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gimme-mor · 3 years

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ACOTAR THINK PIECE: ELAIN AND THE CONCEPT OF CHOICE

*DISCLAIMER*

Please take the time to read this post in its entirety and truly reflect on the message I am trying to send before commenting. My goal is to use my background in Gender and Women’s Studies to deconstruct the behaviors and comments I have seen on Tumblr and Twitter, and, more importantly, bring awareness to the ACOTAR fandom. I WILL NOT tolerate anyone who tries to twist my words and say I am attacking people and their personal shipping preferences. In fact, I AM CRITIQUING THE ARGUMENTS THEMSELVES NOT THE PEOPLE USING THE ARGUMENTS.

As someone who has been a long time lurker on all sides of the ACOTAR fandom, the growing toxicity and hostility has become more apparent to the point that civil discourse is, for the most part, entirely lost. More times than not, the cause of the communication breakdown centers around Elain and the relationships she has with those around her. Before and after the release of ACOSF, I’ve noticed that when the fandom expresses its opinions about Elain and her development as a character, whether in a romantic light or generally, the conversation wholly hinges on the concept of choice. Common examples I’ve seen include:

Elain has been stripped of her choice for a majority of her life

Elain should be able to make her own choices

The King of Hybern took away Elain’s choice to be human when he had her tossed into the Cauldron

Elain did not choose the mating bond for herself, instead it was forced upon her

Elain feels pressured to choose Lucien

Elain should have the choice to stray away from what is expected of her

Elain and Azriel being together represents a different and stronger type of love because she’s choosing to be with him

If you ship Elucien, you’re not Pro-Elain because you’re taking away Elain’s right to choose who she wants to be with and forcing her to accept the mating bond

Elain chose to accept Azriel’s advances in the bonus chapter

When Rhysand called Azriel away after catching him and Elain together, Elain was stripped of her choice to be sexually intimate with Azriel

When Azriel and Rhysand are talking in the bonus chapter, Elain’s choices aren’t at the center of their conversation

If you suggest that Elain should leave the Night Court, you’re stripping Elain of her choice to remain with her family

If you suggest that Elain should be friends with someone else, you’re ignoring Elain’s choice to be friends with Nuala and Cerridwen

Why is the concept of choice exclusively tied to Elain and everything surrounding her character while simultaneously ignoring that other characters in the ACOTAR series have, to varying degrees, been stripped of their choices at some point in their lives? And why isn’t the concept of choice connected to these characters in the same way that it is connected to Elain? For example:

Did the High Lords strip Feyre of her choice to consent when they turned her into a High Fae?

Did Tamlin and Ianthe strip Feyre of her choice to consent when they started to control every aspect of her life in the Spring Court?

Was Vassa stripped of her choice when the other Mortal Queens sold her to Koschei, which resulted in her being cursed to turn into a firebird?

Was Feyre stripped of her choice to know the risks involved in the pregnancy?

Did the King of Hybern strip Nesta of her choice to be human when he had her tossed into the Cauldron?

Was everyone stripped of their choices under Amarantha’s rule?

Was Feyre stripped of her choice to just be a daughter and a sister when the Archeron family failed to contribute to their survival, which resulted in Feyre being the family’s sole provider?

Did Lucien’s family strip him and Jesminda of their choice to be together when they killed her because of her status as a Lesser Faerie?

Are Illyrian females stripped of their choice to consent when their wings are clipped?

Did the Hybern general strip Gwyn of her choice to consent?

Did Ianthe strip Lucien of his choice to consent?

Did Keir strip Mor of her choice to consent to her engagement to Eris?

Universally, femininity is synonymous with weakness and women often face discrimination because the patriarchy is part of an interactive system that perpetuates women’s oppression. Since the ACOTAR universe is set up to mirror a patriarchal society, it’s clear that the imbalance of power between males and females stems from sexism. The thing that sets Elain apart from other female characters in the ACOTAR series is the fact that SJM has portrayed Elain as a traditionally feminine character based on her actions and the ways in which Elain carries herself. Compared to them, Elain is inherently held to a different standard because her femalehood takes precedence over other aspects of her character in fandom discussions. These conversations indirectly place Elain on a pedestal and hail her as the epitome of traditional femininity; and when her character is criticized in any way, it’s seen as a direct attack against women, specifically women who are traditionally feminine. Also, these conversations fall back on Elain’s femaleness when analyzing her character since it can be assumed from a reader’s perspective that Elain, despite being the middle sibling, is coddled by those around her because her ultra-feminine nature is perceived as a sort of weakness in need of protection. However, the fact that the concept of choice is used as an argument to primarily focus on Elain’s femalehood highlights the narrow lens through which Elain, as a character, is viewed. It implies that Elain’s femaleness is all her character has to offer to the series overall and insinuates that Elain’s character development is dependent on her femaleness. To suggest, through the choice argument, that ACOTAR’s patriarchal society constrains Elain’s agency and prevents her from enacting her feminist right to choose while failing to examine the patriarchal structure of the ACOTAR universe and its impact on the female characters in the series, the choice argument ultimately falls apart because it shows that it’s only used to focus on Elain’s femalehood. Furthermore, the implication that Elain’s right to choose is, in itself, a feminist act in the series indicates that the concept of choice as an argument is used to promote choice feminism.

Feminism is a social movement that seeks to promote equality and equity to all genders, and feminists work toward eradicating gender disparities on a macro-level, in addition to challenging gender biases on a micro-level. Historically, feminism prioritized the voices of white women, specifically white women who were cisgender, able-bodied, affluent, educated, and heterosexual. But over the decades, the inclusion of women of color and other marginalized women’s voices has broadened the scope of feminism and caused it to take an intersectional approach when discussing social identities and the ways in which these identities result in overlapping systems of oppression and discrimination. On the other hand, choice feminism, a form of feminism, greatly differs from what feminism is aiming to accomplish. In the article “It’s Time to Move Past Choice Feminism”, Bhat states:

“Choice feminism can be understood as the idea that any action or decision that a woman takes inherently becomes a feminist act. Essentially, the decision becomes a feminist one because a woman chose it for herself. What could this look like? It could really be anything. Wearing makeup is a feminist act. Not wearing it is also a feminist act. Shaving or not shaving. Watching one TV show over another. Choosing a certain job over another. Listening to one artist over another. Picking a STEM career. Choosing to dress modestly or not. The list goes on. At first glance, there does not seem to be an apparent negative consequence of choice feminism. A woman’s power is within her choices, and those choices can line up with a feminist ideology. For example, a woman’s decision not to shave may be her response to Western beauty standards that are forced onto women. Not shaving may make her feel beautiful, comfortable, and powerful, and there is nothing wrong with that. Women making choices that make them feel good is not the issue. The issue lies in calling these decisions feminist ones. Choice feminism accompanies an amalgamation of problems‒the first being that this iteration of feminism operates on faulty assumptions about said choices. Liberal feminism neglects the different realities that exist for different women‒especially the difference between white women and women of color, transgender women and cis women, etc. Not all women have the same circumstance and access to choices, not all choices made by women are treated equally, and not all choices are inherently feminist” (https://www.34st.com/article/2021/01/feminism-choice-liberal-patriarchy-misogyny-bimbo-capitalism).

Just as white feminism ignores intersectionality and refuses to acknowledge the discriminations experienced by women of color, choice feminism and arguments supporting choice feminism have, by default, made the concept of choice exclusionary. The individualization of choice feminism glorifies the act of a woman making an individual choice and, by extension, gives the illusion that women’s liberation from gendered oppression can be achieved by enacting their rights to make personal, professional, and political choices. Herein lies the problem with choice feminism: it (the argument of “But it’s my choice!”) stifles feminist conversations from exploring the depths and intricacies of the decision making process because it’s used as a way to shut communication down entirely, shield arguments from criticism, and condemn those who criticize choice feminism for its disconnection from a larger feminist framework. Contrary to what choice feminism advocates for, it lulls the feminist movement into complacency because women’s individual choices do nothing to alleviate gendered oppression. Choice feminism’s leniency towards choice fails to address the limitations of choice in regards to women’s intersectional identities and enables society to shift the blame of women’s oppression away from the societal and institutional structures in place to women themselves for making the wrong choices that ultimately resulted in their circumstances. Choice is not always accessible to every woman. For instance, choices made by white women are, in some way, inaccessible to women of color, in the same way that choices made by cisgender women are inaccessible to transgender women. Choice is one of the founding concepts of the feminist movement and it “became a key part of feminist language and action as an integral aspect and rallying call within the fight for reproductive rights‒the right to choose whether or not we wanted to get pregnant and to choose what we wanted for our bodies and lives” (https://www.feministcurrent.com/2011/03/11/the-trouble-with-choosing-your-choice/). When choice, in a feminist context, is framed as something that is solely about the individual as opposed to the collective, the feminist foundation on which it stands “leads to an inflated sense of accomplishment while distracting from the collective action needed to produce real change that would have a lasting effect for the majority of women” (https://www.jacobinmag.com/2017/03/i-am-not-feminist-jessa-crispin-review/).

By linking the choice argument with choice feminist rhetoric and extreme acts of progressiveness, it plays into today’s negative understanding of a social justice warrior and normalizes fake wokeness. In its original conception, a social justice warrior was another way to refer to an activist and had a positive connotation; nowadays, the term carries a negative connotation and is:

“. . . a pejorative term for an individual who repeatedly and vehemently engages in arguments on social justice on the Internet, often in a shallow or not well-thought-out way, for the purpose of raising their own personal reputation. A social justice warrior, or SJW, does not necessarily strongly believe all that they say, or even care about the groups they are fighting on behalf of. They typically repeat points from whoever is the most popular blogger or commenter of the moment, hoping that they will ‘get SJ points’ and become popular in return. They are very sure to adopt stances that are ‘correct’ in their social circle” (https://fee.org/articles/how-the-term-social-justice-warrior-became-an-insult/).

Today’s perception of the term social justice warrior is directly tied to fake wokeness because both are performative in nature, fueled by the drive to be seen as progressive, and derail necessary conversations from taking place by prioritizing toxicity. According to the article titled, “Three signs of fake ‘wokeness’ and why they hurt activism”, it states:

“. . . social media did not create activism: it did, however, create a legion of hashtags and accounts dedicated to issues . . . Sadly, fake woke people will use these hashtags or create these accounts, see that as contributing to a cause, and just call it a day; these same people tend to shame those without the same level of interest or devotion to a given cause . . . Ironically, as open-minded as the fake woke claim to be, they struggle to deal with opposition. More often than not, those who fit the fake woke bill will ignore, misconstrue, or shutdown anything remotely opposing their stances . . . Now yes, human nature often leads us to possess a bias against that which contradicts our views, but human nature should not serve as an excuse for irrational behavior. Opposition to our stances on issues helps activists more than it harms: it allows them to look at the causes they champion from a perspective they possibly ignored before, further enlightening them. More importantly, by discovering information that may refute what they believe, they can find and eliminate any flaws in their reasoning and strengthen their arguments. Activism involves opening up to change, something one stuck in an echo chamber can never achieve” (https://nchschant.com/16684/opinions/three-signs-of-fake-wokeness-and-why-they-hurt-activism/).

Rather than critiquing ideas, thoughts, and theories about Elain and her character development with textual evidence, the concept of choice as an argument is used to silence opposing viewpoints. This is similar to choice feminism because the conversations start and end with the concept of choice, leaving no room for a critical analysis of Elain’s character. Although the concept of choice as an argument is intended to shed light on how ACOTAR’s patriarchal structure limits females’ agency to some degree, the fact that it’s only applied to Elain invalidates the point of the argument because it doesn’t include the experiences of other female characters when examining the impact of sexism in the ACOTAR universe. The failure to do so calls the intent of the choice argument into question. As it stands, the concept of choice as an argument frames Elucien shippers and those who are critical of Elain as woman haters, misogynists, and anti-feminists, especially if they identify as women. The belief that a woman is anti-feminist or a woman hater any time she dislikes another woman suggests that women have to be held to a different emotional standard than men. If men are able to dislike other individual men without their characters being compromised, why can’t women? Feminism and what it means to be a feminist do not require women to like every woman they encounter. One of the many things feminism hopes to accomplish is granting women the same emotional privileges afforded to men.

Terms like “oppression”, “the right to choose”, “feminist”, “feminism”, “anti-feminist”, “anti-feminism”, “internalized misogyny”, “misogyny”, “misogynist”, “sexist”, “sexism”, “racist”, “racism”, “classist”, “classism”, “discrimination”, and “patriarchy” are all used in specific ways to draw attention to the plight of marginalized people and challenge those who deny the existence of systems of oppression. Yet these words and their meanings can be twisted to attack, exclude, and invalidate people with differing opinions on any given topic. When social justice and feminist terms are thrown around antagonistically and carelessly to push a personal agenda, it becomes clear that these terms are being used to engage in disingenuous discourse and pursue personal validation rather than being used out of any deep-seated conviction to dismantle systemic oppression. The personal weaponization of social justice and feminist concepts is a gateway for people who oppose these movements to strip these terms of their credibility in order to delegitimize the societal and institutional impacts on marginalized people.

It’s important to question how an argument is framed and why it’s framed the way that it is to critically examine the intent behind that argument: is it used as a tool to push a personal agenda that reinforces dismissive, condescending, and problematic behaviors, or is it used as an opportunity to share, learn, enlighten, and educate? The concept of choice as an argument is extremely problematic because: it limits fruitful discussions about Elain within the fandom; enables arguments that oppose opinions about Elain and her narrative development to masquerade as progressive by pushing social justice and feminist language to their extremes; normalizes the vilification and condemnation of individuals who are either critical of a ship, Elain as a character, or prefer her with Lucien; encourages an in-group and out-group mentality with differing opinions about Elain’s development resulting in politically charged insults; exploits social justice and feminist terms; ignores that harm done on a micro-level is just as damaging as harm done on a macro-level; and cheapens Elain’s character and her development.

There is more to Elain than her being a female who is traditionally feminine. Elain has the potential to be as complex of a character as Feyre, Nesta, Rhysand, Lucien, Cassian, Azriel, Amren, and Mor, and to reduce her character to her femalehood in fandom discussions is a disservice to Elain as a character, the ACOTAR fandom, and SJM’s writing. So I ask this: is there a reason why the fandom heavily emphasizes the concept of choice when discussing Elain that goes beyond a simplistic analysis of her as a character (i.e. using the concept of choice as an argument to reinforce Elain’s femaleness), or is the concept of choice used as a shield to prop up one ship over another?

gimme-mor library

#elucien #elain archeron #acosf #acotar: fandom critical

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astrowithkaro · 3 years

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Hii, this looks really interesting! Could you talk about the language of May 21st? 💫✨

Language Of Birthdays: May 21 - Taurus

[You can find the rest of the series here; or check out my masterlist]

The Day Of Unfailing Vision

Those born on May 21 not only have far-reaching vision but also the tenacity to hang in there, no matter what. Once engaged in a struggle, they are in it for the duration, no matter how great the difficulties involved. As a matter of fact they love challenge, so if anything, the obstacles they encounter only spur them on. In this respect they are unlike many "idea people" who either give up easily, lose interest or simply move on out of restlessness. May 21 people want to implement their ideas, manifest them in concrete reality. They have a real feeling for the tactile, sensuous and physical elements of life. Most often, their ideas and visions involve a transformation of physical matter.

There is also a strong social involvement indicated on this day. May 21 people are not ivory tower dreamers, but must be in the thick of it, battling with or against society for what they believe is right. Most often, their crusade is of their own making but they can also give themselves selflessly to the causes of others. Indeed, giving is their forte, not taking. They may have quite a bit of difficulty, as a matter of fact, in accepting gifts or help from others. In this, their life is strictly a one man/woman show, for which their work is central. These are not people who need a manager or PR person—they like doing the job from start to finish.

Somehow the money to accomplish their ends comes through, often at the last minute. So great is their confidence in a successful outcome to their endeavors, that the necessary attention and means of support seem to manifest when needed. They can, however, struggle for years and years without achieving success—they can even be laughed at or scorned, but this does not dissuade them from their goals. Dominant personalities, they are never happier than when others are under their direction. Less powerful May 21 people may suffer in silence for a lifetime, having wonderful ideas and talents but never finding how to voice them; sometimes they just settle for a back seat to their partner, siblings or children. Such May 21 people inevitably build up tremendous resentments and self-pity. All they need is the courage to act, and like their more highly evolved May 21 counterparts will likely succeed in their task. Part of the problem for less confident May 21 people is in recognizing where their true talents lie.

At its best, May 21 is a day that confers great gifts of accomplishment and success. Those born on this day, however, must beware of arrogance and egotism or of succumbing to the egoistic temptation of playing the martyr or suffering saint. They may need to periodically examine their personal motives to be sure that they are really as selfless and giving as they seem. May 21 people must also learn that giving and receiving are two sides of the same coin, and that accepting the help of others is also part of being human. Ego problems and all forms of conceit, particularly giving as a kind of condescension from on high, must be guarded against.

Strengths:

Undaunted

Courageous

Successful

Weaknesses:

Egoistic

Un-vulnerable

Stressed

Advice

The great health danger for May 21 people is burnout. Because their dedication is so great and their energy seemingly inexhaustible, they may put irreparable strain on their bodies, and come to recognize the damage too late. Those born on this day often refuse to acknowledge physical limitations, either for themselves or anyone else. Consequently, if they wish to survive beyond their fifties, they must learn to heed the warnings of their bodies or the suggestions of their family, friends or physician. Markedly intense, May 21 people often overstress their nervous system; fortunately this may be one of the strongest and resilient parts of their physical organism. Because May 21 people expend a great deal of energy, regularly scheduled meals are a must. Also short afternoon naps can do wonders if they don't cause sleeplessness at night.

Keep a close watch on yourself; examine your motives

Learn to accept the help of others and be vulnerable occasionally

Attend to small tasks as well as great projects

Remain polite and kind

Rest is important

Hello! I hope this resonated with you. Just wanted to say I'm aware that this is a cusp day between 29 degrees Taurus and 1 degree Gemini but I'll still say it's mostly dominant by Taurus so it's okay if you're actually a Gemini <3

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lofitojii · 3 years

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PART [I] Guardian Angel

*★*――――*★**★*――――*★**★*――――*★*

Summary: You are a new sidekick to the number two hero of Tokyo, Hawks. You team up with another sidekick, Bakugou, in an ongoing investigation on a serial killer. Unexpected interactions happen that flip the whole case around causing new, confusing feelings which alter your relationships in ways you never saw coming.

Word Count: 4.6k

Warning: Minor Swearing

A/N: It’s HERE!!! The new series I’ve been working on for the last month is finally planned out and I’m super excited about it! Please let me know what you think, there will be posts made for discussions before the new part is released.

NOTE: This is not following the current story at all. The League of Villains do not play any part in this at all, only Dabi.

Guardian Angel Master List

*★*――――*★**★*――――*★**★*――――*★*

The fall air was crisp, every inhaled breath chilling your body from the inside out. The leaves looked as if they were on fire, the deep crimson, the burnt orange, lighting up the grey world they resided in. This was your favorite time of year, when you could visibly see the seasons change. Despite the fact the darkest part of the year was right around the corner, you were looking forward to all of it. This year was going to be different, you could feel it ridden within you.

It was your first day at your new job, completely unaware and new to the area. You had moved in the weekend prior, receiving the job through a simple phone call interview. You had no idea who or what your new boss looked like. All you knew is that you were hand picked from a group of qualifying sidekicks to the number 2 hero, Hawks. Apparently he is a very busy man, and the only thing you knew about him was that his quirk was similar to yours. Except he can’t put his wings away.

How can you not know who the number 2 hero is? Well, coming from a rather small town where you worked 7 days a week kind of took up most of your free time, and when you did get a moment to yourself, you were either reading or spending time with the locals. You didn’t care much for TV or the news or social media. You enjoyed quality time and company, something most people didn’t really understand.

Your quirk was known as the ‘Angel Quirk’ meaning you had white wings that grew in size under your control, whenever you pleased. You also had a healing factor to your quirk, using your feathers as a type of medicine as well. You were a Pro Hero’s sidekick back in your home town but received an email one morning that read:

Dear Y/N,

After doing intense research and speaking to your most recent employer and university teachers, you have been chosen to accompany Japan’s number 2 hero, Hawks, as his personal sidekick with the goal of becoming one of Japan’s very own perosnal Pro Heroes. According to your employer, he has said he feels you have greater potential that you can’t utilize in your small town. Please give us a call or email us back. Thank you!

-Hawks Agency

You had no idea your previous employer had reached out until you received that letter. You didn’t mind doing small hero work here and there in your small town but when your boss stressed to you that you could be and do more, you decided to reach out. You didn’t know what you were expecting but you had received the job within the first 10 minutes of your interviewl.

So that’s where you are now, downtown Tokyo, trying your best to understand how the train systems worked. Yeah, you could’ve just flown there but you didn’t want to make a scene before debuting with your new boss. It was just something you had decided, thinking that maybe an article would be released about a new hero coming to town rather than being seen with Hawks himself first. You didn’t want to come off as rude or arrogant, even though you knew you were probably overthinking the situation.

You just wanted to make a good impression, regardless of what your old boss had said about you. They already have this idea of you, and you wanted to live up to that idea. Your boss did speak highly of you, you didn’t want to let anyone down, mainly yourself.

“Damn, this city is huge,” you cursed out loud, looking up from the city map you had picked up at the subway stop before you hopped on. “So if that’s the coffee shop, then I still have about a good mile or two before I get to the agency building. Maybe I should use my wings to get the- OOF!” you were hit in the back, causing you to choke on your words and stumble over onto the cement.

“Sorry!” You looked up to see a man, his red wings casting a long shadow over you. “Didn’t see ya there! Sometimes I’m too fast for my own damn good.” He reached his hand out, letting you tightly grip it as he helped you up.

“You’re good, I was the one standing there like a mindless idiot,” you joked, reaching down to pick up the things you had dropped due to your collision. When you stood up, you noticed that he was already gone. Wow, so much for being polite. He said sorry but what does that mean when he just flies off without saying anything else? Whatever, you had to get to work so you just decided to brush it off.

You expanded your white wings, trying your best to fly higher than the city clouds in order to keep people from seeing you. You thought to yourself that maybe this was the best route to work, clear yet cold skys. Not to mention you would cut your full trip in half. You landed in front of the office building, retracting your wings back to its original, small size before entering the building. You approached the girl that was sitting behind a desk, tapping away at her keyboard. You cleared your throat before interrupting. “Hi, I’m the new sidekick Y/N. Just wondering where I need to go?” You asked the front receptionist you guided you towards the elevators.

“It’s the top floor,” she smiled. “Good luck, Miss Y/N.” You let out a sigh of relief as you stood in the elevator alone. Your day had just barely started and yet you could feel yourself already growing tired of everything. Your temper was rather short today, that man setting something off in you when he left without saying anything. Thank god you didn’t have to worry about him anymore. Tokyo was a rather large city, what are the chances of running into him a second time? You tried your best to shake off the incident that took place this morning, not wanting it to ruin your full day ahead of you.

You walked up to the giant wooden doors, knocking twice before opening them. You were greeted with a huge open window, a single desk sitting in the middle of the room with a beautiful view behind it. There were bookshelves lined with literature you had read or had planned to read. “Similar tastes,” you whispered as you traced along the backbone of the books. The room was empty, leaving you alone to examine the things you found interesting to you.

“You like what you see?” Wait a second… That voice... “You must be the new sidekick. How’s it going? I’m Hawks.” You turned around and were faced with the man that had knocked you over earlier. For some reason, dread took over, your actions visible to the man standing in front of you. “Why the long face?”

“You’re kidding me, right?” you scoffed, the man giving you a blank look. “You literally knocked me off my feet earlier? I dropped everything?” He was still giving you that stupid blank look. “You’re joking…”

“OH! I remember now. Yeah sorry about that,” he scratched the back of his head nervously. “I was in a hurry.” Wow...

“Obviously.” You rolled your eyes at his comment, unimpressed with the lack of remorse that came through his tone. You felt as if this relationship would be decided here, right now, just based on the way you were feeling as he stood there, a stupid grin plastard on his face. You let out a deep sigh, trying to regulate your breathing so you wouldn’t lash out on your new boss who was standing inches away from you. “I guess I’ll introduce myself since we’ll be working together. My name is Y/N L/N, I’m from a small town about 4 hours out of Tokyo. My quirk is known as the ‘Angel Quirk’ meaning I can do anything you can but better.”

“Woah, woah,” he stopped you, waving his hands in the air. “That’s a pretty bold statement, newby. What do you mean ‘better’?”

“I mean I can hide my wings if I want to, and also can expand them when I choose. They regenerate within the hour, I can use them to heal both internal and external wounds depending on how severe the injury is. I can also use them as weapons, hardening them as I please.”

“Okay but can you use them to listen to things? Do you have the ability to use them as an extension of you? As in, can you use them to listen or to track?” He was grilling you with questions, almost as if you struck a nerve with him. It was quite amusing to see him all flustered like this.

“I can use them to track things within a certain radius, the further away from the feather, the harder it is for me to make things out.” He furrowed his brows, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.

“Okay yeah, your quirk is better in some parts but that doesn’t make you better than me.”

“I never said I was better than you, I only said my quirk was better. You’re the number 2 hero for a reason, I have no doubt in your skill at all.” He really got his feelings hurt that bad by your comment? Talk about a fragile ego.

