Cody had nine cups of coffee that morning, and was vibrating into the fourth dimension so he stopped listening after “execute order six-” order six, CANONICALLY, is “get rid of your communicator as fast as possible”. So that’s what Cody hears, and that’s what Cody relays to the GAR. So Palpatine executes his master stroke and six million clones just YEET their communicators and keep going about their business.
Hank Green + his friends made a whole YouTube channel dedicated to videos explaining how to vote in every. single. state. None of them are longer than three and a half minutes. Deadlines to register are fast approaching in a lot of places so it’s incredibly important that everyone is well informed about what they need to do in order to exercise their right and make their voice heard. Go forth, America. Show up for what you believe in. Make good choices. Please.
I was reading this fanfiction on AO3 of a crossover between Naruto and SW, when I started thinking about the character traits of TPM Anakin from an Eastern Perspective.
And it hit me, Little Ani was a perfectly goodkid in TPM. Hell, if the kid had been presented in front of a cache of martial artists in Asia, they’d be fighting each other to get him under their wing, instead of uttering words of foreboding, telling everyone who would listen that this kid is dangerous.
Anakin’s fear and worry for his mother would not have been perceived as signs of darkness but as the wonderful trait of filial piety. In fact, had he been calm and detached the whole time, had he been able to just shrug off the immense feeling of loss at leaving his mother like that, the martial artists would’ve been far more worried and probably would think Anakin to heartless and cold. There’s a common belief that if you could forget your own birth mother so easily, you wouldn’t have much loyalty to your adopted family of warriors either. They would’ve helped the kid in freeing his mother and encouraged him to visit whenever there’s off-time or vacation because most martial artists would recognize the difference between unhealthy, baseless fear and understandable worry for an actual problem that needed to be resolved.
And then there are the other traits, behold the 7 virtues of Bushido, which is a general list of traits and standards that one should uphold to be considered a good human being. Little Ani practically displayed all of these character traits during the events of TPM. Sure, he had anger issues, but the kid’s only nine, there’s still time to help him work through it and teach him how to handle these powers. Another common belief amongst the Chinese: If the student’s already perfect in everything but skillset, what use do you have for a master?
Any martial arts faction would’ve been proud to induct Anakin as an initiate and the master that gets him would be counting his lucky stars for being able to have an apprentice like this. If you see a kid like this in any Wuxia genre story, people would be falling over themselves to praise and befriend him. And yet, the space cult monks only see his darkness. Seriously??!
Bottom Line: Anakin Skywalker was a great kid, perfect af martial artist material but the space cults ruined him. The poor kid would have done so much better as a wandering swordsman or samurai.
FIGHT ME ON THIS, I DARE YOU.
Wow. This is awesome. Now I need an AU where Baze and Chirrut show up to recruit “rejected” order candidates. “Oh, too old for the Order then? All is as the Force wills it. Baze will go invite your mother to join too and we can all go home together.”
“Excuse me, this is our council chamber and we are in the middle of evaluating this candidate,” Mace says. “Did Qui-Gon let you in?”
“Sounds like you’ve already made a decision about him before your meeting began,” Baze remarks. “And just what is so wrong about missing and fearing for his mother that you just left in slavery?” He asks coming to stand by Anakin.
“Slavery is an affront to the Force. To do nothing in the face if its evil is to invite darkness,” Chirrut proclaims leaning on his staff.
“Are you Jedi too?” Anakin asks with growing hope, a warmth filling him where before he was cold down to his bones. “Will you–will you really free my mother?”
That sounds like an excellent idea for an AU, Chirrut and Baze taking Anakin back to the temple in Jedha would have saved everyone a lot of pain. I would love to read more of this.
So Chirrut and Baze adopt Anakin (none of this master stuff). Anakin insists they help Padme’s Queen so they decide to tag along with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.
(”Master, why are they here?” Obi-Wan asks in a hissing voice.
“The Force wills it,” Chirrut answers from the other side of the room.
“Anakin wants to help his friends and help people suffering. That’s a good thing,” Baze adds pointedly.)
