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stillness-in-green · 2 years

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On Riots and Resolutions (Part One)

So, I got, unsurprisingly, a lot of asks about the heteromorph riot mini-arc, both in terms of how it was presented in the story and how fandom (my own posts included) responded to it. In turn, this gave me a lot to research before I started shooting my mouth off about either topic, hence this being as late as it is. Thanks as always for your patience, everyone.

I had intended to make this one big ask round-up, but I ended up with a few offshoots that didn’t really fit as a response to anyone’s ask in particular, but nonetheless struck me as significant enough to share. Therefore, rather than having this be an unwieldy ask post/meta mashup, I’m going to split it into two parts.

The first post will use one specific ask, the one that really sent me into the weeds research-wise, as a springboard to talk about what cultural factors might have influenced Horikoshi’s writing decisions about the hospital attack, as well as some discussion of how the Western fanbase talks about heteromorphobia. I’ll be getting into that past the cut below; there will also be some links at the end for sources and further reading.

The second post—coming soon!—will contain all the rest of the asks, which are somewhat more scattershot in nature.

Both posts skew heavily towards meta analysis: they’ll be about Horikoshi’s context as a Japanese creator writing for Shonen Jump, and about how fans—myself included—have responded to the resulting material. Obviously there will still be some references to the actual events in the manga, but it isn’t the main focus. If you want my in-depth opinions on the sequence in question, you can find my very opinionated opinions in my chapter posts.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Discussion of real-life discrimination (racial and otherwise) both in Japan and elsewhere, the historical construction of race, and theoretical considerations about how the idea of race might have been impacted by the appearance of quirks in-universe. Also, some brief allusions to overwork in Japanese office culture and its impact on people’s ability to engage in/with activism.

On that note, if you haven’t seen me say so before, I’m white as white gets, and obviously writing from a U.S. perspective as well. I’ve done my best to do my reading and be respectful in my wording, and I did run everything past a non-white friend before posting, but please do let me know if you see anything offensive. Some of these topics are ones that I already know people of color have pretty divergent opinions on, though—I was following the fandom response to this arc quite closely!—so do be prepared to encounter some reads that may differ from your own.

Hit the jump!

So, this is the ask that I looked at and immediately thought, “Oh, I’m going to need to do significant reading before I even start thinking about a response to that.” Most significantly, I wanted to research what Japan, a famously homogenous country, even thinks of the idea of race. Do Japanese people conceptualize it the same way U.S. Americans do? If they view it differently, how does that view color what they think about race-based discrimination? How, in turn, might that have influenced Horikoshi’s writing, and how might a greater understanding of his (potential) lens affect our own interpretations?

Well, let’s take a look.

Horikoshi’s Context: Racism vs. Xenophobia, Protest Culture, and How To Fight Discrimination

Racism vs. Xenophobia

Having now done some reading, here’s a very key thing to keep in mind: the vast, vast majority of Japan does not actually think the country has an issue with race. Even the people who do talk about the discrimination faced by the country’s various minority groups almost universally do so in terms of xenophobia rather than racism.

For my purposes here, xenophobia can be understood to mean the fear and/or hatred of foreigners and foreign influence/culture. Racism, conversely, will be discussed mainly in the context of a) the belief in the idea of race as a fundamental determinant of human traits and capacities[1] and b) behaviors stemming from that belief, especially the notion of the inherent superiority or inferiority of races in comparison to one another. Note that this definition is distinct from the idea of ethnicity and ethnic discrimination; I’ll get into what distinguishes race and ethnicity in the Western fandom portion of this post.

Now, of course, outside the realm of analytical essays, all these issues overlap hugely. I’m going to be talking about them as relatively discrete issues for the purposes of considering the experiences of individual characters within Boku no Hero Academia, but certainly where you find one, you’re frequently likely to find the others.

That all said, let’s return to the idea that Japan doesn’t believe it has a racism problem.

The reason for that is complicated, and intensely historical, but what it boils down to is that there is a lot more to being viewed as “Japanese” than simply being born in Japan. The majority opinion in Japan is that being Japanese means having Japanese ancestry,[2] speaking the language fluently, understanding the culture, being a citizen, and so on. This very blurred view of race, ethnicity and nationality means that all sorts of things can “disqualify” someone from, as one researcher I read put it, “Japanese-ness.” And if one isn’t Japanese (e.g. because they have Korean ancestry or Ainu ethnicity or an American parent or whathaveyou), then, voila! Discrimination can’t be racism; it’s xenophobia.

Basically, the government’s official stance is that Japan is a homogenous country, so there are no racial minorities for them to be racially biased against. All those hafu and Zainichi Koreans and Okinawans and so forth? Well, they’re not really Japanese, so the discrimination they face is about nationality. Poor Japan is just so insular; its people don’t always know how to deal with outsiders. But it isn’t racism, because racism would mean Japanese people judging other Japanese people on the basis of race, like white Americans judge Black Americans on the basis of race! And Japan only has the one race, Japanese, so it just isn’t possible for them to be racist. Even people who go out of their way to study discrimination in Japan, writing academic papers and news articles, still tend to use this framing.

It took me a while to get my head around that fairly tortured logic, and I sometimes still lose the thread of it. Now, I can’t read Horikoshi’s mind, so I have no idea what he would say if asked, but let me take Rock Lock as an example. If he were a real dude living in real Japan, it wouldn’t matter that he has a perfectly standard Japanese name and was born in Tokushima Prefecture, nor that he speaks the language and understands the culture. He has obviously Black features, which would lead most of the people around him to assume that he has non-Japanese ancestry, and therefore that he isn’t “really” Japanese.[3] Ergo, the mistreatment would be considered xenophobia, not racism.

Consider, then, how that might impact Japanese heteromorphs. They speak the language, they’re born in the country, they understand the culture, they have Japanese ancestry, they’re citizens of Japan—it seems like they should check all the boxes, right? But they still don’t look “Japanese,” which makes it very probable that there are people who don’t think of them as really being Japanese. Indeed, the real anti-heteromorph hardliners are very explicit in thinking heteromorphs have something wrong with them in their very blood (see the invective spat at Shouji about his “dirty blood”), and as I said above, the wrong kind of blood is one of those things that can easily disqualify one from proper Japanese-ness.

Sidebar: I said I’d talk about this back when it happened, knowing it was going to have to wait for exactly the kind of research this whole post needed, so I’ll address it here: “Folks with human faces just don’t get it!” Regarding the Spinner fans leveling this accusation at Rock Lock, those guys have clearly internalized the view that, despite them being human, their facial features are not human. That’s a very obvious logical fallacy, but they wouldn’t believe it if they hadn’t been exposed to the view over a significant period of their lives, which in turn speaks to an ongoing issue with dehumanization of those with fully heteromorphic faces. I’ll point to characters that call heteromorphs by epithets like dog, lizard, frog-face, and so on as a clear demonstration of how that sort of rhetoric is widespread even among characters not otherwise portrayed as violent bigots. Further, while the evidence points to such language being viewed as somewhat rude, it’s not so objectionable that most people raise a stink over it. Of Shouji, Chief Tsuragamae, Spinner, Hawks, and every heteromorphic classmate that Bakugou has ever used an animal name on, only Spinner has ever protested. Every other case has featured the heteromorph quietly letting the word pass by.[4] When even Certified Good Boys like Iida and Deku don’t think to say a thing about Shouto and Bakugou’s choices in phrasing, only to protest their surly attitudes, it’s a strong indicator that this kind of language is well entrenched. All that said, is, “Human-faced people wouldn’t understand what it’s like to be judged by their appearances!” a fair thing to yell at a Black guy? Surely not. But that kind of intra-minority shortsightedness (however misguided it might be) can be a real thing, especially when peoples’ own circumstances have gotten so dire, so I don’t think it’s an unrealistic accusation for them to be written as making. That, of course, brings us to the matter of Horikoshi’s own intentions in said writing. Was he consciously writing the Spinner fans (and the rest of the mob by extension) as being blinkered by their own pain and lashing out at someone who probably does understand, better than a great many in his field would? Or did he think the Spinner fans were right (at least in that specific accusation, if not in the broader act of rioting)? Further, if he did think they were right, did he put Rock Lock in that position to be intentionally ironic, some sort of, “Oh, look, even minorities can discriminate against other minorities, wow, isn’t that such a profound observation?” gotcha? Or was having the target of the Spinner fans’ ire be Black entirely coincidental, the wince-worthy result of Horikoshi only having so many named Pro Heroes to spread around and Rock Lock being the one whose personality+power fit the needs of the scene best? Those questions come down to a) how aware Horikoshi is of what Takagi Ken would experience in real-life Japan, and b) whether he thinks that kind of racism(/xenophobia) still exists in his fantasy alternate future Japan. Unfortunately, we just don’t spend enough time with Rock Lock, Mirko, Class B’s Rin, and so forth to be able to gauge that with any accuracy. Like so much else about this plot, it feels much too specific to be accidental, but so tone-deaf that it’s hard to believe a thoughtful writer would do it on purpose.

Protest Culture in Japan

Something that struck me as I was researching this post and rereading the relevant chapters was that I never seem to hear very much about large-scale protests in Japan. There were certainly historical ones! I’ve touched on some examples of those before in my writing for this fandom, and I’ve seen enough anime to be aware of the infamous student protests of the late 60s. But I don’t see much about protests in modern-day Japan.

That’s not to say they don’t happen—they absolutely do, and I’m sure there are things I miss because it’s not like I have The Mainichi in a daily news feed or anything—but my image of Japan was that it’s not a country that has a very strong “protest culture,” if you will. I thought I should dig into that some, both to see if the impression was broadly correct, and for how the answers would reflect on this whole plotline.

Lo and behold, what I found was extremely telling.

To give a very brief summary, organized protests—by which I mean people with signs, mass gatherings outside government buildings, marches, that kind of thing—were indeed a bigger thing historically in Japan. However, a combination of factors meant that they fell drastically out of use and have only started to rebound within the last fifteen years or so.

Specifically, protest in the 60s and 70s had become very specifically associated in the public eye with the New Left, a radical group inspired by the New Left movement in the West to break away from the “Old Left” represented by Japan’s Communist and Socialist parties. Always prone to factionalism, the New Left eventually suffered several very public, very lethal, internal schisms and splashy scandals, all as they were also moving into terrorism—groups associated with the New Left were responsible for, among other incidents, two airplane hijackings and an airport attack that killed 26 people.[5]

One result of all this was that the people who had deeply believed in the cause were left very disillusioned, and those who had not supported it were left feeling even more justified in not having done so. In both cases, the idea of protest—which had not even been successful at achieving its aims, on top of everything else!—was left marred by this association.

Add onto that, the Bubble Economy was coming into full swing, so by most metrics, Japan was doing pretty well—there wasn’t much widespread push to change anything when people at large were thriving. And, yes, there was a measure of good old-fashioned government crackdown on the legality of the kinds of protest the New Left had been doing.

That was pretty much the state of affairs until the early aughts, when counter-culture movements started redefining what organized protest could look like, development that was pushed even farther along after the Fukushima nuclear disaster in 2011. Since then, protests have been gradually becoming more common; it’s still very much a movement in progress, though, and for a lot of people in Japan, old associations die hard.[6]

Notably, however, there are some places where organized protests never went away. To this day, Okinawa has strong movements calling for the return of Okinawan land that’s currently being used for U.S. military bases.[7] There was also considerable opposition from rural communities to a number of dam projects through the late 70s and on through the 90s. The classic anime using those dam protests as plot fodder is, of course, Higurashi no Naku Koro ni, though so far as I can tell from some cursory research, the dam opposition group in Higurashi’s backstory was rather more successful than any real-life equivalent.

I trust it’s not difficult to draw the lines between those perceptions and Horikoshi’s depiction of the attack on the hospital: overly violent, led by extremists with suspect motives, and concerned with an issue that’s very pressing to people in rural communities while being largely invisible to people in big cities.

“Let sleeping dogs lie.”

In the course of my research, aside from all my findings detailed above, I did come across a quote that I wonder if influenced the resolution Horikoshi chose to write. It’s the Japanese proverb Neta ko wo okosuna, which translates to, “Don’t wake a sleeping baby.” Colloquially, the meaning is that if a problem is not currently being a problem, you shouldn’t stir it up by poking at it—our English equivalent would be, as the subheader says, “Let sleeping dogs lie.”

Other deployments as an adage aside, the context I’m most concerned with here is the way that it’s applied to burakumin discrimination (and how that, in turn, might reflect what Horikoshi thinks is the “right” way for characters to address heteromorphobia).

Basically, the idea is that if a discriminatory belief/set of practices is dying out, the best way to deal with what problems remain is to just—not talk about them. Because it’s no longer an everyday fact of life, children today aren’t going to know anything about burakumin or anti-burakumin discrimination unless they’re specifically taught. And so, the reasoning goes, if you simply don’t teach them, they will never learn.

Thus can discrimination be starved out of existence, or so people hope. Obviously, it is wildly flawed rhetoric to apply that adage to discrimination, because people who discriminate will teach discrimination to their children. Nonetheless, it’s a popular view in the mainstream, even one that was long endorsed by one of the biggest burakumin rights organizations, the Zenkairen.[8]

In that light, I wonder if we might consider it a possible influence in Horikoshi’s offered solution of, “Just be a Model Minority until all the problems go away.” We can see this attitude reflected not only in Shouji’s resolve and his final words to the crowd in Chapter 373, but also in his decision to constantly wear a mask to cover up the proof of his assault.