He let out a sigh, sounding a little grumpy in his words as he went through the paperwork with you. “Oh and take this,” He handed you a bag, his cheeks flushed red. “I don’t know what it looks like but the design team came up with it since we do have similar quirks.”

“A new costume?” You raised an eyebrow, looking at the fabric with the paper bag. It was a body suit, like an actual teddy style body suit, a pair of sheer tights, and some knee high boots. There was also a pair of yellow goggles, matching the ones Hawks were wearing. “What if people think we’re dating?” You didn’t really think about it much until Hawks gave you your new costume that was almost identical in color to his. It was balck and gold, just like his shirt, the cropped jacket being a deeper shade of brown, just like his jacket.

“And? So what if they do? I wouldn’t mind faking it,” he smirked, winking directly at you. He began to laugh as you reached your hand to hide your crimson cheeks. They were warm, you knew his comment made you blush, and so did he.

“Shut the hell up,” you responded, biting your lip. “I’m going to request a new jacket at least. I’m sorry but this color is hideous with the black.”

“You really think so?” he asked, looking at his own jacket. “Well in that case, I’ll ask for them to give us black ones.”

“White,” you stopped him. “I want a white one.”

“White it is, m’lady,” he bowed, getting up from his seat. He leaned over his desk, transitioning from his bowed state, coming face to face with you. He was so close you could smell the lingering fragrance of mint coming from his breath. “I’m excited to work with you.” You quickly got up, bowing in response all in one quick motion, knocking your head with his. It was loud, painful, and embarrassing all within the 30 seconds that it took place. “Ow ow ow ow ow,” he rubbed his forehead, exposing the red bump that was getting ready to form.

You were quick to pluck two white feathers from the right side of your back, leaning over the desk and pressing it to his forehead. “Hold still,” you struggled to get out as Hawks winced in pain. You let out a deep breath, focusing on the feather in your hand. It was quick to dissolve, leaving Hawks in awe with what had just happened. He sat back down, watching you apply the same treatment to yourself.

“Wow,” he breathed, still in shock from what just took place. “Your quirk really is cool.”

“The only downside to my healing is that it’s only possible with the right side of my wings. The left side doesn’t have the same ability,” you admitted while sitting back down, your wings returning to their smaller size so you were able to sit more comfortably. Hawks just sat there, gobsmacked with the events that just occurred. “To be honest, we gotta get this whole bumping into each other thing under control.”

“You’re telling me,” he whispered, leaning back in his own seat. He finally snapped back into reality after being lost within himself. “Go change into your new costume and I’ll put the order in for the white coat. You’re going on patrol today with one of my other sidekicks. He’s newer to the team so it will be good for you two to get comfortable with each other. I will warn you though, he’s a bit of a hot head. Short temper, super egotistical. Great guy though, you’ll love him.”

“He sounds wonderful,” you noted sarcastically. You were soon interrupted by the sound of the door opening, being greeted with a blonde haired man with quite the aggressive scowl.

“What the hell did you say, you damn bird?” You turned your head, taking notice to his rather large grenade equipment covering his forearms. Those have to be super heavy, the look like they weigh more than the man himself.

“There you are! Bakugou, I’d like you to meet your new partner, Y/N! You guys are going to be working together from here on out. You’re still my sidekicks, so we’re still a team here but when it comes to the more lowkey stuff, like investigations and patrolling, you guys will be working together.” Did he really just say ‘lowkey’? How old is this guy? He’s got to be older than you, having started his own agency, right?

“Yeah, whatever,” Bakugou growled. Hawks wasn’t kidding when he said this guy was a hot head, the vibe he was giving off really intimidated you. But then again, you weren’t one to take shit, not even from some punk coworker with a short temper. “I’m leaving in 10. Better hurry you noob.”

“Noob?” You questioned, grabbing your things and following Bakugou out the room. You stopped before you reached the door, turning around and bowing towards Hawks. “Thank you!”

“Good luck, kid!” He waved back, his smile sweet and reassuring. You had experienced something rather unpleasant that morning with Hawks, only to find out he was your new boss. He seemed to be quite the air head, or at least spacey in some aspect. He was interesting to you, and for some reason you wanted to know more about him. The fact he had asked for you specifically out of all the other applicants was even more interesting to you. Did he choose you for another reason? Was it because you had a similar quirk to his? As time goes on, you can only hope that you’ll uncover these hidden secrets you were so focused on. He didn’t need to tell you he was hiding anything, you could just feel something in his aura.

You followed Bakugou who led you to the women's locker room, telling you he would wait outside the door for you to be finished. He actually told you to ‘hurry the fuck up’ but you just rolled your eyes at his demand. You thought to yourself that if anyone else would have been paired up with this guy, you were sure they would resign due to his attitude. You weren’t one to give up, though. You were here for a reason, having a set goal that wasn’t about to be ruined due to some smart asses comments. Not to mention, the children in the foster home you grew up in were mean as hell.

When you put on the outfit, you were flustered by how revealing it was. You did mention that you needed flexibility in your costume but you didn’t think it was going to be some kind of lingerie set. Hopefully the coat you requested is available soon, thinking that maybe it would help cover up some of the more revealing parts.

You exited the locker room, only things on you being your Hero License and your outfit. Bakugou handed you an ear piece, letting you know it’s used for the both of you, two other side kicks and Hawks himself. “So what exactly are we doing today?” You asked, exiting the building with Bakugou by your side.

“We’ve been asked to investigate the west side of town. Rumor has it that some dick head guy has been spotted frequently in the area who has been linked to a chain of murdered victims. All the bodies have similar burn marks, as if it’s this guys sick way of marking his work. Our job is to try and see if we can narrow down his exact location.” You had read over the file prior to moving to the city, being asked by the agency so that way you weren’t too behind on what was going on.

Description: Black hair, scars covering majority of his body, black coat, black shoes, distressed jeans. Last known location: West Tokyo. Number of bodies linked to crime: 12.

“Well then,” you started, letting your wings grow to their full capability. You reached your hand out towards Bakugou, signaling for him to grab on.

“What the hell? What are you doing? I don’t need your fucking help.”

“I get that but if you let me carry you, we could cut our trip time in half and with it being fall, almost winter, it’s going to get dark soon. I have no doubt that you can get there by yourself but if we want to play it smart and more efficient,” you sang, reaching your hand out again for him to take, letting your actions finish your statment. He wasn’t happy about the idea but he knew you were right, making it obvious by his aggressive huff.

You wrapped Bakugou up in your arms, taking off the second you knew you had a secure grip on him. With flying to the west side of town, it really did cut the travel time in half, leaving you an extra hour or so to investigate, much longer than what the estimated time stated. “Land there!” Bakugou yelled, pointing at the roof of a mini mart that was placed in between two rather tall buildings. You released your grip on him, his immediate reaction being annoyed and bothered by the ‘wind’ and you ‘flying too damn fast’. You just ignored his remarks, letting him take the lead on the investigation so he would stop complaining.

“How long have you worked for Hawks?” You asked, taking a seat next to Bakugou. He lowered his glasses that matched both yours and Hawks’, using them to enhance his sight towards the ground below.

“Why do you care?” He growled, avoiding any sort of eye contact with you.

“Well I don’t but if we’re going to be working together, I think it’s important that we have a bearable relationship, don’t you agree?”

“No I don’t. I don’t care who you are or where you come from. We’re co workers, that’s it.” You didn’t expect Bakugou’s words to hurt as much as they did. You barely met the guy and he’s already made his decision on how the relationship was going to be. A part of you wanted to just let it go, to just accept the fact that he didn’t care for personal relationships, but the other part, the part of you that always got you into trouble, wanted to know and be more with him.

“Well I care,” you finally blurted out, causing Bakugou to finally look over at you. “I’m not saying that we have to be friends but if we want to be a strong team, we have to get to know each other on a more personal level. I can see you’re very strong and I also know that we could be really good together. So ignore me all you want but I’m not going to stop asking.” He looked puzzled, as if no one had ever bothered to speak to him like this. It was as if he was thrown into foreign territory and had to figure out how to navigate to the sudden outburst.

“3 months,” he answered, immitadly turning away from you. You couldn’t help but smile at the small achievement you had accomplished. It wasn’t something drastic or something to celebrate, but you took it as a win regardless.

After sitting on the roof for a good half hour, you had decided to take street view, letting Bakugou keep the high ground. You were told that the suspect wore a black coat, had dark features, but the main identifier being his scars. He wore the black coat to hide his arms and body and wore a face mask to hide the scars that are suspected to be on his face.

After mindlessly walking for what felt like forever, Bakugou finally came through the ear piece. “Angel, there’s a man fitting our description on the other side of the street, walking towards your direction.” You were quick to react, trying to spot any signs of a man in a dark coat. You thought you were going to lose him in the crowd, having to make your way through groups of people walking in your opposite direction.

“Bakugou, I don’t-” You were suddenly cut off, being pushed back by the force of colliding with another person. You lost your balance, falling straight onto the concrete sidewalk below you. “Ouch…” You winced in pain, the collision of your bum hitting the hard concrete rattling you a bit. You looked up to see what it was that you had bumped into, Bakugou screaming in your ear before you could put the pieces together.

“THAT’S HIM!” You made eye contact, complete shock written across your facial features as you stared directly at the man you had been looking for.

“Here,” he reached his hand out, offering to help you up from your fall. “Sorry about that. It’s easy to get caught up in these crowds.” You were hesitant to take his hand but did it anyways, knowing that you had to diminish any sort of suspicion. His hand was rough to the touch, as if it was scared more so than dry skin. You noticed his stitches that held his scars together, slightly grazing over them as you released. “Oh uhh.. I got these cause my quirk is too strong for me to really handle.” The man seemed to be around your age, his whole appearance matching the description you were given.

What do I do?

“Oh I wasn’t meaning to stare,” you hesitantly assured him, trying to awkwardly laugh off the situation.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” he finally changed the subject, the new topic being just as stressful as the last.

“Oh yeah I’m new to town! Just doing an internship so I’m still kind of new to all of this. I’m just out patrolling the area, making sure nothing bad happens. Ya know, the normal hero stuff.” You awkwardly scratched the back of your head, avoiding eye contact as best as you could. In all honesty, you wanted to cut this conversation short and let Bakugou track him to wherever he was planning on going, but your mind had gone blank. You were unable to think of an out so instead, you had to let the conversation carry on until you found an opening.

“Well I bet people will feel better having such a pretty hero like you around to keep them safe.” Woah woah woah… Did he really just call you pretty? And are you actually blushing right now at his comment?? Get it together Y/N!

“Eh- haha. I mean I’m just doing my job, just like any other hero.” Please leave. Please go away. Please give me an opening to get out of here.

“I guess I’ll be seeing a lot more of you then?” His smile was everything but welcoming. You could see that this man wasn’t someone who found heroes pleasant to begin with. The uneasy feeling you had when you made eye contact the first time started to grow, causing you to internally panic. “Cute wings. Reminds me of another Pro Hero I see flying around here sometimes.”

“Uh… Who?” You asked, trying your best to play dumb. He furrowed his brows, your response coming off more suspicious than before. “I’m sorry. Like I said, I’m new here and I don’t even know who I work for. I was just sent here as soon as I got there so I haven’t really met anyone.”

“Huh. Well I’m sure you’ll meet him soon. Especially if you have wings like that,” he said, pointing to your enlarged wings. “He’s a pretty big fan of people who have similar quirks to his.”

“I’ll definitely have to keep an eye out then. Sounds like we’d get along.”

“The names Dabi, by the way. And you are?” Did he really just tell you his name? Was the whole ‘play dumb’ act really working? Could this be some kind of message that he wants to send to Hawks since he was the one who mentioned him?

“You can call me Angel,” you responded, knowing it was better to offer your hero name rather than your real one. You chose the hero name ‘Angel’ because it could be taken as either a hero name or even a birth given name.

“Angel,” he repeated, barely above a whisper. “Fitting.” You didn’t respond this time, wanting to let the conversation end there which Dabi caught onto. “Well I’ll let you get back to work Angel. I hope I see you again.” And with that, he was gone, disappearing from your view into the crowd of people.

You were quick to make your way around the block so that way you could communicate with Bakugou without having to worry about Dabi overhearing anything if he had happened to still be in ear shot distance. “Angel what happened!? Did you get anything?”

“I’ll come find you! Just keep tracking him! I’m on my way!” you told Bakugou before lifting off above the city. You were quick to spot Bakugou who was jumping from rooftop to rooftop, keeping a steady pace and decent distance between him and the suspect. Once Bakugou stopped, you took that as a sign to land on the closest building and follow Bakugou’s actions so that way you could keep a low profile since the suspect now knew who you were. You mentally kicked yourself in the butt, knowing that you should’ve just left after he helped you up.

“What did he say?” Bakugou barked, his vision focused on the cluster of buildings in front of him.

“Well I got his name.”

“And?” He looked over at you, his expression completely unreadable. Were you going to get in trouble for making contact? And on the first day too?

“Dabi.” Bakugou’s face went white, his expression telling you that maybe they knew more about the suspect than they were telling you. “Bakugou, who’s Dabi?”

“I pinpointed the location. Let’s get back to the agency and report to Hawks what we found.”

“I’m not taking us anywhere until you tell me who this Dabi guy is!”

“Suit yourself you dumb bird.” He was quick to blast off, making his way back in the direction of the agency. You were in shock by his sudden outburst, creating quite the distance between you two. What is going on? You were so confused, only being left more in the dark as Bakugou ignored your multiple questions.

Snap out of it Y/N! Follow him!

“What- Bakugou!!”

#hawks #Hawks fanfic #hawks x reader #hawks x female reader #hawks one shot #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #Dabi #dabi x female reader #dabi fanfic #dabi x reader

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nitannichionne · 3 years

Text

Leading Lady, Chapter 4: Check and Mate (A Henry Cavill Cast Fic)

Chapter 4; Check and Mate (Shane/Henry Cavill POV)

This was almost fun.

I landed in Chicago a full two days before I was to meet Laura, a full day before Rick was supposed to follow. I didn't want him with me. This part seemed very personal.

Kendra Kincaid was closely connected to Kitara Kingston, I managed to find that out, but not much more. That wasn't very hard to find, except that Kendra Kincaid was connected to a Kianna, an erotica writer who was popular for a spell quite a few years ago. After reading that stuff, I was blown away a bit. She sounded...really experienced, sharpening my curiosity. She sounded worldly, she seemed terribly confident yet vulnerable. In all our texts she had an answer or a question that led to an answer. I was reading and rereading our texts, our emails, everything. I was confident; I had so many signs to look for now. After the eight hour flight I began to believe that Kendra, Kitara and Kianna may be one and the same.

I rested up, got my hours right and basically strode into Laura Davidson's office unannounced. I found the young woman whom I saw with her in Britain sitting at the desk, rifling through the drawers. She was still working for her,I assumed. I looked her over, smiling at the fact she was still wearing those athletic form fitting pants that showed the outline of a cell phone in her cargo pocket but she had waistcoat that showed off her hips and bum with a shell underneath that accentuated her form. Her hair was longer, I remembered shoulder length hair-or extensions. Now she had a long pixie cut that framed a cute face. I saw more this time, or maybe it was that Laura was my focus then. "Excuse me."

She looked up, did a double take, gasped and stared. "May I... help you?"

"Yes, I was wondering if Laura Davidson was in?"

"Uh, yes, she is, but..." she looked around and picked up a calendar. She looked through it. "Do you have an appointment today?" She turned in her seat, and in so doing, knocked over a pencil cup and picture frame. "Oh, sorry!"

"No worries," I smiled. "Regrettably, no, I am set for tomorrow." She was a nervous thing, more than I remembered.

"Oh, I was afraid I'd made some mistake!" she laughed softly, averting my gaze. "And you are...?"

"Zachary Sheridan?"

She gasped. "I knew you looked familiar!" She looked about, seeming out of sorts. "One moment." She rose and went into the office with her notebook...without knocking?

As soon as the door clicked closed, I examined the desk. There was a comm system on it. She could have called in. I could hear hushed voices behind the door. I couldn't understand anything but the tones were anxious and clipped and almost argumentative. I quietly opened the bottom drawer with my foot. Empty. No purse? Most women carry a bag of some sort of bag to work with all their needs for the day. She didn't have one. I picked up the frame and saw a picture of a blonde haired woman and two young children. I set it back in its place, face down. That is not who greeted me, making me wonder who this woman was. Was she part of a lesbian couple? No, not the way she looked at me...unless this wasn't her desk at all. Most people reflexively right a fallen frame, unless one is trying to hide something...?

The assistant opened the door. "She'll see you now," She held the door for me. As soon as I walked through I sensed her gaze follow, but when I looked she was looking at Laura. Laura nodded before she left. What the...?

"Laura!" I smiled, extending my hand. "Recently arrived, wanted to say hi, sorry for my--"

"No problem," she nodded. "Seems you came at the perfect time." She gestured for me to take a seat. "How was your flight?"

"Oh, fine, fine," I nodded, not losing eye contact with her. She looked uneasy. "but Kendra isn't here so I wouldn't say that the timing was perfect." I sat down. She chuckled a bit nervously, and I laughed politely. "Will she--"

"Something to drink, Mr. Sheridan?" the assistant offered, smiling as she handed me my favorite brand of water.

Hold on. Did they know I was coming? "Thank you." I looked at these two. Something was up. I listened to Laura go on about how happy she is to see me again, how excited she was that I was interested in playing roles...she was stalling, but for what?

And the assistant hadn't moved. Where was the notebook in her hand that she had?

My eyes traveled to Laura's desk. The notebook was there. It had tabs on the sides made of post-its. Kendra had described that to me in texts. It was how she kept her notes for different projects, dividing the notebook into a story journal herself. I frowned, looking at the cell phone in her pocket. She believed in being as hands free as possible. I read that in a text from her! I had seen that makeshift journal someplace else!

Britain.

That was her. That was...her! I watched her. She folded her hands behind her back military style. That was when I noticed the scar the pixie cut covered. I looked at her face and she averted her gaze. The cut was specifically to cover it. There's a story there...

"I know you wanted to meet her--" Laura glanced at her so-called assistant. "But she is off doing research for another book. You know how that is sometimes."

"Quite." I wanted to call her on that lie, but I needed more proof. On every card she ever sent, she crossed her Z's. No one does that. It was a mix of penmanship and calligraphy, and terribly distinct.

"But I want you to know she has great faith in your ability--"

"Very believable--" the assistant offered. I looked at her-that turn of phrase was unique. She swallowed hard. "She said that, I remember."

"Would you have your assistant send flowers for me?" I asked, not losing eye contact with her.

"What?"

"I wanted to send flowers to an old friend, let her know I'm in town?" I asked. I watched Laura look at now who I suspected was Kitara Kingston. She had flinched, gone still.

"Sure!" she said too brightly. "Name?"

"Would you write the message?" I asked. "It's important."

"Sure," she said. Laura handed her the notebook and she flipped to the last page. "Yes?"

I stood up, and she backed a step. I'm almost two meters and she was less than half a meter shorter. Her eyes went wide for a second as our gazes locked. I'd bet my horse now. I stepped slightly behind her as if to watch her work. Kendra texted that the alcohol in fragrances affected her sinuses and gave her headaches, so she wore scented oils instead. "It's to Samantha Zane." I took a slow inhale...oils, check...

"Samantha..." She wrote. The S was right. "Z-a-"

YES! Perfect match! "N-e." I took a deep breath, inhaling the scented oils on her skin, then blew slightly in the direction of her ear and neck. Kendra once told me that a man lightly breathing in her ear could drive her mad.

"Message?" Her voice was a squeak.

I smiled. I've got you, darling. "Dear Sam, thanks so much for offering to find Kendra Knight for me."

She stopped writing for a second and then slowly resumed. "Anything else?"

"But it seems I am fully capable of finding her myself."

The whole room went silent, so silent that all we could hear was a small desk fountain doing its job on a small table in the corner.

"Found her?" Laura's eyes were wide.

"Why yes, so how about we let the actor and writer have a chat?" I asked. From behind, I took the notebook and pen from "the assistant's" hands and dropped them on my seat, effectively blocking her from any escape. "You agents can meet with us tomorrow."

"The assistant" had nothing to say as I took her by the hand turned her to me for a better look. Her dark eyes looked huge, reminding me of a startled doe, and she looked like she was holding her breath. Too late, I wanted to tell her. She turned away. I knew she was trying to compose herself.

"Kendra? Kianna?" I whispered in her ear and turned her to me again. "Or should I say Kitara?"

UH-OH! Reblogs, likes and comments totally appreciated! Thanks!

@mistress-of-ward @summersong69 @griscka75 @kebabgirl67

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x cougar #henry cavill x black female #august walker #will shaw #clark kent #superman #walter marshall #geralt #captain syverson #witcher

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hrtiu · 3 years

Text

Worthy of Devotion Chapter 6

Yeah so... obviously I didn’t stick to my weekly update schedule 😅 But hey, Chapter 7 is already halfway done!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28259979/chapters/72995721

Kaminoan breakfast was not to Riyo’s taste. It was all raw fish, squid, and shellfish chopped up and mixed together with some kind of acidic syrup and, as a native of a marshy moon with no oceans, Riyo found it disagreeable. Still, she dutifully slurped down the food and nodded along to Prime Minister Lama Su’s unhurried conversation.

“As you can see, our facilities are state-of-the-art, and the Republic is reaping the benefits of our skilled army,” he said.

Riyo nodded and picked up the last spoonful of her breakfast, hesitating only a moment before putting the tentacled mystery in her mouth. The food they fed the clones at the cafeteria had looked different, like a nutritional paste or some kind of fortified starch. This seafood hash was no doubt a delicacy meant to honor her visit, but she’d honestly prefer the paste.

“This is quite an impressive operation you have here, Prime Minister,” she said. “I look forward to discussing the future of the Republic’s relationship with Kamino at the summit.”

She set her spoon down and left her napkin on top of her plate, signalling that she was done with the meal—finally. She’d spent most of the previous night making last-minute preparations with Maja, and she didn’t think she could handle another moment of small talk and crustaceans.

Lama Su inclined his long neck. “Shall we?”

He rose to his feet and Riyo, flanked by Maja, Captain Rex, and Commander Fox, followed him out of the dining hall and into a spare, white conference room. Nala Se, Senator Burtoni and several other Kaminoan dignitaries were already seated inside, and the Prime Minister showed Riyo to her seat at the head of the table. Rex and Maja found their own spots at the far end of the group, and Fox stationed himself at the door.

Lama Su took the chair next to Riyo and cleared his throat, drawing the eyes of all the attendees to him. “I want to thank Chancellor Chuchi for visiting with us today. I am eager to discuss Kamino’s role in the Republic’s military moving forward, and to build upon the foundation of goodwill and trust that we have already established.”

“Thank you for having me, Prime Minister,” Riyo said. She waited for him to extend his welcome to Rex and Maja, too, but he moved right on to business.

“I’ll begin with the basics. As we on Kamino have provided the Republic with an excellent military in the past, no doubt contributing greatly to the Republic’s victory in the war, we believe the Republic would be amenable to extending our contracts. Perhaps the Republic no longer has need of such a large army, but surely some standing military force is necessary for the defense of our systems, and we are also in the process of developing new technologies and personnel specializing in peacekeeping and violence deterrence.”

Riyo’s mouth twisted. The phrase “peacekeeping” had been too-often used throughout the war to justify acts of aggression, and was he really going to completely ignore the clone legislation the Senate had just passed? Senator Burtoni had to have told him.

“The Republic does indeed owe a large debt of gratitude to its clone army,” she said, gesturing to Rex, “who protected citizens and defended our sovereignty at the risk and often expense of their own lives. However, you must understand that, given recent legislation involving the legality of pressing clones into military service, we cannot continue to use your services in the same way.”

Lama Su leaned over the table and laced his long fingers together. “Yes, Senator Burtoni informed us of this legislation. I fail to see why a practice that ensured the Republic’s victory in the war could so conveniently be deemed illegal after the fact.”

“The criticism is valid, Prime Minister, but unfortunately we cannot change the past. We can only try to move forward in a way that is consistent with our values, and creating sentient life only for it to be forced into military service is not consistent with our values.”

Lama Su’s giant eyes narrowed ‘til only a thin slice of grey iris peeked through. “What are you proposing, Chancellor?”

Riyo inclined her head towards Rex.

“All production of clone soldiers needs to end immediately,” Rex said. “The Republic has already paid, so it’s no harm to you. The Republic won’t commission any clone soldiers in the future, either.”

“This is outrageous!” Senator Burtoni said, addressing Riyo and ignoring Rex. “It is an insult to our relationship with the Republic!”

“The Senate’s vote is final,” Rex said. “Kamino is free to do what they wish, but all member systems of the Republic have to abide by Republic laws, which now prohibit the enslavement of any sentient beings for any reason.”

“Where was all this talk of slavery when the Republic ordered the army?” Senator Burtoni demanded. “I must say, Chancellor, this law feels rather pointed. If Kamino is to be singled out like this, perhaps we would not wish to remain-”

Lama Su held up a hand and Senator Burtoni closed her mouth, nodding in deference to the Prime Minister. “Chancellor Chuchi, we of course would wish to remain in the Republic, but you must understand how much our economy is tied to the cloning industry. We have invested decades of education, technology, and infrastructure into this endeavor. What you are asking is not so simple as turning a switch from on to off.”

