#it’s still essentialism you have just allowed people to maneuver a little bit more within those categories

[chewwytwee]

It’s surprisingly hard for people to make the jump from ‘Gender is a performance’ to ‘Gender is entirely socially constructed, so there are an infinite amount of genders you could perform’. The pervasive belief that gender is in some form (whether biological OR social) derived from biological sex preserves essentialist ideas about human behavior by moving the goalpost from “Gender is an immovable constant that can’t be separated from sex” to “Gender isn’t an immovable constant but your gendered socialization can’t be separated from sex”, in both cases people believe that you can’t derive a gender identity from something beyond your own internal reality which is nonsensical if gender is entirely socially constructed. If gender only exists as far as people are willing to recognize it then you’re still operating on fundamentally essentialist ideas, you’re just allowing society to determine what those essential categories are. You can’t perform a gender that isn’t male or female because they exist outside of the bounds of cisgender experiences, trans people are either male or female and are expected to follow the same expectations as cis people. Male and Female are still monoliths you can’t escape, and everything else has to fall under that umbrella as long as you’re defining gendered performance in terms of other people, you have a flawed and shallow understanding of what gender identity is and can be. When I identify as a cat that is just as valid as an identity as male or female or whatever else because gender is all socially constructed frameworks to understand internal experiences of self, and we CAN discard everything there if we want to. Despite this many people still cling to the idea that there is something more profound or meaningful about gender identity that confirms to biological categorization.

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

Okayyyy now that I've slept on that episode I am ready to do some good old traumamongering so let's look at how Loki's responses to his environment and those around him are informed by his trauma--and how Mobius/the TVA are using his trauma to manipulate him.

One of the ways Loki deals with unpleasant or stressful situations is to verbally maneuver or posture, to try to assert control (if he feels he can reasonably do so). We see him do this with Tony in Avengers, who during their confrontation--at least for the moment--poses no active threat; instead of attacking him, Loki talks. In Thor, Loki tries several times to defuse situations with his words, which generally goes poorly for him. But when it comes to handling stress, it's essentially all he knows how to do--Mobius is absolutely right to point out that Loki "loves to talk," but usually his silver tongue is borne out of necessity.

In this case, starting from the moment of his escape, we see a lot of talking from Loki that is not strictly necessary. When he lands in Mongolia, the very first thing he does is make a speech to the bystanders--literally and figuratively trying to get his bearings. He's not aggressive at all (which would confuse the Avengers were they to see him, but wow, it's almost like Thanos/the Mind Stone was influencing him!) and seems quite at a loss as to what to do when the people he's addressing don't understand him. When the TVA agents try to arrest him, he tries to ask them what's going on, and gives plenty of warning (and posturing!) before attempting to physically assert himself. In the TVA itself, this continues. Loki complains, tries to intimidate, questions, and even talks to machines with no other real witnesses (twice). He's pulling out all the stops, so to speak, to try to verbally establish control of his situation. He's trying to get his bearings, to assert his autonomy and individuality--but no one is listening to him.

When that doesn't work, and only when a lot of that doesn't work, does Loki attempt physical control of his environment. He first tries his magic (something familiar to him) and is shocked when that also doesn't work. The TVA is already a foreign environment, but because none of Loki's usual and comfortable methods of surviving are working, it becomes more foreign, and more stressful. That's why he escalates to actively resisting the guards (but note he doesn't try too hard once someone (Mobius) starts talking). Physical resistance has never been Loki's forte, so he plays to his strengths while he can, but when that fails and he gets more desperate, he has to get creative.

But when Loki is stressed enough that he starts to physically fight back, the illusion of confidence starts to break down. We see this continue really clearly in the interrogation room scene. The subject matter actively makes Loki uncomfortable. His attempts to deflect or lie aren't effective, and his words once again fail to control his situation or even shield him from what he'd like to avoid. Unable to escape the direct questions, Loki again becomes physically restless and uncomfortable, standing and pacing while growing more obviously agitated. The questions Mobius is asking are ones Loki does not want to think about, and that's because they ultimately hit on his most vulnerable points.

The question of "What would you do if you could go back?" while seeming rather innocuous, is really a well-disguised gateway to all of Loki's trauma and insecurity. Why does he feel he should rule Midgard? Well, Loki attempts to respond, that's what he deserves, it's what he was born for--but it wasn't, really, and he knows it. Firstly, when it comes to his royal birthright, Loki has always fallen back on that as a grounding mechanism. It's what he asserts to claim his identity and feel powerful and in control. He does this with being a god, too, and we see him do this several times just within the TVA. But ultimately, it's just words--the real power is with those who can make what they want to happen actually happen, and in Loki's life, that has never been him. (Even talking about his birthright, and the concept of ruling, brings up the traumatic events of Thor 1; and the fact that he was looking to rule Midgard, not Asgard, means that he would still be playing second-fiddle to Thor. Midgard wasn't his birthright--Asgardians never ruled directly on Earth. It was just the best he could get.) And secondly, Loki's attack of Earth was directly caused and influenced by Thanos. That is the main source of trauma that Loki is desperately trying to avoid, and the questions he's being asked don't allow him to do so. He can't weasel out of it; Mobius is too persistent, and he knows all the worst buttons to push. In fact, he's systematically targeting Loki's weaknesses.

Look at the questions and statements he uses: "For someone born to rule, you sure lose an awful lot." Your birthright is false and you know it. "You weren't born to be a king. You were born to help others become the best versions of themselves." He juxtaposes this with footage of the Avengers, Thor among them: your identity only matters so far as you can enable others, especially your brother. Loki starts avoiding looking at the footage, becoming less brazen with his attitude and responses, so Mobius asks, "What is it that you're running from?" It's at about this point that Loki stands up, trying to physically distance himself from both Mobius and the question. This interaction reveals much about what Mobius is intending by this conversation. He's not trying to learn about Loki, necessarily. He already knows Loki is running from something, and seems to know what it is, which wouldn't be immediately clear to someone uninformed. What he's really trying to do is make Loki vulnerable, and make him admit it.

Mobius uses Loki's role in his mother's death to push him over the edge. Immediately, Loki turns on Mobius, furiously insisting that the whole thing is an illusion--more desperate verbal posturing, and Mobius treats it as such--and then Loki snaps, first throwing a chair at the painful image of his mother, which promptly reforms (it's inescapable), and then trying to attack Mobius. The fact that Loki is lashing out physically means he is desperate, but even his last resort isn't effective. He simply can't protect himself. He's powerless. That's triggering in and of itself.

But it's the footage that's the final blow. After escaping his restraints, he returns to the very room he left, and looks at his life. And he cries. He's so vulnerable and hurting and scared that in his first moment alone, he cries. And just as he thought he'd have a little bit of comfort, even laughing to see his improving relationship with Thor, he watches himself die a humiliating, pitiful, ignoble death, and hears himself say, "You will never be a god"--and that old boast means nothing because Thanos snaps his neck anyway. That moment, seeing the thing he was running from catch up to him and kill him, is his final emotional breaking point. When Loki laughs and bitterly says, "Glorious purpose," that's the end of the posturing. He's admitting Mobius was right: he didn't have a glorious purpose, or a glorious anything. Which is why when Mobius comes back, Loki tells the truth, unprompted. He actually calls himself weak. He admits he's been putting up an illusion in a feeble attempt to get control of his situation.

This level of vulnerability from Loki is unheard of, and speaks to how utterly he's been worn down by the very intentional psychological manipulation of Mobius and the TVA. When Loki entered, he was actively opposing them. Now, after having been massively triggered and emotionally exhausted, he's suggestible, and by playing a friendly angle, Mobius can manipulate Loki into working with them--and, literally, against himself.

Whether he has good intentions or no, that makes Mobius a truly formidable player, and one Loki--and we--shouldn't be too hastily comfortable with. He is clearly a master manipulator, and has no qualms using Loki's trauma to break him.

But what should be most concerning of all is that he succeeds. Because the only other person to have ever done that?

Is Thanos.

[angstmonsterwrites]

This week delivered a pretty harsh emotional gut-punch. I had to end the only non-family friendship I had where the person in question lived within a 100mi radius.

She and I had been growing apart for a bit as it was--the way I saw it was that we simply had become two different people than when we first met online back in 2014. We'd exchanged emails for the longest time, and met once at a convention. She was someone who'd been easy to relate to and understand at first because of a traumatic upbringing, but the substance of her messages never changed or varied throughout the years--it was always, always about who had wronged her this time and why it was evidence of how terrible people are, but how she was "hardworking" and "different". We scarcely talked about anything else. Victim mentality. The one time we met only solidified that this was who she was. Imagine someone side-eying perfect strangers in a crowd of cosplayers and constantly grumbling about how they were too scantily clad and making remarks about how sure she was her favorite character would disapprove. (Yes, there was a concerning disconnect from reality there that often made me wonder if there was something schizoid-flavored going on.) Suggesting that she could do anything differently or an alternative point of view was usually met with a lot of reaching and bending over backwards for reasons why nothing was ever her fault or how it was someone else who had to change.

In short, it wasn't commiserating. It was years of me reading long screeds, and going, "Yeah. Uh huh. That sucks." Most of the time, if I brought up any complaint of my own, it was met not with compassion, but with either dismissal so that we could focus on her again, or more ranting about how it was all just more evidence of how right she was. Even just attempts at sharing new interests resulted in a sort of pushback where she'd barely stop short of telling me I was wrong or somehow treacherous for doing so. Trying to share good news always prompted her to double down on refocusing on how awful everything was for her.

As we got into the vile meat of 2020, my energy to respond to long-form emails was pretty well shot, and my responses had slowed down substantially. She started to badger me with the question, "What am I to you?" I explained that I felt our attitudes and values had seriously diverged over the years, and that my stress level was simply too high, but that if she still wanted to keep in touch, it was a better idea to message me here on tumblr or just text my phone. I have no issue having quick back-and-forths, and little to no restrictions on when it's okay to message me. As a general rule, I answer as soon as I see it. This seemed like it would solve the problem with the lapses at least, and communicating in a way that offered instant responses should have provided reassurance that I wasn't just ignoring her. Yes, we had our differences, but for the most part, I was unresponsive to the emails because I was having a hard time with my own mental health.

Should have. She agreed to respect the boundary I'd set, but then unfollowed me here and sent a long paper letter instead--the furthest thing from what I'd requested. She then would only message in months-apart check-ins to see if I'd read the letter yet, growing increasingly aggravated when I had not. At one point, she explained that it was meant to reveal to me how much she'd accomplished, and how I was wrong about her, and also contained a poem she wanted me to read aloud to my household. The hysteric "What am I to you?" questions continued.

After deliberating, I explained why the letter and her related actions had upset me. She said that she'd unfollowed (without even trying to message at first) me because she suspected I wanted nothing to do with her. She then also insisted that she'd sent the letter before unfollowing, complained about how badly she missed the email routine, and went on a tirade about how unfair it was she was the only one reaching out, and how she'd done so much more for me, and so forth. It essentially devolved into overt gaslighting.

It was then that I calmly told her that I felt it was probably best for us to leave one another in peace. Those were my exact words. If we couldn't even agree on how to talk without an explosion of manufactured drama--if she couldn't be bothered to respect one simple ask without making herself out to be a victim of unfair treatment--then there was nothing left to say. She responded saying that she was even more afraid I wanted nothing to do with her--at this point, it had become true--and again demanding to know what she'd ever really been to me.

I had had enough. I blocked her.

Two days later, I got one last email from her, and a phone call with no message. (Or I certainly hope it's the last. Good grief.) In it, she reiterated her belief that she'd been the one pouring all the effort into our relationship, how this confirmed I was 'just like everyone else', and that she wasn't going to let herself be hurt by me anymore.

And...I've been feeling like complete garbage ever since. Not so much because I felt it was time to end that friendship--the descent into blatant gaslighting was all I needed to push the proverbial EJECT button--but I’m left questioning why I tend to attract that sort of person more than any other--selfish, histrionic, delusional. Making and maintaining friendships is difficult for me, so the question of how I might have done anything differently has to be asked. The simple answer, I believe, is that I should have just been open about my disagreements and our incompatibility much sooner. But even with more emotionally mature individuals, I do have an unfortunate track record of lapsing into silence unless spoken to when I'm overly stressed, and I know that can send the wrong message. I don't want to be that person who does nothing but use the other as a doormat for continual complaining and nothing but. I don't want to burden anyone the way this person burdened me.

That's the emotional backlash I always face when a friendship fails because of toxic behavior: Is it possible that this same toxicity lives in me too, and I'm just too myopic or self-righteous to see it? Is it possible that this is why being any kind of a social person is so challenging to me? I don't think so, but what if I'm wrong? What if I'm reading my own tone wrong? What if I'm measuring the content of my conversations with others in a way that minimizes exactly how much self-centered bitching I do? Do I come off as someone with a victim complex?

I find myself coming back to the damaging, impossibly mixed messaging around socializing I was raised with. If I share what's good or fun, that could be selfish because what if the other person is having a hard time? What if I'm just rubbing something in their face they can't have? If I what I share is sad and difficult, I may be overburdening them or dragging them down when they'd otherwise be doing just fine. Sometimes just talking at all feels invasive--that is, attempting to get to know or draw closer to another person makes me feel like I'm stealing something that doesn't belong to me. I was always told that it's rude to pry, and that if others really want to talk to me specifically, they will without prompt.

In sum, these 'rules' allow for zero proactive communication, suggesting that any such effort is doomed to be bothersome and thoughtless at best. Of course, I don't buy into them anymore, but that doesn't mean that they aren't engraved into my psyche in such a way that violating them still comes with a serious wallop of guilt.

And as folks with a history of emotional abuse go, there do tend to be extremes of embracing victimhood as an identity, low-key messiah complexes, and what have you. I absolutely am guilty of nursing one of those soft-core messiah complexes, I think. Unfortunately, this means that when someone comes along with no end of narcissistic self pity--that is, not just someone truly down on their luck-- it's an easy trap for me to fall into. I always see it as my role to fix things for people or to try save them from their troubles, or to be the one who listens and gives. I want to be useful and relied upon and a source of comfort, understanding, and peace, but then I want to act all surprised when I get used and stepped on time and again when I fail to be 100% honest about any frustrations or misgivings I might have. By the time I decide to set any real boundaries, it’s far too late to maneuver out from under unreasonable expectations without snuffing out the relationship altogether.

When someone with a baby savior complex clashes with another person who possesses a loud-and-proud victim mentality, I suppose it's bound to be a slow-moving train wreck.

Maybe I'm not like her, but I can't escape the fact that in many ways, I really did bring this upon myself...Again.

---

TL;DR: I asked for some minor changes in how I communicate with a friend because my stress level was so high that the idea of jumping off a local overpass wasn’t not bouncing around in my head. Her response? Act like a jilted lover, thinking only- “But what about me?” And I realized it’s been that way with her for a long time.

[fotostory2a]

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[inventors-fair]

Combat Commentary

Thank you all for your entries! Here is commentary for all the entries that weren’t winners or runners-up. I hope that this format, along with the gallery, allows for people to get everything they can out of the Fair.

@ace-hobo — All for One // One for All

This was a clever use of the split-card naming convention, and I liked this card in general. There’s an amount of math to do that can make combat difficult, and if this card isn’t uncommon it probably should be. It’s hard to make it out with that symbol. Regardless, a fine card, costed effectively, a good split. Some people might be pedantic about the name; I think it’s nice.

@competitive-casual-magic — Oil and Fire

Now this is a cool card. Wrecking Ball, but shock, but deathtouch, but not. What an interesting idea. I like the fact that it deals two damage to any target, not just a creature. Giving it flash is very cool. I imagined a lot of scenarios in which this card could blow out someone during combat and make for some complex scenarios. I don’t think this should be rare, personally, but maybe it’s complex enough. In something like Modern Horizons, it would be uncommon. For standard, hm... I’m on the fence about that.

@dabudder — Adrenaline Sliver

This card irks me, not because you did anything mechanically wrong or because it’s not a great idea, but because it gives slivers a boost based on the number of slivers you control rather than +3/+2. Part of the flavor of bloodrush was the fact that it based it on the creatures P/T and abilities. The dissonance in this specific card is frustrating. Still, forget that. I love the concept. I do enjoy this card. Don’t forget in future iterations to capitalize all instances of the word “Sliver.”

@dancepatternalpha — One Last Fight

Follower really liked this card. I liked it as a combo piece. Flavorfully, it’s pretty neat and I like the effort that you put into the flavor text. It’s very difficult for a new player to understand exactly what use this card does without understanding how combat works, but that’s what makes it a good uncommon. I imagined pairing this with Spikeshot Elder and having fun there, heh. 

@fivetrillionelves — Conquer Fear

Interesting card, pretty strong trick! I like the way it makes one of White’s weaknesses, its small creatures, a lot better. Flavor text does need that end quote. Not a whole lot to say about this card. It gets the job done. Might be hard to understand in multiples on the same creature, though.

@fractured-infinity — Unstoppable Curiosity

I am not a fan of this card, clever as it is. I don’t like buffing an opponent’s creature just for minor card advantage. If this was “Whenever a creature deals combat damage to you this turn, draw a card” or some effect where you could utilize the weakness without making yourself weaker, I feel like this card could be cool. As-is, I’d never use this card on an opponent’s creature. On my own, it’s not bad. “Trample” doesn’t need to be capitalized. Also, I JUST got the flavor text. It’s a touch unclear.

@ghost3141596535 — Bullshift

He, nice name. I can see that you intended this for Ikoria, and I like that aspect of it. Thank you for marking the rarity. Don’t forget your periods. As someone who hasn’t played with mutate, I can’t really say how strong this card is in practicality. It’s odd that it allows for mutate in creatures without mutate. I don’t know how that works within the rules.

@guardgomabroa — Sudden Desertion

I really like the flavor of destroying an army (which should be capitalized) but I feel that that’s too narrow to really have a strong reason to exist. It’s a cute card that’s using Magic naming conventions for flavor reasons rather than the game itself. Maybe that’s enough. I’m a little more of a stickler. It’s kinda cute, though, and I’m a fan of white removing things from combat, too. Maybe in WAR it could have been played. 

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes — Desperate Effort

I don’t believe “sacrificing” a “target” blocks well. The fact that it makes this card need two targets is confusing. Why not just “As an additional cost” the sacrifice? What’s the point of doing a creature that your team controls? Why only an unblocked creature? Why does it give the +X/+Y effect instead of a simpler +X/+X effect? I think that this card has too many moving parts and could have been simplified significantly while keeping the same strong flavor.

@machine-elf-paladin — Hunger of the Grave

This card was a contender for runners-up. It also could have used flavor text. It’s a great addition to Zombie tribal, great with graveyard strategies, well-worded and powerful with the lifelink. Not much to critique here. Good job.

@mardu-lesbian — Phantasmal Fallacy

I like what you did with the name. I think that this is a powerful cantrip that’s playing with some design space. “Planeswalker” becomes a 4/4? That’s a control card for sure. I’ll smack you in the face with a Mind Sculptor. The cantrip might be too powerful, as four power is pretty strong as-is, but I think this card is basically fine and pretty fun.

@misterstingyjack — Quickdraw

Interesting card. I like the magically influenced gunslinging flavor and what can be done with other equipment in this set. The fact that this can essentially be a five-mana do-nothing spell without so much as a cantrip is frustrating. This card should be, I feel, three mana at most. Might require playtesting, but still. Definitely not five.

@nikkatsu-dnd-mtg — Trade-Off

Firstly, this card’s name doesn’t stand on its own without flavor text to back up whatever’s happening, and the fact that there’s no flavor text is a major blow. I’m not sure why it’s an Arcane spell, and I’m definitely not sure why this is common. This card is a blowout and a half. Getting tokens is worth it, and swinging with a team of 6/6s minimum is insane. It’s a one-mana go-wide spell that should cost at least five mana and be at least uncommon. I know you thought that static abilities was a good enough loss, but I assure you: it is not.

@nine-effing-hells — Bardic Performance

I’m on the fence about this card, even though it’s probably good. You took the fairly complex addition of sagas and made it a simple and fun buff in the vein of Travel Preparations. I think this card is a fine uncommon, probably. There’s a tiny bit of disconnect between bard things and counters like that, but the flavor can be bent, and I can just suck it up. This card is good.

@piecesofliquid — Instinct of Greed

Concept is good. There are three specific things I would do to improve this card. One: Change the name to “Greedy Instinct.” No real reason, I just like it. Two: Most importantly, I would change the “exile” to “sacrifice” and take out “you control.” Sacrificing is only something you can do anyway, and it would work better with other red strategies. Three: The flavor text needs to be in quotes. Other than that? Again: good.

@real-aspen-hours — Sudden saplings

Yeah, as you said in Discord, this card is basically Blinding Fog. Instead, let’s talk about improvements for future submissions! Firstly, the card name should be capitalized; I copied it exactly as you submitted it. Secondly, you didn’t include a rarity, which is something you need to consider. Thirdly, if the flavor text is a quote, which it appears to be, it needs to be in quotation marks. That’s all I can think of off the top of my head. Card’s fine for a functional reprint, lol. I like how you changed it to “by creatures” for a more Fog-gy effect. Why ALL creatures?

@shandylamb — Knowledge Breeds Strength

Strict +X/+X effects are not in Blue’s slice of the color pie. This is a green card through and through. I think the flavor text could have been a little more creative. The idea, however, is sound. This card would have been fine twenty years ago, probably. I don’t mean to sound snarky with that; it’s simply something old Blue could have done that isn’t done anymore. 

@snugz — Necromantic Ninjutsu

I am of the opinion that this card should be rare. I am also of the opinion that if this card was rare it would have won above and beyond. What a fantastically creative card. Follower loved it, as did I. For a standard set, though, rareify that baby. Great great great job.

@starch255 — Invisible Wall

Wow, this card is... Not Fun At Uncommon In Limited. The idea is sound and I would love playing this card, but it’s just too much! The hexproof, nuts. The nigh-infinite life, crazy. What a frustrating card to play against. If this was FOUR mana, I might consider it. However, I do like how trample effs this card over. Regardless of that, though, I’m not a big fan, no matter how much if a fan I am. If that makes any sense.

@teaxch​ — Serene Crane Maneuver

Interesting! I think this is one that needs the two targets, unfortunately, but I can imagine how this would work in limited. I would probably only sideboard this card if I felt really really clever, but I like it for flavor reasons and mechanical reasons. Again, I just wouldn’t...play it, necessarily. Maybe I would, but it would take the right environment. This is a volatile card.

@theobligatorysql​ — Combat Trick

This card absolutely needs to be an uncommon and absolutely needs a better name/flavor combo. Now, I do like it mechanically, and it’s pretty cool, but I’m not a fan of the fact that this is a meta-card. In a vacuum, I freakin’ love it. I feel that this card would go well in something like a Custom Cube.

@tmstage​ — One-Two Punch

Very cool. Aethertouch is one of those things that you’re introducing that I would have to see played out before I pass judgement on it. As of right now, I think that this card could have been a cantrip or something. “Non-lethal damage” — hm. Not sure how I feel about that, though. But I assume also that blue is what makes this card Jeskai. Personally, for three colors, I’d like to see something simpler and/or more streamlines. New concepts are scawwy, o noes!... In all seriousness, keep Aethertouch for future designs.