Shouji knows what people will think if they see a heteromorph covered in scars; the fear he wants to prevent is not only that of small children who might think his face is scary, but also that of adults who would see his wounds and fear that his experience made him vengeful. And so, it’s a conversation he just chooses to avoid instead. If people don’t know about it, they won’t believe they need to fear it.

Of course, one can’t help but suspect that the reason, “Don’t wake a sleeping baby,” is popular in the mainstream view is because it conveniently lets the majority culture avoid talking about uncomfortable topics. Japan notably has a huge cultural stigma about making people uncomfortable, so it’s easy for people who bristle when confronted with discrimination to point to the minority raising a stink as being the ones in the wrong. That, too, is reflected in Shouji’s horrible accusation that the heteromorphs’ own actions will put their movement back thirty years.

I don’t have a lot of neat conclusions to draw from all this. After all, you can’t just look at a bunch of polls of what any given group’s majority believes and then immediately assume that all members of the group are equally likely to believe the same. I do think it speaks well of Horikoshi that he seems to be at least enough aware of discrimination issues in Japan to include a new but eminently predictable form of discrimination in his work. If he, like many people in Japan, just believed that Japan didn’t have a discrimination problem at all, presumably he just wouldn’t have included heteromorphobia! The kegare bit in particular feels way too specific for Horikoshi to have tripped his way into it.

That said, all of the ways that he chose to address the problem speak to a woefully outdated viewpoint—that protest is ineffective and prone to violence, and that the best way to deal with discrimination is to starve it with silence. It’s incredibly striking that at no point in any of those chapters does anyone on the “right” side say that they’ll do anything about the problems facing heteromorphs. The onus is, apparently, entirely on the oppressed minority to present themselves as such paragons of humanity that the bigots will be too ashamed to try to hurt them—heteromorphs can neither fight back nor count on their government to do anything for them.

Even having read and relayed everything that I now have, I’m still hard-pressed to say that knowing all that context makes me feel any better about BNHA’s “answer” to the characters involved in the hospital attack.

Meanwhile...

The Fandom’s View: Well, Is It Racism?

As far as the wording the Western fanbase uses, I agree that people shouldn’t just call it racism, straight out. Heteromorphobia is a fictional construct that, for reasons of clarity and sensitivity, should not be conflated with an evil that people in real life, many of them readers of this very comic, suffer today.

That said, my experience is that most people who use the word racism in talking about heteromorphobia tend to add a qualifying adjective: “quirk racism,” “fantasy racism,” things like that. It’s following the broad TV Tropes-style short-handing of plot elements like heteromorphobia as Fantastic Racism. And that, unlike just calling it racism without further qualification, doesn’t bother me. Let me pose a thought exercise to get at why.

Race is a debunked concept insomuch as it refers to the scientific categorization of humans into neat little boxes based on their physical traits. In actuality, it’s a social construct, changeable based on the needs or biases of the people defining it.[9]

That said, people obviously still mean things when they use the word, particularly when the topic being discussed is racial discrimination. In that context, race as distinct from ethnicity or nationality refers to the observable, physical qualities a person has—the color of their skin, the color and texture of their hair, the expected range of their eye color, their facial structure, and so on—and what category (codified to justify imperialism and slavery) those traits would lead that person to be sorted into. A Black guy might be from the U.S. or France or Senegal—or Japan!—but he’s a Black guy, regardless, and any discrimination he faces based on those Black features is likewise going to be racism, regardless.

Conversely, nationality is obviously based in matters of nation—what country was one born in; what country is one a citizen of? Ethnicity is a much broader term that covers culture, socialization, language, the values one is taught, sometimes things like religion and traditional modes of dress—basically all intangible or, in the case of clothes or language/accent, adoptable things.

Obviously, bigots aren’t always drawing clean lines like that, and society, too, has been moving away from the idea of race as a valid categorizational tool. Insomuch as the concept still has a distinct meaning, however, that is the distinction: inborn, observable physical commonalities between different peoples that are distinct from other peoples; racism in this context is stereotyping and discrimination based on the belief in those traits.

That all said, how does that conception of race reconcile itself with heteromorphs? In the understood sense of what is denoted by “Asian,” would someone like Gang Orca be considered Asian? If he were vacationing in BNHA’s New York City, would anyone there assume he was Asian just by looking at him in a crowd? Someone like the Sludge Villain, who doesn’t even have a bipedal body arrangement, is an even more extreme case. Conversely, someone like Iida would still be easy to categorize.[10]

This gets you into questions that mirror discussion about racial discrimination in real life, like the idea of heteromorphs “passing” (the differences between a heteromorph like the Sludge Villain and one like Iida) or the ways in which some racial traits might be viewed as attractively “exotic”—especially in combination with other traits that more resemble those of the majority culture—while others are viewed as “ugly” (like how Hawks’ cool red angel wings have a far broader appeal than Spinner’s full-body scales).

Of course, the problem with saying people like the Sludge Villain and Gang Orca can’t be categorized as Asian because they don’t look Asian is that it begs the question of what race they would be considered. They don’t look like any existing human race, but they don’t much resemble each other, either: they both have recognizable eyes and teeth, and that’s about it. So if race is determined by one’s physical features and how much they align with those of a broader group, then how does one go about assigning that to a heteromorph?

Are heteromorphs considered a race entirely of their own, a sort of broad catch-all for anyone in quirk society who has permanent non-baseline[11]-human features? Or has the idea of “race” been largely cast aside because it’s too difficult to make fit the new humanity?[12] It’s a pertinent question in determining whether we could rightly call heteromorphobia a form of racism in and of itself, as opposed to a discrimination more like anti-burakumin sentiment (which, as I’ve discussed elsewhere, heteromorphobia also has markers of).

It is a pertinent question, but I don’t think Horikoshi will ever answer it. Indeed, thanks to the previously described way that Japan tends to conflate race, nationality, and ethnicity, I’d be surprised if he ever thought to raise the question to begin with!

That doesn’t mean that we can’t ask it, though! Given that race as a social tool stems from the need to justify discrimination and subjugation, how might the idea of race have changed in the BNHA setting as both quirks in general and heteromorphs specifically became more common? Would such obvious Others have sharpened the lines of division or blurred them? Is there a checkbox for Heteromorph on official forms that ask about Race/Ethnicity?[13] How much of a group identity do heteromorphs have, even ones who look very different from one another or hail from different countries? If it exists, how would that group identity be meaningfully distinguished from the idea of, say, a global Black community?

BNHA depicts a world that is still, over a hundred years later, trying to pick up the pieces from the advent of quirks, and heteromorphic discrimination is simply another aspect of that same ongoing development, so it would be no surprise to find all sorts of different answers to these questions. They would likely vary depending on a given culture’s view on how race differs or overlaps with ethnicity and nationality. Even heteromorphs who share a community might disagree; minority groups aren’t monoliths, after all!

Anyway, that’s all deeply suppositional and well beyond the level most readers of the series are likely thinking about re: heteromorphobia, so to reiterate, I don’t think the evidence is there to just call it racism without any further qualifications, so fans should probably not do that—be respectful of the shared community space and all!

Neither do I think the idea is entirely groundless, however, so I don’t begrudge people their “quirk racism”s and “fantasy racism”s. Plenty of people want to talk about the ways in which heteromorphobia resembles their own experiences with discrimination, so using shorthand that relates to those experiences rather than a made-up word that doesn’t express anything real, feels like a valid choice to me.

Look for Part 2 hopefully within the next 24 hours!

----------------- FOOTNOTES -----------------

1: Phrasing taken from the Merriam-Webster definition of racism.

2: When Japan incorporated Western ideas of race into its own understanding of the concept in the back half of the 19th century, it was largely interpreted to mean sharing a common blood, hence the huge importance of family line I have written about elsewhere when talking about e.g. the family registry (koseki) and the country’s chilly view on orphans. In that period, the concepts of race and nationality were both being refined in order to justify Western imperialism, a threat to which Japan responded by rapidly modernizing into an imperial power in its own right, complete with its own ugly cocktail of ethnonationalism.

3: And lest anyone think Japan is uniquely awful in this way, think about the way that people ask Asian minorities in the U.S. first where they’re from, and then where they’re “really from.”

4: There’s also a discussion to be had about Hawks using that language for himself, as well as looping the highly unamused-looking Tokoyami into it. It’s off-topic for this post, but suffice it to say that I don’t think we can ignore the glaring difference between Hawks’ upbringing and those of the other characters.

5: The Lod Airport massacre.

6: Oddly enough, it seems to be young people who are least likely to approve. Overworked, unable to risk their livelihoods in the current cutthroat job market, and deeply jaded by both of those facts, the younger end of Japan’s adult population seems to be more likely to express their issues online, rather than in person. One survey I read about suggested that belief in both the effectiveness and acceptability of organized protest increased with every age category, though in no cases was there a commanding majority in favor.

7: The numbers are telling: the islands of Okinawa Prefecture make up 0.6% of the nation’s landmass, yet 75% of the U.S. bases in Japan are located there.

8: It’s also fairly in line with a practice you sometimes see talked about in relation to media and big business in Japan when accused of using discriminatory language: word hunts, where the offending language is put on a list of forbidden verbiage so that people will stop complaining, but no further action is taken to address the offensive attitudes behind the words. Thus, the underlying problems continue to exist, setting the stage for future word hunts.

9: As, indeed, you saw when a bunch of people in Meiji-era Japan were figuring it out. They got the idea from Western trade partners, decided they didn’t like what those Western trade partners assumed about “the Asian race, ” and so invented a narrative whereby their race was Japanese, which was like a unique and special kind of Asian, better than all other Asians. Their Western trade partners, one assumes, went right on ahead with considering them as Asian.

10: This analysis assumes that if you took Horikoshi’s stylistic “filter” off of the cast, and asked what they would look like in a more realistic depiction, characters like, say, Present Mic would still read as Japanese despite the fact that he’s depicted as blond. There’s room for argument there, but that discussion is beyond the scope of this post.

11: “Baseline” is a term you will see me use a lot when I finally get that big Heteromorphobia In BNHA (No, It Didn’t Come Out of Nowhere) essay turned out.

12: If you think Re-Destro has any kind of point—and obviously I do—then it’d be a fair guess that humanity hasn’t gotten rid of the idea of race just yet. See that bit in Chapter 227 about society conforming to old ways of thinking even as humanity as a species has transcended that idea of normalcy.

13: Or Origins or Categories or whatever kind of language the local census/tax department/medical facilities/etc. are currently using. Japan does not actually ask this question on its official paperwork, for what it's worth.

------------------ REFERENCES ------------------

1: Sociology Compass, Volume 7 – The Social Construction of Race and Minorities in Japan

2: Vox.com – Japan's blackface problem: the country's bizarre, troubled relationship with race

3: Kana Yamamoto – The myth of “Nihonjinron”, homogeneity of Japan and its influence on the society

4: Hastings Constitutional Law Quarterly, Volume 45 – The History of Japanese Racism, Japanese American Redress, and the Dangers Associated with Government Regulation of Hate Speech

5: Carl Cassegård, Social Movement Studies – The recovery of protest in Japan: from the ‘ice age’ to the post-2011 movements

6: Nippon.com – Why Are Japanese Youth Distancing Themselves from Social Activism?

7: Thisjapaneselife.org – On Living In the Wrong Neighborhood in Japan

#bnha #heteromorph discrimination plot #stillness answers #my writing #bnha meta #cw: racism #bnha culture gap

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yesbothways · 4 days

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Please listen to them say these things in their own words. They summarize their takes on each available strategy and talk about the future. They cannot endorse Harris, but they are essentially asking people to vote for Harris, not third party, specifically to block Trump. This will allow the anti-war movement to continue to gain strength, and they will continue to focus on influencing Harris. They will give a Harris endorsement only if their requests are met. They have said what solidarity with the pro-Palestine movement in the USA looks like in terms of voting in 2024, while recognizing and respecting that some people will be personally unable to make the decision to vote for Harris given what's happening to their families. "It is our assessment that our movement's best hope for change lies in this very unique anti-war organizing power that we have created and that that power we want to name would be severely undermined by a Trump administration. Most Democrats, 77% of Democrats and 61% of Americans oppose weapons aid for Israel's assault on Gaza. These are Democrats who have been in the streets protesting and organizing alongside us to have our tax dollars no longer fund genocide. However, Trump himself has bragged about accelerating the genocide against Palestinians and actually promises to intensify the oppression of pro-Palestinian voices here in the United States. And so we want to make clear that must block Donald Trump, which is why we are urging uncommitted voters to vote against him and to avoid third party candidates that would inadvertently boost his chances..."

#us elections #2024 elections #harris-walz #uncommitted movement #uncommitted voters #gaza #palestine #harris #uncommitted

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practicalmagicintuitions · 2 years

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I just saw this. 😔 Is this Prince and Princess thing true. Did the BRF confirmed it yet? Do they realise they are rewarding bad behaviour? Rewarding the untrustworthy and selfish son? I was following them but with this sort of mentality you almost think they deserve what has been coming to them. I just feel sorry for Will and Kate they must feel powerless at times. Well I will still watch the coronation but that’s about it. These family is just getting tiring and disappointing 😣

Yes, they updated their official website. They are Prince and Princess of Sussex now.

