#and it got me thinking that so many agents have their pride that they wont bow to the sith

[eorzeashan]

Kismet

“Nine won't kneel,” Eight says, the sickly sterile glass-bottle green of the interrogation room casting them in a garish light. 

Keeper frowns, all hard lines and age. The lamp swinging overhead casts his sharp features in angular shadows, deepening the discomfort meant for detainees. Currently, the room was empty: it was just an old man and his spy. “They will, if they know what is good for them.”

“They won't. You taught them to be that way,”  Eight points out with the needle-thin end of his pipe, sitting daintily atop the durasteel table as if it were a chaise lounge, “like a good little Imperial. But not enough to bow to the Sith. They have their pride. Their independence. That is why they are,” He pauses. “the best".

Keeper arches a fine brow.

His weekly talks with the Cipher before him were something he secretly looked forward to, though the subject themselves varied from political headaches to anything as mundane as the weather. It was perhaps the only time he was allowed to parse the mystery of the man who called himself Eight- an agent who wore the moniker of a dead woman, and all that the title carried.

Very few were afforded such instances. Fewer still could keep up with his machinations or his mind. His method bred more enemies than friends, and Keeper often found himself assigning the minimum personnel to Eight on account of his difficult behavior.

Insights like these were a gift.

“If I didn't know any better, I would call you envious, Agent. Why the sudden interest?”

“Is it considered strange to be interested in our counterparts now?” Eight smiles at him.

Keeper finds it reminds him of the false face of a poisonous insect: permanently at ease, painted on, artificial, yet a warning and an invitation all at once. The smoke curls from his pipe, accentuating the silence in the air. 

“No. Perhaps not.” Keeper replies, his hands still clasped behind his back. 

“I'm not going to interfere, if that's what you're asking.” 

Keeper pinches his thin nose bridge, the inflection in Eight’s voice alerting him prematurely to what was heading into unpleasant conversational territory of the migraine kind. Eight always did know how to read between the lines, and years of dancing around one another had made him adept at knowing the old man’s silence better than his words. “Not directly. We wouldn't be having this conversation at all if you weren't. In fact, I’m ordering you as of right now to do nothing.” He locks eyes with him, leaving no room for argument in the steeliness of his gaze. They stare at each other until the younger gives in.

“Bah, you're no fun,” Eight whines, turning away from him like a petulant child. 

Keeper shakes his head. Eight was a handful and liked to make it everyone else's problem; it was how he was. Yet beneath that slacking attitude was a blade more sharply honed than any other, and woe befall those who failed to recognize its glint before it was too late. It made him effective. Impersonal. His instincts were good, if not better than any other in their division, and this made him as destructive as a precision-guided missile yet as accurate to his goals as a dart striking center. 

Something to do with his ecology, Keeper recalled, though the specifics escaped him; Eight was Near-Human, yet found the Empire's distaste for aliens a “waste of time” and so waved the human-passing card more often than not. 

His appearance was once again, a falsehood. His identity, a convenient lie. They spoke of him in dead-end rumors and baseless whispers that made him more of a ghost story inside Intelligence than a service member, the most prominent of these stories being that he had once been a Chiss woman who surgically altered her appearance to escape her previous life. 

Eight did nothing to discourage it.

He never was one to follow the rules amidst Imperial rigidity, bending them every chance he was given and otherwise. Keeper suspected this was why the higher-ups kept him most cycles on Dromund Kaas- fearing he’d stray far out of bounds the minute they gave him any length of leash. For that, he and Keeper came to know one another very well.

By the time he’d returned to the present outside of the quagmire of his mental dossier on the agent, Eight had ditched all decorum to lie flat on his back atop the durasteel table with his folded hands cushioning the back of his head. Getting bored, it seemed.

“Credit for your thoughts?” Keeper asks, surprised by his own pleasant tone amidst the emptiness. 

Eight exhales lungs full of smoke in reply. He removes one hand from behind his shock of white hair to hold his pipe between two fingers- “like a Red Light District whore,” some of the more…derogatory members of their branch had said. Said members had since been disciplined and lectured on their poor choice of verbage, but Keeper was inclined to agree that even the smallest of his habits were quite suggestive- no doubt intentional on his part. He made no effort to hide it. What was taught had become second nature, and in Eight’s case, he saw no division between his personal self and that of a Cipher.

He taps the ash from the thin pipe on the side of the table, extinguishing the thin trail of smoke that indicated their time was up.

“Let's make a deal,” Eight says, propping himself up on his elbows to twist around and look at Keeper with a heady light in his fawn eyes. It was routine. He’d propose a game, and they’d play accordingly. It was easier than arguing over mission specifics where Keeper knew Eight would force his own way regardless, and so he appealed to his penchant for gambling and let chance decide what path the agent chose to follow. 

“Go ahead.”

“If Nine doesn't kneel, transfer the investigation of Jadus to me.”

Keeper pauses, the words dying on his tongue as he looks at his agent with nothing short of bewilderment. “What are you asking of me, Eight?” What could you possibly want from a man like that? goes unsaid between them, but Eight hears it in the stressed twitch of his lower lip, and smiles still. 

His current fascination with Jadus was nothing new, but ever since he’d missed the debacle of the elusive Sith arriving at headquarters he’d been quiet. Moody, even. Planning something was an understatement- whatever was brewing in his head had been for weeks. Keeper almost didn't want to know.

Eight doesn't elaborate. That was how the game was played. Rules and rewards. No questions.

