#resisitance

There are all kinds of resistance and some is far from futile—people are not Borg. People in power are people, fallible and eminently confusable. One way to resist: get grit in the gears until the the machine stutters and stops. Buy time. Some ideas about how.

There are all kinds of resistance. Very little of it is futile: people are not the Borg (or even Daleks). People in power are people, fallible and eminently confusable. To all the federal workers out there worried about their jobs; to all the law enforcement, school districts, academics, and health administrators who are pre-obeying to stay safe, I would like to recommend to you a little book…

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Reader x (you will have to wait and see but it is coming)

Warnings: None, just more plot development with a cliff hanger? I’m sorry I’ll write the next part soon to not leave you hanging J

Word Count: 900

Summary: You grew up in the resistance but don’t have a specific role so Leia asks you to help out in communications since they are short-handed for their mission, but what pilot are you assigned to?

  You were awoken the next day unusually early, by the sound of your door opening. You expected it to be a droid requesting your assistance in the Med Bay today as you knew they were planning some sort of mission involving the first order.

You were surprised when you felt someone sit at the end of the bed and you quickly turned over and looked. “good morning Y/N” you heard the comforting voice of no one other than Leia herself say. “good morning?” you questioned. Leia took in a deep breath, “Y/N I have a favour to ask you and I need you to say yes so I came here myself to ask you”, you were happy to talk to Leia but worried of what she was going to ask, she continued “I know you have heard of the mission we are planning today and, I hate to ask but I need your help, and it’s not in the med bay”, she paused. You immediately knew she was going to ask you to work in communications, you hated working there because you were very directly helping a pilot kill people, but you were also helping them get home safe and that’s the only reason you ever helped in communications.

You had the best track record, especially for the many different pilots you have been paired with, you had gotten them all home safe which created quite a reputation for you, but this put you on a pedestal you were scared you couldn’t live up to.

“The position is in communications, and we really need you Y/N” she said and then smiled at you, knowing you were contemplating her question, you finally answered “well how can I ever say no to that smile, of course I’ll fill in” Leia sighed in relief “thank you Y/N I can always count on you”. Just as Leia walked to the door you said” wait where’s the person I’m filling in for? Who’s their pilot?” Leia turned and replied “You are filling in for Dextra, she got a nasty case of the galactic Flu, and we haven’t assigned you a pilot just yet”.

The galactic flu was nasty, so you felt bad for Dextra but the curiosity of who your pilot might be outweighed that feeling. Leia left your room and closed the door behind her, you knew that you had about an hour to get ready so you slept a little longer and then took a quick shower and got dressed in some leggings and a communications sweater. You pulled the front pieces of your hair back so they were out of your face, but you never wore your hair up because you hated when the headset would get stuck in your hair and pull on it when it was up.

You stopped in the canteen to get yourself some breakfast and sat with some of the others you knew from communications, you figured you might as well since you’d be working with them all day, or night depending on how long the mission takes. You didn’t remember all of their names but you remembered Larena since she was the one who trained you originally, she was very kind but intimidating which made her good at this job. Also sitting there was Torent, he was great at making harsh and rash decisions. You were unlike either of them neither harsh or intimidating which wasn’t helping you reassure yourself for today.

They talked about the mission plans and you kind of zoned out, all though it would have been good for you to know sort of what was going on. Larena waved her hand in front of you “hey , Y/N you alright?” you quickly zoned back in “What?” she laughed at your dazed expression and repeated herself “ I said are you alright? You zoned out for a few minutes there.” You gave her a reassuring smile and said “oh I’m fine, just a bit anxious, you know me, I always worry too much about these missions” she patted your shoulder and said “Y/N you will be fine you’re good at communications, you were trained by the best” Torent frowned and teased “hey, who says you’re the best!”.

The rest of breakfast was spent talking about various things and Torent and Larena continuously arguing about who was better. Breakfast went by too fast and before you knew it you were walking into the communications center and sat a computer near the corner, far away from everyone else but just close enough to Larena in case you needed her. That’s when The communication leader came up beside you “morning Y/N have you decided you want to work for me now?” You lightly laughed “your lucky to have me just for the day Lorn” he looked at you and said “you’re supposed to call me captain at work, don’t use my first name” you knew this bothered him so you smiled “No problem Captain Lorn” he rolled his eyes “ okay Y/N let me set up your computer and sink it with your pilots radio” you moved back giving him room to do so.

There is the backwards Notion Of be here now In which you can Never be fully present.

And present at the same time. There is the positivity; water off a ducks back

Inherent in oligarchy.

There is the cloak of spirituality; words bumbling around In the cosmos of capitalism.

Drowning in the sour stories Of privilege.

It’s all good.

Chill out

Don’t get your knickers in a knot.

There is knowing that meditation won’t. Save you.

This monkey mind is wrapped up in surviving. There is beauty bound up in resistance.

There is a numbing to the space between class.

Divisions that separate our flesh and bones.

The organic fee range cosmos Handing out the rationed packages Of mr noodles.

There is forgetting the social string that weaves our beings together.

There is the blinkers, of comfort.

And the social distance of power animating our patterns.

There is an anger, a grief so profound how could one ever sit still with out the sedatives of the status quo.

Nietzsche knows about the how too’s

Of walking on water. With out wings.

Henrik Ibsen, Ghosts