I will watch the coronation because it's history, but that is it. An anon said on @the-empress-7 blog that watching the coronation will be the end, not the beginning. This is how I exactly feel.

People think this monarchy is unshakable and set in stone but it isn't. Nothing is. With a ballsy KCIII it could have been saved for William and George etc, but I am not sure. First Great Britain will fall apart then the Monarchy. I am talking about decades of time but it will happen in the next 50 years I think. One of those things definitely will happen in my lifetime if not both.

The Queen barely survived her silence after Diana's death but she did because she had served the country for more than 40 years at that point. I remember that. I remember the anger people had towards her that she didn't make a speech and lowered the flags on BP. But she wasn't the "new kid on the block", she had been the monarch for decades.

Yesterday I shared an article where an anti-monarchist group says booing or protesting against her wouldn't be beneficial to their cause. Can you imagine? You hate the monarchy but the monarch is so well beloved that you cannot protest against her. It's hilarious actually. But this is not the case with Charles. He gained support after Frogxit but he blow it off almost instantly. It doesn't matter if this was his decision or the Harkles blackmailing him. The decision has been made, this is the only important thing right now.

Coronation in less 2 months, then we can let this rest and focus our energy elsewhere. People are saying " but you can still support W&C" This is true but being a royal watcher should be about the monarch and the monarchy first and maybe after the next in lines. And now it's very hard to support people who probably will inherit a wrecked monarchy if they will sit on the throne at all. If William will be king one day I'll give him the benefit of the doubt but who knows. People will be tired of all of Charles's shenanigans by that time.

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hanggarae · 9 months

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I think the biggest issue with kpop idols actively promoting brands on the BDS list is that there'll be stans defending them while claiming that these idols either didn't know or have no control both if which I call bs on. Idols like hoshi, doyoung, jennie, etc. have been a part of the industry for so long and have influence on their decisions because of their merits in the industry that saying "they didn't have a choice" makes zero sense. Jennie has a whole ass label now so what's her excuse exactly. Not to mention Somi who seems to always be online so she's inexcusable. The second thing is that these idols can't possibly be unaware of what's going on. All of them have social media and the news had to at least once mention the current events and there are literal protests happening in Seoul. These are not idols who minors or newly debuted these are grown adults and while I refuse to make assumptions that these idols are doing it for the money because Hoshi is one of my favorite kpop idols - he's damn near 30 and I don't actually know his personality outside of content. Sorry for the rant btw it's just aggravating because how is it 2023 and the world refuses to acknowledge Palestine especially a country like South Korea who's previously experienced colonization

yeah im honestly shocked that more just don’t support out of their own accord bc korea has been through similar things and ur feelings are 100% valid, i knew there wasn’t going to be much from speaking up from idols rn and they’ve always worked with pro-israel brands (ysl, puma, kenzo, lancome etc pretty much all fashion/makeup brands support israel) so again i wasn’t completely shocked but i was disappointed. im not trying to be dismissive of this bc like u said hoshi is one of our faves so it’s genuinely not bc of that, honestly i thought svt would speak up considering they are unesco ambassadors. it’s just that the main focus should always be the actual people of palestine and what we can do to support them no matter what, making hit tweets calling out kpop idols is not going to actually help anything, especially when the people making these hit tweets are not also giving resources to help. yes these people deserve to be called out but i feel like that can still take a backseat to it bc why am i seeing more about zionists than videos taken by palestinian journalists when i search it up on twitter. obviously it is still a huge issue these idols are promoting the brands bc it ultimately does lead to more sales but regardless it’s better to not give it attention at all bc starbucks and mcdonald’s wanted more people talking about them and that’s what they got bc most companies nowadays believe that any endorsement = good endorsement even if it is them being bashed for the most part. and dw ur more than welcome to rant anytime u want, like i said it’s completely valid to feel disappointed bc these are grown people in their 20s almost 30, however there’s a fine line between voicing ur disappointment and straight up shitting on them for fun (most of the times when people do this they will not include one link of a way u can help palestine 😭)

#📮 asks

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yaranikowl · 2 years

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Introduction

Halorr!! Let me introduce myself, I am yours, joke! Me, myself, and I named Iara, yes Ya-ra. Sometimes people misread that as Lara, yes, L, not realizing that my name is actually with the letter "I”. Some people have trouble pronouncing my name, and I haven’t had the same name in my school since I was a little child. At this moment, I feel unique and exceptional, just kidding! My mom told me my name should be Linelle but they didn’t put it because that was too long for me. I am now near at the legal age and that makes me feel anxious and at the same time happy because I am not a minor anymore. I wish I could go back to being a baby because they say that as you get older, your difficulties would surface more. In relation to traveling back, I wish I could travel to 2015! I wish I could go back in time and relive those good times, especially around holidays like Christmas and New Year's. Something interesting to me is I could get along with everyone easily, but I am an ambivert. I have multiple circles of friends, and depending on the group I am in, I exhibit different personalities to them. I can easily combine that. When people comment that spending time with me is enjoyable, I feel amazing. Knowing that someone is having fun when I'm around them makes me happy. Isn't it strange that I don't have a favorite beverage, dish, or anything else? Simply said, I don't have a favorite because I find them all to be equally appealing. When my papa is the one who prepared my meal, I really enjoy it. Before I forget to mention it, it is him who prepares our meals as my mother is away at work. I was in sixth grade when she came home and then she returned again when I was at seventh grade. She's not here with us, but I still adore them equally. I am close to both of them. I like to read, but I'm not very good at writing. Since watching a movie doesn't make me feel the same and makes me feel sleepy, I much prefer reading. When I am watching, I fall asleep off, but I am not aware of this until I am awake and remember that I forced myself to watch. I have a dog, my dog and I are like parents to one another. Yes, all of my daughter's expenses are paid for by my allowance, and because of this, I feel like a responsible mother. She is my friend and my source of joy. My parents and I both adore her dearly! They originally protested when I mentioned I wanted a puppy, but I now believe they view her as their kid as well, which is hilarious. I'll stop there with my personal information. I believe that's enough for you to know a little bit about me even though I don't fully understand myself.

WHERE DO I SEE MYSELF IN 10 YEARS FROM NOW ON? WAS MY LEARNING IN SPUP VITAL WHERE I’M LEADING TO? I'm asking myself, 'Where do I see myself?' I don't know where my future will lead me, but I know that I want to succeed. Let's simply focus on my goals for myself in ten years. She is doing things that I wish to do for myself. Because of other people, those opinions, and other critiques, my inner child wasn't as content. In ten years, I want to be the best version of me that my parents could ever hope for. I want to prove my ability to them by being the person they didn't see coming me to be. In addition, I want to do the things I wished for while feeling joy. I'm doing things that I didn't realize I could do because I'm harsh on myself. Just because of the criticism, I refrained from doing those things. In ten years, I want to picture myself as content and happy.I believe that where I choose to study will be the best decision for where I am going. I am still a freshman here at my University and a transfer student, but studying here has many advantages. After studying here for about a month, I can confidently state that this will benefit me greatly in the future, particularly in college.

WAS HUMSS THE BEST CHOICE AFTER ALL?

One of my better decisions was to select HUMSS as my strand. I'd rather solve math problems than write an essay or have a debate. I lack historical knowledge, essay writing skills, and speaking in front of groups of people with confidence. Given how much I despise essays, it is really funny to me why I chose this strand. I selected this because I want to push myself, I want to accomplish more and I think I can improve more. I don't want to limit myself to the things I am capable of, therefore this strand will help me write better and speak in front of groups with more confidence. I want to make progress with the things I'm having trouble with. This choice would be beneficial, I'm sure of it.

WHAT COURSE WILL YOU TAKE IN COLLEGE?

Even I don't know the answer, or to put it another way, I'm still unsure of what I want to do. I'm interested in psychology because I want to learn more about how people think and behave. I want to research and comprehend how the brain and the human mind work. I also wish to assist those who are depressed or anxious. On the other hand, flight attendant is my ideal profession. I want to travel and see the world, so I want to visit many other nations. Actually, since I was in fourth grade, working as a flight attendant has been one of my ambitions. They claim that this would work for me and that the inspirations I heard were strong enough to hold my ambition of becoming a flight attendant alive. Even though I find it challenging, I still want to work on it because I think it's so lovely—just like the clouds above.

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slickbackdani · 2 years

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Okay, I don’t know how true this is, but if it is, we only barely dodged a bullet.

I don’t believe for a picosecond that David Zaslav and his yes-men ever intended to bring back the shows they pulled; the fact that they went out of their way to go through all their websites and social media profiles to memory-hole every last piece of evidence that those shows ever existed should have made that loud and clear.

I can just tell how confident they were that nobody would notice or care. “It’s just a bunch of cartoons; it’s not like we’re canceling stuff people actually watch like White People Renovating Houses or Rednecks Doing Nothing in Particular.” They were so confident about their decision that they didn’t even do it professionally, just announcing it out of the blue without telling anyone beforehand and wording the announcement so vaguely that nobody had any way of knowing that the shows would specifically be deleted later that same day.

This shouldn’t have come as a surprise, since Mr. Zaslav has long epitomized the idea of “failing upward”; he’s the brain trust that restructured the once-aptly named Discovery and Learning Channels to center around trashy, exploitative reality shows, prioritizing short-term profits over any kind of stable model.

He spent years scoffing at other entertainment giants for daring to focus on scripted content which he smugly dismissed as a thing of the past, confident that his primary focus, a niche built on fleeting trends and pandering to very specific audiences to the exclusion of everyone else, would be the future of entertainment and the focal point of all pop culture.

After decades of creating nothing of substance, skating by on the moderate successes of low-risk-low-reward crap, and endlessly patting himself on the back for so doing, Zaslav suddenly had one of the biggest entertainment companies in the world foisted on him by the corporate robots at AT&T desperate to offload an unwise investment, and like a bear cub being handed a PlayStation controller, he didn’t have the first clue what to do with it.

Warner Bros was defined by scripted content that required actual talent and effort to make, and those were nowhere near Zaslav’s wheelhouse. Could this, people thought, be the day that he actually puts in the work to have his company create something of worthy impact to our culture? FUCK NO! Instead, he took the easy route by, quoth John Oliver, “burning down my company for the insurance money.”

Unfortunately, he was so used to nobody knowing or caring who he is that he never once considered that people would actually have reason pay attention to him this time, that if he goes out of his way to destroy the hard work of so many talented people purely out of arrogant refusal to admit he was wrong, of fucking course we’ll all notice!

If the above tweet is telling the truth, we can at least be glad that our voices are being heard and the people at the top can take notice. The HBO Max Purge wound up being such a PR nightmare and made the folks at Discovery so hated among the public that they actually caved and walked back their disastrous decision that they had been so adamant in achieving just the previous day. You can absolutely fuck off if that doesn’t prove that protesting works.

#hbo max

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machifuwa · 2 years

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- Sunshine - Sunny Side Prologue

Mid-July. At The Seisoukan

Tsukasa: Thanks for waiting, Kanzaki-senpai and Otogari-senpai.

Souma: Thank you ...Umu, it is really good.

Adonis: Yeah, it's delicious with just the right amount of bitterness. I'm not familiar with tea, so I can't tell the difference in detail.

But since Kanzaki praised you, you're definitely good at it.

Tsukasa: Thank you... I never thought the day would come when I would be able to serve tea in such a casual way.

For me, this is a big improvement on my tea serving skills.

Adonis: Come to think of it, Kanzaki held a tea party once to recruit more people for the circle. He told me that you were in charge of it.

Tsukasa: Yes. As a member of a military family, I have had all the training in the arts that I need to acquire.

Tea serving and horsemanship are the two things I'm learning right now. I wasn't able to learn these two since I was so busy with other things before I joined Yumenosaki.

I'm really glad that my skills are still with me.

Adonis: Fumu. You're exactly the kind of man Kanzaki needs.

Tsukasa: Need? Me?

Souma: Nowadays we call tea ceremonies a part of a "saakuru", but in the beginning it was intended to be a gathering for the love and mastery of all aspects of Japanese culture.

However, when Lord Adonis pointed out to me that this would make me feel too different from the others, I decided to focus on the tea ceremony for now.

But we did not want only experienced people. Those who know the way and those who seek to know the way are equally comrades.

I hope we can work together to spread our love for Japanese culture.

Tsukasa: Fufu, you're right. Also, I don't know if it's because of his busy schedule but Mikejima-senpai rarely joins our activities nowadays.

As a member of this Circle myself, I will do my best to help expand the circle.

...By the way, Otogari-senpai. You have been glancing at me for a while now. Is there something on my face?

Adonis: Sorry about that, you just looked like you're in some kind of trouble so I was just checking up on you.

Tsukasa: Trouble...?

Souma: Fumu, I see that you have noticed it too, Lord Adonis. Actually, I felt the same.

You already calmed down when you were serving us tea but when we came into this room, you looked very tired.

I did not dare to say anything because you were taking care of us properly. But now that Lord Adonis has mentioned it, there is no need to hold back.