“If Nine doesn't kneel,” He repeats slowly, “I won't lift a finger.”

Keeper sticks him with a look that could wither water. “You are making me bet against the house.” 

Eight shrugs. “It was your call.”

Keeper sighs- a deep one that comes from the depths of his diaphragm. Loathe as he was to admit it, Eight was right: Nine shone as a figure free from the manipulative claws of the Sith. Officers respected them for keeping their head unbowed- their quiet dignity made them the pride of Intelligence and that of the Imperial military. Those who stood up to their superiors were few and far in-between, and Keeper made it a point that Nine’s autonomy was to be protected. He had made it his life’s work to keep them free of their influence, in the hopes that their Empire could grow beyond their reach. 

So why was Eight asking this of him?

“I don't want you anywhere near him.” Keeper shoots him down, the risk too great to be worth considering. He would not lose two Ciphers to a megalomaniac. 

“Keeper.” Eight’s tone takes on a deadly gravity, one that Keeper recognizes as the calm before the storm. 

“No, Eight.” Keeper holds his ground, his eyes stormy. He jabs an accusatory finger at the younger operative. “I bit my tongue when he came. I let him into our operations. He took our best- I will not give him more.”

Eight goes nonverbal. When he meets his unchallenged gaze again, there is darkness dawning in his eyes.

“A warrior protects his people from those who come from beyond the stars,” He speaks in the familiar purr of Cheunh, alien from the throat of one who lacked their blue skin, and Keeper sucks in a sharp intake of breath at the horror that overtakes him.

“Do not bring her into this!”

“To fight those who mean our way of life harm,” He continues, steady, like a mantra. His eyes bore into Keeper, seeing beyond him, digging beneath his skin and gently cutting him open layer by excruciating layer with all that they see in the twist of his aged features- all that he does not say. 

“Keeper.” He repeats, sitting upright with his legs dangling. One hand grips the edge of the table, the other- to Keeper’s surprise and dismay, is extending his pipe to him in an offering for peace. He lets it swivel on the balance of his finger around, the mouthpiece facing Keeper. All the while, the set resolution of his gaze never leaves him, and Keeper glares at the item as if it offends him grossly.

Not out of anger towards his agent, but towards these Force-damned circumstances and the games they must play.

Keeper bites back a swear, taking the pipe from Eight’s outstretched fingers and stuffing it hastily into his thinly pressed lips. He inhales with all the professionalism of one exposed to far too many questionable substances in his youth and the desperation of a man who needs it for the days to come.

“I will use him, as he will use me. But if we do not take this chance to earn his trust, we risk losing the most powerful of allies we could gain.” Eight speaks smooth and low, his voice as delicate as garrote wire and twice as cutting to Keeper. “I will join him. It matters not whether he cares to have me by his side- only if I can turn his power into ours. Nine will not have to give themselves up.”

Keeper ruminates, though he hardly needs to. When it comes to risk and beings of immense danger, no one is better suited. He saw the way Nine stiffened at Jadus’ selection, the way the pain and suffering of the rest of Intelligence affected them. Jadus would break them. 

Eight on the other hand, had nothing left inside to break. 

He spits out a stream of smoke through the corner of his mouth- quick and unpleasant, to show his dissatisfaction. Keeper turns the pipe back over to Eight. His eyes speak of regret. “Damn you. Damn you and him.”

“Curse me later,” Eight says, lighting a weak flame beneath his pipe, “you haven't even seen how the dice rolls.”

—-----------------

Nine limps out of Jadus’ office smelling of burnt fabric and ozone. Their pride is in tatters, for what good they did to preserve it. 

Eight watches from afar, hidden as blue collar personnel melted into the backdrop of the Sith sanctuary. 

He touches a finger to his private comm.

“It’s my win, Keeper.”

[factual-fantasy]

.....Guys..

Guys I cant cope with this, its too adorable.

I.. dude like.. for real.. like..

Transformers.. are made of metal.. and magnets.. stick to metallll...

...duuuude... I have so many cute headcannons now that I feel like my head is going to explode..

Imagine Miko.. She saves up her money and buys this sheet magnet one day right? She draws these cute little pictures, cuts them out, glues them to the magnet and cuts the magnet sheet to make her own personalized magnets.

She started with Bulkhead. She would discretely place the magnets on the back of his legs as high up as she could reach. He’s a bit clueless, cant actually see them unless he deliberately looks for them and cant feel them. So he has like 15 magnets stuck to his legs but he doesn’t know at all.

Miko manages to stick about 3 on Bumblebee before he started getting suspicious.

She gave some to Raf and Jack and they joined in.

The kids ended up turning it onto a game. They tried to see who could get the most magnets on different bots. Ratchet being worth the most points.

All three kids got about two magnets each on Optimus which was really hard to do because they had to somewhat climb on him and hope he didn’t move. Optimus knew from the very beginning exactly what they were doing and when they were doing it to him, but he thought it was adorable so pretended to be oblivious and stand extra still whenever he felt one of them climbing up on his pedes. Plus, Optimus was worth a lot of points in the game so he didn’t to make one of them lose because he caught them in the act.

Miko made one with a giant cute Bumblebee on it and put it on, well, duh, Bumblebee’s leg. He was later seen with a face full of pride and the magnet on his chest plate. 

Miko and Raf spent the night at Jacks house and Miko brought all her magnet gear. They took a sick day and spent all their time making magnets. They went to the base that weekend with these big heavy backpacks that were obviously filled with magnets. Every member of team Prime that knew about the magnet stuff pretended to be very busy and distracted that day.

