#While the actual history behind this is very relevant and important people who have little knowledge or interest in it use it in

[nunlolita]

Kinda don't like how the term "Puritanical" started being used as shorthand for "anyone who disagrees with me is a conservative" instead of you know. What that word actually means. And that people don't want to examine how cultural Christianity actually works and affects mainstream western culture, especially American culture, and instead opt to use it as a bludgeoning tool to shut down anyone who doesn't agree with them.

[phoenixyfriend]

👀 PLease tell us your thoughts about the Jedi babies re-growing up among different cultural contexts.

Oh fuck okay

Context: original post, chrono The specific post this ask is referencing: here

Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka), are now staying with the True Mandalorians under Jaster Mereel because the Force said to, go back to the Temple after about a decade. They grabbed Shmi about three months after arriving.

So as far as the cultural background goes, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had similar upbringings. She spent a few years on Shili first, but both spent the majority of their childhoods up to age 13/14 being raised in the creche. So that's the basis that they would default to, in a vacuum.

Nobody is raised in a vacuum.

Along with the Jedi cultural background, they're being raised by Tatooine natives in a Mandalorian environment.

Shmi and Anakin are both former slaves who have desert survival baked into their bones. The longer Anakin spends around her, the more his accent slips, the more he talks about old folktales, the more he uses idioms that don't exist on a cityplanet like Coruscant. All the things that he tamped down to be a Jedi come floating back to the surface, and Shmi's never known anything else. Anakin's knowledge of slave customs make her feel more comfortable, which in turn makes him feel better, and so on.

Mandalore is just... the culture they're living in. You don't grow up in a new culture with a new language without picking up on it personally. (Source: I moved to the US when I was a little under two years old.)

I think the thing I'm going to focus on as an example is the way each of these cultures approaches family, and then maybe how they approach the keeping of peace/what peace means.

Jedi: Where you come from means little, only the legacy you leave behind in your students. Mandalore: You protect your clan and your children; adoption is a major cultural value, if not actually practiced consistently. Tatooine: You can lose your family at any time, so you value what you have in all its forms. You don’t forget where and who you came from, to family of blood and family of choice alike. You cling to your memories and what little you still have of them, to what your master cannot take away.

These are all valid ways to approach family, and each of these approaches can have significant meaning to different people. But they do all, to a certain degree, conflict with one another, despite all three being fairly communal cultures.

The Jedi have a culture, one that’s built on a shared ability and religion over thousands of years. It’s not just an organization, but a continuous community with legends and traditions and art and records. But it’s one that is built on new blood coming in from the outside, volunteers who join because the religion speaks to them (near literally, given the nature of Force Sensitivity), given up by families who couldn’t or wouldn’t teach them in a way that let their talents flourish instead of pushing it all down.

For the Jedi, a culture built on people coming together due to something they have in common intrinsically that their families of blood do not, it makes sense to put emphasis on letting go of that past when they can, and to place importance on teaching lineages. It’s not just the official master-padawan pairs, either, but that’s the most obvious and easily paralleled element. Moreover, a lot of the Jedi culture is about gaining knowledge, so obviously spreading it is good, and also on supporting the galaxy to make it a better place; to view the Jedi order as a heavily communal culture would make sense, since their values are all about selfless betterment of the universe, which on a larger scale is about the galactic conflicts, but on a smaller scale is about supporting their own community, the children and the ill and elderly.

So that is the specific culture that Obi-Wan and Ahsoka grew up in, one that holds blood family as relevant but not particularly crucial to one’s identity, but is structured so people leave behind legacies through education in a manner that often becomes adoptive family (depending on your definition, I guess). Jedi are encouraged to connect to their home cultures, if not their families, with practices like the coming of age hunt for Togruta leading to the young Jedi taking a trip out to Shili to engage in that cultural milestone. This can also be viewed as a way for the Jedi to maintain personal connections to the wider universe, a (not entirely successful, but certainly attempted) way of keeping them from becoming too isolated and insular from the universe at large, and losing touch from what the galaxy actually needs of them.

They’re now growing up with two cultures that do place emphasis on blood and found family.

Mandalore, as presented in The Mandalorian, has their traditional values set as being heavily associated with their armor, battle skills, and childcare. While that’s clearly a set of values that aren’t actually followed by everyone with full sincerity, we can assume that these stated cultural values do have at least some impact on the way the society is structured, since we do see more traditional characters (Jaster, Din) adopt orphaned children and then have the Mandalorian elements of their immediate circles support that claim.

(We’ll ignore Jango and the whole clone army thing because the amount of Sith influence is up for debate and also holy trauma, Batman.)

However, we also see that a lot of Mandalorian culture is built on their family histories. On the New Mandalorian side, we see emphasis placed on the fact that Satine is House Kryze and that she’s a duchess. Her bloodline is relevant, though not the most important thing about her. On the Death Watch side, we have Pre and Tor placing emphasis on the fact that they’re Clan Vizsla, descended from Tarre, that this is important to why they deserve what the darksaber represents, this is part of why they not only deserve to lead, but should for the good of Mandalore.

Bo-Katan’s armor is a family heirloom. Boba’s armor was Jango’s, but before being Jango’s, it was Jaster’s. Armor is important enough to pass to family, but the family can be adopted. This all tracks.

The resol’nare specifies loyalty and care for the clan/tribe among the six tenets.

These two elements seem relatively well-balanced: the importance of adoption and the importance of family as a larger unit on the level of a house or clan.

And then you have Tatooine, which also balances blood and adoption, but for entirely different reasons, that being this: it can always be taken from you.

For all that a Mandalorian could historically expect their family to die in battle, and a Jedi could expect to lose their master the same way if things went poorly, those were usually choices. A Mandalorian was raised to walk into battle, and then they could make that choice to do so. It wasn’t often much of a choice, but they could feasibly turn their back and choose to be a farmer or a doctor or something, and support the people who went out to do battle instead of being the one on the field themselves. A Jedi could choose to be a healer or an archivist or join one of the Corps.

A slave does not get that choice. A slave can be killed or sold on a whim from their master. It’s not a one-time trauma, but an ever-present fear. Your parent, your child, your sibling, your spouse, all of them can be separated from you at any time. You can always lose them, and you have no choice but to grin and bear it, or try to run and die before you reach freedom.

In a context like that, I imagine Tatooine places a very heavy emphasis on family, both of blood and of choice, and on treasuring what you have while you have it. A person is always aware that they can lose whoever they have in their life, and so they make the most of their times together, have clear and consistent ways of expressing that love (I imagine primarily direct verbal confirmations and physical contact, practical gifts like water and fruit). Childcare is important, elders are venerated. Those who survived that far have valuable wisdom, and the children are to be given what happiness they can have before reality wipes that ability from them.

The family ‘networks’ among Tatooine slaves are smaller and tighter knit. There’s less trust for outsiders, but once you’re in, you’re in until you are taken away. Still, families are torn apart regularly, and often can’t contact each other after being separated if they’re sold far enough away, so families stay small because they’re always being broken up. Unlike Mandalore’s tribe/clan system, or the Jedi’s wide, loosely-structured community, Tatooine’s slaves form smaller groups that cling for as long as they can, and try to support each other. (There are selfish ones, of course, especially the newbies, but... well. Most try.)

Tatooine is also much more likely to assign a familial role (e.g. referring to an elder as ‘grandmother’). It’s not uncommon in the others (multiple Jedi refer to their masters as a parent or sibling, like Anakin’s “you’re like a father to me” line), but it’s not as baked-in that such a role should be given.

So on a structural level, we have two people from a community culture with little emphasis on blood family or formal familial roles are now being raised in a community that has them asking “what can you do for the people around you first, and then the wider world?” by people who tell them “your family, blood and found, is the most important thing you have; never let anyone take more from you than they possibly can.”

And that shit has an effect.

For all that Sokanth and Ylliben were once raised with a knowledge that their duty, their goal, was to better the galaxy as a whole, they are now being told that the community that raises them asks their loyalty back, because societies are built on support networks, and if you support the tribe, it will support you. There are parallels to that kind of thinking among Jedi, because it is basic social theory, but it’s not presented as the same kind of cultural value. It’s not given as something to strive for, just a basic fact.

This, for instance, means that once they’re back at the Temple, they have a tendency towards suggesting study groups and other ways of supporting people in their immediate circle, often structured in very unfamiliar ways. Again, this isn’t uncommon among Jedi, but it’s not done in the same way, or with the same emphasis. The Jedi also often approach problem-solving in a different order, so the step of “meditate on it and you may find your solution” often comes before “gather information from people who know more about it than you do,” while Ben and Soka have by this point learned to do it the other way around, because that’s what the Mandalorian system taught them: rely on your family first.

Meanwhile, the Tatooine element of their upbringing has them being much more willing to just... casually refer to ‘my dad’ and ‘my sister’ and so on. They use those words. It’s not just “my master is like a father to me,” but “this is my father.” They don’t hesitate to talk about the family they had and still have in Mandalorian space. None of the Jedi begrudge them it, really, but it’s always a shock to hear for the first time, and between the Tatooine refusal to pretend the connection is gone and the Mandalorian tendency to err on the side of roughhousing as affection, they’re just... odd. It’s not like none of the other Jedi know family outside the Order--some of the old books had Obi-Wan visiting his brother on Stewjon once in a while--or like none of the active Jedi are loud or boisterous, but the specific manner in which Soka and Ben interact with the Order, especially when their dad is around, is very weird.

More Soka than Ben, really, but that’s mostly just because Ben’s a very quiet person until he gets a little older, so it’s harder to notice on him.

Point is, while they still hold to their duty to the wider galaxy and will continue to keep that duty above almost anything else in their lives, the way they talk and act about the subject of family, especially in private, is heavily influenced by their new cultures.

This is already very long but I promised I’d talk about peace so let’s go:

The Jedi seek peace as an absence of war and conflict in the portion of the galaxy under their purview, in hopes that they will prevent as much suffering and death as they can.

The Mandalorians are varied, but Jaster Mereel’s group (which is the community the Skywalkers are with) is likely to view peace as unrealistic to achieve in the long term. They do not seek war, but they know the world they live in, and are prepared to protect against violence as their first resort. They always expect an attack, even if they don’t seek it.

The Slaves of Tatooine view peace as the calm in a storm. It is the status quo. Nobody has escaped tonight, for the guards aren’t searching, but neither is anyone dead. The Master you have is in a good enough mood to not sell you, to not kill you, to not beat you. Peace as an absence of suffering is impossible, so you seek for your master to be peaceful, that is to say: not raging at you.

The scope of each of these narrows significantly. From the known galaxy, to the wars that meet Mandalorian space, to the household one serves.

A community like the Jedi can choose to address peace as something to be sought on a large scale as an absence of war. They primarily function within the borders of the Republic, which has its problems but is largely structured to prevent such things from occurring until the Sith interfere. The Jedi have a structure that allows them to address peace as an ideal to be sought, at least within the borders of the territory they serve.

Mandalore, meanwhile, has been at war on and off for... ever. When they are not at war with themselves, they’re at war with someone else. ‘Peace’ is just the time between wars, and they know that if they do not attack first, they will be forced to defend. Jaster Mereel was known as the Reformer, and part of that was that instituting a code of honor, one that was intended to prevent Mandalorian warriors from acting as raiders and brigands, but rather acting as honorable hired soldiers, or taking roles such as the Journeyman Protectors. Given that, I imagine that he views war as something inevitable, but also something that can be mitigated.

War doesn’t touch Tatooine.

Oh, it might raise taxes and import rates. It might prevent visitors who come for the races. It can do a lot of things.

But to a slave, these are nothing. The only thing war does is affect the master, the person who chooses when their slaves get water, when they get beaten, when they are no longer useful enough to keep around or keep alive.

The peace of a slave’s live is dictated by how much abuse they are subjected to by the person who owns them.

What this means for Soka and Ben is... well, they are viewed as war-hungry by the people who don’t know them very well. They have armor. They focus on fighting, both with and without their sabers. They know tactics better than most masters. They claim that war is coming, and don’t seem too sad about it.

(It is a fact to them. War will come. All they can do is meet it. They’ve already done their mourning once.)

They also... well, Shmi tells them things in hidden corners. How to duck their head to hide the hate or fear in their eyes. How to watch for the anger in the tendons of a hand. The laugh of someone who enjoys the pain they’ve caused, not just the adrenaline of a fight. She is free, and so are they, but she has not forgotten how to hide in the shadows until the master’s ire has turned elsewhere. How to be small and quiet and unseen until the danger passes.

A Jedi’s first resort is words. Their second is their saber. But the Jeedai hold their heads high, and the Mandalorians do the same.

“You rely on the Force, and you have your pride,” she tells them, her hands on their own. “But there will come a time when you will not be able to remind people that you are free. You will not be able to say that you are a person, that you deserve the respect of a living sentient. Perhaps it will be a politician who treats everyone like that. Perhaps you will be captured by an enemy. Perhaps you will be undercover. You will not be able to fight, with words or with weapons, and you will have to know how to survive.”

Tatooine does not have peace. Tatooine only has survival.

And while Jedi fight for the survival and peace of the universe, they are refined and composed. Mando’ade fight like warriors of old, and Tatooine slaves fight like cornered, rabid anooba.

The galaxy comes first, but when the chips are down and the Sith come out to play, Soka and Ben do not need refinement, because they know how to toss aside their pride and live.

[radiantmists]

serious question: why isn’t ghira part of ozpin’s inner circle?

like, I guess you could argue that only the huntsman academies were relevant to the whole relic thing, not the government, but since the academies were being established at the same time as menagerie was, that’s not precisely an excuse, because why not have an academy on menagerie? as i’ve said, having four schools to hide four relics seems like an advertisement of where they were, and founding a fifth school would have added an element of confusion that might have thrown salem off for even longer. also, given that menagerie is (reportedly) infested with grimm, it makes sense to have a locus of hunters there.

moreover, if the headmasters also had the function of allowing ozpin to know and guide world politics to head off any of salem’s attempts to destabilize the world, the chieftain of menagerie ought to have been just as important a contact. and ghira is (supposedly) demonstrably committed to peaceful activism in the pursuit of unity, the exact sort of person ozpin would want on his side. maybe he avoids holders of elected positions because they change so often and he can’t influence their selection, but again, the fact that menagerie was the only major power he didnt ensure had some sort of advisory government position who could be in the know still makes this kinda sketch.

the role the faunus played in the great war is kinda unclear-- it must have been big for them to get menagerie, and they were their own force in at least one major campaign based on oobleck’s history class, though. based on the world of remnant episode it seems likely they supported the vale/vacuo side, given that the issues with mantle/mistral’s treatment of them were one of the tensions that led up to the war, so theoretically they should have been negotiating from a position of strength.

but it was oz as the king of vale who we’re told got to basically dictate the terms of the vytal treaty, and apparently what he dictated was the creation of menagerie on an island so hostile that it was likely expected to kill anyone who lived there, and a some kind of toothless requirement for legal equality for the faunus that didn’t stop any of the abuses that characters like ilia or adam faced.

maybe he couldn’t have stopped all faunus racism, but there’s also a hell of a lot more he could have done. especially the whole treatment of menagerie in the treaty really reads like he gave the smallest concession that would allow him to feel good about how he’d treated the faunus, and then completely dismissed them from thought; they aren’t even included in his grand plan to teach people to protect themselves from the grimm.

relatedly, something that I have seen talked about: why doesn’t menagerie have a CCT? like, maybe it wasn’t stable enough when the system was established, but having more seems like it could only help, however ‘poetic’ ozpin finds the engineering nightmare that is the whole internet going down if one tower fails. it’s just another example of how the faunus are just totally excluded from any of ozpin’s efforts to unify the world.

the modern faunus of rwby live under a society that at best doesn’t care about their struggles, a society that uses the grimm as justification for refusing to confront any issues with itself because resentment and conflict bring the grimm, and oz is the in-world founder of that society. from a watsonian perspective, there’s very little interpretation other than that he’s a racist-- probably an unconscious one, true, but one who over literally a century has shown minimal care for improving the situation of the faunus, the kind who plays lip service to being fair while in actuality treating minorities as an afterthought and making no real effort to ensure they’re not left behind.

This is especially absurd given that one of his theoretical goals is to unite people. If we’re being less charitable, it’s mildly plausible that ozpin doesn’t think of the faunus as part of the humanity that he’s been told to unite, and that in establishing menagerie he’s consciously left them to fend for themselves against salem. We don’t have any evidence that he’s ever been reincarnated as a faunus, and he literally predates their species, so it’s not unimaginable that he would view them as fundamentally separate from his version of humanity. i don’t think this was the intended reading but there isn’t actually that much to contradict it in his behavior.

Obviously from a doylist perspective, the reason for all this is that the writers are the kind of people who pay lip service to justice while in actuality treating minorities as an afterthought and making no real effort to ensure they’re not left behind, so when they were making oz create his ideal world as the king of vale, oz who’s supposed to be a paragon of virtue (if not perfect, at least fundamentally good), they didn’t bother to have him include the faunus in it. also the lore seems to have been reverse engineering the modern world they already had to a certain extent, so they were building on a flawed foundation.

I don’t know what the conclusion is here, I’ve just been thinking about racism in rwby and this was one expression of it that I haven’t seen commented on much.

[starbornsinger]

Elriel/Gwynriel/Elucien Theory Time :)

Ok so in regards to the Az POV chapter, I have some thoughts. This is super long and detailed and also tearing down ships, so uh, beware.

⚠️ACOSF spoilers (duh)⚠️

So I was re-reading the thing and as I was reading the conversation between Az and Rhys, it kind of hit me. I used to be an Elriel shipper until ACOSF, and I was really all for it.

But I don't think they're in love.

See, earlier in the chapter, Az is thinking about how jealous he is of the other couples. We know he isn't very lucky in love, and seeing Elain and her mate and their mating bond upsets him. I think he fancies Elain because she's beautiful and sweet, but I don't think he's in love with her. I think she's another thing he can't have, and he feels frustrated and it only makes him want her more. Because he thinks, why shouldn't he have her? Why is the Mother so cruel as to deny him love? And he thinks, "well all my other brothers have Archeron mates, why don't I? It must be a mistake!"

I think what Azriel's biggest issue is though, is that he wants love so bad, he's willing to risk it all for the first girl he feels attraction too. It also feels relevant that the primary thing we see in his POV is his physical attraction to her, his sexual attraction. We don't see much of how he thinks she's so sweet or so clever or so gentle, but instead how nice her tits are and how badly he wants to kiss and fuck her. I think he doesn't particularly want Elain, and while he likes her, I think what he really wants is love. True love, just like his brothers and friends. He thinks the Mother must be wrong because they both got Archeron sisters while he didn't, and his attraction to Elain makes him wish they were Mates so he could finally have that true love that's entirely his own.

But she's not. And he can't. I think what Azriel wants most isn't Elain. He wants her sexually, and he admires her and has a crush on her, but the thing he focuses on and gives him the most emotion is that she has a Mate and he doesn't, and that everyone does but him. I think he wants someone like Elain and wants to feel happy, but I think he doesn't exactly want Elain. When he thinks of her, he doesn't seem to be truly in love as we've seen other SJM couples are. And sure, it's early, but it's also been like— 2 years. I don't think they're in love sadly, I think Azriel just wants to move on from Mor and finally find love. He has a type, and when he found someone who loosely fit into the mold of his ideal partner, he jumped at it because he's desperate to have someone love him. All his life, he's struggled with self-love and love from others, and I think that it's deeply affected his relationship with love itself.

Physical attraction and desire and interest isn't love. And the idea of her being mated already only makes him mad— that of course the first girl he likes for the first time in 500 years, of course the girl that could help him move on from Mor, is mated. I think that only makes him feel more passionate towards her; and Rhys notes how he seems to think he has a claim to her, when he doesn't. It makes Az angry, not because Rhysand thinks he's being possessive and reckless, but because it's true. He genuinely can't have her.

As for Elain, I think she's far too hesitant to be with him. She reminds me of Daisy in The Great Gatsby, and how she claims to love Jay but she won't leave Tom, or jilt him. Now this is a different situation, because Daisy was selfish and didn't want to give up her comforts and stability and fame. Elain, on the other hand, doesn't seem ready to have a serious relationship with Az. I think she is still severely affected by Graysen's rejection, and is still clearly not over him. I don't think she's ready to accept Az fully and be with him, and I also don't think she's ready to reject her mating bond with Lucien.

I don't know 100% what's going on with Elain, but what I do know is that clearly she is intrigued by Lucien in some capacity. Ok Elriel shippers, don't come for me, but there are several scenes in which Elain seems to want to talk to Lucien, or whatever the heck. But also seems disinterested, like when she dismisses his Solstice gifts and doesn't speak to him.

However, I don't think she's resentful towards him exactly, or at least that isn't the main reason she's like this. While we know he was helping Tamlin lowkey, Feyre and the IC all understood he was on their side, and was their friend. So it seems kind of odd to still bear a grudge against him, but who knows.

But funnily enough, she has yet to reject their mating bond. If she's so disinterested, or hates him so much, why hasn't she turned him down? Mother, she's barely spoken to him at all. I think the obvious reason behind her disdain or distancing from Lucien is her connection to Graysen and her human life. Of all the sisters, Elain has not yet adapted to or accepted that she is Fae— or if she has, she's sure as hell not happy about it. Even Nesta in ACOSF mentioned how she actually likes her ears now, and we know Feyre has totally accepted being Fae. But with Elain, she had the most human connected life of them all, and to have it taken away from her is shitty.

For Elain, her happiness seems to come from a love of gardening, of family, of people. She has very little human things to hold onto, and adding a Mating bond to the mix right as she's made Fae is like she's had all her humanity stripped. She doesn't hate Lucien, she hates the bond. She dislikes that it's chained her to someone and taken away her choices, which we know is a big deal for the sisters after being imprisoned, kidnapped, and Made. I think Elriel is an infatuation, because even though she doesn't love Az, he's helping her rebound from Graysen (and giving her control and power over her love life). He's a choice she (can't really) make, but a choice nonetheless. With Lucien, she feels she has no choice with him, and no control over her obvious attraction I say obvious because mates have a primal attraction of some level to each other , and is probably afraid that accepting the Mating bond will remove any last connections she has to who she used to be, and the human she feels she really is.

But she also hasn't rejected it, because I think she realizes that Lucien is a genuine and kind and hot guy, and that rejecting him would be a stupid idea. He's been very patient and very kind and accepting, and has always given her the freedom of choice when it comes to the bond. I think Lucien is the kind of guy that would be very easy to fall in love with, and I think Elain sees that and knows it.