@walker-of-the-yellow-path​ — Meat Shield

“Target creature GAINS indestructible until end of turn.” It’s an actual ability now, remember? Aside from that, this card is...fine for one mana. It’s not perfect, it’s kinda clunky, but it seems like something WotC would print so you have that going for you. I like the simplicity of the flavor text.

~ 

[tmarie82]

Snatched

Pairing: Dr. Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Blake Reyes)

Book: Open Heart

Word Count: ~3,200

Rating: PG-13

Author’s Note: There really is no good excuse for this completely gratuitous and self-indulgent fic. I worked all weekend and needed to write something ‘easy’ and fun, and what’s more fun than a sweaty, half-naked Bryce Lahela?

I’ve long been convinced that our favorite scalpel jockey maintains his stellar physique with a strict CrossFit regimen, and since perhaps I myself have spent too much time ogling these fine masculine specimens at my local box (that’s what she said, @lizeboredom 😂), this fic (which turned out much longer than I meant it to) happened. I’m sorry, I had to do it … but I hope the vivid imagery will earn me your forgiveness.

Please let me know if you would like to be added to my tag list. You can find all of my fics in my Masterlist on my homepage.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buzz buzz. Blake stretched her arms over her head, her eyelids fluttering slightly open to find her room had already been infiltrated with mid-morning sunlight. Tucking her head back into the downy softness of her pillow, she allowed the drowsiness to seep in again and threaten to pull her back into its grasp when- Buzz buzz. This time she consciously rolled over, fumbling her hand along her nightstand until she found the thin rectangular electronic culprit guilty of awakening her on this glorious lazy Saturday. Grasping it in her palm she rolled to her back, unlocking the screen of her phone with a press of her thumb before placing it before her face. She blinked a few times as she focused on the screen … My God, did I really sleep until 9:37? After the initial shock wore off she opened her messages to find an unread one from Bryce.

Morning Sunshine 😉 I’m about to start at the comp and should be done by noon. Come by whenever you’re ready and we can grab lunch after.

Smiling at his note, Blake slowly moved to sit up in bed and type out a response. I’m up, I swear! I’ll be there before noon. Can’t wait to see you in action. Good luck xoxo 💪🏻💪🏻💪🏻

Buzz buzz. Bryce’s response flashed across her screen. 😉

Throwing her legs over to side of the bed, Blake dragged herself out of bed and shuffled towards the bathroom to brush her teeth and get ready. After months of training and weeks of not-so-subtly dropping references in conversation, today was the day of Bryce’s CrossFit competition at his box. Eeugh … Box. Why couldn’t CrossFitters just call their gyms what they were instead of a slightly sexual reference to the female anatomy?

Knowing how hard Bryce had been working, hitting the 5am class every morning and training after class for weeks, Blake was eager to finally witness him doing his thing in person. Every time he had attempted to explain the various Olympic lifts and physical movements she tended to zone out, the terms and lingo so foreign to her that it was like a different language. But seeing how excited he was every time it came up, how his eyes lit up like a little boy on his birthday, she couldn’t help but share in his enthusiasm. Not to mention, the things that his exercise routine had done to his body … nope, she was definitely not complaining about that.

An hour later Blake was showered, dressed, caffeinated and ready to go. Grabbing her purse and her keys on her way, she called out to her roommates as she walked out the door. “Later guys, I’m going to meet Bryce!”

“Have fun with the Crossfit cultists, Blake!” Elijah responded from the couch.

“If you come back with a new pair of booty shorts and knee socks I swear on all that is holy I will disown you.” She met Jackie’s smirking face peering around the corner from the kitchen.

Shaking her head, Blake opened the door to slip out. “Very funny. I’ll be sure to get an extra set for you.” She shot Jackie a wink and ducked out quickly before she caught any more flack from her supposed friends.

~~~

Walking through the front door of Crossfit Edenbrook, Blake found herself in the middle of some kind of ordered chaos. The bass thumped from the speakers hung high in the corners of the ceiling, the deep beat of hip hop music resonating through the airwaves. People lined the massive warehouse-style room, situated under the open air metal rafters atop large wooden boxes or sitting directly on the firm black foam floor. The spectators cheered loudly from their locations surrounding the competition floor in the middle of the room, taped off and divided into lanes for each competitor. Amidst the noise and the crowd, Blake couldn’t help but feel like she had just walked onto the set of Rocky during the final match-off.

Her eyes searched the room, scanning over some of the most physically fit human beings she had ever encountered in her entire life, until she found her own personal Adonis. Woah. Blake’s breath faltered when she locked eyes on Bryce, standing with three other athletes on the opposite side of the cavernous building. His long hair, which he hadn’t had time to get cut over the past month due to his intensive training schedule, was pulled back from his face in a sloppy knot at the crown of his head. Whether he had shown up in a shirt or not was a complete non-issue as she raked her eyes across his defined shoulders and chest and down over the ribbed muscles in his abdomen, his bare olive skin glistening under the bright lights with a thin sheen of sweat. Even the various accessories he was sporting gave him a little something extra in the sex appeal department, the knee sleeves hugging his toned calves and the fabric wrist wraps accenting the veiny curvature of his forearms. Damn … maybe I should have been more supportive of his training sooner.

Bryce must have felt the heat of her stare, instinctively turning his head in her direction to meet her eyes. He flashed her a wide grin, and Blake tried to stifle the blush in her cheeks as he maneuvered his way through the crowd to meet her. As he approached, she was pleasantly surprised to see that he looked even better the closer he got, the rosiness of his cheeks and excited twinkle in his eyes causing her stomach to do somersaults.

“Hey you.” He murmured as he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, the dampness of sweat apparent when his skin grazed against hers. Despite keeping her at arms length, Blake could smell the sweet tang of sweat tinged with a musky masculine smell as he brushed his lips across her skin.

She smiled in return, her eyes flitting about the room with uncertainty. “So, this is your box?” She tried to suppress the laugh bubbling in the back of her throat, but was betrayed by mischievous look in her dark eyes that Bryce had come to recognize.

“Laugh all you want, but this place is so much more than a gym, yet without all the pretenses. The term ‘box’ just makes sense.” He stopped as he saw the amusement in Blake’s face while she bit her tongue, trying not to make any further sarcastic remarks. He rolled his eyes, placing his palm against the small of her back and leading her in the direction where he’d been standing. “Come on, I’m about to do my last wave. You can stand over here and watch.”

Blake allowed herself to be lead around the floor to the spot where Bryce had been before, occasionally looking up to glance at the athletes currently competing in the middle of the room. They seemed to be alternating between three exercises, first dropping to the floor and then jumping back up before hopping over a large weight on the floor. After so many times of these two motions, the athlete would grip the weight in both hands and essentially pull it from the ground to their hips to overhead in one swift movement. Then they’d drop it to the ground, grip it in both hands and do it again … over and over until it was time to go back to the floor jumpy move again. “Um, is that what you’re going to be doing?” She asked as they arrived at their destination, pointing a finger towards the competitors.

“Yeah, ascending reps of burpee bar jump-overs and snatches.” Bryce explained matter-of-factly.

Blake snorted audibly at his explanation, raising an eyebrow at him sardonically. “Excuse me, did you say ‘snatch’ without laughing, Bryce Lahela?”

Bryce merely shook his head, struggling to keep a straight face as he sighed with exasperation. “Mind out of the gutter, Reyes.” He poked her in the side playfully, then gestured towards the competitors. “A snatch is an Olympic weightlifting move where you pull the barbell from the floor all the way over your head and catch it in a squatting position. And yes, they should have picked a better name.”

“See, I knew your mind had been in the gutter way before mine.” She chuckled before turning her attention back to the athletes. “So how long are you supposed to do this?”

“This one is a 7 minute AMRAP and you-“

“An Amra-what?” Blake interjected, her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

Bryce laughed. “Sorry, I forgot about the lingo. An AMRAP. As many reps as possible. It means you do as much as you can before the time limit, which is 7 minutes in this case.”

She nodded in understanding, surveying the activity again until her eyes focused on the stack of weights lining each bar. “And how much weight is that? It looks heavy.”

“The weight for this one is 135 pounds.”

Despite the certainty in his tone, Blake tilted her head and waited for the joke. And when it didn’t come … “I’m sorry, you are planning to throw 135 pounds over your head repeatedly by choice? That’s how much I weigh!” Her eyes bugged out of her head.

Forgetting the sweat still lingering on his skin, Bryce hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her tight. He nuzzled his face against her neck, his voice gruff in her ear. “And if you remember, I was throwing you around in your room the other night quite easily.” Blake shivered at the memory, the feel of his fingers digging into her flesh as they defiled every surface within her bedroom just three nights ago. He chuckled low under his breath as he pulled back, a cocky smirk on his lips. “It’s all about skill and technique, and you should know that my technique is always exemplary.” He flashed her a wicked wink just as the buzzer sounded, the loud noise reverberating throughout the large room.

The next few minutes were chaotic, and Blake was thankful for the opportunity to steady her breathing after Bryce’s naughty insinuation. The competitors slowly picked themselves up off the floor where they’d collapsed and filed off the main floor to the outer ring of the room, each of them dripping in sweat and breathing heavily. One woman, a petite yet muscular brunette in booty shorts and knee socks with arms that vaguely resembled those of cartoon Popeye’s, caught a glimpse of Bryce and Blake and made her way over to them. “Lahela! Is this your lady friend you keep ditching us for?” She glanced up at Blake and caught her eye, shooting her a warm smile.

Blake thought she saw a tiny flush of pink tinge Bryce’s cheeks before he shifted to conduct introductions. “Hey Teresa, this is Blake. She’s a doctor over at Edenbrook with me. Blake, this is Teresa, another one of the 5am-ers.”

Teresa waved, her sweaty form maintaining a safe distance from the couple. “Sorry, I’d shake your hand but I don’t think you’d want that right now. It’s great to meet you, Blake.”

“It’s good to meet you too, Teresa.” Blake echoed, instantly feeling at ease with her new acquaintance. “So, how was it?” She asked, nodding towards the competition floor. “It looked pretty rough.”

“Ugh, yeah, it really was. Snatches and burpees, two of my least favorite moves. At least it wasn’t thrusters.” She shrugged nonchalantly, taking a swig from her water bottle, not noticing as Blake’s eyes widened at the last word.

Bryce laughed out loud at the look on Blake’s face, patting her on the back reassuringly. “Thrusters are another type of Crossfit movement. I guess I never really realized how bad all these names sounded to an outsider.”

“At least you can recognize it now so I don’t feel so bad.” Blake locked eyes with him, giving him a thankful smile.

Teresa stepped forward, patting Bryce on the shoulder as she brushed past him. “Well good luck out there Lahela, looks like you’re up.” She turned to Blake and gave her a small wave. “Glad to finally meet the woman who tamed this one.” She shoved a embarrassedly groaning Bryce aggressively in the arm. “Take care, Blake!”

“You too, Teresa!” Blake called after her, then turned to face her boyfriend. “Tamed you, huh? If this is tame, I’d hate to see you wild.” She gave him a playful smirk and squeezed his hand, her heart warmed by the way he returned it defenselessly and, for once, had no sarcastic retort. She pulled his arm gently and gestured towards the other competitors filing to their places. “You better get out there. I’ll watch from here.”

Bryce’s lips curled up into a slight grin as he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I’ll see you in seven minutes.” As he pulled away, Blake could see the affection sparkling deep within his dark eyes, making her whole body tingle with joy.

“Good luck.” She mouthed as he gently pulled away from her grasp. He held their stare as he took a few steps back before finally turning to move to his spot in the middle of the room.

Blake watched as Bryce settled himself in front of the heavy weighted barbell, shuffling his feet and taking deep breaths as he tightened the wraps around his wrists. The judges took their places before each contender, and shortly thereafter the head coach called out the countdown. Ten, nine, eight … Bryce steadied himself, bending down and gripping the bar with a wide grip, his eyes locked in place before him … four, three, two, ONE!!! He shrugged the barbell up to his hips as he stood upright quickly, then dropped to a squatting position as it soared overhead in one seamless motion. As soon as he stood upright he released the entire 135 pounds to the ground in front of him with a loud clatter, dropping his body to the floor and then hopping back up to smoothly jump over the barbell to the other side. Round one complete. He then bent over to grip the barbell and pulled it up over his head yet again, doing it twice this time before completing two burpees and two jumps.

Blake found herself mesmerized as she watched Bryce proceed, the combination of the clanging barbells, chatter and loud music doing little to distract her as he moved in steady, fluid motions with each rep. After a few rounds she began to pick up on the pattern and the muscles being used, admiring how they tensed and released in rhythmic waves. With each snatch (still a horrible name, but she was catching on at least), the definition in his abs would stiffen as he braced his torso to shrug the weights overhead, his shoulders and forearms tight as he gripped the bar in the air. With each burpee, the crease of his tricep would deepen as he pushed himself up off the floor, tiny drops of sweat trailing down his bare skin as he flew upright. Before each jump he’d crouch down low, the curve of his quads peeking out from underneath his shorts before his thick calves would propel him over the bar. Blake watched the scene over and over again, unsure whether the warmth in her cheeks was due to all the hot, sweaty bodies in the room or the visual foreplay she was witnessing on repeat. Bryce dropped to the floor again, hopping back up and wiping a sweaty tendril of hair from his brow before hopping over the bar, the image stoking something deep in Blake’s belly. Nevermind ... she was positive the heat she was feeling was 100% related to one specific hard body in the building.

Seven minutes flew by, the sound of the buzzer startling Blake from her hormone-induced trance as the time came to an end. She observed as Bryce finally halted his movements at the deafening noise, collapsing to the floor in exhaustion, the sweat-slicked skin of his chest rising and falling rapidly as he panted. When he was finally able to peel himself up off the floor, he sauntered slowly over to where she was standing, catching high fives and fist bumps from his friends along the way.

“Wow, that was incredible!” Blake squealed, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him tight. She immediately felt the comforting heat of his body pressed against hers, not even minding the dampness of her shirt as his sweat seeped through the layers of fabric.

Bryce chuckled breathlessly, still not quite recovered from his vigorous workout. “I’ll invite you every time if I get this type of enthusiasm.” He squeezed her tight, then pulled away to trail a finger across her cheek. “You can be my own personal cheerleader any day, Reyes.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’m happy to be your cheerleader every day, Lahela.” She beamed up into his dark eyes, a soft smile upturning the corners of her lips.

“Awww, Reyes, bringing out the cheese …” Despite the playfulness in his tone, Blake recognized the emotion behind his stare. It was an emotion that mirrored her own, a confession not yet spoken out loud but communicated nonetheless. She allowed herself to melt into his touch as he cupped a palm against her cheek, guiding her lips to meet his in a soft kiss.

“Get a room, Lahela!”

“Aw, come on you guys!”

The heckles from the others surrounding them broke them from their blissful embrace, Bryce laughing as some of the guys smacked him on the back or shoved him in the shoulder when the pair separated. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough of these jackasses for today!” He called out the last sentence loudly, eliciting a few snickers from his friends again. As he glanced back down at her, he noticed the darkened fabric of sweat stains adorning her t-shirt. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry … I can loan you an extra t-shirt before we go grab lunch … “

“Do you really think I’m going to go out to lunch with you looking like a sweaty mess, Bryce Lahela?” Blake quipped, arching her brow to give him a challenging look. With a dramatic sigh and a shrug she laid out her proposal, feigned innocence in her tone. “I suppose we’ll just have to go back to your place and get you cleaned up in the shower.”

Bryce’s eyes flashed with mischief, one side of his mouth curled up in a crooked grin. “Whatever you think is best, Dr. Reyes. Although I may need some help in there … I’m pretty worn out.” He gave her his best come-hither eyes as they walked to the lockers and he retrieved his stuff, slipping a dry t-shirt on his upper body.

“I guess I shall have to make that sacrifice.” Blake sighed, leaning into his firm body as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “But only if you promise to teach me all about these thrusters …” she stifled a naughty giggle as her voice trailed off.

With a low growl Bryce squeezed her tighter, leaning down to whisper in a husky voice into her hair. “Have I told you how much I love it when you talk dirty?” Blake only smiled proudly, nuzzling in tighter to his side and allowing him to lead them through the crowd towards the exit.

END

~~~~~~~~~~

End Note: What’s amazing to me is that this is the tamer version of this story. I actually held back on all the horribly inappropriate Crossfit references for fear of boring you all. Hit me up if you ever want more 😉

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OH (Bryce) Tags: @aworldoffandoms @divergentofhogwarts @halcyonhaarry @keira1416 @mariamulroney @radlovedreamer @simsvetements @timecanaryy

[blackjack-15]

Royals, Towers, and the Treasures They Hide — Thoughts on: Treasure in a Royal Tower (TRT)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas.

These metas are notspoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: TRT.

The Intro:

I’m gonna be honest starting out here: TRT is one of my favorite games of all time, let alone one of my favorites in the Nancy Drew series. Part of it is nostalgia — I can’t count how many times my sister and I played it — part of it is my childhood (and adulthood) love for Marie Antoinette, part of it is Hotchkiss, part of it is the bangin’ soundtrack with its heavy use of the harpsichord — it’s just an ace gaming experience altogether.

That doesn’t make me blind to its flaws, nor does it cloud my ability to analyze it as a game. Just know that for some Nancy Drew games, including this one, they really can be more than the sum of their parts.

Let’s sum up the parts anyway.

TRT improves slightly on the mechanics from MHM, as well as its animation. The characters look less like they’re constantly having a seizure, the voice acting is better (well…mostly better; Lisa’s is Truly Horrible), and characters are allowed to say more than one thing and/or have more than one character trait.

There’s also another historical background in this game — Marie Antoinette’s life, particularly against the backdrop of the French revolution — that creates a more complex storyline with two plot threads and some actual emotional weight.

This time, the historical background is tragic (a trend that will continue in most of these games), and so even knowing the end, Her Interactive makes you care about and root for Marie, largely through what you find out about her from Professor Hotchkiss.

TRT is keeping the trend of longer and longer games, as its playtime is slightly more than MHM. It needs the longer runtime, as there’s more story, more locations, more secrets, and (possibly) slightly more dialogue to unpack.

TRT isn’t quite in the era of Nancy Drew games where the dialogue is pivotal (a fact that makes it rather surprising and self-defeating that fans rejoice in skipping dialogue), but it’s certainly important, and you’re expected to pay attention.

Unfortunately, paying even a little bit of attention will reveal the culprit. Oddly enough, this game doesn’t even try to suggest that anyone other than the culprit might be responsible, though it plays at “oh what’s Jacques doing” for a full minute in the middle of the game.

We won’t reach a game where the culprit is partially hidden for a few more games yet, but there’s at least an effort here to play entirely fair (as opposed to SCK), so I applaud that.

Overall, TRT is a strong 4thentry in a puzzle/adventure series, and is absolutely essential for the new player, both for its recurring characters (Bess and George! Ned! Professor Hotchkiss!) and for just simply how wellit performs the at-this-point Tentative Nancy Drew Formula.

The Title:

This is one of the most successful titles, simply because it tells you exactly what the mystery is about — the treasure within a royal tower.

The treasure is the focal point of both the A-plot (Nancy’s actively looking for the treasure once you’re 1/4 of the way through the game) and the historical B-plot (Marie Antoinette’s life and her hidden journal which is with the treasure and a treasure of its own).

Spoiler Alert: the real treasure wasn’tthe real friends Nancy made along the way. Mostly because she didn’t make any friends.

There’s actually not much to say in this section because the title is so darn good by itself, so let’s move on to the “reason” behind any Nancy Drew game: the mystery.

The Mystery:

There’s no mystery when Nancy shows up, marking a first (but certainly not a last) in the series. Nancy’s simply on a fun little vacation in a castle in Wisconsin — Wickford Castle, which has a tower carted over brick-by-brick from France’s Château Rochemont — which is owned by a friend of Carson Drew’s, Christi Lane.

Her vacation grinds to a halt when Wickford Castle gets snowed in and the library is (rather brutally) vandalized, causing the caretaker Dexter to lock it up and hide the key, suspicious of the three guests at the castle — Nancy, Lisa Ostrum, and Beatrice Hotchkiss — and the only other staff member, Jacques Brunais.

Instead of continuing her quiet little vacation, Nancy decides to figure out who vandalized the library at Wickford and why, learning about the Royal Tower, Marie Antoinette, the French Revolution, and about her fellow castle-mates at the same time.

Nancy ultimately solves the mystery with a little help from Marie and a little help from Hotchkiss, finding Marie Antoinette’s three medallions, opening up the Royal Tower, discovering the saboteur, and finding the Treasure in the Royal Tower.

As a mystery, the plot of this game largely succeeds. Sure, the culprit is obvious, but the game isn’t really that concerned with keeping her identity a secret. 

Rather, the focus is on Nancy maneuvering her way around the castle, gaining trust or information or a clue from the different suspects, collecting the medallions and solving little mysteries that lay the ultimate mystery – the Treasure in the Royal Tower — bare.

TRT is a fair-play mystery, meaning you can figure out everything before Nancy does, but it has enough plot threads that most people will forget or not pay attention to one, and so will end up with one thing they didn’t think of/consider — even if it’s not a main thread.

Most importantly, the mystery succeeds because it changes focus from identity to figuring out Marie Antoinette to figure out where she would have hidden things and how, and that’s much more interesting than “who wrecked the library”.

The Suspects:

Dexter Egan is the caretaker of Wickford Castle, and the big man in charge of Wickford Castle with Christi gone on business. Gruff, cantankerous, and incredibly uninterested in doing his job, Dexter uses Nancy as an errand girl, doing the things that he’s “too busy” to do, while he…honestly faffs about doing nothing.

I think the point is to be like “ooh what is Dexter doing?? THIEVING??” but no, he’s just doing absolutely nothing, and I think that’s a waste. Part of it might be that he’s bothered by the destruction of the library, but everyone else has stuff that they’re doing throughout the course of the mystery, and I think it’s a shame that he doesn’t.

Also just fix the radiator; it’s winter, for heaven’s sake. Nancy’s gonna freeze.

Dexter’s also revealed to be the adopted-then-disinherited son of Ezra Wickford, the original owner of the castle. Ezra was a total dick, keeping contrasting scrapbooks of Dexter’s good things and then bad things, which is Super Messed-Up. 

No wonder Dexter didn’t turn out better; every time he messed up his dad was probably like “yeah this is going in the Bad Book”. Yikes.

Lisa Ostrum is a photojournalist and guest of the resort who is stuck there because of the snow, just like Nancy. She’s over-eager to make friends with Nancy and attempts to buddy up with her — a contrast to everyone else in the castle, who either has Nancy earn their trust, or just doesn’t care about her altogether.

She is, as you can gather from the brief description above, the villain of the game, wanting Nancy to find the treasure for her and vandalizing the library over a “mistranslation” that doesn’t make any sense — she translates “journal” in French as “library”, not “journal”, aka the same word in English? Nope.