Riyo nodded sympathetically, though it irked her to no end the way they continued to ignore Rex. “I understand your concern, Prime Minister, which is why I have already negotiated several agricultural contracts on your behalf. The nerf industry is very interested in your work isolating desirable genetic traits. Etrat Industries is also willing to hire Kaminoan geneticists to develop more drought-resistant grains.” Riyo passed a datapad to Lama Su and gave him a moment to look it over. “The current value of these contracts is about 75% of what the clone army generated for Kamino, but I believe these contracts can grow into a sustained economy that does not rely on one product, and no longer requires widespread war to be profitable.”

Lama Su’s dark eyes darted across the screen and he nodded thoughtfully. “We will need time to consider and speak with these contacts of yours before formally agreeing, but I find your proposal to be a compelling one, Chancellor.”

Riyo held back a sigh of relief. Maja had insisted that Kamino valued membership in the Republic enough to play hardball, but Riyo still hadn’t been sure the agricultural contracts would be tempting enough to soothe any hurt feelings. And as abhorrent as she found the Human factory here on Kamino, Riyo still didn’t want the Kaminoans to leave the Republic. For one thing, leaving the Republic would leave them free to create clone armies for other people.

The summit moved on and they first went through the new clone legislation and what exactly it meant. No, cloning wasn’t entirely illegal. Yes, cloning sentient beings for servitude was illegal. Then they went through each of the agricultural contracts line by line and Lama Su and his advisors discussed which ones they could easily take on with minimal capital expense. Lama Su was difficult to read, but Riyo thought she could see a pleased glimmer in his eye as he examined the proposed quotes for each contract. She made a mental note to throw a party for Maja later for pulling so much of that together.

“Well,” Lama Su said after several hours of debate, “You are our customer, so of course we will halt production as you requested. We are tentatively willing to commit to never producing clone soldiers again, but it will take some time before we can formalize the agreement. This was, as you know, the foundation of our economy for some time. We wish to remain in the Republic, but leaving is an option if we feel we are not being treated fairly.”

“I can assure you, Prime Minister, we will do everything we can to ensure that all citizens of the Republic—Kaminoan and Clone alike—will be treated fairly,” Riyo said.

“Excellent. That brings our summit to a close-”

“One more thing, if I may,” Riyo interjected.

Lama Su looked up at her, a frown of mild indifference on his face. “Yes, Chancellor Chuchi?”

Riyo’s eyes darted quickly to Rex at the end of the table, then over to Fox. She hadn’t had a chance to consult them about this part, but she was reasonably sure they’d approve. “As the price for the clones’ production and cultivation until adulthood has already been paid for, the Republic is willing to assume responsibility for the care and raising of all clones aged zero to three effective immediately, and for only half the cost the Kaminoan facility would have spent on their training.”

The grey brows above Lama Su’s eyes rose. “What do you mean, for only half the cost?”

“Your people would pay the Republic to take over the raising of these clones half of the estimated cost of training them here on Kamino. You would still come out ahead, financially.”

Lama Su’s nostril slits flared slightly and his eyes turned over to Senator Burtoni.

“They were created for the Republic. I suppose the Republic can claim them at any time,” Senator Burtoni said.

Lama Su’s expression remained impassive, but years of experience in politics told Riyo what he was thinking. He didn’t like the idea of capitulating to yet another Republic demand, but he was counting credits, and she knew the calculus would end up in her favor.

“If you insist, then of course we are willing to oblige our loyal customer,” he said. “It will take time to sort out logistics, so let’s say tentatively the handover will take place in six months-”

“I’ve already worked out most of the logistics on my end. We should be able to pick up the children in one month.”

A brief silence filled the conference room at her words, and Lama Su stared down at her. “As you wish, Chancellor.”

They closed the summit with all the necessary formalities, and Riyo walked from the room, her shoulders tucked back and her chin held high all the way until they reached the safety of her rooms. Then she let the tension of the negotiations go and her placid expression dropped.

“Oh my goodness, I wasn’t at all sure that was going to work, Maja.”

Maja patted her shoulder. “I told you they’re desperate to stay in the Republic. As an extragalactic planet, the Republic is vital in connecting them to trade and the political life of the rest of the galaxy.”

“Yes, but I really thought demanding all that, plus the younger clones—I was worried they’d reject us just out of spite.”

Maja smirked. “Pride is one thing, but credits are king.”

“You, my friend, are a genius.”

“Who am I to contradict the Chancellor?”

Riyo laughed, but her laugh quickly morphed into a sigh. “And now the work begins. Can you call back our contact with the Child Services Agency on Coruscant? And get in touch with those other agricultural conglomerates we haven’t heard back from yet.”

“On it, boss.”

Riyo started for the office near the back of her quarters, but a low cough turned her attention behind her. Commander Fox was standing there, helmet on and blaster still in hand, his posture stiff and formal. Next to him was Rex, helmetless, with a warm smile on his face.

“Yes, Commander? Captain? I’m sorry, I probably should have asked your opinion on this, first. I just had so many holo calls to make to work things out, and I couldn’t find either of you anywhere-”

“It’s not a problem, Madam Chancellor,” Rex said. “Thank you for caring. I know it means a lot to the boys.”

Riyo smiled at him. “Of course, Captain,” she said, then her smile fell. “After coming here, I couldn’t do nothing. I… I had some idea what it would be like here, but nothing prepared me for actually seeing it.”

“We’re clones. How else do you think we were raised?” Rex said.

“I know, it’s just… different when you actually see the trichbasa stuffed.”

“The what?”

“Oh, it’s a Pantoran phrase. Sometimes you don’t want to see the messy details of how something gets made. It’s… easier not knowing.”

“I’m glad you were willing to stomach it for us, ma’am,” Rex said.

“Ma’am?” Maja said, poking her head back into the hallway from the study. “The Chief Administrator of the Child Services Agency is on the holo.”

“I’ll be right there!”

She bade the two clones a hasty farewell and threw herself right into work. Committing to finding safe and nurturing permanent homes for thousands of young clones had meant taking on a huge amount of logistics in a short time, but she was determined to succeed. The clones deserved nothing less.

---

Riyo and Maja toiled late into the night and hardly slept before their scheduled departure the next morning. Riyo spent almost the entire flight back to Coruscant drafting up letters looking for donations and support for the child clones. She’d found enough backers the night before the summit to make the ask, but there were still so many more details to work out and more funding never hurt.

About halfway through composing a letter to a wealthy philanthropist from Bespin, Riyo’s eyes began to droop. She was so tired, if she just rested her eyes a moment she could finish this up. Yes… Just a moment was all she needed...

“Ma’am?” A gloved hand gently tapped Riyo on the shoulder, and she opened her eyes only to find her face smooshed up against the transparisteel of the observation window. She blinked blearily up at Fox, identifying him as the tapper.

“Yes, Fox?”

“We’re starting the landing sequence, Madam Chancellor.”

“Oh…” She sat up and rubbed at her eyes, then hastily swiped at the puddle of drool that had collected on her datapad. “Why didn’t anyone wake me!”

“We were informed that it would be unwise…” Rex said.

“I told them if they did I’d murder them,” Maja said from where she sat in the corner, her gaze never budging from the datapad in her hand.

Riyo laughed, then buckled herself in for landing. “And that’s why I picked you as my assistant.”

Maja raised the stylus she was holding and tipped it in Riyo’s direction. “Exactly.”

They landed and Rex offered to escort Maja to her apartment, which Riyo appreciated. Maja didn’t get the same security detail that Riyo did, but she could just as easily be targeted by political enemies.

Fox and Riyo took the high-speed lift up to Riyo’s secure apartment in Coruscant’s upper levels, and Riyo’s focus wavered as the lights of the city blurred by through the lift’s transparisteel windows.

“...Madam Chancellor?”

Riyo shook her head to rouse herself and looked to Fox, concentrating hard to make sure she wasn’t dreaming up his sudden desire to talk. “Yes?”

Fox’s helmet was clipped to his belt, but his expression was as opaque as ever. “Thank you,” he said. Then he spread his arms to the side, letting them hover awkwardly away from his hips.

Riyo furrowed her brow at him. She’d had way too little sleep in the past 48 hours to believe she was interpreting this correctly. “Fox?”

Fox cleared his throat, a ruddy flush spreading across his cheeks. “You can hug me, if you want.”

“Oh. Oh!”

That certainly woke Riyo up. She stood dumbfounded for a moment, then saw in the twitch under Fox’s eye that if she didn’t do something quick he might break the lift open and jump out. She fell forward into what she now recognized as open arms and wrapped herself around his torso. Her fingers barely met around the bulky backplate, but she would not be deterred.

Fox’s gloved hands rested uncertainly on Riyo’s shoulders, and she smiled into his chestplate. Not too long ago Fox had been alone and untouched in one of those awful nurseries on Kamino, just like all of his other brothers. She wasn’t about to let that travesty continue.

“I only wish I could have done more,” she said, her voice muffled by his chest.

He didn’t respond for a beat. Riyo was glad he didn’t lie to her, didn’t tell her that she’d done more than enough. There was still so much to do, so many wrongs to right. And she’d only been able to rescue the youngest clones.

“There’s still time,” he said eventually.

She squeezed him tight, her arms full of unyielding plastoid. Through all the armor, though, she thought she could feel a beating heart.

---

“But where are we going to get the money? This is the question nobody seems interested in but me,” Senator Taam said.

“Maybe because we are more concerned with sentient lives than with credits,” Senator Organa snapped.

Fox suppressed a sigh behind his helmet. These Armed Services Committee meetings got things done, but the process was painfully slow. Palpatine had been one evil piece of Sithspit, but at least he’d been able to move quickly. If he’d wanted a fully-funded clone retirement program he’d have just called a meeting, made a few benevolent threats, and been done with it.

“Concern doesn’t pay for programs! The budget does, and I want to get this bill funded as much as any of you. So we can actually provide something to these clones.”

“Whenever we needed new flagships we managed to find the money from somewhere-” Senator Organa said.

“Ok, ok, we’re not getting anywhere arguing,” Chancellor Chuchi said. “Senator Taam is right—it doesn’t matter how great our ideas are if we can’t fund them.”

“Exactly-” Senator Taam said.

“But Senator Organa is right that we can’t use that as an excuse for inaction. This is going to cost major credits, and the budget is going to feel it. So we need to make sure that the public sees it as the necessity it is.”

The table fell silent and the committee exchanged apologetic glances. The corner of Fox’s mouth turned up. Palpatine may have been more efficient, but moments like these reminded him of why he preferred Chancellor Chuchi’s methods. Aside from the obvious fact that she didn’t abuse his brothers and send them to their deaths.

“In my experience, the more civilians know about us the more they’re willing to support us,” Rex said.

Senator Organa nodded. “That’s an excellent point. Up until now the GAR has been used for propaganda, but soldiers have mostly been portrayed as distant, heroic figures. We can run a publicity campaign that highlights your individuality.”

“As well as your practical skills,” Senator Paulness said. “Clones should find more employers willing to hire them and invest in their training if they understand the clones’ unique qualifications.”

Chancellor Chuchi tapped her stylus in her assistant’s direction. “Maja, have Talia Tantipani draw up preliminary ideas for a publicity campaign, would you?”

“On it, ma’am.”

“That’s all well and good, but publicity alone won’t be enough,” said Senator Taam.

“You’re right. We need to also demonstrate the ways in which a retired clone army can benefit the populace,” Senator Paulness said.

“Plenty of the systems we fought on are in desperate need of reconstruction. The locals already know us and most are friendly to us—they might be open to clone workers coming to help rebuild,” Rex said.

“Hmm…” Senator Taam said. “We could expand the Relief and Recovery Agency and have it give hiring precedence to former clone soldiers.”

“I can work on incorporating more job training into the Relief and Recovery Agency, too,” said Senator Organa.

The senators began talking excitedly amongst themself and the energy in the room lifted. Fox recognized a breakthrough when he saw it, and he found himself tuning the chatter out. A twinge of guilt nudged at his conscience, that he wasn’t paying more attention to legislation that would affect the livelihoods of so many of his brothers, but there was only so much of this endless talk he could force himself to focus through. Besides, he had other things to worry about.

Like Daw Saetang. He was an agricultural lobbyist, and though he’d attended several meetings with the Chancellor already, he was slated for a one-on-one right after the Armed Services Committee finished up. One-on-one meetings called for more thorough background checks, and though Saetang’s check hadn’t raised any red flags, something about him still bugged Fox. Was it his smarmy smile? Or maybe the way he didn’t have face tattoos like all the other Pantorans Fox had met. Not that he’d met that many…

“Ok then, Senator Taam will reach out to the Relief and Recovery Agency, Senator Organa will focus on the publicity campaign, and Senator Paulness will head up our contacts in various employment and job training organizations.” Captain Rex said.

The senators all nodded their agreement, and Chancellor Chuchi started gathering up her datapads. “Excellent. I know progress can seem slow, but we need to give our veterans support as soon as possible.”

The meeting adjourned and Fox waited while Maja and Chancellor Chuchi chatted and collected their supplies together. The Chancellor was close enough to her assistant that Maja must be able to smell her perfume—a citrusy scent that Fox only knew because his damned helmet filter didn’t work very well any more. He’d have to request a new one, which would be a royal pain now that his position fell outside of typical command structures.

Yes, he’d have to get it replaced. That way, if the Chancellor ever wanted to hug him again, he wouldn’t be cursed with the memory of her perfume following him around all day. Though, who was he kidding? Why on earth would she ever want to hug him again? He’d been as stiff as a clanker. He’d heard the Kaminoans describe the clones as “droids but better,” before, and thinking back to his painfully awkward hug, he believed there might be some truth to it.

Maja and the Chancellor left the conference room and Fox trailed them a few steps behind. They followed the well-trod path to the Chancellor’s office, where Saetang was already waiting outside for them.

“Madam Chancellor! An honor to see you again,” the tall Pantoran man said, holding his hand out towards Chancellor Chuchi with confidence.

“It’s good to see you, too, Mr. Saetang,” the Chancellor said.

“Please, it’s Daw. And Ms. Joyo, always a pleasure,” he said to Maja.

“Likewise,” Maja said.

Saetang ignored Fox, which suited Fox just fine.

They stepped into the Chancellor’s office and Fox stationed himself by the door. He prepared himself to tune out yet another circular policy argument, but Saetang and his skeezy smile drew his attention. He kept his eyes locked on the Pantoran man and scanned for unusual traits that might signal some sinister motive.

Saetang’s eyes flitted to Fox, and for a moment Fox could swear the man could see his gaze through the tinted visor. But that was impossible.

The negotiations continued, and Saetang had a way of getting what he wanted while making it seem like he was losing that got under Fox’s skin. Still, he trusted Chancellor Chuchi to be able to deal with snakes like Saetang. She’d been around the Senate long enough to recognize the type.

“I’ll be sure to communicate your terms to my colleagues,” Saetang said smoothly. “We’ve had our eyes on that Kaminoan gene selection technology for some time now, and I’m sure we can strike a mutually beneficial deal with them.”

“Thank you, Daw. I very much appreciate your time,” Chancellor Chuchi said, rising to her feet to signal the end of the meeting.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he said. He stood, but made no move towards the door.

“...Is there something else, Mr. Saetang?” Chancellor Chuchi said.

“My apologies, Madam Chancellor, I was working up the nerve to ask you… I nabbed a reservation at Pantiat Ichi for tomorrow and was hoping you might accompany me.”

Fox’s hands held his blaster a little too tightly, and he had to make a conscious effort to loosen his grip. It was just an invitation. Why did it feel like a threat?

Chancellor Chuchi’s eyebrows rose. “Oh! I’m afraid I’ll be busy tomorrow evening. It’s such a shame, I’ve heard they have the best Pantoran food on the planet.”

Saetang offered her a rueful smile. “I understand, it’s so last minute. If your evening frees up, though, please let me know.”

“Of course.”

She walked him to the door of her office and he bowed over her hand before he left, bringing a bluish blush to her cheeks. Then he left and the door finally shut on the bastard.

When the Chancellor turned back to her desk, Maja was grinning at her like a tooka with a convor.

“Stop it!” Chancellor Chuchi said, and she shoved Maja playfully.

“Stop what?” Maja asked, eyes wide with innocence.

“He’s just a smooth-talking lobbyist. It’s not a big deal.”

“You know I actually could carve out time for dinner for you tomorrow night.”

The Chancellor eyed her friend doubtfully. “Are you serious?”

“Why not? He seems nice enough, and I’ve heard Pantiat Ichi is to die for.”

“He’s a lobbyist!”

“Yes, there are rules you’d have to follow, but I can make sure everything is square. Really, Riyo, why not get out and have a little fun? You haven’t taken a single personal day since taking office.”

“I… I suppose I could…”

Maja’s smile grew. “You want me to send him a message?”

Chancellor Chuchi threw up her hands. “Fine. Why not?”

“That’s the spirit!” Maja said, rushing the Chancellor for a surprise hug.

Chancellor Chuchi laughed and pushed at her friend, and soon Fox could no longer make out exactly what they were saying. He sighed and commed Thorn through his helmet’s built-in system. His helmet might be old and falling apart, but at least it was still soundproof with the dampers on.

“Thorn? Can we get another background check on Daw Saetang? Dig a bit deeper this time.”

---

The first human Bacara ever killed couldn’t have been much older than he was. At least, biologically. If he just went by years then Bacara was likely at least a decade younger. Regardless, the Twi’lek man Bacara shot in the chest was too thinking, too breathing, too sentient for comfort.

Bacara had never before thought to be grateful to be fighting droids, but he had to admit it was much easier to blow a clanker’s head off than a Twi’lek’s.

“Sir, the remaining Separatists have been cleared out,” Solus told him over the comms.

“Do a thorough sweep of the area. I don’t want any stragglers to catch us off guard,” Bacara said.

General Mundi joined Bacara at the top of the ridge overlooking the wooded battlefield. “Excellent work, Commander.”

“Just doing our jobs, sir.”

“Still, I know fighting against sentients isn’t quite that same. You’ve adapted well.”

Bacara nodded and put his hands behind his back. “What’s our next move, sir?”

“Once everything’s sorted here, we only have one more assignment before returning to Coruscant.”

Bacara smiled. He’d get to see his batchmates for the first time in months. And more importantly, he’d be able to tell them what he’d learned about their inhibitor chips.

“It is difficult to be away from the ones we love, isn’t it?” General Mundi said.

Bacara’s smile faded. He didn’t like when the General said things that seemed to respond to the thoughts in his head, especially not when his thoughts strayed too close to the inhibitor chips. “Captain Peke’s waiting to report in the command center,” he said, ignoring the General’s question. It had been rhetorical, anyway.

“Excellent,” General Mundi said, and together they headed for the command center, a collapsible durasteel bunker that had seen plenty of wear in all different kinds of terrain and atmospheres.

They stepped through the automatic doors and Bacara immediately sensed something was wrong. The doors slammed shut behind them and the lights extinguished. When they turned on again the General was surrounded by insurgents, one of them with a blaster held to his head.

“Don’t move! Or the Jedi gets it!” the man said, dirt and blood on his face and desperation in his eyes.

“Let’s just stay calm…” Bacara said, slowly setting his blaster on the ground.

“I tried to warn you, sir!” Captain Peke said from across the room. He was tied up to a chair, and another one of the insurgents held him at blaster-point.

“Everybody quiet!” the man with his blaster to Mundi’s head said.

Peke shut his mouth and Bacara slowly rose from his crouch, his hands held high with his palms open.

“We don’t want trouble with the Republic,” the lead insurgent said. “And we aren’t with the Separatists, either. We just want our planet to be in peace, we just want to live free without Republic interference.”

Bacara’s eyes darted to General Mundi’s, but the General seemed unconcerned. “This is not something you want to do, son.”

“Shut up!” the man shouted. “I know all about your Jedi tricks, and that won’t work on us!”

“This is not going to end well for you. If you leave now we won’t follow you,” Mundi said.

“We’re not leaving until you order all Republic forces out of this system!”

“This is your last warning.”

“Kriff you and your warnings! I’m the one with the blaster!”

With a sudden whoosh of power, General Mundi pushed outward from himself, knocking everything away from him in a perfect wave of energy. Bacara fell backwards and scrambled to grab his blaster before any of the rebels could get to it first. He grabbed the grip and rolled onto his back, aiming up at whoever might have followed his movements. But there was no one there.

General Mundi stood in the middle of the room, the blue glow of his lightsaber illuminating the carnage around him. The insurgents were dead. All of them. Eight bodies lay scattered around the room, burning wounds bearing testament to their singular cause of death. General Mundi looked down at their prone bodies, his mouth turned downwards and his eyes sad.

“...General? Are you alright?” Bacara asked.

General Mundi turned yellow eyes to Bacara. “Yes, Bacara, thank you. It’s just a shame.”

“...Yes, sir.”

“Well then. Let’s free Captain Peke, shall we?”

Bacara got to his feet and he and General Mundi untied Captain Peke from the chair. Bacara called for help with cleanup through his comm, and in only a half hour they were debriefing in that very same command center as if nothing had happened. All throughout the debrief, though, Bacara could see the shadows of the bodies around the room.

#foxiyo #commander fox #riyo chuchi #star wars #fanfic #tcw #the clone wars

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charliejrogers · 4 years

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The Trial of the Chicago 7 (Or, Sorkin’s attempt to show you how nothing has changed in 52 years)

If you know anything about Aaron Sorkin, the much-acclaimed writer/creator of television shows like The West Wing, The Newsroom, you know that subtlety is not his strong suit. So, I was rather hesitant going into his newest film, The Trial of the Chicago 7, the infamous trial of eight gentlemen accused of conspiracy to incite violence/rioting in Chicago during the notorious 1968 DNC riots. Without diving too deep into the history, August 1968 was not Chicago’s finest hour. When the protesters chanted as a warning to the police, “The Whole World Is Watching!”, they weren’t wrong. Years ahead of the 24-hour news cycle, people all across America (and across the world) were glued to the TV watching the Chicago police beat the ever-living snot out of young folks protesting the Democratic Party’s decision to support the ever-controversial war in Vietnam. The film’s subject matter is sure to draw parallels to and resonate strongly with both the protests and civil unrest that took place this past summer following the death of George Floyd and countless other Black folk at the hands of police. So despite it’s appropriate timeliness, I was hesitant to watch this movie because I really wasn’t interested in watching Aaron Sorkin (who not only wrote but directed this film) try to mansplain to me that the trial of the Chicago 7 was all about injustice! Without knowing anything else about the trial beforehand (and I really didn’t), I already knew it’s a famous case of injustice. I wanted to watch the movie to learn about the people, the humans involved, and the nuance of the situation.

The film gets off to a rough start in the nuance department. After an effective montage introducing us to six of the eight members of the Chicago 7 (we’ll get to why there’s that numerical discrepancy), we meet the character who will be the lead prosecutor of the case: a straight-laced, clean-cut lawyer played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt. In an attempt to plant the seed early on that the eponymous trial is a sham, the first real scene of the film sees Gordon-Levitt meeting with Nixon’s newly appointment Attorney General John Mitchell who is pissed off that the prior AG didn’t resign from the office until an hour before Mitchell was confirmed. As retaliation, and in line with history’s understanding of Nixon’s pathologic paranoia, Mitchell decides to re-open the case exploring whether there was any conspiracy to incite riots in Chicago 1968. As JGL explains, this was something which Johnson’s AG as well as prior FBI investigations already decided did was not a viable case. The conversation that ensues is a little too on-the-nose. JGL shares his concerns that he doesn’t believe that the Chicago 7 are actually guilty, but Mitchell tells JGL, “then imagine how impressed I’ll be when you get a conviction.”

Of course, this conversation is largely a Sorkin invention, as is the weird decision to try to humanize the prosecutor played by Gordon-Levitt. I say "weird" because the film doesn’t do anything with it. We don’t get a real sense beyond that initial scene that JGL feels guilt or remorse for being a cog in the Nixon machine. The beginning of the film sets him up to be a similar character to David Schwimmer’s fascinating turn as Robert Kardashian in The People vs. O.J. Simpson. But in the end, it’s clear that Sorkin uses him just as a way in the beginning of the film to provide the thesis statement for the film, as if he were writing this script as a college term paper. This bothers me so much because it makes a late-film surprise appearance by Michael Keaton as Johnson’s AG lose a good deal of its impact. It would have been so much better if we as the audience came to the same revelation about the political origin of the trial at the same time that the defense lawyers did.

Sorkin’s lack of subtlety reared its ugly head in a few key moments that caused me to audibly groan while watching this film. Towards the end of the film, one of the more dramatic defendants, the merry prankster hippie Abbie Hoffman (played very well by Sacha Baron Cohen), is on the stand and is asked a particularly difficult question by the prosecution. He pauses. The prosecution asks what’s taking so long. Hoffman responds in a serious tone that runs opposite of his usual character, “Sorry, I’ve never been on trial for my thoughts before.” The film then slowly fades to black. I half-expected to hear the famous Law & Order “chun-chunn” sound next. That’s how cheesy and self-righteous the scene was.