Also, I think with ACOSF, it feels relevant that Cassian pointed out specifically how Elain looked beautiful in black at the ball, but it looked horribly wrong on her. With SJM the devil is always in the details, and I think it was a clearly accentuated bit of symbolism. Although Elain looks beautiful, the black dress wasn't for her. And although Elriel is very sweet, it won't work out. She won't thrive in the Night Court, or with Azriel. Az doesn't challenge her or meet her as an equal (like all other SJM ships), and they don't push each other to be better or to accept themselves or whatever etc etc.

And I really used to like Elriel, but I think that surprisingly, Elain will be the one who says "stop, I can't do this" to Az. I think she knows she isn't ready, and I think she knows they aren't meant to be. Even if a Mating bond was put in place between her and Lucien, I still think their relationship wouldn't work because they're both too insecure, too closed off, too non-communicative, and too stagnant together to be a healthy or good match. I think with Elain they would struggle to understand each other even if they were fond of each other and can relate on some level, but at its rawest form I think they won't truly be able to be themselves with each other.

With Elain, Azriel's shadows— a key part of him— disappear. While I initially thought, awww that's so cute, she's a light in his life, I soon realized I was wrong. Az's shadows are not just a part of him, they're an extension of him, of his will and subconscious and emotions. So Elain chasing them away, while chasing away the shadows and darkness seems cute, isn't a good thing. Most of the time with shadows, we think "ew bad!" Because they have an inherent connotation of negativity or sorrow or depression or darkness etc etc. And while this is partially true, Azriel's shadows and darkness are a part of him. His sadness and struggles are a part of him. And his shadows aren't just representative of that, they're also a representation of how he overcame his abuse and turned that fire (pun unintended) and anger and trauma into something beautiful and powerful and a weapon. I think they can serve as an armor and a shield, and while that's not good, I also don't think they should fully disappear.

More on that: with Azriel's shadows, we know they're a part of him, right? So I think an important part of self is self-regulation. Rather than be consumed entirely by shadow, or totally exposed to the light, I think he just needs his shadows to be calm and present, but not controlling or hiding. I think the whole "Elain bringing him out of the shadows" bit sounds cute at first, but then you have to think of it like this. In order to be with Elain, he would have to change. He couldn't be a spy or a shadowsinger or a torturer, and he couldn't be dark and introverted. With her, he has to push that aside. Those are key parts of him, key parts that would have a big impact on their relationship. Elain can't be with someone with so much blood on their hands or a history of violence or darkness. We know that, because we know that sort of thing upsets her and she doesn't like it.

Azriel can't just be himself with her, he has to become someone else. And while he's attracted enough to not care, after awhile, that grows exhausting. Being in love and not being your true self, all of it, is exhausting. And while some might argue "why can't he be his true self?!" well my slime, I think we both know that even if we wanted him to, Elain would be silently resigned about it. I don't think— no, I know— Elain can't be with someone like Azriel. Even if they have feelings, even if they have lust or affection, it isn't love. They aren't in love, and they won't work out no matter how much we want it to.

Onto Elain: with Elain, this all ties back to what Cassian said in Hewn City. She looks beautiful in black, but it's wholly wrong for her. The Night Court is wrong for her, and darkness is wrong for her. While some yin-yang relationship tropes can work very well, I don't think this will. She doesn't like the darkness or accept it, and she doesn't want to be a part of it. I think the Night Court is good and happy for her when she makes her own little garden world, and only then, really. It's like living in the middle of the desert and only thinking of the beach: it's not the right place for her.

I think the Spring Court needs her, and I think she needs it. Here's more on that.

So we've seen the set up and execution of the fall of the Spring Court. We know that it's in shambles and is weak and needs a new/better leader than Tampon. I feel like SJM is setting things up for a new book focused in the Spring Court, because in a lot of ways, it's becoming the centerpiece for action in Prythian (aside from the Night Court). I genuinely believe that as Tamlin's second, Lucien will take over the Spring Court as High Lord. He doesn't fit in with Autumn, didn't fit in with Night, and wasn't really a part of Spring. But with Spring, it was where he was happy, where he felt safe, and the home he chose. Chosen homes and chosen families are a big deal for SJM, and I think that Lucien will return to the Spring Court to try and help it, because Mother knows it needs it. I think Elain belongs there, not only because she needs to be in an environment suited to her, but because she needs to heal.

We've seen a theme of helping others heal in order to heal ourselves, and I think a good book idea (and what I think an Elain book would be about), is healing the Spring Court and helping it. Elain is a gardener. She wants to see things grow and blossom, wants to get her hands dirty and dig in! But she can't do that in the NC. I think she needs something new and fresh and blossoming that she can help and tend to, and I think the person that can be at her side for that is Lucien. I think with Azriel, she can't see growth and life and flowers. He's a different kind of person, far too different, and the two wouldn't mesh well. Elain isn't like Persephone and Azriel isn't like Hades; although she's flowers and he's death and they're attracted to each other, they don't fully accept those roles and cross into each other's. Elain could never be a killer or someone who wears black or thrives in a darker place, and Azriel couldn't be someone who is in the full heat of the light and wear bright colors and be cheerful and flowery. In a dream world, yes, but I think in this one, no. SJM loves to create realistic relationships and realistic relationship conflict, and I think we'll see this here. Even though they want it to work, and in theory it should, it won't. I think they know it too. Azriel's shadows vanish when she's around, and Elain struggles to feel comfortable in the darkness and Night Court, and fit in with the others in the black dress that is wholly un-Elain.

I also think that this relationship doesn't bring development to the table. The forbidden love concept is adorable and a trope I love, but this love isn't one that will push them to grow. Azriel can feel loved and happy, but can he feel fully accepted? Can he stop being ashamed of his shadows, of his violence? Of who he is? Can Elain break out of her shelf and be more assertive, and truly grow and change? Can she be herself and be happy? The answer is a sad no. Their relationship is sweet and cute, but it won't truly work. I genuinely believe Lucien is a better match for Elain, and while the Cauldron isn't always right (like Rhysand's parents), it usually is. If he isn't, then I'm all for independent Elain.

Now onto the moment you've all been waiting for: who should Az be with?

Gwyn. :)

[folerdetdufoler]

Hi!! How are you doing? I know some authors would rather not answer questions about works in progress or future fic, so you do my have to answer if you don’t want to. But I do miss your new writing very much, and I was wondering if you are working on something. I hope you are doing really good!

i'm sure my answer would change on a different day but to be honest i think i need to talk about it as much as you do. i lost my twitter account so i lost the little prompts or WIPs i had started there, which i would eventually come back to when i had time. so i'm going to use this to outline what i have in progress and what i'd like to do in the future.

1) young royals crossover / mondays at sixteen update - i had an idea and started writing this on twitter: isak and even are down at the harbor swimming, and even spots wilhelm and simon there, vacationing somewhat anonymously. he takes creepshots from a distance, just like he had done with isak back in the day, and approaches the prince to share them (leaving a terrified and embarrassed husband behind on his towel). even is allowed to text the photos to the prince, but then is ordered to delete any evidence of the exchange from his phone: the photos, the prince's number, etc. it was a random and strange encounter that neither isak nor even thought was going to be relevant again...until even gets a text from an unknown number. it's the prince, and he's requesting even's photography services.

so there's that, and i have about 22k written for it. i don't know how long it's going to be, and i don't really have a decent plot for it, just that initial hook. but that will most likely be the next thing i post.

2) number nine! once upon a time i had hoped i would do my next chaptered fic in time for the big bang, but like...lol. i have about 17k of that written and i haven't touched it in months. i'll go back to that next. i'm writing isak in his second year at nissen, and jonas is his bff, and he'll meet even through his mom (marianne), who is a professor at a university in oslo. i don't think isak's friendship with jonas will be really important, but it's one of the first things i wrote about, so for a while i was really focused on figuring out who jonas was going to be. and sana is there, as isak's nerdy classmate.

this one still feels pretty vague, like i don't have an arc for it yet. i know a couple of small specific scenes i want to set, and i've already mapped out the floor plan of isak's house. but i don't have the ~grand~ story i like to give to my chaptered fics.

3) oh god i think i lost whatever tidbits i'd written for the next one, but i want to try childhood-friends-to-lovers after that. there was also something i had called a "running fic" and i don't know if that's going to be the same thing. but i want to explore that dynamic, to see how people's relationships change as they grow up and figure out what intimacy looks like. that also seems like a good opportunity for some...pining. and for the running fic, isak and even were probably going to be on a cross country/track team at school, maybe teammates or maybe rivals. but the competition of a sport would certainly add some spice. ugh, these might be two separate fics. but i'm lumping them together because they're both involving a younger isak and even, with more of a history together.

4) i had started a thread on twitter of even as a psychologist who ends up back at nissen as the school nurse, once skrulle retires. he and isak had gone to school together just like in canon, a year apart, but they'd never officially met or been more than "person i walk past in the hall once in a while." but then as adults isak has a teenaged daughter who goes to nissen, and isak is concerned about her performance/social life. even gets to know the daughter, olivia, at isak's request, and isak and even start this professional relationship that GUESS WHAT becomes something more. somehow. i hadn't written beyond even meeting olivia and starting to develop that trust bond that he would need in order to actually help her with whatever is going on. isak would probably be more in need of a psychologist than olivia though, considering his closeted past. but hey! we're getting into actual parent characters! how adult of me.

um, and there might be more things if i go back through my writing tag, or if someone remembers anything from twitter, or sends me other prompts. but those are the ones that are the most "formed" in my head, as places that i can go to whenever i want to play with another story. someone once asked for more "married evak" and i'm kind of doing that with the mondays at sixteen updates. but maybe i'll get into something standalone to fulfill that too.

AHHH i just remembered i wanted to write a pandemic fic??!! which is so weird to think about because i remember i had been worried i wouldn't write a pandemic well but jesus fucking christ we've been in one for a year and a half now so i think i have done enough research there. shit, that was a thing from back in november at least, and that was before i had even thought up what number nine turned out to be. for the sake of my mental health though, THAT pandemic will have an ending. whether i'll write it faster than whatever happens in america is still to be determined though!

so there, we probably have at least four more chaptered fics coming. who knows what else will pop up in the meantime. i don't want them to be as long as magic eight ball but i've never been able to limit/edit myself in that regard.

[the-witty-pen-name]

It Happened On Sakaar Pt. 2

Mando x F!Reader; Loki x F!Reader

Rating: M; 18+ Only

Warnings: swearing, grieving, angst, slow burn, mentions of violence (smut in later chapters)

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: The bounty hunter’s most recent puck sends him across the Galaxy to an unfamiliar and artificial planet named Sakaar- literally the galaxy’s trash can. Sakaar is a bizarre planet, but so is his most recent bounty. Din is chasing a man he only knows as The God of Mischief. The reader lives on Sakaar as a scrapper, a similar trade to that of a bounty hunter and has a tangled history with the man Mando is looking for. Will the unlikely duo team up to capture the mischievous Asgardian or will the reader fall victim to Loki’s promises?

A/N: 

IMPORTANT UPDATE

I made a Google form to be added to my taglists, so if you want to be added, the link is in my bio. I’ll only be adding people to the list if they requested to be added by filling out the form! This way all of the requests are just in one place so I don’t miss requests! Thank you!!! 

This is unedited and if I missed anything that I should include as a warning please let me know! Thank you y’all!

Part One

Tags and Requests are OPEN

You had just gotten paid another hefty sum for brining a new fighter to the Grandmaster, not as good as the supposed Lord of Thunder Scrapper 142 caught but still nonetheless, he was pleased and you were more than satisfied with your payment.  You were at a bar, feeling pretty good about yourself. You deserved it and you wanted to treat yourself to a drink. You sat on one of the barstools, nursing a drink and did your best to ignore the gladiators behind the barrier nearby. You weren’t looking forward to this upcoming fight, but then again, you didn’t particularly care about them in the first place anyways.  Scrapper 142 joined you, opting for a bottle instead of a glass.

 You understood her. It was an unspoken feeling you knew she also understood. You were similar people, and on this planet to escape your past. She had been here much longer than yourself, and you observe that nothing can penetrate her hard shell. She was invincible, and you envied her ability to keep her emotions at bay. Well, except for the drinking, but you still admired her.  At some point she went over to the barrier and actually spoke to one of the gladiators. It was odd, but you didn’t question it. When she got up, you bid your goodbyes and headed to get ready for the fight. You knew you wouldn’t see her at the arena, but you know she wouldn’t take it personally that you left without a goodbye.

Walking down the hallway towards the entrance, an arm grabbed your bicep and pulled you down an empty hallway. Without hesitation, you pulled your blaster with your free hand and pushed it to the temple of whoever grabbed you. When it made a clinking noise, you sighed, knowing exactly who it was.  “Mando,” you say curtly, yanking your arm free and turning to face him.  

“I need you to tell me about the God of Mischief,” he states plainly. 

“I thought you were a good bounty hunter,” you roll your eyes. 

“I didn’t get any information, I’m working with nothing,” he explains. You stare up at the visor, like somehow, you’d be able to study his eyes. You can feel them staring back at you though. 

“How is this my problem?” You scoff and he sighs, clearly getting frustrated.

 “You’re the only person I know on this planet that can help me,” he tries to insist, “I’ll split the reward, please.” 

“I’ll tell you what I know,” you say defeated. You felt bad for the man, and you knew it must’ve been hard for him to come to you. “But I’m not helping you hunt him down. I don’t want to be close to this.”

 “Deal,” he says, and offers out his gloved hand for you to shake.  

“We can’t talk here,” you state, “the fight is going to start soon and I need to be in attendance for a work thing.” 

“A work thing?” he taunts. You chuckle.

“Unless you want to join me,” you offer, “If you can get a babysitter.”

 “Fine,” he says, following your lead. You walk in silence to the stands, and you find your regular seat, and he takes the one next to you. You chuckle at how out of place he looks, too bulky from the armor to fit comfortably.  

“Do you always need to wear all this?” you ask him, gesturing to the armor.

 “Yes, it’s part of my code,” he replies, looking down at the arena. “Now, the bounty.” 

“He’s one of the two princes from my home planet,” you explain. “He’s actually a god, with powers.”  

“Powers?” 

“Yeah, astral projection, shape-shifting, hypnosis, telekinesis, teleportation…” 

“Are you serious?” 

 “Yeah,” you say with a chuckle at the shock in his voice.

“How the hell are you supposed to catch someone like that?” he sighs, leaning back in his seat more. 

“Outsmart him. Take advantage of the fact he probably has no idea you’re here or that anyone would be after him.” 

“Would anyone be after him?”

“Oh gods, he’s made enemies all over the galaxy,” you retort, “I have no idea how to determine who sent you. He has a laundry list of enemies.” 

“Of course,” he grumbles.  “Just in recent years, he sabotaged his own brother’s coronation by allowing the Frost Giants to attack Asgard- our planet. Then, skipping a lot of other chaos, he led an alien attack on Earth. He was supposed to face lifetime imprisonment in the Asgardian dungeons, but he was freed to help fight when Dark Elves attacked Asgard, and he faked his death. This brings us up to speed to when I left three years ago. With everyone thinking he was dead, he returned to Asgard and removed his father, Odin, from the throne and had been ruling Asgard disguised as Odin. He was doing so for several years, before Thor- that’s his brother; Thor came back and exposed him. So that’s when I left, so if he’s done something else since, I don’t know.”

“That was the summary?”  

“That was the very abridged version,” you chuckle, “but that’s sort of the relevant bit.”

“Why did you leave?” he asks curiously, “it seems like him being exposed by Thor was a good thing but you left.” 

“Because I mourned him for years,” you say spitefully. “Told me himself while disguised as Odin that Loki was dead. Lied right to me, deceived me and the entire kingdom. We built fucking statues in his honor like idiots…” 

“You loved him,” he states simply, preventing you from spiraling. You appreciated his ability to simplify the situation. It was grounding.  

“Yes,” you say simply. 

“And you’ve been here for three years and he only just shows up now?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Asshole,” he mutters, making you laugh.  

“Indeed,” you agree.  

“You deserve better,” he affirms. 

“Then a wanted war criminal? I would hope so,” you jest.  

“No, I mean, yes, but you seem- just, never mind.”  

“Thanks.” 

“Do you still have feelings for him?” he asks, after a short, uncomfortable silence.  

“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” you answer honestly.  

“I understand,” he says, but he sounds like he’s far away, lost in his own thoughts.  You both fall into a more comfortable silence, when the giant hologram of the Grandmaster emerges introducing the event and the fighters. You aren’t really paying attention; you have heard it all before. The Champion will come out, the crowd will go crazy, and he’ll just defeat whatever poor soul they put up against him. However, you are snapped out of your thoughts when you hear a familiar voice yell.  

“Thor?” you say in disbelief, standing up from your seat to get a closer look. His hair was shorter but without a doubt it was him. “Shit, what happened to him?”

 “Thor, like Loki’s brother?” Mando asks, staring down at the fight, both of you at the end of your seats. You look over across the stadium, and you see a familiar figure in the Grandmaster’s private box.  

“That weasel,” you say, narrowing your eyes, to try to get a better look. It’s him. Without a doubt, it’s Loki sitting on the large couch next to the Grandmaster. “He’s right there,” you point, and Mando follows your gaze.  

“He’s watching while they send his brother to slaughter,” Mando observes and you nod. 

“I thought I couldn’t be more disgusted,” you scoff. You wanted to be surprised but how could you be? This was Loki. Gods, you had been so blind for so long. 

“What can we do?” Mando asks, already trying to look around for the exit. There are way too many people. 

“Thor has powers like Loki- not the same ones, but he’s also a god,” you say, partly to explain but also in an attempt to calm your own nerves. “He can win this.” You hear Thor proclaim that he knows the Champion and that they are friends from work, and you cover your face with your hands from the secondhand embarrassment. You silently plead for Thor to stop trying to talk and just fight his way out. Mando hesitantly wraps an arm around you. He’s stiff and awkward but you appreciate it regardless. It was comforting. “I can’t watch,” you say, hiding your face in his shoulder.  

Mando had never experienced something like this, ever. He hadn’t touched someone for this long in a very, very long time. He knew the circumstances were terrible and his heart was breaking for you. But selfishly, he basked in the feeling of intimacy, even if it was strictly platonic. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if it was platonic, because that implies a friendship. His mind was racing and he tried to ignore the warm feeling spreading throughout his body at the contact. He doesn’t dare move; he was enjoying the feeling too much.  Mando was rendered speechless as he watched the man literally conjure lightning from nothing. The fight was unlike anything he had ever seen. Of course, he’d been all over the galaxy and has seen wonders, including the little baby back in his room, but never has he seen so much power yielded all at once. He gulped, thinking about what he would be up against trying to bring in Loki. Without a doubt, he’d need to use the carbonite chamber on the Crest- but would that even hold a being of this much power? He didn’t have much else of a choice.  

The crowd erupts, booing as the Grandmaster rigs the fight in the Champion’s favor, and Mando rolls his eyes under his helmet. Of course, he thinks. However, he can tell the man is still alive and is relieved to tell you, especially since you didn’t dare look at the spectacle- too afraid to watch the fate of your friend unfold.  “He made it,” Mando said gently, nudging you and you finally turned your head back to the arena. They brought out a stretcher and the floating device brought his body off of the ground. He was breathing. “We can find out where they took him soon,” he says reassuringly. He felt compelled to help you find Thor, not just because of his own needs, but he genuinely wanted to return the favor for the intel you provided- at no charge at that.  The crowds clear out in a somewhat orderly fashion, but then take to the streets to celebrate the Grandmaster’s Champion. 

You are furious that Loki would sit by and watch as Thor was sent out on that field. You had no doubt in your mind that he knew that was happening but didn’t stop it. You knew him too well to think otherwise. Part of you a very long time ago had a hope the two could actually work as a team, and you had seen Thor try- you realize that now. However, at the time, you always defended Loki. You remain seated, even after the whole section of seats has long since been cleared. You felt numb and disgusted.  

“Any way I can help you, I’ll do it,” you say finally, your eyes fixated on the crater that was formed by the fight. You were rigid, very much pissed. You had wasted a large portion of your first year here hoping he’d come after you, and as much as you’d say you wouldn’t have taken him back, you know that you three years ago would have fallen back into his arms in a heartbeat if he had tried to come find you. Skurge knew where you had been sent. Loki could have easily gotten that information and followed you if he had wanted to. He obviously didn’t. And you have already wasted more energy than you should’ve in your lifetime by his side, defending him, mourning him, loving him. You were done. If there was any doubt of that in your mind before, the display before you tonight solidified your feelings. 

You wanted to see him get what he deserved. 

“I need you to get close to him again,” Mando says hesitantly, and you can hear the reluctance. He knows he’s asking way too much from you, but he’s desperate. It’s the only way he can think of to out smart him. He cringes, not wanting to subject you to this character again, but he feels as though he doesn’t have a choice.  You were right that Mando needed to take advantage of Loki not knowing he was here. He could operate behind the scenes while you distracted him. It was a flimsy plan at best and he was sure you would say no. He wouldn’t blame you. He saw the hurt and pain on your face, just out for the world to see. You were usually much better at hiding it, he had observed, but the events of today undeniably bothered you greatly. He felt relieved to have his helmet on. He couldn’t imagine the discipline of controlling your expressions. It was something he never needed to master, and he admired your ability to do it.  

“I’ll do it,” you sniff looking back at him. Your eyes were glossed over with tears that you were not letting fall and you still held yourself with your head high. You were trying your best to not let your emotions spill over, and he marveled at your strength.   

“You sure.” 

“Positive. I can do it. Besides, I don’t know how you’d do it without me.” 

“You’re right,” he chuckles. 

“I always am,” you joke. You wipe your eyes and stand up, both of you heading out of the stadium. “It’s probably better if we try to find Thor tomorrow,” you conclude noticing how dark it is now. Mando nods in agreement.  

“Are they immortal?” he asks hesitantly, wanting to talk to you longer.  

“No but we live a long time,” you say with a sigh, “Very slow aging process as well.” 

“How old are they?” he asks, “I mean- do you not age either?” 

“Loki and I are similar in age, Thor is older,” you explain. “I mean, I don’t know an exact age in years, but at least a thousand? Thor probably about five hundred years older or so if I had to guess.”  

“Are- are you serious?” he asks in disbelief.  

