#are they just projecting the appearance of their former human hosts?

[peerless-cucumber]

the vague ultra human host situation is driving me insane

[mariacallous]

The first thing to say about the hate and scorn currently directed at the mainstream US media is that they worked hard to earn it. They’ve done so by failing, repeatedly, determinedly, spectacularly to do their job, which is to maintain their independence, inform the electorate, and speak truth to power. While the left has long had reasons to dismiss centrist media, and the right has loathed it most when it did do its job well, the moderates who are furious at it now seem to be something new – and a host of former editors, media experts and independent journalists have been going after them hard this summer.

Longtime journalist James Fallows declares that three institutions – the Republican party, the supreme court, and the mainstream political press – “have catastrophically failed to ‘meet the moment’ under pressure of [the] Trump era”. Centrist political reformer and columnist Norm Ornstein states that these news institutions “have had no reflection, no willingness to think through how irresponsible and reckless so much of our mainstream press and so many of our journalists have been and continue to be”.

Most voters, he says, “have no clue what a second Trump term would actually be like. Instead, we get the same insipid focus on the horse race and the polls, while normalizing abnormal behavior and treating this like a typical presidential election, not one that is an existential threat to democracy.”

Lamenting the state of the media recently on X, Jeff Jarvis, another former editor and newspaper columnist, said: “What ‘press’? The broken and vindictive Times? The newly Murdochian Post? Hedge-fund newspaper husks? Rudderless CNN or NPR? Murdoch’s fascist media?”

These critics are responding to how the behemoths of the industry seem intent on bending the facts to fit their frameworks and agendas. In pursuit of clickbait content centered on conflicts and personalities, they follow each other into informational stampedes and confirmation bubbles.

They pursue the appearance of fairness and balance by treating the true and the false, the normal and the outrageous, as equally valid and by normalizing Republicans, especially Donald Trump, whose gibberish gets translated into English and whose past crimes and present-day lies and threats get glossed over. They neglect, again and again, important stories with real consequences. This is not entirely new – in a scathing analysis of 2016 election coverage, the Columbia Journalism Review noted that “in just six days, The New York Times ran as many cover stories about Hillary Clinton’s emails as they did about all policy issues combined in the 69 days leading up to the election” – but it’s gotten worse, and a lot of insiders have gotten sick of it.

In July, ordinary people on social media decided to share information about the rightwing Project 2025 and did a superb job of raising public awareness about it, while the press obsessed about Joe Biden’s age and health. NBC did report on this grassroots education effort, but did so using the “both sides are equally valid” framework often deployed by mainstream media, saying the agenda is “championed by some creators as a guide to less government oversight and slammed by others as a road map to an authoritarian takeover of America”. There is no valid case it brings less government oversight.

In an even more outrageous case, the New York Times ran a story comparing the Democratic and Republican plans to increase the housing supply – which treated Trump’s plans for mass deportation of undocumented immigrants as just another housing-supply strategy that might work or might not. (That it would create massive human rights violations and likely lead to huge civil disturbances was one overlooked factor, though the fact that some of these immigrants are key to the building trades was mentioned.)

Other stories of pressing concern are either picked up and dropped or just neglected overall, as with Trump’s threats to dismantle a huge portion of the climate legislation that is both the Biden administration’s signal achievement and crucial for the fate of the planet. The Washington Post editorial board did offer this risibly feeble critique on 17 August: “It would no doubt be better for the climate if the US president acknowledged the reality of global warming – rather than calling it a scam, as Mr Trump has.”

While the press blamed Biden for failing to communicate his achievements, which is part of his job, it’s their whole job to do so. The Climate Jobs National Resource Center reports that the Inflation Reduction Act has created “a combined potential of over $2tn in investment, 1,091,966 megawatts of clean power, and approximately 3,947,670 jobs”, but few Americans have any sense of what the bill has achieved or even that the economy is by many measures strong.

Last winter, the New York Times columnist Paul Krugman, who has a Nobel prize in economics, told Greg Sargent on the latter’s Daily Blast podcast that when he writes positive pieces about the Biden economy, his editor asks “don’t you want to qualify” it; “aren’t people upset by X, Y and Z and shouldn’t you be acknowledging that?”

Meanwhile in an accusatory piece about Kamala Harris headlined When your opponent calls you ‘communist,’ maybe don’t propose price controls?, a Washington Post columnist declares in another case of bothsiderism: “Voters want to blame someone for high grocery bills, and the presidential candidates have apparently decided the choices are either the Biden administration or corporate greed. Harris has chosen the latter.” The evidence that corporations have jacked up prices and are reaping huge profits is easy to find, but facts don’t matter much in this kind of opining.

It’s hard to gloat over the decline of these dinosaurs of American media, when a free press and a well-informed electorate are both crucial to democracy. The alternatives to the major news outlets simply don’t reach enough readers and listeners, though the non-profit investigative outfit ProPublica and progressive magazines such as the New Republic and Mother Jones, are doing a lot of the best reporting and commentary.

Earlier this year, when Alabama senator Katie Britt gave her loopy rebuttal to Biden’s State of the Union address, it was an independent journalist, Jonathan Katz, who broke the story on TikTok that her claims about a victim of sex trafficking contained significant falsehoods. The big news outlets picked up the scoop from him, making me wonder what their staffs of hundreds were doing that night.

A host of brilliant journalists young and old, have started independent newsletters, covering tech, the state of the media, politics, climate, reproductive rights and virtually everything else, but their reach is too modest to make them a replacement for the big newspapers and networks. The great exception might be historian Heather Cox Richardson, whose newsletter and Facebook followers give her a readership not much smaller than that of the Washington Post. The tremendous success of her sober, historically grounded (and footnoted!) news summaries and reflections bespeaks a hunger for real news.

[bodydoublegame]

hello! it's amy! if you follow my personal account, you'd already know what this is. body double is a side project that i do for fun inbetween infamous, just for when i need to refresh my brain! i decided to make a blog for it so i don't flood my personal account with this game lol.

This game is a side project that I do when I need inspiration for Infamous. That means development on it will be sloooow. Infamous is my main priority right now!

Body Double is a an interactive story that takes place in a cyberpunk inspired world where top secret operatives of an elusive Cypress Industries have the unique ability to jump bodies.

Agent Sawyer is the best Agent in the business, tasked with protecting Cypress Industries and all of its assets.

Until three weeks ago.

Framed for the president's murder and in a last-ditch effort to save their ass, they switch bodies with our regular, ordinary IT-tech MC...who is now walking in the body of a suspect the entire city is looking for. Stuck in a citywide manhunt, MC is now on the run with a pesky Agent who refuses to tell them where their body is. To make matters worse, Agent Sawyer's subconcious is stuck in their head, speaking to them like a pest MC can't shake off.

Wonderful.

With a help of a host of characters from Sawyer's past and MC's present, MC will have to throw themself in a conspiracy to clear Sawyer's name and get back to normal. Relatively. No pressure.

The usual IF stuff: customize your mc from personality to appearance. Unsurprisingly from me, BODY DOUBLE is a character driven story with a focus on relationship dynamics, angst and drama...but this time with action.

Mold Sawyer in the prologue and be stuck with them in your head for the rest of the story. Are they humorous? Stoic? Vulgar? Emotional? Arrogant? You decide.

Romance characters like Sawyer's ex (messy) or the human-mech hybrid trying to kill you (messy) or your measly IT tech friend who has no idea what the hell is going on but they're a trooper. Or an AI. Your call.

Try to uncover a conspiracy and solve a murder in a cyberpunk setting.

Don't die?

SAWYER [RO][customizable]: the agent accused of murder. The wires get crossed when they switch bodies with you, and somehow you have their subconcious in your head. They refuse to switch back until you help clear their name even though you're in their body, which means people are after you now. Asshole move, really.

ROACH: Sawyer's twin brother and perpetual hermit. As a hacker, he has eyes all over the city. He also misses his sibling, so he's determined to see it through.

AGENT BECK [f or m] [RO]: A cool and intimidating fellow Agent of Cypress Industries...and Sawyer's ex partner. Sawyer dumped them, broke their heart, and since then, ghosted them (as one does.) With that said, Beck is determined to help you. And them. Just make sure to try to ignore the longing looks they send your way. It's not towards you, of course.

CAI [RO] [f, m or nb models] : Cypress AI or CAI is Sawyer's former field partner. Honest, cold and emotionless, you can't believe CAI is actually helping you. It must be going against their every makeup to go against Cypress, but having someone like them on your side is beneficial, at least.

HAWKE [m][RO]: the mech-human hybrid tasked with hunting you down. Well, hunting Sawyer down. Their one mission is to see you (Sawyer) dead, which poses a problem so as long as you're in this body. So there's that.

SOLANA [f][RO]: the elusive club owner...and the last person to see the president alive. You can't tell if Solana is an ally or an enemy, but you do know the one thing that drives her is power. Good to keep an eye on her, anyway.

AXL [nb] [RO]: the wealthy child of the now dead president and new heir of Cypress Industries. They hate your (Sawyer's) guts. They have hired all the best operatives and assassins to take you (Sawyer) down, and will stop and nothing to get their justice. If only you could convince them otherwise...

MAV [f or m] [RO]: your best friend and fellow IT employee. A trooper, who decides to be your sidekick on this weird...journey. No biggie. Make sure they don't die.

As usual, BD is 18+ for adult themes, explicit language, suggestive situations, violence and more! <3

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The first thing to say about the hate and scorn currently directed at the mainstream US media is that they worked hard to earn it. They’ve done so by failing, repeatedly, determinedly, spectacularly to do their job, which is to maintain their independence, inform the electorate, and speak truth to power. While the left has long had reasons to dismiss centrist media, and the right has loathed it most when it did do its job well, the moderates who are furious at it now seem to be something new – and a host of former editors, media experts and independent journalists have been going after them hard this summer.

Longtime journalist James Fallows declares that three institutions – the Republican party, the supreme court, and the mainstream political press – “have catastrophically failed to ‘meet the moment’ under pressure of [the] Trump era”. Centrist political reformer and columnist Norm Ornstein states that these news institutions “have had no reflection, no willingness to think through how irresponsible and reckless so much of our mainstream press and so many of our journalists have been and continue to be”.

Most voters, he says, “have no clue what a second Trump term would actually be like. Instead, we get the same insipid focus on the horse race and the polls, while normalizing abnormal behavior and treating this like a typical presidential election, not one that is an existential threat to democracy.”

Lamenting the state of the media recently on X, Jeff Jarvis, another former editor and newspaper columnist, said: “What ‘press’? The broken and vindictive Times? The newly Murdochian Post? Hedge-fund newspaper husks? Rudderless CNN or NPR? Murdoch’s fascist media?”

These critics are responding to how the behemoths of the industry seem intent on bending the facts to fit their frameworks and agendas. In pursuit of clickbait content centered on conflicts and personalities, they follow each other into informational stampedes and confirmation bubbles.

They pursue the appearance of fairness and balance by treating the true and the false, the normal and the outrageous, as equally valid and by normalizing Republicans, especially Donald Trump, whose gibberish gets translated into English and whose past crimes and present-day lies and threats get glossed over. They neglect, again and again, important stories with real consequences. This is not entirely new – in a scathing analysis of 2016 election coverage, the Columbia Journalism Review noted that “in just six days, The New York Times ran as many cover stories about Hillary Clinton’s emails as they did about all policy issues combined in the 69 days leading up to the election” – but it’s gotten worse, and a lot of insiders have gotten sick of it.

In July, ordinary people on social media decided to share information about the rightwing Project 2025 and did a superb job of raising public awareness about it, while the press obsessed about Joe Biden’s age and health. NBC did report on this grassroots education effort, but did so using the “both sides are equally valid” framework often deployed by mainstream media, saying the agenda is “championed by some creators as a guide to less government oversight and slammed by others as a road map to an authoritarian takeover of America”. There is no valid case it brings less government oversight.

In an even more outrageous case, the New York Times ran a story comparing the Democratic and Republican plans to increase the housing supply – which treated Trump’s plans for mass deportation of undocumented immigrants as just another housing-supply strategy that might work or might not. (That it would create massive human rights violations and likely lead to huge civil disturbances was one overlooked factor, though the fact that some of these immigrants are key to the building trades was mentioned.)

Other stories of pressing concern are either picked up and dropped or just neglected overall, as with Trump’s threats to dismantle a huge portion of the climate legislation that is both the Biden administration’s signal achievement and crucial for the fate of the planet. The Washington Post editorial board did offer this risibly feeble critique on 17 August: “It would no doubt be better for the climate if the US president acknowledged the reality of global warming – rather than calling it a scam, as Mr Trump has.”

While the press blamed Biden for failing to communicate his achievements, which is part of his job, it’s their whole job to do so. The Climate Jobs National Resource Center reports that the Inflation Reduction Act has created “a combined potential of over $2tn in investment, 1,091,966 megawatts of clean power, and approximately 3,947,670 jobs”, but few Americans have any sense of what the bill has achieved or even that the economy is by many measures strong.

Last winter, the New York Times columnist Paul Krugman, who has a Nobel prize in economics, told Greg Sargent on the latter’s Daily Blast podcast that when he writes positive pieces about the Biden economy, his editor asks “don’t you want to qualify” it; “aren’t people upset by X, Y and Z and shouldn’t you be acknowledging that?”

Meanwhile in an accusatory piece about Kamala Harris headlined When your opponent calls you ‘communist,’ maybe don’t propose price controls?, a Washington Post columnist declares in another case of bothsiderism: “Voters want to blame someone for high grocery bills, and the presidential candidates have apparently decided the choices are either the Biden administration or corporate greed. Harris has chosen the latter.” The evidence that corporations have jacked up prices and are reaping huge profits is easy to find, but facts don’t matter much in this kind of opining.

It’s hard to gloat over the decline of these dinosaurs of American media, when a free press and a well-informed electorate are both crucial to democracy. The alternatives to the major news outlets simply don’t reach enough readers and listeners, though the non-profit investigative outfit ProPublica and progressive magazines such as the New Republic and Mother Jones, are doing a lot of the best reporting and commentary.

Earlier this year, when Alabama senator Katie Britt gave her loopy rebuttal to Biden’s State of the Union address, it was an independent journalist, Jonathan Katz, who broke the story on TikTok that her claims about a victim of sex trafficking contained significant falsehoods. The big news outlets picked up the scoop from him, making me wonder what their staffs of hundreds were doing that night.

A host of brilliant journalists young and old, have started independent newsletters, covering tech, the state of the media, politics, climate, reproductive rights and virtually everything else, but their reach is too modest to make them a replacement for the big newspapers and networks. The great exception might be historian Heather Cox Richardson, whose newsletter and Facebook followers give her a readership not much smaller than that of the Washington Post. The tremendous success of her sober, historically grounded (and footnoted!) news summaries and reflections bespeaks a hunger for real news.

Rebecca Solnit is a Guardian US columnist. She is the author of Orwell’s Roses and co-editor with Thelma Young Lutunatabua of the climate anthology Not Too Late: Changing the Climate Story from Despair to Possibility

[wheelsondeck]

Torrie Wilson the professional wrestler, personal trainer and model.

You can thank Wikipedia for that one. And Google search results for the images I will be using of her haha. Regular camera pictures of my real merchandise will be used too, along with screenshots from Torrie Wilson’s social media, etc. I’ve sort of built my own little collection on my other phone- a tracfone Nokia model. It’s not much but that’s sort of my point; if you have to be cheap then do it! I’m talking about your platform and resources. It’s okay to be a little crafty. You don’t always have to be official. Good luck! That’s what I’m doing to be handy with the tools I’ve got to use as I explore all this newness.

Anyway, Torrie Wilson is my favorite person in the whole world basically! Favorite WWE superstar as a diva. And probably favorite celebrity period. Definitely favorite all time professional wrestler. I figure I’d give this blog to her since she’s a big part of my story. I personally am not that great at speaking. Like Torrie, I’m a little shy. But I’ll do what I can in giving the “abouts her” or, whatever you might say, justice. She reminds me a lot of myself when I explore her on social media. It’s very refreshing because I already like Torrie so much. I guess you could call me a mark. Torrie might as well be the real life Barbie doll I never really let go of as a little child. I play with her all the time.

Fitness is pretty much her life. I’ve always looked up to Torrie for fitspiration and motivational talk ever since times got challenging in my life with the human trafficking. Torrie has actually spoken up pro in anti human trafficking. That’s really cool. She’s always bringing up a good point. Too many for me to keep track of honestly. But they are strong points I believe in wholeheartedly and could see myself saying, that I hold onto subconsciously. I do similar work that Torrie does but I’ve been stuck on working on myself first and foremost. So for now I choose to just live by it and practice the preach. Live by light. Being spiritual is something Torrie Wilson is about too. Star seeds you might call us. Spreading the good vibes and tapping into that let loose way of delivering the message with positivity is just a little something the soul’s love to cater to those seeking the guidance does for the world that needs it. But she’s very straightforward. Works out like super serious. I should know, I’ve done a fitness challenge Torrie Wilson hosted when she did work with this group called Sage Spot. One of many project gigs picked up by Torrie. I think that’s what she does in life but with many of them. Always something new and refreshing every so often with her. I haven’t taken advantage of all the different fitness and professional wrestling stuff she’s offered since leaving WWE because I hadn’t the time or the money to get involved. I’m trying to play catch up with the fitness work out stuff. WWE, I haven’t got to see any of Torrie’s recent matches and appearances except for what YouTube barely has plus her first Royal Rumble match and some of the hall of fame speech from the induction in 2019.

With a nearly ten year career before making some rare appearances in WWE later, Torrie Wilson still shares entertaining moments that are so sexy and fun for me to watch even to this day. Known for not being the best wrestler but more eye candy and valeting, Torrie has a certain value to her that makes her one of a kind in the industry. That’s why I think she made an epic hall of famer! There’s so much more to know about this woman but I’m not going to pretend I can run through everything, at least not right away.

I’m applying some life coaching out of my human trafficking drama. And part of the human trafficking drama was to be a success story from a possible nice comeback into the entertainment industry through professional wrestling as I’m a former sports entertainer for a brief time in my life. My peak was in Los Angeles when I had an opportunity to impress WWE as I was under their radar unofficially being trained by former WWE superstar Brian Kendrick. It was there I found myself remembering how much I loved Torrie Wilson and actually found her (and Barbie Blank fka Kelly Kelly) to be the one inspiring piece of the business I needed to envision myself as I would present myself for business proposals to continue with my shot for a WWE tryout. But I got lost in the human trafficking scene.