I would like you to tell us what is troubling you. Since ancient times, tea rooms had always been a place for secret talks. We swear not to tell anyone what we hear here.

Adonis: Yeah, we'll keep your secret.

Is it because of the incident in the [Tanabata Festival] the other day?

Tsukasa: No need to worry. We have resolved that issue.

Perhaps our protests have been tolerated, since the newcomers are now being treated better than before.

However, we have yet to make their presence felt on the school. It's still better than being treated coldly, like a ghost, though.

Popularity and ability are not acquired overnight after all. We will continue to protect them so that they become a valuable weapon for the school someday.

The only problem is my seniors. Thankfully, from time to time, I receive messages saying, "These five guys can do it."

Thanks to my seniors who are living abroad, we are unable to make quick decisions, and we often end up putting things aside.

Although it is helpful that they can come back to Japan more often now, I always hear from them at the last minute.

When I think about the fact that they're no longer living in Japan, I just keep remembering how hard it is to do all these things alone.

My job as a "King" is not being shown properly at all.

Luckily, Oneeー The Producer has been helping me out, I don't want to be a burden for her though, since she also has a lot of work to do.

But, I know that I can't control all of this alone... My inexperienced self makes it even harder...

Souma: Fumu... I understand your impatience to deal with the situation alone, but if you end up in a situation where you struggle alone, you will end up losing everything.

Why not create an opportunity to get together with everyone in your "yunitto" and talk about your problems?

Adonis: Kanzaki's right. I don't know the rules of you "Knights", but I'm sure you guys are not that heartless as to put the entire burden on you alone.

They're still your friends who have helped you and overcome challenges together. When you're in trouble, you should be able to rely on them.

Tsukasa: ...You're right, if I'm the one in the other position, I'll definitely tell my friend "Why didn't you ask for my help in the first place!?"

I will try to discuss this with everyone. Thank you to you both.

After a while

Tsukasa: (After this, I will record on a Radio program. As soon as it's over, I'm going back to the office for a meeting...)

(I can't find the perfect Timing to tell everyone in "Knights" that I have something important to tell them.)

(Messaging them through "Hold Hands" is the quickest way to do it, but they'll definitely think that it's a very serious matter.)

(Should I call them now? First of all, Leo-san who's very hard to reachー)

(...No, no, maybe I should call Sena-senpai first, who's a better senior and he lives with Leo-san anyways.)

………

Hmm... He's not answering, maybe he's busy.

(Sigh... I had forgotten about the time difference. It's still early in the morning over there, so it's no wonder he won't pick up.)

(Aah, he's calling me back. He's definitely going to scold me as soon as I answer it...)

Izumi: "Hello, it's me."

Tsukasa: I am very sorry! I didn't mean to call you this early! I forgot about the time difference, I called you without thinking it through!

Izumi: "Haa? What's with you all of a sudden?"

Tsukasa: I'm such a bad person, calling you so early in the morning...

Izumi: "Ah... that. Yeah, hooooow annoying."

"But what can we do? If you're just gonna think about the time difference, we won't get anywhere."

"If it was a prank, I'd be angry, but you called me because you had something to say, right? What is it?"

Tsukasa: But...

Izumi: "Just get on with it. If you hang up now, I won't be able to sleep because I'd be worried sick about what you had to say."

< PROLOGUE END >

Story: "Summer Breeze!" [Sunshine Shimmering in a Foreign Land]

Story by: ゆーます

Collaborator: 日日日

Season: Summer

Characters in this Episode: Tsukasa, Souma, Adonis, Izumi

Mentioned Characters: Madara, Leo

Reminder: I did not create this story, but I translated it, so please refrain from reposting my translation on other social media platforms.

I apologize if there are any mistakes as well.

(All - Next) Thank you for reading!

#ensemble stars #enstars #tsukasa suou #izumi sena #adonis otogari #souma kanzaki

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cuttoothed · 3 years

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Fic for day 3 of @jonmartinweek for the prompt "Healing & Recovery". We've all been saying jmart need a lot of therapy after the finale, so...yeah.

Disclaimer: I have never been to couple's therapy. I have done some reading on it, but this is not intended in any way to accurately reflect real world therapy practices. Please just assume that anything "off" is due to the way couple's therapy is practiced in AU-land (though of course feel free to let me know if you spot anything egregious).

“Why don’t you start,” Judith suggests, “By telling me about the incident?”

The two men on the sofa give her identical startled looks, as if she’s uncovered something incriminating. Martin seems to regain his composure first; he clears his throat, and his hand moves to cover Jon’s, unconsciously protective.

“Sorry, wh-what do you mean by “incident”?”

“For most couples who come to see me, there’s an...inciting incident,” Judith explains. “Something that makes them realize they could use some professional support to work through things. Of course any couple can benefit from seeing a therapist together on occasion, to deal with small issues before they become big ones. But, well, it’s the same way that everyone knows they should go for regular check ups with their GP rather than waiting until they actually get sick—it’s just not something most people get around to until they need it.”

She pauses to give them time to consider that, and after a moment Jon nods, looking mildly embarrassed.

“Right,” he says. “That’s, ah, I think that’s fair.”

“There are pretty strong extenuating circumstances, though,” Martin huffs defensively. “We didn’t exactly have the option for therapy in the a—wh-where we lived before.”

“It’s not intended as a criticism,” Judith tells him. “You’ve chosen to talk to a therapist, and that’s a big step—one that many people never take. You’re ahead of the curve, Martin.”

Martin looks mollified at that; he’s clearly a bit touchy about perceived criticisms of their relationship, and Judith doesn’t want to get him on the defensive. She gives them both an encouraging smile.

“So,” she says. “Is there an incident you’d like to talk about?”

The two of them look at each other expectantly, as if each is waiting for the other to start. After several long moments of silence, Jon raises his eyebrows meaningfully, and Martin sighs.

“Fine,” he says. “So, we, uh, we recently realized that our...garden was a-a bit of a mess. So we—Jon and I—we get together with our...housemates, to figure out what kind of flowers we should plant. Fuschias or—or hydrangeas. ”

He pauses to glance nervously at Jon, who gives him a reassuring nod, squeezing his hand.

Right, Judith thinks, This is probably not about flowers.

“We agree we all want fuschias,” Martin continues, “Except Jon—he wanted hydrangeas. But we took a vote, and it was fuschias.”

“Except of course most of our—our housemates weren’t there for that meeting,” Jon interjects, folding his arms across his chest.

“Yes, but we agreed we couldn’t wait to ask every single person,” Martin says sharply, back on the defensive. Jon’s brow furrows and his mouth opens as if to say something, but he changes his mind and shuts it again. Conflict aversion is one of the most common dysfunctions Judith sees in the couples she treats; very few people want to disagree with the person they love, and even fewer know how to have a constructive conflict. She makes a mental note of it for later.

“Go ahead, Martin,’ she suggests gently. Martin looks unhappy, but continues.

“So we agree to plant the fuschias the next day, but Jon—Jon sneaks out in the middle of the night and starts, uh, planting hydrangeas. Without telling anyone.”

Without telling me, Judith hears in his hurt tone. Jon’s arms are still folded, and he’s almost squirming in his seat with the effort to not interject; Judith decides it’s a good time to invite him into the story.

“Jon, why did you feel so strongly about the hydrangeas?”

“It’s—it wasn’t that I wanted hydrangeas, I just couldn’t a-accept the idea of—of fuchsias.”

“Couldn’t allow it, you mean,” Martin grumbles. Judith lets it pass and continues to focus on Jon.

“Why is that?”

“They, uh, they spread…” Jon waves his hands vaguely. “Their—their...roots? They would get into the, uh, the neighbors’ gardens, completely take over, destroy everything.”

“Potentially,” Martin insists. “There was no guarantee—”

“There was no reason they wouldn’t,” Jon snaps.

By now Judith is not only sure that this has nothing to do with gardening, but suspects that neither of these men has ever seen a fuchsia in their lives. It’s fine, though. This is far from the first time a client has invented a story out of whole cloth so they can work through something uncomfortable without actually describing it. And this is their first session; Judith hopes in the future they’ll trust her enough to give her the real story.

“Remember,” she tells them. “We’re not here to decide that someone was objectively right or wrong, we’re here to help you understand each other and improve your communication skills.”

“Right,” Martin mutters, unconvinced. Jon’s expression is distressed, but he continues.

“There was no other choice,” he says wearily. “The only other option was—was azaleas, and I know you didn’t want that, Martin.”

“Absolutely not.” Martin sounds horrified. “But hydrangeas, Jon? Do you really think that was a better option?”

“You have to see the difference.” Jon’s tone goes stiff and incredulous, as if he’s winding up for a lecture, and Judith decides to cut that off before it starts.

“So what I’m hearing,” she says, “Is that you both had very strong, conflicting opinions on this topic. And that’s okay—it’s okay for you to disagree, even on something important. You’re not always going to agree on what the right thing to do is. Often there is no single “right thing,” so it comes down to how the different choices make us feel.”

“That doesn’t seem like a good way to make a decision that affects the wh—a lot of people.” Jon clearly considers that his opinion on not-flowers was the objectively correct one. Judith smiles.

“People aren’t computers, Jon. Even the most logical minded person in the world is influenced by their feelings—about important issues, about other people. You’d be surprised at how much of our decision making is rooted in emotion; either how we anticipate the outcome of our decision will make us feel, or how we are feeling in the immediate moment of the choice.”

A spasm of something that might be grief or pain flashes across Jon’s face, and he leans unconsciously in Martin’s direction. Martin’s arm instantly goes around him, offering comfort without thought. It’s clear that these two love each other deeply, unquestioningly—and that’s also part of the problem. When someone you love thinks that you’re wrong about something that’s important to you, it can feel like a rejection of your entire self.

“I’d like to pause this discussion for now, and try a little exercise,” she says. Jon nods, sitting back up and disengaging from Martin’s embrace; Martin looks attentively at her, though his expression is unsure.

“One of the biggest challenges we face with people we love is recognizing that they are separate from us. I know—” she says, raising her hands to stop the objections she can already see forming on their lips. “Of course you know that you’re separate people. We all know that, rationally. But emotionally, it’s natural to see the people you’re close to as extensions of yourself—it’s an evolutionary impulse to aid group bonding. It happens with friends and family, and it’s an even stronger impulse between partners.

“We have to do a lot of work to truly internalize the idea that the people we love have their own inner emotional lives that drive their opinions and decisions. But once you are able to fully grasp that truth, it makes disagreeing with the person you love feel less emotionally fraught; it’s a powerful tool for navigating conflict constructively.”

Jon is frowning, but it’s in consideration rather than disapproval. Martin still looks skeptical, his body language defensive, though he doesn’t say anything. That’s probably the best she’s going to get for now, Judith thinks.

“So,” she says. “The exercise is this: I’d like each of you to take a few moments to think, and then tell the other person something about yourself. Not a fact, but something that you feel. And I would like you to listen without interrupting when your partner tells you their feeling. Can you each do that?”

“I, ah—” Jon’s frown deepens. “That’s...rather difficult to do on demand.”

“I know,” says Judith with sympathy. “That’s why I’m here, to support you both in doing the difficult things. If it was easy, you wouldn’t need a therapist to facilitate.”

“Right,” says Jon. “Okay.”

“Martin?”

“Fine,” he says, but his tone is reluctant. Judith gets it; vulnerability is hard enough in front of someone you love, never mind with a stranger in the room. It’s easier to pretend that it’s pointless, that you’re not really putting yourself out there to be hurt. She has the feeling that Martin is someone who would rather avoid being hurt, even if it means closing himself off.

“All right,” she says. “When you’re ready, Jon, would you mind going first? No rush, take all the time you need.” Hopefully, seeing Jon take the first step might help Martin get over some of his defensiveness.

“Oh,” he says, and for a few moments his expression devolves into one of intense concentration. Then he nods, turning towards Martin.

“Start with “I feel”,” Judith suggests.

“All right,” he says, breathless with nerves. “I, uh, I feel...responsible. For—well, for everything, basically. And for everyone. Bad things have happened to people, and it’s my fault, because I should have done something. Everything that happened, back there, it was all because of me.”

“It wasn’t you, Jon!” Martin protests. “Annabelle told us—”

Judith is about to remind him that he’s supposed to just be listening, but he cuts himself off first. Jon laughs, an ugly sound that’s more like a sob.

“And how is that supposed to help? Knowing that the—that they were using me my whole life, how does that absolve me of any responsibility for what I did? For the fact that I failed to do anything to stop them? I couldn’t even go through with the one thing that could have actually meant something, because—”

He clamps his mouth shut, his jaw locked tight; Martin looks down at his hands, his expression distraught.

“Because of me.”

“Martin—” Jon’s tone is wounded, and he reaches for Martin’s hand. Judith sees reflections of a shared pain in both their faces, though she doesn’t understand why; this would be a lot easier if they’d just tell her the truth.

But you didn’t get into this profession because it was easy, did you?

“Thank you for sharing that, Jon. I think there’s a lot more for us to explore there, but let’s give you a break and give Martin a chance to share, okay?”

Jon nods, clutching Martin’s hand in his. Martin gives a long, slow exhale.