“I’m an old maid,” you chuckle.  

“You look younger than me,” he says, still in shock. 

“Asgardians have a five-thousand-year lifespan roughly,” you giggle, finding it amusing you’ve made the bounty hunter speechless. “I know I look pretty good for my age,” you joke.  

“Yeah,” he says in agreement, and he doesn’t miss the way it makes you smile. There’s a tension between the two of you that becomes glaringly more obvious, and you both chose to try your best to ignore it.  

“So, what are you?” you ask. “You and your son- what species?” 

“I’m human,” he says quickly, embarrassed at what you thought he must look like under the helmet. “He’s adopted,” he explains, and you laugh at how flustered he sounds through the modulator.  

“Are you from Earth?” 

“No, I was born on Aq Vetina,” he explains and you nod. 

“I’ve never heard of Earth.” “I thought Earth was the only place humans dwelled,” you say intrigued, “Interesting.” 

“Are you royalty?” he asks, trying to change the subject from his backstory. 

“Almost was,” you admit, “but no. I was in the Einherjar army, warriors who protected the throne.” 

“Almost?” he asks, not wanting to pry but his curiosity of wanting to get to know more about you getting the better of him.  

“Loki and I at one point were engaged,” you say, facing the ground.  

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “I shouldn’t be asking.” 

“No, it’s okay,” you say reassuringly, “It’s nice to talk about it after all these years. I’m enjoying having someone who’s willing to listen.” He wondered if that would be something he would want as well.  “Then he faked his death, and well,” you joke, “I would say that is the most unique way I’ve heard of to break off an engagement.” 

“I don’t think that was because of you…” 

“Oh, I know,” you reassure him, “But it clearly showed me how little he actually cared for me.” 

“He’s a fool,” he said quickly.  

“I’m afraid I’m the one who deserves that title,” you jest, trying to make the atmosphere less depressing.  

“I don’t think so,” he counters, but doesn’t expand on his statement. You nod as a silent thank you. “I need to get back to the kid,” he says, “Should I meet you tomorrow?” 

“Where are you staying?” You say, “I’ll come to you. I’m too close to the Grandmaster, and then by extension Loki- me going to you keeps you off the radar longer.” 

He gives you the name of where he’s staying and his room, actually trusting you with it. You immediately know where he is staying and you assure him you won’t have any trouble finding him. You insist you want to go find Thor alone and he respects your request. You promise to go to him after. You part ways, and you return to your apartment and him to his room. 

With the secured behind him, he picks up the child and checks on him. He felt guilty for having left him so long, but the kid had only just woken up when Mando arrived back at the room. The child was babbling and happy, and Mando fed him. His mind is still racing with thoughts of you, and how much you’ve been though.  

It almost angers him, the way that you’ve been treated and discarded. Like you were just a pawn in a chess game. The pain and sadness behind your eyes said more to him than your words had, even though he hung on to every syllable. He feels ridiculous, but part of him thinks about how he can be the one to change it. He can be the one to give you justice, by catching the man as he was sent here to do. And maybe somewhere also in the back of his mind he thinks about being the one who can truly make you happy.  

The rapport between the two of you was so seamless. He never had such an easy time talking to someone before. It’s like you just showed up out of nowhere and fell into his life and he wants you to stay in it. He thinks about if you both are successful, he somehow by some miracle is able to catch this guy, would he just part ways with you and never see you again? He hates the idea already. He knows how irrational he is being, but he allows himself to indulge in the idea of sharing things with you the same way you opened up about your past to him. He thinks about your words about how good it felt to have someone to listen, and he thinks about the urge he has to tell you everything. He thinks about finishing this job and getting off this wasteland planet and taking you away with him. He knows it would never happen. You are the closest thing he could ever encounter to a deity, and there’s no reason for you to want him.  

With the child tired out yet again, Mando closes his pod when the baby is asleep and he is now free to take off his helmet. There’s a mirror on the wall and he looks at his reflection. He sees the signs of aging on his face, something you won’t experience until long after his lifetime. You’re the most beautiful being he’s ever encountered and here he is thinking you would return the affection he has begun to feel towards you. He doesn’t believe you’re someone who cares too much about appearances, but you are used to walking among ethereal beings. He knew he would not be good enough. Maybe he had been alone too long and his mind is playing tricks on him, but he can’t forget the way he made you smile. He clung onto it and took pride in it, desperately wanting to be the cause of your smile again. 

Taglist:

@msclifford @doctoreuphoria @gloryekaterina @sassy-kassaay​

[border-spam]

Does troy really have a split jaw or is that fanon?

It's total fanon!

The design of the split lines across his cheekbones and chin coupled with the cheek clips and v shaped hinge outline next to his ears lead to a lot of people coming to that same outcome, that there is something up with his mouth from a prosthetic/mod standpoint.

So much of his design is never mentioned once or referenced in any way (hightech spinal rig with tattoos under it, neuro connector, mech arm that's much older and doesn't seem related to the spine and neuroport, implants on bicep, face mod etc) that like Tyreen's scars and possible lower body Siren markings, fandom took over when it came to coming up with logical explanations for 'em.

This actually touches ground with some Ao3 comments I wanted to share as they are all Leech Lord compliant, so I'll list them here alongside links to the fics they were related to (note warnings!)

You leave no avenue for characterization unexplored. Troy's facial prostheses finally receiving backstory is amazing

- Maw (Gore/Bodyhorror)

I LOVE the idea of it being not just decorative shit on his face, but my MO for any content I make is always based around asking why, over and over, and trying to make sense of what material I'm using in the first place. The modded mouth is a popular piece of fanon but you know... why? Why would he do that shit to himself. WHY would he want to be grotesque, why would he be chasing the reaction people would have to it when canonically he seems to really not be interested in fan attention the same way Tyreen is, what's the difference to him between being adored as his persona or being lusted after as a monster, etc. I just love deep-diving into the logic behind character and world building? It's what adds meat to the bone for me.

Big 'ol character and worldbuilding / lore responses list under the cut -

He could afford better robots but these ones UNDERSTAND Ty, don't you get it?

- Good night in (tooth rotting fluff)

Hey just because it's mangled and broken, and can't perform its intended function to a degree expected of it by everyone around it... and it's got rusty sharp bits it accidentally hurts you with sometimes... and it's cranky but it doesn't mean it... and sometimes it errors out in a way that's mildly disturbing in a way you can't place.. uh.. doesn't mean you should just GIVE UP ON IT you know? He can fix them :) They will be fine :) No one should just throw away something that's trying so hard just because it's damaged... haha... :')

It's so hard seeing how much they tear each other down when they're the only thing they have left. And what a poor self-image Tyreen has beyond all that glitter and bluster...

- Wolf in sheep's clothing

The twins function well enough as a unit till tensions rise, and I was trying to seed in The Leech's influence on them in earlier work like this too - towards anyone else Ty would become MORE aggressively confident, more assured in her complete and utter dominance of the situation, her flawlessness, but against Troy who see's her for what she is, it turns inwards and eats at her instead of lashing outwards. He switches from relatively submissive around her to almost surgical levels of dissection, he knows exactly how to go for the jugular with words, and doesn't hold back. She's The Leech's mouth but he's its eyes and it's only when they lose control emotionally enough for it to claw to the surface of their psyches that you get an idea of how much it really affects them individually. GB had an absolute goldmine on their hands here of cosmic/body horror and the concept of toxic family when all you have is each other, there's so much to work with, and I figure it's a factor in why some people still really enjoy messing around with Calypso content.

I like how you allow Troy to be a disabled character, how his congenital defects and prosthetics colour his outlook and appear in ways big and small in all these vignettes. It's easy, I think, to see him as largely untroubled by his health apart from when he needs a charge from Tyreen in the game, but you allow him to struggle with his weakness.

- Chronic (Drug use)

I'm really glad to hear that's coming through in the writing because it's something I noticed a lot too. Very often when Troy, or other characters canonically disabled / chronically unwell are written it's "told" and not "shown". Chronic pain, illness, it's not something that is just a little tickbox in a life or some descriptive terms added to a character synopsis, it's something you live and deal with. There are bad days. There are times it is a negative that has to be worked around or faced in ways that aren't pleasant. It doesn't make you lesser or weak to have times where illness does leave you unable to function to a level you want to, it's not a failure for you to be unable to perform tasks when a disability or flair up means it's not viable. I feel personally that by showing scenes like this where his health and body issues do have a very visceral and impossible to ignore the effect on his ability to function, and going through his mental processes of dealing with and managing them, it brings the character across as stronger than if he never seemed to be shown dealing with symptoms or weaknesses. People are more than their disabilities and conditions, those aren't just kinda taglines to add onto a character's description and then never address. I feel like doing that in a way undermines what people deal with who manage chronic illness, pain, and who have disabilities that affect their daily lives negatively. Appreciating the effort it takes to manage them is important.

What I really like about these is that you can really understand as a reader how their dynamic must have evolved. How even before Leda's death Tyreen would have felt demonized while Troy got the attention because of his condition, because he was less willful.

- Starlight, Moonbright

Ah man, absolutely - and that shit stayed with them. It wasn't his fault and he never wanted it, but of course their parents would have had their extremely ill child at the forefront of their thoughts, especially during weeks when he was.. bad. Tyreen by nature even without The Leech's influence is a little attention seeker, she'd be the life of any party and she BLOSSOMS if she's got the spotlight, but as a little kid who's got literally no one but her parents and her brother, and who all three of which can't give her nearly as much time as she deserved? That's rough. That's really unfair. That coupled with The Leech's warping effect on their egos as they grew up and the bitterness and resentment they harbored in different ways created a reverse dynamic. She'd never be out of the Galaxy's attention again, and he'd have no choice but to take his rightful place in her shadow.

I love how you illustrate both how much more, and yet how much less Troy is now. How the blameless child, full of potential, is inextricably linked to the brutal, larger-than-life avatar he fashions.

- DeLeon ( Graphic Violence / Gore / Hallucinations)

He's molded the monster he is now out of the bones of the man he should have been - there's no going back really. There's nothing left to go back to. He broke Troy DeLeon apart to build the persona that acts like an iron lung now, suffocating him breath by breath while forcing him to still take them. That life is over, he killed it before it had a chance, but the idea of it is still there in his subconscious. Somewhere in the absolute trainwreck of Troy's brain is the tiny, flickering belief that maaaaaybe one day this will all be over and he can shuck off the bracer and spines, peel off all the shit he's covered his skin with, and just go back to not being Calypso. DeLeon here isn't some aspect of his mental state or his sins haunting him - it's The Leech, spitting venom at a host it loathes in something that's not sound or comprehensible language. His subconscious has just translated it into something it can understand - his greatest regret.

On if Borderlands Humans originated on Earth -

There's a really tenuous link between BL verse and rEarth, but it's there and can't be ignored. The cultures, accents, terminologies, so many are Earth specific despite these people being spread across galaxies, so hell yes - Earth as an emergence point makes total sense. The next question then, is why is it never mentioned - and you can cover for that with a lot of things like say, tt was so long ago that it's not relevant to anything that would ever be discussed, or it could be a mass evacuation from a catastrophe there is little record of now. I like to go with something along those lines, that the first human Siren host emergence on earth just absolutely decimated the planet. Like, we were doing fine till this random woman somewhere in the ass-end of nowhere develops weird markings overnight, then goes apocalyptic. The first Leech maybe, not understanding her powers and having them rip across continents in a spread of crackling electric death that only left husked shells of plants and animals in its wake, or the first Firehawk who went nuclear and burned the sky, or the first Voidgrasp who lost control and began to collapse the planet's core - some extreme shit that had humans fleeing en masse with barely any preparation and HUGE swathes of history and knowledge left behind. That would cover so many social things surviving into the BL verse, cultures, accents, cooking, that shit comes with us regardless of what we were able to throw into escape ships. Like so much data would be stored on any tech and data arrays within the vessels people would use to leave a dying planet even in an insane rush, but that shit waters down over time - if you're farming barely edible plants on some planet that smells like farts, are you really gonna be that stressed about teaching your kids history from a lost planet when your current concerns are not being eaten by something with 19 legs and 4 buttholes? Don't think so.

On if the other Siren entities are as influential to their hosts as The Leech -

I touch on it a wee bit throughout LL, but the others are FAR more passive and meld more to their host's whims. The Firehawk Siren wouldn't.. like.. care? If the host was burning down a planet or fighting off an evil corporation? They are removed from any nonsense happening on this side, they might not even really be able to tell, it's like asking an amoeba or a collection of sentient atomic particles what its opinion is on Brexit. That's not really its priority. The Leech is so aggressive in its control of the twins and desperation to drive them towards an outcome it desires only cause it's split, broken, removed from the song, and completely lost. We're talking a caged, half-mad animal removed from its natural environment and left totally isolated from its own kind for millennia. It's in pain, it's confused, it wants to find its way back to the song and the others and where it belongs, but it's stopped by a barrier it can't comprehend ( the twins and being ripped between them), so in its impotent rage it feeds back that hatred onto them. It's not really sentient in the way we would describe functional intelligence, but it wants, and craves, and FEELS. And it feels very, very angry.

Big thanks to @undergoingcalibrations for talking through so much of this with me!

Asks are Open!

[queen-scribbles]

The Long-Burning Torch

For the @shepherds-of-haven​ Shepherds Summer event, the Ryn/Red muses latched onto 20′s Detective AU and would not let go. I’ve gone so deep down this rabbit hole there’s gonna be chapters, but the first piece works as a standalone. (title might change along the way, again bc chapters)

----

There were, in Xaeryn’s experience, two types of people who made use of her services. Both were driven by desperation, both tended to hit her doorstep late in the day. There were the belligerent ones, incensed they had to stoop to hiring her, a Mage, to solve their problem. From them she had to pull the pertinent facts of their case one begrudging sentences at a time. And there were the frantic ones, who had exhausted every other route and she was their last chance. Details poured so freely from them she had to pick through it to find what was actually relevant to the case.

The young man standing before her now, at the start of her day, appeared to fit neither of those groups. He’d knocked and entered without awaiting an invitation, seeming unperturbed by the eyebrow she arched at his arrival.

“May I help you?” Xaeryn asked, leaning forward to rest folded hands on her desk.

He shifted to fold his own hands over the head of a walking stick she’d wager he didn’t actually need and smiled dryly. “If your reputation is anything to go by, Miss Shrike, I certainly expect so.”

She gestured to the chairs in front of the desk. “Let’s find out, Mr...?”

“Riel Syndran,” he said, passing her a business card as he took the offered seat.

The card was hardly necessary, and Xaeryn set it on the desk with only a passing glance. “You run Whitestone Couriers, don’t you?”

There was the faintest twitch on the left side of his jaw. “The company is a guild venture.”

“And I wouldn’t be much of a snooper if I couldn’t figure out who truly ran a company as vital to the city of Haven as Whitestone Couriers, Mr. Syndran.”

He gave her a sharp smile. “Very good. I knew coming to you first was the right call, Miss Shrike.”

“Flattered as I am by your confidence” --and she was; she was typically the last resort, being first was something of a novelty-- “why don’t you tell me what or who you need found, and we can discover if said confidence is warranted.”

“I’m certain it is,” Syndran said, his gaze briefly dropping to the Shrike Investigations placard on the edge of her desk. “But you are correct. To business.”

And business, as he explained it, ran thus: Whitestone Couriers had been contracted to transport a collection of artefacts, originally from all parts of Blest, from their previous temporary home at the Conte-by-the-Sea museum to Haven’s Hall of History and Culture.

”How well-known was your being contracted?” Xaeryn interjected.

“It was something of a secret,” Syndran replied, flicking invisible dust off his sleeve. “Some of the pieces are quite valuable, so it was largely in hopes of avoiding theft.”

Hopes that had proven vain. They’d had an uneventful journey--blessed with good weather, even--made it through city customs upon arriving at Haven (checked everything after making it through and found nothing amiss), and proceeded to the museum. Upon unpacking the artefacts, however, it was discovered one was missing.

(Of course.)

The missing piece--an obsidian and bronze pendent thought to belong to a ruler in the Jalis desert pre-Autarchy--had limited monetary value, especially compared to some of the other items in the collection. (Those, of course, had been more closely watched.) Its worth was largely historical and religious.

“Enchantments?”

“None so far as we know.”

“I’ll look into it for you,” Xaeryn said with a nod. She loved mind-twisters like this. “I’ll need to talk to your people, as well as the museum staff, so it would be helpful if you let them know I’m coming. Otherwise my kind” --a twitch of her fingers set energy dancing above them briefly-- “aren’t usually given the time of day.”

“Of course. I shall do so.” Syndran stood and bowed. “I thank you for taking my case, Miss Shrike, and look forward to your success.”

“Two things, Mr. Syndran,” she spoke up as he turned toward the door. She waited until he paused and looked back to continue. “I will, of course, endeavor to find this relic on my own, but should I require an expert’s... knowledge of its history, say, is outside help acceptable?”

His nose wrinkled briefly. “If you must. But as few others as possible, and only those you trust to keep it in strictest confidence.”

“Understood.”

“And the second thing, Miss Shrike?”

She smiled. “One third estimated payment is due upfront.”

“Oh, obviously.” He returned the smile and pulled out his checkbook.

----

She made some good progress between that afternoon and the next day. Interviews with the caravan guards and those responsible for the artefact collection gave insight to their procedures--which were indeed top-notch; it was impressive someone had managed to find a weakness--and how long the pieces were out of their sight coming through city customs.

“Don’t see why that matters,” the pink-haired courier who’d been in charge of the caravan commented. “We checked them all when we got through; made sure everything was still there. Standard procedure.”

“When you say you checked, is this a thorough examination or just a glance to make sure it’s still there?” Xaeryn asked, glancing at the notepad balanced on her knee.

“There’s no fine-tooth comb involved,” came the somewhat tart and harried reply, “but we do look to confirm it’s there and undamaged so nothing undeserved can later be blamed on us. The company has a sterling reputation for a reason, Miss Shrike, and the guild would very much like to keep it that way.”

“Hence your boss coming to me instead of the police.” Xaeryn tapped her pen against her chin and skimmed over her notes. “I think I have everything I need, Miss Aerin. Thank you for your time.”

Aerin gave a sharp nod. “Of course. Anything to get this cleared up and the artefact found as quickly as possible.” She flicked a worried glance toward the notebook as Xaeryn slipped it in her handbag. “How much did you write down? A lot of our procedures are trade secrets; if someone should see...”

Xaeryn laughed and withdrew the notepad again, flipping it open to show the other woman the symbols that filled the pages. “Never fear, your secrets are safe with me. An added bonus of my own shorthand; no one else can read my notes.”

“Smart.” A brief hesitation. “No one? You’re sure?”

“Well, perhaps the friend who helped develop it initially, but I’ve tweaked it since then.” She flipped the pad closed and stowed it in her bag. “I think it would take a little work even for him. We worked it out to take faster notes in class, but taking faster notes also come in handy in my line of work.”

Aerin relaxed and nodded again. “I’m sure it does. Thank you for the reassurance, Miss Shrike.”

“Of course. Have a good day.”

“You as well.”

With the last of the days’ intended interviews behind her, Xaeryn headed back to her office. Now to review what she’d learned from all the sources together. She was confident she had plenty to give herself at least a couple leads worth pursuing, even if there wasn’t enough for a scry.

---

It took a day and a half of running herself off her feet for Xaeryn to burn through the leads she’d found without much to show for it. She’d been unable to track down the specific guard who checked that portion of the shipment, but his supervisor assured her such an important collection would have been treated with utmost care, seeming miffed at the insinuation otherwise. None of the drivers or other courier employees had noticed anything unusual once they passed through customs, no interruptions or suspicious folks in the streets.

Even scrying had fizzled out without so much as a vague semblance of where it might be.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Xaeryn dug her fingers into her short hair and glowered at the photographs of the pendent Mr. Syndran had given her. It was so small. So easily concealed. And so simple it would hardly draw attention unless you knew what it was.

She’d been forced to grudgingly admit her minimal progress to Mr. Syndran when he called for an update and it had her in a foul mood. This sort of baloney was not how she kept the lights on. It was time for a new tack.

If she couldn’t (yet) trace where the pendent vanished from, perhaps it would work better to learn more about it; figure where it might be going and get a solid enough knowledge of it she could successfully scry its location. Who would want it badly enough for the hassle of stealing from Whitestone Couriers to be worth their while? Looking into the pendent’s history and provenance seemed the next logical course. Just because Mr. Syndran had told her it was on loan to the collection from the “proper” owners did not mean said owners had told him everything, or indeed, that they’d told the truth. She needed an expert and knew just where to find one.

It had been long enough since her time at Solhadur Academy Xaeryn actually had to look up the telephone number before calling. As she listened to the line ringing, she wondered absently how much of a gentle scolding Headmaster Tevanti would give her for her first contact in more than a decade being to ask for something rather than merely catching up. She’d always been the type not to bother people unless she had to. That was, after all, what she preferred. And her self-reliance had carried her through quite a bit. But she was aware most people would differ from her on that point; Tevanti especially was fond of jawing, so he would surely have words for her long silence.

She let it go to ten rings before giving up. Revelation came with a glance at the clock; it was late enough there was likely no one around to answer. No matter. She could drive out tomorrow. The Academy was in Capra, that wasn’t terribly far. (Not for business, anyway.) Headmaster Tevanti wouldn’t mind one of his favorite students dropping in for an hour or so to discuss a relic from one of his favorite historical periods. She’d even engage in small talk, if he wanted.

Xaeryn smiled to herself and locked both the photographs and her notepad in one of the desk drawers. If that was her plan for tomorrow, she should turn in early, make sure she was well-rested. Time for a trip down memory lane.

---

The morning was uneventful, aside from the troublesome discovery she’d left her office unlocked all night. She was normally more attentive than that, even being on a higher floor. But nothing was disturbed or missing, so Xaeryn shrugged it off and got on with her day.

If she selected her wardrobe with a more critical eye than usual, well, she wanted to look professional. Headmaster Tevanti had been a wonderful mentor, and she wanted to show how far his encouragements about using her bright mind and sharp eye had carried her.

(She wondered, briefly, as she pulled on the royal blue skirt and its matching blouse, accented in deep golden-yellow, if she would see any other familiar faces. But she shook off the warmth of the thought; they’d all scattered to the winds after graduation. Getting to see Tevanti would be enough.)