Miko made a giant magnet that had a blushing Shrek on it and stuck it to Ratchet’s foot. He hasn’t noticed yet and she got over 1000 points for it.

Raf was placed on Ratchets shoulder at one point or another, and this absolute mad lad manages to stick a bright pink one with a flower on it right on the side of Ratchet’s head where he cant see or feel it. But of course all the other bots could see it clear as day and never said anything. Raf got 5000 points for getting a girly magnet on Ratchet’s head.

Arcee was the hardest to sneak up on, absolutely nobody could get a magnet on her. She was worth 6000 points because of the difficulty. At first she didn’t want one.. but then Bulkhead, and Bumblebee were gushing about how cute and creative the magnets were and how much they loved them. Arcee got a bit jealous, now she wants a pretty Miko magnet too..

But she cant just like, ask for one. So one day she pretended to be exhausted all day and constantly distracted and working on stuff. But as soon as a magnet mysteriously appeared on her ankle she suddenly had all the energy in the world and had a particular prep in her step. She now pretends to be tired when ever she wants another magnet.

Jack somehow managed to sneak a laugh/crying emoji magnet on the back of Smokescreens head. He still hasn’t noticed this particular magnet and keeps wondering why everyone keeps laughing literally behind his back.

When Wheeljack was around, Miko tried to sneak a magnet on him while he was sitting down with Bulkhead. But there’s no sneaking up on Jackie, so he instantly noticed her and was like, “The frag you doin??” And Bulkhead just whispered, “Duuuude you’re not supposed to notice.” Wheeljack kept the magnet because it said “foxy grandpa” on it, he doesn’t know what it means but he thought it sounded funny.

When Ratchet finally noticed the like, almost 10 magnets on his legs he was annoyed at first......

..But they’re so cute, and Miko worked so hard on them and they have little faces on them.. And it just.. It makes Miko so darn happy and giggly when she sees he still hasn’t noticed them yet. So he pretends to be the most oblivious of them all, letting the kids stick tons of magnets to him.

He gets to about 40 magnets before Optimus kind’a nudges him and goes, “I can no longer tell if you are actually oblivious to all the magnets, my friend.” And Ratchet just goes, “Don’t tell the kids I know, I don’t want to spoil their fun.” Optimus just nods and says, “Of course, would you do the same for me? I do not wish to spoil their game, I am still worth very many points.”

It genuinely took Ratchet forever to notice the pink flower magnet though. He didn’t remember putting Raf on his shoulder that one time and never thought that Raf would actually do something like that. He eventually noticed it when he saw that whenever anyone looked at him their faces would just light up.

.......................He left that one there and pretended to not notice it because it made Optimus genuinely smile every, single, time, he looked at it.

One time Ratchet was called out to a mission with about 40 magnets stuck to his legs, he returned with only about 16 and had a crushed expression on his face. He was in a horrible mood after that mission, despite how well it went. Later the remaining 16 magnets disappeared too, Miko thought Ratchet had finally discovered them and just threw them out. She sheepishly went up to him and asked him if that was true.

Ratchet looked appalled and said, “Absolutely not! Why would I throw them out??” He brought his left arm down and flipped up his armored plating to reveal the 16 remaining magnets all neatly organized and stuck to the underside of the plate. “I didn’t want to lose any more of them, they wont get lost or damaged here.” Safe to say Miko didn’t think Ratchet cared and teared up a little.

At one point Miko made special jumbo magnets for each member of team prime. Optimus got a bright red one that was covered in blue glitter, it said “BOOS MAN” in big gold letters. She misspelled boss.. Arcee’s was baby blue with the word “QUEEN” poorly spelled in cursive with hot pink marker. Bumblebees was a bright yellow one with black stripes that had the word “STINGER” written on it, but you cant really tell because the words were also black. Ratchet had a white one that had an orange cross on it and had the words “Best Medic” written very carefully and neatly with black sharpie. Bulkhead’s was the biggest one, it was a bright green one that said “My Best Friend” on it. It had a tiny doodle of Miko and Bulk’s faces on it too.

Optimus smiled at his, said it was lovely and hid it some where to keep it safe, but occasionally he could be seen wearing it around the base. Same thing with Arcee, she said she loved it and wore it occasionally. Bumblebee wore his with pride on his chest plate around the base but took it off before he went on missions. Ratchet cried in private over his and hid it somewhere, occasionally on a good day the magnet could be spotted on his left chest plate. Bulkhead also cried a bit but not in private. He put it on his chest plate and said he’d treasure it forever.

Miko eventually ran out of magnets and money, so Agent Fowler came in clutch and got her like a 15 foot heavy duty magnet sheet and these mega big scissors so she could keep making them.

Ultra Magnus told Wheeljack to take the “foxy grandpa” magnet off his shoulder pad because it was “distracting”. Wheeljack looked at Ultra Magnus, then at Miko, then at Ultra Magnus. He said okay and took the magnet off his shoulder and slapped it right on his forehead.

Miko laughed so hard she nearly passed out. Ultra Magus said to take it off and Wheeljack was like “make me you coward”.

Wheeljack asked specifically for biggest, most ugly and obnoxious Magnet she had. Miko returned with a diner plate sized baked Berry Benson magnet that she didn’t have the chance to use. Wheeljack put it on his shoulder pad where it could best be seen and refused to take it off JUST to make the kids laugh and annoy Ultra Magnus.