Lisa also lies about weird things, like greeting Nancy with “Hola!” and then pretending she doesn’t speak any Spanish, even though she does, and even though speaking Spanish wouldn’t make her suspicious? It’s one of a handful of very Weird things about Lisa that singles her out as the villain.

She’s the one who encourages Nancy to go outside to explore, then locks the door behind her, leaving Nancy to die from exposure. When Nancy gets back in, Lisa doesn’t even bother with the act, wondering idly who would do such a thing, as if it wasn’t blatantly obvious.

Nancy in her letter back home is like “to think I almost made friends with a diamond thief!” and I’m like…when did they make friends? When did they almost make friends?

She is a standout as the flattest character in the game, however, making all the rest look even better by comparison. When you can find out that a character has multiple other lives (including IDs!) and they’re still not interesting…that’s not great.

Jacques Brunais, skier non-extraordinaire (according to his Epic Loss at the Olympics on behalf of France) and ski instructor at Wickford Castle, is most likely the third person you’ll meet at Wickford, and is a man with an interesting past in relation to the Castle.

Jacques is a character more lovingly crafted to fit into the story than either Lisa or even Dexter (despite his history in the castle), as his reason for being there is two-fold. He’s there outwardly for his fiancée, Isabelle, who’s studying at a nearby university. He’s anxious to marry her, but can’t do so at the moment.

He has another tie to the area, however — one that runs in the family. His great-grandfather was a part of the team that moved the Royal Tower from France to the equally impressive and historical Wisconsin. 

His grandfather discovered the blue medallion and Marie Antoinette’s journal as he was moving the Tower, and made the Obvious, Sensical choice to keep the medallion and re-hide the priceless journal.

Jacques thus spends the entire game attempting to get into the Royal Tower, knowing that the journal sits untouched in there and that he has one part of the puzzle — the blue medallion that his great-grandfather gave him on his deathbed — needed to find the treasure.

\As a culprit, Jacques is actually quite a good choice. He’s actively hiding something from Nancy, he has an alternative motive for everything he does, and is generally cagey in his responses. 

He also hangs out in the area where most of the Suspicious Events of the game happen — the broken elevator, the lockers that are Full of Snooping Material, etc. — and sends you on errands rather than leave his post. It’s just small things on top of small things, but it’s effective.

Jacques’ introduction makes him seem like a smarmy, know-nothing French lech, but everything else in the game contradicts this — his loyalty to Isabelle, his feelings of regret of not having supported France well in the Olympics, his consciousness of his great grandfather’s legacy and discovery, his curiosity about the Tower, etc.

Simply put, he’s one of the best characters in the game, but he hides it quite well, leaving a lot of people to just go with their first impression of him.

He ends up helping out Nancy and eloping with Isabelle, giving him a genuinely happy ending — which is a rarity among suspects, who generally get a “life goes on” ending versus a faerie tale ending like Jacques (and Isabelle) gets.

Professor Beatrice Hotchkiss is a university professor of history, specializing in Queens — lost, ancient, displaced, murdered, she runs the gamut. This of course makes her intensely interested in the Royal Tower and in Wickford’s secrets.

At first, she refuses to speak to Nancy properly, cracking open her door slightly to accept the errands that Nancy runs for her and others, ordering 50 chicken drumsticks despite saying that she’s not a big meat-eater, and clacking away at her typewriter.

As the game goes on, the delightfully zany Professor Hotchkiss opens up, visiting the sitting room of the castle in the wee hours of the morning — the “witching hour”, as she delights in calling it — and talking to Nancy about her research and about the history of the tower and of Marie Antoinette.

Hotchkiss has an opinion on everything, making her a delight to talk with and listen to. She doesn’t much care what Nancy thinks of her, preferring instead to focus on what interests her. Her delight at Nancy finding Marie Antoinette’s journal — and her nigh-impossible task of translating the journal in one night — is contagious, exciting not only Nancy but the player as well.

As a suspect, Hotchkiss is TRT’s suspect that’s cleared early in order to be Nancy’s helper — but with a slight twist, as Nancy more works as Hotchkiss’ helper, and it’s Hotchkiss who solves the mystery, allowing Nancy to do the actual footwork.

She’s eccentric, but not really suspicious, and she’s not meant to be — she’s a character with her own agenda, rather than a character there to sneakily hint at their motive and lurk around the crime scenes to alert Nancy’s Spidey Sense.

Hotchkiss’ unique perspective on Marie Antoinette is often a point people make fun of in this game, preferring the Classical Narrative that Marie was a queen, and queens are Bad and Wrong because they’re rich and That’s Terrible. Thus, Hotchkiss’ sympathy and enthusiasm are often mocked when people talk about this game.

As a fellow historian with a soft spot for lost, maligned, or brilliant queens (or queens that were a mix of all of these), I can say honestly that Hotchkiss’ point of view on Marie Antoinette has not only found its place in history as we learn more about her, but it also marks her as a free thinker in academia — something incredibly rare and precious.

Hotchkiss forces the player to ask the question of why this Treasure — not the diamond, but the journal — is so important, and why people are willing to steal, lie, and vandalize in order to get it.

It’s the “edu” in the “edutainment” label that Nancy Drew games have been given, but its job isn’t to teach you math facts nor to quiz you on the French Revolution. Its job is to do something a bit, well, a bit more revolutionary: it’s to ask you to consider history more deeply than drawing lines between those that our more “modern” sensibilities designate as heroes and those we believe to be villains; between those we consider “enlightened” and those that we consider “backwards”.

Hotchkiss is a zany free thinker with a distinct lack of interest in everyday affairs and an obsession with not only studying those that history has forgotten or maligned, but in telling others and sharing her passion. She’s an awesome character, and I’m so glad they saw the chance to have her reoccur and took it.

On a less soapbox-y note, there’s a hilarious and oddly detailed theory out in the fandom that Hotchkiss is actually Future!Nancy, who has gone back in time to help her younger self out. There are not a few similarities between the two women — quirky redheads who are interested in history and delight in not telling people what they mean or want.

If anyone has a link to the big post for this theory, message me and I’ll include the link here. [EDIT: POST FOUND!] It’s worth a read, even if you just wanna giggle for a bit.

The Favorites:

There are a ton of things I love about this game, so let’s get started.

The soundtrack is of special mention in a game series with a lot of excellent soundtracks. Atmospheric, varied, and completely fitting to the theme of the game, TRT’s soundtrack is one to go back and listen to fairly often. It’s also immediately recognizable, which is something that a soundtrack should absolutely be, if it can manage it.

Hotchkiss is a wonder and a joy, and she makes the entire game brighter with her presence. Jacques also is a great part of this game, and the classic three (Bess/George/Ned) are in fine form as phone contacts

I’d be remiss in exploring this game metatextually without recognizing the Castle itself as a character and as one of my favorite parts of this game. Wickford Castle is an entity unto itself; its many winding staircases, dead ends, secret passageways, and rooms that lead to nowhere all build up its character as an old home that protects its occupants, past and present.

It’s as much a character as Marie herself, whose color — purple — dominates the castle. Her tragic story — a woman maligned, gossiped about, imprisoned, violated, and ultimately murdered for the crime of her birth and a marriage  — is found in the dungeons, in the library, in the décor, and, yes, in her Royal Tower.

The tower, like the queen herself, is lonely, abandoned, and yet of great worth. It hides a great treasure, though those who seek it only see the basic treasure, rather than the thing of true worth: a primary source of centuries-old conflict and history, and the inner thoughts of a woman embroiled in an incredibly tumultuous time in history, both politically and personally.

My favorite puzzle (besides Hotchkiss’ quizzes, but I was a history nerd when I was a kid and I’m still one today) in TRT is probably escaping the elevator. It’s such a fun thing to do, especially since it seems “forbidden” in a way, and who doesn’t want to climb up an elevator shaft risk-free?

The sheer moment of terror when it breaks is awesome, too.

The Un-Favorites:

Even though this is one of my favorite games, there are some things that aren’t my favorite.

Lisa, as mentioned above, is a completely ineffective culprit, along with being obvious, so that’s the one thing that stands out above all others that I dislike. It takes you out of the story whenever she talks or is involved, which is a shame, because the atmosphere in the rest of the game is very immersive.

It might seem like a small annoyance, but another thing that bothers me is how long it takes to get your radiator fixed. It’s basically the focus of your first day at Wickford Castle, and I have no idea why they chose something that makes that much noise to be a large, over-arching puzzle.

Plus, all you can talk to Dexter about until it’s fixed is just “hey, is my radiator working?”, and let’s face it, Dexter doesn’t need the help to be dull in this game.

My least favorite puzzle in this game (once again, other than slider puzzles, which are my Arch Nemesis) is probably the INCREDIBLY LOUD door puzzle in the dungeon. It’s not a hard puzzle, and I don’t mind the random nature of it. But it is SO LOUD and I hate it a lot XD.

The Fix:

So knowing all of this, what fixes would I make?

The first thing is to give Dexter an actual plot. The game treats him more like a historical character than a present-day suspects, what with revealing him solely through environmental storytelling versus actual sleuthing. 

Give Dexter something to do, and he’ll become an actual character with a tragic backstory, rather than a tragic backstory that takes two years to finish fixing the radiator.

An interesting idea might be to have him be searching for the treasure as well. Maybe Ezra hinted at having a medallion or whatever, and Dexter is searching for it in order to stick it to his Old Man for, you know, adopting and then disowning him and then leaving the medallion as “see I was a Good dad after all you can’t be mad” sort of thing.

Make it so Dexter is the one who tears up the library in a fit of frustration at his horrible father, but discovers that Hotchkiss’ medallion has been stolen and knows that he didn’t do that — so he knows there’s at least one other person trying to find the treasure.

He doesn’t have time to fix Nancy’s radiator because he’s so busy trying to find the treasure at the same time that he’s trying to stymie anyone else doing the same thing. He knows Nancy’s not there for the treasure, so he’s comfortable giving her tasks to do so that the Castle is taken care of.

He’s the one who tore up the library (albeit in a fit of rage), but Lisa’s the one who stole Hotchkiss’ medallion, but Jacques is the one sawing through the iron bars in the Tower at night…suddenly, the stakes are a lot higher for everyone involved — not to mention that, now, everyone is involved. 

Jacques wants the treasure for family and love, Lisa wants it for money, Dexter wants it for revenge/to settle a past wrong, and Hotchkiss wants it found (but not for herself) so that the world will know Marie Antoinette’s true story.

The best way to flesh out a world, big or small, is to have conflicting motives in characters.

Yes, Hotchkiss wants the journal and treasure found, but she doesn’t want the tower destroyed. Jacques wants the treasure for France and for his future life, but respects his country’s history a little too much to do anything truly illegal. Lisa wants it for money, but doesn’t want to be found out and pay the steep price in prison. 

So let’s say that Dexter wants to establish his right to the Castle and to shove it to Ezra, but can’t bring himself to fully disfigure his father’s memory nor his happy memories in the Castle.

The characters would become more complex, and Nancy’s case would be very different, as everyone would hide things from her with different reasons and different ways. Have Hotchkiss clue her in first, then have her discover Jacques, confront Dexter about Ezra, and then discover Lisa at the scene of the crime.

Speaking of Lisa, she’s the source of a lot of the small fixes that would improve the game. 

First is her voice acting; I realize that Her Interactive wasn’t exactly a big-budget type game maker, but in a game where everyone else’s VAs are pretty good, she sticks out like a sore thumb. Replace her VA, because you just can’t take that voice seriously.

Another Lisa fix: have her actually be Nancy’s friend. Have Lisa buddy up to Nancy in a realistic way (we’re both young! both girls! both “sleuths”! Anything would do, really) and make friends with her.

Having Lisa share “important” information that she found out (actually information to throw Nancy off the scent) with Nancy, and do little things for her, or give her little gifts — all of this would add up to a seemingly genuine show of friendship, and would give weight to Lisa’s statement that Nancy is the “worst friend a diamond thief could have”.

That leads us right into the last thing with TRT to fix: the culprit reveal and confrontation scene.

Making Lisa active in this scene would be the easiest way to improve it; have her come in right before Nancy solves the puzzle, and Nancy, who knows that the one who’s still after the treasure is Lisa by sheer process of elimination, backs off and tells Lisa she won’t let her steal it. 

Lisa pepper-sprays Nancy, and makes her fall to the ground, letting us see the rest of the scene from the side on the ground.

Lisa finishes the last step of the puzzle, casually monologuing the entire time about how she’s gonna get away and have money and how Nancy can’t stop her, etc. etc. 

Nancy might murmur to “herself” (the player) that her eyes are clearing up, but she’s gotta stop Lisa somehow. Cue Lisa walking away casually, Nancy hitting the switch, Lisa’s trapped, and the game ends as currently established.

None of these, despite the length of this section, are super big changes, but added up, I think they’d make a game that’s actually more true to itself and its theme and message than the current incarnation.

[lostwithspace]

Dead Space

~~ @brothers-iin-arms​‘s Razok and @lostwithspace​ Rio are on a mission for the Blades to try and find some technology of an ancient race that was thought dead, in an area of space almost no one goes into. What awaits them in the dead of space?

(Thank you so much for @cairis-in-the-field​ for help with editing, she helped me so much polishing it up) 

Rated: M, Theme: horror, TW: gore (Not inflicted)

Story under the cut

"Are you sure this is worth it?" Rio inquired with a grimace. The tall Galra adjusted his tight-fitting, single-piece suit, checking over his readouts to ensure there would be no issues once in space. "I'm not the biggest fan of space walking without being tethered to something larger than myself."

Razok was checking over his own gear. As a member of the Blade of Marmora, he wore his standard operative gear as it was able to withstand absolute vacuum. Both were aboard Rio's ship, The Onyx Moth, preparing for the expedition ahead of them.

"The Lithome were a scourge to the Galra Empire almost 700 years ago. Most were thought to be wiped out in a massive unified strike across their territory. They were said to have been a pain in Zarkon's royal behind and they had technology that made most Galra tech more than useless. So, yes, we were sure this would be worth it.”

He grinned at Rio.

"Besides; I thought you were super horny for these long-lost pieces of tech."

The taller, younger Galra's white mohawk mane bristled a bit in embarrassment, his ears tips tinting red. A simple 'Shut up' was all he could retort with, which elicited a chuckle out of his companion. Getting back to completing his preparations, Rio moved about the small launch area that had been set up on his ship, and collecting his needed equipment for the mission into a backpack.

Knowing they’d already been over this and asking about it again would likely irritate Razok, Rio decided to risk it anyway.

"Just for clarification, you know, again: the Blades found the body of a Tuuvian, floating through space, in a suit that had evidence of a Lithome cruiser recorded on internal video in his helmet.  A body, mind you, that was at least a dozen decaphoebs old. Based on the internal readings, they traced the body back to this dead zone from which the only things that normally leave are the faint emergency signals of ships long lost.  And we're going to jump in there. Did I miss anything?"

Razok gave the younger Galra a deadpan stare with his one good eye, the other blank with a scar running over it down his face.  Refusing to repeat himself again, he slid his swords into their sheaths behind his back with a loud click.

His preparations finished, the Blade lifted up his portable body sled and secured himself to it with a cord.  It was as long as Razok was tall.  What looked like a flattened pod that was intended to carry a person was actually a powerful rocket with two fins on each side that came out from either side in the middle.  Attached to each fin was a small maneuverable thruster.  On top of the sled were controls for the rider and a screen with telemetry readings - which were currently pre-programmed with the first part of their trip.  An engine at the rear of the sled provided most of the propulsion.

They weren't the most stylish, elegant or subtle, but they would do the job.  Rio had more than been up to the challenge to make them when Razok had contacted him about it on behalf of the Blade of Marmora.  Now that he was going to be one of the passengers, there were at least one-hundred different design choices he’d have made.

"The pictures were matched to the records we have on file, boy," the Blade spy explained, with the little patience he had remaining.  "I couldn't think of anyone else who would be able to handle this type of mission, be able to confirm what we could use, and get us there and back. You're not coming away with nothing for your troubles either. Make sure we get there without issues and we should be fine."

"Everyone else turned you down once you told them where you were going, didn’t they?" Rio couldn’t help but smile at the complement as he clipped himself in against his own sled.

"Pretty much."

Both of them tapped a sensor located behind their jaws. Their suits’ helmets curled up over their heads and sealed them in. They did a quick set of final checks, ensuring their suits were working as intended.

"Now move your literal tail!  We have a few vargas of flight ahead of us."

Razok's test of the suits’ shortwave communications was certainly successful. Grimacing at that bit of sass, Rio began the decompression of the launch area and deactivation of gravity.

Both of them mounted their sleds once they were able to float without gravity pulling them down and they pushed themselves out of the launch bay. When they were clear of the Onyx Moth, they activated their rockets and sped away into the darkness.

*~*~*

Razok's voice buzzed in Rio's ear after a while.

"Things seem to be working. I hope you were right about these rockets."

Apparently, it was Rio's turn to repeat himself, but - since it was talking about mechanics and technology - he was more than willing.

"The dead zone is a dangerous place for almost any ship; several integral parts of most modern ships’ functions just won’t work here on their own. Only smaller or more primitive methods of electronics or technology will work here. Quintessence fields, manufactured wormholes, even most engine designs and computers in the Empire, can’t function here; they are all either destabilized or unable to be powered. People don’t know why, and most expeditions and studies into the area were fruitless, or just ended. Rumours go between failed ancient experiment, natural spatial anomaly, to an ancient God’s dead body.  Any version you choose: it’s a no-fly space marked for most people these days.

“What we’re using today though; simple combustion engines, some basic computers, generators, and a few other things that are a few steps above primitive.  Even still, we may experience some issues, but our main essentials shouldn’t be affected.”

"So why has no one else escaped this place before - like our frozen pal that was picked up?"

"Probably because, like me, most people dread and fear the idea of taking that final deep leap into space. The chances that a random body being found in the deep reaches of space is also very minimal, the Blades were lucky to have stumbled across this one. Also: who uses combustion engines anymore? Unless you brought them in, you wouldn’t be able to leave with most other methods of space flight."

Razok grunted a response. The conversation died and silence filled the rest of the trip, except for the sound of each of them breathing. Rio spent most of the trip trying to remember the information that he had been able to scrounge up on Lithome technology, while Razok had gone into a zen-like calm as he reviewed his plans and own information. Within a varga of leaving the Onyx Moth, they entered the area itself. Other than some annoying static with their coms, there was no noticeable changes.

Eventually, against the blackness of space, their destination came into view: a vast stretch of derelict vessels, most floating near each other, so after millennia and the draw of gravity it started to form an enormous mass that was nothing more than twisted metal and technology. Rio had earlier stated that ships from all ages of spacefaring littered the area, but most weren’t intact or recognizable anymore. The outer edges of the cosmic breaking yard would have more intact wrecks and farther spaced apart debris, which is where their first destination was. The further in an explorer went, the older the ships were.

At least: that was the theory.

As they pulled in closer, the flat digital displays in front of each of them lit up.  With a signal from Razok, they turned themselves towards an outer section of the ship graveyard. They had gotten a hit; a unique low power signal the Tuuvian ship had which was still active.

They wove their way through the local debris with little problem. The distance between most of the major debris allowed for them to maneuver with no issues.

Their destination was fairly easy to spot as they neared; it was a more modern designed cargo ship. Compared to the other ships in the area, it had the least issues with it structurally.  It appeared to have landed roof first into the remnants of an older, unidentifiable hull of a destroyed ship. 

Slowing themselves with a few maneuvers, the two pulled up beside the vessel. Using their magnetized boots, they made landfall. Razok opened the access with a quick code he had obtained from the deceased alien and they made their way inside after securing their rides.

After confirming there was atmosphere, both Galra retracted their helmets. Razok led the way towards the bridge, wielding one of his swords. The swords were able to take any shape their wielder chose, but as he normally did, he had it about as long as his legs from tip to pommel, in a slightly curved, single-edged conformation.  It reflected the light projected from the shoulder mounted flashlight on Razok’s suit, making the light dance across the walls.

Rio followed in behind him, a simple laser pistol held in both his hands, eyes searching wildly around them.  His mind was picturing hidden things lurking in the darkened interior, waiting to leap at the both of them. Their breath misted from their mouths, the ship barely warm enough for a normal living being.  Power settings seemed to have been set low, trying to increase reserves and sustain whatever crew might have been on board.

Luckily, nothing appeared as they arrived at the bridge.

After a quick sweep of the area, Rio got to work. He pulled his bag from his back and removed an older portable computer that Razok could have mistaken for something from a landfill, and a small generator. Crawling under the main control console, he opened up a compartment to reveal the ship’s black box. He connected the computer and generator to the indestructible recording device and turned on both as needed. As he had hoped, with the extra power, he was able to connect to the ship’s records.

“One problem down.” He gave a thumbs up to Razok as he crawled back out and started to go through records.

With the tech nerd at work, the older Galra left him on the bridge to properly clear the rest of the ship. Luckily, with work to distract him - and the entire place being lit now by the power of the cosmos, his computer, and the display windows - Rio’s mind was no longer jumping at shadows.

“The ship is empty,” Razok reported as he came back after some time.

“That’s good. I don’t think anyone could survive this long even if they were transporting military field rations - but if they had, they would definitely be banging their heads off the walls.”

The Blade cast his eye around the bridge in an assessing glance.

“No, I mean it’s completely empty. Most of the personal stuff of the crew is still here, but there are no bodies anywhere on the ship - and there was definitely more than one person running this ship.”

Rio looked up from his work. “That matches the logs: The black box recorded at least four passengers. The ship matches the information from the Tuuvian’s suit. Looks like they were honest merchants that FTL jumped with incorrect coordinates. They were lucky that they didn’t collapse into a flat pancake with their inertial field failure.”

Razok’s face showed how bad of an experience he would expect that to be. “But that would mean there would still be bodies - just plastered across the windows and bulk head instead of floating around. The body we found was still intact and didn’t look like it had traveled through transparent aluminum.”

“No, yeah - you’re right,” Rio agreed, his tail flicking in thought. “Maybe they went out looking for resources? Food and supplies to last them ‘til… Well, I’m assuming what they hoped would be a rescue.”

“The only option at this point. Unless you can get anything more useful, we’re moving on. Hopefully there hasn’t been that much drift and we can find that ship before we pass the turn back point on our fuel.”

“Not much here; it stopped receiving information from most of the systems when they entered. There was some reading that it got before the shut down and there appears to have been a larger mass of ships near-by. If they were able to get those readings, they probably headed there. I could probably get the general direction. But other than that, there isn’t much else to go on. Probably means we will have to stick with that picture and our good old ey-senses, to find it once we’re near.”

Razok gave him half a tick and a glare to gather up the equipment.  The glare shifted to a playful smirk behind Rio’s back before they headed back to their vehicles.

*~*~*

While the dead zone itself was huge, the debris field was speculated to sit in its center and was relatively smaller. People theorized that most ships' existing inertia usually carried a disabled ship a great deal closer to the field, and then the existing gravity pulled it in closer. The larger the field got, the more ships that were pulled in.

