#Plot Clearing Services in Cape Town

[houseofbrat]

30 AUGUST 2024: Richard Kay, Daily Mail, "The inside story of Harry's 'greatly significant' trip home revealed by RICHARD KAY... and why it proves where his REAL loyalties lie" [archive link]

Each year, since Diana’s passing in 1997, Harry and William have made a pilgrimage to their mother’s grave close to the anniversary of her death. They used to do so together, but in recent years have done so apart. That this year they were together again over the week of their mother’s anniversary is deeply symbolic. Harry would have known this before choosing to attend the memorial. It appears crystal clear to me that he is finally ready for rapprochement.

31 AUGUST 2024: Charlotte Griffiths & Ian Gallagher, Daily Mail, "Duke of Sussex asks former aides to help plot RETURN from his US exile in first stage of 'rehabilitation' strategy: Prince's friends vow to help smooth path back and dub it 'Operation Bring Harry In From The Cold'" [archive link]

At least one of the advisers approached by Harry is a trusted figure 'from the old school' known for loyalty and discretion. One friend has already devised a strategy for how Harry might begin moving in UK circles again – even carrying out 'very low-key royal duties' – although the Duke is said to be open to ideas from many sources. A source said the friend 'believes if Harry comes back to the UK with zero fuss, and does zero publicity and attends very mundane events, he could prove himself and win over the British public again.

03 SEPTEMBER 2024: Isabelle Casey, Hello!, "Exclusive: Princess Kate issues heartfelt letter to fellow mum amid cancer treatment" [archive link]

The Princess of Wales has taken a step back from her royal duties since news of her cancer diagnosis, so one can only imagine Kirsty Kerr's amazement when she received a special letter on behalf of the future Queen just two weeks ago. Kirsty, whose six-year-old daughter Isla has coeliac disease, reached out to Her Royal Highness back in December after reading a statement from the Princess's Shaping Us campaign, focusing on children's mental health. [...] Following her letter, Kirsty received a thoughtful response from Kate's office.

People magazine (US), "Prince William's Next Solo Visit to Wales Revealed — and It's Happening Soon" [archive link]

05 SEPTEMBER 2024: William visits the Saatchi Gallery to see the Homelessness: reframed exhibition.

06 SEPTEMBER 2024: Tom Sykes, The Daily Beast, "Prince Harry Just Made a Pilgrimage to Princess Diana’s Grave" [archive link]

Prince Harry visited his mother Princess Diana’s grave when he was staying at her ancestral home in the U.K. last week, The Daily Beast has been told by a friend and neighbor of Diana’s brother, the 9th Earl, Charles Spencer. [...] The Spencer friend told The Daily Beast: “Harry visited the grave when he was in Althorp. It’s a very special place for all the family but especially Harry. It was a significant part of his motivation for staying there.”

Kate tweets:

GB News issues a serious news story:

07 SEPTEMBER 2024: Roya Nikkhah, The Sunday Times

"Will Kate return to public life soon? Hopes for an autumn comeback" [archive link]

However, after a restful summer spent with the Prince of Wales and their three children at Anmer Hall, their home in Norfolk, the princess is beginning to think about the months ahead. There is no set date for her return to public life, nor any engagements inked into her diary, and Kate will not accompany William to Cape Town in early November for this year’s Earthshot Prize awards. But if she continues to have more “good days”, it is understood she has set her sights on “potentially” joining the King and the royal family at the Cenotaph for the National Service of Remembrance on November 10.

The Telegraph, "Taxpayers fund study of monarchy in Caribbean that will be ‘valuable for agitators’" [archive link]

British taxpayers have footed an £800,000 bill for a study on the monarchy’s future in the Caribbean that claims to be of “immense value” to activists “agitating” for its abolition. The Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC) has given The Visible Crown, which is examining the legacy of the late Queen in the West Indies, £825,417 in taxpayer funding. The research project’s website claims it will be “of immense value to academics, but also to all those engaged with, advising on or agitating for constitutional reform in the Caribbean, and in the Commonwealth realms more generally”. The principal investigator of the study claimed last year that Britain’s monarchy “sustains white inherited privilege”.

08 SEPTEMBER 2024: Hello! magazine, "Prince William and Princess Kate hire additional support as the Princess of Wales' return details revealed" [archive link]

As posting on their website notes that the royal couple is hiring a senior communications officer. The description reads: "The successful candidate will lead on communications plans for Their Royal Highnesses' engagements and support on the delivery of communications strategies to promote their key projects.  The role will also involve responding to media enquiries on matters related to The Prince and Princess and their family."  Travel between royal residences in the UK and travel abroad is required for the full-time role, although it will usually be based at Kensington Palace. The candidate must also be able to "handle sensitive information with tact and discretion at all times". 

Newsweek, James-Crawford Smith, "Princess Kate's 6-Month Cancer Journey, So Far" [archive link]

The royal mother of three, stepped out of the public eye in January to undergo abdominal surgery which was later linked to a cancer diagnosis, necessitating a course of "preventive chemotherapy." During this time, Kate has remained mainly behind palace walls, making positive progress, but still undergoing the challenging treatment. Here, Newsweek takes a look at Kate's cancer journey so far, six months after her chemotherapy treatment began.

NY Post, "Kate Middleton is plotting her return to public life amid cancer battle — but still has ‘a long journey to recovery’" [archive link]

But The Times reported that Middleton and her advisors are planning possible public engagements on her “good days” over the next few months. Specifically, Middleton “potentially” may join her father-in-law, King Charles III, who also has cancer, and the royal family at the Cenotaph for the National Service of Remembrance on November 10.

Tom Sykes, The Daily Beast, "Kate Middleton Plans Fall Return to Public Life—on ‘Good Days’" [archive link]

09 SEPTEMBER 2024: Kate releases a video statement.

A message from Catherine, The Princess of Wales

As the summer comes to an end, I cannot tell you what a relief it is to have finally completed my chemotherapy treatment. The last nine months have been incredibly tough for us as a family. Life as you know it can change in an instant and we have had to find a way to navigate the stormy waters and road unknown.

The cancer journey is complex, scary and unpredictable for everyone, especially those closest to you. With humility, it also brings you face to face with your own vulnerabilities in a way you have never considered before, and with that, a new perspective on everything.

This time has above all reminded William and me to reflect and be grateful for the simple yet important things in life, which so many of us often take for granted. Of simply loving and being loved.

Doing what I can to stay cancer free is now my focus. Although I have finished chemotherapy, my path to healing and full recovery is long and I must continue to take each day as it comes.

I am however looking forward to being back at work and undertaking a few more public engagements in the coming months when I can.

Despite all that has gone before I enter this new phase of recovery with a renewed sense of hope and appreciation of life.

William and I are so grateful for the support we have received and have drawn great strength from all those who are helping us at this time. Everyone’s kindness, empathy and compassion has been truly humbling.

To all those who are continuing their own cancer journey – I remain with you, side by side, hand in hand. Out of darkness, can come light, so let that light shine bright.

Robbie Collin, The Telegraph, "The films that inspired the royal home movie" [archive link]

Many of us remember when important statements from the Royal family were faxed direct to Fleet Street’s newsrooms – or, in exceptional circumstances, read aloud at the end of palace driveways for the cameras. This week, however, bore witness to a new mode of delivery: an impressionistic short film harking back to the glory days of Merchant Ivory. Howards End, The Remains of the Day, A Room with a View: three elegant literary adaptations from the late 1980s and early 90s, whose refined surfaces masked the deep currents of feeling underneath. Well, to announce the news that the Princess of Wales had completed her chemotherapy, we essentially got a three-minute revival of the style in home movie form.

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Tom Sykes, The Daily Beast, "Kate Middleton’s Cancer Recovery Video Is ‘Reset to End All Resets’: Source"

One friend of William and Kate told The Daily Beast: “It’s the reset to end all resets. This is Kate and William as they mean to go on. It’s family first and f--- the haters, f--- the press, f--- Harry and Meghan.

10 SEPTEMBER 2024: The videographer from Kate's announcement

Critique of Kate's announcement video:

Polly Hudson, The Mirror, "Kate Middleton's cancer airbrushing doesn't reflect brutality of ordinary people's chemotherapy"

But it feels important to take a moment to consider those who may feel differently. Those for whom this deeply unrealistic view of cancer treatment will be incredibly jarring, to say the least. Unlike that infamous Mother's Day photo, this really matters. Airbrushing out the dark and only showing the light is digitally altering the truth. As anyone who has ever witnessed someone going through chemo will know, it's the polar opposite of frolicking in a sunlit meadow. An oncologist treating a family member of mine once described it as something that “nearly kills them, to try and save their life.” Kate hasn’t set herself up as a poster child for all cancer patients, and to some extent she can’t win no matter what she does – but there is a real disconnect between the glossy, perfect aesthetic portrayed in the three minute film, and the brutal reality for the thousands of British people currently being treated for cancer.

11 SEPTEMBER 2024: Hannah Furness, The Telegraph, "Why the Princess of Wales’s public role may never be the same again" [archive link]

This was not a video filmed by committee, workshopped by Kensington Palace aides and edited with the help of focus groups. It was, sources said, a “creative outlet” for the Princess, who has chosen to take control of her own message in a public life which has seen her cede so much. “This is her,” says a friend. The Princess is now, they say, working out what is right for her future, and that of her family. [...] Other questions, seasoned royal observers point out, remain - in particular, the role the Princess envisages playing in public life in the future. “My path to healing and full recovery is long and I must continue to take each day as it comes,” the Princess says. “I am however looking forward to being back at work and undertaking a few more public engagements in the coming months when I can.” What that will look like is uncertain. Save for two key appearances – Remembrance Sunday and her annual carol concert at Westminster Abbey, which will take place unless her health changes – the rest of her diary over the coming months is unconfirmed for obvious reasons, to allow for cancellations without causing alarm.

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12 SEPTEMBER 2024: William attends The Sovereign's Parade at RAF College in Cranwell.

On Sarah McCorquodale's attendance:

Chris Ship, ITV, says, "We may see Kate as early as next week."

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13 SEPTEMBER 2024: Public confirmation of a private donation by Will & Kate.

14 SEPTEMBER 2024: William makes a private visit to an Airbus facility while the press is there.

15 SEPTEMBER 2024: William wishes Harry a Happy Birthday.

17 SEPTEMBER 2024: Kate attended a meeting at Windsor Castle.

Joseph Wilkes & Rebecca Russell, The Mirror, "Kate Middleton's days of one thing taking 'precedence' are over and William won't 'exert any pressure'"

Jennie (Bond) also noted, "This doesn't mean she intends to be only part-time forever because these days there are other ways to be visible... Video messages and social media posts are all ways she could still be in touch and give her support to her causes, while still being there for her children. "In 12 or so years, when Catherine's full recovery will hopefully be well-established, the children will probably all be off into further education, and then she can concentrate more on her work... But until she feels comfortable taking on more, we must be patient. "We should spare a thought for those children. Yes, I know they have been born into huge privilege, but they have a grandfather with cancer, a grandmother who was killed before they were born, a mother the centre of their world who has been made vulnerable by this sledgehammer of a disease, and a dad who is battling all sorts of emotions while trying to do the best for his family and his country. Those children deserve to have their mum with them for as long as they need her.