I would keep going but honestly this post is getting too long and if I try to keep going my brain is going to melt from the cuteness.

♡(ಥ﹏ಥ)♡

[tanricksfanficks]

Void S

Dying is always the easiest part. It happens fast. It's not without sensation and yet formless in feeling. If your senses allow, feel your self stretched thin in every direction yet compressed unable  to grasp at anything. When it happens you probably wont know it even did, that is unless you are a capsuleer. Waking up. This is everything I fear. More than the entropy that will consume all those I love, more than facing the contents of my wallet, more than being stranded in space and dying of hunger. First comes the light, it is radiant beyond measure. All at once you become conscious of everything you have ever known downloaded from countless clones who all met the same fate. Ten million neurons firing all at once forming every emotional pattern, every muscle memory, and every single nerve connection simultaneously. No pain can compare to this, or so I thought.

I was stolen at some point, as it was customary for all capsuleers, and for the most part so were any memories of my youth. They insisted during pre-op that it was “necessary to make room”. The concept, as it was told to me at the academy, is that the conscious mind is anchored at a specific frequency and can be copied through several layers of scanning. A small tool that acts as a catalyst is implanted to transmit this information. During the time they have you under they upload what amounts to a collection of electrical impulses and variables that make up who you are to a database and erase what the deem “unnecessary”

Becoming a capsuleer is no accident.  The selection process is a combination of biological compatibility that is determined at birth and progress closely monitored by whatever corporation you happen to belong to. No one person is truly free, though agents and capsuleers are thought to be the most open ended professions. This is only true in part. While after your training is complete you are ultimately left to do what you would like, without our shared cooperation and influence in this vast waste it would slowly wilt away. These are things they look for during schooling and on your tests. They force you into situations with candidates doomed to fail and see how far you can take them. Despite definite hierarchies among the corporation we are all trained to be leaders. They test the boundaries of our resourcefulness constantly and stretch our creative focus.   

Your final test is a state of the art simulation. You are not given warning. This is the first time you understand the control they have over your consciousness. One moment you could be in class, or in a bed, or even on the toilet. The very next moment, the only thing you are aware of is an impending sense of urgency and the sounds of a commander hailing you. After finishing their menial tasks and showing you can operate under extreme duress they let you dock at home for the first time and the simulated scientist you rescue gives you some information regarding your results and provide you with a list of agents. While I have only heard stories, this test is rumored to be used in every system for its efficacy. For reasons not understood they cant seem to wipe out your demeanor. I'm still not sure how someone as lazy as I am made it here. My name is Nifahn and this is my story. 

1.Cash Flow For Capsoleer's

BROADCAST: WARP TO LUCIAN ENGLEWIND WITHIN 0 KM. Roaring into every com-channel the moment had finally come. I reacted instinctively and aligned to the last read coordinates with only a 10 second delay. '9.9 AU TILL BUBBLE COLLAPSE'  Aura read out in her familiar calming voice. Before my scanners and hull could compensate for the loss of momentum I felt the familiar shudder move through my hull my pod and my organs.  An Interdictor. Far too late for me to change course I frantically signaled the remaining fleet members coordinates outside of the Interdictor's bubble range before we all met the same fate. Interdictor's are built for one purpose; stopping you where you are and preventing you from warping at a much greater range and efficiency than traditional warp scramblers. I knew quickly after coughing up blood that this clone wouldn't last the day and if we were going to survive someone would take the fall. 'Inevitably' I thought as I flipped on my after burner and aligned for the Interdictor and readied my guns.

Just as I was confident in the necessity for sacrifice to save Lucian's MACH V- Thrasher, I felt an immense yet comforting shadow. Melkezedech's raven nearly eclipsed the small star behind me and without even glancing at my scanners I recognized the torpedoes flying past my own ship and crashing into our new friend. “ Now this is a party bois” I heard called over the Fleet-Com. Scopio in his usual fashion finally decided to join and warped directly into the interdiction bubble undoubtedly killing him instantly as his clone did not respond or even attempt to eject before he got caught in the crossfire and his ship was turned to ribbons. BROADCAST: TARGET: ENDER WIGGING. “YEAH IM ON IT” I yelled into Fleet-Com in response to Lucian's broadcast. My scanners finally compensating for the anomaly brought up details on all of the targets I was able to scan within range. “REMOTE REPS ON LUCIAN” I called out realizing how little time we really had when suddenly the worst happened. My scanner started to acknowledge the ever growing number of signatures in the surrounding area “AMBUSH!!!!!!” I bellowed into Fleet-Com. As if in response ships of varying sizes and quality started uncloaking as a unit and hell was upon us. “A Gallente naval fleet this deep in Caldari space?” Melkezedech said trembling. “This could only mean one thing Fleet Commander Lucian” I called out knowing what we all were afraid to say. The treaty was broken, and we were at war.

After an eternity that was only a matter of seconds a communication channel was broadcast to each of us “Hailing Fleet COACA This is Commander Hans of the Gallente Federation you are hereby ordered  to stand down your station and your clones have been destroyed your fleet and your commanders captive”. 'Mortality?' I thought mockingly 'this is turning out to be a better day than I anticipated' looking down and seeing the blood still fresh on my sleeve. “You have one chance to comply.” He said. “We have use for good pilots and I would hate to waste that for your pride”. 'Live to fight tomorrow' I saw on my personal com-channel with Lucian. I knew I was fading and despite embracing the final rest many times over today was not the day I would die. “Calling  Commander Hans, this is Squad-Leader  Nifahn requesting medical assistance. I caught the interdiction bubble at near maximum warp speed.” His response was well met. “ Having survived that you earned it. You may dock on our command ship where help will be on the way”. 'Wher-' I thought before the behemoth uncloaked and completely eclipsed any light coming from the nearby star dwarfing both fleets combined. Docking in my first command ship was everything I imagined. The help was already at the door and with my job done I closed my eyes and fell deep asleep.

