#on the ongoing frustrations and perhaps politics of

[kiironekolady]

portuguese is the fifth most spoken language in the world with 280 million speakers, according to wikipedia after a very superficial search ...

then why, Why, are there these incredibly popular books, some genre defining, and on important and still stubbornly controversial topics, from the early 2000s, still not translated...? wtf. hello editors ?? clearly there is a market, the authors are still popular and sought after, their books are part of school and university reading lists and still not a single portuguese-language editor has bothered to translate them.

and worse still, some of these i’ve come across have been translated in Brasil and the editors and book sellers here in Portugal do not bring them over... i mean the work is already done, you just have to ship them and still. nothing. i suspect there is some imperialist colonial mindset bullshit going on here, that thinks the Motherland™ people won’t read something unless it’s in the Original™ language or some such stupidity.

i just want to get books for my grandma to read. ffs

[divinesangel]

can u pls look at how jungkook feels about this whole newjeansj/hybe situation?

— how does jungkook feel about the HYBE situation?

jungkook feels good about having talked about the situation and expressed his opinion. it doesn’t seem like it affected him much. it appears to be something he’s been wanting to do for a while, and he felt that this was the right time to address the big corporation because it seemed like there was too much happening and the company was going too far. he just wanted to voice his opinion. it seems he anticipated the company's response and knew it was only a matter of time before it became public. he definitely seems to know more about the company and its operations than it appears. he doesn’t seem to be bothered at all; in fact, he appears to be very stable. he likely realizes that he no longer needs to rely on the company, which is why he might not be as concerned.

he seems to be the most mature among them. he understands that the company can’t really do much about him, considering the risk that he might refuse to cooperate or work for them. he feels so secure in his current career position that he believes he can do just as well or even better without the company. it appears that the company needs jungkook more than he needs them. he acknowledges that his decision to speak out might have been somewhat risky, but he took it anyway. he genuinely wanted to show his support because it seemed like no one else was doing so, and it was a matter that weighed on his mind. for him, justice needs to be served.

regarding the company, jungkook feels good being with hybe, but he is conflicted about how the higher-ups handle matters. this isn’t just about the situation with newjeans; it seems to be an ongoing issue that has troubled him for a while, particularly with a certain executive. he doesn’t seem to get along well with this person, or perhaps he has his own reservations that he keeps to himself. there’s definitely someone he doesn’t like, and although he hasn’t been able to reconcile this feeling, he tends to remain polite and brush it off. as for newjeans, it seems his support was a way to show the girls that they are not alone and that there’s always an opportunity and a solution, even if it might seem like there isn’t and they’re being left out in the cold.

it seems that jungkook has realized that the company has become a bit sneakier than before. there’s a sneaky energy now that wasn’t there previously, and it’s something he’s noticed, which makes him feel angry or frustrated. he wonders why this change occurred in a company that they used to feel comfortable with. he might have initially seen the company as a supportive place for projects and careers, but now he’s observing a shift that he doesn’t quite understand. it seems that artistry and creativity are very important to him, especially given what he posted. he still views the company as a place for growth, which offers more opportunities compared to other companies, but he’s disappointed by the change in their approach.

[twothpaste]

m3 post-canon worldbuilding thoughts

🌏🐉🌞👷👇

🐲 the dark dragon is a real flesh and blood island-sized beast, but also a symbolic embodiment of the earth's love. she cherishes all living things, including humanity. she wept in her sleep when humans destroyed the world. once awakened, she circles the globe, slowly bleeding love and life and magic back into the soil.

🌱 the dark dragon's powers were overstated. though the message of sheer hope saving the earth works beautifully in the context of a video game ending - if we're breakin into post-canon fanworks, "magic will instantly solve the climate crisis & systemic political rot & grant us a clean slate" doesn't cut it for me. though the dragon grants them a second chance, humanity's still gotta spend the next several generations helping her restore the world. planting seeds, rebuilding from the wreckage of old cities, inventing sustainable tech and systems of self-governance, the whole nine yards.

🌊 when she came outta the ground, the dragon broke nowhere into pieces. it's now a sprawling archipelago of at least 100 islands. a lot of familiar locations remain mostly intact, but some places close to the needles (like osohe castle and the chimera lab) have been submerged and destroyed. much of the first few years postgame are spent mapping out the new landscape, and discovering new ways to navigate it. (kinda like how coming out of a traumatic living situation & grappling with ptsd involves re-contextualizing old memories & spaces, learning to navigate the world all over again, etc 🥲)

🏠 tazmily's got a big cliffside carved down the middle of town square, and a few broken chunks severed off, with steep ocean drops between 'em. the community comes together to restore their town with a web of stairways and bridges. though it looks like a shabby disaster zone at first, it takes on a charming and well-loved vibe over the years. maybe one day i'll find the time to sketch some scenes.

🚣‍♀️ the best way to get around the new nowhere is by boat. kayaks, canoes, and sailboats become quite popular. incidentally, most tazmilians had experience with ship-building & seafaring (that's naturally how they made it to nowhere on a big white ship). they'd locked this knowledge away with their memories, fearing what'd happen if they took to the sea again and discovered their dark history. as they gradually regain their traumatic memories, they also regain their capacity to engage with the present world.

🫠 without porky's influence, the folks he brought to nowhere are also slowly regaining memories & coming to their senses. these people find themselves stranded in a distant future, utterly misled, with no hope of returning home. most of 'em settle initially into tazmily, helping the villagers rebuild the only settlement left on planet fucking earth, whether out of the goodness of their hearts or sheer need to survive. it's an awkward adjustment. most everyone understands the state of mutual dependence they're all stuck in, and some folks (perhaps inspired by lucas) offer tremendous kindness to strangers. but others are reluctant to trust ex-pigmasks, and vice versa. others still lash out or self-isolate in vain frustration at the hopelessness of their situation, separated irrevocably from their homes and families. it takes several years for the last humans alive to really come to terms, and truly come together.

🐽 there's a splinter branch of ex-pigmasks who fuck off to the ruined highway islets where thunder tower used to be, declaring their ongoing loyalty to porky. they build a new settlement called "the pigpen." their poorly-organized isolationist stint lasts less than a decade, caving to a lack of supplies & the utmost generosity from tazmilians offering aid. the pigpen ultimately becomes a wholly benign settlement. some folks even move there for a change of pace. the vibe of the place starts leanin' toward punk culture, with post-apocalyptic garage rock bands and outcasts helpin' each other get by. (i think kuma & her wife live here. it's probably dcmc's home base too.)

🌫️ porky himself resides in the crumbled wreckage of new pork city, slowly sinking into the ocean over the course of 20 years. sometimes tazmilians come to salvage technology & supplies, but they learn to steer clear of the king's capsule. he's got nothing worthwhile left to offer humanity, and vice versa… (i've written 2 fics set here. i'm very normal and not at all sick in the head about the symbolic weight of this concept.)

🌲 lucas & isaac start a "ranger service" organization that preserves natural wildlife and manages chimeras. much of their work involves relocating troublesome chimeras to more suitable environments, dismantling their excessive weaponry, providing veterinary care & mechanical repairs. after some initial debate, it's accepted as a law of the land that all things have a right to live - even the most inconvenient of porky's lab experiments.

☀️ dr andonuts leads the charge in developing new sustainable technology, starting with a foundation of green energy tech that exists today. tazmily's powered by wind & solar farms (built mostly by ex-pigmasks, as an earnest show of repentance and solidarity). i think there's some carbon capture tech going on, tryin to reverse the lingering effects of climate change. i have a crystal clear image in my head of these funny clunky solar powered trucks they use for moving equipment, and i swear one of these days i'm gonna draw claus with one, trucker hat n' all, lookin' peak redneck in the driver's seat.

🚢 a few years postgame, a "world ship" is constructed - a vessel that can carry brave travelers to the old world's abandoned continents. they find no survivors out there. just lifeless ruins, and swaths of parched wilderness. lucas & pals take annual trips to salvage for precious scraps of history, survey the state of natural environemnts across the world, and help restore said environments through ecological work. i've written little snippets of this in a few fics… would love to write somethin wholly set within one of these expeditions one day, if i can come up with a solid story premise.

🏝️ another settlement crops up on the japanese island of kyushu (the nearest major landmass to nowhere). it's plainly dubbed "kyushu-two." much of the island's been submerged due to rising sea levels, but nowhere-folk are by this point used to a waterlogged seafaring lifestyle. a lotta non-tazmilians eagerly move here, itching to be "anywhere but nowhere." it develops a laidback and kinda artsy culture.

🤝 with only a few hundred people left on earth, a necessity to share resources, and a damning lesson learned from traditional systems of government, tazmily & other settlements become more or less anarcho-communist. though there are leadership roles, no one person is in charge of anything, and major decisions are made collectively by community members. i don't think they keep using currency, at least not for long. unlearning systems of hierarchy & authority is a challenge for many - even including some tazmilians, once they've regained their memories. call it a utopian fantasy, but they make the effort willingly, humbled by all that's transpired.

✨ new psychics are born at a higher rate than usual on postgame nowhere. (whatever "usual" is. i assume it's always been pretty exceptionally rare.) kumatora takes up the mantle of teachin' 'em how to use their powers, and passing down history the magifolk taught her. her worldly expeditions often involve seeking evidence of PSI in ancient societies - she's bringin' back stuff like PSI teleport and lore from dalaam & scaraba. she sees it as her duty to keep this knowledge alive, cuz she's the only one who can. (and to ensure future psychics don't have to feel lost & alone like lucas did, or like she did when her family disappeared 🥲)

🥼 claus has their eco-lab in the mothafuckin' arizona desert wasteland, developing new chimeras to repair ecosystems, y'all know the deal. it's kinda sad to think they probably won't live to see the full impact of their efforts - but then again, no one else will in this world, it's all a multi-generational effort. sweet to imagine in the long run there'll be lotsa silly & wonderful new organisms out there making the earth a greener, livelier place. i think they might even do some projects to revive species that went extinct when the world was destroyed. or at least, creating chimeras that can fulfill their likenesses and ecological niches.

🏃 a bunch of the characters travel around constantly i think. like lucas' home is tazmily, but he probably spends like 75% of his time elsewhere - expeditions, visiting loved ones, ranger work & odd jobs, etc. likewise for claus, kuma, duster, nana probably. dcmc tours on a big sailboat. flint might be one of the only major characters who mostly stays put. he gets sad if he leaves hinawa by her lonesome for too long.....

[separatist-apologist]

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

Gwyn forced herself to take a breath—and then another. There was a door and a whole other room between them. She was fine. 

It’s only Azriel, she reminded herself. And though he may not want her with him, he wouldn’t do anything, either. She knew that. Oh, how she knew it—would have sworn it over her own grave. But seeing him standing in the doorway of that room was entirely another. Gwyn’s heart raced a miserable, anxious beat she couldn’t silence no matter how many times she reassured herself that Azriel was her protector.

Because he was still a male, and Gwyn hadn’t been so alone with one in her entire life. The only upside was that she wouldn’t have to track him down each night to find out what he was doing. And no one was going to try and get in her room when there was a six foot six Illyrian warrior sleeping behind a half closed door. 

Gwyn tapped her foot nervously against the pale white marble, listening to the sounds of Azriel cursing softly as he put his things away. The clanking of metal against wood told her he was hiding weapons anywhere within reach, a theory validated when he strolled into the lounge with several daggers held casually in his large hand. 

“Get up,” he ordered, stalking toward the black leather sofa she’d been sitting on. Gwyn scowled.

“Why? So you can hide a dagger beneath the cushion?”

“Yes,” he replied, holding her gaze. 

“And what happens when it stabs me the next time I sit?” 

Azriel smothered a cruel smile. “You’ll heal.”

Prick! 

“You trust them so little that this is necessary?” Gwyn asked, watching him carefully slide a silver hilted dagger beneath the cushion in between the seam. Easy enough to reach for if one of them needed to, but hidden well enough no one would think it was there. 

“I don’t trust anyone,” he reminded her with a bite of impatience. “Better to be prepared than dead.”

Gwyn had millions of questions for him, just like she always did. Who hurt you? It was always the top of her list and one she didn’t dare ask him. Just as she wouldn’t want someone prying into her own personal past, even if Azriel knew all the horrible details because he’d been there. He was still the only person who didn’t look at her with pity besides Nesta and Emerie. Of course, that was because he was too busy looking at her like she’d disappointed him.

Gwyn supposed she had. She’d stopped going to training and never told him why.

They both had their secrets. 

“What did you think of the royal family?”

She knew, though. She’d seen his face when she’d turn to look at him only once—because she hadn’t dared to look again. How Gareth and Kai didn’t cower at the sight of the cold disdain etched over his features was beyond her. Gwyn was certain she would have crumpled into a heap if he’d ever looked at her with half as much hatred. 

“Strange,” he murmured, turning his eyes toward the windows pulled tightly with curtains. Gwyn had to admit their aversion to sunlight seemed unusual, but they’d been politer than she’d first imagined. It was surreal that an actual king would want to meet her at all. “You can’t trust them.”

“Apparently not,” she snapped as Azriel slid another dagger behind a set of books shelved against the wall. He glanced over at her, brows furrowed but Gwyn walked to her room and closed the door with a satisfying snap. Azriel didn’t trust anyone. That didn’t make him right, just paranoid. She supposed that was why he was good at his job, but to her she found it frustrating.