The film’s ending too, where the defendants read off a list of all the fallen soldiers from Vietnam prior to their sentencing, felt a little too Hollywood to be believable… and indeed it didn’t happen that way. Elsewhere in the film, one of the more “prim and proper” defendants, the young head of the Students for a Democratic Society Thomas Hayden played by Eddie Redmayne, reflexively stands in honor of the judge’s exit as is court custom, forgetting that he and the rest of the defendants agreed not to stand. That’s not the bad part. The bad part comes later when Redmayne’s character travels to someone’s home and the Black maid who answers the door says to him, “I heard you were the only one to stand for the judge,” and then the camera just sorta lingers on her disappointment. We get it! The judge is a bad dude! Let’s move on!

Seriously, let’s move on. For all my griping, this is a very good movie. Those instances where Sorkin’s moral heavy-handedness is plain to see are so glaring because for the most part, the movie does a fantastic job of addressing the film’s (sadly still) politically controversial themes (police brutality, the culpability of protesters in starting riots, systemic racism, etc.) with a good deal of nuance. This mostly happens when Sorkin just sticks to the facts of the case, like when dealing with the whole saga of Bobby Seale, the eighth and only Black man of the Chicago 7. The day before the trial begins, Seale's lawyer required emergent surgery. Seale’s motion to have the trial postponed till he receive proper counsel is denied, as is his request to represent himself. Therefore, on trial without counsel, he frequently interrupts the court arguing about the unconstitutional nature of his trial, until the judge, played to chilling perfection by Frank Langella, becomes fed up with the interruptions and orders that Seale be bound, gagged, and chained to his chair. It’s a crazy powerful and uncomfortable scene, among the most haunting images I’ve seen in cinema. Finally, Seale’s case is determined to be a mistrial, changing the number of defendants from eight to seven. Hence, the Chicago 7.

But, the most inspired sequence of the film comes late in the movie when the defense gets wind of the prosecution’s plan to play a recording from the night of the riots where the prim and proper Tom Hayden can be (arguably) heard urging hundreds of listeners to “let blood flow all over the city.” Tom still believes that he would do well on the witness stand, but his defense lawyer (Mark Rylance as William Kuntsler) insists on showing him why this would be a bad idea. The ensuing scene sees Rylance role play the part of the prosecution cross-examining Hayden while the film intercuts scenes of a flashback of the actual events. the “truth” of that night, significantly muddies the water for this case. It by no means proves that the Chicago 7 are guilty of a conspiracy, but it certainly highlights the more human aspect of their situation. How is one expected to keep their calm when their best friend is beaten? And to what degree are people to be held responsible for decisions made in the heat of the moment?

The movie also has also interesting commentary on who should be the “face” or progressive politics, even today: the well-to-do and respectable Hayden or the in-your-face hippie comedian Hoffman? It’s an interesting question that never seems fully explored or resolved. Sorkin seems to land in the camp that Hayden’s respectability merely maintains status quo whereas Hoffman’s flagrant anti-establishment views is required for real change. But I don’t know how much of that is me just loving Cohen’s performance as Hoffman and finding Redmayne’s Hayden to be (appropriately) insufferably pretentious. Sorkin certainly gives Cohen the better lines.

Overall, this is a movie held up by its two primary strengths: its cast and its film structure. Aside from general inconsistencies of the script’s tone and the notable weakness I mentioned previously about overplaying the political motivation for the trial in the film's first 5 minutes, the film is nearly perfectly structured. We are sort of dropped in medias res into the trial and only get the facts of those few days shown to us in carefully placed flashbacks that help to flesh out the drama of the trial. It helps maintain pacing in what could have been a drag of a legal drama.

But really, it’s the cast and their performances that sell this movie. Sacha Baron Cohen is the star in my mind, so perfectly cast as Abbie Hoffman, but Frank Langella as the septuagenarian, prejudiced judge of the case is equally powerful. Yahya Abdul-Manteen II as the Black Panther Bobby Seale lends an air of desperate seriousness to the film, Eddie Redmayne shines as that white liberal dude who takes himself way too seriously, and Mark Rylance is wonderful as the courageous lead defense attorney, particularly in scenes dealing with Bobby Seale. While the whole trial weighs on him heavily as the film progresses, his genuine concern for Seale is palpable.

I spent much of this review telling you the things that were odd about this film, and I stand by that. But as I said, those things stand out because this is such a slick production that the cracks become that much more obvious. It largely avoids Sorkin’s penchant for blunt lack of nuance and offers a story that helps to greatly contextualize the very world we live in. It’s interesting that a story that sees ten men (including their lawyers) fail to win a fight against The Man still feels like an inspiring underdog tale. It resonated well with this viewer, especially as the ending makes clear that justice is eventually served. Yet, I recognize this may be a dangerous tale to tell these days, and why I think the movie is so successful is that it gives plenty of sobering evidence to suggest that justice (both then and now) is by no means guaranteed.

***/ (Three and a half out of four stars)

#trial of the chicago 7 #aaron sorkin #sacha baron cohen

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thesoobfiles · 4 years

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your highness – a. skywalker

Jealous! Anakin x Queen! Reader

Request: anon, could we get a jealous! anakin imagine?

Words: 4k

Summary: Reader is the queen of the alien planet, Roe’ Leor, a planet very rich in natural resources and starship fuel. It was previously a neutral system; however, the Republic has finally roped them in. In celebration and in honor of their alliance, the Queen has thrown a formal party to recognize this new friendship. Invitations extend to the royal family, the royal guard, royal officials as well as the staff, Republic Senators and the Jedi of course. After Ani’s met the Queen and after the dancing begins, Anakin gets jealous when he sees her dancing with another man…

A/N: I’ve been experiencing the BIGGEST writers block and lack of time to write and I’m SO sorry this took so long. I also had trouble trying to think of something that isn’t overplayed like jedi! reader and senator! reader... I’ve had this in my drafts for a week now and I apologize I haven’t published it until now... I hope it was worth the wait though :) A couple things I want to point out: 1) Roe’ Leor is a production of my imagination; it’s not a real planet in the Star War universe, 2) I imagine the handmaiden with a soft British accent, 3) you don’t really get to fill in a lot because you’re an alien and your skin color, eye color, etc. is already pre-determined, 4) the Roe’ Leor culture is like a mix of Indian and Haiwaiian (certain thinks like names and outfits) and 5) this Anakin is kind of like a mix between rots! Anakin and tcw! Anakin. I’m sorry I talk so much and enjoy! ~

I look out of my large bedroom window as my handmaiden, Lei, prepares me for the event tonight. I just love the blues and purples that color the sky when the suns set…

“I do as well, my lady.” Lei speaks up. I jump slightly at the sudden sound.

“I hadn’t realized I said that aloud…” I said, distractedly.

“Well, I’m glad you did, your majesty. The sound of your voice is always lovely to hear, no matter the scarcity.” She replies with a small smile on her face. I smile back at her. What a wonderful girl…

The thing about being Queen is I’m not allowed to speak, only under specific circumstances like negotiations. Hearing my voice should be ‘a privilege’. I think it’s nonsense; but until my request goes through Leadership, I must adhere to the rules…

Lei adjusts the pallu part of the sari and places the traditional red flower behind my ear. She spins me around to look in the full-length mirror and I smile. She always does such excellent work making sure I look presentable. I look at Lei in the mirror and whisper a ‘thank you’ in our native tongue.

“You are quite welcome, your highness.” She smiles and bows before leaving my presence.

I look in the mirror once more and really take in my appearance. The amber color of the sari and petticoat really compliments my green eyes and the vermillion of the choli, fine stitching and border look exquisite against my light orange skin. To top the whole look off, my hair is loose, free to fall in waves upon my shoulders. Luckily, it doesn’t take too much away from the golden jewelry that adorns my body; the delicate necklace hanging upon my neck and the simple, yet elegant bangles that slip towards my wrist. If there’s one thing I love about being Queen, it’s the fun I have while dressing up.

When I’m done admiring Lei’s handiwork, I straighten my back and head for the main room of the palace; where the event is being held.

Outside my door, as I expected, are two of my most trusted bodyguards – who double as my governesses – to escort me; however, what I didn’t expect was for a women from Leadership waiting for me as well. I bow politely and she bows back.

“Your grace, I’ve come before you to inform you that your request has been received and approved.” She says with a relaxed expression and a small smile.

“That’s wonderful. Thank you for bringing me this information.” I reply, beyond jovial as a smile breaks out on my face.

“It was my pleasure, your majesty. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” She bows and leaves me with my escorts.

Overjoyed that I can now speak as I please, I hug both of them.

“Alani, Kaila, I never thought I’d see the day.” I express my extreme happiness with the information I just received.

“We’re happy for you, your highness.” Alani replies with a smile on her face.

“We’re glad your request went through successfully.” Kaila says as she pats my back.

I give them another squeeze before I straighten up, dust off my sari and clear my throat.

“C’mon ladies, we have a party to attend.”

As I walk forwards, Alani and Kaila follow suit. We make a beeline for the balcony area of the staircase and wait just behind the doorway for my cue to enter. I can already hear the noise of my guests and the party started but a few minutes ago.

- 15 minutes earlier –

“Halt.” A guard in front of the palace stops us.

“Names.” She demands and she looks at her scroll.

“Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight.” I say in a nonchalant tone and flash her my invitation. She looks at me, at the invitation and at her scroll. She nods and looks at Obi-Wan.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master.” He says politely as he too shows his invitation. The guard nods and I proceed to make my way inside only to walk into her arm. I look up at her.

“Is there a problem?” I ask, eyebrow raised in hopes of getting some answers.

“You must change your attire before entering the Queen’s palace.” She responds. Before I could open my mouth to ask my question, a women that appears to be a handmaiden approaches us with clothing in hand. Then, it dawned on me.

“This would explain why we were measured last week.” Obi-Wan voiced my thoughts as he takes his suit and I take mine.

“You may change your clothing in the rooms to the left.” She states with an authoritative tone and resumes her duties as the guard; checking the next guests invitation.

Obi-Wan and I head over to a small shack.

“Doesn’t look like much.” I comment on the rough exterior of the ‘building’.

Obi-Wan chuckles, “Wait until you see inside.” I furrow my eyebrows in confusion and push the door open. My eyes widened at the sight before me. The outside is an injustice to the interior. It was magnificently structured and much larger on the inside. The small palace was completely empty except for four decently-sized ‘rooms’ in the middle of the structure.

“Never judge a book by its cover, Anakin; Leori technology isn’t anything to bat your eyes at.” He says condescendingly as he goes to change.

“Yes, master.” I reply as I walk over to the changing ‘room’. Can it even be called a room? All of the ‘walls’ are made of curtains.

I walk inside and shed the many layers of my Jedi robes along with my boots, belt and lightsaber.

“What do you know about this party, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks from his changing ‘room’.

“The Queen of Roe’ Leor has thrown this party has an act of goodwill to celebrate the alliance between the Republic and Roe’ Leor.” I say, repeating the words of the Jedi Council from earlier that week.

I gingerly pull on the blue button-up and thin black jacket that accompanies it.

“Have you ever met her?” He asks.

“The Queen? No. I hear it’s a privilege to even hear her speak much less be in her presence.” I recall from one of the many briefings on Leori culture.

I slide on the black slacks as well as the black pointed shoes and clip my lightsaber to one of the belt loop of the pants. I walk out the same time Obi-Wan does.

I look at him and raise my eyebrow to accompany my smirk, “Don’t you clean up nicely, master.” I say in a joking manner. Obi-Wan is dressed in similar clothing, just with different colors. His button up is a light brown while his suit jacket, pants and shoes are all a darker shade of the same color; like his Jedi robes.

He rolls his eyes at my comment then makes his way out of the shack and over to the entrance. I walk behind him and we walk back over to the guard.

She looks us up and down, “Proceed.” She says after she recognizes us and deems our outfits acceptable.

We walk inside and look around. Music similar to what was playing in Hondo’s bar plays softly in the background as the people make conversation. I notice that some members of the Jedi Council, such as Mace Windu and Plo Koon have already arrived and have switched their usual attire for suits. The majority of the people in attendance are Leori; however I do spot the occasional Senator and Jedi.

“Did you know that Roe’ Leor is predominantly female and that’s why they have a Queen instead of a King?” Obi-Wan pipes up from beside me as he examines the room and takes a bite of food from his plate.

“I did not…” I trail off and instead of looking at their species, I look at their gender and notice he’s right. The majority of the Leori are women. The men only seem to be caterers and the occasional official.

A horn of some sort is blown from the balcony of the staircase. The attendees quiet down and move their attention to a small girl, no more than the age of a youngling.

“Please welcome her royal highness, Queen (L/N).” She says in a high-pitched voice as ‘Queen (L/N)’ emerges from the doorway on the left. She looks…magnificent. She’s younger than I expected her to be.

The yellow and red of her sari compliments her skin well. She strolls over to the balcony and stands between her two bodyguards elegantly. Applause erupts from the crowd. Both guards hold a hand out and the applause ceases.

“Good evening, people of Roe’ Leor and representatives of the Republic. As you all know, I’ve thrown this party to celebrate our newfound friendship with the Republic. I hope you enjoy your evening as well as make friends with our new partners.” She finishes and descends down the stairs. Thunderous applause erupts once more from the people in attendance.

“I thought the Queen wasn’t allowed to speak?” I ask Obi-Wan with confusion, never taking my eyes off of her.

“Must have been a recent change in their rules…” Obi-Wan mused, stroking his beard.

“Oh.” I respond simply as I take notice that the bodyguard’s leave Queen (L/N)’s side as she greets some politicians. She talks with them for a short amount of time before she scans the room and her eyes on land on me.

I bow as I finish my conversation with Senator Poli and Representative Jeeloy. I’ve made it my goal to introduce myself to every Republic attendee as to become familiar with one another and explain the new rule put into place by Leadership. I look around the large space and my eyes land on a rather handsome young man who already appears to be staring in my direction. I suppose I’ve found my next conversation.

I walk over to him and his eyes never leave me. A regular man would have already looked away in fear or insecurity; an interesting specimen indeed…

“Good evening gentlemen.” I say as I bow before the young man and his slightly older companion.

Now that I’m within a closer proximity, the young man is quite attractive for a Jedi. He has dirty blonde hair that falls in waves at his shoulders. His eyes are a blue so magnificent, I’ve only ever seen it in the majestic waves of our ocean. His skin is a flawless tan color and his lips look as plush as a pillow.

“My name is Anakin Skywalker, but you can call me Anakin, your highness.” The young man, Anakin, says as he bows. He grabs my hand and places a chaste kiss upon it. I can already feel my heart racing at his actions. He releases my hand, but he never takes his striking blue eyes off of me.

“Your majesty, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” The older man, Obi-Wan, also bows.

“May I say, both of your names are quite unique?” I comment on the names they’ve given me.

“Thank you, my lady. May I ask yours?” Anakin questions me.

“(Y/N) (L/N)…”

“(Y/N)…” He whispers under his breath.

“…but no one every addresses me as such as it is customary to address me as ‘Queen (L/N)’ or other terms of respect including ‘your grace’, ‘your highness’, ‘your majesty’, ‘my lady’ and so forth...” I finish, matter-of-factly.

“Of course, my lady.” Anakin says as the mischievousness of a thousand younglings cross his eyes.

“How are you enjoying the party so far, Mr. Kenobi?” I ask, shifting my attention to his friend as the look he’s giving me makes my heart beat a little too fast for my taste.

“Please, Obi-Wan, your majesty. We are partners, not strangers.” He corrects me.

I nod in return, “Of course, Obi-Wan.” He continues.

“I must say, you’ve thrown a lovely party.” He comments as he scans the crowd.

“Thank you; do you like the food?” I ask, looking at both Anakin and Obi-Wan this time, “I heard many of these foods are popular on Coruscant, the Republic capital...”

“The food is excellent, your grace. Nothing to worry about.” He says reassuringly with a small smile.

“Wonderful.” I reply, returning his smile. “Before I forget, if you’ve been briefed on our culture, you’ll know I’m not normally permitted to speak; however, a change in the rules have been made by both Leadership and myself.” I say, clearing up any confusion if there was any.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me…” I begin.

“Obi-Wan,” I say while nodding in his direction, “Anakin.” I look in his direction.

“I must acquaint myself with the other patrons.” I bow.

“Of course, your highness.” Obi-Wan replies.

“Don’t let us distract you from your royal duties.” Anakin comments with a smile. I smile back and start walking to find the next Jedi or Senator.

- 30 minutes later –

After half an hour of walking and talking, I think I need a break. I pull a chair from one of the many tables in the hall and take a seat. I take a deep breath and exhale.

I’ve already spoken with all of the members of the Jedi Council, 8 Jedi Knights and their padawans and 300 congressmen and women and that’s not even half.

The dancing will begin shortly, so I hope I get to rest my feet for just a few minutes…

Not too long into my relaxing, I hear two chairs being pulled out. I take a deep breath, straighten my posture and put on a smile. I look up to see Kaila and Alani slumped in their chairs. I break out into a real smile and relax my shoulders.

“Hello ladies, you guys look as exhausted as I am and it hasn’t even been an hour.” I joke.

Kaila laughs exhaustedly, “Do you know how many touchy Senators we’ve had to shoo away from the poor female attendees? That Orn Free Taa? Too touchy for my liking…” I laugh.

“The men of the Republic need etiquette.” Alani agrees with closed eyes.

“Perhaps not all of them…” I say quietly. At my addition, both Kaila and Alani open their eyes and straighten up excitedly, forgetting their exhaustion.

“Oh?” Kaila asks with a smirk. I now realize my addition was a mistake; not only are Alani and Kaila my caretakers, but they are also my best friends and unfortunately love gossip.

“Do tell of the well-mannered men you’ve encountered this evening.” Alani urges with her elbows on the table and her hands underneath her chin.

“Well…” I start, going through my evening so far, “Senator Organa and Senator Farr were very polite, unlike the Senators you’ve had to deal with.” I counter with triumph.

“I’ve also met multiple Jedi who were nothing but well-mannered and polite.”

“Like who?” Kaila pushed.

“Like-like Master Mace Windu.” I reply, “Master Yoda and Master Obi-Wan Kenobi…”

“…and Anakin Skywalker.” I finish off quiet, voice uneven. Just saying his name makes my voice waver. I’ve never met a man who’s had this kind of effect on me before…

“Anakin Skywalker…” Alani repeats, “If I remember correctly he came last week with Master Kenobi for his fitting…”

“A rather handsome young man…” Kaila repeats my words from earlier.

Suddenly, I hear the ringing of a single bell signifying the beginning of the first dance. I quickly stand up, “Excuse me!” I say quickly and loudly as I rush to the balcony. I’m not even out of earshot when I hear them giggling.

I take deep breaths to steady my heartrate while I climb the stairs. I reach the top and clear my throat and the audience quiets down.

“The ringing of the first bell indicates the first of two dances. For the first dance, Leori will dance with Leori and this is the same for the people of the Republic. This illustrates our situations before our alliance. For the second dance, it will be mixed. It is mandatory for a Leori to dance with someone of the Republic and vice-versa. This illustrates our situation after our alliance. You have 5 minutes to choose your partner if you wish to dance as the first dance is not mandatory.” I finish and descend the steps for the second time this evening.

I stop at the foot of the stairs and weigh my options. I could a) return to my table and get pestered about Anakin or b) women up and find a partner.

Before I decide what to do, a familiar voice cuts into my thoughts.

“It’s been a while, sis.” A male voice announces. I look to my right and see my older brother, (B/N), with his arms open.

A huge smile replaces my thoughtful look and I rush into his arms, “Brother! What are you doing here?” I ask excitedly and squeeze him.

He wheezes, “I could tell you if I could breathe.” He manages; I immediately release him, “Sometimes you don’t even recognize your own strength, (N/N).” He says using my childhood nickname as he rubs his sides.

“You forget, I married a Senator of the Republic after I refused the throne?” (B/N) reminds me; even though our planet is predominantly female, he is older and would have been next in line.

“Ah, yes. I was so busy with the preparation of the party. It slipped my mind…” I admit, “How have you been? Is the money I sent enough? Do you need more? If you do, I can-“

“(Y/N), calm down. I’m fine and the money you sent is enough; I don’t need anymore, trust me.” He reassures me, “We can catch up later; for now, may I have this dance…” He asks, extending his hand towards me. I raise my eyebrow at him.

“…your highness?” He adds. I smile, glad he hasn’t forgotten the ways of our people.

The horn sounds as the classical music played by the orchestra in the sound room begins to play over the speakers. The first dance has begun.

The music has started to play signifying the beginning of the first dance. I’ve decided to sit this one out as the only other person I really know, Padmé, already has a partner. I sit at a table and sip my flute of one of the lighter alcoholic beverages being severed; as a Jedi, I should always be on my toes.

I scan the crowd when my eyes land on the Queen, who appears to be dancing with a man at least half a foot taller then her. The man she’s dancing with is attractive, to say the least. He has elegant features and whatever he’s saying to her makes her laugh; a laugh most likely so scarce only a select group of people ever get to hear it.

What is he saying that’s so funny? I thought when I heard the shattering of my glass. I guess my jealously paired with my prosthesis isn’t necessarily a good mix. Luckily, my beverage only spilled into the plate below with few drops of it on the tablecloth. I disregard my drink and return my attention to the Queen. Her partner spins her and she seems to be having a great time. It’s hard to be jealous when she smiles like that…

My thoughts are cut off when the music stops. The two separate and they bow before the Queen ascends the stairs. She’s most likely announcing the second dance… I suppose that’s my cue; good thing I did my research...

“I hope you had a lovely time with your first partner; however, it is now time to choose your second. The second dance will begin shortly. You have 5 minutes to choose your next partner.” I announce and descend the stairs for, hopefully, the last time. I reach the foot of the stairs when a Senator approaches me.

“Would you like to dance, your majesty?” he asks.

“No thank you.” I respond politely. He nods and walks away. Another Senator walks up, one from Ryloth.

“Care to dance, your highness?” He asks with his hand extended in my direction.

“I’ll have to pass, Senator.” I reply. He looks at me and rolls his eyes as he walks away.

“Excuse me, my lady.” A voice intervenes; not a familiar voice, but one I’ve heard before. I turn around to be met with Anakin Skywalker.

“Anakin.” I say, hopefully.

He smiles at me, “May I have this dance…” He extends his hand to me, “…your highness?” I smile and rest my hand in is, “You may.”

The horn sounds again as another song plays over the speakers. Something along the lines of classical and tango; a rather interesting mix to describe the alliance between us.

“If I may, did you really know how to ask me to dance or was it luck?” I ask out of curiousity as he leads me to the dance floor. He grabs my hand with his right and places his left on my waist. He pulls me close and whispers in my ear, “I knew.” At this, my heartrate picks up once more.

He resume our dance at normal distance.

“Your grace, if I may, who were you dancing with earlier?” Anakin asks as we continue to glide across the floor.

“Oh, that was my brother, (B/N). Many think he’s given up his prince status, but he merely rejected king status and still remains crown prince of Roe’ Leor.” I inform him, thinking nothing of the question.

“I see. So, your majesty, are you aware of the dangers that come with being partnered with the Republic?”

“Yes. Since Roe’ Leor is no longer a neutral system, the Separatists will now target us given our change in position.”

“Have you increased your security?” He asks as he dips me.

“Tripled.” I respond as he lifts me back up.

“Has the Republic asked about outposts?

“Yes.”

“And your answer?”

“Anakin Skywalker, did you ask me to dance for business of for pleasure?” I ask, finally feeling more comfortable in his presence.

“Officially, business.” He responds as he spins me similar to how (B/N) spun me earlier.

“Unofficially?” I ask. He smiles at me and whispers in my ear with a sultriness that makes my heart melt, “Pleasure.” Then, as he dips me, the last note of the song is played.

He brings me back to a standing position.

“It was a pleasure dancing with you, Anakin Skywalker.” I say as I bow, still a little disoriented from his answer.

“Please,” he bows and grabs my hand similar to our first meeting, “the pleasure was mine.” and he kisses it.

“We’ll see more of each other in the future, your highness.” He gives me a jaunty salute then walks over to Obi-Wan.

Never in my life have I ever wanted a man so badly.

Little did I know, even though I made my comment internally, Anakin was still close enough to listen in on my thoughts and walked away with a smile on his face...

I leave the Queen to return to her queenly duties and walk over to Obi-Wan.

“You looked rather cozy dancing with the Queen.” He noted.

“Really? I didn’t notice…” I replied coyly.

“Let’s just hope that you haven’t ruined our friendship when it’s only just begun.” He states as he makes his way over to Master Yoda.

I smile and look back at the Queen and she’s talking to her bodyguards.

Farewell, your highness. Until our next meeting…

The Queen’s eyes widen and her attention is turned towards me. I smile at her and she smiles back.

Farewell, Anakin Skywalker. Until we meet again.

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Did Democrats Or Republicans Founded The Kkk

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Did Democrats Or Republicans Founded The Kkk

The Kkk Was Founded By Democrats But Not The Party

Democrats Founded the KKK.mp4

The Ku Klux Klan was founded in 1866 by ex-Confederate soldiers Frank McCord, Richard Reed, John Lester, John Kennedy, J. Calvin Jones and James Crowe in Pulaski, Tennessee. The group was originally a social club but quickly became a violent white supremacist group.

Its first grand wizard was Nathan Bedford Forrest, an ex-Confederate general and prominent slave trader.