Waking up. Any injury I sustained was brilliantly taken care of, or I just had the smoothest clone transfer in my life. Upon surveying the room I found my self in the company Melkezedech who looked very little like we had just lost our fleet. “ Welcome back. Do you want the good news or the bad news?” He asked. I glanced at my wrist and affirmed that this was the clone from the battle having been healed marked by the number one drawn on my wrist indicating how old my clone was. One being a week This was a considerable time for the life of a clone, at least for my self. My main source of contribution to our fleet was gate checking. Our station had a struggling market and in an effort to become more efficient started policing and removing anyone who made the the main trade routes unsafe. This became exhausting the more available cloning became. After taking some time to reflect on the events prior I chuckled, “If there is good news to be heard then it cannot wait”.  

Lucian walked in smirking like every other time I have encountered him. “We are all free men, so long as we maintain a channel with our would be captors and respond to distress calls from any Gallente relay. We are also jump locked to this system”. “Clones?”I asked.  “They are now compliments of the Federation. For the most part our job hasnt changed.” Lucian told me with a laugh. “The bad news.” Melkezedech said cutting Lucian's laugh short. “The war is already over. All reports say The Forge is the final stronghold and its folding fast”. My head began throbbing. “I couldn't have possibly been  out that long” I pleaded. “There was a betrayal at the capital. All of our commanders were given false information about a mass invasion force that ended up being a series of traps. General Nivek has taken command and as far as anyone can tell is the only remaining obstacle for the complete annihilation of the Caldari Council”. I took a deep breath and tried to find an answer. There was no scenario that they would succeed at escaping their captors and making it to our remaining forces. “I think its time we get you to your agent.” Lucian said breaking a long silence. “So that's it Fleet Commander Lucian?” I said mockingly. Lucian looked back for the first time his face reflecting the situation we were in. “Well we are alive anyway”.

[bundeslihaha]

To React in a Flash: A Drabble Collection

A few (cracky) impressions of the year 2015, from both men and women's leagues... enjoy!

x

(Featuring: VfB Stuttgart, Karlsruher SC, VfB II, Frauen-Effzeh, Frauen-KSC, RB Leipzig, Dynamo Dresden, and FC Ingolstadt 04!)

A New Force Awakens

RB Leipzig emerged out of the theater with tears in his eyes, ignoring Ingolstadt’s whines. He couldn’t care less that the older club had to take many small steps to keep up with just one of his ground-eating strides, he just needed to come to terms with the fact that neither Mara Jade, Ben Skywalker, the Solos, Xizor, Thrawn, nor secret agent Wrenga Jixton was canon now. Fuck, why did Jar Jar Abrams had to do this? Yeah, it was far better than tacky Phantom Menace, maybe some fans saw it as an apology and all, but it was far from perfect. Heck, it was a fucking ripoff of the original Star Wars, even if Bandwagon Inge didn’t know that! Just because it has better CGI… and is more ‘progressive’… bullshit.

Fuck, he needed to meditate or something on this change. He wasn’t going to throw an emo fit like that stupid, even-Bayern-is-more-intimidating Kylo Ren, though. He wasn’t fucking ready!

It was ironic for a club like Die roten Bullen to think about this kind of thing as he stormed out of the movie theater , but damn Lucasfilm – or Disney – to just disappoint a whole group of fans just to milk the cash cow! Not to mention the upcoming Han Solo film, or Rogue One, whatever it was…

CRASH!!!

Leipzig collided with a fellow mall-goer, sending his unfinished popcorn flying in the air, raining over the three of them (panicked, little Inge had run to RB’s aid, but he was just plain useless.)

Cringing, the two adults stood up at the same time, RB pulling the Bavarian up as he did. “Sorry, Sir–“

When they heard each other’s voice, they broke off in unison–

“Dynamo?”

“Soda?!”

“What are you doing here?!”

Dynamo's red eyes and Leipzig's blue ones bore into each other, leaving poor Ingolstadt alone with his BB-8 plushie.

“Watching Star Wars,” spat the Dresden club.

“What?!” the Retortenverein roared, “we couldn’t have been on the same theater, could we?!”

Dynamo folded his hands over his chest. “Show me your ticket.”

RB handed the other club his Premier Pass with a scoff, knowing that he couldn’t afford it. “Inge’s dad paid for it.” The lie rolled easily from his tongue, and he paid his fellow ‘plastic club’ no heed.

The blond-and-black-haired club, unfortunately, saw through it, what with the condescending scowl contorting his angular features, or maybe it was his words, “Whatever you say, you’re still a money club with no fucking tradition, so cut the crap, Soda.”

“And whatever you say, you’re still a third division club who’ll probably go bankrupt in a few years,” Leipzig retorted, “now give me your ticket.”

“No need,” Dresden said gruffly, returning the ticket as hastily as he could, as if it was deadly radioactive poison that could turn him into goo, “like a true fan, I go for the actual movie, not for the massaging chairs and whatever posh shit you two bandwagons eat inside.”