I tended to look up to Torrie Wilson’s storylines for a relation that felt compatible and out of anybody, it just happened to be her. My favorite all time wrestler. It’s the perfection in her storylines and character that made me feel like I had a mirror to help keep me going strong as I went through some real trials after I left Los Angeles. I was learning more about the truths of true love and where the heart is in a home. While continuing to be me. And because of who Torrie Wilson is, I can basically say I stayed true to me and I am just like her with no apologies. Same drama as her WWE career in many ways. Very pretty. Maybe I’ll tell you about WCW someday.

I couldn’t have a story in mind for Wheels On Deck without Torrie either, obviously. That’s why you’ll see her in my blogs and social media so much. I’ve got this! I’m Torrie Wilson haha! To a core. Wheels On Deck been in the works much like I have as I’ve been holding onto myself and applying myself to my obstacles and fun. But facing the challenges and the drama is the fun I wrestle with anyway. Much like it’s fun to start this blog but I am so not a writer normally so this is taking much effort!

But the story has to start somewhere, right? Plus I’m having to get use to calling myself Barbie boy out loud. That way this whole concept will eventually catch on. Especially for what’s confidential. That world “confidential” is inspired and comes from a WWE episode of a show called Confidential that really made me tell myself “she’s the one I admire!” when I first started watching WWE and got to see more of Torrie. It was her life before she became famous. And this was only a brush of who she is and what the two time Playboy cover girl was about. I tried to mention most what IS the general information off the top of my head as you’re only getting hints of me too in the beginning of Wheels On Deck. It’s part of the sorority/fraternity rules that I came up with in my concept of fun as I go in the current moments. It’s all a little silly but that’s to keep this world a little carefree. But yeah, Torrie Wilson is the one I play with in Wheels On Deck. Thanks for touring.

[cringywhitedragon]

Reshi’s Synthverse Lore: Naturals and the Natural Virus (And the UroSyn AU Apostle Strain)

A nasty disease and major driving force behind Earth 2’s major conflicts (as well as a major plot point behind the events of the AU plot)

The Natural Virus is an artificially created anomalous mutagenic strain of pathogen that primarily affects Synthians/Synths. Much of this disease’s origins are widely unknown to the general public other then that it was created by one who goes under the name of NEO, (real name Nathan Edwards Oilvander) a former crew member from the now lost and (experimental at the time) Aero Class starship, the MSS Longhorn.

The virus is known to have a wide range of effects on those infected, ranging from the more common cases of serve illness, that often leads to the victim dying a slow and painful death, to the much rarer (and much more dangerous) mutations. Because of this, cases often vary wildly from Synth to Synth which has lead to speculation that there are certain “triggers” that it’s host must meet for it to trigger its true payload (aka the latter of the mentioned symptoms).

But when the right set of circumstances are met, the host will undergo a change. These Synths who undergo these mutations are usually referred to as Naturals.

Naturals:

On the outside, nothing really changes about the victim’s physical appearance though there are some tell-tell signs. The biggest and most obvious marking a Natural will have is a visible black ring around the outer area of their pupil (Note: Synthian pupils are the same color as their eye color, just a darker shade (my main inspiration for this from the Cryptonloid’s Project Diva models just as a way to make Synths a little more easy to distinguish from Humans) and much rarer, black growths on parts of their body (This can also be found in those who are not mutated, usually in much later stages of infection)

Naturals possess increased strength, both offensively and defensively compared to that of a regular Synth, higher tolerances to different environments, faster natural healing, an increased disease resistance, and in some cases, unique abilities. However, Naturals also have heightened aggressive tendencies towards those they view as a threat.

This aggressive behavior almost always extends towards those they view as “obsolete” (Aka most Synths) which has earned them a reputation as being nothing but bloodthirsty killers or drones of NEO to accomplish his goals. It is also heavily implied that Naturals may have a sort of semi “hive-mind” ability as well as some have demonstrated the ability to control or communicate with other Naturals or even simply sense them. This former ability is still retained by those who have been cured of the virus.

Despite this, it is completely possible to “cure” a Natural of the virus which will free them from its influence and almost eliminate the aggressive tendencies altogether, however all of their abilities and mutations will remain since the virus. There is, however still risks that former-Naturals may have to contend with (Which we will not be going to detail here)

Forms:

Generally, the Natural Virus is classed into three specific categories: Active/Virulent, Mutator, and Matriarch

The active strain is the most common. Though, it does differ quite a lot from the other two as it lacks the mutagenic properties of the other two, which has lead to the belief that this strain in particular is simply some form of weapon.

The mutator strain can sometimes be confused with the active strain at times since it shares many of the symptoms with it’s common active counterpart, however, this strain is capable of causing mutations in the right hosts. It is also incapable of spreading like it’s active counterpart as it goes dormant almost as soon as it infects a host.

The Matriarch strain is much different than the other two. Instead of being a direct infector, this strain has only ever been observed in one host: It’s creator, NEO.

It acts as a sort of control point for other forms of the virus and is bonded with its host to a point that either it or NEO are one in the same.

While primarily dormant, it has demonstrated to spread by breaking off a part of itself as a form of defense mechanism but only should it’s host need it too (Though this is only with one purpose, to kill as the instance is designed to die along with its host if not stopped in time.

It has also granted its host an incredible amount of power and with its regenerative properties, and while slow, could even allow for one to hold on from being on the brink of death and return….

There have also been talks of parts of it being used in cloning…

Transmission:

How this disease is transmitted isn’t widely known as there are many vectors. However, most reported infections from the Natural Virus appear to be deliberately done by NEO and those who serve under him.

The active strain is currently the only documented one to have been noted spreading about in usually intentional outbreaks while the mutator strain is only known to be spread towards targeted individuals or as part of a bargain.

So far, only Regular Synths have shown to be able to be infected and or mutated. Vocal Synths appear to be immune to it.

Or perhaps not…

Former Naturals and Natural-Borns

This refers to Synths who have been cured of the mutator variation (and in theory, the matriarch variation IF another one were to spring up in a new host) and those are born of a parent or parents who carry the Natural Strain, or in one case, born with the strain already within them.

These “Naturals” lack the aggressive tenancies and hive-mind behavior (in simple terms, they’re free from NEO’s influence) but retain their superhuman abilities (albeit, slightly reduced in strength) and some mutations (Specifically the eye ring). The recovery process takes a while for one to undergo since many former Naturals take time to adapt back to what their normal life was like before they became what they are now.

Natural-born is a term often used to describe Synths who have inherited the Natural Strain from one or both of their parents. This is a relatively new phenomenon so not a lot of it is understood but what is that Natural-Borns will inherit most of their parent’s natural traits.

Apostles (UroSynth Timeline)

(NOTE: This is only exclusive to the UroSyn timeline, none of this is cannon to the main timeline)

“Living Weapons…. That’s all they are. From the very moments they fully develop and are released, they only have one goal, to attack anything that their creators view as an obstacle.

Yet deep down there’s something there that is more than just these animals they can shift into. They’re still another person even if they are a simple clone made from a chimera of other Synthian’s genes, only obstructed by various control methods placed upon them to limit their free will.”

A unique form of Natural that started to appear following the destruction of the MSS Whistler and NEO’s death. These creatures would be one of the primary causes for the ongoing chaos on Earth 2.

Apostles are artificially created Natural/Synthian clones made from DNA samples collected from countless Synths with the ability to shapeshift into large Kaiju-like creatures capable of mass destruction. Usually they remain in their beast form but will revert to their true humanoid forms when injured, tired, or through some other artificial means.

They are ruthless and violent and seemingly only have one purpose, and that is act as some sort of bio-weapon for their masters as most Apostles, while in theory would have the ability to think for themselves, have some sort of “oppressor” systems wired into them that completely suppressed a majority of higher level brain functions. Ongoing research is being done to see if it is possible to undo these “oppressors” similarly to how a cure for its precursor, the Mutator Strain, was discovered.

The origin of these creatures is still not widely understood but links between the Apostles and a mysterious cloning project simply known as Project Pandora that was shut down by government sometime prior to the Apostle Crisis are believed to be a possible origin to this mutation (Possibly a clone or a modification as surviving piece of the Matriarch strain that was recovered from the remains of NEO are believed to be the case).

These creatures caused an incident known as the Apostle Crisis a few years back, forcing the Earth 2 government with the aid of many private companies to rapidly develop technology in order to combat them, namely large piloted Mecha robots. The Apostles and their Masters were eventually driven offworld and believed to have been eradicated but the mess they caused resulted in a power imbalance which lead to privately owned corporations to slowly begin seizing more control over Earth 2 and the central government to lose power and into the current Era of Chaos as some call it.

Though, three Apostles did remain behind and whispers amongst space-travelers and merchants speak of rumors that them and their Masters may be planning to return…

Not all Apostles are mindless foot soldiers though as the term “Apostle” is also used to refer to these creature’s Masters, sometimes referred to as Remnants. Remnants are a group of Naturals who are still loyal to NEO and are working to carry on his legacy. None of these guys are clones and were Synths who were already infected by the Mutator Strain who have purposely evolved themselves to be much more powerful than what they were before.

Remnants possess the ability to transform just as Apostles do but are much more powerful then the latter, though Remnants usually prefer to remain in their regular forms and only use their kaiju forms should the situation be dire. They do have the ability to think for themselves and can even control Apostles.

The Remnants altogether make up a Council that is lead by a currently unknown figure. There have also been rumors of a possible individual who may also share the abilities of these Naturals as the result of a failed experiment that may hold a key to bringing them down for good.

[biglisbonnews]

Near Cape Town, the São José Shipwreck Is a Unique Symbol of A Painful Legacy This piece was originally published in The Guardian and appears here as part of our Climate Desk collaboration. In 2015, a delegation from the Smithsonian Institution traveled to Mozambique to inform the Makua people of a singular and long-overdue discovery. Two hundred and twenty-one years after it sank in treacherous waters off Cape Town, claiming the lives of 212 enslaved people, the wreck of the Portuguese slave ship the São José Paquete D’Africa had been found. When told the news, a Makua leader responded with a gesture that no one on the delegation will ever forget. “One of the chiefs took a vessel we had, filled it with soil and asked us to bring that vessel back to the site of the slave ship so that, for the first time since the 18th century, his people could sleep in their own land,” says Lonnie Bunch, now the secretary of the Smithsonian. For Bunch and his colleagues, the importance of the find cannot be overstated. Although the São José—which was bound for Brazil—is the first ship to be recovered that is known to have sunk while transporting enslaved people, it was just one of the tens of thousands that plied their trade over the four centuries of the transatlantic slave trade, during which more than 12 million African men, women, and children were enslaved. And yet, as Bunch points out, maritime archaeology has tended to focus its masked eye on the wrecks of rich and famous ships rather than those that traded in flesh and blood. Redressing that archaeological, academic, and sociocultural imbalance was the driving force behind the Slave Wrecks Project, a partnership established in 2008 between the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture (NMAAHC) and other institutions and organizations in Africa and the United States. “People talk about the slave trade; they talk about the millions of people who were transported, but it’s hard to really imagine that, so we wanted to reduce it to human scale by really focusing on a single ship, on the people on the ship, and the story around the ship,” says Bunch. “Yes, we tell you about the thousands of ships that brought the enslaved, but we also say: ‘Here’s a way to humanize it.’” The basic idea, he adds, was to tell people that “discovering your enslaved past is as important a treasure as finding the Titanic.” As well as locating the wreck of the São José, the Slave Wrecks Project has developed programs to broaden and diversify the field by training people in Mozambique, Senegal, South Africa, and the Caribbean in diving, archaeology, and museum conservation and curation. Today, the project is investigating a handful of slave wrecks in Brazil, the Caribbean, West Africa, and North America. “We need to think about how these matters that seem submerged and lost are really waiting there for us all to find, and to change our scope of how we understand our world,” says Paul Gardullo, a curator at the NMAAHC and director of the Slave Wrecks Project. “This search is connected to something much, much bigger than any one particular search for a ship; it’s a search for ourselves and it’s a search for how we relate to each other in the world and how we make the world better.” The Smithsonian’s activities, however, extend well beyond the seabed. Bunch and Gardullo were in Lisbon last month to take part in an international symposium on slavery, museums, and racism. The choice of host country is not accidental. Like other former slave-trading colonial powers, Portugal—the European country with the longest historical involvement in the slave trade—has struggled to confront its past. In 2022, Europe’s top human rights body, the Council of Europe, urged Lisbon to rethink its approach to teaching colonial history, saying: “Further efforts are necessary for Portugal to come to terms with past human rights violations to tackle racist biases against people of African descent inherited from a colonial past and historical slave trade.” As Gardullo notes: “Portugal is very proud of its maritime heritage, but is very silent about that heritage’s connection to slavery and colonization.” Both he and Bunch hope the conference—which included a one-day symposium with visitors from Angola, Brazil, South Africa, the United Kingdom, and the Netherlands—will reinvigorate stalled efforts to get Portugal to reflect on its past. “Often we’re prophets without honor in our own land and in essence when someone else comes in and says these are important issues, suddenly that then stimulates a lot of what people are doing,” says Bunch. “Part of it is saying that this is OK to wrestle with—it’s more than OK, it’s crucially important.” “Part of it is saying that this is OK to wrestle with—it’s more than OK, it’s crucially important.” In December 2022, the Dutch prime minister, Mark Rutte, formally apologized for the role of the Netherlands in the slave trade, saying it had “enabled, encouraged, and profited from slavery,” and done things that “cannot be erased, only faced up to." For Bunch, the need for honest conversations “about the underlying issues that we have to grapple with” has been underlined by the murder of George Floyd, by Black Lives Matter, and by the Brixton riots. At its most basic, it is about being truthful about a painful and shameful shared history. “I think that people are really ambivalent about discussing slavery and looking at its past because the notion is: ‘Is this about guilt?’” Bunch says. “For me, it’s about: ‘How do you understand yourself?’ There’s a big part of who you are—whether it’s [in] Portugal, or Brazil, or the U.S.—that you can’t understand without that. I’ve always been struck by how people are comfortable recognizing that their great-grandfather or great-grandmother’s DNA shapes them, but what they’re not as comfortable understanding is the history that shaped their great-grandfather and which also continues to shape them.” It is also about respect, remembrance, and perseverance. When the day finally came to scatter the earth from the Makua elder, the conditions in Cape Town were all too reminiscent of those that must have accompanied the sinking of the São José in December 1794. “We’re there and we can’t get the boats out because the water’s so bad, the wind and the rain are so bad,” says Bunch. “The divers swim out as far as they can and then they sprinkle the soil. And on all that’s holy, the sun came out, the rain stopped, the wind stopped blowing. It was the most beautiful day you could imagine. “I had never in my career really talked about ancestors or spirituality, but that moment made me realize that there is something so much greater than what we can be: Literally the moment that soil was poured, the weather changed dramatically as a way to say that remembering is powerful.” https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/sao-jose-shipwreck-slavery

[bouncinghedgehog]

Chester Cathedral in England

1. The oldest parts of the cathedral date back to 1093. Chester Cathedral began its life as a Benedictine Abbey in 1093. The site had previously been used as a place of worship during Saxon times, but the Benedictine monks were the first to build a church there in the Norman style. This Norman influence can still be seen in the north transept, the north tower and parts of the cloister. The cathedral was rebuilt from 1250 onwards in the much more dramatic Gothic style. Spotting the differences between the two architectural styles is an interesting exercise, even for those who aren’t well-versed in design.

2. The friends of the cathedral are serious LEGO fans. You can help create a MASSIVE 350,000 brick LEGO recreation of Chester Cathedral, a community project which has been underway for quite some time. The cathedral’s avid LEGO-lovers are designing unique pieces to reflect the historical importance of the building. During Summer 2019, Chester Cathedral will also be hosting ‘The Deep,’ an exhibition of LEGO sculptures of sea life. It will include a 2.7-metre-tall giant squid made from a whopping 120 000 bricks.

3. Chester Cathedral has been defaced throughout history. Chester Cathedral has survived a few tumultuous periods in religious history. When Henry VIII dissolved the Benedictine Abbey in 1541, the shrine to St Werburgh was broken and the colourful walls of the Lady Chapel were whitewashed. Thankfully, The Lady Chapel has since been restored to its former glory. The cathedral was again defaced by puritans during Cromwell’s influence, and many important statues and architectural elements were destroyed. You can still see evidence of this vandalism around the cathedral today.

4. The cathedral hosts many unconventional events. You wouldn’t usually associate a 2,000-year-old cathedral with activities like abseiling. But the caretakers of Chester Cathedral are happy to allow thrill-seekers to traverse its ancient interior with ropes and grappling hooks for a good cause. This is just one example of how the cathedral readily adapts its space to enhance community interest and welcome peoples of all denominations. Chester Cathedral has also hosted numerous modern art exhibitions, one of the most recent being David Mach’s ‘Two Twisted.’ Two classic cars were delivered into the cathedral and displayed in shipping containers – now that’s something you don’t see every day in a place of worship.

5. The woodworkers who carved the choir stalls had overactive imaginations. The choir stalls found in the Quire, date back to 1380 and feature intricately carved misericords. Here you’ll find all kinds of creatures including hounds, angels, dragons and maidens carefully weaved into the woodwork. However, on many occasions the craftsmen may have gone off-piste when depicting animals they’d never seen before. One elephant appears to have a horse’s hooves for feet. Other wicked looking creatures have human heads meshed with the bodies of beasts. It’s a vivid insight into these creators’ imaginations.

6. You can catch your favourite movies at Chester Cathedral. Chester Cathedral enjoys amazing acoustics and can house a large audience. So, what better place to watch your favourite film? Every now and then, friends of the Cathedral clear out the pews in the Nave, roll out the artificial turf and lower the projector to create an ‘Indoor/Outdoor’ Cinema. You can lay down your picnic rug and enjoy a free movie - rain, hail or shine. What’s othe lineup? In the past, the Cathedral’s walls have reverberated with Celine Dion’s ‘My Heart Will Go On’ during a teary screening of Titanic. But it’s also been filled with the joyful giggles of children and adults alike throughout an exuberant showing of Finding Nemo.

7. In the Baptistry you can discover the remnants of an ancient game. Wander into one of the oldest sections of the Cathedral and you’ll find the Baptistry. On the stone plinth of the north-east tower, you can find the board of an ancient game called nine men’s morris. It’s a two-person strategy game dating back to the Roman period. Perhaps the monks liked a competitive match in their downtime? Or some rebellious novice needed a way to while away time during lengthy services?

[swanandphoenixsong]

Jedi Scholar - Ao3

Chapter 5: Leia’s Day Out – Part 2

Series: Part 1 of the Star Wars - Nouveau AU series

Chapter Summary: Leia spends her day in the Senate, contemplates the loss of Alderaan, meets with friends, and takes on new responsibilities

Beginning Notes: This chapter has multiple interactions and references to minor characters, some are from the movies or TV shows, others are from canon in general, and two are original characters of mine. 

