Enthusiastically Obsessed

I accept that I’m in the controversial position of loving Luke Skywalker’s portrayal in TLJ. Zoom back to 2017 me. I was (still am) depressed and struggling with self-love issues. And then. AND THEN. I see Luke Skywalker struggling with the same things and thEN OVERCOMING THEM. Words cannot describe how revelatory this was.  In short, I love all movie portrayals of Luke Skywalker, and I wanted to share some of that via fic.

The Star Wars movies never portray choosing the Light Side of the Force as an easy or uncomplicated move. In fact, each of the times you see a character deliberately choose the Light, it’s only after a confrontation with the darkness within them - a confrontation that often takes the form of possible dark action. Take Luke at the end of Return of the Jedi. He’s been taught, he’s learned all the lessons, he knows, rationally, what’s right. But Yoda tells him he will not be a true Jedi until he faces his father. Why? Because that moment in front of Palpatine is crucial to his development. The Emperor goads him, mocks him, tries to get him to attack with all his rage and dark passion, and Luke gives in. He ignites the saber, he attacks Palpatine, he fights his father. He admits those dark elements of his nature, and only when he’s done so can he step back from the brink and act in full awareness of what the Light really entails - love, even at the cost of self-sacrifice.

It’s only once he has faced what that feels like, within himself, that Luke can know for certain he will not turn to the Dark Side - not because he is incapable of it, but because, being capable of it, he chooses not to do so.

Rey follows a similar trajectory in The Last Jedi. She has to go down into the cave and face her darkest emotions - which for her are largely comprised of fear and loneliness. It’s not a coincidence that she turns to Kylo Ren after that moment - because, having seen the potential for the dark within her, she is aware that dark and light are a matter of choice. If she has the potential for darkness, then Kylo has the potential for light, should he just choose it. And yet the ultimate test for Rey is yet to come. It is not the cave and the awareness of her bone-deep loneliness, it is Kylo’s offer to fill that loneliness that truly tempts her. I don’t think Rey knew for sure what she would choose until she tried holding out her hand the second time. But in that moment she knows she can’t choose her own happiness over the good of the fleet and, more importantly, over Kylo’s own chance to turn to the light. In an inversion of Luke’s action, Rey’s taking of the lightsaber is an action of self-sacrifice. Now, it’s certainly not as powerful or as effective as Luke’s - Rey still has much to learn and she thinks action is the key. Perhaps in the next movie she will learn that the true power of the Light is in being able to drop the weapon and say “I will not fight you, even at the cost of my own life.”

There’s one other aborted movement in The Last Jedi that reveals the same quality of choice made in the face of darkness, and of course I’m talking about Luke’s impulse to kill Ben. Not in character? Actually, it is. Just as he did with Vader, Luke had to go up to the moment of irrevocable action to know for certain that it was the wrong choice, and in that moment he dropped the weapon. But he never had a chance to let Kylo know that he chose not to kill him. He must make that choice clear.

Gentlebeings! I call you here today to announce the formal opening of a very special event: A charity fic exchange to raise money to support migrants and asylum seekers on the US southern border.

What is this thing?

As many of you will know, thousands of migrants arrive daily at the US-Mexico border seeking asylum in the US. They are fleeing political oppression, gang violence, domestic abuse, economic collapse caused by climate change, and innumerable other terrible situations. The Trump administration has decided, rather than fulfill our country’s obligation under international law to provide asylum to those who need it, to instead imprison migrants under inhumane conditions, separate them from their families, and deny them access to legal counsel.

Luckily, there are a bunch of great organizations working to provide legal services and humanitarian assistance to these migrants. And we are going to give them some fucking money.

Who are we donating to?

We will be supporting:

The International Rescue Committee, which provides humanitarian assistance to migrants released from border detention;

Border Angels, which provides water and supplies along migrant routes to prevent people from dying in the desert;

The Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, which provides legal and social support for refugees as they settle in the US;

And RAICES, which provides free and low-cost legal services to those detained at the border.

How does this work?

About 200 wonderful fandom creators have offered to provide fic and/or art to those who donate to any of these groups. Detailed instructions about how to get your fic/art once you’ve donated can be found here.

What do I do if I’ve signed up as a creator?

Your instructions are right here!

Where will all this cool fandom content end up?

All of the creators working on this project are encouraged to post their stuff in this AO3 collection!

So what’s in this for me?

Other than, like, helping people? Well. If there’s one truly universal fandom experience, it’s wanting fan content that doesn’t exist. Now you can make it exist! Want a drabble about your favorite villain hugging a puppy? Just ask. Yearning for a painting of your OC as a pirate? An artist is standing by. Need a handholding fic? An absurd bit of crack? An a/b/o smutfest? Now is your chance, my friends. It’s not every day you get to indulge yourself and do good simultaneously. Go for it.

Ok but seriously though.

One of the absolutely amazing things about fandom as a community is the way we are able to organize ourselves. We organize cons, kinkmemes, communities, fucking AO3. We’re a goddamn powerhouse. So let’s organize ourselves to do some good in the world. My original post announcing this project currently has 2,822 notes. That means that, if everyone who interacted with that post donates a dollar to one of these organizations, we’ll raise over 2,000 dollars to support migrants, and add potentially over 100,000 words of fanfiction and dozens or hundreds of pieces of fanart to the universe. And that’s just if we keep this restricted to the people who already know about it.