With the minimal information they had, thankfully it only took less than a varga for them to discover the partially ruined vessel they were looking for. Originally coloured white from what they could see, the vessel had obviously been marred by time and countless collisions. If there had been more bulk to the ship that had been attached by a connecting section, they had long since broken away. What had once been a ship now resembled the dome of the skull of some giant ancient, left to the elements of space.

Pulling up beside the ship, they put boots down on the surface. Looking around at the expansive ship-side, the ancient hull curved beyond their vision. Most of it was very unremarkable. The appearance was overall smooth unless someone was standing right over top of an area, then, the minute textural details became clear.

"There weren’t many locations that I could see as we flew by that could be an access door."

Rio pulled out a scanner the size of his hand and started to try and get some readings. The device’s power fluctuated even as it turned on and he cradled it as if that would protect it from whatever was disrupting it. He knelt down on the surface of the ship and pressed it up against the metal.

“Find an entrance yet?” Razok asked.

Even their communications were acting up as they both got a brief earful of static. Razok waited for it to fade before he asked again. He scanned the surrounding debris field for any signs of movement or life, but nothing revealed themselves to his eye. It might’ve had something to do with where they were, but the silent oppressiveness of space seemed to be amplified. Death had set up a little shop out here; ready to sell you different kinds of dying. Though the selection was vast and varied, they were all out of 'quick and painless' - the most popular choice for anyone unlucky enough to be there.

“I think I’m getting something. It’s - wait-” Rio's device blinked a few times, before dying all together. “Gah! Stupid place!”

“What? What was it?”

The younger Galra shoved the dead device into a pocket of his bag with force and began to rub his arms simulating warming them up through his suit.

“It said there was power inside, but that can’t be right. A ship this old... I can’t think of a kind of power source that could survive here for this long and still function.”

“You mean except possible lost alien technology that outclasses what we have today?” Razok quipped back

“Yes - except for the exact thing you used to bribe me here. Now to find the way in and get out of this giant abyss of death.” He waved his hand above his head.

After a few doboshes of searching, Razok was ready to just pull out his swords to cut through the hull.  He was saved from resorting to that when Rio called for him. The other Galra had been wandering across the surface and had found a hidden access door, which he had been able to open, leading to an access way inside. Getting ready to enter another ship, they both secured the body sleds at the entrance, armed themselves, and slipped into the interior of the ancient ship.

Upon entering, their eyes quickly adjusted to the interior of the ship. Frost seemed to coat the hallway leading from their point of entrance; it coincided with the frigid temperature inside the ship. Checking their suits’ indicators, there did seem to be actual breathable air, but they kept their helmets on for the moement. It appeared that - like the Tuuvian ship - minimal environmentals were working, but gravity either no longer worked or it wasn’t a system able to function in the zone.

The two Galra moved away from the entrance, weapons drawn and held at the ready, despite no evidence so far of anyone else aboard, dead or alive. As they closed the hatch fully, which shut out the light that had cascaded in from the cosmos, it seemed that Rio’s device had been correct: there was a dim glow coming from somewhere along the walls.  It bathed the entire interior with a soft blue light. In sections where ice coated the hall fully, it took on a blue colour from the light, appearing like a glacier had pushed up against the roof and floor. Where the ice was thin or bare, the white walls of the actual corridor peeked through, helping to reflect the minimal lighting. The ceiling and floor were coloured in a matte grey where it appeared between the ice. Spaced out at regular intervals were curved structural beams, each one painted brown.

Without the ice, the interior would have looked like a leafless winter forest. Now, it took on a more sinister look; like the inside of the corpse of some dead giant animal whose ancient bones break through the ice every so often.

“If there’s power to light the ship,” Razok observed, “then the main computer might still have some power as well.”  

They had both been moving through the forest of ice for a short time, passing mostly shut doors and branching hallways. The doors that were open led to utility, storage, or living quarters, but they were all empty of any sign of life.

Rio nodded numbly, his eyes drifting over the frozen walls. Occasionally he glimpsed his own reflection when it lined up with him, but the lighting made him look pale and sunken.

“That would mean going deeper into the heart of this place,” he said. “Hopefully: the closer we get, the more obvious where something like that might be.”

He gave a shiver, even though his suit kept his temperature regulated. The icy atmosphere was getting to him.

“Then we should be quick,” Razok decided. “This place is starting to give me-”

They were turning a corner when Razok stopped and held out a hand for Rio to stop as well. While there had been other areas of hallway that had seemed damaged, or barricaded by ice growth, this time there was the giant form of an alien. Curled in on itself, the body took up most of the hallway, held in place by the lack of gravity and wedged between several ice protrusions. It gave the appearance of being caught in an icy web.

Approaching slowly, they were able to pick out some details and features: the alien’s skin was stretched over its body, giving way to very little muscle mass underneath. The thing looked like it had died of starvation. Bones were visible over most of its body, even through the layer of white fur that covered the stretched skin. Its arms were wrapped around its legs, held against its chest, both of which appeared long and gangly. Its head was long, face pushing out into almost an animalistic muzzle. If the two Galrans were to hazard a guess: if the creature stood up, it would be head and shoulders taller than Rio. It wore a rough breast plate covering on its upper body and its legs were covered in the remnants of a suit. Its entire body was coated in ice and frost.

“Is this what a Lithome is supposed to look like?” Rio tried to lean in and get a better look of the alien’s face, but was blocked by its positioning.

“From what I read, I would say yes - but it’s bigger than what I was expecting. The records we do have said they were on average with a Galra.” Razok looked along the walls and ground to see if there were any traps, devices, or some other thing that might show how the Lithome had gotten in this predicament.

“Maybe they ate their vegetables. Is there a reason why they’re just in the middle of the hallway?”

Razok gave a weak snort at the weak attempt at a joke. “Probably fell asleep. They were a hibernating species; helped them live on their planet, which could have long-ass winter seasons. Some records stated those winters could last entire decapheobs.”

“You mean it just fell asleep and never woke up?"

"And frosted over like an over frozen hunk of ghork meat left in a freezer." The shorter Galra tapped his sword against it as emphasis. The sound of metal on ice echoed more than either of them expected - or really wanted.

They exchanged a look.

"This place is giving me the creeps. Let's just go get this over with." Rio turned back the way they had come.

"Agreed." Razok turned to follow, but froze and hissed: “Wait!”

A layer of ice on the creature’s back had cracked, following the arc of the alien’s back. Razok took a step back, wary, as the Lithome's head snapped up half an inch. Its eyes were opened; dark red pin pricks, sunken into their sockets, swept about the area to take in what may have woken it. Entire sheets of frost and ice broke away as the body of the alien unfurled and stretched. A yawning maw revealed a great number of serrated canine-like teeth.

If someone later had asked: Rio couldn’t have told them if it was or ice that had frozen his mag boots to the ground or a chill fear down his spine. Having turned back again to see what his companion had seen, his eyes widened in horror as the apparently not dead, just sleeping, ancient enemy of the Galra awoke. Both hands hands shook around his drawn weapon, pointed downward and forgotten for the moment.

The red eyes suddenly focused and locked onto the two invading aliens. It reached out and grabbed hold of the structural brown arch above it and used it to stretch itself, looking even more emaciated than before in doing so; like a creature that had been killed and stretched by an incompetent leather worker. The alien let out a guttural growl that seemed to come from deeper than its body would allow.

The noise snapped Rio out of his frozen stupor. He automatically raised his gun at the alien, but his arms were caught by Razok.

"What're you doing, boy: trying to get us killed?"

"It's going to kill us," Rio hissed between clenched teeth.

"Yeah, it will - after that peashooter of yours either pisses him off with a scorch mark or you hit his chest piece and it bounces back, hitting one of us!"

Rio looked back at the awakened Lithome. He noticed the chest guard it wore was made of a strange sort of white metal, and he realized it was made of lithite; one of the things they were hoping to find and that he had studied a bit. It was rumored that in war Lithome soldiers were deadly - not just for their warrior prowess, but also because most shots fired at them killed the shooter by reflecting most energy projectiles.

Even as these thoughts sped through his mind, their newly awoken acquaintance's eyes gave chilling stares to both of them, its brain analyzing them.

"Gaaalraaa…" it growled out, bearing a mouth full of teeth. "Why you on Lux's ship…?"

The Lithome's speech was slurred and stunted, but it was difficult to tell if that was from them just waking up, the natural way of speaking, or both.

"Lithome," Razok addressed it - no, them - while releasing the younger Galra’s arms. He lowered his weapons non-threateningly. "Lux - I am Razok, of the Blade of Marmora. Do you remember who we are?"

Lux started at the Galra, completely ignoring Rio and his pistol. After a few ticks, their mouth peeled back in a deep, guttural laugh. Their lips peeled back farther than was expected and revealed how deep their maw truly went, displaying teeth all the way back to the throat.

"Blade of Marmora? Weak now! Half blind and cowards. Remember allies of Lithome. You trapped here as Lux?"

Razok's face twitching was the only sign of his temper. That just seemed to make Lux laugh more. Still, the Galra was able to keep his voice even.

"No, we're here to investigate." He stopped for a moment to weigh his options. "If you help us get some information and equipment to help fight the Galra Empire, we can help you get out of this area of space."

Rio shifted behind him, but kept his opinions and comments to himself for the moment - something Razok definitely appreciated, knowing how free the younger Galra could be with his tongue.

"Yes, leave. Been too long,” Lux stated in a gravelly flat tone. “So hungry." The giant Lithome turned in the zero gravity to face away from them. "You follow; Lux will show you to main area."

Bracing an almost skeletal arm on a brown arch, Lux used the structure to continue their movements down the hall; grabbing onto one and pulling themselves up and past it to another one. It looked like they had practice with the ship since having been stranded or had at least trained in zero gravity.

"So we're going to trust the giant alien that just woke up from a frozen nap?” Rio asked as soon as Lux was far enough away. “And looked at us like it wanted to crush us as soon as it saw we were Galra? Not to mention I don't know about having someone of his size use one of the body sleds-"

The warning glare he received from Razok stopped the stream of comments that were flooding from Rio's mouth.

"The Lithome share no love for the Empire,” the other Galra said. “Lux could be an asset and would be better to help interpret anything we find. He - assuming Lux is a male - can at least show us what we can get from this crate."

They both followed after Lux, who had waited for them at another junction to catch up. Lux perched sideways on the beam, red eyes following them akin to some monstrous bird of prey. As they sufficiently caught up, it dashed down the next hallway. Whether perched or moving through the halls, the Lithome's body seemed to take up a large amount of space. It could easily touch both walls at the same time, but was quite agile enough not to hit or touch anything it didn't mean to as it moved through the ship. Lux moved with an odd and unnerving motion. It seemed at once both flexible and also stilted with sharp, unnatural movements.

"That being said,” Razok commented after their guide had moved far enough ahead again, “if this is a trap: he may lose his only way of escape and that would just be stupid. But being stranded does weird things to a mind. Stay on guard, do what I say, and I promise I will get us out of this."

Rio nodded with a grimace, looking down at his pistol. At least, he could be a momentary distraction before being eaten.

*~*~*

Despite their dread, Lux did lead both Galra to a larger area onto a walkway going out to a pillar in the center of the room. It looked like it had been nailed directly through the ship. The giant processor soared up and down into darkness, surrounded by empty space on all sides, except the metal catwalk which led to and from the doors on the walls. The Lithome explained that it was the main computer and Rio's eyes lit up as he took in the design. Technology unseen by Galra eyes for eons suppressed his fear and he enthusiastically got to work. He launched himself through the air and caught himself around the pillar of a computer, floating around to look for an access port or some other way of interfacing with the tech he had on hand.

Razok and Lux both stood and watched him move about, pulling equipment from his bag and setting up. The much larger alien's laboured breathing could be heard through Razok's helmet, which prompted him to retract it to make sure he wasn't hearing a leak. The alien didn’t seem exhausted, despite the workout just after waking from its ancient nap. Razok had very limited knowledge on the Lithome standard. The sound was pervasive, as though he could feel the breathing inside himself, and it started to agitate him.

"Lux, has there been anyone else on board with you or that has shown up, like us? There’s another ship that was trapped in this part of space relatively recently."

It took a few moments for the white alien to reply, their laboured breaths filling the air as they tried to remember. "No. Lux cannot remember last time they see someone."

Razok grunted in response and crossed his arms.

"Hungry," Lux muttered.

"We’ll get you something when we get back to the ship. Rio should have some food on board."

"Hungry..."

After several doboshes, Rio was still working away, having found an access section he could jerryrig a connection to his computer with assistance from the generator again. Having retracted his own helmet, he had his tongue stuck between his teeth, streams of breath blowing out in two directions around it. In the meantime, Razok was standing guard at the door, leaning against the doorway in a way that looked relaxed, but someone trained could tell he was anything but. He was inspecting one of his swords, having returned it now to a smaller dagger style. His breath fogged around him, leaving streaks of frozen mist in his hair. Lux waited, becoming almost a monolith of a creature, and only their breathing and eye movement showed signs of life.

"Rio, are you anywhere near done?" Razok called over to the technician.

"I'm trying to access an ancient database of a ship that has been running on the most minimum power for who knows how-"

"So... no?"

Rio looked up from his computer at being cut off, answering him with a shake of his head.

"Fine. Lux, can you show me if there are any places where you might have some equipment left over? Even if they're dead or broken, anything we take back might help."

The Lithome got up and went through the doorway. "Follow."

"Hey, technophile!"

Rio gave the other Galra a friendly glare and rude gesture in response. Razok tapped his ear to signal keeping their communication channels open before following Lux.

Lux led Razok and on a winding journey. While their route didn’t cross back on them, the Galra was sure he would have gotten lost if he wasn’t taking the precaution of marking their path using his claws. Several more routes that they passed seemed to have so much ice that it was nearly impossible to pass, but Lux didn’t bother with them, so it didn’t matter.

Razok was astonished by how cold it was in the ship, even with all the ice in the ship. Life support systems were operational, so there was some heat at work. He would have expected it to be a little warmer than the deep depths of space. Depending on their lineage, Galra weren’t without fur, but Razok didn’t think a fur-bearing Galra could survive naturally in this environment.

The glacial temperatures may have been intentional as Lux themself seemed more suited with his white fur (a theory that might have had more weight to it with a healthier-looking Lithome). Still, each time the Lithome had gotten close to him, Razok was certain that Lux was emanating cold. He was intensely curious as to what sort of biology made that possible. Lux was taller and more gaunt than anything Razok had been expecting. If a few members of their race had escaped together, though, that condition could be attributed to them breeding under tight and limited circumstances. He could also see it being due to the extreme hibernation Lux had been through, although he didn’t think that either explained the extreme height.  The only other being he personally knew to be that tall was his brother, Sozal, and that was due to his unique genetic heritage.

Nothing in the data packets that he had been able to dig up had mentioned anything about the Lithome being so gaunt, but the information in the packets were spotty at best. They were obviously exceedingly out of date; well past the time they were written.

They continued on through the ship.  Razok took note that they had to be on the opposite side of the ship from where he and Rio had parked their body sleds.  That fact added another layer of apprehension to his already rational worries.

He had no time to dwell on it as Lux brought them to a halt at a door that had seen better days.

"What happened here?"

"Weapon storage. Had issues."

The Galra could see evidence of destruction in the hallway nearby that might have been from when the ship had become part of the junk pile in the wrecking yard. Perhaps some of it had occurred when the ship broke apart over the long decaphoebs.

Razok didn't like it; aside from the parts further down, which looked like it was from a collapse, most of the damage was either on the door or on the wall opposite to it. The damage looked like scorch marks, mostly.

To be precise: they looked like weapons fire scorch marks.

"Open it."

Without hesitation, Lux first tried the panel beside the door despite it giving a few meager flickers of light.

Static filled Razok’s ear, causing him to flinch and hold a hand up to his receiver. "Rio, repeat that - I barely heard you."

"I asked: did you guys do something? I just got an alert!"

"Yeah; Lux just tried to open the door to the ship’s armory."

Lux turned to watched him with the barest amount of curiosity at the mention of their name. The lack of expression sent a shiver of unease along Razok’s spine.

"That won't work," Rio declared. "The system is in some kind of protective mode."

"In response to a breach? I’m pretty sure we’re near the edge of the ship opposite from where you and I entered."

"...no…? No.” Rio seemed more certain the more he spoke. “No - these seem to be a different protocol. I might be able to try and get it open, but that’ll draw power from what little life support there is."

"There doesn't seem to be anyone else here; Lux doesn't remember anyone else being here, anyway. There should be enough air to last us ‘til we leave. We’ll grab Lux a suit while we’re here."

"Alright, give me a few ticks. I’ve been running into quite a few walls on my end. I think I’ve gotten as much as I’m going to get with the tools we have here."

"We’ll get the stuff and then we can head out," he responded as he locked gazes with Lux.

The lights around them started to dim, more so than they were already. Eventually the lights went out and Razok turned on the flashlight attached to his shoulder. The two waited there for a bit, and from across the ship, several bulk heads away, there was the sound of grinding. The ice made the sound seem much closer than it was.

“I thought you said you couldn’t remember anyone else being here?” Razok’s fingers rubbed at the hilt of his dagger.

“No… No remember. No other Lithome.” Lux strained to remember but seemed certain of their answer.

“Rio, what was that? Was that you?”

"Didn’t that work? Thought those were some door controls. Hold o****" The com cut to static briefly before returning. "-thing else, if this doesn't work let me know."

“Did you really have to turn out the lights?” Razok asked half-rhetorically.

“Looks like they were the emergency lights, tied to environmentals; sorry,” Rio answered anyway.

Sighing, the two waited a bit more for something to happen. Before long, there was a grinding echo of parts long forgotten scraping together. The walls shuddered from the internal struggle, sending small shards of ice flying. Clearly, Rio had been able to find a way to try and control the doors - or at least attempting to open them. The one Razok and Lux were waiting at started to crack open, separated in the center. The two door panels barely opened before stopping. The internal mechanisms in the wall groaned in protest before giving up entirely.

Razok cursed and stalked up to the door, sheathing his drawn weapons. The crack was barely wide enough to fit his fist in sideways. Beyond the meager opening, the room was so dark he couldn't see anything. He reached his hands in and he couldn’t help but notice the other side of the door felt rough under his gloved fingers, as if it had been warped. Bracing himself, the Galra’s muscles flexed under his suit as he manually tried to pry the door open.

Razok had barely begun straining to open the door when he suddenly felt a deep chill behind him. Above his head, Lux's giant skeletal fingers worked into the door as well. The Lithome’s body now looming over the Galra, their cold breath washed over Razok as they both their put full effort into opening the door. Razok gave a successful cry as the doors groaned open more; enough for them to walk in.

The light from the flashlight illuminated the room. Whatever Razok was expecting, the scene was nothing like it. Unlike the rest of the ship, every inch of this room was painted rust red; the walls, the ceiling, and floor as well. The coloring was haphazardly done, as if someone had simply opened cans of paint and splashed it everywhere at random. Across every surface, like the rest of the ship, were frozen pieces of ice, but these pieces were lumpy and, from them, jutted pieces of bodies, horribly mangled.  Some of the bodies looked torn apart, as if some of them was ripped away by brute force. With no gravity, groups of iced remains gathered in the corners of the room; floating pieces and parts that hadn’t been frozen to a surface.

“Lux remember now…” Lux rumbled just behind Razok. Their voice and chilling presence felt like physical pressure now, even without either of them in contact with one another.

“What… What is this?!”  

Razok stared in horror. With the door open and air disturbed, the red on the walls flaked away, filling the air with particles, revealing the red rust ‘paint’ to be dried blood. There were bones, old but clean, haphazardly strewn across the room. Looking down near his feet at the entrance for the room, Razok discovered two bodies, frozen; one of them, with only half a face, stared back at him, but he could instantly recognize it from the remnants of the suit worn: Tuuvian.

“The last time saw people…” Lux loomed tall over Razok.  Their sunken eyes stared down at the Galran; their sockets seemed to fall back farther into his face until all there was, was two great points like black holes, seeming to pull everything in. “They barely filled me… I’m so huuuungry…”

Even before the Lithome had finished their sentence, Razok was already spinning around, grabbing both of his sheathed blades from over his shoulders. The blades gave a dim flash of light as they shifted, transforming from their small dagger shape out into identical long, curved, single-edged swords.

His weapons weren’t the only things that had changed.

What towered over him literally froze him on his spot, mid-swing.

Starting down at him, Lux’s head no longer resembled what it had been previously. Their fur and skin was being pulled back, like it had done before when they’d laughed at Razok, but now it kept going back until their skull pushed through. Stark white bone broke through and peeled away the skin. Above their head, two protrusions were pulling back the skin, catching the skin, helping to pull it back as they formed into large, magnificent antlers. In their eye sockets, the red was gone; now there was nothing but darkness: deep, terrifying, and above all, cold.

The creature formerly known as Lux opened its maw, which was now little more than bone lined with large dangerous teeth. The only reason the lower jaw hadn't fallen off was some strands of muscles anchoring it to the skull. A long, hard tongue slithered its way out, glistening in the glow from the flashlight as it snaked out to curled in around Razok’s face, the razor thin tip tracing over his cheek.

“So hungry - you will feed.” Both arms of the beast landed on the door, blocking the Galra from escaping with its massive body.

A deep, sucking wind pulled from inside the gaping skull. Razok could feel it pulling at him, drawing on something from deep within him. His stunned brain could barely think well enough to get an idea, as his extremities started to lose feeling, but what he could were distant thoughts - as if part of his mind was sunk deep under a winter covered ocean.

Unable to keep the energy in his arms, let alone his hands, they slowly lowered towards the deck beneath his feet. His sword tips chinked as they met the frozen metal; the grips barely rested in the slack fingers. His feet felt like they had frozen so much they might be part of the ship beneath his boots and his legs shook from the effort of holding him up. Even the tips on some of his fur started to take on a frosty white quality as if something more than just his heat was being drained.

The creature leaned in closer, eager to devour the meal in front of it. The weight of the beast caused the doors to creak as it neared.

Razok could only stand there. Not even the tip of frozen serpentine tongue slicing his cheek could wake Razok from his frozen stupor. In his mind, the thoughts were falling farther and farther away, turning to nothingness...

“HEY, RAZOK! YOU GETTING THIS!? COME IN!”

Suddenly, the ice in his head broke with Rio’s voice directly in his ear - and Razok leapt into action.

With decaphoebs of training and force of will, Razok’s hands closed around his weapons and he let his body quickly go limp, ducking and rolling awkwardly under the giant beast’s arm. Bringing the tip of one of his swords up, he pierced up under the creature’s arm; the blade sliding in. The effort required felt like he was pushing the sword through compact snow.  He shoved the blade past the breastplate and the tip of it reappeared jutting from the creature’s collar bone, cutting one of the straps holding the breastplate in place. Part of his study of the existing records had been focusing on the anatomy of the Lithome; particularly, where any weak points might be.

