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Reminder: you cannot Fix Structural Problems by berating everyone who Proposes an Alternative or Solution.

A person for whom this is the standard reaction (along with a person who insists that None of Us Have Any Agency and the Problem is Just Too Big for Personal Choices to Matter) is Supporting the Structure and Keeping it Intact, not Dismantling it.

Oppression can and does take the form of convincing people that they're helpless.

But you are not helpless. Google is not stopping you from learning things, right now, and sharing what you learn with others. Someone who tries to downplay your knowledge acquisition, who opines that it's meaningless because Structural Problems, is more on the side of Google [and insert any other powerful entity here] than on yours.

We need to lay more blame for "Kids don't know how computers work" at the feet of the people responsible: Google.

Google set out about a decade ago to push their (relatively unpopular) chromebooks by supplying them below-cost to schools for students, explicitly marketing them as being easy to restrict to certain activities, and in the offing, kids have now grown up in walled gardens, on glorified tablets that are designed to monetize and restrict every movement to maximize profit for one of the biggest companies in the world.

Tech literacy didn't mysteriously vanish, it was fucking murdered for profit.

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@incognitajones tagged me to share something I'm working on, like, eons ago. Gosh, am I sorry it took me so long! This has been a much, much busier 2024 than I could ever have imagined. Better late than never, though, eh?

So, here's a quick excerpt from the third chapter of Janos City Blues, which is coming along, albeit slowly:

He stared at them, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “What are you saying?” The lines and planes of his face were stern. His nostrils flared. “What you’ve brought to other worlds…you’re bringing that here, to mine? And you think it will benefit me?” “Something like that.” Raindrops beat a staccato rhythm on their umbrellas. A small, scaled creature skittered along the edge of the pond, then submerged itself, head first. The air stood still.  “Well. I’m not sure I see how that follows.” Norenni shook his head. “This may have been a mistake.” Jyn swallowed, knocked her hip into Cassian’s, the way he’d done to her. At her back, his fingers curled. Heat wicked up her spine, pooled in her core. Her nerves exploded. She ignored them. “Look, you want them to leave you alone, and you want more credits in your pocket.” She held Norenni’s gaze. His eyes flicked down, back up. “The only way that’s going to happen is if they get off this planet.” “I’m not a revolutionary, and I have no desire to be one.” “Fine.” She shrugged. “Not asking that.” “And yet you’re most assuredly asking something.” He glanced down at his wrist, at the chrono peeking out from under the cuff of his jacket. Rotated toward the grove’s exit, toward the front of the park. “Get to it. I’m losing my patience.”

And I...have no idea who to tag! Anyone who'd like to share: go for it!

#meme #writing #wips

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Rebecca Ferguson via Instagram

#is this going to become a rebecca ferguson blog? #probably not #but it might #dune part 2 is coming after all

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Janos City Blues - Chapter Two

Phew - that took a bit longer than expected!

In this chapter: Jyn and Cassian snag a moment or two of relaxation (and, perhaps, just a bit of UST); the undercover life goes awkwardly (and obnoxiously, as far as Jyn is concerned); and a target is potentially, hopefully, kriffing better be, talked into a meeting.

I hope you enjoy it; and, as always, thank you for reading. :)

[Read it all on AO3]

The “hole in the wall” at the edge of the eastern industrial sector lay in the shadow of a great factory, windows gazing down upon the street, a set of dark, dour eyes. Its stacks were smokeless; its gates were closed. It stood still and silent, a modern relic, a reminder of a bright, hot, swiftly fading moment. The restaurant itself was narrow and cramped. Six tables, pushed up against the walls, separated by a pace or two, the front-most uncomfortably close to the door, the rear-most within spitting distance of the kitchen. The entire space couldn’t have been much more than nine square meters. Had it been at all busy, the patrons would've been on top of one another. As it was, it was mid-afternoon, neither properly lunch nor dinner, and Jyn and Cassian were the only people there. Jyn leaned forward, arms folded on the table, leg bouncing beneath it. Hallikset-driven music spilled out from a wall-mounted speaker. Hunger gnawed at her stomach. The only thing she’d eaten that day was a packet of rations, and the alcohol had intensified the lack. Not that she regretted having it. “So,” she said. “Will we be seeing much more of her?” Cassian’s posture was relaxed, his right arm slung over the back of his chair. “Here and there.” She had to strain to hear him, which was for the better. “Why?” “Just rather work on our own, now that we’ve gotten the intel from her.” “I don’t see how that’s possible. Her group’s involved in all the ground-level organization; for this to work, we'll need her on an ongoing basis.” Jyn scoffed. She wasn’t much for taking bets, but she’d wager good money that Laudik knew exactly how much her group was needed. Hells, she’d put odds on that being half the motivation behind her work. “Yeah? And how much does she need us?” His eyes searched hers. “Plenty,” he said. A series of high, keening vocals drifted down from the speakers, and his breaths grew long and deep.