“Righto,” he says with false, brittle cheer. “”I feel,” wasn’t it? Right. Jon, when you do something stupidly self-sacrificing for other people, I feel like everyone else is more important than me.”

Jon flinches.

“Martin,” Judith says, keeping her tone level. “Let’s keep the focus on what you feel, not on what causes you to feel that way, okay?”

“Right,” Martin mutters, and glances at Jon. “Okay. In that case, I feel...like I’m not important. Like the only thing I can really do is—is take care of you. And if I can’t even do that, then what bloody use am I? That’s it, I suppose.”

“Martin…” Jon says again, softly. His eyes are wet, and he’s clinging to Martin’s hand like a drowning man to a plank. Martin swallows hard and shakes his head, but he makes no move to extract his hand from Jon’s grip.

“Thank you, Martin,” Judith tells him. “I know that wasn’t easy to share, for either of you. But this is the kind of honesty that we need, in order to build strong communication. Let’s all take five minutes—if either of you want to take a bathroom break, or get some water—and then we can talk about where to go from here. All right?”

Martin disappears to the loo, while Jon wanders around the office, looking with polite interest at the shelves of books and ornaments. Judith writes a few notes for herself, to follow up in future sessions. She hopes there’ll be future sessions. Both of these men seem deeply hurt, traumatized by events that they’re just barely alluding to, and have clearly been struggling through as best they can with less than ideal coping mechanisms, trying—and likely failing—not to hurt each other in the process. They both need individual counselling as much as couples’ therapy—maybe more. She’s certainly going to recommend it..

They clearly love each other, though. And they want to make it work. If they’re willing to put the effort in, they have better than even odds in their favor.

Martin’s eyes are red-rimmed when he returns; he sits on the sofa as near as he can to Jon, who presses their shoulders together. Judith can’t help smiling at the sight.

“How long have the two of you been together?” she asks. She always asks new clients at the end of the first session, rather than at the beginning; that way she can get a feel for the relationship without preconceptions based on longevity. The two of them look at each other properly, for the first time since Martin came back in, and matching, sheepish smiles break out on both their faces after a moment.

“So it was three weeks in Scotland,” Martin begins, ticking it off on his fingers. “And then—how long?”

“Uhh, it’s...let’s say half a year, give or take?” Jon makes a face that says he’s really not all that sure.

“Right, and then we’ve been here nearly six months. So...about a year, all in all?”

“But we knew each other for over three years before that,” Jon insists earnestly.

“It sounds as if the two of you have been through a lot,” says Judith. “And not all of it gardening related?”

“No,” Jon says with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Mostly not.”

“We barely scratched the surface today—and that’s normal. Relationships are complicated, and it takes a lot of time and hard work to build understanding and communication. But I promise you, it is worth all the effort. You both made a really strong start today—it takes courage to be that honest, even with your partner.”

The two of them give each other a long look, and the smile they trade is tentative, but genuine. They haven’t solved anything today, have only just begun to reveal their hurt and their insecurities; they have a long journey ahead to get to a truly honest, healthy place both for themselves and their relationship. Judith has a feeling they’ll persevere, though—that losing each other simply isn’t an option.

“So,” she says, “Should we make this a recurring appointment?”

Jon glances questioningly at Martin, who bites his lip and then nods firmly, taking Jon’s hand in his.

“Yeah,” Martin says. “We’ve done much harder things. We can do this.”

“Together?” says Jon, and Martin smiles.

“No matter what.”

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartinweek2021 #my fic #jonmartin

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the-witches-you-couldnt-burn · 3 years

Text

Like I did with you

So I’ve been procrastinating hard during my study break for my exams, but here have a song fic!

Ghost of you by 5SOS

Genius comments: The song tells the tale of a heartbroken lover who has lost his significant other – due to a breakup or even suicide/death – and is refusing to accept the fact that she is never coming back.

I didn’t feel like writing angst and whenever I hear this song I feel like ballroom dancing (and I have).

Also thank you to the lovely people on the Maribat discord server!

Ao3

The sequel ‘It started with a whisper’ is up!

————————

Gotham Academy implemented a new ‘Study Abroad’ program due to recent funding from a local humanitarian. This program gave the students of Gotham Academy a chance to study abroad in Europe and vice versa. Countries like Sweden, Greece, Germany, Ireland and more participated in the program; offering a multitude of high schools with many different courses.

And because of that very wealthy benefactor, his son got first pick on where he would like to study. This was 100% not a forced decision at all to subtly keep track of the happenings of Paris. With that the Ice Prince of Gotham took the City of Love by storm.

He had been at Collège Françoise Dupont for the past few months, and it’s been hell. The class he had been placed into was ripping apart at the seams. There were two students that the class gravitated towards; he observed some of the others meeting in secret, without the knowledge of their respective ‘leaders’.

The first student that held the majority of the class’ focus was Lila Rossi. She was a black hole with beady green eyes, who dragged who ever was in her reach to an agonising fate. Damian saw through her deceptions and rejected her flirtations. The students that followed her, ate up whatever lie she spat out. Rossi soon learned that lies about the Wayne family and Gotham wouldn’t fly with him.

“Really? You worked with Monsieur Wayne?” The pink clad girl, Rose, squeaked.

Damian had just walked into class on his second day at the hell hole and already regretted it. He shot a glare towards the large group, “Who ever told you that is severely misinformed. My father has never worked with a minor from Europe, due to potential rumours and allegations it could cause. It is not a threat but a promise if a lie of similar caliber is spread there will be a lawsuit.” And with that he walked towards his seat in the back, the Ice Prince had cast his decree, the class’ atmosphere had frozen over.

The second student was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Those that surrounded her were Alix Kubdel, Chloé Bourgeois, Max Kanté, Lê Chiến Kim and the occasional secret appearance from Juleka Couffaine. They didn’t view Dupain-Cheng through rose coloured lenses, they were always grounded and opinions were respected. Damian, who was a loner without Jon at his side, was satisfied by himself; Marinette respected that and didn’t force him to socialise like Lila tried to.

So that leads us to this. He stood against a sidewall of the giant banquet hall, staring out at the crowd before him. Jon was walking to wards him with a can of sprite in hand. Jon had moved to Paris with him but had been placed into a different class. The boy who was the epitome of sunshine stuck around the Ice Prince, their friendship is an enigma to the Françoise Dupont students.

Jon’s face was flushed. He had just gotten a drink after dancing for the past hour. Tonight was the night of the Collège’s formal dance for their graduating class. Skirts of all colours and fabrics swirled, as their partners (majority of whom had matching suits) twirled them to the music.

Jon, gesturing to the crowd, asked him whether he was going to stand there all night or dance. Taking a sip of his drink a smirk appears on his face, “unless the great Damian Wayne is to much of a coward to dance.”

Here I am waking up

Still can't sleep on your side

Damian’s head snapped towards the taller boy, “Are you seriously using my ego to get me to dance?”

Jon raising an eyebrow, “Well?”

If I can dream long enough

The temperamental teen stormed off, grumbling about “Jon being as bad as Todd”. Scanning the room he search for a suitable partner, there was no way he would embarrass himself by dancing alone.

You'd tell me I'd be just fine

I'll be just fine

He spotted Dupain-Cheng stood off to the side, alone. She was draped in a layered white dress with black hemming. As he neared, he realised that the asymmetrical skirt was actually a light blush with her signature apple blossom flowers embroidered. She looked up at him and he straightened his stance, slowing his pace. Her sapphire eyes locked on to his, her bangs curled off to the side along with the rest of her hair in beach waves.

So I drown it out like I always do

She gifted him a small smile, a usual occurrence within her interactions with him. He offered his left hand, bowing his head slightly. “Dupain-Che—“ he cleared his throat, “Marinette. Would you do me the honour of joining me in this dance?”

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

Her eyes widened, not expecting the Arabian God of a teen before her to ask her such a question. She saw his temper during class during his spats with Lila and how he kept to himself without the presence of Jon. But here he was in a fitted Armani suit that made his green eyes glow, and hair messily slicked to the side. Marinette looked at his hand, glad that her makeup mostly hid her blush.

And I chase it down

“I am...” She paused to find the right word, “I am a bad dancer. It is better for everyone that I don’t participate.”

“I can think of nothing less appealing than an evening of watching other people dance.” A small gasp escaped from her mouth before she could stop it. She watched as his mouth twitch’s downwards before his facade returned with full strength. “If you do not wish, to I won’t force you. But if you’ll allow me I’ll guide you through the dance to make sure it isn’t an utter disaster.”

With a shot of truth

Marinette’s lips quirked, giggling as she took his hand, “Your funeral Damian.”

What had he gotten himself into?

The two entered the dance floor, taking up the dance support hold. Their dance had the basic steps of the waltz, with a promenade and many spins; some as a couple and some were just Mari. Damian soon found he enjoy watching the sparkles in her dress light up as she spun. It became even more enjoyable when he discovered that the dress was her own creation.

Dancing through our house

The two made quiet conversations during their dance. Damian pulled her closer by the waist as they repeated the basic steps, their bodies perfectly in tune with each other. “You are a fine dancer despite your protests”

With the ghost of you

Marinette tilted her head up at him, blinding him with a dazzling smile. Damian’s heart fluttered, the two always had a mutual respect but it seems to have grown into a fond appreciation.

From the tables scattered around the dance floor there was a blond, with his fist clenched. Lila had dragged him off of the floor as soon as Damian and Marinette made their debuts; together. The brunette was now off angrily gossiping to Alya and any other who’d listen. It was a hot topic between Lila and Alya that Marinette loved him, although now, as he watched her dance with Damian, he was unsure as to whether that was ever true. He sat there, glued to his seat, watching the spectacle before him.

Cleaning up today

Found that old Zepplin shirt

The two dancers didn’t notice that everyone had cleared off the floor to watch them. They danced in sync, no movement was made without the other following it. Adrien had realised awhile ago that even though he didn’t have romantic feelings for Marinette, he cherished her friendship. That relationship was now tarnished due to the path he took when he first revealed his knowledge of the deceptions. His father had forced him to keep Lila happy, even if it made him miserable.

You wore when you ran away

And no one could feel your hurt

He had lost her, and he was unsure as to whether he could gain any semblance of their relationship back.

We're too young, too dumb

To know things like love

Damian lifted his partner’s right hand and twirled her three times, they both were content within their own world. The two swayed before turning together and walking around the now open space.

But I know better now (Better now)

Marinette flushed as she realised what was happening around her, leaning towards her partner she whispered, “I think we’ve become an impromptu entertainment.”

Too young, too dumb

To know things like love

Too young, too dumb

Damian subtly gazed behind her seeing their peers in a circle surrounding them. He was on the inside looking out, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He whispered reassurances in her ear, he wished to finish the song before he released her from his embrace. The two drowned out their audience, focusing on each other and the beat of the song.

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

And I chase it down

With a shot of truth

That my feet don't dance

Like they did with you

The melody slowly faded off as the last lines were sung. The two finished on a basic waltz step before swaying in each other’s arms. The music ends and there is silence, blood rushed to their ears and their breaths mingled.

The two stayed in the other’s embrace, face-to-face, staring. They broke out of their trance by clapping. Looking around Marinette saw many of her peers and most of the supervising teachers applauding their performance.

Their friends broke through the crowd, Jon patted Damian’s shoulder (retracting before he got bit) while Chloe and Alix pulled Marinette back to their table to discuss what Disney magic had befallen the couple. The bluenette glanced back at her partner, mouthing a silent goodbye.

The crowd dispersed but were still buzzing from their display. Marinette was bombarded with questions, not only from her friends, but from other students about her dancing with the demon. Her stuttered replies did little to quench the crowd’s thirst. Her face must be comparable to that of a tomato.

Damian, having noticed the building crowd and Marinette’s uncomfortable stance, broke away from Jon. The crowd parted like the red sea, unwilling to be the one to anger the Ice Prince.

He offered her his arm (to which she took) and escorted her out to the patio outside. She stayed entwined with him, as she looked out at the stray Parisian night; leaning her head onto his should. Here the two could breathe. Here the two of them could be their present selves, no ghostly facades needed. It seems they could drown out anything in the presence of each other.

Unbeknownst to them, Jon had recorded their dance, along with their previous and present interactions of that night. He thought for a second to use it as blackmail material but decided to just send it off anyways. Oh the chaos it caused.

#maribat #marinette x damian #mlb x dc #daminette #adrien salt #Jon Kent has blackmail #ghost of you by 5sos #song fic #good! Chloé Bourgeois #slight Lila salt

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carelessannie · 3 years

Note

Thunderspider anon here: omegaverse, maybe Thor and Peter meet and have a sort of flirtation happening, but Thor holds back because he thinks Peter is with Tony. He finds out they are not together then... Idk

Sorry this took a minute, sweet Anon! I’ve been in love with Thunderspider the past few weeks and... alright, I hope you like this.

There also might be some more sweet Peter and Thor coming up soon...

Warnings: mmm only for Omegaverse and misunderstandings

---

“So, uh... where did you say you were from again?"

“New Asgard, off the Southern shore of Norway."

Peter hums in interest, “And how did you meet my Alpha?"

“Did he not tell you?"

“... mm, no. I don’t think so."

“We are work partners, and I owe Tony a great debt for assisting in the resettlement of our people."