Couldn’t he give them the benefit of the doubt? This culture was new and perhaps the curtained windows were some religious or cultural practice she and Azriel didn’t understand. Gwyn was willing to learn more—that was why she’d come, wasn’t it? An exchange of knowledge, even if what she was allowed to share was limited.

Case and point—Gwyn could not share any information about how the Archeron’s had gained their powers or any of the research Velaris had compiled surrounding the Cauldron. She wasn’t allowed to share the scope of power regarding any of the High Lords, or how their magic moved beyond simple bloodlines. 

She’d committed Rhysand’s list to memory thinking it would be better to just feign ignorance. She was only a priestess working far below the High Lord. Her scope was pretty limited, though even some of Merril’s research into multiple worlds was restricted. Her training was also not allowed, though Gwyn wondered if she could covertly try and see if Montesseres library contained anything interesting regarding the Valkyries. 

By the time Gwyn walked out of her bedroom, Azriel was gone. Likely hiding more daggers throughout the dark palace, if she had to guess. For one depressing moment, she wished it was Cassian who had come with her. At least he smiled. At least he was friendly. Azriel was none of those things.

Gwyn shoved him from her mind. She wasn’t going to think about Azriel and his brooding and penchant for violence, nor was she going to let herself wonder what it said about her that the High Lord thought she was the best choice to accompany him.

Gwyn could show them all—and she needed to, if she wanted to do anything but book running when she returned home. Gwyn needed to prove herself not just to Merril and Rhysand, but the Clotho, too. And maybe herself, though that seemed low on her list of people to prioritize. At any rate, she was here. 

“I’m here,” she whispered to herself, reaching into her pocket for her sisters invoking stone. Gwyn reveled in the cool, smooth rock rolling between her fingers until her heart slowed to normal again. She was okay. She was here. 

Nothing can break me, she reminded herself. She’d survived and maybe that just had to be enough for now. Everything felt like survival, though—and very few things felt like living. Nesta and Emerie did, but they weren’t with her. Taking a deep breath, Gwyn pulled open the door.

“Oh, for Cauldron’s sake!” she exploded, coming out of her skin at the sight of Azriel just on the other side. A near feline smile spread over his features.

“Did I scare you?”

“No,” she lied. What would he look like, she wondered, if he ever actually smiled. Gwyn tried to imagine it and failed—Azriel didn’t seem the type. Perhaps his friends had seen it and she bet he made them swear on pain of death never to admit he’d had such a show of emotion outside of brooding, icy anger. “You’re merely in my way.”

His eyes widened mockingly. “In your way?”

“Yes, my way,” she repeated, shoving past his big, muscular body. Azriel didn’t budge, forcing her to plant her hands against the leather plated armor on his stomach and physically push in order to get him out of the doorframe. Behind him, his wings flared for a moment while those curious shadows of his swirled between the pair of them. If they were angry or amused, Gwyn couldn’t tell. She wasn’t well versed in shadow speak the way he was. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked in the low, gravely voice of his. Gwyn fought a shiver. She bet that look on his face, coupled with his dangerous, icy tone made people wet themselves. It was tempting to stop entirely, to buckle beneath the weight of his stare but this was Azriel.

And he wouldn’t hurt her. 

“I’m going to give myself a tour of the palace,” she said blithely, certain he wouldn’t join her. In truth, Gwyn just wanted to find the most expedient route to the library. She didn’t need Azriel escorting her every day given the way people couldn’t take their eyes off him—he was so striking, so absurdly handsome that everyone turned to look at him not once, but twice. The first time was just a passing glance at the large, winged male but the second was to ensure they were seeing him correctly. 

No one looked like Azriel. Certainly not here. The two royals she’d met were pale and exhausted looking. And though she would have rather died than admit it, Azriel was easily the best looking male in any room by virtue of his high cheekbones, his smooth, brown skin, and the way his inky, blue black hair flopped gently over his forehead. There was no mistaking Azriel for what he was—a born and bred warrior who could likely easily kill someone with one hand as he could with the dagger strapped at his thigh. And yet there was an elegance to his sharp features that suggested in another life, Azriel might have been a lord.

He was certainly handsome enough to be a prince. 

As it stood, he was a scowling, winged bastard still in her way. He’d stepped in the middle of the hall, arms crossed against his chest, wings touching either wall to keep her from pushing past again. She wanted to shout at him which would do her as good as shouting at a mountain. His whole job centered around pushing people’s buttons. Better not to let him know he;d gotten under her skin. 

“A tour.” He spoke the words tonelessly, hazel eyes searching her for some obvious lie. Gwyn held his stare, refusing to back down.

“Am I allowed? Because I thought you’d prefer to be rid of me.”

He scowled. She was certainly under his skin. Gwyn counted that as a victory. “If you get hurt, Nesta will have my balls.”

“That’s not my problem,” Gwyn said blithely. “Now, move.”

He spread his legs ever so slightly, spreading out those massive wings as he angled his head. He was accessing her like she was a threat. “Or what, Gwyn?”

“You’re not the only one who can use a dagger.”

He didn’t smile, though she swore his mouth twitched. “You think you could take me? When you quit training with me?”

“Cassian still teaches me,” she said, but her words didn’t sound convincing to her ears. Azriel’s gaze sharpened.

“Why did you quit, Gwyn?”

“Get out of my way.”

“No.”

They were at a stalemate. Gwyn would never tell him why she’d stopped training with him and Azriel wasn’t going to budge. And rather than giving in or going back to the room and slipping away when he wasn’t paying attention, Gwyn merely rounded on her heel and took off down the opposite end of the hall.

Behind her, Azriel growled softly. Typical males, snapping and snarling when they didn’t get their way. 

Let him.

Azriel wasn’t in charge of her.

No one was.

AZRIEL:

Gwyn rounded the corner before Azriel tucked his wings against his back and went after her. Two of his shadows were trailing her, one because he’d ordered it and the other because it was merely curious. He could hear their whispering, convincing him to keep his distance.

I think she hates you.

She could get in line. Azriel had known being here with her was going to be difficult but he’d assumed she’d be…more afraid? Especially today, after the prince had been looking at her with such interest. And yet there she was, when he rounded the corner, stomping her feet as she marched away from him. Azriel kept his eyes on the syrupy cinnamon and penny colored hair swinging past her shoulders, the tips brushing just above her hips. His shadows curled around her shoulders, likely trying to whisper any number of secrets in her ears, those traitors. 

Azriel could not understand their fascination with her. Case and point: Gwyn waved her hand impatiently, trying to shoo them away when she realized he was trailing her both in body and spirit, which resulted in one shadow playfully braceleting her wrist.

Azriel sighed.

“Where are you going?” he called when she reached another of those miserable, spiraling staircases. Increasing his pace and tucking his wings closer to his body, Azriel caught up to her before she’d made it three steps. She might have been tall, but he was taller by a good head and shoulders. 

“I told you what I was doing,” she snapped. Azriel rolled his neck against his shoulders, biting the urge to snap back. Gwyn glanced back, eyes narrowed and he knew without any magic at all, that whatever words slipped from her lips next were going to start a fight. “I know you can’t read, but I assumed you still were able to comprehend words, shadowsinger.”

Azriel reached for her without thinking, fingers curling around the tops of her arms. They were at the bottom of the twisting stairs, alone on another dark landing. Whispering shadow told him there was no one lurking nearby—not even servants. He might have told them to scout for the library had he not pressed Gwyn against the cool wall, his temper getting the best of him.

She jutted her chin in the air, eyes blazing with defiance. “I don’t need to know how to read to end this mission for you. One word to Rhysand is all it would take to put you back where you came.”

Gwyn shoved at his chest again, for all the good it did. Azriel didn’t budge, crowding closer until he could smell the scent of viola and cinnamon. He’d forgotten what she smelled like, had forgotten that dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose and her cheek. Up close, he could see flecks of gold in those teal eyes…and her anger. 

Azriel took his hands off her arms, though he merely braced them against the stone behind them to keep her from darting away again. 

“You won’t,” she said, crossing her arms again.

“Wouldn’t I? I work better alone.”

“Is that an option? Maybe you’ll be paired with someone far more loathsome than me!”

Azriel hid the truth of her statement even as Vanserra’s smug face floated in his mind. Gwyn was far better—and far prettier—than Vanserra, who was likely to try and kill him in his sleep if he pulled half the shit Azriel was pulling right then. Still, Azriel couldn’t back down.

“Want to find out?”

Gwyn inclined her head. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Not really. His shadows swirled between them, murmuring that someone was coming. Azriel pushed back, not wanting someone to think he was menacing the nice priestess. All Azriel wanted to be seen as was her protector, even if they privately didn’t get along. Because while she could snipe and scowl at him all she liked, if anyone else elicited that reaction from her, they’d find truth teller pressed against their jugular vein.

“Behind me, Gwyn,” he murmured. To his immense satisfaction, whatever she saw in his expression convinced her to stay where she was, half tucked behind his wing where, if he needed to, he could fully shield her with his body. Azriel felt tense, shadows darting to a nearby corner to watch and whisper.

It was only Kai. Uncrowned and casual, the prince seemed surprised to find them both standing tense before him. Those blue black eyes found Gwyn before they found him, dismissive as usual. “Lady,” he murmured, bowing so deeply Azriel wondered how he managed to stay on two feet at all. He glanced over at Gwyn, who seemed impassive. Unimpressed, at least, which helped the anger twisting in his chest. He wanted to roar at Kai to get away from her, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was that look on Mor’s face when she warned him about Gareth and Kai. “What brings you down to the kitchen?”

The kitchen? 

Gwyn’s cheeks darkened with embarrassment. “I um..” “Where is the library?” Azriel interjected. He wasn’t going to watch her be made a fool of. “Do you not have staff that can assist her?”

Kai’s attention was back on him. Good. Azriel was the threat and the person he needed to be wary of. Not Gwyn, who was here to do an actual job. Azriel, too, though Kai didn’t need to know that. Still, the princes gaze traveled over his body.

“I can show the lady how to get to the library from her bed chamber,” Kai said, his voice too silky for Azriel’s liking. Suddenly those adjoining rooms seemed necessary. He’d be keeping his door open at night…not that he slept most of the time anyway. Kai gestured for Gwyn, offering up a rather puny looking arm that she looked at with what Azriel interpreted as haughty disdain.

Had Nesta taught her that? Or was he misreading the expression on her face? It certainly dimmed some of Kai’s slick charm, at any rate, given his hand fell to his side.

And Gwyn still stepped forward. She didn’t touch him, reminding Azriel she was likely wary of the male. Azriel brought up the rear, once again making himself small to go back up those winding, narrow stairs.

Whereas before, Azriel worked to make himself seem smaller, once they were back on the landing, Azriel spread himself out for Kai’s benefit. He was big in comparison to the lean prince and he didn’t want that male to forget it. Let him think of Azriel as brute so long as Kai always thought twice when it came to Gwyn.

Or anyone from Prythian, for that matter. 

Azriel tuned out their chatter in favor of his whispering shadows. 

The king is on the grounds

Stained glass hides behind the curtains in the grand hall 

There is a tomb just outside the garden 

A large garrison on the outskirts of the city is only half filled

Little whispered pieces of information Azriel tucked away, uncertain if any of it was useful. It gave him an edge and answered some basic questions. His shadows were not with him, mapping the palace for him to later sketch out when he was alone. 

It was the sound of Gwyn’s laugh that pulled Azriel from his job. Her face was lit with a genuine smile the likes of which had never been directed at him. She tucked a piece of hair behind a delicately arched ear devoid of any jewelry before she slid that same hand into the pocket of her azure dress. There was nothing Kai could have said to elicit such a response and yet Gwyn wasn’t a practiced courtier. She didn’t smile on demand, nor did she laugh because it was expected of her.

There was genuine mirth in those teal eyes. It should have filled him with relief. She didn’t need him breathing down her neck. And yet that smile bothered him for reasons he couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was just Kai, who was grinning back, pale cheeks flushed from whatever she was laughing at.

A joke at his expense, Azriel hoped. He swallowed his irritation, following the path up another dark level toward the library Gwyn would spend the majority of her time in. 

“Why do you keep the windows covered?” Gwyn asked curiously, ducking her head when the prince turned his gaze to her fully. 

“My father is still in mourning,” Kai told her easily, reaching for a set of wide, golden handles attached to two double doors. “Anything beautiful reminds him of her, so the windows stay closed and he remains in doors.”

“And you?” Gwyn questioned, her voice rich with sympathy. 

Azriel recognized the icy rage that slithered over the prince’s face. “I miss her too,” he said, his breathless voice so at odds with the anger on his face. It was gone before Gwyn could look up and see what Azriel had.

He tucked that way, too. It was merely another piece in the strange puzzle of the Montessere palace. Maybe it meant nothing, but the thought of the queen flinging herself off one of those spires was an interesting mystery. 

“I’m sorry to hear about your mother. Was it recent?” Gwyn, the clever creature, asked. Azriel betrayed nothing, stepping onto immaculate wood floor so clean he could see his own reflection against the warm surface. The room itself smelled heavily of mahogany and dust, and was so small Azriel wondered how they justified calling it a library. Gwyn, too, seemed taken aback by the open atrium of worn, sun-stained red furniture long abandoned, centered around tables that were cracked and gouged by time. 

“Five years,” Kai murmured, reminding Azriel of what Mor had said. The Montessere royals were old. Five years was likely nothing to a male like Kai, who Azriel guessed had a few centuries on him. How had he spent it? “Is this what you’re accustomed to?”