22 SEPTEMBER 2024: William gets a new equerry.

Kensington Palace lists a job opening for a second Finance Manager.

Will & Kate attend church in Balmoral, Scotland, with the King and Queen.

26 SEPTEMBER 2024: Kate "privately" attends a ballet performance of Akram Khan’s Giselle.

GB News understands that she enjoyed the performance so much, that she wanted to write a public message about it. It is believed a key part of the princess’s recovery is doing things that bring her joy.

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04 OCTOBER 2024: Kate congratulates those who qualified for The America's Cup.

TIMELINE:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

[crose84]

Ben Feldman as Bryan Greenberg

Lucy isn’t sure what possesses her to ask him out for dinner. He’s not her type and from their brief interactions have little in common. He’s a rabbi at a local reform congregation and her relationship with God grows more complicated by the day. She is dedicated to her career and believes in the work she does, and he understands the need for police but believes the system is broken.

Still, Wrigley says he’s a good guy and working the front desk as a greeter/security guard at the synagogue when she’s off duty pays good money. So she takes the job. Gets to know Rabbi Bryan. Witnesses first hand how his congregation adores him. Hears the old ladies from the book club plotting to set him up with their granddaughters. His secretary manages his calendar with ruthless efficiency making sure he’s where he needs to be and that he’s eaten recently.

Sitting at the front desk gives Lucy the chance to see and hear him. His booming but kind voice carries from the sanctuary to her post by the door. There’s something about the way his voice sounds chanting the ancient Hebrew she finds soothing. His sermons are timely and engaging. Sometimes calls to action sometimes pleas to rest and connect with yourself, your friends and neighbors, nature. She particularly likes one on holding boundaries and saying no.

Friday mornings are her favorite. All the kids from the synagogue’s preschool come downstairs for Shabbat on the Bimah before they have lunch. From the security camera monitors she watches Bryan sits on the floor amongst them. Usually in a wacky hat, cape around his shoulders, or some other attempt at a costume. Anything for a laugh. He tells them stories. Their joyous laughter and the songs they sing about dinosaurs visiting for Shabbat dinner and watching challah rise in the oven make her smile.

As much as his congregation adores him it’s equally clear how much he loves them. He talks to everyone. Asks about their jobs, their grown kids, remembers if they missed services with an illness or were out of town. Makes sure that everyone feels valued and welcome.

He makes sure that Lucy feels welcome. He stops by the desk. Teaches her some key Hebrew phrases. Asks about her week. Checks in to make sure she’s okay when things are particularly rough on the job. Makes sure that the chesed or kindness committee brings her matzah ball soup when she’s under the weather.

Maybe that’s what finally pushes her to ask him out. The off key singing and crazy hats. Maybe it’s the way he views his kindness as a strength and wears his heart on his sleeve. How he can listen without offering advice unless advice is specifically asked for.

Maybe, she thinks, as she sits across a candlelit table from him, they have more in common than she originally thought. Their smiles come easily. He asks her thoughtful questions and listens intently to what she has to say. Answers the questions she has for him thoughtfully. She’s delighted to find that she can make him laugh and that the belly laugh she thought he reserved just for the kids is his most genuine.

She doesn’t know how far they can take this. Doesn’t know if they can or should find a way around the God and Religion of it all. Finds that for once she doesn’t want to overthink or get ahead of herself. Just wants to take things one day, one date at a time and see where they lead.

[caperubbleremovals]

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[prometheusgaming]

Bending and Mixing Genres in RPGs

In many systems, like Savage Worlds or Fate Core, genre is a mutable thing. Often the first question is “In which genre will play?”

Do you play a fantasy epic, a sci-fi game, a horror milieu?  If you are like me, you’ve done them all ad nauseum and you crave different.  That’s where bending and mixing genres comes in.  Here’s a simple technique.

First, explore the following 18 examples of genres and choose two to four of them as interesting to you and your group.  Second, I’ll step you through some examples of how to pull them all together into a single campaign or setting.

Asian: The heroes live in an Asian or Asian-flavored land, like China or Japan. There may be warrior monks, ninjas, samurai, peasants, rice fields, and ancient temples. The heroes will learn to respect honor, justice, family, and tradition.

Comedic: The heroes are satirical, ironic, or silly. The game will have an element of humor weaved intrinsically into it. There may be talking animals, singing candlesticks, bumbling heroes, puns, animated garbage, cartoons come to life, and spoofs of television or movies.

Detective: The heroes will meet great mysteries and solve difficult puzzles. They will come across seemingly impossible scenes and learn to make sense of the subtle clues. There may be riddles, murders, betrayal, crime scenes, clues, and secret societies.

Dystopian Future: The heroes live in the future, but things have gone wrong. Perhaps the corporations have grown too powerful, the government too strict, or the artificial intelligences have conspired to enslave humanity. Whatever the cause, the future is dark, dangerous, and unsafe. There may be secret societies, conspiracies, hidden rebellions, cameras everywhere, and mind-control technology.

Espionage: The heroes will work with or for a large agency engaged in spy work for a nation, a corporation, or other large entity. There may be disguises, deception, technology, assassinations, intricate plots, dinner parties, evening gowns and tuxedos, casinos, international travel, and faked passports. The heroes may find themselves in moral dilemmas if they are asked to take heroic actions.

Fantastical: The heroes live in a fantastical place. There may be witchcraft, divine seers, supernatural creatures, magical artifacts, and impossible cities in the clouds.

Far Future: The heroes live in a future separated from us by great time and possibly great distances as well. This is likely a future where we have settled the stars and explored the reaches of the galaxy. There may be aliens, starships, interstellar travel, planetary colonies, vast reaches of deathly-black space, lasers, and technology that may be indistinguishable from magic.

Historical: The heroes live some time in the past and their world is grounded in reality. The elements of their world are real, existed, and often well researched. They will not find the supernatural. Their challenges are the challenges that man has always faced: corruption, villainy, strife, and tragedy.

Horror: The heroes are adventuring in a scary world. There are creatures under the bed, in the closet, and outside the window. The things that go bump in the night are real and they have come for the heroes. There may be vampires, zombies, ghosts, goblins, old houses, cemeteries, howling on the moors, lonely country roads, suspense, and blood-curdling screams.

Medieval: The heroes live in the Middle Ages in either historical Europe or a European-flavored world. There may be castles, peasants, knights, troubadours, the ruins of a Roman empire, and vast wildernesses as yet unexplored.

Military: The heroes will work with or for a military organization engaged in active warfare with another group. They may have ranks and a clear chain of command within the group. There may be battles, war crimes, chaos in the fog of war, great ships, secret weapons, coded messages, and corrupt officers.

Modern: The heroes live in the modern era.  Civility abounds but as a thin sheen over a vicious world of great wars and political strife. There may be battlefields, airplanes, computers, technological advancements, and skyscrapers. The heroes will face existential, as well as physical, challenges.

Near Future: The heroes live in a future just around the corner for us today. Technology will be a natural, but small evolution from today’s recognized technology. There may be cybernetics, sophisticated handheld computers, low-resolution holographic displays, advanced weaponry, and hackers.

Prehistoric: The heroes live in a prehistoric wilderness.  Lawlessness and brutality are the norm. Lifespans are short, safety is an unknown, and the harsh world will throw many natural challenges at the heroes. There may be saber-toothed tigers, lumbering mammoths, fierce dinosaurs, and vast dark forests and caves to explore.

Super Hero: The heroes are the stuff of comic book legend.  They fight crime with superpowers no normal person can imagine. There may be capes, masks, criminal masterminds, secret lairs, rooftop vigilantes, police, henchmen, and brightly colored costumes.

Victorian: The heroes live in the Victorian era in either historical England or an English-flavored land. There may be beggars, steam-powered devices, the juxtaposition of rich and poor, overcrowded cities, carriages, parlors, and garden parties. Such a game will take place predominately in urban areas.

Western: The heroes live in the old west. There may be cowboys, Indians, sheriffs, saloons, trails, rocky foothills, wagons, prospectors, gunfights at high noon, and outlaws waiting just outside of town. It’s a rough place to live, begging to have order restored.

Wuxia: The heroes live in a world steeped in mystic martial traditions. Kung Fu and other unarmed arts abound. There may be secret Kung Fu techniques, old masters, bamboo forests, teahouses, dojos, mountaintop gurus, and fights atop darkened tile rooftops.

Now that you’ve read over the 18 genres above and selected a handful that you and your group like most, you can begin to create your mash-up.

Sit with your friends and think through all the ways you can incorporate the various genres into a single game. Ask yourself, what elements of each can co-exist.  Which cannot? Don’t be quick to give up. Some of the most interesting ideas might be waiting to be discovered by your group.

Here are three examples I came up with at random.

Detective, Horror, and Medieval: Imagine a game where the heroes are medieval detectives (a town constable, a nosey monk, a knight trying to protect his village, etc…) solving mysteries and facing the unknown horrors of the Dark Ages. Many horrors are supernatural, but we didn’t include the Fantastical genre element, so perhaps it’s true that, while the horrors they face are supernatural, the heroes are ordinary men. They fight the forces of supernatural evil armed with only their wits and what few tricks they’ve learned.

Prehistoric, Fantastical: Imagine a game where the heroes are savages in a realm dominated by dinosaurs and dragons, mammoths and mermaids. They fight not only to stave off the monsters of the world but to keep their place in it. Orcs, early competitors to humanity, seek to wipe them out and become the dominant species. Armed with spears, arrows, clubs, and primitive shamanistic magic, the heroes fight for the fate of humankind.

Dystopian Future, Espionage, Wuxia: Imagine a game where the heroes are spies in the service of a shadowy, anti-governmental organization (Agents of C.H.A.N.G.E.) seeking to take down the corrupt and overreaching world government (World Order). Using the skills taught to them, they seek out and fight the agents of World Order in incredible hand-to-hand fights. They avoid weapons because World Order has outlawed them.

Comedic, Fantastical, Modern: Imagine a game where the heroes are agents serving the powerful and secretive Lords of the Holidays. The Mighty Lord of the North (Christmas) does battle through his enslaved elves and clockwork-toy armies, with the other Lords; the Lord of Nightmares and his Throne of Bones (Halloween), the Large-Eared Lord of Wonder in his mystical Wonderland (Easter), The Sadist and his Succubae (Valentine’s Day), and others. The battle rages around us, but no one can know.

Try it yourself.  And don’t expect the first couple to be great. It takes a while to get the hang of it, but once you do, your gaming group will thank you for it.  And if you come up with a mash-up that is particularly unusual and interesting, feel free to hit me up to share.  I’d love to hear about the crazy adventures your new genre-busting heroes will go on!

Game on, friends!

[movienotesbyzawmer]

Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith

December 11: Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith

(previous notes: Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones)

Source: Blu-ray release, the box set with all six Lucas-era movies (2D)

The last of the trilogy. When it came out in 2005, hopes were high that it would redeem the trilogy from the mediocrity of the first two. The most impressive thing about those was the elaborateness and ingenuity of the CGI effects. They were so advanced at the time, but by 2005 we'd already had the Lord of the Rings trilogy, which combined breathtaking visuals with actually likable characters in a story that had stood the test of time. So this movie needed to make a mark somehow. My recollection is that it did, but I haven't seen it in a while. And…. Go.