They’re relatively close on the couch, knees touching, and Thor feels a bit uncomfortable. The boy in front of him is charming, stunning, but sadly, completely unavailable. It apparently doesn’t stop the younger man from leaning closer and resting a hand on Thor’s knee.

Peter's eyes brighten in recognition, “Oh! I didn’t realize that was your country, I’ve heard a bit about it, but I usually don’t get all the details, you know?"

Thor does know. His mother would often complain about being left out of important delegating decisions. So he just reaches down a pats the pretty Omega's hand comfortingly, holding it lightly and enjoying the slight warmth.

Peter blinks up at him and shuffles closer, squeezing Thor’s hand, “You can tell me more about it, if you’d like,” his delicate fingers rub slowly across Thor’s skin, “I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Thor agrees. He already feels lost in those soulful eyes— a silent plea to give this man the world. His scent is alarmingly sweet, addictive. If Thor didn’t know better, he would think that the young Omega was in heat.

But Tony Stark would never let his Omega socialize with other Alphas if that were the case.

“So what do you think, Alpha,” Peter purrs, batting his eyelashes, “wanna take me up on it?"

This feels... wildly inappropriate and suggestive. Thor tries to slide away and avoid the Omega’s advances, but he’s quickly cornered against the arm of the couch with a lap full of Peter.

“Oh... oh, I don’t...”

“Didn’t my Alpha tell you why you’re here, Thor?"

His name sounds like sin coming from those sweet lips, and Peter shifts in a way that has Thor making a very dignified, manly squeak.

“T-to meet his Omega, while he’s away...”

Peter is still squeezing his hand, and uses his other to card a few fingers through Thor’s beard, tilting his head in admiration. “And I thought you agreed? Didn’t my dad fill you in on the details?”

“Your... no,” Thor shakes his head, trying to move the squirmy Omega off his lap, and sighing in frustration when he holds on tight, “No, I haven’t spoken to your father yet.”

“Oh.” Peter pouts, finally letting himself be moved. His perfect skin, porcelain and soft, warps into a frown, and Thor finds himself pulling the Omega closer to pet his hair. He hates seeing such a pretty Omega so sad, and rumbles comfortingly when Peter starts to sniffle. “I’m sorry then. I didn’t know that you didn’t want me.”

Thor feels so confused, but he places a light kiss on the boy’s hair anyways, “I’m sure there’s no one in the world who wouldn’t want you, darling Omega.”

“Then... does that mean you want me, Alpha?"

“It doesn’t matter what I want.”

Peter looks determined, and grabs Thor’s shoulders. “Okay. Let me get my dad, and we can iron things out.”

Oh, gods no. “I don’t think...” Thor tries to protest, but the Omega is up and off the couch in a flash, sprinting out of the room and leaving Thor in a heap of confusion.

He has no idea what Peter’s father will say, but it’s almost certain he’ll refer to the Alpha’s judgment— the judgment of Peter’s mate— before just letting Peter drape himself over another man.

Actually, on second thought, it might be best for Peter’s father to step in.

Standing to his feet, Thor’s surprised when Peter bursts back into the room, smiling timidly, with an annoyed Tony following behind him.

“Okay,” Peter chirps, coming to a stop next to Thor and motioning to Tony, “I brought my daddy. Can you two just talk it out?”

Thor stutters, “D-daddy? I... okay,” he’s definitely heard that term for a partner, but it’s still a surprise, so he turns to Tony, “I don’t... I don’t mean to overstep, Mr. Stark.”

Tony waves him off and turns to look at Peter, “Do you like him, Pete?"

“Yeah, Alpha,” Peter gives him a wink, “I like him a lot. He’s big.”

With a chuckle, Tony loops an arm around Peter, pulling him close. Are they really... are they considering...

“I didn’t think you would be apt to share, Anthony.”

“Share?” Tony and Peter exchange a look, “No, Thor. I don’t share. Was it not clear? Peter would be yours.”

“I think I need a drink.”

Thor sits back down on the couch, rubbing his head where he feels the beginning of a migraine setting in. His? Over all his years, he has never heard of an Alpha just giving away their Omega like this.

As he thinks about it, a spark of rage ignites inside his chest, “What type of Alpha are you, Stark?”

“Excuse me?” Tony’s eyes are wide, and Peter looks offended.

With an amused laugh, Thor gestures between them, “You would just give up your Omega to a random Alpha?”

“... well, not random...”

“I need to talk to his father about this. He should be aware of how careless you’re being with his son.”

There’s a pause. Tony crosses his arms, “Alright, wise ass. Tell me exactly what I should be doing with my son.”

“Dad, I don’t think...” Peter steps in, and it suddenly clicks.

Oh.

By Odin’s fucking beard.

“Peter Stark.”

Peter looks to him, “Yes?”

Oh.

“And your father is...”

“Me.” Tony says, frown deepening, “Who did you think he was?”

Thor sighs, scrubbing his face. “All I knew was that you wanted me to meet your Omega. I had assumed you meant your Omega mate.”

Another pause. And suddenly Peter is exhaling sharply, smiling, and then breaking down into heaving laughter, holding his stomach. Both Thor and Tony smile, enjoying the sweet Omega’s amusement.

“Oh god,” Peter wheezes, wiping tears out of his eyes, “I’m so sorry Thor, you must be so confused, poor Alpha.”

He sinks down onto the couch next to Thor, settling a hand on his shoulder and wiggling closer. Peter still scents so sweet— joyous laughter just adding to his already gentle Omega scent. Thor looks up to Tony for help, and the other Alpha just shakes his head.

“I thought you knew about Western mating procedures, but I shouldn’t have assumed that, so it’s my bad. My invitation— our invitation— was for you to court Peter and, if he chooses you, join him for his first heat.”

Peter ducks his face, hiding it in Thor’s shoulder, while his scent blooms with embarrassment. The young Omega murmurs, “Daddy says you’re the best Alpha for me, and I wanted to see for myself.” His eyes are wide as they peer, beseechingly, up into Thor’s face, “and I like you a ton, Thor. Offer’s still on the table.”

He feels confused still, but Thor’s focus is set dead ahead. He knows what his answer will be before he gives it— this Omega, with all his beauty and complications, has to be his.

“Tell me what I need to do, and it’s yours, Omega.”

At his words, Peter sways a bit, leaning on him fully as his scent shifts, this time more aroused and interested than embarrassed. It’s alluring and Thor can’t look away.

Tony clears his throat, “We were both prepared for you to take him back to New Asgard at the end of the week, if you end up choosing each other as mates. Let’s talk more later— I need to get back to the call Peter yanked me from, and I’ll leave you to... mingle.”

“Dad,” Peter whines, hiding his face again as Tony heads for the exit, leaving the two of them alone in the living room. Thor, at a loss for words, just pets the Omega’s hair, enjoying the soft weight of his body, how easily they fit together.

Peter is easily only a fraction of his size, yet their compatibility is almost flawless. Two pieces of a puzzle, stars circling in the night.

“Are you gonna mate me, Alpha?” Peter whispers. His voice is timid and unsure, and Thor gives him a soft smile, hoping his scent is reassuring as well.

He turns them both so that the Omega can lounge across his chest, making sure his hands are above the generous swell of his ass. Thor takes a deep breath and begins to rumble, coaxing Peter to join him in a steady purr.

It’s been a long time since he’s had an Omega purr for him.

“If you’d like, Peter. It would be my honor to mate you, to be your Alpha.”

“My Alpha,” Peter hums, closing his eyes and snuggling further into Thor’s arms, “I’d like that a lot.”

Thor can’t help but agree.

#thunderspider #thor x peter #peter x thor #fanfic #ask annie #omegaverse #misunderstandings #alpha thor #omega peter parker #alpha tony stark #implied daddy k*nk #THEY ARE SO SOFT TOGETHER #okay okay enough rant #fluff #rare pair

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smhalltheurlsaretaken · 3 years

Text

So this is less kicking a hornet's nest and more flinging a dynamite stick to it, but... The Baby Ludi case from the Star Wars EU is fascinating.

And not fascinating in the story itself (earthquake destroys town, mom is presumed dead, baby is found and adopted by the Jedi, mom wasn't dead, battle for custody ensues because the baby's mind has already been opened to the Force), but actually fascinating with how effective it is, and how it perfectly exemplifies how polarizing issues work.

It was specifically written to show how the divided the Galaxy was, especially over the Jedi, just as the Clone Wars were about to break out:

Pablo Hidalgo wrote it, though idk if Lucas approved it - or even knew about it at all - since it was promotional material for AotC but still was never featured or hinted at in any capacity in the main canon.

The only thing we have on Baby Ludi are 9 holonet articles (available on archive.org, see the wookiepedia page for a list of all of them) with absolutely no indications of how objective they're even supposed to be. They are media pieces. They make us feel emotions - they sensationalize, they stir up outrage, they make us completely irrational. Just look at what's under the first holo-report:

It's just so meta - so clearly reflecting on itself as it presents us with a certain (incomplete) narrative while simultaneously exploring how incomplete narratives make people react.

I used to see people (admittedly a while ago) brandishing this one obscure-ish story that only appears in one piece of EU media as the end-all, definite proof that the Jedi were meant to be understood as kidnappers - but in doing so, those people were actually playing into the story's very purpose: showing how manipulation is done. Showing how media and news outlets work.

If the story's goal was to end the debate on whether or not the Jedi are baby thieves, then it wouldn't have been given to us in the most vague, subjective way. There are no reliable sources in the articles, only second hand retellings of nebulous events.

The people who like the Jedi (like me) will probably jump on the information that Ludi's mother was too busy reviewing the script of an upcoming movie relating her tragedy to comment on people trying to storm the Temple on her child's behalf, and later being too busy with the movie's casting to comment on Ludi being transferred to an off-planet Temple. Or that Thrynka Padaunete, the leader of a Jedi 'watchgroup' who first protested the situation, then went on to be Jovana's agent in a production that was expected to be very profitable.

The people who don't like the Jedi will focus on them moving Ludi off Coruscant, or Plo turning an entire crowd of protestors away with a powerful mind trick (by the way, not something that's actually been shown to be possible in canon, but that's not the point).

At first I tried to analyze the story like I usually approach things, by trying to understand the perspective of each party involved. While I personally couldn't see the Jedi from Lucas' story keeping the child after only one month of training (since there even is EU precedent for Mace giving a kid back to the parents because they'd changed their mind), that wasn't what this story said, so I tried to understand. Maybe it really was too dangerous. Maybe they would have let Ludi see her Mom again if not for one particular reason we weren't aware of. Maybe they knew something that I wasn't being told.

And then I flipped my perspective, and I tried to put myself in the mother's shoes, and it was really horrifying. It was gut-wrenching, and there had to be more to her than making money off a tragedy. Maybe her conspiracist agent manipulated her, playing on her grief. Maybe her saying she wanted the money to go to charity was genuine. Maybe she was actually too distraught to keep fighting, because she felt the battle was already lost, hence why she stopped commenting on the developments.

And that's when it hit me. I was trying - when I was missing basically all of the information and all of the context - to pick a side to see who felt more right.

But we don't know. We can't know. We don't have any first hand account, any actual interview of any party involved given to us. There really is next to nothing more to the story than the summary I gave. Technically - since the story is entirely fictional - the 'right' answer doesn't even exist - there is no objective truth to base an opinion on. We don't see the reasoning behind each decision, who could have influenced who and why, what could have been political and what was in good faith.

Even when we do have those things, like with the actual movies, it's still possible to endlessly debate intentions, responsibility and failings. Here, we don't have any context, any ground to build upon. So to try to create that context based on our assumptions, whether they are more favorable to one group or the other is - in a very meta way - playing into the media's polarizing effect as though we were citizens of the Republic blind to the looming war, and trying to pass judgment on issues we're badly informed on.

That's the point of the Ludi story, not whether or not the Jedi are right or wrong, or whether the mom is actually opportunistic or simply heartbroken and human.

The point of that story (which is only 'canon' because it's referenced in the current continuity's book on propaganda) is to show how people jump to assumptions, and then try to create context around this kind of stories because they're either trying to support said assumptions, or because they're aware they can't pass judgment with so little to go on from, but since they want to pass judgment they have to give themselves something to work with.

And you know why I didn't include that much info on the story itself? (Apart from the fact that making this into a proper, impeccable meta would be a hassle and this is me already procrastinating on my homework?) Because many people who read this probably had their opinion on the case set by the time they were done with the second paragraph. Because I didn't give you any context, but it hardly mattered - just like it hardly matters to us that we often read a headline and think we've got it figured out.

So again, the Ludi story is fascinating, and super effective. I was ready to make a big fool of myself by trying to analyze the facts, when I didn't have them, when they didn't even exist.

Damn, that's the kind of reflection on perspectives and narratives and politics that Star Wars can do right!

ps: Lucas' Jedi were not child thieves in the movies or TCW, that's a hill I will die on. Here though? It is not the point. If anyone tries to use this post to argue that the Jedi were child kidnappers OR that they were right in the Ludi case - you missed the point.