Azriel thought of the lovely library Gwyn worked in and how carefully Rhys had expanded the knowledge within. There was, of course, no point in comparing anything to the library Helion had in the famed Sun Palace, but Rhys’s was a decent rival. Hell, Azriel bet even the Spring Court had more space than the narrow shelves of dusty, peeling books that travelled only two stories in the air, with shelves that were half empty. 

“Um,” Gwyn began, eyes scanning the room. “It’s very…”

“Small,” Azriel supplied. “Is this all of it?”

“Of course not,” Kai said with an easy smile. “But your High Lord assured me our two lands shared similar values.”

Neither Gwyn nor Azriel moved, both looking at Kai as they waited for clarification. What could that possibly have to do with anything?

Color flooded Kai’s cheeks again. Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, “Females in our territory ah…”

Gwyn looked up at Azriel, eyes wide. 

“Don’t what?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Kai shrugged, the movement seemingly defensive. “Females are delicate.”

Gwyn’s mouth fell open. “Books hardly require that much physical exertion—”

“Ah, but reading is quite taxing, is it not?” Kai challenged with an earnestness that made Azriel want to bash Kai’s face in with his fist. 

“I’ve never thought so,” Gwyn replied, eyes flashing a warning Azriel could read all too well. Kai seemed content to concede his point. 

“Well, I suppose you have a lot to teach us. That was the point of your presence, was it not?”

“It is,” she said, offering him another tentative smile. It did nothing for his rising temper. Had Rhys and Mor known this? Why wouldn’t they warn him? 

Kai was beaming again. “I look forward to this exchange of culture. Tomorrow I’ll be sure to have a scholar sent up—if you require anything, he’ll see you get it.”

“What do the females of Montessere do, then?” Gwyn interrupted, clearly curious. Azriel wondered this, too.

Kai’s smile faltered. “Why…they’re mothers, of course. Wives, too. What greater calling could there be? Truly society would crumble without them.”

His eyes shifted to Azriel, clearly questioning what Azriel’s function was in relation to Gwyn. Azriel said nothing, content to let the male imagine a variety of scenarios, all false. So long as it kept his fucking eyes off Gwyn, Azriel didn’t care what Kai thought. 

“No priestesses?” Gwyn interrupted, unaware of the silent showdown. Kai glanced back at her.

“Some, but we prefer priests here.”

Yeah, Azriel bet they did. Wait until they learned of Feyre, he thought wryly. A female who rivaled her male counterpart in power and respect and ruled not beneath him, but alongside him as his equal. Azriel straightened himself at the thought, proud no one from the continent would ever be subjected to the same humiliation Gwyn was currently weathering. 

“Well. I’ll see the pair of you at dinner? I’ll have a servant sent up so you don’t end up in the dungeons.”

Gwyn smiled at the pathetic joke though Azriel didn’t bother to acknowledge it at all. He merely stood, watching Kai brush a kiss against Gwyn’s knuckles. She snatched her hand back quickly, cradling it to her chest, brows pulled together not with fear, but annoyance. The pair waited until Kai closed the door behind them, blowing out a breath in unison.

“Fuck that guy,” Gwyn whispered, taking Azriel by surprised. A laugh bubbled out of him, echoing around them. Gwyn watched, eyes bright with delight as Azriel smothered the rest of it, though his smile lingered. “Now I have to stay, just to prove him wrong about me.”

“Not everything needs to be a fight, you know.”

She turned toward the curtained windows, hands on her hips. “I know that. But maybe some battles are worth fighting.”

And maybe she was right.

[transmutationisms]

also I am not trying to convince the other side to mask, I am trying to convince other leftists to do any kind of pandemic advocacy, but I've largely been met with resistance and pandemic denialism, and I may be wrong but I can't help but attribute it to guilt surrounding a refusal to even consider any kind of accommodations for disabled people in their spaces, covid or otherwise. this usually comes in the form of masking, ventilation, and/or remote options. I understand it's not feasible to Always have accommodations but it feels like people could at least consider it, and that frustration often does come out in the form of "why can't you just do the bare minimum that costs nothing and mask for a half hour". that's not perfect optics, I admit, but it is exhausting to have to be looking for the correct combination of words to tell someone who claims to be an ally to get them to not immediately shut me out. perhaps your point is that all of that is wasted effort, anyway, and maybe that does count as "the other side" in this case

hey, i really do sympathise with your frustration here. like i said: i <3 masks. i <3 other pandemic interventions. and i agree that a lot of resistance to these things comes down to ableism, whether overt (actively exterminatory mindsets toward disabled people) or more 'subtle' (just not giving a fuck). my point was just that i have observed a tendency, including among those nominally on the left, to shift any conversation about pandemic safety to technical interventions that they believe obviate the need for political action, and that among a certain subset of those who do take covid seriously, masks can sometimes serve this rhetorical function. if that's not you then great. again i repeat that the point here is not to reduce mask usage but the opposite. in fact i would say pushing for accommodations to be offered as a matter of course and not a 'special exception' is exactly the sort of political action that the technical-intervention crowd doesn't want to think about or deal with, because that points to a way in which masks (although great) do not 100% solve a social and political issue (the fact that large groups of people gathering together in person is inherently inaccessible for some people and always will be). like, this is precisely the sort of larger political issue i'm pointing to—capitalist valuation of disabled people, social designs that are exclusionary, and the way that the covid pandemic ought to be prompting us to think, "hey, even if we masked up and got vaccinated and dealt with This specific illness, don't we also have ongoing issues with eg accessibility as a result of living in a society designed around capitalist notions of productivity rather than the social responsibility we all have toward one another?"

in a more narrow conversation about public health communication strategies i would maybe say that assuming a guilty conscience on the part of your interlocutors is understandable but probably not helping you much (i'm not accusing you of something here. i would also not communicate to the public in the exact manner i do on this tumblr blog lol) and, although this is not my complete or definitive account of pandemic denialism, i do think a certain amount of it is fuelled by the sort of techno-optimism i'm talking about: the belief that we just need to get the right medical-technology intervention, and then that obviates our need to change our behaviour in any meaningful way. among those who are resistant to masks, often the vaccine is the technology of choice here, but this attitude is (i think) somewhat malleable in terms of what actual technical intervention it invokes. again: not a comprehensive theory of pandemic denialism but i do think this is part of the puzzle and is happily encouraged by a lot of mainstream news coverage & general attitudes toward science and technology as quasi-magical Forces For Good that will simply Solve Society (at its most concentrated this is simply technocracy). my position is that we need to be watchful for this sort of attitude, and resist it, whilst also using and encouraging those technical interventions that are useful for public health (masks, vaccines, ventilation, &c) or other reasons.

[lansplaining]

a companion to this fic by @evilhasnever

The past is not the present; the present is not the future. 

One of Lan Zhan’s cousins once joked that the first thing a Lan remembers is the rules. Shufu, Lan Zhan recalls, was not at all amused; Lan Huan smiled and chuckled politely, but Lan Zhan could tell he, too, did not like the thought. But even with their shared strange family burden, not all Lans bore the same weight of memories. 

Lan Zhan’s first experience in attempting to apply the rules of his family came in relation to his own brother. As a child, before his memories of his past lives and selves had taken more concrete form, when he was simply battered by sudden seas of sensations, he began one day to be overwhelmed by the feeling of missing his brother. This was also his first experience with the maddening limitations of words: nobody could understand what he meant by it, and he could not make himself understood, an experience so frustrating that he retreated more and more from unnecessary speech thereafter.

It was a feeling like– two weights on opposite sides of a scale that couldn’t be made level no matter how hard anyone tried, or– two leaves caught up in the same current, but unable to move closer to each other even as they seemed to move in the same direction, or– stretching and stretching and stretching across an expanse and feeling sure that you must be able to reach just a little farther– 

When his frustration and despair reached a fever pitch and could no longer be soothed or ignored, Shufu sat him down to attempt to explain.

“The things you feel are not false,” he said. “But nor are they real. Not for this lifetime. They are a memory of something that happened once, and need not happen again. You cannot give in to fear of what once was– or longing for once was.”

“I don’t want it,” Lan Zhan hiccuped, tears still spilling freely down his round, child’s cheeks. 

“Then it need not be. You are yourself, and Lan Huan is Lan Huan,” Shufu said. “We neither fight nor seek the selves that we were.” He hesitated slightly. Lan Zhan barely noticed it at the time, but the small beat of silence loomed large in his memory in the years to come. “Your brother will not leave you. And you will not leave him.” 

When he grew older, and his memories took clearer shape– when he began to understand precisely what, or rather precisely who caused the irrevocable sundering of the Lan brothers’ fates once upon a time– he thought often about the meaning of Shufu’s hesitation, his uncharacteristic statement of certainty about what was to come. Was it a promise, or a warning? 

Perhaps, Lan Zhan thought the day he met his brother’s new boyfriend, it was a little bit of both.  

The one mercy was that Lan Zhan happened to run into Lan Huan and Meng Yao when they were out together one day. He was able to be the first to know, to realize what was happening without Shufu present, and long before he had to be made aware of it. They could both break a rule: Lan Huan approaching someone from his past life, and Lan Zhan not telling Shufu a rule had been broken.

This cut off his access to certain documents and records belonging to the family that he could only access with Shufu’s permission or, failing that, subterfuge. But. 

The past is not the present; the present is not the future. 

What mattered most was whether Meng Yao was also the person he used to be. What mattered most was if he would take xiongzhang away again. 

And it turned out it really wasn’t that difficult to run a background check on a stranger, as long as you were able to pay. 

Social media: unremarkable.

Criminal record: clean. 

Driving record: no license. 

Credit: poor; a period of debt since paid off, with active but still ongoing efforts to improve the credit score. 

One day, Lan Zhan went so far as to spend an afternoon reading a book in a community garden, watching a slightly frail-looking woman tend to her allotment. At one point, she paused to talk on the phone to her son. Lan Zhan couldn’t hear the conversation, and at that point decided he’d perhaps gone too far– or at least, too far down a road that would not lead him anywhere.

The whole difficulty of Meng Yao in the past was his duplicity, his skill in hiding who he really was. With even a fraction of his old skill, he would be able to conceal any signs of wrongdoing from an ordinary background check. Lan Zhan needed an expert. 

The collective he found was called Purple Tortoise, which seemed entirely too silly a name for serious hackers. But that also seemed to lend it a measure of security. He could not imagine Shufu, should he somehow come across the name in Lan Zhan’s browser history, actually bringing himself to ask about it out loud. The hackers all had code names as well, though these felt a little more to the point– Codex, WiFi, Meridian. Lan Zhan was admittedly surprised when his assigned hacker, WiFi, asked to meet in person, given the attempts to conceal their identities, but it did make sense as a way to securely convey information. 

Lan Zhan chose a random chain cafe in a neighborhood he never usually frequented. He dressed as nondescriptly as possible, and arrived twenty minutes early. WiFi was fifteen minutes late, leaving a total of thirty-five minutes of waiting time that were, unbeknownst to Lan Zhan, the final moments before his life fell apart.

Thirty-five minutes after Lan Zhan arrived at the cafe, the bell above the door jingled and Lan Zhan looked up. He was not even particularly expecting it to actually be his contact at this point, it was just an instinctive response to the door opening, so no part of him was braced or prepared to see Wei Wuxian walk through the door. 

Lan family rules dictated he should leave immediately. To deliberately interact with people– particularly significant people– from past lives was entirely forbidden. It was the very transgression from which he was trying to rescue Lan Huan even now. It would defeat the entire purpose of everything he had been doing to expose Meng Yao. 

He stood and caught Wei Wuxian’s eye. He saw him double-take. 

“Hello,” Lan Zhan said. “I believe you’re here to meet me.”  

[mariacallous]

There’s an old saying in Israeli politics that a politician can be dead—or dead and buried. Whether a beleaguered Benjamin Netanyahu belongs to either of these unhappy groups is hard to say, but veteran Israeli political analysts are clear that he now faces the test of his life. Netanyahu must deal with a converging web of controversies and pressures, while also dealing with an increasingly unhappy Israeli public. These include rising frustration from the families of hostages taken on Oct. 7 by Hamas; dissension in the war cabinet; a rebellious right wing; the return of mobilized reservists (traditionally an anti-Netanyahu constituency); and growing strains with the United States—not to mention his ongoing trial for bribery, fraud, and breach of trust in the Jerusalem District Court.

Having presided over the greatest intelligence failure and terror attack in Israel’s history and the bloodiest day for Jews since the Holocaust, Netanyahu may well be entering the twilight of his career. One way or another, it is unlikely that the current Netanyahu-led government will run its full term to October 2026. The average length of an Israeli government since independence is 1.8 years. And Israel, whose politics are fractious during normal times, has just weathered a stunningly abnormal—even traumatic—year, with Netanyahu leading efforts to weaken Israel’s judiciary and the Oct. 7 terror surge. Both traumas, his critics charge, were a direct result of Netanyahu’s failed policies.

That is not to say the political demise of Israel’s longest-governing prime minister will be quick. Right now, there are no direct mechanisms to remove him from power. Indeed, Netanyahu has a few more levers to pull, including from a most unlikely quarter: a U.S. president who is aiming to deliver an Israel-Saudi normalization accord before the American elections in November, if Netanyahu plays along.