Baze has a whole lot to say about sending the Gungans in as cannon fodder. Chirrut lets the tooka out of the bag that Padme is the Queen while en route (it’s not like he can see her “cunning disguise” after all). Padme is happy to learn about the Guardians and wants to develop deeper ties with them after she liberates her planet. Anakin still ends up flying in the battle and destroying the ship. Chirrut helps out with Darth Maul in his usual way, waiting and following behind the fight until the Force prompts him to act, saving Qui-Gon’s life and knocking Darth Maul out (he and Baze decide to take the Sith back with them to Jeddah. Baze does not like the idea of leaving Maul to be interrogated under this new Supreme Chancellor, especially when Chirrut positively recoils from the man). Qui-Gon keeps trying to get Anakin to consider joining the Order.
(”But … the council doesn’t want me,” Anakin reminds him carefully. “I’m too old.”
“I can still train you without their approval,” Qui-Gon insists.
“But you have Obi-Wan, who is AMAZING. I saw the footage from the saber fight with the Sith. He’s your student. Plus, if I go with Baze and Chirrut I get to free my mom just like in my dream.”)
Palpatine is NOT happy that he will be losing access to the Chosen One but is he really that necessary to his plans? No, he just wanted to corrupt him to really stick it to the Jedi Order when he orchestrates their downfall. He can always go to that backwater planet later and pick the boy up if he needs him. Really, like a bunch of crystal worshipers with no Force talent will be any threat to him. Anakin says goodbye to the Jedi Order and to Padme (they’ve exchanged comm info. Anakin plans to write her soon) and they rescue his mom (who’s own Force abilities are more than welcomed by the Guardians) and go to Jeddah.
Other than still dealing with copious amounts of sand, Anakin is quiet happy in his new life.
gather round, folks, that i may pass down the tale of Fuck-It Jonn, because that dude is just the GREATEST FUCKING CONMAN in the WORLD, and he WASN’T EVEN TRYING. he absolutely fucking STUMBLED ON ACCIDENT into THE SCAM THAT WOULD DEFINE HIS ENTIRE LIFE. the lie that transformed his ENTIRE EXISTENCE out of SHEER RANDOM BULLSHIT.
and his sole motivation was to EAT FINGER FOOD.
consider:
in the Wayback Days™ before i was born, the people who would later become my parents had this friend named… yeah, let’s say jonn. i’d rather not say his real name. bitches not snitches, and all that.
so. france in the late 80s. jonn and my parents had just finished school and all found jobs in computer engineering. (not that they STUDIED computer engineering, mind you. no, they were all studying how to become fish farmers or some shit. but those were simpler times, when knowing how to turn the fucking screen on got you a comfortable salary at the ripe old age of 24 years old.)
except that jonn, who was a chill hippie kind of dude, was bored to death by his desk job. so bored that he decided to just up and quit. “fuck it”, was basically jonn’s motto. fuck it, he’d find something better! fuck it, and things would work out! EXCEPT (as you may have guessed) THEY DIDN’T. for months and months he didn’t find another job. and so he ended up depressed, struggling, and eating dinner at my future-parents’ tiny apartment, three times a week, so he wouldn’t literally starve.
time went by. jonn was still unemployed. so before his resources hit rock bottom, jonn did the only logical, reasonable thing. what’s that, you ask? begged for his old job back? went back to school? crawled home to his parents? ha ha! obviously you do not share jonn’s ADVENTUROUS AND ENTREPRENEURIAL SPIRIT. and also you lack his BIZARRE LOGIC AND PLAIN WEIRD APPROACH TO LIFE.
what jonn did was: say “fuck it” (again) and leave for thailand.
because you see, thailand was cheap by french standards. so cheap that even a penniless dude on unemployment could live there for weeks on end, spending much less than he would have in france, as long as he didn’t mind roughing it. and jonn didn’t mind! “fuck it”, he’d said. and by god, he would stand by his words!
so jonn gamely scrounged up the money for the plane ticket and then… yeah. basically bummed it out in thailand. for two months. seeing the sights. sleeping on the street. making new friends.
and one of these news friends turned out to be very adept at FORGING PAPERS.
huh, jonn said to himself (probably high at the time) this sounds not at all shifty and more like a ONCE IN A LIFETIME OPPORTUNITY; what could POSSIBLY GO WRONG. my new thai best friend is even offering me a FAMILY DISCOUNT. for fake papers. fuck it! let’s have some!
as far as i can tell, jonn… didn’t even need fake papers?? like, he was literally just trying not to pass up on an opportunity here. so he smoked some more weed (i can only assume) and got A BRILLIANT IDEA. fake ID card? LAME. fake driver’s licence? HACKNEYED. fake medical degree? PEDESTRIAN. no! jonn got himself a fake press card.
but why??