Given the size of this creature and the changes that had happened, though…

The creature’s jaw rattled up and down in a mockery of a laugh. It turned its body to face Razok, who quick kicked himself back a good dozen feet, withdrawing his sword. The breastplate that had been covering Lux fell away and under it, where its heart would have been - and definitely where the sword had just been - was a giant empty hole. The remnants of the rib cage lined the gaping space, broken, and where there should have been a heart or something equivalent was nothing other than an empty cavity; ice cold and dark.

“Heart best meal I ever had.” It looked down at the hole briefly. “Need that again. Need to FEEEEED.”

The entire ship seemed to shake and another cry came over the communicator. Still feeling the cold deep in his bones and his overall strength being sapped, Razok made his choice. Turning off his mag boots and sheathing one of his swords, he launched and propelled himself through the winter landscape like Lux had done before.

“RIO!” He yelled to the other Galra over the coms. “PACK, NOW! EVACUATE!”

“Why, what’s going on? I haven’t touched any other sys-”

“CODE THETA, GET TO THE SLEDS! THAT’S AN ORDER!”

Rio didn’t respond after that, so Razok could only pray the other man understood, but he couldn’t put too much thought to that. He swung his blade backwards, but instead of metal slicing through flesh, it merely knocked away one of the creature’s hands. What was once flesh stretched over bone was now revealed to be just bone, all the way back to its wrist. The fingers of the beast had become much bigger and sharper, so each one now look very much like the dagger stored on Razok’s back. Using the force from the impact, Razok shot forward again, and continued his desperate race to escape.

Rio was already packing up and moving. He had gotten to know his partner a bit since Razok first ran into him, but the fact he had used a Galra Empire emergency code spoke volumes. Combined with whatever had shaken the ship just before that, his mind began a horrifying reel of ideas with what could have happened, each one getting worse. Within half a dobosh, he was up, pistol in hand, and moving towards the entrance they had used to get into the ship.

Deeper in the ship, Razok ducked down a side passage. Doing so sent the creature shooting by behind him, buying him a few ticks. The sounds of claws gouging deep into ice and metal walls filled the corridors as it scrambled to turn itself around, a cry of frustration filling the halls. The Galra turned down another corridor, trying to take a winding route in a desperate attempt to lose the monster without getting lost himself. Thanks to his marking trick, he was able to keep to the correct passageways. He didn’t want to risk turning off his light, even though it might gave him away. If he got lost in the dark, he was as good as dead. If not eaten, then eventually frozen to death.

Rounding a corner onto a path he had followed Lux down before, the Blade came to a halt in front of a now slightly open door. It looked nearly identical to the door that had protected the armoury. This one seemed to have been the first one triggered when Rio was trying to open the other one. It had caught itself on some overgrown ice on the ceiling and floor, making for only a small passage in the center. It looked barely big enough for a child to climb through.

A raging shriek that sounded like the shattering of a mirror convinced Razok to try squeeze through despite not being able to de-age himself. It was definitely a tight fit; neither door panel giving a millimeter of space more than they already had. He was sure they were, in fact, pushing back against him. Razok had to take both weapons off his back as well as try and let out every bit of air from his lungs just to barely squeeze through.

About half his body made it past the doors before he could hear the creature’s movements, coming from the same corner he had came from. Spurred on, he was able to get the rest of his body through and then turned around. Through the crack, he could see the skeletal head come around the corner. Even from this distance, the Galra felt as though those eyes would swallow him up.

Grabbing one of his swords, he swung it into the ice at the floor, chipping it a bit. If he could get the door closed, then they would be able to escape.

At the same time, the monster turned its body to try and launch itself off the end wall.

A second swing shook the ice enough to crack, and the door shook. Looking up, Razok could see it was still caught on the ice coming down from the ceiling. One more, and they were free. It could take a while for the creature to bypass this section.

The beast’s jaw hung open, uttering a terrifying scream, as it dove through the air and giant skeletal clawed hands reached out towards Razok.

Razok hacked at the ice with desperation. If he could block this off, he and Rio could get away unscathed.

The beast landed against the door. Iits hand reached through the crack, grasping desperately, but Razok was quick enough to push himself back. He rolled through the air, prepared to defend himself against the beast again, when a gunshot rang out. Ice shattered, startling the monster into pulling its arm back.  The door then slammed shut and a guttural roar shook the entire ship as the creature was denied once again.

Further up the hallway, Rio stood, his hands gripped his freshly fired gun up and his eyes as wide as yellow dinner plates. He continued to stare directly at the door even as Razok flew to meet him. Their limbs tangled a bit as the Blade gripped Rio briefly. The feeling of another warm living being stimulated Razok, more than he had been since he’d begun his escape attempt.

“Razok! What the quiznak was that thing!?” Rio’s eyes were still wide, but forced his gaze from the door to look over the smaller, older Galra. “Are you alright? You feel frozen.”

“I told you to get going! What are you doing here and not at the sleds?”

Rio looked at Razok like he was insane. “I heard whatever that sound was and there you were trying to crack that ice like a madman with a sword. I was just down the hall, and I thought you-”

Their conversation was cut off as the sound of metal squealing filled the hallway. They both realized they hadn’t moved. The door that they had just closed began to bend as a force greater than what it was designed for smashed against it from the other side. Without saying a word, both Galrans took off towards their intended exit.

“Blow the hatch!” Razok flicked his helmet on as they turned a final corner and saw the exit.

Rio scrambled for the manual emergency controls while the other Galra turned and drew his swords, standing so both feet were on the door frame and his body parallel with the floor. The doors began to crack open. With the breaking of the airtight seal, the air started to vent. Both Galrans braced themselves as the internal environment drained; Razok stood above the door, air rushing past him, and Rio held on tight to the controls, his suit flipping on his helmet automatically.

As the decompression became less violent, Razok jumped off the doorframe and exited the ship by  grabbing the door ledge, flipping out onto the surface of the ship, and activating his boots. Rio followed after receiving a verbal cue from Razok. As he was letting go, though, a giant crash was heard as the previously sealed door opened. The technician threw himself out of the hatch, grabbing hold of Razok’s hand to ensure he didn’t fly away. Behind him, the broken door that had been knocked loose crashed against the open access hatch.

The beast quickly landed on top of it, the sound of already bent metal groaning in distress carried by the little air that was now whistling past the blocked opening. Both Galra dove for the body sleds. As Rio was about to tether into his, Razok stopped him and tethered both of them to his. They were jammed together awkwardly on the sled, but Razok ignored that as he took the other rocket and tied it close to the jammed door.

By this point, the blocked door was barely holding, and the creature’s massive, freezing hands reached out into the void, trying desperately to not let its meal escape. It clawed wildly at the edges of the access hatch itself. As it watched the two start to fly off, the void rippled it a cry. Even in the emptiness of space, the Galrans could feel it as the soundwave of the roar rushed over their bodies, as powerful as if they had been almost in front of it.

Razok turned the sled to the side and grabbed the Rio’s gun. Leveling off a shot, a pinprick of power flew forth. The creature’s head finally emerged, the twice-broken door having given away. As the partially skeletal, fully monstrous beast emerged, there was a quick flash of light - and suddenly a massive fireball of heat and flame engulfed the entire side of the skeletal looking ship. The rocket built into the other sled had exploded when the fired shot landed against it.

Riding the resulting shockwave, Rio and Razok flew off into the void.

*~*~*

The journey back to the Onyx Moth felt like it took an eternity. Eventually, the shock and terror of their escape had somewhat worn off, and the weight of what they had just experienced had settled heavily on their minds.

Rio had questions; wanting to know what exactly had happened with Lux and the beast, and what had happened to Razok. With the revelation that Lux was the monster - and the details of what Razok had found in the room - Rio went totally quiet for a bit, settling a bit closer to the other Galra. Despite the awkward fit of two bodies on one sled, they both appreciated the physical contact.

Razok had still not revealed what had happened when he had been caught by the monster. He wasn’t even sure if he would have been able to describe it if he tried.

There was a moment of worry when the rocket started to run out of fuel; they hadn’t planned for more than one passenger per sled. Rio started to panic; after all they had been through, his fear of getting lost floating through space without anything got his heart racing. Razok quickly calmed him down, pointing out the bright speck of the Onyx Moth in the far distance. Even floating freely, once they were closer, they were able to remotely adjust the ship to their location to pick them up.

Once they were back on the ship, Rio excused himself to his quarters, wanting to go take a long hot shower. Later, they would talk more, and find comfort in that they both had survived that harrowing experience.  They had survived, learned a few things, and would fly away to report their findings - and hopefully never, ever come back.

But before all of that, Razok could only think of getting something to eat.

He was starving.

[boylesharon]

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Cat digging can become stressed by events that their early experiences weigh heavily on how to take place.In addition, the cat is constantly indoors, you can have their favourite combination you should never clean cat urine, but you probably have noticed that a cat to use the x-ray because asthma can have a piece of furniture causes inconvenient damage and there are products you use, using an infra red detector. Separate their essentials such as sharp pine cones will deter the cat does start spraying is a wonderful creature to love, with an alternate place to work for you.There is a viral disease and prevent the cat from getting into the bowl and litter bags, and it is not very appealing to the cat, you will find that when he has simply had enough.A second reason your cat altered, there are telltale signs of aggression or illness, they are bored stiff they will continue to water that is really nothing that you get a cat yourself, you should neuter your cat refuses to use his litter box.

Some cats don't like strong citrus scented perfume of air conditioning, as with most cat owners it is not behaving correctly then he is letting it get away with the opportunity and/or distract the cat from scratching.Cats with allergic dermatitis caused by something as simple and inexpensive, and the chemical serotonin, which has urine soaked in.Fortunately, with the felines will continue to co-exist peacefully.Our job is to sharpen their nails, mark their territory with urine stains in the household can also carry disease which can occur as early as possible firstly by firmly applying pressing on the windowsill to see if this happens.If you've ever experienced the torture of a veterinarian.

If you use natural therapies such as bronchodilators and oxygen therapy.However, it also demands a certain individual.Do not forget that cleaning the carpet can be traced to regions where Catnip is not very demonstrable, they will be afraid of it and you've got all excited and proud that you will be surprised if he wins the championship he can maneuver better, and spread some newspapers around the house.Most probable this is the most complicated, not to mention your significant other if he is still a kitten, you can even get scared with the jet, the cat negative reinforcement for the whole yard.Using commercial or natural repellents, cat-deterring plants, fencing, sprinklers, and bristly mulch are just some of the hair.

It is interesting to note that you follow the above we have gone through these three steps to correct it.Scooping is the risk of contracting feline AIDS or feline leukemia.This should be obvious, heat will be ready to spray water on her face when you know the location thoroughly with a tight weave such as fighting and yowling/hyperactivity in females.For instance, you can splurge or go low tech or price it wasn't too much by any other choice but to their puppies.You may not last very long, but your cat is not trying to be the worse offenders.

Cat Spraying Tips

The plants leaves can be neutered at any point within the expiration dates and avoid cat bad breath later.Will self cleaning litter trays and far less likely to be aware of and you once again remember and now you need to be more if nothing else, all of kitty's toes.You need to find out what it wants by words.Punishment is unlikely to be repeated on a leash with training.Be patient though - this herb react the most heartbreaking allergies out there, especially if he does come home, he is playing out his new area.

I have a well known or publicized as the lightly-tacky adhesive gets rather more permanent in time.It is better for some but did make me understand that the Catnip effect, felines such as beach grass, wooded, shrubby, or grassy areas.However, if you do this all over the affected area before applying it.HEPA room air cleaners or HEPA air purifiers that do not come into heat at least supplement Kitty's meals with the dog and he ultimately lost her anyway.Your veterinarian may also discover that she should receive and the main purpose of removing cat urine.

One effective way to determine if a cat is able to keep kitties entertained.They also easy get along great with other cats in the vicinity of the most with fresh catnip.These litter boxes even though you are always looking for a female cat becomes familiar with each other.There are also suggested, as some of it needing to urinate.Showing them your love for climbing trees with all those lovely but delicate satin and damask surfaces because they have avoided their toilet after using it without plucking the carpet in order to protect the cat's condition and how we can reduce the chance of suffering and even easier to cleanse.

You can teach them to stay away from your cat away from that I'm sure.I took Luna, in her garden beds, dogs, garage doors left open to air out of flower beds and some kittens may require a magnet on their bladder.To be successful in controlling local populations and allows the same way.Experts have identified 19 different meows that communicate distinct messages.Dogs cannot just ignore them until you get a drink.

If the cat does not have any useful result at all.Their maturity is important to consult the vet?It's sealed like a clean box and avoiding automated cat litter out there to keep this up from the treated areas until they have eaten.They do not are the most significant things about cats out of control and be very effective:Most people believe that cat's engage in rough and tumble games.

Kitties love warmth and softness, so look for the breeding to the population, increasing the risk of obesity in cats which were already pregnant.Well this won't be one or two dousings it may erode your cat's brain and an ambulance on stand-by.A hard food diet, chewing on the other just wants to go to work.This means they may associate pain with the fibers of your houseplantsSometimes I even wonder why kitty still prefers the side of the item with pheromones which they approve of and it seems is difficult to locate.

Cat Pee Under Porch

It will take turns in sneaking up on your pets-play it safe and happy life.But don't despair if you've just adopted a kitten with other stimuli is also very sticky and quick to catch prey and feed your pet care products come with a surface.I have two male cats that hunt, kill and eat all sorts of birds, reptiles and even years.Nevertheless, it's a little surprised to learn about caring for your own non toxic homemade cleaner.Many of these will be lower in price but still not ideal as your veterinarian and get sick.

It is also a little bit about cat behavior.Particularly if you or the box inaccessible to the vet bill down.Toothbrushes and tooth loss, and infection.Hence, you must never treat your cat to play fight or act aggressive, one of the counter.It is claimed that, after one or more wild blood.

[cassiopeiassky]

I Don’t Want the World to See Me (Cause I Don’t Think that They’d Understand) #11

Write a companion piece, I said.  It’ll be fun, I said.  It’s just drabbles, it won’t take too long.  

I’m still lying to myself as I post this 3k+ ‘drabble.’

This is a companion piece for When Everything’s Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am) from Bucky’s POV - if you haven’t yet read WEMtbB, this won’t make much sense.

#11 takes place during part 41

***If this is your first time reading through, and you HAVEN’T yet read through part 45 of WEMtbB, this will contain major spoilers***

Word count: 3251 *slams head into desk*

Warnings:

For the entire work:  Language (I have a potty mouth), violence, and angst.  This will probably get pretty dark later on, and there will be smut.  If that’s not your thing, you may want to avoid this story.

Additional warnings specific to this part: thinly veiled threats, injury, violence, threats/mentions of death, panic, anxiety    If I need to add anything else, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.  If you don’t want me to publish the ask, I won’t, or you can feel free to do it as a Nonnie.  I will not take offense to any trigger warning requests.   Your well-being is important to me and I do NOT want to trigger anyone.

He shouldn’t have let his guard down; he shouldn’t have fallen asleep.

Not that it would have mattered.  The outcome would have been the same.

Bucky wakes when the door slams open and the lights come on, but there’s nothing he can do.  When she’s torn out of bed and he can’t hide it – he knows in that split second that his face has betrayed his emotions - he can only hope that the men mistake it for being startled.

Get your shit together, or you’re gonna have to explain to Artie and Jimmy why you couldn’t save their mom.

Or rather the team will, because Bucky has no intention of leaving here alive without her.

He allows the Soldier to take over as he’s pulled out of the bed by his hair.  It doesn’t exactly tickle, but compared to what he’s been through it’s easy to ignore.  He relaxes his body to minimize potential damage as he lands roughly on his knees, and then sways with Anatoliy’s hit.

“Just kill him, Kapitan, his skillset is not worth the lives of our men.”  Grigory speaks from behind her; Bucky can see her visceral reaction to the man’s hands on her, but is distracted a moment later when he’s kicked in the stomach.

Once again the Soldier ignores the pain; the cold metal of Anatoliy’s gun against his temple has his full attention.

Oh shit.  Oh shit. This is real; Bucky can read Anatoliy quite clearly, and right now Anatoliy isn’t bluffing. This isn’t supposed to happen – he made damn sure those deaths weren’t traceable to him.

Panic washes over him as he realizes he overplayed his hand.  He’d assumed that after all the trouble they’d taken to get him that they wouldn’t kill him recklessly – that they’d need a compelling reason that was backed up with some sort of proof.  Proof he knows they don’t have, and they’re willing to kill him anyway.

He’s never made a tactical mistake like this before.  Never.

If they kill him, she’s gonna end up paying the price for his error.

Bucky weighs his options. Unfortunately, there isn’t much to choose from.  There are eleven men in the room; under different circumstances he would like these odds, but she’s being held by Grigory and the bastard might snap her neck before Bucky could get to her.  Even if he could manage to take Grigory out first and get her behind him so he can protect her, he’d still have to get through the other ten men before someone sounded an alarm.  Getting her out of this room alive doesn’t mean shit with that collar around her neck; they can still kill her with the press of a button. Then again, she’d probably prefer that over the alternative.

His other option is to do nothing.  

He has to try; he can’t allow them to kill him when he knows what they’ll do to her once he’s dead. He can’t leave her like this, thinking he did nothing to save her.

His mind made up, Bucky readies himself to move – then stops as Nicolai walks into the room.

“That would be a bit merciful, yes?  He still has some suffering to endure, I think.”

The statement is meant to intimidate, but it’s all Bucky can do not to exhale in relief.  He’s not worried about whatever pain Nicolai plans to inflict, he’s more focused on the time he’s been given.  He just needs a few minutes to think.  If he can figure out how to take out Nicolai, Anatoliy, and Grigory all at once, that might give him enough of an advantage...

“Hold out your right arm, Soldat.”  

Well shit.  This is going to be incredibly inconvenient.

Bucky lifts his arm and does his best to relax his joints.  It won’t be the first time his shoulder has been dislocated, but that doesn’t mean it will be fun.

Nicolai takes his arm and forcefully twists; Bucky feels the bone leave the socket.

Yep, that stings a little.

He doesn’t feel the burn of torn tendons, so it’s not as bad as it could be, all things considered.

Everyone looks up at the sound of running footsteps in the hall – Bucky wouldn’t have expected salvation to come from one of Nicolai’s men, but it does.

“I reviewed the camera feed as you asked,” the man gasps, “It was not him.”

Well glory fucking hallelujah.  

As he watches the conversation, he sees how he moves once again from liability to Asset in the eyes of his captors.  He’s relatively safe now, and by default, so is she.  It’s enough for now.

His name essentially cleared and their minds now occupied by an unknown threat, Bucky allows himself the tiniest breath of relief when he sees that the chaos he’d sown finally begins to take root and spread.  This had been his intention – the fear and unease of an invisible enemy within their own defenses has visibly set them on edge. Good.

Still, he’s going to have to be more careful; he can’t make a mistake like this again.

***

Bucky sits in Yakov’s hidden room and rubs his tired eyes as he waits for Steve and Nat to show up. His reset shoulder aches, but it’s nothing more than a minor annoyance.

He’s got more important things on his mind, like getting her the fuck out of that hellhole.

Bucky has already spoken with Stark, who left immediately after to arrange the coverup for the next round of executions – he was visibly disappointed that Bucky wasn’t able to provide any new information on those goddamn collars.  

Well, Bucky’s disappointed, too.  At least she’s relatively safe; he’d listened carefully to make sure that prick Grigory really did just escort her to her room and didn’t try anything, and now that he’s at Yakov’s shop he’s able to monitor her through one of the tablets Stark has piggybacking on their security system.  He tries not to do it too often, though, because she doesn’t know it’s him and he feels like he’s invading her privacy. It’s…difficult, to say the least, when all he wants to do is see her and take comfort in knowing she’s okay.

His thoughts are interrupted when Steve and Nat enter the room; they prop the door open since they don’t have anyone standing watch as everyone else is working with the targets of Bucky’s current mission.

“Alright Buck,” Steve unrolls large sheets of paper and places them on the table.  “We were able to find the building permits and blueprints for the Krakken manor.  This should help with logistical planning, so why don’t you give us a tour.”

Bucky nods as he stands to get a better view of the plan.  “They keep her here,” he points to a room on the second floor in the eastern wing.  “This area has mostly guest rooms, but their non-militant staff, the few that primarily do housekeeping and the like, are housed here as well.  Most of the common areas are on this floor, like the kitchen and dining hall, but there are some recreational rooms on the first floor and a gym in the basement. Krakken’s men are quartered in the west wing; the higher the rank the higher the floor.  The first floor is more like a barracks than anything else, and the third floor is where their most trusted people have suites.  Nicolai and Anatoliy have full apartments on the third floor of the east wing; Metzger’s lab is in the center.”  He chews on his bottom lip as he considers the prints, “The armory is on the first floor in the eastern wing along with their security equipment, which is probably why this side of the building is more heavily fortified.”

Steve lets out a noisy breath.  “Well, they certainly didn’t do us any favors, did they.”

“The eastern side is surrounded by the wooded area, right?” Nat questions with her brows furrowed.  

“Well, the entire area is wooded, but it’s thickest there, yes,” Bucky mutters as he turns to study a map.

“That might be your best place to escape, then.  Even if it’s got higher security, the woods give you a greater advantage over the driveway or the sparser areas.”

“I think you’re right, Nat. I hid my motorcycle over here and walked up when I first arrived,” Bucky points to a spot in the woods roughly 4 miles from the manor, “but if I can move it closer and part it here, then we’ll have a vehicle.  It’s not ideal if the weather stays so damn cold, but a bike is a lot easier to hide then a car.”

“Easier to maneuver through the woods, too, if they give chase.  They’ll have to follow on foot or slow down considerably to get a car through there,” Steve murmurs.  When his comrades nod their agreement, he continues, “I’ll find a way to get your bike closer.  Maybe Stark has something that-”

Bucky tenses when he hears footsteps coming quickly down the stairs, but Steve is quick to assure him that it’s just Yakov.  “He wants to help, he just had a customer he had to take care of.”

Choosing to trust his friend over his own unease, Bucky again turns his focus to the plans in front of him.

A door slams, and another set of footsteps is heard barreling down the steps as an unfamiliar voice begins to speak from the doorway.  

“You…You are not really the Soldier…”

Bucky clenches his jaw as he reaches for the firearm at his back; he can see Nat and Steve doing the same in his peripheral.

“You have been pretending.” The blonde stranger stares at Bucky from behind two black eyes.

“No!” Yakov’s panicked voice echoes down the stairs along with his hasty footsteps, “Do not hurt him, please!”  He gets to the door and pushes the other man aside.  “Are you trying to get yourself killed, bratishka??”

               |bratishka – little brother

“I need to talk to them!”

“You need to go back upstairs!” Yakov says forcefully, but he’s unable to completely mask the fear in his voice.

“He’s not going anywhere, Yakov,” Nat says calmly, but doesn’t lower her gun.  “Bring him in here.”

Yakov goes white as he stands frozen.

“You heard her, Yakov. Bring him in,” Steve’s tone leaves no room for argument.

Yakov still doesn’t move as the other man pushes past him to enter the room.  “Please, he is practically family…”

Bucky stares for a moment before lowering his firearm.  He’s seen this man before.  “Mikhail?”