In January, the Labor Party put forward a no-confidence motion for the government’s failure to redeem the hostages. The vote had no chance, but it signaled the beginning of the return of domestic politics, suspended in the interest of national unity since Oct. 7. Yair Lapid, the head of oppositional party Yesh Atid, talked publicly about holding early elections while former Israel Defense Forces (IDF) Chief of the General Staff Gadi Eisenkot, a nonvoting member of the war cabinet, publicly chastised the prime minister for his refusal to prioritize the release of hostages and lack of crisis leadership.

The public is by no means giving up on the war against Hamas. But the twin goals of destroying Hamas’s military organization and freeing the 136 hostages still held are now increasingly at odds with one another. Hamas used time—and its tunnel maze—to frustrate the IDF’s operations; a deal to free the hostages may be looming. That will be a fraught decision point for the prime minister as far-right members of his coalition insist the war must continue while centrists and the center-left push toward a hostage deal involving an extended pause in the fighting.

In this respect, Netanyahu could finally be cornered. As Anshel Pfeffer, perhaps the most astute observer of Netanyahu, has argued, what the prime minister fears the most isn’t the Americans or pressure from the hostages’ families but “losing the majority in the Knesset that took him four years and five election campaigns, including 18 frustrating months out of office, to secure.”

If a hostage deal that necessitates a lengthy cease-fire emerges, far-right Knesset members, notably National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir or Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich (especially the former, whose party’s poll numbers have risen), may seek to cement their status as true believers of a maximalist war approach by bolting the coalition.

But if Netanyahu bows to pressure from his right, the looming threat of resignations by Benny Gantz and Eisenkot from the war cabinet remains a distinct possibility. Gantz and Eisenkot, members of the increasingly popular National Unity political alliance, have ramped up their criticism of Netanyahu in recent weeks. Eisenkot said Netanyahu bears “sharp and clear” responsibility for the Oct. 7 attacks. If they do resign, Gantz and Eisenkot could fuel a new wave of protests against Netanyahu and spark other government officials, perhaps even members of Netanyahu’s own party, to step aside.

Netanyahu’s political acumen—and sheer will—to stay in power should never be underestimated. But his staying power these days is also a result of the realities of Israel’s political process.

To send him packing, there are several pathways available for the Israeli opposition—all of them problematic. First, there is the vote of constructive no confidence. Modified in 2014 to ensure an alternative government must be proposed, any constructive vote of no confidence requires at least 61 Knesset member votes (out of 120) to enact. Alternatively, the Knesset can pass a bill supported by a simple majority to dissolve itself and move to elections. Right now, there seems to be no appetite in the current Knesset to send the country into yet another election in wartime, much less the votes needed for an alternative governing coalition.

The second mechanism to remove Netanyahu stems from the belief that resignations by Gantz and Eisenkot from the war cabinet, coupled with widespread protests, will serve as the catalysts for a handful of Likud MKs to abandon Netanyahu. But there’s no guarantee that Gantz and Eisenkot will voluntarily resign from their influential posts anytime soon. To them, overseeing Netanyahu and Defense Minister Yoav Gallant’s decisions, such as preventing further escalation in Lebanon, help blunt the coalition’s far-right actors. Also, Netanyahu still maintains control of his party. The Likud does not have a history of abandoning its leader and devouring its own. The idea that members of Netanyahu’s own party could see a path forward without their leader and drop from the governing coalition remains a long shot.

The third option that could in theory remove Netanyahu is often overlooked but has proved integral to political change after prior national traumas: a state commission of inquiry. Formed by the government or the Knesset State Control Committee, a state commission is highly consequential given its broad investigative powers, such as the ability to call witnesses and recommend resignations. State commissions are led by the president of the Supreme Court, who appoints its members, insulating the process from political interference.

State commissions of inquiry are powerful. After the failures in the leadup to the 1973 Arab-Israeli War, relentless public pressure based on findings from the Agranat Commission forced Prime Minister Golda Meir to resign five months after the war ended and just one month after forming the 16th government of Israel following the December 1973 elections. Given the national trauma inflicted by Oct. 7, the creation of a commission of inquiry is a near certainty—the question is when, not if.

But any state commission of inquiry would take months to release its findings. The Agranat Commission took five months to release an interim report (April 1974) and nearly a year and a half to release the final version (January 1975).

Aside from the extended timeline, Netanyahu could seek to modify the creation of a commission of inquiry to shield himself from personal responsibility.

Take the Winograd Commission of 2006, for example. In the aftermath of the much-maligned 2006 stalemate with Hezbollah, Prime Minister Ehud Olmert appointed former Mossad director Nahum Admoni to head the committee investigating the government’s management of the war in Lebanon (This later turned into a government commission of inquiry.). Ultimately managed by retired judge Eliyahu Winograd, Olmert was able to evade a state commission by the active president of the Supreme Court (Justice Dorit Beinisch)—a move that may pique Netanyahu’s interest given his well-documented critiques of Israel’s current Supreme Court.

Upon the release of Winograd’s damning findings, protests erupted across Israel calling for Olmert’s resignation. Olmert’s party, Kadima, stood behind him. The Knesset opposition leader at the time—a man by the name of Benjamin Netanyahu—called Olmert unfit to lead, arguing “the government is in charge of the military, and it failed miserably.” Despite relentless pressure, Olmert would survive for two more years, and a vote of no confidence in Winograd’s aftermath was never held.

And then, of course, there’s Netanyahu’s own trial—four years running with no signs of concluding any time soon. It could easily go another year and result in either a conviction or a plea bargain, including Netanyahu’s retirement from politics, to prevent that conviction result. The only certainty is that it will take time. Olmert was indicted in January 2012 over the Holyland affair, convicted on two counts of bribery in March 2014, and began serving a 19-month sentence only in February 2016.

There’s one additional pathway to remove Netanyahu from power; it’s a double-edged sword because it also contains an option for him to remain. Though the path ahead is fraught and uncertain, the Biden administration has embarked on an integrated regional initiative to move beyond the Israel-Hamas war and to stabilize the broader Arab-Israeli arena. Its centerpiece is the administration’s desire—evident well before Oct. 7—to push for an Israeli-Saudi normalization deal. The broad outlines involve a sequential series of steps: first, a hostage-for-prisoner release that would lead to an Israeli-Hamas temporary cease-fire lasting months, followed by a Saudi offer to normalize relations with Israel provided the Israelis agree to the creation of a Palestinian state and withdrawal of forces from Gaza. There would also be a package of deliverables to Saudi Arabia, including what is certain to be a controversial mutual defense treaty and help with its nascent nuclear program as well as undefined security guarantees for Israel.

The administration’s logic appears to be that such an offer would certainly break Netanyahu’s coalition. But perhaps Netanyahu, eager to remain in power, would abandon his extremist partners and take part of his Likud party into a new alignment with more centrist partners to do the deal and cement his legacy. If Netanyahu refused the deal, elections would follow, possibly leading to his defeat, and the new government would grab the deal. In the words of Haaretz military correspondent Amos Harel, the deal represents Netanyahu’s “lifeline.”

Who or what replaces him, if things do not work out, is also difficult to predict. The politics of Israel are dominated by the right and center-right, and more often than not, it’s the right wing that has gained from security crises. In 2001, Likud’s Ariel Sharon handed Ehud Barak one of the biggest defeats in Israeli politics following the failure of the Camp David summit and the outbreak of the Second Intifada; the 2006 Lebanon War would shake the Israeli electorate’s confidence in Olmert, whose resignation would lead to the beginning of Netanyahu’s long run as prime minister. It seems hard to imagine a resurgence of the center-left. In the latest election cycle, Labor barely reached the Knesset threshold with four seats, and the progressive Meretz did not qualify altogether. This political paradigm has not changed since Oct. 7. If anything, Israeli attitudes have moved further to the right than ever before.

Still, a course correction is coming—most likely a government led by Gantz, more focused on the protection of democracy, civil society, and the rule of law. Gantz’s new coalition would cast aside the counterproductive rhetoric Netanyahu deploys toward the United States, and perhaps would prove more pragmatic on issues pertaining to the conflict with the Palestinians. It’s doubtful if a new government, likely running the ideological gamut from right to left along the lines of the previous Bennett-Lapid coalition, would be able to make core decisions leading to a transformative, conflict-ending agreement with the Palestinians. Still, while it will not offer a quick solution to the elusive problem of the much-too-promised land, a new government might—with leadership changes on the Palestinian side as well—get the region a step closer.

[variousqueerthings]

ramble at the end of thirteen era

cool, well that's us done with whittaker era, and I do think it went by very speedily (less than a month).

I do see the critiques and the limitations of this era, however I think they may be much softened by time, especially with the specials coming after giving a little more emotional openness (not necessarily closure, but just acknowledgement) of the events of this era that make it feel like an ongoing character-arc and not a forgotten one, and with fifteen-era possibly taking on the timeless child concept, considering they hinted at that in church on ruby road, and hopefully turning it into something to be explored rather than plonked in front of the audience in a series of very long, somewhat tiring, oddly paced expositions

I can imagine it was quite frustrating having watched the six-part flux arc, which also tied into the timeless child arc and then have these three specials not really properly even allude to any of it, and it is a baffling choice

technically eve of the daleks and legend of the sea devils can basically be removed from the watch and I think nothing would be lost barring the thasmin scenes

all that being said, I think thirteen is a far stronger doctor as character than she's given credit for -- this could be me interacting with her as someone who's already affected by fan-reads of her arc, that is, someone who represses through positivity rather than through the more prickly iteration of twelve, and someone who was -- thanks to the specials for that -- deeply affected by the arcs she had in her era, but refused to show it At All Costs! but she has got an air of running on empty about her to me, and yaz calls out her misdirection and everything is fine attitude several times (even though she never does get real, clear answers for practically anything, which is very ten-with-martha coded of them)

I also think I rather quickly set graham, dan, and (I'm sorry bby) ryan aside in favour of yaz as the "real" companion of the era and it's fascinating that thirteen was her doctor in the same way that nine was rose's doctor. the difference being that thirteen blanket nixed the idea of yaz coming into her next life, which I'm going to be chewing on. I actually thought yaz would have made that decision, but apparently not and it does tie into my wider ways of reading thirteen as actually very closed off and refusing to be properly vulnerable (which makes getting carried to safety by yaz a very satisfying scene)

so yeah. some things to pull apart, some limits, some issues, which I think were mostly in pacing, and then I think in some more analysis of politics that is a whole other post. I do also note that there don't seem to be any episodes that are truly iconic for their narratives

there's demons of the punjab, which I think may be my personal strongest standalone, and season two I think both nikola tesla's night of terror and the haunting of villa diodati do some cool stuff, but I think they were neat for their historical contexts more than for the stories they told in the end -- sort of like how I think vincent and the doctor is good as an episode exploring vincent van gogh and is not a very good episode of doctor who (but I still like it for the vincent van gogh -- also I think all three of the thirteen-era episodes I mentioned are better at being episodes of doctor who than vincent and the doctor)

I think that's also where people perhaps get lost. it's not easy to just go back and watch as iconic moments in storytelling or comfort tv (although it takes you away has frog. and that. that is my personal most iconic moment of this era! it's very good frog!)

there are a few episodes I'd excise from my own personal future watches, but but... it's far far less percentage-wise than m*ffat's run I can fucking tell you that! I think once I found my "in" for thirteen it was relatively easy for me to watch, because I knew where it was leading to with fourteen, and I knew most of the pitfalls already (spyfall part 2... geez, that one might be my hardest to work with, because these episodes give us the master, but the second half does so much wrong and that's before we get to the nazi bit), and I had some idea of the personality of this doctor, whereas finding all of that for m*ffat-era was very difficult for me over and over again, because it'd keep doing something interesting (most often when written by a guest) and then give you the most insufferable, dull, out of the blue nonsense, on and on and on. I was tired while watching m*ffat, and it was only knowing that I was making future decisions about how to engage with that whole era that made me not sometimes just skip several episodes at a time

I'll take having to make my characters work around bad pacing and misguided over-exposition that struggles to maintain character-work around the Lore any day, personally

Conclusion: yeah, I get why this series has its real fans. it has its real draws. I can also see why it had its struggles, both for general writing reasons, but also I think because people wanted doctor who to totally reinvent itself and at the same time stay exactly the same, and I think that would affect a showrunner who's maybe not... quite bold enough to really do whatever the hell they want and fuck the haters. it was always going to have people whining about it, but I suppose where one might get disappointed is in really wanting it to succeed in proving those people wrong -- and it never had quite the strength in writing to fully do that

that being said, I can see it building a soft cult status a la eighth doctor movie over the years. it does have its own fun odd little identity bouncing around in there

also that is the major upside of rtd taking over for a bit, this guy's been making stuff that's had vocal opposition since the 90s. whatever happens next, for good or for bad, it's definitely on his terms. that being said if there's one thing I feel coming out of thirteen's era it's that the idea of doctor who reinventing itself is the right sentiment, and one of the major ways to do that is to not have it be in the hands of the same showrunners and writers and directors who've been involved since 2005

new directors and writers have been slowly trickling in over the years, so now it is time to build to a new showrunner once rtd leaves- who knows, maybe someone who didn't start out as a fan in the 60s or 70s, but discovered it with the reboot

also will be doing a rating for these episodes, not anything special, but similar to what I did for the first whittaker season, and also a "pros" and "cons" list... interesting to dig into

[umbracirrus]

Chapter 12 of The Perfect Storm is up, and poor Balgruuf needs a break. And Hrongar has ideas about that.