Satisfied with her ensemble, and needing to fill some time before she left, Xaeryn sat at her desk with her notepad and transcribed everything she knew about the missing pendent(not much), along with questions to ask. She picked out the best of the photographs from Mr. Syndran, just in case, and sighed as she looked at the clock. She’d still be a tad early for it to be polite, especially just dropping in out of the blue, if she left now.

So I’ll drive at a leisurely pace, she argued to herself. Take my time. Allowing a buffer in case there’s trouble along the way is only wise. God in heaven, she wished she could figure why she had worse jitters about this than some dates she’d gone on. “Oh, this is ridiculous,” she muttered to the empty office.

She locked the remaining photographs back in her desk, slipped the chosen one and her notepad in her handbag. After a moment��s internal debate, she slipped one of her stiletto knives down in her boot as well. Solhadur was far from dangerous, but it was prudent to have some measure of protection when traveling alone. She grabbed a hat on her way out the door--which she made certain to lock this time--and had it securely on her head by the time she reached the car.

----

Despite her efforts to make it a leisurely drive out to Capra, and weather that was perfect for that goal, Xaeryn still found herself standing in the entrance hall of Solhadur Academy at an earlier hour than would usually be considered polite for impromptu business meetings. She debated walking the grounds for a while, revisiting some memories from her time here, but decided simply apologizing for her early arrival was the better course of action.

With a final steadying breath and running one hand down her blouse and skirt to chase away wrinkles, Xaeryn headed for the reception desk. She smiled at the young woman behind it. “Good morning.”

The receptionist blinked, seeming mildly taken aback by how far up she had to look to meet her visitor’s eyes. “Morning, miss. Office hours don’t start until ten-”

“Oh, I’m not a student here,” Xaeryn said with a laugh. “At least, not anymore. And I do apologize for the early appearance, the drive out went much faster than anticipated.”

A brow twitched at that. “And what is it that brings you to Solhadur, miss...?”

“I’m doing research on a selection of artefacts and haven’t been able to turn up much on one.” It was barely a lie; she had read a bit on the other exhibition pieces, even if the pendent was the only one she needed to go deeper. “It’s from a period I know is of particular interest to the headmaster, so I was hoping to speak to him for a while, see if he could help.”

The receptionist pursed her lips. “Former student, you say?”

Xaeryn nodded. “If he’s busy first thing, I don’t mind waiting.”

““No, actually, being early is smart,” the receptionist said with a light laugh. “His hours are more full at the later end of things. This would be the best opportunity if you want some of his time.” She glanced over Xaeryn once more, then nodded. “You can go up. Third door--”

“On the left. I remember,” Xaeryn finished. “Thank you.”

“You might actually beat him there,” the receptionist laughed. “He isn’t always punctual.”

“I remember that, too,” Xaeryn returned with a grin. “Like I said, I don’t mind waiting. It’ll be good to see him again, few more minutes won’t hurt.” She toyed with one of her earrings as she headed up the stairs, steps lingering and heavy with nostalgia.

It was almost exactly as she remembered. A few portraits replaced or rearranged, new photographs from after she left. New name placards outside the doors she passed. The headmaster’s office door was closed, and a light inquiring rap of her knuckles brought no response.

Looks like she was right, Xaeryn thought with a smile, leaning against the chair outside the office to wait. Her gaze drifted to the high ceiling, following the details of familiar carvings to the scenes painted on the ceiling itself. Slightly faded from what she remembered, but that was to be expected after a decade--

“Xaeryn?!” The voice, still familiar even after years apart, sounded like he’d seen a ghost.

Her heart lurched in her chest and she’d spun around before the impulse to do so had even fully registered, his name tumbling from her lips unprompted in return. “Red?!”

He crossed the remaining distance between them in just a few strides(God, he’d gotten taller, how was that even possible?), barely remembered to set the books he carried on the chair before wrapping her in a hug.

Xaeryn didn’t even flinch, and only just managed to keep her grip on her handbag as she hugged him back. He still smelled of old books and ink and sunshine and she smiled at the memories it stirred.

Liefred Antiqua, her seatmate in any classes they shared and best friend regardless of how many they didn’t for the entirely of her time at Solhadur. Friendly, charming, and just as fond of books as he was people. (The nights they’d spent pressed shoulder to shoulder reading in the library were still among her favorite memories.) Between his warm nature and classic good looks, he’d had half the student body swooning  after him, and yet despite the sharp contrast to Xaeryn’s more reserved and self-reliant bent, they’d still spent most of their time together. Their friendship was the strongest of the few she’d formed at Solhadur, and Xaeryn valued it immensely.

(Too much to risk on anything like admitting when the sight of his smile sent something that was definitely not friendship fluttering in her chest. It was just a crush, it would go away.)

( And then it didn’t.)

They’d both had plans to travel after graduation, and she couldn’t count on all her fingers combined the number of times she’d almost suggested they do it together. But in this one thing, she never could quite summon the nerve. And before she knew it, her departure date had arrived and they were hugging farewell, and come with me wouldn’t unstick from her throat. After a few months’ silence stretched between them--both traveling and unsure where the other might be, obviously--she’d resigned herself to their paths never crossing again, much as the thought hurt.

And yet here he was.

All the memories flew through her mind in the few seconds their hug lasted, and had a lump starting in her throat by the time they parted.

“Wonderful as it is to see you,” Red began as he stepped back to reclaim his books and run a glance over her, “what are you doing here?”

Xaeryn cleared her throat as she returned the apprising glance with one of her own. He still looked practically the same. A few inches taller, shoulders a bit more broad, and an attempt had been made to tame his bright red hair. It had only achieved partial success, and combined with the warm glint in his green eyes, he still was the same Red she knew. (The same Red she’d been more than a little in love with, even if she’d never dared the risk of admitting it.)

“I’m doing research,” she said, reaching up to tug the back brim of her hat as she glanced at the office door. “Into some artefacts. I wanted to ask Headmaster Tevanti about one in particular that’s being difficult.”

Red grimaced and fumbled his books. “Did you not hear, Xaer?” His voice went soft on the nickname, despite them being alone. Voices did carry in these halls, as they very well knew. “Tevanti died.”

She blinked, shock and sorrow curling in her chest. “Wh- How? When?”

“Not long after you left, actually,” he said, raking his free hand through his hair and tousling it out of respectability. “You know he’d been having problems with his heart. It gave out a few months after you left.” His brow furrowed. “I’m surprised you weren’t told when you set an appointment.”

“I didn’t so much set an appointment as show up looking to talk,” Xaeryn admitted with a soft, wry snort. “And I did simply say the headmaster when speaking to the receptionist.” She cocked her head. “Who would that be, now?”

Red smiled sheepishly, half-bit his lower lip. “Me, actually.” He shifted the books to one arm and opened the office door. Slightly nonplussed by two such major revelations in a row, Xaeryn was silent as she followed him in.

“I thought you wanted to travel,” was the first thought to pop in her head and then out her mouth as she looked around the office. It was spacious, lined with jam-packed bookshelves(He must be in heaven), and in a state of... corralled disarray that was so very Red it made her smile despite the news about Tevanti.

“I did,” Red replied, setting the books on his desk. “And I got to, at least a bit.” He tucked a handful of papers inside an open tome occupying one of the chairs, flipped the book closed, and set it on a side table so he could offer her a seat.  “I’d already left when he passed, so Professor Rumi and some others kept things going until I got back.” Rather than sit in the chair behind the desk, he shuffled a small stack of books onto the floor and sat in the one next to Xaeryn’s as he continued. “He’d... wanted me as his successor, Xaeryn.”

“That makes sense.” The words were out  before she could weigh them, spurred by the disbelief in his hesitation. “You’re brilliant, charming, and have a history with the school.” Her face warmed in the wake of being so candid, and Xaeryn glanced over at the large painting of Tevanti that hung on the wall between two bookshelves. He knew what he was doing. “You’re a logical choice.”

Red laughed warmly. “High praise from the smartest student in our class.”

“But far from the most charming,” she countered with a wry smile.

The warmth of his gaze didn’t abate. “I’ve always appreciated your-”

“Bluntness?”

“Straight-forwardness,” Red substituted, and was smiling when she looked his way. “An ability to cut to the heart of the subject is an invaluable skill.”

Xaeryn gave a faint shake of her head. “As is your kindness. But speaking of the heart of the matter...”

“Ah, right. You came here for a reason.” He pushed his unbuttoned shirtsleeves up toward his elbows. “I can’t promise to know as much as Tevanti would have, but I’ll certainly do my best to help.”

“Actually...” She snapped open her handbag to pull out the photograph and her notepad. “You’ve done a lot of research on pre-Autarchy history, so you might be able to help more than you think.” She set the photograph on the desk and Red cocked his head to look at it.

“Solimer’s torch...” he murmured, turning the photograph for a better look as his gaze gained that focus of a niche interest being whetted. (Which, for Red, meant she was about to hear everything he knew about the pendent’s history in too much detail to called a summary, and Xaeryn found herself leaning forward slightly in anticipation.) He glanced up at her. “Isn’t this one of the pieces in that exhibit about to open in Haven?”

She nodded. “That’s why I’m researching it.” She bit her lip but barely hesitated on the gamble of her next words. ‘Those you trust’, Mr. Syndran had said, and there was no one she trusted more than Liefred Antiqua. “It was stolen, and I was hired to find.”

His head came up, derailed from the growing ramble on the pendent’s history.  “Oh?”

“I’m a detective,” Xaeryn said, playing with one of her earrings. She laughed softly. “Scrying does give a considerable leg up to finding things. Or people. But that only works when--”

“You know enough about them,” Red nodded. “So this visit is for business, rather than personal.”

“Mostly, yes,” she conceded, resting one hand on his knee. I didn’t know you’d be here.  “But I was more than willing to chat with Tevanti” --there was a pang in her chest--”which most definitely extends to you as well, Headmaster Antiqua.”

His neck and ears went faintly pink as he laughed. “Surely we don’t need to be quite so formal, Detective Shrike?”

“Just ‘Miss’,” she returned with a laugh of her own, withdrawing her hand to instead fiddle with her notepad. “I work for myself, not the cops.” There might’ve been a little pride in her voice at the words, but it was well-earned.

“I thought you wanted to travel,” Red said, turning her own remark back on her.

“And travel I did,” Xaeryn said lightly. “For quite a while, even. But a girl does need a job eventually, and I’ve always loved a good mystery.”

“Or even a bad one,” he teased. “All kidding aside, Miss Shrike, I’m sure you’re a brilliant investigator.”

She smiled, chuckling at the playful glint in his eye even as her ears warmed at the praise. “Thank you. And on that note, what can you tell me about the pendent?”

“Right, right. You’re here on business.” Amusement lingered in Red’s eyes even as he turned back to the photograph. His sleeves started to slide and he shoved them back up again. Xaeryn very deliberately kept her focus on the photograph, not his arms--or hands--as he tapped one finger at the center of the obsidian pendent. “This was a protection...  charm, I suppose you’d call it, worn by the head of the Solimer tribe ages ago. Literal ages. Without refreshing my memory, all I can tell you is they were one of the few tribes whose wanderings regularly took them through the heart of the Jalis desert, and yet they always fared better on those journeys than the other tribes, which was credited to this pendent.”

“So it is magical?” Xaeryn leaned closer to look over the piece again, not that a photograph could do it full justice. This was a familiar position; the two of them bent over a shared project, and she hadn’t realized how much she missed it until that moment.

“Possibly?” Red shifted and his shoulder bumped hers. “ The story goes that on their first attempt to journey through, they saw a light, like a torch, keeping pace with them. It only showed up at night, and seemed far enough away from their caravan the chief felt it was too dangerous to let anyone go after it to see what it was. Their wariness at its presence, however, kept them vigilant enough they were able to see and fend off any wild animals that came after them, and it did nothing except travel their same path, so they let it be. 

“A couple weeks into their journey, as their supplies were starting to run low, the chieftain’s wife was out hunting and strayed far enough in search of food that the sun started setting while she was out. As the skies grew dim she could see the Torch, much larger than they usually did from the caravan, though it was floating away. Seized by good old-fashioned curiosity” --he paused to wink at her and Xaeryn bit back a smile-- “she followed the light rather than work her way back to camp. She kept after it long enough night had nearly fallen when it crested a ridge and disappeared. She hastened after it, and when she made it over the ridge, found herself standing by a waterspring the likes of which they’d never seen. When she looked around for the light she’d followed, there was no sign of it, save a black rock that lay at her feet. There were no other rocks anywhere nearby, so she decided this must be what had caused the torch-like light her tribe had seen. 

“She carried it with her when she returned to the tribe with news of water, and the Solimer took it as a sign of the gods’ favor. The chieftain had it bound in bronze” --he traced a finger along the lines of the coiled setting-- “to be worn as a way to hold that favor. It was passed from leader to leader and from all accounts they had far better luck surviving the desert than the other tribes for a long time.”

“Was that not likely just them knowing better how to handle themselves? If they traveled those portions of the desert more frequently, of course they were better prepared.”

“Maybe.” Red shrugged. “We have no firsthand written records from any of these tribes, just legends and history relayed orally. And a lot of the second-hand ones were... lost when the Autarchy came to power. From the way the stories run, after generation of favor from the pendent, it was lost when the Solimer were defeated in a skirmish over resources with another tribe. Their next several trips went so poorly it cost over half their number, and they wound up assimilated into other tribes within the next couple decades just to survive.”

“Sad,” Xaeryn murmured, though she wondered if the pendent’s loss had become a self-fulfilling prophecy if they believed in it that strongly. “And what happened to the pendent after that?”

“That’s all I know off the top of my head,” Red said sheepishly as he sat back, running a hand through his hair. “Anything more I’d have to research. To refresh my memory.”

“Oh, that’s all? Tsk, tsk, Liefred, you’re slipping,” she teased, then snorted a wry chuckle. “Of course, it’s more than I had.” She showed him the scant lines on a single page of her small notepad.

Red smiled at the sight of the shorthand and let the playful ribbing slide as he ran a finger over the page. “You tweaked it.”

“A bit, to make it jive better with detective work.” Xaeryn tucked the pad back in her handbag. She’d been so caught up listening to him talk she’d not taken a single note. “I’m certain you could work it out with a little time.”

“Oh, time-” Red’s gaze flew to the clock at the same moment there was a knock and muffled “Headmaster?” at the door. “Damn. Forgot I have a meeting.” He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Tribulations of being in charge. Just a minute!” he called toward the door, then, to Xaeryn, “I can look into this more in my free time, if you’d like.”

What free time? she almost asked, looking at the stacks of books and papers everywhere. But she swallowed that in favor of, “That would be lovely, thank you so much.”

“Any specific information you need?” Red asked as they stood.

“Anything you can find is welcome, but specifically.... What happened to the pendent after the Solimer lost it, who would have claim of ownership, if ownership is contested... anything like that. I want to find it, but part of that may very well lie in figuring out who would have most reason to steal it in the first place.” Xaeryn pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “So I don’t wind up nagging you,” she laughed. “You can call when you find something. The telephone’s in my office, but I live adjacent, so I’ll always hear it.”

Red nodded and slipped the card in his pocket. “I’ll try not to take too long.”

“Much appreciated. Also...” She grimaced slightly. “This is something of a secret; the Couriers don’t want it being common knowledge.”

“Understandable,” he said as they started toward the door. “Oh, don’t you need this?” He reached back for the photograph and held it out to her.

“Yes, thanks.” Xaeryn smiled and tried not to let the flutter in her chest when their fingers brushed as she took it gain purchase. She slipped the photograph back in her handbag as Red opened the door. Given the student waiting in the hall, she was the picture of professionalism--aside from the twinkle in her eye--as she nodded farewell. “Thank you for your time, Headmaster.”

Several things flashed through Red’s eyes, the brief desire to strangle her, a loud burst of laughter, an eyeroll, but he settled on a warm smile, wide enough his dimples just started to show. “Happy to help, Miss Shrike.”

She was still fighting a grin as she turned to descend the stairs, heart practically singing with warmth. Of all the lovely surprises... Regardless of whether she succeeded or failed, this case was already among the most worthwhile she’d ever taken, simply for bringing him back into her life.

[lyeekha]

for the fic commentary, anything about double edged, but this part in particular is my favorite – “I’m a treasonous deserter, my defining quality is that I betray my blood and station. Uncertainty is my very essence. I have no side. According to everyone I could turn at any time. I could be a different person, or even be a different person! Who, exactly, is left to trust me?”

(Pick a passage or comic chapter of mine for commentary)

Oh boy! This was a very fun section to write. villainous melodrama! It's nearly too much but E is a very dramatic soul with an overdramatic inner monologue and L lampshades it immediately so its good and funny and allowed and also totally sincere as well.

In a nice reflection of the previous commentary, you have picked out the other edge of the double edged manoeuvre! It cuts both ways, you see. After finally making an overt move on Lemony, Ernest is thrown off guard by Lem saying something that genuinely surprises him - and falters as a result, which he did not plan to be seen to be doing.

Ernest slumped back away from him and laughed. Actually laughed. Lemony wasn’t sure what was funny but took careful note for later analysis. He’d not heard the man falter before.

Also, Lemony doesn't initially understand this reaction, and that's another way he knows it's important. He thought he understood better than that. Ernest also thought Lemony understood better than that, and is actually more hurt than surprised that he apparently doesn't, which he kind of says outright shortly after.

Anyway. This little speech. It reference in pattern a quote from Boethius's The Consolation Of Philosophy, not as close as to be a direct pull, but closely enough to be something Ernest clearly knows and has thought about. I'm pretty sure that in a future chapter he will perform it in full, but just in case, it goes:

"It is my belief that history is a wheel. 'Inconstancy is my very essence,' says the wheel. Rise up on my spokes if you like, but don't complain when you are cast back down into the depths. Good times pass away, but then so do the bad. Mutability is our tragedy, but it is also our hope. The worst of time, like the best, are always passing away."

This is only partially relevant to Ernest's point. It is also not a true translation, it is a version popularised by being often said by Tony Wilson, the legendary owner of the Factory Records label, which was then further popularised by Chris Eccleston speaking it in the film about the life of Tony Wilson. This fourth-handed self-mythologising kind of nonsense is perfect for Ernest. He would insist that if a truth is self-evident or a concept is clear then the method of communicating it, even falsehoods, don't matter. Much like Tony Wilson might say. Or Melvil Dui, arguing about spelling.

The point is. Ernest is defined by the fact that he betrayed, and continues to betray, his family (his blood) and misuses his un-fire-able position in the organisation (his station) to betray that organisation. Nomatter what the truth actually is, the image of Ernest and the role he plays now is someone who will turn. The Volunteers can't trust him because of his actions. And the Firestarters can't trust him because of his family. When talking to him, there's every chance he could be a different person - you are actually talking to his brother - or even be a different person - he has changed in himself significantly enough to not condone you any more.

The reason he gets so bitter and performative about it is that this image of himself is a role he is now forced to play for survival. What started as a bid for his own opinions has turned into a similarly empty role.

That… was closer to the melodramatic villainous monologue he’d been waiting for. Lemony gathered his fuzzy nerves and prepared to ask the question, the real question, the one that hid behind all the others. It seemed unlikely he would ever get another chance.

“So why do it? Why do you keep this up?”

Ernest became placid again, and fiddled with his sleeve, rolling it back into place. For the longest time Lemony thought he wasn’t going to answer. When he did speak, he sounded clipped and strange.

“Some things are more important than personal gain. I’d have thought, of all people, you would definitely understand that.”

He justifies it as self-sacrifice. His own role is irrelevant. He justifies it as a noble, unselfish act, with mysterious parameters that we don't quite know yet. And this, most crucially of all, directly contradicts Lemony's earlier reasoning -

under the circumstances it just seemed too... selfish. Surely that kind of selfishness was what marked out the enemy in the first place. It was their weakness. Not ours.

Over the course of the fic, Ernest has subtly upset a few cornerstones of the logic that Lemony was using to tell himself that things are ok. And thus, captivated him, because there's nothing that draws Lemony more strongly than the idea of a destructive truth that proves himself wrong.

The kicker is that this was not the plan. The plan was only to distract Lemony while he got hold of the macguffin, but a couple of sincere words got out. Not by accident exactly, Ernest is too controlled for that, but in an improvisation that took him by surprise as he realised what he was doing.

anyway shout out to the classic double meaning of 'taking care' of someone

[jcmorrigan]

more Blakeworther headcanons!! i want you to go ham with em too!! :D

Go ham, huh? So...I probably went the opposite direction of what you wanted or expected. But I just read “Our Coffin Is a Twin-Sized Bed” (Blakeworth fic, REALLY ANGSTY) and I loved it but it also made me very depressed. Anyway, it put the idea of CHARACTER DEATH in my head, and so I’m like...what if you took Vincent, Victor, and Albert, and you have an AU where each one of them dies, and how would the other two react?

Except I want to have my cake and eat it too. That prompt on its own is a bit...disheartening. So I had to treat myself by saying that each time, the death was actually a fakeout, and whoever “died” turns up just fine later. Which made for extra reunion headcanons!

Get ready for: the one where each one of them “dies” and the other two grieve in their own special way, only for the “dead” to have been fine the whole time

VINCENT

·      They were setting up bombs in a facility owned by Myers, hoping to bring down one of the bigwigs – possibly Monseiur M himself – in the explosion. Albert and Victor finished their rounds, then came back outside to wait for Vincent. Vincent radioed that he was almost finished – and then the whole building went up in smoke.

·      It took Victor and Albert a few minutes to process what had happened. He…he had to have gotten out, right? There’s no way Vincent would die on this mission.

·      But he doesn’t show up.

·      Watching the conflagration, agape and wide-eyed, Victor and Albert reach out to draw each other closer, hoping it just isn’t what it looks like.

·      Eventually, there are sirens, and they have to escape back to the mansion.

·      Albert finds the nearest piece of furniture he can sit on, sinks down, and starts sobbing. It doesn’t help that this is HIS house they’re living in, this is HIS chair Albert’s crying on, and he’s not even here.

·      I’m not actually sure if Victor’s eyes have tear ducts, but he is similarly distraught. He sits down beside Albert, trying to reassure him, “We’ll be okay. He’d want us to keep going. We’ll…we’ll be fine…”

·      His voice cracks. He can’t deal with this. Now he’s holding onto Albert not only for the sake of comforting him but of getting comforted.

·      They rattle around Vincent’s house for the next few days, utterly depressed. Everywhere they go, every corner they turn, they’re reminded of the spaces where he’s not.