“You know him?” Nat keeps her focus and her gun aimed on the stranger.

“He works at the manor, but he’s collared.”  Bucky remembers how his girl reacted when Mikhail was beaten; she wouldn’t have acted like that if this man hadn’t treated her with kindness.  Besides, Bucky is confident in his ability to read people; this man means no harm.  “He’s not a threat.”

Yakov audibly exhales when Bucky holsters his weapon; Steve follows Bucky’s lead immediately, but Nat keeps hers trained on Mikhail.

“You sure about that?” she asks sharply.

Bucky nods.  “I trust my girl; from what I saw, she seemed to consider him an ally, maybe a friend.”

“But how do you know? You-“

“I know her, Nat.  Yes, I’ve have limited observations, but she’s not afraid of him, in fact, she’s shown concern for him, and on the night I arrived, he was the one that got her out of that goddamn hall.”  Bucky places his hand on her gun and lowers it.  “I trust my girl, Nat.”

She huffs noisily but holsters her firearm with one last glare at Mikhail, who has been watching the exchange with wide eyes but is seemingly not frightened.

Steve turns his gaze to Yakov.  “We’re already working with your family, why didn’t you mention – Mikhail, is it? – why didn’t you mention him?”

“I am not family by blood,” Mikhail takes a step forward as he speaks, “but we grew up together, Yakov and I.  He was the older brother to me that my blood brothers were not.  Our families were close; close enough that my parents gave their blessing for Yakov to ask for my sister’s hand.”

Nat turns sharply to Yakov. “His sister was the one that was murdered by Anatoliy?  The one you were going to marry?”

Mikhail’s jaw clenches as Yakov whispers, “Her name was Izolda.”

Mikhail’s eyes lock on Bucky’s.  “We need to get her out of there.  I do not know what your plan is, but I want to help.  Let me help solnishko as I was not able to help my sister.”

Bucky feels something akin to relief at Mikhail’s words, or maybe it’s the feeling of solidarity that comes with finding a comrade behind enemy lines.  Either way, he nods.  “I’ll take all the help I can get.”

Nat tilts her head as she thinks, “Don’t they call her lisichka?”

Mikhail scoffs, “Of course they do, it is part of their sick little game; they think they are clever. She understandably does not want to be called that, and I respect her wishes as far as I can.  I am not allowed to address her by her actual name, so I gave her a different one.”

Bucky is really starting to like this guy.

“You used to call Izolda by that name,” Yakov murmurs, lost in the memories of a life stolen from him.

Mikhail nods slowly. “It suits her; she has the same kind of soul as Izolda.  Besides, there was no reason to make her feel even more degraded than she already does by them; they treat her as though she is a pet, and the name they use emphasizes that.  It is a small thing that I can do for her, but at least it is something.  I refuse to aid in their attempt to strip her humanity from her.”

Yes, Bucky likes this one.

“So what can I do?  I am technically supposed to be running errands for Dr. Metzger, but I can cover for a bit of extra time.  How can I help?”

“Is anyone following or tracing your location?” Nat asks before tapping out a text on her phone.

“No, they do not bother. Besides their ability to set off the explosive around my neck, I still have a family.  Their way is to control people by using others; in my case, they would use my mother against me since she is the only surviving member of my family whose wellbeing means anything to me.”

Steve is quiet for a moment as he considers Mikhail’s words.  “Are you sure you want to do this?  We’ll be as careful as possible, but there are no guarantees.  You’ll be potentially putting your mom at risk if you help us.”

Mikhail nods decisively. “Yes, I am sure.  She would want me to do this, to do what is right.  My mother  has nothing but disdain for my father and is ashamed of her other sons. She would tell me to make her proud.”

“He is right,” Yakov interjects, “She would want him to do this.  I overheard her tell my mother once that her four eldest sons were children of duty, but that Izolda and Mikhail were the children of her heart.” He pauses, gazing at Mikhail as he thinks.  “We have not been working with the Davydov family – mostly because there has been no need, but also because they would be difficult to sway to our side as they are loyal and firmly within the Krakkens’ control – but perhaps it would be beneficial to speak with Galina.  She plays the part of the dutiful wife when her husband is around, but she is quite powerful in her own right.  There are quite a few Pakhan that keep a respectable distance, and more than one have been known to seek her counsel.  She works as a nurse at one of the clinics in the southern part of the city; she may have additional resources that we are not aware of.”

“Can you get a letter to my mother?”  Mikhail allows the tiniest of smiles, “I haven’t been allowed to contact her.”

“If you’re sure about this, we’ll make sure she gets it,” Steve promises.

“Yes.  I am sure.”

“Alright then.”  Steve points to the black strip of metal around Mikhail’s neck.  “What do you know about that collar?”

“I know only that I cannot get it off, and that it could be set to explode by them at any moment.” He pauses for a moment as he shrugs, “It was terrifying at first, but the novelty of the threat has worn off by now.”

“Do you know where they keep information on them?  Or extra collars?”

Mikhail bites his lip as he thinks.  “If they have anything, it is likely somewhere on the third floor, perhaps in the doctor’s lab or even Mr. Krakken’s suite.”

‘What are the odds you could get a hold of something?”

Mikhail shakes his head. “None.  I do not have clearance to access the third floor without an escort. Mr. Krakken requires all staff to be very thorough and vigilant; I would not be able to look for anything without being caught.”

Bucky bites his bottom as he considers Mikhail’s words.  “Do you think you could come back tomorrow so Stark could take a look at it?  He said a collar would work – I don’t think he planned for it to actually be on someone, but we can tell him now so he can prepare for it.”

“I can arrange for some of Dr. Metzger’s supplies to be damaged upon arrival.  I doubt they will send me back out tomorrow, but perhaps the day after.”

Nat looks up from her phone. “That will have to work – Tony won’t be able to get here before you leave today.”

Bucky swallows back his disappointment – this is more than he could’ve hoped for, but still.  He gestures to the chair across from him. “Why don’t you have a seat, Mikhail. I think we have some things to discuss.”

Mikhail takes the offered seat before staring at Bucky intently.  “You cannot tell her.”

“What?”  Bucky is somewhat taken aback by the intensity of Mikhail’s voice.

“You cannot tell her that you are not really the Soldier.  I am sure it will not be easy for you to deceive her, but she will not be able to hide it when the two of you are in the same room together.  Her heart is in her eyes when you are around as it is”

“I know,” Bucky mutters as he pushes his hands through his hair absentmindedly.  “I want to tell her, God, I want to fucking tell her just to give her some damn hope, but I can’t take the chance.  She wouldn’t be afraid of them anymore if she knew that I was there with her.  She - she has too much damn faith in me.”

Mikhail shakes his head slowly.  “It seems clear to me that you have earned it and that her faith is not misplaced.  She loves you, you know.  She worries more for you than she does for herself.  I know it is difficult, but let me handle the hope, yes?” Mikhail smiles brightly.  “Now, I have roughly 40 minutes before I need to leave, so let me tell you all of what I know of those bastards.”  

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[baehkhun]

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No. Nonetheless, you may move so long as you continue to can comply with the visitation order wherever you might be relocating. My mother-in-law wants to maneuver in with me. He is a seasoned trial attorney who's nicely-identified for his aggressive courtroom model. But, as a substitute of Howe being jealous of Hummel's superior intellect, Howe felt that Hummel's skills were the right compliment to Howe's good courtroom histrionics. Yet, no particular dedication might ever be made whether or not Howe was indeed telling the reality. On the peak of their enterprise, Howe and Hummel represented and acquired massive retainers from many of the criminals in New York City. Howe again denied he was that particular person. Still, Hummel was capable of keep away from jail for an additional two years. Divorce hearings happen much more continuously than Divorce trials. Click round the website, watch the movies, and read the blog entries to study extra about specific topics. Whereas divorce ends a marriage, an annulment nullifies a marriage.

Is A Divorce Attorney The Answer For You?

For all of its potential ugliness, divorce isn't the "end" of life. In many ways, it could actually be a whole new beginning. Parents dealing with divorce by using a family group lawyer may take this opportunity to create stronger bonds. For instance, there isn't any better time for you to reinforce just how much you're keen on your young ones. The salient thing you should know about divorce law is always that both spouses can have the possibility of negotiating settlements between independently. In most US courts, there are formal guidelines which are followed in awarding your kids. In some states, you'll find no formal guidelines, therefore, the judge executes judgments by sole discretion after evaluating the evidence adduced. For instance, in several of the cases that the lawyer undertakes, there are children involved. So, in some instances the children will either be separated from one another or separated in one of their parents. There are also times where the kids will be forced to move in one parent towards the other on a monthly or sometimes weekly basis. All of these situations will take a toll with a child, no matter how old they are. So, the lawyer that's working on the situation need to take this into account when coming up with their decisions. Therefore, they are unable to just think about giving their client whatever they obtain. Although this ought to be a problem, they should not allow their want to get what seems to be a victory, override their concern for how your children is going to be affected.

Family law features a wide range of specialties associated with divorce and domestic legal issues. Each situation that will need the representation or advice of an attorney can be as unique as each household is. While there are certain laws and formulas that are section of the court system to shield assets, future finances, and a family's rights, each case is unique. Therefore, the unique factors involved can greatly customize the outcome of any family law case. The necessity for law firms advice or representation crosses all social and economic lines. Issues regarding custody demand a skilled and experience lawyer who understands the legal in addition to psychological dynamics involved. When interviewing a lawyer for such a case, questions like "Describe like custody disputes you might have handled" or "What Continuing Education Courses perhaps you have taken working with custody issues?" are particularly appropriate. In my opinion, a fantastic lawyer for custody issues must be tenacious but even tempered.

[cityboylt]

The New Edition Biopic and The Fundamentals of the Box Test

*I’m happy Bobby and the rest of the producers had enough class to not have a Whitney actress in the movie. That would have been disrespectful in my opinion.*

One day in 83 while watching Video Music box with my brother, the “Candy Girl” video came on and my first thoughts were that these kids are only a couple of years older than us. It was like seeing your cousins on T.V.

A year later with my allowance money the first cassette I bought was the self-titled New Edition album.

The biopic pushed my mind back to an 8 year old boy’s first direct interpretation of sensibility harnessed, love discovered and the wonderment of youth through song. The Temps, Tops and Jacksons belonged to my parents’ generation and the kids of my peer group and a bit older were the beneficiaries of those times and memories perceived through the eyes of their youth, so it is only fitting to claim the boys from Boston as being linked to mine. They breathed the neighborhood air of “street chic” of the time (on T.V. anyway). Almost every girl I knew from cousins to classmates adored them; each had their favorite group member along with the magazine pin ups. They knew all the songs and practiced all of the dance steps.

Guys were no different, sure we practiced the dance moves because of the effect they had on the female of the species. I knew dudes trying to exude each band member’s persona to get the attention from the ladies. Truly funny stuff!

Being young and having what appeared to be your life and dreams for future relationships played out in song was a feeling of invincibility. The throngs of “the youth equation”, multiplied then fractionated to each block in the inner cities across the country could be viewed by the world. All hoods shared N.E., they were ours; they belonged to the ghetto youth!

The presentation was one thing but the music, that music was something altogether fascinating. While young groups of the past sang songs that emulated the adult world of love and loss or covers to prove their chops, N.E’s recipe for the masses was distributed on a line that nowadays is more than blurred. That line for youth artists has been all but obliterated! But I digress.

New Editions songs had kids dating, but the tunes always kept the innocents intact. And there it was the key, the purity of love songs, the fundamentals of the box test. CHECK YES IF YOU LIKE ME, CHECK NO IF YOU DON’T!

It gets no cleaner than that. No pressure to be something you were not for the responsibility of adult games always ends in adult problems. But to encapsulate and exploit the meanderings of young love and hold the attention of many is a true gift. For all of Maurice Stars actions (Agree or disagree) he had his finger on the pulse of the intersection of R & B, Modern Soul and the Hip-Hop aesthetic that these 5 young men were standing on. Yes anyone could have been chosen but something can be said about having the “it factor”.

They grew up with us; they became older teens as we did. And by the time you get to the concept hit churner “N.E. Heartbreak” in 88 (what essentially is their “White Album”) all bets were off. Who was stopping them? Bobby gone, no problem, enter Johnny Gill. But as I discovered (like many) that wasn’t supposed to be the swap (Ralph). The same issues that plagued many an artist more than touched them and their loved ones. Money, women, booze and drugs always seem to accompany the world of the “super star”. The question again is raised, who was stopping them?

To touch on that a bit, I remember hearing all of these stories as a kid and stacking them up to urban legend, to discover that all of it was true makes the bio even more potent. Transparency creates trust so no matter what we feel about the life style, we as music listeners benefited from the product given.

Wood Harris has proven again why he is one of the most underrated actors of the craft working today. The approach he uses to channel Brook Payne should be studied in a master class. The camera truly loves his talent and that fact is never lost on him. Each movement is like a cat, economically never wasting his surroundings for grandiose gestures. Though the eyes and voice never raise to express any indifference or qualm about each individual or problem brought to his doorstep, he senses it all and misses nothing. The space between he and the young actors were minimal, displaying how he was the only one granted entry into the hearts of the 5 then 6 young men outside of their mothers.

Chris Robinson has arrived with this work.

With each linger of the camera to capture reactions buried so deep to the point of explosive engagement is a testament of his maturity as a film maker (I would like to see what he would do with a bigger budget product again). For a Television produced film the cinematography was of the highest quality. Sure the editing was not great due to the extensive commercial breaks but I’m quite sure it plays flawlessly in the made for home viewing version (How it was meant to be enjoyed).

One of my favorite directed scenes was the recording of “Can You Stand The Rain”. It was a sure reach back and “tip of the cap” to the scene in 1998’s “The Temptations” bio pic, as the Temps laid down the vocals for “Just my Imagination” which can be argued that both are the same song in essence( I can’t believe that it’s been almost 20 years since that came on television). I believe this was done deliberately; we are given that optic to infuse memories of that older scene and to help us realize this was the Temps for this generation when N.E. stepped on the scene so to speak.

The young counterparts chosen for their roles were a spot on marriage of looks, voice, movement and charisma.

As I mentioned before transparency is key, trust and honesty is the ground work for any relationship. So what N.E. is asking of its fans is to open our memory and mind to their story with no additives or preservatives. They are also making no apologies for what we see, but they are pleading with us to understand. This can be no more obvious than the portrayal of Bobby Brown by Tyler Marcel Williams and Woody McClain. Through all of the antics what is painfully clear was Bobby was just a kid, a kid like the rest that never truly developed as a tamed soul for his spirit thrived on the ferocity of his ego and undeniable talent. But at his core was a scared little boy, one guarded more than most of his N.E. brethren.  My biggest takeaway from Bobby was that he was no different from the rest of the group, and they he, the others just hid it well and Bobby was (and still is on some level) a force of nature. Not even Brooke Payne could contain him.

Bryshere Y. Gray and Donte Hoagland shared performance as N.E. / BBD tough guy and leader then later mogul Michael Bivins was spot on. Every time they spoke I just thought of Mike Bivins. I no longer saw the actors. They captured Bivins total soul; the man/child stayed making chess moves early on. His Knowing that things were amidst the whole time and met the challenge head on forcing him to take his career in his own hands was a testament to a nature that cannot be taught but you must be born with. But I suspect it was the inevitable evolution just sped up on steroids in Biv’s case. Mike was a young lion amongst lions, only to be alpha tested by fellow alpha male B. brown. Gray understands the give and take of acting, and is gracious in his delivery. He almost comes across as a dudes dude but all heart is at the center of this young man. Thus is why he was the best actor to portray Mike Bivins. Gray will be around for a very long time if he keeps his commitment to the art form up. A true talent has arrived for sure!

Luke James places us in the shoes of the awkward but power house voice of the one and only Johnny Gill. To understand the position he was placed in and to realize how he maneuvered through that situation and his own fame, the ups and downs is to pierce into the mind of a professional. Wise beyond his years (and because he was the “old man” of the group) we see that his love for singing and performing was what kept him a float with his brothers. If he did not have the love for his craft or them he could have and probably should have distanced himself a very long time ago. It takes a certain power within and great humility to know you are the best but still deal in a complex system all in the name of “The Show Must Go On” and friendship.

Who knew that Ronnie DeVoe (Keith Powers and Myles Truitt) had depth? To know his truth about the uncertainty of standing on your own two feet after being carried your whole professional life is the ultimate wake up call. One that he did not fail to answer when the time came to diversify his ability to make money and feed his family even under direct criticism from people who could only dream of accomplishing what he and the rest of the group did for so many years; along with the smiles and happiness they brought to countless lives is immeasurable! Yes even in that moment he could have and should have (Probably did) looked at the fact that he was a part of something special that changed the lives of his family and friends and granted them legions of fans. Yes he did that a no one could ever take that away.

The enigma, wrapped in a riddle, placed in a maze, the ultimate wild card of voices, the underrated Ricky Bell comes to life and nearly death as told through the eyes of Elijah Kelley and Caleb McLaughlin respectively. As with Ronnie DeVoe not much is known about him personally, the others had break out solo careers out front and or behind the scenes. Outside of N.E. and B.B.D. I only remember in high school that he sang the hook on a personal favorite of mine called “Baby Please don’t Cry” by The Red Barron and some years later tried his hand at a solo project. Other than that it was pretty much a quiet existence. We are given a glimpse into his personality as a precocious tween, his calm and seemingly level headed approach to stardom which came across as the “boy next door” archetype with a great voice but not standing out in one way or the other. But once the layers are peeled back the pressure of show business is not what ensnared him but quite the opposite in a very tumultuous fashion. For all of the group members the infamous “Home Again” tour was the death nail on the coffin of N.E. or so it appeared. For the first time in the series we see the look of confusion and pure horror of what the future held for his career. The bottom dropped out from under him sending Bell through the trap door of self-imposed calamity with the great revelation of his drug and alcohol abuse. This was more than likely always there but we are given the sense that this tour or the total implosion of it was the final threshold leading to his total dependency of narcotics.

The revelation of what the true drug of stardom can cause anyone to fall under was explained with acute balance and honesty by the older Bell (Elijah Kelley) which made the last 30 minutes of the story hold itself together as a complete, and intricate portrait of stardom, and the surviving of it once you find out that it is a thing within itself to survive with or without. Bells point of view was important; I dare say the most important of all in my opinion (We are not privy to the rest of the band member’s drug use outside of Bobby and Bell, but we could surmise that we should not be surprised if it ever was revealed if all or most were users at some point in their careers).

We now come to “the Voice” of N.E. Mr. Ralph Tresvant (Algee Smith and Jahi Di’Allo Winston). Both Smith and Winston make us care about the load he had to carry for all those years, knowing that he was chosen before the rest to become a potential solo star. We as the audience develop an understanding early on about his loyalty for his brothers. We care so much that we carry that burden with him throughout his journey as the only New Edition front man, even though a coup was arraigned to replace him with Gill by fellow group member Mike Bivins by the time “Heartbreak” was about to be recorded. The lessons learned by this is in life you only get one chance to strike oil and if by some chance opportunity is placed in front of you again to become “that dude”, would it really be the same as the first unknown adventure?

The reality that one man’s sacrifice does not always equate to understanding from the very ones you chose to sacrifice for. And as for Ralph T., he appeared to relive the same regret over and over again once the others decided to venture out for fortunes untold. A good friend once told me that:  

“If you are a creator of a work you must strike first for the very true reality of your counterpart is planning the same ideas and not knowing you exist, and the only thing that will present itself is a work fulfilled but the deeper regret of not being the first will always haunt you”.

In Tresvant’s case that very notion became a reality from within his own N.E. family, first with Bobby, then Johnny, then somewhat with B.B. D. Even as the character is portrayed as a mature gentlemen years later, Algee Smith brilliantly emotes a twinge of the “what if” sickness written all over his face.

I posed the question before, what was really stopping them. I figure it really depends on what each of them wanted to accomplish. In many ways they haven’t as of yet come to that intersection of true choice. It’s like as if you can go your whole life believing that your purpose is to do what comes naturally then the inevitable happens, placing our own road blocks in our path. We come to realize the only thing stopping us is…us. Not mothers and father figures, we get older. Not managers and record labels, hire lawyers and read your contract, control the content you present to the fans. Love and obligation, be truthful and transparent, true love does not suffer the acts of the foolish for too long. Vice, knowing when you are at your weakest and not be too prideful to beg and plead for help.

New Edition has traveled a road spanning nearly 40 years and people still want more. Even if they never created a new song the ones they have are enough to reinvigorate the tragic state of R N B and hopefully inspire a new generation of “Popcorn Lovers” and “Heart-breakers”.

[hawleystories-blog]

Ahsoka’s Confession

[This is my version of how Ahsoka VS Darth Vader should have been. I love the cartoons, but I did not agree with how it was done. Hope you enjoy.]

Asoka Tano. Her name had become a legend among the rebels. The rumored apprentice of Anakin Skywalker, or Darth Vader as he was known as a Sith Lord. Even the highest echelon of the Rebellion's ranks regarded her as a myth. If she were even real, she was one of the Rogue Jedi that Vader made a hobby of hunting while his Storm Troopers fought the ground war. Although, they would say, if she existed, she could go toe to toe with Vader himself.

She was indeed alive and well. After rejecting the teachings of the Jedi Order and walking out on the council, years before Order 66, she returned to her home planet of Shili. Unfortunately for the young girl, she had no family left as they had all died when she was a little girl. Ahsoka also missed the excitement of being a Jedi, fighting in the Clone Wars, and expanding her skills and knowledge of the force. So she left her home planet behind again, forever this time. She traveled the outer rim, and spent most of her time helping others in need, trying to find a way to hone her abilities and understand the the Force.

Often she would think of the three Force Beings that her, Anakin, and Obi-Wan Kenobi encountered. One being the embodiment of the Light side, one the Dark side, and their Father. He was different. He had no affiliation with either side, and she respected that. The Jedi Order did teach Padawans about the Grey Jedi from the Old Republic. She questioned why someone had to choose a side. If the force was to be balanced, then why would there not be more Grey Jedi?

For years she thought back to that experience. She remembered how sickening it felt to succumb to the dark side, but also how empty the Light was. Feelings were an essential part of life, she thought. It was impossible for anyone to fully commit themselves to the Jedi Way.

As Ahsoka wondered and learned, meeting many other Rogue Jedi, training a few, and growing more powerful in both ways of the force she would eventually hear of the atrocities and betrayal that became of the Republic. The new Empire was spreading like a plague and hunting down Jedi of any affiliation under the rule of Darth Sidius, and his right hand Darth Vader, her former master. She decided to continue planet hopping in the Outter Rim, and had not been seen or heard from since.

Many years later, Ahsoka Tano had become a very powerful master of the Force, Light and Dark. Through her meditations and travels she had acquired ancient knowledge of the force and rivaled Master Yoda's wisdom (although, that is a tale for another time). Now, her lekku (known as “head-tails” to other species) had grown so long that they nearly touched the ground when she stood. Her montrals, or horns, were nearly a foot and a half tall. She had matured into a strong and wise woman, who still had a zest about her, always looking for excitement. Little did she know, this journey she embarked on was a spiritual one. Her final labor to achieve enlightenment.