Fic rating: E (for future sexual content, and perhaps also some suggestive content in this chapter.)

Chapter description: Balgruuf receives letters from the Jarls of Eastmarch and Solitude, and the contents of both stir up trouble and frustration.

Chapter excerpt:

Given Whiterun’s delicate situation with regard to the ongoing war, and its central position in Skyrim which crossed over many roads and travel routes, linking hold to hold, it was not rare for Balgruuf to be receiving correspondences from the other Jarls of Skyrim. There would always be at least one per week, with some communications being more frequent than others – he couldn’t actually remember the last time that he had heard from Korir in Winterhold, whereas discussions with Siddgeir, Skald, and Thongvor Silver-Blood were held monthly.

But rare was the occasion that he would receive letters from both Windhelm and Solitude on the same day. Ulfric and Elisif, two Jarls at the complete opposite ends of Skyrim’s political spectrum. It was not the most welcoming of sights, seeing wax seals bearing the red wolf of Haafingar and the blue Bear of Eastmarch alongside each other in the hands of the apprehensive-looking Proventus.

Had it not been down to the fact that he was actually expecting a message from Ulfric, he would have taken the letters as a sign of the war inching ever closer to Whiterun’s doorstep.

[kudzucraft]

Still breaking from social media for a bit, but I had some Thoughts relevant to soc. media, so I wanted to spin them out into the void.

Since October and the escalation of the ongoing Nakba, I’ve seen a lot more of the kinds of posts, tweets, etc. which take a very performative approach to online activism—that is, “if you’re not talking about this constantly, you’re part of the problem, perhaps even as bad as the perpetrators,” and quite a few statements asserting that people who try to maintain boundaries for personal or mental health reasons are complicit in genocide by doing so.

…Which is really frustrating. I think I’ve talked in brief about some of my ✨Mental Health Issues✨ before, but I don’t think that’s even really, like. Necessary here. Because I think this doesn’t need a personal anecdote to refute. It’s normal to establish and keep boundaries, especially when faced with something horrible and traumatizing. I did not need to see uncensored, untagged photographs of a man burning alive yesterday. I’m not as shaken as other people might be, because I’ve (fortunately???) seen lots of pictures like that before. Growing up online and all that. But it really didn’t need to happen.

For such an “inclusive” bloc, the online left has a serious fucking problem. I have unfollowed some people, that’s for sure. Y’all are not galvanizing your allies into action by shaming them for…what? Protecting themselves? Maintaining boundaries? Staying safe? You don’t know what those people are doing behind their blogs or twitter accounts. I personally reblog very little about politics and current events, but that doesn’t mean I don’t donate or e-mail representatives or anything else.

Some people are flag-wavers who can handle that constant churn of information, or who get pumped by sharing and talking about it. That’s wonderful and I really appreciate them.

Some of us have boundaries we need to maintain. If someone isn’t screaming from the rafters, consider that it isn’t because they don’t care, but could be for five hundred other reasons. Like maybe that it’s a sensitive and difficult topic for many people.

Please don’t treat the horrible, senseless deaths of thousands of people with such flippancy. It’s not your talking point. It’s an unspeakable atrocity.

Anyway. I just needed to rant about that for a bit. Carry on, and thank you to everyone who’s been, like. Normal about stuff. ❤️ You’re a real one

[bonpourlorient]

Quick Thoughts About the Elections

Here are some disorganized thoughts I jotted down in the aftermath of the elections in Turkey. These aren’t in anyway authoritative. Just my hotcakes (with apologies to Sera).

1.      It feels like shit.

Some have described what has taken place in Turkey over the last election cycle as a historic defeat. For my part I can only say that electoral losses, while familiar by now, also feel like shit. Talking to other friends from Turkey, especially people who I’ve organized with, been in political parties with, protested with, this feeling seems to rıng true for others.

There are immediate material reasons that account for why the results feel so shit – a new regime of austerity, broader immiseration, worsened conditions of exploitation, further policing and violence against migrants, an enduring violence against women and LGBTQ people, the continuation of the Turkish state’s war against the Kurdish freedom movement… This seems to be the immediate future of Turkish politics.

In addition to all of this, I think the sense of despair I see in the Turkish left is an acknowledgement, in affective terms, of the ongoing foreclosure of the capacity to act collectively. This suspension is especially frustrating because at various times over the past 20 years, multiples centers of power on the left have found ways to mobilize despite adverse conditions. The election was especially frustrating, in other words, because it immediately followed the mobilization that the left in Turkey helped organized in the immediate aftermath of the February 6th earthquakes. It was shitty to witness Erdoğan win on the day the Gezi Park protests started. It’s additionally shitty that the mainstream opposition abandoned the more organized forms of collective resistance that have persisted throughout the 20 years of the AKP; especially queer liberation and the Kurdish freedom movements were not actively acknowledged or mobilized as bases of power.

Sure, all electoral politics are inherently liberal and almost always entail a foreclosure of radical politics in the long run. In this sense, elections will seldom ever be not disappointing. But there are two mechanisms that amplified this in the recent elections in Turkey. First is the amount of effort and attention that elections suck up. In an increasingly authoritarian regime like that of the AKP, where the party itself exercises sole authority over all state institutions, it takes a fuck ton of effort and time from hundreds of thousands of volunteers to hold elections. Second is that getting rid of Erdogan becomes such an overwhelming priority for so many people that actual matters of political contention are constantly suspended. The first dynamic I think is easier to make sense of. The AKP stuffs ballots, monopolizes all apparatuses of the state, dominates majority of news media through direct and indirect forms of control and economic pressure, intimidates voters especially in Kurdish majority regions, once elected mayors in Kurdish majority towns are suspended by the state and replaced with appointed trustees. But in a sense all of that is to be expected from this regime. What feels more shitty is the suspension of political priorities on the left, perhaps a deliberate almost strategic inaction.

2.      The Myth of Authoritarian Ineptitude

One common story that was told about the elections was that the government was already bound to lose the elections, that economic conditions were so bad, that poverty had worsened to such a degree, that jailing of reporters and dissidents had gotten so bad, that Erdogan and the regime oriented around him had finally lost so much credibility that it was bound to lose. This intuition that the AKP were “gidici” (on their way out) was something I heard over and over again during my time in Turkey.

I think what subtends this sense that the AKP were “gidici” is a of myth of authoritarian ineptitude. Maybe you’ve heard of the myth of fascist efficiency – the idea that, yes, fascists are terrible but at least they kept the trains running on time. I think there is a similar myth of authoritarian ineptitude – that regimes like that of Erdogan are so inept, so organized around a single charismatic figure, so ready to hallow out state institutions that they will, given time, self-annihilate. The sentiment that the JDP was bound to lose, that they were “gidici” given “objectively” how bad conditions are I think is in part related to this narrative of ineptitude.

The narrative betrays a liberal understanding of authoritarianism as a kind of irrational “populism” that rears its ugly head whenever experts are dismissed and strong men take charge. And of course it is wrong; the AKP regime and Erdogan are neither bumbling buffoons nor fascist masterminds but are responding to the realities of class politics, neoconservatism and racialization and the unfolding crises tendencies of capitalism as they manifest in a credit dependent, growth obsessed, hooked on cheap labor regime like that of Turkey.

Yet perhaps even more so, it misses the multiple power formations and forms of rightwing politics operating within the AKP regime. In fact, what has been especially instructive in the 20 years of the AKP era has been the constant dialectic between fascism and authoritarianism; the fascism of unrestrained credit backed by state power; of broadened immiseration but secured employment, of the dream of corporate sovereignty that wrests economic power away from international flows of capital (described as “the West” or the “interest lobby” by the AKP) on the one hand; the authoritarianism of controlled investment; of rising interest rates; of austerity and unemployment; of a rule based market-system on the other. I think what is hard for many liberals to accept is that this dialectic is one that is wholly internal to capital; it is a kind of double movement of capital.

In this sense, the AKP has always already been about its own self-reform. Party leaders routinely promise a return to the party’s “factory settings”; back to the early 2000s when the JDP promised a happy union between neoconservatism and neoliberalism; party leaders routinely admit that the regime needs restoration; are able to change policies and easily adapt. Similarly, today, the JDP are signaling a more “mainstream” economic policy, that will rise interest rates, seek to discipline labor, will increase unemployment. In many senses, this is the economic policy that the opposition also endorsed. Opposition political leaders and economic advisors often described the “bitter pill” (read austerity and unemployment) that would need to be swallowed to bring the Turkish economy under control. Under such conditions the regime’s plan of austerity wrapped up in narratives of economic sovereignty, megaprojects and neoconservative familial belonging might even be more palatable.

Opportunism; cynicism; pragmatism. These affects are part and parcel of contemporary capitalism even when this capitalism is articulated in more openly authoritarian hues.

3.   The Shitiness of Strategic inaction

This sentiment that the JDP were on their way out lead to a politics of strategic inaction – whereby oppositional actors of all political persuasions decided to suspend political action instead focusing narrowly on electoral results. Which lead to an incredible resurgence of rightwing sentiment of all kinds during the course of the last election.

Perhaps the most obvious case of such inaction was on the issue of refugees. The mainstream opposition openly embraced anti migrant rhetoric the main opposition party CHP even hung a poster with the phrase “borders are our virtue” on it from their party headquarters. They promised to “send back Syrians and Afghanis” within 2 years, later revised to 1 year in an attempt to court more far right voters. I honestly don’t know how one can carry out such promises without committing major human rights violations. This contributed to an atmosphere where anti migrant sentiment became the tip of the spear of far right politics in Turkey and helped become one of the main narratives through which opposition against the JDP was articulated. Inflation and rising cost of rent was articulated as a problem of migration. Increased political violence was articulated as a problem of migration. Even the opposition losing the elections was attributed to migrants being registered to vote for the JDP.

What’s frustrating about all of this is that the JDP’s migrant policy sucks. It effectively turns Turkey into the colonial office that contains and polices migrants on behalf of European nations. It denies migrants passage to Europe in return for financial aid to Turkey. It moreover denies migrants refugee status and forces migrants to act as a cheap labor force that helps discipline labor in Turkey. Last, it condones the Turkish military and state’s foreign interventions that act to cause migration in the first place.

What is frustrating is that strategic inaction refuses to politicize such issues. It refuses to imagine how migrants can become subjects of politics in Turkey rather than a problem to be solved. It refuses to imagine how to mobilize with migrants rather than silently condoning others mobilizing against them. Even when parties had progressive policies and stances against migrants we saw them reluctant to advocate or voice such policies instead choosing strategic inaction. More than the CHP for example it was disappointing that other, ostensibly socialist, and radical parties refused to openly politicize the issue.

A similar story is true about class politics more generally. In the aftermath of the pandemic, when inflation sky rocketed, a number of important workers strikes, protests and social reproduction struggles around rent materialized throughout Turkey. The opposition chose to deliberately ignore these in fears that they would distract from voting AKP out. What is more there was no compelling vision of what socialist parties would do for workers in Turkey. Beyond a generalized discourse about poverty and inequality there was no compelling vision of class politics. I think this is also true for how parties organized. The Turkish Labor Party who’s operations I have followed more closely and can speak more freely about, seemed to have embraced a tactic that was reminiscent of Justice Democrats in the US. Nominating charismatic, social media savvy MPs and seeking to grow participation through the “buzz” and interest this would generate. The flipside of such a tactic is that there is no strong class base for this kind of politics, you are beholden to what these charismatic figures individually say or do. Sure, they talk about “class” but there’s no class politics happening in the party structure, rather the party is composed of people who have found the idiosyncrasies of these media figures individually interesting or compelling. There weren’t really any overarching policies that became prominent during the campaigning stage – apart form we will oust Erdoğan and the AKP and will hold them to account after.

Last, neoconservative politics has been an important force in Turkey. In his victory speech on May 28th Erdogan directly targeted LGBT people in Turkey, rallying to “defend the family”. The same strategic inaction was also visible in this front. Mainstream opposition parties were almost wholly silent in response. But even more oppositional parties like the coalition of Kurdish, socialist and green left politics HDP/YSP and the socialist/populist TIP despite nominating trans and queer people as members of parliament didn’t openly vocalize an LGBTQ politics in their campaigns.

I think all of this also contributes to the shitty feeling. The story that the Turkish left collectively told itself was that once Erdoğan was ousted we could finally start to act politically once again.

I think it’s important to sit with this shitty feeling. And rather than paper over it with cheap optimism maybe once again ask, what does it mean to act?

[goodqueenaly]

How do you think Dany and Tyrion's first meeting will go and who should be POV for it?

I do think the meeting will probably come from Tyrion's point of view. Up until now, the author has, probably intentionally, avoided any sort of direct, real-time outsider POV on Daenerys: Barristan has been with her since the end of ACOK, but he was only given his POV after she left Meereen on Drogon, and while Quentyn was in Meereen at the same time as Daenerys and interacted with her, we as readers were not in his head while he was actually interacting with her. (I'll put aside for the moment my frustrated desire to have an Irri or Jhiqui POV.) It's probably impossible to continue this going forward, however - the more focused on the endgame of the Others the story becomes, the more POVs are going to cluster around a limited, specific number of places and events, meaning the author can't isolate Daenerys away from the center of the action - and so I think the author instead will want to choose carefully how to break that ongoing trend.