·      Albert is caught talking to himself – and berating himself in a bad imitation of Vincent in order to simulate their arguments. Victor can only listen for so long before he’s too emotional and has to leave.

·      “You promised me you wouldn’t do this,” Victor says as he kneads a bedsheet between his fingers.

·      Eventually, the two of them hold a small service. They construct Vincent a grave out back in the yard. Each says a few words –

·      Victor: “I still don’t regret it. Not a day.”

·      Albert: “If you think I wanted to win our rivalry this way…you were wrong. I’d give anything to have you back.”

·      When behind them they suddenly hear “If I’d’ve known you two would get this morose, I wouldn’t have bothered to plant those explosives in the first place.”

·      They turn around, and…he’s here. Vincent’s here, looking quite grumpy.

·      “I thought it would be fairly obvious that I wasn’t dead. You two really went all out on this?”

·      Albert: “You’re not an exact replica with Vincent’s memories, are you? Actually, I have no problem if you’re an exact replica with Vincent’s memories.”

·      Victor and Albert run to him, embrace him tightly. Vincent’s rolling his eyes because these idiots got themselves worked up for nothing – but he’s lying if he says he isn’t really, really touched by how much they missed him. He’ll have to be careful not to make them worry in the future.

 VICTOR

·      Assassins have the mansion surrounded. Victor urges Albert and Vincent to go on ahead without him. He’ll catch up. But first he has to buy them time.

·      Albert and Vincent head to a motel three towns over – only to hear that the mansion was cleared out, then raided by authorities, and after the cyborgs were put down, no living people remained in the house.

·      “No,” Vincent says. “He’s fine. He’s FINE.” And he won’t hear otherwise.

·      Not even after a week.

·      Albert is starting to grieve, but Vincent keeps yelling at him, “STOP! HE ISN’T GONE! YOU’RE BEING AN IDIOT!”

·      Vincent is angrier than Albert has ever seen him in his whole life. The more days go by that Victor hasn’t turned up, the edgier Vincent’s mood gets.

·      Albert has to lock himself in the bathroom if he wants to cry it out.

·      But he also knows enough about psychology that he knows Vincent has to be dying inside. “Vincent, you need to talk about what happened.”

·      “You’re not even a real psychologist. Don’t fucking tell me what to do.”

·      At one point, it gets so bad that Vincent locks Albert out of the motel room and refuses to let him in, no matter how much noise he makes.

·      That’s when the notes start showing up. The door’s definitely locked, but Vincent finds notes around the motel room that definitely weren’t there a moment ago.

·      “I love you. ~AK” “I’m worried about you! ~AK” “Vincent, talk to me. ~AK” “I know many fates worse than death. Do you want to push me that far? ~AK” “Please, Vincent, I need you. ~AK” “Fine. Die alone. ~AK” “I take back my last note. Don’t die alone. I love you. ~AK”

·      So eventually Vincent lets him back in, and Albert suggests, one final time, to have Vincent sit through a legitimate therapy session. No Dream Eaters, no tricks, no shell game. And Vincent agrees.

·      Vincent lies down on the bed. Albert sits on a chair beside him and starts asking questions – about Victor, about the memories they had, about what Victor means to them both.

·      Vincent slowly recalls their entire history – laughing, crying, smiling. And by the end of it, he’s outright sobbing.

·      “How can someone who was such a big part of our lives be gone, Albert?”

·      And in a historical first, Albert actually lies down on the bed to cuddle Vincent, stroke his hair, and tell him “I miss him too. So much. It’s okay. Just cry.”

·      Eventually, they get a message from Winston, saying he has some important information and “cargo” to trade to them if they meet at a rendez-vous point. So they agree. Albert and Vincent head to the alley around midnight to find Winston and…a man in a black hood.

·      He throws back the hood. It’s Victor, whose metal eyes are twinkling. “Miss me?”

·      All of Vincent’s psychological work is undone; he just says “I knew you weren’t dead.” Albert, on the other hand, TACKLES Victor at unprecedented speed and pins him to the street.

·      Once Albert lets him go, Victor goes up to Vincent, and the two of them hold each other’s gaze. They kiss, briefly. That’s all they need to put closure on this.

 ALBERT

·      He doesn’t come home from a walk one night. Instead, a Dream Eater shows up and hands Vincent and Victor a letter.

·      “My beloved Victor and my frustratingly wonderful Vincent, if you are receiving this letter, it means you are not likely to see me again in this lifetime. I have run afoul of enemy forces, and, well, I’ll finally get to see what murder looks like from the other side. I want to thank you for the laughter and tears you both have given me, and for the good times and the bad. I hope you’ll remember me fondly, or at least as a memorable nuisance. With all of my love, goodbye. -Dr. Albert Gerald Krueger”

·      This is a joke, right? Victor’s convinced it’s a joke, and Vincent insists this is exactly the kind of prank Albert would find funny…

·      Until a month passes and he hasn’t come back.

·      Vincent takes a stance: “We never needed him. It was always just you and me from the start, Victor. We can return to our roots. He was always just an extra.”

·      Victor: “I know you don’t want to admit you miss him, but that was heartless, Vincent.”

·      The two of them end up fighting, sleeping on opposite sides of the mansion for days.

·      Victor tries to drink the pain away. (It happens in all three of these scenarios, actually, but this one’s plot-relevant)

·      One night, he wakes up at three and decides he’s not drunk enough. So he shuffles down to the bar and…there’s Vincent? Already drinking?

·      Victor decides to bite; “What’s all this for?”

·      Vincent turns to Victor, and Victor can now see he’s been crying for a while. “I can’t keep this up much longer, Victor. The two of us were happy before he broke in…why can’t I be happy? Why do I still miss him so much? Why can’t I just function?”

·      Ah. Now Victor knows it is definitely about Vincent not wanting to admit he misses Albert or even liked him. Because here’s Vincent just distraught without Albert.

·      Victor sits down by Vincent. Pours himself a drink. “We can’t erase him, but we can dull the memories for a night.”

·      It’s a miracle they don’t die of alcohol poisoning that night. They toast Albert’s memory, and at one point, Victor, a little out of his mind already, just poured a whole bottle of brandy on the floor in his honor.

·      Then, a couple days later, they’re trying to figure out how they’re going to break this to Taylor. They’ve avoided Taylor for so long so they didn’t have to bring this up.

·      There’s a knock on the door. Vincent gets up with trepidation, gun in hand because he’s not sure who it’ll be. Victor follows, ready to throw down.

·      The door swings open…

·      Albert: “I apologize. I didn’t think I’d be gone that long.” And he’s smiling like he’s just a couple hours late, not a whole month and change in which the other two thought he was dead. “What did I miss?”

·      There’s a silence as Victor and Vincent gape. Then Victor breaks into a wide smile; “Alb – “

·      Vincent DECKS ALBERT IN THE FACE.

·      Albert, on the ground, says “I deserved that.”

·      Vincent: “How could you do that to me? How could you tear me apart? How could you make me so empty inside over someone like YOU? How could you make it hurt so badly to love you?”

·      He’s getting rather emotional, a tear or two falling, and Albert realizes that Vincent actually…missed him. And the immense potential for blackmail this will bring.

·      Victor steps forward to help him up off the ground. Pulls Albert into a too-tight hug in the process. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

·      Then they head inside because Albert kinda needs an ice pack for the eye Vincent hit now.

[anxiouspotatorants]

About that medieval fantasy AU for underdog quartet... I have ideas:

- Rory is the bastard daughter of an excommunicated princess (Lorelai). Lorelai ran away to a neighbouring kingdom to not get punished/lose Rory, and she raised Rory as a commoner (a commoner who is more literate than some great scholars in her country, yeah, but still). Christopher’s parents put a curse on her so that if she ever sets foot back in the kingdom the whole land will descend into magical chaos. The AU might start with her and Lorelai already having entered the kingdom again (Kingdom of Hartford?) and trying to find a way to break the curse and reunite with their family.

- Paris is a high ranking lady within the kingdom. She wants to take her lands to new hights and make the history books as the greatest lady they ever had, and has therefore set out on a solo journey to learn as much as she can about the kingdom and how to best run it. She’s loaded with gold, quills and self defense taught by her local knights.

- Lane is a commoner who ran away from home to join a troupe as a musician. Some outside conflict separated her from the troupe and now she’s wandering as a lone bard in search of her band of brothers or her mother’s house (whichever she finds first as she misses both dearly). She has no magic or fighting skills, but she’s good at stealth and catching gossip.

- Jess is a rogue wizard who’s never really belonged anywhere. His mother dragged him from village to village with little ability to plant roots, and eventually left him with her long lost brother before joining a travelling merchant on his route. Jess quickly left his uncle’s care and has travelled on his own, stealing to survive and sticking to himself. He’s seen the instability of sell-sword groups and criminal collectives, and frankly doesn’t trust anyone enough to share a bonfire with them.

- Approximately thirty seconds after Lorelai and Rory set foot back in the Kingdom of Hartford the curse sets in. This signals their return to both Emily and Richard and Christopher’s parents, who both send troops and notices to find and collect them. Lorelai and Rory are thus on the run across the kingdom trying to find a way to break the curse before the soldiers find (and possibly kill) them. At one point they end up in a village called Stars Hollow and seek refuge in Luke’s tavern. But they are spotted by a group of soldiers hired by Emily and Richard, and Lorelai gets caught but manages to help Rory escape. They assumed that the soldiers were from Chris’ side of the family, as their soldiers are more prevalent and up front.

- Like I said both sets of grandparents seek out the Lorelais, but in slightly different ways for very different reasons. The Haydens want to imprison the Lorelais and possibly execute Rory for the crime of cursing the land (a curse that they made but that’s not relevant!). They’re the ones who make wanted posters and dispatch troops all over the land. Rumours and legends spread about the bastard princess who has cursed the kingdom with her return. Emily and Richard, on the other hand, want their daughter back (partly because they do love her and partly because she’s their only heir) and want to find a less violent way to break the curse. They don’t announce their hunt for the Lorelais out of fear of starting conflict with the Haydens, but dispatch undercover groups and sellswords to find and bring back the long lost princesses.

- Alone and afraid, Rory returns to Luke’s tavern and hides there for a while. One day both Paris and Lane make their way to the tavern — Paris in schedule for her educational roadtrip, Lane finally finding her home village and preparing to reunite with her mother. They end up talking and bickering downstairs while a shadowy figure sneaks by them and up to Luke’s quarters. Jess was just supposed to steal some food and pay in gold he found in a dead dragon’s den, but instead he finds a blue eyed stranger. Rory thinks she’s caught and runs downstairs. Jess is curious and follows, breaking his stealth from Luke. Rory crashes into Paris who starts interrogating Luke about the tavern being a secret whorehouse, and the five are descending into verbal chaos before Rory spots Hayden guards and hides behind the cupboards. Lane picks up on the danger and makes an impromptu distraction with Paris while Jess sneaks her out the back. Once outside he asks Rory what’s going on, and he’s soon followed by Paris and Lane. Rory brings up a cover about being cursed by someone and the soldiers hunting her in relation to said curse. The other three buy the story and decide to join her on a quest to cure her.

- It honestly takes so little time before Rory breaks and explains that she isn’t cursed but rather is the curse. Paris is angry at the lie, but little else changes but the motivation to help Rory. Jess goes from «I’m bored and directionless» to «I really like this girl and could finally do something that matters». Lane goes from «I’m procrastinating on facing my mother» to «I’m helping my new friend and have a new chance at adventure (and still procrastinating on my mother)». Paris goes from «This could be relevant for my future occupation» to «This could be even more relevant to my future occupation, also I have a friend now».

- Paris gives Rory the cover of one of her stewardesses, but most of the time the four travel by foot or bought horses as unknowns. Jess does scouting and trap laying for threats while the girls alternate on getting food. 

- When it comes to gathering information, Lane and Paris are the best at gathering intel from other people - Lane through gossip and Paris through interrogation. Jess is great at breaking and entering and stealing important texts for research, and him and Rory are the best at deciphering the texts (much to Paris’ frustration). 

- The key to breaking the curse could be something like “when substance stronger than blood is spilled for the unworthy”. Rory actually gets found by Emily and Richard before they can break the curse and there is a short period where the four are separated and Rory thinks maybe the lands will have to live with the curse unless she sacrifices herself. Then Lane overhears a plot to assassinate her and warns Jess and Paris. The three storm in just in time to warn king Richard and queen Emily, but the accusation of two commoners and a lady against the royal Haydens is obviously considered a crime. They declare to strip Paris of her title and are about to execute Jess and Lane when Rory steps in and stops the axe. She gets deep cuts in her hands and bleeds. It is revealed that her choosing to spill her own blood - which becomes the symbolic substance of her love for them - for commoners (who royals deem “unworthy”) is what breaks the curse. 

- So the happy ending: Paris gets her title back and she, Jess and Lane are pronounced heroes of the kingdom. The Haydens apologize for the curse and get no consequences because that would mean a war declaration and oh boy do we not have time for that. Rory is legitimized and becomes next in line after her mother. 

- Lane gets the title of “royal bard” and returns to Stars Hollow to finally face her mother. Mrs Kim must admit that she is proud of her daughter but has most of all missed her, and after the mandatory bickering the two reconcile. She has also reunited with the troupe at some point before the climax, and they are now a full troupe with tight connections to the crown. 

- In addition to her title and hero-status, Paris gets a place in court. She makes mentors of the king’s advisers and now works to become a royal adviser to both Lorelais.

- Jess is offered knighthood but declines. He tells Rory that he needs to go on a journey of his own and leaves. He returns to Stars Hollow and Luke, and gives Luke a whole chest of gold and the title to Lord of Stars Hollow (courtesy of princess Lorelai). He goes dark for some months, then appears at night in the castle on Rory’s window-ledge. They talk for hours until the sun rises and then agree to make Jess an official scout for the kingdom, travelling around and figuring out the magic and creatures of the land. 

- Rory’s first move after the reunification of her family is to get to know her estranged relatives and upgrade her education through the royal masters. After Jess returns she convinces her mother and grandparents to let her join Jess as an ambassador for the kingdom. She uses Paris’ argument of wanting to truly know the country she is supposed to rule one day, and the whole band gets back together for new quests.

[supernovaken]

Why Kid is Luffy’s Only Rival

Been thinking about this one for a while now. Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid, one of the main players of the worst generation and top dog of the ‘Victoria Punk’ pirate ship. Calling Kid the top dog seems extremely redundant but when your nickname is ‘Captain’ what the heck is a blog to do.

His introduction to the story is as a brash, easily triggered and quick tempered super rookie designed as a direct rival to our very own Straw-Hat Luffy. Kid and the other Supernova Captains were slipped into the story as equals to our rubbery protagonist with their entry and journey through the first half of the Grand Line being described as the catalyst to ushering in the next generations of Pirates.

Reading the manga however, that high admiration for Kid has been somewhat shit on quelled. Nothing against Kid but there is no one, absolutely no one that can compare to The Future King of the Pirates.

So what is it about Kid that’s so good, what separates him from the other (less spectacular) supernova. And I really am including Law in that list of unimpressive pirates - I mean sad backstories are everything in One Piece but Trafalgar Law is just as ineffective in the world as the other members of the supernova. His feats and accolades are great to read about but in the grand scheme of things he’s very meh. A post time skip inclusion to the Straw Hats dynamic with all the underwhelming presence of Princess Vivi.

But this is a Kid fan post so the less said about Law the better, maybe i’ll give him his very own post next.

Let’s talk about Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid

We seem to know both a lot and nothing at all about this reckless member of the worst generation. His brash and battle scarred appearance, his vicious personality as a pirate contrast with his unshakable love for his crew comparable to Roger himself. (They both get very triggered if someone were to speak badly about their crews).

Beyond his pending backstory (which will no doubt be sad as all heck, invoking all of the feels), one of the more compelling unknowns around Kid is his introductory bounty when we met him at the Sabaody Archipelago. The contentious figure of 315,000,000 Berri had us questioning how he managed to outdo the protagonist we had been following since the East Blue.

The quick and easy answer - he caused a huge number of civilian casualties along the way

BORING!! #SnoozeAlert.

The long answer - and some might say more fun. Figuring out where this number for his bounty came from, what kind of feats and activities could he possibly have done on his journey to the Grand Lines half way point. Comparing Luffy’s journey and coming up with theories on what Kid could have done similarly is our best bet and should make understanding why Kid is the indisputable mirror and number one rival to our favourite Monkey boy pirate. (Discounting Blackbeard of course)

So how do we do that lol...

Not the easiest job to take on considering we have no idea how bounties are decided in the One Piece world, we can only speculate based on the small details we do know and track back against the Straw Hats who we have seen in action, receiving their very own dead or alive posters. I’ll be going through mostly everything we know up to the story’s half-way point pre-timeskip, unless something relevant crops up from the New World, but from my take it gets a lot more difficult to make assumptions after that point.

Where to begin? The beginning of course…

It's amazing how often Oda has to remind us bounty values are not a reflection of a pirates strength but a reflection of their threat level at the time of issue. And this distinction becomes extremely important in trying to figure out what Kid did. What threatening actions could he have done, when would he have done it and who precisely is he a threat to.

“On the Blue Sea below, there are a class of people called "pirates"... they are criminals who sail the seas in search of plunder. These people fly a black flag with a skull atop their ship's mast. ”— Gan Fall

The moment a person raises that black flag marked with a skull and crossbones as their symbol, they are immediately declaring themselves to be enemies of the state. Outlaws that choose to ignore the rules of the land, instead living out at sea and taking from the land what they want. Pirates!!

By becoming a pirate you are officially waging war on the government - The World Government (WG) and by extension its sea based military unit - The Marines. Clearly this is the ‘who’ when the question of threatening behaviour is raised. As simple as it sounds, it really does tell us quite a bit when inferring the actions and reasoning behind Kids bounty.

Kid has done something that has directly threatened the WG

But what about that old, boring line on ‘causing civilian casualties’... How much weight does that truly hold in determining your threat level.

I’d like to argue that in the world of One Piece, this sort of action, in actuality, holds little to no meaning. From Buggy destroying Orange Town, Krieg bombarding a Baratie filled with civilian customers and Arlongs ten year stint of villainy in Kokoyashi, the East Blue Saga is littered with examples of high civilian casualties yet we see no consequence come of it in the form of newly raised bounty figures. The obvious conclusion would be that attacking civilians is not enough to get a bounty figure raised and if raised it won’t be by much, this does also pose new questions. Is it enough to get a new bounty issued? And does the lack of Marine presence affect the disclosure of a pirate's actions? In the first two cases the Marines weren’t even around, hard to believe those actions wouldn’t have been reported to them though, and in the last case the only Marine directly involved was unsympathetically corrupt to the bone.

Now I can’t ignore the involvement of a certain Monkey D Luffy in these incidents. His defeat of the pirates meant that although they were still on the run from the Marines (barring Arlong), they were now a non factor as a more noteworthy individual has somehow come out of nowhere and defeated 3 of the most prominent East Blue Captains and crews (4 but Kuro was dead to them). This collective feat is what earned Luffy the top East Blue bounty of 30M Berri.

Expanding a little on the importance of Marine presence. At each point Luffy’s bounty is increased it has been the direct result of him acting against a representative of the Government - publicly.

First bounty of 30M Berri issued after the defeat of Arlong. It was the action against Marine Captain Nezumi of the 16th Branch in the East Blue which prompted him to personally request a bounty for the Captain of the pirate crew that defeated and humiliated him. Luffy’s feats before this may have been used as justification for the value, but no wanted poster would exist without this Marine present.

Second bounty of 100M Berri issued after the defeat of Ōka Shichibukai Sir Crocodile. Public awareness of Crocodile's defeat was inevitable due to his instigation of a coup against the established monarchy of a member nation of the World Government - The Nefertari Family. Although in the media Luffy’s involvement was suppressed, the WG couldn’t ignore the unprecedented issue they now had at his hands with a Warlords defeat and arrest. So Luffy’s threat level automatically went up, more than tripling.

Third bounty of 300M Berri issued after the infiltration, destruction and escape of the WG judiciary island Enies Lobby. Directly opposing the WG and causing multiple casualties amongst the marines and world government officials (not as significant as civilians?), declaring war on the WG by burning the flag that represents the entity, defeating one of their greatest assets, Rob Lucci and the CP9 as well as being the scapegoat for the annihilation of the island under the unstoppable force of the Buster Call and escaping with the Devils Child Nico Robin in the midst of it.

We mustn’t forget that afterwards Luffy defeated Ōka Shichibukai Geko Moria on the isolated island-ship of Thriller Bark. The only WG presence was through Kuma’s arrival allowing for a full suppression of the incident, Moria keeping his position with Kuma given orders to take the head of the Straw-Hat Captain. He then infiltrated two more Government facilities, causing the greatest unprecedented breakout in history with multiple pirates in tow at Impel Down, and greatly impacting the Paramount War fought at Marine HQ while facilitating the release and potential escape of Portgas D Ace and the Whitebeard Pirates. The culmination of this led to his final pre-timeskip bounty increase to 400M Berri.

At this point there are three things that stand out when it comes to Luffy’s high value bounty increases:

A direct and public action must be taken against the Marines and WG

The large scale of some the incidents have proven too difficult to fully suppress

Strangely casualties amongst government officials hold less weight than civilian casualties.

So how does this apply to Kid. How can we use this to decipher the actions and merits behind his introductory bounty.

Well, I believe that to reach the bounty level of 315M Berri Kid must have accomplished feats near to equal that of Monkey D Luffy. How can that be when all of Luffy’s feats are first in their nature, unprecedented events. My argument though is that if we apply the nearest reasonable equivalent, could we get more of an understanding of Kids exploits.

What can be equivalent to the defeat of one, if not two, Ōka Shichibukai. What compares to the breach of a Marine and Government inhabited island. Direct, public, sizable, irrepressible and includes civilians....

The long awaited, highly drawn out conclusion - A Marine Base

Specifically a large Marine Base located in the GrandLine Paradise and under the command of a Vice Admiral, littered with the presence of marine officials and their civilian families.

Vice Admirals no doubt must be seen as equals in strength, intimidation (via rank) and authority level amongst the everyday civilians as each of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. The admiration Crocodile received from the people of Alabasta in thanks to his title cannot be compared to the much less acknowledged presence of, Captain at the time, Smoker when he was on the island. The reactive fear most pirates display at the sheer mention of a Warlord being in the area emulates that of a Vice Admiral beyond any reaction a lower ranked official may create.