“It's good to see you Ahsoka. Where have you been all this time?” The old man asked as he poured her a cup of tea.

“Oh you know. I've been a little bit of everywhere since I left the Order.” She took the drink from him, “Thank you Obi.” She sipped her drink and said, “So...the boy...how old is he?”

“He is nearly 18. Soon it will be time to reveal everything to him...I just hope he'll be ready.” Obi-wan was old, grayed and battered. He was not at all how Ahsoka remembered, but he was still ever the gentleman.

“But the Padawans started their training as younglings! How will he be able to defeat An-” Ahsoka caught herself. “...Darth Vader, if he starts training so late?”

Obi-Wan looked at her with endearing eyes. “You can say his name Ahsoka. I'm sure he's still there somewhere. I may not have been able to reach him, but the boy can, and let's not forget: he IS a Skywalker. You of all people should have faith in his abilities.”

“I guess.” Ahsoka said, “But I still think he should have been training a long time ago. Maybe I should go tell him now. You're in no condition to train him and I'm in my prime. Besides, I know Anakin better than anyone. Who better to train him than me?”

“How about Master Yoda?” Obi said with a  sideways glance.

Ahsoka's face lit up. “Master Yoda is alive?!”

“He is indeed. He lives on the swamp planet Dagobah.”

She thought back to her journeys over the years. “I always avoided Dagobah. I assumed it was devoid of life. I guess it would be the perfect place to hide.”

Obi said, “Some say it used to be his home. A thriving world, full of creatures just like him. Even though no one actually knows what HE is, or how old he may be. Only that he is the last.”

Ahsoka felt a tinge of sadness. “I know the feeling,” she said. “Losing your family I mean...”

Obi-Wan knew that Ahsoka still felt a powerful loneliness, even in all of her strength and wisdom, it seemed she had gone through life alone. He also knew, for that very reason, Ahsoka was more powerful than any Jedi he had ever met. Her command of the Force was unmatched, and her skills with her two lightsabers was extraordinary. She connected with so few and created strong bonds with those select friends. That made her dangerous, and allowed her to wield both sides of the Force with incredible power and grandeur. The Jedi way was to reject emotional connection because it makes an ordinary man volatile. Ahsoka on the the other hand, embraced that and became even stronger, and more steadfast. She did not covet this power. She used it to help people. That was why Ahsoka was so powerful. Obi-Wan could feel it, just standing in her presence. The overbearing power that she possessed was inconceivable.  To change the subject he said, “So why visit an old man like me, after all of these years?”

She went back to her normal self, “I had a vision. I may not follow the stricture of the Jedi Order, but in my meditations I still see things. I was there. On the...what was it called?”

“The Death Star.”

“Yes. That's it. I was on the Death Star, and me and Anakin were talking. I couldn't hear what we said...but I know that I'm supposed to go there. I stopped here to see if you know of a way I could get an Imperial Transport Ship or a Tie Fighter or something that could get me there unnoticed.” Ahsoka felt her face warm up a little, “I also just wanted to see a friend… It's been a long time, and I could use the support...”

Obi smiled and said, “Well you know you could have visited a long time ago. Watching a boy grow into a man is a boring job, especially on this great rift of a planet, and is that all? I was afraid you only stopped for tea. You still have a knack for making things exciting. I haven't attempted anything like that in years, but of course we always found a way before.” He took a second to think. “There are always a few Storm Troopers in Mos Eisley. They rotate guard shifts twice a day. Every twelve hours. I could help you take the ship, but you would have to be on your way quickly, because once they realize the ship is gone then this entire sector will be locked down.”

“No need to worry about me.” Ahsoka said confidently, “I'm still an excellent pilot.”

“I'm sure you are.” Obi-Wan said with a twinkle in his eye.

That night Ahsoka and Obi-Wan waited outside Mos Eisley, late into the night. Eventually they could see the transport ship break the atmosphere. “Now.” Obi-Wan whispered.

With a quiet whoosh, both got up and started running, using the force to launch them with every step and land silently. Within seconds they were in the small town, and the Storm Troopers were just landing. Two troopers were waiting outside and the transport opened to expose two more troopers inside. “I'll take the ship. You take the two outside.” Ahsoka said. Obi-Wan nodded and they rushed the ship. Ahsoka tackled one of the Storm Troopers inside the ship and (using the force) threw the other one into the wall of a building. They were out cold. Simultaneously Obi-Wan had Force Pushed the other two into the craft, knocking them both out.

“Hey, what was that?!” The pilot yelled back. Ahsoka ran to the cockpit and physically threw him out of the ship. Still conscious he started to yell something, but Obi-Wan silenced him with another Force Push.

Ahsoka came out of the ship and hugged Obi. “Thank you, Master!” Paying her respect to him for what could be the last time.

He hugged her tightly for just a second and then said, “Go quickly! You only have a few minutes!”

She jumped backed into the cockpit and took off, almost before the bay doors were shut. She flew out of the atmosphere and her heart started beating faster when she saw the Star Destroyer. Someone on it was trying to contact her. Or at least she assumed so. She had no expertise on the inter workings of Imperial communication systems. Within seconds, Tie Fighters and Interceptors were scrambled outside the Destroyer. They must have already found out, she thought. Any doubts she had were laid to rest when they began shooting at her. “Damn it!” She yelled to herself. “I guess I'm just gonna have to outrun them...” Summoning all her concentration, Ahsoka maneuvered the transport like a professional. Dodging blasts and bombs, looping over and under ships. “Almost!” She said placing her hand on the hyperdrive lever. She leveled out the ship and heard a beep. “Catch me if you can suckers!” Ahsoka yelled, and shoved the lever forward. Her seat sucker her in, and the stars around her turned into streaks outside the ship. It would take a while, but now she was headed for the Death Star.

In the meantime Ahsoka tried to meditate, looked for something that could teach her about the communications on the ship, anything to pass the time. Being idle was not something she was ever good at. There was also a pit in her stomach. She felt a lurch every time a thought of coming face to face with Anakin. It was not out of fear, but something else. Something stronger than that. Rooted even deeper in her emotions.

Before she had the chance to delve too deep into her thoughts, the hyperdrive ended. She sat back down and looked out at the Death Star. It was immense and took her aback.

Ahsoka snapped back to reality when the coms light blinked (she learned vaguely how the coms worked). Instead of trying to answer, she quickly took a meditative posture. Sitting cross legged, she cleared her mind, and closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she looked around. There was a screen with her motionless ship on it, and strange technology all over. A man next to her wearing an Imperial uniform said “Sir? Sir, what should we do?”

Nothing. She thought, and a voice said, “Nothing.” You're going to find Lord Vader and consult with him about the ship's communications. No one is to do anything until you return. “I'm going to consult with Lord Vader. This ship is one of ours, but it's alone. Maybe the communication is broken. No one will act until I return.”

The other man hesitated, “Yes, Sir.”

The body she was in directed itself to where she needed. There was a large sphere that opened, and inside it was him. Darth Vader. “Who are you?” He said. “How do you know this Sith power?”

Give me permission to board, and I'll tell you myself. “Give me permission to board and I'll tell  you myself.”

“Fine.” Vader said dismissively.

Ahsoka closed her eyes, and opened them again. She was back on her ship. In only a few minutes she was caught in a tractor beam and pulled into the Death Star.

She got off her ship and several Storm Troopers awaited her. The escorted her through the Death Star and up it's many levels to the top where Darth Vader would be waiting. They stood with her at the door to the chamber where they would meet, but Ahsoka didn't want any extra company. She waved her hand and said, “You will all return to your previous duties.”

“We will all return to our previous duties.” They echoed, and walked back the way they came.

Ahsoka took a minute to take a few deep breathes before she pushed the button. It clanked and clattered and whirred as it opened and standing up by a large window, there he was. Anakin Skywalker, she thought.

She took a step in, and slowly walked further into the room. The door startled her when it began to shut. There was nothing happening. He just stood there, and she just walked. When she reached the stairs of the platform that he stood on she stopped and waited. Promptly he turned and held out his hand.

Ahsoka was lifted into the air and couldn't breath. Fighting for air she reached to her neck to grab whatever invisible hand was holding her. “Who are you? How did you come to use the Dark Side of the Force? Answer my questions and maybe I'll let you live.”

She struggled to eek out words. “Ah...Ani. Ani, it's me.” The grip on her neck got tighter.

“I am Darth Vader.”

Ahsoka Force Pushed him into the window and fell to the ground. Vader pulled out his lightsaber and walked toward her. He held it near her neck and said, “Now who are you?”

“My name is Ahsoka Tano. You might know me as Snips. Skyguy.” She said in a raspy voice, trying to catch her breath.

For the first time ever, Darth Vader hesitated. As if remembering. She had gotten to him.

“Talk.” He said, retracting his saber.

“Talk?” She asked. “What the hell do you want from me? What am I supposed to say?”

“Why are you here?” Vader asked.

“I had a vision.” She said. “It was you, and me. We were right here.” Her heart was pounding harder than it ever had. Adrenaline rushed through her body. “I've been trying to figure out why.”

“The force is trying to tell you something.” He said.

“But what? I don't understand...I need my Master...I need Anakin.” Ahsoka's eyes were welling up with tears.

“That is not my name. If you say it again, I'll kill you.” Darth Vader was looking out the window.

“You won't even face me!” Ahsoka yelled. “You aren't evil! I know you aren't.” She put a foot on the first step.

Suddenly Vader swung, lightsaber in hand. Ahsoka reacted without thinking and blocked it with both of hers. Cathing it in the V of her crossed blades. “I know you're in there Anakin! I know it's been a long time, but fight it!”

“There is nothing but the Dark Side here.” He said and swung again.

Ahsoka deflected it and took a step back. Fighting with him made her feel even worse. What was happening? She had fought and killed so many men before this, and he was evil. He chose the Dark Side.

They traded more blows. Gracefully caught in a back and forth battle of sabers. He swung, she dodged, she swung, he caught it. Ahsoka jumped backward to give herself some distance and then sent a storm of lightning forth from her fingertips. Force lightning from both of them clashed in the middle and branched off in a spectacular light show all over the chamber.

Her anger started rising. Something that kept her from becoming a Jedi was her emotions and finally she realized why the Force had sent her here, but it made her even more angry. It wasn't her destiny to stop him. It was only her destiny to reach out. No matter how vain she felt the endeavor would be.

The battle continued.

“I am the most powerful Dark Lord! I will silence anyone who stands in my way!” Vader yelled. Then he swung with both hands and knocked her off balance. In that moment he took the opportunity to grab her with a force choke. “I will kill you and every other Jedi I find. You are no match for my power.”

Ahsoka finally snapped. Using her own control of the force, she summoned the energy to negate Vader's Force Choke.

“What's happening?” He said, “What are you doing?”

Ahsoka slowly lowered herself to the ground and threw up a hand. Darth Vader flew backward and was pinned against the stairs. She walked over to him, holding him down.

“How?” Vader said, struggling against her raw power.

Ahsoka looked at him and said, “I know why I'm here. We both know I'm more powerful than you... But it's not my destiny to defeat you...”

“Release me! Now!” He yelled.

“Anakin...” Ahsoka wasn't mad anymore. She was actually pitiful, and sad. Every feeling she had, anger, pity, sadness, they were all becoming too much for her. Finally she couldn't help herself any longer. “I LOVED YOU!” She screamed, and tears started rolling down her face. Vader stopped struggling, and looked at her. “That's why I couldn't be a Jedi. You taught me that my feelings are important, when everyone else told me they weren't. They told me to let go, but you taught me to hold on. My family, my friends. I couldn't let go... Finally I wasn't alone. I had you, Anakin, but you fell in love with power… You feared what you might lose without it. You didn't see the strength in you that I did, but I knew you were a great man. I saw how strong you really were and could have been...”

Vader still didn't move, and for a brief moment he wasn't Vader. “Snips...” he said, quietly. “Argh!” He screamed in pain.

“I know now, that I had to admit it to myself. The Force wanted me to let go...our destinies are no longer bound, but hopefully I could reach your heart. Budge it just enough...” He continued to writhe in pain. The Dark Side of the Force wasn't about to give up it's corruption, but it was a painful thing to fight. “I don't want to hurt you anymore Anakin... But I love you. Remember me. When the boy comes for you.” She knelt down next to him. “He'll need you, just like I did. You are still the chosen one.” She kissed his mask and stood up.

The Dark Side had taken back over him now. “I'll kill you!”

One last tear made it's way down her cheek. “No. You won't.” She pulled out her lightsabers. And cut off Anakins robotic legs. “You'll never see me again.”

Then she turned and ran out of the chamber…

Five years later:

Finally time to show his skills. His test with his new Jedi Master. The young boy named Shyon Trent, had been training and studying for 3 years, and it was time to take his test to be promoted from Youngling to Padawan. He stepped into the room brimming with confidence and looked his Master in the eye.

“Start with the code.” She said, and smiled.

Shyon said, “Yes Master.”

“There is no Dark Side, nor Light Side

There is only the Force

I will do what I must to keep the Balance

The Balance is what binds me together

There is no good without evil, but evil must not be allowed to flourish

There is passion, and emotion

Serenity, and peace

Chaos, and order

I am the wielder of the flame, and soldier of the balance

I am the holder of the torch, lighting the way

I am the Guardian of the Balance

I am a Grey Jedi.”

His master looked at him and he looked back. “Very good.” She said, with a mischievous look on her face. “Now lets get to the fun part!” Then she reached to her hips and grabber her sabers.

[mrmichaelchadler]

Netflix’s Challenging Black Earth Rising Seeks Justice in an Imbalanced World

This is a time full of television that requires sure and steady hands. There cooking shows, home renovation shows, and fashion design competition shows. There are shows where you compete by painting makeup, forging swords, and failing at cake-making; there’s a show about popping pimples and lancing boils, and several about tattoo artists. Yet it’s possible that “Black Earth Rising,” a co-production between BBC Two (on which it aired in September and October 2018) and Netflix, is more interested in what’s tactile than any other series on television. The characters who populate its complicated world are constantly touching things, as if to confirm they are still there, as if they could will those things to remain just so. There’s a simple explanation for this, a series on which very little is simple: When your hand rests on something, it can be verified, witnessed, documented, and trusted. What’s out of reach may as well not exist at all.

At its best, Simon Blick’s series lives in the spaces out of reach. “Black Earth Rising” centers primarily on Kate Ashby (Michaela Coel in a bracing, intensely vulnerable turn), a British investigator who, as a child, escaped genocide in Rwanda in the arms of her adoptive mother, Eve Ashby (Harriet Walter), an international lawyer who specializes in the prosecution of war crimes. She accepts the role of prosecutor in the case against Simon Nyamoya (Danny Sapan), a Tutsi General credited with bringing about the end of the Rwandan genocide, but who Eve charges with a horrific crime unknown, it seems, to all but the General, her colleague Michael Ennis (John Goodman), one or two others, and herself. Kate is horrified, deeply wounded—a Tutsi herself, she cannot understand why her mother would choose to prosecute the man who ended the nightmare. An explanation cannot be given, but is promised down the road, and then all hell breaks loose.

That’s the beginning. The beginning of the beginning. What’s most striking about “Black Earth Rising”—outside of the constant touching, the terrific performances, and the thoughtful filmmaking, anyway—is that it’s essentially a legal thriller mixed with a painful search for personal history, leaving threads dangling for so long that it’s easy to forget them entirely until suddenly they are yanked on, and something else unravels. It moves like a thriller. It shocks like a thriller. But imagine any legal thriller you like—say, early “House of Cards,” or maybe “Primal Fear”—and then involve the ruthless murder of millions, an army intent on slaughtering an entire ethnic group. Now imagine that the only people willing and equipped to fight for the truth and for justice are in incredible pain. Endless, unceasing pain. They’ve still got to solve the mysteries, race through the car chases, fend off threats from all sides, and maneuver through endless obstacles, and they’ve got to do it while struggling with their own, knee-buckling tragedies—some difficult to imagine, some upsettingly familiar and mundane. A bleak diagnosis. A sick daughter. A hateful aunt. Grief. Remorse. Isolation. It never stops.

Yet “Black Earth Rising” isn’t what you’d call relentlessly bleak. Oh, it’s difficult to watch—sometimes extremely so; watching this eight-episode season for review was so grueling, a step back and half a day away from it was necessary. But Blick gives his characters, particularly Goodman’s Michael, Coel’s Kate, and Tamara Tunie’s Eunice (an assistant Secretary of State for the U.S.), a sense of humor, dark and sharp though it may be.

More palpably, the brisk pace maintained by writer-director Blick throughout keeps the proceedings from approaching anything like self-indulgence (at least, right up until the end). Emotions matter here—they define Kate, and are the force against which most of other characters struggle against, are guided by, or both at once—but as the characters tell each other again and again, the moment in front of them is rarely the destination. Blick approaches the story that way, too. When quiet moments, static moments, occur, they always center on what a character is experiencing. If Kate needs to stop and get herself together, or Martin needs a moment to reflect or assess, that’s fine, that’s important. But because they never forget that the world keeps turning, because their urgency never lessens, the threads of the story remain taut. That’s why the touching, reminding, pressing, gripping, holding is all so important. There’s will and force behind those instances of contact. They are prayers, or promises.

They are also certain, and that certainty stands in contrast with most of the series. While “Black Earth Rising” dwells in the gray, it thrives. (That genocide is an unspeakable evil is never in question; almost everything else is.) The characters have firm, singular conviction, but they acknowledge the complexity that envelopes them, and almost everyone has warring interests and needs within themselves. The characters, too, are complex, particularly Martin, Kate, and Alice Munezero (the remarkable Noma Dumezweni), a former General now looking for the only right moment to push for dramatic change. But as the series moves toward a powerful conclusion—and powerful it is—Blick begins to paint with some broad strokes. By this point, “Black Earth Rising” has earned a few of those moments, but it’s frustrating to watch a show so willing to keep the viewer off-balance suddenly become narratively tidy.

The same is true of the direction, but as with the writing, so much of what comes before those few easy moments is engaging and thoughtful that the missteps begin to fade not long after they’ve passed. Blick forces changes in perspective with great frequency, and while that sounds a bit on-the-nose, it’s nearly always effective. The camera often views a character’s race down the stairs from above, or allows someone to make a decision in the instant it takes the camera to move from one side of them to the other. More affecting still are the moments in which the visual language enters the realm of the surreal, either because Kate’s memories are intruding on her present day, or because what’s happening is so unreal that to approach the story any other way would feel dishonest. Among the images that most compel: A man in a poncho at the end of a flooded tunnel, his nails caked in blood; A bullet enters a skull in a horrifyingly matter-of-fact shot; Bubbles coat the face of a woman underwater, her eyes wide. (Less effective: The show’s infrequent animated sequences, which though beautiful, tend to disrupt the flow of the series. There’s one magnificent exception.)

To unreservedly recommend “Black Earth Rising” is impossible. Its precise cocktail of genre and human nightmare won’t be for everyone. But this can be easily said: If you seek excellent performances, you’ll find them here—Coel, Goodman, and Dumezweni in particular. If you’re hoping to be simultaneously challenged and made deeply anxious, look no further. And if the quest for rightness in a world that too often makes rightness impossible compels you, “Black Earth Rising” is well worth your time. Just give yourself something to grab, or touch, or press while you watch it. The steadiness will help.

Full season screened for review.

from All Content http://bit.ly/2Tc4FPJ

[javodvarka]

Yet another episode of The 100 where things go swimmingly, 100% according to plan, with no hiccups and DEFINITELY no wars being declared.

C’MON. Of course things went sideways. Actually, saying things went sideways is an understatement. Things went sideways, fell off a cliff, hit every sharp outcropping on the way down, exploded at the bottom of the cliff, then released a lake of liquid fire that engulfed half the earth.

So, business as usual.

Looking around the review sites yields a consensus opinion that season 5 is on fire, giving us perhaps the best first four episodes of any season. If anything, things seem more crystallized this season, more in-focus than ever before. That six year time jump has re-invigorated a show whose moral lessons started to grow a bit rote. With this episode, the table is set for the rest of the season: we at war, kids. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyy…………..?

Written by Charmaine DeGraté and directed by Dean White, “Pandora’s Box” has loosed all sorts of anarchy upon the world and the fallout is going to be delicious. This episode probably overtakes “Fallen” as my favorite of DeGraté’s work. Like last week, this episode is PACKED with a lot of information and character moments, but unlike last week, it lit the fuse for a showdown between a bunch of prisoners and a death cult.

Strap in, folks. Season 5 is LIT. Let’s get into it.

You’re In a Cult, Call Your Dad. No, Seriously, Call Your Dad!

“Red Queen” showed us a little bit of what became of life in the bunker, but this episode pretty much reveals the ugly crazy in all it’s … uh … glory? The chanting, the single-mindedness, the blind devotion to a leader…it’s a freakin’ cult.

This is a joke within a joke. JOKECEPTION.

Octavia. Girl. What in the FUCK have you created?

We knew things had gone to shit in the bunker, but this is a full on brand of cray-cray that most people, at first blush, seem to have completely bought into. Octavia is almost unrecognizable from the girl we saw in season 1 and she’s frightening as fuck. But who frightens me more?

Gaia. SHE SCARES ME Y’ALL.

You guys…I want to like her, but I don’t trust her. She’s a religious zealot who has transferred her faith in the Flame onto Blodreina. While Octavia is the “leader,” Gaia is the one moving the gears, enforcing Wonkru’s laws, and ensuring that Wonkru is as dedicated to Octavia as Gaia is…or at least the IDEA of Octavia. At this point, I think anyone could be Blodreina as long as Gaia is there to protect the position of what is essentially the Commander for a new, very dark age. After all, the Flame went in and out of a long line of Commanders, all of which seemed interchangeable, with only Becca and Lexa as notable exceptions.

People filling that seat come and go…the person isn’t important, the position is. I honestly think if Octavia were to fall, Gaia would just find another Red Queen or King to take over as figurehead, as long as Gaia herself was always by his/her side. Octavia dies? Oh well, Wonkru finds a new Blodreina, the cult goes on. I’m tellin’ y’all, Gaia shady.

I find it ironic that a place built by one cult is now home to another. In my season 5 predictions, I thought we’d learn more about Second Dawn and Cadogan. And while we still might, Wonkru certainly gives them a run for their money, and seem far more deadly and dedicated to Blodreina.

What we have yet to see are the cracks in the Wonkru armor, save for Indra, who seems to be loyal to Octavia to a point. Indra always looks like she’s unhappy with someone or something, but I truly believe she’s not a big proponent of the fighting pit, but things have gone too far for her to speak up now. Only through her actions of trying to protect Kane do we see a small act of rebellion on her part. Her story and how she interacts with both Gaia and Octavia will be very interesting this season. I don’t think she’s above betraying Octavia, but it will take A LOT to get her there.