“I’m not a bandwagon!” Ingolstadt whined.

The club with the record-breaking banner not-so-playfully smacked Germany’s tiniest club in the head. “Shut up.”

“Hey – you can’t do that, I’ll tell my Papa!” the crybaby continued, “and you can never, ever bully us again!”

While the two clubs went on with the useless banter, RB Leipzig focused into himself, calming his mind – the Light Side of the Force called to him, whispering calming tones as he breathed in… and out. And in… and out. He shouldn’t be so angry… but stars, a whole fucking expanded universe! From semi-canon references with compelling stories, memorable characters, and world-shattering tech, was now mere… fanfictions. Those mouse-controlled bastards may have called it ‘Legends’, but…

SLAP!

“Oi! Red Bull!”

He blinked, barely registering the pain at first, but a second later, his nerves decided to be jerks and made him rub it uselessly.

SGD shot him an even dirtier look.. “What the fuck are you high on?”

“What?”

“You were fucking standing in front of a furniture store with your eyes closed,” the Dresdener continued, “what else would you call that, huh?”

“Oh I know!” Inge piped up from under the grown ups’ armpits, “he’s meditating! With the Force!”

Dynamo started laughing. “Are you freaking kidding me?!”

“Well… I…” Leipzig paused, fighting his blush in vain, “I was just thinking about the EU.”

Silence.

The 2009-born club swallowed his pride – maybe the violent Traditionsverein could be civil in this common ground. “It’s just a shame,” he continued, “that Episode VII throws away the effort of tens, maybe hundreds of EU writers… just like that!”

The older Saxony club ‘hmm’ed mock-thoughtfully. “I second that,” he replied, “but you know… it reminds me of your situation, Soda.”

“How?” Leipzig wondered aloud.

“Imagine SSV Markranstädt as the EU,” Dynamo said in a low, dramatic voice as they walked to a nearby restaurant on the pint-sized Bundesligist’s insistence, “the fruit of thirty years of labor with thousands of fans, fanfics, and merchandise.”

RB let out a growl, knowing full well where this conversation was going.

“And you, the money bastard who bought his license and replaced him, erasing years of tradition, is The Force Awakens,” the 3. Liga club paused, gauging Soda’s reaction, “so it’s fucking ironic that you hate the new, glamorous Star Wars while being Mateshit’s new, glamorous rent boy.”

Ingolstadt stared at the two eastern German personifications, from Red Bull’s clenched fists to his glowering eyes to Dynamo's casual steps and eye-to-eye smirk, and shuddered.

It can’t be the Dark Side, can it?

Social Media Shenanigans

1. FC Köln - its women’s team, to be exact, logged into her account, giddy to share (the photo of) her first win in what seemed like ages. Sure, it was ‘only’ DFB-Pokal, but a win was a win, right? Especially against the Baden Cup winners!

  (photo)

MsEffzeh SIEG IN KARLSRUHE! 4:1, baby! - with @karli_ksc :3

#sieg #victory #dfbcup #dfbpokal #football #fußball #soccer #koe #effzeh #ksc #happy

 Not a minute later, the Rhine club received notifications from clubs she barely knew:

  GeissbockVIII , StuttgarterSnarker and VfB_jungundwild liked your photo.

StuttgarterSnarker and Karlsruh_94 commented on your photo.

  Out of curiosity, she decided to check them out.

  StuttgarterSnarker Congratulations, kid! >:)

Karlsruh_94 @StuttgarterSnarker @MsEffzeh she’s an oberligist, big deal

StuttgarterSnarker @Karlsruh_94 Someone’s a sore loser, isn’t he? @MsEffzeh Remind me to treat you sometime, eh?

  Köln giggled like a lovestruck teenager.

  MsEffzeh @GeissbockVIII ayyyyyyy~ @StuttgarterSnarker awww, thanks!! <3 @Karlsruh_94 a win is a win :p

  After replying to the boys’ comments, she switched tabs to DFB’s website to watch the highlights of her game… Karlsruhe’s Mädels played well, but they were surely no match for hers!

Just when the second goal touched the southern German club’s net, she got a new notification. If it was possible, her face lit up even more. I hope it’s Stuttgart, she thought, mouth watering at the prospect of being treated to delicious food, or even better, a new costume for Alaaf!

Click!

  karli_ksc commented on your photo.

  “Aww, it’s not Stuttgart,” she lamented. But… was the sister going to be as butthurt as her brother? Better click the link, then.

  karli_ksc @Karlsruh_94 COULD YOU PLEASE STOP EMBARRASSING ME FOR ONCE

  The Cologne-born woman doubled over in laughter. This banter might just be the cherry on top of the whipped cream that was her victory!

  Karlsruh_94 @karli_ksc but he’s bullying you! and i’m your big brother, i should protect you

StuttgarterSnarker @Karlsruh_94 @karli_ksc Awww, the joys of having a baby sister!

Karlsruh_94 @StuttgarterSnarker shut the fuck up, asshole

karli_ksc @Karlsruh_94 @StuttgarterSnarker I DON'T NEED TO BE CODDLED OK I’M NOT A BABY

StuttgarterSnarker Ah, I wish I had a sister… (sigh emoticon)

StuttgarterSnarker @VfB_jungundwild No offense, little bro.