*Potential Spoiler if not caught up with Episode 957 of the Anime*

Upon the abolishment of the Warlord system we are shown multiple warships on approach to each of the Shichibukai, assumedly all led by at least one Vice Admiral ranked Marine officer based on the presence of Vice Admiral Stainless addressing Buggy The Clown. It’s clear from this scene along with the ones depicting Boa Hancock and Dracule Mihawk, that the Marines acknowledge how formidable the Warlords are and how much of their own military might is required to apprehend each. Although we don’t yet know the outcome we can infer the comparability between the Ōka Shichibukai and the Vice Admirals of the Marines.

Kid definitely proved his capability and threat level by, at the very least, bringing down one of the GrandLine Marine Bases on his chosen route towards Sabaody Archipelago. And I can tell you for free that he is the only member of the Supernova (outside of Luffy) that is capable of doing this. Oda has shown us that not one of the other Supernovas compare in a level of reckless behaviour to Luffy with each of them finding a way to survive and slowly build up their presence in the New World. Law directly requested to become a Shichibukai to aid freer movement, Capone submitted(even though temporarily) to becoming a subordinate of the Big Mom Pirates, the others we know attempting to form alliances for a more promising chance to survive against the Emperors. Only Luffy and Kid have shown enough will to directly oppose all powers that threatened them no matter how overwhelming the odds seemed.

So that's it, a very long winded theory haphazardly put together as to how Eustass Kid achieved a comparable and slightly higher bounty of 315M Berri to our Luffy’s 300M at the time, and strongest reasoning for why Kid is Luffy’s only rival.

Who knows, may one day attempt to put some fanfiction together around this theory, potentially using G4 since we know the least about it and it must exist in the canon storyline.

[paragonrobits]

A friend asked me to give a stab at a Tierlist Maker for Video Games Not Yet In the Video Game Hall of Fame Tier List Maker, so here's my list for it!

This is based primarily on what I considered to be overall value to gaming history as a whole, with games with greater influence or impact ranking higher than those that had less impact on those to follow, or on culture. All the entries are those that have been nominated to the Hall of Fame, but not actually inducted as of this post's writing. Games that I personally like are generally rated higher, though mostly because I'm more familiar with them and thus can judge their impact from a personal POV.

(Tier List explainations, below!)

SHOULD BE IN ALREADY

Final Fantasy: I mean seriously. How is this one not already in yet?? It is not, as my research suggests, the first true RPG; that likely goes to games like Ultima. It is certainly an incredibly influential one; FF is a name closely associated with JRPGs in general, and its diverse class system is one of the strongest things to do with it, as noted by challenges like beating the game with a party of Black Belts. FF is THE name of RPGs in general and I'm startled it hasn't made it in, though I suppose that's owing to more notable entries (Hard as that is to imagine). It doesn't hurt that the majority of my favorite FF titles are those most similar to this one, such as FF6 and FF9, in terms of approaching the general world setting and class systems. Most significantly is that this game popularized RPGs and made them accessible, in ways that previous games such as Dragon Warrior/Dragon Quest did not; the field of gaming would be VERY different without it; RPGs became VERY popular, to the extent of RPG elements being almost universal among other games in the modern day. (I am also pleased and amused to see 8-Bit Theater mentioned on the actual Wikipedia page. Now THAT'S notability!)

Sid Meir's Civilization: HEY NOW HALL OF FAME JUDGES, DON'T YOU BE MOCKING CIV, ALRIGHT. CIV IS FUCKING AWESOME. Okay, jokes aside, I'm genuinely astonished as the Civ series is considered the first true main game of the 4x series, and it shows; the entire genre centers around expansion, resource usage and diplomacying or conquering your enemies, and considering the impact of this game and its sheer popularity, to the extent of the meme of the game getting people to play for Just One More Turn, I'm a bit disappointed that it's not already in the hall of fame. I also note that I am personally more familiar with the spin off Alpha Centauri, a sci fi variant, which is still one of my all time favorite games.

Half-Life: Given this game's popularity, to the point of its release alone consigning the likes of Vampire the Masquerade Bloodlines to cult classic status and its engine spawning a whole THING with GMod and the usage of physics mechanics in FPS games, one thing of note is its use of scripted sequences; at the time, an unknown in most games of the time. There may be something to be said for how the entire game is spent as Gordon Freeman, behind his eyes, possibly engendering a lack of separation between self and character that would be later emphasized in games like Bioshock. It's influence on games cannot be denied, with publications using it as a bookend between eras of gaming. One consistent element of what seems to make this game so distinctive is its approach to storytelling, without simply imitating film techniques which don't always work well with gameplay.

Candy Crush: This is an example of something I don't personally play myself, or even like very much, but I'd be remiss to dismiss it out of hand. There's no denial that phone games are one of, if not THE biggest market of games in the here in now; if now in scale, certainly in quantity. You might call it the TF2 Hat Economy theory; people aren't spending BIG bucks, but they are spending a LOT of little bucks all the time. It proves that highly accessible games that are generally free to play, with optional purchases, are a legitimate means of game business, and this certainly revolutionized how games were seen by the money-makers.

Super Smash Bros Melee: I loved this game as a kid, but truth be told i have a bit of a love-hate relationship; i REALLY dislike the competitive community that has fixated hard on this game, so any thoughts on it will have a slight element of pause beforehand. Even so, I can't forget the thrilled delight I felt watching the trailer for this game in supermarkets for the first time as a kid. at a time when getting any new games at all was a HUGE deal in my family. So, there is a lot of feeling behind this one! Ultimately, I have to concede that while i have complicated feelings about this game, its worth noting that the vast majority of things that made Smash iconic, and influenced the competitive scene AND the games inspired by Smash AND shaped the course of the series going forwards, largely owe themselves to Melee in particular. 64 was far more slow paced, while Melee began the trend towards much more fast paced action (and while I doubt it's SPECIFIC to melee as a whole, it may have been a trend for the genre from then). Melee is STILL widely played, especially on the competitive scene, and this sort of longevity always bears evidence of notability.

Goldeneye 007: I have to admit that despite being a kid in the 90s, despite someone who put most of their time into gaming, and despite being someone whose favorite system at the time was the Nintendo 64, I mostly missed out on the trend of history by honestly not being that much into this game. I have to say that I DID play it, however; I just never managed to get past the first level or so. I have strong memories of triyng and failing to sneak around a snowy lair of some description; it wouldn't be until the mid-2000s, playing Deus Ex Human Revolution, that I got the hang of stealth. All the same, personal indifference really doesn't matter much because HOLY SHIT THIS GAME HAS SOME STAYING POWER. IT HAS INFLUENCE, FRIENDORITOS. Perhaps chiefly, at the time it was made, consoles were not considered viable platforms for first person shooters; Goldeneye revised that notion, and created a whole revolution in multiplayer and shooter games. We would later see the ultimate consequence of this in games like Halo, which further revolutionized the whole genre. Ironically, the stealth attributes I was so bad at were part of what made the game so unique! It's one of those games that may not have aged well, by modern standards, but its import to gaming as a whole goes a long, long way.

Guitar Hero: I expect this one might be a bit hard to justify, but on its own, this game is INCREDIBLY innovative, though its not entirely the first of its kind, having mechanics based on earlier games. The very first entry has a respectable library of 30 songs, which is impressive considered at the time it was made, its not likely people expected it to get as far as it did; bear in mind that the massive libraries of later games were the result of years of this game series being a massive steamroller of a franchise! At the time, this one was an unknown. It has an interesting history as being a successor of sorts to an arcade exclusive, and inspiring a genre of imitators and spiritual successors on its own; of great note is the sheer impact this game had. With so many of those successors, the increased value of liscened soundtracks, and the way the game's concept became so influential, its astounding this one isn't already on the hall of fame. (It's also very fun, but fun alone doesn't make for memorability, sad to say.)

DESERVES IT AT SOME POINT

Myst - an iconic and incredibly atmospheric puzzle game, I'm genuinely surprised that I haven't heard talk about this one in some respect; it bears note as a rare game with absolutely no conflict whatsoever. I actually rank this one on par with the 7th Guest in terms of atmospheric games, though their tones could not be more different. So why do I think this game deserves it at some point? It was an incredibly immersive and beautiful game, lacking in genuine danger or threat, encouraging the player to explore and tackle the puzzles of the game. This sort of open-ended lack of peril makes it an interesting precursor towards certain flavors of sandbox games around now. It's worth noting that it was a tremendous achievement, given technical limitations of things such as the CD-Rom it was stored on, maintaining a consistent experience, as well as tying narrative reasons into those very constraints. It has been compared to an art film; if so, it certainly is the sort that invited imitators and proved to be a great technical achievement.

Portal: PORTAL! What can I honestly say that hasn't already been said by other people? The amazing integration of a physics engine into innovative puzzle solving, combined with a slow burn sort of minimalist plot reveal concerning the AI proving itself to be a kind of reverse HAL 9000? This game got a HUGE number of memes back in the day, and I expect anyone reading this can probably reference a few. The cake thing, certainly, and its relevance to matters of deception. There is much discussion over the game's utility in academic circles, which is certainly quite notable, and for my part, I'm interested by the point that at first the game gives you a lot of hints towards what you're supposed to do, gradually making it less obvious for the player you're on your own entirely, using your experience with the game to get past the puzzles from there, and its excellent game design. Ultimately though, I place this below Half Life in hall of fame urgency, because while I probably like this one more, it doesn't have the same impact on other games, per say. (That's a lot of awards for it, though. Wowza.)

Resident Evil: Is it fair to call this one the major survival horror game of its era? No, because it's apparently the FIRST, or at least the first to be called such. It's certainly up there with shaping the genre as a whole, both its immediate predecessors and modern games. The flavor of a survival horror can even be judged about whether its close to Resident Evil's style of defending yourself with limited resources vs controlled helplessness. It's also worth pointing out that I quite like the restricted, cramped setting of the mansion, rather than an expansive city; Biohazard was a real return to form, even if its something I mostly watched through funny lets plays because OH NO ITS TOO SCARY I CANT WATCH.

Asteroids: It's called the first major hit of the golden age of the arcade. I'm forced to say... yeah, it absolutely deserves it. The actual implementation and hardware of the game makes for interesting reading, and so its innovative nature ought to be noted: it lacked a soundchip at all, making use of handmade circuits wired to the board. It's reception was great, beating out Space Invaders and needing larger boxes just to hold all the money people spent on it. It also invented the notion of tracking initials on the top ten score, which has implications for arcade challenges.

Ms. Pac Man: This one consistently ranks HIGH in gaming records of its time, though there is admittedly some confusion to whether it or Donkey Kong was a better seller. Interestingly it appears to shape most of the gameplay mechanics people remember most for Pac-Man, such as the improved AI of the ghosts. It's more highly regarded than the original game, and on a personal note, I remember being a kid and seeing this arcade machine at ALL the laundry places my family usually wound up going to.

Frogger: It's placing on this list is not solely because CUTE FROG. The accessibility and wide appeal of the game bears a great deal of consideration, the flexibility of its formula, and just how many dang times it's been ported in one form or another. (And also, cute frog.) It also gets points for the creator being inspired for the game when he saw a frog trying to cross a road, hampered by the vehicles in the way, and he got out of his car and carried the frog across the street. The game is also evident of broad appeal, and some money-makers resisting it, goes back a long way; it was apparently dismissed as a kid's game by some, which just goes to show that some problems are older than quite a lot of gamers alive today.

Uncharted 2: this is one of those games where I cannot honestly say I have personal experience to draw from. Of the playstation's big games, I remember the Jak and Daxter series; I remember Kingdom Hearts, and I remember Ratchet and Clank, and I remember Infamous, but the Uncharted series remains

something of a 'I don't go here?' obscurity in my personal playbook. It does look memorable and charming from what I've seen, and one consistent element I've seen in comments about it is the cinematic nature of the game; it feels very much like a fun heist movie, based on what I have seen of it, and the notable thing is how the game FEELS cinematic.. in a literal way. As in, it combined elements of cinematography with game design, and that's no mean feat: what works for movies are unlikely to translate well to the interactive side, and it shows how that can be done for other games. The extensive praise does the game a LOT of credit!

WORTH NOMINATION AT LEAST

Angry Birds: As noted before, I'm not the biggest fan of most phone games, given that i prefer a more passive experience than most provide. As such, Angry Birds isn't something I've played as of this writing, but I have to appreciate the straightforward and simple gameplay; it reminds me a bit of the Burrito Bison game series, which I HAVE played, and I'm going to go out on a limb and assume it's because Angry Birds is probably the innovation that coined that particular style of gameplay. It's an example of what made phone games profitable and worth the time of developers to work at them; its easy for casual players to get into, and there's a fun sort of impact involved. Given the popularity of phone games, this one has a LOT of influence in getting that rolling, similar to candy crush, if not as much.

FIFA International Soccer: Simulation games are a tricky business; it can be really difficult to get them right, and this game provides an example of it being done in a way that a lot of people REALLY loved, set up an entire game series, and revived the 3DO system after a very bad year. Of note, apparently it was commented that it was more of a simulator than a console game, and this is rather funny considering how simulator is its own genre nowadays! Such do things change. It seems to have been a revolutionary game and simulation; setting the shape for modern sport games of its type, and tending more towards realism (accounting for acceptable breaks in reality) than was typical of the time. This one's position is thus picked for its impact as a whole; while it may not necessarily be a household name now, the series continues on, and is popular enough that even after 20 years, it's still been going.

Elite: I nominate this game in this position for being a startlingly early entry into what we would now consider open-ended games, even with an element of exploration and trading; if one stretches definitions a bit, a precursor towards gameplay of the like scene in 4X players who strive to avoid conflict, if possible. Its technical breakthroughs are some very interesting reading and make for good game history; a vast and complex game (not just by the standards of the era, either), and opening the door for persistent world games such as World of Warcraft.

Wii Sports: A significant game, and much as how other titles mentioned above were famed for gateway entries into gaming for an unfamiliar audience, or those that would want o play on a more casual basis. It seems notable to me for being most suited as a family game, or a more casual experience of multiplayer than usually associated with games like this; this has greatly influenced Nintendo's design philosophy, and one can see elements of this all the way through the Wii U onwards. It's essentially a fliparound from Mario Party; less competitiveness, but definitely meant as a group thing. Controversy is evident, because like with Mario Party, injuries did result from it.

Call of Duty: I place this one here because, while it DOES hold a very significant role in gaming history, with countless imitators, spiritual successors, being a game-changer in ways that its modern reputation might surprise you with, ultimately it is less so than other games such as Goldeneye, Halo or Half-Life. It's development in AI pathfinding and tactics is incredibly noteworthy from a mechanical perpsective, and the sheer level of awards it won is notable. In the end this game's popularity and continuing influence means that it shouldn't be overlooked.

Metroid: You can't spell 'Metroidvania' without this game! A relatively open ended exploration-based game with further options opening as new tools were found give it an interesting vibe, and the oppressive atmosphere distinctive to the game says great things about its sound and level designs. It wasn't the first open world game, or explorer, or even the first to open new aereas based on equipment, but it had ALL of these elements in a very memorable package. (Samus Aran as a female protagonist is something I'm a bit reluctant to give it credit for, as her identity was obfuscated for most of the game, and only revealed in a fanservicey way in a secret ending. All the same, credit where it is due, I suppose!) It's music seems to endure as a mood setter, too!

Pole Position: Perhaps not the FIRST racing game, but still considered one of the most important from the golden age of gaming, and the one to codify many of the firm rules of the game series. It's three dimensional gameplay is incredibly innovative for its time, and having played it and games like it in the past, I'm struck by how smooth the whole thing feels. No wonder it was popular! It is notable for having been designed specifically as a 3d Experience, meant to execute techniques like real drivers might attempt, which makes it a different sort of beast in that it tried to do more realistic actions; in some ways, a precursor to modern trends of realism in many games, for ill or best. Ultimately I think this one is worth a nomination because of its influence towards racing games (a popular and long lived genre, to say the least) as a whole.

OUTSIDE CHANCE

Nurburgring 1: On the one hand, I feel a bit guilty putting this one so low; it is recognized as likely being the earliest racing game in history, and given that I just finished noting Pole Position's influence, it feels a bit mean to rate this one as relatively insignificant all the same. However, in terms of notability, I never even heard of this one, and it was tricky finding information about it. Accordingly, that may say something about its influence, though this position DOES make it noteworthy as the first of its kind, albeit with Pole Position refining and introducing elements that shaped the genre.

Dance Dance Revolution: It feels a bit strange, putting this one fairly low. This thing was a MONSTER back in the day; entire arcades were built around the dancing control peripherals it required, rhythm based games or mechanics specifically invoked it by name, and it was an absolute cultural touchstone for years and years. So, why place it low? Partly, its because I can't just shove EVERYTHING into the 'deserves a nomination' folder; I do think it's fairly reasonable for this one to at some point get a nomination in the future, though ultimately there's games more noteworthy on the whole. It's specific rhythm qualities continue outside of its genre, and are quite influential to gaming as a whole, though unfortunately the series seems to have lost something in notability over time; popularity is a factor, but so is the impact on other games.

NBA 2K and NBA Jam: I put these two together because they touch on similar touchstones for me, and they really did popularize basketball games back in the day. Jam in particular seems to be invoking the Big Head mode that were a big thing in games at the time, at least going from the screenshot. They were very popular and highly beloved games back in the day, though I don't know if they have much influence on later games. I note that interestingly, they take opposite approaches; 2k focuses on AI and realistic experiences, while Jam was deliberately less realistic and more actiony in its over the top gameplay.

Nokia Snake: This one really impresses me for the sheer number of releases, in various forms, it's had! Interestingly, there seems to be little consensus on the name of this game; most just call it Snake or something on that theme. I went with Nokia Snake because... mostly, it sounds funny, and that's how its done on the list. This one is fairly low, but I Have to give it credit for having hundreds of releases!

Farmville: My mom liked Facebook games, a lot. And I am certain this one was one of her main ones! I rate it fairly low, and no doubt her spirit is yelling imprecations at me across the void of time, space, and abandoned socks; all the same, this one is ranked low because of the sheer number of displeasure aimed this one's way. (And to be fair, she complained about it. A LOT.) It is thus notable for unusually negative reasons; an example of exploitation, pressuring players to pester their friends to play it in an equivalent to electronic chain mail, and microtranscations.

Tron: I'm inclined to give any game that takes place in a computer land and uses programming or mechanical terminology a free pass! Interestingly, this has some association with the Snake game, as they have similar gameplay and Snake games are sometimes called Light Cylce games, after this one. It has an interesting history; the graphical system was chosen largely because it was believed it was more likely to be achieved before the deadline.

NO BUSINESS IN THE HALL OF FAME

Mattel Football: I do feel a little mean putting anything in this category; firstly because I don't want to make actual fans of something sad, and secondly because I believe you can probably find notability anywhere you look, if you are inclined. And here is the chief difficulty with this one: I could not find any real information in this one. It has no Wikipedia page, a google search only led to undescriptive links of SALES for the game, but not any information on the game itself. Notability is my main resource for sorting these entries, and honestly? If google has nothing on you, that's a pretty poor sign. Sorry, Mattel Football, but you look like a poor man's Game And Watch. You're no Portal, Myst or Pole Position.

[dherzogblog]

The Birth of The Daily Show: 25 Years of Fake News and Moments of Zen

It was July of 1995 and I had left MTV to become President of Comedy Central. It was the basic cable equivalent of going from the NY Yankees to an expansion team. I was on the job just two weeks when I received a call from Brillstein Grey the high powered managers of Bill Maher, host of one of the networks few original programs, "Politically Incorrect". We were informed Bill and his show would leave the network when his contract expired in 12 months. It was a done deal. Bill wanted to take his show to the "big leagues" at ABC where he would follow Night Line. Comedy Central was left jilted. Terrible news for a network still trying to establish itself. We had a year to figure out how to replace him and the clock was ticking. So began the path to The Daily Show.

It was very much a fledgling Comedy Central I joined, available in barely 35 million homes, desperately seeking an identity and an audience. It was just over three years old, born into a shot gun wedding that joined two struggling and competing comedy networks, HBO’s Comedy Channel and Viacom’s HA!, Watching them both stumble out of the gate, the cable operators forced them to merge, telling them: "We only need one comedy channel, you guys figure it out”. After some contentious negotiations the new channel was born and the red headed step child of MTV and HBO set out to find the pop culture zeitgeist its parents had already expertly navigated. The network had yet to define itself. The programming consisted mainly of old stand up specials from the likes of Gallagher (never underestimate the appeal of a man smashing watermelons), a hodgepodge of licensed movies (“The God’s Must be Crazy and The Cheech and Chong trilogy were mainstays) and Benny Hill reruns. The networks biggest hit by far was the UK import “Absolutely Fabulous”, better know as “AbFab”. Comedy Central boasted a handful of original shows, including the wonderfully sublime "SquiggleVision" of “Dr. Katz”, the sketch comedy "Exit 57" (starring the then unknown Amy Sedaris and Stephen Colbert) and of course Maher’s "Politically Incorrect". In retrospect I don’t think Bill got enough credit for pioneering the idea of political comedy on mainstream TV. Back then he was the only one doing it.

Politically Incorrect performed just fine, but got more critical attention than ratings. It was a panel show, and I had something a bit different in mind to replace it. I knew we needed a flagship, a network home base, something akin to ESPN's Sports Center where viewers could go at the end of a the day for our comedic take on everything that happened in the last 24 hours….."a daily show". I had broad idea for it in my head. I would describe it as part "Weekend Update", part Howard Stern, with a dash of "The Today Show" on drugs complete with a bare boned format to keep costs low so we could actually afford to produce it. We could open with the headlines covering the day's events (our version of a monologue), followed by a guest segment (we wouldn't need to write jokes...only questions!), and finish with a taped piece. Simple, right? We just needed someone to help flesh out our vision.

Comedy Central was a a second tier cable channel then and considered a bit of a joke (no pun intended). It had minuscule ratings, no heat and even less money to spend. Producers were not lining up to work with there. Eileen Katz ran programming for the channel and the two of us began pitching this idea to every producer who would listen. One of the first people we approached was Madeleine Smithberg, an ex Letterman producer and had overseen "The Jon Stewart Show" for us at MTV. We thought she was perfect for the role. “You can’t do this, you can’t afford this, you don't have the stomach for this, it will never work ” Madeliene said when we met with her. We could not convince her to take the gig. Ok then....we moved on. The problem was we heard that same refrain from everybody. No one wanted the job. So after weeks being turned down by literally EVERYONE, I said to Eileen: “We have to go back to Madeleine and convince her to do this with us"!