The crawl starts: "War!" Which seems like a cheerleader is trying to amp us up. Then it talks about a droid army we've never heard of, and maybe that will be cool. It's odd how the whole anti-Republic gang consists of groups like "The Trade Federation" and "The Droid Army". Not traditional, like, "countries".

Opening shot is a doozy! A long shot tracking two fighter ships around a super busy, colorful battlefield in space.

"This is where the fun begins". Yeah, George Lucas is having his fan service fun at least.

It's weird how the clones are the good guys here, even though the OG clone was unambiguously bad in the last movie. But it only takes a second to remember why it makes sense.

"Buzz droids" crawl all over the fighter ships and do annoying things, that's the kind of fun idea that has always been a reliable hallmark of all these movies.

Super fun to watch Anakin and Obi-Wan hop out of their ships and immediately start fighting.

General Grievous! An evil droid with a physical deformity and a bad cough! I find this wholly acceptable.

This movie is just getting the whole overall tone right very quickly.

Ha, R2 used his jet flame things to cook the dumb bad droids!

Only 12 minutes in and we've got a fun light saber fight. Count Dooku is kind of irresponsible keeping that cape on with all these flailing laser swords.

Only 14 minutes in and Palpatine is all growling "do it!" and Anakin beheads an unarmed dude. Yup, dark!

The whole "Palpatine is seducing Anakin to the dark side" is really overt here. And really, why wouldn't it be?

The battle rages on, though, and there are neat cannon things, and don't forget that General Grievous is still around!

0:28:45 - Darth Sidious and General Grievous are colluding, but the movies have not yet acknowledged what seems obvious, which is that Sidious is Palpatine. Which makes us wonder why he's pals with the droid boss that was recently his kidnapper.

Dumb romance exchange, then a bad Anakin dream like the one he had in the last movie. Striking contrast, the look of the dream. Then more soap opera romance scenes. I miss the exciting parts. Hurry back to those, Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith!

0:35:50 - More real purty establishing shots of Coruscant!

A couple of the people on the Jedi Council are holograms. It's nice that they offer the option of working remotely.

0:42:50 - I fuckin' LOVE this. A shot of lively Coruscant at night, and people are attending a swanky performance in a finely appointed auditorium. Anakin and Palpatine chat during it, but it's some kind of surreal anti-gravity acrobatic show, where the audience offers polite applause at calculated times. You never get a good look at the show. So odd!

But even more impressive, this is when Ian McDiarmid as Palpatine starts to do the most interesting, subtle, effective acting in maybe the entire line of Star Wars features. He's being so seductive. He's saying things that connect to Anakin. It's working, but I bet on paper you couldn't tell it would be THIS effective. This is comparable to how you would stage a story of a real-life cult leader convincing a follower to do crazy shit. "Not from a Jedi."

And then, yay, we're suddenly in a new battle on the Wookiee planet! It's cool! Oh, but it ended quickly and went back to Jedi/Senate politics drama.

I haven't noted this before, but I love the ship design where you dock your little one-seater onto a ring of engines to go to another planet. Please make the car equivalent of that, modern-Earth. And don't just point me to a ferryboat.

Obi-Wan is back to getting his spy game on! He's on a new planet, which is always fun, and he made a clear decision to pretend to leave, but secretly stay on the planet and ride around on a giant pretty-feathered reptile. Fun.

Then he just goes for it and jumps right into the middle of an army all by himself! That's some James Bond cockiness right there. General Grievous even turns himself into a four-sword beast and Obi-Wan is like "cool".

I guess he knew all these stormtroopers were about to show up.

1:03:27 - Here we go, ID is starting to chew scenery. That voice. He affects this deep, expressive growly whisper. "It gives you FOCUS. Makes you STRONGER." Why didn't George Lucas let any of his other actors go to town like this? Suddenly some good acting and it's very refreshing.

But hey, we're back to the battle on whatever this planet is, and Obi-Wan and Grievous are fighting. I love Grievous's wheel-ride! Obi-Wan noticed that Grievous has a heart-y organ in the middle and realized that if he shoots him RIGHT THERE, he'll just die. Video game logic.

Scene where A&A silently think about each other at each other across the city from each other, it works, and it has some unusually atmospheric music.

"I AM THE SENATE!" More sweet vocal production from ID, and he gets his sith light saber dueling on! "NO! NO! YOU WILL DIE!!!" Super awesome. And then just when you thought it was all in his voice, he does a kickass facial expression when he kills Mace Windu. I am delighted by Ian McDiarmid.

"Henceforth you shall be known as… Darth… Vader." I think I hurt my eyes from rolling them too hard.

1:19:30 - Cool shot of a battalion of sith assholes marching toward probably a bunch of good guys they're going to kill, against the backdrop of the city at night.

Now lots of bummer stuff is going on, and they're making sure it's all done in pretty places. The places are pretty and varied. And it's just the clone army dudes who had an order issued to kill good guys so they just do it. Except that Yoda is onto them. It is pretty intense though.

But the most intense part is where newly christened Lord Vader goes to kill the kids. And they're cute kids but he is definitely about to slice up every single child.

This is where, if this movie were a standalone story, we'd be approaching the part where there's a glimmer of hope that will lead to the course of events that resolves the conflict and happy-ends the movie. But this is where this trilogy's unique ambition has to work without doing that.

So here's where Anakin goes and talks to Amidala after committing atrocities. He doesn't mention his atrocities. Just lots of stuff about "loyalty to the Chancellor". We getcha GL. Message received. I honestly have to wonder if our 21st century workaday fascists see this as a happy ending.

1:35:45 - Lord Vader has evil red eyes now. Just because it looks cool I guess.

Anakin is killing Droid Army and Trade Federation people now. Total racist.

Badass climactic duel starts up with Anakin and Obi-Wan! Should be fun…

…but it cuts to Yoda barging into Palpatine's office kind of funny-rudely. And now they're dueling. Cool! Also worth observing that the CGI Yoda is super well integrated in the scene with Palpatine. You don't think about that at all.

And I'm glad those two are now fighting in the senate chamber because that's one of my all time favorite Star Wars chambers.

Anakin and Obi-Wan's fight takes place on, well, they're on a lava planet with lava rivers and spires and it's like part of the fight is they get points for picking the most dramatic place to fight.

Anakin burning in agony on a lava river embankment is pretty horrific. And yet he's going to make it out of there? Ouch. I guess if he weren't Sith Jesus, when they found him like that they'd probably just be like "oh he dead, k bai". But his elite status means they have to try weird things to make him still be alive.

Robot doctor delivers the news that pregnant Amidala is dying for no reason other than "she's lost the will to live". Sounds like a romantic tragic plot from the fantasies of a jilted fifth grader.

2:08:55 - Vader goes "Nooooooo!" when he hears that Amidala is dead. We're supposed to hipster-hate that, right?

Mostly it kind of seems like we're just tidying everything up so that it connects to "Episode IV". This isn't that terrible a thing. It lets this trilogy end with a rehash of the "Binary Sunset" music and imagery. But this time with Owen Lars. And his GIRLFRIEND, Beru.

That's it. I think Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith is a lot harder to pick on than the other two movies in the trilogy. It ends up quickly getting to a point where we know the rest and have to sit there while the movie spells it out for us, but that's a lot better than the biggest sins of this trilogy.

(next: Solo: A Star Wars Story)

[static-ink-blog]

Batmom Origin Part 1: The Enemy -Bruce Wayne

A/N: Going for Batmom this time. It’s based on Batman: Year One and explores what it would have been like if Batmom had been a cop at that time. Hope you enjoy. Also remember, requests are open, so feel free to send something in.

    Coffee was your one relief these days. Sadly you were also pretty sure you couldn't be able to function without it right now. Taking another sip you went over the information of the last few days in your head again. You caught your partner accepting money from a mobster. While you couldn't prove it since it would be your word against his, it only confirmed your long tome suspicion that he was a corrupt cop. Thing was the whole station, from the every-day officer to the Commissioner Loeb, had corruption running thick. You had no idea who to trust. No wonder Gotham was a mess.     Hearing someone enter, you looked up. James Gordon. You nodded at him in greeting. He was a good man, you got along. Aside from that, he was not only clean and refused money from the side violently, the guy was also said to had attempted investigating corrupt cops before getting discredited and coming to GCPD five months ago.  "Want some?" you asked holding up your cup.     "That was the idea." Gordon nodded, taking out a cup from the cabinet.     You smiled and took the coffee pot. Filling his cup first, you emptied what was left in your own cup. "Long patrol?" you asked.     He sighed. "We found a group of drug dealers."     "The ones you had been looking for?"     "Yes, that new drug is becoming a problem. They in the hospital right now." he explained. His voice was even but his eyes glared at the wall on the other side of the room.     "Hospital?" you asked confused. Even with a group, taking down dealers usually didn't result in all of them being sent to the hospital. Unless some of the more trigger-happy cops were on the case. With Essen taking over as his partner after Flass got hospitalized that shouldn't be such a big problem anymore, she was reasonable. Then again, many of the other cops 'had their own way of doing things'.     "We weren't the first to find them." Gordon sighed. He was angry, the type of angry that steamed from having months of work thrown back in one's face. With the dealer in the hospital, the big fish behind them would have time to cover his tracks before the police could question them and find a connection. "They were beat to a pummel when we found them. Mumbling about being attacked by a demon."     "Another sighting of the Bat then?" you concluded.     "Hmm." Gordon hummed, taking a sip of his coffee. "Twenty sightings now that we're aware of."     "Chances are that they were many more that we are not aware of, ones that people don't report to the police."     Nodding, your colleague silently agreed with you. "The news call him the Batman nowadays. People think him a hero."     "What do you think?" you inquired, studying him carefully.     His eyes sharpened as he scanned your face. "You want my professional option?"     Quickly you checked that the door to the break room was closed and that you were in fact the only ones in the room. "No." you turned back to him once that was confirmed. "Just you're honest option."     Before he spoke, he was quiet for a moment. "Well..." he started slowly. "Somewhere out there is a guy who dresses up as a giant bat to scare the shit out of the thugs that he goes around beating up. It brought the quota for street crime down, most people think twice now. But he isn't working with us and that causes him to interfere with our work. In the course of his short career he has broken several laws himself. Trespassing, Assault, Withholding of Evidence -you name it. If he really wanted to change things, why didn't he join the force? We're just missing something here. Nobody really knows why he does the things he does, what motivates him. As it lays this vigilante is uncontrollable, through I admit that gives him a huge advantage." Looking up from his coffee Gordon met your eyes. "You want my option? I think Gotham is a mess. And only a wonder can still save this city. So it is no wonder that some dark avenger decided to show up."     Thoughtfully you sipped your coffee. There was no denying the facts, even if important evidence always found their way back to the police. "Still, as officers we can't just pardon someone who breaks the law just because he does good." you reminded yourself. You had to protect the law first, always.     Neither of you was able to say more before you heard footsteps  and the door opened. Your partner, Jordan Rich, stock his head into the room. "There you are. Commissioner Loeb is calling everyone together for a meeting right now." he informed you.     "Do you know what it is about?" you asked as Gordon gulped the rest of his coffee down in a hurry.     "Apparently the Bat crashed the Commissioner's dinner party and threatened him and his guests." Rich said. "I never seen him this mad before." With that he left.     "Must mean he wants the Bat hunted down immediately." Gordon said grimly, turning to leave. "Did I mention the Bat is unpredictable? He must have known this would happen."     Frowning you looked down at the cup in your hands. "Gordon." you called, making him stop in the door. You looked at him with determinated eyes. "I don't believe Gotham is beyond saving." That is why you became a cop, why you stayed one despite knowing how deep corruption ran in the force. This was your home town and you weren't willen to give up at this city yet."     "Like I said." Gordon told you. "A wonder."