Characters that have speaking roles and their original appearances from canon material are pointed out here:

Harp Allor, junior senator of Chandrila (Leia, Princess of Alderaan) General Rieeken, rebel veteran from Alderaan (The Empire Strikes Back) Uwa Pareece, representative of the Alderaan Flotilla (Marvel Star Wars: Princess Leia) Tevan Gale, representative of the Alderaan Flotilla (Aftermath: Life Debt) Eglyn Valmor, Regent Administrator of the Alderaan Flotilla (Aftermath: Life Debt) Amilyn Holdo, senator of Gatalenta (Leia, Princess of Alderaan) Hera Syndulla, rebel veteran from Ryloth (Star Wars: Rebels) Jacen Syndulla, Hera’s human-twi’lek son (Star Wars: Rebels) Chopper, Hera’s C1-series astromech (Star Wars: Rebels)

The two OC’s are from Stewjon. As with Kalevala in Aliit, I’m pulling inspiration from real-world places, specifically the Celtic Isles. However, I refer to its inhabitants as Stewjoners (as a reference to the term ‘sojourner’).

Also, there’s a reference to Marvel Star Wars (2015) comics #33, which I highly recommend.

– –

5 ABY – Hanna City, Chandrila

“Sorry I’m later than usual, Chancellor,” Leia said breathlessly. Han had left her at the Senate with a kiss just minutes ago, and she had rushed through the building, up the lifts, and met Threepio before heading to Mon Mothma’s offices.

“Dear, you’re right on time, no need to fret.” Mon smiled at her, gesturing for her to sit before her desk. “Are you ready to go over what’s to be discussed today?”

This is usually how Leia’s days at the Senate went. She would meet with Mon Mothma, alongside Chandrilan junior senator Harp Allor, and together they would prepare for the Senate’s grand session. As of late, the first and foremost concern of the Senate was deliberating upon the next host planet. After reorganizing Coruscant’s government, it had been agreed that the Senate would move from planet-to-planet each year, to ensure more neutrality and unbiased decisions than had occurred in the past Republic and Imperial administrations. There were various planets up for approval, and the Senate had to weigh every benefit and disadvantage of each planet before they could move on to campaigns, discussion, and voting.

The next issue before the grand session was re-establishing or strengthening relations between the Republic and worlds outside the Core. There were many planets still reeling from Imperial occupation, and while the majority were amicable to the transition of government, some worlds were still reluctant to join the Republic. In particular, there were planets like Onderon and Ryloth, who’s leaders had been neutral or Separatist-aligned before the fall of the old Republic, had suffered great loss and destruction during the Empire’s reign, and thus had to be convinced of the Republic senate’s trustworthiness.

After the grand session’s debates, the Chancellor and her advisory, including Leia and Threepio, met in the boardroom with former participants in the Rebellion including Admiral Ackbar of Mon Cala and General Rieeken of Alderaan, and the members of the funding and resource committee, including Nower Jebel of Uyter, Vasp Vaspar of the Taldot Sector, and Tynnra Pamlo of Taris. Together, they reviewed restoration projects for planets recovering from Imperial occupation or destruction.

As to be discussed today, Representatives Uwa Pareece and Tevan Gale of the Alderaan Flotilla were campaigning for additional funding and resources for the spacestation’s construction efforts. The debris from the first Death Star had been a good start, but as their administration had discovered, there was still more they would need to meet the needs of their community of survivors.

“There is one obstacle we didn’t expect,” Tevan explained, “the debris from the Death Star still has some of the tech from its previous functions. We are attempting to remove it for the most part, but it’d be helpful if we had some personnel or droids who were well-acquainted with the Death Star plans. We know most of those qualified are deceased or would otherwise be untrustworthy, but perhaps there is someone else, possibly a data analyst from the Rebellion?”

“Off the top of my head,” Mon replied, “I can only think of Cas– Captain Andor and Kay-too, but of course, they’re– they were on Scarif.”

“What about Captain Kallus?” asked General Cracken, Chief of Intelligence, “As I recall, he had done extensive research on the Imperial projects of Geonosis, Vulpter, and Scarif, before Alderaan’s destruction.”

“I think he and Orrelios were rather intent on retirement,” said Leia fondly, “but perhaps he can recommend someone else for the job or compile his data for us.”

“I agree,” said the Chancellor, “Leia, would you be willing to get his contact details from Hera Syndulla?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” Mon looked over toward Uwa, “As far as funding, resources, and transport, I expect Ralltiir, Corellia, and Brentaal IV respectively would be willing to partner with you. Other planets such as Coruscant and Naboo may volunteer, as recompense for their participation in the Empire’s actions.”

“Tepasi and Caamas as well,” General Rieeken added, “as they are the nearest systems.”

Uwa nodded. “Then that assuages the extent of our concerns.” She and Tevan stood and began gathering up their data sticks from the presentation equipment as the members of the advisory and the funding and resource committee departed the boardroom. While Mon continued to converse with the other Rebellion veterans, Leia stood to assist Tevan and Uwa.

“I’m glad construction is otherwise going well,” she told them.

“Yes,” replied Uwa, “I hope you can come visit soon, we’d like you for you to be involved and see our progress.”

“As long as you don’t name anything after me, I’ll be happy with whatever decisions you make.”

Tevan laughed. “I’ll pass it on. But really, it’d be good for the others to see you.”

Leia avoided his sympathetic gaze, “I know. It’s just difficult to get away.”

He nodded. “Well, in any case, we’re due to contact Regent Valmor in an hour. There is one design in particular we’d like your input on, if you’re willing?”

Leia took a deep breath, stifling the urge to sigh and flatly refuse. “I’ll consider it, see if I have the time.”

“Of course,” said Uwa, “it can wait for some other day if need be.”

They exited along with most of the veterans, leaving Leia alone with a resting Threepio, the Chancellor, and General Rieeken. Leia sat back down, taking a deep breath. It had started raining softly during the presentation, and the sound was a balm to her wavering composure.

“Are you alright, Leia?” Mon Mothma asked, coming back to sit at the head of the boardroom table.

“I’m fine,” Leia closed her eyes, breathing in and out slowly, “Today has given me a lot to think about, and not even half of it is Senate business.”

General Rieeken chuckled and she looked back up at him at Mothma’s side. “Not suited for peace and domesticity, are we, General?” He caught her eye and winked.

Leia laughed. “Something like that. What about you, are you adjusting well?”

He shrugged. “Some days are better than others.” He paused, looking at the cascading trails of rain on the window. “I forget sometimes– that it’s no longer there. I think about going home, retiring from politics, and then I remember– I can never go back.”

Leia nodded solemnly. There had been days in the Rebellion, when she’d half expect her father to round the corner, or think of her mother watching the sky for her return, before she’d remember they were gone. It happened less as time passed– as her life began to no longer resemble her father’s time in the Rebellion– but there would always be that deep ache, that missing part of her heart.

“Have you visited the . . . the flotilla, Rieeken?” Leia asked with hesitation.

“No,” he said immediately, “Never had the time during the Rebellion. Now I– I guess I’m not ready.” He looked back toward her sympathetically. “What about you?”

Leia shook her head. “Not since Espirion. I’ve wanted to– made plans to even– but I guess something else always got in the way.”

“Sounds about right.” He gave her a wan smile and looked toward Mon. “If you told us somehow Tarkin survived and we’d have to hunt him down, we wouldn’t even hesitate. Hell, if there was a third Death Star out there, we wouldn’t even blink. But honor the literal graveyard of our homeworld?” He sighed heavily. “At this rate I’ll visit my own grave before I go there.”

There was nothing to say. Leia had been interrogated and tortured on the Death Star, had witnessed the destruction of her planet, and she had survived and fought and escaped. Every time she lost – on the Death Star, Bespin, Tatooine, and everywhere in between – she got right back up and kept shooting. Now the war was won, and Rieeken was right. If someone told her it wasn’t over yet, she’d jump back into the fray in a heartbeat. But face everything she had lost, see the rubble left behind, and watch her people build a home that could never resemble the original?

Five years wasn’t nearly enough.

“Grief is not enemy you can fight,” Mon said after a moment, “Keeping your distance and letting yourself process everything at your own pace – that is not cowardice. There are many people – and places – that we have lost over the years. Some of it never goes away. But you adjust. You grow, you change, and one day, you realize you’ve accepted your loss. It becomes a part of your past, still a piece of your character, but you move forward.”

Rieeken nodded slowly. “Yes, I suppose so. As the Republic fell, I thought we’d lose everything. And we did– but we continued living, even fought back. Somewhere in between, I got used to the loss– but this, I imagine, will be a wholly different struggle. Building something new is as good a start as any.” He looked over at Leia. “Who knows, maybe Gale and Pareece will convince us to visit before construction is done.”

Leia snickered. “If they don't, I’m sure Verlaine will take us both as hostages for the Inauguration Ceremony.”

“I’m sure she would. Not a bad contingency plan, if I’m honest.” He gave one last smile to the Chancellor, “Thank you for humoring us, Mon. I’ll get out of your hair.” He winked at Leia and left the boardroom.

Leia watched him go, the shadow of her father at his side.

When Leia and Threepio were leaving the Chancellor’s offices, they were surprised to see Harp Allor happily awaiting them.

“Thought you might need a pick-me-up,” she said, taking Leia’s arm as they walked. “Why don’t you join me for lunch? Gatalenta’s hosting.”

Leia smiled at that. Amilyn Holdo was always a delight, but Leia didn’t often take the time to join her friends for break. Maybe this morning wouldn’t be her only diversion from habit.

She turned toward C-3PO at her side, “Threepio, why don’t you go on ahead and let Uwa and Tevan know I may be late to meet with Regent Valmor. See if they could use any of your expertise on their designs.”

“Of course! I’d be delighted to help the survivors of Alderaan, in any way I can. But do enjoy your break, Mistress Leia.”

She smiled, “I will, thank you, Threepio.”

He wobbled on his way, and Leia gratefully allowed Harp to guide her with a smile.

Gatalenta’s offices hummed with soft music and muffled laughter. Leia and Harp were the last to arrive, joining a half-dozen young senators gathered in the lounge. They sat on plush purple sofas with spreads of finger foods and tea on the coffee table in the center.

“Leia!” Amilyn met her at the door, while Harp happily ran off to chat with a male junior senator from Pantora. “It’s wonderful to see you!” Amilyn welcomed her with a kiss on each cheek.

Leia winced inwardly, thinking of how absent of a friend she’d been, “sorry I haven’t come over lately–”

“Oh, posh!” Amilyn’s shimmery lilac hair bobbed as she shook her head, “I know you’re busy advising the Chancellor and keeping tabs on everything, but I’m so glad you’re here now.” She directed her to sit beside her. “I love your outfit by the way, especially the cape.”

Leia smiled brightly, “Thanks, Han helped me pick it out. He was very attentive for me this morning.”

“Oh, so that smuggler hides a heart of gold!” They each laughed jovially. “So, how goes the flotilla’s efforts?”

“They’re moving forward, and Mon is optimistic for potential backers.”

“Splendid! I’ll be sure to pledge Gatalenta’s support as well. Just let me know if there’s anything in particular we can offer you.”

Leia’s heart warmed with Amilyn’s unconditional sincerity, and regretted her reluctance to join these luncheons. She often forgot how comforting it was to be among peers of similar background. Like Leia, Amilyn and the other senators had been raised within politics, and understood how integral it was in her life.

“Thank you, Amilyn, truly. And should you ever need–”

“Don’t even think of it,” she proclaimed with a gleaming smile, “Alderaan was instrumental within the Rebel Alliance, particularly with you and your family’s guidance. It’s the least we can do to honor them.” She took a sip of tea, effortlessly silencing any remaining objections. Leia gracefully let it go, turning her attention toward filling a plate with various cuisine.

“You should try this,” Leia looked over to see red-haired woman on the end of the couch to her left, offering a dish of miniature pies with intricate lattice knot designs. Leia chose one and took a tentative bite, and was met by hearty, herbal seasoned filling of root vegetables. She chewed slowly, savoring the hints of meat broth that the veggies must’ve been soaked with. She swallowed, feeling it’s warmth all the way down to her stomach.

“Delicious, thank you,” Leia said.

“Leia,” Amilyn leaned forward to introduce them, “have you met Senator Rhiannon Pond of Stewjon?”

Leia offered her hand cordially, “Only from a distance, during the Senate’s grand session.” She had noticed her only in passing before, as she was often guided by two superior representatives, silent shadows on either side.

Rhiannon smiled, her handshake slightly hesitant. “I’ve admired you from afar, but I haven’t been part of the Senate very long. I was recently appointed, when the former senator opted to retire after the Galactic Concordance.”

She looked over her shoulder and beckoned to the representative at her side. He was tall and lanky, dressed in dark scholarly robes over a pinstripe suit and colorful tie. “This is Professor Davis Piers, my uncle. He and my mentor are much more experienced in establishing contact with distant worlds and negotiating trade – but both of them refused the position when it was offered to them.”

Leia attempted to remember what she had heard of Stewjon over the years. It was often overlooked, on the border between the Core worlds and the Colonies. The planet’s atmosphere was nearly impossible to breach without a Stewjoner navigator aboard, so they were left relatively untouched during the Empire’s conquests. Even though they hadn’t participated much in trade of resources, they had been one of the lesser-known Rebel safe worlds, a place where refugees could escape the war and be forgotten by Imperials.

Piers waved off Rhiannon’s appraisal, “I was a professor at the flight academy, Rhia. Everything I’ve learned about politics was from traveling– rescuing refugees from battle-torn planets and delivering them to Rebel safe worlds.”

Leia smiled at his humility, catching the fond twinkle in his eye as he patted his niece’s shoulder. “And what of your counterpart?” She asked him, interested in the absent companion.

Prof. Piers chuckled, “Even during his efforts in the Rebellion, he was always rather reserved. But he and his family are unsung heroes, for many refugees on Stewjon especially.”

Rhiannon nodded, explaining, “He’s not a native Stewjoner – during his time in the Rebellion, he and his family were unable to return to their homeworld, so sometime before the Battle of Yavin, they took sanctuary on Stewjon. When the chieftains offered the senatorial position to him – for his high-profile accreditations and his experience with the Rebel Alliance – he denied it out of principle.”

“He would argue that he couldn’t speak for Stewjon’s people,” Piers continued, “but he’s always willing to accompany us to the Senate and offer insight.”

“He sounds very honorable,” Leia surmised, thinking of how her parents had always disliked Imperial governors and moffs, who would often ignore the voices of their own people.

Piers smiled and changed the topic. “But I hear you’ve been overseeing the Maiden’s Sanctuary?” Leia nodded. “We visit there occasionally, so I’m glad to know they’re in good hands.”

“Of course, it’s been an unexpected blessing. They’re a very welcoming community.”

They – Leia, Amilyn, Rhiannon, and Piers – talked for a while longer, about the Sanctuary, the Flotilla, and other Senate projects. Despite their detached participation in the grand session and discussions, the Stewjoners were observant and knowledgeable of various foreign affairs. With their disposition, they saw complicated issues from a distance, and yet found the underlying nuance that defined them. It was unique perspective for Leia, as she was so often a key player, rather than an outside observer.

It made her think of her parents – their reputable positions of leadership over the years – and the innumerable amount of colleagues, allies, and friends they must’ve made from all over the galaxy. Her constant goal was living up to their example, and her rapport with these diverse senators was a factor of that.

And if nothing else, it was always a good idea to have friends surrounding her.

Leia reunited with Threepio at the expanded guests’ offices some time later. Luckily, she had only missed Tevan and Uwa’s greetings with Regent Administrator Valmor and their update on today’s discussions. Leia slipped in quietly, taking a seat in front of Threepio and listened attentively as they moved to designs that were still in progress.

The overall layout of the spacestation relied on the basic framework design of the original Death Star, although it wouldn’t resemble its spherical shape. It would look more like a spindle – the frame would encase rings around a central needle-like structure. The large middle ring would consist of enough hangar bays for the Flotilla’s entire fleet of starships, as well as numerous visitors. The various rings above and below would hold every division of resources they could need, such as communications, engineering, legislature, residence quarters, medical bays, archives, hydroponics, and a multilevel promenade to connect throughout.

It was at this time that Regent Administrator Valmor realized Leia’s presence. She turned their attention toward her, “Shall we focus on the in-development project that concerns our awaited guest of honor?”

Uwa spoke up with enthusiasm, “Of course!” She leaned forward, bringing up the drafts and displaying them through the communication stream. “We’re composing a wing dedicated to exhibiting some of the noble houses of Alderaan. Jora has many suggestions of course, but we thought you might appreciate being involved directly as well.”

Leia examined the preliminary ideas – the diplomacy of Organa, the military prowess of Ulgo, the educational programs of Antilles (the house of her mother, Breha, before she was married) – and about a half-dozen others. Leia was instantly inspired by the project. “I’d be happy to contribute to these plans– Houses Organa and Antilles in particular, of course. I wonder, would Jora be amiable to collaborating on House Alde’s exhibition?”

“I don’t see why not,” Tevan replied, “although, if I may ask, why the interest that house?”

Leia mulled over how to answer that question. She’d planned to research Alde in order to learn more about Beryl’s family, and now with seeing their project, she had the inkling that she and Beryl could work on the exhibitions together, as a way to help with her memories of Alderaan. However, she didn’t want to share the barely-formed idea, especially if it required explaining Beryl’s tragic past without her consent.

“I’d like to keep my motivations private for the time being. If Jora requires an explanation, she’s free to contact me while the project is in development.”

“I find that understandable,” said Regent Valmor. “There is one other division needing your input, although you may be less than willing to partake in it.”

“What is it?”

Uwa browsed through a layout of residential quarters with lavish amenities. “A royal suite for you and your family, with the space to expand if needed. You are the last survivor of Alderaanian royalty, and your enduring strength was a beacon of hope during the war. We want to honor that and provide a home that is always welcome to you, should you ever need it.”

Leia felt her chest tighten around her heart. Of course they wanted to do this for her, despite that she would be disagreeable to accepting the inordinate luxury of it. Not to mention her dedication to the senate and prolonged absence from the flotilla. And yet she saw in their expressions – of unquestionable respect and sheer determination – that they would insist against any objections she made. They were declaring their support for her and dedicating a permanent space for her and her family.

Uwa gave a thankful smile. “If it it’s any consolation, Verlaine and Regent Valmor will be afforded rightful quarters as well, again with space for their families and to expand if necessary. We plan to provide the same for all future appointed regents.”

“I would hope so.” Leia huffed, turning a pointed look at Tevan. “However, let me commission the designs myself apart from your contracted collaborators.”