Tyrion then becomes, perhaps, the ideal vehicle for doing so. For one, this is not only the author's favorite POV character, but also one that he (usually) seems to have a really fun time writing - someone who is quick and witty, who can spout historical facts and bon mots with ease. Daenerys is no slouch in terms of intelligence or quick thinking, of course, so Tyrion may present a good match for her, someone who can think on his feet and come up with clever, funny arguments against whatever Daenerys throws at him. Likewise, Tyrion is neither a political naïf nor dedicated to Daenerys out of some personal ideal (the way, say, Barristan is in his firm belief in his role as a Kingsguard to the rightful monarch, or Jorah in his utterly creepy obsession with her). Tyrion is at the moment switching sides during the battle because "[w]e are on the losing side" and, to quote Jorah, "[w]e do not want to be fighting for the slavers when Daenerys returns"; allegiance to Daenerys is a matter of practical survival for Tyrion. As a consequence, Tyrion can approach Daenerys with the sort of frankness that neither Quentyn (who was specifically charged with winning her over in marriage) nor Barristan (who, again, genuinely believes that his duty is to loyally serve Daenerys as the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms) could have had with her. For the moment, Tyrion, with a renewed interest in living (and taking back what is his), may only see Daenerys as a means to an end, and not be overawed by a woman with an objectively pretty impressive résumé.

In terms of what it'll be like ... well, as I've said before I think Tyrion will realize that Daenerys has no inherent familial reason to like him. This is the son of the man who oversaw the murders of her brother's wife and their children, the brother of the man who actually killed her father, the scion of one of the key traitorous families that had helped that no-good-very-bad Usurper take the throne from her own family. I think Tyrion will take pretty quick stock of what he has to offer Daenerys: his intelligence, his knowledge of Westerosi politics (or at least the state he left them in), his experience of ruling the Iron Throne's government as Hand and organizing a key military victory, his education in dragonlore, and his probable realization that our Aegon is not who he says he is. I think he'll then try to turn what Daenerys might see as her advantages into what he might argue are weaknesses - which, of course, with his help she could turn to advantages. You have dragons, he might say, but you only control the one, and maybe not even that one totally; I know dragonlore, I know what to do to make the dragons fight for you. You have troops, but you've never taken King's Landing; I defended King's Landing from an outside assault, so I can help you do the reverse. You have advisors, but no Westerosi with experience in the central government (since I'm pretty sure Barristan will be dead by this point); I ran the government, I know how to be an effective Hand. You claim the crown as the last Targaryen, but there is a young man who says he has an even better claim marching at the head of the Golden Company right now; I know that he is a fake, I can help you dismantle his propaganda. I'm not saying these are all the arguments he would give, but I think the general jist will be Tyrion successfully convincing Daenerys that he is more use to her as a living advisor than a head on a pike.

[curiousconch]

Chase You/Chase Me (Pt. 4)

Part 4: The truth will never lie to me

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Trapped in a conference, Gabe and Alex bask in the afterglow of their interrupted moment by the lake. But before Alex can fully comprehend how she felt, she unravels a truth that may cease the chase altogether.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 1.8k+

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / alcohol consumption, language, implied sexual content. Reader discretion advised.

Author's Notes: Surprise! Yep, it's an early release! I made revisions to fit the ongoing narrative and ended up breaking it down into two parts. Also, this series may span longer than I originally intended it to be, not wanting to rush things. It will probably extend until Part 7, depending on what happens at the finale. I do hope you'll still stick around. If not, I'll totally understand. 😉

Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogue belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.

Late night, Boston

Shoe laces, cool wind and the darkness of the forest enveloping them. His breath shuddering with how close her lips was. His throat running dry.

Wanting, longing.

Just a little taste to find out how intoxicatingly delicious those cherry lips would be in his mouth and to feel the heat of her body against his.

And then a splash.

Gabe blinked as he felt ice cold liquid pouring over his crisp white shirt. He wasn't sure if he was having déjà vu.

"Oh, sorry mate," a man standing nearby had bumped into him, making the glass of scotch he was drinking shake and spill into his impeccable suit. He forced down the tasteless curse words forming in his mouth, groaning in frustration at the dissipating sensations from what he had been imagining.

His mind was stuck in an endless loop, replaying the romantic encounter with Alex just the night before. But very much like after Beau's dive into the lake, his consciousness whipped achingly back to reality.

Gabe was leaning on the mobile bar, set in the middle of the conference reception. Did he just lose himself in a daydream like a fool? He wondered, murmuring through his madness.

The time alone with her provided him a glimpse of what could be between them. And oh how euphoric it had been to have her so near, to watch his body respond to her like no other.

It left him just craving for more.

He was lying to himself if he continued to deny that he has feelings for Alex, and how deep he was already in for her. But he knew it wasn't meant to be, at least until after he admits the truth. Until then, he had to pull away.

Easier said than done.

For now, he settled for a view of her, his eyes scoured the room for the subject of his fancy. When he found her, Gabe couldn't stop his smile and the fluttering of his heart, or the warmth growing between his legs.

There she was, in the far side of the room, shining brighter than any star that they had seen in the night sky. Her audience completely captivated as he was with her.

The sight of her in that blue dress swept Gabe back into his fantasies, and how infuriatingly near he was to giving into them. He had to clench his fist around his tumbler, suppressing any trace of his earlier wild thoughts.

Apparently sensing the weight of his gaze, Alex turned to him, their eyes meeting in silent conversation. He watched as she excused herself before making her way towards where he sat.

Half-smiling, Alex's confident expression as she approached him made him swallow hard.

Gabe summoned all his willpower to rein himself in as she got closer. He plastered his usual cocky smile, once again putting up a wall of professionalism. They were in a conference, he reasoned.

"Still watching your wards, old man?" Alex chuckled as she reached a seat beside him.

"Working the room like a pro like that? Very hard to ignore," Gabe interjected, shaking his head. "Had to say Alex, I'm impressed."

"Glad you noticed," she smiled, clearly enjoying the compliment.

"Frankly, you charming the top tier lawyers were hard to miss," he said, with lips quirking into a grin.

"Were you watching the whole time?" she asked.

"Difficult not to, seeing how you're the best-dressed lawyer in the room," he continued, savoring the easy conversation.

She scoffed before turning around, grabbing a napkin from a bartender. Alex offered it to him, pointing at the light stain on his clothes.

He finally muttered a curse, realizing he had been too distracted not to notice the result of the spillage from his own drink. This was one of my best suits.

Gabe almost jumped when Alex started to wipe the front of his suit.

His eyes narrowed, unable to process what was happening. On impulse, he reached out to her, encircling his palms around her wrist. Alex snapped her head up at the touch, the intensity of her gaze enchanting him.

It took all of his strength to break free from it. He cleared his throat and looked away, before grabbing the napkin from her grasp without warning.

It had always been like this. At first, there was this fluidity, a natural attraction between them while they interacted. Then another goddamn minute passes and it all becomes downright complicated.

Gabe wasn't having it.

He briefly shut his eyes closed and released the breath he was holding. When he opened them, he focused his attention on wiping the stain from his jacket, avoiding Alex's questioning gaze. He decided to divert the conversation, robbing her of any opportunity to re-capture him in a trance.

"Don't worry, I don't judge potential partners solely on congeniality. Though I can't speak for Sadie." He then turned and discarded the cloth on the bar. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll have to speak to a friend who I'm sure will be thrilled to know I'm now a partner."

He finally dared to look at Alex with almost apologetic eyes, before swiftly walking away towards a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Alex was left gaping at his hasty departure, uncertain how it all went south so quickly. She wanted to grab his arm and pull him to her so badly, to pick things up from where they left off last night. From that moment when his lips was inches away from taking hers, before they were interrupted.

Her body ached to be near him. Then again, that's not how she usually operates, so she let him be.

She had never thought her idol was such a tease. Or perhaps, traditional? Alex snickered. Oh how I'll make you beg, Gabriel Ricci. She exhaled, the sultry thought of the man on his knees in front of her suddenly hiking up the temperature in the room. Alex had to fan herself to cool down.

Along with the idea of finally spending some alone time together, conjuring the image of waking up beside Gabe excited her. Well, if ever this chase between them actually culminates to something.

But why was she following this trail of thought? In all her conquests, she had never stayed for what came after. She had that with Julian, and look how that ended. For her, it was always just for the fun. So why does she suddenly liked the notion with Gabe? She shuddered. Ugh, weird.

Maybe it's because it's taking the long game with him? Alex didn't want to know.

Leaving that for now, she resorted to ordering another shot of patron to drown the remnants of her heated thoughts. On her third glass, Alex heard a familiar voice ordering a shot of bourbon. She swiveled towards it and caught sight of Lina Reyes, the opposing lawyer from the Willow case.

"Fancy meeting you here," Alex smiled lazily, remembering how temptingly attractive she was. She also recalled the offer of a hook-up, which she politely declined out of courtesy.

But now, seems like she's getting another chance. And with Gabe being annoyingly hard to get, Alex had to have fun somewhere else. It's not like she and Gabe was committed, right?

Lina scooted closer to her, smelling of a heady mix of alcohol. "Speaking of fancy, damn. You look more incredible than I can remember, Alex," she teased, provocatively arching her brows at her.

Alex quickly picked up Lina's attempt to flirt, stoking her bruised ego. "Gotta be dressed to impress, right?" she waved her fingers as if in curtsy. "Enjoying the conference?"

"At this point, things tend to devolve quickly. But I do plan to have a nightcap back in my room," Lina smirked, Alex feeling the heel of velvet pumps brushing along her bare leg. "Maybe you could join me?"

The woman wasn't exactly subtle, though Alex had to give props to her for her confidence. She liked that in anyone. So Alex returned the gesture, letting her fingers hover an inch over her arm while batting her eyelashes. Two can play that game.

"I think we should stay here."

Wait, what? Did she just say no? Subconsciously? Did hell just freeze over? Or did her brain left her head?

Both women blinked, unable to determine who's more mortified between them. They were both quiet, until Lina broke the awkwardness by a chuckle.

"Had to try, didn't expect I'd be turned down twice," she said consuming the rest of her drink in one gulp. "Worth it though." she shrugged, ordering another round for herself.

Alex struggled to compose herself, brows furrowed in confusion by how that went down.

"Oh don't be so bothered, you're not my first rodeo." Lina poked at her jokingly, clearing up the air. Alex thanked her, and the conversation went smoothly from there.

Several more drinks in, the two women chatted on, venturing into a variety of topics in law and in love. It didn't take long before Lina started to slur in her words, to which Alex found amusing.

"Looks like someone didn't pace herself," she observed as she sipped her cocktail.

"Ah don't mind me, had to cleanse my palate after all the boring sessions earlier," Lina toasted her glass on hers, wobbling as she shifted to face her. "We are a rare breed, us fighters," she leaned towards Alex, lowering her voice to a whisper. "We like-minded women should just stick together, you know?"

Alex was relieved she turned her down the second time. Barely listening to her, she started to drift off as Lina continued rambling on, turning around to face the crowds as her eyes tried to locate that handsome man. Alex smirked when she found Gabe's sexy outline.

"Lot of ungrateful dipshits being freed from prison, even after we work our asses off proving they deserved an earlier release. Khan, Kozlowski, those celebrities involved with the Ivy League admission scandal? Hell, even small town criminal Cornell was released in the last five years alone!"

And with that last statement, Alex froze. "Say that again?"

Confused, Lina stuttered as if she can't remember what she was saying. To Alex's annoyance, she went silent, apparent that more humiliation was on the way. Lina abruptly stood, covering her mouth with her hand as she sprinted to the bathroom. Alex let her pass.

Assured that she'll be fine with her colleagues flanking her, Alex started to obsess over Lina's last sentence.

Was that just the patron? Or am I getting too drunk and starting to hear things? She asked herself, bewildered at how randomly Lina mentioned a Cornell.

With an exasperated sigh, she decided it wouldn't hurt to check. She pulled out her phone from her purse and fired up a search engine, where she typed in the godforsaken name. Alex tapped enter.

As soon as the results loaded, she felt the world crumble beneath her.

No, no, no, no, no. This fucking didn't happen.

She clicked on one of the articles from a local news outlet. The picture beneath the headline shoving her nightmares front and center. There it was, the title written in bold stated loud and clear: Cornell Son Gets Early Release.

Alex bit her lip as she fought to gather herself together, speed reading through the article. This was definitely a surprise, but what really got her reeling was the figure of a man walking behind Maximilian. She'd pick up who that was from anywhere within a mile radius.

Alex tried to keep herself rational, but the shock rippled through her, enough to shake off the alcohol in her system. And why did her stomach churned like she was punched in the gut a hundred times over? Why did she felt fucking betrayed?

Unexpectedly, she knew it wasn't discovering Cornell was now walking freely in the streets.

Deep down, Alex was aware it was because Gabe Ricci was involved. Either way, it looks like her high and mighty boss has some explaining to do.

Her blood boiled, a myriad of questions went through her mind. Resolute, she wanted those damn questions answered. Tonight.

She downed her drink and slammed the empty glass on the bar, sending a text to draw Gabe's attention.

She looked over where he stood, watching the frown in his face as he read her message. She clicked her head, beckoning him outside.

Even he can't fathom the fire storm that was about to come his way.

Author's Notes 2: Thank you for your continued reading! 💖 How do you think things will go down next? Let me see your reactions on your comments and reblogs!