    Gordon's predication came true, Loeb gave the order to hunt down the famed Batman. All other investigations became secondary. Over all the police force was unevenly split between corrupt cops the vigilante was a throne in the side and honest cops who were getting frustrated with the 'hero' showing them off. It seemed your option about the assignment wasn't shared, but you weren't as stupid as to say something.     Filing and reviewing reported of sightings you and the other cops were hardly able to narrow down the field of suspects. The witnesses were too far in between, their statements were to fantastic. Flass, Gordon's former partner, himself was very stubborn about the Bat being a demonic monster after the vigilante broke his arms and legs, sending him to the hospital and off-duty for now.     Sun was long down by the time you left the station. It was late and this job could get to you. And with your car in the garage, you had to walk and hope you caught the subway train in time. Else you had to sit there for an hour. Frowning you hurried your step.     Halfway there a car came to a sudden stop  next to you. Four men stepped out, coming towards you. Ski masks hid their faces and they were holding baseball bats. Their leader was too familiar as that you couldn't recognize him. Slipping in a defensive stance you let them corner you in an side alley. That guy was your partner Rich. Looked like Loeb was sending a warning after you got that mobster in jail a few days ago.     Once you got them where one couldn't see you from the street, you got ready. Witnesses would never speak against them, not with the Commissioner twisting things in the background. In the same way he could twist it against you should you win. Not that there was a big chance for that. Your attackers had the clear advance. Still, you refused to go down without a fight.     The first attack didn't take long. They threw themselves at you, weapons high. At first you managed to dodge and even to get a few blows in yourself. But then they got you and you had to bite back a scream. Stealing yourself you knew it was only the beginning.     Except it wasn't. Out of nowhere a shadow descended from above. He took down your four masked attackers before they could see him. Turning to you he waited for your next move.     Cape, mask, the symbol on his chest- his costume left no doubt. Wide-eyed you starred at Batman. The entire force was out looking for him and here he was. You glanced down to the knocked out men on the ground, then focused back at him. He had saved you.     Tense you watched each other's every move. You were a cop. He was a fugitive of the law. Duty demanded you brought him in. Both of you were aware of this. Your face hardened. "Next time." you declared, at the same time a warning. This was a one-time thing, then you would be even.     Batman studied you, trying to figure out your game. But he couldn't detect any hidden plot in your actions. He gave you a nod. Wiping out his grappling hook, he quickly disappeared over the rooftops.

    "Officer Y/l/n, I assume?"     Stopping in front of the elevator you looked up at the voice. You had just finished a assignment of interrogating one of the chair members of the WayneCorp's Science Research Facility and were on the way back to headquarters to hand your report to Gordon and his current partner Sarah Essen. She was good and a real help in narrowing down the suspects for Batman, which lead to you questioning rich men across Gotham.     Bruce Wayne stepped next to you, giving you a professional smile. "The security service informed me of your presence in the building." he explained politely. "Is there perhaps a way I could assist you? We from WayneCorp will of course fully cooperate with the law enforcement, but may I ask the reason of the investigation?"     "Nothing you would have to worry about, Mr. Wayne." you insured him. It surprised you hat the WayneCorp owner was even here today, but you didn't let it show. As far you knew he just returned from a trip to Europe. He had every right to be here. "The investigation won't affect WayneCorps. Unfortunately, I am not on liberty to reveal any more details."     "I understand." Wayne said slowly, nodding to himself. His eyes never left you. There was something in those eyes, something you couldn't put a finger on. "Of course we will respect that. But please, should anything come up, don't let us hesitate to let us know." The elevator arrived and opened with a soft 'ding!'. All gentleman-like the man spread his arm out to invite you in. "Please, at least allow me to accompany you outside, Officer."     You nodded in acceptance, not sure how you could deny his request even if it felt like he was keeping an eye at you more than anything else. He followed you inside the elevator and you pushed the button for ground level. Beside you, Wayne stood silently, deep in thoughts. Taking this chance you studied him from the corner of your eye.  Essen believed Bruce Wayne did not only belong on the suspect list, but the only even if they had no proof whatsoever. Gordon had tried to get a interview for a while, believing his vacation accident had been a cover up to the wounds Batman had received a few months ago. Wayne was also widely known as playboy and heart-breaker. They didn't come from nowhere, the man was rather good-looking. Studying his face you tried to compare it with your memories of when you met the Bat.     "Like what you see?" Wayne's voice ripped you from your thoughts before you could get anywhere. A small smile played on his lips. Playfully he raised an eyebrow.     Embarrassed at being caught you looked straight ahead of yourself, schooling your face. "Wouldn't you like to know?" you couldn't resist teasing despite that.     Bruce grinned. Interesting. "Oh, but you can trust me." he said. "I can keep a secret."                 "Can you now?" you countered in mock-skeptic.     "Very much so. Let's say Saturday at eight?" he asked with his most charming smile, already sure you would bite. This way he would have a whole evening to make himself a profile of you. He knew the cold facts, had done his research on you after that one night. Y/n Y/l/n -one of the few clean cops in Gotham, lived her your entire life. You did good work, were clever, determinated and had good instincts. The type of cop that didn't let feelings get in the way of duty, but still not always following the book. But you let him go. Bruce needed to know if you understood, even if he had to risk getting close. Batman had found an ally in Assistant District Attorney Harvey Dent last night, but he knew he needed better connection if he wanted to help this city. So Bruce Wayne needed to find out how you stood to the vigilante. "I know a very good restaurant that you might enjoy. Their deserts are simply legendary."     "Like your reputation as heart-breaker, Mr. Wayne?" you inquired innocently. When he blinked in surprise you laughed. The face he made was priceless. Still, as fun it was to flirt with him, you weren't going to accept and end up as a one-night-stand under many. "You should know better than to flirt with an officer on duty." you added with a wink.     Thankfully he laughed with you, not taking it you bad. "Perhaps." he admitted. You had spunk. "But where is the fun in always playing it safe."     Shaking your head good-humored you decided to bring your game to an end. After all you did were on duty and he was a dangerous man to trust your heart with. "I'm afraid I am a very busy woman, Mr. Wayne."     "Ah, yes, I heard of the hunt the police is having for -Batman, wasn't that what he's called?" he changed the subject. Maybe he would still get some answers.     "That is correct, Mr. Wayne." you clenched your chin. You never did report your encounter with Batman. Luckily enough neither did your attackers, despite most of the -including your former partner Rich- having become residents of Gotham hospital for a time. At first you told yourself that giving the circumstances, not reporting had been the logical course of action. You had let him go, after all, not even trying to bring thankfulness or to get even. It was a dangerous track of thoughts. One that as an officer could cost you a lot. Which was why you avoided those questions as much as possible. Batman was a fugitive. Working outside the law couldn't be spelled out to the way of a hero. Right? "It won't be a problem much longer." you told Wayne and yourself, ignoring how wrong it sounded to your ears. "The entire force is on the look-out for him and won't hesitate to bring him in on the first given chance."      Bruce looked at you curiously. "No matter the circumstances?" he questioned.     Giving him a sharp look, you turned to face him. "By all due respect, Mr. Wayne, what are you implying." It was like he had caught on to you, his question seemed uncanny and you didn't like it one bit. There was no way the playboy could know, but it still put you on the edge.     "Simple holding small-talk, Officer Y/l/n. I wasn't implying anything." His eyes told you a different story. There was that glint again in them. "Though I apologize should I have offended you."     Narrowing your eyes you returned his glance. It was the corrupt cops, you told yourself, it was a ugly rumor going around. Wayne couldn't know about you. "Well then, as it stands, our officers do everything in our power to capture this vigilante, I assure you. Personal options aside." you declared stubbornly. "The Bat won't stand a chance." Like ordered the elevator stopped and the doors opened. With a departing nod you left Wayne there, making your escape.     Unnoticed by you the man's glance followed you through the hall as he joined his waiting butler outside the elevator. Bruce's eyes didn't leave you till you disappeared through the front doors.     A smile formed on Alfred's face as he followed the other's glance. "Something caught your interest, Master Wayne?" the butler asked amused. He had a knowing glint in his eyes.     "Perhaps." Bruce admitted. You were a challenge, something he had to figure out. And the type of person he wanted to get to know outside of his playboy facade. Unlike Alfred he didn't notice the small grin on his lips.