Fact check:

Experts agree the KKK attracted many ex-Confederate soldiers and Southerners who opposed Reconstruction, most of whom were Democrats. Forrest even spoke at the 1868 Democratic National Convention.

The KKK is almost a paramilitary organization thats trying to benefit one party. It syncs up with the Democratic Party, which really was a;racist party openly at the time, Grinspan said. But the KKK isnt the Democratic Party, and the Democratic Party isnt the KKK.

Although the KKK did serve the Democratic Partys interests, Grinspan stressed that not all Democrats supported the KKK.

The Anti-Defamation Leagues Center on Extremism senior fellow Mark Pitcavage told the Associated Press that many KKK members were Democrats because the Whig Party had died off and Southerners disliked Republicans after the Civil War. Despite KKK members’ primary political affiliation, Pitcavage said it is wrong to say the Democratic Party started the KKK.

Fact check:Yes, historians do teach that first Black members of Congress were Republicans

The Conservative Coalition Vs The New Deal Coalition

Now that we know the basics, the changes in both parties in the 1900s are perhaps best understood by examining;the Conservative Coalition;and the New Deal Coalition.

The Conservative Coalition was a coalition between the anti-Communist Republicans like Nixon and Reagan and conservative Southern Democrats. It arose to oppose FDRs New Deal progressivism, and it blocked a lot of the progressive legislation the New Deal Coalition tried to pass from the 1930s to the 1960s. The socially conservative solid south;was still its own entity. It sometimes voted;with other Democrats, and sometimes broke off into its own factions. See the 1960 election Kennedy v. Nixon v. Harry F. Byrd. The Coalition tellingly dwindled post 64 Civil Rights and ended in the Clinton era as conservative southerners became Republicans and formed;the modern construct of the Red States and the Blue States.

Meanwhile,;the New Deal coalition explains the progressive coalition of Democrats and Republicans the Conservative coalition opposed. Today the two parties largely resemble these coalitions.

A Summary Of The Solid South Switch

To summarize the above claims before we get to the details:

In 1860 the Democratic Party Platforms were about Small Government and States Rights, and the more aristocratic Republican Platform about Federal Power and Collective;Rights, but by;2016, the opposite is;true .

This is because the conservative south and old Republican Progressives can be said to have switched parties in reaction;to events that occurred from the Gilded Age to the Bush and Clinton years. These changes that are well symbolized by the 1968 election, but not explained by that alone.

To understand what changed, we must become familiar with;people like W. J. Bryan, Teddy, Harding, Coolidge, and Hoover, Henry A. Wallace, Strom Thurmond, FDR, MLK, and Hoover. We must look at the Red Scare, the Dixiecrat States Rights Parties, Civil Rights, Voting Rights, Nixons Southern Strategies, the New Deal Coalition and Conservative Coalition, etc. See;Democrats and Republicans Switched Platforms.

The full story aside, in the early days:

Populist social liberals used to ally with the populist socially conservative solid south .

The social liberal elite like Gouverneur Morris and Alexander Hamilton were in the Federalist party with classical conservative Tory-like figures and factions.

That pairing;of factions is either hopeful or a blight on history, depending on your perspective.

How the South Went Republican: Can Democrats Ever Win There Again? .

Also Check: Is Red The Color Of Republicans

In The Wake Of Trump’s David Duke Controversy Many Republicans Have Tried To Tie The Kkk To Progressivism

Its not news that Donald Trump appeals to white supremacists and his slowness in rebuking former Ku Klux Klan grand wizard David Dukes support hardly qualifies as surprising at this point. Whats instructive is how right-wing figures react. Earlier this week, political troglodyte Jeffrey Lord attempted to deflect criticism by calling the Klan a leftist terrorist organization perpetuating violence to further the progressive agenda.

That, of course, is entirely wrong. A short lesson in the basics of 20th;century American political history explains why.

White supremacist Southern Democrats were a key part of President Franklin D. Roosevelts New Deal Coalition. They used their large numbers, unity and seniority to exclude as many black people from as much of the New Deal benefits and protections as possible and to stop the federal government from doing anything about lynching. Then the black freedom movement and white allies insisted on civil rights. In reactionary response, those white southern Democrats left the Democratic Party en masse, as evidenced by Strom Thurmonds Dixiecrat presidential campaign in 1948 and Richard Nixons opposition to school busing and play for segregationist Alabama Gov. George Wallaces constituency.

White southern Democrats were explicit about their racism, and its no mystery that they left the party when it yielded to civil rights movement pressure, and as blacks began to make up a larger part of its constituency.

Did The American Political Parties Switch Clarifying The Semantics

People often ask,;did the American political parties switch?, but this question is semantically wrong, and thus we should address it before moving on.

Parties can switch general platforms and ideologies .

Voters can switch parties .

However,;the parties themselves only switch when they hang-up their hat to become a new party;.

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Southernization Urbanization And Big Government Vs Small Government

Today the Republican party doesnt have a notable progressive left-wing and the Democratic Party doesnt have a notable socially conservative right-wing.

Instead both parties have establishment and populist wings and the parties are divided by stances on social issues.

In other words, regional interests and the basic political identities of liberal and conservative didnt change as much as factions changed parties as party platforms changed along with America.

The modern split is expressed well by;the left-right paradigm Big Government Progressivism vs. Small Government Social Conservatism, where;socially conservative and pro-business conservative factions banded together against socially liberal and pro business liberal factions, to push back against an increasingly progressive Democratic Party and America .

This tension largely created the modern parties of our two-party system, resulting in two Big Tents;who disagree on the purposes of government;and social issues. This tension is then magnified by the;current influence of media and lobbyists, and can be understood by examining;what I call;the Sixth Party Strategy and by a tactic called Dog Whistle Politics).

The result is that today the Democratic Party is dominated by liberal Democrats and Progressives.

Meanwhile, most of those who would have been the old;socially conservative Democrats now have a R next to their name.

Read Also: Is The Media Biased Against Republicans

Great Depression Shrinks Klan

The Great Depression in the 1930s depleted the Klans membership ranks, and the organization temporarily disbanded in 1944. The civil rights movement of the 1960s saw a surge of local Klan activity across the South, including the bombings, beatings and shootings of Black and white activists. These actions, carried out in secret but apparently the work of local Klansmen, outraged the nation and helped win support for the civil rights cause.;

READ MORE: How Billie Holiday’s ‘Strange Fruit’ Confronted an Ugly Era of Lynchings

In 1965, President Lyndon Johnson delivered a speech publicly condemning the Klan and announcing the arrest of four Klansmen in connection with the murder of a white female civil rights worker in Alabama. The cases of Klan-related violence became more isolated in the decades to come, though fragmented groups became aligned with neo-Nazi or other right-wing extremist organizations from the 1970s onward.;

As of 2016, the Anti-Defamation League estimated Klan membership to be around 3,000, while the Southern Poverty Law Center said there were 6,000 members total.

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Limited Government States Rights And Anti

Had the populist liberals, who agreed with;limited government but did not agree fully on social issues, not aligned, there would have been a Federalist dominance in early America. The;dominant factions would have been northern know-nothing-like nativists, social progressive Roosevelt-like or Hamilton-like elites, and quasi-loyalist Aristocrats like Adams.

The founders were not pro-slavery. However, slavery;was part of the culture and economy of many nations; the South was one such region.

Abolishing slavery meant crippling the Souths votes and industry. This was the;main argument for slavery by the Solid South historically. It;didnt stop the abolitionists like Hamilton from pushing for the abolition of slavery;as;he pushed for a central bank or federal control . However, it did result in many key compromises from the 1770s to mid-1800s.

A Reconstituted Early 20th Century Kkk Attracts Members From Both Sides

The Inconvenient Truth About the Democratic Party

After Reconstruction, and as the Jim Crow period set in during the 1870s, the Klan became obsolete.;Through violence, intimidation and systematic oppression, the KKK had served its purpose to help whites retake Southern governments.

In 1915, Cornell William J. Simmons restarted the KKK. This second KKK was made up of Republicans and Democrats, although Democrats were more widely involved.

The idea that these things overlap in a Venn diagram, the way they did with the first Klan, just isnt as tight with the second Klan, Grinspan said.

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Why It Doesnt Make Sense To Equate Modern Democrats With The Old Southern Democrats

The Democrats, formally the;anti-Federalists,;had an;aversion to aristocracy from the late 1700s to the progressive era.

That truism;led to the southern conservatives of the solid south like;John C. Calhoun and small government liberals like Thomas Jefferson, Andrew Jackson, and Martin Van Buren allying;in the same party;for most of U.S. history.

However,;that changed;after Civil Rights under LBJ and the rise of Goldwater States Rights Republicans .

Today the solid south, and figures like Jeff Sessions, are in an alliance in the big tent of the Republican Party . This was as much a response to the growing progressiveness of the Democratic Party as anything.

One simple way to confirm this is to look at the factions of;Lincolns time. There were four. They;were:

The Northern liberal Whig/Republicans,

The;Nativist Know-Nothing; allies of the Whig/Republicans,

The Southern Democrats and their Northern allies , and

The;Free Soil;;allies of the Democrats who;took a libertarian like position.

Todays Democrats are more like socially liberal Whig/Republicans , libertarians are like Free Soilers , Trumpians are like Nativist Know-Nothings , and Southern Democrats are like the modern Southern conservative Republicans.

The current parties are thus:

Social Liberals and Neoliberals vs. Social Conservatives and Neoliberal Conservatives AKA Neocons .

Clearly, the country has never been fully polarized, even at its most polarized.

Military Reconstruction And The Birth Of The Kkk

After the Civil War, during Reconstruction, the northern elite Radical Republican Progressives used the military to force the south to reform. At the time the Deep South used things like apprenticeship laws to extend slavery past the end of the War. The KKK took a;stand in defense of the old Southern way of life in a society divided by murder, military occupation, and;mayhem.

To be clear, Military Reconstruction is a term that;describes;the occupation of the South, and the KKK;formed as a response to it.

From that point on the South becomes Redeemed by Southern BourbonsAKA Northern Oligarchs who help the South;replace slave labor with wage labor.

The above might;be viewed less critically;if it wasnt for a notable speed bump:

Before Reconstruction could end naturally, in 1877, the Republican establishment traded the reformation of a few southern states for the Presidency when Tilden beat the Republican Hayes.

At that point, the Gilded Age began.;Gilded Age Republicans Redeemed the South and liked to be seen as putting aside the issue of race to focus on modernization and becoming a superpower.

The Gilded age gave way to the Progressive era. And in those eras, most of the country again minimized;issues of;race to focus on;other minority rights such as womens rights. Then, after that came the World Wars.

Radical Republicans From PBSs Reconstruction: The 2nd Civil War.

Don’t Miss: Who Gives More Democrats Or Republicans

The Rise Of Modern Social Liberalism And Social Conservatism

Later we get a third way with Bill Clintons New Democrats. This third way is an extension;of the;progressive bourbon liberal wing, but mashed-up with the progressive social liberal wing, and Reagan-era;conservatism. These three social liberal ideologies which Clinton embodied can collectively be referred to as an;American liberalism. These factions, which we can today denote as;progressive, neoliberal, and social liberal, can be used to differentiate types of liberals on the political left from the New Deal Coalition and the modern Democratic party of today.

TIP: As noted above in the introduction, there is no one way to understand Americas political ideologies, but each angle we look at things from helps us to better understand;bits of the historic puzzle.

Outside The United States

Aside from the Ku Klux Klan in Canada, there have been various attempts to organize KKK chapters outside the United States.

In Australia in the late 1990s, former One Nation member Peter Coleman established branches throughout the country, and circa 2012 the KKK has attempted to infiltrate other political parties such as Australia First.

Recruitment activity has also been reported in the United Kingdom.

In Germany, a KKK-related group, Ritter des Feurigen Kreuzes , was established in the 1920s. After the Nazis took over Germany, the group disbanded and its members joined the Nazis. Another German KKK-related group, the European White Knights of the Ku Klux Klan, has organized and it gained notoriety in 2012 when the German media reported that two police officers who held membership in the organization would be allowed to keep their jobs.

A Ku Klux Klan group was established in Fiji in the early 1870s by white American settlers, although its operations were quickly put to an end by the British who, although not officially yet established as the major authority of Fiji, had played a leading role in establishing a new constitutional monarchy that was being threatened by the activities of the Fijian Klan.

In São Paulo, Brazil, the website of a group called Imperial Klans of Brazil was shut down in 2003, and the group’s leader was arrested.

You May Like: When Did The Republicans And Democrats Switch Platforms

The Rise Of America First Nativism: Anti

During the 1830s to 1850s, as tension builds, third parties spring up like the northern nativist Know-Nothings;. This faction;pushed back against immigration in places like NYC and was more likely to be allied with the Whigs than the Democrats.

The conflict between Catholic immigrants and Know-Nothings is;the subject of the movie Gangs of New York.

These Know-Nothings were like a Northern version of the KKK but were notably;more concerned with immigration than slavery.;The soon-to-be KKK and the earlier;Know-Nothings shared an aversion to Catholics, Jews, non-whites, and non-Protestants in general, but much else was different.

The Know-Nothings were accused of being in bed with;Northern abolitionists,;and;their American party really never;caught on in the south due to them being perceived as more elitist and northern.

Thus, although each region breaks into;different groups, one should note that the slavery south is not;the only faction with socially conservative position, and certainly, they arent the only authoritative group. Remember, they are opposing northern elitists who are perpetuating their brand;of economic and political inequality.

Looking To The Classics And Factions For Proof

One good and not-so-divisive way to explain history is to look at the classics, especially those who focus on state-based political factions over political parties.

Classic works of this sort of political history, like V.O. Keys Southern Politics in State and Nation , make it very clear that the Solid South had historically always voted lock-step for the Democratic Party . Of course, the voting map over time, actual recorded history, and so much else tell this story too, but a well respected book like this is a great secondary source!

Today the Solid South is with the Republican Party and today old Socially Progressive Republicans like Teddy arent in the party .

This isnt to say that some of the more progressive Dixies, Bryan followers, and even economically minded Southern;Bourbons arent in the Democratic Party, they obviously are, just look at Carter, Clinton, Gore, and Bernie .

Likewise, the GOP have their constants. The;conservative Federalist pro-business faction, the neocons be they switched Bourbons, Gilded Age post-Reconstruction Republicans, or traditional Federalists, and the Federalist War Hawks are still in the Republican Party, as are the nativists;of the north Know-Nothings.

However, despite what didnt change, a ton did, including the party platforms, key factions, and a large swath of the voter base.

Modern Democrats know this well, they lost the 2016;election and didnt get one state in the Southern Bloc for Hillary .

Read Also: Democrats Have Tried To Impeach Every Republican President Since Eisenhower

A Century Of Jim Crow But Otherwise Lots Of Progress

From 1877 to at least the 1960s, the Solid South KKK-like;Progressively Socially Conservative Democrats remained a formidable faction of the Democratic Party.

This is true even though the party was increasingly dominated by Progressives like William Jennings Bryan. We can see in Wilson that both factions held sway in the party, Wilson was both a progressive liberal and a son of the Confederates.

The Rise and Fall of Jim Crow | PBS | ep 1 of 4 Promises Betrayed.

TIP: During the late 1800s and early 1900s Eugenics was a popular theory. In this era, we might find;Margaret Sanger, liberal economists and social scientists, Teddy Roosevelt, Henry Ford, a young Hitler, and the KKK all agreeing on aspects of eugenics. There are many sides;of the eugenics argument, and one must study its history in earnest before making a judgment call. Very;radical right-wing propaganda equated birth control with;genocide, but there was a wide range of beliefs. An espousal of;negative eugenics is part of the dark history of the Democratic party.

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gabriel4sam · 3 years

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For your celebration of "And then he wakes up...", could you write something on either Jangobi + tooka, or a Ventrobi timeloop, please?

Under the cut, a small Obi-Wan/Asajj Ventress fic, with time travel fix-it!

Asajj is busy inside the motors of her ship when it happens. The little beast roars like no other and can outlast the most determined other bounty hunter, or idiotic imperial, but fickle is a too nice word for it. Half of her money is spent on pieces.

So, here she is, oil on her arms and a swear on her lips when something explodes in the Force. It’s so ferocious and intense that she bashes her head on metal so hard she probably gives herself a concussion, then only has the time to reach for the bucket full of oil she just used to bath a recalcitrant butterfly valve and she’s violently ill.

She reaches into the Force with wobbly intent and is meet with weeping and distress. Something monstrous just happened.

Once before, once only, Asajj sensed such lament, just after Order 66, when the Force mourned Its children. Only, there are no more Jedi to genocide, the Inquisitors, Vader and bounty hunters took care of it. But not Asajj, never Asajj, those bounties, she never took, even if she refused to examine the reason why. But today, the Force had been shaken in a very similar way. What sort of horrors could have been so terrible to be felt this way?

The answer is on the Holonet only minutes after. The Empire really wants people to know about its new toy, this planet killer born of a nightmare.

A whole world. Alderaan is no more, Alderaan of the shining culture, of the precious beauty, Alderaan with its poetry, with its literature, its theatre and songs and food, with its ideas and its history. Alderaan, the world who fought so hard, always, for the disenfranchised, for the slaves, for the forgotten. Alderaan, who always opened its doors to refugee and voted following its heart in the Senate, its Senators the last bastions of resistance in a sea of sycophants.

Alderaan and its millions of sentients, and its billions of life force.

Asajj feels very old and very tired. If she was the sort of self-righteous idiot prone to this sort of gesture, she would probably search and join for the Rebel Alliance on the spot, but she’s smarter than that.

That night, she still buys herself a very, very nice vintage, quite decided to drink herself into stupor. Sometimes, that’s the only thing to do, if not done too often. She’s in that dangerous state for a Force User, not passed out but drunk enough her control on her powers is not the same, her shields not so tights, when she feels the Light flares. She reaches out, more reflex than decision.

“Ventress!” Someone calls in the void, surprised to feel someone reaching out, and the voice brings back memories of a taunting smile and grey eye and then it’s snuffed out.

Asajj sits up, terribly sober. Wherever he was, Obi-Wan Kenobi just died. In any other time, she wouldn’t have feel it, but tonight, drunk and tired, and with so little Force sensitive beings left. She never liked the guy but to her surprise, she feels a wave of grief. She almost reaches for the bottle again, but decides against it. This night, her dreams are plagued by memories and she sleeps so poorly that the next morning, she doesn’t question it when the ship’s hyper drive acts out again. Exasperated, she opens the compartment, searches for the reason of the problem….By the Force, how much did the resonance in the Force of Alderaan’s blowing up affect her? She would have sworn she had done a better job than that, it’s exactly like…. She needs a holiday. Something safe and quiet and far, very far away from the Empire blowing up entire worlds and killing old enemies who were of the last people in the whole galaxy who knew, really knew Asajj. Because it was certainly the Empire: Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn’t exactly the style to die from anything else than a full legion, or at least a full Sith. She’s there in her memories, thinking of that time on Drall when she had tried to cut him in two with an ancient Sith Weapon, and that time on Selonia when Kenobi had foiled her whole plan by, she was quite sure of it, seducing the twin ambassadors… Strangely; all those occasions who had infuriated her at the time are now bringing a half-smile on her pale lips. He had been a ferocious adversary, but a fun one. And it would be a lie to pretend, but only now, now that he was dead, that she had never imagined what sort of adversary he would have made on another battlefield, one of linen and pillows. She’s there, working on the butterfly valve and thinking of twinkling grey eyes, when the Force explodes in pain. Asajj bashes her head on metal, again.

What the…. This time, she doesn’t throw up, breathing careful, sending her pain into the Force.

Not even ten minutes after, the fate of Alderaan is on the holonet again.

Asajj needs to sit down. Didn’t she live that already? A vision, perhaps? No, her visions are rare, fragmented, honestly not very useful, her talents in the Force residing elsewhere. Quickly, she puts her motor in order and starts her ship.

Asajj Ventress is a lot of things but indecisive is not one of them. Run away? Where? If it’s the will of the Force, running away in the Unknown regions themselves would be useless. The Force can’t be outrun and if Its paths can be mysterious, they are stubborn.

Direction Alderaan, or whatever is left of it. Here, perhaps she will find answers. She’s just leaving hyperspace when she feels the Light flares up, once again. Much more closely, she can almost taste the last breath of Kenobi, feel the lightsaber and something…something strange and powerful and like a note in the music of the universe she never heard before.

Even dying, Kenobi can’t do it simply, the overachiever flirt that he is.

This time, it isn’t sleep which makes Asajj leaves this day. This time, it’s the Empire which destroy her little ship, because she had no chance against a Star Destroyer.

The next day, Asajj doesn’t bash her head on metal hull. That day, her ship is already in the system when the Death Star arrives and here she waits, almost in ambush except she has no intention to reveal her presence, all the powers on her ship on shielding it, and too small fry to interest them , ready to collect all information she can.

She sees the destruction of Alderaan in direct and it’s even more terrible on her nerves like that, the Force howling.

And then…then, she feels Kenobi, in a garbage ship. Kneeling on her bunk, she shields herself and she follows him, letting the all she can collect itself in her mind, the useful and the useless, letting it settle, like organic matter in a swamp. When he dies, again, she reaches for him, letting her presence be a last comfort to his light.

Seven days, Asajj does nothing more than arrive before the Death Star, shudder in deep horror for Alderaan and let the fate of Kenobi, every step he takes on that damn space station, enlighten her about the forces in presence.

Before, when she was the Count’s apprentice, she never would have found the patience. She would have raged and yelled and stormed, and probably died even before Kenobi! Now, she knows better. Sometimes, she would swear she can see, at the corner of her vision, her former Master, the first one, the dead one, the Jedi, almost there, almost real, but when she turns, it’s always empty. But she feels it, as she kneels for the entire day, deep in meditation, learning that horrible space station, feeling the lives on board, she feels her dead Master, right there, and he’s so proud a younger Asajj would cry.

So, Asajj learns and Asajj plans, and Asajj thinks to run, but never does. Whatever the Force wants of her, it’s important, too important. Every morning, she jumps from her bunk and goes to repair her motor; to arrive on in the Alderaan system first. She never even checks the date. Now that the Force had put things in motion, It wouldn’t stupidly let time pass normally for Asajj.

Seven days, she waits. She learns. She meditates. Seven days, she reaches for a dying man, and feels him reaching out, sending him comfort. She never need to send peace. Obi-Wan Kenobi dies in peace, like only a Jedi could.

The eighth day, she strikes.

*************************************************************************

When Obi-Wan, Luke, and their pilots arrive on Alderaan, the whole planet is quite busy panicking, in the very polite way they have about it on this world. The old Jedi find Bail and Breha waiting for him the moment he put foot on their soil, and a monstrous blasphemy in the Force high in their sky.

“It arrived hours before you,” the Vice-Roy explains, “and no tentative of contact of our part has been successful. We have been prepping evacuation, but how be sure that any ship leaving the planet won’t be attacked? And there will never be enough ships” At this moment, a technician calls for them and at they move to the holotransmetter, Bail adds quietly, just for Obi-Wan “And we lost contact with Leia’s ship almost three days ago.”

Obi-Wan’s hand claps on his old friend’ shoulder: “She’s alive,” he swears, “I would have felt it in the Force.”

They meet around the holotransmitter and that’s the moment the whole galaxy flickers, like a flame hesitating before going out and continuing….and then it changes and takes a better path. If not an easier one, perhaps simply one with less death. And that’s how it starts, with two scoundrels, one of them quite hairy, one Jedi, two royals and a moisture farmer powerful in the Force, congregating around a blue image of a former Sith, who looks exhausted and a little manic.

“They’re quite busy with me,” she says, “And I have made as much damages to important electronical stuff as I could, so it’s time to board this horror while they’re busy trying to open the command control room to kill me”.

“Ventress?” Obi-Wan asks, after a second of silence.

“Yeah, yeah, Ventress. Don’t tell me I have changed so much, I would be crossed with you, I mean, have you seen yourself? If I hadn’t feel you in the Force, I would never have recognized you. Why have you aged forty years in twenty?”

“Is this a dead body?” Breha interrupted, her gaze fixated on something at Ventress’s feet.

“I have decapitated a Grand Moff,” Ventress admitted, like she was saying space was cold and water wet, “And honestly, someone should have done it long ago.” Her attention was taken by something outside the view of the holotransmitter. “I barricaded myself into Tarkin’s central command, I think it was made in case the space station was boarded by hostiles. But Vader is there, so, you have thirty minutes to help, or it will have all been for nothing, for me and for the young princess in the cells.”

“We’re losing communication,” the Alderaani technician intervened, “someone in the space station understood she was talking to us.”

“I will guide y-“ Ventress had the time to say, then nothing more.

Chewbacca had just the time to extend his arm to stop Obi-Wan from falling.

“Oh.” The Jedi simply said, “Oh. That’s what she meant.”

For the old man, the sensation of Ventress reaching out in the Force was like something long forgotten. Like they had done that already, before, at their most dire times. He was pretty sure he had never reached out into the Force to her, but in that moment…in that moment, it was like coming home, their two Force presences responding to each other, and here, in his mind, Ventress knew just how take the abomination in the sky with minimal blood loss, like she had studied the plans of the Death Star quite extensively, like she understood the thing in and out, and knew what a small determined commando could do, now that she had temporarily blinded the Death Star.