Tag list: @adiehardfan @pixelnutrookie @starryjieun @latinagiraffe @sarcastic01lily @spookycolorpeanut @ophrookie @suitfer @thegreentwin @mkatschoicesblog @made-of-roses @lillijill

@choicesficwriterscreations

[historyisthehype]

Revolution and Popular Music (WARNING: NSFW video)

With some extra time off from internship research, I’d like to talk about some of my personal research.

To remind readers, I have research interests within Latin American studies, History, and Popular Culture.  

This week, Puerto Rican rapper/singer, songwriter, and philanthropist, René Pérez Joglar, (AKA Residente) released the music video above.

While Residente has always been known for his historical references and anarchical tone, his approach to his music embodies a tradition that is integral to the wider Latin American musical tradition.

Art has historically served as a way of mobilizing the masses against corrupt governments throughout Latin American History – perhaps stemming from the Spanish literary tradition of either projecting outright or romanticizing everyday life. While countries throughout Latin America fought for independence, everyday life was revolution, and that is what they wrote about.

But I’d like to keep examples closer to modern-day as the civil rights era filled much of the music coming from Puerto Rican artists with messages of empowerment and a political resistance.

Marlon Bishop’s article, “How ‘Que Bonita Bandera’ Became a Revolutionary Puerto Rican Anthem”, details well some of the modern-day influences of revolutionary song.

In it he describes how the Young Lords, a gang from Chicago, took on a plena song – a Puerto Rican folk genre that incorporates African, Spanish, and Indigenous elements, which was initially a form of resistance from European models of dance and music- “Que Bonita Bandera” or “What a Beautiful Flag”. This was around the end of 1969 and they adopted it moving into the 70s.

According to Marlon, at the same time, salsa, the genre that spread through Puerto Rican communities in the US like wildfire, in popularity around the 60s, started changing its tune stepping into the 70s. From Hector Lavoe’s era of sex, drugs, and Salsa-y-Son to Tony Pabón’s album, La Protesta.

This is a significant time of influence since Residente was born in 1978 and likely due to temporal proximity, grew up – as most of us do –surrounded by strong opinions on the relationship between the United States and Puerto Rico and Puerto Rican’s position within the larger US society.

Fast forward to the protests in Puerto Rico during the Summer of 2019 where Residente, Ile – singer, songwriter, and his sister and ex-bandmate - and Bad Bunny wrote and produced an anthem to the movement, Afilando Cuchillos, both in response to and in solidarity with the protestors. However, in their individual projects and performances (even before the protests), they write of resistance and empowerment.

Lyrics from Ile’s at the time recently released album, Almadura, were painted across protestors’ posters as it features powerful messages of revolution but also incorporates a mosaic of Puerto Rican and other Latin folk rhythms.

The release of the video above, This is Not America, is in response to long-standing mis-educations about the history and the geographic definition of America. The song and video also serve to vocalize the growing frustrations of Puertorriqueños about the current state of the relationship between the US and Puerto Rico and the ongoing colonization of the island and its people. 

Since 2019, unrest and disappointment remain the general attitude and the trend of protest has remained. The people of Puerto Rico continue to demand respect, accountability, and transparency from the Puerto Rican government as well as from the United States government and are consistently met with degrading policy after degrading policy.

As Puerto Rico’s colonial destiny continues to hang by the will of the US while decolonial efforts continue to spread worldwide, literary works such as these seek to correct misunderstandings about the past. They look to shed light on the erasure of certain aspects of history while making it accessible through popular culture and media.

Below is a link to the best translation I could find of the song:

https://findoutlyrics.com/residente-this-is-not-america-lyrics-english-translation/

and here is the link to Marlon Bishop’s article for Red Bull Music Academy that I referenced:

https://daily.redbullmusicacademy.com/2016/05/how-que-bonita-bandera-became-a-revolutionary-puerto-rican-anthem

[uncloseted]

Is there something bad about prince Charles now being king since she died? Like I don't know anything at all Abt the royals and their history, but it doesn't seem like this is necessarily a good thing even if people are glad that she's not in power anymore you know? Idk that's how my teacher was making it seem lol

This whole situation is kind of complicated, but I'll do my best to keep it brief here. The people who are glad that Queen Elizabeth died generally aren't against her specifically. They're against the British monarchy in general.

Queen Elizabeth was generally pretty well-loved as a figure. In 2012, at her Diamond Jubillee, she had an approval rating of 90%, and several surveys have found that she was the "most admired person in the UK". She became Queen at 25 years old, when Edward VIII abdicated the throne in order to marry Wallis Simpson, and served for 70 years. Throughout her time as Queen, she was largely apolitical and served only as a cultural figurehead. As a result, many people viewed her kind of like the "grandmother of England"- someone harmless and friendly, if a little formal. She provided a sense of stability in a turbulent world and fostered national pride in many.

Charles is not nearly as popular as Elizabeth was. His popularity with the British people was about 42% before he became King, and 46% of Britons wanted Charles to abdicate immediately upon accession to the throne, in favour of William. His public image is tinted by his treatment of his first wife, Princess Diana, as well as his affair with and eventually marriage to Camilla Parker-Bowles. He has been much more outspoken than other royals, both politically and in terms of how the press treats him. Perhaps in retaliation, he is regularly referred to as, “a prat,” “a twit,” and “an idiot" in media publications.

So, then, why are people against the monarchy to begin with? The most common criticisms fit into one of two categories: the idea that the monarchy is a financial drain on the British people, and that the monarchy is a symbol of the British empire, and, by extension, British colonization.

The first criticism is pretty straightforward. The British monarchy is estimated to cost British taxpayers about £202.4 million each year, making it the most expensive monarchy in Europe, and it is exempt from taxation on any money it makes. The funeral and coronation will reportedly cost gross domestic product an estimated 6 billion pounds when it’s all said and done. This is while the UK is in the middle of a cost-of-living crisis, one that the government has been slow to intervene in. Understandably, people are upset that this money is going to the monarchy instead of to helping everyday people who are struggling to put food on the table. For example, a New York Times article quoted Mo Varley, a teacher in Sheffield, England, who said, “the royals seem to be adored by so many, and at times like this I find it a bit frustrating when so many are suffering and those in power don’t appear to care about that. I don’t think you can have a family paid for by the state be free of scrutiny.”

The second criticism is a bit more complicated. For this, it's important to know that at its height in 1920, the British Empire occupied 24% of the Earth's total land area. A total of 65 countries have claimed their independence from the British Empire. The last of these countries became independent in the 80s (Brunei was last in 1984), and Ireland was fighting to maintain its sovereignty until 1998. This is recent memory for a lot of people.

Britain also still retains sovereignty over 14 territories outside the British Isles. Plus, there are ongoing independence movements in Scotland, Northern Ireland, and Wales. An additional fifteen Commonwealth realms voluntarily continue to share the British monarch as their head of state, although this number is decreasing and will likely drop sharply now that Charles is the king. Barbados removed her as its head of state and became a republic just last year, and Jamaica seems likely to follow suit.

So, why does this matter? Part of the criticism is just that the monarchy refuses to acknowledge the harm it has caused. South African political party the Economic Freedom Fighters issued a statement saying that, “[Queen Elizabeth] never once acknowledged the atrocities her family inflicted on native people that Britain invaded across the world.” Many people, especially those from formerly colonized nations, feel that because the privileges the royals receive are built on the back of an exploited empire, the monarchy should cease to exist.

For example, Uju Anya, an associate professor of second language acquisition at Carnegie Mellon University, tweeted, "If anyone expects me to express anything but disdain for the monarch who supervised a government that sponsored the genocide that massacred and displaced half my family and the consequences of which those alive today are still trying to overcome, you can keep wishing upon a star.... I take deep offense at the notion that the oppressed and survivors of violence have to somehow be deferential or respectful when their oppressors die. There are people literally around the world, rejoicing at this woman's death, not because they're vile or cold but because her reign and the reign of her monarchy by extension was violent." Anya goes on to say that to this day, the crown continues to meddle in African affairs and act as an oppressor.

Jamaican-born Matthew Smith, professor of History at University College London, commented that, "I think when people voice those views, they're not thinking specifically about Queen Elizabeth. They're thinking about the British monarchy as an institution and the relationship of the monarchy to systems of oppression, repression and forced extraction of labor, and particularly African labor, and exploitation of natural resources and forcing systems of control in these places. That's what they're often responding to. And that's a system that exists beyond the person of Queen Elizabeth."

Other concerns about the monarchy include that it's undemocratic, elitist, and unfair, that it elevates people who are unqualified to lead, that it's incompatible with the multiracial and multicultural British society of the 21st century, that it imposes a state religion, that it causes harm to would-be monarchs, and that the monarchy is not accountable for its actions.

[greaterawarness]

Arc Training Program Ch. 4 "Getting To Know The Cadets (Part Two)"

(Sorry for the long wait! Here is part two! Hope you enjoy it!)

The next stop on hunting down his cadets is the library. He scans the room seeing some odd number of clones and Kaminoans scattered about but none were one of his. He starts walking slowly around the room until he finds someone curled on the floor with stacks of books surrounding him. His face is hidden by a large book that he is completely entranced by. He reads the cover The Species of Gree. Alpha clears his throat, but the boy doesn’t hear him. Alpha walks forward and pulls the book down so CC-1004’s eye would finally register Alpha. The boy jumps surprised and scrambles to his feet.

“Sir! Sorry sir! I didn’t see you!” He says much to loudly for a library. He hears a few shh hissed at him and winces. “Sorry… sir.”

“What are you doing?” Alpha asks realizing all the books scattered around the boy are books on different types of species. The boy’s face turns a deep shade of red.

“Uh…” Is all he manages to get out. Alpha kneels down to look at the book he was reading.

“The species of Gree?” He says before giving a deep hm while flipping through the pages.

“The Gree species is one of the oldest civilizations in the galaxy. They even predate the Republic.” 1004 explains. Alpha gives another small hm. 1004 looks down while squeezing and unqueening has hands in and out of fists nervously. “I know this probably isn’t the best use of my time but… I think studying different species and their civilizations could benefit the Republic.”

Alpha stares at the boy. He looks like he’s about to be scolded but shows no regret.

“Just don’t let your other training fall through the cracks.” Alpha hands the book back to 1004. He takes the book with wide eyes.

“I wont sir!” He says with a big, excited smile on his face. Reading has never been a big priority when training the clones. Most bounty hunters wont even take their cadets into the library. Alpha might have been the first to not scold the boy for wanting to pursue reading for leisure. Unfortunately, he had nothing to offer like he did for 2224 and 7567. Alpha never felt he had the time or patience for reading unless it was a report.

“Seen any of the others around?” Alpha asks before the kid can get to lost in his books again.

“3636 was in here not too long ago… I think… I kind of lost track of time when I picked up this book.” 1004 admits.

“Understood.” Alpha starts to turn away before looking back at 1004. “Don’t slouch when you read. You’ll mess up your back.”

After walking around the entire library and seeing no sign of 3636, he leaves. He walks with his hands behind his back and head held high. Other’s salute or acknowledge him politely as they pass through the corridors. When he makes a turn towards the mess hall, he spots Shaak Ti. She speaks with two bounty hunters. When she notices him staring, she smiles softly with a slight nod of her head down a different corridor. Alpha nods his thanks and heads in that direction.

He finds himself walking above different training rooms where other batches perform practice battles. He spots 3636 staring down at one of the ongoing battles. Alpha quietly walks to his side to watch the batch below. The batch is slightly younger then his cadets and have sloppy movements. Alpha can predict the ending but looks to 3636 who barely flinched when he approached. 3636 lets out a tsk before pushing away from the railing. Alpha raises a brow at him as the batch below fails.

“Something wrong?” Alpha asks calmly. 3636 half turns with his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes stare at the floor in tense frustration.

“Why is it so easy from here?” He asks finally. Alpha tilts his head slightly so he continues. “From here I can see their moves before they make them. But when I’m down there it’s like I have tunnel vision. And when I slow down to see the big picture its usually to late to do anything before I realize what’s happening.”

He shakes his head and turns away. Alpha feels the corner of his mouth turn into a grin.

“What did you do before?” Alpha crosses his arms before brining one hand up to his chin pondering with great curiosity.

“Before, my batch would move ahead and I could see it all. Not at first but with trail and error I eventually learned the different battle sequences my trainer had us practice. But the ones you have us run through seem to be random. Or its like the droids have a mind of their own. I can’t predict their moves and what the others will do.”

Alpha stiffens.

“CC-3636, there are thousands of battle scenarios. Are you saying you memorized all of them?”

“Yes?” He says it as if it were obvious. “There are 1,325 to be exact. Well, 1,326 but I think one was a glitch that combined 453 and 34.”

He’s living breathing protocol droid.

Alpha stares at the boy not sure if he should be amazed or terrified. Instead, he motions for him to follow. He takes 3636 to the part of Tipoca City that only the ARC Troopers were allowed. They passed many familiar faces who acknowledged Alpha in a head nod, smile, or even gesture. When they spot 3636 following behind him, they turn cold and watch suspiciously. He eventually turns into a break room currently occupied by two ARC Troopers, Hull and Raff.

“Leave us.” Alpha’s words were cold and blunt. They pause and exchange glances pondering if they should protest or not. They make the right choice and vacate the room. 3636 doesn’t look troubled or even scared to be surrounded by true ARC Troopers. The only thing Alpha can find in the cadet’s cold analyzing eyes is curiosity. Alpha sits on one side of the holochess board and gestures for 3636 to sit on the other side. He hesitates for the first time but eventually lowers himself down studying the board intently. When Alpha turns it on, he frowns.