    "All units report to Gotham Harbor immediately." came the order  over the police radio in your car. "Batman has been sighted at Dock 35." You were already waving through traffic to get to your destination. "Suspect confirmed to be highly armed and dangerous." Your tires squeaked as you rounded into the harbor. While the voice on the radio started ordering selected units to put up blockades you got of the car, leaving it hidden between containers. "Gordon." you called over the radio you carried on your uniform. He was the on in charge on the situation and had called you in when they first got news.     After confirming your location being on the other side of the dock from where they were you were ordered to search moving towards them while they came from the other side. Batman was somewhere in the area between you. Main concern seemed to lay with not letting him escape again like the last time he got cornered and escaped with the help of his pet bats. "But be careful." Gordon warned. "Everyone else here is searching in teams of two. Seeing as no new partner was assigned to you after Rich yet, you'll be on your own. Don't go taking unnecessary risks, you hear?" His warning had the authority of the task-leading officer, but you knew it was mostly your friend speaking.     Gun at the ready you slowly moved forward. Heavy rain masked the sounds around you, so you were extra cautious. Turning around a corner, your gun shot up. A fast movement and a glint of metal, in the next second your gun was thrown out of your hands and landed on the ground with a batarang impaled in it. Spinning around again you faced Batman again, slipping in a defensive stance. He did the same. Recognizing flashed over his face, but it didn't ease his stance.     Your eyes scanned over him instinctive to find a weakness and widened. His side was bleeding, a lot. Just by looking at him you could tell the effort it took him to stay upright. The wound on his side seemed deep, like from a knife. It had to be treated right away. Biting your bottom lip you reached for your radio slowly. You keep your eyes at him as you did, expecting him to attack. His eyes narrowed and he took a step towards you. Acting fast you spoke into the radio. "Suspect moving towards Southwest." His fist stopped inches from your face. Unflinching you found returned his glance. "He is coming towards you guys." you continued to lie through your teeth over the intercom.     Batman studied you with an unreadable face. "Got it. Stay on him." Gordon answered, before barking orders to the others. Blinking a bit you cleared your head. Reaching out you took hold of the arm he had still rised in mid-strike and pulled it over your shoulders, glad that he let you. Despite you offering him support, he didn't put any weight on you. "We have to get out of here." you frowned. You could understand that he had no real reason to trust you, but it wasn't like he had a choice right now. He was losing to much blood, soon he would not be able to fight any of the force off.     "Why are you helping me?" the Batman demanded to know. After all last time you met you had promised him 'next time'. Could it be that you really understood?     You sighed. "For one, I must be going crazy." you said. Being an officer, you knew exactly what you were doing. If they found you with him.... Yet you couldn't make yourself bring him in or even walk away. Come what may, you would help him.     "That isn't an answer." he disagreed. But he know that time was of essence. Leaning at you as much as his pride permitted, he let you lead him to your car. He let you hide you on your backseat, under a blanket. Stupid, letting himself get cornered in the first place. It was a risk, a huge one. If you wanted to you could now drive up to the headquarters and tomorrow's news would talk about his capture. Bruce wondered why he trusted you so much, even if he had few options. There was just something about you.      His bleeding was bad, you didn't like it one bit. You drove fast. Using the intercom you placed false leads and created a fictional car chase, till you got close to a blockade. Claiming he was losing you built the base for the real escape. Would you just leave during a search people would get suspicious. Likely scenarios would be that they would stop you and search your car, resulting in them finding Batman. So you needed a cover. "Where is he?" you shouted at the men on the blockade. When they couldn't answer  you drove back and through the a near parking house. Over the radio you gave your 'report' and listened to Gordon search the streets. It didn't take long till the search was called off. Meanwhile you had wasted no time searching for the fictional car and instead drove with one goal in mind.     Pulling the blanket off his face Batman pressed it against his wound to stop the bleeding, but stayed down. It wouldn't do if someone saw him through the windows. "You still haven't answered my question.'' he remarked. His head was getting dizzy from the blood-loss, but he would never admit that out loud.     Not taking your eyes off the road you shook your head softly. The answer was the same one than the real reason why you let him just go that night. Why you felt so conflicted about the hunt for him. And it was crazy. Maybe that was why you never wanted to admit it till now. But it was the truth. Taking a deep breath you nodded to yourself. "Because you are not the enemy." you said.     Bruce's eyes widened for a moment before he closed them in relief. So you did understand. After being hunted for months, by criminals and law alike it was nice to hear someone say that. To find an friend in this city.     You parked in a small garage. With it's door closed you helped him out of the car and through a connecting door into the house. "I take it you would like to avoid hospitals?" you asked as you lead him into your living room, supporting his weight till you reached the couch.      He nodded, watching as you retired a large first aid kit. Batman took off his cape and top, the latter he needed help with to his embarrassment. Carefully you got to work, cleaning his wound with alcohol. Out of respect you ignored when he hissed under his breath. "What were you doing at the docks?" you asked to give his mind something else to work with. Finished with cleaning the wound, you started on the stitches.     "Following up a lead." he explained. "The Roman is behind the new drug. A shipment is supposed to come in two days. But he is clever. No way of tracing it back to him."     Stopping for a moment you frowned. "We have a file with leads to different connections pointing to the Roman at the station." you offered. "None were ever proven, giving the investigation was stopped by the commissioner. Loeb claimed it was wasting tax-money and leading nowhere."    "Sounds like payroll to me." He gave you a thankful nod, accepting your help. Some of those leads might be just the one he needed. Your fingers hushed over his wound, resuming their work. They were only barely touching his skin, and he could hardly feel your stitches. It made him wonder how often you had to give stitches that you developed this level of skill. When you were done, you wrapped bandages around him to protect the stitches.     "Rest for a while." you offered, putting the kit away. "Nobody will expect you to be here." You weren't comfortable with the idea of him being out there just yet with how much blood he had lost. Leaving only for a moment you brought back some cookies and orange juice. It wouldn't help a lot, but at least a bit. To your surprise you found the living room empty and your window open.     On the table was a batarang and a note. The note was blank. Setting down the food and drink you picked up the batarang. You should have known that the Batman wouldn't take things easy and rest, through you still hoped he would take the rest of the night off. Moving over to the window you twirled the weapon in your hand. Of course he was nowhere in sight, but you weren't mad that he left without saying goodbye.     With a small smile you looked over to the note. "I guess I'm not the only one a bit without words, hmm?" you mused. Teaming up with the Bat seemed a bit surreal, you had hunted him for so long you didn't know what next. Your eyes fell to the batarang. Somehow it seemed unlikely that he leaves one with each possible ally. That was why it said so much. "Yeah, you be careful too." you said, looking out in the rain.

    It was so late, it was early. Alfred took the stairs down to the cave and joined Bruce, who save the pushed-back cowl was still in costume, in front of the bat-computer. He had healed from his injury from two months ago and seemed to want to make up for times lost. Not that he ever had taken nights off to rest, like the butler had repeatedly asked him at first.  The old man sighed. "I see you're working at another clue from Miss Y/l/n." he commented.     "If I can find proof for our theory, Y/l/n can take it to the DA and we not only get the dealer or middle man, but also the Roman himself." Bruce said, typing away. Y/n had been a huge help. Not only the option of coordinating his action with those of the force and having access to their files, but you also knew the city and it's demons like the back of your hand leading you to bring just as much to the table as he did in this investigation. He enjoyed working with you. "We nearly have him."     Alfred was glad to see Bruce had made a friend, but looking down at what he was holding he knew this required his attention right away. "Well, if you can tear yourself from the display for a few seconds, Master Wayne, a package has arrived." he said. "I dare say it would interest you."     Bruce waved it off, not looking up. "Put it on the side, I take a look lat-"     "Miss Y/l/n has send it." Alfred cut him off. He cleared his throat, satisfied when the man turned in his chair surprised and held out the small package.     "Y/l/n send this?" he asked hesitantly, eyeing the package as if it would bite him. The package without a doubt was addressed to Bruce Wayne. Despite that he couldn't think of any reason why Y/n should write Bruce Wayne, who you only knew as playboy that run into you once or twice. While you never seemed to dislike Bruce, this didn't offer any explanation as why you would send him anything.     "Indeed, they did." Alfred confirmed, waiting patiently. He didn't believe you would send anything that would be worrisome. Not from how Master Bruce described you. But it was troubling indeed that you would send something here just due to what reason you would send something. Which was why he had brought the package to the cave as soon as he had received it.     Finally Bruce took the package, turning it carefully in his hand before opening it. What was inside was a bit of a shock. Y/n had send him a cup and a small slip of paper. The paper had 'I switched it out and got rid of it' written on it, the cup had a bat-motive on it. "Do you know what that means?" he turned to Alfred. Of course he knew what it meant. Someone from the police had found proof to his identity. You must have found it before they could learn what it really was and switched out the evidence to protect him.     "Well, what can I say." the butler sighed. "It means that after the batcave, the bat-computer and the batcar we now also have a bat-cup. Wherever shall I find bat-coffee?" He looked at the man he had raised since he had been a child and softened at his worried face. "Aside from that, it means you had made a good friend you can trust. Don't you ever belittle that."     The vigilante frowned and turned back to the bat-computer. It also meant he was too careless, allowing such evidence to exist in the first place. Bruce looked down at the bat-cup. He smiled a little. It was nice to know that he had someone who had his back, always. "About that bat-coffee, Alfred."     "By all due respect, Master Wayne, it is five in the morning and you have a long day ahead. I'll be happy to let you have the bat-cup for breakfast, but right now it bat-bed time."

    Soft music rang through the room. Escaping to the buffet with the excuse of getting something to drink you left Gordon to face the reporter Vicki Vale on his own. He would be alright, you couldn't help with the questions about his promotion anyways. The GCPD was going through a hard time right now with Flash and Leob's trial, but you believed things were finally getting better. To help with the press image Bruce Wayne had been as nice as to throw this party, promoting the force goal to move pass corruption. It gave you also a rare occasion to dress up.     "A glass of champagne, Miss Y/l/n?" You turned around, smiling as you found Bruce standing behind you. The champagne he held out for you had a bit different coloring than the champagne on the table, making you guess it's secret. With a small chuckle you accepted the drink and took a sip of the soda. Bruce once told you that he never drank alcohol in case Batman was suddenly needed, something he knew you agreed on. "Might I say that you look beautiful tonight." he added, and he meant it. It was a wonder you weren't swarmed by admirers.     "Why, you aren't quit as bad yourself." you smiled, blushing a bit. You looked out to the dance floor. "No date tonight?" Of course you knew it was part of his cover, but you lately couldn't help but be annoyed by all his one-night-stands. If someone were to ask, you wouldn't be able to say why.     His attention focused curiously at the small frown at your face. "No, not tonight." These dates were needed to keep his playboy image up, but for a few weeks now he didn't like having them close. It felt wrong somehow. He wondered if he was starting to get paranoid, at least then it would make sense. Bruce followed your glance to the dance floor. A small smile tucked at the corner of his lips. Ever the gentleman he stepped in front of you and held out his hand. "May I ask for this dance?"     "I'm a terrible dancer." you started, but he only quirked an eyebrow and gave you that smile of his, and you felt yourself giving in. Bruce handed your drinks to one of the waiters before leading you to the floor.     The music shifted. Bruce's long, graceful fingers curl around yours. His other hand presses against your back, pulling you close as you place your free hand on his shoulder. A smile slips on his face, one you find yourself returning. He leads you effortlessly, and you follow his lead, trusting him. To your surprise the steps come to you easily. Neither of you really notice that you dance closer to  each other than the other dancers in the room for in that moment they ease to exist. There was only Bruce and you.     Not once do you take your eyes of him. His blue eyes softening and you can see the joy in them. Bruce stares at you with an intensity, as if you were holding the answer of an elusive unanswered question, a question you weren't sure he knew himself. You told yourself you were going to get over the butterflies in your stomach and look away from his memorizing eyes, start noticing the things around you again.     Eventually the song would end. But then and there, you wanted  to forget it would.

.

[treewithcare]

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Tree felling is not always about cutting down healthy trees for aesthetic purposes. Often, trees need to be felled for various practical reasons, including:

Safety Concerns: Trees that are damaged, diseased, or decaying pose significant risks. Overhanging branches can fall during storms, potentially damaging property or injuring individuals. In such cases, removing the tree is crucial to maintaining safety.

Property Development: When building or renovating a home or commercial property, some trees may need to be cleared to make way for construction. Tree felling services can help you remove trees efficiently, without compromising the integrity of your project.

Tree Health: In some cases, a tree may be beyond recovery due to disease, infestation, or poor growth conditions. Instead of allowing it to deteriorate further, it's often better to remove it to prevent any negative impact on the surrounding trees and landscape.

Landscaping and Design: As part of maintaining a beautiful, functional garden or landscape, some trees may need to be removed or pruned to create the desired aesthetic.

Choosing the Right Tree Felling Service in Cape Town

When hiring a tree felling service in Cape Town, it’s important to consider the following factors:

Experience and Expertise: Look for a service that has extensive experience in tree removal. Seasoned professionals can ensure that the job is done safely and efficiently. Additionally, they will be able to handle tricky situations, such as felling trees near structures or power lines.