“But I’m sure you already have so many responsibilities–”

“It will not be an issue,” Leia interrupted Tevan.

“Are you sure?” asked Regent Valmor, “We have a number of architects and interior designers–”

“I won’t have this take precedent over anything else. This is my request.”

She shook her head in mild exasperation, “Very well, Leia. But do let us know if anything comes up, won’t you?”

Leia nodded, giving them an adamant smile.

The gentle midday rain had stopped at some point during Gatalenta’s luncheon or the meeting with Regent Valmor, and now the mid-afternoon sun broke through the thinning cloud bank. Leia basked in its warmth, streaming through her office window.

Leia and Threepio had finally retired to her office for the remainder of senate hours. Threepio had opted to shut down for now, while Leia leaned back at her desk and closed her eyes, letting out a deep sigh. The day had dragged on and on, but at least it was nearly over.

So many expectations upon her, and yet she could never seem to stop herself from taking on more. Helping the Flotilla’s construction was her duty as senator and princess, and finding an interior designer herself was based on principle– that her accommodations shouldn't be prioritized over any others. She wasn’t really sure where to look for that type of thing, but she would figure it out.

If only she had such confidence with helping Luke rebuild the Jedi Order. How does one – or two – rebuild from destruction, their temples raided and desecrated, when any artifacts and survivors were hunted down and eradicated?

But as she pondered that question, she realized the restoration of the Jedi Order wasn’t altogether different from the preservation of Alderaan’s history and survivors. With Alderaan there was certainly a stronger foundation – and more survivors – but if she thought of them as similar, then the path forward became clearer. She and Luke needed to learn about Jedi history together, see researching and rebuilding as pieces of a whole that would take time and patience.

The Force may demand progress, it may pull and push however it may like, but they were sentient people, not just its vessels. They were dictated by their present just as much as by the past and future. Rather than focus on one or the other, was it not better to act upon the balance between? Just as Jedi were concentrated on the balance between all things?

The idea renewed her vigor, so she sat up, shuffling in her desk. She took out a spare holographic picture frame, setting it up beside a holoprojector replica of her parents’ memorial statue on Yavin. She took the data stick from her pocket and plugged it in, copying over Beryl’s drawing of the Starflowers. She smiled, remembering how Han had said her parents would be proud of her, for looking after the Sanctuary’s residents. After a day like today, she was hopeful they were truly proud of her endeavors.

And yet, she had one last expectation to fulfill before her scheduled meeting with Counselor Veda. Although she didn’t see it as harrowing as other senate duties.

Hera Syndulla was practically beaming at her when she answered, her five-year-old son sitting on her knee.

“Look Mom, it’s Auntie Leia!” Jacen pointed at her over the datascreen.

Leia smiled at the young boy, giving him a half-hearted wave.

“Yes, I see her,” Hera replied as she caught her eye and nudged her son’s side, “Why don’t you go get Chopper for me, huh?” Jacen happily jumped down and ran off to find the droid. “Busy day, Senator?”

“Oh, I don’t even know where to begin.” Leia sighed, fiddling with her cape.

“How about you start with what’s easiest?”

Leia hummed, floundering for words. “I don’t know about easy, but it’s almost– natural? I’ve joined a community here– the Maiden’s Sanctuary. They genuinely care for those they take in– refugees, orphans, or just people who need recovery and support. Originally, I was just there for funding check-ins, and I’ve only visited twice– but already they’ve welcomed me as a part of them,” she hardly paused to breathe, “And there’s this young girl – Beryl – who’s a survivor of Alderaan.”

“How old is she?”

“About nine, and she just lost her grandmother too, so everything’s very– turbulent, underneath the surface. I want to– help her, be there for her. It feels almost instinctual, even alongside my own grief. But–” She sighed, deflating as she carried on, “I’m so busy with the Senate. The Sanctuary invited me to come by outside of the funding check-ins, and I want to, but just today I’ve been reminded of the many responsibilities I already have.”

Hera gave her a fond look, having listened attentively to her rambling. “Well, maybe there’s a compromise. If they truly want you around and you want to be there, then lean on them.  Ask for their advice with the Senate stuff, or even just to listen. They sound like they’d be happy to be there for you.”

Leia nodded slowly, turning over the idea. She thought of Auggie and Counselor Veda– they were thoughtful and considerate with the residents, and they were so quick to welcome her. She’d had the idea earlier to have Beryl’s help with the Noble Houses’ exhibitions– and surely with their knowledge of Beryl’s background and schedule, they could help organize between them. And maybe Hera was right, maybe they would be willing to listen to her other concerns and offer advice on what to do.

She looked back up, finally relaxing as Hera smiled with understanding.

“Now then,” she pressed, “tell me what was most difficult about today.”

Leia huffed good-naturedly. “The Alderaan Flotilla; today they were presenting their progress – with their construction of a spacestation – and requesting funds, resources, sponsors. As Alderaan’s Senator, I’m part of the planning and– of course, I want to help, as is expected, but I–”

She sighed again, remembering her conversation with Rieeken. “I was there, on the Death Star, and not only watched it happen, but Tarkin used its destruction to hurt me personally. And years have passed now, and I haven’t been back there.” Leia paused, shuddering slightly as she tried to find a way to explain further, “There are places, far enough away, where the light of the explosion hasn’t yet reached– hasn’t ignited even, and if there was a strong enough telescope, you could still see Alderaan in the distance. I’ve been to a planet like that, and realized where it would be in the sky– and sometimes I still feel like I’m there. And as long as I stay away and never see what remains– then Alderaan’s still there, and my parents are still watching for me, waiting for my return.”

Leia felt tears pricking at her eyes, and Hera was wiping away a tear of her own. It was a quiet moment. “It’s okay,” Hera said, her eyes glistening still, “I understand what you’re going through,” and Leia smiled sadly, because she knew Hera truly could empathize with her pain.

She had lost Kanan– Jacen’s father, her partner in fighting against the Empire, leading a Rebel Cell of misfits and survivors, and finding love and hope among so much tragedy. He had been one of the few Jedi to survive the purge, and they had founded a family together, with Chopper, Zeb, Sabine, and Ezra. Ezra had been fourteen (born in the same year as Leia) when they first found him, a street orphan on Lothal with latent force abilities.

Over time, they had helped bring together the Rebellion, alongside Bail Organa, her father, before the Alliance was even established. Some years later, she had met them herself, when she was serving as an aide to her father in the Imperial Senate. During their short mission together, Leia had relied on the pair of Jedi, and they had trusted her as well. For the Rebellion, Kanan and Ezra were a reminder of who had come before, a beacon of hope that they could survive the Empire’s cruelty.

While liberating Lothal, Kanan gave his life to ensure their survival, and Ezra had followed close behind, lost in Wild Space with the Chimaera– the Imperial star destroyer, its commanding officer, and crew responsible for the blockade and bombardment of Lothal.

Hera had had to live on, carry their legacy, in protecting Lothal, continuing to fight for the Rebellion, and in raising her son. She had to have been reminded of her grief constantly, unable to avoid it like Leia had. And Leia had avoided it, smothered it down as soon as she was led back to her cell. She had continued to suppress it from thereon, even after the Death Star was destroyed at the Battle of Yavin. She’d had people to save, a war to fight, and never enough time to grieve.

“It’s okay,” Hera said again, her voice wavering, interrupting Leia’s dismal reverie. She looked at her fondly, and she wondered briefly if that was how she looked at Beryl, when they had shared stories in the greenhouse. “It’s good that you’re acknowledging it. What comes next won’t be easy. This is when you allow yourself to be vulnerable with those who care, ask for their help, and accept what they can offer.

“So, Leia, tell me, what can I do for you?”

Leia let out a long breath, “That’s why I called. The flotilla needs someone who knows the Death Star plans and Imperial tech. We thought of Captain Kallus, but I recognize that he’s retired. I was hoping you could put me in contact with him, so that he could refer us to another rebel analyst who he could share his intel with.”

“Ah–” Just then, her C1-series astromech, Chopper, came wheeling in, with Jacen chasing behind. Hera wrangled them, getting her son back on her knee and having Chopper settle at their side. “Well, Chop and I can contact Kal and Zeb for you, but it may take some time. Comms don’t connect directly, but messages are ferried through often enough. I can let you know when I hear back.”

“That’s fine. Thank you, Hera.”

“Anything else I can help you with?”

Leia wondered– she hadn’t thought about it before, but now– “Well, you remember Luke? I’m helping him with his search for Jedi artifacts and rebuilding– and I know it may be difficult, but I’m sure he’d appreciate your input, even if it’s just stories.”

Hera smiled, memories of Kanan and Ezra clearly passing behind her eyes. “Of course, I always hoped for more chances to talk with Luke about them. Tell you what, we’ll get a message sent off to Kal, then we’ll head to Chandrila. I have to make a couple stops, but we should be there within a few days. This way we can talk in person, Luke can ask any questions, and I can help you with your Senate duties. What d’you think, Jacen, wanna see Leia and Luke on Chandrila?”

“Yeah!” He laughed as Hera tickled him, and Leia smiled at the love and warmth between them.

“That sounds lovely, and I really do appreciate it. We’ll be excited to have you around.”

“It’s no trouble, we hadn’t yet decided where we were off to. You let me know if there’s anything else, okay?”

“I will. Thanks again.” She waved and smiled at Jacen as they said their goodbyes, and Leia felt lighter than before, relieved of taking burdens solely on her shoulders.

Endnotes: Phew! That took a while, which I expected, but I didn’t realize just how long. Classes have begun (first time living on campus in a long time), so writing and posting may not occur very often. However, I do have outlined ideas for part 3 of “Leia’s Day Out”, and it’s not as difficult an agenda as senate work. I hope this chapter was satisfactory, and wasn’t too boring. Next: meeting with Veda and a Jedi lesson at the archives!

[chiseler]

Gnostic Boardwalk

Canonical stature is a fragile and contingent thing, which is why powerful institutions seek to shore up the various canons of art with rankings and plaudits. We’ll play along by asserting that one of our favorite “B” movies was originally screened by Henri Langlois at the Cinematheque française with Georges Franju in attendance. Night Tide (1961) was an unlikely contender for this particular honor—shot guerrilla style on an estimated $35,000 budget, and intended, by its distributors at least, for a wider, less demanding audience seeking mostly air-conditioned escapism.

With its hinky cast—nonfictional witch, Marjorie Cameron; erstwhile muse to surrealist filmmaker Jean Cocteau, the undersung Babette who usually appears en travesti; and lecherous, booze-addled, fresh-faced Hollywood castoff Dennis Hopper—Night Tide invades the drive-in. A tarot reading at the film’s heart gives Marjorie Eaton her time to shine, traipsing into nickel-and-dime divination from her former life as a painter of Navajo religious ceremonies. Linda Lawson might have issued from an etching by Odilon Redon, with her raven locks and spiritual eyes, our resident sideshow mermaid. Not surprisingly and despite such gentle segues, the film itself traveled a rocky road from festivals to paying venues.

Night Tide had spent three years languishing in the can when distributor Roger Corman smuggled the unlikely masterwork into public consciousness, another of his now legendary mitzvahs to art. And the sleazy-sounding double bills that resulted also unleashed an aberrant wonder: the movie’s compact leading man, a force previously held captive by the studio system—looking, here, like some homunculus refugee from the Fifties USA. Dennis Hopper, in his first starring role, would later recall that it represented his first “aesthetic impact” on film since his earlier appearances in more mainstream productions such as Rebel Without a Cause and Giant had denied him meaningful outlets for collaboration.

It’s the presence of its featured players—certainly not their star power—that lends the film its haunting and enduring legacy, and elevates the term “cult classic” to its rightful place in the pantheon of cinema. But we argue that Night Tide remains outside these exclusive parameters—upholding an elsewhere-ness that defies commercial, if not strictly canonical, logic. Curtis Harrington’s first feature film escapes taxonomy, typology or genre—gets away—fueling itself on acts of solidarity instead. If Hopper contributes his dreamy aura, then Corman rescues the seemingly doomed project by re-negotiating the terms of a defaulted loan to the film lab company that was preventing the film’s initial release. His generous risk birthed a movie monument that would add Harrington’s name to a growing collection of talent midwifed by the visionary schlockmeister responsible for nursing the auteurs of post-war American cinema. And here we enter a production history as gossamery as Night Tide itself.  

Unlike his counterparts entrenched within the studio system, Harrington was an artist – i.e. a Hollywood anachronism, with aristocratic graces and a viewfinder trained on the unseen. We see Harrington as Georges Méliès reborn with a queer eye, casting precisely the same showman’s metaphysics that spawned cinema onto nature. By the time moving pictures were invented, artists were moving away from a bloodless representational ethos and excavating more primordial sources for inspiration. The early stirrings of what surrealist impresario André Breton would later proclaim: “Beauty will be CONVULSIVE or it will not be at all.”

Harrington owned a pair of Judy Garland’s emerald slippers, and according to horror queen/cult icon Barbara Steele, also amassed an eclectic array of human specimens: “Marlene Dietrich, Gore Vidal, Russian alchemists, holistic healers from Normandy, witches from Wales, mimes from Paris, directors from everywhere, writers from everywhere and beautiful men from everywhere.” On a hastily constructed Malibu boardwalk, Hopper would be in his milieu among the eccentric denizens of California’s artistic underground—most notably, Harrington himself, a feral Victorian mountebank of a director who slept among mummified bats, practiced Satanic rites, and hosted elaborate and squalid dinner parties. One could almost picture the mostly television director in his twilight years as Roman Castavet of Rosemary’s Baby; a spellbinding raconteur with a carny’s flair for embellishment and enticement. Enthralled by the dark gnosticism of Edgar Allan Poe that had started when the aspiring 16-year-old auteur mounted a nine-minute long production of The Fall of the House of Usher (1942), Harrington would embark on a checkered film career that combined his occult passions with the quotidian demands of securing steady employment. Night Tide, a humble matinee feature whose esoteric underpinnings would spawn subsequent generations of admirers, united the competing forces of art and commerce that Harrington would struggle with throughout his career. Like Méliès, Harrington pointed his kinetic device towards the more preternatural aspects of early motion pictures to seek out the ‘divine spark’ that Gnostics attribute to transcendence, and the necessary element to achieve that immortal leap into the unknown. What hidden meanings and unspeakable acts Poe had seized upon in his writing were brought infernally to life with a mechanical sleight-of-hand. It was finally time for crepuscular light, beamed through silver salts to illuminate otherworldly and other-thinking subjects.

Curtis Harrington

By the time Harrington had embarked on his feature film debut, a more muscular celluloid mythology based on America’s proven exceptionalism was in full force, taking on a brutalist monotone cast in keeping with the steely-eyed, square-jawed men at the helm of a nascent super-power, consigning its more feminine preoccupations to the dusty vaults where celluloid is devoured by its own nitrate. Harrington would resurrect the convulsive aspects of his chosen vocation and embed them deep within the monochrome canvas he’d been allotted for his first venture into feature filmmaking, and combine them with the more rational aspects of so-called realism. In the romantic re-telling of a familiar myth, Harrington was remaining true to gnostic roots and the distinctly poetic language used to express its cosmological features.  

In Night Tide, Harrington would map the metaphysical terrain that held up Usher’s cursed edifice as a blueprint for his own work that similarly explored the intertwined duality of the natural and the supernatural. The visible cracks that reveal a fatal structural weakness and a loss of sanity in both Roderick Usher and his doomed estate are evident in Night Tide’s conflicted heroine compelled to choose between her own foretold death underwater, or a worse fate for those who fall in love with her earthly human form.  

A young sailor (Dennis Hopper) strolling the boardwalks of Malibu while on shore leave offers the viewer an opening glimpse into the film’s metaphysical wormhole, and a not so subtle hint of the director’s queer eye, stalking his virginal prey in the viewfinder. A beachfront entertainment venue is, after all, where one would casually encounter soothsayers and murderers, sea witches and perverts, as the guileless Johnny does, seemingly oblivious to the surrealist elements of his surroundings as he makes his way on land.

Harrington’s carnival-themed underworld is both imaginatively and convincingly presented as a quaint slice of post-war America, effortlessly dovetailing with his intended drive-in audience’s expectations of grind house with a dash of glamor—not to mention his own avant-garde leanings, which remain firmly intact despite Night Tide’s outwardly conventional construction and narrative.  

Harrington is able to present this juxtaposition of kitsch Americana and the queer arcana of his occult fascinations. Indeed, Night Tide’s lamb-to-the-slaughter protagonist could have wandered off the set of Fireworks, Kenneth Anger’s 1947 homoerotic short film about a 17-year-old’s sadomasochistic fantasies involving gang rape by leathernecks.

Anger would later sum up his earliest existing film as “A dissatisfied dreamer awakes, goes out in the night seeking a ‘light’ and is drawn through the needle’s eye. A dream of a dream, he returns to bed less empty than before.” Harrington (a frequent collaborator of Anger in his youth) seems to have re-worked Fireworks, or at least its underlying queer aesthetic into a commercially viable feature film that explores his own life long occult fascinations.

Both Anger and his former protégé would view the invocation of evil as a necessary step towards the attainment of a higher level of consciousness. Harrington coaxed a more familiar story from the myths and archetypes that informed his unworldly views for a wider audience; a move that would be later interpreted by sundry cohorts as selling out. Still, Night Tide shares a thematic kinship with Anger’s more obtusely artistic output as acknowledged by the surviving occultist, who confirmed this unholy covenant at Harrington’s funeral by kissing his dead friend on the lips as he laid in his open coffin.  

The hokey innocence of Dennis Hopper as Johnny Drake in his tight, white sailor suit casts a homoerotic hue on the impulses that compel him to navigate a treacherous dreamscape to satisfy a carnal longing, just as Anger’s dissatisfied dreamer obeys the implicit commands of an unspeakable other to seek out forbidden pleasures.  

As he makes his way on land, the solitary, adventure-seeking Johnny will be lured into a waiting photo booth, his features slightly menacing behind its flimsy curtain, and brightly smiling a second later as the flash illuminates them. Johnny has entered a realm where intersecting worlds collide, delineating light from shadow, consciousness from unconsciousness. The young sailor’s maiden voyage into the uncharted waters of his subconscious is made evident in the contrasting interplay captured by the camera, where predator and prey overlap in darkness. Here, too, we get a prescient preview of the deranged psychopath Hopper would subsequently personify in later roles, most significantly as the oxygen deprived Frank of Blue Velvet—a man who seems to be drowning out of water. But here, Hopper convincingly (and touchingly) portrays a wide-eyed naïf, still unsteady on his sea legs as he negotiates dry land.  

As a variation of Anger’s lucid dreamer in Fireworks (and later Jeffrey of Blue Velvet) Johnny will have abandoned himself quite literally (as his departing shadow on a carnival pavilion suggests, before its host blithely follows) to his own suppressed sexual urges; a force that eventually compels him towards denouement.  