Part our pitch to her was we would go directly to series. There would be no pilot. The show was guaranteed to go on air. We had decided this show was our to be our destiny and we had to figure it out come hell or high water. As a 24 hour comedy channel, if we couldn't figure out a way to be funny and fresh every day...what good were we? We told Madeliene we were committed to putting the show on the air and keeping it there till we got it right (for at least a year anyway). That, plus some gentle arm twisting got her to sign on. Shortly after that, Lizz Winstead did too.

Madleiene and Lizz very quickly landed on their inspired notion of developing the show and format as a news parody. It brought an immediate focus and a point of view to the process . All of the sudden things started to take shape and coming to life. Great ideas started flowing fast and furious while an amazing collection of funny and talented began to come on board. Madeliene and Lizz were off to the races. Now all we needed was a host.

The prime time version of ESPN's Sports Center was hosted by Dan Patrick and Keith Olbermann back then and it was must see cable TV. But I had recently started to notice another guy hosting the show's late night edition. He was funny, with a snarky delivery reminiscent of Dennis Miller. His name was Craig Kilborn. On the phone with CAA agent Jeff Jacobs one day, I asked if he knew happened to know who repped him? “I do" he said. "We just signed him”. Within days he was in my office along with Madeleine, Lizz, and Eileen who were all a bit skeptical about the tall blond guy with the frat boy vibes sitting across from them. After opening the meeting with a few off color comments that would probably get him cancelled today (an early warning sign fo sure), Craig ultimately won them over and we had our host.

FUN FAC#1: Minutes after the news of Craig's hiring went public, Keith Olberman's agent called me directly to ask why we hadn't considered hiring him?

Ok, we had a host and producers...but what to call it? After sifting through dozens of ideas for a title, Madeleine called me one day and said, "I think we should just call it what we've been calling it all along...."The Daily Show". As we approached our launch date we taped practice shows and took them out to focus groups to get real life feedback. The groups hated it.... I mean with a red hot hate. They hated Craig, the format, the jokes, everything. We were crushed and dejectedly looked around at the room at one another. "Now what?" “Either they’re wrong, or we are". I said I think they are...but it doesn’t matter, we're doing this!" We never looked back.

The show took off quickly garnering some quick buzz and attention, we felt like we had crashed the party. Well, sort of. We had no shortage of fun, growing pains and drama along the way. The Daily Show version 1.0 was about to unravel. In a December 1997 magazine interview Craig made some truly offensive and inappropriate remarks about Lizz and female members of the staff. Whether it was poor attempt at humor or just plain misogynist (or both) is beyond the point. It was all wrong, very wrong. Craig was suspended for a week without pay. Lizz left the show. In the moment I chose to protect the show and its talent more so than Lizz. That was wrong too. It's more than cringe worthy looking back now, and I regret not making some better decisions then. My loyalty to our host was later "rewarded" when in the Spring of 1998 Kilborn's team, a la Bill Maher, unceremoniously informed us he had signed a deal to follow Letterman on CBS when his contract expired at the end of the year. No discussion, a done deal. Comedy Central jilted again. Like Maher, Kilborn wanted his shot at the network big leagues and we had a little over six months to figure out how to replace him. We all know how that chapter ended. That search would eventually reunite us with Jon Stewart who along with The Daily Show took Comedy Central and basic cable to the "the big leagues" on their own terms, redefining late night comedy in the process The rest, as they say, is "Fake News" history.

Fun Fact #2: before approaching Jon (who I did not originally think would be interested) I initially offered the job to a chunkier, largely unknown Jimmy Kimmel, fresh off his co hosting duties on "Win Ben Stein's Money" ...only to have him turn us down.

My fascination with late night began as a kid. I remember how exciting it was to stay up to sneak a peek at the Carson monologue and watch him do spit takes with his chummy Hollywood guests. Later on I also loved the heady adult conversation Dick Cavett would have with everyone from Sly Stone to Groucho Marx. But it was the comedic revolution of Saturday night Live in 1975, followed by Letterman's game changing show in 1981 that truly established late night as the coolest place on the television landscape. I could only dream of one day being part of it.

25 years on, I couldn’t be more proud of The Daily Show and its legacy. Those days helping build it alongside Madeleine, Lizz, Eileen and the team were among the most satisfying (and fun) experiences I have ever had. It was thrilling to take a shot at the late night landscape and try and make our mark, especially when no one thought we could.

I am prouder still of what Trevor Noah and his staff have achieved since they took the hand off from Jon, evolving and growing the show through a new voice and lens. I think my personal "Moment Of Zen" will last as long as Trevor remains behind the desk, allowing me to selfishly boast of having hired every host this award winning and culture defining franchise has ever had.

25 years later. it remains as relevant as ever, a bona fide late night institution, standing shoulder to shoulder with all the great shows that inspired us to start.

[violetwolfraven]

Crossover Headcanons

((I know I have requests in my inbox but I just had to get this out of my head. Also I probably won’t be posting those requests for a while because my writer’s block is only barely starting to lift, so...))

Anyway this is gonna start off from one perspective and go to more later. Enjoy. 💜

Tw: past death, nightmares

...

So this is a... spin-off? Of the reincarnation au? An alternate timeline? A variant? Whatever it is the newsies are reincarnated and remember their past.

Also somehow most of them are going to the same college here, (I’m not going to say which one because I don’t want to research colleges right now) even if they’ve got a wide range of majors.

There’s only one dorm building even if people are only allowed to share a room with someone of the same gender.

This works out well for Elmer, because he’s pretty happy to be rooming with his boyfriend, Buttons.

But then he gets up to the floor their dorm is on and almost drops the box he’s holding.

Because it’s fuckin her. His national-level math nemesis since 11th grade. They’ve only faced off twice, the first time with her team winning and the second with his winning, but they’re each the only one who can beat the other in a math competition.

Elmer can see the shock in her eyes as she recognizes him and shouts YOU and then she’s stomping over to him aggressively enough that he’s pretty sure she wants to throw down physically.

Jack (who’s also on that floor with Davey) figures that too, and steps in front of him before she gets too close, but that girl acts like she doesn’t even notice him and shouts I WAS HALF A SECOND BEHIND YOU SOLVING THAT PROBLEM!

Elmer is kinda terrified but he defensively shoots back well I still solved it first and moves around Jack because this is his math nemesis and his fight.

The girl scowls at him for a couple more seconds then just sticks out her hand to shake, and Elmer realizes that he doesn’t actually know her name beyond the surname he’s seen on the back of her mathletes jacket. She introduces herself as Cady Heron.

Elmer Kazprzak, he responds, and Cady looks like she’s trying not to laugh, but he figures that’s probably fair, with how ‘Elmer’ was a common name in 1885 but not so much in 2003.

Jack clears his throat so Elmer introduces him but forgets that this isn’t their high school so things like oh this is Jack. He’s basically my dad. are weird.

Cady definitely thinks it’s weird but she doesn’t question it. Instead she just asks where Elmer is living, and it turns out, of course, he and Buttons are right next door to her and her roommate, Karen.

(I say Cady is living with Karen because Gretchen wanted to live with Regina and rules be damned Janis is with Damien.)

Elmer isn’t completely sure he’s not going to get murdered in his sleep but he guesses if he could handle the 1899 Newsboy Strike and World War I he can handle Cady Heron.

Meanwhile Katherine is going to Harvard so Sarah is rooming with someone she’s never met and she’s a little nervous.

And in stomps a girl who declares I’m a lesbian and if you have a problem with that tell me now so I can switch dorms.

And Sarah responds with my girlfriend out at Harvard would be pretty pissed at me if I did have a problem with that.

The girl lets her guard down, explains that she comes from a small town, and says her name is Alyssa Greene.

After that little bump, they get along good. Alyssa explains that her girlfriend, Emma, registered late and couldn’t get a dorm with who she wanted.

And Sarah’s just kinda like wait Emma as in Unruly Hearts Emma? Alyssa’s just like yeah!! I’m so proud of her!!

Sarah brags a bit about how Katherine is studying to be a journalist with a specialty in queer stories and long story short they become besties and eventually Alyssa introduces Emma for real and Sarah introduces Smalls and Sniper.

Emma and Alyssa are a bit thrown by the whole nickname thing but hey whatever now they have a Lesbian Club!

They do meet up with the boys occasionally but the Lesbian Club meets on a video call with Katherine every Saturday.

Anyway Jack meets Janis in art class and initially they kinda think each other is weird because their styles are very different but then they get in an actual conversation and get along amazingly.

Jack is definitely a fan of Janis’s philosophy of when someone hurts your friends you attack and grind your foe into the ground.

Janis tells her new bestie about Cady and Damien (and Regina, Gretchen, and Karen, though she still keeps Cady and Damien closer than the former Plastics) and she’s honestly shocked by the amount of friends Jack tells her about.

She does recognize some names, though. Romeo and Damien are both theatre majors and they’ve become friends.

But anyway Jack and Janis are like. Super good friends. Art buddies. Mlm/wlw solidarity. Protective friend pals.

Janis is pretty surprised when she introduces him to Cady and they’ve already met, and apparently oh fuck your math nemesis is Jack’s Elmer???

Jack’s just going oh fuck Elmer’s math nemesis Cady is Janis’s Cady???

Also Regina met Spot and Sarah at the gym and now they meet up with a few other people every other week to throw down like their own personal fight club.

At first Regina was just angrily trying to fight with no technique, but don’t worry, Spot and Sarah teach her.

There weren’t a ton of out gays at Northshore High, so yeah the Mean Girls crew definitely gets along with the Newsies crew out of solidarity.

Janis and at least one of the Plastics but I can’t choose which one(s) join the Lesbian Club.

Meanwhile Race is super hyped to meet Emma cause like I choreographed a dance to your song wanna see???

Emma is flattered but kinda weirded out and she mentions her friend Angie who’s a dancer too and Race is just *error 404*

Cause of course he saw the news story and knows Emma knows these 4 big Broadway stars but it just. Hasn’t connected until this moment that she like has their numbers.

He tries not to freak out too much cause he knows that’s weird but Emma eventually goes do you wanna meet her? And Race goes do I wanna meet her? She’s only my IDOL!! she’s been dancing like 20 years and she’s still got it!!

Emma calls Angie partially because she likes her new dancer friend and wants to make him happy and partially because she wants to prove to Angie that people do appreciate her zazz and despite how she was just a chorus girl until a few months ago this random boy from New York has been a fan since he was 12.

Angie can’t exactly fly over at the drop of a hat but she watches some videos on YouTube of Race dancing and like holy hell this kid is good. And his friends are too but this kid right here has zazz off the charts.

When she finds out he’s an orphan she’s lowkey can I adopt him??? but then she finds out he already has an adoptive mother and it’s Medda Larkin.

Medda Larkin who did more than a few shows with Angie when they were young but left Broadway to open her own theatre.

They fell out of touch years ago but still follow each other on Instagram and stuff.

But Angie shows Barry and Dee Dee and she’s super excited like remember Medda Larkin??? THIS IS HER ADOPTIVE KID AND HE’S AMAZING

And they watch YouTube clips of Emma’s new friends in high school shows and like wtf these kids are fuckin talented why aren’t they on Broadway???

They almost tell Emma to tell her friends to drop out of college and come straight (haha not that straight) to Broadway but Trent is like wtf no education is important.

Whatever the actors aren’t that relevant.

Sarah has a nightmare about her death one night. And with the others it’s not as big of a deal because they’re all rooming with each other, but Sarah’s roommate isn’t one of them.

She thinks Alyssa is asleep so she calls Katherine crying about how scared she was, how guilty she felt to be leaving her brothers and friends and Kath without a goodbye.

And Alyssa isn’t quite awake, but she’s awake enough that she hears Sarah whisper about how everything is just so stupid complicated. I shouldn’t be afraid of dying when I’ve done it before—when we’ve all died horribly—but I still am, Kitty. I can’t stop being afraid.

Alyssa is out of it enough that she falls back asleep, but when she wakes up she knows what she heard. That her roommate thinks she had a past life and died and implied that all her friends did.

Emma notices she’s acting weird and when she asks what’s wrong she tells her.

They both know it sounds crazy, but...

Emma tentatively points out some weird things about their friends from New York.

She’s study buddies with Race and occasionally he points something out she got wrong on her history homework. Something so small and inconsequential that it would’ve been almost impossible for him to know unless he was there and remembered from experience.

Smalls and Sniper have a habit of jumping apart if they were so much as holding hands and someone walks in on them, even though they come from a mostly accepting city with an accepting friend group.

That whole group straight up skipped history class the whole week they were learning about World War I and refused to make up the work.

They bring the half-baked theory to Janis who immediately remembers all the times she’s seen Jack draw small war-torn towns in France and dirty city streets and an outdated skyline as if seen from a rooftop, all of them too detailed to be anything but directly copied from something Jack has seen before.

But the question is if they’re drawn from a reference photo or a memory.

Cady realizes, upon hearing the theory, that Elmer and Buttons never take her up on offers to come to football games because they don’t like the noise.

More specifically, she remembers the look on her nemesis/frenemy’s face when he said he didn’t like fireworks.

Aaron notices that Davey always solves math problems by hand. He never uses a calculator unless someone reminds him it’s an option. And half the time, he defaults to using his right hand with terrible handwriting even though he’s left handed. Almost like he was raised with the whole ‘left hand devil’ thing, which doesn’t make sense because he went to a public school; not a religious one.

Damien realizes that Romeo has a habit of correcting the costume department, like he knows the period clothing for Hello, Dolly! better than they do. It annoys the hell out of them because upon some research, he is always right.

Regina notes how Spot and Sarah fight like they’re fighting for their lives in a street brawl. She knows that because she started taking karate in an attempt to win fights. She noticed months ago that her friends use technique that’s barely sustainable, like they’re just trying to stay alive until they can run or backup comes.

However all this is just fun and games, a crack theory they’re all mildly creeped out by but don’t really believe, until Gretchen finds it.

An article on the Newsboy Strike of 1899.

There’s a copy of the Newsies Banner, written by Katherine Plumber, which references strike leaders Jack Kelly and David Jacobs.

But they could write that off as just a creepy coincidence if not for the photo.

It’s the one Katherine and Darcy took that first day, which is in black and white and not the greatest quality, but clearly shows a lot of familiar faces.

A later story by this Katherine Plumber documents lives of street kids with interviews from kids with the same odd nicknames as the group they know.

Regina was the most cynical about this theory and even she can’t deny it now. There’s just too much evidence.

Especially when Karen finds Crutchie’s obituary, but Regina stops her from showing it to anyone else because that’s just too creepy.

The Mean Girls crew and Alyssa and Emma are... unsure if they should confront their friends about this, because a) this is freaky and b) the newsie gang is clearly still harboring trauma due to their deaths.

Plus, as Damien points out, being gay was illegal in 1899. Do you think they want a reminder of how they had to hide their feelings for each other back then?

Emma and Alyssa share a knowing look because they know what that’s like.

In the end Karen lets it slip when she asks Davey a question about her history homework involving World War II, mistakenly believing he was there.

Davey naturally questions her about it and she spills the entire story about how Alyssa heard Sarah’s phone call and they figured everything else out from there. She even shows him the article with the 1899 photo and the Newsies Banner.

And... shit, there’s a lot of memories behind that picture. And that’s them, over a hundred years ago, when they were kids and they weren’t all the same age like this time around.

The old Davey looks so big compared to Romeo and Elmer and god was Specs tall for a 15-year-old.

Davey didn’t even meet Smalls and Sniper in this lifetime until they were 16, but in that picture they’re only 13 and they’re so small.

A sidenote on Katherine has a picture of her in a hairstyle he hasn’t seen her in since 1917.

It’s a mixture between ptsd and nostalgia and Davey can’t decide whether to freak out or be happy.

He takes the article to Jack and tells him about how Gretchen found it and their non-reincarnated friends know.

Jack’s silently cursing the fact that he really should have been more careful with what he drew around Janis, but it’s kinda a relief that they know, honestly.

He shoots a quick text to the group chat and then turns his phone on do not disturb mode while he sits Janis down for a little chat.

He doesn’t go into graphic detail, but he does tell her an abridged version of everything. How they were basically a family and all lgbt+ in the early 20th century and how they died before their time and got a second chance.

It’s more than a little freaky for Janis, but it does explain a lot.

Such as how Jack demonstrates on a dare that he can still do some parkour because once upon a time, he used it to run from the cops.

Elmer tells Cady he’s so quick at math because he used to have to calculate change quickly and later had to help Jack and Davey come up with battle plans based on numbers vs tactics and terrain.

Regina definitely trusts Spot’s combat advice a lot more now because he was essentially a gang leader as a teenager and it has literally saved his life.

Race admits to Emma that her song made him cry because... in this lifetime he might not have had to be closeted, but in his last he was constantly worried about getting arrested or worse if people found out not just about him and his boyfriend, but his friends. His family.

Emma may or may not collaborate with him after that to write a song about how much it hurts to be closeted for your own safety and how much better it feels to be free to be who you are. Race dances in the music video and many of the other newsies make appearances but it’s mainly him and Emma. Spot and Alyssa cry when they see it. Damien does, too.

Who am I kidding everyone cries.

They get like 4 million hits on YouTube and it’s amazing.

The title is probably In the Light or something.

Also Cady, Aaron, Kevin, and Elmer form their own college level mathletes team and no one can beat them.

(Kevin’s not as close with the main group literally only because I don’t know that much about him as a character.)

(Also Stacy, Kailey, and whatever their boyfriends’ names are might be there somewhere but I don’t know them either.)

Katherine does get to meet the new kids in person eventually. And also I didn’t mention this earlier but Specs goes to Harvard too and he comes to visit too.

The power when the Lesbian Club finally gets to meet all in person? Unparalleled.

:)

[earthstellar]

MTMTE HALLOWEEN 2020 FIC: Costume Party

SUMMARY: 

Rodimus sets up an Earth style Halloween costume party at Swerve’s to help boost the crew’s morale. Things get a little... weird, when they start to behave like the creatures their costumes represent. 

PAIRINGS: 

Rodimus/Megatron and Drift/Ratchet 

WARNINGS: 

It’s spooky, there is some talk regarding Drift’s traumas, and there is bloodshed/violence in a very creepy way. Please be careful and do not read if you are potentially upset by suggestive violence, blood, etc. 

IMPORTANT NOTE: 

I was unable to finish or edit this on time for Halloween; I’ll post the final version to AO3 when it’s ready, but for now, here’s what I have! Enjoy the preview! 

Rodimus was happy to let Swerve host a Human Halloween event in the bar. 

Swerve had wanted to do it for a while, but evidently had to wait for the right Earth season despite the Lost Light being absolutely nowhere near Earth. Rodimus agreed that they could use something fun and distracting to lift the spirits of the crew after a somewhat bad supply pickup had gone south and resulted in a thankfully brief dry spell as they'd had to go without their usual ship wide energon supply, resulting in the bar being shuttered for the duration until they were able to stop at Hedra Nine for a full restocking. 

Ultra Magnus had been the only one pleased at the brief closure of Swerve's bar, as it certainly cut down on his workload, but it was unfortunately Ultra Magnus that had to be convinced of the idea. Hence the emergency command meeting currently underway.

"So explain to me again the purpose of this holiday." Delivered in a flat tone, Ultra Magnus never failed to intimidate. 

As usual, Ultra Magnus loomed over the relatively small table positioned in the centre of the room, where Rodimus, Drift, and Megatron sat with some research in hand on various data pads, as well as some footage from Rewind and Swerve's collection of human media. 

Rodimus, undaunted, continued his pitch. 

"It originally started as a folk religious practice around appeasing the spirits of the dead and keeping ghosts, the spirits of deceased humans, from haunting homes and towns. Essentially. But in modern Earth context, it's all about having fun, dressing up as scary or silly characters and getting to relax a bit during a time of year that Earth people relate with darkness, bad weather, that kind of thing. It makes people happy during what were traditionally difficult times. I think we could use something interesting and fun to get the crew back into better spirits after that mess we had to deal with in the Astreus System. See? Fun can have a logical purpose: To improve crew morale. It’s… fun, Mags. People tend to enjoy it. I think it'll be fine." 

Rodimus leaned back in his chair and grinned, sure that he had made a strong case. Megatron was absorbed in a data pad featuring a collection of human myths and tales about the holiday, centred around the origins of the modern practice as it was the most relevant information, although he was interested in the older history of the celebration and where such practices may have come from. 

Megatron was surprised by the depth and complexity of the human holiday. He was still getting over some of his lingering prejudice towards organics; Reading up on their cultures and history was one way to root out what was left of his more harmful mindset. The best cure for ignorance was often simple research, after all… Orion Pax would be proud. He nearly laughed at the thought. 

But he found himself looking forward to Swerve’s little seasonal party, even if there were no seasons per se to celebrate out in open space. Rodimus had made a good point; The crew could certainly use the distraction, and Rung had advised him to try new things that had no associations with any past memories or experiences as part of something they were trying in therapy. He wasn’t exactly excited for it, but it could tolerate it. Especially with Rodimus also in attendance; Undoubtedly most of the attention would be drawn away from him, at least. 

Ultra Magnus was completely still, a telltale sign that he was considering something, running through his extensive memory storage of ship protocols and broader applicable legislation in the hopes of finding something that could possibly mitigate any poor outcomes— Rodimus had won, it would certainly help crew morale and such intentions were covered by rules regarding health and safety of passengers and crew members. Fair play.

--

The bulletin from Swerve, once approved, had been sent out to everyone on board. The event was fairly simple, a marathon of various Halloween themed human movies, followed by a costume party at the bar. Teams of three were allowed to submit group costumes for judgement by a panel led by Ultra Magnus, partially because it was the only way to get him to participate and partially because it was the only way to have a judged competition without anyone complaining of unfairness. 

The mood had immediately improved, with the Lost Light buzzing about costume design ideas and speculating on who was joining whose team and what the chances of winning might be. 

Rodimus beamed, happy for all the chatter and gossip. His crew was happy, so he was happy. And Megatron was invested as well, glad to go along with it, enjoying the literature about it. He couldn't be more excited for the event; He trusted Swerve to make it as extravagant as possible, despite the limitations of their supplies on board and what little in the way of textile fabrics they could find and pick up from smaller stop-overs at various stations operated by organics along the way prior to the day.