Licensing and Certification: Always opt for a certified tree felling service. In Cape Town, tree removal requires proper permits, especially if the tree is located in a protected area. A professional service will be familiar with local regulations and ensure compliance with all legal requirements.

Insurance: Tree felling is a dangerous job. It’s essential that the company has the necessary insurance to cover any potential accidents or damage that may occur during the process. This protects both you and the workers.

Equipment and Techniques: The company should use modern equipment and safe techniques to carry out the work. From chainsaws to cranes, proper tools make the job more efficient and reduce the risk of accidents.

Customer Reviews: Check customer testimonials or ask for references to gauge the quality of service offered by the tree felling company. Positive reviews can provide insight into their professionalism and reliability.

The Tree Felling Process

The tree felling process involves several steps, including:

Assessment: A professional tree removal company will assess the condition of the tree and the surrounding environment.

Planning: A detailed plan is made for the safest way to fell the tree, considering factors such as the tree's height, location, and surrounding obstacles.

Felling: The tree is carefully cut down using appropriate techniques and equipment.

Removal and Clean-Up: After the tree is felled, the company will remove the debris, including branches and the trunk, leaving the area clean.

Conclusion

Tree felling services in Cape Town are vital for ensuring the safety, health, and aesthetic appeal of your property. Whether you need to remove a dangerous tree, clear land for development, or maintain your landscape, hiring a qualified tree felling service is the best way to ensure the job is done right. By considering the experience, certification, and equipment of the service provider, you can ensure a smooth and safe process.

[brettanomycroft]

Swamped [Kidge Cryptid Hunt Oneshot, VLD]

“Why else do you think I would insist we come here before we started on our Swamp Ape hunt?” she asks.

“Because we needed cookies?”

She flings her hands up, and the bag of cookies nearly flies off her arm.

“Because we needed to harness Publix's mystical force to aid us in our quest!” she exclaims. Her voice deepens, heightening her drama. “Dark Publix, show me the Cryptids!”

Author’s Note: This was completely self-indulgent. I’m a 3rd or 4th generation Florida native and have spent all but a few years of my life in this lovely, strange state. All but one thing written here about Florida is fact, which is that I don’t think there are two Publix across the street from one another in Cape Canaveral, but there sure are in the town I live in now. Thank @stardusted for the inspiration and planning. She started this. Not me.

Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender Paring: Keith x Pidge Words: 6101 Tags: Swamp Ape, gratuitous Florida, barely edited, bonding, sass, snark, more Florida, mosquitoes, kissing, cute shit, rednecks.

Read on AO3 "Flashlights?"

"Check."

"Water bottles?"

"Check."

“Camera?”

Keith turns in his seat towards Pidge and presses the button on a boxy, plastic camera. A flash goes off. She pouts, but for once keeps both hands on the steering wheel, rather than trying to retaliate.

“Digital and disposable, check,” he says with a grin.

“I can't believe they still sell those. At least if that picture is terrible, I can physically burn it.”

“It won't be,” Keith says.

Pidge’s brows raise. It takes her a moment to resume going through her mental checklist. “Bug spray?”

“Like a gallon of it. Are you sure this isn't overkill?”

"Look, Toto, we're not in the desert anymore, so unless you want the mosquitoes to turn you into a prune so you can start planning your early retirement to Boca, then we're going to need alllllll that bug spray. You've gotta trust me, I'm the expert here. Now, do we have the cookies?”

He looks down at the disposable camera. Suddenly, the process of winding it to the next picture is the most important task in the world.

“Uh…”

The clicking sound as he winds the camera bridges the silence.

"You forgot to grab the cookies?" she asks in a low voice.

"My arms were full carrying all the bug spray!" Which is how Keith finds himself in the middle of an aisle at a grocery story that is surprisingly nice considering he lost cell service thirty minutes ago and still isn't sure if Pidge sneezed in the middle of telling him the name of the "town" they were stopping in.

For an intergalactic pilot, his Earth-side travel had been limited to the desert outskirts beyond The Garrison and a few big cities he visited with his dad, cities that seem more haze than memory now. The maze of palm trees and identical ranch homes the Holts lived in mystified him, and the rural, ramshackle spots he and Pidge had stopped off at when they needed gas were downright eerie. And while he really doesn't get how peanut butter cookies are crucial to the cryptid-hunting process, he's more than willing to give Pidge credit for taking them to what seems the likeliest place for downhome folklore to become fact.

Assuming they ever get out to the site. By the time Pidge decides which brand of cookie to get, the team’s “Voltron Spring Break 2020” will be well over. He wonders how the locals would take to the sight of a massive, glowing UFO appearing over their neighborhood Publix.

“Why don't you just get the ones from the bakery?” he asks.

She looks over her shoulder and rolls her eyes as if he’s asked the most obvious question in the world. Keith gets the sense that she’d wave a dismissive hand in his direction, if both weren’t occupied with two different boxes of cookies.

“The bakery cookies come in those child-proofed plastic containers,” she says, “meaning they’ll make way too much noise to open and close any time we want to eat during the hunt.” The follow up *duh* is unspoken.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Keith leans against the shelves opposite her, careful not to disturb the rows of crackers. “You’re the expert,” he replies, voice going flat so that she could tell just *how impressed* he was.

Pidge puts one of the packages of cookies back on the shelf. She must hear his sigh of relief, though, because a moment later she locks eyes with him and makes a slow reach for another type of cookie.

“Come *on* Pidge.”

A wicked grin stretches slow across her face. “Why don't you go grab another bottle of bug spray while I finish picking out the cookies?”

Keith shakes his head and crosses to Pidge’s side of the aisle. Stretching past her, he picks the box of cookies Pidge just set down, and another box of the ones she still has in hand.

“It's a conspiracy,” he says gravely. “No one needs that much bug spray unless they've got a vested financial stake in it. I refuse to to help you serve the secret interests of Big DEET, Pidge.”

“While in most cases I'd be inclined to agree with you,” she says, “This time, your theory neglects to take into account one important variable: we're in Florida, a state that is more bug than land.”

“Sounds like something a Big DEET lackey would say to cover up their connections.” He pauses to stick out his tongue in response to hers. “Forget the extra bug spray, let’s roll.”

With a dramatic, long-suffering sigh, she sets down the cookies in her hand and follows him towards checkout. When he glances back, he can see the tell-tale tight lips of one trying their best to hold back a smile.

The two of them ignore the strange looks they get from the cashier as they unwind the secret plottings of Big DEET and the significance of OFF™. They pay, and Keith hands the plastic bag filled with cookies to Pidge. She immediately tries to push it back to him, but he sidesteps and comes in with a “You know, we're standing in the most intriguing Florida conspiracy I’ve ever witnessed, but I haven't heard anyone question it.”

Already curious, she doesn't try to hand the bag off to him again. Success.

“What are you talking about?”

The cashier stares hard at them, face still fixed in a smile, but ready for them to clear out so she can finish with the customers behind them. Keith ignores her in favor of making a wide, sweeping gesture towards the grocery store around them.

“Publix. Ever since we landed, it's all I ever hear your mom and dad and Matt talk about. Even you've started doing it. 'Keith, you haven't lived until you've had a Pub Sub,’ and 'I know we stopped at Publix earlier, but let’s go pick up this other thing.’ It goes on.” Pidge nods along, glee filling her face.

“I'm pretty sure everything in your house is Publix brand,” he continues, “and three days ago, when your dad was driving us around town, I saw two Publix across the street from one another…And both were packed. Everyone here has an unnatural obsession with this store.”

The cashier finally shoos them towards the exit. They stop once they reach the parking lot, where Pidge reaches up to cup his cheek. She shakes her head.

“Oh, poor, naive Keith,” she says, doing her best to keep a straight face. “The Publix Phenomenon isn't a conspiracy if everyone knows about it and is willingly accepting. Every Florida child grows up learning of the strange contract made between the Jenkins family and a powerful, interdimensional entity. No one cares because Publix is the best.”

Her words pick up momentum, excitement and investment in the ridiculous story growing. Her eyes crinkle at the corners and he's not entirely sure if it's her pulse or his that he feels at the point where their skin meets.

Her hand drops. Keith exhales, letting go a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

“Why else do you think I would insist we come here before we started on our Swamp Ape hunt?” she asks.

“Because we needed cookies?”

She flings her hands up, and the bag of cookies nearly flies off her arm.

“Because we needed to harness Publix's mystical force to aid us in our quest!” she exclaims. Her voice deepens, heightening her drama. “Dark Publix, show me the Cryptids!”

She holds her pose for a few long ticks before they both dissolve into laughter. Clutching at his stomach, Keith doubles over, gasping as he tries to speak.

“And here this whole time I thought you were weird. Turns out you're just Floridian,” he manages.

“Hey! I resemble that remark!”

Pidge chases him all the way back to the car, both cackling as she tries to nail him with the wildly swinging bag of cookies.

…

It's another 30 minute’s drive out to the location Pidge has found for their Swamp Ape stakeout. The sun is low in the sky and right in their faces, but the car’s A/C is cold and conversation engaging. Pidge once again shares how she found the spot: a combination of digging through forums and coding a program that took location and environmental data from the various sightings and calculated the best possible area for spotting the cryptid. Keith's heard the story three or four times by now, but doesn't begrudge her excitement. Once she’s done, he retells his story of how his attempts at tracking down the Thunderbird ended up with him trespassing on Garrison property before he was even a cadet. Pidge always laughs at the part where he evaded Iverson by making terrible bird calls, so it’s worth the embarrassment of recreating the scene.

Between laughing at themselves and the dense forest that crowds the single lane highway they’re cruising down, Pidge misses the turn off. They’re alone on the straight, narrow road, so Pidge lets out her choicest of expletives and pulls a U-turn right in the middle of it. Both of their phones are without signal, but Keith had gone the old school route and printed out the map as well, so after a few miles going under the speed limit and another U-turn, they find their road.

Loose gravel crunches under car tires. A plume of dust rises up behind them. Keith stares out the windows, transfixed by the way the trees flit by. His eyes catch on shadows and shapes further back in the woods: trees, no doubt, but in the growing twilight he swears he sees something dart away.

Being a paladin of Voltron came with no shortage of action and excitement. They were constantly on guard, always ready for the next fight. But this is a different prickling in his stomach. This is a pick up in his pulse that he hasn’t felt since he was fourteen and scrambling under a break in the fence at The Garrison. He glances over at Pidge. Her attention is glued to the path ahead, but there’s the hint of a grin at her lips. Her hands flex and tighten on the steering wheel.

The road dead ends at a small clearing of grass. Pidge parks the car. At the far end of the clearing, a few knobbly fence posts do their best to hold back the forest. Pidge turns to him, vibrating in anticipation. Her eyes are bright, a hint of gold lit in the setting sun.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Beyond ready.”

Keith opens the passenger door, slides out, and shoulders his backpack. From the side pocket, he withdraws his knife and returns it to its proper place on his hip. Pidge had assured him that open carry was a thing in Florida, but he hadn’t wanted to take chances. The weight of his blade at his side kickstarts the pounding of his heart, sending it to his ears. He can see Pidge getting geared up on the other side. She bounces from foot to foot, tests the weight of her backpack, and consults the compass clipped to her shorts.