Moments later, inside the Blue Grotto where a flute-led jazz combo is in progress, Johnny spots a beautiful young woman (Linda Lawson) seated directly across from him.  Her restrained and almost involuntary physical response to the music mimic his own, offering the first indication of a gender ‘other’ residing in Johnny; an entombed apparition cleaved from the sub-conscious and projected into his line of vision. Roderick and Madeline Usher loom large in Harrington’s screenplay and Usher’s trans themes lurk invisibly in the subtext. Harrington is arguably heir apparent to Poe’s vacated throne, pursuing similar clue-laden paths and exploring the dual nature of human and the primordial creature just beneath the surface poised to devour its host.  

The near literal strains of seductive Pan pipes buoyed by the ‘voodoo’ percussion sets the stage for Harrington’s reworking of the ancient legend of sea-based seductresses and the sailors they lure to their graves.  

Marjorie Cameron (or ‘Cameron’ as she is referred to in the opening credits) makes a startling entrance into The Blue Grotto as an elder of a lost tribe of mermaids seeking the return of an errant ‘mermaid’ to her rightful place in the sea. Cameron, a controversial fixture in L.A.’s bohemian circles and one-time Scarlet Women in the mold of Aleister Crowley’s profane muses, would later appear in Anger’s The Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome, and as the subject of Harrington’s short documentary The Wormwood Star (1956).  

The inclusion of a bonafide witch, along with a host of less apparent occult/avant-garde figures, is further evidence of Night Tide’s true aspirations and its filmmaker’s subversive intent to sneak an art-house film into the drive-in, and introduce its audiences to the heretical doctrine that had spawned a new generation of occult visionaries influenced by Edgar Allan Poe. Decades later, David Lynch would carry that proverbial torch, further illuminating the writhing, creature-infested realm underlying innocence.

Johnny approaches the young woman who rebuffs his attempts at conversation, seemingly entranced by the music, but allows him to sit, anyway. Soon they are startled by the presence of a striking middle-aged woman (‘Cameron’) who speaks to Johnny’s companion Mora in a strange tongue. Mora insists that she has never met the woman before, nor understands her, but makes a fearful dash from the club as Johnny follows her, eventually gaining her trust and an invitation the following day for breakfast.  

Mora lives in a garret atop the carousal pavilion at the boardwalk carnival where she works in one of the side show attractions as a “mermaid.” Arriving early for their arranged breakfast, her eager suitor strikes up a conversation with the man who runs the Merry-Go-Round with his granddaughter, Ellen (Luanna Anders). Their trepidation at the prospecting Johnny becoming intimately acquainted with their beautiful tenant is apparent to all except Johnny himself, who is even more oblivious to Ellen’s wholesome and less striking charms. Even her name evokes the flat earth, soul-crushing sensibilities of home and hearth. Ellen Sands is earthbound Virgo eclipsed by an ascendent Pisces. (Anders would have to subordinate her own sex appeal to play this mostly thankless “good girl” role.  She would be unrecognizable a few years later as a more brazenly erotic presence in Easy Rider, helping to define the Vietnam war counterculture era.)  

As Johnny ascends the narrow staircase leading to Mora’s sunlit, nautical-themed apartment, he almost collides with a punter making a visibly embarrassed retreat from the upper floor of the carousel pavilion.  Is Johnny unknowingly entering into a realm of vice and could Mora herself be a source of corruption? Her virtue is further called into question when she not so subtly asks Johnny if he has ever eaten sea urchin, comparing it to “pomegranate” lest her guest fails to register the innuendo that is as glaring as the raw kipper on his breakfast plate.  Johnny admits that he has never eaten the slippery delicacy but “would like to try.” Moments later, Mora’s hand in close-up is stroking the quivering neck of a seagull she has lured over with a freshly caught fish, sealing their carnal bond.  

Their subsequent courtship will be marred by an ongoing police investigation into the mysterious deaths of Mora’s former boyfriends, and her insistence that she is being pursued by a sea witch, seeking the errant mermaid’s return to her own dying tribe. Her mysterious stalker will make another unwelcome entrance after her first  appearance in the Blue Grotto—this time at an outdoor shindig where the free-spirited young woman reluctantly obliges the gathered locals who urge her to dance. The sight of ‘Cameron’ observing her in the distance causes the frenzied, seemingly spellbound dancer to collapse, setting off a chain of events that will force Johnny to further question her motives and his own sanity.  

Mora’s near death encounter through dance is an homage of sorts to another early Harrington collaborator and occult practitioner. Experimental filmmaker Maya Deren had authored several essays on the ecstatic religious elements of dance and possession, and later went on to document her experiences in Haiti taking part in ‘Voudon’ rituals that would be the basis of a book and a posthumously released documentary both titled Divine Horsemen: The Living Gods of Haiti. Note the Caribbean drummers whose ‘unnatural’ presence, in stark contrast to the more typical Malibu beach party celebrants, hint at the influence of black magic impelling the convulsive, near heart-stopping movements that eventually overtake her ‘exotic’ interpretive dance.    

The opening sequence of Divine Horsemen includes a woodblock mermaid figure superimposed over a ‘Voudon’ dancer. The significance of this particular motif was likely known to Harrington, a devotee of this early pioneer of experimental American cinema.  Deren herself appeared as a mermaid-like figure washed ashore in At Land (1947) who pursues a series of fragmented ‘selves’ across a wild, desolate coastline. Lawson with her untamed black hair and bare feet could be a body double of Deren’s elemental entity traversing unfamiliar physical terrain to find a way back to herself.

Mora’s insistence that she is being shadowed by a malevolent force directly connected to her mysterious birth on a Greek Island and curious upbringing as a sideshow attraction compel Johnny to investigate her paranoid claims, hoping to allay her fears with a logical explanation for them. The sea witch  (or now figment of his imagination) will guide the sleuthing sailor into a desolate, mostly Mexican neighborhood where her departing figure will strand him—right at the doorstep of the jovial former sea captain who employs Mora in his tent show as a captive, “living, breathing mermaid.”  

The British officer turned carnie barker is in a snoring stupor when Johnny first encounters him, snapping unconsciously into action to give a rote spiel on the wonders that await inside his tent. Muir balances Mudock’s feigned buffoonery with a slightly sinister edge. When Johnny arrives at his doorstep to find out more about the ongoing police investigation into her previous boyfriend’s deaths, the captain’s effusive hospitality takes on a decidedly darker tone when he guides his visitor to his liquor/curio cabinet where a severed hand in formaldehyde, “a little Arabian souvenir,” is cunningly placed where Johnny’s will see it. The spooky appendage serves as a reminder to Mora’s latest suitor of the punishments in store for a thief.

Captain Murdock’s Venice beach hacienda is yet another one of Night Tide’s deviant jolts: a fully fleshed out character in itself that speaks of its well-travelled tenant’s exotic and forbidden appetites. The dark, symbol-inscribed temple Johnny has entered at 777 Baabek Lane could be a brick-and-mortar portal into this mythic, mermaid-populated dimension that Johnny’s booze-soaked host thunderously defends as real.

Before falling into another involuntary slumber, Murdock will try to convince Johnny that while he and Mora merely stage a sideshow illusion, “Things happen in this world”—or, more to the point, Mora’s belief that she is a sea creature is grounded in fact.  

Murdock’s business card that Johnny handily has in his pocket while tailing his dramatically kohl-eyed mark is oddly inscribed with an address more likely to be an ancient Phoenician temple of human sacrifice (Baalbek) than a Venice Beach bungalow. A lingering camera close-up offers another tantalizing, occult-themed puzzle piece—or perhaps a deliberate Kabbalah inspired MacGuffin. The significance of numbers as the underlying components for uniting the nebulous and intangible contents of the mind with the more inert, gravity bound matter, existing outside it, as the ancient Hebrews believed, wouldn’t have been lost on Night Tide’s mystically-minded helmer.  Mora’s explicitly expressed disdain for Johnny’s view of the world as a rationally ordered, measurable entity that could be mathematically explained, reinforces Harrington’s world view, his love of Poe, and those French Symbolist artists who interpreted him.

In Odilon Redon’s Germination (1879), a wan, baleful, free-floating arabesque of heads of indeterminate gender suggests either a linear, ascending involution, or a terrifying descent from an unlit celestial void into a bottomless pit of an all-too-human, devolving identity. Redon’s disembodied heads gradually take on more human characteristics, culminating into a black-haloed portrait in profile. The cosmos of Redon’s etching is governed by an unexplained, inexplicable moral sentience, which absorbs the power of conventional light. Thus black is responsible for building its essential form, while glimmers of white, hovering above and below, prove ever elusive; registering as somehow elsewhere, beyond the otherwise tenebrous unity of the picture plane.

Night Tide has its own unsettling dimensions, of course, this black-and-white boardwalk where astral, egalitarian bums want to tip-toe; and, somehow, practically all of them do. Not a movie but an ever-becoming place, crammed into low-budget cosmogenesis unto eternity. We won’t discuss the ending here, since it hasn’t happened yet.

by The Lumière Sisters

[world-of-puppets]

Puppetry Lost Media

In honour of reaching 50 followers last week (now 55 followers, as of writing this) I decided to cover two subjects of great interest to me: puppetry (of course) and lost media.

Everybody online loves a good old bit of lost media. Whether it be being a part of the many searches for the media in question, or watching documentaries about them on sites like YouTube. I’ve been mildly addicted to the latter kind of content for a while. From what I’ve seen, though, there aren’t many videos or articles out there specifically covering lost puppetry. So, in no particular order, here are a couple of pieces of lost puppetry I found while scrolling through the lost media wiki.

銀河少年隊 - Ginga shounen-tai AKA Galaxy Boy Troop (1963 - 1965)

Osamu Tezuka is one of the most pioneering figures in Japanese art and animation. Starting as a manga artist in the 1940s inspired by the animated works of American studios such as Walt Disney and the Fliecer Brothers, he adapted and simplified many of the stylistic techniques of both artists to create his own signature style of big shiny eyes, physics defying hair and limited animation. A style that would go on to heavily influence the world of anime and manga as a whole.

But animation and graphic art were not the only mediums Tezuka would dabble in. Ginga Shounen-Tai, or Galaxy Boy Troop in english, was a television series that aired on the public broadcast channel NHK from April 7th, 1963 to April 1st, 1965. Running for 2 seasons with a total of 92 episodes.

The series was a mixture of marionette characters that utilised the Supermarionation marionette technique, popularised by Jerry Anderson’s Thunderbirds, and limited traditional animation. The story revolves around a child genius named Roy who leads a rag-tag group of heros around the galaxy in a rocket ship in order to revive the earth’s sun and later protect it from alien invaders.

Out of the 92 episodes that aired, only episode 67 still exists in its entirety with French subtitles, and the full episode can be found on YouTube with English subtitles uploaded by user Rare TezukaVids. According to user F-Man on the Tezuka in English forums, footage of episode 28 exists but with no audio, and episode 87’s animated segments exist without the marionette segments. F-Man also claims the reason for Galaxy Boy Troop’s disappearance is due to Tezuka not being proud of the series and having all episodes of it destroyed.

Personally, I think it’s a shame that pretty much all of this series is gone. From what I’ve seen in episode 67, it looks really charming. Tezuka’s signature character design style was adapted suprisingly well to marionettes, and the puppetry itself isn’t that bad either. I love the little face mechanisms like the blinking eyes, flapping mouths and others. It gives the puppets a lot of personality and charm. Like, just look at this old mans eyebrow mechanism and tell me you wouldn’t want to watch 92 episodes of this show;

Tinseltown (2007)

Tinseltown was a 15 minute sitcom pilot created by the Jim Henson company under thier Henson Alternative banner. The pilot was commissioned by the Logo Network and aired as part of the Alien Boot Camp programming block in 2007.

The pilot (and likely the series, had it been picked up by the logo network) features a cast of both puppets and live actors as characters. The premise revolves around Samson Kight, an anthropomorphic bull preformed by Brian Henson and drew Massey, and his partner Bobby Vegan, an anthropomorphic pig prefomed by Bill Barretta and Michelan Sisti, as they attempt to balance thier lives working in Hollywood with life as parents to thier sullen 12-year-old foster son, Foster, played by Paul Butcher. Other human characters included Mia Sara as Samson’s ex-wife Lena and Francesco Quinn as the family’s manservant Arturo.

The Tinseltown pilot used to be available on the Logo Network’s YouTube channel, but was later removed for unknown reason. Since then, the pilot has not been made available online. However the characters Samson and Bobby have made appearances in other Henson related works, such as the improv stage show Stuffed and Unstrung, where they played the role as the shows producers, and in a 2011 video on the Jim Henson Company YouTube channel celebrating Jim Hensons 75th birthday.

I find Tinseltown pretty interesting as I feel like it should be more noateable or known, considering that this is (as far as my knowledge goes) the first Jim Henson Company project featureing openly lgbtq characters as its leads, and would have been the first Henson show to do so had it been picked up. As someone who’s interested in lgbtq+ representation in creative media such as animation, I realised that there’s not many examples of canon lgbt characters in puppetry. The only ones aside from Samson and Bobby I could think off the top of my head would be Deet’s Dads from The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance and Rod from Avenue Q. Though, obviously, there could be more I’m not currently aware of. I don’t think the Tinseltown pilot was a masterpiece or anything. After all, there’s probably a couple of good reasons Logo didn’t pick it up for a full series. But I think it be cool if either Henson co. or Logo made this available online again, if just so we could appericate it as an interesting little footnote in the history of lgbtq rep in puppetry.

With that said, considering the pilot’s obscurity and the fact that it’s main couple haven’t been used in any Henson Related projects in almost ten years, as well as the possibility that there may be legalities preventing the Henson company from releasing it such as Logo still owning the rights, it’s unlikely we’ll see the Tinseltown pilot anytime soon.

Sonic Live in Sydney (1997 - 2000)

Sonic the Hedgehog is a fictional character no stranger to multiple interpretations of him and his universe across a diverse range of media. From the more light-hearted and comedic stylings of The Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog and Cartoon Networks Sonic Boom cartoon series, to more serious faire such as the Sonic SatAM cartoon and the Sonic Adventure videogame duology. One of the more obscure and stranger adaptations of the character came in the form of Sonic Live in Sydney, a one an a half hour live show hosted at the former Sega World Sydney amusement park in Darling Harbor, Sydney, Australia. Originally beginning as a live show with actors in meet-and-greet style costumes, the show eventually was replaced with a puppet show during its last two years.

The shows plot was set in an alternate timeline whos continuity was a mix of the SatAM cartoon and Sonic the Hedgehog 3, where Doctor Robotnik’s Death Egg crash lands in Sydney, Australia instead of Angel Island and attempts to take over before being foiled by sonic and friends. According to Phillip Einfeld of Phillip Einfeld Puppetoons, the company that made the puppets, Sega felt the costumed actor version of the show wasn’t dynamic enough, and wished to replace it with a version featuring live puppets with animatronics. Both versions of the shows plot are identical.

While Sonic Live in Sydney’s soundtrack is available on YouTube, and some photos of the show are available on the Lost Media Wiki, no footage of either the costumed actors version or the puppet show version have resurfaced. The show was closed down in 1999, possibly due to cost, shortly before the Sega World park as a whole in 2000. So unless there is someone out there who viseted the show between 1998 or 1999 who recorded the show via a handheld camera, footage of both incarnations of the show are likely forever lost to time.

On a personal note, I don’t have much to say on this one other than how gloriously peek gaudy 90s Sonic the set/puppet design is. I have no doubt finding footage of these puppets in action would truly be a silly delight to behold...

Legend of Mary (year unknown)

This one is a little different from the other entries on this list as while the film itself in its entiraty is available on YouTube for anyone to view, the information surrounding Legend of Mary, specifically its year of release, remains a mystery as of writing this.

I have mentioned the film before on this blog so I’ll keep it brief here: in summary, Legend of Mary is a short film retelling of the Nativity featuring the Rod puppets of Austrian puppeteer Richard Teschner. the video was uploaded to YouTube by user canada 150 archive. I looked up the people credited in the film and was able to find most of them, but didn’t find Legend of Mary listed in thier credits, and was unable to find the film on sites like IMDB, tMDB or Letterboxd. I reached out to Canada 150 archive asking if they had any info regarding the Legend of Mary’s release date, and after a coupe of months, they replied saying they didn’t know.

And that’s as far as I got on my search for answers, if anyone of you guys has any information regarding Legend of Mary, then it be of huge help in finding the release date.

Sam and friends (1955 - 1961)

Sam and friends was the very first puppetry television series created by Jim Henson alongside his colabarator and future wife Jane Nebel. filmed in Washington, D.C. and airing twice daily on WRC-TV and the NBC affiliate in Washington, D.C. from May 9, 1955, to December 15, Sam and Friends would mark the first apperence of Kermit (though not yet as a frog) and paved the way for Henson’s iconic and revered legacy in the realm of puppetry on film and television.

With the impact this show had in mind, it may come as a shock to some that almost half of Sam and Friends, specifically, 42 of the 86 episodes, are considered lost. With 16 existing, 8 documented, 9 known from memory, plus 8 existing Esskay commercials and 1 memory-known Esskay commercial. Some taped episodes have been shown at venues such as the museum of the moving image while others have been erased. It’s unknown if copies of these erased episodes still exist.

This post would become far to long if I were too list every episode missing from Sam and Freinds, but if your curious, the lost media wiki article has a comprehensive list of all lost episodes.

Annnd that about it for this post. This type of content is pretty different from the stuff I usually post. So I’m egar to see what you guys think about it. If you enjoyed this article, want to see more like it or have ideas for what puppetry-related topics I should cover in the future. And again, thank you all so much for helping me reach 55 followers. Your support really does mean a lot to me, and I hope you enjoyed this as a follower milestone gift.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed this dip into lost puppetry, and have a happy holiday season!

[adiabolikpastel]

Title: Lunar Eclipse Masquerade

Reiji pt. 2

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2,409

Pairing: Reiji x ? (m/f)

ღ Reiji finds himself attending this Masquerade alone, despite somehow miraculously getting all his brothers to make an appearance. The effects of the moon fuel is longing for the one he loves, but a nice distraction can solve all that. ღ

Mun Yu: We made it to the second wave of LEM. I hope you all enjoyed the set up, and are ready for the main event. Our Lunar Eclipse is in full swing as the masquerade beings. These chapters will be longer.

Additionally: I would love to thank @dialovers-translations for translating the Shu and Reiji versus CD which show cased them during the Lunar Eclipse. It helped me greatly to write his personality.