The rest was quite a busy day. The rest, as Han Solo would say later, was history and he would always be proud to have been there, to the first Death Star battle, when the Alderaan security forces had crept into the Death Star, using the mess Ventress had made. Honestly, he probably wouldn’t have been, if Chewie hadn’t insisted. But he saw history, that day, he saw what a small, determined group of people could do, he saw the impossible fight between Vader, Kenobi and Ventress, and the fall of a giant in the Force.

At the end of the day, Alderaan had won a moon, who would stay there, manned by the Rebel Alliance, as a warning to Star Destroyers who would come knocking. They would never use it on a planet, of course, but the Empire would never win it back and the Rebel Alliance had a new base.

At the end of the day, Asajj Ventress and Obi-Wan Kenobi would try to unravel their Force presences, with no success. “I suppose I could do worse than you,” Asajj would admit, when their third try had sent them directly to bed, because there was a limit of the closeness in the Force two Force sensistives could feel before things started to get physical.

At the end of the day, once all was done, which meant it was closer to the dawn of the next day, Asajj would finally meet the Princess, the one who had started everything, and that she had only peripherally felt in the Force before. She would understand, then, the feeling of her dead Jedi Master in the Force, this sort of giddy joy. “Well met, Padawan”, were the first words of Asajj to the young woman.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #asajj ventress #the clone wars #a new hope #my fics

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thelittleredheadedmusician · 3 years

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First Lines

So @klaineharmony @wordshakerofgallifrey and @radioactivepigeons all tagged me to do this so uh here it is. This is NOT including academic stuff. But it IS including original work.

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag some lovely people!

Hitch Hiker - my book:

It’s raining, hard enough to hit the windshield in fat drops though he can still clearly see the wet road ahead. Oliver isn’t speeding, in high school he would’ve flown around the curves out of town. But now? Coming home and in bad weather? He manages to stay just below the speed limit. And a good thing too.

I don’t want to linger any longer - DCU, Batman, Green Arrow:

Alfred was leery of the summer camp. Bruce went to public school partially because of Martha's pointed remarks regarding democracy and public education, partly because of her pointed remarks regarding Thomas's own time at boarding schools and prep schools surrounded by equally rich and entitled boys. Alfred never said anything at the time, it wasn't his place, and would never say anything now but, he whole heartedly believed both. Especially after his own childhood in private schools, even if the times and the British and American systems were very different. Regardless, Bruce was remaining in public school with all the trials it entailed. Including the socializing problem.

untitled post final chapter short for Hitch Hiker:

“I’m so glad I get to be here for this,” Eve practically flung herself onto the couch, bouncing slightly before settling. She’d just gotten dropped off after rehearsal and was miraculously still teeming with energy.

Give Me the Stars - an original short story:

Morgan leaned closer to the mirror, shifting her hair so she could examine the new growth near her scalp. It was a dark, almost dull brown and the scalp itself didn’t seem red or irritated. She half combed her fingers through it while she shook her hand loose of the strands. Where the few centimeters of brown ended, a shifting cascade of colors began. A swirl or wave or reflection of green and blue and purple with notes of black and pink and sometimes silver. Like an oil slick made tangible. Except, after two months it’d lost its glimmer, its shine. Which didn’t really matter since Morgan spent about seventy percent of the time tucking it up under one hat or another.

glitter and gold - DCU:

She hadn’t been expecting the second explosion. None of them had been expecting the second explosion. Luckily, they were all clear of the debris but Steph’s ears were ringing. A gut feeling said her comm had been knocked out but it’s not like she’d be able to tell right now anyway. She swayed, unsteady. But Batgirl had to worry about the people around her, not herself. A cursory glance looked as though the block’s residents had gotten back far enough before the blast hit. Leaving them covered in dust but unharmed.

five phones on the table - DCU, Titans:

The long table with its numerous chairs was, by proximity to the kitchen, a dining table but due to the nature of the building it occupied doubled as a meeting and strategy table. The small net, paddles, and light plastic balls stored in an innocuous box in the kitchen meant it tripled as a ping pong table.

Adulting Fail - DCU, Titans, Nightwing:

“RICHARD JOHN GRAYSON,” Donna says and for an instant he wonders how a woman who has never met his mother can sound exactly like her. But then again, Donna has always been and will always be his older sister, never mind the fact neither are sure if it’s by three months or three thousand years.

Seventh Floor Walkup - DCU, Titans, Nightwing:

Dick may slightly regret asking his friends to help him move. See, he didn’t have the funds for real movers but had promised pizza if they helped. Except Roy and Garth could each eat a whole pizza, Donna could eat two, and Wally half a baker’s dozen. Which left Dick carrying eleven boxes of pizza to his seventh-floor walkup.

Et tu Brute - DCU, Flash, Batman:

“What the-?” Barry shifted his momentum with ease, turning from where he’d been running towards the Batcomputer and Bruce waiting there for him to instead run towards the metallic object low to the ground and glowing a dull green he’d spotted out of the corner of his eye.

you were shunned and burned your cradle - Newsies:

Being a changeling in New York City hurts. It makes his skin itch and his lungs burn and his eyes water. From the iron that surrounds him, fills the very air along with the smoke. If he’s not careful when he reaches out or brushes against something his skin comes away with a sharp, searing scar.

The Devil Wears What? - DCU, Hellblazer, Zatanna:

“What is this?” John slurred, arm flopping towards the television screen.

The Hattrick - DCU, Green Arrow, Hellblazer:

There is a strong possibility that Mia is in hell. It’d be vaguely poetic and certainly fitting if her personal hell were an empty warehouse. The fact John Constantine is here definitely sells the idea.

Inhouse House Party - Les Miserables:

“I thought we agreed that we weren’t doing Halloween this year?” Enjolras half grumbled, half called up the steps. “In light of the fact that there is a global pandemic and we’ve been responsibly quarantining and social distancing this whole time.” Despite his complaints, he still fixed the ridiculous headband he wore as part of his costume. The halved wiffle ball glued onto it made pretty decent looking fly eyes, but the weight was weird and the whole thing kept slipping as a result.

Second Time is Coincidence - DCU, Green Arrow, Hellblazer:

“Oh c’mon,” Mia groaned, slumping against the bonds that currently had her suspended from the warehouse ceiling. “Not you again!”

Three Musketeers - DCU, Batfam:

Bristol was technically in Gotham City limits. Though the gilted mansions and private woods with pastures and stables seemed like a whole other world in comparison. The residents liked to think so too, especially because – despite Gotham’s robust public transportation system – it was almost impossible to reach the rich suburb from the city proper. It was because they lived in this separate world that Bristol’s wealthy residents often fought to receive special treatment or even secede from the city all together.

Deal? Deal. - DCU, Hellblazer, Zatanna:

“No,” John whined, drawing it out into about six syllables. He stretched his arm out, nearly falling off the couch in the process, but Zatanna just pushed the half-empty glass of whiskey further away from the edge of the coffee table and out of his reach.

Pumpkin Guts - Les Miserables:

There had been strange noises coming from the kitchen all afternoon. Combeferre was staunchly ignoring them because he’s trying to finish reading this journal article before anyone else came home. Having Courfeyrac in the vague direction of behind him and doing who knew what all is more than enough of a distraction. Besides, Ferre can fairly well ignore the sounds coupled with Courf’s slightly off-key humming of Nightmare Before Christmas.

Sunrise Shadows - DCU, Batgirl, Starman:

It was late, or early depending on your perspective, and Steph was that bone deep tired that came after a fight to save the fate of the world. Which was fine, they’d won, but she didn’t really know where in the world she was and Steph really just wanted to crawl into bed. Maybe take her suit off first. Possibly slap some Neosporin on her cuts and scrapes. But mostly sleep.

The Good Stuff - Newsies:

Kath pulled her favorite armchair into the doorway of her apartment. The antique wingback her friends had helped her liberate from a thrift store in Queens and then clean and reupholster. It was, undeniably, too heavy to be shoved across the hardwood like that but Kath wanted to be comfy. And there were the little felt things on the legs to protect her floor.

Salt and Iron - DCU, Batgirl:

Steph pried her bedroom window open before slipping in and closing it firmly behind herself. Then locked it for good measure. Sure, she’d seen some weirdness since first putting on a mask, and just a few months into her time as Batgirl she’d even fought off some Segway riding vampires with Kara. But this was different. For one, they weren’t real vampires but Dracula from an old film brought to life. For another, it looked like literal hell had overtaken Gotham.

Well, I either have really long opening lines or my understanding of what constitutes opening “lines” is skewed. Also my formatting didn’t always past so poo on tumblr for that. Hmm, this is mostly Halloween fics but also fairly indicative of what I write which is nice. I like that I start with dialogue so often, it’s weirdly fitting for me as a person. The cold open musing on Gotham’s social, political, economic structure at Three Musketeers isn’t my favorite but I am obsessed with it. I think Second Time is Coincidence is my favorite because Mia’s response to John is the only response anyone should ever have to John Constantine.

All of my friends have already been tagged~

#long post #writing #own writing #my fic #original writing

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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years

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Treat Your S(h)elf: Imperial Boredom: Monotony and the British Empire by Jeffrey A. Auerbach (2018)

The British Empire has had a huge impact on the world in which we live. A brief look at an atlas from before World War One will show over hundred colonies that were then part of the Empire but now are part of or wholly sovereign states. Within these states much remains of the commercial, industrial, legal, political and cultural apparatus set up by the British. In many former colonial areas, political issues remain to be solved that had their genesis during the British era.

The legacy of the British has been varied and complex but in recent years much attention has been on making value judgements about whether the Empire was a good or bad thing. Of course the British Empire was built on the use of and the continual threat of state violence and there were appalling examples of the use of force. As well as the slave trade, there was the Amritsar Massacre in 1919, the 1831 Jamaican Christmas Uprising, the Boer War concentration camps (1899-1902) and the bloody response to the Indian Mutiny of 1857. However, we must not just focus on these events but examine the Empire in all of its complexities.

In the current moment of our times, it would seem that as a nation we are more concerned about beating ourselves up and making the nation feel guilty than understanding how and why the British came to exist, and setting the growth of the British Empire into historical context to be wise about the good, the bad, and the ugly. History has to be scrupulously honest if it’s not to fall prey to propaganda on either side of the extreme political spectrum.

Truth be told I find these questions about the British Empire being good or bad either boring or unhelpful. It doesn’t really bring us closer to the complexity and the reality of what the British Empire was and how it was really run and experienced by everyone.

For myself personally the British Empire was part of the fabric of our family history. The Far East, the Middle East and Africa figured prominently and at the centre of which - the jewel in the crown so to speak - was India. In my wider family clan I’ve come to learn about - through handed down family tales, personal diaries, private papers, and photos etc - the diverse experiences of what certain eccentric characters got up to and they ranged from missionaries in India and Africa to military men strewn across the Empire, from titans of commerce in the Far East to tea farmers in East Africa, from senior colonial civil servants in Delhi to soldier-spies on the North West Frontier (now northern Pakistan).

My own experience of being raised in India, Pakistan as well as parts of the Far East was an adventure before being carted off to boarding school back in Britain and then fortunate in later life to be able to travel forth to these memorable childhood places because of the nature of my work. Having learned the local languages and respectful of customs I have always loved to travel and explore deeper into these profound non-Western cultures. Despite the shadow of the empire of the past I am always received with such down to earth kindness and we share a good laugh. So I always assumed that the British Empire played a central role in the life of Britain has it had in our family history just because it was there. But historians are more concerned with much more interesting questions that challenge our assumptions.

So when I was at university it was a great surprise to me to first read a fascinating history of the British Empire by Bernard Porter called ‘The Absent Minded Imperialists: Empire, Society and Culture in Britain’ (2004). Porter was, in his own words, “mainly a response to certain scholars (and some others) who, I felt, had hitherto simplified and exaggerated the impact of ‘imperialism’ on Britain in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, after years in which, except by empire specialists like myself, it had been rather ignored and underplayed. […] the main argument of the book was this: that the ordinary Briton’s relationship to the Empire in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries was complex and ambivalent, less soaked in or affected by imperialism than these other scholars claimed – to the extent that many English people, at any rate, possibly even a majority, were almost entirely ignorant of it for most of the nineteenth century.” It became a controversial book but a welcome one because it was well researched and no doubt made some imperial historians choke on their tea dipped biscuits (and that’s not even counting the historically illiterate post-colonial studies crowd in their English faculties who often got their knickers in a twist).

Years later I read another fascinating collection of scholarly chapters by different historians called ‘Anxieties, Fears, and Panic in Colonial Settings: Empires on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown’ (2016) edited Harald Fischer-Tiné which challenged a rosy vision of Britain’s imperial past by tracing British imperial emotions: the feelings of fear, anxiety, and panic that gripped many Britons as they moved to foreign lands. To be fair both Robert Peckham’s Empires of Panic: Epidemics and Colonial Anxieties (2015) got there before him but Tiné’s history set the trend for others to follow such as Marc Condos’s The Insecurity State: Punjab and the Making of Colonial Power in British India (2018) and Kim Wagner’s Amritsar 1919: An Empire of Fear and the Making of a Massacre (2019).

They all set out their stall by highlighting the sense of vulnerability felt by the British in the colonies. Fisher-Tiné’s edited book in particular highlights the pervasiveness of feelings of fear, anxiety, and panic in many colonial sites. He acknowledges that: “the history of colonial empires has been shaped to a considerable extent by negative emotions such as anxiety, fear and embarrassment, as well as by the regular occurrence of panics.”

The book suggests that these excessive emotional states were triggered by three main causes. First, the European population in British India was heavily dependent on Indian servants and subordinates who might retaliate against unfair masters or whose access to European dwellings could be used by malevolent others to poison the white elite. Second, anxieties about the assumed toxic effects of the Indian climate fuelled also poisoning panics. Diseases such as malaria and cholera were considered to be the ultimate outcome of an “atmospheric poison”. Third, Indian therapeutics and the system of medicine were also identified as a potential cause of poisoning European communities. These poisoning panics only helped reinforce the racial categorisations of Indians, the moral supremacy of the white population, and the legitimacy of colonial rule. Overall the book expanded the understanding of how a sense of fragility rather than strength shaped colonial policies.

Now comes another noteworthy book which again sound a little quirky but is no less meticulous in its research and judicious in its observations. Many books about the British Empire focus on what happened; this book concentrates on how people felt. When I was first given it I was predisposed to be negative because here was a book about ‘feelings’ - the current disease of our decaying western culture. But I was pleasantly surprised.

Was the British Empire boring? So asks Jeffrey Auerbach in his irreverent tome, ‘Imperial Boredom: Monotony and the British Empire’ (2018).

It’s an unexpected question, largely because imperial culture was so conspicuously saturated with a sense of adventure. The exploits of explorers, soldiers and proconsuls – dramatised in Boys’ Own-style narratives – captured the imagination of contemporaries and coloured views of Empire for a long time after its end. Even latter-day historians committed to Marxist or postcolonial critiques of Empire tend to assume that the imperialists themselves mostly had a good time. Along with material opportunities for upward mobility, Empire offered what the Pan-Africanist W.E.B. DuBois called ‘the wages of whiteness’ – the psychological satisfactions of membership in a privileged caste – and an escape from the tedium of everyday life in a crowded, urbanised, ever less picturesque Britain.

The British Empire has been firmly tied to myth, adventure, and victory. For many Britons, “the empire was the mythic landscape of romance and adventure. It was that quarter of the globe that was coloured and included darkest Africa and the mysterious East.” Cultural artifacts such as music, films, cigarette cards, and fiction have long constructed and reflected this rosy vision of the empire as a place of adventure and excitement.

Against this widely held view of the empire, As Auerbach argues here, however, the idea of Empire-as-adventure-story is a misleading one. For contemporaries, the promise of exotic thrills in distant lands built up expectations which inevitably collided with reality.

In a well-researched and enjoyable book, the author argues “that despite the many and famous tales of glory and adventure, a significant and overlooked feature of the nineteenth-century British imperial experience was boredom and disappointment.” In other words, instead of focusing on the exploits of imperial luminaries such as Walter Raleigh, James Cook, Robert Clive, David Livingstone, Cecil Rhodes and others, Auerbach says pay attention to the moments when many travellers, colonial officers, governors, soldiers, and settlers who were gripped by an intense sense of boredom in India, Australia, and southern Africa.

For historians, the challenge is to look past the artifice of texts which conceal and compensate for long stretches of boredom to unravel the truth. Turning away from published memoirs and famous images, therefore, Auerbach trains his eye on the rough drafts of imperial culture: letters, diaries, drawings. He finds that Britons’ quests for novelty, variety and sensory delight in the embrace of 19th-century Empire very often ended in tears. Indeed Auerbach identifies an overwhelming emotion that filled the psyche of many Britons as they moved to new lands: imperial boredom.

Precision in language and terminology is essential and Auerbach begins by setting out what he means by boredom. Adopting Patricia Meyer Spacks’ approach, he points out that the term first came into use in the mid-18th century. Auerbach identifies then the feeling as a “modern construct” closely associated with the mid-18th century where the spread of industrial capitalism and the Enlightenment emphasis on individual rights and happiness that the concept came to the fore. This does not mean that nobody previously suffered from boredom, but that, with the Enlightenment’s emphasis on the individual, this was when the feeling first became conceptualised. Like Spacks, he distinguishes boredom from 19th-century ‘ennui’ or existential world-weariness and also from monotony, which has a much longer history. Whilst a monotonous activity or experience may generate a feeling of boredom, it will not necessarily do so. The two terms must, therefore, not be equated.

Significantly, in a footnote, Auerbach cites a passage from 19th Century English satirical novelist, Fanny Burney, in which an individual is described as ‘monotonous and tiresome’ but, as he emphasises, ‘not boring’. To prevent confusion, the term ‘boring’ is best avoided when describing an activity or experience because this is to beg the question as to whether it does in fact generate feelings of boredom in a particular person.

How then should this state of mind be assessed and what should be seen as the symptoms of imperial boredom? As Auerbach acknowledges, boredom ‘is not a simple emotion, but rather a complex constellation of reactions’. Building on that approach, he says ‘imperial boredom’ reflected ‘a sense of dissatisfaction and disenchantment with the immediate and the particular, and at times with the enterprise of empire more broadly’. If this tends to mix cause and effect, the idea of dissatisfaction and disenchantment essentially mirrors Spacks’ definition of the symptoms of boredom, namely, ‘the incapacity to engage fully: with people, with action, with one’s own ideas’. ‘Imperial boredom’, therefore, was more than a fleeting moment of irritation with a particular situation or person and reflected a mind-set that derived from, and in turn, further contributed to, a sense of disillusionment with the overall project.

It stemmed, so Auerbach argues, from the marked contrast between how empire was represented and how it turned out to be, between ‘the fantasy and the reality’. ‘Empire was constructed as a place of adventure, excitement and picturesque beauty’ but too often lacked these features. Nowhere is this better described than in George Orwell’s Burmese Days, in which the promising young John Flory has become ‘yellow, thin, drunken almost middle-aged’. Beginning with this illustration, Auerbach argues that historians have too often overlooked this essential aspect of empire and sets out to discover the extent to which it was characteristic of what Flory called the ‘Pox Britannica’ more generally.

During the 17th century the British Empire sustained itself on the story that the colonial experience was both righteous and unbelievably exciting. Sea voyages were difficult, and when one eventually did reach landfall there was a good chance of violence, but the exotic foreign cultures, the landscapes, and the wildlife made the trip worthwhile. The British colonialist was meant to be swashbuckling. Advertisements for even the most banal household goods offered colourful and robust propaganda for life in the colonies. Travelogues and illustrated accounts of colonial exploration were wildly lucrative for London publishing houses. All of this attracted a crowd of young Brits eager to escape the drudgery of life in the metropole.

By the 19th century, expectations were catching up. As Auerbach makes it clear, from the beginning, the sense of boredom experienced by many Britons in new colonial settings was much more profound during the nineteenth century. Indeed, the latter was marked by a series of bewildering social, cultural, and technological changes that stripped the empire of its sense of novelty. The development of new means of transport such as steamships, the rise of tourism, and the proliferation of guidebooks jeopardised the sense of risk, newness, enthusiasm that had long been associated with the British imperial experience. Consequently, while “the early empire may have been about wonder and marvel, the nineteenth century was far less exciting and satisfying project.

Auerbach spent 20 years gathering evidence spanning the late 18th century to the turn of the 20th, which records feelings of being bored, miserable and deflated. It’s a captivating history of imperial tedium drawn from memoirs, diaries, private letters and official correspondence. In “reading against the grain”, as Auerbach puts it, he has focused on recorded events normally skimmed over by historians, precisely for being boring – multiple entries repeated over and over again about the weather, train times, shipping forecasts, deliveries, lists and marching; or about nothing ever happening.

In five thematic chapters, “Voyages”, Landscapes,” Governors,” Soldiers”, and “Settlers,” Auerbach shines new light on the experience of traversing, viewing, governing, defending and settling the empire from the mid-eighteenth century to the early twentieth century. The monotonous nature of the sea voyage, dreary and uninteresting imperial lands, daily routine, depressingly dull dispatches, mind-numbing meetings are some of the sources of an utter sense of imperial boredom.

Whilst the first chapter, Voyages, may be the logical starting-point, it presents particular problems. They may have been monotonous, but it is unlikely that they would have engendered feelings of disenchantment and disillusion at the outset of an empire life or career. Auerbach begins with the somewhat surprising assertion that ‘not until the first half of the 19th century did long-distance ocean travel become truly monotonous’, arguing that this was because, until then, the weather had been ‘a source of danger and discomfort’ whereas, by the mid-19th century, ‘it was barely worth mentioning’. Leaving aside the obvious difficulties with that approach – many 19th-century travellers, assuming they survived, described enduring terrifying typhoons in the Indian Ocean and South China Sea – voyages certainly could be monotonous, particularly, when steam replaced sail.

However, his assertion that this ‘helped to produce feelings of boredom that had never been felt before’ is more questionable. For example, whilst Sir Edmund Fremantle (1836–1929) wrote in his memoirs that, although the sea passages were ‘monotonous’, ‘it never occurred to [him] to be bored’, Auerbach suggests that, ‘in several places his memories [sic] belie his claims’, in that they refer to the ‘the monotony’ of various experiences, including cruising out of harbour under steam rather than under sail, which ‘always possessed some interest’. But, this not only contradicts what Fremantle wrote but also equates boredom with monotony and, thus, deprives it of any proper meaning.

Similarly, because the Royal Naval Surgeon, Edward Cree (1814–1901) recorded his passing the time ‘reading, drawing, walking on deck, eating drinking and sleeping’, Auerbach concludes that ‘almost every leg of his 1839 journey to the East was boring or disappointing’. However, he omits the opening words of this journal entry which reads, ‘making but slow progress towards China. Weather intolerably hot … The time passes pleasantly enough on board’, which suggests he was certainly not bored. Much of this chapter is not concerned with monotony but with how ‘dreadful’ sea voyages could be, particularly, for travellers to Australia, most of all transported convicts, who, as he shows, had to endure the most brutal conditions. But they had no expectations of empire and this seems to add little to the understanding of imperial boredom.

It may well be that, because voyages were so unpleasant, travellers became all the more expectant and thus disappointed, when, on arriving, they found, as Auerbach argues in the next chapter, that much of the landscape was dreary and uninteresting. Moreover, many could not decide whether they were in search of a landscape that was picturesque and exotic or ‘normalised’ by reproducing English architecture, gardens and surroundings. This dichotomy generated further disenchantment.

If Auerbach dwells too long on obscure painters who often had little success in making these imperial landscapes picturesque, there is no doubt that many of them were monotonous, not least the vast tracts of Australian out- back. Consequently, whilst ‘the early empire may have been about wonder and marvel, the 19th century was a far less exciting and satisfying project’ and this contributed to feelings of boredom.

In the chapter, ‘Governors’, Auerbach essentially covers the administration of the empire. Here, there was also a lot of monotony, although Auerbach wavers between whether this was caused by having too much or too little work to do. Either way, it leads to the assertion that ‘throughout the nineteenth century and into the twentieth, British imperial administrators at all levels were bored by their experience, serving king or queen and country’. However, this is qualified in the next paragraph, in which he cites the Marquess of Hastings, who served in India in the early 1800s, and Lord Curzon, who served as Viceroy at the end of the century, neither of whom, he says, suffered from boredom. It was ‘during the middle decades, that imperial service was far less stimulating’ but he does not explain why it should have been limited to this particular phase.

Indeed, in terms of the staggering quantity of paper generated by the ICS, the problem stretched back to the early 18th century. Records were copied and recopied, and months were spent waiting on instruction from London. The few encounters with colonised subjects came in the form of long, drawn-out formal events. Lord Lytton as Viceroy of India between 1876-1880 was required to bow 1230 times during one particularly ceremonial reception with the Viceroy.

Whilst it is ultimately fruitless to exchange examples of officials who did and did not find government service boring, some of those chosen by Auerbach are not convincing. James Pope Hennessy, for example, the eccentric Irishman who delighted in antagonising the colonials and endearing himself to the indigenous people with his unconventional views on racial equality, certainly found the European life-style monotonous but, as a result, made sure he kept ceaselessly active. In the words of his biographer, ‘the chief impression [he] made on British and Orientals alike was one of superlative vitality. “He would do better”, wrote Sir Harry Parkes “if he had less life”’, Coming from Parkes, that arch- imperialist, who allegedly died from over-work and could never have been bored, the comment is telling.