#rebelcapatain #jyn x cassian #therebelcaptainnetwork #dailyrebelcaptain #slow burn #mission fic #;fics and drabbles

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Rebecca Ferguson, as Juliette Nichols in Silo.

#silo #juliette nichols #I love her to death

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Janos City Blues - Chapter One

Hello there! :) This is the first chapter in what I expect to be a lengthy RebelCaptain piece, featuring an off-schedule revolution, intrigue, Bothans, and slow burn romance.

Here's the setup: Jyn and Cassian have been sent to Janos City to disrupt the already-troubled Lant Mining Corporation's operations, and to help a group of on-the-ground agents foment insurrection. Revolutions, however, cannot be controlled...

As a heads up, this piece is going to be very class-forward. The mission itself is also ethically problematic (as the Alliance can sometimes be), which I'm going to do my best to tackle appropriately. The M rating is "just in case." And Bodhi will definitely be making an appearance. :)

All right, I think that covers it! Without further adieu...

The ship’s air was still and stagnant, and her feet clung to the memory of the engine’s hum. They’d been traveling for nearly two days. Time enough to absorb the rhythms of the ship, to get inured to the rush of stars, to sit and to think and to long for solid ground. She looked up. Through the porthole to her left, she could see planetside sights: the dance of aircraft, a layer of clouds, the spire of a tower, ringed by red lights. Should’ve been a relief, that they were about to disembark. She wasn’t nervous. Well, maybe she was, but she’d never call it that. Cassian stood a pace back from the hatch, half one ahead of her, his suitcase - sleek, square, modern, the sort that came with a matching set - hanging stiffly from his hand. She took in the whole of him, and frowned. “Soften your aureks.” Cassian stopped short. “What?” It had taken Jyn until now to put words to it. He hadn’t asked her for help, per se, but early on, he’d mentioned he hadn’t used his Coruscanti accent in a while, and then had stopped using his own voice altogether. It didn’t take a genius to read between the lines. “Your aureks,” she said. “They’re a little hard.” He regarded her for a moment, long enough for her to doubt. At length, he nodded, smiled slightly. “Thank you.” Decently said, accent-wise. “Sure.” There were implications to him valuing her input on this, some more significant than others. She ignored them.

[Continue reading on AO3]

#rebelcaptain #jyn x cassian #therebelcaptainnetwork #dailyrebelcaptain #slow burn #mission fic #;fics and drabbles

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ok what’s your florence + the machine song. mine is rabbit heart (raise it up)<3

#cosmic love...hurricane drunk...what kind of man...how big how blue how beautiful #one of those #can't quite choose between 'em #florence and the machine

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WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @incognitajones; thank you! Missed it last week, so answering the call today.

They pushed through the throng, through heat and sweat and swill, tracked by wary eyes, and found a Bothan of middle years tucked into a rear corner booth. Light poured through a long, rectangular window onto her neck, her shoulder, the table. She was dressed modestly, in a long-sleeved shirt and darkly colored traveler’s vest, and she sipped from a tumbler, face relaxed, brown fur lying flat. It struck Jyn that there was no one around her. She’d secured a spot all to herself, in a place where both seating and standing room were at a premium. What had she done to manage that? As they approached, she straightened, nodded at Cassian. Gave Jyn an appraising look. Her gaze lingered past the point of comfort.  “There you are.” She swept her hand over the table, palm upturned. “Sit, sit!” Voice light, almost jovial; eyes keen, hard at the edges. “What are you drinking? I’ll call someone over.” They slid onto the bench across from her, Cassian on the inside. Jyn’s knee brushed up against his. She left it there. “I’m not drinking, Laudik,” he responded, at the same moment that Jyn said, “whisky.”

Tagging...I don't know! Anyone and everyone who wants to! @woahpip, are you working on anything these days?

#wip #wip wednesday

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Friends!

This is happening!

Tentatively titled 'Janos City Blues.' First chapter out the first week of October.

No promises on the question marks.

🤘

Do I want to suddenly out of nowhere write a giant Rebelcaptain fic based on a short prompt I filled over a year ago?? With interminable slow-burn vibes??? And a revolution that starts too early???? And Bothans (my favorite!)????? And a more sensible amount of questions marks??????

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Stress drew Jyn before my interview yesterday to give me strength.

#jyn erso #gorgeous art!