☆+ ﾟ .+ .ﾟ.ﾟ｡ ﾟ ｡. +ﾟ ｡ﾟ.ﾟ｡☆*｡｡ . ｡ o .｡ﾟ｡.o｡* ｡ .｡

Despite what most people think, demonic beings are very social creatures. The elites hold countless balls and parties, celebrating their immortality together, and entertaining one another with stories. Typically, they are done in celebration for something – though this is not always the case. All types of beings from across the Demon Realm will come if the host is of high enough prestige.

There would be no such host if it was not for Karlheinz. Seated as the head of the Bat Clan (vampires), Karl’s reach spans far. Being the widow for the former Demon King’s daughter, and having children of the first blood, an invitation from the Vampire King is not one to refuse. Though why would you? In his immaculate castle within the Demon Realm, Eden Castle, it is always quite the spectacle. While the celebrations held in his Human World mansion are nice, nothing compares to a true night of pleasure within the true home of the King.

On this night, there was to be a Masquerade in honor of the first Lunar Eclipsed Moon in over two years. While this night may serve each species differently, the idea to celebrate its return was simply too tempting. For this reason, Karlheinz took it upon himself – or rather – his house, to host the event. This extended to his offspring as well, regardless of their personal agenda. Members of every social elite race accepted the offer, and gathered for a truly unforgettable evening.

The past week had been hell. Getting a hold of all his siblings was no easy task, now that most of them no longer lived in the family mason. Contacting Shu was simple enough, as the two of them were closer now. It was strange. Most of his life, Reiji had hated Shu. Not that there weren’t thing that still made him crazy about his brother. However, they now had a common goal – one that Shu was actually willing to help with.

He was honestly surprised his elder brother agreed to the task. Ever since Reiji learned the true purpose of the Adam and Eve project their father was slaving away over, he knew that there would only be Shu who could actually take his place. Not for anything lacking in himself, of course. Between the two of them, Reiji was clearly a better suited ruler. It was for the simple fact that Shu would be unable to make a true connection like the rest of them.

In order for Karl’s project to work, truly work, his sons – or Adam – must become connected with a human. To adapt their emotions, and breed in order to make a new form of being. Once that was achieved, it was then up to that chosen son to defeat their father. Obviously, there were a good number of them who fit the first piece of that criteria. However, there was an overwhelming lack of interest in the second. While none of the triplets had interest in taking over the position of their father, Subaru also showed little interest.

Which left Reiji and Shu, the two eldest of the sons, to fulfill this plan of their father’s. While Reiji had always wanted to rule after their father, he was not sure that he could actually defeat him. Nor did he want to. His admiration for is father was too great to ever actually defeat him. Which only left Shu, and while Reiji did not want to admit that he would need the assistance of his loathed brother- there was no other option.

Strangely enough, when Reiji had talked to Shu about it, he wasn’t opposed to the idea. Seemed he deserved more credit than Reiji had every given. All that to say now, the two brothers were slowly growing closer – and Reiji was actually starting to enjoy his brother. It was at first disturbing – but the two of them were much more alike than Reiji had ever thought. The two had gotten so close in fact, they were able to connect with one another through the magic they’d been practicing in the Makai. Now all the two of them had to do was concentrate on the other, and a telepathic bound would be formed for communication.

With Shu contacted, next he would need to track down Laito and Ayato. It took a few days, but eventually the familiars were able to locate the middle children. Ayato was annoyed, but he and Yuko accepted the invitation. Laito was worse, since he had intended to cut off ties to the family. Reiji had warned him that it was no possible, and that if he did not attend this event, their father would find him. Which only left Subaru and Kanato. Those two Reiji decided to tell the night before, that way they could not refuse the invitation.

The only person he could not convince to come, was Rika, much to his dismay. She apparently had a thesis paper to work on, and experiments that couldn’t be left unattended. While this upset him, there was not much he could do about it. Such a change in personality for him, to actually allow a human to deny him. The thought alone made him want to call her again, demand her presence, or take her by force. However, he was much more attracted to the fact that Rika had goals as she did. She was driven, smart, proper, sexy, honestly – there was nothing he would change about her. He would simply go to the event alone.

With is brothers taken care of, Reiji went on ahead to Eden Castle, to assist his father in any preparations. When he arrived, he was surprised to find Skye commanding the familiars in his place. Reiji wasn’t the biggest fan of Skye – mostly because he felt uneasy that a male dressed the way Skye did. It was already unpleasant when Laito would force his human stalker to do as such – but to see someone else do it – in his father’s home no less – was simply unnerving. With Skye, Reiji never knew how to address him – though the siren never corrected him if he were wrong.

The two of them were effortlessly able to prepare the castle for guest, and the night of the Lunar Eclipse arrived in grand fashion. Karlheinz had not skipped any member of the Makai’s social elite. The Snake Clan, Eagle Clan, Wolf Clan; and a few of their sub families – not to mention sub families of the Bat Clan as well. Reiji was surprised at how many guest could fit into the Castle, then again, it was magic – no doubt that played a hand in helping.

Reiji proudly stood to greet guest as they arrived. This brothers all came in their own time, and even for a while Shu stood with him. Although it did not last, as Shu was apparently doing enough by being present. Reiji could all ready see a future of him taking on a lot of Shu’s duties once their plan had come to completion. Once a great number of guest had arrived, Karlheinz himself finally made an appearance. Although, it was in rather poor taste.

Growing up, Karlheinz never formally came into an event with any of his brides. This was, at least to Reiji’s understanding, out of respect – or even a lack there of- for each of them. It would be unwise to come in with all three of them, less he look like a glutton. However, he couldn’t very well come in with just one of them, as it would show favorite and a neglect of the other two. As Reiji got older he also believed that there was hidden malice in what his father did, though he also understood that ground rules must be set for behavior.

On this night, however, the Vampire King arrived with a woman on his arm. She was stunning, however, Reiji had the sinking suspicion as to who she was. If that were the case, then his father had indeed lost his mind. Not only was this woman not his wife, but if she were even his current lover – the thought made Reiji shiver. Perhaps in his old age, his father had begun to lose his mind. In any case, it was not his place to comment on the two of them. Though it did make him annoyed, as the thought of how his mother had always stood off to the side whenever the great Karlheinz made an appearance, yet this ‘woman’ was on his arm now.

Putting it out of mind, Reiji tasked himself with ensuring the night could go over smoothly. With it being a Lunar Eclipse, things were bound to get dicey. He even felt himself growing aggravated that he was unable to be with Rika, especially when seeing Ayato and Yuko. How he longed to hold her in his arm, parade her on the dance floor like the jewel she was. Not to mention the thirst for her blood was reaching its limit. How long had it been since he had last fed from her?

The moons forces seemed stronger this night, in this place. Deciding to clear his mind, Reiji walked out onto the ballrooms balcony. The night’s air was soothing, though the moon was in full view. Deep red in color, it seemed to dominate the night’s sky. As he walked over to the railing, he noticed someone else outside as well.

She looked to be about his age, though with demon’s one can never be certain. Her head was bowed and hands clasped, as if she were praying. That wasn’t a sight one saw often in this realm. Reiji’s curiosity was peeked. This woman stood to just about his shoulder level, and had long hair – which was tied back- but one could tell it had natural curls to it. There were two distinct colors in her hair, with it being a drastic change form top layer to bottom. Her skin was a darker shade, though not pitch black like other demon races may have. A nice tanned color.

The dress she wore had off the shoulder puffed sleeves, with a yellow base color. The top of the dress was covered in a navy lining, which sparked in the moonlight. Her face covered in a mask of similar color, with a navy base, and golden decoration. Reiji could also see horns nestled on her head, definitely a demon of some kind.

She seemed completely unaware of his presence, normally he too would remain to himself, but something in him this night urged him to speak. So Reiji softly cleared his throat, to alert her, “Ahem, excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt.”

Almost immediately her head shot up, in search for the sound. When her eyes settled on Reiji, he was taken back for a moment. They were an intense golden color. Clearly the eyes of a predator, as if she were searching for a threat. As she took in the vampire, the intensity cooled slightly. “Oh no forgive me. I was simply paying my respects to the moon.” Her voice held some type of accent – which Reiji couldn’t quite place.

Reiji smiles, moving his hand in a dismissive gesture. “You are a guest, and this is a celebration of the moon. It would be rude of me to deny you the pleasure. I do wonder, if I might ask, your accent. I recognize it being European in nature. Where is it from?”

She blushes slightly and covers her mouth, “Ah, was it that noticeable? There are times when I get languages mixed up in my head. When we are in the Human World, my family lives mostly in Greece. However, we travel quite a bit. I simply found the language so beautiful, subconsciously I find myself speaking that way.” As she spoke, her Japanese became more fluid, the accent fading. “Languages are something of a passion of mine.”

Reiji admires how she was able to adjust her way of speaking. Neither language must be her native tongue. “I am also quite fond of learning new Languages. I find my repartee with most to be quite fluid. You seem to be skilled with them as well, the accent was all but gone by the end of your sentence.” Reiji offers her a smile and moves a little closer to her. “I have yet to introduce myself, Reiji Sakamaki.” He offers her a small bow.

In response, she offers him a small curtsy, “Calli, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Sakamaki-san.” She smiles up at him as they both rise. “You would be one of our host son, am I wrong? My father has told me stories about the famous Karlheinz. I had wondered about his children.” Calli looks back over to the moon. “I am glad to have met one of you, it makes me a little less nervous now.”

Reiji was not sure what she spoke of, though from the way she spoke, she must be a daughter to one of the Demon Lords. Which clan though, he could not say. Reiji new much, but there were still so many things about the Makai’s residents he had to learn. Something he would learn, as he and Shu continued towards their goal.

There was something alluring about her mystery. Form the small conversation they shared, Reiji could tell she was a very learned woman. Her upbringing was proper. She carried herself with grace. It was strange that she did not give her last name to him, though perhaps she was worried her title would be less than his own.

Perhaps it was the moon, but something inside him was compelling him to learn more about her. “You said that Greece is your home? I have not been there is quite some time myself. From what I do remember though, it was quite lovely.”

This seemed to light something inside her, as Calli turned to him in excitement. “Oh it is, personally I believe it to be the most beautiful. Though, my mother might not like me saying that. Our family has lived in many different places, and her favorite has always been in South America.” She covers her mouth slightly, “Forgive me, I got a little excited. I have not been around others too much, outside of my siblings.”

“Ah, I can relate to that.” Reiji says offering her a small chuckle. “It feels like an eternity since I have been able to speak with someone who did not share my blood.” He said this, but it was not entirely true. Rika was someone he spoke to as often as he could, but as late that has not been an option for them.

The two of them stayed out on the balcony for quite some time. It felt easy to speak with Calli, which was strange for Reiji. There were not many that shared his intestate, aside from Rika, but this was different. Calli was like him. She was much older than her appearance, and even though she was kept close to her family, she had years of knowledge. Similar to himself.

Even though it felt like a long time, in truth, the two of them only spoke for a few minutes. Their conversation interrupted by a loud crashing sound from inside. Followed with a voice Reiji recognized all too well. “Ah… it would appear I am needed. It was lovely to meet you, Lady Calli.” Reiji offered her a quick farewell and took his leave.

As he walked through the crowd of guest, something compelled him to look back. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Calli now speaking with a rather large man. This man he could easily identify. That was Ajax, current Head of the Eagle Demons. His body language to the much smaller female was that of someone who cared about her greatly. Perhaps she was his daughter?

☆+ ﾟ .+ .ﾟ.ﾟ｡ ﾟ ｡. +ﾟ ｡ﾟ.ﾟ｡ TO BE CONTINUED ☆*｡｡ . ｡ o .｡ﾟ｡.o｡* ｡ .｡

[mariacallous]

Over the past few weeks, Vice President Kamala Harris and former president Donald Trump have both made some huge plays to attract specific groups of men: young ones, in Trump’s case, and white ones, in Harris’.

Harris’ supporters have been hosting huge Zoom calls organizing “white dudes,” while Trump’s made appearances on a wide assortment of fratty podcasts and livestreams. The campaigns’ strategies with these voters are completely different, and they’re each creating their own vision for what masculinity could look like in their parties.

Let’s talk about it.

How Trump and Walz Are Redefining Masculinity

Before this week, Adin Ross, the 23-year-old streamer, had been known for playing NBA 2K, allegedly inadvertently tipping off authorities about accused rapist and human trafficker Andrew Tate’s plans to flee Romania, and getting kicked off Twitch for spewing slurs and hosting the white nationalist Nick Fuentes. This is certainly not the best résumé when applying to become a political commentator, but it was enough for Donald Trump to stream with him for more than an hour at his Mar-a-Lago home on Monday in what equated to a virtual campaign stop, complete with Ross apparently committing a campaign finance violation by gifting Trump with a gaudily-decorated Cybertruck.

The Ross stream is just the latest in a series of streams, podcasts, and TikTok appearances Trump has made with a specific subset of hypermasculine creators who cater to an audience of politically disaffected young men. Trump has long catered to this group, acknowledging their support across fringe parts of the internet in the run-up to his election as president in 2016. But this cycle, he’s engaging with them more directly—appearing, for example, at UFC events—in the apparent belief that this will help turn out younger voters.

The partisan gap between young men and women voters has nearly doubled over the past 25 years, with men growing increasingly more conservative, according to recent polls. With these numbers, you’d think Trump would have little to worry about with this demographic, but some experts suggest that despite this growing divide, the likelihood of young men between the ages of 18 and 29 actually going to the polls might be low.

“He’s trying to pull out base intensity. These young men often don't vote, especially the newcomers to the field,” says Rachel Kleinfeld, a fellow at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. “Getting them to care enough to come vote—it's easier if it's something more emotional. All politics runs on emotion.”

She continued: “Most cultures have rites of passage to grow up. It's not an easy thing to do, and we don't in America. And we lost, for a generation, a lot of traditional role models … What we got in their place were these internet influencers and celebrities whom a lot of people aspire to be now.”

Democrats are attempting to create their own contrasting vision for masculinity in light of Trump embracing these creators. Last week, Mike Nellis, a Democratic digital strategist, helped organize the White Dudes for Harris organizing call, where dozens of white male politicians and celebrities spoke to thousands of their white male counterparts about voting for Harris. Throughout the call, many of the speakers—including Harris’ veep pick, Tim Walz—made the case for these same disaffected young men to abandon the Republican Party.

“I think that there are millions and millions of white dudes in this country who are sick and tired of MAGA politics and who reject Project 2025 and need a model and permission structure for something else, and so that’s what we’re doing with White Dudes for Harris,” says Nellis.

Nellis saw Harris’ decision to bring Walz onto her ticket as another play at attracting white male voters. “The guy's a father, and what would be like a ‘real man’ on paper. But here he is supporting and advocating for women's rights. He's campaigning for a woman of color for president. He's talking about ending gun violence,” says Nellis. “There are new models out there, and so I think that there's a fight over what it means to be a man.”

“We've had a cultural problem with young men for a number of years that is now becoming a political problem, and both parties are recognizing it,” says Kleinfeld.

Back in 2019, I profiled a YouTuber named Joey Salads who was running for a Staten Island House seat against Nicole Malliotakis. He never stood a chance at winning, but his Instagram model girlfriend, nice cars, and 10 million followers convinced him he had a shot. Salads admired Trump, seeing him as someone for whom the rules also did not apply in the pursuit of money and success.

4chan incels and hypermasculine YouTube pranksters had been viewing Trump as a role model even before the former president was elected. In 2024, those influencers and brainrotted forum posters have more influence than ever, and they’re paying it forward to the man who made it all possible.

“In a way, they’re kind of like post-incels, having overcome some of their inceldom with fame and followers but retaining the resentments and insecurities that get expressed in bizarre ways,” Jack Z. Bratich, a communications expert and professor at Rutgers University, tells me. “It’s possible Trump’s campaign is trying to extend their reach with these types, or else they are just seeking to increase the voting numbers of young men and happen to have stumbled upon this new mutation of online youth.”

Around 49 percent of young white men voted in the 2020 election, according to data from the Center for American Women and Politics. That’s a nine point increase from 2016.

[entertainment]

Entertainment Spotlight: Will Vought, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

Actor, comedian, and writer Will Vought stars in the most recent season of the critically acclaimed dramedy series, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. Additional television credits include The Good Wife, The Good Fight, both Lipstick Jungle and Love Bites, Bones, and Wilfred. Will is also an accomplished comedian, having toured the country opening for Wayne Brady. He got his start in the entertainment industry by contributing to Scott Shannon’s #1 morning show on 95.5 WPLJ, offering David Letterman updates and recaps, which opened the door for him to work for Late Night with Conan O’Brien. Following his work with Conan, Will was offered a position in the West Wing of the White House, working for former President Bill Clinton, where he still continued his radio work on the weekends as the youngest morning show host in the country at just 22 years old. Will went on to serve as head writer for Wayne Brady during his time hosting the The Late Late Show prior to James Corden in 2014 on CBS, and he continues to collaborate with renowned actor and comedian Paul Reiser, including shopping a television pilot they wrote together with Julie Bergman. We got the chance to ask him some questions. Check it out:

Do you have a favorite character arc from season 3 of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel?

For Season 3, I’m finding myself really interested in Susie and her journey. I don’t want to spoil it for those getting ready to start the new season or binge the series; however, in the first two seasons, Susie’s been hustling and primarily being of service to Midge while her personal life hangs on by a thread. In season 3, there are so many more layers introduced and opportunities that will ripple into not only her clout as a comedy manager but also her personal life. Also, I’m really invested in Lenny Bruce. Having read so much about him to see his plight on screen told through Amy’s lens is incredible. I don’t know anyone in comedy that doesn’t appreciate what Lenny Bruce did for comedians. The end of the Season 3 premiere is absolutely priceless seen thought the eyes of Tony Shalhoub’s Emmy Award-winning performance as Abe Weissman - Midge’s father.

If everything that you did was narrated, whose voice would you want narrating your life?

HA! That is a great question, and I’ve had to think about it. At first, I thought of the late great voice-over artist Don LaFontaine who moviegoers would remember as the “In A World…” guy who made millions voicing almost every movie trailer ever! BUT…truth be told I think that I would love Seinfeld's voice and lens, and I think it would make my day to day activities far more entertaining to listen to, especially when on the phone with my therapist.  

Can you tell us about a time you bombed (on stage or in an audition)?

Well…the thing that pops to mind was an audition for NBC’s series called Lipstick Jungle. At the time, I was living on Long Island and decided to make the mistake of driving into Manhattan for the audition. Traffic was abhorrent, and you would think that there were mass casualties on the Long Island Expressway resulting in me being almost an hour and forty-five minutes late for the audition. The director of that episode was the one and only Timothy Busfield, whom I loved on Arron Sorkin’s The West Wing. Tim played reporter Danny Concannon - Senior White House Correspondent.