well, OBVIOUSLY, just so he could get into cultural events for free – conferences, art premieres, etc – and eat all the finger food. that was his grand plan. stroll into press-only events, wave his poorly-made card around, and gorge himself on canapés. no more going hungry! ever! jonn would live off tiny slices of toasted foie gras and flutes of cheap champagne for the rest of his life!
so now jonn, Very Obviously Fake Journalist™, is back in france and he’s DOING THE THING. and guess what? this was before google. before facebook. before linkedin. impersonating a journalist was very easy. if people asked where you worked you just said you were freelance, then steered the conversation to current politics and stealthily devoured the entire buffet while everybody was busy debating.
and so. this is what jonn is doing. his monumentally stupid plan is actually working. this is how he eats. with thai-made fake papers and sheer fucking confidence. and of course people start noticing him eventually! jonn is always fucking there! at all and any events in paris! because, again, THIS IS HOW HE EATS! but it’s always the same people running around in these circles, anyway. so nobody’s surprised to see the same dudes popping up over and over again. jonn blends in! and jonn is very good at making friends. and changing the subject. and eating canapés.
and then ONE DAY
one of jonn’s newfangled journalist friends (a REAL journalist, mind you, who has NO IDEA that jonn isn’t What He Seems) basically goes: “dude i’m so swamped rn. everyone wants everything all at once. fuck. shit. are you swamped too?”
“oh, for sure,” jonn says through a mouthful of his twenty-ninth serving of canapés that night. “not a second to myself”
“god. fuck. tell me about it. shit. i’m just so damn swamped.” Real Journalist shakes his head. “if i could only find someone to cover for me on this one article.”
now, i know i said before that jonn was smoking weed. but i must confess now i said it for humorous effect. i have no idea if jonn’s ever been within five hundred yards of a blunt his whole life. but what you must understand is that jonn is Chill™ on like. a soul-deep level. his whole mind is one long exhale of smoke followed by the words “fuck it”. this is a man who left his job for no reason, lived in thailand on a tourist’s visa for two months, got fake papers there for the lol of it all, and is now living off press-only events in paris. jonn was BORN HIGH.
SO. when RJ asks him: “dude. jonn. you said you were working freelance. i know you’re busy but don’t you think you could maybe cover for me? just this once?”
jonn NATURALLY answers: “fuck it. sure”
then goes to an unemployment center and applies for one of their free one-week classes. on journalism. jonn spends ALL OF ONE WEEK learning How To Write An Article Like A Real Journalist With A Real Press Card. then writes the article. basically bullshitting his way through that thing. half-assing the life out of it. faking his heart out. because why not? FUCK IT.
i have NO IDEA if he actually did a good job or not. but it was in fact good enough for RJ who really must have been truly swamped, and was so truly grateful that he told all of their mutual journalists friends. who were ALL SWAMPED. i’m given to understand it’s the natural state of the journalist in the wild.
and so jonn is now REGULARLY COVERING FOR ALL SORTS OF JOURNALISTS.
not making much money i assume. but still, not bad for a dude who studied journalism for five whole days.
and well, it’s kinda fun! better than moping around at home waiting for the next free canapé press-only premiere. so jonn keeps at it. and eventually it occurs to him that hey! he spent two months in thailand. why not make an article out of that? so he writes himself a lil paper, retelling his Bumtastic Adventures in the Land of Thai People, Cheap Living and Forged Papers (That Last One Having Nothing to Do With Him Personally of Course). and he’s kinda proud of it. so much that he gives it to his journalist friends. can they maybe pass it around? see if anybody would be interested in publishing it? for a modest fee and some more canapés?
and yeah. someone was in fact interested in publishing it. and that someone was:
THE
NATIONAL
GEOGRAPHIC
(french edition.)
so jonn got a REAL press card. got a FULL-TIME JOB at the national geographic. and spent the REST OF HIS WORK LIFE traveling abroad for six months, then going back to paris the rest of the year to write about his wacky journeys. he’s retired now, having published several books full of his articles and photographs. he’s bought a b&b in the french countryside with all his money. and continues to say “fuck it” to any problem that comes his way like the absolute fucking legend he is.
as far as i know, none of his journalist buddies nor his boss ever found out about any of this.
This will be the most consequential election of our lifetime, and yet only 28% of young people age 18-29 say they will certainly vote in the midterms. That number is unacceptable, especially given we have the most to lose, our future and every social issue you claim to care about is at stake.
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