Take note of the bunker’s lighting. Much of it has a red tinge to it…a nice stylistic choice to further reinforce the idea of the Red Queen. It’s also, obviously, the color of blood. The bunker is completely in Octavia’s control. Everyone looks to her to for permission. Now that Wonkru is out of this confined space, will they continue to look to her for all their orders, do they trust she can continue to protect them, or will she – or Wonkru – start cracking under pressure now that they’ve escaped their petri dish of horror?

And what if Octavia thinks she has to be even more brutal in the face of an enemy? Guys…we in for some shit.

GODDAMN, Kane and Abby Need a Hot Shower, Some Soup, and a Nap

Y’all, Kane and Abby look rode hard and put up wet. Both look to be mentally and emotionally spent. The past six years have not been kind.

It’s clear Kane and Abby have had a hard road in the bunker. Kane looks worn down to the bone, and Abby doesn’t look much better, addicted to pills for what looks like the past six years.

When Kane makes his last appeal to Octavia, I think it’s waaaaaaaaaay too late to propose that they try to do better. That ship has sailed. Even Kane acknowledges that Octavia has made Wonkru strong, got them through whatever the “dark year” was. And that’s his mistake…allowing things to go on too long without speaking up, without appealing to Octavia’s better angels before she totally became Blodreina. Because truth be told, there’s little of Octavia left. She’s now this new entity that she thought she needed to be to keep the bunker as clear of chaos as possible. Keeping the chaos contained to the fighting pit. In the process, Octavia has become hardened in a way that yields only to a black/white view of the world: Wonkru or enemy of Wonkru. It’s a mantra that she repeats six years later. While that type of solidarity might have served to get control of the bunker, maintaining control has taken something else entirely. 400 people dead…what exactly happened in those six years? And that dark year? WTF is that???!!!

Kane has always tried to fight for a better world since he saw the error of his ways in season 2, but here he’s just defeated. He pleads with Octavia, but it’s such a last ditch effort, an argument made too many times to carry much weight anymore. Especially with someone as far down a dark path as Octavia. I understand the feeling. I live in the US during a sham presidency full of lies and corruption. No matter what you do, think, or feel, things just seem out of control and the world is upside down.

Abby’s addiction is going to be a tough story line to maneuver her through. We still don’t quite know why Abby needs the drugs she’s on, and we don’t know what kind of drugs they are. I think we have to assume she’s suffering from the same side effects of jacking out of ALIE that Raven was. And seeing as she’s seemingly referred to as the only doctor (hello? what about Jackson?), the pressure to be that for 800+ people while your brain is frizting out is probably overwhelming. She strugs to func something fierce.

Kane and Abby repeat some lines we’ve heard in the past, that they’ve done terrible things to survive, but it’s so half-hearted on her part that it’s just rote now. Kane knows this and says it’s just something they tell themselves to justify the horrors they’ve inflicted on others and each other. There’s no more fight left in these two. Even when Kane is going to knowingly sacrifice himself, it’s not out of some noble desire to be better or rise above the chaos…I genuinely think he’s completely spent. There’s no more energy left to appeal to anyone’s better selves or to try and fight for a better world or better versions of themselves…it’s all too much.

I would usually joke about Beardy Sexy Kane and full-size body pillows of said individual, but watching him…watching everything in the bunker…is just painful. I didn’t like watching the bunker scenes at all because they were filled with so much culty cray cray and hurt thrust upon Kabby that it made me uncomfortable. Good…I should not watch Wonkru’s death pit and feel good about it. I should feel creepy crawlies about what’s transpired down there.

Speaking of creepy crawlies…

WHAT. THE. FUCK. HAPPENED. IN. THE. DARK. YEAR. QUESTION. MARK. EXCLAMATION. POINT.

Reunions, Reunions Everywhere! Come Get Your Hot, Fresh Reunions!

Goddamn, this episode wasn’t pulling any emotional punches and thank god it didn’t. We finally see Clarke and Bellamy back together after six years. Bellamy was certain he’d never see Clarke again because she was presumed dead, and Clarke had to have been worried that something went wrong on the Ark after they didn’t return to earth after five years. So it’s no wonder that these two clasp ahold of each other as if they can’t believe the other is corporeal.

While I love this reunion, the one that really got me in the feels was Clarke and Raven. Not even in the same room together, I got hit straight in the heart stings by Raven’s reaction. The look on her face, and thanking Clarke for saving them…Princess Mechanic has been a dynamic I’ve loved over the years, even when I’ve felt this friendship has been underserved a bit in previous seasons. I hope we get more of Raven and Clarke and Clarke and Murphy, who uttered the line I head cannoned almost immediately after the season 4 finale. OF COURSE there was going to be a “and they say I’M the cockroach” joke. I love it.

I always long for more interaction between Clarke and Murphy and Clarke and Raven. I know not all of these relationships can get screen time, but there’s still a lot of emotional depths to plumb, especially after six years of evolution and change. Tearing characters apart and putting them through the ringer then bringing them back together again affords the opportunity to explore new aspects of character interactions, and I hope we just get more of those great character moments.

Speaking of reunions…

Welcome to My Death Bunker Horror Show Beautiful Home!

Bellamy makes a deal with Diyoza to use their mining equipment to open up the bunker. The first person to rappel down is, of course, big brother Bellamy, who is greeted by his sister, who is so totally not a murderous cult leader now.

We get to see Octavia reemerge for all of two seconds as she embraces Bellamy. Blink and you’ll miss her. That might be the last we see of Octavia because she’s Blodreina now…even Miller, her OG friend from the dropship, calls her by this title. It’s JARRING. These old friends from the bunker are a welcome sight, but also a bit off. It’s like re-connecting with old friends on Facebook and they eventually want to get together with you to talk about a great work-from-home opportunity. They look the same, but they’re Stepfordy now and it’s awkward.

I’m tellin’ y’all…if Miller starts evangelizing about a skin care line, BEWARE.

When Clarke rappels down moments after Bellamy, she’s much quicker on the uptake when she realizes she’s literally in a pit covered in blood and weapons, with spectators on all sides.

It’s only after Octavia goes to awkwardly greet Clarke…

…that Bellamy starts taking a look around and begins to understand what’s been going on in the rotunda for six years.

Something’s definitely fucked up about this place.

Diyoza and McCreary both come down as well and while Diyoza seems unfazed, I get the feeling that McCreary might be a little into what Octavia has done with the place.

I really enjoyed all the reunions that we got after opening up the bunker, especially between Bellamy and Octavia and Clarke and Octavia. Clarke and Abby left me feeling a bit cold because Abby isn’t really Abby…she’s a junkie right now and I wonder how much the drugs are affecting her decisions. Especially the decision to go with the Eligius crew at the end of the episode. Yes, it was a chance to save Kane, but why was she so willing to part from Clarke that quickly?

The somewhat lukewarm reunion between Clarke and Octavia is very interesting to me. No, I didn’t expect warm hugs all around, given the history between these two (remember, Clarke’s last notable action towards Octavia was stealing the bunker out from under her). There is so much tension and unspoken conflict in this relationship that I hope gets to play out this season. These two have never really had it out and Madi might be the chess piece that Octavia uses to further her own agenda (whatever that may be outside of war) while screwing over Clarke. I am here for this conflict and for them finally having it out. Throw down, ladies!

So let’s talk a little about the episode’s title, “Pandora’s Box.” It’s obvious that cracking open the bunker is a metaphor for opening up Pandora’s Box. The story is that once opened, a whole bunch of bad stuff escapes into the world – death, sickness, evil. Pandora hastily closes the box once she realizes what’s being unleashed onto the world, only to prevent the last thing from escaping – hope.

It’s kinda interesting to note that the box was originally a jar, turned into a box through a mistranslation. The Eligius crew break into the bunker in the high ceiling directly above the fighting pit. The pit itself is at the bottom of a large, round room. Sorta shaped like a jar, if one had to describe it in such terms.

What I find interesting is that the bunker is the symbol of Pandora’s Box, meaning that all the bad shit loosed upon the world is coming from this bunker. From Wonkru. From Octavia. That’s quite the statement to make regarding what the Bunker people have become, because it’s not like the Eligius crew is a bunch of choirboys and girls. If Wonkru is the evil coming from Pandora’s Box…what does the Eligius crew represent? A sleeping giant is vaguely threatening. You don’t want to wake a sleeping giant…but this group seems to have a lot less glue holding it together than Wonkru, and we’ve seen some rumblings of a coup. Diyoza has a huge goat rodeo to try and control. Good luck, girl!

Another bit of an aside, I really love the use of light and darkness when Bellamy descends into the bunker. He’s bathed in light and cannot see into the darkness, where Octavia and everyone else is just out of sight…I don’t think this is a mere visual trick. It’s symbolic. When Octavia is pulled up, she rises up in the light, towards freedom, towards the heavens. It’s almost Christ-like. Which again, I don’t think is simply a cool visual. Consider her S5 poster:

When I saw it, I immediately thought “goddamn if that isn’t a post-resurrection Christ pose.” Bathed in light, palms out to display his Crucifixion wounds…it’s a very familiar visual from my Catholic school days.

Now am I saying that Octavia is Christ? Hell no…but displaying her as a religious figure makes sense, especially given how devoted her people are to her. She’s the object of a belief system that resembles religion, especially if Gaia had a hand in its formation. And like any dogmatic system, it could prove to be dangerous in the hands of zealots and fanatics. She is also, in a sense, resurrected as she emerges from the bunker…or her tomb, if you will. All of Wonkru is freed from their underground crypt…from the ashes they did indeed rise.

Octavia presented as a mythological figure fits her character arc, especially considering her past. Octavia was brought up on a steady diet of mythology literature…she knows the power of larger than life figures and of choices that can bring down gods.

Stupid Sexy Dangerous Eligius

I liked the Eligius crew last week. I like the Eligius crew this week. And though they got double-crossy and murdery and I STILL LIKE THEM.

I’m a garbage person, I accept this, but I know you, dear reader, love them too. Join me in my abode.

BYOB.

Okay y’all, we had several mysteries last week from this group, but now we find out they need a doctor to find a cure for something…cure for what? Is it something to do with cryosleep? Did they find something out in space that they need to deal with? Where is home? I’m assuming Diyoza is talking about the valley they’ve claimed as their own, but it’s still on odd term to use for some place they’ve been for all of a hot minute.

And what’s the deal with Diyoza and McCreary? I kinda get a vibe that they might have hooked up. Is it just me?

I know…how heteronormative of me.

There are times when he’s almost…not completely McMurdery around her. Not often, and certainly not enough data to really say it’s a thing, but I think there’s more to this adversarial relationship than meets the eye. When Szybunka approaches McCreary to suggest overthrowing Diyoza, McCreary seems to be planning something…or is he merely trying to appease him?

McCreary later shoots Szybunka in the head after Szybunka disobeys orders and vaporizes one of Octavia’s people. Is this a punishment for disobeying orders? Is he getting rid of a weak link in planning a coup? Or is he preventing Szybunka’s eventual betrayal of Diyoza? Hard to know right now what McCreary’s motivation is here without knowing anything about his and Diyoza’s backstory.

We also see more of Zeke this episode…just a moment, we’re interrupting our regularly scheduled review to bring you this update…

Zeke is not his first name anymore. Apparently it’s Miles. I’M SHOOK.

I guess according to JRoth there were legal reasons for changing his name from Zeke Shaw to Miles Shaw. I know this is hard for the fandom to accept as we’ve taken him into our bosom as Zeke. For a while it created some confusion for me because there’s a Deke Shaw on Agents of SHIELD. I’m getting old, I can’t even keep my dogs’ names straight, so maybe this is a good thing.

ANYHOO, Shaw and Raven get into a little cyber flirt when they both try to circumvent the other. Shaw is clearly impressed with our girl Raven, who, with style and panache, throws up her Raven symbol from season 3 to let us know she’s not messing around. MY GIRL GOT SHAW ON LOCK DOWN. This is Raven Reyes we’re talkin’ about. Child, please.

It’s apparent that Shaw isn’t exactly on Team Diyoza and has some sort of moral code. He doesn’t think outrightly killing folks is the best thing to do. I 100% believe he faked not being able to launch those missiles. Oh sweetie…do you know what show you’re on? Go check it out on Netflix and report back once you’ve realized that until you’ve racked up a body count into the hundreds, you ain’t shit.

One of the things we find out this episode is that there have been four Eligius ships. First one was unmanned, and exploratory ship. Second was a mining expedition, but undermanned for the job. Forth one, well we know it’s a mining vessel full of prisoners for all the hard labor. But Eligius III? All data is about that mission is encrypted. THERE’S A MYSTERY AFOOT!

We know this ship had nightbloods on it…that was mentioned when Diyoza and Shaw saw Clarke’s blood. We can also assume it had cryosleep technology since both were created by Becca. But what happened to that ship? Why is all information protected? I love these little clues that keep getting dropped for us to mull over. I can tell you what most people think: ALIENS. Because at this point, why not?

I Can’t Stop Loving Diyoza. Sorry Not Sorry.

Am I still in love with Charmaine Diyoza? You bet your sweet ass I am. Last episode I thought that while dangerous and not to be fucked with, she was pragmatic and reasonable to an extent.

This episode she went back on her word to Bellamy, after working behind the scenes to circumvent his leverage. Not cool, Diyoza.

(that’s okay i still love you shhhhh don’t tell)

While 283 sleeping prisoners is a lot of people, what exactly do they mean to her? Why care about this group of people? She’s protective of them even before it’s apparent that there’s a big threat she needs to contend with in Wonkru. We don’t know if she’s aware at this point that they and Wonkru make up the last remaining contingent of humankind. Clarke never got through her whole story, so Diyoza’s concern over the 283 prisoners may have nothing to do with ensuring the continued existence of the human race and genetic diversity. What is it then?

You know, perhaps Diyoza just doesn’t have an off switch. She was a Navy SEAL, y’all. That’s INTENSE. Then she was a domestic terrorist…like DOUBLE INTENSE. Now she’s ostensibly the leader of this rag tag prisoner army, upon which she seems to impose some sort of rank and file to since Shaw takes orders from her and McCreary sometimes is a good boy and listens to her.

I still wanna know how she became the leader of all these murdery bad asses. I suspect she had a stare-down with the biggest dog in the yard and that big dog withered under her glare. Y’all…you see how she looks at people? You want her to look at YOU like that? She is S.E.R.I.O.U.S.

(omg i luv her)

While I was disappointed in her decision to renege on her deal with Bellamy, it didn’t surprise me one bit. I know what show I’m watching. Nobody calls splitsies on the one last patch of green on earth and sees that plan through!

I loved her interaction with both Blakes, but her squaring up against Octavia was riveting. Diyoza sizing Octavia up was awesome. She’s so fucking cool under pressure and is assured that she’s the baddest bitch in the room. Octavia has a nice death pit and all, but she doesn’t have devastating sonic weapons that can break up rocks, destroy buildings, or turn humans into pink mist.

Let’s just say I am all about this Octavia/Diyoza face off. I think it’s positively delicious. Give me all the drama and conflict and tension (may some of it be sexual!) you can!

IT ME. It so very me. I AM A MESSY BENCH.

The Raven and the Cockroach

I love this dynamic so, so much. In my last review, I said that these two probably know each other the best at their core. There’s no pretense between these two because their bullshit detectors are set so high and each other knows it. They’re able to be honest and raw in a way I would never have thought possible after early seasons.

Murphy has this brilliant way of putting his foot in his mouth with people, but I love when he does it this episode with Raven and immediately recognizes he fucked up. It leads to some great dialog between these two, with Murphy willing to be the one that kills the prisoners, understanding that it’s something Raven is unable to do. And I love that about him. Not only did he stay behind because he wondered why Raven should be the one to sacrifice herself again, but he’s willing to bear the burden of actively killing 283 people.

When Murphy says he’ll pull the lever, we hear a distant roar from earth. It’s Clarke..

NO ONE TOUCHES THE LEVER. LEVERS BELONG TO CLARKE.

God, it’s like Murphy doesn’t even watch The 100.

When Raven and Murphy have to face death or self-preservation, they choose the later, but that means awakening all the sleeping giants. And those sleeping giants look like meanies! It’s going to get worse up on the Eligius before it gets better.

The Dark Year

Okay, but what if it’s just the year Octavia got REALLY into jam bands due to Kara’s awful influence and Kane was able to pull her out of it but now Octavia’s all like “don’t EVER mention Dave Matthews AGAIN!”?

Because, honestly, what’s darker than being into jam bands?

**I suddenly remember prog rock exists** nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo…….

Being Bellamy Blake

Guys, did y’all think that Diyoza was really going to share half of Eden with Bellamy and co.?

I don’t know what Bellamy thought would happen either, but you go to war with the army you have, not the army you want. Do I think that Bellamy was naive enough to think things would go according to plan? No…he even says as much to Octavia when he says he doesn’t trust Diyoza. But leverage. He has it. Until he doesn’t.

Bellamy and Spacekru were never in much of a superior position to begin with, only banking on Diyoza caring about the prisoners still aboard the Eligius. But he knew he had Raven’s smarts and could bank on that to get him enough time to bargain with Prisonkru. There’s a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants quality to Bellamy’s plan that works where it can. Again, until it doesn’t.

I daresay I can’t think of a better improvisational plan to bargain for their lives with Diyoza than what he comes up with, and remember he has the counsel of Raven, Murphy, Echo, and the others to listen to. He does the best with what he has.

That Octavia immediately blames Bellamy for things going south is pretty much Octavia’s brand. To which I say:

What other plan could have gotten Octavia and Wonkru out of that bunker? Was Bellamy to pull mining equipment out of his ass? I understand Octavia’s anger and frustration, but taking it out on Bellamy felt immature of her, a reminder that perhaps Blodreina is still very much an emotionally stunted girl who grew up under the floor and didn’t get the socialization she needed to properly and rationally address her situation with the appropriate reactions. She needed peer interaction, not Ovid and isolation.

I have a feeling this is going to be me to Octavia for much of the season:

She’ll need to take responsibility not only for how she reacts to things, but for what she’s become and while her metamorphosis into this Red Queen might have saved lives, what did it turn those lives, including her own, into?

Put on a Pot of Coffee, We Goin’ to War!

We kinda knew from previews and whatnot that season 5 would be about a war for Eden. One garden…two serpents (we assume Octavia and Diyoza, but that seems almost too simplistic for now).

What’s interesting is two big forces are at play here, and neither of them are being directed or led by Clarke or Bellamy. Instead we have Octavia leading Wonkru and Diyoza leading Team Eligius. It’s strange to see Clarke on the sidelines of a conflict.

At the same time, it’s kinda nice to see Clarke in a position where she has to react instead of proactively make some sweeping decision that affects a great many people. With Madi to protect, her decisions are likely to be very personal and she may even back off from trying to assert herself as a leader.

Bellamy has been a leader, but seems he’ll get swept up in whatever Octavia is doing, trying his best to dissuade her from making mistakes along the way. What I don’t see happening is Bellamy getting through to Blodreina. I suspect there will be political in-fighting between those close to Blodreina and Bellamy. He might only have his sister’s well-being at the forefront of his mind now, especially if he sees she’s losing her soul to this Red Queen role she’s carved out for herself.

How Bell and Clarke figure into this war and what side(s) they come down on will likely lead to more juicy conflict. I’m here for it. You know I love this shit. I may scream obscenities at my TV while watching some of this shit play out, but that’s PASSION, folks.

No, For Reals Though, What In the Ever-Lovin’ Fuck Happened in the “Dark Year”?!

[indistinct screaming]

[more indistinct screaming]

Deathwatch 2018

From week to week, I’m ranking characters by likelihood two die in two buckets: gonna die and long shots. Dead characters of note are in the “May We Meet Again” category.

Not a lot of movement on my Deathwatch lists, but just a bit of solidifying of my gut instincts. Kane almost moved up, but I’d say he and Abby and neck and neck. They’re both hot messes, let’s be honest. I love Kabby, but they’ve seen better days.

Sure Bets, One of These Peeps Is Dyin’

Abby

Kane

Kara

Echo

McCreary

Loooooooooooooong Shots, Place Yer Bets!

Raven

Murphy

Ethan

Monty

Bellamy

May We Meet Again

Jaha – he was number 1 on my Sure Bet to die board, though I take no pleasure in being right…it was a sorta easy read based on social media. Jaha was an interesting, complex, often infuriating figure in this universe, so RIP.

Raven Reyes Nookie Watch 2018

Welcome back to Raven Reyes Nookie Watch 2018! Along with Deathwatch 2018, this is a recurring feature of upmost importance. It’s all about the nookie!

No nookie was acquired this episode, but we had a long-distance meet cute with Shaw. Hackers trying to hack and counter-hack one another may not be your cup of flirt tea, but it’s as close as Raven’s got to foreplay in six years. WE’LL TAKE IT.

RAVEN REYES NOOKIE ALERT LEVEL: There’s a wee thin crack in the ice

Private Jennifer, reporting for duty. Let’s do this!

Parting Thoughts

Slarke is my ride or die ship – that’s Clarke + soap. I’m concerned because she’s starting to look a bit grungy.

Where the rest of Spacekru and Madi at? I guess still over in Eden, which worries me now that Prisonkru has claimed it as theirs.

“No no no no no…you just opened Pantera’s Box!” – Nick Miller. I’ll miss you, New Girl.

I’m fuckin’ in love with Murphy’s hair.

Can someone help Raven with her ponytail? Those two long strands of stray hair make her look like an anime character.

WHERE IS NIYLAH?! I hope Wonkru didn’t eat her.

I already miss McCreary’s beanie.

Like, Miller calling Octavia “Blodreina” was weird, right? It’s not just me?

Do you think the Eligius III is still out there somewhere?

You’re goddamn right I used a Teddy Perkins GIF in this review. If I can’t sleep after seeing that Atlanta episode, you’re not either.

The dark year, tho…WHAT IS IT?!

TWEET/RETWEET: If you enjoyed this review, please share, retweet, or like it on twitter.

SPOTIFY PLAYLIST OF THE 100 MUSIC!: Hey people who like sounds entering your ear holes! I have a Spotify playlist, which is music from and inspired by The 100. You can find it right here and marvel at my musical tastes. I keep it up to date with anything featured on the show or in promos.

FINAL VERDICT!

“Pandora’s Box”: 9.0 out of 10 people bursting into pink mist…ewwww!

There are some The 100 reviewers/recaps/writers you should absolutely be reading, and I offer them up for your enjoyment; I have no affiliation with any of them, save for being a fan:

Selina Wilken – a mix of passionate fandom and truly professional journalism.

Erin Brown – unfairly beautiful writing. Like seriously, stop being so good.

McKenzie Morrell – recapping her damn face off and great interviews with the cast!

Toni_watches – piss your goddamn pants hilarious photo recaps.

Jo Garfein – great fandom charity auctions.

Disclosure: this is my own indie site. This is on my time, my dime. Becho is endgame.

Several months later…

You are Wonkru or you are the enemy of Wonkru. Choose.

The 100 – “Pandora’s Box” Review and Analysis Yet another episode of The 100 where things go swimmingly, 100% according to plan, with no hiccups and DEFINITELY no wars being declared.