I had no idea that Timothy was going to be at the audition and was mortified when I showed up and saw him in the room because I was so late. It’s not unheard of to not be seen at all if you are late, let alone hours late. I read for the part and left. Tim was gracious. A month later, I got a call saying that I didn’t book that role; however, they were writing me another role and wanted to hire me for it. While on set shooting, Tim told me that when they asked him if he had any ideas for the part and he said, “That guy who came in 2 hours late. He was great. Hire him.” So I thought I bombed — but it worked out in the end.

The USO Tour scene from The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel broke the record for the most number of background actors used in a scene for tv in the state of New York (850). What was it like being a part of such a huge production?

I’ve never worked on Star Wars, but that’s what I was thinking of when we were filming that. It was by far the largest set I’ve ever been on, and yes there were almost 1000 background actors there for almost an entire week, who made up the audience of the USO show that you see in the season 3 premiere. When I met with Amy and Dan for the final audition for the role of Major Buck Brilstein, it was at Steiner Studios in Brooklyn in a small room that’s not much larger than a small studio apartment in Manhattan. It was the three of us and Emmy award-winning casting director Cindy Tolan. We did all the material from the episode, and to juxtapose that to being in an actual hanger with 1000 extras essentially filming a USO show that’s scripted — it was a historic moment in television that wasn’t lost on me.  

What was the audition experience like for your role on The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel?  

I kind of talk about that above. I had a great experience. As with anything, you have to go in a number of times, and then the final callback is with Amy and Dan Sherman Palladino. You are 2 feet away from her, there is a camera, and Cindy Tolan, the casting director, and you create the world and do the scenes — WORD PERFECT! That is a huge thing, and something I was told going in. Be word perfect every time. Their words are like notes on a page. Each one carefully picked and placed, and my job is to take them off the page and bring them to life with a sensibility of 1959 and a guy that’s a major in the army who always wanted to be a comedian but never really got the chance. So, my character is literally living his dream in this episode. Beyond that, you bring your A-game, nail it, and it’s up to Amy and Dan. It happened to go my way, and as I told Amy, I was grateful to get the invitation to play in her world. She wrote and directed this episode, so it was extra special.

Is there a specific role or moment that you feel has defined your career up to this point?

We’ll — this is pretty significant re: working with the Palladino’s.  I thought that The Good Wife was a big deal at the time — as I was part of Bob and Michelle King’s storyline that revealed Josh Charles’ character was murdered.  

It seems that I’m only allowed to act opposite actresses that have won 2 Emmy’s and 2 Golden Globes for Best Actress. LOL.  It’s truly a hard question to answer as each project is different, and as an actor, you hope that one job will open a door or opportunity to another.  That’s what I’ve found, at least over the past few years, so it’s certainly a slow burn.

Years ago, I was the low man on the totem pole at NBC’s Late Night with Conan O’Brien. I was an intern in the writing department under John Groff and often got the chance to appear in sketches on the show. This was an invaluable experience. There was an afternoon where I asked Conan (as I was cleaning his office) if he knew this was what he was going to do from the beginning. I’ll never forget what he said. He told me that, “In his wildest dreams he never thought he would be hosting a late night show.” He described show business as being on a highway. He was a writer in college, wanted to be a writer and set off on the highway with the goal of writing in mind. Along the trip, there were exits: Mad Magazine, The Simpsons, SNL. After each exit, he gets back on the journey. If you want to be a teacher or doctor or lawyer, you know exactly what to do. Go to X school for X years, and then they declare you as such. Boom. You’re it. Hollywood is not like that. Everyone’s path is so different, and how we get to where we are is almost inconsequential when compared to the culmination of the journey. I’ve been blessed to do a lot of different things so far and work with incredible talent that truly moves the needle in this business, and I hope for more opportunities.

What’s your favorite bit or joke from one of your stand-up sets?

I have a new bit I’m working on that’s fueled by my natural anger toward this situation.

I hate paper straws.

If this makes me a horrible person, so be it. If “they” think I don’t care about the EARTH or ENVIRONMENT and support the extinction of humanity because of this — so be it.

Paper straws? Really? Who did this make sense to? Who thought it was a good idea to combine PAPER and WATER?

I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time — but it doesn’t work. Three sips into my iced coffee and the thing has disintegrated, and I’m now drinking iced coffee and paper!

If you think paper straws are a good idea, let me ask you one question. Would you like to use a paper condom?

In the future, you’ll be standing in the rain telling your friend you can’t understand why she’s pregnant and soaking wet from holding the paper umbrella.

I will say that if we do switch to paper condoms …. I don’t know about the environment, but we will absolutely ensure the survival of humanity.

Lighting round! Describe each of the following in one word: Who you are, what you value the most, and what you’d be if you were a food item.  

I AM WILL VOUGHT.

I VALUE MOST: MY SON.

IF I WAS A FOOD ITEM, I’D BE A BEYOND BURGER!

What are you working on right now?

Right now, I’m working on sending out subliminal messages via Transcendental Meditation to Adam McKay for a coffee meeting that would result in being cast on the 3rd season of Succession on HBO.  I’d text him, but I don’t have his cell. Do you?

Thanks for taking the time, Will! Catch Season 3 of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel on Prime Video. 

Photography: Emily Assiran | Grooming Laila Hayani | Styling: Natalia Zemliakova

[yellowocaballero]

Bonus from Human Relations (Jello Salad, NASA, and Epic Jon Bitchery)

Short little thing thumped out in an hour last night. I was challenged to write a genuine argument and Elias eating Jello Salad. I succeeded in one of those things. 

TW for discussions of, as you can probably expect, 1950s racism and maladaptive relationships

“Reservation for…”

The host stared at Jon blankly. Jon silently struggled.

“Reservation for Jo - uh...John? No…”

“Perhaps you are in the wrong restaurant,” the host hinted, somewhat forcefully.

“No, I’m quite confident I’m at the right place. Hold on.” Jon struggled with his briefcase, withdrawing an invitation scribbled on stationary paper. A large, embossed header at the top read in sprawling letters US DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE, and the host blanched. Jon quickly scanned the paper, taking a minute to translate his own shorthand before brightening. “Ah! Yes, Salle du Bois, at seven pm, March 2nd. With...yes, a Sir James Wright.” Jon folded the paper one-handedly and stuck it into his jacket pocket. He smiled brightly at the flummoxed host. “Well? Will no one take my coat?”

“Reservation for…”

The host stared at Jon blankly. Jon silently struggled. 

“Reservation for Jo - uh...John? No…”

“Perhaps you are in the wrong restaurant,” the host hinted, somewhat forcefully. 

“No, I’m quite confident I’m at the right place. Hold on.” Jon struggled with his briefcase, withdrawing an invitation scribbled on stationary paper. A large, embossed header at the top read in sprawling letters US DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE, and the host blanched. Jon quickly scanned the paper, taking a minute to translate his own shorthand before brightening. “Ah! Yes, Salle du Bois, at seven pm, March 2nd. With...yes, a Sir James Wright.” Jon folded the paper one-handedly and stuck it into his jacket pocket. He smiled brightly at the flummoxed host. “Well? Will no one take my coat?”

The name must have been familiar, carrying its own power - honestly, a peerage, man was annoying every time - because a waiter appeared from nowhere very quickly to take Jon’s hat, coat, and briefcase. Jon took the opportunity to straighten his fine suit and tie, and glance around the room. 

Part of him couldn’t help but be proud: barely four years ago, it would have been impossible to step foot inside the finest restaurant in Washington, DC. Senators dined on these tables, creating backroom deals and manufacturing methods of state and politics, and Jon had been forced to rely on some creative means to work himself into those deals. These days, it was as simple as walking in through the front door. Of course, the entire room was staring at him extremely pointedly, but that was what the peerage, money, and reputation was for. Jon never much cared if people disliked him - he tended to only concern himself with people who could do something about it.

Everyone of import in Congress knew Jonathan Sims. A whisper on the wind, a knife in the dark: that had been Jon, always. It still was. But now, people looked at him with respect. Everyone did. 

Everyone except, of course, the young man sitting at the pristinely white table that the waiter lead him to. Utterly unrecognized, but dimly familiar in the way that the endless parade of Jonah’s bodies always was: a thin, emancipated type of look, in his early twenties, with a thin but healthy comb of blonde hair and light muscle that would soon go unattended under Jonah’s careful attention. Hilariously, he was still short - would that man ever find a body over five feet seven?

Jonah smiled as Jon and the waiter approached, waving aside the waiter’s silent question of if it was really Jon that he had been waiting for. Honestly, the more things changed. 

“Jonathan,” Jonah said warmly, “how long has it been?”

“Too long to say in polite company,” Jon said lightly, shaking his hand tightly. He was waiting for public hugs between men to go back in style. He missed it, slightly. “You look...different.”

Of course, Jonah noticeably preened. “I think this one has a nice, strong jaw, don’t you?”

“It’s...the jaw that the English peerage is famous for,” Jon said tactfully, sitting down on a delicate and fine chair. “What brings you to DC, Jonah? Normally you can’t be pried away from London with a crowbar.”

Jonah gleamed a bright white smile at him. “Can’t a man miss his close business partner after so long apart?”

“That would imply you’re capable of human emotion.”

“True, my mistake.” 

The waiter appeared, and Jonah ordered something carelessly expensive and good wine as Jonathan carefully ordered a very refined and dignified cut of filet mignon. The wait on the food was short, of course, and Jon and Jonah wasted time by chatting about their business ventures. Jon’s was going extremely well, obviously. Jonah’s was extremely boring and slow, obviously. 

“This industry boom is incredible. The technological innovation, the jump forward in progress, the persistent fear that it will all be taken away the minute we step out of the conformist line…” Jon picked up his fork as the plates of steaming and small portions were slid onto their table. “Mark my words, Jonah. 1953 will be our year.”

“My good man,” Jonah said sympathetically, “it’s well into 1957.”

“Years should be longer. Simon agrees with me.” Jon frowned, picking up a fork and cutting into his meat . “We’re investing in Simon and his projects, by the way.”

Jonah smiled over the rim of his wine glass, raising a delicate blonde eyebrow at Jon. “Wonderful of you to make these decisions for us.”

“When you insist on spending all of your time in the crude and backward England, I shall do as I please,” Jon said haughtily, only to see Jonah snicker into his glass. “I’ve been working with him to push his little initiative through Congress.” 

“How quickly the prodigal son shuns his motherland.” Jonah ate slowly, never once looking away from Jon. He had never forgotten that tendency of Jonah - to keep his eyes always, always on Jon, as if keeping an eye on a dangerous predator. But in that hooded, dark gaze, a half-smile always tugged at his lips. In his better moments it seemed like fond indulgence; in his worse it appeared closer to a child watching his kitten chase a dangling piece of string. “A decade or two in the land of tomorrow and you’ve adopted a new home country?”

“It is a land of progress,” Jon hissed, jabbing at Jonah with his fork. “England is stagnant, putting on airs of civility and progress when it does little more than languish in its former greatness. Look what happened with the mess in India. What do we have left? A few impoverished African territories? Yemen? We have lost all ambition. The English still fancy themselves the greatest population in the world, when they’re little more than a bombed out shell. At least America had the decency to profit off war.” 

“War is fairly pointless if there’s no profit in it,” Jonah agreed mildly. He sipped his wine again delicately. “So you figure that space is the next frontier, then?”

“The pursuit of knowledge is always in our best interest,” Jon said primly. “I was skeptical too, Jonah. But I met this lovely young engineer, a Ms. Johnson, and she’s opened my eyes. NASA is the future, and NASA is here. Only habit keeps you in England, now.”

For the first time, Jonah’s eyes narrowed slightly. “A respect for history is far from a habit, Jonathan. Have some respect.”

“Your history, not mine. And you’re ancient history too,” Jon pointed out. He calmly ate his filet as Jonah sputtered. “Admit it. You’d walk around in the cravat you were buried in if you could.”

“The cravat is dignified. It’s hardly my fault if young men these days flaunt themselves in those dirty blue jeans.” Jonah sneered the word with marked disdain. “I can see their calves.”

Despite himself, Jon smiled into his filet. “Did it give you a case of the vapors?”

Jonah reversed his grip on his fork and held it casually within stabbing distance of Jon’s hand. “Do not get us kicked out of this establishment.”

“Were you forced to recline on your fainting couch with your smelling salts?”

“I have propiety,” Jonah hissed. Hilariously, his new body had the tendency to flush a little, and his ears were noticeably red. For the first time, Jon wished that he owned one of those camera things. “At least I don’t while away my hours with your harlot of a girl.”

Almost immediately, Jonah seemed to recognize that he had gone too far, and Jon was distantly aware that his neon green eyes had taken on a dangerous tint. Jonah leaned back a little from where they both had been unconsciously leaning in, and Jon carefully readied his grip on his steak knife. “Watch how you speak of my wife.”

“Wife?” Jonah crossed his arms, tone dripping with condescension. “When did you marry that gold digger?”

“Thirty years ago,” Jon ground out, and Jonah blanched. “You were there.”

“Ah.” Jonah paused a beat. “Well, you know how time gets away from us.”

“You were my best man.”

“Maybe we can Christmas together!” Jonah said, faux-brightly. “Christmas has become quite popular lately. I can buy her one of those dishwasher things suburban women are always losing their minds in Macy’s about.”

“We have people for that,” Jon said condescendingly. “And we don’t live together, anyway. She’s experiencing the beatnik lifestyle with that little gang she runs around with. I think they write novels.”

Jonah stared at him blankly. “What is a beatnik?”

“I believe they’re similar to bohemians? I don’t understand either.” Jon wiped his mouth with the napkin again, having cleared his plate. He replaced his napkin, carefully keeping the grip on his knife. On the other end of the table, Jonah’s grip on his fork was just as tight. “She expressed no desire to be a politician’s wife, and I have no expectation of her being so.” Jonah snorted - quietly, subtly, but visibly. Jon narrowed his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re always a gas, Jon.” Jonah’s own plate cleared, he flagged a waiter to take their plates away and refill their wine. “A politician’s wife.”

“I am a politician,” Jon said testily. 

“Mm-hm.” 

“I pushed a large bill limiting freedom of speech just last month.”

“Of course.”

“I’m close, personal friends with Senator McCarthy.” Jon’s grip tightened on his knife until the wood bore into his palm. “Even if it’s in no - no official capacity, I’m making a real impact here. My service to ou - God has been extraordinary. Unlike you.”

There it was - a hit scored, a gauntlet thrown. Jonah narrowed his eyes. “Yes, because doing your job and collecting records for the Institute is a waste of time that has no relevance to God. As opposed to what, Jonathan? Wearing fine suits and putting on your own airs?”

Bright, sparking irritation flashed through Jon’s chest, but it was laced with something more. A hard defensiveness, bared teeth, curling up to prevent a weak belly. “I’m allowed the fine suits, Jonah! I am allowed to have this!”

“They’re just suits, Jon,” Jonah said condescendingly, eyes a mirror of false pity. Always pity, always false, always pretending he was weak, or - or -

“I have fought for everything, and -”

“Oh, not this drivel again.” Jonah wiped his hands on a linen napkin and balled it up, throwing it on the table and leaning back. “Yes, yes, you suffered, whatever.”

“Whatever?”

“You’re so boring. Maybe it’s the nature of Archivists to be incredibly dull. My new man, Angus...whatever, he’s unbearably bland.” A glint of humor shone through his casual airs. “We’d benefit from you.”

“Oh, here it is again,” Jon said, perhaps a bit too loudly. He threw his hands up. “Every time, you harangue me, tell me my work is meaningless, and try to drag me back to your boring and tepid old library -”

“Who are you fooling, Jonathan?” Jonah retorted, also perhaps a bit too loudly. “Nobody but yourself, and you know it!  You aren’t a politician. You aren’t anything.” At Jon’s deranged look, Jonah quickly backtracked. “You aren’t anything without God. Everything you have is because of it.” It was something that couldn’t be argued, and Jon huffed out a breath as he untensed. Jonah smiled faintly, lowering his hands as if he was placating Jon. “Not to say that you aren’t doing any good. I’m sure you’re doing the best you can. But aren’t you more interested in being where you can do the most good? In being in the place of your highest productivity, your most effective worship? I understand America is...new, but it’s a dalliance. An infatuation. Which is more meaningful, Jonathan? A summer fling with an attractive woman, or a faithful wife who maintains your home and heart?”

Jon squinted at Jonah. “Georgie doesn’t like maintaining homes.”

“I do not understand your relationship with that woman. She hasn’t even given you any children, for lord’s sake.”

They were both incapable - how could an Avatar of the End give life? - but it was another tasteless thing to say, so Jon glared Jonah into submission over it again. For all Jon constantly heard praise over how impressive and charismatic and charming Jonah was, he was insufferably rude and tactless in reality. “Neither of us are very much in the business of allowing society to tell us how to live our lives. Society will pass, age, and die before we do. Why bow to it?” Jon smiled coyly. “Why bow to anything that ages?”

“You’re lucky you’re useful, you slimy little -”

But Jon just laughed, because he had won: Jonah had raised his voice in righteous anger that echoed across the suddenly deathly quiet restaurant, and the maitre’d was walking towards them very quickly. Jon laughed even longer as the waiter spoke in smooth, ubiquitous, but firm tones to Jonah: do try not to cause a disturbance with your companion, sir, this is a respectable establishment -

“As respectable as you when you cheated on your wife with the housekeeper?” Jonah snarled, and the maitre’d blanched. “Get out of my sight. Don’t come back unless you’re bringing us a plate of Jello salad.”

Jon laughed harder as Jonah sat back down, huffy and embarrassed. His ears were red again - how quaint. Jon had the feeling he’d grow to enjoy this James Wright body - as much as anybody could enjoy Jonah, of course. “Jello salad? Is that the nasty preserved food you people are all eating?”

“It’s modern cuisine,” Jonah said stiffly. “It’s quite good. Aren’t you the one who’s so fervent in preaching the gospel of modernism?”

“Not if it comes in Cool Whip and bologna, I don’t.” Jon pulled a mock sympathetic face. “You ought to be more careful, Jonah. It’s worth keeping an eye on your health. I heard that bologna helps promote aging.”

“I will spear you with this fork and cook you over a fire,” Jonah said pleasantly. 

“My, are you balding so soon -”

In the end, they were thrown out anyway. It was for the best, anyway: Jon had no intention of eating that suburban trash. 

That day was the last he ever saw of James Wright. It was the last he saw of Jonah Magnus, too - at least, until he received a phone call in 2015 saying that Gertrude Robinson was dead, and that he was required home to select a new Head Archivist. 