While idleness certainly contributed to boredom, it was often the labour of maintaining colonial control that proved to be the most dull. Increasingly professionalised, the management of the colonies became characterised by strict report-making, bookkeeping and low-stakes decision-making related to staff. Whilst these officials may have become disenchanted, it is unclear what sort of mind-set they had when they started out: according to Auerbach, ‘they may well have entered imperial service out of a sense of duty, or perhaps looking forward to a colonial sinecure that offered status and adventure as well as a generous salary, but instead found themselves inundated by a volume of paperwork and official obligations that they had never anticipated, and which they found to be, quite frankly boring’. As a result, they were ‘eager to escape the tedium of the empire they had built’.

Whilst this suggests that, as a result, they threw up their empire careers, the example of Sir Frank Swettenham does not seem to fit the picture. He may have found life from time to time ‘extraordinarily dull’, but he continued as a government official in the Malay States for thirty years, before retiring in 1901. His belief in the imperial cause seems to have overcome the dullness and trumped any possible disenchantment.

In the chapter entitled, Soldiers, Auerbach concedes that ‘the link between military service and boredom can be traced at least to the mid-eighteenth century’. However, he argues, what was different in the 19th century was that boredom was no longer simply ‘incidental or ‘peripheral;’ it was ‘omnipresent’ and this was ‘a function of unmet expectations’, namely, the unsatisfied thirst for action and bloody combat as the ‘small wars’ of the Victorian age became shorter and fewer. However, citing Maeland and Brunstad’s Enduring Military Boredom, he concedes that this omnipresent boredom is a ‘condition that persists to the present day, especially among enlisted men’. This, therefore, divests it of any imperial character and suggests that it was, and remains a feature of modern military service.

Nonetheless, it would have been interesting to know how this boredom affected the performance of the military in the context of empire. Certainly, it gave rise to some of its more unsavoury aspects, with drunken soldiers brawling and beating up the locals and spending much of their time in the local brothels.

According to Richard Holmes, by 1899, there was ‘a real crisis’ in the infection rates of venereal disease of British soldiers in the Indian Army: ‘for every genteel bungalow on the cantonment … there were a dozen young men, denizens of a wholly different world, crossing the cultural divide every night’. Here was imperial boredom in the raw and urgent measures had to be taken to abate its consequences.

Although the final chapter is entitled ‘Settlers’, it encompasses a much broader category of imperial agents, including women, who until this point have been little- mentioned, and, in particular, women in India ‘most of whom went there in their early twenties to work (or to accompany their husbands who were working) and then typically left by the time they reached their fifties to retire in Britain’. It is unclear why these women and, indeed the whole topic of women in empire, should be subsumed under this chapter heading, given their importance in the empire project and the attention given to them in post-colonial scholarship.

In recent scholarship, empire white women have been frequently misrepresented and lampooned in the literature, including the novels of E. M. Forster, George Orwell, and Paul Scott and all too often reincarnated as representing the worst side of the ruling group – its racism, petty snobbishness and pervading aura of superiority and shown as shallow, self-centred and pre-occupied with maintaining the hierarchy of their narrow social worlds. They have invariably been portrayed as both bored and boring.

The wives of these officials were encouraged to run their households in a similar way, managing a large domestic staff and keeping a meticulous watch on financial expenditures. Socially, they were faced with constant garden parties and dinners with whatever small group of colonial families lived nearby. It’s difficult to imagine just how dull the existence of these administrators must have been, yet in reading these colonial accounts, the temporality and the totalising effects of boredom feel undeniably similar to the way that we describe the monotony of work today.

Auerbach effectively reiterates the trope as a clichéd illustration of a female, reclining aimlessly on a chaise longue, conjuring up the familiar image of ‘the same women [who] met day after day to eat the same meals and exchange the same banal pleasantries’ and concluding that ‘it was not only in India that women were bored, which suggests that the phenomenon was not a localised one, but a broader imperial one’.

Of course many western women did find life in empire monotonous and suffered from boredom, if not depression, and no doubt many were insufferable, as were their husbands, but there is an alternative image and the analysis is so generalised that their contribution is, once again, in danger of being dismissed out of hand.

A more nuanced approach would have examined ways in which women overcame their boredom by pursuing activities in which they were anything but bored, including, most obviously, the missions, a category which, despite its importance, does not feature, save for one cursory comment to the effect that, ‘even missionary women, whose sense of purpose presumably kept them inspired, could find themselves bored’. The example given is that of Elizabeth Lees Price, who, at one point during her eventful life, had to help run three schools for 30,000 pupils. But, just because her diary recorded ‘with increasing frequency’ the comment ‘nothing has happened’, it seems a stretch to infer, as Auerbach does, that ‘not even missionary work was enough to stave off the boredom that afflicted women all across the empire’.

For Auerbach, recuperating boredom means reframing the experience of empire as one of failure and disappointment. In the context of colonial scholarship, which tends to focus on the violence of colonialism and the myth-making that went along with it, Auerbach’s book is rather counter-intuitive. He drains the power of these myths, looking instead at the accounts of those responsible for building empire from the ground up: “What if they were not heroes or villains, builders or destroyers,” he writes, “but merely unexceptional men and women, young and old, rich and poor, struggling, often without success, to find happiness and economic security in an increasingly alienating world?” The agents of colonialism struggled to find any semblance of agency in the work that they were doing. Imperial time stretched out, deadened over decades of appointment in far off islands and desert outposts: a sort of watered down version of Hannah Arendt’s “banality of evil” in paradise.

Whilst Auerbach demonstrates that much of empire life was monotonous, to my mind, he is too quick to infer that this monotony necessarily gave rise to feelings of ‘imperial boredom’, properly so-called. He also too easily assumes that, where people were bored, this could only operate in a negative way and, whilst he may be right in concluding that, ultimately, ‘the British were, quite simply bored by their empire’, he fails to draw the evidence together to explore what impact imperial boredom had on the development of empire, for better or worse, during the long 19th century.

If not quite an invention of the 19th century, boredom was a particular preoccupation of the period: the product of new assumptions about the separation of work and leisure and a prominent theme of fin-de-siècle literature. Less clear is whether Auerbach is right to treat boredom separately from other emotional states – anxiety, loneliness, anger, fear – which afflicted the imperialist psyche. After all, a long literary tradition – from Conrad to Maugham, Orwell, Lessing and Greene – describes precisely how those varied shades of neurosis blended into one another.

Besides, a more capacious history of discontent and Empire might help to connect the frustrations of the imperialist experience to the suffering of imperial subjects. When, for instance, did boredom turn to aggression and violence? One danger of Auerbach’s approach in Imperial Boredom is to portray an enervated and under-stimulated, yet still extraordinarily powerful, elite as more or less passive.

As imperial rivalry intensified towards the end of the century, so did the quest for new ways of staving off boredom, not only for men in the British Empire but also for those in the other European empires, and war was one of the most obvious solutions.

As other imperial historians have argued, what Europeans were seeking was everything the nineteenth century, in its drawn-out tedium, had denied them. War as Cambridge historian Christopher Clark has argued, “was going to empower them and restore a sense of agency to their limbs and lives.” Auerbach refers to what Clark called ‘the pleasure culture of war’, citing the example of Adrian de Wiart who, serving in the Boer War, knew ‘once and for all, that war was in my blood. I was determined to fight and I didn’t mind who or what’. But he does not explore the consequences of this mood further, other than to say that these adventurers also ‘ended up bored … and disillusioned’. But, the implications were, arguably, much more far-reaching.

Even if it was not directly causative, this mood was ‘permissive’ of the more direct causes and certainly formed part of the background against which Europe went to war in 1914. It may be thought that it did so in a fit of imperial boredom.

I admire the audacity of Auerbach’s writing and as a revisionist piece of history it has the dash and dare of British imperialism and colonialism. But after reading the book I came away thinking that sweeping statements such as that the empire developed “in a fit of boredom” are a tad unconvincing.

Although he spent about 20 years collecting materials, Auerbach seems not to have visited Africa or India during his research. Had he done so, I doubt if he would all too easily accepted that colonial accounts of being bored represented the full experience. Absent are deeper discussions of how expressions of being bored are linked to racism, arrogance and the need to assert power in exotic, challenging and unstable environments. Emotional detachment, disdain and a demand to be entertained were also part of a well-rehearsed repertoire of domination.

But where Auerbach does succeed is in admirably capturing the texture of everyday imperialist life as few historians have. Most of these examples are compellingly relevant and illustrative of some of the colonial circumstances that drove Britons mad with boredom, challenging one of the enduring myths about the British Empire as a site of exciting adventure.

If you are a lover of histories of white imperial rulers and thumbnail portraits, this book is for you. It’s full of excellent quotes. Lord Lytton, for example, fourth choice to be governor-general of India in 1875 (and appalled by the prospect), later summed up the British Raj as “a despotism of office-boxes tempered by the occasional loss of keys”. It was certainly the case that propaganda about empire and the populist books written about it to make money created false expectations, leading to bitter disillusionment. Nostalgists for the age of pith helmets and pukka sahibs will find little comfort here.

In mining the gap between public bombast and private disillusionment, Auerbach demonstrates that – even for its most privileged beneficiaries – Empire was almost never a place where fantasy became reality. I would suggest that rather than the British Empire being mostly boring, more accurate would be David Livingstone’s verdict on exploratory travel while battling dysentery: “it’s not all fun you know.”

The concept of imperial boredom provides a novel and illuminating lens through which to examine the mind-set of men and women working and living in empire, how it was that, despite the crushing monotony, so many persisted in the endeavour and what this tells us about the empire project more generally. There are all states of mind familiar to historians of empire (in the lives of their subjects, of course). It has long been argued that strategies to relieve moments of white boredom in the empire included cheating and adultery, husband hunting, trophy wife hunting, massive consumption of alcohol, gambling, copious diary and letter writing, taxidermy, berating the servants, prostitution, bird-watching, game hunting, high tea on the verandah, fine pearls and ball gowns, all were par for course in the every day lives for those bored British colonisers.

Auerbach’s book reminds me of a not so nice female character bemoans James Fox’s scandalous but true to life colonial novel White Mischief (1982), as she looked out over the Rift Valley in 1940s colonial Kenya, she declares, “Oh God! Not another fucking beautiful day.”

An earnest post-colonialist studies reader might might feel triggered by such a flippant remark as evidence of all that was wrong with the imperial project but at heart it’s a pitiful lament disguised as boredom at the gilded cage the British built for themselves to capture the enchantment and disenchantment of every day life in the British Empire.

#treat your s(h)elf #books #book review #bookgasm #reading #imperialism #british empire #boredom #british #history #colonialism #imperial boredom #jeffrey auerbach #empire #personal #bio #childhood

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tes-trash-blog · 4 years

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🌙 hmm... an age old question but opinion on the whole Imperials Vs Stormcloaks fiasco Skyrim tried to feed us?

*cracks neck*

Goodbye follower count, I’m going in!

I’m going to preface this with a confession: In my first ever playthrough of Skyrim (2014), I did side with the Imperials. On my second, I sided with the Stormcloaks. Since then, I have done three more playthroughs on the Stormcloak side, and three more on the Imperial side. In four more still my Dragonborn was neutral, slaying Alduin without ever taking a side. In my playthroughs, especially the ones after 2016, I’ve developed my own opinions about the Imperials and Stormcloaks alike.

In order to better articulate my opinion, we must first briefly examine four factors: the American landscape in which Skyrim was conceived, Skyrim itself and its portrayal of the Imperials and Stormcloaks (and the Thalmor), and Umberto Eco, the usage of terms like “fascism” and especially “Nazism” in American popular culture, and how this all relates to the Imperial/Stormcloak fiasco.

So let’s get started.

Part 1: Thanks, Obama.

In 2008, Barack Obama was elected as the 44th President of the United States. It was a landslide victory against Republican runner John McCain, a conserative who frequently brought up his service in the Vietnam War (and his time as a prisoner of war) during his campaign, as well as his years of service in political office. In a move to make his (very white, very male) campaign seem more inclusive in the face of the frontrunners of the Democratic campaign (Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama), he appointed Sarah Palin as his VP. She was the only conservative woman who agreed to be his running mate, as all three conservative women in the Senate already said no, and the Republicans couldn’t find a black conservative.

(I’m not making this up.)

Anyway, come 2008, the conservatives lose their goddamn minds because Bush’s reign of actual terror was over, a Black man is now President and Whiteness is in peril. This was before the term “triggered” became a popular sneer in the conservative dictionary, but “snowflake” was used a lot. Come 2009, the Tea Party emerges. And now we get to the crux of my, uh, observation.

For the young, uninitiated, or non-Americans who are thinking “What the fuck is wrong with America”, the Tea Party Movement was/is a rash of hardline rightwingers who, still licking their wounds from a sound beating by the Democrats in the 2008 election, sought to rebrand themselves. With some bootstrap lifting and millions of dollars in funding from media tycoons such as the Koch brothers, the Tea Party made its official debut in 2010 after the signing of the Affordable Healthcare Act. Their message was simple: It’s time to take America back from the lazy, the entitled, and the “uppity”. What was really just a rehash of a song and dance that’s been turning its ugly white head since at least 1964 gained something of a stranglehold on America, in spite of its relatively small size of active members. It hit all the notes: a populist movement rooted in the perceived threats to their faith, their culture, and their social and economic capital.

They also believed shit like this:

For instance, Tea Partiers are more likely than other conservatives to agree with statements such as “If blacks would only try harder they could be just as well off as whites,” and are more likely to disagree with statements like “Generations of slavery and discrimination have created conditions that make it difficult for blacks to work their way out of the lower class.” (Williamson, 34)

Like I said. Since 1964.

What made the Tea Party different from the other conservative temper tantrums was one thing: Internet access. All of a sudden, these angry white men had an outlet for voicing their rages, and an open recruiting forum for other malcontents and disaffected youths. I’m not implying the Tea Party had anything to do with Gamergate, nor that Gamergate had anything to do with the rise of the alt-right or whatever these tennybopper neo-Nazis are calling themselves now, but I am saying those circles at least touch in a Venn diagram.

“But tes-trash-blog! What do the machinations of American politics have to do with Elves?” you may ask. Well dear reader, this leads me to..

Part 2: Hey, you! You’re finally awake!

Skyrim was an overnight hit. On release, The Elder Scrolls 5 generated 450 million dollars on its opening weekend alone. This game sold for around 20 million copies, not including Special Edition, VR, or Switch, and continues to see an average of around 10,000 players a week 9 years later (Steamcharts).

And 20 million people see one thing first: A strong, noble Nord in captivity, telling you that you’re on your way to be executed by the Imperials, who are in bed with a scary, sneering bunch of High Elves dressed in black. 20 million people already were told who was the clear bad guy in this game, and it wasn’t the strong, noble Nord in captivity. I’ll be going into this more into Part 3, but suffice to say, the Imperials were already coded as Bad Guy by association. The Imperials decided to execute you, the player. They shot a man in the back because he ran from his own execution. He stole a horse, which was a crime punishable by death in those days. The game doesn’t tell you that part, and is content to say that Lokir was killed because he was in the same cart as the Stormcloaks.

Speaking of Imperials, the Third Empire is written as obtuse, corrupt, uncaring, and cruel. The Septim Dynasty is wrought with scandal and intrigue, plagued by conflict, and powerless to do anything about the Oblivion Crisis that almost ended the world. They flat out abandoned Morrowind and Summerset to better protect their own, offered no help during the Void Nights that destabilized the Khajiit, and worst of all, signed a treaty outlawing Talos worship. That is the crux on which the Stormcloak/Imperial conflict lies. These damned outsiders telling these humble Nords what to do and what not to do. They’re corrupt, lazy, and know nothing of the hardships these people endure, and now the nanny state Empire is telling them they don’t have the freedom to worship what they want? How dare they!

Going further, in the seat of Imperial power in Skyrim is none other than Jarl Elisif, a young widow who relies heavily on the advice of her (overwhelmingly male) thanes, stewards, and generals. She’s weak, thinks mostly of her dead husband, and is written as someone who overreacts to scenarios; the “legion of troops” to Wolfskull Cave over a farmer reporting strange noises, banning the Burning of King Olaf in the wake of her husband’s murder via Shout come to mind. Compare and contrast that to the seat of Stormcloak power, Windhelm. Ulfric spends his time pouring over the map of troop movements and discussing strategy when he’s not delivering his big damn “Why I Fight” speech. Elisif is weak, Ulfric is strong. The Jarl of Solitude is even told to tone it down during the armistice negotiations in Season Unending. She’s chastised by her own general. The first thing you see in Solitude is a man being executed for opening a gate. The first thing you see in Windhelm is two Nords harassing a Dark Elf woman and accusing her of being an Imperial spy.

Both are portrayed as horrific, but only one has bystanders decrying the acts of the offender. Only one has a relative in the crowd proclaim, “That’s my brother [they’re executing]!” The best you get with Suvaris is her confronting you about whether or not you “hate her kind”. Even a mouth breathing racist would be disinclined to say “yes” when confronted with the question of whether or not they’re racist, but that’s how the writers of Skyrim think racism works.

I acknowledge that this was an attempt at bothsidesism, but the handling was.. clumsy.

Part 3: Ur-Fascism, Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Bash The Stormcloaks

And now we move on to Umberto Eco, fiction writer, essayist, and writer of the famous essay Ur-Fascism. In short, Eco summarizes 14 separate properties of a fascist movement; it’s important to stress that this should not be treated as a checklist if a piece of media is fascist, or if a person is actually a Nazi, or to say “X is Bad Because Checklist”. It’s frankly impossible to even organize these points into a coherent system, as fascism is an ideology that is, by its nature, incoherent.

With that in mind, let’s run down the points:

1. “The Cult of Tradition”, characterized by cultural syncretism, even at the risk of internal contradiction. When all truth has already been revealed by Tradition, no new learning can occur, only further interpretation and refinement.

2. “The Rejection of Modernism”, which views the rationalistic development of Western culture since the Enlightenment as a descent into depravity. Eco distinguishes this from a rejection of superficial technological advancement, as many fascist regimes cite their industrial potency as proof of the vitality of their system.

3. “The Cult of Action for Action’s Sake”, which dictates that action is of value in itself, and should be taken without intellectual reflection. This, says Eco, is connected with anti-intellectualism and irrationalism, and often manifests in attacks on modern culture and science.

4. “Disagreement Is Treason” – Fascism devalues intellectual discourse and critical reasoning as barriers to action, as well as out of fear that such analysis will expose the contradictions embodied in a syncretistic faith.

5. “Fear of Difference", which fascism seeks to exploit and exacerbate, often in the form of racism or an appeal against foreigners and immigrants.

6. “Appeal to a Frustrated Middle Class”, fearing economic pressure from the demands and aspirations of lower social groups.

7. “Obsession with a Plot” and the hyping-up of an enemy threat. This often combines an appeal to xenophobia with a fear of disloyalty and sabotage from marginalized groups living within the society (such as the German elite’s ‘fear’ of the 1930s Jewish populace’s businesses and well-doings, or any anti-Semitic conspiracy ever).

8. Fascist societies rhetorically cast their enemies as “at the same time too strong and too weak.” On the one hand, fascists play up the power of certain disfavored elites to encourage in their followers a sense of grievance and humiliation. On the other hand, fascist leaders point to the decadence of those elites as proof of their ultimate feebleness in the face of an overwhelming popular will.

9. “Pacifism is Trafficking with the Enemy” because “Life is Permanent Warfare” – there must always be an enemy to fight. Both fascist Germany under Hitler and Italy under Mussolini worked first to organize and clean up their respective countries and then build the war machines that they later intended to and did use, despite Germany being under restrictions of the Versailles treaty to NOT build a military force. This principle leads to a fundamental contradiction within fascism: the incompatibility of ultimate triumph with perpetual war.

10. “Contempt for the Weak”, which is uncomfortably married to a chauvinistic popular elitism, in which every member of society is superior to outsiders by virtue of belonging to the in-group. Eco sees in these attitudes the root of a deep tension in the fundamentally hierarchical structure of fascist polities, as they encourage leaders to despise their underlings, up to the ultimate Leader who holds the whole country in contempt for having allowed him to overtake it by force.

11. “Everybody is Educated to Become a Hero”, which leads to the embrace of a cult of death. As Eco observes, “[t]he Ur-Fascist hero is impatient to die. In his impatience, he more frequently sends other people to death.”

12. “Machismo”, which sublimates the difficult work of permanent war and heroism into the sexual sphere. Fascists thus hold “both disdain for women and intolerance and condemnation of nonstandard sexual habits, from chastity to homosexuality.”

13. “Selective Populism” – The People, conceived monolithically, have a Common Will, distinct from and superior to the viewpoint of any individual. As no mass of people can ever be truly unanimous, the Leader holds himself out as the interpreter of the popular will (though truly he dictates it). Fascists use this concept to delegitimize democratic institutions they accuse of “no longer represent[ing] the Voice of the People.”

14. “Newspeak” – Fascism employs and promotes an impoverished vocabulary in order to limit critical reasoning.

I did copy and paste the list from Wikipedia, but you can read the full essay here. It’s 9 pages long. You can do it, I have faith in you.

You may notice that you can’t really shorthand these concepts, or at least not in an aesthetically pleasing way. However, you can point to the most infamous of fascist regimes and take their aesthetic instead. You see it in Star Wars with the Empire (hmm) and the First Order, in Star Trek with the Mirrorverse and the Cardassian Dominion (hmm), and in the.. Oh, it’s on the tip of my tongue..

Oh, yeah. The Thalmor. They dress in dark colors, are a foreign power trying to exert their influence on the downtrodden Nord, enact purges, and scream about Elven superiority. The Thalmor express every surface level perception of a Nazi in American popular culture. TVTropes has already pretty well covered this ground in their Video Games section of A Nazi By Any Other Name, so I won’t go too much into here seeing as I’m already at the 2000 word mark. Suffice to say, it’s hard to think Bethesda wasn’t trying to make the player associate the 4th Era Altmer with the 1930’s German.

And in doing so, they accidentally created a group that is.. Well, you’ve read the essay or at least the 14 points. Try and tell me how many of them don’t apply to Nordic culture. What grabs me the most are points 9, 11, and 13: life is a perpetual struggle in which you must emerge victorious, a culture of Heroes impatient to die in a glorious fashion, and the Common Will that is enacted and reinforced by one strongman leader. You see these elements in play in Nord culture, in Stormcloak ideology especially. I, for one, hear what Galmar really means when he says “We will make Skyrim beautiful again”. I hear the echoes in George W Bush’s speeches and McCain’s campaign when Ulfric talks of duty and service, of “fighting because Skyrim needs heroes, and there’s no one else but us.”

It’s less of a dog whistle and more of a foghorn if you ask me. And to go back to part 2, this is a message that 20 million played. Not all of them are Stormcloak stans, but that compelling message was still present. Americans love being a strongman hero in their media; we eat that shit up. The setup was enough: you’re a lone hero about to be executed by milquetoast Imperials and Nazi-coded Thalmor. The story was enough: a strong man rebels against a system gone awry, one that seeks to destroy his way of life.

It was enough to compel a “fashwave” artist to take on the monkier Stormcloak(Hann). It was enough that Skyrim was lauded as a “real” game instead of say, Depression Quest, and to justify ruining a game developer’s life over it.

It was enough that when Skyrim came out in 2011, the game did not do so well in Germany because of these elements, because the game was written for you to be sympathetic towards these very white, very blond and Ayran-coded Nords. I can’t speak for the popularity of the game now in Germany, but when I lived there, there were a few raised eyebrows among my age group about the message of the game.

I think about that a lot, especially when the tesblr discourse heats up about the Stormcloaks. I see how visibly upset people get when someone throws shade at Ulfric. The talk of “it’s just a video game” and “lul get triggered” starts to look less like passive dismissal and shoddy trolling and more a kind of funhouse mirror to how they really think.

I can’t lie, it reminds me so much of 2009, of these angry people screaming racial slurs on the Internet because there’s a Black president or posting sexist screeds because Michelle Obama wanted kids to have access to healthy meals. It reminds me of the kid in my sophomore class who said he was going to “take out” Obama on his inauguration day. He was 15 years old then. He’s a father now.

Hell, it reminds me of right now, of Republican Senators demanding civility and tone policing as they kowtow to an actual fascist. The Stormcloak in the Reach camp “had to do something” about the Empire telling him and his what to do, and the neighbor I used to dogsit for had to do something too. I don’t watch his dogs anymore. When I told him I wouldn’t, he tried to make himself the victim and say I was getting political about dog sitting. It’s just two dogs. It’s just a video game. All political messages are just imaginary, snowflake.

But it’s really not, is it now?

TL;DR and Sources

TL;DR: The imperials are portrayed as weak and effectual, as the bootlicker to the Thalmor, and the writers were so busy trying to make one side look bad and weak they inadvertently made actual fascists.

Even though this is pretty long, this really only scratches the surface of the.. Well, everything. In all honesty this is just a very condensed version of my opinion. Big shockeroo, there.

Do keep in mind that this isn’t a condemnation of Skyrim. Lord knows I love that game, or I wouldn’t have this blog. This also isn’t a damning of people who play the game and side with the Stormcloaks, or think Ulfric is hot, or don’t like the Thalmor or what have you. You do you, fam. You do you. This is my observation and opinion on one aspect of the game, just with some tasty sources to better paint a picture of where I personally formed my opinion.