Rodimus had been concerned about the cost, but Drift was enamoured with the spiritual background of the holiday, and seemed all too willing to provide the spare shanix for anything they could find for the crew. 

So far, it had been going incredibly well. Rodimus was excited himself, as he couldn't wait to see everyone's final costumes, but the idea of Megatron getting a break to genuinely enjoy something with him brought warmth to his spark, making it spin even faster in its casing. 

--

 "Okay, everybody! We had a lot of interest in the costume aspect of this whole thing, but it seems only three teams actually came together to participate in the judged competition. However, most of you have turned up in costume anyway, so it all works out! The judging will go faster and you can all guzzle down some of the special drinks on the menu for tonight only. Welcome to Swerve's, and Happy Human Halloween!" 

Leave it to Swerve to kick off the night in style; The doors were thrown open and bots rushed in, claiming booths and seats at the bar, some mild squabbling already starting but quickly dialled back under the watchful eye of Ultra Magnus, who had refused to wear a costume and was fully on duty as usual from his judge's perch near a makeshift stage Perceptor and Brainstorm had thrown together from spare lab materials. 

Nobody had seen anyone's costumes prior to the night, so there was a significant amount of ooing and ahhing over the most successful looks, providing a great distraction for the costume contest participants to slip mostly unnoticed behind the stage setup, preparing for the reveal to the judging panel: Ultra Magnus, Chromedome, and Cyclonus. 

As the bar continued to fill up and the noise levels increased, Swerve put on a specially composed mix tape for the ambient music that his extensive research had stated was sure to be a success: 

Something called the "Munsters Theme" kicked off the night, and things still appeared to be moving ahead as planned, all in attendance having a good night, and the Lost Light hummed with friendly chatter. 

--

The three costume competition teams ended up being 

There was the Command Coven, consisting of Rodimus, Megatron, and Drift with witch themed costumes. Drift was more than happy to provide crystal necklaces and little wands for each of them, each designed to replicate gemstones found on Earth, with Megatron's being amethyst, Rodimus adorned in carnelian, and Drift himself wearing amazonite. 

He had chosen the colours and designs in accordance with his Spectralist beliefs, as well as something Swerve had shown him called "mood boards" from Earth social data nets, which had kept him up well past his usual recharging hours. It seemed to not have impacted him at all for how thrilled he was at the excuse to dive into human spiritual practices, although he faltered somewhat at the sight of the next team's arrival...

The Medbay had submitted a team, largely thanks to Drift constantly bothering Ratchet about it, with Ratchet himself as well as First Aid and Velocity appearing in vampire themed costumes. They had no team name because Ratchet couldn't be bothered, and was more concerned about the medbay being largely unattended during the event... Although begrudgingly, he did admit to Drift that having the central medical staff immediately on hand in the bar probably wasn't all that bad of an idea.

And the final team, the Minibot Monsters, consisted of Tailgate as a swamp monster, Rewind as a mummy, and Swerve himself, wearing the world's least convincing werewolf costume. 

Swerve was the only person with two costumes, so as not to reveal his "true" costume too early in the night; What he was wearing while manning the bar and letting people in was something inspired by Gomez from the Addams Family, although nobody else on board got the reference save for Rewind, who was suddenly upset they hadn't picked that as their group theme. Tailgate was just thrilled to have shiny scales temporarily detailed over his paint job, lending a shimmering effect to his every move. 

-

Back stage, the teams began to intermingle a bit, although mindful of not violating any of Ultra Magnus' rules about potentially spoiling the integrity of the judging process by helping other teams with costumes and so on for about fifty pages. 

Drift took in Ratchet's costume, approaching a bit too tenderly for it to be the effect of any engex he may have consumed before hand. It set off Ratchet's diagnostics coding, returning a reading of increased anxiety indicated by signs of  ever so slightly rising energon consumption levels as Drift's fuel pump started to rev at a slightly elevated rate, as well as a touch of fatigue from Drift's lack of recharge time beforehand. 

"What's wrong? Are you afraid of losing?" Ratchet teased him, but only gently, probing to see where Drift was mentally at the moment. Did dressing up have bad connotations on Rodion? Was Drift relating this to some disguise or situation from his past that was potentially upsetting? Ratchet was ready to leave at any time, stress over an unmanned medbay lingering in the back of his processor; He'd be happy to grab Drift and go if need be.

"I uh, you just did a really good job with your costumes is all. I mean I expected the cloaks and all that stuff, it looks good on you by the way! But the denta..." 

Ah. 

Ratchet shuffled a bit. "Yes, apparently Velocity found in her preparatory reading that human vampire lore emphasises pointed denta. They--" 

Drift interrupted, looking at the ground, looking anywhere but Ratchet's face. "They siphon their energon, or whatever human stuff, blood, from living people. They're siphonists. Like I used to be, way back, when I needed to get fuel, and... And they're evil." 

Immediately, Ratchet realised that of course, Drift would associate the vampire fangs with so much suffering from his own past, with cruel comments and judgements forced on him by bots who had no idea what it was like to starve or have to turn to any viable alternative to survive, including taking energon directly from the fuel lines of others. 

He raised up his hands towards Drift, testing to see if he'd be welcome for a hug. Drift looked up a bit and smiled, stepping into Ratchet's arms and accepting a brief embrace before Ratchet pulled back to look him in the eyes, hands still lingering on his upper arms. 

"Listen, Drift. If this is too much for you, we can go. I can go, you don't have to miss anything. I can take this all off and it's an easy fix; It's a minor procedure to numb and file them back down, and of course we were going to do it afterwards anyway. Velocity thought it would be more realistic if we just went ahead and altered our denta for the sake of it, but I should have thought more about how that might affect you. I--"

Drift leaned up to quickly kiss Ratchet, immediately jerking his head back with eyes wide, seemingly having not fully registered the fangs that met his until they physically pressed against one another, before giving a shakey smile. 

"No, it's okay. I just wasn't ready for it. The thought of you having to resort to... Anything like that, it makes my spark hurt. It reminds me of a lot of things I don't like about how I had to get through some hard times, you know? But I don't want you to go. I want you here. Plus... Now we match, right?" 

Leave it to Drift to try to power through something so significantly distressing to him. Ratchet appreciated the effort, but saw right through it. 

"I mean it, if this bothers you, I'm ready to get back to the medbay, undo it, and we can hit the bar again together later once things have eased up a bit, no problem. The humans might think vampires are evil, and a lot of bots might think siphonists are... Frightening, but I need you to know that they're not the same thing. People are often wrong about what they don't understand, and you only did what you had to in order to survive. And I'm glad you did it. If you hadn't, you wouldn't be here. With me, at a party that will be fun if you still want to go through with all this." 

Drift optics gradually returned to their usual brightness, his signs of anxiety slowly disappearing on Ratchet's constant scans, putting him at ease as well. 

"Thank you, Ratchet. I'll be okay once the shock wears off. I think it's a good costume choice, and you really do look good in the cloak. The black makes your white paint look brighter! And it's fun to think of all the spooky human stories... And some of our own too, I guess. Imagine, a siphonst medic! You would't have any patients, that's for sure." Drift smiled, making a point to flash his own fangs. Clearly he'd recovered from the initial shock, although Ratchet decided he might try to talk it out with him at some point when they weren’t caught up in all this. He didn't want Drift to suffer any blows to his self-esteem, or fall back into a trauma related depression, even a relatively minor one. He was glad Rung had a positive policy for booking short notice sessions, which reassured him a bit. Any problems, they could all work it out together.

"Well, I think anyone who needs a doctor badly enough is willing to go to whatever doctor happens to be around, in my experience. Siphonist or not. And are you calling my paint job dull? I'll have you know I polished my armour for this. Or First Aid did, at least. He was insistent that we represent the medical team as best as possible." 

"Seems like he's learning some things from you about professionalism, Mister No Crystals in the Medbay." 

"Hey, Ultra Magnus agreed with me. It violates... Some rule." 

"Sure it does." 

--

It was finally time for the costume contest, and 

--

"What happened? What happened? Hey! Someone else get up already!" Rodimus wasn't one to panic, but he was maybe actually slightly panicking. A little bit. 

After the Great Sword had reacted to Drift's incantation, everyone had experienced simultaneous processor reset from the energy surge, and it was taking some time for people to come around from the harsh and unexpected reboot. 

It seemed everyone in the bar had been affected by the wave, not dissimilar to an electromagnetic pulse, with bots slumped over their tables, a few leaning precariously over the bar, and others laying on top of each other where there had been only standing room left. 

Rodimus had been the first to wake, having fallen into a draped position half over Megatron and half pressed into the makeshift stage curtain, briefly tangled in his distress over waking up and feeling... Odd. 

He felt like his spark was super charged, like he had ingested far too much high grade energon and was borderline frying his own circuits. It was like his fuses had been blown, but a quick self-diagnostic came back completely normal, nothing out of the ordinary, everything working fine. 

His sensory input felt magnified somehow, like he was feeling the EM fields of everyone in the bar at a hundred fold. 

It wasn't bad. Just very, very odd. Which was never a good indicator of anything, the way things tended to go on the Lost Light.

He briefly considered paging the medbay, when he caught the passed out shaped of Ratchet and Drift together in the centre of the stage; Ratchet must have picked up on whatever was happening and had made a dive for Drift, resulting in both of them clattering to the ground on top of each other. 

Everyone he would turn to for help had also been affected; There was no 

"Megatron, wake up!" 

—-

"Ratchet, oh Primus, please, are you okay?" Drift had finally woken up, exhausted by his lack of recharge on top of the huge surge of energy that had burst forth from the Great Sword, which was connected somehow to his spark energy... He was drained, but determined to get a response out of Ratchet before he could even consider his own wellbeing.  

"Ratchet! Get up! Something's happened with the sword, and it's my fault, and I don't know what happened!" Genuine fear started to seep into his vocaliser, which was likely what finally jarred Ratchet back into awareness.

"...Drift? Are you alright?" Ratchet's voice was low and rough, still drowsy from the forced reboot. Drift knelt further down to help get a grip under Ratchet's shoulders to keep him from slumping over again, being careful of anywhere that may have been injured as he collapsed. 

"My scans are showing me you’re fine, but I think I need to run a diagnostic on myself... I feel like I haven't refuelled in Primus knows how long. My fuel tank was reasonably topped up before this, is anyone else experiencing similar symptoms...?" Ratchet was slowly regaining his bearings, relying less on Drift for balance once being sat upright, although they both remained seated with their legs tucked under them in the middle of the stage. Drift felt he could relax ever so slightly now that Ratchet was responsive enough to be engaging his medical protocols. 

"We all feel a bit strange. Me and Roddy feel overcharged almost, like having two sparks in one frame. It’s… intense, but manageable. Megatron is still out, and Roddy seems to be more charged up than I am. It might be a Matrix thing with him, we don't know. My fuel levels are good, feeling the opposite of drained right now. Our internal diagnostics are coming back normal, but that's clearly wrong. Any ideas?" 

Ratchet was slow to reply. He was never slow to reply, not when it came to medical matters.

"Ratchet?" Drift grabbed Ratchet's shoulders, preparing to brace him and lay him out gently in case he lost consciousness again. 

"Drift, I need you to listen to me carefully. I don't know what happened. I don't know what's happening now. I can't identify any apparent problems in my own self-diagnostics, aside from the erroneous fuel tank level discrepancy. I'm not leaking fuel from anywhere, I'm not burning it off any faster than usual. I'd need access to the medbay for more in-depth scans, but I don't think it's a good idea to be wandering the halls right now. We should keep this contained to the incident area as much as we can..." As he continued to speak, Ratchet looked more and more stressed, more concerned. And that concerned Drift. 

"What are you getting at, why are the halls unsafe? Do you think this is some kind of attack? It originated from my Great Sword, it was... I think it was the incantation. It had to be. Ultra Magnus made sure the threat level was at a minimum--" 

"No. I think that if we went out there, we'd be making the halls dangerous ourselves. Don't you feel that?" 

Drift felt his spark grind to a halt.

"What are you talking about? I feel fine, I feel suspiciously better than fine. Are you okay? Are you dizzy?"

"...No. I'm energy depleted. I need fuel." Ratchet leaned forward until they were pressed flush against each other, their knees touching in their kneeled position on the stage, chests touching right over their spark chambers. Drift kept his hands rested on Ratchet's shoulders, grip light, unsure of what to do. 

When suddenly, and with all the strength of a field medic frame, Ratchet leaned in and closed the rest of the distance, pushing Drift backwards to the floor so his knees lifted from their bent position and his legs splayed out under Ratchet, who was now so close to laying across the top of him that it nearly took Drift's breath away.

Ratchet whispered directly against Drift's neck cables, close enough to his audials that it made Drift's spinal strut shiver and lock up. "I need warm fuel. I need your fuel.”

Drift immediately froze. This didn't sound like Ratchet. This couldn't be Ratchet. Because Ratchet would never make him feel this vulnerable, he would never do this. Ratchet isn't a siphonist...

...Or he wasn't before whatever just happened, happened. 

"Don't do this!" Drift had intended to scream it, but it came out as a whimper that only Ratchet could hear as his breath was taken away by the pointed denta scrapping gently along the central fuel lines in the side of his neck, just above his collar plating and below the corner of his tilted helm, as Ratchet’s glossa searched for the most medically sound place to puncture the lines and begin to siphon fuel. 

Imagining Ratchet's mouth full of his energon, still hot from being cycled through his systems, Ratchet’s face swirling the fuel around his fangs and smiling at him in sick contentment the way Drift knew he himself had done to others in his past filled him with a level of dread and distress that he didn't know he was still capable of feeling. 

He tried to roll to knock Ratchet off balance, but he was now pinned beneath the medic, whose wider frame was made for detaining unruly patients and built to cope with such resistance. The moment had only caused Ratchet to get a better glimpse at his central fuel lines, Drift's neck having flexed in the process, encouraging a small thrilled hum from Ratchet that terrified Drift straight to the spark. 

He couldn't let Ratchet do this. He wouldn't let him become a siphonist. Ratchet is a good mech, a kind-hearted mech, and Drift refused to imagine what would happen if Ratchet drained him of fuel and snapped out of whatever this was and hated himself the way Drift had hated himself...

...But at the same time, they were in a room full of vulnerable and disoriented bots. Many of whom had still not fully rebooted and had no chance of putting up any defence at all. If Ratchet was under some spell, or whatever was happening, then there was no guarantee that he would be able to be restrained, or that he could restrain himself, from simply going after someone else. 

Drift realised in horror that if Ratchet didn't get his fuel fix from him, right now, he would likely just hurt someone else while in this trance-like state, focused solely on satisfying a feral hunger... Drift could at least relate, and was awake enough to consent as much as possible under the circumstances, and it didn't take all that much effort for Drift to talk himself into going limp. 

As he rested back flat against the stage floor, Ratchet briefly froze, giving Drift a flash of hope that he was coming to his senses, that his medical protocols were overriding whatever this was and that he would immediately jump off and apologise and demand another systems check before they started working out whatever was going on. 

But instead, Ratchet made some awful little low trilling noise, lowering more of the weight of his frame against Drift's chest, and whispered into his neck: "Your vents are spewing out so much heat. Your fuel will be so warm in my mouth. Listen to my voice, Drift. You know how much you mean to me. I won't hurt you, I'll never hurt you. I'm a medic. I want you to feel good, be healthy. Forever. I want you to feel the way I do." 

Drift was caught between old traumas and the trauma currently unfolding. He had no response, cleansing fluid building up behind his optics, threatening to cloud his vision and steam up his lenses from the inside from all the heat his rapidly spinning spark was generating throughout his systems. 

He vaguely became aware of some almighty commotion happening somewhere in the bar, but he didn't dare attempt to move. He couldn't have even if he tried. It was painful hearing Ratchet like this, the kind voice worn by age that he was familiar with tainted by something rough and sinister, for all the friendliness it still contained. 

"Did you read all the human myths, or just about the crystals? It seems the Earth vampires can turn another human into one by sharing blood, their energon. After I take a sip from you, would you bite into me? Or would you prefer if I clean cut one of my fuel lines for you to suck on? Would you do that for me? We match, after all.” Drift could feel Ratchet flash a wide smile into the side of his neck. 

Ratchet's voice was starting to have some kind of cognitive effect on Drift's processor, numbing him to the waves of anxiety and making the noises in the bar seem even further away, sinking him into Ratchet's grip, making it impossible to activate his own vocaliser. 

"We could be together forever, Drift. No more flitting in and out of each others lives. Security. Safety. Stability." 

With Drift completely flattened beneath him, helm lolled to the side and central fuel line finally exposing the medically ideal spot to place a bite, Ratchet was satisfied. He leaned in and sunk his pointed denta into the perfect centre of the line, immediately creating a suction and drawing a swift stream of warm energon into his mouth, a deep moan from Drift weakly rising from beneath his grasp--

--And at that moment, Rodimus with immense precision drew down a bar stool leg directly into Ratchet's helm, the metallic clang echoing through the room as Ratchet’s head was forced away from Drift’s neck, a pool of energon steaming up from the tear in the central fuel line, ripped open further by Ratchet’s pointed denta never having had the chance to loosen the bite first. 

Rodimus quickly put himself between Drift and Ratchet, kicking Ratchet in the shoulder to create more distance while avoiding harming him as much as possible before turning to face Drift. 

“Primus, Drift, we shouldn’t have left you two alone, some of the others started waking up and Megatron’s still struggling a little with the hard reboot, are you okay? Drift?” 

Drift barely registered what Rodimus was panicking about as he was only gradually coming out of whatever state Ratchet had put him in. He felt like his temperature regulator has to be malfunctioning now, or perhaps he had just lost too much heat from pushing himself too hard and venting off too much of the heated air that speedster frames tended to build up. 

Setting himself upright, he relied on Rodimus for support, immediately showing the tear in his fuel line, optics slightly foggy and looking off to the side. “I need to wrap this up… It’s not as bad as it could be, but it really is, isn’t it? What’s wrong with Ratchet, Roddy?” It was hard to hear Drift’s voice, usually so lively and firm, take a low and demure tone made rough by the damage to his neck. 

They both looked over to where Ratchet had been unceremoniously kicked on his back, Rodimus continuing to stay tensed and alert in front of Drift in case Ratchet tried to make another move.

Cautiously, Rodimus spoke up as his right hand helped Drift hold the fuel line edges together; Rodimus winced at how much it must hurt, but Drift was making no complaints as it was slowly and carefully wrapped by some previously subspaced tape. In fact, Drift seemed… Sad, more than scared. He was being too quiet, moving too little even considering his injury, and his EM field was full of exhaustion and distress. 

“What the hell happened? Ratchet, you… I didn’t hit you that hard, did I? Can you answer me? What were you doing?”  He wanted to ask why, but one thing at a time. He suspected that Ratchet didn’t know the answer to that last one, and Rodimus didn’t want to press someone who was potentially unstable and clearly dangerous at the moment. He pressed his back closer to Drift, fully ready to defend him if needed. 

Rodimus took in Ratchet’s crumpled pose, still laid out where he had been kicked back, a look of absolute shock and strain on his face as his fists curled tightly against the stage floor, steaming energon dipping from around his slightly open mouth in small pools as he ex-vented heavily. 

As Ratchet shook his helm a bit, he replied with an absolutely wrecked voice, as if it had been his vocaliser nearly ripped out instead of Drift’s. “I, Rodimus, I don’t know how long I’ll be lucid for. My fuel tank levels are registering within perfectly normal levels, but it feels like I’m being constantly drained, like I’m losing fuel from a leak that doesn’t exist—“

“So you put a leak in Drift?” Rodimus knew he shouldn’t have said anything as Ratchet’s head whipped up and stared him directly in the optics, the shattered look on his face so unfamiliar on Ratchet’s features that it startled Rodimus to see it. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. My scans are coming back fine, all of them, I can’t find what’s wrong.” Real panic was seeping into Ratchet’s vocaliser, a bizarre and awful contrast to his usual calm steadiness even in the worst of situations. “You don’t understand, Rodimus, whatever energy the Great Sword released has altered my systems, perhaps everyone’s systems… Drift said you both felt overcharged, but I feel energy depleted, and it’s doing something to my processor. I feel so strange and— And Drift.” 

The entire time he spoke, without his knowledge, his glossa lightly flicked out here and there to catch some spare flecks of Drift’s energon that had settled around his mouth. It set off a sick feeling in Rodimus’ spark, as it was clear Ratchet genuinely couldn’t help it, as if his coding had gone severely wrong somewhere. It reminded him of a cyberfox licking its paws after a hunt. It was too unrefined and subtly animalistic for a bot like Ratchet. It looked wrong, it felt wrong, and he could feel a surge of concerned sadness burst forth from Drift’s EM field behind him. Evidently he’d finished wrapping his fuel line and was now focused on Ratchet. 

Ratchet noticed and finally moved, only slightly to avoid startling Rodimus into unnecessary action, as he picked up on Drift’s distressed EM signals. 

“Drift, Primus, are—“ Ratchet’s optics went wide and he jerked back oddly, not moving from his place lest Rodimus make a move, but as though he were torn so completely that he couldn’t move. “—My medical protocols demand your neck be examined. If I do it, I don’t know what I’ll do. Where’s Velocity and First Aid?” 

—-

Megatron bellowed across the bar, “They’re behaving oddly, get ready to fight them off!” 

—-

"Drift, we're medics. We know where to bite to take the most energon straight from the central fuel line the fastest. I just did it to you, and being ripped free like that can rip the cable lining and weaken the integrity of the fuel line under pressure. It ruptures and causes a major bleed. It can kill someone. It will kill someone. If at any point we start failing to restrain ourselves, you have to incapacitate us. Tie us up. Do whatever. We are officially dangerous until this is resolved. I can't say my behaviour will be predictable, or sensible."

He then turned abruptly to Rodimus and Megatron, Ultra Magnus off to his opposite side, ready to intervene if needed. 

"One of you, or both of you, I am asking you to do whatever you need to do if I go after Drift again. If I go for his central fuel lines again, he's already damaged. Another bite will weaken the line structure, its integrity will fail, and he will lose too much energon to be within safe levels. His nanites will take far too long to repair a gash that size. Please." 

Ratchet hung his head, avoiding everyone's optics. 

"I am a medic. I heal bots. I don't kill them. 

---

AND THAT’S AS FAR AS I GOT, I hope to finish this up and edit it for AO3 soon, Happy Halloween!