It stood to reason that Jon wasn’t really necessary for the process. He had no part in choosing that woman Archivist - why would he be necessary for the next one?

“I am beginning to think,” Jonah said over the phone, voice strange and uncanny with Jonah’s familiar cadence in a reedy and light voice, “that I am incapable of appointing controllable Archivists. Every one you’ve picked has been blissfully, wonderfully boring, and the ones that I pick defy me, ruin my plans, and try to kill me. Get back here and choose one yourself.”

“But Jonah,” Jon had said, delighted, “you choose me as your Archivist.”

“I said what I said. Get back here, now. Please.”

And that, in the end, was what brought Jon home: the fact that Jonah hadn’t cajoled, manipulated, or tricked. It was the fact that he had asked. Had said please. 

He had never said please to Jon before. 

But maybe it was pointless anyway: Sasha James was no more malleable than her predecessor had been. 

[myth-lord]

Why don’t you just DIE! (already)

Sometimes when you kill an enemy it isn’t exactly the end of the fight, sometimes it is just the beginning!

These are all the monsters from my list/project that can metamorphic into a new form after you seem to have beaten them.

KHALKOTAUROI

First Form:

Much like a mechanical/golem-like bull made from metal, strange red fiery spiritual fire leaks from its cracks, eyes and nostrils.

Reborn Form:

After you destroy the mechanical body an full HP Aatxe spawns, this red bull spirit was trapped inside the metal shell and is more angry than before.

ALP-LUACHRA

First Form:

Like a very pulsing big human, almost bursting and very disgusting, intelligence isn’t in its eyes, it just wants to eat, instead of a tongue however an Olm/Amphibian-like creature bursts from its mouth, seemingly controlling the human host.

Reborn Form:

After killing the human host, the small Alp-Luachra bursts from the corpse and is forced to fight for itself, it tries to enter the bodies of your playable characters, so you better kill it fast.

MANANANGGAL

First Form:

Much like a female version of the Aswang, which are demon-possessed humans in my project, much like the creatures from the movie Evil Dead.

Reborn Form:

After you do enough damage to the Manananggal it will turn into a different form, it sprouts bat-like wings from its back and its torso rips itself free from the lower body, its intestines dangle beneath it and it can use these organs to attack enemies with.

Third Form:

Doing even more damage to this flying form will morph it into the final form, which is just a head with bat-like wings instead of ears, much like a more crazy and scary looking Chon-Chon (my other flying head which is unrelated to the Manananggal), in this final head-form the Manananggal is extremely desperate and it attacks with tentacles which dangle from its neck.

AWD GOGGIE

First Form:

Like a horrifying giant green caterpillar.

Reborn Form:

After you seemingly kill it, it will turn into a cocoon, and while you may think this will turn into a butterfly monster you are wrong, the Awd Goggie is loyal to its giant Caterpillar form and will become an bigger, more colorful red spiky caterpillar, it gains very different attacks and abilities in this new form. You can destroy the cocoon before it hatches, so the second form can be stopped, if not, it is a pretty tough enemy to fight!  

EINHERJAR

First Form:

Much like a bigger Berserker (wild humans bred for combat and war) with stronger armor and instead of two small axes like their Berserker brothers use, the Einherjar uses a giant axe.

Reborn Form:

Even after the death the Einherjar won’t stop fighting, it turns into a Draugr first, which is a zombie-fied version of the Einherjar, it behaves much like the Draugr-enemy, but it can’t re-spawn as a Draugr after being killed, as it has a third form as well.

Third Form:

Killing the zombie form of the Einherjar also doesn’t stop it from fighting, now it will turn into a powerful spirit and picks up his axe again to fight once more, instead of striking flesh and bones the Spiritual Einherjar targets and destroys the soul/spirit of its victims.

BINAYE AHANI

First Form:

These twin aberrations are also found as a duo, you can target each of the two twins separately.

Reborn Form:

The best way to deal with these monsters is trying to kill them both at the same time, as when you kill one of the twins first the second will go berserk and transforms into an even more abominable and powerful form, raging with anger and emotions after losing its other half, it gains some new lightning-based abilities in this new form.

BUBAK / TATTY BOGLE

First Form:

The first half of this monsters fight is mostly magical as it seems to be just a scarecrow hanging from the famous wooden crosses they are mostly found on in real life, in this form it just summons fear-magical attacks, illusions of your worst fears and supports the other enemies on the battlefield with its evil magical buffs.

Reborn Form:

After doing enough damage to a Bubak it will turn into a physical attacking enemy, it will jump from the wooden cross and now replaces the magical attacks for physical attacks, it’s attacks can still cause the fear-effects on your playable characters.

DJIEIEN / DEATH WEAVER

First Form:

While still alive, these macabre Lich-like spiders look pretty much like giant monstrous spiders, while they have undead features, they aren’t really undead, YET.

Reborn Form:

After being killed the Djieien’s own necromantic poison automatically reanimates its corpse into an undead, much like a lich, but instead of a human it is a giant spider. While alive the Djieien are already terrible horrors with abilities to create undead minions with their necromantic poison, but in their undead forms the creatures becomes even more powerful and harder to defeat, it can create mummy-like minions with its magical webs and only critical hits can fully destroy them.

FAFNIR / GREED DRAGON

First Form

: Vile but beautiful, that is the best way to describe these golden dragons of extreme greed. A Fafnir looks like wingless golden dragon surrounded by its own treasure and covered in precious jewels and legendary items of value.

Reborn Form:

Even after the death these dragons can’t part with their own treasures, their avarice-cursed spirits will possess their treasures and animate them into a living treasure heap. While not as powerful as the dragon itself, this form gives the Fafnir a second chance to defeat their foes and still being in control of their treasure.

GOBLIN / ELOKO

First Form:

At the start of the battle these green, envious, small humanoids start in a trio, standing on each other’s shoulders, the highest Goblin on top uses a ranged weapon to attack.

Reborn Form:

After some damage is done, one of the three goblins dies and they are now a duo, this changes their entire tactics and they use a new weapon together, they use a very long saw (used to saw through trees) together, they run through enemies both holding the saw on one side.

Third Form:

After receiving more damage the second Goblin also breaths out his last breath and joins the dead, leaving a single Goblin behind to fend for its pathetic existence, in this form the Goblin mostly tries to escape, leaving the players characters without the deserved exp, so you have to kill the Goblin before it escapes.

SPRIGGAN

First Form:

Spriggans are Goblins infected with fey-energy, this mostly happens to goblins that live in the fey forests or which have friendships with fey. They have blue skin instead of a green skin, but they are still pathetic like their goblin cousins, however when they become scared or angry they turn into their reborn form.

Reborn Form:

When angry or scared (in other words when their HP is almost depleted) these blue fey goblins increase in size and strength and become a giant version of their former self, pulsing with fey magic. Why the Spriggans gained this ability is unknown, though wizards think it has something to do with the goblins/and/spriggans envy for the size of bigger creatures, fey magic helped them in achieving this goal, though the progress of turning so large isn’t without pain and stress for the otherwise pathetic creatures. After their anger or stress has gone away the Spriggan will shrink in size again.

HEIKEGANI

First Form:

I’m still experimenting with this creature, but I think I have a start now: The first form of the Heikegani in my project is of a human-corpse which head is replaced with the body of these demonic crabs, the crabs replaced the victims head and ride the corpse like a rider would ride a horse. The reason the Heikegani are so obsessed with “wearing” human bodies is because the fact that humanoid hands can hold weapons, and Heikegani are addicted to fighting and weapons, mostly swords and katanas.

Reborn Form:

After you reduce all the Heikegani’s HP its mounted body will perish and the small crab-creature will have to fend for its own, it has some nasty painful attacks even in this form though, so it isn’t defenseless to say the least.

KERIT / CHEMOSIT

First Form:

While Kerits appear to be just Black Bears, the real creature is actually an alien parasite made up from only pink and purple tentacles, they thrive inside the bodies of bigger predators, in general most are found in bears, but big cats or wolves are also possible, some were even found in predatory fishes like sharks. Anyway, in my projects game-sprite the Kerit is always a Black Bear, just to make things less complicated. While they appear to be just black bears, three tentacles sprout from their maws, hungry for the brains of other creatures, as Kerit (the parasite) needs brains to stay intelligent and alive.

Reborn Form:

After enough damage is done to their bear-host the pink/purple tentacles burst from their fleshy-shell, the creature now appears like a messy undead bear with a LOT of tentacles coming out of its torn-off lower-maw and from its belly, the largest tentacles replaced the bears sluggish locomotion. In this new form the Kerit gains more psychic attacks, and it can hit multiple enemies at the same time.

LOU CARCOLH

First Form:

This giant horrifying snail still has its shell on its back during its first stage.

Reborn Form:

After doing enough damage, the shell will break and the entire slimy snail creature is visible, while it loses a lot of defense in this shell-less form, it gains speed, and its slime-like abilities become more powerful in this stage as well.

MOROI / VAMPIRE

First Form

: Much like a vampire from twilight (just kiddn), more like a vampire from Interview with the Vampire, a beautiful man/woman (my project has both these) holding some (blood) wine in a royal-looking glass, it is dressed in fine clothes and both the male and female Moroi look like noble and rich humans.

Reborn Form:

Doing enough damage to these undead however, will release their real forms, which are far less noble and pretty, more monstrous and hungry for the blood that was denied from them, you see, the Moroi needs blood on its skin regularly to stay this pretty and civilized, without blood it turns into the monstrous, bestial undead it was intended to be.

STRIGOI / NOSFERATU

First Form:

The parents of the Moroi, these look more like the Nosferatu (cool and actual-scary vampires for newbies) and they embrace their monstrous nature, they have the power to control the blood of themselves and others, this gives them their ability to control animals, mind-control and such as well.

Reborn Form:

While already monstrous and ugly in their first form, their true form is even more bestial, they sprout giant fleshy bat wings from their backs and their fangs grow even more out of proportion, their power over blood becomes also stronger in this form, as anger turns the Strigoi more powerful.

OTSO

First Form:

In this form they are just bears with a row of green hairs running along their backs, just a cool looking bear, while they don’t have any magical abilities in this form, nature seems to protect them and after every physical bear-attack the Otso makes, nature makes a move for it as well, this can be healing the Otso randomly, giving it more strength, or summoning plant-based creatures to aid it, the Otso has the intellect of a real bear, so it doesn’t even realizes it is being helped by higher spirits.

Reborn Form:

After you kill this beautiful bear creature however, nature will embrace the bear and merges its spirit and corpse with the plant matter around it, turning the Otso into a bear made from wood, plants and other natural material, now the bear doesn’t need nature anymore to fend for itself, as it became a force of nature, natures protector, natures soul warrior, it gains intellect of its own and many magical abilities involving plants and nature, while its first form is a BEAST, its new form is a PLANT.

POLONG / CARNAGE

First Form:

What seems to be just a bloody zombie is actually a horrible blood-parasite in a corpse shell. In this form the Polong is actually very weak, and its true form is far more dangerous.  

Reborn Form:

After you destroy its corpse-home, the Polong bursts out as an water elemental-like creature made from blood, the blood of murderers, thieves and other criminals to be exact. A creation of the vile Strigoi, these blood parasites gather more blood to grow larger and split into multiple Polongs after they absorbed too much of it. In this form its far more dangerous, it can harden its own bloody mass into red obsidian-like spikes to do some serious damage to its victims and enemies. The worst thing is that after another enemy or playable character dies the Polong can enter the corpse again and regenerate all its lost hitpoints, be sure to first kill the Polong and then any other creature on the battlefield.

POLTERGEIST

First Form:

These psychic spirits (also called Psychic Elementals) can enter and animate almost any tiny, small and medium object they encounter, I’m not so sure what object the Poltergeist in my project is found in, but it is probably some furniture like a chair or maybe cutlery.

Reborn Form:

After you destroy their inanimate shells the psychic spirit of a child burst out, it is a very vague humanoid spirit though, more like an insane mind of a child coming to life, it loses any physical attack it had in its object form, but gains powerful psychic abilities in return, if you keep it alive for multiple battle-rounds, it sometimes finds another object and becomes a physical attacker again.

DYBBUK

First Form:

While the Poltergeist is the psychic energy and soul of a paranormal child, the Dybbuk is the psychic energy of a demon, unlike the Poltergeist which can only possess inanimate objects, the more powerful Dybbuk can possess almost any living creature weaker than itself, it is hidden in random other enemies, and gives these monsters/creatures not only more HP but also powerful psychic abilities.

Reborn Form:

After you kill this other monsters the real Dybbuk bursts free, now losing any psychical attack it had and focusing entirely on its extremely powerful psychic abilities, it can also posses other monsters now, and if not protected by spells, your own heroes/characters can also be possessed if they are unlucky.  The Dybbuk’s real form is even more insane and disturbing than the Poltergeists form, much like a demonic mind gone wild.  

POLUDNICA / LADY MIDDAY

First Form:

In their first form these Nymphs of Light, sunrays and heat are still pretty, hiding their burned faces underneath their golden waving hair, almost appearing like Hesperids, the gentle nymphs of the sun or even muses.

Reborn Form:

After these ladies become angry and almost perish however, their real nature becomes apparent, their hair turns into solar-like fire, and now their burned faces become visible. Their already deadly scythes become even more deadly and become double-sided and they glow like the sun, an aura of heat becomes visible and everything around them catches flames, you really shouldn’t anger these ladies!  

RAIJU

First Form:

Being playful shapeshifters, the Raiju is mostly encountered as a tanuki/badger/small predator in the wilds, in their true form they aren’t as cuddly though.  

Reborn Form:

After being attacked a lot the Raiju sheds its fake form and turns into the lightning elemental it was born to be, just a wild mess of lightning and electricity without any form of its own. This Raiju isn’t as playful anymore as it is now angry that you hurt it, all it wanted to do is play with you, it didn’t know nor cared for its lightning hurting its playmates in the progress… These lightning elementals are very hard to hit and magic or magic enchanted weapons are needed to dispatch them once and for all, earth magic does great against them.

RAT KING

First Form:

Rat Kings are bizarre creatures, they appear to be just larger-than-usual rats with bright red eyes that collect swarms of non-intelligent rats around them to become a living swarm of rats (not bound by the tails though, like in the real folklore, I left that bit out of my version). All the rats in the swarm are controlled by the Rat King and they are more than willing to fight and die for their “King”.

Reborn Form:

After defeat is in range, the desperate little creature rapidly starts to devour all the death rats that made up its swarm, increasing the Rat Kings own size until it rivals the size of a bear, in this form I like to compare it to the Ugjuknarpak, a giant rat from Inuit myths. The rats that were still alive swarm all over the now giant Rat King like a living coat, functioning as a living armor of suicidal rodents.

RAUDKEMBINGUR / TROLUAL

First Form:

These red-painted monstrous whales make Moby Dick seem like a wussy, their biggest hobby is destroying ships which they use their entire mass upon, one of the biggest enemies in my project, the Raudkembingur in Mythica is like all the Evil Whales (they are all found in ABookOfCreatures) into one in my project, spare for the sharp-finned Sverdhvalur which most important feature (its sharp dorsal fin) I gave to the Japanese monster shark Isonade.

Reborn Form:

Sometimes when you defeat/kill a Raudkembingur it will turn into a Bakekujira/Ghost Whale, born from vengeance these ghostly skeletal whales never stop attacking and tracking their killers. Bakekujira are also found in the seas on their own in my project, but they can also spawn from killed Raudkembingur on the spot.

GASHADOKURO / BONE LORD

First Form:

A gigantic skeleton, nothing more, nothing less. They are created from the merged combined bones from the victims of starvation, a vile creation of the Horseman of Famine (Limos in my project)

Reborn Form:

After you defeat these giant skeletons, they will fall apart into a small army (5) of lesser skeletons (called Spartoi in my project).

STELLA

First Form:

These small Crown Of Thorns starfish monsters are burning with heat, in their first form they are red with almost red-hot spikes covering their bodies, Stella can control their own temperature and turn the water around them very hot.

Reborn Form:

After they are defeated however, their temperature and abilities changes to colder climates, they now can freeze the water around them and also the blood in their enemies bodies, their color changes to a beautiful blue with almost frozen spikes covering their entire starfish bodies.

SUCCARATH / SU

First Form:

See the artwork for what it looks like.

Reborn Form:

The Succarath doesn’t really change into a different form, it just spawns its children on the battlefield, and when you kill the Succarath while there is still a child alive, the soul of the Succarath will be transformed into its psychic child, morphing it instantly into the Succarath itself, you have to kill all the children first to really defeat this creature.

BOLOTNIK

First Form:

These fat, lazy and spoiled toad-humanoids sit on a mobile-throne which is carried at all times by four lesser Vodyanoi (frog-humanoids), the Bolotnik do all their magical attacks, which involve water, mud and quicksand, from their throne, using their magical muddy staff.

Reborn Form:

After you do enough damage, the poor four Vodyanoi slaves of the Bolotnik will perish and the mobile-throne will fall apart, so now the Bolotnik has to fight without it. It can still use magical attacks but also adds physical attacks to its list.

WENDIGO / WINDIGO

First Form:

The first form of the Wendigo has it hovering in the air, wearing the skull of a stag and mostly bestowing terrible magical curses of hunger and cannibalism on its victims/enemies and allies as well, which become more dangerous during the battle as they become more hungry for your flesh, it doesn’t attack physically at all during this stage.

Reborn Form:

After you do enough damage to the Wendigo its skull-mask breaks off and its true form becomes visible, the Wendigo falls from the sky and turns into a raging, hungry ghoul-like horror, instead of influencing others to become hungry it becomes gluttony incarnate itself, attacking with powerful claws and horrid overgrown teeth. You see, you can please both fans of the Wendigo at the same time! In my version it still wears the skull of a deer, but turns into a more accurate-to-the-real-myth version in its second form.

SLUAGH / WRAITH STORM

First Form:

Like a living swarm of spirits/wraiths, hovering together in an enormous tornado of souls and evil.

Reborn Form:

After you defeat the Sluagh, it turns into three ordinary Wraiths, the last three wraiths that survive, much like a spirit-version of the Gashadokuro turning into Spartoi Skeletons.

DRAUGR

First Form:

Draugr, in my project, look like veteran zombie warriors, arrows sticking from their bodies and into their eyes, daggers and swords are stuck in their undead flesh and it doesn’t seem to bother them at all, they only make great use of all these weapons and arrows inside them in their attacks and abilities.

Reborn Form:

The Draugr doesn’t change form at all, it just has the annoying ability to not stay dead for long, it has a 50% chance of resurrecting itself during the battle, and this can go on FOREVER if luck is on the Draugrs side, of course there is the option to just escape from battles.

@rtwork of Succarath and Heikegani = Paizo/Pathfinder