VfB_jungundwild @StuttgarterSnarker :( :( :(

Karlsruh_94 @StuttgarterSnarker she’d disown you (middle finger emoticon)

karli_ksc @Karlsruh_94 I’M DISOWNING YOU

StuttgarterSnarker @karli_ksc Sweet!

  Wait, scratch that, Köln grinned, leaning back further on her bed, it definitely was.

One Thing For Sure

“Miss Hertha, how would you explain your third place finish in this Hinrunde?”

Hertha Berlin flashed the reporter a warm smile, as she was wont to do. “There are a lot of factors at play, which will be explained further by the coach,” she intoned, “but one thing’s for sure,” she exchanged a glance with the Hungarian sitting beside her, “Dardai is the best Pal we’ve had in years.”

  (End Hinrunde)

EU: Expanded Universe And yes, I know RB only 'replaced' SSV for one season, but Dresden doesn't bother with his research :p

[moderncavepictures]

South Georgia On My Mind

My fellow spirited travelers,

I was getting antsy after three days on a ship at open sea. Though the program included seminars and lectures, yoga, meals and mandatory expedition briefings, my legs called for some movement on terra firma. South Georgia was the motivation for my choosing this particular expedition. I had decided on a shorter excursion, on a smaller ship, with a different company. My adventure agent, a sweetheart called Olivia at Expedition Trips in Seattle, had provided several amazing options that all sounded good to me. None of them were Quark (the operator of my current expedition). As the witching hour grew near, she called on the day of my decision to tell me about one more option to Antarctica, one trip that included South Georgia Island. “It’s my dream destination” She described. She went on to add that folks who come back having visited both can’t shut up about South Georgia Island.

The sentiment was confirmed by the first guide I met on the boat, Marla. She, with subsequent character witnesses, made it clear that this stop is how the guides chart their season calendars. The two Ornithologists on the ship were afflicted with perma-smiles. So it was in this context that expectations were constructed. Also building on the experience was the uncertainness which which we were to calibrate our experience. Certain activities were 50/50 in the chance of actually happening. Everything this far south is dependent on the elements. Weather can turn on a button. We got our first hint of this on day one at six in the morning. We popped out for a Zodiac cruise around Elsehul Bay to check out some Macaroni Penguins and Elephant Seals. Intended to be an hour cruising around the bay, our groups got called back to the Ocean Endeavor early because the wind had shifted and swells got rough. We wouldn’t ruminate much on the fifteen minutes lost, because our next venture out of the ship was to Salisbury Plain, a King Penguin colony.

The density of penguin bodies on the beach is comparable to an enormous music festival. Think penguin Bonnaroo, I half expected to see a stage set up with a penguin rock band playing under the glacier. Penguins, though, were made for the water. They’re one of the only sea birds to use their wings as fins. On land, they are incredibly awkward, their legs only long enough to shuffle around like a squad of winged, waddling jelly beans. Also, they have no natural land predators, so the beach is a safe zone, and humans are of the utmost curiosity. That was the first of three King Penguin colonies we’d visit on South Georgia Island. The population of the largest is over 150,000, a sea of penguins. Pun intended.

In rotation, we also visited three abandoned whaling stations. Whales were nearly killed off during the height of industrial Antarctic Whaling. In the first half of the 20th century nearly 1.5 million were killed, so many that the inglorious end of the practice in the Southern Ocean came not from responsibility/sustainability, but from no more whales. But they are making a comeback. And conservation has been a theme of our trip. Humans have significantly altered life in this part of the world. Rats, introduced by whalers and supply ships, devastated the ecosystem of South Georgia Island. Fortunately, the island’s glaciers did their part to compartmentalize them. In 2011, the South Georgia/Falkland Island’s government commenced an immense de-mousing of the island, which has been a huge success so far (the notoriously picky South Georgia Pipit, the world’s southernmost songbird, wont lay eggs if rats or mice are present. It just started breeding again on the Cumberland Sound). One of the particular features of Quark is their inclusion of science in their expeditions. We have several scientists (five marine biologists!) on board, available at any time to answer questions. Our vessel also gave passage to two penguin researchers from Ushuaia to South Georgia, so they can continue their doctorates.

Another major theme is polar explorer Ernest Shackleton. Among other endeavors, Shackleton made four Antarctic expeditions as crew member or leader and is buried in South Georgia Island. We toasted with him with whiskey at his grave on what would’ve been his 143rd birthday. Accompanying the guests is lecturer and historian Jonathan Shackleton and several of his family members and friends, distant relatives of the explorer. I have been grateful to experience part of this family’s connection to their predecessor and to witness the pride they carry in their association with a man who charted new territory. At other moments the deification has been singular, if not awkward. Shackleton, although a tough-as-they-come respected leader, was not far behind Robert F Scott in his capacity for poor planning. Only through the books that I’ve brought along and those hidden in the ship’s library have I learned the details of Amundsen’s mission to the pole, of Cook’s expeditions, of Peary and Nansen and Ross. The English school of exploration seems to have prioritized improvisation and lack of consideration for the elements. Innovation, especially those of foreign sources, seem to have repulsed the British Navy system. This idea is double-breasted because the great escapes of these explorers, stories that make legends, could have perhaps been easily prevented with just a few more measures of preparation.(Example: Shackleton abandoned his ship, the Endurance, after pack ice had crushed it. They made it to an island called Elephant Island and then Shackleton with four subordinates paddled 800 miles to rescue in South Georgia. However, pack ice was a known quantity at the time, he selected a ship wholly unsuited to deal with the pressure of the ice).