“What is this?”

“Dejarik. You have to use wit to win.” Alpha smiles with the holographic creatures buzzing in front of him. 3636 says nothing so Alpha does a quick run through of the rules. When he’s done, he begins. The first round Alpha goes easy on the kid letting him get a feel for the game and truly understand how it works. He still manages to win but the kid doesn’t look fazed. He merely leans back slightly with eyes narrowed on the board in deep thought. When they play their second playthrough Alpha thinks he might lose but comes through in the end. Still, 3636 doesn’t look deterred. On the third playthrough Alpha can tell there is a clear difference. The kid leans forward with eyes glued to the bored. Other ARC Troopers have begun to fill into the room to watch. Alpha has to choose each move carefully. Halfway through Alpha rubs the back of his neck wondering how he will pull the win when he lifts his eyes. He freezes when his eyes meet CC-3636’s. They stared at him like a wolf that just locked onto its prey. Alpha looks back down. He makes his move and leans back. The rest of the men in the room watch the kid, murmuring amongst themselves. Alpha wonders how many have placed bets. 3636 smiles while making his final move.

“Holy shit.” Alpha chuckles to himself. The room is in an uproar. Fordo leans against the doorway full body laughing. 3636 sits pleased with his victory. Alpha holds a handout, and they shake hands. He gets to his feet to lead the kid out of the rowdy room of ARC Troopers. No need to subject him to that horror. Fordo pats his shoulder as they pass. When they’re finally in the quiet corridor 3636 looks up at him.

“So, what was the point of that game?”

“There are very few troopers who have the strategy capabilities that you have CC-3636. Tell me, while playing the game did you win the first try? Or even the second?” Alpha places his hands behind his back and glances at the cadet as they walk.

“No.”

“Exactly. But on the third try you got the hang of it. Just like with all things it takes practice to be able to strategizes in the heat of combat. We’ll work on that. Soon you’ll be dominating on the battlefield as much as you do in holochess.” Alpha smiles at him. 3636 stares forward intrigued. He might have even smiled if Alpha wasn’t looking.

Alpha leaves 3636 to continue studying other batches so he can continue his hunt for his other cadets. He doesn’t have to go far it seems when he spots CC-1010 leaning against the windows overlooking the mess hall. Alpha frowns when he approaches. 1010 stands up straight when he notices Alpha.

“Sir.” He says plainly. Alpha gives a displeasing hm.

“What are you doing? I told you to be doing something productive not lean against a window and people watching.” Alpha crosses his arms. 1010 raises his eyebrows as if shocked but his eyes remain plain.

“Sir I assure you I am using my time wisely.” 1010 places a hand on his chest offering a small grin. Alpha frowns. “You see I am not people watching but studying. You would be surprised of what secrets you can learn from simply observing others.”

“Explain.”

Alpha decides to bite. Perhaps he’ll catch him in his own lie. 1010 gestures down to the people eating below. It’s mostly other clones but some Kaminoans and bounty hunters are mixed in.

“You see that bounty hunter there? She’s been fucking one of the Kaminoan scientists.”

Alpha frowns at 1010. “This is gossip cadet.”

“Patience, Sir, patience. I’m getting to the good part.” He assures him. Alpha settles again and looks to the female bounty hunter. “Now she is also fucking the bounty hunter over the Bravo Squad. Well, that or she wants to fuck him and is just working with him. I know this by watching their mannerisms. She acts the same around the city unless she is with the Kaminoan scientist or with the bounty hunter over Bravo Squad but there is a clear difference between the two. With the Kaminoan it’s very forced and overly flirty. Very out of her character. Almost like she’s trying to fool the Kaminoan. Then I compared that to when she is with the other bounty hunter. It’s more natural but much more secretive. Little whispers and glances here and there. A small hand gesture no one would notice you weren’t looking for it.”

“I’m failing to see the point of all this.” Alpha sighs starting to lose patience.

“I’m almost to the good part,” He assures him. “All of this intrigued me, so I followed her one day. It intrigued me because why force a romance she clearly didn’t want and hide one she clearly did. Didn’t seem right. After following her I found out that the Kaminoan scientist she’s interested in works in the genetics lab and she often convinces him to have meetings in the lab. Then after having a meeting, she would have an interaction with the other bounty hunter. One no one would notice if they weren’t looking for it.”

“Besides a serious health violation what are you getting at?” Alpha crosses his arms intrigued. He leans against the window with a smug grin.

“I believe our female bounty hunter is stealing from the genetics’ lab with the bounty hunter of Bravo Squad.”

“That’s a serious allegation. What proof do you have?” Alpha drops his arms. 1010 frowns while looking down at the mess hall at the female bounty hunter.

“Nothing but what I’ve seen.”

“Why haven’t you come forward yet?” Alpha shakes his head at the boy. CC-1010 turns to meet his eyes.

“I’m a cadet. Who’s going to believe me?”

They stare at each other for a moment as Alpha calms down. 1010 looks back out the window.

“I believe you.” Alpha says finally. 1010 stands up straight meeting his eyes again, confused.

“You do?”

“Yes,” Alpha nods confusing the boy more. “I’ll have others look into this matter.”

He looks down shocked for a moment.

“Thank you.” He says showing a genuine smile for the first time. Alpha leans against the window again prompting 1010 to mimic his stance.

“So, what made you start watching her?” Alpha asks now analyzing all bounty hunters in his site. When 1010 doesn’t answer immediately he glances over at him. He wears a grimace.

“Words often spoken are lies.” He says finally. Alpha waits for him to go on. “The bounty hunter over my batch was a master at manipulation. I learned very quickly I couldn’t take her words at face value. Instead, I learned to read her body. From there I was able to find the truth. Body language gives most liars away. When I started getting good with her, I started looking at others for practice. Our lunch lined up with the female bounty hunter’s and that’s when I noticed what was happening.”

Alpha nods while turning so his back was against the glass. He glances up at the ceiling remembering his time under Jango’s instruction.

“Jango would play mind tricks on us at times. He did it to try and push us mentally. Made most of us stronger. I know of bounty hunters like the one that taught you. They don’t use those tactics to help you but more to control you. But as long as you pass the simulations then the Jedi and Kaminoans are happy to let you graduate.”

1010 looks up at him.

“You don’t think those cadets should graduate?”

“I think those cadets will deal with more obstacles later down the road then most others.” Alpha says meeting his eyes again. The cadet nods but Alpha wonders if he really understood what he meant. Alpha clears his throat deciding to turn the conversation to a brighter note. “Do you watch everyone’s mannerisms then?”

“Yes, it’s become second nature now.” 1010 crosses his arms with his back to the glass now mirroring Alpha.

“So, what are mine?” Alpha arches a brow at him. CC-1010 pauses with eyes staring forward. At that moment Shaak Ti approaches making 1010 stand up straight.

“Sir, I see you and the General have business to discuss and I should really get back to blaster training.” He says before walking quickly down the corridor.

“Hey wa—never mind.” Alpha shakes his head with a chuckle. Shaak Ti gives him a look, but he just shakes his head.

“Something wrong?” She asks.

“No… well? Possibly. I have good reason to believe that two of the bounty hunters here are selling Kaminoan genetic secrets.” Alpha says pointing out the female bounty hunter below.

“That is quite a claim. And what reason do you have to support this?” she asks.

“I have on good authority that it is so. If it’s not, then I will personally apologize for any damage done.” Alpha insists. This surprises Shaak Ti.

“Alpha, you have never apologized for anything.” She says eyeing him slightly. He gives a nonchalant shrug.

“Times are changing.”

“It appears so.” She chuckles softly. Alpha notices a datapad in her hand.

“Did you need something?” He asks.

“Yes, I’m afraid there has been an incident with two of your cadets in hanger bay three.” She hands him the datapad. He reads the CC numbers and groans. He immediately takes off for the hanger bay.

When he arrives to the bay he finds CC-8826 and CC-1138 sitting handcuffed on the floor surrounded by a group of troopers.

“These are my cadets. What’s going on?” Alpha has to hold back his anger. 8826 and 1138 look nothing but bored while sitting at the feet of the troopers.

“Sir, we caught these two trying to steal a ship.” The trooper shoots a look at 1138 when he yawns. Alpha felt his anger boil in his chest.

“Sorry for any damages or inconveniences. I’ll take it from here.” Alpha squeezes his hands into tight fists already running through every exercise and drill he was about to make them run through and then he contemplated if he should just fail them and put them on sanitation duty. The cadets are uncuffed and follow behind Alpha.

“We weren’t trying to steal a ship.” 8826 says breaking the tension between them. Alpha whips around to face them. They still look unfazed by Alpha’s furious face.

“Then what pray tell were you doing?” Alpha shouts. His voice echoes through the corridor. He hears someone scurry out of the hall.

“I just…” 8826 starts but stops. Alpha shakes his head.

“No, go on. Explain yourself!”

“I just wanted to know how it works.” He says at last. Alpha shifts his weight taking in his words. He must not answer in time because 8826 goes on. “The ship. I’ve studied the design like everyone else but when it’s put together it looks nothing like the holograms. I wasn’t trying to steal the ship I just wanted to see what the inside looked like and how it all connected.”

Alpha felt his anger begin to simmer. He looks to 1138.

“He couldn’t lift one of the panels.” He shrugs. Alpha feels himself chuckle a laugh. He rubs above his eyebrows.

“You really weren’t trying to steal the ship?” Alpha feels like he just experienced a crash landing.

“No.” they both say. Alpha studies their faces. They didn’t appear to be lying but both boys have always been hard to read in the past. Of course, neither boys would be his first to suspect of desertion. Alpha lets out one final sigh releasing the anger he had only moments before.

“Very well.” He says turning away. He leads them away from the hanger by to one of the distant larger storage rooms near their barracks. He has to find 99 to open it for him. inside they cough and cover their noses from the dust collecting on all the items inside. Most were outdated gear and weapons with some obsolete spare parts here and there. 8826 and 1138 walk around taking in all the things while Alpha follows 99 to the back. He helps 99 pull a tarp off an old speeder bike. 8826 and 1138 stare at it intrigued.

“This is an old speeder bike left here by one of the Mandalorian bounty hunters. It’s rundown and needs a lot of work. You want to know how things work? Start by taking this apart and putting it back together.” Alpha places his hands on his hips watching 8826 squat in front of the bike inspecting it. He gets the same crazed look in his eye that he does when he’s in combat. Alpha leans against a crate glancing over at 1138.

“You interested in building the bike too?” He asks. 1138 has always been silent and calm. He only ever showed real anger when he lost and continued to fail at something. Every other time it’s the same blank expression. 1138 crosses his arms and nods. Alpha leaves it at that not forcing a conversation. 99 helps them clear a path to push the bike back to their barracks. Alpha didn’t want the kids let loose in this room to often. When they reach the barracks they walk in at the same time CC-4477 does. Alpha pauses. He had almost forgotten about the cadet.

“CC-4477,” he calls over while 99 leads 8826 and 1138 to the back wall with the bike. 4477 walks up to him. “Where have you been all day?”

“Sir? What do you mean? We passed each other in the corridor several times today.” He says plainly. Alpha frowns trying to think back. Did he really walk right past one of his cadets and never notice? He almost wants to ask more questions when the doors open and CC-1010 walks in with CC-1004. CC-4477 walks over to greet his brothers leaving Alpha feeling odd. He would have to keep a closer eye on 4477.

When the rest of the cadets return, the quiet barracks become loud with chatting cadets that prepare for the night. Alpha stays in the room helping 1138 and 8826 dismantle the bike and providing what wisdom he could all the while keeping an eye on the others. 1010 and 4477 sit on their extended racks chatting about their day and what they noticed while 7567 and 2224 sort through their gear. 99 shuffles around cleaning up here and there before getting pulled into a conversation with 3636 and 1004. Alpha feels a sense of peace wash over him. A feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. If ever.

When the night drags on he leaves the cadets to bathe and get to bed. He walks back to his room to find Shaak Ti watching one of the cadets practice battles. He walks over to join her at his table. She smiles at him while sliding a data pad his way.

“What’s this?” He asks while examining it.

“It seems you were correct about that bounty hunter. She and her accomplice have been detained. It seems the Kaminoan she manipulated had no idea. Still, he will face his own punishment from the Kaminoans.” She leans back in her chair.

“That fox.” Alpha says softly to himself. He puts the datapad down wearing a proud smile.

“It seems taking an off day was good for you.” She smiles warmly at him. He rubs the back of his neck.

“What can I say? You were right. Each boy is very different and has their own set of skills.”

“Now you must find a way to utilize those skills to get them to work together.” She rests her arms on the table leaning forward slightly. Alpha nods before reaching over to turn the holovid off. The sit in silence enjoying the peace.

“Thank you.” He says suddenly. She tilts her head. “For helping me.” “Your success is all of our success.” She says making him roll his eyes slightly. After a pause she adds. “You have changed Alpha.”

“I believe you’re right.” He nods with eyes falling on the table where his hand rests. He looks up to meet her eyes. “You have changed as well. From the first time we met.”

“That is the nature of time. It changes us. For better or for worse.”

His eyes drop to the table again this time staring at her hand resting on the table.

“Do you think it’s for the better?” he asks staring at her hand resting loosely on the white table. She takes this time to stand, pulling his eyes towards her face again. Before she walks out of his room she pauses and says.

“I hope, Alpha. I hope.”

Read full story HERE on AO3