#meta #long post #baby ludi #jedi order #star wars eu #legends vs canon

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slytherinnbitch · 3 years

Text

Day 26: Accident

when harry woke up in a hospital bed for the millionth time, his first thought was hermione is going to kill me. and it was true because hermione had threatened to do exactly that if he landed himself in the hospital yet again.

but when he finally opened his eyes, there’s no red or bushy brown hair in sight. just the pale blond one which belonged to the prat he hated the most. Draco Fucking Malfoy. and for some reason he looked relieved to see Harry. that couldn’t possibly be right. because draco hated harry with passion and he would have been happy if he died-

“Merlin, Harry, gave me a right scare. can’t you play one game without getting injured or is that too fucking much for you?” draco asked, and while the words and the tone of his voice were in perfect contradiction; one thing was clear. Malfoy was concerned about Harry. but that was something he would focus upon on some another moment when his mind wasn’t full of some half a billion questions. starting with what in merlin’s name was malfoy doing here?

“Malfoy, what the fuck are you doing here? he asked, annoyance clear in his voice. and because he couldn’t help himself he asked the other question which was burning a hole in his brain, “what game are you talking about?”

as far as harry was concerned, he had last played in hogwarts, although he did still participate in some of the impromptu Weasley weekly sunday matches but he doesn’t think Draco knew about that. harry’s words seemed to stop malfoy in his tracks. he frowned at harry, then he stared into his eyes for a long time before harry looked away.

“uhm, okay. Ha-Potter, could you tell me what year this is?” malfoy asked, did he really think harry to be so dumbheaded that he would forget the year.

“malfoy, do you really be asking me that? don’t you have better work to do? or did your small brain forget the date?” harry scoffed. malfoy was undetered, he asked harry the same question again, as if he hadn’t even heard harry’s words.

“ugh, you’re so annoying. its January 2001, unless i was unconsious for more than two weeks, then it would be february 2001.” harry replied, and the fuck was he alone? that too with malfoy to keep him company. he was about to ask just that when malfoy said-

“i’ll contact hermione and ron. just- sit here and try not to break anything or get out of bed.”

“and who would you be to comand me that?” harry challenged, like seriously what right did the poncy git have?

“as your appointed healer, if nothing else.” malfoy replied before leaving his private hospital room.

"okay so it's 2011 and I have somehow forgotten ten years of my life. So what's up with me right now then? Senior Auror? Please don't tell me I went for Minister!" Harry tried to joke, it wouldn't do good to panic now afterall. "and however did I end up here? Malfoy mentioned something of a game?"

Ron and Hermione share a look. Harry always hated when they did that, especially after they got together.

"and why did you both allow Malfoy to be my healer? What were you both even thinking?" he added because he can't help but feel slightly betrayed by his friends. Malfoy entered at that exact moment, nosy git that he is, can't let people have some privacy.

"so does he know then? Doesn't look like it," Malfoy claimed, and Harry wanted to strangle him because he was aware that the he was him.

"harry was just asking about his job, and ... other prospects of life." Ron said, looking back and forth between Harry and Malfoy.

"well, I would be going really blunt now because reg would be wanting answers soon." Malfoy motioned his hands around as if whatever he said made sense and who was this reg person even?

even if Malfoy had appeared confident just a moment ago, he took a deep breath before he started, looking determinant, "you're a professional quidditch player. You resigned from the aurors about nine years ago and have been persued by various teams, and have changed teams twice. You now are the main seeker for Puddlemere United. You got hit pretty hard by a bulger before losing consciousness. And then here we are two days later. Does that answer your questions?" Malfoy asked calmy, it's a lot to take in. Well, Harry never fancied being a Auror all that much after defeating that noseless bastard so it's a good decision on his part. He wondered how he came to the decision.

But more importantly, he still had plenty questions let, "who are you? I know your name, malfoy. I am curious to your status in my life." Harry asked and by the look on Hermione and Ron's face and pain reflecting on Malfoy's, he wondered what was so wrong about it.

"Harry, I must have forgotten to tell you. I'm the Minister now. And Ron became head auror just six months back! don't you think that's incredible?" Hermione asked but Harry knew when a topic was being changed pretty well.

"it's no use stopping the inevitable, Mione. He would know eventually and I rather face it myself firsthand. Would be the best route for my heart, you know?" Malfoy said sadly. As if he had something to be sad about, Harry scoffed mentally at that. And what ths fuck? Mione? Not only was Malfoy on first name basis but he also called his best friend by their nicknames? What had the world turned to?

"We are married, Potter. And no, I haven't used any illegal or inauthentic means to achieve it. We have been together for the almost nine years now. And married for the past six." Malfoy said in one breath and what the actual motherfucking fuck?

"Yeah, right. So what's the real shit?" Harry snorted because malfoy might have a humor but this was so fucking far from the truth that it was downright ridiculous.

"Draco is telling the truth, Harry. You both are married." Ron said, and are these people alright? Harry was getting worried.

"what did he do to the two of you as well? What kind of potion did you use? Or is it a spell? Tell me, Malfoy. How have you been doing it for what did you say? Nine years, yeah?" Harry sneered. Malfoy's face shattered, as it should. He had been caught afterall.

"Draco..." Hermione started but Malfoy quickly put up his hand.

"I can't, not right now. It's fine, Mione. Don't worry about me." Malfoy said with a broken voice. Harry had never seen Malfoy showing this kind of emotion publicly before, but Harry didn't care.

"oh, and if we are actually married. I would like a divorce, immediately if possible. You can take whatever you want from my vaults if you want, if money is what you have been after. Reckon you wouldn't need much, what with your family fortune but I guess some people are never satisfied." Harry taunted because that's what he knew best, even if Malfoy looked like he was on the verge of crying.

"are you sure you want that? You won't regret it when you get your memories back?" Malfoy asked slowly.

"oh, absolutely. I think my actual self would be actually thankful. And please do this as soon as possible." Harry requested, although his tone showed anything but.

"very well, Potter. If that's what you wish for, then that's what you get. Don't say I didn't warn you," Malfoy said one last time. Harry just snorted at that.

Ron looked torn between shocked and upset and Hermione was actually crying. She started protesting but Draco just shook his head and smiled at her.

"I always knew this dream would break, mione. I'll be fine. I have reg." Draco sighed before he came to stnd directly infront of Harry.

"break the bonds then, the certificate would already be produced after we do that. I'll contact the advocate right after." Draco put forward his hand and Harry hesitated for a bit before putting their hands together. The touch was familiar, the skin soft and tender. Harry didn't even dwell on that for more than a second.

Malfoy spoke a foreign language, although Harry did catch a few Latin words in there as well. He didn't really care, but when Malfoy finally extracted his hand. Harry gasped loudly, his heart felt lighter and there was a whole comfortable weight on his shoulders that was gone. He didn't like that feeling even one bit.

Malfoy silently wiped the tears in his eyes, as if that was insignificant. He stared at Harry for a long time, to the point that Harry started feeling uncomfortable.

"well, goodbye Potter." Draco said atlast and Harry just lifted an eyebrow and sneered at him. He gave a sad smile to Harry's bestfriends as well. Then, malfoy actually hugged both of them, together.

When they pulled apart, he said, "don't worry, you both. He is not my Harry anyway. I'll be fine." Malfoy didn't look fine and even Harry could tell that.

"what about reg?" Hermione asked. Seriously, who was this reg?

"I'll be taking him with me. Or since ha-potter is the one who is leaving. Reg would be staying with me."

Draco then smiled, Harry didn't like that look one bit, he looked at Harry through his red eyes and said, "i must have forgotten to mention but I'll make sure Regulus stays with me. What with you being unable to even remember him. I'm sure I would have no problem at all. And don't even try otherwise. Consequences would be deadly." Harry shivered at the words but still, didn't understand who Regulus was. The only Regulus he knew was Sirius's brother and he was long dead.

"Potter, Regulus is, Regulus Malfoy-Potter is our son. Or I should say my son." malfoy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "and don't even try contacting him by anymeans before- no even after you have gained your memory back. Because trust me it will, and it won't be pretty. I don't want my child to go through anything that would cause him trauma, and trust me when your own dad can't remember you, that's going to fuck up anyone's mind real bad, especially for a one and half year old." Malfoy spat out.

Harry could still hear some words ringing in his mind. Child? He had a child? He was a dad? He had to-

"Your rings, Potter." Malfoy out forward his hand, Harry frowned at it.

Malfoy finally gestured at his left hand and he say it, a solid but thin band of gold with small diamonds encrusted. It looked perfect. Just what Harry would have wanted for himself. Did he choose the ring himself then? Not detered, he slid the ring out of his finger. It was with some struggle but it came out atlast. But malfoy was still standing with his hand open.

"what now?" Harry asked, irritatedly.

"the family ring." Malfoy coldly stated. Oh, he then noticed the Malfoy family ring on his tiny finger of his right hand. He practically threw that into Malfoy's hands. Who wanted to be even near that thing?

Malfoy's hand pulled into a tight fist and Harry noticed that he still had a wedding band. So of course, Harry asked, "what about the ones you are wearing?"

"what about them?" Malfoy inquired and Hermione asked at the same time Hermione cried out, "harry, can you please not?"

Harry ignored her and lifted his eyebrows at malfoy again, "well if you take away the ones I had. It's only fair, I get those back."

Malfoy's eyes flashed angrily before the icy facade was back on, "i didn't want dissolve the marriage. I have no obligation to return the rings. And even if I did, I won't. My Harry gave them to me afterall." Malfoy said coldly, but his voice broke at the end.

"and the child-"

"nothing of it. Regulus is my son and he'll be known as such from now on. I would like to see you try otherwise." Malfoy basically growled. Then he gave one mock salute to Harry and turned his back to them and strode out of the room.

The three of them sat in silence for thirty more seconds before Hermione got up, mumbled something about Draco and left the room hurriedly. Ron took off soon after.

He patted Harry on his shoulder and said, "mate that wasn't good. You're going to regret it." Ron had said it with such conviction that it had Harry frowning for several minutes.

In the empty hospital room, with no one but himself to provide company, he felt a strange sensation of dread creep up. He looked down on his ring finger and the slightly lighter skin tone seemed to taunt him.

Harry felt extremely lost, again.

Day 25: Battle || Day 27: Babysitting

Part 2

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

Would an individual ask about Caleb ending up with the reader instead of Essek at the end of campaign be alright? I love the wizard bois together, but I'm crushing baaaad on Caleb hehe. Maybe they teach and live happily ever after together, very domestic living after all the adventures they've had :3

Hoping to satisfy your Caleb crush. How's this for some domestic fluff? Enjoy! 😘

The first rays of sunlight are blocked by thick heavy curtains. Awake or asleep, Caleb’s sense of time never fails him. He wakes up bright and early on the minute precise but makes no move to truly start his day. How could he with the sight he wakes to? There you lay, in his arms, eyes closed in peaceful sleep. Never did he think he’d see you so relaxed, or allow yourself to be so relaxed. Sure your lives are not free of stress or the occasional disaster and rarely are your livelihoods in peril these days but compared to months ago that doesn’t even come close to the dangers you’ve faced together; dangers that the majority of the people will never know about. A moment of peace and quiet was just another luxury you and him couldn’t truly afford no matter how much you may have pretended. But now you finally know peace.

Caleb watches your eyes flutter beneath your eyelids and watches just a moment longer carefully trailing his fingers up from their place on your waist to your cheek, caressing it fondly as you sleep. He reminisces when and where your lives intertwined in that tavern in Trostenwald and the events leading you both here together in your shared apartment in Rexxentrum at the Soltryce Academy as respectable teachers of the arts you both love.

When you first met Caleb feared you. He feared you more than anything for you just like him had ties to the Cerberus Assembly but you did not suffer the same fate he had. Luckily your studies were of no interest of his former master and you were instead claimed by another sent out into the world to learn more and find your own way. He was so scared you might lead the Assembly to his nonexistent doorstep and at one point entertained the thought you were a spy sent to bring him back but you proved the opposite. When he revealed his story and you told him you would help him or die trying beside him he brushed you off. Persistent as you are you gave him the wakeup call of a lifetime saying that you’re not doing this just for him but everyone before him, everyone after him.

To Caleb you will always represent all that is good and pure in this world despite the horrors that may have shaped you, changed you for better or worse. He will always consider himself to be the luckiest man in the world to have you at his side as his confidant, moral compass, study-mate, intellectual equal, bailout, friend, partner, but most of all; his lover for he could not want for anyone else in the world. No one could ever replace you and no one can compare to you. You may tell him you’re not the most intelligent, quick-witted, charming or interesting individual in the world but to him you are and he will argue with you on that until you grow tired of him and are forced to accept. He certainly does not mind the fluster of your cheeks and kiss you offer to shut him up.

And now you lie asleep cuddled up against him, limbs intertwined, the sunset orange covers slipping from your shoulder. Caleb hears the birds begin their song signalling he must leave the warm comforts of your embrace so carefully he begins to untangle his legs from yours, his arm from underneath your head replacing it by quickly pulling the pillow above down. He begins to untangle your grasp on his shirt slowly removing your fingers one by one. A deep intake of breath on your end and adjustment of your legs below the covers has him worried he’s woken you up.

