances seems on a gut level (hence, “how can you possibly denny it?”), it’s not as statistically significant as it “seems” affectively. there are a lot of trans women out there. not as many as there are stars in the sky, but still a lot. there are a lot of trans women with blogs, trans women who do activism, trans women who talk about misogyny/transmisogyny/whatever, trans women who write theory and have followings. seriously enough that a dozen a year [that number’s arbitrary but i’m going with it so yeah] being outed as sexual abusers is not the most statistically significant thing in the world. my own little mental test for these sorts of things is, how does this compare to the statistics for traffic fatalities. like the sheer number of people who die gruesomely in car accidents is high as fuck, but as a statistic it doesn’t move us to get rid of cars or fear for our lives every time we pull on to the highway. it’s just not actionable in that way. and uh, i’m not going to claim anything super empirically valid here, but based on my own observations of trans women being outed as abusers in different contexts, and how this seems to play out statistically, i wouldn’t say it is either.

so. why’s the argument effective then? well, none of this shit is about statistical anlysis lol. it’s totally gut level. and when it feels like “it keeps happening” then it feels like a crisis. a crisis that needs to be fixed. by getting trans women the hell out of women’s spaces, communities, discussions, etc. same way that whole websites list every conceivable criminal offence by a trans women (or a man who may or may not wear women’s clothes, or whatever), where it’s not about any kind of analysis of what’s actually happening, it’s about how many mug shots you can load on a web page, it’s about what i described before as the monolithic rhetorical plenitude. what it’s about, it the sense of a lot. and i’m sorry but if you truly believe that’s sufficient to actually ground decisions about anything let alone about the nature of lgbt politics, you are fucking dumb.

as a kind of personal aside i will just say - i know a lot of trans women. i’m not going to say anything categorical about people or about myself or my experiences, but i will say that of the relatively large number of trans women i know, no one is a sexual predator as far as i know. i know a lot of people who have been vicitimized in one way or another sexually who are trans women, however. and like, i can honestly say i’ve witnessed a lot of emotional abusive, maladaptive coping, manipualtive behaviour, etc. from trans women, towards each other and towards non-trans women but like.. that is very fundamentally different at every level from being “men” or existing in the kind of dynamic that men exist in towards women in terms of sexual violence. like if you’re a cis woman who follows a few trans women on tumblr, i can pretty confidently say that i know more about the dynamics that exist for trans women than you do, because i am one and i exist in this space in one way or another, and i get a picture that’s more “authentic” (i hate that word but yeah) than you whether you’ve decided that trans women are perfect angels uwu or evil predators based on shit you’ve half-encountered in lgbt “discourse”.

anyway, i mentioned earlier “more patterns” so i uh should probably elaborate on that. i am not going to name any names, but suffice it to say this is about a thing that’s happened in the last few days as of this post being written where a trans woman got media attention for calling out a celebrity for saying dumb transmisogynist shit, was seen briefly as some shining light for activism, was called out for sexual abuse, and then the whole thing turned into a social media Thing. this is of course a unique case as anything is, but it does seem to have a discernible resemblance to some others, so yeah.

what i will say most disturbed me about the whole ordeal is how easy it was for the person in question to just completely dismiss accusations by essentially stating “i am a trans woman, these accusations are false because they sound vaguely like transmisogynistic stereotypes and terfs are saying them.” like it’s such a fucking unhealthy dynamic when that can actually work to some degree. and for the record, i am constantly tempted to post petty shit about like Trans Woman Social Media and just the level of intellectual dishonesty and theoretical indiscipline that’s totally pervasive, not because i think it’s horrible in and of itself but because, seriously, it’s fucking derealizing and it leads to a bizarre fucking situation where instead of just discussing things as though they are real and people have any kind of autonomy or responsibility or place in any sort of meaningful social system, they are just part of some narrative mythology.

and like that happens with the “discourse” around transmisogyny. but it’s not because the concept of transmisogyny is bad, or because the idea that trans women are unfairly stereotyped as sexual deviants is bad, or because the idea that trans women deserve to be “included” or treated in good faith in whatever sense is bad. it’s because the standard of application for all these ideas isn’t very rigorous, and people within this community (by which i mean pretty much everyone lgbt) have a lot of emotional issues that make their judgment fucking poor. it’s because there are trans women who see a theoretical concept that they can manipulate to make themselves absolute victims and incapable of abusing other people, and hide behind it because they’re charismatic or whatever. that, more than anything, is the pattern that i see. and if there’s one thing that will not fix that pattern it is sewing more paranoia and hatred than is absolutely necessary.

all of which leads me to, what exactly is the point of all this “pattern recognition” shit? well as i said the intention seems to be to inspire people to reframe the way they think about trans women from a paradigm of theorizing about transmisogyny to seeing trans women as inherently male in some sense and, per the pattern, inherently threatening to byologycal fembales. that is why, when terfs write callouts about the aformentioned trans woman, they don’t just say, this person, bad, no good, they specifically make a point to say “it’s not just this person, it’s all of these people.” hence “pattern recognition”.

what i will say about most callout posts i’ve seen is there’s a certain sense of.. grief? about them. people don’t want to marginalize someone they thought of as a friend or someone worthy of synmpathy or they admire or whatever, but they know that some kind of harm reduction has to happen if that person’s behaviour compromises others in some way. i flat-out don’t get that sense from terf calliuts of trans women. it’s schadenfreude, nothing more nothing less. i mean, doing a bit of a thought experiment, we know (and terfs certainly know) that a trans woman can easily leverage the sense that accusations against her are a “terf conspiracy” into some kind of support, so wouldn’t a harm reduction approach sort of discourage interspersing callout posts with boilerplate terf rhetoric that would in all likelihood make it easier for a person to deny the accusations as terf hate?

but in the case of all the terf posts i’ve seen about the particular trans woman in question (and about any given trans woman) they’re blatantly not “really” about bringing down that particular trans woman, they’re about the pattern. what’s important isn’t that the lgbt community be made aware of an individual predator’s behaviour, or even that the broader and more nuanced issues that promote dysfunctional and even predatory or abusive behaviour within the community be addressed, but rather that the “pattern” be fed into. what is ultimately most important is that cis women be made more and more paranoid about trans women, so that any meaningful community that does form and does have meaningful practices and discussions around abuse exclude trans women from the get-go, insofar as trans women are of course inherently not capable of participating without threatening real women’s safety.

i don’t really know how to finish this other than to say, trans women are trans women, we exist and will continue to exist in one sense or another, and i think we deserve to be a part of communities and be treated with good faith and have our experiences and needs and desires taken seriously. there is going to be some awkwardness in that but it’s workable. if you really don’t think it is, you are a terf, and you are a coward whose praxis is centered around giving hollow intellectual legitimacy to ignorant prejudices and keeping trans women cordoned off in the most abjected and dysfunctional zone of existence because you don’t have the empathy or imagination to see us as a part of your community, and you’re too fucking weak to actually hate men so you fucking take it out on us. stop it. jesus.