I have so many but this one is probably my favorite! One of my favorites at least.

True friendship is the least jealous of loves. Two friends delight to be joined by a third, and three by a fourth, if only the newcomer is qualified to become a real friend. They can then say, as the blessed souls say in Dante, “Here comes one who will augment our loves.” For in this love “to divide is not to take away.” Of course the scarcity of kindred souls- not to mention practical considerations about the size of rooms and the audibility of voices- sets limits to the enlargement of the circle; but within those limits we possess each friend not less but more as the number of those with whom we share him increases. In this, Friendship exhibits a glorious “nearness by resemblance” to Heaven itself where the very multitude of the blessed (which no man can number) increases the fruition which each has of God. For every soul, seeing Him in her own way, doubtless communicates that unique vision to all the rest. That, says an old author, is why the Seraphim in Isaiah’s vision are crying “Holy, Holy, Holy” to one another (Isaiah VI, 3). The more we thus share the Heavenly Bread between us, the more we shall all have.

C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves, excerpt from Friendship

The joy of Christmas is not separated from the sorrow of the crucifixion which isn’t separated from the glory of the resurrection. Christ was born to us so that He could suffer and die for us in order to raise us from sin back to life. When things are especially hard at Christmas time, when it’s hard to rejoice, it isn’t a lie or a betrayal of the Child in the manger.

He came for suffering, was born in it, lived in it, and died in it for the glory of His Father and for love of us. If we hurt or ache or are bruised or hopeless or weeping or disappointed, if there are shadows and scars and pains we can’t shake when Christmas night comes, we don’t have to feel that we are coming like a shadow on the joy of Christmas, or that our pain means we don’t belong, or that there is no room for us in the sparkle of this night. 

The angels descended with blazing wings

singing GLORIA in a chorus of a thousand voices

but the shepherds took for granted

the special effects and the full surround sound

and they found the Child and His Mother

in a stable

the Babe wrapped in swaddling clothes

and they felt a kind of emotional pity

as when they saw photos of starving orphans

in Africa

and they said

.

Sorry but we have nothing to give

only escalating piles of debt

mortgage and insurance payments

ever-increasing taxes

and joyless jobs that we work from 9 to 5

for the rich overlords who take from us

our petty gains

.

We cannot afford anything

not even the 1.5 children who baffle us

with their strange fashions and desires

and who are baffled by us in return

who will one day grow into joyless workers

and put us away in our old age

as men put down a sick dog

.

We have nothing to offer

but the ennui of those who rush madly

from distraction to distraction

and the casual adulteries

offhand murders

the sickly sweet vices of worn-out lusts

the enthralling fascination with illusory violence

and the sleepless nights spent trying to forget

what we are and what we have become

.

And the Child looked on the shepherds

with the wise eyes of One who has seen all things

and He said

.

I accept

the debts

and the distractions

the petty sorrows that break your hearts

the sleepless nights

and misunderstandings

the false joys and mindless lusts

I ask for no other gifts

For though their weight be more than the world’s weight

My shoulders will bear the burden

.

And the shepherds asked

But if you take this away from us

what will we have?

And the Child said

.

Peace

.

But not as the world gives

Peace within chaos

and in the midst of war

Stillness at the heart of disorder

Joy that no man can take from you

with mindless violence

or cruel words

The joy of those who have nothing to lose

because they have given everything they have

.

And the eternal Child in the manger smiled

with empty wounded hands

while outside the stable the bombs exploded

and the sharp staccato of machine guns

pierced the night

.

And the angels sang

Peace on earth

to men of good will

.

(personal stuff under the cut.)

This is actually a continuation of an older prompt from before I started doing weekly ficlets/prompts for ficlets, one I found and reblogged recently. Aka “the one where Owen Lars and Darth Vader have accidentally been anonymously corresponding with each other for about six years off and on, giving each other advice that somehow manages to work despite being used for two vastly different contexts”. Last Time on the PenPal-StepBrother AU, Owen (aka username “Just_An_Anchor”) sent Vader (aka username “Wraith”) Luke’s piloting test scores and Vader got an unexpected shock.

Vader read the name at the top of the page. Then he read it again. And again. When he had determined that no, his eyes were not playing tricks on him and no, neither was the Force – despite the fact that if it had been a physical being it would have grabbed him by the lapels and shaken him. (In fact, the Force had, in its less impartial moments, sometimes behaved as if it would have liked to do just that, with several individuals. The man formerly known as Anakin Skywalker was not exempt from this consideration.)

Luke Skywalker, age 16. Guardians: Owen and Beru Lars.

Skywalker.

Lars.

Tatooine.

Darth Vader stood up with a violent snap and two consoles on the edge of the chamber shattered their screens.

Just_An_Anchor was Owen Lars. His stepbrother. A living reminder of a life that was supposed to no longer exist. And for six years he had been trading sporadic, casual correspondence with the man. He knew more about Owen than Owen undoubtedly thought he’d revealed, and now that he had these names, all the rest of the pieces fell into place. If only he could understand the picture he was being presented with.

(Tags via @radioactivepeasant)