Caleb knows fully well you have your own ways of waking up on time and you would have asked him the night before if he ought to wake you, so since you’re not already awake he’ll give you every extra minute of sleep you can get. You deserve it so he’ll curse himself if he’s the one to ruin it. Once you have adjusted and he’s sure you’re still sleeping he continues and removes himself from the warm comforts you’re huddled up among longing for nothing more than to share them a minute longer and gathers his things. In putting his lesson plans, notes and a few books to pass the time for the day he bends down to allow the orange tabby to jump into his arms and sets the cat onto the table taking a moment to stroke its fur and give some chin scratches leaving the little beastie purring.

Ridding himself of his night clothes Caleb puts on his shirt, and trousers tucking the shirt into the waistband and moves on to his footwear as per his usual routine. He takes the vest set out for him and is about to button it up when he feels eyes on him. His first thoughts go to the cat but that one’s not the guilty audience so instead his eyes fall to you, propped up against the headboard watching him.

“Well don’t stop on my accord. Though, I prefer the clothes back on the chair.” Your voice is still riddled with sleep but you’re awake enough for your comments so Caleb feels justified to give you a disapproving scowl though he cannot prevent the smile from creeping up his lips.

“Good morning to you too.” Caleb smiles as you cover a yawn with the back of your hand. You pull yourself out of the bed and stumble over to Caleb until you’re toe to toe placing a hand on his cheek guiding him into a kiss. Your lips move against his and his arms wrap around you to return and welcome your efforts openly. Though, enough’s enough and Caleb breaks the kiss giving you one final peck in an attempt to kiss away the onset disappointment and pout on your end.

“No matter how much I’d like to continue, Astrid will have both of our heads we show up late.” Caleb runs his fingers through your hair kissing your cheek as you cross your arms. Is there nothing you can do to convince him to stay? He might be right about Astrid…

“Well, I do not have any classes until second period but if you’re so adamant to stay with me I can send the archmage a message to tell her you’re regretful to be missing your first class of the day and to find a substitute.” You’re joking. Not really. A joke hiding the actual offer. Caleb considers it for a brief moment purely to entertain the thought but he knows very well he shouldn’t.

“You know we can’t but how about I make it up to you with dinner and dancing and a night in? Just the two of us.” Caleb cups your cheeks stroking your cheekbones with his thumbs, a gesture he knows very well makes you melt.

“That sounds like an agreeable offer, professor Widogast.” Your acceptance brings another bright smile to his face and he pulls you into another chaste kiss to seal the deal. This time you’re the one to pull away.

“Best get you ready for the day then, lest you be late.” Your nimble fingers stroke down the front of his chest finding the buttons of his vest and one by one buttoning them up. Once you’re done you take a few steps back looking him over.

“Do I pass your inspection, professor?” Caleb laughs half the mind to do a little spin for you but he refrains instead lifting the cat from the table into his arms.

“With flying colours. I think his highness is inclined to agree.” You watch as the cat meows making himself comfortable in your wizard’s arms without any intent to go anywhere but alas, all good things come to an end be it for the cat or you. With some protests Caleb puts the cat back on the ground allowing the creature to skitter off to gods know where.

You pull open the curtains allowing the light of dawn to fill the room. Caleb already regrets the decision of not taking you up on your offer to call in late and miss his first class as you look absolutely radiant but he feels certain both of you will be missing second and possibly even third period if he does, so he must refrain. Tonight will make up for it. He’s already got the perfect place in mind for dinner.

You catch Caleb staring, his gaze following you as you pull at the heavy fabric until the outside world is revealed to you. You put a little sway in your step before you gather your own clothes for the day and change in your usual attire, slowly. Deliberately slow. If he’s already staring you better not waste your opportunity and make a show of it.

“No use in staying in bed all alone. His Highness makes for good company but he’s a dull conversationalist. Perhaps I’ll drop by Beau at the Archives?” You deliberate your events for the morning tapping your chin.

“If you do, tell the Expositor I have some more files for her to study.” Caleb, finally pulled out of his trance steps back over to you, or rather besides you to grab his bag and sling it over his shoulder. You know he’s about to be off so you wrap your arm around his waist as you guide him to the door. Not much you can change about the need for students to be taught the wonders of transmutation magic. While you may find times you’d want to spend more time together, in the end neither of you would ever want to give up teaching. There’s plenty of other times you can spend together happily. Or you can justify combining your classes for one reason or another as you love nothing more than to share your passions.

“I’ll see you in a few hours at the Academy?” Caleb watches as you fall silent for a moment, your focus drawn away.

“Yes, I’ll make sure he knows. We’ll be there. Thank you.” You speak but Caleb knows fully well it’s not directed at him. This has become a habit he’s very much gotten used to so he simply awaits for you to share the message.

“Astrid wants us for lunch. She threatened to limit your access to the library if you’re late.” Of course she does, Caleb thinks to himself. So the archmage may or may not have heard about his almost-arrest of the day before. He’d already gotten an earful from you.

“Of course she does. There go our lunch plans for our free period.”

“You’re the one to get arrested for- and I quote ‘encourage insurgence among young impressionable souls’.” You grin. Okay, you may have been a little proud of Caleb actively trying to do better but you could do without the accusations of treason. You’d rather not have Caleb spend the night in jail because word got out or he pissed off the wrong person. You’d expect this from Beauregard but had hoped Caleb would be more careful about it and so apparently thought Astrid. He’s in for a scolding according to her tone.

“Merely teaching young impressionable souls how to be better. Is that a crime?” You grab Caleb’s coat and help him into it as he offers you a ‘thank you’.

“According to the king, yes it is.” The amusement in your voice is enough to earn you a playful glare. You open the door for Caleb and he steps halfway out offering you one final kiss.

“Love you.” Caleb pecks your lips. You’ve drawn out the length of the kiss long enough and he’s already on the verge of running late now so no matter how much he may want to stay, he has to go.

“Love you too, Caleb. See you soon and for the love of the arcane arts; stay out of trouble.” You know he won’t make that promise as he can’t keep it but you still tell him to every time. You kiss his cheek stepping back and watching the wizard leave as you close the door. Nothing but a usual morning; sneaking out of bed, cats, kisses, a message from your friend the archmage, talks of treason and the love of two fate-entwined mages trying to make the world a better place.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #caleb x reader #caleb widogast x reader #critical role #mighty nein

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years

Text

Late in the Night | Part Two

Previous Part

Pairing: One-sided ( or is it ;) ) Legolas x Female Reader

Rating: G

Word count: 1416

Warnings: None

A/n Okay friends, oops. I wrote the first chapter in the first person and suddenly decided that I want to do the rest of it in the third. This is why I usually outline my fics but this one I wrote on a whim — whoops! Sorry about that. Maybe one day I’ll go back and fix it, but for now I’ll just leave it as is. And also, I’m taking a lot of setting and characterization liberties with this story because it’s just something I want to have fun with rather than extensively plan out. Hope you don’t mind :)

Legolas’ POV

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

As he walks, Legolas berates himself, and as he berates himself, he continues to walk.

Because really, there’s no break from either.

He replays the moment from the night before over and over in his head and just can’t work it out. Something he said seemed to have damaged his relationship with Y/n. She was still friendly to him, but distant. Something he did or said or a facial expression he made, maybe, seemed to take all the warmth from their interactions, the warmth that she usually reserved just for him.

Or, he thought she did.

Maybe he was reading too much into things. Maybe there was never any special look just for him, or a softness in her voice when she said his name only, or a light in her eyes when he made her laugh. Maybe he was completely wrong, and they weren’t teetering on the edge of something more than friends.

Doesn’t she know that elves take things extremely seriously, and he wouldn’t have offered to bring her home with him, introduce her to his father and his people, and help her build a life in his homeland if he didn’t….if he didn’t….

But it doesn’t matter, he grumbles inwardly. Because it’s obvious she doesn’t feel the same way. She must have realized the gravity of what it meant when I offered, and is now trying to tell me she doesn’t want that.

But even as his head tries to convince him to let her go, to let the tenderness he feels for her fade away, his eyes find hers. She notices his gaze, and raises a questioning eyebrow. It’s accompanied by a kind smile, but that’s the smile she gives everyone. Foolishly—possessively—immaturely, he wishes to see his smile again.

He tears his eyes from hers, trying to pull himself out of his own head. Instead, he turns his focus to his senses, exploring the area around them, doing his part to keep his companions safe. After all, it’s nearly sunset, and as the light fades, so does the eyesight of many. His ears pick up on something far in the distance, and he jogs to catch up with Aragorn.

“Are you sure about this?”

Aragorn falls into step with his friend. “I have considered the risk extensively, and there is no avoiding it. We need to resupply, and I fear not only for morale but for physical health if we don’t all get a proper meal and rest safe from the elements. Besides, it’s a sizable but remote human village, quite isolated from the rest of the world. By the time news of our presence travels, we will be long gone on an alternate path.”

Legolas nods, accepting his wise friend’s assessment. Even to him, the idea of an actual rest holds great appeal — he can’t even imagine the pull it will have for his friends.

Eventually, the others begin to notice that, rather than going in a wide berth around the rising smoke that hints at a town, they head straight for it. Legolas can physically feel their excitement, and can’t stop from feeling a bit giddy himself.

Aragorn calls for a halt in the woods near the town’s gate, and the group gathers close. They are still concealed, and Legolas wonders if Aragorn has changed his mind, if he’s going to make them go back?

But thankfully, Aragorn has no such intentions. In fact, he has a very different sort of plan.

“Right,” he starts, fixing them all with a level stare. “We cannot enter all ten of us at once, that would be too conspicuous. Instead, we shall go in smaller groups that still make strategic sense. There is to be no interaction between the groups, except for pleasantries that you would exchange with anyone else. We will take staggered entrances and leave the same way, meeting up tomorrow morning a mile west. I know this town, and it has two small inns — we will split ourselves between them. Gandalf and I will go first to the inn on the West side of town. After half an hour has passed, Frodo, Sam, Pippin, Merry — you all will join us. Shortly after I leave, so shall Boromir and Gimli, but to the inn on the East side. After a good amount of time has passed, Legolas and Y/n, you join them.”

The companions grin, finding excitement in Aragorn’s game of deception, but Legolas feels a sense of unease grow in his stomach. He has not been alone with Y/n since last night, and a tension has obviously arisen between them. He turns his head to find Y/n avoiding his gaze, but she does not protest to Aragorn’s grouping of them, so neither does he. Perhaps their time alone will give them the chance to sort out whatever he’s done to upset her.

As decided, Aragorn and Gandalf leave first, followed closely by Boromir and Gimli. Y/n sits on the ground chatting quietly with Pippin and Merry, while Legolas joins Sam to guard Frodo, as they know Aragorn would want them to do. When enough time has passed for the hobbits to leave, Y/n waves them goodbye, wishing them sweet dreams in a warm bed.

The silence of the night that Legolas had become so accustomed to is marred by the harsh nosies of the human town. It doesn’t seem to bother Y/n, who raises herself from the ground and peeks curiously through the trees. “You know, it’s the first time in months we’ve all slept apart from each other.” Legolas finds himself perplexed as Y/n shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “Gosh, I sound so codependent.”

But Legolas just smiles, knowing well the sort of bond that forms between those who fight together. “No, I understand. It will be strange. But it might be nice to have a room all to yourself. None of Gimli’s snoring to worry about.”

Y/n snorts, crossing her arms and regarding Legolas with the smile he had been aching to see all day.

But as quickly as it appears, it fades from her face, replaced with a contemplative set in her brow. She looks conflicted, but he can’t for the life of him figure out why. She doesn’t take her eyes from his, and he’s too captivated to look away. Legolas takes a step forward, the darkness and her eyes and just her calling to him, asking him to come closer. Is he imagining the spark of hope in her eyes? Valar, he prays not.

Somehow, he finds himself standing right in front of her, when just seconds ago he’d been at least a yard away. Y/n tilts her head up to look at him, and the way the moon sparkles in her eyes and lights the soft curve of her cheek — he feels his hand raise, he wanted to brush his fingers and see if it’s as smooth as it looks. He wants to hold her in his arms, and beg her to forgive him for whatever wrong he committed that kept her warmth from him that day.

Y/n worries her bottom lip, still looking up at him with those wide, guarded eyes. He sees something shift in them, and knows a decision had been made, but what?

“Legolas, I need to—”

Crack!

Legolas has his bow nocked and whirls around before he even has time to fully register the sound.

He notices the squeak of hinges that accompanies the sharp smack of the wood, and lowers his bow, feeling startled still, despite the innocent nature of the noise.

“It’s alright,” he mutters to Y/n, who has only just pulled her knives from their scabbards. Absently, he feels worry for his human friend, who, with the slow reflexes that are a fault of her kin, could have already been killed, had the threat been serious. “It’s just the gate.”

“Oh.” She blinks, and puts her weapons away somewhat stiffly. “We should go, shouldn’t we? No sense in standing around in the dark longer than necessary.”

Legolas turns his head back to her, and knows the moment has passed. The certainty he saw before has vanished, and the wall between them risen again.

He returns his bow to his back, trying to ignore the crushing disappointment he feels. “Right. After you.” He waves her forward, and they start on the path to the gate.

A/n So now we’ve got a look into Legolas’ head! What did you think? Likes, comments, and reblogs make me so so happy, and let me know if you would like a tag :)

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Tag list: @angelic-kisses13 @lainphotography @anangelwhodidntfall

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