“Let’s roll. We’ve got an hour or so until sundown.”

They cross the clearing. Long grasses and weeds tickle and stick at Keith’s ankles. He regrets not wearing jeans, but Pidge had insisted that he’d die of heat stroke before they found the Swamp Ape if he did.

Pidge stops between two of the fence posts. Barbed wire coils between the posts, the “NO TRESPASSING” sign attached to it faded but sturdy. She doesn’t hesitate or turn towards the car. He can’t hold back a grin as she pulls a pair of thick work gloves and her bayard from the side pocket of her backpack and goes, “Care to do the honors?”

“Nah, go for it. I broke the law last time.”

She chuckles, tugs on the gloves, and dispatches the barbed wire with little effort.

“Remind me to fix that on the way out,” she says.

“Fix that on the way out,” he replies.

“You’re *so* helpful.”

With her gloves, she holds the barbed wire back, allowing him to pass. He reaches up and ruffles her hair once he’s safely past the sharp metal.

“I try,” he says.

He walks two or three yards into the forest, then turns when he doesn’t hear Pidge’s footsteps behind him. Rather than the expected look of disgust, she stares at him with an expression that falls somewhere between impish and downright devious.

“You’re forgetting something, Keith,” she says in a singsong voice.

“And what’s that?”

From the bottle holder of her backpack, she yanks out not a bottle of water, but a massive can of bug spray.

“Spray down time.”

Groaning, Keith trudges back to her.

“Repellent?” he asks. “I thought that’s why I had you and your personality here.”

And, as he deserves, Pidge hits him in the pants with a long shot of the wet, citrus-smelling stuff.

…

Their little camp is little more than a blanket laid out on the ground and their backpacks leaned up against the wide trunk of an oak. They’d walked maybe a mile or two from the clearing until Pidge had dubbed them sufficiently far enough from civilization for a Swamp Ape to appear. Settling in, they’d gotten out their individual field notebooks, water, and one of the boxes of cookies. And then, the wait began.

There’s desert hot, and then there’s *this*, and *this* is misery. Oftentimes when Pidge had talked about home, she’d referred to it as “the swamp”, but in the cool expanse of space, it had been hard to imagine. Keith ought to have figured it out as they were flying in, when he’d seen from Red’s viewscreen the long tracts of murky green, but Pidge had been chattering away over their private channel about how great it was going to be to see her family and take him out on a proper cryptid hunt, so it hadn’t really hit him.

The heat doesn’t just swelter, it clings. Walking through a wall of food goo would have been easier and more pleasant than what they’re sitting in now. The lowering sun provides as little relief from the heat as do the pines that stretch above them. If anything, the trees trap the humidity in. Pidge runs a can of soda along her forehead and cheek. The hair from her ponytail that isn’t plastered to her neck curls and frizzes.

A buzzing at his ears tells him that despite all the bug spray, he’s about to become dinner; he swats at the mosquito near his neck and lands a hit. When he pulls his hand away to look, its a mess of sweat, dirt, and a smear of blood. Keith decides then and there that the only good thing to come from Florida is Pidge, and even right now, she’s not earning many points. He should have gone to Disney with Lance, Hunk, and Allura, or stayed in Cape Canaveral and gone bar-hopping with Shiro, Matt, and Coran.

“Why did we have to choose to hunt the Swamp Ape?” he grumbles. “Why couldn’t it have been the Beach Ape, or better yet, the Indoor Air Conditioning Ape?”

“Because those aren’t legendary monsters, those are tourists,” she says. “I know the heat’s shitty, but shut it. All your complaining will scare off the Swamp Ape.”

He’s not sure if he should feel relieved to know from the sting of her words proved the heat was getting to her too, or offended by her jab. Pidge could get downright nasty when the mood struck - her sense of tact and social etiquette were about as refined as his - but most of the time he had the privilege of being the observer, not the recipient.

And maybe she realizes her harshness: a few ticks later, she pulls a chilled soda from her bag and waves it in front of him.

“Cool off?” she asks, as close to an apology as he can expect.

“Yeah, sure.”

She slides the can up his arm, giggling when he jumps at the cold contact on his skin. A trail of goosebumps follows the condensation the can leaves as she rolls it over his shoulder and up his neck.

The next two hours pass easier with Pidge recling on her backpack next to him. They split a beer Keith nicked from Lance; not because either of them were too young to buy their own, but because watching the confused look dawn on Lance's face the next morning as he counted the drinks left and tried to compare it to what he was sure he’d drunk the night before was one of their new favorite things. In low whispers they exchange what they know about their quarry, from the accounts they’d each read about to their own pet theories. There’s an undertone of hope, as if talking about the Swamp Ape might make it appear, but instead the sun sinks below the horizon and the mosquitoes come out in full force.

Keith had the foresight to bring a deck of cards, so they flip on the lantern Pidge packed and run through their options. Egyptian Rat Screw is out of the question - too loud - but they play a few good rounds of Rummy, Crazy Eights, and a game Coran had taught them called Yarbling Yellmore. Pidge then cajoles him into a game of Go Fish, which is unfair when they both know she’s the reigning Go Fish champion back on the Castle.

“Got any… threes?” she asks.

“Go Fish,” he says, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible.

In the fuzzy blue light of the lantern, Keith sees Pidge give him a *look*. Her eyes narrow and she purses her lips.

“You’d better not be lying,” she mutters.

“I’m not. Go Fish.”

“Keith, this isn’t Bullshit, give me your goddamned three.”

She leans in. He resists the impulse to lean back, doing everything in his power to maintain his semblance of innocence.

“I already told you, I don’t have one. Go Fish.”

As if this weren’t the first time this has happened, Keith scrambles back on his butt the moment before Pidge launches herself at him. He keeps his card hand high in the air, out of her reach as she practically crawls over him on all fours.

“You’re such a shit,” Pidge swears, trying to swipe at his cards.

“What happened to being quiet?” he teases. He stretches his arm up even higher.

Of all of the paladins, he’s the shortest second to Pidge, but every bit of extra height counts in carrying on the game of keep-away. Her knee digs into his thigh and her hand is planted on his shoulder as she continues her futile attempts to snatch his cards from him. He tilts his head up to avoid getting a mouthful of green tee-shirt, only to come to close to getting a mouthful of something else. Pidge seems not to have noticed the precarious nature of their position or the red that floods his face. She leans in closer as she tries to leverage all the height she can to reach his cards.

“What happened to h-” Pidge starts, but her voice cuts off with a sharp squeak the moment after a loud rustle comes from the dark forest.

Their heads snap towards the sound. Beyond the circle of the lantern the forest is a patchwork of black and blacker. They both jump as a deafening crack of a tree branch snapped in half echoes around them. Without looking away from the verge of light and shadow, Keith plants his hands on Pidge’s hips to keep her from tumbling on top of him. His cards hit the ground with the faintest flutter. Pidge is too occupied to notice the pair of threes.

“Swamp Ape?” Pidge breathes.

“Dunno.”

The sound of scattering leaves and shaking foliage continues. A chorus of pops and cracks surround them. Pidge tenses under his hands.

“Flashlight?”

“Closest one is in my backpack. Front pocket,” he whispers.

Pidge slides off of him and inches towards his backpack. With aching slowness she undoes the zipper, trying to make as little noise as possible. The unseen source of the rustling nears; Keith can practically taste the tang of his heart in his mouth. Whatever it is, it's almost at the edge of their makeshift camp.

“Gotcha,” Pidge hisses. She stands, Keith's flashlight in hand, and swings the beam of light towards the noise.

Three small, bulbous shapes give off a dull shine in the light. They freeze in the middle of their rooting around in the dirt. Black beady eyes peer out at them. Pidge lets out a long string of expletives that ends in “Quiznaking armadillos.”

Tension drains from Keith's body, and he falls back on the blanket. He needs a minute to get the painful pounding of his heart back to a healthy tempo. He hears Pidge stomp around and kick up leaves and twigs to chase the small creatures away; the rustling they make as they scamper back into the forest isn’t even as close to as loud as it had seemed before.

Pidge collapses on the blanket next to him with a huff. They look at one another, and burst into laughter.

...

“We’re goinna give it thirty more minutes,” Keith insists, “and then call it quits. If the Swamp Ape doesn’t show up before then, it gets to keep its ‘Elusive’ status.”

The protest Pidge offers is garbled, drowsy.

“Beg pardon?” he says.

She shifts a little to look up at him, but her head remains planted on his shoulder. Her eyelashes flutter as she fights oncoming sleep.

“But I wanted you to have the coolest cryptid hunt ever,” Pidge whines. “Instead all we’ve had swampy weather and some stupid armadillos.”

Keith eyes the watch on his wrist. After having gotten used to the ticker he wore while in space, it takes him a moment to interpret. It’s already past midnight, and they’ve got a two hour drive back to Pidge’s house that Keith suspects he’ll be in charge of. He runs a hand over her hair, consoling.

“I’m having fun,” he says. “Swamp Ape or no Swamp Ape. What else do you think I’d want to be doing? Spending my Spring Break keeping Coran and Matt from starting bar fights? Spinning around in some silly bowls at an overpriced circus until I puked?”

Pidge chuckles, and scoots closer. She adjusts until it seems she’s found a more comfortable position leaning against him.

“One,” she starts, “don’t pretend like you wouldn’t be the first to start a bar fight.” Keith shrugs the best he can without disturbing her. “And two, don’t knock the teacups ‘til you’ve tried them. Outside of the mindlessly long lines the Disney Corporation uses to optimize harnessing of human soul energy, the parks are pretty great.”

“The only way any of that could be more entertaining than what we’re doing is if the bar fight was at Disney.”

They continue chatting, doing their best to keep the other awake for the final half hour of their quest. While not as oppressive as earlier, the air is still on the warm side, and between that and the lullaby-strains of frog song and insect hum, Keith knows he’s fighting a losing battle. He can see a pocket of stars through a break in the trees above, and decides he likes how pleasantly surreal it feels to be with Pidge looking up at the stars instead of down. His fingers absently toy with the end of her ponytail as they talk.

Ten minutes remain in their hunt when it happens.

It starts with the frogs. Pidge is the first to notice. She sits up.

“Hear that?” she whispers.

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

The forest is cloaked in odd silence. Keith feels very, very awake.

They sit in absolute stillness, and are rewarded a few seconds later by a long, deep howling sound. It’s too far off for Keith to figure out what direction it’s coming from, but it won’t be that way for long: it’s getting louder.

When he’d imagined the Swamp Ape, he hadn’t imagined the terrible crush of underbrush like thunder rising from the earth, hadn’t imagined the inhuman, reverberating roar, unlike anything he’s ever heard before. Blurry images of a tall, loping figure flash through his mind. All reports indicated it was fast, powerful. His paladin armor would be a blessing right about now.

Pidge grabs his hand and squeezes hard. She’s gone pale, and it’s clear the same thoughts are crossing her mind. Blindly, she fumbles for her backpack and feels around until she finds her bayard.

“Keith, if we die here,” she says, voice low and serious, “I want you to know that there’s no one else in the world I’d want to go cryptid hunting with and that I’d been hoping we could do that kind of stuff together for the rest of our lives, Voltron or no.”