This also isn’t to say that I’m trying to draw a 1:1 comparison between The Elder Scrolls and reality, or that Ulfric is obviously a McCain/Trump/Hitler expy, but Skyrim is, like all things, a product of the minds that created it. Skyrim didn’t happen in an apolitical vacuum, and apolitical stories about war simply do not exist. Anyone who tells you otherwise is simply reinforcing the status quo, and it is our responsibility as people who consume this media to question it, and that status quo they so dearly wish to hang on to.

Also, Elisif hot.

Sources:

Eco, Umberto. “Ur-Fascism”. The New York Review of Books. 1995. https://www.pegc.us/archive/Articles/eco_ur-fascism.pdf>

Williamson, Venssa, Skocpol, Theda and Coggin, John. “The Tea Party and the Remaking of Republican Conservatism”. Perspectives on Politics, Volume 9. March 2011. https://scholar.harvard.edu/files/williamson/files/tea_party_pop_0.pdf>

The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. Steamcharts.com https://steamcharts.com/app/72850>

Schreier, Jason. “Bethesda Ships 7M Skyrim, Earns About $450M”. Wired. November 16, 2011. https://www.wired.com/2011/11/skyrim-sales/>

Hann, Michael. “‘Fashwave” - synth music co-opted by the far right”. The Guardian. December 2014. https://www.theguardian.com/music/musicblog/2016/dec/14/fashwave-synth-music-co-opted-by-the-far-right>

#holy shit this got long #lore overanalysis #the trash talks

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tlbodine · 3 years

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The History & Evolution of Home Invasion Horror

Here’s my prediction: In the next couple of years, we’re going to be seeing a sudden surge of home invasion movies hit the market. For many of us, 2020 has been a year of extreme stress compounded by social isolation; venturing outside means being exposed to a deadly plague, after all.

And while many people have already predicted that we’ll see an influx of pandemic and virus horrors (see my post on those: https://ko-fi.com/post/Pandemic-and-Pandemonium-Sickness-in-Horror-T6T21I201), I actually think a lot of us are going to be processing a different type of fear -- anxiety about what happens when your home, which is supposed to be a literal safe space, gets invaded. Because if you’re not safe in your own house...you’re not safe anywhere.

Home invasion movies have been around a long time -- arguably as long as film, with 1909′s The Lonely Villa setting down the formula -- and they share many of the same roots as slasher films in the 1970s. But somewhere along the way, they separated off and became their own distinct subgenre with specific tropes, and it’s that separation and the stories that followed it that I want to focus on.

The Origins of the Home Invasion Movie

In order to really qualify as a home invasion movie, a film has to meet a few requirements:

The action must be contained entirely (or almost entirely) to a single location, usually a private residence (ie, the home)

The perpetrator(s) must be humans, not supernatural entities (no ghosts, zombies, or vampires -- that’s a different set of tropes!)

In most cases, the horror builds during a long siege between the invader and the home-dweller, including scenes of torture, capture, escape, traps, and so forth.

To an extent, home invasion movies are truth in television. Although home invasions are relatively rare, and most break-ins occur when a family is away (the usual goal being to steal things, not torture and kill people), criminals do sometimes break into people’s homes, and homeowners are sometimes killed by them.

In the 1960s and 70s, this certainly would have been at the forefront of people’s minds. Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood detailed one such crime in lavish detail, and the account was soon turned into a film. Serial killers like the Boston Strangler, BTK Killer and the “Vampire of Sacramento” Richard Chase also made headlines for their murders, which often occurred inside the victim’s home. (Chase, famously, considered unlocked doors to be an invitation, which is one great reason to lock your doors).

By the 1960s and 70s, too, people were more and more often beginning to live in cities and larger neighborhoods where they did not know their neighbors. Anxieties about being surrounded by strangers (and, let’s face it, racial anxieties rooted in newly-mixed, de-segregated neighborhoods) undoubtedly fueled fears about home invasion.

Early Roots of the Home Invasion Genre

Home invasion plays a part in several crime thrillers and horror films in the 1950s and 60s, including Alfred Hitchcock’s Dial M for Murder in 1954, but it’s more of a plot point than a genre. In these films, home invasion is a means to an end rather than a goal unto itself.

We see some early hints of the home invasion formula show up in Wes Craven’s Last House on the Left in 1972. The film depicts a group of murderous thugs who, after torturing and killing two girls, seek refuge in the victim’s home and plot the deaths of the rest of the family. In 1974, the formula is refined with Bob Clark’s Black Christmas, which shows the one-by-one murder of members of a sorority house and chilling phone calls that come from inside the home.

Even closer still is I Spit on Your Grave, directed by Meir Zarchi in 1978. Although it’s generally (and rightly) classified as a rape-revenge film, the first half of the movie -- where an author goes to a remote cabin and is targeted and brutally assaulted by a group of men -- hits all the same story beats as the modern home invasion story: isolation, mundane evil, acts of random violence, and protracted torture.

Slumber Party Massacre, directed by Amy Holden Jones in 1982, also hits on both home invasion and slasher tropes. Although it is primarily a straightforward slasher featuring an escaped killer systematically killing teenagers (with a decidedly phallic weapon), the film also shows its victims teaming up and fighting back -- weaponizing their home against the killer. This becomes an important part of the genre in later years!

In 1997, Funny Games, directed by Michael Haneke, provides a brutal but self-aware look at the genre. Created primarily as a condemnation of violent media, the film nevertheless succeeds as an unironic addition to the home invasion canon -- from its vulnerable, suffering family to the excruciating tension of its plot to the nihilistic, motive-free criminality of its villains, it may actually be the purest example of the home invasion movie.

Home Invasions Gone Wrong

Where things start to get interesting for the home invasion genre is 1991′s The People Under the Stairs, another Wes Craven film. Here the script is flipped: The hero is the would-be robber, breaking and entering into the home of some greedy rich landlords. But this plan swiftly goes sideways when the homeowners turn out to be even worse people than they’d first let on.

This is, as far as I can tell, the origin of the home-invasion-gone-wrong subgenre, which has gained immense popularity recently -- due, perhaps, to a growing awareness of systemic issues, a differing view of poverty, and a viewership sympathetic to the plight of down-on-their-luck criminals discovering that rich homeowners are, indeed, very bad people.

Home Invasion Film Explosion of the 2000s

The home invasion genre really hit the ground running in the 2000s, due perhaps to post-911 anxieties about being attacked on our home turf (and increasing economic uneasiness in a recession-afflicted economy and a growing awareness of the Occupy movement and wealth inequality). We see a whole slew of these films crop up, each bringing a slightly different twist to the formula.

* It’s also worth noting that the 2000s saw remakes of many well-known films in the genre, including Funny Games and Last House on the Left.

In 2008, Bryan Bertino directed The Strangers, a straightforward home invasion involving one traumatized couple and three masked villains. By this point, we’re wholly removed from the early crime movie roots; these are not people breaking in for financial gain. Like the killers in Funny Games, the masked strangers lack motive and even identity; they are simply a force of evil, chaotic and senseless.

The themes of “violence as a senseless, awful thing” are driven further home by Martyrs, another 2008 release, this one from French director Pascal Laugier. A revenge story turned into a home-invasion-gone-wrong, the film is noteworthy for its brutality and blunt nihilism.

2009′s The Collector, directed by Marcus Dunstan, is another home-invasion-gone-wrong movie. Like Martyrs, it dovetails with the torture porn genre (another popular staple of the 2000s), but it has a lot more fun with it. The film follows a down-on-his-luck thief who breaks into a house only to encounter another home invader set on murdering the family that lives there. The cat-and-mouse games between the two -- which involve numerous traps and convoluted schemes -- are fun to watch (if you like blood and guts).

In a similar vein, we see You’re Next in 2013, which starts off as a standard home invasion movie but takes a sharp twist when it’s revealed that one of the victims isn’t nearly as helpless as she appears. Director Adam Wingard helps to redefine the concept of “final girl” in this move in a way that has carried forward right into the next decade with no sign of stopping.

2013 of course also introduced us to The Purge, a horror franchise created by James DeMonaco. If there was ever any doubt as to the economic anxieties at the root of the genre, they should be alleviated now -- The Purge is such a well-known franchise at this point that the term has entered our pop culture lexicon as a shorthand for revolution.

Don’t Breathe, directed be Fede Alvarez in 2016, is one of the creepiest modern entries into the “failed home invasion” category, and one that (ha ha) breathed some new life into the genre. Much like The People Under the Stairs, it tells the story of some down-on-their-luck criminals getting in over their heads when they target the wrong man. However, there is not the same overt criticism of wealth inequality in this film; it’s a movie more interested in examining and inverting genre tropes than treading new thematic ground. The same is true of Hush that same year. Directed by Mike Flanagan, the film is most noteworthy for its deaf protagonist.

But lest you start to think the home invasion genre had lost its thematic relevance, 2019 arrived with two hard-hitting, thoughtful films that dip their toes in these tropes: Jordan Peele’s Us and Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite, which both tackle themes of privilege in light of home invasion (albeit a nontraditional structure in Parasite -- its inclusion here is admittedly a bit of a stretch, but I think it falls so closely in the tradition of The People Under the Stairs that it deserves a spot on this list).

What Does the Future Hold?

I’m no oracle, so I can’t say for certain where the future of the home invasion genre might lead. But I do think we’re going to start seeing more of them in the next few years as a bunch of creative folks start working through our collective trauma.

Income inequality, racial inequality, political unrest and systemic issues are all at the forefront of our minds (not to mention a deadly virus), and those themes are ripe for the picking in horror.

I know that Paul Tremblay’s novel The Cabin at the End of the World has been optioned for film, so we might be seeing that soon -- and if so, it might just usher in a fresh wave of apocalypse-flavored home invasion stories.

Like my content? You can support more of it by dropping me some money in my tip jar: https://www.ko-fi.com/post/Home-Invasion-Stories-A-History-R6R72RV7Y

#horror movies #horror history #horror analysis #home invasion movies #essential horror movies

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tinycrow · 3 years

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I don’t believe in miracles

Chapter 5: To keep you safe

General Rules for citizens of the Antarctic City (abridged):

The following rules are subject to change.

No divulging of any secrets of the Antarctic City to anyone not listed as a citizen of the Antarctic City. Secrets are—but not limited to—the location of said city, technology, or the names/existence of other citizens of the Antarctic City.

No theft/removal of technology, resources, or sparklings (youngest frame, also known as ‘the children’) from the boundaries of the Antarctic City. This excludes food, drink, and most luxuries, which can all be replaced.

Lying about acquisitions using funding from the Antarctic City is a punishable offence.

No unauthorized ground bridge (Gate Room) access.

No unauthorized defence system access.

No unauthorized forge access.

Hacking into any network and evading the appropriate methods of access is a punishable offence.

No illegal street-fighting.

No illegal street-racing.

One month later...

Even though they butted helms sometimes over the care of sparklings, Ratchet not only got his permits but also gained Ray’s confidence within a month after the first visit, though he didn’t know it yet. It was a persistent month spent at the Antarctic City with little Decepticon activity elsewhere in the world and no serious injuries to mend. Sideswipe did manage to damage part of his arm from messing with his blaster, which brought more of Ironhide’s ire than Ratchet’s own.

All the Autobots managed to get at least two visits to the strange city by that time except for Optimus, who had spent the entire month trying to dismiss the humans’ worries about their prisoner escaping. All in all, it was a good month, considering the circumstances.

It was a nervous but perky Ray that greeted the Autobots in the Gate Room, again.

“Hi, Ratchet! Oh, hey Sideswipe!”

“You don’t need to greet us here every time. We know the way by now,” Ratchet grumped, though with no real fire behind it.

Sideswipe grinned, skating smoothly around her as he remarked, “Well, I’m not complaining. Hey, gorgeous.”

Ray audibly vented air to lower her core temperature. She could give it but not take it, it seemed.

“Yes, well,” Ray scrambled to say, “It’s—it’s nice to see you again.”

Highly amused by her reaction, Sideswipe responded, “It’s- It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Don’t you start,” Ratchet warned.

“You worry too much, Hatchet.”

Sideswipe skated over to the door, and turned around to face Ray, servos on his hips. “We should get some Energon sometime.”

Ray’s optics focused intensely on the cocky frontliner. Ratchet seemed to frown at him.

“Yes. Let’s,” she said sweetly, keeping it short to avoid stuttering.

When the warrior left, the medic turned to Ray, a question in his optics.

“Do you mind if I accompany you for a while? Otherwise I can just head to the forge to make some tools.”

Ray jumped a little when he spoke, which confused Ratchet even more. He tensed, thinking back to figure out what he may have done to warrant that behaviour.

“Did I do something wrong? I apologize if I did—”

“No, no, no,” Ray responded fervently, “I’m just a little nervous... there’s something I wanted to show you.”

Ratchet calmed, and patiently waited for her to explain.

She started, “You’ve been very patient and... consistent, this past month. I really appreciate you taking what I said to heart—or, er, to spark. Ratchet, I think I can safely say I trust you.”

His optics widened in understanding.

“Follow me. I want to show you the Nursery.”

The door was deadlocked and secured by a number of physical and electronic methods. She even went so far as to explain the traps/weapons hidden in the wall and floor that would even stall a Cybertronian in the event of attempted break-in. Passing through the door, he noted the thickness of the walls, indicating layers of material that would insulate from not only heated blasts, but possibly other kinds of radiation. It would protect from most kinds of intrusion as well. Also, the placement of the building was conveniently near the Gate Room, so there’s easy evacuation. He was impressed but not at all surprised at how secure this building was. Surely, if the All-Spark had truly passed on its power, it had chosen one of the most paranoid mothers of their children. What did those humans call her?

Mother bear.

Shaking his helm, Ratchet turned his attention to the small crowd of impossible little lives, and their small blue or green optics staring up at him. Oh, this brought him back. There used to be so many young lives on Cybertron, too. The loss of the youth sectors was still felt today, millennia after.

Ray’s servo met his back, and in a show of compassion, patted him and crooned consolingly. Ratchet eventually gathered his composure and relaxed. Her servo lifted, but she still looked at him warily. He nodded to indicate he was alright.

“Being the only being capable of addressing any hurt or other problems with them, I used to be their only caretaker,” she told him, “but that number has expanded to include a number of older children as well as humans.”

“Who is watching them now?”

“There were a couple humans and one of my older younglings watching over them, but I told them to take a break while we’re here. Feeding time comes a bit later. We can watch them do so if you’d like.”

There was a break in conversation for a bit as Ratchet visually examined the little ones. Eventually, Ratchet broke the silence.

“I’m curious... why is it that you decided to make more of our kind? Especially in the current political climate. I know you’re aware of our war coming to Earth.”

Ray hummed, thinking on how to answer.

“Well, it’s a little hard to explain,” she said. “It’s like an urge. I know logically I could’ve just hidden and waited for more peaceful times. But something in me was... not quite telling me, but... urging me to do something. When Linda suggested I make a place of my own, then I realized what I wanted to do.”

She picked up one of the fussier children in a firm hold and held them near to her spark. The little one calmed, and Ratchet watched as she brought them to one of the rooms. He tried to move to follow, but a bunch of curious bodies stopped him. A couple obviously older children watched him warily from afar.

The sparklings chirped at him inquiringly, wide eyes blinking and focusing on him intently.

He softened and kneeled down carefully. “Hello, little ones,” he tried in Cybertronian.

They chirped and clicked in understanding, excitement causing them to bounce in place. One of the larger frames grabbed his hand and tried to lead him to where surprisingly a few Cybertronian-styled games were. He wondered at how Ray knew about these, for not being born on Cybertron. Sparklings of their kind were born fast learners and needed games that would challenge and stimulate their minds in ways different from humans. These games were just the kind they needed. Though he felt a little too old to play these, he acquiesced and let himself be led into a game with the children.

When Ray came back from the other room, it was to the sight of a too-large Ratchet sitting down at one of the games practicing math, reaction time and judgment. He was surrounded by tiny bodies making encouraging noises. She smiled sappily, and simply stood nearby with arms crossed.

She did not regret anything in that moment.

Linda was laughing at her.

“Man, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous before,” the woman remarked with great amusement.

The much taller femme was pacing and occasionally wiping down imaginary dirt/smudges on her plating with a large cloth. Her voice dripped with embarrassment and nerves as she almost pleaded with her human best friend, “Linda, it has been too long since I’ve been on a date with someone. What do I talk about? What do we do?”

“Woah, slow down. I imagine it’s just like how you would go for coffee with someone. You ask them about their day, how they’ve been doing, how’s work, ask them questions about themselves like... ‘Do you have any hobbies’ or ‘Do you like jazz’.”

Ray, tired of being nervous, stopped pacing and muttered reassuringly to herself, “Right, right.”

“Hey, look at me,” Linda called to her, and the femme did so, “You’ve got this. You’re a good person, and great to be around. If they get bored or whatever, that’s their problem and not yours.”

“Thanks, Lin’.”

“You know, we should go for coffee sometime, too. Maybe you won’t get kidnapped this time.”

They both laughed, even though they doubted it.

Later in the day, Ray went to the Gate Room. The console had no one manning it because it wasn’t a workday for the warehouse workers. To her knowledge, there weren’t any other planned ground bridges. It would be her job to open the gate for her ‘date’. She checked her internal clock and decided to briefly comm them asking if it was all clear. Receiving the OK, she walked up to the console. A few taps to its controls brought the shining feat of engineering to life.

In a much more relaxed fashion than the usual, Sideswipe rolled in through the bridge. Ray’s countenance brightened when she saw him, and forgetting her nerves for a moment, she greeted him like usual. His neutral expression broke into a lopsided grin when he saw her.

“Why, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he teased.

A little used to his teasing by now, she simply placed a servo on her hip and replied, “I could say the same to you, handsome.” Her spark quivered nervously in her chest.

“You can close the ground bridge. It’s only me today.”

As she closed the bridge, something niggled in the back of her processor that something was up with the mech. It was distracting. She just couldn’t place what it was. His demeanour didn’t give away that anything was wrong, he looked fine and relaxed, but something...

“You know,” Ray said, pretending to think, “You look like you could use a drink.”

Sideswipe joked back, “I’m surprised I hadn’t thought of that.”

She giggled and stepped toward the door with him in tow. Before they could leave the general warmth of the building, she raised her arm, stopping him. He focused on her with a questioning tilt of his helm. Her happy expression darkened to something less cute, and she looked him up and down with a considering rumble from her vocaliser. Not expecting this forwardness, he didn’t have a comeback ready. He felt something stir in him as he opened his dermas to say something.

She interrupted softly, “I was joking earlier, but you really do look like you could use a drink.”

Sideswipe simply blinked at her, having to go back and reframe her earlier action as... Was that concern? How’d she even—aaand she was gone.

He was fast to follow her out the building. They weren’t that far from the Energon dispensary, as it was apparently called, so they didn’t bother driving. He rolled up beside her, and they slowed to a comfortable ambling pace.

Sideswipe examined his companion. She was the same height he was, which admittedly was great for a change. Her movements were smooth and her heel struts barely clacked when they touched the ground, traits that he would usually associate with a light-footed fighter or a dancer. He would need to see her run to know for sure. Her shoulders though gave her true feelings away—she was tense.

His earlier question of how she knew he wasn’t feeling alright was set aside. He started by asking her what she’s been up to, and how her children were. Her tone was nonchalant at first, but when she got to talking about her children, it shifted to something more genuine. She was invested in what she was saying. They continued talking about life in the city until they reached the dispensary.

This is nice, the femme thought. She realized suddenly that her earlier nerves had been vanquished by the trivial conversation. Talking to Sideswipe came surprisingly easy. Maybe she had been overthinking things again.

They entered the dispensary, seeing a couple of her children just chilling together with some cubes of Energon. They walked up to the dispenser and the nearby computer that served as the menu.

Dispensary? It looked like a bar. This sparked a mischievous thought in Sideswipe, and he nudged Ray.

“Hey, I just thought of something. Have you ever tried making high-grade?”

In retrospect, it was a bad idea. But Ray indulged him anyway. It’s not like she ever reached her daily/monthly limits for Energon.

“And then by complete coincidence it bounced into the ‘cons store of Energon, causing a rippling explosion. You can just imagine their anger as their precious Energon stores blew up. One. By. One. It was... beautiful,” Sideswipe said as he pretended to wipe a tear from his optics.

The two were leaning so heavily on the table that they were almost touching helms. They were grinning like loons, sharing stories of crazy events in their past. They didn’t seem to notice this, or that they attracted the curiosity of some younglings dining nearby.

“I can’t believe you. Reckless, that’s what you are,” Ray laughed, shoulders shaking.

Sideswipe insisted cockily, “It’s not recklessness if you know what you’re doing. Besides, you can’t tell me you’ve never done something reckless before.”

“Well... there was this one time with Linda where we had to run away from some cops.”

“Go on,” Sideswipe encouraged.

“We... I had the brilliant idea to cross this drawbridge. While it was opening. Linda did not approve.”

She halted, wondering if this story would be as amusing to him as his stories were to her. At Sideswipe’s insistence, she continued.

“I remember her clearly panicking screams as the bridge drew up. I wasn’t that great at driving at the time, and I had neither the power or momentum. We almost didn’t make it. At the last second though, I used a partial transformation to shift the weight of the car so we would land properly. But the chase didn’t end there.”

She shook her helm slightly as she recounted what happened.

“We had made good time because of the drawbridge, but then more cop cars came out of nowhere followed by helicopters. Lin’ and I were yelling at each other over what we should do when up ahead I spied a... gosh, what was it called.” Her optics dimmed as she recited what she searched for on the internet, “1998 Dodge Viper RT.”

When her optics brightened, the story continued, “It was also speeding. As soon as we cleared the helicopter, I transformed into that instead. Keep in mind I wasn’t that great at driving yet, so weaving through traffic was this crazy sedan that magically disappeared on the roadway.”

She wasn’t sure if her story was as funny as the ones he had told. To her relief, Sideswipe tittered in amusement. He commented, “I knew you had it in you.”

“What, to be a criminal?”

They shared a laugh.

After a while, Ray commented thoughtfully, “I’ve been switching alt forms for a while, though I haven’t found one I want to keep.”

He straightened suddenly at the mention, eyeing her critically and saying, “You know what would look good on you? I think...”

Many hours later, the two stumbled out of the ‘bar’, an undeniably inebriated Sideswipe holding up a completely plastered Ray.

His vocaliser skipped, hiccupped if you will, as he said, “Wh-oa, gorgeous. You don’t ha-ndle your high-grade well.”

“Youuuu,” she slurred impetuously, attempting to turn to face him.

The shifting weight caused Sideswipe to stumble a bit, but he managed to catch her before she could fall. He wasn’t so drunk that he didn’t realize how close their sparks were in this new position. He could feel his own pulsing faster as she looked up at him with those very green and very rare optics. Damn. Green is a nice colour.

He replied softly, “Me?”

“You keep saying tha-t,” she vocalised quieter, as if she was suddenly aware of how close they were.

He brought his helm closer to hers, asking, “Sa-ying what?”

“Gorgeousss,” she mumbled in reply.

Blinking, he smiled at her, “Just sta-ting how I see it. Do you want me to sto-p?”

She moved her helm closer, whispering, “No.”

:: Somewhere in the Indian Ocean ::

It was a very late and overcharged Sideswipe that slid quietly back through the ground bridge. Sending a comm to Ray, the bridge closed. He took a moment to straighten himself out. His fuel lines were filled with high-grade and his internal temperature was through the roof because he was suppressing his vents. He vented hard and relaxed as his temperature started dropping. It wasn’t so bad in the cold of Antarctica, but here it was much warmer.

He skated to the door, thinking up excuses to tell the others. He would have to avoid Ratchet for sure. As he opened the door, he startled as on the other side of the door was the very ‘bot he meant to avoid.

He sagged in defeat, muttering, “Slag.”

“Slag is right! Do you know how long we’ve been trying to contact you?”

“Aw, you do care!” Sideswipe joked, and then added, “Don’t worry about me, Ratchet. Just lost track of time.”

“Why are you venting so hard?” Ratchet’s optics narrowed in suspicion.

“Well it’s a little warm right now...” A scan hit him. “...And so I thought I’d chill for a bit—that’s really unnecessary.”

The sound of grinding metal reverberated as Ratchet bared his dentas at him. “Where in the pits of Kaon did you get that much high-grade?! You’re overcharged!”

:: Somewhere in America ::

All things considered, it could’ve gone much worse. While the Autobot leader didn’t so much care what his officers did in their off time, he cared about them ignoring their comms—intentional or not. Being enlisted in guard duty somewhere in the countryside with dirt clinging to every surface of his frame wasn’t the worst punishment. He wasn’t Sunny; he could take a bit of grime.

Granted, he was now forced to make conversation with some squishy organic he didn’t quite know, but he admitted the soldier he was ferrying wasn’t that bad. At least it got him out of that base in the middle of the ocean.

They were being sent to investigate a mysterious signal’s disappearance in a town close to their current position. Speaking of which, he could ‘see’ it now. He kept his senses alert, knowing that he could possibly be heading into a dangerous situation.

#my fanfiction #i don't believe in miracles #greyscales #transformers

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