Of course this is all conjecture. At Ushuaia, we were moored along a ship called the Fram. This expedition is run by Norwegian company Hertigruten. The Fram is a significant moniker because the ship of Ronald Amundsen was also called by the same name. He borrowed it from Freidtof Nansen, possibily the most preeminent Norwegian explorer. It’s tempting to wonder what lessons the guests on that ship are receiving. It merits mentioning that Jonathon Shackleton acknowledges these elements, and between Amundsen and Shackleton there seems to have been a healthy respect. Still, along with dogs, the guy brought ponies to the Antarctic to haul sledges. Ponies. On ice. Think about it. That said, there’s a compelling characteristic to be admired in Shackleton that is rare for an explorer of his era and caliber. When his Nimrod expedition reached ‘furthest south’ in 1909, they sat just 97 nautical miles from the pole. He could’ve been the first human being to set foot on the South Pole. He made the bold decision to turn away, plikely saving his own life and that of his team. “My wife would prefer a live donkey to a dead lion.” As my new friend on the trip concisely put it “I don’t admire people for surviving. The capacity of people to survive is legendary. There is no choice. I admire people who make a choice, when they have one.” This concept is celebrated in the consensus that Shackleton’s decision is still considered as one of the bravest in exploration history.

South Georgia’s unique flora and fauna is currently an involuntary microcosm for the rest of the planet. Because it is so isolated and segmented, scientists can easily track changes in the ecosystem. As the Earth warms, the base levels of life become extremely vulnerable. Penguins, whales and seals all eat krill. If the krill die out because of threatened plankton levels and human fishing (krill oil is a substitute for fish oil), all of those species are affected. It then becomes unsettling to think about what a large scale die-off would mean. We’re all complicit in the consequences.

Which is why I’m on this ship to begin with. To see this environment in the current state. The International Association of Antarctic Tour Operators, a self-formed body of Tour Companies that formed to promote best-practices, is an incredible body. They have set guidelines for biosecurity, sustainable tourism practices and regulate how often places can be visited and by how many people. Last year Antarctica had 30,000 visitors. They expect that number to increase to 100,000 annually in the next five years or so. Right now we are in the Drake Passage on the way to Elephant Island. Yesterday, a pod of Fin Whales swam next to the ship. Today, it started snowing. We’re all still digesting our South Georgia memories as we get mentally prepared for our blitz on the 7th continent. It would be a challenge to ascribe a favorite moment to our three days on the island. However, there were several little vignettes that will live in my mind for quite some time. Here I have to give credit to my friend Kristina, who taught me a failsafe method to mentally recording. 1. Close your eyes; 2. Inhale to the height of your breath, hold; 3. Open your eyes, breathe out. That’s how you take a mind photo.The first mind photo captured was on the stern deck as we left a lit up Ushuaia. The second came as I stood on Salisbury Plain, surrounded by seals and King Penguins.

The latest was just now, on the same back deck, surrounded by uncomfortably large waves and snow. With nearly three hours at St Andrews King Penguin colony, I gave myself ten minutes to meditate. Prodded by our expedition leader Cheli, I’ve been trying to be diligent about actualizing moments. It’s tempting to spend all of one’s time taking pictures and videos, but forgetting the time actually spent. It’s as if your memory becomes those digital images. The meditation will be memorialized by the sounds. There is a magical feeling when one can hear webbed footsteps meander by while 150,000 penguins are actively attempting to overtalk each other. When I opened my eyes, three Kings were directly in front of me, blankly staring at the curious humanoid slightly dressed like them (our jackets are yellow).

At Stromness whaling station, two intrepid events inspired their immortalization in print. The first was of an anthropological interest. I happened to wander down the beach a bit further than our guides would have preferred. When I became aware of my error, I turned to walk back toward the group. In my field of view was a grouping of twenty yellow/black clad guests taking photos of twenty yellow/black penguins staring back at them. Whom was watching who? Christian, a like-minded German fellow served as witness to the event, and together, we made up a reality in which King Penguin guides brought other Penguins to this beach to view rare, stupid humans like us. So goes the penguin guide: “There are yellow humans and red humans*. The red humans we see return from time to time. The yellow humans come once and then we never see them again. The have big machines attached to their faces and they click a button and it eats their soul. The only reasonable explanation is the the red humans lure the yellow ones here, and then take them back to that giant floating whale and murder them for fuel. And then the whole process begins again.”

*Our guides at times wear red on the outings.

In keeping with the anthropomorphism (If you don’t know me, I have a real problem assigning human behaviors and features to animals and even inanimate objects), I was privy to a special interaction that will stay with me for long past this and other trips. Through this beach ran a small stream in which a plethora of seal pups were having adolescent fun. In the estuary, a tight knit gang of six seal pups were messing with the penguins hanging out on the sand. The relationship was not one of danger, because the pups would probably get an eye pecked out, but of total shenanigans. They were like grandkids fucking with a crabby grandpa. They’d group up, then try and surround and distract a grouchy penguin, while the others suck up behind it. The penguins annoyance at the whole affair seemed to egg on the pups. Unsuccessful in another attempt, they’d retreat into the huddle and counterattack in bliss. My personal experience in similar activities tells me that the real purpose of this trick was to instigate the penguins and draw their ire, because I believe the real joy for these fur balls was in dodging with flips and jumps the piercing thrusts of beaks.

With these recorded gems I leave South Georgia Island as a lucky and grateful not-murdered yellow human. On to Antarctica!