Something pings in his brain at her words, something some part of him feels like he would be paying a lot more attention to if the angry bellowing of a charging creature weren’t headed straight for them. He stands, muscles tensing.

“We’re not going to die, Pidge,” he snaps. “We’re both trained warriors with space weapons going up against a big monkey.”

“Okay, well, yeah,” she says as she stands up, “but the adrenaline’s talking now and I don’t have a good brain-to-mouth filter under normal circumstances and monkeys and apes aren’t the same thing.”

Whatever beast is out there isn’t slowing down. Keith estimates they have maybe another twenty seconds before it reaches their camp.

Pidge and Keith turn to each other as one. And maybe the adrenaline has hit his bloodstream, or maybe her words catch up with him, or maybe this was going to happen the entire time and both of them were too wrapped up in the hunt to even notice, but it happens now: Keith slings his free arm around her waist and Pidge grabs his shoulder and their teeth click painfully as their lips collide once, twice, three times. He tastes peanut butter and mint gum when his tongue slides into her mouth. A soft whine rises from the back of her throat when they part for air, a sound he mimics when she sucks his bottom lip between her teeth a moment later. The roaring in his ears is either his heart or the Swamp Ape less than ten feet away, probably both.

Hand on his blade, he pulls away from her and turns to the source of the roar. Every muscle tenses, each nerve fires off with the command to defend: now that he's kissed Pidge, he's not about to let either of them get mauled by Redneck Sasquatch. Next to him, Pidge crouches low. Her bayard sparks to life, glow illuminating flushed cheeks and kiss-plush lips.

They’re hit with a bright blast of light. Keith throws up his arm but it’s too late, and he’s blinded. He holds his defensive stance and tries to blink his vision back.

“What the hell are ya’ll doin’ out here? This is my private property!”

As his eyes adjust to the light, it clarifies into two points - headlights. A loud motor revs and growls. Keith can just make out the darker outline of what looks like a 4-wheeler with a man atop it. He can’t see the expression on the man’s face, but the anger in his shout and the slender shadow of a shotgun make his facial features pretty unnecessary.

Pidge gets her words back first, but he swears he hears a slight twang to her voice that, should they make it out of this alive, he was definitely going to tease her for.

“Sir, we are so sorry, we did not mean any harm, you see, it’s just that we were out here lookin’ for, ah, uh…”

The man gives a contemptuous snort. “Lookin’ for what? Ain’t nothin’ but pine and cattle for a’hunnerd acres.” He turns his head towards Keith. “Nah, the only thing ya’ll’re lookin’ for was a real private place. Thinkin’ you could get some all the way out in the woods, huh boy?”

Keith tries to stammer out some sort of response, but he’s completely blindsided. He looks from the rancher, to the wrinkled blanket below his feet, to Pidge, wild hair mussed from a long night of humidity. It does look a lot like what the rancher was suggesting.

“No, that’s not-” Keith starts. “We weren’t doing anything!” He clenches his fists to keep himself from reaching for his knife. He’s been launched from one potential fight into another, and his body is still ready to go. Reason tells him that the last thing he needs to do is beat up some stranger in the deep woods of Florida, but instinct doesn’t like the way the man is staring the two of them down.

“We were looking for the Swamp Ape!” Pidge shouts.

Just like before, the entire forest goes quiet. Even the thrum of the 4-wheeler’s motor seems muted.

“The what?”

“The Swamp Ape,” Pidge repeats, sounding defensive.

A bark of laughter echoes around them. The rancher lowers his gun.

“Where you two from?” he asks.

“Cape Canaveral,” she says.

“You two came all the way out here from Canaveral lookin’ for that damn ape?” The man hoots and dissolves into great gasping bouts of laughter.

Keith takes a breath, stance relaxing. They were going to be all right. He sees Pidge deactivate her bayard.

“Yes Sir, we did.”

It takes three or four more staggering breaths before the man can speak again. “Girl, there ain’t been a sightin’ this far north in years. You gotta go down to the Everglades if you wanna catch a whiff a’ him.”

Pidge visibly deflates, shoulders sagging. The expression on her face as she turns to Keith is pure apology. He shrugs.

The rancher lets them pack up their things and escorts them back to the property line. He watches with an appreciative eye as Pidge uses her bayard to mend the cut barbed wire, then issues about as stern of a warning as he can muster.

“I figure ya’ll wastin’ your time out here for nothin’ is punishment enough.”

…

The drive back is quiet. Despite the chug of the A/C, the air feels thick. Keith stares out the window, but sneaks glances at Pidge when he thinks her attention is fixed on the road. He’d kissed her. She’d kissed him. Somehow, that discovery feels more monumental than 1,000 confirmed conspiracy theories.

He takes another chance at a glance, and finds her looking at him.

“I’d understand if you don’t want to go on anymore cryptid hunts,” she says in a quiet voice. “This was a total bust.”

He swallows hard and reaches out to fiddle with the air vent. It’s suddenly hotter than an afternoon in July. He shakes his head.

“I thought you said you wanted to do this kind of stuff together forever. I was starting to get pretty set on the idea.”

Pidge’s smile is soft. Keith assembles every last bit of courage that hasn’t been drained from the night’s events, and leans over to take the hand resting in her lap. Her fingers curl around his.

“You’re by far the best thing to come out of Florida,” he says.

If she thinks she can cover up how wide her eyes get, or the color that rushes to her cheeks with a sarcastic sounding, “Keith Kogane, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” well, she’s wrong.

She holds his hand the rest of the drive home, not even letting go when she has to swerve around a pack of armadillos crossing the middle of the road.

…

3 AM has come and gone by the time Pidge navigates the car into the driveway. The Holt family home is dark but for a single stove top light in the kitchen, which allows Matt, the only one still awake, to give them a once-over. He sets aside the jar of peanut butter and spoon in hand and lets out a low whistle.

“No luck, huh?” he says.

Keith feels the mirth radiating from Matt as he takes in their matching sweat-drenched clothes and mud-flaked faces. He circles the kitchen island and plucks a small twig out of Pidge's hair.

“Three armadillos, an annoyed rancher, and a flock of mosquitoes,” Pidge mumbles.

“Not exactly the monsters you were looking for, then,” Matt says. “You’da had better luck coming out to the bar with me and Shiro and Coran. We ran into something inhuman tonight - dunno what it was, but Coran swore up and down that it wasn't an alien.”

Matt launches into a descriptive but somewhat slurred story about, from what Keith could gather in between the large clumps of peanut butter Matt starts eating again, Coran’s close encounter of the Texan kind. Keith's too tired to protest or be offended at Matt's descriptions of the tourist.

Keith and Pidge yawn in unison. He can feel sleep creeping up on him, and if he doesn’t go upstairs and shower soon, he’s going to fall asleep in the middle of the kitchen, coated in a thick layer of sweat and bug spray.

“Eh, well, you’ll have better luck next time,” Matt says. He tries to twirl his peanut butter spoon between his fingers, but it drops with a loud clunk. His eyes narrow as he shoots the spoon an accusing glare, then shrugs and scoops out some peanut butter with his finger instead.

“But just think,” Matt continues. “Maybe the real cryptid was the friends you made along the way”

Pidge glances at Keith. She bites her bottom lip, then looks away. Keith feels warm again. He, too, suddenly finds it hard to look at her.

Matt laughs. He looks like he’s about to pat Keith on the back, but reconsiders a moment later. Keith is pretty sure the stench coming from him and Pidge is potent enough to put the Swamp Ape to shame.

“I call first dibs on the shower,” Pidge announces.

She wraps his hand in hers and gives it a quick squeeze, then hurries upstairs before he can protest her shower dibs. He watches her climb up until she’s out of sight.

When Keith turns back, he meets Matt’s piercing stare. For all that Matt had been acting like he’d had a bit too much at the bars that night, the look he gives Keith now is both sober and sobering.

“Any theories on why you guys didn’t manage to find the Swamp Ape?” he asks. “Maybe a little too occupied with something else?”

After everything Keith has faced that night - mosquitoes, wild armadillos, unpredictable property owners - nothing chills his blood so much as the very Big Brother expression on Matt’s face.

“Apparently we were too far north for a good sighting,” Keith says quickly, “and if we wanted to actually track it down we’d have to go to the Everglades.”

“Next time, then,” Matt says. Keith shivers.

“Yeah, hopefully.”

“Maybe I’ll come along.”

“Yeah, sure thing, definitely,” Keith hedges. “Well, I’m exhausted soooo I’m just going to go upstairs now.”

Matt wishes him a ‘good night’ that sounds a lot like ‘I’d better not catch you doing anything with my sister’. Keith does his best to walk upstairs in a calm, collected manner. He’s so focused on avoiding a premature death that he nearly jumps out of his skin when Pidge swings up the door to her room and steps into the hallway.

She’s bundled in a towel, pajamas in hand, and her hair cascades down across her bare shoulders. All thoughts of Matt and dying vacate.

“I’m going to hop in the shower,” she says quietly.

“Don’t take too long. The only cryptid rarer than a Clean Pidge is a Pidge Shower that’s less than 45 minutes.”

Rolling her eyes, Pidge leans in and presses a light kiss on his lips.

“You’re lucky that Blushing Keith is my favorite cryptid,” she shoots back.

Stunned, he doesn’t manage his reply until she’s almost shut the bathroom door behind her.

“Well, you’re mine!” he says.

Keith counts it as a success when he hears a soft yelp and a drawn out “Stoooooop,” from the other side of the door.

[visionmpbpl-blog]

New Post has been published on http://www.visionmp.com/saying-goodbye-to-the-players-was-the-toughest-thing-i-have-ever-had-to-do-lehmann/

Australia cricket coach Darren Lehmann to quit after South Africa series

Johannesburg: A tearful Darren Lehmann said on Thursday he would quit as coach of the scandal-tainted Australia cricket team after the fourth and final Test of the ongoing series in South Africa. “This will be my last Test as head coach of the Australian cricket team,” Lehmann told a press conference on the eve of the match. “Saying goodbye to the players was the toughest thing I have ever had to do. After seeing events in the media today with Steve Smith and Cameron Bancroft, the feeling is that Australian cricket needs to move forward and this is the right thing to do. I really felt for Steve and, as you see, I’m crying in front of the media. All the players are really hurting.” Speaking in Johannesburg soon after Lehmann’s announcement, Cricket Australia (CA) chief executive James Sutherland said he wanted to pay tribute to the coach. “He provided fantastic service and has been part of a very successful team that has achieved a lot during his time. I have seen first hand the pride in which he has gone about his work and the love he has for the job and his incredible work ethic. He genuinely loves and respects his players.” Lehmann, who was due to leave the job after the 2019 Ashes series in England, is going despite being cleared of any role in the ball-tampering scandal that has rocked the sport. His decision follows 12-month bans given to captain Smith and vice-captain David Warner for the roles they played in a plot to cheat in Cape Town last Saturday during the third Test. Opening batsman Bancroft was banned for nine months for his part in the affair. “As a team we know we’ve let so many people down and for that we’re truly sorry,” added the 48-year-old Lehmann. “The players involved have been handed down very serious sentences and they know they must face the consequences. They have made a grave mistake but they are not bad people.”

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