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Do I want to suddenly out of nowhere write a giant Rebelcaptain fic based on a short prompt I filled over a year ago?? With interminable slow-burn vibes??? And a revolution that starts too early???? And Bothans (my favorite!)????? And a more sensible amount of questions marks??????

#rebelcaptain #the answer is yes #clearly I am out of my mind

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#the work we most need is often the work that's valued the least #the workers who are most essential are often the ones treated the worst #change is needed #ups strike #labor rights

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Jyn Erso | from Star Wars: Women of the Galaxy

#jyn erso #looking absolutely badass #love the style of this

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how to rest (in a war)

Hyperspace is smeared white with the light of a million stars, a million planets and suns and moons and people. Hearts of kyber and fleshier things. Flares of life. Bugs on a windshield.

His spine aches and the ache pulls like the fingers of a grubby street child, like a grasping weed, draws his mouth into a thin line. Immeasurable.

The smears don’t blink out as they come out of hyperspace and that confirms his suspicions. He’s going to pass out. Maybe already has passed out and is surfacing, head above water, before the waves submerge him again.  Maybe it’s worse than that. He doesn’t think so; he’s grown remarkably good at knowing the limits of his body and feels certain that he’ll die without bacta and bone stabilizers but not immediately. That’ll have to be enough. Internal bleeding aside, his body is not riddled with shrapnel or tattooed with the burning ink of an explosion.

The Death Star fired on its own base and its only Bodhi that got them out. Imperial pilot. Defector. 

Cassian doesn’t allow himself to think the word friend.

The grating beneath him shutters, pitches, and he hears distantly K-2’s steady back and forth with Alliance flight control. It’s out of order.  An echo. K is dead. K is a square of data in his quarters. K is stuttering into the comms—stuttering—shouting Goodbye into an ever darkening vault. Bodhi is stuttering. Bodhi is alive. K is dead.

A hand bunches into his tattered shirt and presses down into his chest just beneath his collarbone. A shadow leans over him but the stars of hyperspace remain, dashed across the bridge of her nose, her eyes, her mouth. It’s Jyn, he thinks. She was next to him when they took off and Chirrut is a half-dead slump that Baze hovers over. Or was. Maybe now he is an all-dead slump.

This is the first time quiet has sung so loud.

“Cassian. S-stay.” It is Jyn. “You need to stay awake.”

He knows that. The majority of his career has been solo missions, regardless of the presence of assets, and though he’s never really had to call upon it much, he knows basic first aid. Knows how to bandage a blaster shot, a vibroblade wound. Knows that falling asleep with a concussion could mean never waking up.

He knows it but the stars are getting brighter and she’s fading to light.

The stars, suns, moons, the shades of hyperdrive are burned into his eyelids but he still turns his head towards her voice and reaches for her arm, desperate. When he finds it, he slides his palm down her sleeve until he hits exposed forearm and lingers. Presses two fingers to her pulse point. Lingers. Only for a moment. Even as her other hand comes to rest on his wrist, he slides further down to her hand that holds tightly to the clunky weight of the plans. She presses his hand.

“I’ve got them. We got them. Stay awake.”

Can’t, he thinks as his eyelids slip shut.  The stars are here. In the dark, and burning bright.

He turns his hand, feels the data drive fall away, and all that’s left is Jyn’s skin.

It’s odd how hungry he is for the touch. More than for the plans even. He remembers touching her hip where they originally hung as soon as he and Jyn were dragged bodily by Baze on board, not even out of atmo yet. Not safe, no promise of escape. Touched and gripped and thought it’s done, though really it isn’t.  And still, more than all of that, he wants to touch Jyn Erso and feel that she is alive.

“Cassian, stay awake.”

Maybe he is delirious from the concussion. It’s nonsensical.

He’s never felt an urge to hold a person without motive or prompting.

Cassian. Stay awake.

He won’t and he knows it but the corners of his mouth tighten with an effort.

Cassian. 

He’s more Cassian than he’s ever been.

She gives that to him. No aliases, no lies.

Cassian.

#fic rec #rebelcaptain #lovely prose

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-What does she do?

- Well, she pretty much keeps everyone in the Silo alive.

REBECCA FERGUSON as Juliette Nichols in SILO (2023 -)

#silo #juliette nichols #this is an absolutely fantastic adaptation

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Megan Arkenberg

#poetry #the ghosts of leviathans

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Actors and writers are not working class.

"Working class" isn't a synonym for "people who work." It specifically means people who perform manual/industrial labor. Your plumber is working class. Pedro Pascal is not.

your favorite youtubers and content creators are about to be offered some tantalizing tv/streaming deals so we're all about to find out who the real working class allys are